#I'M STILL FUCKING WHEEZING OVER THIS

[karmaphone]

dude this is. A bad one

[applestand]

.

[valentina-writes]

ovulation

Azriel x reader

kinda a part 2 to this

summary: it's your first time ovulating as a fae and your mate Azriel is more than happy to satiate the need within you

genre: smut!!! | words: 3.7k | masterlist

warnings: 18+, pwp (not even a sliver of plot), smut, piv, oral (f receiving), wingplay, creampie, the breeding kink goes hard in this one, slight exhibitionism, cumplay, ovulation (duh)

Smut! Only proceed if you're 18+. Minors dni

A/N: Here it is, sorry for the confusion earlier! I have no words to excuse this unhinged piece of filth, except that I'm sorry it's not longer ;) Don't ask me how I came up with it. Maybe this is the last time I'm writing smut, cause honestly? I think I've peaked with this.

Sweat was glistening all over Azriel's torso. The sun caught the droplets at just the right angle. It looked almost like he had a faint glimmer to him as he was sparring with Rhys. His toned abs were a sight for sore eyes, the way they flexed as he put his weight into a punch directed at the high lord. But Rhys was fast and dodged the attack. The males circled one another, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike again.

Had Azriel's back always been so muscular? Did it look like this as well when he wasn't tackling his brother, but instead bending you over and fucking you? Azriel looked so wild, so carefree in the heat of the moment. His big wings unfolded halfway as he landed his first punch in Rhys's face. And you couldn't help the shudder that went through your body at the sight of your mate and thought about how he would –

"...and then he – Y/N, are you even listening to me?" Feyre waved a hand in front of your face to win back your attention.

"What? I mean sure I am". You were perched on a bank, observing your mates sparring. Shirtless. You had no idea who was winning. The only thing you noticed was the way your mate's biceps flexed and how the sun hit his perfectly sculpted chest –

"Hey! You're practically mind-fucking him. What's going on with you? This is so unlike you". A blush crept over your face. But the wetness in your panties only intensified when a breeze hit your nostrils that carried the shadowsinger's scent. And a strange heat settled in your abdomen.

You were already half out of your seat before you realized you had stood up in hopes of clawing the pants off Azriel right there. "Oh Gods, of course", Feyre laughed, "I think you're ovulating". Azriel's head whipped around to you so fast he should've broken his neck. He stared at you, wide eyed and whatever he saw in you had his eyes darkening and a blush appearing at his neck. A moment of weakness Rhys used to hit him square in the face.

The hiss you shot at Rhysand was inhumane, animalistic almost and maybe you would've tried to tackle him, if your mate hadn't immediately stood up again and walked towards you with a grin on his bloody lips and looked so sexy you contemplated having a wagon-load of winged babies.

"Did he hurt you?". You brought your hand up to his face, your fingertips lightly grazing the small wound. Your mate shook his head no and, for some reason, Rhys was chuckling somewhere behind you. Your finger stilled at his upper lip. You took him in now, close up. His dishevelled hair, the sweat mixing with dirt and blood made him so masculine, so attractive your knees nearly buckled.

"You looked so hot fighting like this", you breathed. Rhys wheezed before laughing out loudly. But your mate drew you into a hug and whispered into your ear: "I could smell you all across the training ring". Your hands grasped his arms to stabilize yourself. Your heart hammered inside your chest and the burning desire between your thighs got unbearable.

Azriel turned his head towards the others. "Did you tell her what it would be like? Does she know? I don't want to take advantage of her like this". As if on cue, you moved your hand down his front, down the delicious muscles and to his pants that hid his manhood. And then you brushed over his half-hard length firmly, fumbling to open his pants. Azriel's scarred hands clutched your waist tightly and a small gasp left his lips.

"She does", Feyre was nearly crying from laughing, "besides I think it's her who's taking advantage of you, not the other way around".

"Azzie", you begged, unable to open his pants while he held you so close, "I need you. I love you so much. You're so sexy. And it... it hurts".

Concern etched on his face. "My love, where does it hurt?". Deep inside you, straight at your core.

"I can show you". Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were screaming at yourself to get it together, but it was like all your senses were attuned to him. Like every filter had been removed, when you grabbed his hand and tried to shove it down your own pants while simultaneously tracing the whirls of the tattoo on his chest with your tongue.

"Get a room, for Cauldron's sake", Rhys bellowed and your mate grimaced at your antics.

Azriel grabbed you by your arm, the world turned dark around you and all of a sudden you were in your bedroom, hanging onto Az.

"My mate is so strong and powerful", you grinned. "And so hot and so big". He choked on plain air when you palmed him through his pants again. You whimpered. He was fully hard now, straining against his confines. "So big", you repeated and stroked him through his pants. A growl left Azriel's lips and his lips crashed onto yours in a passionate kiss. Your blood was boiling, clothes too tight on your body and his naked skin drove you insane. Every thought left your brain as you touched every inch of his body you could reach and pulled him to the bed, on top of you without breaking the kiss. You were starving and the only remedy were his lips and his tongue that were just as desperate as your own. Only when you were gasping for air, did Azriel move his kisses down to your neck.

"It hurts, Az"

"I know, baby. I'll take care of you. But you've been a bad girl, my love. Very bad". He panted. Dark tendrils of shadows slipped around your waists and ankles, binding them to the bed.

"First, you smell so delicious you make me lose against Rhys". He pressed a hot kiss to your neck, flicking the delicate skin with his tongue. A loud moan escaped you and you thrashed against the shadows holding you in place. "Then you try to get me to fuck you right in front of my brother". He took truth-teller and cut across your shirt and bra before throwing the knife away and latching onto your now freed hard nipple. It took everything within you to not come undone then and there. "And then you touch me and almost make me cum in my pants even though you want it so much, don't you?" He rolled his hips against yours once, against the powerful bundle of nerves.

"I can't help it", you replied breathlessly, "I – fuck – I need you".

His tongue circled your nipple. "Hmm... use your words. Where do you need me? I'll make you feel better" The shadows snaked up your legs now and smoothly pulled off your pants, leaving only your panties that were so wet the fabric clung to you like a second skin. Azriel kissed all over your breasts. "Here?" You shook your head. His kisses wandered further down, stopping near your bellybutton. "Here?". Vehemently, you shook your head again. "Hmm... where else?", he teased. You wanted to grab him and lead him, but the shadows wouldn't let you. Azriel chuckled softly and his mouth moved down again, agonizingly slowly towards where you needed him most. Your body was ablaze, writhing against the shadows that bound you. At the seam of your panties he stopped, breathing you in. "Gods, you smell divine". A hungry expression grazed his eyes. His nose pressed into your clothed crotch and he inhaled deeply, groaning. Azriel pressed a kiss right there, making you keen. "Do you need me here?".

A shadow caressed your cheek lightly. "Yes, right there". A wicked gleam showed in his eyes. He pressed a kiss to your still clothed sex that had you chasing his touch. You could only see his dark hair when he kissed your thighs, higher and higher, until he reached delicate skin next to your panties, soaked with arousal. By now, you were reduced to a whining mess, the only word leaving your mouth his name. You couldn't see what he was doing, your view obscured by his big wings, but the next moment, air hit your cunt and he had a ripped piece of fabric hanging from his grinning lips. Your heart skipped a beat and you moaned out in delight. Azriel had ripped your panties off with his teeth.

Azriel pressed light kisses to your folds, and then licked through them up to your clit in one slow motion.

"So wet for me". And then he ate you like you were his last meal. With deliberate strokes of his tongue, he gathered your moisture and greedily swallowed it all. His tongue dove into your waiting hole, a hand moved up to grasp your breast and with every lick, your mate's nose hit your clit at just the right angle. He was thrusting against the mattress now, you realized wirh a shudder. It was too much.

"Come on my tongue. Let go for me", he panted between licks. He thrust his tongue deeply inside and you came hard, screaming out his name and fell limp to the mattress. He helped you ride out your orgasm, drinking up every drop of moisture. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, but the pain in your womb hadn't receded. If anything the searing ache had only intensified.

"You're so pretty when you cum". Azriel kissed you softly on your lips and this small affection had you arching up against him again.

"Fuck, Az. I need more of you"

Calloused fingers ghosted against your clit and then slipped downwards, circling your entrance.

"My pretty girl can take another one, can't you? For making a fool out of me infront of Rhys". But he didn't look angry at all with his wide smile and blown out pupils as two fingers slipped inside you and curled against your walls.

The stretch and the textured feeling of his scarred fingers was oh so welcome and you greedily leaned into him, but it just wasn't enough. It just wasn't his rock-hard cock that lay against your thigh now, promising pleasure beyond anything you had ever felt.

You stroked lightly against the shadows binding you to the bed. They purred at your touch, turned soft and pliant. Enough so that they allowed you to move. Without wasting precious time, your hand shot out and stroked his wing, found the big vein right next to the main bone. Azriel shuddered above you and dropped his head onto your chest, his hand stilled within you. Slowly, you traced the vein and then the strong tendons next to it. His wing was limp in your hands, dropping half-opened to the bed and Azriel collapsed on top of you. He groaned deeply into your neck, making your toes curl and you nearly came from the sound alone. He humped against your leg, his cock now so hard it was throbbing through his pants, desperate for any friction. Another light touch of your fingertips against the delicate membrane and he bit your neck softly, growling.

Cold air whipped over your arm and ripped it off his wing, bringing it back to its original position. Azriel shot up and knelt over you and you couldn't help the whine that escaped you at the loss of contact.

"You can play later. For as long as you want", his chest was moving rapidly with his strained breaths, "but not yet"

"I can't help it. I need to feel you and touch you. I need your cock inside me and –"

He ripped his pants off, freeing his hard length that slapped against his abdomen. Its head was an angry shade of red, leaking precum all over. His veins stood out prominently against the soft skin and you swore it pulsed harder the more you looked at it. The ache inside you intensified, saliva pooled in your mouth and you were sure if you didn't get him inside you right now you'd die.

"I wanted to prepare you for me". He was shaking, restraining himself from taking you right then and there. His eyes wandered down to your waiting cunt, clenching and dripping around nothing, and the look on his face became predatory. "Do you think you're ready for me?" It was laughable, the way you thrashed against his shadows, your arousal so evident in the wetness pooling between your thighs and the hunger for his cock. You felt painfully empty, an ache deep inside you that you knew only he could cure.

"Please. Fuck me already. I need you, please", you whined. And the last sliver of your sanity went flying out of the window at your begging.

He was above you again so fast you didn't even see his movement. His hot tip slid through your folds, nudging against your clit in a deliciously devastating way that had you seeing stars. Azriel coated himself in your wetness and then stopped, his tip right at your entrance. You bucked your hips forward in annoyance, but he held you in place firmly.

There was little restraint left in his voice when he asked: "How do you want it?". The big wings at his back were trembling.

What a stupid fucking question. "Hard"

You didn't need to tell him twice. With a fast movement, he entered you and pushed all the way inside in one hard thrust. Azriel's eyes rolled back and you cried out in ecstasy. The way he filled you so completely, stretching you with a delicious burn around his hard length made the need for him even worse.

"So wet and ready for me. You take me so well", he whispered and thrust hard once. You tugged at the shadows again, but they wouldn't budge this time. "Such a needy little princess". Another thrust, hitting a spot that made you see stars. "I love the way you feel around me. Always so perfect". His eyes darkened as he looked down upon your naked body. "Hold on tight". He grabbed one of your legs and spread you wider, allowing him to settle even deeper inside you, taking your breath away. And then he fucked you roughly into the mattress. He set a rough and punishing pace, his hands wrapped so tight around your waist they would leave bruises. His cock hit all the right spots inside you and every thought except for him left your mind.

The moans that escaped you were beyond shameless. Again and again, you tried to arch up into him, but the shadows wouldn't let you. Your eyes met his and the love he put into this look was enough to send you ober the edge, crying out his name.

He stopped inside you without pulling out. "Do you feel better?". All you could register was the hard length still buried inside you up to his balls, throbbing and twitching. You shook your head.

"No? What more does my princess need?". Azriel's mouth latched back onto your breast, sucking and kissing the hardened nub and you felt yourself getting impossibly wetter by the second. "I need – fuck – I need – your – cum", you gasped with each flick of his tongue.

A deep groan sounded from him and it was music in your ears.

"Want me to come inside you? Fill you up with my seed?". He pressed a hand to your abdomen, right were he was nestled inside you and you bucked your hips against him.

"Yes. Please – don't pull out"

Azriel dropped down on you again with almost all his weight. It was pure torture having him so close and not being able to touch him.

"Breed me, Az"

Something inside him snapped at your words. He started moving again, thrusting harder and faster than before. Moans escaped his lips, mingling with your own.

The shadows relaxed their pull around you. You flung your legs around his waist, allowing him to go in even deeper. And your hands shot up straight to his bag, fingers clawing at his hard muscles. Azriel growled deeply into your ear.

"Want me to breed you?"

"Yes", you moaned, nodding frantically. He was almost there, his thrusts grew sloppy and impatient. The throbbing of his cock against your cervix the most beautiful thing you had ever felt.

"See how deep I am?" The fingers of his hand pressed to your abdomen flexed right where a bulge formed with every thrust. All you could do was nod weakly, your eyes rolling back. "Feels so good"

"This cock is yours". Your hands threaded into his hair and pulled him down to your lips. Shadows flew down to your clit and started nipping at it. "My seed is yours", he whispered against your lips.

With a strong twitch, he came inside you, hot ropes of his thick cum spurted out of him, right where you needed it the most. There was a lot of it, warmth spreading deep inside you. He kept moving, his cum squelching obscenely and the feeling of him and his seed right against your womb, the shadows working your clit perfectly, had you convulsing around him in a hard climax.

Azriel buried his face in the crook of your neck. The mating bond between you glowed in a familiar light and you felt the love radiating off him.

"Did I hurt you, baby?", he asked breathlessly.

"No. I loved it". You shuddered. There was semen dripping out of you now and you hated every drop that was wasted.

"Do you feel better?"

He tried to withdraw, but you kept him from escaping by pulling him further in with your legs around his hips.

"Not enough", you complained, out of breath, "need more of you". The burning inside your womb had died down by a fraction, but you weren't satisfied yet. Your body needed more of him, even though you could already feel him softening inside you.

"You're insatiable. Like a desperate little slut, begging for my cock to fill you up".

Azriel's lips found your neck, licking, kissing and biting until you were reduced to a whining mess below him again.

"Wait a bit, I'm not ready to go again"

But you couldn't wait. He let you roll him over onto his back with you sitting astride him. Azriel's hands gripped your hips and there was nothing but love in his gaze. Cum ran out of your cunt and dripped into his short pubic hair, onto his thighs and the sheets. Your pussy pulsed at the sight.

You dipped your fingers into his cum and brought it to your mouth to taste him. The slightly salty aroma made you moan on your fingers. And Gods, he was so sexy below you, his chest still glistening with sweat, the illyrian tattoo and his toned abs, the absolutely fucked-out look on his face. You knew exactly what to do.

Both of your hands found his neatly folded wings. You stroked all over the membranes, unfolded the wings to reach the better hidden spots that he loved the most. And he just let you.

He grew harder inside you by the second. Not long, and you were circling your hips, sliding slowly up and down his cock, slick with arousal and cum.

You got off on the sight of him, completely at your mercy. With each deliberate touch of yours, his wings trembled under your fingertips and his cock throbbed inside you.

"You're so hot like this", you gasped as you rode him slowly, "I want to fuck you until your balls are empty and I'm full of you".

You brushed against the main veins of his wings. A full-body shudder went through him, his gaze turned clear, and the next moment, he had you face down, ass up in the air and entered you from behind, making you scream.

"Fuck, that's better", he groaned, "Didn't I say it's time for wings later?". You only mewled, the new angle bringing a foreign stretch and deep penetration.

You were close to orgasm again

"But my girl needs more of my seed, right? You need to milk me dry?". He underlined his words with a deep roll of his hips and then stilled, his hands at your hips to keep you from bucking your hips back at him.

The words tumbled from your lips like a prayer. "Fuck yes. Please, Az"

With one sharp movement, he started pistoning in and out of you again, his balls slapping rhythmically against your clit.

"You're perfect like this, taking me so well".

His pace was relentless, each thrust shoving you deeper into the pillows.

"Come for me again, love". Azriel's fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles. Your climax ripped through you with a force that had you screaming his name. You clenched around him trembling.

One more thrust, until he was buried deeply inside you, his tip nestled directly against your cervix, and he found his release with a roar that had the bed shaking. Warmth spread inside you once again, straight to were you needed it.

He pressed a kiss to your back and pulled out of you. A small river of his cum trickled down your thighs. Your pussy felt sore, but the ache was gone and so was the fog in your mind.

Azriel pulled you tightly against him, laying down.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Is it better now?".

A blush crept over your cheeks at the thought of how wanton you had been only minutes ago. The things you had said, for Cauldron's sake. You hoped Rhys and Feyre had at least left the house before you started. There was no way you'd be able to look anyone into the eye again if they'd heard that. Not to mention the embarrassment you felt towards your mate. The way you had begged for his cum.

"Yes. Is it over now?"

A grin settled on his face. "If you're lucky, it'll be over in a few days".

You hid your face in your hands. "A few days? Oh Gods, I'm so sorry for how I behaved. For what I said. That was so –" Embarrassing? Humiliating? Shameful?

"That was really hot", he said softly and took your hands off your face, "that was probably the best sex I've ever had and, judging by the sounds you made –" you wanted to die on the spot "– and how you begged for more, I think you liked it too. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's instinct, you can't control it". A peck on your nose had you smiling again.

"I know, but still". He stared at you, disbelieving. "Okay, fine. I loved it. And it doesn't sound too bad to have you fucking me like that for the next couple of days"

[nanamisgirly]

part 1, you can still read this as a stand alone.

cw p in v, unprotected sex, choso is kind of doing hyper fixation, nipple piercings, Prince Albert piercing, both are dominant, oral sex (f. receiving), big dick choso, degrading and praising, riding, mating press, face sitting. mostly smut with a little plot (?)

˖ 𑣲 reblogs and comments are very muuuch appreciated ma girliees <333

choso stood in the shower, slapping his head against the wall, cursing himself for what he had done last night. was he dumb? no—he was the dumbest. not only had he given you a lap dance, but he had totally lost control… all because he got carried away by gojo's antics… and your cockiness.

“i'm so dumb, please, what was i thinking.”

he must have freaked you out—you, his pretty crush. his lovely crush of five years!!!! he had wanted to wait for the right moment, take you out first, maybe? just keep it slow. he had plans—not concrete ones, sure, considering he had been putting off asking you out for four years— BUT HE WAS ABOUT TO!! and then? then, he flubbed everything. 

put his hand in your panties like some kind of pervert. 

“am i crazy?” the memories of last night kept replaying in his mind like a never-ending torture reel—the way your eyes had widened, gojo's obnoxious cackle, the way he moved on top of you…

his hands flew to his face, covering it as the image of him taking off his shirt surfaced. 

“why did i do thaaaat?” it's been hours now but he still was analyzing every second, every word, every breath—like some kind of detective trying to piece together a crime scene.

“i wasn't even drunk, just a little tipsy, please,” he muttered to himself. his brain refused to move on. he needed a reset. a cleanse. what if he vanished? he could pack his bags, drop out, change his name, move to remote village where no one knew the name Choso Kamo—

“you're miserable.” of course he couldn't do all that, and of course suguru and satoru had to invite you over their shared college apartment.

meanwhile you? you had spent all day thinking about last night. the way choso—the usual awkward choso—had moved against you, the heat of his body, the way his hands gripped you. the way his usual reserved, flushed face was nowhere to be seen—replaced by something demanding, dominant.

and it had left you aching. all day long, the pulse between your thighs wouldn't let up. only intensifying as you replayed the moment his bulge pressed against your heated core, giving you that perfect pressure.

which is exactly why you were in his room now. 

he had tried to escape you all night, hunched over on the couch, avoiding eye contact like his entire existence was a mistake. the moment you called his name, his entire body tensed, bracing for impact.

and now? he was hiding in his room.

choso had had shot up so fast he nearly tripped over the coffee table. “i—i gotta—” he didn't even finish his sentence before he had bolted to his room, slamming the door behind him.

a beat of silence had passed before gojo wheezed. “ohhh, he's so fucked.” as he exchanged a look with geto. you laughed, stretching out on the couch before standing up and followed choso right after he had left.

‘yeah, this was gonna be fun’ you thought.

he was so different than from last night. you needed to know if it was just a fluke. if, perhaps, he regretted it. or if he wanted you as much as you now realized you wanted him.

choso was losing it. he was pacing his room like a madman, running his hands through his damp hair, yanking off his shirt as heat crawled over his skin. his heart was beating out of his chest, his entire body on edge from just one moment of closeness with you.

but how was he supposed to face you after last night? after making a complete fool of himself? he wanted you so badly—had wanted you for years—but now it was all ruined. you probably thought he was weird… or worse, pathetic.

“…choso?” 

fuck.

your voice was soft, almost hesitant, but something about it send a shiver down his spine. he should have ignored it. pretend to be asleep. do anything but let you in.

but then the doorknob had turned. and there you were.

the second you had stepped inside, he knew.

knew from the way your eyes had darkened the moment they had landed on him. from the way you shut the door behind you without looking back.

he swallowed thickly. “y-you need something?”

you stared at him for a moment, eyes roaming over his bare, inked chest—his damn barbells—his flushed face, the nervous twitch of his fingers at his side. he looked unsure, so lost—like he had no idea what he had done to you.

‘how dare he look like that after making me ache for him all night?’

“…yeah,” you finally said, voice low. “i do.”

you stepped forward, pushing him back until his knees hit the bed. he sat without thinking, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. you leaned in, caging him in with your hands on his thighs. his breath hitched.

“i've been thinking about last night,” you admitted, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against his skin. “a lot.”

choso swallowed hard, his entire body going stiff. “y-you have?”

you hummed, tilting your head. “mhm. and you've bee avoiding me all night. i don't like that.”

“i—”

you don't let him finish. instead, you climb onto his lap, straddling him exactly like you had last night—right before geto had joked about getting a room.

he choked on air as your hands slid up his chest, slow and teasing, nails scratching lightly against his skin. just like you did at the party. “you danced on me like you wanted me, choso,” you murmured, lips brushing against his ear. “you even felt how wet i was. you touched my pussy… licked your fingers.” your teeth grazed his earlobe, making him shudder. “so tell me…” your hips rolled against him, pulling a trembling gasp from his throat. “…you don't want me anymore?”

that's all it took for choso to snap. 

one second, he was frozen beneath you, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. the next, he was grabbing you—strong hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto the bed in one swift, effortless motion.

you barely had time to gasp before his weight was on you, pressing you down, his breath hot against your skin. his tattooed hands—nails painted a deep purple— pinned yours above your head, fingers intertwining with your own, your dark red polish a stark contrast against his.

“fuck—” he growled, voice rough, desperate. his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes burning with unhinged desire. “do you have any idea how many nights i've spent dreaming about this?”

you shivered. this wasn't the flustered, awkward choso from earlier. no, this was the lapdance choso. 

“choso—”

this time, he was the one not letting you finish. his lips crashed onto yours, hungry, all tongue and teeth, all the pent-up frustration from five years of longing spilling out at once. his hands moved from your wrists to your waist, gripping tight, possessive.

his hips ground against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, back arching at the friction. that was all it took for him to loosen up completely.

his lips started attacking your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks—his marks. his hands tore at your clothes, desperate to feel your skin against his. his mouth trailed lower, teeth scraping against your collarbone, sucking one nipple on the way as his fingers dig into your thighs, spreading them, his breathing ragged.

you whimpered, hips pushing against his, searching for more. and choso didn't even bother undressing himself—his only focus was you.

his hands were rough as he spread your legs wider, slotting himself between them. his breath hot against your inner thighs, and fuck, he was already feral with hunger. his lips drag over your skin, leaving open-mouthed kisses that sent chills up your spine. his fingers resting on your hips as he looked up at you, his dark eyes blown wide with need.

“i've wanted this for years,” he groaned. “thought about this—you—so many fucking times i—” he shook his head like he couldn't explain it, like he was too far gone to form words.

then he did the only thing he's capable of—diving into your core.

his mouth latched onto your clit with a desperation that was insane. his tongue flicked, lapped, sucked, determined to commit your scent to memory by morning. he was messy. sloppy. loud. he slurped, pressing his nose against you as he ate like a man on death row having his last meal.

he moans onto your fat lips, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. choso's eyes roll back at the sweet taste of you. one of his hand traveled up to cup one of your soft breast, squeezing, thumb playing with the hardened nipple.

“fuck—fuck, choso—” he didn't stop. didn't slow down. if anything, your moans only made him more drunk. he buried his face deeper, his free hand holding you open even as you tried to clamp them shut from the intensity of it. his inked arms looked almost sinful against your untouched skin—marked hands spreading and owning the softness of your body. 

"nuh-uh," he grunted, shaking his head. “not happening. you're gonna take it. gonna let me taste you.”

he was dripping. his cock was so hard it was truly painful, leaking through his sweatpants, leaving a wet spot on it, but he didn't care. didn't need anything except your pussy against his tongue, your thighs trembling on his broad shoulders, breathless little whimpers spilling past your lips as you fell apart for him. 

he licked everything. lapped up every drop like he was trying to drink you, tongue sliding through your folds, sucking, moaning, devouring you. 

choso was gone. absolutely, completely, ferally gone. he wasn't just eating you out—he was making a mess out of himself, out of you, out of the sheets. his tongue was everywhere, slurping up your slick, pushing deep into you just to hear the obscene squelching sounds echo through the room, riding you through your orgasm. god, he was so fucking shameless with it, groaning as he makes out with your cunt—as if he wanted to live there.

his face was soaked, his chin dripping, his cheeks wet with your slick. and he just kept going, even after your previous climax. he is obsessed, getting off on nothing but the taste of you. his big hands holding you open, keeping you in place even as your legs shook from the overstimulation.

"up." he groaned, pulling back just to take in the sight of your wrecked pussy, spread and dripping for him. 

you barely registered his voice, your brain still fogged with pleasure. “w-what?”

“up here,” he said again, gripping your thighs, his voice rough, hungry. “sit on my face.”

your eyes widened. “choso, i—” he glared, pulling you closer. “what? you scared?”

your face burned. “no, i just—what if i—what if i suffocate you?” this was genuine fear. no one had ever requested that from you before—no one had ever wanted you like this, so desperate, so feral.

choso just snorted, flipping you over with ease, positioning you right over his mouth. “sit.”

“choso—ahhh—”

he pulled you onto him, locking his arms tights around your thighs, forcing you to sink down onto his mouth. he lost no time to dive back in. tongue flattened against you, lips sucking hard before he shoved his face deeper, noise brushing your clit with every movement of his tongue fucking you.

“choso—” your thighs squeeze around his head making choso groan. sending vibrations up to your core.

his hips bucked up, his rock-hard cock leaking more pre-cum through his sweats, but he ignored it—ignored his own desperation, his own need, because you were all that mattered. you crying out his name, you feeding him what he'd been craving for years was way more important.

his hands slide up, gripping your hips, his thumbs stroking the soft patch of hair above your cunt. his fingers twirled the strands absentmindedly, tugging, playing—entranced by every inch of you.

he pulls you down harder, deeper as you start to grind against his tongue, getting wetter from his spit and his sheer obsession. and when your thighs twitch and your back arch and your cunt gushed against his tongue—

“so pretty,” he muffled. “so soft, so sweet, i could stay down here forever.” your fingers clawed at the bed head, mind blurring as another orgasm crept up too fast, too hard. there was no escape. no mercy. just the wet sounds of his mouth working you open, inked arms locking you in place, dark nails digging into your skin.

choso latches onto you, drinking every single drop, messy and greedy as he moaned once again.

“mine,” he rasped, tongue flicking, fucking you through the second orgasm even though your body was jerking from overstimulation. “you're fucking mine now. you hear me?”

your mind was fuzzy, lips parting as you tried to catch your breath, but choso wasn't having it. 

his lips were shiny with your slick, his face drenched, his eyes dark and hungry as he kissed his way up your body, pressing sweet, almost gentle kisses against your skin. But the contrast—the way his hands were still gripping you tight,—made you shiver.

“you can take more, right?” he murmured, voice soft, almost sweet as he nuzzled against your cheek. "you're not done, are you? my pretty girl can handle one more, yeah?”

your breath hitched. "choso, I—I don’t think I—” but he did not care. 

one moment, you were still straddling his face, thighs trembling—and the next, you were on the mattress, your legs pushed up, spread wide as he hovered over you. folding you into a mating press—big hands hooking under your knees.

you felt his heavy cock toying with your clit as he freed it from the drenched boxer. the tip already leaking against your overstimulated folds. you weren't even looking at it—the two back-to-back orgasms leaving you drenched—but damn, you could feel how big he was just from just the tip.

you tensed. “choso—”

“shhh, baby,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss on your smudged lips. “i'll make it fit. just be good for me, yeah?”

his voice is a mix of gentle sweetness and absolute filth, causing your walls to clench around nothing.

“ohhh, fuck—” you gasped, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders.

“shit,” choso groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “fucking hell, baby, you're so tight—fuck, squeezing me so good—”

your pussy was strugglig to take him, stretching wide, the thick girth of his cock making your mind go blank. he was so big—it felt like he was splitting you open. “c-choso, s'too m-much,” you panted, legs trembling around his waist.

but choso only cooed, kissing your temple, his voice all sweet and reassuring even as he bullied his cock deeper. “you can take it, pretty girl,” he whispered. “you're made for it. look—fuck, taking me so well—”

but suddenly you feel something. 

a cool, hard press against your walls, dragging along your inside. your eyes widened, fingers tightening around his biceps as a sharp jolt of pleasure shot up your spine.

“w-wait, what—”

choso chuckled breathlessly, hips rolling just enough to let the metalic weight of his piercing grind against your sensitive spot. “you feel that?” voice barely above a whisper, thick wtih amusement.

you whimpered, thighs twitching as the sensation made your head spin. the prince Albert piercing was something you hadn't been prepared for—hadn't even know he had—but fuck, the way it dragged inside you, catching against your most sensitive spots, it was…delectable.

tears pricked your eyes, your body overwhelmed.

“mm, s'nice, huh?” he grunted. “been dreaming about how you'd feel wrapped around me like this, all warm ‘n’ wet, taking my cock with my piercing…”

a broken moan slipped past your lips as he rolled his hips again, the cool metal rubbing against your tender, stretched-out walls, adding a whole new layer of pleasure. your nails raked down his tattooed chest, catching on his pierced nipples.

your walls gripping him like vice, your body pulling him in even as you struggled to adjust.

“shit, baby, you're creamin' all over me.” you whimpered, embarrassment flooding through you, but choso just grinned, his hand sliding between your legs, fingers rubbing at your clit.

“nasty little, thing. acting like you can't take it, but your pussy's sucking me in—mhh, goddamn, you're loving it, right?”

you sobbed, head lolling back, body burning hot from his words, from the way he was praising you while talking so dirty.

his hips keeps pushing into you, pushing all the way to the hilt, forcing you to take every inch of his thick cock in one deep thrust. 

“choso—ah!”

“mmh, yeah,” he pulled back just to slam into you again, the sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing in the room. “fuck, baby—so tight—gonna stretch you out realll good, yeah. gonna fuck you open 'n—mhfp”

choso wasn't gentle anymore—fucking roughly, fast. animalistic. he pounds into your poor, overstimulated pussy like he owned it. because he does. his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over and over—

“listen to you,” his eyes rolls back at the obscene sounds of your wet cunt sucking him in. “so—” slams “fucking—” slams “messy—” slams.

hot fat tears make their way down your cheeks, nails dragging down his back, over the swirling ink that covered his shoulders and arms, down to his taut stomach where his happy trail led to thick patch of hair at his base. 

you weren’t even sure what was hotter—the way he fucked or how he looked doing it. his tattoos flexing with every movement, his abs tightening as he drilled into you, the barbells through his nipples gleaming with sweat, the veins in his arms prominent.

“gonna make you my little cumdrunk girl, huh? my pretty little toy to fuck stupid?” he panted, voice thick with lust, his hips drilling into you. “feels good? best you ever had? tell me, baby—tell me no one else ever fucked you like this—” his grip on your waist was bruising, holding you onto place as your body jolted forward because of his brutal thrusts.

your mind was mush. you could barely think, barely breathe. but you knew the answer.

“n-no one—fuck, c-choso, mghn—no o-one everrr—”

“damn right,” he gritted out, snapping his hips harder, deeper, until you were seeing the whole constellation. “no one else gets to have you. no one else gets this pussy but me, got it?”

you nodded desperately, body already on edge, the coil in your stomach ready to snap—

and choso feel it, his hands went to support your thighs, hugging them tightly around his waist. “go on,” he growled, forehead sticking to yours, not slowing his pace. “cum for me, baby—wanna feel your cum all over my cock, please.”

your head rolls back as the knot in your stomach releases, vision blurring from the pleasure, cheeks reddened by your tears. choso still hadn't cum, dick still hard—and if anything, it only grows inside you as he feels your spongy walls spasming around him.

you had never felt something like this before—so high off pleasure, so insatiable, so utterly dizzy with lust that even after he had fucked you into oblivion, you wanted more. 

as you came back to your sense you take a look at the man above you, hair damped with sweat, chest heaving, face still shiny with your slick. cock twitching—and so does his piercing—gleaming with your cum and his own pre-cum.

strength surged back into your limbs—not much, but enough to straddle him. your palms landed on his chest, fingers splaying over his pierced nipples, the cool barbells sitting perfectly against your skin as you pushed him down.

his eyes widened. “are you—”

you smirked, dragging your soaked pussy along his length, feeling his pulse against your swollen folds, the hard curve of his piercing pressing into your clit like a tease of what's to come. 

“what's wrong, baby?” you cooed, tilting your head, feigning innocence. “tired already?”

choso groans, hands flying to your hips, dark painted nails digging into your flesh. “fuck, you're gonna kill me—”

“or milk you dry.” you wink at him, giggling at the way his cock throbbed at your words. you could feel the heat radiating from him, could see the tension in his shoulders as he fought to keep control. “i thought you said i could take more,” you teased, voice sticky-sweet.

the tattooed man cursed under his breath, jaw locked tight as he watched you slide up and down his length, your arousal coating his veiny shaft, dripping down to his balls, his dark coarse hair shinning with slick. “shit, so fuckin' messy—”

you leaned down, licking a slow, wet stripe up his throat, feeling his pulse hammer against your tongue before whispering, “wanna ride you, sweet boy.”

his whole body jerked.

“holy fuck—” and before he could process anything, you reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his cock, tracing a looong vein going from his base to his swollen tip—hot, leaking. the weight of his piercing pressing against your palm.

your thumb brushed over the Prince Albert, curiosity flicking across your face. his tattoos were hot, his nipple piercings were hot…but this? the idea of that thick metal pressing inside you, once again? fuck.

“y-you sure?" choso stammered, his usual cocky drawl cracking into something desperate. i—i'm quiet big, d-don't wanna hurt you.” his flustered concern was endearingly cute, but you knew better.

“i can take it.”

you dropped. in one go. fast.

“FUCK!” 

his head slammed back against the pillows, his mouth falling open as your tight, soaking heat swallowed him whole, the tip piercing pushing past your entrance, forcing your walls to stretch around both his sheer girth and the unrelenting hardness of the metal.

“shit…” you gasped—his cock stopped right before your bellybutton—your pussy was still struggling to accommodate him, the stretch toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming fullness.

his happy trail and coarse pubes grazed against yours, adding to the overstimulation, his fat tip hitting something that made your toes curl.

choso's painted nails sank into your ass, black and purple contrasting on your unmarked skin, as he took in the sight of you—you're messy hair, fucked-out expression and the obscene bulge pressing out of your belly.

you bit your lip, rolling your hips just right, feeling the delicious burn of his cock pressing on every spot inside you. “feels so good,” you moaned, taking your sweet time to enjoy every inch. after all, it wasn't everyday that you could fuck a pretty hyper fixated emo man. with a big big cock above all that. “so fucking full—”

choso was hanging on by a thread, every muscle in his body taut. his breath shudders as he tries to keep himself together. but the way you were riding him—slow, teasing, your cunt clamping down around him.

“you little tease,” he panted, voice strained. “you're fuckin' enjoyin' this, huh? making me lose my mind—”

you rolled your hips harder, making him grunt. “mmh, you like it, don't you? like watching me fuck myself on your fat cock?”

his palms landed harshly on your cheeks' ass. making you yelp in surprise. “fuckin' filthy—such a nasty girl we have here—”

you moaned, reveling in the way he filled you so perfectly, the way his big hands manhandled you even though you were the one on top.

suddenly you feel his fingers wrap around your throat. your breath hitched.

“my pretty little slut," he rasped, squeezing just enough to make your head swim, to make you even more aware of his piercing dragging inside you with every pulse of his cock.

his hips bucked up—hard, deep, unrelenting. 

“you want to ride? then ride, baby—correctly.”

your moans turned into choked cries, your body jerking as he thrust up into you, driving his cock into your sweet spot over and over and—

“c-choso, p-please—”

“pussy's like magic," watching as your slick splattered onto the sheets and his abs. "sloshing wetness all over me—fuuuck.” his gaze darkened, locked onto your bouncing tits, onto the way his pierced nipples tingled every time you dragged your nails across them. 

“you feel so good. riding me like a pro," choso was on the edge—panting like he'd lose his mind if he didn't cum soon. “th-thought you were scared it wouldn't fit?”

but you were gushing around him, walls spasming, your tight heat milking his cock for everything he had.

“baby, i—god.”

choso’s whole body tensed as his climax crashed through him. 

his hips jerked, his cock throbbing deep inside you as thick, hot ropes of cum spilled into you—so much that it was concerning. 

his head fell back, a deep, wrecked whimper slipping past his lips as he kept coming, his hands gripping your hips tight, forcing you down onto him, making sure you took every drop.

"shit," you breathed, feeling the warmth flood you. your walls still fluttering from the aftershocks of your own release, thighs burning, your clit throbbing from the stimulation. 

"choso, you're still—"

"i know," he gasped, still throbbing, still leaking inside you. "i can’t—fuck, i can’t stop—"

And neither could you.

it continued.

For hours and hours. 

choso had been relentless, folding you in every position imaginable—his stamina something straight out of a mythological tale.

and you finally stumbled out of the bedroom—legs gone. nonexistent.

you might as well have left them in the sheets because they were absolutely not functioning. you had to grip onto choso's arm just to stay upright, and the smug, self-satisfied grin on his face was not helping.

“fucking finally,” geto drawled from the couch, stretching out his arms. “took you two long enough to get a damn room.”

you groaned, burying your burning face into choso's shoulder. geto should be more worried about if you were leaving that room alive.

gojo, sprawled next to him, smirked. “nah, nah… room or not, i definitely still heard everything.” he turned his head towards choso with a shit-eating smile. “didn't know you had it in you, big guy.” 

choso was… shy? embarrassingly shy. he froze, ears burning, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something—desperately wanting to find an exist to this discussion.

you blinked up at him. confused. because who's that the same man who whispered the filthiest, most dominant shit into your ear?

he was mumbling, looking everywhere but at you. “i hate you both,” he muttered under his breath. staring aggressively at the floor.

geto chuckled, nudging gojo. “oh, this is gold. he's all quiet now. what happened to all that dirty talk, huh? gone?”

you bit your lip, holding back a laugh. he was so shy. and it was adorable.

“actually,” he blurted out, too quickly. “did you know tigers have the strongest bite force among big cats? but hyenas actually have a stronger one in comparison to their body weight?”

silence.

you blinked. gojo and geto stared.

“what?” gojo squinted. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“animals,” choso said even faster, shoving his hands into his pockets like he could just disappear into them. “as you know, i watch a lot of documentaries and—”

gojo wheezed. you smiled.

and the, because you were a menace and because this was the cutest thing you'd ever seen in your life, you leaned in—all slow, all teasing—watching as his ears somehow got even redder when you got close.

as if he hadn't just spent hours rearranging your insides. as if he hadn't been the most depraved man known to life.

you let your fingers graze his forearm, voice sickening sweet. “tell me more.”

his eyes flicked to you, wide, surprised. 

but when he saw that you actually wanted to hear him ramble, when he realized you were genuinely interested—his lips parted slightly. his shoulders relaxed.

and softly—hesitantly—he started talking again.

and it was kinda hot!!

(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)��♡

I hope the anon who requested that is satisfied !! :3

[paperbackribs]

What i f I told Tommy to fuck off?

"Hey," Steve's head lolls onto Eddie's lap with a thump, "what do you think if I told Tommy to fuck off?"

Eddie thinks he might dance a jig, take a shot of tequila, and then blow Steve if he'd let him near him. But that's not in the cards. They've been roommates for four years now, the two years they'd lived in and out of the Harrington House and the Munson Trailer before then notwithstanding.

"I think that you're full of shit," Eddie retorts, ignoring the warmth of Steve's head in his lap. Ignoring how easily his stupid head turns to lustful images of shoving his palm against Steve's cheeks and turning him face-down to use his mouth in a way that Eddie can only dream of on the most holy of nights.

"No, really," Steve insists, hazel eyes earnest and staring up at Eddie. "You keep telling me that I'm worth more--"

"More than a bastard that fucks everthing that walks and then comes begging back to you? Yeah, sure. I have some standards."

Steve scowls up at him, eyes squinted, "I have standards."

Eddie stares right back, unwilling to back down, "Sure you do, sweetheart." He sinks enough scorn into the last word to push Steve away but Steve continues to squint back. He stares at Eddie with such unwavering certitude that it's Eddie who wavers.

"Robin told me something," Steve says calmly. Head still in Eddie's goddamn lap.

Eddie hums, looking away from the intent gaze. Ignoring it. Ignoring every moment he thought was more over the past six years.

"She told me that I'm not imagining things. That I'm not stupid--"

Eddie interrupts, exasperated after all this time that Steve still thinks so low of himself, "Of course you're not stupid. You have to stop listening to Tommy - he's full of shit and talks you down so that he's bigger. But you're bigger, Steve. You're a whole shitting statue looming above the teeny tiny human he pretends that he is. Just forget him for Christ's sake."

"Not that you will," Eddie mutters even as he's annoyed that he had spoken so candidly.

"So you're saying that I should trust my instincts?" Steve asks, eyes burning and frame oddly taut against Eddie's legs. The television flickers in the background, casting blue shadows against the planes of Steve's face and all Eddie can hopelessly think is how desperately he wants to lick the sharp lines of it.

Before he can sink into the moroseness of it all, Steve scrambles up and Eddie grunts at the unexpected force as elbows poke at sensitive parts only for Steve's sweet, sincere face to be hovering over his.

Eddie stares up, lacking understanding and any idea of what to do next. The beautiful eyes staring back down at him are captivating, the pretty marks against the canvas of his skin enthralling and, in that very moment, Eddie's head is so blank that he can't be counted on to make a decision or recall one past decisive thought.

"Kiss me," Steve demands and an arrow pierces Eddie's chest so cleanly that he thinks he'll never breathe easily again.

"What?" he wheezes, but Steve simply nods resolutely.

"Kiss me if you feel anything for me."

Steve's jaw is clenched, Eddie can see, in the way he does when vulnerable and sad. It makes something in Eddie's gut tighten in sympathy. Because all he has wanted for years is for Steve to kiss him. To want to kiss him. But here Steve is, looking for all the world like he expects Eddie to push him away.

He'd never.

Palm raising shakily, Eddie cups Steve's jaw, bringing their lips together in a union that is soft and unsure.

Just as shakily, Steve exhales, brow furrowed and lips pursing in distress. "That's it?" he sighs heavily, sadly. Looking away and nodding to himself as if he understands a terrible truth, "I get it. And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have forced you to--"

Consumed by a sudden fierceness, Eddie surges forward, taking Steve's beautiful face in his hands and his lips in a passionate fusion. Their lips merge in a slick embrace while breaths combine, becoming one.

Drawing back with a wet schlick, a translucent ribbon connects their mouths before snapping away. Steve looks as dazed as Eddie, the both of them reminiscent of cartoon characters whacked over the head with rolling pins.

"I should..." Steve stutters.

The whole of Eddie's body softens, sure in that this is the moment. This is his moment and it's Steve's too. It's their moment to make a future worthwhile.

"You should tell Tommy to fuck off," Eddie says, hoping against all hope that Steve will meet him beat for beat.

Steve licks his lips, a smirk spreading across his delectable face, "Because you feel something for me."

Confidence fills Eddie and he smirks right back, "Because I feel everything, sweetheart." Steve's face brightens as Eddie repeats, "Everything."

[saturnsorbits]

Skintight

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Suggestive, Word Count: 2.1k.

Summary: Sero's got an embarrassing problem.

A/N: This is a new flavour of Sero for me, but I love this one just as much.

'You can't laugh...' Sero's voice is thick in the back of his throat forcing him to attempt to cough out it's awkwardness.

It doesn't work.

There's still the tell tale pinkness of a deep blush around his cheek bones, one that streaks down his neck and vanishes beneath the high, black neck of his suit.

Holding open your front door, you raise your eyebrows already on the cusp of giggles. He's leaning on your door frame, his arm pinned above his head, elbow pressed into the wood in a way that was almost charming. 'Okay...'

'Can – Actually...' He leans back, glancing down the corridor. 'Can I come in?'

'Of course.' Stepping aside, you watch as he slips into your apartment keeping his back almost flush with the door. You watch as he goes, side-stepping his way into your living room before turning quick on the balls of his feet to face you – the same sheepish smile etched into his features. Pausing, you tilt your head. 'Are you okay?'

'Y – yeah, uh...' He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he fidgets.

You raise your eyebrows, tipping forward slightly on your tip-toes.

'I – ha... See it's funny really because -.'

'Hanta, spit it out.'

He sighs. 'I'm stuck in my suit.'

You can't help it, a chuckle bubbles up your throat and spills helplessly over your lips.

Rocking his head back on his shoulders, Hanta groans. 'I said not to laugh...'

Sucking in air through your teeth, you struggle with party balloon lungs until the wheezing subsides and you can stand a little straighter again. 'Yeah, yep, sorry...' A stray gasp leaks from your lips, forcing you to bite down on the seam to silence it. 'Go on.'

'It gets worse.' He sighs. Squeezing shut his eyes, he licks over his lips before admitting. 'I'm naked in here.'

'I'm sorry, what?' You cough, disguising the tension in your lungs. It's hard not to look then, to really look, given the new information you've just been presented with.

Black spandex, strengthened with some obnoxiously named polymer stretches over the expanse of his shoulders. He's wide there, wider than you'd expect given his slight frame, but there's no denying the muscle that lingers under the material. The black extends, covers the swells of his pecs and then tapers, cutting into odd triangles that frame the ripples of his stomach. He's not as well muscled here as he is in his shoulders. Instead of the rough blocks of abdominal muscles, his are streamlined, forming two long, thick stripes of muscle that are almost totally visible through the pale of his suit.

Letting your eyes sink lower still, your gaze lingers on the thin strips of malleable metal that serves to strengthen his suit, but also inadvertently seems to perfectly highlight the deep creases that mark out his torso. You swallow. Hidden under a black square of material, barely contained by what you have to assume is at least two layers of material is a thick bulge. The swell is obvious, casting darkened shadows onto the twitching muscles of his thighs.

'Naked, me, under here...' Gesturing his crotch, he widens his eyes.

'The fucking zip snapped and I can't ask anyone to fucking help peel me out because whoever does it is going to get an eyeful of, well... Me.'

Blinking repeatedly, you swallow the saliva collecting in your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his. His jaw is tight, his stare worried and wild as he looks at you for an answer to a question you're not sure he's got the balls to ask.

Although, new information could prove you wrong.

It's in that instant that the silliness of the situation hits you right back over the head again. You manage to hold your laughter for a solid three seconds before it's tumbling out of you again. This time, it catches you off guard, rolling through you and almost reducing you to a crouch as Sero winces in front of you. 'Why couldn't you get one of the boys to help? Surely they've seen everything before...'

'And have Denks take the piss forever? No thanks.'

'Oh...' You fold your arms across your chest. 'And you think I won't take the piss? Is that it?'

'No.' He answers too quickly, but manages to trap the rest of his half-baked confession behind his teeth before it drops into the palm of your hands. The truth is, he doesn't think he'd mind you taking the piss – he doesn't think he'd mind you doing anything to him, in all honesty. Maybe that's why instead of slinking back to the agency and hoping that Hatsume was in her workshop, he'd found himself here, almost twenty minutes out of his way. He shrugs. 'But, maybe you'll be nicer about it?'

Locking eyes with him for a moment, you pause to watch him sweat before rubbing your hands together. 'C'mon then...' You smirk. 'Let's see how big that dick is.'

'Can you not?' Sero snaps, shivering when your palm meets the muscle of his shoulder. You slide your touch across him, moving in one solid stroke from his deltoid to the thick muscle of his back. The touch, as innocent as it is, makes his stomach tighten, molten lava churning as he submits to your teasing. A soft giggle slips your lips, sliding into his ear like sweet sherbet, making him half regret his decision to ask you, but then, your fingers are playing at the dips just above his collarbone and stealing coherency from him once more.

The suit is cooler than you'd expected. You can feel it, the tips of your fingers growing colder as you search across his chest, fingertips pressing against him in a search that quickly becomes fruitless.

Scratching, you use your nails to rake down his chest and attempt to ignore the way you can feel him respond. His whole body bristles, muscles tightening as a ripple uses his spine like a fire pole. You lick over your lips and hope he can't hear the shake in your voice. 'Where the fuck is the zip on this thing?'

Stretching back his shoulders, Sero swallows. 'It's, uh, around the back...' Gathering the loose hair

Immediately, you lift your hands as if burnt. Now, your groping feels gratuitous – sexual in a way that it wasn't meant to be. Not really. When you step behind him, twisting your hip to avoid bumping it against his, you don't let your fingers wonder.

It's not hard to find it, not now you're laser focused. There's a small bump. The slightest overlap between the two sides of his suit as it wraps around the base of his neck. A few hours ago there had been a zip, the thin strip of metal poking, just, from the material, but now, there's nothing there: Just the slight bump.

Laying one hand flat against the muscle of his back, you use your index finger to skate up the zip – parting the fabric as you go. At the top, you hook your finger under the suit and begin to work at opening it.

Each touch sends a series of short static shocks up through his body, forcing him to tense the plain of his stomach to keep him from folding over. He can feel it, the delicate slip of your fingers as you manage to shift the zip from the top of his spine to near between his shoulders. Inhaling, he starts to wonder if this was a bad idea after all.

'You want me to just keep going, yeah?' You move slowly now. It's almost obscene. A private strip show. One you're participating in, that wouldn't even be happening without you. The thought has you fighting your own composure, forcing you to lock your knees to keep them from shaking.

'Ye – yeah.' He forces a laugh into his voice, but it catches behind his Adam's apple and slips out of his mouth a rasp. 'It stops like, like,' he coughs. 'Like just above my ass.' The bridge of his nose crinkles, a cringe folding his features as he stops talking.

'Okay.' Your fingers feel like they're burning as your decent reveals more and more skin. The smooth plain of his back is revealed, the muscle underneath rippling as it's loosed from it's material confines.

It's intimate in a way you'd never expected as with the slick of his suit, so too are hidden secrets revealed. There's a mole just under the curve of his right shoulder blade. A scar that runs parallel to his spine, the skin still pink and fresh. The edges of black ink that wraps around the edge of his left hip.

When the zip finally draws to a stop, you can see the cleft of his ass. If you were to slip your hands inside, splaying your fingers across the warm breath of his lower back you'd be able to sink your thumbs into his back dimples. You imagine he'd sigh. Let his head roll back on his shoulders as you press close to him. Maybe you'd let your hands slink further, following along the grooves of his hips; lines that would lead to lower and lower, until...

'All done?' His voice is wound tight when he speaks, locked somewhere in the basin of his throat and released as if thrown out on a breath.

Your reluctant to step back, to recede from the heat of his body, but you manage it. 'Yep.' You pat his back, feeling the muscle relax under your touch. 'All done.'

He turns, already wriggling his shoulders free from the material of his suit. 'Thanks, thought I was going to be trapped forever in this thing. It's so...' Slipping his fingers under the latex clinging to his left shoulder, he stretches it from his skin. 'Difficult to fucking get out of.'

You chuckle and watch him struggle. He twists around himself, peeling the second skin of his suit away only for it to snap back and illicit a hiss from between his teeth. 'C'mere, before you do yourself some serious harm.'

Sero shivers as your hands skate underneath the suit and peel him from it. He'd close his eyes to hide from the intimacy of your slow undressing of him, but all that would do is conjure images of what he wishes would come afterwards. Images of him repaying the favour, slipping you from your oversized hoodie and sinking to his knees then repaying you again in a wholly different way. He can already imagine how easy it would be to have you, and yet... 'Thanks,' he mumbles.

'No worries.' You giggle, catching his eye before you step back: his shoulders and arms freed. 'Tell you what though...' Your eyebrow arcs, a coy smile playing at the edge of your lip. 'That really doesn't hide anything, does it?'

Eyes widening, he swallows hard. The knowledge of your staring, dare he even dream admiring, sends a shock wave of tension directly south. He cock kicks, his ass clenching as if to try and disguise the too obvious bulge against the front of his costume. In an instant, his hands sink, the top-half of his suit bunched in his fist as he plays the move for comfort and hopes you don't notice a thing. 'I...'

'I'm just joking around, Han.' You chuckle around the lump in your throat. There's a notable pulse in your stomach, one that sinks by the second and has your thoughts turning savoury.

'I'll...' Sero hedges. There's an energy in his muscles, one that makes him want to bounce on the balls of his feet and do something silly.

'Do you want a t-shirt?'

The more he looks at you, the more kissable you look. You always look kissable, but right now, with the sun coming in from your living room window and that small curious smile itching at your lip... You look phenomenal. He shakes his head. 'I'll just swing home. I'll be too high and too quick for anyone to notice that I'm semi-shirtless... My place isn't far.'

'Oh, okay.' You try not to let your disappointment show, but there's a notch that forms between his eyebrows that makes you wonder just how successful you'd been at disguising it. Slinking to the door, Sero has one foot over the threshold before he turns.

Fuck it. He thinks.

'Can I tell you something?'

Your eyes shine, head tilting. 'Of course, anything.'

'I really, like, really wanna take you out to dinner.'

Your lips break into a smile, forcing apples into your cheeks as a chuckle slips through your teeth. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' His smile matches yours, reaching his eyes and making him glow. 'Next week? That new place down town?'

You nod, chewing at your lip as you try not to feel like an excited school girl. 'It's a date.'

Sero's heart stutters, thudding in his chest. 'It's a date.'

-> Masterlist

[ddejavvu]

mean! logan fucking his girl while holding her in a headlock 🤤🤤🤤

Logan Howlett x Reader

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, manhandling, he has reader in a headlock, don't like don't read.

Your nose gets pushed into the sheets over and over again, and you're sure it'll be raw later, but not as raw as your cunt. Or your neck, which Logan has in an impressive chokehold. His biceps are bulging as he holds you both up on his elbows, your neck securely pinched between his bicep and his forearm as he pins you to his chest.

He's grunting like a rabid animal, teeth bared beside your ear as he fucks your cunt mercilessly from behind. His hips slap against your ass at the same frequency that your face is slammed into the mattress, and you can barely moan before your tongue hits the sheets.

"Logan-" You wheeze, clawing at his arm for purchase, begging for respite from the crick quickly forming in your neck as Logan holds you in place.

"Where you goin', huh? Stay put," He growls, arm tightening around your throat- not to cut off your oxygen but to fizzle out the weak writhing that you've started up on the bed. Your movements are only making things inconvenient for him, and he holds you steady so that he can continue driving his cock into your hole.

"Logan, I want-" Your protests crumble into a whimper, Logan's bulk caging you in as you writhe uselessly against his strength. There's nothing to be done- he's infinitely stronger than you and he's decided that today you'll move how he wants you to move- you'll be fucked how he wants you to be fucked.

"Shut up," He snarls, bracing more of his weight on your torso so that you sink further into the mattress, "Just fuckin- wait, wait 'til I'm done with you and then you can move around however you want. I'll give you a mouthful'uh my dick if you just wait, shit- make it easy for me, baby, just lemme have you like this."

"Take me, Logan. Take me- have me however you want me," You whine, taking a sudden burst of pride in going limp in his arms: you'll be his perfect little fuckdoll. You'll let him use your hole to get off, and then you'll get to clean him up afterwards. You know your safeword by heart and right now it's the last word you'd ever dare to utter, not when Logan's hitting that delicious spot inside of you that makes your legs tremble.

He snickers, voice suddenly clearer and darker, "You're a fighter. S'funny watchin' you squirm like that. You think you could wrestle me off, sweetheart?"

He flexes his biceps and you feel it against the thin skin of your throat, your heart pounding as you arch back into his rapidly quickening thrusts, "Mm, that make you all crazy? Thinkin' about wrestling with me? Rollin' around and getting pinned down, that's what does it for you?"

You cry out into the mattress as Logan viciously fucks into your cunt from behind, your neck still caught in his strong arm.

"Good," He grunts, breathy and gruff as his weight bullies you flat into the mattress, "'Cause I'll win that fight every time, sweetheart."

[writersdrug]

if you’re craving more bartender! ghost (like me), maybe reader meeting price for the first time? he’s got that rugged charm that actually makes her shy, and simon’s about to kick the owner out of his own bar?

or, regardless! how do you picture her meeting price?

Lmao I just saw this and I think I wrote a blippet of it in my Bartender!Simon headcannons but I'm in love with this particular idea:

You're in the kitchen, chatting it up with Soap as you prepare things like condiments, the dip heater, and slicing fruits. Soap drops a plate of pancakes under the warmer for everyone to share and you snag one off the top.

"Gonna go smoke a blem." Soap says, taking his apron off. "Simon's up at the bar if ye need 'im."

"Mphhm." You say, chewing on the pancake as you stir the nacho cheese with your other hand. Soap walks out the back, the door swinging shut with a clang behind him.

You vaguely hear Simon tinkering up front, taking the barstools off the countertop for the day. It's three pm, and the place officially opens at four. You're dissociating, staring at the congealed nacho cheese as it slowly warms up, stirring it while you snatch another pancake from underneath the warmer. You're thinking of asking Simon if you can paint your nails - dress code is one thing, health code is another. You could wear those plastic gloves if the nail polish is a problem - but, then again, you'd look ridiculous with those gloves. Is it alright to have clear polish on? Probably...

You hear the door creak open, assuming Soap already finished his cigarette. "That was fast-" You said, dropping the ladle into the cheese. "I'm gonna let Simon know about the pan-"

When you look up, you're not looking at Soap, as you had expected. You're staring at a different man, with a scruffy beard and a dark beanie, stepping in through the back door.

Simon nearly slices his finger open when he hears your blood-curdling scream. He curses, dropping the lemon and knife onto the counter behind the bar, sprinting off into the kitchen, soldier instincts kicking in. He bursts through the door to find Price, eyes wide and hands up in a peaceful gesture, shouting at you to calm down. You have an empty beer keg in your hands and are mid-swing, aiming for Price's head-

Ghost jumps into the scene - he grabs you around your waist and spins you away from Price, making the keg lose its acceleration. You shriek and kick your feet, dropping the keg on his toe. He curses as he slams into the wall behind him.

"The owner- he's the owner!!" He shouts over your struggling.

You freeze, staring at Price - who looks absolutely astounded with the situation that had just unfolded before him. "Oh- fuck, I'm- I'm so sorry!! Christ, I thought you were robbing the place!!"

Simon chucks you back onto your feet, wheezing out a breath in relief. Price sighs and relaxes his shoulders, rolling them out and standing straight.

"Fuckin' hell..." he says, reaching a hand out. "Price. You must be the new bird, yes?"

You nod and shake his hand. "Yea- seriously, I'm so sorry-"

"'S quite alright." He dismisses your apology with a wrinkle of his nose. "Didn't realize you hired a security guard, Simon." He looks to the bartender, still leaning against the wall.

You bit your lip. "You ok, Simon?"

"Y' broke my goddamn toe."

[tikitakatia]

Wrong Chat Capi! — A. Putellas x Reader

WC: 1.2k

Summary: Alexia makes a small mistake when sending a suggestive text, chaos ensues.

Alexia is not usually reckless.

She's calculated and careful. A team captain and the kind of woman who triple-checks texts before sending them.

But today?

Today she’s feeling herself.

Post-training endorphins. Shower steam is still clinging to her skin. You’d sent her the photo right before she went for her shower. It was innocent, technically, but the way her hoodie hung off your shoulder, your thighs just barely showing beneath it? She'd lost all rational thought.

She opens the photo again and exhales sharply through her nose. The rest of the locker room is loud with laughter, towel snaps and music but all she hears is the blood rushing to her head.

And lower.

You didn’t say much. Just typed out:

“I miss you. Hurry up perezosa!”

Alexia quickly swipes to her camera. Then with her towel low, hips cocked and lips wet from biting them, she snaps a single photo of her: washboard abs, the hard line of her hipbone and her hand gripping the towel’s edge.

Then she types:

“When I get there, I’ll have you standing with your cheek pressed against the window, hands behind your back and begging loud enough that the whole block knows who you belong to. Hoodie stays on.”

Send.

There´s a few seconds of peace and then..

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, ALEXIA!!”

Mapi’s voice cuts through the locker room like a fire alarm and everyone freezes.

Alexia blinks in confusion and checks her screen.

She didn’t send the message to you.

She sent it to Barça Team Group Chat.

All. Twenty. Players.

“No. No no no no no.” Alexia groans. 

“Did she just? She did. Oh my God.” Irene’s already doubled over. 

“Cheek pressed to the window??” Salma gasps. “SHE WROTE THAT??”

“Hoodie stays on?” Ona shrieks. “This is a professional football club!”

Mapi’s on the floor, wheezing. “Capitana. CAPITANA. There are children in this chat!”

Alexia stares down at her phone in horror. Her towel threatens to slip as she scrambles to type.

[Alexia]: WRONG CHAT. DELETE THIS IMMEDIATELY.

[Patri]: She said ‘begging loud enough the block knows.’ I’m calling the mossos.

[Pina]: *gif of someone diving into holy water*

[Aitana]: I can't tell if I'm traumatized or wildly impressed.

Alexia slams her locker shut.

“I’m leaving the country,” she mutters.

“Leaving the planet,” Jana corrects. “Pack your things. Go to mars. I’ll cover for you.”

“The neighbors. THE NEIGHBORS?? Imagine looking out to water your plants and seeing Alexia Putellas, two-time Ballon d´Or Winner doggying someone while standing.” Irene cries out.

Then Patri adds a poll:

Mapi checks all of them.

And then your name lights up on her screen.

[You]: Nice aim, Cap. I mean, I’m flattered. But your team’s gonna need a lot of therapy.

She nearly groans out loud.

[Alexia]: I’m deleting myself.

Just when Alexia thought that it probably couldn't get any worse, it did. 

“I just…” Frido starts, frowning like she's trying to solve a 1000 piece puzzle. 

“I can’t believe she’s into that.” The room goes dead quiet.

“She’s been with you since what? 2019?” Salma says, already spiraling.

“I’ve literally seen her knit in public.”

“She brings muffins to away matches,” Ona blurts.

“Like. With napkins. Real napkins.”

“She once asked me if I needed help carrying my groceries,” Patri says.

“That’s not window sex energy, Alexia!”

Alexia hides her face in her hands.

“She’s the one who made that playlist for when we’re feeling anxious,” Aitana says, horrified. 

“Now I find out she’s out here steam-printing her ass on the glass like a decal?!” She shrieks.

“She taught my little cousin how to make pancakes,” Ingrid adds quietly. 

“And now I know she’s out here getting flipped like one.” She whispers in disbelief.

“I saw her organize your spice rack alphabetically,” Kika says. 

“That’s a woman who makes her bed every morning. That’s a woman who thanks the bus driver. That is not a woman who begs loud enough the block knows.”

“She sent me a TED Talk once,” Irene adds, staring at the wall. 

“About emotional intelligence.”

“She used to be one of us! Now she’s fucking window décor?!” Mapi’s already losing it.

“She offered me a lozenge after I lost my voice!” Ona yells. 

“A LOZENGE, ALEXIA.”

Alexia, still towel-wrapped, mutters, 

“She’s still the same person.”

“NO SHE’S NOT,” Mapi shrieks. 

“SHE HAS SAFE WORD NOW.”

There’s a loud thud as Salma dramatically drops onto a yoga mat. 

“I just remembered she made everyone custom Christmas gift tags. She used calligraphy, bro.”

“She has bookmarks,” Ingrid says.

“Physical bookmarks. She reads with a blanket.”

“She makes soup,” Frido whispers.

“Not from a can.”

“I’ve seen her wear matching pajamas,” Aitana adds.

“With socks. And now she’s being folded like a lawn chair?”

“She’s not just folded. She’s a mountable furniture.” Mapi wheezes, half-coughing.

Alexia doesn’t even fight it now. She just sits there, towel over her face, letting it happen.

Then Patri drops an image into the chat: Alexia, edited into the Titanic scene except instead of Jack and Rose, it’s her gripping the towel and you, face half-hidden, pressed against a fogged-up window with a caption that says: “I’ll never let go… unless it’s your throat.”

Mapi chokes and Pina types like her life depends on it, 

[Pina]: New idea. Barça Media Day, but every player has to answer one question.

Alexia doesn’t even look up. “Don’t.”

“Too late,” she says.

[Pina]: What does hoodie stays on mean to you?

[Aitana]: Someone take her phone. Take all our phones.

Patri strikes again, she sends a fake Google Calendar screenshot, zoomed in on Thursday evening:

🗓️ Event: Hoodie Stays On

🕒 Time: 8:30 PM

🪟 Location: Against the Window

💥 Guests: Alexia + You Ft. The Neighborhood

Alexia sits frozen, towel clutched like it might protect her from divine judgment. She's not moving. She’s not blinking.

“Why are you all like this?” she finally whispers.

“Because you sexted the entire team, Capi!” Mapi throws an arm around her, grinning.

And then comes the kill shot, Jana posts a fake book cover.

Title: Oh Capitana, Mi Capitana

Subtitle: How I Tactical-Fouled My Girlfriend Into A Glass Window

Cover: That cursed abs-and-towel thirst trap, filtered in soft vignette like a budget romance novel. The font was sinister looking with gold foil.

Alexia exhales like she’s aged ten years. 

“I need to go into witness protection.”

No one disagrees.

Later that night, Alexia gets home to find you exactly as she left you. Curled up on the couch, legs bare, the same hoodie hanging off your shoulder like a weaponized memory. 

You're holding your phone, clearly mid-scroll. Clearly reading the group chat.

You glance up, all fake innocence. “So… how was training?”

Alexia drops her bag with a dramatic thud. “I hate everyone.”

You smile. “Happens to the best of us.”

She groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Did you know they made a book cover?”

“I saw.” You pause. “Strong branding, honestly.”

Alexia just stares at you. “I sexted the entire team.”

You nod solemnly. 

She narrows her eyes, steps closer. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You tilt your head. “You said ‘hoodie stays on.’ That’s iconic. That’s gonna be in the locker room forever.”

Alexia leans over you, hands on either side of your thighs, her presence suddenly a little heavier, darker.

“I should be mortified.”

“You are mortified,” you say, smiling up at her.

She kisses the corner of your mouth. “Yeah, but I still meant every word.”

Your breath hitches.

“Oh?” you ask, voice softer now.

“Still planning to follow through?”

She grins, wicked and unrepentant.

“Window’s clean, right?”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Steak & Blowjob Day

Mark Grayson x gn!reader

plot: I'm a devote feminist, but this boy needs a break. [smutty nonsense]

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

Mark tipped his head with a loud moan as [Y/N] took all of him down their throat again. Thank God they were at their place tonight.

When [Y/N] asked him to come over for a date night earlier in the week, Mark was of course excited. They tried to see each other as much as they could, but with their schedules and threats to the universe not really keeping an accurate time piece, they’d had more cancels than successes recently. Tonight, Mark made sure everything was covered and that he could spend time alone with his partner.

He even showed up super early. Which he knew was lame but he was just so excited to see them. When they opened the door for him Mark immediately stepped in and wrapped them in his arms. Breathing the first sigh of relief he felt like taking in weeks along with the scent of their shampoo.

“Happy Steak & Blowjob Day.” They told him as they hugged. To which Mark pulled back with a laugh as he asked them ‘what?’, and they responded with an eye roll, “Rex told me about it.”

They both knew not to take everything Rex said at face value, but [Y/N] told him that, just for today, they’d stick with tradition.

Mark insisted that they didn’t have to do anything for him. He didn’t want them to feel pressured into giving him anything, unless they wanted to. But, [Y/N] insisted that they wanted to and, “you’ve been working so hard and had so much to deal with.” It was honestly just nice to be acknowledged for that. “Let me pamper you for a change.”

Which brought them to where they were now. Mark seated at the table, his shirt pulled up towards his pits with his belt and fly open, and [Y/N] on their knees in front of him. The suction around his cock felt amazing! They were pretty active now at this point in their relationship, but still every time [Y/N] sucked him off he saw stars. And he had seen actual stars now.

“Fuuuck baby…” Mark groaned as he reached out to touch their hair.

They moan and take him in faster. Bobbing their head up & down over his cock. “Oh fuck!” He wheezed. “I’m gonna--!” He tried to warn them but the change in friction caught him too late and he came in their mouth. Luckily [Y/N] didn’t seem to mind.

They pulled off his cock, still hard and wet, and looked up at him from the floor. “You want your steak rare or medium?”

“Uh…mid rare?” Mark was embarrassed to admit that his cock jumped a little when they asked that. He liked to consider himself a modern, evolved man but god that was hot.

[Y/N] smiled and kissed his knee before standing up and heading to the kitchen. Maybe they should listen to Rex more often, Mark thought briefly. No. No. That was probably a bad idea. This time was good though.

[frombookstoretobookstore]

Call Sign Half Caff: Part Two

(Ok so y'all really liked that and I'm freaking flattered. I'll keep writing if you'd like. I do want to add maybe a small amount of spice later in the series.)

TW: Blood, punctured lungs, medical inaccuracies, broken ribs. Reader was attacked.

Part 1 : Part 3 : Masterlist

Jack’s right leg already throbs. He curses as he and Robby descend the last set of stairs and reenter the ED. They both need to stop starting and ending their shifts on the roof.

“Myrna’s back as well. She’s in a particularly bad mood so steer clear of her.” Robby says as they approach the main desk of the ED.

“Go. I’ll hold down the fort. Just don’t be late tomorrow morning.” Jack laughs as he nudges Robby towards the door. Before he can reassure Robby again, one of the newer med students, Dr. King, bolts past them towards one of the trauma rooms. She pushes aside the curtain, and the panic-stricken face Jack sees sends his stomach dropping.

GiGi, the owner of his favorite coffee shop, sends him a pleading look. Before he can even think, he’s running towards the trauma room, Robby following closely at his heels.

He freezes as he takes in the cursing and battered woman before him. He all but pushes Dr. Shen out of the way as he dodges the flying hands of y/n.

“Half Caff the fuck happened?” He growls as he tilts her head up to inspect her swelling and bruised eye. She coughs slightly and he notices the blood filling her mouth. He’s barking orders even as Robby asks him to stand down.

“Gunnery Sergeant I am fine!” She smacks his hands away, another cough makes her chest feel like it’s full of broken glass. “It’s just a black eye.” He grabs her wrists and pins them to her sides as Robby starts using his pen light to test her pupil reactivity. She squints and turns from the light.

“Female, late 20s, attacked in an alley. Suspected concussion, broken ribs, displaced nose...” Dr. Shen’s voice fades out as Jack doesn’t even see red, he sees the harm covering y/n’s body. He’s trying to swallow his panic and fear. With the damage done to her torso, she shouldn’t even be able to sit up, let alone fight him.

“I found her in the alley, and she fucking asked me to take her home. Said it was just a concussion.” GiGi says, as Jack forces y/n to lay down, her rattling breaths growing more forced.

“Abbot, stop, I’m fine.” She wheezes; her eyes panicked. 

His heart sinks. She never uses his last name. Always Jack or some form of army rank. Never Abbot. He doesn’t even need to pull his stethoscope from around his neck to know that one of her lungs is punctured.

She’s gulping for air as she tries to keep her comedy going. He knows as soon as she starts acting serious over her condition, she’ll break and panic.

“Hey, hey!” Abbot says sternly as he lets Robby take over. He’s got her hand clenched between both of his; he tries not to panic as he notices the blood on his gloves. Her blood literally on his hands.

“You’ve got quite a bit of damage there Half Caff.” She smiles weakly at her nickname. “You’ve got way more than a fractured nose.” He pauses as Robby shoots him a look after inspecting her ribs. He shakes his head no, not broken.

“It’s not that big of a deal I’ll be fine I just need to go home…” He’s shushing her as she starts to panic.

“You are not going home right now. In a bit, but not right now.” He tries to keep himself and her sanity anchored as he pulls her attention back to him as she glances around the room.

“You’re Robby.” She coughs out noting Robby’s badge, a sad laugh rattles her lungs. “You should be going home. Sorry to barge in.”

Robby smiles softly, still listening to her lungs battle for oxygen. “We’ll have some proper introductions later, stop talking you’re just going to make your lungs worse.”

Abbot glances up as Dr. King pushes morphine through y/n’s IV, her eyes becoming glassy as the pain med kicks in.

“Private here has told me a bit about you.” She spits the blood out of her mouth into the metal tray Abbot’s placed by her head.

“Still talking.” Robby raises his eyebrows at Abbot. “Someone’s a fighter.”

“Almost fought someone at the meeting today. Another person angry they missed all the action.” Jack says as he listens to Dr. Shen order a round of scans. “Add a CBC and an MRI.” Shen shoots him a look. 

“I got beat up, you aren’t looking for POTS, cancel the CBC.” Y/n mumbles, wrinkling her nose as the nasal cannula is placed, supplementing her oxygen. Jack scoffs as she uses her one piece of medical trivia against his orders.

“Respiratory rate is down with a higher oxygen percentage, pulse normal.” Dr. King calls, Jack feels a small amount of relief cool his body and mind. 

“Don’t.” He says sternly as he notices y/n about to open her mouth again. “Cut the comedy you’re fine.” She rolls her eyes and raises an eyebrow at him. He’s still got her hand clasped.

“Course of treatment for a punctured lung Dr. King.” Robby asks.

“Of course I’m a fucking teaching case. Don’t go into the abbey kids.” He squeezes her hand to silence her.

“If the CT scans show a small puncture, aspirate with a 14-gauge needle, provide pain medication, oxygen therapy if necessary, and ensure the patient rests.” Dr. King recites, her hands clasped in front of her.

“She’s stable, let’s get her to CT.” Robby says as he starts to remove his gloves, Dr. Shen and King begin wheeling y/n out.

“See you in a bit.” Jack says, finally releasing her hand. She gives him a watery smile, clearly feeling the full effects of the morphine.

He rubs the back of his neck as Robby looks at him and GiGi. He doesn’t think he’s showed this much emotion in the ED, or ever.

“What the hell happened?” Robby asks, the question pointed at GiGi.

“I don’t know! I was right behind her but by the time I was out with the recycling she was already on the ground. She wouldn’t let me call an ambulance; said we were only a block away.” 

“You have cameras pointed at the back door?” Jack asks, already noting in his head how he wants to police to handle this.

“I already handed the footage over to the sheriff posted outside. Once she’s back he’ll take a statement.” GiGi says, motioning back towards the ambulance bay they’d come in.

Jack’s normal nonchalance and composed demeanor is gone. He runs his hands through his gray curls as his mind starts reeling. Thinking only of Ben at the meeting earlier in the night. He tries to remember if he saw him leave before him.

He doesn’t realize he’s zoned out until Robby’s snapping his fingers in his face.

“You going to be able to work this shift? Or should I call someone else in.” He’s got his hands on his hips as he assesses Jack.

“I’ll be fine.” Jack nods.

“Are you sure?” Robby’s tone is stern. “Because I’ve never seen you come that close to breaking before. I’m not sure you can let this go and be competent enough for the next eleven hours of your shift.”

Jack fixes him with his signature neutral face. “She’ll kill me if I don’t.” He may not know all of y/n’s life story, but he knows her well enough to know she’ll be pissed at him if he tries to stick with her while she’s still here. Guilty even if he pulls himself off the shift and she learns he wasn’t out helping people.

Jack clears his throat, “I’ll be fine. After the CT and with the meds they’ll give her, she’ll sleep the rest of the night as she stays for observation. I’ll have someone take over for Dr. King. You both should have left long ago.” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, daring Robby to call his bluff.

Robby rubs his hands over his face, digging his fingers into his eyes. “If I hear otherwise, I’ll rip you a new one. GiGi, go the hell home. It’s Thursday and you’re always there for bedtime with your nieces.” She nods, hesitant to leave her friend in the ER alone.

“Go, and tell your brother to pull his shit together, we need his expertise back as soon as we can get it.” Jack says. “Get out of here Gertrude.”

She smiles softly and points a finger at him, “I swear our parents picked the worst names. Frank and Gertrude. Last I heard he’s doing good and in outpatient. Either of you call me by my full name again, I’ll show you how I got my little brother to do my liking when we were kids”

As the elder Langdon leaves, Robby claps Jack’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine. That friend of yours is tough, she shouldn’t have been so talkative with the bruising to her ribs. My guess is the pneumothorax is small enough it’ll heal on its own. She’ll be in pain and probably has a concussion. I know we’ve seen worse.”

“She’s a friend though.” Jack only needs to mutter to make his point. Any other patient they’d have been in and out without a second thought. Now all he can think about is what she must have looked like, what she must have felt laying on the ground alone and scared. He knows it’s stupid, but he should have been there. Should have been there to protect her.

--

He keeps his promise. Sort of. He keeps his head in the game and deals with all the curve balls the night shift sends him. However, there’s that one part of his brain that keeps his worry for her active. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t check on her every so often. He trusts Dr. Ellis’s care, but this case is different. He doesn’t check on y/n because he doubts her care, he checks on her because he cares. And deeply at that.

“She’s awake and I guarantee she’ll kill you if you poke your head in. I saw you counting her breathing reps.” Lena, the night shift charge nurse, looks at him over her glasses. He grunts in response and sits down to chart. His nervousness given away by his left leg repeatedly bouncing.

“Heard she’s a tough one.” He turns to find Lena smiling.

“Don’t start.” He warns. He can smell the gossip and the potential of a new betting board.

“If she’s fighting against care and claiming she’s fine with six bruised ribs and a partially punctured lung, I think she can handle her few more hours of observation.”

“She’s getting discharged?” Jack asks, quickly scouring the board for her file number to glance through.

“Once her ride is here.” Lena’s got a smirk on her face. The news of how he reacted to y/n’s injuries (and the emotion he showed) will be the talk of the nurses’ station tomorrow.

He grumbles again as he tries to make himself look busy while pretending to chart. Once Lena walks away to tend to a patient, he’s up and pulling the curtain aside to check in on y/n.

“Get out of here Sergeant major.” She groans from the hospital bed, a hand raised to shield her eyes (eye) from the light. He closes the door and curtain behind him. He’s logging into the computer to look at her scans again while she continues grumbling at him.

“You were attacked, so sorry for caring short stack.” He smiles as she scoffs at him.

“Jack Abbot I will somehow manage to reach my feet and peel these grippy socks off to throw at you. I swear if you don’t get out there and do something other than watch me, I’ll make sure you never get coffee from GiGi’s café again.”

He only hums in response, his words failing him as he takes in her bruised form. Her eye has fully swollen shut and will probably still be once she’s discharged.

“Sheriff come in?” He asks as he peeks at her meds, fiddling with the saline bag to keep his hands busy.

“You’ve already asked me that. I’m concussed, not stupid.” She goes to cross her arms in defiance, a low whine makes it past her lips before she aborts the movement.

“Your ribs will hurt for the next few weeks. The puncture in your lung should heal on its own. Even though your concussion is minor you need…” She cuts him off her voice low but stern.

“To not sleep for too long and should have someone monitor me for the next few days. You know I was listening when Ellis was talking. I also happen to be able to read so I can peruse the discharge paperwork.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight to his left foot.

“Your leg is bothering you. Go eat something and take some meds. Also get the hell out of my face.” She has a soft smile on her face as she turns the concern back to him. His heart flips as she manages to turn the situation back to him while she lays there injured.

“I’ll try my best to check on you before you’re discharged.” He smiles, his pulse picking up as she winks at him.

“Don’t. Go do your job. Also stick with Half Caff. You call me a stack of short again and I’ll be sure to throw your leg at you at the next meeting.” He snorts at her attitude.

He reaches the door but stops and turns. His pulse thrumming in his ears.

“If you give me your fucking phone number to ‘call you with any questions’, I’m going to throw up.” She wheezes out a laugh as he launches a pen at her.

“I hope you have weird dreams you menace.” He says as he finally leaves the room, a stupid smirk plastered to his face.

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

I'll try to set up my asks if anyone wants me to write some blurbs. Thanks y'all!

[theodorenmyth]

Little Loveboy

Pairings; Mattheo Riddle x GN!reader

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has been hopelessly in love with you since third year, but he refuses to admit it. He dates around, flirts with random girls, and scoffs whenever his friends bring you up—but he just can't shake his feelings. His jealousy is uncontrollable, and his friends never let him hear the end of it. Eventually, even professors start teasing him, much to his dismay.

A/n : starting from today to the 16th of February, I'm gonna make Valentine themed fanfics so no angst.

Warnings ; none

Word count ; 900+

Mattheo Riddle was, as Theodore put it, fucking doomed.

He had been doomed since third year, when he first saw you absolutely wreck the entire class during a debate with Snape about the properties of Amortentia. The way your eyes gleamed with passion, the way you sat so effortlessly confident, the way you were just so fucking smart—it made his heart do something weird. Like it wanted to jump out of his chest and roll across the floor.

And that? That wasn’t normal.

So, obviously, he did the only logical thing—he ignored it. For years.

Instead of admitting that he found you painfully attractive, he spent his time flirting with girls, dating left and right, pretending like he wasn’t being driven up the wall whenever you smiled at someone else.

But the problem with having a hopelessly obvious crush was that Mattheo’s friends were absolute menaces.

“You’re staring again, Little Loveboy,” Pansy sang, flicking his forehead.

“I’m not staring,” Mattheo grumbled, leaning back in his chair, definitely not still looking at you.

“Right,” Blaise drawled, looking over at where you were sitting by the window, absorbed in a book. “That’s why you’ve been looking at Y/N for the past—what? Fifteen minutes?”

“I don’t like him,” Mattheo snapped, but the moment he said it, he glanced at you again.

And just like that, Theodore fucking grinned.

“Oh, mate,” Theo laughed, shaking his head. “You are so gone.”

Draco, sitting beside him, smirked. “It’s honestly embarrassing at this point.”

“You know what’s embarrassing?” Mattheo scoffed. “The fact that you all have nothing better to do than bother me.”

“You make it too easy,” Lorenzo snickered. “Little Loveboy.”

“I will throw you out the fucking window.”

And then, as if the universe hated Mattheo, you looked up from your book. Your eyes met his for half a second, and you smiled at him—a simple, small thing, but oh my fucking God.

Mattheo nearly choked on his own tongue.

His friends exploded into laughter.

“Oh, he’s red!” Pansy gasped. “He’s actually blushing!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mattheo hissed, yanking his hood over his face.

But the teasing didn’t stop there.

No, it got worse.

Because apparently, his suffering was entertainment to not only his friends, but also his professors.

During one particularly terrible Potions class, Mattheo had spent a good portion of the lesson staring at you. Not that he noticed. It just kept happening..

And Snape, ever the observant bastard, took full advantage of this.

“Mr. Riddle,” Snape drawled, interrupting the entire class, “perhaps you would find this lesson more engaging if you spent less time gazing longingly at Mr. Y/L/N and more time focusing on the assignment?”

The entire class turned to look at him.

Mattheo’s jaw dropped.

Even you looked over, blinking in surprise.

“Oh, fuck me,” Mattheo muttered under his breath as his friends burst out laughing.

“Bloody hell,” Draco wheezed, gripping the edge of the table. “Even Snape’s in on it.”

“I hate all of you,” Mattheo gritted out, slamming his book shut.

Snape smirked. “Detention, Riddle.”

Mattheo groaned.

But it didn’t stop there.

Because McGonagall got involved too.

During Transfiguration, Mattheo had, once again, found himself subconsciously staring at you instead of his assignment.

He was trying—he really was—but you had this habit of biting your lip when you were focused, and it was distracting as fuck.

“Mr. Riddle,” McGonagall said, sighing dramatically, “if you’re quite done swooning over Mr. Y/L/N, perhaps you’d like to contribute to the class?”

The Gryffindors howled with laughter.

Mattheo buried his face in his hands. “I’m actually going to die.”

And, of course, the final nail in the coffin was Hagrid.

It was during Care of Magical Creatures. You were partnered with some random Ravenclaw—too close, too friendly, and Mattheo hated it.

He stood there, arms crossed, glowering at the poor guy.

“Merlin, that’s a death stare if I’ve ever seen one,” Theo muttered.

And then, loudly, Hagrid chuckled, “Oh, don’t be jealous, Mattheo, ‘s not like Y/N’s runnin’ off to marry ‘im.”

You turned to look at Mattheo.

Mattheo, absolutely horrified, turned and ran into the fucking woods.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

After that, Mattheo’s denial crumbled like a cheap pastry.

He liked you. He liked you so much it physically hurt.

And after weeks of torment, he finally decided—fuck it.

So, he found you sitting by the Black Lake one afternoon, reading as always, and he sat down beside you.

You glanced up, surprised. “Hey, Mattheo.”

Mattheo almost short-circuited.

Your voice. Your fucking voice.

“Hey,” he muttered, trying to act casual, even though his entire body was buzzing with nerves. “So. Uh. I—uh.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You okay?”

Mattheo exhaled sharply. Just do it, Riddle.

“I like you, okay?” he blurted out.

You blinked. “You—what?”

Mattheo groaned. “I like you. I’ve liked you since third year. I tried to ignore it, but—Merlin, you’re just so fucking cute and smart and perfect and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your face slowly turned red.

“Oh,” you said.

Mattheo stared at you, heart pounding. “Oh?”

And then, after several painfully long seconds, you smiled.

Smiled.

“That’s funny,” you murmured, “because I’ve liked you since third year, too.”

Mattheo’s brain broke.

“…You’re kidding.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to suppress a laugh.

And then, without thinking, Mattheo grabbed your face and kissed you.

The moment your lips met, his entire world tilted.

You kissed him back, smiling against his lips, and everything felt right.

When you finally pulled away, Mattheo was breathless, staring at you like you hung the bloody moon.

“Little Loveboy,” you teased.

Mattheo groaned. “Not you, too.”

You just laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder.

And for once, Mattheo didn’t deny it.

[simonbrain]

to the person who wanted a continuation of soapgaz from this, here you go <3

truthfully, you weren't that mad at johnny.

yes, it hurt, but could you fully blame him? he looked like he was getting his brain fucked out of his head, having no choice but to take the cruel thrusts his lieutenant was laying on him. you swear he slurred out a few apologies before simon stuck his fingers in the poor man's open, drooling mouth, and then you couldn't process anything other than your tears and the overwhelming urge to kick simon's head in.

but just because you weren't too pissed at johnny, that didn't mean the other two members of the team were okay with it. after all, this was his punishment just as much as simon's. what good would it be if he got away with every little thing he did?

"take good care of him, will ya?" price hums, patting kyle's back. the latter nods obediently and mutters a hoarse yessir, already eager to get his hands on the bastard and ruin him.

—

johnny doesn't know how long they've been at it; he only remembers kyle giving him a very brief, sweet kiss before he was pushed down on the bed and his pants were being tugged off, long forgotten on the floor of kyle's room.

"garrick, fuck—" he wheezes, fighting against the urge to roll his hips up. he received a slap to his cock along with a harsh hair pull when he first tried that and had no choice but to take kyle's snarled warning to heart. fuck, he's sweating so much, globs of pre-cum and lube creating a filthy, sticky mess all over his lap and the bed as kyle works his hands over his weeping cock.

"can't keep it in your pants, eh? jus' had to let this cock o'yours think for you," kyle teases, drinking in the way it twitches and spills in his hands. "and you upset the poor bird—sweet thing was all dewy-eyed. that what you were going for, tavish?"

before johnny can deny his words, the fist that holds his cock in an iron grip begins gliding up and down, and he just about chokes at the feeling of kyle's palm sliding over his sensitive tip.

"c— cannae take it, garrick, please—"

"i asked you a question."

"nae, for fucks sake!" johnny cries, letting out a pitiful little whine when the latter squeezes tight, almost too painful for him to handle. he whimpers out a soft sorry and grits his teeth when kyle clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

"behave. should be thankful 's me and not the cap, or even ghost." kyle huffs, loosening his grip just a little. "better hope he's nice to you at training tomorrow after his lil meeting with the captain."

tears clump johnny's eyelashes together as he's denied yet another orgasm, thighs shaking and chest heaving when kyle removes his hands right before he can peak, cock twitching uncontrollably on his belly. "'m sorry, kyle, jus' wanna cum," he groans, loud and unabashed. his hands itch to grab onto the other, but he's not allowed to touch, so he settles for putting on a pathetic display of rolling his hips, poor cock bouncing against him. the movement feels good, but it's not enough, and he swears he'll get himself off if kyle denies him again.

"you solid?" kyle's sweet voice melts away the heavy feelings swirling in johnny's chest, and he nods, forcing his hips to still. "need words, mactavish."

"i'm fine." johnny musters up what he hopes is an acceptable answer, not keen on being edged any longer.

kyle hums, sliding his hand over johnny's thighs, eyes trailing down appreciatively at the mess they've made. "i could let you cum, but..." he sucks in a breath—at the same time, johnny lets out a soft groan, warm hands working his cock again. "i'm a bit offended, soap. was i not good enough last time we shagged? is that why you went after ghost?"

"yer wrong, gaz, it isnae my fault—"

"shut it," kyle snaps, squeezing a fist around the head, fluids coating his hand as johnny thrashes against the bed. "i thought i was a good lay, apparently not. or are you that much of a slag?" kyle croons condescendingly, chuckling lowly at the sounds tearing through the other's throat and the desperate shakes of his head, denying it.

his poor cock's not helping his case, though. it throbs intensely at the dirty words and drips all over kyle's pretty hands, balls aching for release.

"is that it, johnny?" he purrs lowly, sliding up next to johnny on the bed, hand still wrapped tightly around his cock. he leans down to kiss him, swallowing all the sweet little sounds spilling out johnny's mouth. his hand moves a little faster, granting the smallest amount of relief, but it's just not enough.

when they break apart, johnny grits out his denial. he knew that simon had a sweet thing at home, but he was told that she was okay with it. he's not totally at fault; it's all simon.

gaz just tuts when he attempts to explain.

(johnny does feel guilty, though; he didn't stop his lieutenant from ravaging him right in front of you or shy away from your gaze. in fact, he became even more shameless, shoving his hips back and whining out barely coherent apologies. he hopes you'll let him make it up to you properly some day. preferably between your legs.)

"nah, i think you're jus' greedy. is it cause i'm not taken? that why you said yes to ghost?" kyle huffs, cruelly twisting his fist around the head of johnny's cock. the pretty smile on his face sharpens into something mean at the broken sob he gets in return.

johnny doesn't know anything anymore; he can't even decipher left from right. all he can process is kyle lifting his hand off a second too late and the unsatisfying feeling of a ruined orgasm rolling over him in ferocious waves, not nearly enough to satiate him for even a moment.

kyle shushes his heavy sobs, whispers promises that he'll let him cum next time as he slides down the bed, and picks his sensitive cock back up. this time, kyle actually puts his mouth on him, searing hot and so soft, and johnny's seeing white.

[marvelfilth]

Family dinner

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova, platonic!Kate Bishop x f!reader

Warnings: a very poor attempt at humour

Summary: your best friend Kate needs backup after a mishap with Yelena's family

Masterlist

“I need you here yesterday!”

“What?” You whisper-shout, looking around the office to make sure no one noticed you ducking away to take a call from your best friend.

“Please, I'm desperate! I can't do this alone, they're like sharks and I just spilled blood!”

“Kate, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Yelena's family! They're scary as shit on a good day, but now we messed up real bad, and I think they're gonna decapitate me,” she whines.

“Okay, let's backtrack. What did you do?”

“...”

“Kate?”

There's shuffling on the other side, a deep sigh and then, “Melina found the handcuffs. With the fur. They were still attached to the bed.”

You snort, loud enough to attract annoyed looks from your coworkers. “Happens to the best of-”

“And the whip. It was on the bed too.”

You chortle, this time not caring about your surroundings, and swiftly move further down the hall. “She knows Yelena's a big girl, she can ha-”

“Natasha was there too!”

You stop in your tracks. Now that's interesting.

“She'll never let you forget it,” you say with all the confidence you have, even though you've never met the woman before. You know just enough from what Kate and Yelena told you to be sure of that.

“She's not letting me forget it now! She got all sneaky and secretive, whispering with Melina and looking at me, and now I'm on my way to a family dinner. A family dinner with my girlfriend's family, while said girlfriend got called away on some emergency mission,” she huffs angrily.

“There's no emergency mission, is there?”

“There better be!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. It's never a boring day with Kate Bishop.

“So,” she starts, aiming for a nonchalant tone, “I'm downstairs.”

“What?”

“Yep. Waiting for you at the front. Better hurry, parking is expensive as hell.”

“Kate.”

“I'm your bestie. And my girlfriend's mom found the handcuffs. I need you.”

You check the time, noting that the workday is nowhere near it's end. With a sigh, you head for the elevator, not even bothering to come back for your bag.

“I love you.”

“I haven't agreed to-”

“I know what that sigh means!”

You groan. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me.”

×××

Turns out, Yelena's family is even scarier then you imagined.

“So, Y/n,” Melina starts, looking at you like you're one of her lab rats, “Do you usually leave your… sexual… stuff after you're done?”

You turn red, choking on the wine. Kate sends you a look of pity.

Natasha smirks.

“I don't… I'm not sure- Um. Well, no.”

Melina hums, nodding to herself. “Good.”

She digs into her food, and you exhale in relief, feeling like the worst part is over.

“So where do you keep your stuff, Y/n?” Natasha asks over the rim of her glass, her eyes full of mischief.

Kate slides lower in her seat, boring holes into her fork.

Melina perks up, once again regarding you like one of her subjects. “I would also like to know. To pass the advice to my daughter and her girlfriend.”

You gulp.

“Well?” Natasha prompts.

You shudder from the intensity of the look she's giving you.

“Can we move on?” Kate whispers, looking around nervously.

“Yes, of course,” Melina nods, her eyes lighting up like she was waiting for a subject change.

Natasha sends Kate an amused smile, and you relax slightly. Now the worst part is over, you're sure.

“So, Y/n-”

Fuck.

“-are you single?”

You nod, shoving a forkful of some meat salad - which mostly consists of mayonnaise - to avoid talking.

“And you're gay, correct?” Melina asks, peering into your very soul.

You nod again, chewing fast.

“Why are you gay?”

You choke on a piece of potato, wheezing and reaching for a glass of water. Kate almost falls of her chair in haste to smack you on the back. Natasha just looks at her mother, unimpressed. “Really?”

“What?” Melina shrugs. “I'm a scientist, I'm conducting research.”

The redhead groans, rubbing her eyes. “Of course.”

You feel a little better now that Natasha is annoyed.

Melina still looks at you, expecting an answer.

You sigh, “Are you gay?”

She blinks, looking like an owl. Natasha chokes on a laugh, sending you a look of appreciation. Kate mutters something about bathroom and darts out of the room, hopefully to call Yelena and fix all this mess.

“Well,” Melina starts, deep in thought. “I suppose I've never given it much of a thought.”

You nod, feeling accomplished in swaying attention from yourself.

“Natasha.” The older woman turns abruptly. “You are gay.”

The redhead groans, sliding down in her seat. “Mother, please.”

“She's gay, and you're gay. You're both miserably single.”

“Huh?” You frown, affronted.

“Fuck my life,” Natasha mumbles into the table, her face pressed tight against it in a feeble effort of disappearing.

“Yelena's on her way!” Kate walks back into the room, triumphant.

“Finally,” you sigh, pointedly looking at the ceiling to avoid Melina's penetrative gaze. “Where's she, by the way?”

“Hiding, probably,” Natasha snorts, shaking her head. “Escaped the scene of crime and left her girlfriend to pick up the mess.” She raises her glass in Kate's general direction, “You're doing good so far, Bishop. Even brought reinforcement - good thinking.”

“Yes-yes,” Melina nods, her eyes darting between you three. “Yelena's a bit of a coward in that regard, but we have an important matter to discuss.”

Natasha glares at her mother. “No, we don-”

“Natasha can cook. Well, she can microwave.”

“What did I miss?” Kate frowns, settling back into her seat. “Actually, no. I don't want to know.”

“As I was saying,” Melina clears her throat, paying no mind to the murderous look Natasha sends her. You'd feel gleeful at that - Natasha's plan came back to bite her in the ass - if you weren't the other victim in this scenario. “Natasha can cook. She's excellent with knives. She's an excellent shot. She can dismantle a bomb in a matter of seconds. She's a… a catch.”

You smile at the miserable expression on Natasha's face, her cheeks dusted with pink.

“Oh…” Kate whispers, looking at you from the corner of her eye. “Well, actually, Y/n is-” she yelps loudly when your heel connects with her toes, and turns bright red at the shooting pain. “-a bitch. She's a bitch.”

The look in Melina's eyes turns gleeful. “That was excellent.”

Fucking hell, no matter what you do, your grave turns deeper and deeper.

Natasha snorts, chugging her wine like it's water. Melina's mouth opens again, and you say a stupid thing to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Can we go back to Kate's handcuffs, please,” you mutter with a sigh.

The look of betrayal your friend sends you doesn't work the way she intended, because you don't feel guilty at all.

Melina's mouth snaps shut, her eyes widening. The sight alone tells you you said the wrong thing.

“Have you and Kate ever-”

“No!” you both shout, before the older woman can finish the question.

“Sounds defensive,” Natasha chuckles, reaching for the bottle of vodka.

“Wha- What?” You hiss, glaring at the spy.

“She's- Y/n’s not even my type! And I'm not her type either!” Kate splutters.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, “that I can see.”

You gape, not sure if you're supposed to be offended. “What?”

Natasha smirks, planting her chin on her fist. “You need a firm hand. Your best friend is anything, but firm.”

Her eyes trail down your body, pupils darkening ever so slightly. Your cheeks burn and, suddenly, it's hard to breathe. You clear your throat and gulp down the last of your wine, carefully avoiding her gaze.

“O-okay. That's- okay, yep,” Kate mutters to herself. “Fuck my life.”

“Am I wrong?” Natasha husks, reaching across the table to play with the golden bracelet on your wrist.

Really, right in front of her mother?

The front door opens with a loud bang, and you jump up, relieved to see Yelena. The feeling doesn't last long, because a second later you notice the bleeding wound on her torso.

“So that was an actual mission,” you mumble, missing the way Natasha snorts in your haste to get Yelena to the couch.

Kate looks pale, but swiftly starts helping Yelena undress. Melina's ready with the first aid kid by the time they finally tear off the shirt.

“So?” Natasha whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Am I wrong?”

Apparently, not even her bleeding sister can stop her.

“No,” you reply, “you're not wrong.”

She hums, satisfied. “I am miserably single, you know?"

You let out a loud laugh, not even bothering to quiet down when Yelena sends you a murderous look.

“I am miserably single, too.”

She smiles, nodding to herself.

“Want to fix that?” She asks after a bit, her eyes glinting in the soft evening light.

“They'll never shut up about it,” you groan, stepping closer to her.

“Yeah,” she hums, her grin stretching wider. “So?”

"A little help?" Yelena wheezes, glaring daggers at the two of you. "Hello? Your sister is dying."

“Yes,” you reply, not taking your eyes away from her green pools.

“Perfect,” she breathes, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I'll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

"Fucking unbelievable," Yelena mutters and yelps when Melina shushes her with a pinch and a hissed "don't ruin my hard work".

Kate just looks like she's about to faint.

You grin. "I can't wait."

[sarahsmi13s]

Fever Dream

pairing: evan buckley x nash!reader

characters: evan 'buck' buckley, nash!reader, bobby nash, athena grant

warnings: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR 8.15, mentions of religion, blood, panic attack, nightmare, major character death, xreader (this is how i'm coping okay?), i'm delulu and gonna feed my fellow fandom siblings delusions, if i missed any please let me know!

word count: ~2.1k

a/n: as mentioned in the warnings, this contains spoilers for episode 15 so please if you don't want spoilers don't read. i wrote this simply because is how i'm choosing to cope until the next episode airs. i hope everyone out there is doing okay (in a general sense, i know so many of us are fucking mad). i hope this can help feed delusions or just maybe bring comfort.

summary: being separated from your team, your family, is hard enough... add in a deadly super virus and cctv cameras to give you a perfect view of them, and it's going to haunt you in ways you may never expect

Your fingers dug into Buck’s turn out. Your shaking and gasping cries merged with his screams, desperate prayers vibrating against his arm.

His throat hurt. It was raw and felt like it was bleeding, a metallic taste building up on his tongue. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

This couldn’t be it. This can’t be happening. Bobby’s not supposed to die.

No! No… Bobby was fine. He had been right behind Buck as they were leaving. He made it out. 

He was walking and talking, barking out orders like it was breathing.

Bobby was breathing.

Now…  Now he was what?

Now he was pacing around a room, alone. Professing his love to Athena and pleading with her to believe he didn’t want this. He was using every ounce of his strength to fight away any doubt in her heart. He was apologizing. Buck could still hear how he apologized to you as you were drug away from your attempts to pry the door open. 

Now he was crawling on the floor, his organs beginning to fail as he coughed up blood – red splatters decorating the ash covered floor. He was sweating, body feverish as his immune system kept trying to save him.

But nothing can save him…

Now he’s dying. Praying on his knees until blood filled his mouth like a fatal elixir, a final communion. Blood was coating his tongue and teeth, staining his lips crimson as his head fell to the table and his chest slowed to a stop.

Now he was in a body bag… and Buck-

– jolted awake, a raw cry straining his vocal cords as he gripped the duvet in his lap.

“Buck? Buck! Evan!” He knew that voice – that soft, gentle voice. “Hey, hey, baby it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Gentle and warm hands cradled his face, tilting it up as thumbs wiped the tears away. He can barely make out anything through the tears and the panic scrambling his brain.

But those eyes… He knows those eyes. They’re safe. They’re home.

They’re you.

His entire body was shaking. Sweat dripped down his back, leaving goosebumps as the AC cooled his hot skin. Tears shone on his face in the dim lamplight, more spilling over his lash line to pool on your thumbs. His chest ached, it felt like he was trying suck in air from an empty oxygen tank.

“Breathe, Ev’. Breathe for me.”

He hit his chest to communicate that he was trying. Each gulp of air wheezed into his windpipe, barely giving him enough to speak. “I-I can’t…”

You nodded, moving his arms around you and pressing his hands flat against your back. “You can. You just gotta follow me, baby.”

He tried, he really tried. But his chest felt too tight, air snagged in his throat, scraping along what felt like open wounds lining his esophagus. All before getting forced out in broken, strangled sobs.

You only smiled softly at him, the expression warm and encouraging. Your thumbs brushed his cheeks gently, being careful not to rub his cheeks raw as your exhales cooled them. His hands were desperate and hard on your back, gripping at your sleep shirt as he tried to follow your breathing.

Neither of you knew how long it took before his chest expanded fully again. A full breath of air, accented by the scent of your shampoo, filled his lungs. He swallowed, nodding against you as he began to calm down.

You tilted your head, the movement small as you pushed his curl back from his damp forehead. There was no doubt this panic attack was the result of a nightmare. They weren’t uncommon in this line of work, but only a few brought on panic attacks.

Your hand rested at the back of his head, the other gently resting on the side of his neck. “What happened, Buck? What did you see?”

The question made his throat cinch up again, fresh waves of tears falling down his cheeks. He opened his mouth and the words tumbled out in broken, sob-ridden babbles.

You gently shushed him after a few moments, soothing the ache with the tender caress of your hands carding through his hair. His tears are hot against your skin as you tilted his chin up with your thumb. “Sweetheart, I need you to slow down.”

You weren’t upset with him, or frustrated in the slightest. If anything… you were scared and just wanted to help.

Buck swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself. You pressed your lips to his head and gently rocked you both. It was a little awkward in this position, but all you cared about was making sure he was okay.

You pulled back to look at him, your hand moving back to his cheek to brush away the tears.

His eyes remained downcast, staring at where your knees pressed into his thighs. He gripped your shirt again as a soft cry fell from his lips.

“The lab…”

He felt you tense at the words. Your hands paused in their movements just long enough for him to catch it before you went right back to soothing him. 

A pang of guilt hit deep in his heart. 

“We-we had just got Hen and Chimney out, and everything was fine. But as I turned to Cap… he-” Buck bit his quivering lip, his eyes remaining fixated on your point of contact, not wanting to see the heartbreak in your eyes as he told you again what had happened in the damned lab. He hated to make you relive it, relive probably the worst day of your life. He wanted to take it back, take all of it back… but he kept going, knowing you wouldn’t just let him go back to sleep.

“He locked himself in… the hose line to his tank was torn in the explosion, he had been sick the whole time and no one knew. He sacrificed himself for Chimney… he’s gone.”

His voice cracked, sobs sending his trembling frame into your lap. Apologies tumbled past his lips and rumbled against your sternum. 

Your heart broke, frame rattling with the devastating cries of your boyfriend. You planted kisses on his head and rubbed his back. “Oh Evan, honey… it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! He’s gone!” He pulled back swiftly, nearly headbutting you in the process. “Nothing is okay! How will it ever be okay?”

You held his face, fingers gently curling around his jaw to get him to look at you. “Baby, that was just a nightmare. He’s okay. He’s with Athena at their temporary apartment.”

Buck’s eyes met yours, his crystal blue eyes surrounded by red as his brow furrowed in confusion. “W-what? That-that’s impossible there was only one cure and we used that on Chimney. Bobby couldn’t have…” He trailed off, his voice giving way as he looked at you with pure desperation to understand.

Your thumbs rubbed under his eyes, tracing comforting crescents there. You couldn’t help the tears that stung your own eyes or how your lip quivered as you shook your head. “Baby, dad’s line was never compromised. His equipment was intact. He’s okay, I promise you.”

“But-”

You shushed him gently, adjusting how you were sitting to hold him. “I know… I know it felt real. Dreams like that always do. And it’s wild how, despite knowing the truth, your brain can twist reality so intricately that you wake up wondering which is which. Scared that the good life was the dream and the nightmare is your life…”

Buck sniffled, a small sound escaping his lips. His head was throbbing, pulsing alongside his heart as it crossed wires and memories. He was half-awake trying to make it all make sense.

“C’mon,” you said softly, sniffling as you kissed his damp forehead. You slipped out of the bed, grabbing Buck’s zip-up hoodie before pulling him to his feet. “Put this on and find your shoes.”

“Honey-”

“We’re going over there, right now.” 

Your words held a sense of authority, leaving no room for argument or questioning. Not that Buck needed to question you, he trusted you more than he trusted anyone.

The drive across town was a blur. Street lights and business signs merged together, nothing but bright neon streaks that went by too fast for anyone to process properly. 

Buck was fighting to stay awake, to pull himself out of his dream fog and focus. He felt stuck, constantly trying to decipher dream from reality.

A gentle squeeze to his hand felt like he was sucked back into his body. Everything around him clears, all becoming separate entities rather than a multi-colored blob. He could hear the low hum of the radio, the ambient sounds filling the space of the car in substitute of his voice.

Your lips brushed his knuckles as you reached across your body to put the car in park. “We’re here.” You could feel his hand trembling in yours just before you let go to exit the car.

He quickly got out after you, rounding the car and reaching for your hand again.

He needed it. He needed to be grounded. 

You both walked in, nodding to the doorman as you walked right past him to the elevator. 

After you got in and pressed the button you turned to Buck. He was bouncing on his toes, his unoccupied hand restless at his side.

“Baby, c’mere,” you said softly, tugging on his hand before wrapping your arms around him in a proper hug.

He immediately returned it, his arms pinning you to his chest desperately.

His voice was raspy as he spoke. “I’m so scared…” 

“I know, Ev’... I know. But I promise, he’s okay. You’ll see for yourself soon, I swear it.” 

The elevator slowed to a stop and you pulled apart as the doors opened. You took his hand again, gripping it tightly as you walked down the hall to your parents door.

Your knuckles rapped on the door in a rhythm that would signal to whoever was awake that it was you. Buck brought the concept up to Bobby back when you both began dating. It was just a silly little thing you did as a family, nothing serious.

But the sound of it made Buck’s stomach sink with anxiety.

What if Bobby would never hear that again? What if Buck would never hear Bobby knock like that again?

What if-

“Y/n? Buck?”

You smiled at Athena softly, a hint of an apology in it. “Hi, Athena…”

She wrapped her robe around her, yawning as she ushered you both inside. “It’s two in the morning, baby, what’re you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Her voice was laced with sleep and you almost felt bad for waking her up but there was a glass of water on the counter. She had been awake for a few minutes when you knocked.

Buck wiped at his eyes with his free hand as he squeezed yours.

You returned the gesture, rubbing your own eyes as you spoke.

“We umm… we need-”

“Bobby…” Buck’s frayed voice rattled through the kitchen, his shoulders dropping as if the strings keeping him so tense had been cut.

You and Athena looked up to see your dad walk out of the bedroom, stretching as he walked into the kitchen.

“Buck? Y/n? What’s going on? Everything okay?” He was slowly coming around to the idea of being awake at such an ungodly hour as he noticed the look on Buck’s face.

“Buck? What’s wrong?”

Without saying anything, Buck launched his 6’2” frame at your dad, curling into him like a child. He pressed his face into Bobby’s shoulder, crying in relief.

You noticed Athena glance at you from the corner of your eye as Bobby looked at you, hoping for an explanation.

You swallowed, arms wrapping around yourself as you leaned against the counter. “A nightmare… about the lab incident.”

Bobby gripped Buck tighter, realizing that being the only one not stuck in there must have taken a bigger toll on Buck than he thought.

Athena rubbed your arm, extending a comforting hand to you. Seeing Buck reacting so viscerally like this had to be affecting you too, she wanted you to know that you weren’t alone. 

You smiled at her appreciatively, resting your head on her shoulder as Buck pulled back from the hug.

“It-it felt so real… you died, Bobby. I-I thought we lost you.”

A deep frown pulled at your dad’s lips, his brow creasing as he gripped Buck’s shoulders.

“It was just a dream, son,” he said, pulling Buck back into a hug. “Everyone made it out. Everyone’s okay. I’m okay, and I don’t plan on changing that anytime soon.”

a/n: thank you so much for reading! i hope this could bring some comfort in, it was a huge comfort to write, and that it can hold you over until may 1...

and thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 for giving this a look over for me a giving some feedback!

also, happy easter to those who celebrate! i hope you're all having a great day!

tags (you can also follow @vinnys-recordcollection and turn on notifications ;p): @lovinglyeternal @bradleybeachbabe @achilles-rage @kmc1989 (tagged a few i thought might like it - apologies for anyone i missed, i gotta sort out taglists 😅)

[faith-forgxtten-land]

Sloppy | Raphael

okay so this wasn’t a request but i’ve been MIA for a while and i haven’t really had the opportunity to write much over the past few months so this is really just writing practice (forgive me if it's subpar, i'm rusty)

also, if you've requested something, i promise that i'm working on it so please be patient!

made with bayverse in mind!!

warnings: NSFW, first thing i’ve properly written in months so be kind people, swearing, afab reader — mentions of pussy etc., oral sex (f!receiving), raph is a little feral and mean i feel… everyone is 18+!!, not proofread so lemme know if you notice any glaring errors

summary: raph eats your pussy; he’s greedy and sloppy (it’s perfect)

word count: 651 (short and not sweet)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

raph eats pussy like a man possessed. he’s sloppy and loud about it, spit and slick all over his face as he spreads your legs as wide as possible and then even wider. your hips ache from the stretch, and you can already tell you’ll be sore tomorrow, but all you can do is whine and moan, hands covering your heated face in a futile effort to silence yourself.

you can’t even grind down against him like this because the bastard has one arm casually slung over your stomach, his huge palm pressing down just so, enough to make you whimper. you can feel him grinning meanly against your thigh with each failed arch of your spine, nipping your flesh in cruel, teasing bites that are sure to leave purple marks, before he continues to lap at your cunt like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“raph,” you wheeze desperately, whimpers getting stuck in your throat as he practically growls against you. the sound is dark and agonised, and you can’t help but gasp as he pushes a thick digit inside you. “raph, raph, raph—”

he tongues your clit and crooks his finger, and you can no longer breathe, hands now clenched into bedsheets and thighs shaking with every sloppy touch. “that’s it,” he rumbles, the vibrations only making you tremble more. “that’s it, give it to me.”

your moans fill the room in perfect harmony with the filthy squelch of your pussy as raph fucks you with his calloused finger. it’s already too much, but you think you might pass out when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks like he’s trying to reap your soul. “oh my god—”

you’re whining so loud, choked, and so, so needy, but you can’t find it within you to feel shame even as a distant part of your brain acknowledges that you won’t be able to look his brothers in the eye for a good week after this.

white eclipses your vision when you come, falling headfirst over that precipice that you’ve been teetering on for god knows how long. you fall silent when you do, mouth parted and back finally arching as raph lets your body take exactly what it needs; he lets you grind your hips down, mouth still fixed over your clit as your thighs clamp down around his skull.

he’s mumbling something dirty and full of sacrilege when you finish, his words a wicked churr that tips you into oversensitivity, and you whine weakly when he keeps moving his finger inside you, letting it drag against your slick walls with a slightly sadistic delight.

he chuckles when you slap his forearm weakly, but he acquiesces and slowly pulls back, groaning to himself when he sees just how soaked his hand is. “such a good girl,” he murmurs, looking right at you when he tastes you on his finger. he groans again at the flavour as if he hasn’t been buried in your pussy for the best part of the last hour.

“you’re terrible,” you tell him, voice wrecked, when he finally releases his finger from his mouth.

his smirk is shameless and greedy. “oh, i know.” his warm palms rest against your wet thighs, parting them again with ease. your hipbones twinge, and you gasp as he drags you closer to him, nestling between your legs like he belongs there (he does). “and we’re nowhere near done.”

his eyes are dark and leering, gluttonous and greedy, never full of you but always full of sin, and you swallow thickly as his lips twist into a ravenous snarl, nostrils flaring as you somehow grow even wetter, slick trickling down your already soaked thigh at the unadulterated lechery above you.

by the time you're done, several hours and several orgasms later, you know you won’t be able to look his brothers in the eye for at least a month.