#after getting out of the shower or the pool

[maybe-im-dark]

Logan headcanons

Logan hates showers. He generally has a problem with water, it reminds him too much of Weapon X. It's why he doesn't shower as often, as he should. Everytime he needs to mentally prepare himself for the process; undressing, getting cold, stepping into the shower, adjusting the temperature (Logan loves scalding hot showers and Wade always uses way too cold water for his taste) , soaping his hair and body, rinse it out, stepping out of the shower, getting cold again and drying himself

The same reason he hates swimming: Weapon X. Stryker forced him to swim on time and dive, to get used to the weight of the adamantium. It takes a great effort for him to swim, the adamantium weighs him down, so he avoids it when he can, settling for just sticking his legs in the pool

He has a complicated relationship with smells. He loves strong smells and tastes, that would make anyone else run for a breath of fresh air. His heightened senses mean he can pick up all the complexities of smell and taste, especially stinky cheese and mold. He will eat old Limburger and forgotten leftovers from the back of the fridge. His healing factor prevents him from getting food poisoning. He also loves Wade's cancer smell, the sweet rot grounds him. On the other hand there are smells that set him off. Especially hand sanitizer and strong cologne. It's what Stryker smelled like. So Wade always makes sure to buy unscented soap and shampoo, as to not trigger his husband

He knows several languages from traveling the world in the army. The most obvious ones being French, Spanish, German and Japanese. But he also knows Russian, some Ukranian and a few native American languages such as Lakota. Sometimes when he's out with Wade the two will switch between different languages to make sure nobody listens in on them

He actually has a bunch of children. As a teenager he has some flings, that resulted in pregnancies unbeknownst to him, because protection wasn't around yet. And after the X-Men were killed he hooked up with any woman who was willing and in his drunken state, he just didn't care for condoms. It was only when the TVA told him, that he knew of his children. The young ones were transfered to his and Wade's universe in the mansion, so they could learn to control their mutation and he sends money and birthday and christmas cards regularly with the promise to meet them when they're old enough. The adult ones he will have a drink with and listen to their life stories, without revealing himself, not wanting to interfere with the life they have built for themselves

He also loves head scratches. He loves when Wade or Laura run their fingers through his thick hair and massage his scalp, it calms him

[whatidonthaveanyhomework]

Enjoying the view?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: basically Natasha takes care of you after a long day (with sex)

Warnings: smut, dom Natasha, sub reader, degradation, mommy kink, biting(?), slight overstimulation, aftercare, subspace

A/N: I’ve never written anything before so idk how good this is, please don’t be mean to me

—————————————————————————

You stumble into your house, tired from your day at work. You had overslept and spent the entire day running from meeting to meeting. All you really wanted to do was come home and spend time with your girlfriend. As you step into the house, you’re greeted with the scent of pizza in the oven. In the kitchen you find Natasha tossing a bagged salad. As you enter the room she comes over to you and leans in for a kiss. 

“Hi detka,” she mumbles against your lips, pulling you into a tight embrace. You breathe in the scent of her shampoo, reveling in the soft domesticity of the moment. 

“Hi love,” you respond, as Natasha pulls back, placing another quick kiss on your lips before returning to her salad. 

“How was your day?” She asks, pouring the salad dressing packet into her salad as you lean against the island in your kitchen. You sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Well, I woke up and my girlfriend wasn’t there to kiss me, and then I nearly missed the bus, and then Steve sent me to all my meetings and then all of Wanda’s since she’s on sick leave, and I got curry on my pants at lunch,” you complain. Natasha gives the salad a final toss before pulling you into another hug, her hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. 

“I’m sorry angel. That’s exhausting,” she consoles and you nod, pulling her body closer to yours.

The timer on the pizza beeps, and Natasha pulls away, placing an apologetic kiss on your hairline. She takes the pizza out of the oven, and the two of you set the table to eat. 

During dinner, Natasha keeps close to you, always in physical contact with you in some way. You lean into it, grateful for the comfort in your tired state. After dinner, the two of you head upstairs to shower before getting in bed. You climb into the shower and take turns washing each other before changing into pajamas and climbing in bed together to watch a show. 

Climbing into bed, Natasha pulls you onto her lap, holding you against her body tightly. You place your head on her shoulder to admire your girlfriend, noticing her soft lips and ample cleavage her tank top provides. You breathe in her scent, mostly ignoring the show you’ve both seen a million times. 

Natasha looks down at you, an amused smile gracing her lips. 

“Enjoying the view?” She teases and you blush, casting your eyes downward, and nod. 

“Yes Natty,” you say, suddenly very shy. Natasha chuckles softly, lifting your chin with a single finger to meet her gaze. You look into her eyes, and see them darken, heat pooling at your core. Natasha pulls you in, lips meeting. 

The kiss starts soft, but quickly turns more passionate as Natasha takes control, forcing your tongue back into your mouth. You moan softly at the sensation, and Natasha pulls you impossibly closer, her fingers tangling in your hair as the other hand grips your waist. 

Throwing your arms around her neck, you move to straddle your girlfriend’s lap. Natasha trails kisses down your neck, and you sigh at the sensation. She finds your pulse point and sucks on it, leaving a mark. You whimper, wanting more. 

“Oh darling, is someone needy?” She asks in a condescending tone that goes straight to your core. “I need words, detka,” she says, as you try to retake control over your voice. 

“Yes.” You whine, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. 

“Well, I guess we should do something about that, shouldn't we detka?” She asks, her voice dropping an octave. You nod adamantly as she maneuvers the two of you so that the two of you are laying on the bed, with her on top of you, straddling your waist. Natasha yanks your (her) shirt off your chest, which she quickly follows with her own. 

Your mind goes fuzzy at the sight of your girlfriend shirtless on top of you, and you nearly moan when she grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, leaning down to kiss you again. 

The kiss is all tongue and teeth and you groan as Natasha bits softly on your bottom lip. 

“Oh, does my babygirl like it when I bite her?” She asks. 

“Yes Mommy,” you sigh out, desperate for her to touch you. Mercifully, she also seems desperate to move her touch lower, and runs one of her hands over your chest, rolling your nipple between her fingers. 

“Fuck,” you cry, back arching up into her body and squeezing your legs together to try to aliviate the ache. Natasha lightly slaps your chest, and you can feel more arousal pooling in your underwear. 

“Watch your language detka,” she commands. “Only good girls get to come.” You nod, breaking eye contact. 

“‘M sorry Mommy. I’ll be good,” you say, and are rewarded a moment later by Natasha’s mouth on your chest as her hands travel down to your stomach, tracing random patterns there before following lower, lifting your hips to pull your pajama pants off. 

She pulls your legs open, dragging her nails lightly down the inside of your thighs. Bringing her hand further up, she ghosts her fingers against your folds over top of your underwear before pressing softly on your clit. You whine, but hold still, knowing Natasha won’t take kindly to you chasing her fingers. 

“Please touch me,” you wine, earning a low chuckle as the redhead slips your underwear off and starts lightly rubbing circles around your clit. You whimper, rolling your hips lightly against her finger. 

“Hold on a second sweetheart.” She said, removing her hand from your clit and planting an apologetic kiss on your lips. You grumble at the loss of friction, pressing your legs together to try to alleviate the ache between them as Natasha rummaged through her nightstand drawers.

“Ah ah keep those legs open for me love,” Natasha said, yanking her harness over her hips. You pull them apart again, whining.

“None of that sweet girl. Let Mommy take care of you,” she said, teasing your entrance with the tip of her strap before sinking into you. You let out a strangled moan. 

“Oh baby do you like that?” Natasha teases, thrusting into you hard and deep. 

“Y-yes Mommy,” you respond, eyes rolling back in your head as you hold the sheets below you in a death grip in an attempt to ground yourself. Natasha speeds up, enjoying your desperate state. You bite your lip, trying not to scream as the pleasure mounts inside you. 

“Ohh baby you look so pretty falling apart for mommy,” Natasha says. She leans down over you, grabbing one of your boobs to gain leverage so she could thrust harder into you. 

“Mommyyyyy,” you moan out. 

“What do you need, princess?” She asks, leaning closer to ghost your mouth. 

“C-can you please bite me?” You ask, your breathing speeding up as you approach your climax. 

“Aww, my dirty girl wants to be bitten?” Natasha mocks, kissing your neck lightly. 

“Please mommy I’m so close I’m so close please bite me,” you cry out. 

“Ok honey, you can come whenever you like,” Natasha says. She bites the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, and the coil in your stomach snaps. Pleasure washes over you, and you cry out, clinging onto Natasha. However, Natasha keeps going. 

“M-mommy what are you doing?” You ask, the overstimulation a little much. 

“Mmh-sorry princess mommy’s just so close,” Natasha says, her hips becoming erratic as the strap slams into you, hitting her clit just right. A couple seconds later, she lets out a low groan as she grips you tightly, coming. Then she collapses on top of you. 

You lay there together for a couple seconds before Natasha pulls you into a soft kiss. 

“Are you ok angel?” Natasha asks, softly tracing her hands across your body. 

“Of course mommy,” you say, pulling her back on top of you, just needing to feel her skin on yours. 

“Ok good. You did so well.” She praises, stroking your hair. The two of you stay there for a while, holding each other, before Natasha starts to pull away again. You tighten your grip on her, confused as to why she’s moving. 

“I’m sorry baby girl I have to pull out so we can clean up for bed,” Natasha says, and you reluctantly let her pull away and out, grimacing. 

“Ssh it’s ok baby,” Natasha coos, pulling you back into her arms and picking you up to carry you to the bathroom. She gently wipes between your legs with a wet washcloth, and then proceeds to lovingly wash your face and do your skincare routine for you. You lean into her touch, dimly aware of what’s happening, until you feel her place something in your hand. 

“Hey babygirl,” Natasha says as she sees your eyes focus on her. “Can you brush your teeth for me?”

You nod, lazily running the toothbrush across your teeth, as your girlfriend quickly gets herself ready for bed. She then takes the toothbrush from you, and a few moments later she’s hoisting you up and taking you to bed. She tucks you in before cuddling up behind you. 

“Night angel,” she whispers, kissing the side of your head.

“Mmm love you,” you mumble. 

“Love you too sweet girl.”

—————————————————————————

thx for reading, pls don’t plagiarize me

[wintfleur]

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝ ITS NOT LIVING IF ITS NOT WITH YOU !

aka some headcanons for our fav throuple in Italy

── ୨୧ 𝓹airing : Mat barzal x f!Leclerc f1 driver (oc) x Quinn Hughes

Mat is the one who plans the trip and he refuses any help from Julie or Quinn, wanting to surprise them with everything. He organized the plane tickets, rented a beautiful villa for them and everything.

He’s had the idea of the three of them going to Italy together for a long time, it just took a while for the perfect opportunity for them to actually go.

When they first get to the villa, they all have ideas on what they want to do first, Julie wants to unpack, mat wants to go explore, and Quinn wants to take a nap. Quinn ends up convincing Julie to take a nap with him, then both of them drag Mat to join them, promising to explore after they get some rest. 

After their much-needed nap, they shared a quick shower and got ready to explore the lovely town and go out for dinner. They walked the streets together, fingers locked. Julie and Quinn both smiling at how excited mat was. 

After some exploring and shopping, they find a restaurant where they have a wonderful candle lit dinner, shared with many glasses of wine. After dinner they made their way back to the villa, cuddling on the couch on one of the many balconies, watching the stars. 

Mat has a packed itinerary for them, they are doing new things every day, with a ton of exploring. 

They spend a lot of time by the water, either it being the sea or the pool at their villa. Julie likes to lay and suntan while she watches mat and Quinn mess around in the water, feeling nothing but relaxed, but that peacefulness is always broken when one of the boys is grabbing her and tossing her into the pool to join them. 

They spend hours in the pool, and it always leads to mat and Quinn taking a nap while Julie starts on lunch, loving to cook authentic Italian dishes, using the cookbook that was in the kitchen.

Mat rents them a boat -- honestly it was more like a yacht . . . he likes to spoil them. They have lunch and dinner on the boat, spinning the day and night out on the boat, swimming in the water, cuddling on the love seat on the deck. 

the whole trip they are off their phones, taking a very much needed break from everything. They always do their daily chickens with their parents to let them know they are okay but other than that their phones are put away. 

Julie is fluent in Italian, so they don't need their phone for a translation, and mat knows his way around, so they don't need their phones for a map, and if they do need a map, they use a paper one. 

Julie had brought her camera so they all took turns taking pictures, the camera was always with them, taking every chance they could to take a picture. 

Vacations like these were always so healing for them, not just as people but also for their relationship. It's a time where they don't have to worry about any of their responsibilities and they only need to focus on each other and the love they share.  

Mat loves taking them to hidden gems of Italy, and all the places that aren't so busy. They love learning more about the culture. 

They honestly just spend a day of their trip just exploring different shops, buying gifts for their friends and family and of course for each other. 

they definitely are a lot more touchy and clingy with each other, knowing that when the vacation ends they have to get back to their busy schedules.

Mat and Quinn secretly plan a romantic evening for them and julie, renting out a small restaurant to have a romantic dinner, then they take a small stroll in the moonlight before making their way back to the villa where their bedroom was filled with roses and candles. 

they really don't want to leave, but they know they have to. On the flight back home they are mostly sleeping for the whole flight, tired from their amazing vacation. And Mat is already planning their next vacation! 

au masterlist ~ everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I accidentally deleted the ask that asked for this, but I had so much fun making this!! I’m sorry it’s so short, I just couldn’t think of anything else…my creativity ran out! I missed writing for them so much! )

˖ ་ feel free to send in any thoughts/requests you have !! And please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist mwah

˖ ་ taglist : @toasttt11 @winterbarnesblog @lesrflms @ru-kru @cixrosie @alwaysclassyeagle @theopenlocker @callsignwidow @willowpains @iceflwers

[prefixsstars]

I have a very unusual question for you all

[hyah-lian]

ah shit I wanna go on the swings now

[emawinslow]

I miss my childhood house so much I would give anything to grab the knob at the end of the banister and jump from the third step and catch a million seconds of air while I whip myself around the banister and down the hall

[yardsards]

you never realize how many weird facial expressions you make til you find yourself without a mask in the grocery store

[femslashspuffy]

Someone stop me please ive been growing my hair out since last February and now im getting the shaved sides urge again

[chocum]

P POWER !

— “that pussy got power” feat. shiu kong, kento nanami, toji fushiguro, satoru gojo, suguru geto, & choso kamo.

WARNINGS. fem reader (she/her), recording, overstim, shower sex, choking, eye contact, spit, slaps, threesome, anal, oral (m+f) needy men. note i hope you all are doing well. p power came on when i was On my way! to work (literally like half of it was written while i was on the clock lol) and then this was born — i basically just took a lyric i think best described them from the song. this was more fun than i thought it would be and ill prob do it again for a diff song. anyways, feedback + reblogs are greatly appreciated ty and enjoyyy!! unedited bc we poured up for the 4th n im a little tipsy ( ｡ •̀ ᵕ •́ ｡)

SHIU KONG — “SHE WANNA GO VIRAL, KEEP FUCKIN’ FOR HOURS”

“look so pretty for the camera baby, look at you” shiu slowly moves to bring his phone closer to where his thick cock burrows and disappears in your struggling pussy— crying and creaming porcelain white around his length, messy. “so full, but she keeps begging for more. squeezing me so tight, how fuckin’ greedy”

he always fills you up so well— massaging your silky walls, his leaky cock curving languidly, kissing your spot with each stupidly slow stroke.

shiu loves to “take his time” with you. loves to just lazily push his hips up, roll them against yours, skin melding, creating delicious friction. it doesn’t take much with you. his cock was made for you after all— perfectly molds your pussy, hugging him with your gummy walls.

“know you wanna show out for the camera baby, cum again f’me. show ‘em how good you are. cmon baby juuuust like that.” you let out a soft, helpless whimper, feeling the heat of embarrassment surge across your cheeks like a wildfire, consuming you, spreading with a prickly intensity that makes your skin flush, your heart racing as he talks you through it, coaxing you closer and closer.

then you’re babbling broken cries of his name over and over and over as you cum around him again, your cunt sucking another load from him too, he never leaves you behind.

he keeps his phone focused on how you milk him dry, sliding out slowly, lewdly, with a throaty “fuck” before stuffing his fingers in your achy pussy making you jump, overstimulation tickling up your spine, “don’t let me out, can’t let all your hard work go to waste, now can we?”

KENTO NANAMI — “SHE WET IN THE SHOWER, THAT PSSY GET LOUDER”

nanami’s eyes sweetly dive into yours, intimately. his broad hands stretching across the curve of your neck as the warm water crashes against his back, cascading, stinging where you dig your nails into his flexed muscles, leaving angry red slashes.

“fuck. gonna cum if you keep looking up at me so desperately like that, honey.”

the sound of skin against skin gets lost in the heavy downpour of the shower, each drop drumming against the tilled walls, but nanami manages to pull out sweet, sweet moans from deep in your throat— cutting through the cacophony, clear and unmistakable, filthy. they pound through his ears, making his cock throb in your wet, sloppy fucking pussy.

“stick—” he grunts, “stick that fucking tongue out”

you nod with a docile tilt of your head like a little doll, your eyes pools of sincerity— obediently letting your tongue fall out of your mouth. he’s leaning over, his body bending slightly as he tilts his head downward to let spit form and fall from innetween his lips onto your tongue, mixing with droplets of steamy water as it glides down your throat.

“so nasty, hm?” his tone is mean, but he’s praising you, smirking as his grip on you tightens, “my nasty, slut of a wife”

TOJI FUSHIGURO — “WE AINT SAYIN NO VOWS, SHE FUCKIN’ NO COWARD”

“c’mon doll, don’t tap out on me,” toji roughly huffs, feigning sympathy but the smirk that tugs at his scarred lips betrays him like it always does, his hands slapping against your puffy cheek— the mean impact leaving a faint stinging sensation amidst the warmth of his touch “‘m not done stuffing my pretty girl yet, cmon”

you’re so fucked out you can’t even think, limbs hanging limp in his tight, tight grasp, basically picking you up and dropping you on his thick cock as your cunt weeps for him, pooling slick he’s fucked out of you onto the velvety sheets.

even his body trembles, each trained muscle tensing beneath his scarred skin, cock twitching inside you rhythmically because it’s too much, even for him. but he ignores the creeping- painful feeling of overstimulation, hissing through clenched teeth about how you’re so “tight”, so “good for him.”

and once again, he’s cumming inside you, heavy balls slapping against your flush ass as he fucks his seed into your abused little cunt. “toji” you cry, dazed eyes looking into his, but he’s so gone, body taking over, hips still slamming into you as he groans out a breathy— needy “fuck” fingers dipping into the curve of your hips.

“i want to taste you,” he sighs, rushing to pull out before folding you over, “ ‘m not stopping till i’m covered in you, give it to me just how i like it”

CHOSO KAMO — “GET PLAY AS A PLAYER, THAT P GET DEVOURED”

“did my girl miss me, hm?” choso hums against your oozing cunt, fingers pushing your fat lips apart, his pointer and middle spreading, so he can give your pretty little clit his undivided attention, kissing, nuzzling with his nose.

he groans at the way you clench around nothing, just begging for his needy cock, words meshed and muffled against your drooling pussy, “i know she did, pretty, ‘s ok ‘m here now”

he drags his fingers to your mouth, “get ‘em wet” pushing past your puffy lips, for you to lick and suck on, not leaving until they’re dripping in your spit, before dipping into your cunt, dragging them against your silky, warm walls, blowing on your clit so gently each time you greedily buck into his palms.

“gonna give me what i want, huh?” he pauses, kiss. “gonna make a mess for me? i know you can, baby. you always do. always get so messy for me i love it”

you nod sheepishly, hands moving to card through his fluffy hair, both hands gripping onto his scalp to ground yourself and grind on his pretty face.

messily, he slobbers, lapping at your cunt, switching between soft sucks to your clit and broad slow licks, making you shudder and twitch, his arms snaking around your thighs to keep you nice and still for him to devour you.

SATORU GOJO & SUGURU GETO — “TOLD MY BROTHER SHE OURS”

“his tongue feel that good, baby? you’re slacking off. suck me like you usually do. ‘s not fair” gojo’s pouting— whining, his hands gently cradling your cheeks bringing you back to him, but your pretty eyes just keep rolling further and further back at the feeling of geto’s tongue flat against your needy cunt. sucking and spitting all over your messy pussy.

promoting gojo to huff, moving his hand to the back of your neck to start rutting into your little mouth, chest growing warm at how you gag around him, his pride growing now that you’re looking up at him, eyes watering so sweetly for him.

geto’s more mature when it comes to sharing you. just hums, pressing his cock against your puffy folds playing, tapping it against your quivering hole, groaning because you’re so messy. can’t even tell if it’s his drool of your messy slick or both.

before he sinks into your cunt, gojo mutters something your overwhelmed little brain can’t comprehend, but after some shuffling around, you feel it. one slicked-up finger slowly sinking into your ass, while geto bottoms out.

gojo gets mean when he’s jealous, but he isn’t cruel, doesn’t wanna hurt his pretty girl, so he preps your tight ass before sinking his cock inside.

you can’t fucking think, at all, brain mushy turned to goo as they both take you. spewing nothing but dirty shit, calling you all types of names, some sweet most of those from geto, but the “slut”’s and “whore”’s are all gojo. his hips sputtering, going dumb at how your tight little ass squeezes around him— he could barely move, just feels geto’s curved tip brushing against the wall that separates your two little holes.

both rutting into you like animals in heat with no regard for how sensitive you're getting, pretty tears brimming up in your eyes.

“so pretty when you take up both, baby ‘specially this little ass ‘s so tight got fucking lucky. keep fucking draining us”

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally. 

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them. 

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents. 

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him. 

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow. 

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you— 

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said. 

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite  — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—” 

“That was years ago—” 

“She has a key to your apartment—“ 

“So do you!” he glares. 

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,” 

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—” 

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,” 

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,” 

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins. 

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again. 

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout? 

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about? 

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time. 

You: Let’s keep it that way! :) 

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table. 

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again. 

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for  him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything. 

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway.  And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night. 

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,” 

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched. 

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,” 

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh. 

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,” 

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,” 

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,” 

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned. 

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him. 

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own. 

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it. 

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,” 

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?” 

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch. 

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance. 

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine. 

One he couldn’t dare to cross. 

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t. 

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem. 

Or at least, not his main problem. 

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out. 

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut. 

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded. 

That should have been his first clue. 

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold? 

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you. 

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping. 

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on. 

Fuck. 

No, he couldn’t. 

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand. 

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit. 

“Suguru, please—“ 

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock. 

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does. 

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass. 

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now. 

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold. 

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it. 

What the fuck is going on? 

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him. 

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties— 

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked. 

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up. 

“It’s not like you to call—“ 

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” 

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“ 

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?” 

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?” 

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought. 

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on. 

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“ 

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice. 

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?” 

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,” 

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,” 

His phone buzzed with texts from you: 

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me! 

You: are you home? 

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it. 

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter. 

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,” 

Another knock. 

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight. 

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?” 

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“ 

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,” 

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe. 

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers. 

“Suguru—“ 

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“ 

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“ 

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you. 

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“ 

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck. 

He was so fucked. 

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop.  He couldn’t. Not until you agreed. 

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“ 

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?” 

And he can’t hold back. 

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt. 

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips. 

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” 

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse. 

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork. 

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body. 

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,”  And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides. 

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time. 

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath. 

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly. 

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs. 

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?” 

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,” 

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,” 

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes. 

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt. 

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth. 

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts. 

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again. 

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them. 

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,” 

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care. 

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,” 

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds. 

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan. 

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches. 

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him. 

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now. 

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it. 

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart. 

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do. 

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers. 

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would. 

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure. 

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—” 

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,” 

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips, 

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you. 

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,” 

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,” 

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—” 

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt. 

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—” 

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—” 

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,” 

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I���ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.” 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,” 

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you. 

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water. 

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?” 

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment. 

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you— 

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you. 

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little. 

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip,  “Sugu?” 

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water. 

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you? 

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?” 

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,” 

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“ 

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?” 

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off. 

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys. 

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers. 

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,” 

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no, 

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies. 

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera. 

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.” 

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

[ebodebo]

Ghost Garage

—mechanic!simon riley fucking you in his car garage because you couldn’t afford to pay for his services:(( MDNI ofc

“You’re lookin’ at six thousand for a new engine,” Simon says thoughtfully, scribbling a collection of messy additions in his notebook. “And if you’re lookin’ to do just one set of brake pads and rotors,” he says, scribbling some more, “lookin’ at six hundred even for those.”

Your eyes widen at his words because how the fuck were you ever going to be able to afford this? You swallow hard, pondering your following words. “Do you do discounts or something?” You’re sure you sound like an idiot, but you’re desperate.

The corner of his lip quirks at your question as his eyes stay glued to the notebook paper, still scribbling. “No. Still no discounts ere’,” he says, capping his pen, finally looking at you.

You fidget with your hands, eyes on his. “I—um…there’s no way I can…” you begin, turning your gaze away from him, feeling bashful, “…afford that.” Even though you had come to Simon’s garage before, this was just the first time you outwardly told him you couldn’t afford his services.

He leans back in his chair, the base squeaking a little. “Do ya’know how dangerous it is to drive with worn-out brake pads?” he states, placing the pen in his mouth, awaiting your response.

“Yes. I’m aware, but—” you begin, only for him to interrupt.

“But nothin’,” he calmly says, shifty in the chair, eyes shamelessly dragging down your body. You pretend not to notice even though it invokes an immeasurable amount of wetness to gather in your panties.

He can tell you’re nervous—your body language says it all. Clammy hands you wipe off on your jeans every so often, you’re avoiding direct eye contact with him, and the fact he can hear your heartbeat from where he sits.

He shouldn’t even have unholy thoughts of you come across his mind. But, shocker, he did. Every night from the time you first went to the shop all of those four months ago, he would fist himself in the shower thinking about you.

You, who always had that doe-eyed, glossed-over expression. You, who always had to bring Simon a sweet treat when you came, whether it be candy or some fresh-baked cookies you prepared. Oh, and you, who would hug him after he did your car inspections. Ya, he thought about that one a lot.

He considers your predicament. He has a solution, but it’s risky—perhaps too risky?

Eh, Fuck it. What’s he got to lose?

“Tell ya what,” he starts, standing up from his chair and grabbing the notebook paper with the numbers. “I’ll throw this ere’ piece of paper in the trash—hell, I’ll burn it,” he cocks a brow, “If you do somethin’ for me.” He hovers the small, intimidating piece of paper over a small trash can.

“Anything,” you say, desperation coating your voice. He hums, ducking his head to stare at the trashcan.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says, followed by a gravelly laugh. You gulp, waiting for him to explain.

“I want somethin’ from ya,” he finally looks up at you, wiping his mask-less jaw with his hand. “Somethin’ that isn’t…money.”

You slightly confound your head. “Like I said…anything,” you amend.

He sticks his tongue in his cheek, drops the tainted paper into the trash, and then takes slow, deliberate steps towards you.

You inhale as he stands before you, unsure of his intentions. Exhaling sharply only when he brings his thumb up, dragging it delicately across your jaw, tilting it up so you are looking at him.

“I think we could figure out a way for you to get that work paid in full,” he rumbles, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip. “And a way I could feel that pretty pussy around me.”

Your eyes widen at his words, dumbfounded by his sheer bluntness and vulgarity. Though you admit, you feel a knot start to form in your lower stomach and more wetness pool between your thighs.

“Unless you don’t want to?” His tone his monotone, no signs of resentment as he drops his hand from your face.

“No—I do,” you affirm, even grabbing his hand and then dropping it from embarrassment. “I just didn’t think…you, uh, liked me like that,” you mutter, shifting on your feet and shifting your gaze to the concrete floor you both stand on.

“Oh, trust me. I like you like that,” he laughs lowly, stepping closer to you, bringing his hand back to the same spot to brush his finger against your pouty lip. “Can I?” He questions his gaze on your lips. You nod, standing on your tiptoes, gripping his neck, and bringing his lips to yours. You could taste remnants of cigarette smoke and the icy tang of Nicorette mint gum.

The kiss quickly became full of fervent urgency. Sloppy lips sucking your own, hands aimlessly gripping any piece of flesh it could, and teeth frantically clashing with your own.

“You do this with all your clientele?” you tease as Simon grips the bottom of your shirt and quickly pulls it off your head.

“Nah,” he coolly says, hands palming your breasts over your bra. “Just the ones I jerk off to.” You gasp at not only his hands on such a sensitive part of you but also his confession.

“You jerk off to me?” you tentatively ask, bringing your hands to grip the hem of his shirt, slipping it off his head. His lips instantly connect with your neck.

“What about it?” he murmurs against your skin, dragging his tongue from the side of your neck to your lips.

“I just…I finger myself thinking about you,” you admit in between his feverish kisses, which are apparently taking away your sense of shame. He pulls back only a little.

“You’re tellin’ me…” he reaches down to bring your hand up, grazing your fingers with his own. “You plunge these in your pussy, thinkin’ about me?” he stares at your fingers, unable to comprehend what he’s hearing. He darts his eyes to yours. “I get you off?”

“Of course you do,” you attest, dragging your hand so it rests on his cock that is tucked away in his greased stained jeans. He groans at your touch.

“Now let me see what I’ve been imagining.”

He wastes no time stripping you bare, throwing your bra and panties off to the side, before he unlatches his belt, roughly yanking his jeans and boxers down just below his thighs.

He grips the back of your thighs before hauling you over to a wood table that currently holds some pens and a toolbox. His lips connect with your collarbone, then to the fat of your breast, as you lazily stroke his cock.

“Little smaller than I imagined,” you cheekily say before Simon lightly nips at your nipple with his teeth, making you moan. He laughs against your skin, sending vibrations throughout your entire body.

“And yet it still makes you fuckin’ wet,” he cockily says as his hand slips to graze your glistening cunt. You don’t even talk; you have no breath left to speak. So, you let out a pathetic noise instead—somewhere between a moan and whine.

“Let me play with ya for a minute,” he murmurs into your ribs, pointer finger brushing against your labia. You squirm at his touch.

“Simon. I just…I need you in me,” you beg, pulling him by the hair so his ear is by your mouth, rocking your hips against his finger in you.

“I’m gonna come as soon as I’m in you, Sweetheart,” he says honestly, pointer plunging into your cunt, gently touching your clit.

“I don’t care…just…just,” you rasp, unable to speak with his hand plunging into you.

“Fine, fine,” he says. He gives his cock a tug before he pokes your entrance with the head, gripping your hips before he pushes inside you a little. He grits his teeth at the sensation, and you whine at the slight pain.

“Open up for me. Come on,” he hisses, throwing his head back as he sinks deeper into you. “There she goes,” he praises, gripping one of your legs and positioning it so it lies straight up against his body. You both groan at the deeper contact.

“Shit,” you curse as Simon starts up a good pace. His cock managed to graze you in all of the right spots—reaching places you didn’t even know was possible.

You knew you both wouldn’t last long at this pace—you’re honestly not so sure he would have lasted at any pace. He was painfully hard when you hadn’t even whipped your tits out.

Though you thought the jokes were on him, as soon as he brought his thumb to stimulate your clit, you were skewing curses, tightening around his cock.

“Fuck. That’s it…that’s—” he panted out as he felt you clamp around him, hearing you yell, ‘Coming,” before he followed with his orgasm.

Once both of your orgasms have subsided, he helps you off the table to grab your clothing. You gently tug on your lip before you speak.

“Also…about the payment?” You shyly question as he pulls his jeans up.

“Consider it handled,” he says with a smirk as he zips up his jeans.

a/n: bye once again i abused the italicized button

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[ranma0]

Notes from a concerned medical professional who reads too much hurt/comfort:

(These are all things I've seen in Hazbin/Helluva fanfics)

(Tw: for injury, illness, gore, drug use, overdose, a lot of other things)

You cannot drug someone to sleep by overdosing them on melatonin. It will not work

Don't submerge an open wound or stitches in a bathtub/pool/etc it will introduce bacteria to the wound (taking a shower is usually fine, just skip the romantic bath)

On that note, stitches do not immediately stop a wound from bleeding and should not be used to solve every problem (never give yourself stitches unless you have absolutely no other choice they can trap infection inside the body when done incorrectly)

And, if the wound is extremely deep, a person may need several layers of stitches to piece together the skin, muscle, and viscera

You absolutely cannot get high on tylenol or ibuprofen even if you mix it with alcohol.

If you do mix tylenol or ibuprofen with alcohol it can cause internal bleeding/kidney damage/liver failure, so please don't do that

If someone is shivering from a high fever, don't cover them in blankets it will raise their body temperature even more (please try correctly dosed tylenol or ibuprofen for this)

Don't submerge someone with a high fever in ice water, they might go into shock (they also might panic and hurt themselves) in a pinch lukewarm water will do

Don't put ice on burns, run them under lukewarm or cool water instead

If someone overdoses on an opoid (heroin, morphine, various pain medications), there is a medicine called nalaxone (Narcan) that can reverse the effects of opioids (edit: thank you to @queerlybehooved)

If someone is bleeding profusely, don't just hold their head and whisper sweet nothings, put pressure on the wound!!!

If a bullet remains in a person’s body after being shot it most likely should not be dug out unless it's blocking something vital, the bullet is not the problem the damage it made in it's path is

This isn't a criticism of authors who have written things like this. A lot of it isn't common knowledge, and DIY healthcare is absolutely steeped in myth and misinformation. I just worry about disinformation being perpetuated (and I really enjoy accurate hurt/comfort)

If I got anything wrong, please let me know, and I'll edit the post. I'm far from perfect and appreciate good advice

Let me know if you guys want a fic rec list of my favorite Hazbin Hotel whump fics

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Where You Belong

Prompt: you're caught in the middle of a tornado, tyler's there in the aftermath.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: angst, blood mention

A/N: surprise surprise, & not what i usually write, but twisters has recently been consuming my entire life. so here's an angsty lil imagine of hurt reader being comforted by the wrangler himself.

You made it about fifteen minutes down the road before you realized that you’d forgotten your phone… Again. 

After patting down your pockets and digging through your tote bag the best you could without crashing the car– you straightened yourself in the driver’s seat and sighed defeatedly. 

Stupid, you thought. Although you weren’t really that surprised by your mistake. You’d never been particularly attached to your phone, and this certainly wasn’t the first time you’d left it behind. 

But you’d been trying to be more mindful about remembering it. And just like that, Tyler’s voice popped into your head– no doubt scolding you for your carelessness. ‘What if something happened and I had to get a hold of ya?’ 

Thanks to another wild storm system brewing all over the midwest, Tyler was out chasing again today. And although you’d checked in on him earlier in the day, you knew there was always the possibility that things changed. Storms shifted– gained power, sometimes his team (although rarely) got things wrong. A pang of guilt spread through your chest at the thought– what if something happened to him out there and he needed to reach you? 

You could turn back and get your phone, of course. But you were already so close to town. And all you needed was a bottle of shampoo and a birthday cake for Tyler. You could be in and out of Lawton in less than half an hour if you were quick– home before he even knew you’d left your phone behind again.

What could really go wrong?

…

“Talk to me, Dani– what do you see?” Tyler asked into the walkie. They’d been tracking a handful of storms for the past few hours– Tyler watching the clouds, and Dani studying the radar. Right now, there were two that had peaked his interest– One was formulating south, the other to the northeast. 

“The storm south has higher wind speeds, but I think it’ll fade if it shifts. The other one has a weaker wind shear, but higher pressure. Either one has the chance to form or go, so I say trust your gut,” they answered.  

Tyler shifted his grip on the steering wheel, studying the dark, circling motion in the distance. 

“What’re you thinkin’, T?” Boone asked, camera trained on Tyler. 

He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip– trying to focus.

“Less moisture, less potential for an updraft, but way higher winds if we go south. Northeast though… she’s already got the motion and momentum, she just needs the winds to shift...” 

Boone stayed quiet– he knew that when Tyler talked out loud, it was generally rhetorical. 

Tyler took his eyes off the sky to study the world around him for a moment. 

“No pressure, T,” Dani said through the walkie. 

“Yeah,” Lilly chimed in. “We just spent all damn day chasing these things–”

“South,” he said suddenly. “I say let’s chase south.”

…

Less than thirty minutes later, Tyler was standing in the middle of a wheat field with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. 

The storm had fizzled with the shifting winds, leaving them with nothing but a few scattered showers that mixed in with the sweat already pooling on his skin. 

“S’alright, T,” Boone said encouragingly with a shrug. He clapped him on the back. “We can’t catch ‘em all.”

Tyler sighed before joining Dani where they sat on the edge of the truck, scanning for other potential storms in the area. 

“What’s that there?” Tyler asked, pointing to what appeared to be a storm system heading west. 

Dani frowned. “What the hell… I think that’s the storm from earlier– the one moving northeast.”

“So it shifted?” 

“Shifted?” Boone said, lowering his camera for a moment to glance towards Tyler. “Where to? Can we make it in time?”

Tyler frowned, studying the movement. 

“That’s strange,” Dani mumbled under their breath. With a few clicks, they expanded the screen, showing a wider radius.

“What’s strange?” Boone asked.

Ignoring him, Tyler scanned the system, trying to trace the path without actually calculating it. “You don’t think–” 

Dani glanced his way. “Holy shit–”

“Hello?” Boone said. “Y’all gonna share with the rest of the class?” 

“I think she’s headin’ for Lawton,” Dani finally whispered. 

And although he’d been thinking it, all the color drained from his face when it was actually spoken out loud.

“Lawton?” Dexter asked, voice laced with concern. 

“Oh shit-” Lilly whispered.  

Lawton was the closest city to where the two of you lived– if it hit there, thousands of people could be in danger. And if it shifted again, even the slightest bit– it could head right for your small town instead.  

Despite the humidity, everything inside of Tyler went cold as he imagined you at home– puttering around the garden, blissfully unaware of what might be coming. 

“Will you uh, pass me– pass me my phone, Boone?” Tyler stammered, standing up from the truck bed. 

Boone reached into the backpack scattered near his feet and handed over Tyler’s cell phone, placing it in his outstretched hand. Tyler muttered a quick thank you before walking a few strides away as he pulled up your contact information.  

The call rang five times before making it to voicemail– your sweet voice asking him to leave a message and you’d get back to him. 

“Hey, baby– it’s me. Call me back as soon as you can. Alright, love ya.”

He clicked the phone off before immediately trying again. 

“C’mon,” he muttered as the line continued to ring. “C’mon, baby, c’mon,” he hummed nervously, kicking the grass with his boots when he heard your voicemail. “Hey– me again. Listen, I’m not trying to scare ya, but there might be a storm comin’ and I just wanna make sure you’re safe. Give me a call please.”

He paced back towards the group, sending you a quick text just for good measure as he did. 

“Alright, what’s the plan here?” Dexter asked. 

But Tyler wasn’t paying much attention as he obsessively dialed you for a third time. 

“What’s wrong, T?” Boone wondered. 

Without looking up from his phone, Tyler exhaled a frustrated breath. “She’s never got her damn phone on her– that’s what’s wrong.” The second he heard your voicemail for a fourth time, he chucked his phone towards his bag. “Damnit!” 

Boone swallowed thickly. “I’m sure she’s fine–”

Tyler hung his head. After a moment, he nodded, although he wasn’t entirely convinced that would remain the case if he didn’t get in touch with you fast. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to breathe– 

You were fine, he told himself. You were home, you’d hear the alerts if they were necessary, you knew to get into the basement. 

Tyler took a long, steadying breath. “Dani, what’s the speed of this thing?” 

“Uh, it’s moving– thirty-five miles per hour directly west. I think she’s gaining speed, though.”

“Alright, she’s fast,” Tyler remarked. “We have to be faster. Let’s head home, ladies and gents, we can take cover at my place once I know everyone’s safe.”

“You got it, T,” Lilly said. 

“Stay safe everyone,” Dani replied as they all dispersed to their respective vehicles. 

Tyler and Boone climbed back into the truck, tires screeching as they sped west towards Lawton, and home towards you. 

…

You were inside the bakery on Lowell Street– Tyler’s favorite place for any and all pastries, when you heard the thunder. 

Although thunder in Oklahoma wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, it was enough to make you turn your attention outside, just to see what kind of storm you might be up against on the drive home. 

“It’s gettin’ dark out there,” Gloria, the owner, said. She glanced at you over the counter and blew a strand of graying hair out of her face. 

You nodded in agreement, jumping slightly when another crack of thunder rang through the air. “Sounds like it’s getting closer,” you noticed. 

“I still can’t believe that boyfriend of yours goes out of his way to chase these storms. And his friends, too.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, me either. Bunch of adrenaline junkies.”

“Not me,” Gloria smirked. “We get enough chaos in this life, I don’t need to be chasin’ it.”

You returned her smile, recognizing that you might have more in common with the sixty-something year old baker in town than you did your own boyfriend. But you supposed that your differences were what drew you to Tyler. He was brave and thrilling and so alive. Although what he did scared the absolute shit out of you, there was nothing better than watching him exude excitement and just pure joy after he got home from a particularly powerful storm. 

“Was he and his crew trackin’ anything out here?” Gloria asked, using the tube of blue icing to write the birthday message you’d requested on top of Tyler’s cake. 

“Not here,” you replied. “He was south of OKC last I checked in.”

Which, you realized, had been far longer than you anticipated thanks to not having your phone. You mentally kicked yourself again for leaving it behind. If you’d brought it with you, you could have just given him a call now. Because unless he was smack dab in the middle of a goddamn tornado, he always answered your calls. Just a few reassurances from him could’ve calmed your fears about the storm brewing outside– told you that it was just a thunderstorm passing through. 

Not every thunderstorm means a tornado, he had said, you didn’t even know how many times by now. And each time allowed you to relax a little. Because unlike your boyfriend, you didn’t enjoy weather in quite the same way. In fact, after an EF4 had ripped through your home when you were just a child, you did your best to stay as far from tornadoes as Oklahoma allowed. 

“I’m sure it’s just thunder,” you began. 

But before you could finish your sentence, you heard the sudden pitter patter of hail beginning outside. Gloria lowered the icing tube while you took another step closer to the window to peer out. 

Dark, gloomy clouds swirled through the sky. 

That was when you heard the sirens. Loud and clear, they echoed through your ears in a terrifying, grim warning. 

…

As the storm tracked faster and faster the closer they got, Tyler’s first stop was your shared home just outside of Lawton. 

He didn’t even bother turning the truck off before he was hurling himself across the lawn, towards the front door. But before he even looked inside, his stomach dropped when he noticed your SUV wasn’t parked in its typical spot. 

Regardless, he practically ripped open the front door before running into the house, calling your name loudly into each room he searched, hoping that maybe you’d lent your car to your mom again– or magically parked it in the garage that was stuffed full of his gear. 

But it was no use– you weren’t there. 

He knew that for good as soon as he flung open the door to your shared bedroom. The bed was neatly made, pillows arranged perfectly– and your phone sitting on the nightstand table, plugged in and clearly far away from you. 

“Damnit!” he yelled, kicking the door frame frustratedly. Chest rising and falling rapidly, Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. Frustration and anger brewed inside of him, but he knew that underneath all of that was fear– for you and your safety. All he wanted was to have you in his sights again– although preferably wrapped up in his embrace, the only spot he could ensure you were safe... Where you belonged.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Tyler made his way across the room and picked your phone up from the nightstand. Your background– a picture of you and him taken during your trip to Texas last year, lit up the screen. Accompanying it were the slew of notifications you’d missed– the first was the severe weather alert, the next few were all the missed calls from him. But at the very bottom of your screen was a reminder notification– one that allowed him to finally exhale the breath he’d been holding since he burst into the house. 

Get Tyler a bday cake. 

Sliding your phone into his back pocket, he raced back down the stairs to find Boone standing on the front lawn. 

“She’s in town,” he said, rushing towards his truck. 

Boone followed close behind. “How do you know?”

“If nothing else,” Tyler said, climbing into his truck, “she follows her schedule.”

…

“Gloria, you gotta listen to me–” you pleaded, hurrying around the counter to grab her hand. “If the sirens are goin’ off, it means we don’t have much time. Does the bakery have a basement, or– or a shelter?”

Gloria’s watery eyes met yours. Your heart sank the moment she shook her head dreadfully. 

“Okay,” you said shakily, trying not to panic. What would Tyler do? You looked around the bakery– with its old walls and sagging roof, you knew it wasn’t safe to stay here. 

“Gloria, we gotta go,” you said urgently. “We gotta find somewhere safe to be.”

With that, you tugged her towards the exit. 

As soon as you were outside, you felt the fierce wind whip your face, along with a few staggering pieces of hail. There was debris– leaves and sticks flying around in every which way, making it hard to see past what was right in front of you. 

Although you were trying to be vigilant, you didn’t even see the scrap of metal fly by your face.  “Shit!” you exclaimed, feeling it graze your cheek. Ripped skin was quickly followed by the feeling of warm blood trickling across your skin. 

“Are you alright?” Gloria asked, grabbing your arm. 

You used your free hand to press against your cheek before nodding. “We gotta get out of here,” you said. 

But just as you turned to try and gauge your surroundings, hoping to come up with a shred of a plan, you froze at what was looming in the distance. 

Winds whipped rapidly, the sky boomed, and a dark, wide funnel had formed– it’s tip already touching down on the ground. And it was coming straight for you. 

“Gloria, we gotta go–” you cried. “Now!” 

…

Tyler drove as fast as he could– foot nearly pressed down on the ground. He drove like his life depended on it. Because yours did– 

The truth was– he’d never given much thought to losing you. He was generally too preoccupied with wondering what you’d do if you lost him. He was the one putting himself in danger all the time, he was the one forcing his way in the middle of these storms. 

He didn’t know what he’d do without you– except be a shell of who he was now. 

“Holy shit–” he heard Boone say from the passenger seat. 

Tyler refocused his attention ahead, his eyes widening the second he saw what Boone was fixated on. 

It was hard to miss the giant, fucking tornado barreling right for Lawton’s array of buildings. 

“We’re too late–” Tyler croaked. “We’re too fucking late–”

“She’s smart,” Boone assured Tyler. “She knows where to go and what to do.”

Tyler’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator and drove faster. 

…

In retrospect, the laundromat probably wasn’t the best place for you to be. But there were few windows and the back room was lined with secure piping, all which jetted deeply into the ground, creating a solid anchoring point. 

There were a few other people huddled in the same room, already low on the ground and clutching onto one another. 

“Hold on to that!” you cried, practically pushing Gloria towards the corner of the room. She wound her frail arms around the piping before crouching down. You were right beside her, arms locked tightly on the piping as you felt the building start to shake. 

The storm outside was deafening. Winds whistled and boomed. You were pretty sure the woman beside you was screaming– but you couldn’t hear her above the noise of everything else. You tried to be brave– the way you knew Tyler would be if he were here. 

Once, about three years ago, an EF3 hit his parent’s ranch while the two of you were staying there for a long weekend. You remembered the way he stayed so calm, so collected through it all. After ushering everyone into the storm shelter, he wrapped his strong arms around you, anchoring you to him. The ranch didn’t shake like this though… And even though you’d been scared that night, it paled in comparison to what you felt now. 

This building was weak– the structure was unsound. You had no idea how close the tornado actually was, but you knew this thing wasn’t going to stay put. It was just a matter of if the pipes went deep enough into the ground and if you could hold on to them. Because you didn’t have Tyler holding on for you this time. 

You hoped he was somewhere safe– maybe tracking the storm that was about to kill you from a reasonable distance. 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” you told Gloria, sweaty palms making your grip slip. “Just hold on–” 

The building began to shake harder– the very foundation rocking beneath you. Shortly after, pieces of the roof began tearing off, exposing the thunderous storm raging above. 

“I don’t–” Gloria cried. “I don’t think I can hold on!”

You tried loosening your own grip– hoping you could wrap your arms around her like Tyler had done for you before, or do something to help. But then you heard another ear splitting roar, and suddenly, the entire roof was being ripped off from the building. There was nothing you could do. You weren’t strong enough– 

“Hold on!” you screamed, tucking your head into your elbow and squeezing your eyes shut. “Just a little longer!” 

But as the words left your lips, even you didn’t believe them. 

…

By the time they finally reached town, the tornado had already moved on. 

Part of the reason why Tyler loved tornados so much was their power and speed. In his eyes– it was nothing short of an act of God to see what damage a simple funnel of wind could do in just a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds. 

Until he was faced with the inevitable tragedy of it all. 

Because it was one thing to see trees uprooted, or tractors rolled over. It was another to see an entire town had succumbed to a pile of debris– vehicles thrown this way and that– metal and siding and bricks scattered over every inch of the flat land– To know that people, his friends, his neighbors, you could be buried underneath piles of rubble– bodies broken and bleeding and hurt if they were lucky enough to be alive at all.

Tyler brought his truck to a screeching halt, not even hesitating before he was ripping off his seatbelt and hurling himself out of his seat. The second his boots hit the mud, he screamed your name as loud as he could. 

Eyes whipping around, he tried to process the scene before him. But it was hard to gauge where anything used to be– there was practically nothing left. 

“Tyler!” he heard someone scream in the distance. Head whipping to the side, he saw Lilly, waving her arms frantically. 

For a moment, Tyler let himself get his hopes up. He raced across the distance between them as fast as he could, despite all the obstacles in his way. But when he finally reached her, he was devastated to see that you weren’t there at all. Instead, Lilly was staring at a vehicle, flipped over and crunched like it’d been hit head-on by an 18-wheeler. 

And although it was damaged beyond repair, Tyler recognized it as yours immediately. 

He felt his chest tighten. “Christ–” he stammered, unable to fight back the tears burning behind his eyes. He ran his hand through his hair before hunching over, hoping the motion would allow him to finally catch his breath.

“Oh God,” he panted. “God, no– please, no–”

“She might not have been in it,” Lilly said quickly. 

But Tyler barely heard her. He was too fixated on the pounding in his ears–  

A wave of hopelessness washed over him, flooding his insides. He was too late– he couldn’t save you– he was too fucking late. 

“We’re gonna find her, T,” Boone’s voice was suddenly peaking through the fog. 

“Yeah, we won’t stop until we do,” Dani added. 

Tyler forced himself to take a few, steadying breaths. When he could, he straightened his back and glanced around. 

His whole team hadn’t given up on you. 

Neither could he. 

…

When you finally gained the courage to open your eyes, you were met by a fierce brightness. You coughed– lungs heaving as you struggled to breathe. 

“Gloria?” you tried to speak. “Are you okay?” 

You were met by an eerie silence– the calm after the storm. Blinking harshly a few times, you tried to gather up enough strength to sit up. But as soon as you did, you had a chance to look around… And boy, do you wish you hadn’t. 

There was nothing left– the entire town was gone… destroyed, buried in rubble and debris. 

“Gloria?” you called, groaning as you pushed the thick layer of roofing off from your legs. You grimaced once you saw the deep gash down the side of your thigh, oozing blood. 

Breath shuddering, you continued to scan the area– trying to wrack your brain for what the hell you were supposed to do next. The second you moved to turn your head, you winced, vision blurring. Slowly, you grazed along your forehead with your fingertips. When you pulled them away, you grimaced to see them coated in crimson liquid. 

You stared at it for far too long– unsure what else to do. You were hurt– probably worse than it felt, too if adrenaline had anything to say about it. You didn’t know if you could walk on your leg, or if you’d pass out the second you tried to stand up. 

You felt hopeless– completely and utterly alone. 

Until you faintly heard the sound of your name being called in the distance. 

It was enough to make you snap out of your trance, head whipping around to see Boone throwing aside a piece of siding. He called out a second time before turning and locking eyes with you from across the way. 

“Boone,” you said under your breath, like you couldn’t quite believe he was real. Because if Boone was here– calling out for you, that meant Tyler couldn’t be far behind. 

Boone yelled your name again before turning. “I found her!” he screamed, waving his arms. “Over here!” 

You fought back the guilt you felt for still not finding Gloria and moved to stand on shaky legs. 

“I’ll come back for you,” you promised her. 

Wobbly and weak, you limped towards him, trying your best not to fall in the cracks and crevices beneath the debris. You looked down, intending to watch your step, but instead you caught a glimpse of your leg and all the blood now coating your entire thigh and calf. Just the sight of it made you lose your balance. 

“Shit,” you gasped, as you landed harshly on the ground. You looked back up and saw Boone heading your way– only fifty yards or so from you. But then– right behind Boone, was a sight that made everything else melt away. 

“Tyler,” you exhaled, like it was a prayer tumbling from your lips. 

His long legs moved fast– practically running despite everything in his way. 

He’d make it to you– he’d get you. But if you got up and kept moving… he’d get there sooner. So, with whatever you had left inside of you, you pushed yourself up. Ignoring the pounding in your head and the throbbing in your leg, you limped forward. 

“Tyler,” you said again– not loud enough for anyone else to hear. It was like you just needed a reminder that really was right there. “Tyler–” this time, when his name tumbled from your lips, it came out as a sob– every emotion inside of you bubbling to the surface of your skin. Tears slipped down your cheeks, your vision blurred. 

He was so close now– you could hear the rubble shift as he stepped on it. 

He called your name… and God, if his voice wasn’t the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. 

“Tyler–” you cried again, throat choked from dust and tears. 

And then, just like that, his body was colliding with yours. Arms winding tightly around your shoulders, a familiar scent enveloping you, he cradled the back of your head with his hand, anchoring you to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, face buried in his button down shirt. 

“Oh, God,” he whispered above you, lips grazing the side of your head. “I got you,” he said. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out– only a guttural, uncontrollable sob that made him hold you tighter. 

“I got you, baby. I got you,” he whispered into your hair. 

“Tyler–” was all you managed to choke out. 

His thumb trailed up and down your hair, matted with mud and your own blood. “I’m here. I’m right here. I got you.” 

He held you tight, steadying your shaky frame. It was like he was the one thing keeping you from completely falling apart. Which was why your body almost recoiled when he finally pulled away. You needed him wrapped around you like that forever. 

You tried to resist, to pull him back, but you didn’t even have the energy for that. All you could do was stand there weakly while his wild, concerned eyes scanned the length of you. 

“I’m fine–” you tried to say. 

But he shook his head instantly. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt, we gotta get you out of here. Get an ambulance!” he yelled to Boone, who was lingering nearby, looking like he didn’t quite know how to help. Boone nodded instantly before hurrying off. 

“Tyler–” 

“Okay, I see the leg– what else?” he asked. “What else hurts?”

“My head,” you whimpered. “And my ribs–” you admitted, although you hadn’t quite managed to look at those yet. “But Tyler–” 

Before you could finish, Tyler’s hand gripped the hem of your tank top, pulling it up slightly. You winced as the fabric brushed over your ribs. But when Tyler pressed a hand on the bare skin, you almost screamed out in pain. “Sorry,” he said gently. “I gotta look though, baby. I gotta check it.”

You nodded, fingers squeezing the fabric of his shirt as he did. The pain was excruciating– enough to make your already-dizzy head start to spin. 

“I think they’re broken– at least a couple. Can’t say for certain.”

“Tyler,” you tried to repeat, tears still streaming steadily down your face. 

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” he said once he saw the shift on your face. 

“It’s Gloria,” you finally spit out. “She’s out here somewhere, Tyler. We have to find her–”

Tyler’s gaze softened at your words. He pulled his eyes away from you long enough to quickly scan the scene. 

“Did you see her? Or know where she went?”

You shook your head, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “No–” you cried. “No, I don’t know where she went. Tyler, I have to find her–”

“Easy,” he soothed, winding an arm around your middle so that he could brace the majority of your weight. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We gotta get you checked out.”

“I can’t leave her–” you protested. 

“Listen to me,” he said, voice gentle but stern. “You bleeding out on a pile of rubble isn’t going to help her, okay? Let me get you somewhere safe, Boone and Dexter can search for Gloria, alright?” 

After a moment, you nodded solemnly. “You promise?”

“I promise, baby. Now c’mon.”

Before you could protest, you felt Tyler’s arm swoop around the backs of your legs, while the other supported your back. In an instant, your feet are lifted off from the ground. You didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay your head against his chest. 

“There we go,” he soothed. “I got you.”

His thumb trailed along your back gently as he began navigating the pile of rubble around you. 

You felt safe nestled against him– and for the first time since you’d emerged from the rubble, you felt safe enough to allow your eyes to fall shut. 

“Hey, stay awake now, okay? We’re just a short walk to the ambulances– keep lookin’ at me.”

You tried– honestly you did. You opened them up, despite everything inside of you that screamed to close them. And then you fought like hell to keep them trained on Tyler– to study the lining of his jaw and the tan shade of his skin. But Tyler’s embrace was so warm, and his voice was just so soft. And you were so, so tired. There was nothing you could do when they fell shut again. 

Tyler pleaded for you, but unconsciousness got there first. 

… 

Even after the doctors assured him you’d be okay– that it was just exhaustion and blood loss from the trauma you’d endured keeping you out for so long, he couldn’t settle down. 

You looked so goddamn frail– so broken in that hospital bed. He couldn’t stand it. 

It was nearly ten at night before the rest of his team packed up to head back home, making him promise to call them as soon as you woke up. 

“We can stay if you want,” Lilly offered. There was no hint of sarcasm or malice in her tone. She was being genuine. Which was how Tyler knew he must have been an absolute mess. 

“That’s alright,” he croaked, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour. Even he could hear the pain in his voice. 

Boone clapped him on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Love you, man.”

“Call us if you need anything,” Dani said. 

Tyler nodded, promised he would. But the only thing he needed was for you to wake up. 

…

His watch read midnight when you finally stirred. 

Tyler was sitting in a chair, pulled all the way up to your bedside, and was clutching your hand with both of his. He had his forehead resting against the hospital bed, but the second he felt movement, he shot up quickly, all the exhaustion fading instantly. 

Your face contorted into a frown as you squeezed your eyes shut once, twice, three times before they fluttered open. 

Scooting forward in his chair, he studied you as you glanced around– clearly trying to take in your surroundings and place where you were. The second you started to shift– like you were sitting up in bed in a panic, he squeezed your hand. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” he said. “You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

Your head turned towards him, confusion and fear plastered all over your cut up, bruised face. Just the sight made his chest ache. 

“You’re safe.”

You fell back against the pillow and nodded slowly. 

“Tyler–” you began shakily, he could already hear the sob lodged in your throat. “I– I’m…”

“You’re okay, baby,” he assured you. 

“No– I’m- I’m so sorry–”

He froze, brow furrowing in confusion. “Hey, what’s this? Stop- you got nothing to be sorry for, baby.” 

“I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t hear the alert until it was too late. It was stupid– I just–” your face crumpled as you struggled to find words. “You always tell me not to forget it and I forgot it.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I just– I wanted to get you a birthday cake– I should have gotten it sooner, but I forgot– and…” your voice continued to crack and break with each breath you took. “I know you don’t love birthdays, but I love your birthday–” Tyler leaned forward in his seat, releasing your hand so that he could cup your cheek. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face before his fingers traced your jawline delicately. 

“I think your cake got destroyed.”

He couldn’t help the soft smirk that spread across his face. “I’d say that’s probably a fair assumption.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Hey,” he soothed. “Fuck birthday cakes– I didn’t want one anyway. I was thinkin’ we could get a nice pie this year. What do ya think? Blueberry? Peach cobbler?”

“But Gloria made it–” 

Suddenly, your face fell and you were back to sitting up eagerly. “Oh my God, Tyler. Gloria– she–”

“She’s safe,” Tyler interjected quickly. “Thanks to you. Boone found her not far from where you wound up, clutching to some pipes. She had a few scratches, but that was it. She said the pipes were your idea.”

A rush of pride flowed through him as he beamed at you. His girl– getting people to safety in the middle of a tornado, despite how scared you must have been. 

Your watery eyes met his, lip quivering as you tried to speak. “Tyler– I didn’t think…” he could hear the tears in your throat before you even let them out. “I didn’t think we were going to make it. God, I don’t know how we made it.”

Your voice broke on the last word, a sob escaping your lips as you doubled over. Instantly, Tyler was out of his chair and sliding into the tiny, hospital bed beside you carefully avoiding your cracked ribs and stitched up thigh. 

Without even hesitating, you curled into his side, fingers grasping as his shirt like your life depended on it. 

“Shh,” he soothed, hand rubbing up and down your arm. “You did make it. You and Gloria both. You made it because you thought on your feet– I’m so proud of you,” he hummed, pressing his lips to the side of your head. 

He had no idea if you believed him or not– no idea if his words were sinking in at all. You clutched his shirt and cried against his chest– frame shaking with each breath you took. Tyler felt so helpless in that moment. All he could do was whisper reassuring comments and words of affirmation in your ear and hold you tightly against him. 

After a while, your breathing started to return to normal. Your grip on his shirt loosened as you let out a sigh. “You came to get me,” you said quietly, voice sounding so tired– like it was moments away from drifting off. 

Tyler pressed his lips to your hair, eyes squeezing shut. “I’ll always come to get you,” he promised. 

You nodded. “I know.” 

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm a few more times soothingly. “The laundry mat was a good idea– especially with the pipes,” he murmured into your hair. 

With what little energy you had left, you pulled away from him to glance up. With a raised eyebrow, you asked. “Does that mean I can be a tornado wrangler now?” 

He smirked playfully. “That depends, do you want to be?”

You bit your lip, like you were really thinking about it. After a moment, you scrunched your nose up. “And face one of those things nearly everyday? Not a chance.”

Tyler smiled, pulling you gently against his chest– right where you belonged. “There’s my girl,” he said lovingly. 

[ohcaptains]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

[bunnys-kisses]

i have this little thought bouncing around in my head! single father simon. (a drabble)

*shrug*

simon ends up with his daughter winnie after her mother abandons her at his doorstep. he was the father, it was his turn to take care of her. simon could handle warfare, he could handle guns and sweat and metal. he could handle blood and bruises.

but a fussy newborn was a little too much for him.

enter you, it was your summer off from university and you were making extra money by babysitting for parents who couldn't afford weeks of posh summer camps. it was decent work and you were pretty good with them! so being concerned for your neighbour, simon's well being, you offered to watch winnie.

simon very well fell in love with you the moment you took the baby girl into you arms. winnie instantly got settled into your grasp, almost like you were her mother.

"what a lovely baby girl." you cooed, you looked at her with such affection already. you looked at simon and smiled, "she looks too cute to be yours." a playful jab.

you watched winnie while simon was at work. you didn't know what he did for work, but you tried not to ask too many questions. all you knew was that the checks didn't bounce when you cashed them.

but being with winnie for so many days had gossip go through the apartment building. you had a baby with simon? why were you in two separate apartments? where did the lovely newborn sleep? she SHOULD be sleeping with her mother (you).

when you tried to correct them, simon always said, "ah don't worry. we'll be havin' our own place soon enough!" his large hand snaked around your waist.

you just looked down at winnie who was sound asleep in her stroller. she couldn't care less who her mommy and daddy were. it wouldn't be hard to be the mother she'd otherwise be without, right?

that was the angle that simon too.

you'd make the most perfect mrs. riley. you were already taking care of winnie, but also him when he came home. you shouldn't be the nanny, you should be winnie's mama.

"she really loves you." simon remarked when you went with him to the pool.

you were in a one piece swim suit and you were making sure that the baby was out of the sun and had sunscreen on. you didn't want her to get sick or burned.

currently she was resting on your chest while you were in the shade. in your free hand you had a book in it and the other was on winnie's back. you said, "i don't know what you're talking about." as if you hadn't heard the comments from the little old ladies about how sweet you two looked.

"look like a real mama."

you looked to him and raised your eyebrows, "i thought i was the babysitter, mister riley."

simon placed a hand on your thigh then rubbed up and down, "nah."

it didn't take long for you and simon to get intimate. he asked you to stay because winnie had been having trouble sleeping. you two shared a glass of wine and then you found yourself face first into simon's bed. the scent of him filled your head as he fucked you into the comfortable mattress.

he loved the sound of your pussy as he fucked you without much abandon. the thickness on your hips would only grow once he made sure his next child was inside of you. you'd be such a good mama, unlike that previous bitch who left him.

maybe there was a good reason why she left him.

cum clung to the fuzz on your pussy lips and was a bitch to clean in the shower come morning.

he woke you up and said, "she needs her mama. she gettin' fussy, doll." then watched you stumble around to find clothes to wear while you checked on winnie as if the little girl was your own. his hand was wrapped around his cock. he wondered how many more times he could finish in you before you stumbled back to your apartment.

the answer was four.

it wouldn't be easy carrying for a sprouting little baby plus the baby boy you were currently pregnant with. you've put school off for a little while and moved in with simon, your due date was in the middle of the semester. now you were trying to figure out what food was good for a teething winnie while also trying to manage the riley son that was occupying your womb.

you were making dinner for your growing family with a cute little maternity dress of. simon was at the table with winnie. he knew that one day he'd have to tell her that you weren't her actual mama. but you were raising her and her little brother too.

"see there's mama." simon said in that grumbled voice of his, pointing in your direction.

you didn't imagine that you would've ended up as a stay-at-home mother to two children who were than a year apart. but as you felt the shift of your 'second' baby inside of you, you smiled.

you heard winnie make a little noise to get your attention. you checked on the pot of sauce on the stove before you turned away to check on your little girl.