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betbeton · 2 years ago

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✃ Hug me! Kiss me!

Morning After With Various Tokyo Revengers Men

Drabbles

Warnings - Explicit/Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Consumption

18+ Minors DNI

·GN Reader·

·Request·

·A/N- I have a beefy Wakasa smut in the works·

・❥・ Masterlist

⪧ Hanma Shuji

Groggily you rubbed at the corners of your irritated eyes, the make-up you had forgotten to remove in the heat of the moment coming back to bite you in the ass. Once you had fished a rouge eyelash from your eye a loud groan beside you dragged you harshly back to reality. Head jerking from side to side wildly you let out an equally loud groan to the man beside you once you realized who you had spent a drunken night with. The giddy little laugh leaving the man as a hand branded with 'Sin' curled around your waist tugging you down onto his lean chest. Your own eyes narrowed as they came face to face with Hanma Shuji, a man you had once been adamant on never sleeping with or more importantly never befriending. Alas though it would seem that when the two of you were drunk all walls and barriers were broken, nothing but debris under the two of you as your bodies intertwined in lustful intimacy. Though the large hand firmly settling on the top of your head as the menace to society tried to push you down towards his cock and away from the morning cuddle broke any illusion you may have been conjuring. Reaching a hand out you grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged on it harshly.

"You ruined the moment Shuji!"

All you received was a cackle and a rather wet kiss to your forehead as he laid back on his bed. Your head dropped back onto his chest and when the rapid beat of his nervous heart met your ear, the idea of spending more time like this with Hanma Shuji wasn't as bad as it had seemed yesterday before your night out.

⪧ Haitani Rindou

Sleepily rubbing your face against the back of your lover you curled your arms more tugging him into your front, chin hooking on his shoulder as a whispered morning greeting left your lips. The hand sliding down his lean chest met no resistance as he lazily threw a leg backwards to wedge it between your own, contorting his body at a slightly concerning angle. Though any concern you could have had brewing over his weird angle dissipated as he squirmed to face you lilac locks covering part of his face as those bored eyes you adored gazed back into your lovestruck ones.

With you missing several bets, due to gawking, Rindou took the initiative and snaked his own hand down to grope at your hips using it as leverage to shove you down slightly slotting his thigh harshly between your legs. The muscle of his long leg flexing as he bumped it into your sex again, hand moving from your waist to grope at your thighs as he fucked you against his leg. You should have expected this Rindou was never the most patient man around he always took the initiative whenever you took too long or were teasing him, but it still left your head spinning and moans spilling from your lips as you sleepily careened towards an orgasm. Hands greedily grasping at his back as you tried to anchor yourself to reality while your hips squirmed desperately chasing the release you desperately desired. Though just as you tipped over the edge and came against Rindou's thigh you were harshly jerked back to reality when he tugged his leg back from your sex and rolled away from you. A breathy chuckle leaving him as he stretched and grabbed his phone, side eyeing you as your flustered expression turned curious.

"Did someone call?"

Waving a hand dismissively he tossed his phone towards you, "Nah, Ran accidentally sent a picture of him getting head to a group chat."

And thus your morning escapade was forgotten as you and Rindou gossiped over the accidental message.

⪧ Wakasa Imaushi

It was no secret you found Wakasa intoxicating, after all you had found yourself limping from his flat on more then on occasion. It was practically a weekly occurrence at this point both of you repeatedly seeking one another out to get lost in blissful pleasure. What was odd though was the long arms and legs wrapping around your body preventing you from slithering from the warmth of Wakasa's bed. It made your heartache as you tried desperately to detach him from you, worried he would halt your ambiguous relationship for fear he had caught feelings. Just as you had successfully freed your legs you felt a shiver rush down your spin as warm breath tickled your neck and a deep raspy morning voice curled around your ear, the arms firmly wrapped beneath your chest tugging you closer to Wakasa's lean chest.

"I know you caught feelings too, so stop pretending and let me hold you."

It was odd and slightly jarring to hear him speak so causally about that topic as if he was completely certain you returned his feelings. You did return them, but the fact he blatantly called you out while the lingering sting of his hips bashing into your own still brewed between your thighs was almost nauseating. Though while shame warmed your insides you didn't need to be told twice as you relaxed into his hold, fingers curling into his blonde and purple locks as he shifted forward to plant a kiss on your neck.

⪧ Haitani Ran

As Ran stirred from his borderline coma like slumber he jerked back the duvet covering him as a smug grin settled on his face. Tucking a hand behind his head as he leaned back acting like he hadn't been momentarily panicking forgetting he had given you clearance to do as you please even if he's asleep. With you mouth full of his cock you couldn't tease him or call the man out so you settled for quirking an eyebrow and fixing an unimpressed gaze his way. As one of his large hands moved down to caress your face settling in to rub at your scalp as he gently guided you further down his length, his hips jerking upwards as a groan left him when you gagged harshly from him hitting the entrance to your throat. Eyes having slipped shut to focus on wedging him as far into your throat, despite the odd angle, as you could you hadn't noticed him taking out his phone. Nor had you noticed him flexing his stomach as he posed and held his arm above his head to take a picture. You did notice how ever when the flash went off, bright colours splotching across your eyelids just moments before you tugged off his cock. Finger curling around his spit soaked cock lazily rubbing at it you rested your cheek against his thigh, "Is that for you or. . . ?"

"I'm going to send it to Sanzu if that's alright with you."

The only response you gave was a hum as you moved to mouth at the side of his cock. Getting lost in your own cock drunk world you didn't notice Ran panicking until he smacked your head which caused you to jerk into a sitting position as you glared at him.

"I accidentally sent it to a group chat."

It is safe to say Ran did not even get pity sex for several days, he did however get a big bruise on his thigh from where you socked him out of shock and irritation more than anger.

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev drabble #tokyo revengers drabble #hanma shuji #rindou haitani #ran haitani #wakasa imaushi

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beanlot · 2 years ago

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wc: 3k (smut)

stripper!reader with subtop!ellie - oral/fingering/facesitting, mentions of alcohol, reader referred to as ‘miss’

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

you’d watched her for half an hour now through the glowrings. a face that, although forgettable, highlighted itself in psychedelic neon. you can’t decide if it was the way she looked around, eyes mind-altering, or just quick wedges of having worked here for over a year; growing accustomed to older faces that new ones became refreshing.

but even with serving drinks from one booth to another, she’d never looked your way - adhesive to the bar with timid eyes.

fishnets suffocate your arms, desirable twirl of fabric that sheathed your chest yet had left your shoulders bare. and eventually, you came to terms with the taste of liquor against your tongue as much as your skin wanted to be less than a metre distance from hers.

so you’re traipsing over to the bar, pleather shorts sweltered against your thighs amongst your netted body stocking; gemstones scintillating against your stomach in the fiesta spotlights.

but you feel stares from an approaching booth, a woman shuffling towards the end of the foam seat as you pass by. “excuse me, is it okay if we can get 3 more of the red wines?” her hand enveloping some notes, which empty into your palm when you flatten your hand out.

“yeah, of course.” you nod, scents of apple cider and root beer clouding over you towards the bar, a disarray of empty glasses and decks of cards amongst the elm. you shuffle beside her. you lean over, sliding the notes across to the bartender. “3 reds please.”

he nods, and you try to inspect around you - beams that concentrate seductively against the stage of stripper poles, but your eyes are trying their upmost not to look at her. but impulsively, you’re examining her side profile before you can register, unable to escape the hypnotism of looking at her that looking away seemed impossible.

“hello.” your voice is kind, and you can’t repress the interminable searching of how perfectly fuckable her face is - green eyes, framing intangible inclination in your stomach when they are too shy to look at you. “hey.” her voice dry and gutless, a creamy tone that anchors at the very pillars of your hips.

her hands against her glass. whiskey, so she knows her drinks. your limbs weakening under how godly-structured her veins were along her knuckles. “you don’t look like the type to come to strip clubs.” you smile, and although you felt pathetic for the fantasies of her lips on your body already, you were complacent when you saw the corners of them turn upwards for a second.

“my first time, miss.” she swivels her drink, and you realise how unfamiliar she made you feel upon the realisation that you were always the grand prize here; having people at your knees for a taste - but now you were the one yearning for just a quick lap of what was infront of you.

you watch as she swigs the rest of her glass, lips dewy when her tongue skims them; it’s sexually aggravating to watch, sampling the taste of the bitterness of not being able to lick them dry for her rather than the alcohol she’d drank.

“do you wanna see my tits?” you ask impulsively, and she’s wide-eyed at you; almost thankful that she’d swallowed her drink mere seconds before. eyes that are diluted to such submission it catalyses the excitement in your clit, they bite the bait of flickering down to your chest every now and then.

she’s about to speak after her train of thought, lips of delectability parting until the bartender calls your order. “3 wines.”

but you feel irked. unfortunately, you were at work, and had some serving to do. so you slide the platter towards your chest, before delving into her with a sultry glance. “it’s free.” you whisper teasingly, which wasn’t a lie, atleast tonight. you couldn’t fabricate the fact you wanted to pay her to lay you bare; unearth every fragment of your body and utilise it however she desired.

but once you’d distributed the orders and gotten some tips, your irises blew hot and cold around the club when you’d cottoned on that something just wasn’t right - your coworker ambling towards you.

“someone’s requested you..”

“but i’m not stripping tonight?”

she shrugs. “someone in 03 ordered some stuff and specifically wanted you to deliver it or something.”

“what’d they look like?”

“i don’t know, like.. awkward, freckles, brownish red kinda hair..”

and amongst the blether, your eyes were rifling through the bar; running short of the interest it gave you before. at first, you’d thought she’d been intimidated by your valiant act - but you’d read intertextually through the lines of kinda hot, cute freckles, brownish red hair that

never mind, you were stripping tonight.

she was a whiskey drinker, but she was duality altogether - maple tennessee and vanilla bourbon, the spicy grain of japanese scotch; even the woody and rich malt of scottish barley. you’d chaperoned yourself towards 03, a room in which was enshrouded by rosewood curtains, and a beam of what felt like tuscan sun whenever you’d take a step; with one hand supporting the platter of glasses, the other drapes the curtain to one side.

you step in. it’s slightly quieter, stifled music orchestrating in the background as you look around, adjusting to the sentimentality of the crimson seats; apricot lights against the metal pole situated in the middle of the room.

and then your eyes meet with ones of juniper, so soft and succulent. she doesn’t maintain eye contact for long, staring ahead at the floor - but she’s so divine that it dilutes how fucking awkward she can be. “i take it you accept my offer?” you smile, situating the platter against the table, pouring a drink.

she doesn’t answer, only looking up with doe eyes of sheepishness when you hand the glass to her with delicacy. you want her to feel relaxed with you. “what’s your name?”

she’s relaxed enough to look at your body piece, the rhinestones and the obsidian. “ellie.” she mumbles.

ellie. it was simple, marshmallow and purity sizzling on your tongue. “can i sit on your lap, ellie?” you whisper, fingers tracing the sewing outline of her jacket.

she nods after a few seconds, and you feel erotic when you hitch your leg over and plant yourself on her thighs. it’s humid between you, and you can admire the texture of her skin - skilfully formulated freckles along her curved nose as if they’d been saintly sculpted with intense precision, framed with hues of rose on her cheeks that compliment her lips, so inviting and fuck you’re staring at her.

she’s getting flustered, and only amplifying the brewing anticipation in your clit when her thighs rub against yours; with fern globes flickering over your body, particularly your cleavage.

so you swathe the straps of your bra off. your skin feels hounded by taffy fog around you - your breasts recoiling from the material when you slowly pull it down, exposed to the experimental tints of the room.

you hear her exhale, hips tensing when she admires how your fingers grope at them. “you can touch them.” your whisper is reassurance. which is a lie, she’s not meant to touch. it’s unprofessional, but you can’t help it. how can you?

her angular fingers that you’ve inspected oh so well tenderly stroke your skin, goosebumps on your netted arms when they reach your breasts. you observe how her pupils dilate, irises surrounded by hankering pits of jade only erupting when her fingers brush up your stomach.

she’s reluctant, but when she notices the indistinct smites on her fingertips from your cudgelling heartbeat, she brushes over your nipple. “you’re so pretty, miss.” she whispers, observing how your nipple erects between her fingers.

you’re unbeknownst to your subtle grinding on her thigh. she’s getting confident, gently rolling your nipples between her fingers with ascendency - it’s astronomical, and you hadn’t even taken your underwear off yet.

“can i put them in my mouth, miss?” she whispers. you feel as though you’re hallucinating, the narcosis that was she, but she’s serious when you blink at her. your fingers caress at her shoulders, hot when they touch at her neck, and your fingertips feel so holy upon her skin that you could hear the symphony of each skin cell celebrating. “don’t ask, just do.”

maybe she wasn’t that shy at all, her tongue against your breasts, tactically twirling around your nipple. it’s only when she envelopes it with her lips and gingerly sucks that you distinguished how wet you were, the fabric of your underwear thick with your arousal with every thrust against her thigh. “fuck..” you whisper, because you’ve clocked that you’d never been this fragile before.

the sensitivity in your clit only intensifying when you can feel her lips slurp at your other nipple; tongue flicking against it with enough expertise. you can feel a small explosive latchstring in your hips with how desperately you’re rocking against her, and with every sound of her lips leaving your tits with a pop, it’s almost as if fresh nerves that you hadn’t known built you up were being seduced.

you look down to see the blooming disorder she’d made of your breasts, nipples that were swollen; unrelentingly vulnerable to the masterly manipulation of her tongue stroking against them, glossing them with her spit. “little bit of an expert with your mouth, huh?” you exhale playfully, and feel your limbs tingle when she hums.

she looks up, lips glistening; lashes that fan against her lacy cheeks so innocently that you feel as though you’re being made fun of.

you can’t comprehend anything through the overload of indecent fantasies - fantasies that became fuelled when you were victim to her hands, staring at her raunchy veins operating her fingers so seductively. she notices how you feast your eyes on them, and teases you by slithering them down your stomach, a feathery stroke that explores the ebony pearls on your waist. “do you want them inside you, miss?” she whispers, tongue still fondling over your nipples.

please.

you feel your stomach molten inside, and you’re nodding. you want to be served, and you’re curious on what else she can provide. she has you wrapped around her finger just by wrapping her pretty lips around your breasts.

your hands mount her jaw tenderly, because you want a lick of that addiction - her lips a gleam so vivid that it made the neon lights dull. you lean in, and she tilts her head for you, tempting you, inviting you.

it’s mellow when you smooch at her lips, she’s letting you initiate. so you sink into her, tilting your head to enhance her taste - it’s medicine, warm and stimulant on your tongue, gentle laps that create a string of spit when she’d part from you - and you’d be quick to swallow, desperate to be polluted by her fluids.

she’s becoming assertive.

“please just fuck me with your fingers.” you whisper against her lips, hand desperately gliding the fabric of your underwear to one side; you can tell by her eyebrows dipping in foreboding and the way her eyes bleach with daunt that her blood’s running cold about this.

“i’ve never done this before..” she whispers, and you’re about to ask her if she wants to stop, if it wasn’t for her boldly slewing her finger through your folds, the texture of your slick glossing her skin deliciously - you couldn’t only feel it, but you could fucking hear it.

“that’s.. that’s okay..” you whisper, shuffling against her, your fingers guiding her wrist, her fingers teasing at your loose hole. “i’m gonna ride them.” you hum, and you know she’s taking a shine to the idea by how her other hand lurks at your hip; fingers supporting your weight against her.

she loves how you look right now. she’s take a liking to how you looked out there, but right now.. disordered strands of hair adhesive to the sides of your face, breasts shiny with her saliva, you’re beautiful.

you slowly descend onto her fingers, feeling her fingertips massage your walls when you sink. the raw-boned chords that you’d known were her knuckles stroking against every explicit nerve, and you can taste the pleasure when she twines both of them inside; it’s not enough though, and so you whisper to her. “just a little more, ellie.”

she takes your guidance, and wreathes her fingers just a little more for you - that spongy target fondled under her influence. you can’t repress the subtle trembling of your thighs against hers, the pathological indecency. “feels so good inside you, miss..”

is she fucking dirty talking?

you slowly start rolling against fingers, sensitive nerves being hammered with every rock, some more dynamic than others. “fuck, that’s it.. that’s it..” you whimper with breathless difficulty. and she watches how your body reacts, the sensitivity in your clit augmenting whenever she cunningly rubs her palm against it; the way your tits bounce with such sap before her very eyes and how her palm radiates how fucking thickly drenched your cunt is - her tongue ready to onslaught you, sour to stay in her mouth.

she wants to ask you if you want to sit on her face, even though you told her not to ask and just do, she’s conflicted - it still felt wrong for her to assume. so she glissades her fingers out slowly, watching how your discharge oozes out onto her palm, and looks back up at you. “please let me taste you..” she whispers.

but you want her to lose patience; you want to activate whatever sexual frustration is concealed in those flaming fucking eyes. so you whisper,

“earn it.”

“please, let me..”

you slowly shake your head with a smirk.

“i’ll try to make you feel good, promise..”

you shake your head again, and you can see it melting away, irises narrowing with pique - but she tries her luck again.

“i’ll be good to you, miss.. i’ve been so good..”

and when you shake your head and tut, you clock that something’s different in her expression, globes that pierced through you with such warped lechery.

it suits her.

you feel her hand frame your jaw, and it’s claustrophobic when she presses her forehead against yours. she’s not hostile with you, her touch so sincere, and that’s what’s starting to make you feel so hot inside. you can see her eyes look around for the words, but they seem to flow out so instinctually despite the internal struggle.

“you feel this?” she whispers, her tongue wheeling up your cheek, and you nod.

“i’m gonna use it to lick that pretty pussy of yours dry,

and i’m not gonna stop until i can feel your cunt come in my mouth.”

so let me taste you, miss. please.” she’s stern, and slow, and it forces your leg to lift slightly; reserving that special vip seat you were hoping she’d fill as soon as you saw her.

and when she sees your silent invitation to slump back into the seat, she takes it. her eyes are venomous when your slit is before her, damp fingers that clamp your thighs. tender, yet so hungry to plummet you down to her face.

you can feel her nose brush against your mound, and your legs brandish against her when you feel her tongue flick your clit, your hips can’t stop the quivering, or the instinctual rolling; the wetness of her tongue merging with your slick. with every swipe against your clit only magnified how eager your back arched, yet had deteriorated the strength in your limbs.

she’s teasing you. aggravating taps and kitten licks against your clit, a dip in the waters, before it became one long interminable lick - you’re rocking against her tongue tenderly. and if the coil in your hip wasn’t assaulted enough, it’s at the edge of the cliff when she teases your entrance with two fingers, your slick glossing the tips. they stream into you slowly, and she goes deeper than intended with how silken you feel inside.

“mmph- shit..” you whine, feeling them twine inside of you, your feedback from earlier being absorbed when you’re about to give her a helping hand, but after a few seconds, she finds it by herself.

“ah- fuck.. good girl..” you exhale jaggedly, your breathing inconsistent as you hear the squelching of your pussy against her fingers.

she grows accustomed to how it feels, how it moulds itself pathetically around her, impulsive fingertips thrusting against it. “you’re so good, so good, so-so good for me-mmmph..” you exhale, and the saturated slap on your clit was enough to make you squeak.

your cunt leaking onto her fingers, how the skin of your folds slaps against her hand with desire; it’s getting too much, that savage corkscrew spiralling your hips at velocities that seemed inhumane. “mm.. dripping all over my face, baby..” she hums against your folds. “pretty woman like you deserves her pussy getting eaten all night..”

her voice is translucent and clear, breathless and slightly struggling with her lips against your clit, your desperate thrusts into her mouth. “getting all tight around me baby, gonna come all over my mouth, hm?”

you spurt cum onto her tongue, body tense as everything tightens; your vision is blurry, pixels swimming in rhythms of seraphic orgasm. you hadn’t even noticed how smeared your face was with tears, having being recent since they were still freshly running.

your thighs shudder against her violently, clit feeling as though it had exploded from the gritting assault of humping against her fucking lips. “fuck.. you just..” you try to speak, but you struggle. you can’t feel anything, can only hear how she slurps your arousal up through the numbness. “made me come..”

you slump against the backrest of the seat. repeating dreamily, trying to blink through the haze. “made me come..”

she sits beside you, manspreading. you can’t see the expression on her face, your cheek smushed against the leather. “was that good..?” you hear her murmur, and you’d only just realised the damage you’d done tonight, the extent of your unprofessionalism.

but thank god you came to work tonight.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou

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fixdex-fastening-technology · 4 years ago

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charnelhouse · 2 years ago

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THOR X READER X STEVE ROGERS!!!

The way you would write the shit out of this. Please! i beg!

A/N: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Thor Odinson. Threesome. Voyeurism. Dis trash! Thanks to my bae @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa for brainstorming the way this situation would get out of hand due to Thor's competitiveness HAHA.

It started after a dismal mission in Virginia of all places. It was you, Steve, and Thor stuck inside a shitty motel room in the middle of fucking nowhere. They’d had to take down an underground weapon facility that had, unbeknownst to them, been experimenting on humans. Not many survivors. Too many surprises. The three of them were waiting for SHIELD to fly in and clean up the rest.

Steve scraped his hand through his hair as he watched you tip the aquamarine bottle back. Your throat bobbed once, twice and then you wiped the excess from your mouth. Thor had you in his lap. He rested his forehead against your shoulder - a broad hand clamped down on your knee like he was attempting to anchor himself to your body. Already, Steve could tell that the two Asgardians were buzzed - slightly loose and playful from their homebrewed liquor.

“You want some?” you offered Steve, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head. “Probably shouldn’t.”

You rolled your eyes before standing up, extracting yourself from Thor’s arms. Slow as honey, you stepped toward him, your hips swinging in your kevlar catsuit. Steve shifted on the edge of the bed - trying not to stare so blatantly, but it was proving to be difficult. It was a challenge to not look at you most days - impossible not to appreciate how pretty you were and how stupidly powerful with all that Asgardian strength.

You slipped him the bottle. “C’mon, Rogers,” Your lips quirked as you wedged yourself between his knees. Suddenly, Steve was uncertain where the direction this was going and if he had missed the initial twist. You were affectionate with everyone, but this was intentional. This was more than just you offering him a drink.

“You know,” you remarked quietly. “Thor and I sometimes have to get all of our adrenaline out after a mission.” Steve glanced up at you, his brows lifting curiously. “It’s how we deal with the stress - the guilt that sometimes comes. The grief.”

Yes - Steve knew all about grief and the way it could wield its burdens so well after a fight. It hadn’t been his fault that there had been humans experimented on in that facility. But - still - it seemed like he should have known. It was how he had felt when Bucky had returned.

I should have known he was alive. I should have sensed him. I should have gone back into that dense cold valley beneath the train and found him.

He curled his thumb around the cold bottle. He was at eye-level with your tits - the silver zipper sparkled against the dark grey.

It was no secret. He knew all about you and Thor and how you celebrated. How you really spent most of your free time with him. It echoed through the compound: Thor’s hands on your ass during Stark’s parties, you straddling him in the kitchen, the way you sometimes couldn’t walk straight the next morning while Thor grinned arrogant and suggestive.

“Did you break another bed?”

“I’ll buy you another, Stark.”

“You don’t have earth money, Point Break!”

Behind you, Thor was still spread out on the small, ugly motel chair. His legs splayed apart, his armor glinting in the soft orange light. He had ash smeared across his forehead, his hair damp from sweat. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, cocking his head. You dropped down beside Steve, your body grazing his arm and it jolted him. Everything about you jolted him.

He took a sip of the liquor and it burned in the best way - clearing his throat and his chest. It made him relax, unfurl as his fingers brushed yours. He could smell you: ivory soap and artillery smoke and a little blood. A nip of jasmine and brine.

It was a slow and deliberate slide into each other. Your head turned and he mimicked the motion - foreheads touching as he felt your breath puff warm against his mouth. He wasn’t drunk and he couldn’t quite believe that everything inside him was encouraging him to touch you like this - to kiss you when Thor was right there.

The room was thick with tension - rolling with a blinding sort of ache as if sex and arousal had filtered through the rumbling AC unit.

You inched forward before cupping his cheek and then you kissed him. You licked into his mouth and smoothed his hair away as your thumb curved over his jaw.

“Is this okay?” you murmured, drawing away for only a second as he made a muffled noise of protest. He chased your mouth, fisting a hand into your hair to bring you back.

“Is Thor okay with it?” he asked between kisses, his eyes sliding to Thor to see that the god was firmly grasping himself over his trousers, his expression hungry, and pointed to where Steve was clutching at you.

Your lips peeled into a blinding smile. “Of course,” you crooned as you began to unbutton his suit, ripping at the velcro. “Thor speaks of this all the time. He wants to see another warrior take me as he does. He said you’re the only one who could come close.”

“Oh,” Steve replied - quite stunned at this revelation. It wasn’t that Thor was controlling, but he was possessive. He wrapped himself around you, catered to you in every sense of the word. You were his and he had seen a number of unfortunate enemies get decimated by the god when they had tried to hurt you.

“It’s true, Rogers,” Thor rumbled as the chair creaked under his weight. “You can fuck her as hard as you’d like. She won’t break.”

Steve swallowed. He felt a fever start in the middle of his groin, expand across his ribs and lungs and -

“C’mere then,” he growled as he dragged you into his lap, palming your jaw and capturing your mouth.

***

“Fuck,” you whimpered as your hands scrambled at the cheap itchy sheets. Your legs were spread open as Steve fucked you with his fingers. He was crouched at the end of the bed - his muscular wide shoulders parting your knees. Thor was lying beside you, watching every act closely - studying the way you responded to Steve. The soldier nipped your inner thigh, sinking three fingers to the knuckle as he curled and massaged them. You stretched around him, dripping and hot and jerking up underneath his ministrations.

Steve was a quiet lover, which didn’t surprise you. You didn’t think he’d be someone who would talk about “fucking your tight wet pussy” or “enjoying my big cock” or “baby baby baby”. He was all muted noises - grunts and groans and his body shivering above yours as he kissed you like he was dying. It was Thor who narrated most of it, who slicked his tongue up your throat as he told you how the Captain was eating your cunt like he’d never tasted anything so good - so sweet -

“Rogers,” Thor said suddenly.

Steve ignored him, either too lost in the act or on purpose. He continued to lap at you, his fingertips bruising the underside of your thigh as he kept it hitched over his shoulder. The wet, loud wriggle of his tongue inside you caused you to clench and shudder. Thor allowed you to grip his hand, nearly breaking it as your lower muscles bore down upon Steve’s chin and gorgeous mouth with building intensity.

“Rogers!”

Steve glanced at him, his brow creased in irritation. The lower half of his face was blushed and glossy from your pussy and it really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was “You need to twist your fingers up,” Thor instructed. “Turn your wrist. You want to curl - no - not like that - let me do it.”

You yanked your hand from Thor’s grasp before punching him hard in the shoulder. “Don’t be a prick, Odinson, or I swear I’ll make you sit in the bathroom by yourself.”

Thor narrowed his eyes. “It’s against the rules for me not to be here.”

“Then stop talking.”

Steve rested his cheek against the inside of your leg, his lips twitching into an amused smile as he watched you bicker with Thor. “Can I keep going or -”

“Please.”

“Yes - but let me show you-“

“Shut the fuck up, Thor.”

***

“Right there,” you panted as Steve fucked you into the mattress. He had your knees pressed to your chest, your body practically folded in half as each snap of his hips knocked a whimper from your mouth. He had to curl his hand around the corner of the mattress in order to leverage his weight and rail you the way you needed it. He’d already broken the headboard.

“That good, sweetheart?”

“So good - so-so good, Steve.”

“Thor - stop,” Steve grunted.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re making that face.”

“I am not.”

Steve's expression was dubious, but he didn't argue. Instead, he switched positions with an abruptness that startled you. He sat back on his haunches, yanking you up into his lap so you could wind your arms around his neck. “Ride me like that, baby,” he urged in a hoarse, low voice that bulleted through your veins, making you tremble. You loved hearing stern Steve Rogers stammer and pulse beneath you - his hands unsteady as they gripped your hips. You fisted the back of his hair, dragging his face against your tits and he latched to the perky bud of your nipple. You peeked at Thor who was regarding you both intently, staring at where Steve was disappearing inside you.

“You’re so fucking big, Steve,” you gasped against his temple, the comment seemed to spurn him forward and he gave you a rather sharp thrust in reply. “It-it feels like you’re splitting me in-”

“Pfft,” Thor blew out a breath just as you knew he would.

You circled your arms tighter around Steve’s neck as you directed a pointed glare at Thor. “Don’t be mean,” you mouthed. He was a bit too competitive and perhaps you should have realized that might happen, especially when Steve was actually fucking you in a way that snapped the breath from your lungs.

He was better than you expected. Much. Much. Better. You didn’t know why you assumed he was a prude or unadventurous. He just must not have been as open about his sexual escapades because he had to be fucking someone if his stroke - his unrelenting pace - was this good.

His super-soldier stamina was overworking you. It blinded you, wrecked you in a shocking way. It wasn’t Thor, but Thor had the advantage of knowing your body and your pleasure. The years you had been together and the experience that they had as beings who lived for thousands of years. What had they not tried?

Thor sat up - gluing himself to your spine, hand snaking between your bodies so he could circle and tease your clit. It was too much, especially with Steve spearing deep into your cunt, his mouth on your nipples - sucking and licking and -

“I know what you want,” Thor husked into your ear. “I know what will make you choke his cock.”

“What’s that?” you breathed - voice locking up tight as you tried to take Steve’s punishing pace. Cap was damp with sweat - all golden and flushed, blue-blue eyes searching yours for what felt like hours and on and on it went -

“You’re gorgeous,” he marveled just as Thor’s fingers stroked between them and he lightly shocked the bead of nerves at the peak of your sex with a dart of electricity.

It worked a little too well. You screamed - arching into Steve who had to catch you roughly around the waist so they both wouldn’t topple off the bed. Your body went taut - your cunt clenching unforgivably around his shaft.

“Shit,” he rasped. “Shit-fuck I’m gonna come.”

You were throbbing like a heartbeat - gripping him in tiny little pulses over and over again - a song - the incessant tap of a piano key.

“Please,” you begged before nipping his generous lower lip.

In response, the slamming of his hips grew clumsy. The rhythm broke as he grabbed your face and brought you closer to his mouth. He kissed you fiercely - tongue darting behind your teeth as he snarled and bucked - his pleasure colliding and exploding across him like a crack of a whip.

For a few moments, you couldn’t remember where you were. Stars zapped and sparked behind your eyes.

“Breathe,” Steve ordered - his knuckles running over your cheek. “Breathe, honey.”

From beside you, Thor barked a laugh as he shifted on the mattress. His muscular arms created a band under your tits and he abruptly hauled you off Steve. You cried out at the loss and the soreness between your legs that felt so utterly empty. Steve - still trying to steady his heart - glared at Thor.

“Jesus, Thor. Give her a minute.”

Thor lifted an eyebrow before nuzzling his nose against your throat - under your ear. “Please, Rogers,” he drawled. “She can withstand the blast of an exploding star.” He brought his hand down across your ass so hard it echoed in the tiny room. You lurched - groaning from the bright spot of pain that swelled deliciously around the remaining aftershocks of your orgasm. “She’s a god - a warrior - she can go for hours and hours - sometimes days.” You tried to smother a giggle and he tugged you against his front - the jut of his cock prodding into your lower back. “She likes it. Don’t you, my love?”

You nodded and Thor made a pleased sound from his chest. He dropped his head, peppering kisses across your cheek and shoulder. “What do you think? Want to try both of us at once, little goddess?”

You glanced at Steve whose jaw flexed and his nostrils flared at the sight of Thor grinding into you - his hand wandering between your legs to slide through the wet, puffy slit of your cunt that was dripping with Steve.

Rogers combed his damp hair away from his handsome face, his pink tongue sweeping over his lower lip. His expression darkened a blush - just enough that you knew he was interested. “Steve?”

He huffed, lips breaking into a feral grin that was so unlike him. You instinctively knew that you were seeing an intimate piece of your Captain - a soft, throbbing center of the unyielding soldier that few got to access. Maybe - you and Thor seduced it out of him.

Steve curled a finger, beckoning you forward. "Come here then so I can get you ready."

#thor x reader #thor x reader x steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor imagine #thor odinson #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #thor x you #steve rogers x female reader #marvel

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xianoii · 3 years ago

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︶꒦꒷♡ . . . ARATAKI ITTO 𓂃 GREEN LIGHT . ·˚ ༘

( DRABBLE ) 𓂃 a lil somethin’.

゛꒦꒷♡⃕ ࣪ WARNINGS ༝ fem!reader ⸝⸝ size kink ⸝⸝ praise ⸝⸝ belly bulging ⸝⸝ daddy kink ⸝⸝ overuse of pet names ⸝⸝ dumbification ⸝⸝ minors do not interact.

゛꒦꒷♡⃕ ࣪ NOTICE ༝ i want him to blow my back out n rearrange my vertebrae :(

“THAT’S MY GIRL, fuck,” itto pauses, his lip falling between his teeth. a hand presses on your lower stomach, the pressure seems to tighten your cunt around him, “takin’ me so well..” his praises flying straight to your clit. you whine, jerking into him as an attempt to pull him in full - your pussy aching for attention. he continues slowly, agonizing you in the wait. it’s drawn out and you’re begging to be filled, your lips muttering feeble pleads that barely knock on the barrier of sound. when and finally when itto buries himself to the hilt do you moan, your pussy crowded with his girth.

he’s fat and long, filling you up adequately and deliciously. if you had no self-control, you’d have came all over already. he’s still in you, not a muscle being moved as he allows you time to adjust. he’s a lot, and he knows— but he knows that you can take much more.

his thrusts begin. they’re short and sweet, yet powerful. he lets your cunt take control - sliding in and out as far as he could when your sporadic contractions occur. it’s irregularly paced and sloppy— but that’s what makes it so good. your head is cushioned by the pillows beneath you, your body immersed in comfort as itto rocks into you, driving pleasure through your veins. your moans are sung lowly, escaping your lips with small calls of ‘daddy’ following. it’s repeated - like a mantra glued to your memory. he barely catches the title, focused on the sweet throb of your pretty pussy, engaged in the way your body reacts to him. you think he doesn’t hear you, doesn’t realize what you’ve called him, but he does. “shit, baby,” he whispers, leaning over you, his hand that was once on your stomach now anchoring him up. “my princess likes daddy’s cock? hm, like it when i fuck you..” he pauses, pulling out ever so slightly. his hips twist, an angle producing from his lazy precision. “..like this?”

it’s an ego boost. you’re a confidence booster, making his blown head skyrocket. he’s seemingly fucking into you with more power, the head of his dick diving into your depths, kissing your sweet spot. your moans are more frequent, the roughness of his thrusts sending you bobbing up and down the mattress, your voice bouncing along. he’s serious, now, a determined look painted over his features, “say it again,” you’re too fucked to know what he’s talking about. he grinds his thumb on your clit, narrow circles running around the bud. his hips continue to snap into you, his sheer strength having you adopt a fear of snapping in two. “fuck— say it again, baby. let me hear ya’,” his words are slurred. but you manage to pick apart what he means. your babbled slip-ups has obviously stuck with the oni, a need to hear the title fall from your lips burning in his chest. weak and fucked out, you try your hardest to please him, batting your lashes prettily and pursing your lips, “harder, daddy. wan’ more..”

itto has never felt this before. an undying, insatiable, burning appetite that drives him mad. madly fucking into you, your legs hiked up on his shoulders and your abdomen tightened at the position. his cock is wedging deeper into you, widening what shouldn’t be touched for his girth to contort it in his shape. your hands are scrambling for dear life, air barely flowing through you properly as you fail to catch yourself at the receiving end of this bittersweet brutality. you feel full - happily stuffed. that’s not enough for itto. no, he wants to see the beads of tears group on your lashes, running down your face and spoiling your pretty makeup. he wants to hear you whine that “‘ts too much, daddy! can’t take it—!” so he can dote on you, properly assess your needs before taking you and fucking you silly ten times over. it’s a fixation, a need that he must suppress. you’ve brought this upon him and yourself, and now you must bear the consequences.

but he’s too much for you. your head is knocked empty, babbles and incoherent cries tumble past your lips. you whine for him, tighten your walls and curl your toes — the pleasure building an orgasm deep in your tummy. itto is consistent, sloppily thrusting into you and churning your insides deliciously, brewing the orgasm within you with his own hand. he’s skilled in the way he pleases you, stretching you quite literally thin to delve deeper in you, the flesh of your stomach displaying his cock faintly. your cries turn shrill, his name clashing with ‘daddy’ as he fucks you straight into your high - launching you straight to cloud nine.

itto will continue, only so he can hear you moan for more, “daddydaddydadd— hnn fuck! ‘s much, it’s s’much!” that’s what he likes to hear. you’ve gotten him started, and given him the green light to keep going.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #flashing gif cw #genshin x you smut #itto x reader #arataki itto smut #itto smut #arataki smut #arataki x reader #arataki x you #arataki itto x reader #itto arataki smut #arataki itto x you #daddy kink cw

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wiltzgroup · 2 years ago

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11 List of Angle & Channels Measuring Tools - Which One is Right for You

There are several digital and non-digital equipment for measuring angles, which you must be familiar with. This can be vital for enhancing your ideas and problem-solving skills at work since each serves a unique role. Therefore, this website may assist you in selecting the most appropriate option.

Angle & Channels Measuring Tools List

This article covers all the instruments used to measure the angle. Here are the eleven tools we have successfully gathered.

Pivot Square

You can produce repeated, consistent markings with the help of the aluminum Pivot Square's locking, adjustable leg, which can be set to any angle between 0 and 90 degrees and keeps it securely in place. The Pivot Square allows you to lead the circular saw across angled crosscuts.

Three-Sided Squares

The Speed square is a favorite tool for carpenters because it is simple, long-lasting, and packed with information on the roof plan. You may use it to determine angles, mark cutlines, and as a guide for making cross cuts to ensure that your saw remains straight. Instead of going with the plastic option, go for the one made of aluminum alloy.

Clinometer

A clinometer is an instrument that may be used to determine the height of a tree. In addition to its usage in aviation, this device is also used in transportation, surveying, and other fields.

T-Bevel

You may use the T-bevel to duplicate an angle onto any work or to establish the angle of a saw blade by first locking the sliding blades of the T-bevel against every angle and then using the tool. When you're laying out your pattern, the blade of this T-bevel locks into the set with a recessed latch, allowing either side to rest flat on the surface.

Angle Gauge

With an angle gauge, you can quickly calculate the surface angle concerning the horizontal axis, which is difficult or impossible to achieve with a protractor. After positioning the angle gauge to be parallel to the surface whose angle you need to measure, the measurement will be shown on the device.

Bevel Protractor

For anybody who places a premium on accurate layout markings, the cast-iron tape measurer head with the chromed-steel rule has been manufactured by Starrett and sold commercially since 1908 and is an indispensable machinist's tool. The spinning head may be locked at a chosen angle or used to determine the precise angle of an existing bevel. It rotates 180 degrees.

Plumb Bob

A plummeting bob indicates the direction in which gravity is acting. The burden always gets transferred to the ground. You can make use of the string as the gravitational zero-degree reference point. When determining the slope of a surface, individuals may also use a plumb bob in conjunction with a speed square.

Miter Guide

Put the legs of this straightforward tool flat against any corner, whether it's on the inside or the outside. A projecting metal tab is positioned to split the angle using internal gears. Take the guideline to your miter saw, brace one leg against the fence, and then line up the saw blade against the tab. You just finished setting the correct miter angle.

Angle Setter

Setting the right angle of a chisel on the circular sharpener might be an evident problem if you intend to sharpen your chisel or knife using a sharpening machine. This is because the sharpener is round. The sharpening quality of the sharpening may be improved by ensuring that the chisel or knife is held at the appropriate angle.

Adjustable T-Square

This adjustable square is an improvement on the traditional 4-foot squares that were only capable of marking cuts at 90 degrees in drywall, plywood, OSB, and other sheet materials. Instead, this square contains marks for 30, 45, and 90 degrees.

Sine Bar

A sine bar does not display the measurement of the angle straightforwardly. Instead, you will need to do some mathematical calculations using trigonometry. A triangle will be formed by a sine bar when supported by a gauge block, which also serves as a height adjustment. There is a strong correlation between the sine bar's precision and the angle measurement's precision.

Conclusion

Tools that measure things are really valuable to us in a variety of different ways. In their absence, accurate measurements of length, diameter, breadth, and other dimensions would be far more difficult. You can get all these tools from Wiltzgroup, the best wedge anchor suppliers in Qatar.

#wedge anchor suppliers qatar #Threading Machine price in Qatar

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jangofctts · 3 years ago

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Dying For (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of stalking, Adrian has a praise kink (also a bit of a sub here), mentions of blood/injury, stitches, mentions of violence, vaginal fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, thigh riding, (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

You awake to the sound of shattering glass.

Fucking great.

The one time you’re home alone, house sitting for you parents, shit like this happens—

You throw your comforter off in a great flourish and vault from your bed. Goobie, your parent’s old, wrinkly basset hound, one wrong breath away from yeeting off this mortal coil, begins to bay at the foot of your bed. Chilly air caresses your bare thighs, the hardwood floors turning your toes to ice. You grab your brother’s baseball bat that rests besides your dresser as Goobie howls at the door. More glass splinters and cracks, stemming from the living room.

A life in Evergreen is never overwhelmingly busy—especially without a job. Only thing you frequently find yourself doing nowadays is participating in a long standing rivalry between you, a broom, and and the congregation of overly curious raccoons that have sequestered themselves in your backyard. One night—one fucking night you left out a box of Cheez-Its and now they think it’s easy pickings—

They’ve grown bold, you think, to physically manifest inside your living room. It’s fine. Totally cool.

Except—

As you open your door, dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shitty underwear, prepared to beat back the surge of grubby, little thieves, you’re met with—

Well…you’re not really sure what you’re looking at, to be quite frank.

Something, or rather someone is crawling through your living room window. They’re muttering curses under their breath, swiping away glass that clinks to the floor and flopping around like a strange fish as they try to wedge themselves into the frame. The strangest part, and not that break-ins are necessarily normal, is that the perpetrator in question is dressed in a black and blue tactical suit.

Oh, this is way worse than the fucking raccoons—

You’ve seen this fucker on the news.

His thigh gets stuck, flung forward by momentum then hangs by his calf, head skimming the floor. “Should’ve skipped leg day,” he grumbles to himself. With his other boot, he pushes against the inside frame and heaves himself in—he falls to the floor in a tangled heap, a wheezy oof following the mass of limbs and scuffed armor.

Why you let this man fully break into your house instead of just cutting to the chase and beating the ever loving shit out of him? A wonderful question that no doubt needs some serious psychological review on your part.

You smack the light switch as Goobie yips and wags his tail. The man startles. “Wait—”

Panic kickstarts your heart as Vigilante struggles to his feet, raising his hands in surrender. Still groggy with sleep, punchy with adrenaline, and overwhelmed by Goobie’s animated howling—it’s a lovely cocktail of stupidity.

You launch yourself forward and swing your bat. The carbon fiber whizzes over his head—he ducks and whips his head towards you. The red visor glints as he jabs an accusing finger in your direction. “Not cool!”

In the blink of an eye, his rough glove latches to your wrist, the other posting under your forearm. The delicate bones and tendons compress and twist as Vigilante squeezes your wrist. The bat clatters to the floor. You throw an elbow back that connects with his ribs. He grunts, readjusts his grip, and throws you to the floor. Vigilante goes down with you.

He wrestles you into a headlock—both arms hooked under yours, his hands using your head as an anchor to keep you from wiggling free. You screech and kick your legs back—he readjusts by interlacing his leg over on of yours and pulling it back towards him. Your heart pounds, blood roaring in your ears. You’re completely immobilized—

“Y’know, you could’ve seriously maimed me,” Vigilante gripes right beside your ear.

“That was the point, asshole!”

He clicks his tongue. “That sounds salty. Kinda like kettle corn—”

You test the man’s hold. Not a budge and Goobie is no help. “Kettle corn?”

“Yeah!” He agrees. “Because you’re also sweet—jeez. Don’t you even eat kettle corn?”

What the fuck! Here, you are, getting choked out while your assailant compares you to fucking kettle corn. Hot tears prick at your eyes, panic welling in your chest that squeezes around your lungs like a vice.

Goobie, the betrayer, waddles over, non-plussed about this entire misfortunate event. His droopy face and rheumy, brown eyes slide into view above you. Strings of drool dribble out of his jowls and land over your forehead. Goobie whines and then uses your head as a step stool, the force of his wagging tail making his entire body wiggle. He presses his little, black nose to Vigilante’s mask, right where the outline of his ears stick out under the fabric, and sniffs. An excited boof rumbles through Goobie’s chest, pink and black spotted tongue rolling over the man’s covered face.

Vigilante jerks his head to escape Goobie’s affectionate kisses. “Blegh—Goobie, your breath is rank—”

Goobie harrumphs, steps off your head and toddles away, trimmed nails clicking on the hardwood floor. How in the fuck—

Wait—you know that voice.

You stop struggling.

“Adrian?”

“One and only,” Adrian Chase confirms. You can hear the smile in voice as cool relief surges through your veins. “Seriously, Ducky—what are you feeding him? Your boy’s got a mad case of ball breath—wait—fuck.” Adrian drops his voice to a comical drawl and backtracks. “Who’s Adrian—Vigilante could be any—"

As Adrian’s grip relaxes, you claw yourself out of his headlock, spin around and throw your arms around his neck. Adrain wheezes, pinned between the floor and your body, head tucked right under his chin. He’s stiff, at a loss for words and action—but slowly and surely, his arms fold over your body to return the haphazard hug. His palm gingerly smooths over your shoulder blade as he tucks his head over yours. Adrain’s breathing skips into a choppy cadence. He’s never been an expert at returning sudden physical affection—it’s gotten better throughout the years growing up though.

Just as he tightens the hug, you break away and assist him into a sitting position. He still wears his mask. You frown and reach up to cup his covered face—you can’t see past his visor. “Adrian…are these prescription?”

He nods, shoulders perking. “Uh, yeah—of course they are. What else would I use? Contacts? Those things melt to your eyes, y’know.”

Your brows furrow. He’s been reading those shitty tabloids again—or found his way onto Reddit. God forbid. “They don’t…whatever. Doesn’t matter.”

Adrian pulls his mask off his head. Your heart twists inside your chest. He hasn’t changed at all—soft brown hair that sticks up at odd angles due to the mask, dimples, his quirky smile you think about a little too much. He reaches around his belt to fish out his glasses from one of the compartments. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his arched nose, smiles, and waves his hands in a sort of ta-da motion. “Surprise! It was me all along!”

Your eyes rove over your long time friend. It should concern you, terrify you even, that there is dried blood beneath Hello Kitty band-aids that litter his skin, some of it from his split knuckles and some of it from unknown origins. Fists like rusted switchblades in search for infamy, justice, something wild and deeper than skin. It’s always been there, Adrian’s warrior heart, nestled between an ivory ribcage and a righteous soul. And in the same breath, he’s forever been a sweet kid—a little odd, granted, but you love him just the same. This violence…is nothing but a negative output of Chris Smith’s direct influence and Adrian’s devotion.

Secrets, you’ve found, do not hide in shadows. They hide in the glaring light of day and pass unnoticed due to willful ignorance that you too have fallen victim to. You should’ve known. It makes sense that Adrian and Vigilante are one and the same.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Ducky?” Adrian asks, butting through your thoughts. He’s adopted the idea that justice proceeds any sort of cost. You work your jaw. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

Adrian scrubs a gloved finger over his teeth. He kills people. And yet…it doesn’t scare you. Doesn’t entice you to call the police or worry for your own life. You run a hand over your face, rubbing away the last dregs of sleep. You sigh. Curse your compassionate soul.

“Adrian,” you begin, heart jumping as he smiles, “what the actual fuck are you doing in my house?”

His brows furrow. “Didn’t you read my text?”

“It is three in the morning, dude.”

Adrian makes a noise of discontent and fishes his phone out of his utility belt. He scoots closer to you and presents his phone. His lock screen is a strange, poorly photoshopped, collage of his face, Chris’, yours and Matt (your older brother). All of his favorite people, he once explained to you. He slides his thumb up the screen and shows you the evidence. You quirk a brow. The text is just a bunch of emojis.

“How would I even begin to decipher that?” You ask, puzzled.

Adrian rolls his eyes and points to each one as if this were common sense and not a shitty game of pictograph. “C’mon, dude, it’s simple! Coming to your house. Need medical attention. Going through window.”

You blink and scratch at your jaw. “So instead of going to a hospital you broke in?”

“You’re a doctor,” he says, satisfaction lacing his words.

“I am a veterinarian—those are not the same,” you huff in disbelief. You cross your arms over your chest, eyeing him with a stern glare. “You scared the shit out me—and you broke my window.”

Adrian shrugs. He knows you won’t ever set your foot down when it comes to him—not entirely. “I’ll just buy you a new one—by the way, you should really get a security system or something. Who knows who’ll crawl through your window next.”

You fix him with a long, tired stare. “Well, gee—I sure hope it’s not a masked madman.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Adrian cries, throwing up his hand. The jokes flies over his head, as does most sarcasm. “I can’t let my best friend get hurt.” He pauses for a second. “Don’t tell Peacemaker I said that—he still thinks I’m his number one BFF.”

You pause for another moment and bite your tongue. Adrian mutters under his breath about his back needing stitches, how the fabric of his suit will probably stain.

“Fine. Let’s fix you up,” you sigh as if this is more trouble than it’s worth. It’s not. “Stay here while I get my stuff.”

You grab your medical supplies from the bathroom down the hall. When you return, you startle and throw your hand over your eyes. Adrian Chase has stripped all the way down to his unicorn patterned boxers and pink ankle socks. He reclines on your couch like some sort of sexy fireman calendar. “Oh, dude—what the fuck?”

“What?” Adrian scoffs, not in the least bit embarrassed. You peek through your fingers. “I got slashed in the back—how are you supposed to stitch me up without seeing my bod, Ducky? Xray vision? Also—you’re literally just wearing underwear. We’re twinning now.”

Adrian makes a fair argument. You grumble a curse under your breath and wander to his side. He’s just another patient, nothing more. Right. You set your med bag onto the coffee table with a plunk and settle behind him. The couch gives under your weight. Oof—whoever did this—they got him good. Nothing you can’t fix, though.

You sterilize the area, curiosity brewing in your mind. With a little prompting, Adrian will gladly share. He’s bad at keeping secrets—at lying too. “What happened?”

Adrian cranes his neck to look at you. You gently order him not to move so much as you clean up the smaller cuts. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you! Ugh, I’m such a silly goose. Peacemaker is out of jail! And now we’re on a task force saving the—well that’s private information. Definitely not for plebs or civilians like you. Not that you’re a pleb—you’re way cooler than that.”

You sour at the mention of Chris. Didn’t he have a thirty year sentence? Last time you checked, it’s only been four years since he was arrested. “You’re working with Chris?”

You don’t mean for your words to hold such venom. Adrian shoots you a look and holds up his lean hands. “Woah, hold your horses sourpuss. I’m sensing some unresolved tension here.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumble. You rub your eyebrow with the back of your hand and stick a bandaid onto a bleeding cut right under his left scapula. “I just…I don’t like how he treats you.”

It’s a strange relationship you have with Chris. You grew up with the guy, following your brother and Adrian around as they followed him. It’s where the nickname comes from—little ducky always waddling after the the gaggle of boys. Always looking after them because your mother told you so. A piteous effort to save Chris from his own family that never really worked out in the end. He’s never been grateful for the extended hands offering salvation. He’d rather use and take advantage of friends and keep them in a six foot radius, fending everyone off with a red-hot poker.

The surface anger still lingers. You don’t understand why Adrian can’t see that Chris would first sacrifice him then think of the consequences, of Adrian as a living, breathing person—just another bloodstain on the hem of Chris’ sleeve. Chris is an open wound with no intention of getting better, but even still, deep in your heart, you hope he finds peace.

“Well it’s not like I could hang out with anyone else, Ducky,” Adrian sighs, muscle and sinew coiling under his freckled skin as he exhales. His shoulders pull forward. His words sting your heart, bitter guilt welling upon your tongue. “Matt left, and then you did too.”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “I did.”

You walked right through that door while Adrian kept keeping one the wrong side of the street, and believing in the make believe. Adrian is easy to forgive and forget, but even so, the silver knife of your absence cut deeper into his heart than you ever intended.

You stuck around as long as you could stomach—Evergreen is a backwater shithole in the buttfuck middle of nowhere Washington. Once you earned enough credits you fled to Gotham, got into the university’s uppity veterinarian school, and scored a job right out of school. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to you, the whole fucking animal clinic had been a money laundering guise for Roman Sionis. Worst fucking mistake you ever made in your entire life. You were nothing short of a hostage, employed to care for all of his and his minion’s exotic pets.

Thank god for Harley Quinn. Your unlikely hero.

And now you’re back—

You hated the city anyway…plus your best friend is here too. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?

You sigh. “I got fired, y’know,” not the whole truth. You don’t want to stress him out. “You don’t have to worry about me leaving again.”

“Well that’s stupid—I bet you were way too sexy to work there anyway.”

You laugh and focus your attention on the wound that needs stitching.

Adrian bounces his leg, jumpy under your touch as you clean the edges of the wound with alcohol wipes. It’s a force of habit to run the flat of your palm down his side—all your patients are animals—soothed by gentle pats and kind words. It’s not your fault you regress into muscle memory. You mistake the rush of goosebumps covering Adrian’s back and the rigid way he holds himself, to be fear. Apprehension of the needle—

You rub your palm in gentle circles over the little bump at the top his spine. “Relax, Adrian.”

A harsh stream of air punches free from his diaphragm. “Sorry—I’m not scared—I pinky promise. This is like a paper cut. Your hands are just…your hands are cold. You need some of those hand warmer thingies.”

They are a bit chilly. Nonetheless, Adrian does eventually settle amidst his stream of babbling. As the sharp needle hooks into his skin, you blunt the pain with something equally as soft; “Good boy.”

His entire body tenses, ramrod stiff. Adrian audibly gulps, deft hands clawing into the flesh of his thighs. His nails leave behind moon shaped indents. Hm. You cruise through suturing up his wound, mumbling little praises here and there. You finish by taping a gauze pad over the wound.

“All done,” you chirp, patting his shoulder. Adrian says nothing, a little hunched, muscle and sinew pulled taught. Another set of goosebumps erupt under your hand as your thumb rubs circles over a patch of freckles. “Are you ok?”

Adrian jerks to attention. His green eyes side eye you. “What? Me? Yeah, totally—just peachy. A-ok—fantastic in fact. No problemo. How’re you?”

His hands slide into his lap, shielding something from your keen eyes. Oh. You get it now. Fuck—you’re an idiot. Even in high school, the mildest positive comment had Adrian blushing redder than a tomato. Yet, in high school you weren’t exactly rubbing your hands all over his bare back while whispering praise, easily misinterpreted as dirty talk.

You chew the inside of your cheek. You’re faced with the tipping point, a pivotal decision laid out before you. You could walk away, feign innocence and pretend this never happened. Or…

“Adrian,” you hum, gliding you fingers down his shoulder. You launch yourself from the edge of a knife and into the flames of the unknown below. Dangling your beating heart above his blunt teeth—you know he’ll bite down. You risk mouthing a kiss to the freckled skin over the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He jumps, bitting back a groan. “Tell me what’s going on.”

It’s as if a dam cracks and bursts from his mouth. “Shit—my dick has never been this hard in my entire life. It’s so fucking unfair how pretty your voice is. ‘Specially when you say sweet shit to me—“

Adrian twists his head around and catches you off guard with a haphazard kiss. His glasses bump against your cheek. It’s brief due to the awkward angle, but fuck. It’s scalding—instantly addicting and leaving you craving for more. He kisses your jawline, hot breath fanning over your flushed skin. “Seriously. You could talk about anything and I’d get turned on—you ever think about being a phone girl? I’d call you all the time—“

You roll your eyes and slide your hand around his chest. Your fingers travel down his firm chest and down the muscled outline of his abdomen. Adrian’s words hiccup. You smirk. “Do you want something?”

You can only see a bit of his face from this angle, pressed against his back, careful to avoid his freshly stitched wound. His chest contracts with a stuttered exhale. You hear him loud and clear as he opens his mouth, voice barely above a breath but still firm in nature. “Yeah. Go lower—fuck, please go lower.”

Arousal ricochets through your veins. Slowly, your fingers whisper down the sharp protrusion of his hip bone to toy with is his boxers. A quick adjustment, and he’s bare enough to not hinder you. Your hand tickles down his navel, then wraps around his flushed cock. Both of Adrian’s hands instantly punch out to grab the couch in a death grip. He releases a tight, longing moan, and you feel almost as desperate as he sounds. You swallow—the tips of your fingers barely touch. He’s long too—the velvety skin sliding up his hardened cock as you glide your hand up to the tip. You roll the pad of your thumb over the leaking slit. Your palm comes away slick.

Thick and heavy in your hand, he’s already throbbing, pale chest heaving. “Oh, fuck—goddamn.”

Your tongue laves over his cherry red ear and later your teeth nip at the rounded cartilage. His hips are jumping to meet the warm pressure of your fist, but with a gentle coo, Adrian melts. “That’s it—there’s no rush.”

Your fingers rest gently along his pulsing shaft. You slide your thumb up to the tip, just barely angled to delicately brush up under his frenulum. Adrian shudders and makes a choking noise behind clenched teeth. “I take it back—you’re nothing like kettle corn. You’re like…fuck—I can’t even think right now.”

You start to slowly work the length of him and squeeze his cock a bit more firmly. You flatten your other palm over his stomach and trail it up to his chest, fingers finding his perked nipples. Adrian whines, cock twitching in your hand as you pinch his nipples between your finger and thumb. “You look so nice like this, Adrian.”

“Ducky,” he whimpers. He pants into the crook of your neck. “I used to…I used to watch you through your window. You’re so fucking hot, I couldn’t help myself.”

The admittance isn’t surprising. Everyone and their mom knows about Adrian’s long standing infatuation with you. “I know. You always wore that dumb sweatshirt—you looked like a goon.”

“Your brother got so mad,” Adrian gasps up at you, eyes tightly shut and handsome features screwed up in ecstasy. “It really threw the vibes off for the next D&D session—worth it though. You got a stellar ass.”

You bite your lip, cunt clenching between your legs, feeling oh so empty. Your wetness dampens the fabric of your underwear and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to swing your leg over his thighs and ride him. This is for Adrian. An apology of sorts. “So do you.”

“Fuck,” he groans, slumping further against your chest. You fall into an easy pace of rolling your fist up and down his cock, eased by the precum dribbling over your knuckles. “Fuck, this feels so good—can we do this all the time?”

You nod and press kisses into his hairline and dip your head to nuzzle into his neck. You smirk and touch your lips to his unsuspecting throat and bite down upon his flesh right under his jaw. Adrian’s hands fly behind him to claw at your legs, his adam’s apple bobbing along the arching line of his throat as he groans and twists his head to the side. His cock jumps in your grip as you squeeze him at the base. “I’m gonna cum—Jesus Christ, you’re driving me fucking crazy. Usually it takes longer when I’m the one jerking myself off.”

You chuckle and lave your tongue over the purple teethmarks you’ve created. You hold him like this, not budging an inch no matter how much he twitches and whines for you to bring him to his end. “Just breathe,” you encourage. He mellows out. “Such a good boy for me.”

It’s a damn near impossible task to uncurl your fingers from Adrain’s cock—what with the way a long, pained whine leaves his chest. “No—please. I’m your good boy, right? Fuck, I’ll do anything for you—”

“Chill out,” you say, shoulders bouncing in a quiet laugh. “I’m gonna make this better for you.”

“Better?” Adrian scoffs, allowing you to slide out behind him and position his back against the couch cushions. “I don’t know what’s better than a sexy vet touching my dick—”

You grab him by the cheeks and crash your lips onto his. Everything falls away—you’ve never gotten so lost in a kiss before. The tender space between you explodes in a symphony of golden light and childhood wishes.Your heart keeps missing beats and your hands cannot bring him close enough You both moan as he parts his lips, tenderly exploring the taste of your tongue. The overly sugary taste of a blue raspberry slushy lingers on his tongue—his favorite treat to have on Thursdays. The kiss overall is a little sloppy and unpracticed—drool stains your chin and sometimes your teeth clack together, but fuck. You don’t care. It’s sweet and addicting—

His hands find your shoulders, pushing you back far enough so that he can see you. Fuck, he’s wrecked. Messy curls, teased by your clawing fingers hang over his forehead, a rosy flush over his skin, glasses fogged up in the bottom corners. You cup his cheek—he leans into your touch and plants a fleeting kiss over your palm.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” You blurt—and it’s true. So devastatingly true.

Adrian blinks. A wide, goofy grin splits across his face revealing his dimples. “I know, right? I’m basically an 80s Hollywood heartthrob.”

“You were born in the 90s,” you snicker, leading him into another kiss. You part and trail a lazy path full of kisses and flicks of your tongue down his toned body You slide to the floor, nestling between his spread legs. “What movie were you thinking?”

You touch a tentative palm over his knee. Adrian’s tongue flicks over his bottom lip. “Die Hard—only the best Christmas movie there ever is—obviously.”

Tracks.

You glide your palm over his inner thigh—Adrian’s inhale is sharp when your fingers meet the crease of where his thigh meets his groin. “Holy shit—are you gonna blow me?”

You huff, glad it’s finally clicked in his brain. “Yes, Adrian.”

“Wicked.”

His leg jolts as your teeth descend over the meat of his inner thigh, little nips and fluttering kisses that trail up towards your prize. The tip of his cock is flushed a scarlet red, leaking and begging for your touch. There’s a light blue vein that runs on the underside of his cock and ends right below the head. Your thighs clench together.

Adrian’s moan echoes loudly through the house as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and swallow him down. His fingers aren’t gentle as they fist into your hair, like he’s trying to stave off the urge of shoving you down on him and fucking your mouth.

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine, the ache in your jaw spreading up throughout the joints as you take him deeper, the tip brushing against the soft pallet of your soft throat. He is not a small man. Adrian’s legs twitch as he rolls his head back agains the couch. “Feels s’good—you’re so fucking good at giving head.”

Your muffled moan rattles through your vocal cords in response, the overworked tendons pulling at the added stress. Adrian’s babbling encouraging your drive to take him all the way—make him spiral into madness all in the name of you.

Adrian whimpers his approval and rolls his hips, pushing the rest of himself into your mouth. Your nose brushes against his groin as he combs his shaking fingers through your hair, an inch away from imploding or cumming—maybe both.

You pull back, a burst of cool air rushing back into your lungs. You pump his cock, shinning with your saliva, and rest your head on his thigh. Adrian’s head tips forward, eyes hazy and pupils blown wide with arousal. His lips part, Adam’s apple bobbing. You smile. “Feel good?”

Adrian bobs his head. “Fuck yeah it does—I’m so fucking in love with you—I want your mouth on me all the time.”

You snicker and slip his cock back into your mouth. You take it slow this time—taking only half of him while your hand does the rest. Adrian rocks his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your hand, pooling onto the couch. You can’t find it in you to give a singular fuck—you just pray no one will pay any mind to it later.

Both your hands sweep up to explore the taught, flexing muscles of his thighs then around to the swell of his hips. Adrian swears, words slurring as you squeeze his hips, dragging him closer. Adrian murmurs your name, the pitch of his words reduced to an airy beg. Your eyes roll up to meet his half opened eyes. “Ah, fuck—I’m cumming—shit!”

You blink and swallow around him, grunting at the abrupt jolt of his hips. You can feel his cock twitching over you tongue. A couple more choppy thrusts and he’s gone. You rest the head of his cock on the bed of your tongue—his eyes screw shut, soft mouth hanging open as his hands tangle and twist in your hair. Adrian’s entire body shudders as warm streams of his release spurt against the roof of your mouth.

“Fuck—fuck,” Adrian hisses, arching his hips to chase after the last dregs of his pleasure. “You’re amazing—so fucking hot with my dick in your mouth—Christ.”

His release is thick and plentiful and dribbles out of your mouth and over his groin. You swallow it all. When the last few jittery rolls of his hips come to a complete stop, his chest heaves as he mutters out a litany of praise, his hands falling lax. You slip him out of your mouth, a proud smile lingering on your lips.

The ache between your legs nearly hurts with how worked up you’ve gotten. Underwear soaked through and ruined. Fuck—this isn’t about you. You stumble to your feet—Adrian grabs your arm and wrenches you down to meet him in an obscene kiss. It’s wet, probing and uncaring that he can taste himself on your tongue. Sparks of raw energy, crackles through your abdomen as he pulls you onto his lap, devouring whatever you have to offer him. His forehead, humid with perspiration, rests on yours as his breath fans over your lips.

Adrian’s hands find the swell of your ass and give the rounded globes a solicitous squeeze. “Your mouth is perfect for blowjobs—only mine though. I don’t really want to share you—I’ve had dibs on you since, like, middle school—“

You silence Adrian with a kiss. It does the trick. Yet, as Adrian moans into your mouth, kiss growing more heated, your willpower at denying yourself pleasure extinguishes like a candle to wind. You drop your mouth to the crook of his neck, bite at his throat while reaching for his stationary hand. Adrian allows you to drag his fingers to the crux of your thighs, he curses upon feeling your slickness.

“Look how wet you got me, baby,” you whine into his ear. He shivers and runs his fingertips along the wet fabric—the pressure is torturous. It’s a shame he’s still soft and recovering from his previous orgasm. Fingers are well and good, but you’d prefer something thicker. An idea pops into your head. “Lemme ride your thigh.”

“Hell yeah,” Adrian agrees. He keeps his hands on any part of you he can reach as you adjust and slide your soaked panties off your legs. You straddle one of his thighs. “Who knew you were such a horndog, Ducky—it’s always the quiet ones, huh.”

“You’re the horndog,” you mutter as a fierce blush heats your cheeks. He parts his lips, but you’re quicker on the draw. You stuff the fabric of your underwear into his mouth. His eyes widen. “Shut up—good boys are quiet.”

His groan is muffled by the fabric, eyes fluttering shut. With an irritated huff you plant one hand on his chest, the other against the back of the couch as you give your hips an experimental roll. The hard surface of his leg is instantly coated with your wet heat. Your teeth clamp down onto your bottom lip, your arousal is surging and overflowing your entire being as you receive the friction your body craves.

Your cunt drags over the rock solid muscle, squeaking every time Adrian bounces his leg. Bastard. Slowly, you careen into the edges of madness and your desire. Honey sweet and golden, you’d liver in this moment if you could. Your fluid movements are harshly interrupted as Adrian looses his patience. His large, calloused hands clamp over the swell of your hips, setting a rougher pace; brutal and choppy that’s got you reeling in a burst of dizzying ecstasy. You’re not doing much at this point—fuck—he’s forcing out your pleasure with each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh. You can feel your own sticky warmth coating his skin and giving away just how fucking wrecked you are.

Your head rolls back onto your shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. “Adrian—this—fuck.”

The touch of his fingers against your aching clit sends an electric volt from the base of your spine to your brain. Holy shit. You never stop rocking back and forth against Adrian’s thigh, keening as Adrian’s index and middle finger act as the perfect toy to grind on. Your clit, swollen and throbbing catch on the digits and fuck—this feels so fucking good.

You still as his two fingers slide past your clit and press at your entrance, circling around your clenching cunt. You whimper and fall forward into his chest, digging your nails into Adrian’s firm chest. He huffs through your panties still stuffed in his mouth.

“Making me feel so good, Adrian—fuck. Put your fingers in me.”

You don’t care that you sound desperate and fucked out. All you care about are those thick, calloused fingers pushing into your cunt. Your lower half is twitching, yearning for him as he finally does so.

It doesn’t take you long—you’re more worked up than you thought. Adrian’s fingers are long and curl deliciously against that electric patch of nerves. It’s all he does for you, allowing you to fuck yourself onto the digits as his thumb rubs a patterned shape over your clit. He mumbles your name, distorted by the fabric.

Everything tightens up stiffer than a fucking rod of steel as your tumble off that aching cliff of white hot pleasure. It doesn’t start from your toes and steadily work its way up—no. It’s raw, sparking off like firecrackers and burning you from the inside out. Your core clamps down on his fingers, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Shit—it feels like you were thrown into a vat of molten lava.

Your face is smooshed against his chest, involuntary tears pricking at your eyes as the last little waves of pleasure fan out and fry the rest of your nerves. You whine as he removes his hand from your pulsing core, reaching up to remove his makeshift gag to taste his arousal slick fingers. Adrian’s appreciative moan, rumbles thorough his chest.

“Sit on my face next time,” he all but begs. “You taste so fucking good.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Whatever you want, Adrian.”

“I already told you,” he says matter of factly. “I want you."

You nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent. You press a kiss to his collarbone. He has a scar there, still pink. “You already have me, silly.”

“Oh.”

A rare, comfortable silence blankets the both of you. You draw patterns into his skin while he buries his nose into your hair and runs his hands down your back, still covered by your shirt. You can still feel the warmth of his palms. You try not to think of the dangers that come with loving him. This goofy, dangerous man living a second life, hungry mouth burning for a scrap of praise, blazing for a shard of love. To move inches from a bonfire is always a risk, but you have never been one to shy away from something that needs tending to. Clever, tender, hands that stitch up needing skin. You’ll always be his and he yours. It’s just how things go—how they have always been.

Adrian shifts his arm and thumbs the lace on the seam of your underwear. “I’m keeping these.”

Hm.

#sorry I know it's not as long ahjhrehr #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #peacemaker #peacemaker show #chris smith #dc comics #dcu

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