#and like. he's so tender despite all the nasty fucking they do god what a combo

[galaghiel]

and what if i were to draw fanart of lady k and the sick man huh. what then

[sceletaflores]

any nasty down bad breeding kink art musings love of my life?

viciously yanked me out of my mini challengers rut with this one because yes. yes i do have some thoughts on that.

for some reason the first thing that came to mind was virgin!art....in a universe where he somehow didn't get laid before stanford lol

like auurgggghhh virgin!art and his deep seated breeding kink. it's literally ingrained in him even before he has sex for the first time.

you're his first real girlfriend, met when you needed a tutor in accounting and art's professor suggested him.

the two of you have been dating for two months and he already knows that he loves you despite what patrick says about "playing the field a little man, you're not married to the chick."

but the thing is that art would marry you. he'd up and marry you tomorrow if that's what you wanted. he doesn’t care how crazy it sounds.

he loves you and he wants you to be his first.

maybe he wasn't entirely expecting it when you laid on your back on the mattress of his dorm, peering up at him through your lashes as you announced that you were "ready to take our relationship to the next level..."

he was hard before you finished talking.

art could barely think straight, his body reacting faster than his mind. he swallowed hard, trying to steady his hands, which had started trembling the moment you laid back on the navy blue comforter of his bed.

“are you...are you sure?" his voice came out more breathless than he intended, his brain scrambling to keep up despite all the blood rushing to his dick.

your gentle nod, paired with a soft smile that made his heart stutter in his chest was all it took for him to lose any lingering doubts.

he crawled up the mattress, leaning down to kiss you with more tenderness than urgency, his heart thudding against his ribcage like it was trying to escape his chest.

he fumbled his way through fingering you, his hands shaking with nerves even though you've done this part countless times.

it wasn't until the two of you shed all clothes, art settling himself between your legs before you were speaking, thighs twitching to close around his hips.

"you'll have to pull out, i'm off the pill."

fuck.

art's heard of that before, pulling out. usually the punchline of some jokes the guys like to tell in the locker room, or from patrick recapping his own hook-up stories.

the dirtiness of it makes his cheeks burn, and he hopes to god you can't see the embarrassing red blush he knows is there.

he takes a deep breath, steeling his resolve as he presses the leaking head of his dick to your slick hole.

"okay." his voice sounded pained, his hold on your hip probably a little too tight as he held his throbbing dick steady and nudged his hips forward until just the tip slipped inside your fluttering hole.

"oh fuck."

art’s brain short-circuits for a moment, his entire body freezing as the tight heat of you grips the head of his dick. he sucks in a shaky breath, trying to keep his cool, but every nerve in his body is screaming at him to move, to take more. to bury himself so deep he wouldn’t know where he ends and you begin.

he lets out a low groan, fingers digging into your skin, knuckles turning white with it. he wasn’t prepared for how overwhelming it would feel, like his entire life had been leading up to this exact moment.

"jesus...you're so—" he can’t even finish the sentence, his voice breaking.

"art," your hips shift beneath him, making him jolt forward, sinking just a little deeper inside you. his mind goes blank, a vast space of nothingness but the tight heat wrapped around his dick.

there's only you, your soft skin, your quiet gasps, the feeling of being wrapped in the most sinful warmth.

for a while art gets lost in the feeling. in the way you pant into his open mouth, too overwhelmed to kiss him properly. in the way your hands grip his shoulders harder with every inch he gives you. in the way your pussy shakes around him like it can hardly wait any longer.

art knows he's getting close, that he probably needs to pull out soon. but you're just so soft and you smell so good and your pussy is sucking his dick in so wet and warm like it never wants him to leave again.

"i can't," he grits out against your collarbone, shaking his head frantically. "i can't do it."

"don't stop," you whine, manicured nails digging into the toned muscle of his shoulders, "don't stop, baby. fuck, give it to me harder, harder please-ah!"

art screws his eyes shut as tightly as he can, brows pinched together as he presses his forehead against the sweaty skin of your shoulder to ground himself. his hips speed up to punch out more high whines of his name from your slick lips.

there's an odd feeling working it's way through his body as he ponders his options, a wrongness flashing in the back of his mind each time he reminds himself of pulling out to spill over your stomach.

despite the fact that he's never done this before, his gut tells him no.

you deserve his come inside you, painted along your insides as he claims you for the first time.

"i can't pull out," he whines through clenched teeth, big hands tightening their hold on your waist. his voice is pinched and high in a way it's never been before, desperation leaking through his tone.

your lips fall open on a gasp, your head shaking back and forth dazedly, but he feels the way you clench around him. the way your pussy tightens up like it's trying to milk the load directly out of his aching balls.

"fuck! please don't make me baby," he begs, self restraint snapping in two as he buries his face in your neck. "lemme come in you, it'll be okay. we'll be fine, nothing’s gonna happen if it's only this once."

"no..." you moan, "art don't, gotta pull out..." but your hips start rising of the bed to meet his thrusts, the dirty smack of skin on skin filling his tiny single. you're dripping around him, coating his dick with a slick layer of shiny wetness.

"i can't," art repeats breathlessly, dick twitching inside you warningly.

"i need it…need you, need to come in you so fucking bad," his voice is strained and cracking, hips trembling with the effort, but you’re so tight around him, every squeeze pulling him deeper.

it's too much and not enough all at once—the heat, the wetness, the overwhelming need. it has pure kerosene burning in his veins.

"art," your legs stay wrapped snug around his hips, ankles locked over his lower back. "m'close, gonna come, fuck! i'm coming—!"

so is art. the added squeeze of your pussy coming around him shattering the last of his resolve and sending him careening him over the edge.

"fuck," your name falls from his lips in a tight groan as he unloads inside of you. flooding your pussy with warm come as his hips keep up the punishing pace he set.

art doesn't stop thrusting even as he comes so hard his vision whites out. he can't stop, like you've got some sort of magnetic field that keeps pulling him in over and over and over.

your too-loud moans and cries dissolving into sharp keens and gasps as he fucks you into over-stimulation, his hips pumping in in in as the image of his come getting fucked deeper and deeper inside of you plays on a loop in his mind.

when his arms finally give out and he collapses on top of you in a sweaty heap of limbs, your arms immediately come up to wrap around his shoulders. a pleased hum rumbling through your chest as you scratch your nails along his scalp soothingly, smug smile hidden in the sweaty halo of his hair.

art's out like a light in five minutes, falls asleep right there with his head resting on your bare-chest and his dick kept safe inside you.

patrick buys a plan-b for art the next morning when he's too nervous to face the cashier at walgreens.

[steddie-there]

Steve is bitchy. It's a known fact. He's a reformed mean girl and bitch is like a second language to him. Whether it's scathing commentary about Family Video customers almost before they're out the door,

"So apparently it's national hit on someone young enough to be your granddaughter day, who knew we had such a gross holiday?"

snarky conversations with the kids,

"Well, whaddya know, Dustin, would you look at this?" "What? "It's the coke you said wasn't in the fridge! Isn't it amazing how it just magically appeared?" "Oh, shut up, Steve." "I'm just so completely in awe!"

or calling out the people that still give Eddie nasty looks (and doesn't that make Eddie's heart grow three sizes and threaten to pop out of his chest and burrow into Steve's?),

"You know, Carol, if you keep making that face, it might stick like that. But look on the bright side, at least then the outside would be as hideous as the inside!"

Eddie adores all of it. Loves Steve's mile-wide mean streak. Loves how he can use it to tease the people he loves or decimate the latest idiot he's been forced to deal with.

But Eddie's favorite, the best, the most wonderful, absolutely fantastic moments of Steve's bitchiness? Those happen while he's driving. It doesn't matter what exactly has him riled up about another driver, Steve always has something sarcastic on the tip of his tongue to bitch about them with.

"Do you look as stupid as you drive? Dumbass."

"Jeeze, I never knew the white line was for driving on. What an amazing thing you've discovered!"

"Oh, apparently I missed the memo where 35 mph got changed to 55. Eddie, remind me to check the speed limit sign the next time we drive through here. God, what an impatient asshole."

No matter what it is, it always has Eddie stifling his laughter behind his hand. But this last time - they're at a four-way stop and the car turning across from them definitely went before it was their turn and Steve says, "Hmm, seems someone missed the lesson on taking turns in kindergarten," with that little bitchy tilt to his head - Eddie can't help the guffaw that bursts out of his mouth.

Steve looks at him from the corner of his eye. "What are you giggling about?"

"You. You just - you get so bitchy at the other drivers and, I swear to god, man, it's the funniest shit." He laughs again, says fervently, "Christ, I love you, Stevie."

And then he freezes. Realizes what he said. Takes a deep, horrified breath. It's too soon, they only just started dating, he can't say something like that, he's... He backtracks. "Uh... I mean, uh, I love when you - "

And then freezes again when Steve slides his hand off the steering wheel and onto his thigh, fingers curling around the inside. "So, you love me, huh?"

Eddie chances a glance over at Steve. Despite the teasing tone in his voice, there's something soft around his eyes and the edges of his smile. Something almost... hopeful.

Eddie swallows and decides fuck it. "Yeah, yeah I do," he tells Steve quietly.

Steve makes a quiet sound that goes straight to Eddie's heart. When he peeks over again, Steve is looking back and forth between Eddie and the road and his expression is so open and tender and happy that Eddie doesn't regret for a second what he said, even if it is too soon. "I love you, too, Eds," Steve says and Eddie feels his stomach swoop with butterflies. He puts his hand on Steve's, squeezes it, tangles their fingers together, grins bright at this man he loves so very much.

And if, after that, Steve goes out of his way to play up his bitchiness whenever Eddie is in the car and Eddie never stifles his laughter at it again, well, that's between the two of them, isn't it?

[joshfutturman]

'i thought of you last night' 18+

oneshot - mike can't sleep, and you know exactly what will help. (3k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five night's at freddy's) + gn reader tags: established relationship, semi-needy mike, handjob, blowjob, cowgirl position, mike gets a TINY bit rough, he's lowkey desperate, dirty talk, creampie, mentions of mikes cute lil happy trail. tw: smut! minors dni 18+ only

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

michael couldn't sleep, a nasty result of lessening the use of his meds. it was his choice, but he couldn't help but curse every reason under the sun for his lack of ability to get to sleep. his eyes settle on the back of his eyelids for another few moments before tearing them open, a quiet rage settling deep in his bones.

despite the stillness of the room, the ringing persists in his ears growing in an increasingly irritating crescendo. his frustration grows to an almost unbearable level, his fists gradually clenching. why couldn't he just fucking fall asleep?

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you stir beside him, mumbling in your sleep and scooting closer. your arm finds his, soft yet firm, and you nuzzle in, eyes opening just enough to see the outline of his fluffy hair in the darkness.

". . .can't sleep?" you eventually murmur, concern evident in your sleepy voice.

mike takes a few moments to answer, like he's contemplating something. "yeah." is all he says.

you frown, burying your face into the crook of his neck. "how long you been awake?" your breath tickles his skin, soft, causing goosebumps to ripple across his body.

he mumbles something, inaudible, before speaking up, "the whole time."

shoulders sagging, you press a tender, apologetic kiss to his neck. a relieved sigh escapes his lips in response, like he was holding it in from the moment he crawled into bed with you. you notice, and - testing the waters, you press your lips against his skin again.

mike raises an eyebrow in intrigue and grumbles. you feel the way his low tones rumble in his neck against your lips and it causes a spark to light in your belly. peppering slow, deliberate kisses all along the length of his neck, michael's breathing softens considerably. he knows what game you're playing. his boxers suddenly feel a little tighter.

"hey... you don't have-"

"i want to." you say firmly, cutting him off. you were well aware of mike's habit of falling asleep instantly after sex. it was almost impressive how fast he could doze off after finishing. you found it endearing and, frankly? a compliment to your skills. who needs sleeping pills when they have you?

he tries to groan in protest once more, mumbling something about how you should go back to sleep, that he's fine. but you don't listen, you have a job to do.

kissing up along his stubble-speckled jaw, you find his ear and place a soft kiss behind it. "shh. . ." you coo as your hand traces across his torso under the sheets, snaking down. . . lower, and lower until it meets the waistband of his boxers. you feel him give in as his body relaxes.

mike shudders beneath your touch, his brows knitting together as he closes his eyes. the way your touch is so gentle yet purposeful fills him with a need for you, thoughts of needing to sleep already long gone.

slowly, your hand slips beneath the thin material and you lift your head to watch his expression shift in the darkness, desperate to see how he reacts to your touch. eyes closed, mike's mouth falls open as you take him in your hand, already hard and throbbing for you. you almost hear the ghost of a moan leave his lips.

"hard already. . ." you whisper, eyes settling on his eyebrows that twitch with every inch that you move against him.

he can't even deny it, either. from the moment your lips touched his neck, mike felt his cock stiffen, mind dancing with images of you taking him nice and deep. god, you always felt so fucking good.

with his lack of response, you begin to pump him at a slow pace and he gasps. his soft huffs into the air are adorable, watching him as he desperately tries to keep his composure. but how can he? your hands are on him and he melts just as he does every time.

"you know, i'd do this for you every night if you'd let me. . ." you smirk, leaning in to kiss along his jaw once more, smiling at the way his stubble prickles your skin.

mike swallows, fuck. he'd never admit it, but he'd love that. his eyes open to find yours, reaching over to cup your cheek with his calloused hands. he wants to thank you, but at the risk of sounding pathetic, he refrains. hand drifting across your cheek, he threads his fingers through your hair to the back of your head, pulling you in hungrily.

you smile, lips connecting as your mouth opens to welcome his tongue. melting against one another, mike finds his grip on your hair tightening instinctively. in turn, you pick up the pace with your hand. he mumbles a 'fuck' into your mouth, his free hand gripping the sheets.

his dick twitches in your grasp, growing harder through every stroke as precum coats his begging tip. he needs you, now.

pulling back, mike whispers breathlessly, "get on top." - it's not a command, but almost - that same frustration from being unable to sleep crawling back into his tone.

"but i'm having so much fun right here. . ." you grin. you could never give up the chance to tease mike, not when he looks this cute, not when he's practically bucking into your hand.

he lowers his eyebrows, a look that might scare anyone else but not you. "c'mon." is all mike says, but it's all he needs to say, voice low and gravely. he's so close to sounding needy, and you'd travel to the ends of the earth and back just to hear him beg for you.

"you sound so cute when you try to act tough," snickering, you pull your hand from his length and he hisses at the loss of contact. you've got better plans.

sitting up, you strip the sheets back from him, admiring the way his dick creates an inviting tent in his boxers. you love seeing the evidence of his desire for you. mike? not so much. his cheeks burn red, propping himself up on his elbows as he struggles to make you out in the dark. he's looking up at you through those thick eyelashes of his, hazel eyes drooping like a puppy.

it's cute, how concerned he looks, like he should be doing more - like he wants to do more.

arching a leg over him, you straddle his body, sighing softly as your crotch comes into contact with his hardened length through his boxers. he feels so stiff beneath you, your hands pressing into his chest for support. the thin material separating you is driving him insane.

ignoring his silent protesting, you begin to rock yourself against his dick, gasping gently. he does too, leaning back with a huff as his hands rest on your thighs. he takes a moment to squeeze them, relishing the feeling of your warm, soft skin, before trailing up to your hips. his hands are strong, firm, gripping you with hazy, lust-filled eyes. the way you move against him has him seeing stars, head going blank, all he could think about was you.

he can't help but moan at the friction, rolling his hips up to meet your lazy motions. but it only served to make him want you more. dry humping wasn't going to cut it. he needs to be deep inside you, thoughts of filling you up with cum clouding his mind. his cheeks flush at the filth of it all. only you could make him think this way.

you moan into the air of his bedroom, quiet and inviting to him, encouraging mike yet also teasing him. desire builds in your core, his thick length teasing your aching hole through your underwear with each roll of your hips.

the room fills with your soft gasps, the bed creaking below with the pressure and movement. night passes outside of his bedroom, the world unaware of just how badly he needs to fuck you.

"please. . ." mike finally whines, looking up at you with those pleading, soulful eyes of his. and it almost breaks you, feeling a surge of heat growing in your core.

your breath almost hitches in your throat, "you want it?" you ask, knowing the answer.

"please. . ." mike repeats, his grip on your hips tightening in response to his growing need for you - his need to have you, to have you call his name, to have him call yours, to fuck you.

you smile, "i love it when you let me take care of you. . ."

with those words, you inch backwards, slipping out of your underwear. mike keeps his hands on your hips the whole time. watching, he bites his lip as you're revealed to him. "fuck, baby. . ." he mumbles under his breath.

that makes you smile, you love the way he reacts to you, his eyes drifting across your body like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen - because it is.

now it's his turn. you take your time pulling down his boxers, mouth-watering as his girthy cock springs free. you can't resist. you never could. shuffling from his grasp, you bring your head down to his crotch, eyes locked on his all the while.

he observes you with bated breath, mouth agape. and when your lips make contact with his dick, his eyes roll back and he runs his fingers through his hair, gripping the curls that find their place at the front of his scalp.

you kiss along his tip before running your tongue along the length, his body jerking faintly as he struggles to contain his breathing. then, you take him all in, agonisingly slowly.

mike whines, loudly, and you moan against his cock. this only encourages him more, feeling the way your voice vibrates around him. his free hand finds your head blindly as his eyes are squeezed shut, raking his fingers through your hair.

he mutters incomprehensible praises, petting your hair before tensing his grasp as you pick up the pace. you can tell he won't last long if you keep this up from how he's acting. mike is practically writhing beneath you, a whimper fighting its way out of his lips despite his best efforts to keep it contained. those noises he's making, you want them looped forever.

that's when you know it's time.

you pull back, letting his now slick cock fall from your mouth. his eyes burst open and he snaps his head down to you. fuck, were you finally gonna fuck him? you smile at his expression and lift yourself upright once more.

you feel his wet cock glide against you as you position yourself over him, both letting out a gasp at the sensation.

mike wastes no time in grabbing your hips roughly, "need to feel you. . ." he whispers.

you smirk, trying to keep your composure despite how badly you want to feel him plunge inside of you. "sh. . ." you hush him, rocking your hips a few more times back and forth.

and then, you begin to slowly sink down on his length. your hand finds his shoulder for support, your other hand gripping at the bottom of his shirt. a moan escapes you, breathy. mike stays silent for a few moments, overcome with the feeling of you tight around him, until a groan grumbles from his lips. his eyes dart down to watch as he disappears inside of you, his length filling you up perfectly.

slowly, he bottoms out inside of you and you instinctively clench around him causing him to dig his fingers into your hips. "you're- oh fuck, you're so fucking tight." mike hums.

you nod, brows lowering as you lift yourself gradually, feeling his cock ease out and then back in as you drop. a wet smack fills the room and you suppress a loud moan. the slow pace allows you to adjust, but mike is desperate. he pants softly, his hips bucking up to meet your thrusts causing him to dive deeper inside you.

it feels so fucking good. your eyes connect with his as you continue the slow rhythm together, his eyes staring into yours as he pushes his cock upwards into you.

god, and he looks so fucking pretty like this - his curls a mess, forehead slightly damp with sweat, the blue-tinted moonlight pouring in through his bedroom window, illuminating him just enough to see that lustful, dreamy expression on his face as you fuck.

you inch his shirt up enough to gaze at his adorable fuzzy happy trail along his soft stomach, admiring the way his body jolts with each thrust.

mike gazes at you through hooded lids, mouth open as quiet moans spill from him over and over. but he needs to go faster, this pace won't cut it. desire swirls in the base of his stomach, his hips itching to increase his speed, cock aching for more.

you want it too. you'd fucked mike enough times to know what he needed without him even having to say - you begin to increase your pace, bouncing on his length a little faster.

and he smiles, biting his lip in satisfaction as he slams upwards into you, gripping you so hard you think it might leave bruises. but you don't fucking care, how could you? more evidence of how into you he is, part of you wanted the bruises.

the cheap bed creaks, hitting against the wall behind it with each deep thrust. he's moaning louder now, and suddenly he's sitting up to wrap his arms around your waist, pistoning up into you. this takes you by surprise, resting your arms over his shoulders as you look down at him, mouth stuck in an 'o' shape.

he leans in to kiss along your collarbones as he works, feeling your tightness build as you throw your head back. his speed is relentless, primal, like he's fucking out his frustrations - contrasted with the way his lips are so lovingly, hungrily dancing across your tender skin.

with each slam of his hips against yours, you feel him impossibly deep, loving the way he takes charge when he's desperate for release. he's gliding in and out with ease, taking you in the best way. your eyes flutter closed, moaning his name sweetly.

in return, he moans yours against your skin, pulling back to look up at you. "look at me. . " he whispers between gasps, a begging tone.

you oblige and open your eyes to look down at him, watching as he fucks you fervently, eager to please you. once again, you're struck with how fucking pretty he is, you'd say it a million times until he believes you, eyeing the way his curls bounce with each thrust. the intensity and focus of his dark eyes lock into yours, almost like he wants to be told he's doing a good job.

leaning down, you kiss him slowly, passionately, half to muffle the sounds dripping from your lips and half in an attempt to somehow get closer to him. it's like you couldn't get enough. it wasn't enough that he was inside, you wanted more somehow. you always did.

but it's not long before you feel his thrusts quicken, his kissing growing sloppy as he chases that high. he tears himself away from the kiss, wrapping his arms around you tighter as he pushes you down over and over on his cock.

"i'm gonna-" he begins to say.

you cut him off with a moan, "i know, baby."

he muffles his moans by kissing along your neck, leaving a trail of desperate hickies as he feels his thighs tighten. each little nip had you arching your back, burying a hand in his hair as he savours the taste of you on his lips.

and you were close too, orgasm rising, threatening to tip you over the edge. "cum in me, please, mike." you plead, aching for him to fill you.

his breath ragged, he pulls back from your neck to look up at you as his eyes begin to glaze over. his thrusts begin to falter, pace becoming uneven as the pleasure begins to cloud every part of him. all he can focus on? is how fucking tight you feel, how his cock fits so perfectly inside you like you were made for him, how fucking beautiful you look bouncing on him like that.

he lets out a low breathy moan as he finally releases deep inside of you, coating your insides as he fucks it in deeper and deeper. your orgasm weaves through you, causing you to clamp around him in response as his white hot cum fills you completely. you're both a moaning, writhing mess as you ride out your orgasms in sync, lips inches from one another as the pace slows gradually.

after a few moments, mike falls backwards onto the bed, his cock still twitching inside of you as you take in every last drop. you lay on him, trying to catch your breath as you find comfort in the rising and falling of his chest with each heaving breath.

"that was. . ." mike mumbles, voice groggy, "holy shit."

you reply with a slow nod and a mumble of approval, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of him slowly beginning to leak out of you.

pressing a kiss to his chest, you bring your head up to look at him. already, his eyes are closing, mouth open, breathing slowing - mike is already falling asleep. and you can't help but smile. he looks so peaceful like this, even with his damp curls and reddened cheeks.

"goodnight, mikey." you whisper, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. he replies with a grumble and a soft snore.

in the morning, you know mike will offer to return the favour. you grin at the thought as you settle slowly into sleep.

round two will be fun.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. ‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @sleepyhutcherson @laurrrelise @sun-spider13 @sammygirlism @boonam ‧₊˚ ily!! .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[sunnyskies281]

Nor tumblr dashboard simulator

0 notes

🔥 catboycupid Follow

Broke: Be gay do crime

Woke: Do crime because it’s your civic duty

🌸 lovelylilac Follow

Don’t do crime! It’s illegal!

🔥 catboycupid Follow

Found the Andalagran

1,235 notes

🤡 nor-circus-official Follow

Every month is disability pride month at the circus! Come join us in uplifting those in our country who need their voices heard!

Through all of the Freeze Season, enjoy the amazing performances of our amazing ventriloquists, contortionists, illusionists, transformers, and countless other acts within the heated Big Top!

😾 pineapplepeaches Follow

This is why I can’t stand the circus. They put disabled people on display and claim it’s “uplifting voices”. How about instead of underpaying performers and taking advantage of the disabled, you could give them the season off like most performance gigs do.

🤡 nor-circus-official Follow

There is a genocide against the disabled happening in Nor this is literally our only option for work

We are run by the disabled for the disabled.

Also we are paid very well

23,421 notes

💬 lululoco Follow

I’m wearing the new Cocoa Loco scent by Ludus and oh my god it’s the absolute best! I’d recommend it to anyone looking for an alluring scent that will drive boys wild!

I think the hatred towards his decision to do more unique scents is unjustified. It’s his brand let him do his own thing. Plus, he wants to cater to a specific market, and if you aren’t in it then suck it up. If you disagree with me, just block me so I don’t have to.

❄️ icy-season Follow

He’s not gonna fuck you

🧡 ludus-eros-official Follow

On the contrary

250,222 notes

🔊 nor-weekly Follow

“The more they fight, the more we resist”

A brave police officer risked his life to defend his city from a savage attack by renowned terrorist Loki. Despite the grave situation, he remains hopeful for his country’s future. Read the full article here

🟪 lokilover235 Follow

I think what you meant was “Jacob Emmerson, known ableist, refused to follow evacuation guidelines and got a nasty bruise from a falling ceiling tile in a building he was supposed to have left three days previously.”

Also, the “savage attack” was a rock through a window. The building crumbling was unrelated, it should’ve been condemned years ago. The Bureau of Building Development was specifically barred from investigating the building.

L bozo, hope he dies of ableism poison.

100,237 notes

💔 cupid-imagines-deactivated Follow

Imagine you’re walking down the street at night. You’re scared because it’s dangerous to walk alone at night. Thats when you notice someone walking behind you. You start running, and you run into Cupid himself. You tell him the situation and he shoots the man chasing you with an arrow. The creep dies, and you two share a tender kiss which turns into a deeper one.

(Based in part on a real story that happened to me)

❣️ dickboy247 Follow

The “creep” just wanted to return your bag that you left at the bar.

We have a very specific policy on left behind items. I simply saw you had left without it and since it was quite valuable I figured you wouldn’t like it if you returned the next day to find it gone.

💔 cupid-imagines-deactivated Follow

That’s why I said “based in part”

🦊 furry-clown1998 Follow

Oh my god you killed her

47,320 notes

🪱 worm-fucker581 Follow

I think the Nor Police need some reformation. Loki is right.

🎭 loki-oki-doki Follow

Thanks for your support, @worm-fucker581

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Glad to be here

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Happy first day of Freeze Season, or as I like to call it: Freeze Seeze! Make sure to bundle up warm, the snow is gonna be intense this year!

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I wish I could cuddle up with you and kiss you and all the other things we could do together you’re so hot

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What the fuck

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[muertawrites]

Eddie Munson and Sex [18+]

Warnings: explicit descriptions of s*x (minors this isn’t for you don’t fucking touch it i swear to GOD), perv!eddie my beloved, tiny bit of a daddy kink (i refuse to apologize) 

Word Count: 1k

Author’s Note: i have no idea what this is. it was going to be a fic i think but then it derailed into a headcanon-y drabble. it has not been edited. i’ve been so fatigued for the past two days that getting anything written has been difficult (thanks depression). once i come up with a plot / scenario i hope to have a very tasty smut fic written soon. i just have to puke all my other ideas up first i have so many. if any of y’all have some smut ideas drop them in my inbox please i would v much appreciate them <3

Eddie Munson was a dirty pervert. He frequented the local adult video store, from which he'd amassed an expansive collection of erotica. He masturbated at least twice a day. He had handcuffs nailed to his wall for exactly the reason you'd think, and a nasty little habit of stealing your underwear, often keeping it in his back pocket as he went about his day. He had explicit photos of you on his wall, pinned to the dashboard in his van, tucked in the front of his wallet.

And he was the sweetest, most tender lover on the face of the earth.

You both knew what it was like to be consumed by loneliness. Neither of you quite felt like you fit anywhere, and your romantic histories were both utterly tragic. It was your loneliness that brought you together - a friendship based on instant understanding that blossomed into a love so deep and consuming it terrified you at first. But Eddie, despite all his cynicism and hurt, gave you his affection readily and without the slightest hesitation. He showed you just how much you deserved to be loved, and you offered up all of yours in return.

Of course, knowing just how invested his sexual interests were, you assumed he was experienced. You knew he'd never really had any lasting relationships before he met you, but you found it difficult to believe a man like him could go more than a month without seeking release from another person. You assumed his body count was high, a gallery of women used for convenience and to distract from just how impossibly alone he felt. He was a man, after all - and men are really only after one thing.

That was until you had him naked, splayed out on your bed with your chest between his thighs, your mouth wrapped in a vice around his cock. He didn't last even a minute.

"I've never... no one's... ever given me a blow job before," Eddie admitted after you'd finished.

"... What?"

"I know, it's pathetic-"

"No, no."

You laughed, sitting up and kneeling beside him so you could look him in the eye.

"I thought..." You chuckled again at your own ignorance. "I thought I was like... your hundredth partner or something. Like you were fucking women left and right before we got together."

Then it was Eddie's turn to laugh.

"What? Do I really seem like that kind of guy to you?"

You shrugged, slightly embarrassed.

"I don't know... You're just really into sex," you explained. "And you're in a band. Casual hookups kinda made sense to me."

Eddie shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile as he reached out to stroke your hair.

"Nah... not me. I, uh... I can never really get it up unless I like someone, y'know? I mean I'm horny as fuck but I never felt... I never felt okay giving it to someone who didn't give a shit about me. You're only the second person I've been in bed with. And the first I kind of regret, honestly. She was nowhere near as good to me as you."

You smiled, endeared by how endlessly sweet he was. You leaned forward, snaring his lips in a deep, intentioned kiss that he quickly got lost in, his hands raising to lay at your jaw.

"How about another blow job?" you offered as you parted, biting your smiling lip with anticipation.

He nodded vigorously, and the rest of the evening was spent working his cock in and out of your mouth, teaching him how to keep his cool and make the pleasure last.

No matter what his sexual appetite, Eddie loved nothing more than making you cum; and although he wasn’t as experienced as you thought, years of reading porno mags and watching smut films taught him plenty. 

He could work magic with his mouth. The moment he got you alone in his bedroom, he pinned you to his mattress, spreading your legs wide and latching his lips to your clit, licking and sucking at you with expert precision. He could spend hours with your legs slung over his shoulders, gripping and kissing at your thighs, shoving you over the edge of an orgasm without giving you a chance to recover, savoring the way you squirmed and whined from overstimulation. 

“Just one more, sugar,” he would coax you. “Let daddy make his favorite girl cum just one more time...” 

And of course you would. When he spoke to you like that, your mind went numb, fucked out and sex drunk and entirely consumed by his adoration of you.

His favorite way to make you cum was (surprisingly) in missionary. He would fuck you slowly, holding your little bullet vibrator on your clit, diving in at an excruciating pace until you came, hard, flexing around his cock and bringing him all the closer to his own release. He loved watching your face contort with pleasure, pressing tender kisses to your jaw so he could listen to you moan in his ear. It was pretty vanilla, but the way he worked you, it felt like the dirtiest, most delicious thing he could do to you. 

Eddie often used his erotica as a reference, which made everything about your sex life interesting. From toys to positions and even health advice, he was constantly bringing articles and photos from his favorite magazines to your attention, sometimes even reading them out loud as a form of foreplay. He wasn’t the biggest fan of watching porn while he fucked you, however - he preferred to set up shop in front of a mirror, getting off on watching himself slide in and out, the way your body moved with his, from a different angle. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but his favorite part of having sex with you was laying beside you after fucking you into a stupor. He’d light a cigarette or roll up a joint and hold you in the sweetest silence, sometimes with your head on his chest, sometimes with his head on yours, but always with the lightest of kisses feathered across your skin, every inch of your body worshipped by him. He loved kissing down your back, over your collar bones, up the inside of your wrists. 

Eddie Munson loved you with all his soul, and his body was how he showed it.

🌹💀 get your eddie fix 💀🌹

[hawks-soup]

A Day with your Friends

A/N: Baby’s first smuttle (and fic) please be gentle. Also this is based off @libiraki​ boys! She is a writing inspiration to me. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Degradation, Humiliation, Misogyny, Dubcon/Noncon. 

Pairings: Hawks / Shigaraki / Dabi x Reader

You should have known, really, you should have.. but it never failed to surprise you on how purely disgusting and sick-minded the people you hung around could be. Sure they were villains, murdered people, did petty small and large crimes, everything bad in the sense.. But you’d think being a part of their little gang would give you some relief from their behavior. Treat you with a bit of respect since you were team members ya know? “Pft Awee, c’mon doll we were just joking, don’t get your panties in a fucking twist!” Dabi rasped from across the room, snickers of delight joining his.

How wrong you were, but again, you knew and was used to it by now. 

_______________

“It was just a little pinch doll.. Didn’t mean nothing by it, just having a bit of fun is all. Right Shiggy? Bird boy?” Dabi purred out to you, Hawks comments of agreement following suit and a grunt from the leader himself.

“Oh I’m sure she liked it.. Just too flustered to admit it. Wouldn’t wear such revealing clothes around us if she didn’t want us to touch her.” Came Shigaraki’s low tone, nursing the drink he was given by his two male partners, who’d already finished off theirs.

Now Dabi and Shigaraki were one thing to deal with together. If anything Shiggy dear would roll his eyes and just ignore his burnt partners jabs at teasing you, never caring to give him the satisfaction of knowing they were on good enough terms to help torment you.. But with Hawks joining the team and hanging around the two, it’s like Shiggy was opened to the idea that messing with you was actually pretty fucking fun with the two playing with you. 

So now, he joined in the fun of making nasty remarks and grabbing at you like they did. Pulling at your shirt, tugging your skirt up, pinching any exposed skin.. Really, you wish he’d turn back into the hermit that stared at you every once in a while he once was and leave Dabi to being the only one that preyed on you, cause at least by himself he got bored. Now there were 3 of them on your heels. And whenever you’d complain to Kurogiri - hell even AFO whenever you got the chance - they gave the simple answer of ‘boys will be boys, little one.’ They are dealing with that time in their life ‘no they weren’t, they weren’t fucking teenagers popping boners whenever a girl breathed their way’, and they aren’t doing much harm are they? It’s typical for a guy to pick on the girl he’s attracted to, let them be and just try to deal with it.

“Come on baby bird.. We didn’t mean anything by it, come back to us.. I’ll let you sit on my lap and we can have an exclusive fan meet right here~.” The perverted bird brained male purred. You could hear a whistle after it, and assumed Dabi. Hawks.. Was interesting. Sometimes he came off as that billboard hero and would show some compassion, but flushed it right down the toilet when he got too comfortable. Who would have known he was a gross pervert along with the rest? Making sexual comments and too comfortably rubbing at an exposed skin you could offer. And with the way Dabi egged him on, he started to cross boundaries like smacking at your ass, and on the worst of days, using his feather to pull down your skirt whenever given the chance. You could have sworn you heard a camera shutter, but the bastard was quick enough to put away his phone before you could press him on it. But still, you couldn’t help but keep your rose-colored glasses on to the fact he was your favorite hero.. Or at least your hero crush. While you didn’t like heroes, you had to admit you were like any other girl who saw an attractive guy that could give an award winning smile. A little star-struck you could say.

“Yeah doll, come sit on his lap. Aren’t you a fan? This is a pretty big offer here. Hell, I’ll let you even sit on mine after.” “As if. And if you three are done, I’d like to leave now.”  You made your way out the kitchen to ‘throw away some trash’, but was really an excuse just to get away from them for a moment without them stopping you. You didn’t dare go back over to them though, opting to stand against the doorway of the kitchen that peered into the living rooming where they all sat. They’d pressured you into joining them at Dabi’s place to ‘hang around’ and ‘get to know your favorite hero crush’, and in your naiveness of believing their words of letting you hang around and fan over Hawks - despite your working in partner of villain status - you fell prey to being trapped in the run down apartment with them making sure you didn’t escape.

“What?? Awe com’on we just got here! Don’t run away yet little girl.” Dabi gave a fake pout. “I promise we won’t touch you anymore, feather. Just come back okay?” That charming smile and soft pat to the empty space on the couch between the two of them after. Shigaraki has yet to speak, more so one to get handsy rather than talk the talk like the other two.

“I.. don’t know. Do you guys promise to behave?” “We promise dove, just come back.” “We’ll be good dollface, let’s get back to having fun.” Naive at best, you poor fool.

_______________

Hands all over you, you just knew it would happen but it was your fault really for going back. Your shirt lifted up to expose your chest and skirt way over on across the floor after being carelessly tossed away. 

“You dress like this just to get us to notice you, don’t ya?” Too hot hands rubbing the pebbled nips as you were forced onto his lap, legs spread over his to leave you open for the rest.

“Fuck little bird, you always let them do this to you? And I thought I was special. Guess you are nothing but a common whore for us to play with like they say. You aren’t even in my lap, some fan you are.” Fake disappointment in his tone, but really he was enjoying rubbing at your clothed slit. Trying to wiggle his fingers into the sides of the fabric and get to your petaled flesh. Sitting right beside you both and pressed up as much as he could be. Shigaraki was near your legs - you could tell - breathing hard against your knee as his rough hand smoothed over your leg, the other rubbing your sock covered toes. “She’s nothing but a slut, bet she want’s to fuck her way to the top like the leech harlot she is. She’s always coming into my room, she wants me to do something to her.” He rasped, now licking at your knee with his wet tongue. He was drooling and it started to soak your socks.

“I’m just checking on you like Kurogiri as-a-AH! Stop!” Dabi’s fingers pinched harder, his other now yanking up at your panties to make them wedge into your pussy and between the lips. “Damn ain’t that cute. Bird brain, take a picture for me won’t you?” “Already on it my friend.. Fuck, you have a cute pussy. I can’t wait to use it. I bet you’re fucking tight, even with you being a little whore and all.” Shutters of the camera clicking every few seconds, telling he got a few and at different angles. His free hand spreading at your lips, tugging the tightened fabric over to the side, and even pressing his fingers to the entrance. Making sure to capture every move he made. “N-no guys seriously stop! I don’t wanna do this anymore! I wanna go home, please!” You cried, tears starting to leak down your cheeks the more violated and humiliated you felt. You didn’t like this feeling, your body may have been responding but god did this feel so wrong. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, aren’t you glad your favorite hero is giving you such special attention? You wear the cutest clothes around me, you wanted me to touch you.” “She wears these clothes everyday around us. She’s a little kitty in heat I bet. Besides, it’s your fault really. You should know better to hang around men all by yourself dressed like this.. Really, you want this I can tell.” Dabi purred into your ear, his grip and grabbing getting rougher now.

Your soft pleas of ‘no’s’ were ignored when you felt a finger dig it’s way deep into your slick heat. You cursed yourself for enjoying how the thick fingers explored and stretched you, deep humiliation bubbling in your tummy at their laughs and enjoyment from your embarrassment. You didn’t like this… You wanted them to stop and let you go. You needed a bath to wash away their touch.

“Your body knows what it wants. You’re such a dedicated fan aren’t you? You’re doing so good for me baby bird. Being our little slut, just for us only.” Hawks praise.. Felt so good. It ran shivers all up and down your body, causing you to mewl the more his big digits squished into your heat. Gods you couldn’t stop crying though, your brain knowing how fucked up this was. Even though your body felt pleasure, you still felt so dirty and wrong. The ‘stop’s’ and ‘no’s’ didn’t end though, your brain knew better than to give in to what your nerves felt.. This didn’t feel good, and you couldn’t help but turn away and shut your eyes, hoping for it to be over soon.

“Hey you fucking creep, be useful and hold the camera. Record her or something. Add some content to that spank bank you got on your computer, ya?” Dabi grunted behind you, bucking his hips up to steady you more firmly against his chest, causing that leathery bulge to buck against you. While one hand remained tormenting you poor tender tits, the other ran down to your cunny, rubbing at your little clit and adding more stimulation to the already thrusting fingers of Hawks.

“Fuck off asshat. Don’t got a spank bank..” Shigaraki mumbled from below, but snatched the camera from Hawks hand anyways and turned on the record function. Though even then he was still licking at your legs and rubbing his red-tipped member with his free hand, leaking pre-cum all over his hand and your foot. Was that camera truly angled? He didn’t know nor care, he just wanted to fucking cum. Assholes probably wouldn't send this to him anyways. “Better not be fucking shaky cause you can’t stop beating your meat, fucking virgin. Don’t wanna hear your desperate breathing either so keep it down.” Dabi teased, using his foot to kick at Shigaraki’s side with a laugh. And from the red tinting the pale cheeks, he knew he had gotten to him like always. “Fucking shut UP!” “What!? You’re the creep jacking it to her fucking feet when you got a perfectly wet cunt in your face! The hells wrong with you, ya’ nasty bastard?” 

“Can you both shut up and focus on that task at hand, giving my fan the spotlight. Looks like she’s close to… That right birdy? Gonna come for me… for us? You been dressing up like this to get our attention right? And now look at you, you got it and so much more~.” My how his fingers felt good, and you hated it. They had been nothing but perverted freaks towards you. Having their dirty gazes upon you and their hands fleeting on your clothes and body whenever you got within arm's reach of them. Only for your body to betray you in this way, what the hell was wrong with you..? Even with the rising knot in your stomach, you still hated the feeling.

“Come on sweet thing, let go for us.. Give us a show.” Dabi whispered in your ear, that that’s all it took paired with their stimulating fingers to ruin you. The spasm in your hips interrupts caused you to buck a little and gasp but cutting yourself off with the bite of a lip. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hearing you cum along with seeing it.  “Nngh!” The feeling is unfair, unable to stop the jet of liquid that shoots out from in between your legs as you curl and uncurl your toes, trying hard to close your legs but your own body not allowing it. 

After having a moment to let your body somewhat settle, your hazy eyes looked down at the mess you made. Due to Shigaraki being in the line of fire, your fluids had gotten all over his face. He looked stunned for a moment, his body freezing up like a deer caught in headlights. You were a little worried that maybe he was angry, but once you felt the warm seeping into your socks you could tell he stiffened up cause he came… from humping your fucking feet. And to add onto it, your cum directly targeting him pushed him over the edge in a sudden pace he didn’t set.

Your eyes then flicker up to the two degenerates holding you at hearing the sound of coos, “Oh my, would look at that, little one just squirted.” Hawks teased, thankfully moving his fingers out of your sopping cunt onto your tummy, giving it soft grazes of affection. Dabi on the other hand wasn’t feeling as loving, giving you abused pussy a wet slap which caused you to jump. “Cumming all over him, and we’re the ones doing all the work.” Dabi tsk’ed, giving Shigaraki a sneer before kicking him again. “Enjoying it asshole? I hope you savor that, it’s the only time you’ll have a bitch squirt on you.” Which in turn caused Shigaraki to hiss at him and swipe at his leg that narrowly pulled away. He didn’t bother to respond though, not trusting his voice to come out without a stammer. He had to admit, the warm liquid on his face felt fucking hot, and after a quick swipe of his tongue, it tasted good.

All it took was for you to try to squirm your way out of Dabi’s lap to snap them all back to focusing on you. Shigaraki now dropping the phone to place both hands on your knees, Dabi’s rough hands finding your hips and digging into them, and Hawks gently grabbing your chin and pulling it to his direction. Those golden orbs hyper focused on you, almost like he was looking at a piece of meat. “Oh no where do you think you’re going feather? It would be unfair to not help us get off when we helped you. Come on, be a good little fan for me? I’ll even buy you something pretty after, for being such a good girl.”

You didn’t have a choice, you knew that for sure. All you could do is give a small nod before feeling warm lips pressed to yours. “Atta girl.”

[keilemlucent]

So I saw that your requests were open and was wondering if you could do some aftercare with Hawks? Like after a really intense scene and the reader is out of it for awhile so Hawks just patiently helps them come back into reality?

ugh anon, you got me on this one. i truly love a good aftercare fic, and i really love reading fics with bdsm elements!! i combined a bit into here <3 there may be some inaccuracies, but nonetheless, enjoy this little number!! 

word count: ~2.4k

warnings: bdsm scene, a bit of degradation, praise kink, aftercare, fluff, fluff, avian keigo (think ‘best nest’-verse)

scene & stop:

||||||||||||||||||||

Keigo had set a brutal pace long ago, as he usually did. Twisting, pulling and pushing you faster than you could fathom or keep track of. You’d stopped trying to make sense of it all when Keigo had hauled you up by your feather-bound wrist, arching your back into a painful curve and stuffing you full of his cock to the point where it was almost difficult to breathe.

You loved every moment of it. 

“Oh baby,” Each rhythmic slap of skin seared across your gooey mind. Keigo’s voice, sweet despite the force of his actions, washed over. “Look at you, always such a good cock sleeve for me when I ask, huh?”

You could only make yourself whine, any answer feeble and small in the back of your throat. Most of your conscious effort was going into bracing your thighs, keeping yourself upright and poised against Keigo’s grip and the feather nearly vibrating on your sore clit. 

His wings beat the air with each thrust, filth slipping from his lips, long-since saturating your psyche. It was nasty, undeniably, all of the words dripping over you in time with Keigo’s harsh breath and bites over your shoulders. 

“Come on, dove, use those pretty lips to tell me how good my cock feels,” Keigo growled against the shell of your ear. “I know they’re more useful when my cock is down your throat, but I guess I’ll settle.”

You swallowed, shuddering a particularly harsh thrust that hit your deepest insides, “I-It feels really good, sir, v-very good.”

“Oh, ‘sir’? How polite.” A laugh colored his tone, mocking and high. You whimpered, lost in the speed of sensations, almost drowning in it if not for Keigo’s constant touch and words. “You really are just a fucked-out, fuck toy, huh?”

His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck with just enough pressure to make you go nicely hazier. You were quickly shoved into the bed, back still arched, hands still bound, but this time with your face smushed against the sheets, whimpers and mewls muffled by the silks and satin. All the aches and pretty cruelties went right to your cunt, spent and dripping.

Keigo’s pace turned harsher, faster even still. You drank all of it in, feeling your whines break into cries and sobs as the sheets below you soaked with tears and spittle.

“Awwww, is my needy birdie crying?” Keigo sneered above you, a sharp slap coming down on the flesh of your ass. It stung, burned through you like a divine iron. “That’s cute. Too bad.”

He had warned you he was in a particularly nasty mood-- not that you minded too much. The pain and aches mixed with the hot pleasure over your body, stripping you down to just raw nerves.

You both loved it.

Keigo had to be getting close, the feather circling and lapping at your clit getting more erratic and shaky with the pace of Keigo’s hips. You vaguely recognized it through the fog, a new stream of tears dripping down your cheeks. The bruising of Keigo’s cockhead against your cervix was almost too much, but you held out.

It all ended abruptly.

Keigo dragged your weeping face from the duvet, almost contorting your body with the amount of pressure and strength he was exerting. With a few pointed thrusts, you shuddered and screamed through your last orgasm, a slow rolling thing after so many other ecstasies preceded it. Keigo came moments later, the shuddering of your gooey cunt around his girth undoubtedly pushing him over the edge.

While he’d been keeping your cumming and cumming and cumming for what had to have been hours, he’d been edging himself, saving his load for when you were completely rung out.

Oh, and you were.

You felt his absence more than you felt him inside you. As he pulled out of you, cooling cum dripped along your inner thighs.

And moments later, you were boneless.

You slipped down against the sheets, feathers and hands removed. You were spinning, high, light and floating. It felt a bit too high, consider you couldn’t feel or hear Keigo.

A new wave of sputtering cries got muffled into the sheets.

“Hey, hey, dove, I’m right here,” Keigo’s voice was so soft compared to the grating cruelty from just moments before. Arm loop around your waist, his face buried into the crook of your neck from behind. “I’ve got you, let me hold you.”

You slowly turned, just enough to bury your face in his chest, and nestle into him the best you could. Keigo linked your sticky legs together, pressing a few kisses to your hairline.

“Gimme some taps, dove,” Keigo urged, nosing into your hair and pulling a thin sheet over the two of you.

Your fingers twitched against his clammy back. 

One tap. Two tap. Three tap. Four taps.

Keigo hummed, “Got you, dove. Thank you for showing me. I’m so proud of you.”

The praise crashed over your melted mind like weighted, lavender-smelling blanket, something grounding and soft to safely hold onto.  

Keigo tended to get particularly tender during aftercare, no matter the scene. It soothed both of your mental aches.

“You did so good, dove,” He purred against your ear, all warm and solid like you needed. You squeezed him, a silent ‘thank you, you too’. 

Keigo blanketed you in sweet everythings, little kisses and the most gentle touches he could muster. You kept your face tucked into his chest, the aftershocks of it all making you shiver against him. It felt safest to keep your face hidden from view. 

Though, with each passing moment, you felt yourself floating less and less. 

Keigo, surprisingly, was patient, particularly in moments like these, with you, that required the mutual bearing-of-souls. 

You slowly peered him up him, hardly pulling away much. Despite how clammy and sticky you felt, being near Keigo meant you were safe and okay. 

“There’s my dove,” Keigo beamed down at you, giving you the sweetest, warmest type of smile. He peppered kisses across your face, kissing away the few stray tears that remained. “You’re beautiful, you know that? Especially when you’re all marked-up and sweet for me.”

You rolled your eyes, not ready for any sort of words yet, but you have just enough spunk to nose at his jaw, nipping near his stubble. He’s quick to rub his hands up and down your sides, trading your little teasing for a whole heap of kisses and squeezes.

“I love you, dove, god, you did so well,” Keigo crooned, nearly crushing you against him. “Can I help you out a bit, clean you up a little? We can take a bath after, use one of those bath bombs we got?”

You nodded, tucking into his neck again to speak, voice hoarse and dry, “Please.”

He squeezed you, giving a happy nod. 

Keigo’s feathers fluttered off, a tap running in the nearby bathroom. There was a water bottle, chilled, pressed into your hand, already opened.

You tipped it back, drinking down whatever your dehydrated body would take. Keigo’s hand stayed over your own, keeping the bottle to your lips and then pulling it away, “Little sips, love. Don’t want to hurt your tummy.”

True, your guts were more than rearranged, your insides definitely feeling a bit out of wack. You were sure they’d settle, especially after some more water, time, and a nice bath. Keigo would always treat you to your favorite delivery takeout when you were done with scenes. The thought set you smiling, nuzzling into the side of his neck to show what you felt, even if you couldn’t say it quite yet. 

The water was taken away, placed on a bedside table. Keigo kissed the tip of your nose, “Just give me some taps if you want more.”

You nodded, leaning back into the comfort of his embrace.

Keigo took a soft looking towel from a returning feather, repositioning you to lay as he wanted. It was a bit too exposed, but you kept a solid hold on his shoulders. 

Gently, he wiped away the cum and slick that stickied your thighs. He cooed some praises as he idly talked through the scene as well, his own form of aftercare. You listened the best you could, humming and pressing harder against him to show you’d heard him. 

He knew you well enough to know that that was your best way to show love in such a state.

After cleaning you, Keigo paused, tossing the dirty towel into a hamper, “Would you like to take that bath still?”

You nodded, sitting up, though Keigo was quick to assist your, wings fluttering and settling, tucked into his back. It was clear why he did as you winced, muscles across you body burning hot with new, bright aches.

“Aw, dove, I’ll carry you, ” Keigo cooed in the back of his throat. Quickly sliding and scooping you into his arms. “Don’t strain yourself.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, tucking you against his chest and carrying you to the bathroom.

Setting you down, you lingered around his neck. Lacking that grounding physical was always scary after a scene, especially one that was so long and intense. 

Keigo, ever-observant, caught your hand to squeeze it, “Do you want a feather to hold onto while I set things up, love?”

You nodded, a feather quickly coming to rest on your bare lap. Your own nakedness, the awareness of it, surprised you. 

You looked to Keigo with glassy eyes. He flashed you a sympathetic look, squeezing your shoulders, “Just gotta grab the bath stuff, then you’ll be getting all the cuddling in the world, angel.”

You trust him.

He was as fast as possible, darting into a bathroom drawer, dubbed the ‘aftercare drawer, for a few supplies. As promised, a few colorful, fragrant bath bombs, a bottle of luxury bubblebath (somehow, you had no idea, fused with Keigo’s calming avian pheromones), a bar of warm-smelling, skin-softening soap, along with a few different bottles of massage oil (and, of course, Keigo’s bottle of wing oil if he was in that particularly mushy mood).

Carefully, he brought an armful of supplies back, feathers carrying the rest to the thick rim of the massive soaker tub. It was opulent, pretty marble that might as well have been the size of hot tub. It was made specifically to accommodate Keigo’s wings, long before you were in the picture. Still, the two of you fit well in it, snug together in your precious moments.

You chose one of the bath bombs from the stack, one that you spit rainbows across the bathwater as you unceremoniously plunked it into the tub.

Keigo snorted from the bathtubs edge, checking the temperature with his hand, “Nice toss.”

“Thank you,” Your voice was quiet again, but not as meek. You squeezed Keigo’s feather in between your hands. 

Keigo could, of course, do most of what he needed to with his feathers. But, with you, especially in these softer, slower moments, he wanted to do them on his own, with his own hands.

It was a sweet gesture, all for you.

Keigo dumped in a few healthy gulgs of a bubble bath, foam rising on the top of the water. You watched, mesmerized by the colors and textures. 

So mesmerized, you hardly noticed Keigo leave the room and return, kneeling down in front of you and offering the water-bottle once more.

You stared at for a moment, slowly taking it from his hand, softly speaking once more, “Little sips.”

“Perfect, dove, perfect,” Keigo shined you the sweetest smile as you took a few little sips, the feather from your lap darting to turn off the bathtub’s faucet. His wings were settled against back, desperately need a bit of preening, but still happily twitching and vibrating with Keigo in his own relaxed state.

You set the bottle down, Keigo kneeling in front of you to scan you down, “I don’t see any places where I broke skin, but once we get in, tell me if anything stings, okay?’

You nodded complacently. Keigo, ever-dutiful, cupped your cheeks and gave you a quick smattering of kisses before helping you into the frothy bathwater.

The water was hot, maybe a little too hot, but you didn’t mind. The heat rolled against your aching muscles, soothing you. 

Keigo slipped in the tub behind you, wings extended out and up to avoid the suds. It was the usual routine, Keigo immediately pulling you to his chest, toned thighs framing your own while his arms made their home around your mid section.

You leaned into him, all of you, mind, body and spirit. Cheek against the dew of his chest, you let your eyes go half-lidded, slowly but surely allowing the heat of Keigo’s touch and the comfort of the water around you bring you back to lucidity.

Sometime later, you weren’t sure how long, you finally spoke.

“Love you, Keigo, thank you,” Your voice was still scratchy, overused with tears. It was a bit endearing, apparently, based on the way Keigo chuckled and squeezed your waist.

“Anytime, dove,” Keigo hummed against your ear. He rocked you two slightly, little ripples hitting the sides of the tub. “Do you want a massage after this? I can imagine you’re a little bit sore, huh?”

“‘A little bit’?” You craned your neck to frown at him. “I dunno, Kei’, I think I can confidently say you’ve made good on your promise that I ‘won’t be walking straight for a month’?”

Of course, Keigo had his rougher moods that left you more than sexually wrecked, sore in new, deep places, but he had plenty of softer ones as well. He was adaptable and fickle, and you were happy to ride the waves of his preferences as he harmonized with your own. Sure, that meant that sometimes, you were wordless for an hour or so, needy and burning, but god, you fucking loved it.

Keigo squeezed you, burying his face into your neck, and whispering a few small words, “You okay?

You just had to reassure Keigo, as quietly insecure as he was.

“More than, it was really, really good,” You sighed against him, littering his stubbly jawline with kisses. “You just gotta carry me around a bit. A massage might be in order. I can preen your wings, if you’d like?”

The extended feathers shuddered in a wave as Keigo nodded, any of his own subtle shyness fading as he returned your affections.

You fell into each other, far differently from your recent hours of hot pleasure and pain, satisfied and safe in each others arms. Keigo cooed and hummed a simple melody as you let your pains begin to fade, lulled, safe, and sated.

[august-bleeds-red]

Texas Heat (Part Two)

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Warnings: implied non-con, gore. NSFW in later chapters.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~

Dinner that night is stew.

 You help Luda cut the vegetables, but the meat is already simmering in the pot by the time you come down. Thomas is nowhere to be seen, and when you ask where he is, as casually as possible, Luda answers with a sly grin.

 “Oh, he’s probably workin’ down in the basement. Often doesn’t eat ‘til later, ‘specially when we have guests. He’s awful shy, you see.”

 You don’t mention the way he’d stared at you upstairs – more domineering and intense than anyone else you’d have described as “shy”.

 “I hope you don’t mind me asking—” you begin to say, but she’s already nodding, clearly anticipating your next words.

 “His face?”

 You nod. Setting down the knife she’s using to slice the carrots, she adjusts her spectacles and glances towards the door you presume leads to the basement.

 “He’s awful sensitive about it. We don’t usually talk about it, but I don’t want you to be makin’ any nasty judgements ‘bout him.”

 “Of course not, I wouldn’t.”

 She pats your arm and continues chopping the carrots. “I found him when he was just born. Some cruel no-goods had left him to die in a trash can. Lord knows what filthy things he was exposed to in there before I took him home. He started gettin’ skin complaints when he was a boy. Real bad. The other kids used to tease him for it, call him ‘diseased’. Got too much for him so he took a knife and . . .” She presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth and shakes her head. “Sorry, still gets to me.”

 “I understand,” you say, your heart aching empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

 She pats your arm again and sighs, “You’re a good girl, Y/N.”

 For some reason, she says this with a note of sadness which makes you uneasy again. You don’t have long to dwell on it, though, before Hoyt enters the room.

 “How’s that stew comin’ on, Momma?” he asks jovially.

 You help set the table and bow your head respectfully while Hoyt says Grace, accepting your bowl of stew with a grateful smile. The meat is tender, with an unusual flavour you can’t quite place. You figure it must be some kind of game animal you’ve not tasted before, or herbs mixed in with the broth. It’s good, whatever it is. You help yourself to the cornbread Luda offers you and try not to be disconcerted by the way Monty is staring at you.

 He’s just a dirty old man, you try and convince yourself. Ignore him.

 Though it’s not that late by the time your plate is cleared, you claim tiredness and go upstairs to your tiny room. Closing the door behind you, you wish there was some kind of furniture you could prop against it; the chest of drawers is far too heavy for you to move inconspicuously. You don’t feel quite comfortable enough to change into the camisole you usually wear for sleeping, so decide to remain in your shorts and T-shirt. One night won’t hurt. You brush your teeth in the tiny sink, making a mental note to rinse your toothbrush with clean water before using it again, and curl up on top of the blanket. The air is thick and humid, and you’re soon wishing you could just sleep naked. Your own scent hangs heavy in the air and you curse your time of the month. Even with the precautions prescribed to you, your heat was always strong, but it never has this much of a toll on you. You remember your first – you were ten, an early bloomer, and it had hit you at summer camp. It was the height of August, and the counsellors had found you whimpering in a corner of the dorm, hugging a pillow and grinding frantically against it.

 That was the last time you went to camp.

 Could it be because of Thomas? Is that why your body is reacting so strongly?

 Growling in frustration, you reach for your bag and grope inside for your pills. The doctors only advise taking three pills in a single day under extreme circumstances, but being under the same roof as an alpha as intimidating as Thomas Hewitt strikes you as pretty damn extreme. It takes you almost three whole minutes to realise the awful truth – the pills aren’t there. You know you put them back in the inside pocket earlier, the same place you always do. They’re definitely gone.

 Your heart starts pounding and you feel that prickling sense of danger creep over you again. It would have been easy for Hoyt, Monty, or even Thomas to come in here and take the pills while you were downstairs helping Luda. Which means they know. Perhaps you were kidding yourself that you could lie to them.

 You decide not to take any chances. Even without your car, there was no way you could stay here. Your parents would understand. Perhaps you could even call the cops when you got to the next town and ask them to fetch it for you. Gathering your belongings as quietly as possible, you open the door just a crack and peer out down the darkened hallway. All is still. You manage to make no sound all the way to the top of the stairs, taking care not to step in the centre of each step as you tiptoe down.

 You’re almost at the door when you hear it – a low, keening moan.

 You turn glacially slowly to look at the basement door. You could kid yourself that it was a dog, but you know in your bones that’s not the case.

 “Please . . .” the voice calls plaintively. A girl. “Help me . . .”

 Fear washes over you like a bucket of ice water. You should go – you know you should go. The door is right in front of you.

 “Pleeeeease . . .” the voice sobs.

 Your parents’ faces swim before your eyes. You think of what they’d suffer were you to never come home. You brother, your sister, your friends . . .

 “Oh God, help me . . .”

 “God damn it,” you whisper through gritted teeth. With a quick glance upstairs, you tread as light as a spider down the corridor towards the basement. The girl’s voice gets louder – it’s definitely coming from down there. The door is unlocked when you twist the handle, pulling it towards you just enough to slip inside and down the rickety steps beyond. A large pool of water is gathered at the foot of the stairs, too large for you to avoid. You wince as the damp soaks through your sneakers and socks.

 Two large hunks of meat are hanging from hooks along the wall. You think they may have once been pigs, though the head and limbs are all hacked away. You find the girl – a petite blonde in a short blue dress – on a filthy mattress, roped to a pipe in one corner of the room. She looks as though she’s been there for days, weeks, even. Her skin is bruised, and you can tell by her frightened scent that she’s a beta. You can also smell Hoyt’s potent musk on her – in her hair, in the smears of congealed fluid between her legs.

 She smells you before she sees you, eyes searching disbelievingly in the half-dark. You quickly stifle her mouth with your hand before she cries out.

 “Keep quiet, okay?” you hiss. You pick at the tightly-knotted rope, breaking a fingernail in your attempt to untie it. “Fuck.”

 “Oh God,” she gasps.

 “Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna—”

 “NO!” she screams, her body falling into a fit of panicked flailing. Her eyes are big and brimming with fear, staring over your shoulder.

 The scent reaches you just before Thomas’s fingers do.

 You duck and back away from the captured girl, who continues screaming like she’s being sliced apart. Every nerve in your body is yelling at you to flee, to fight, to do anything besides what you are doing – which is staring like a deer in headlights up at Thomas approaching you. His scent is almost overpowering, and despite the terror seizing you, you feel a warm stream of slick trickling down the inside of your thigh.

 He gives a sharp intake of breath and rumbles deep in his chest. Your knees tremble, and you unconsciously breathe in the heady aroma surrounding the enormous man. Your breath shudders as it leaves you. Your instincts are commanding you to stay, to submit, to give yourself to this alpha; you can already feel your body leaning into him.

 The basement door slams open and Hoyt’s angry voice preceeds his heavy footsteps.

 “Nuff of this dang caterwauling, some of us’re tryin’ to sleep!”

 He stops dead at the wall of scent surrounding you, and a sly grin takes over his rugged features. “Well, lookee here.”

 Reaching inside his pocket, he pulls out a small foil strip that you recognise instantly.

 “Guess somebody’s not just a plain ole beta after all, huh?”

 “You asshole,” you spit, your disdain for Hoyt overriding your lust for just a moment.

 “That’s not very polite now, is it?” he says. He moves casually towards the whimpering blonde, who stares in terrified anticipation up at him. He reaches down and strokes her hair, and she cringes away from his touch. “Tommy, why don’t you teach this little bitch a lesson in manners?”

 Thomas takes two short strides towards you, but you dart out from under his grasp and sprint towards the stairs. The girl you’re abandoning screams after you, but all you can think of now is to escape, battling the nagging tug at the back of your mind that’s still desperately reaching out for Thomas.

 You somehow make it up the steps and through the door, your footsteps crashing on the boards as you fly down the hall. You throw your entire weight against the front door, splintering the wood surrounding the lock as you burst out into the night.

 You breathe in lungfuls of air as you sprint across the field, heading for the road. You’ve never been a fast runner, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins has you practically leaping like a gazelle. Your feet catch on stones and loose earth, threatening you with a fall, but you just manage to keep your balance. The sound of pounding footsteps behind you sends a sharp spike of fear into your gut, and if you weren’t running you may have vomited.

 You vaguely recognise another sound – a deep, mechanical roar – but you don’t want to risk glancing over your shoulder to see if it is what you think. He’s getting closer, you can smell him, you can hear his laboured breathing, you can feel his fingers grasping at your hair—

 He overshoots you by a good ten strides when you fall to the ground, scraping your hands and knees on hard soil. Turning to face your supine form, he brandishes the growling chainsaw clutched in his massive hands.

 You’re dead. You must be. How can you possibly expect any other outcome from this situation? Scrambling to your knees, you try to rise, but the metal teeth of the chainsaw brush too close; you can almost taste your own blood. Thomas’s eyes, black with rage, focus on you. His chest is heaving, his muscular arms flexing as he prepares to deal the killing blow—

 “Alpha!” you shriek, the word spilling from your tongue before you can recognise its meaning. “Alpha, please!”

 He freezes, arms aloft, staring down at you in surprise and disbelief.

 You crawl forwards, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his booted foot. “Please . . . p-please don’t kill me.”

 He glances up towards the house. You can tell he’s not used to making decisions without approval, but Hoyt isn’t here to spit poison in his ear.

 “I’ll . . . I’ll be yours.” You can’t believe the words you’re saying. “Please, alpha . . . you can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.”

 He steps back and shakes his head angrily, but not in refusal – more like he’s trying to rid your honeyed words from his head as a bull might dislodge a persistent fly. Taking your life in your hands, you slowly rise to your feet and proffer your sweating hands towards him; the scent from your wrists glands is strong, unavoidable. The chainsaw powers down, and his arms slowly fall to waist-height. You take careful hold of one wrist and detach his fingers from the chainsaw handle. Keeping your gaze locked with his, you part your dry lips and press the flat of your tongue against his own wrist, licking a long, slow stripe. His skin is salty with sweat, the musk beneath deep and earthy, hitting the back of your throat like spice. You feel a shudder pass through his body and go one step further – baring your teeth just enough to nip the tender, swollen skin. The chainsaw falls heavily to the ground as he grabs you, one hand twisting the skin of your wrist, the other securing the back of your neck, fingers knotted in your hair. You stare up at him, heart dancing, skin tingling, fear and lust seeking dominance in your stomach. His teeth are bared behind the gap in his mask, his brow furrowed in bewildered rage and desire. You lift the hand still free from his grip and, as tenderly as though handling a baby sparrow, touch the gland at the nape of his neck. The skin is raised and warm, and his eyes close almost in reverence at the contact.

 “What in Lord’s name’re you doin’, boy?!” Hoyt’s furious voice startles you both. He’s hurrying up behind you, shotgun under one arm, glaring between you and Thomas.

 In a swift, one-handed movement, Thomas pulls you flush against his body, your nose filling with the metallic scent of blood imbedded in his apron – which, it occurs to you, is undoubtedly human blood.

 Hoyt stops in his tracks, assessing the situation before him. You, pliant and submissive in Thomas’s arms; Thomas, dominant and possessive, ready to protect you from the threat Hoyt poses. The older man sighs, chuckling softly.

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” Swinging the shotgun to rest on his shoulder, he shakes his grizzled head. “Y’sure, Tommy? She’d taste mighty sweet with Mama’s hot biscuits.”

 Thomas’s grip tightens and you whimper – he’s about to break your wrist. His fingers immediately loosen, and you see a flash of what could almost be called concern cross his face. Hoyt rolls his eyes and turns, heading back towards the farmhouse.

 “Come on, then.”

 Before you can protest, Thomas sweeps you up into a bridal embrace, pressing your body against his broad chest. Tears prick your eyes as you’re brought back to the place you fought so hard to escape from. As you’re carried over the threshold, Hoyt shoots you a nasty grin.

 “Welcome to the family, Little Miss Omega.”    

~

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.               

[retrogalwrites]

smelly gamer shigaraki x gf reader

Title: “Washing service” / view on ao3

Summary: There's is only one way to make Shigaraki take a bath. surprise, it’s nasty.

Contents: titfucking/paizuri, masturbation, shiggy’s nasty cum, humilliation, Shigaraki being a smelly bad bf

words: 1565

"Tomura please, you seriously stink."

Repeating yourself for perhaps the 5th time, you stood by the man with a look on your face that somehow seemed both demanding and pleading, hands firmly set on your hips even if you were, quite frankly, exhausted. "You need to take a shower, it's been what, over a week?" More or less, certainly, but keeping exact tract of the numbers was bound to only frustrate you further, it was better not to.

Shigaraki was a very messy man, with hygienic habits that were less than ideal, you had known that from the start, but it usually never got this bad. With a little bit of nudging from your side he usually got around doing at least the bare minimum to take care of himself.

The thing was that, he had recently gotten a brand new video game. Single player farming type of game, or something, you didn't really care. What you cared about was how he had become completely addicted to it, and had refused to step away from his computer for the past few days. It was out of the question that he needed to take a break, and shower. It was not an unreasonable concern, nor an unreasonable request, if anything you thought of yourself reasonable to a fault.

But just like the previous times, expected at that point, Shigaraki didn't bother to even spare you a pity glance, only kept on staring at the monitors in front of him, hands on his keyboard. Leisurely plopped down on his gaming chair, posture somehow as bad as it had been before he bought it, Shigaraki groaned at you.

"God, stop nagging me already." That curt, dismissive reply was accompanied by a roll of his eyes that made you frown. "Can't you fucking see I'm busy? I'll get to that eventually, now buzz off."

"But you've been playing for days without a break, please just—"

"Shut the fuck up already."

He raised his voice. You hated when he did that, and it made you flinch. It easily turned that frown into a crestfallen expression, something Shigaraki noticed through the reflection of the monitor. Unsurprisingly, that made him grin suddenly, dry lips curving sardonically, and only then he finally tore his eyes away from the game to turn and look at you. That look prolonged into a quiet stare, his expression becoming something like pensive and amused.

It was a small win, but not enough, and you were getting desperate. And, as if knowing exactly what was going through your mind, Shigaraki breathed through his nose, then huffed.

"If you are that fucking desperate why don't you bathe me yourself, huh?" His grin could only grow when you looked at him with those big doe-like eyes, a little surprised and a little flustered. And with resolve, you replied only a little hesitantly.

"I will do anything."

————

The bathroom was, in contrast to his much messier bedroom, a tidy spot coated in pearly white tiles and walls, most pristine with how much you often cleaned up the place, knowing that he wouldn't if you didn't.

Inside, you had gotten Shigaraki naked sitting on a stool, already waiting impatiently. The bathtub had only finished filling up with hot water, and you knew that if you didn't start right away, he'd abruptly change his mind without sparing you another thought.

You were equally naked too, of course, that was the real catch of the entire idea. Shigaraki was very predictable on that aspect at least, for better or worse. And it wouldn't even cross your mind, not for one second, to refuse either.

So, with a sponge and scented soap in hand, you sat bare right behind him. Sucking in some air, you brought the shower head to him and started spraying cool water down his back.

It wasn't a surprise he had been smelling unpleasantly, as you saw how the skin of his back was coated on a light layer of dirt and grime. Rubbing the soap against the damp sponge, you made sure it was coated in slippery foam before you started scrubbing Shigaraki's back with it.

You had barely started when he called out with annoyance, his voice low, like his breath was quickening.

"Hey, hey, you aren't putting enough effort."

You flinched, paused, then in full understanding of what he meant, quickly sprayed the front of your body with the shower head. The water wasn't cold, but it was cool enough that your tender nipples already had begun hardening. Scooping a bit of foam from the sponge, you lathered it over your breasts with a hand, making sure they were slippery with water and soap.

Then, leaning forward, you pressed your soft, soap coated breasts flush against the broadness of Shigaraki's back.

His reaction was immediate, a shudder rocked his body, muscles tensed and back arching to press into your breasts harder. A hissed moan slurring through gritted teeth.

"Ooh, fuck..."

You couldn't help but react as well, the sensation of skin against skin causing a violent shiver to run through you, thighs pressed together trying to relieve the sudden tickle that creeped up your core, a sudden need that you couldn't allow to distract you now.

So, like that started to scrub him down, starting from his back, to his slender neck, his strong shoulders. You cleaned him off slowly, dutifully while making sure that your round, slippery tits were rubbing all over him. After a minute or so, when you placed away the sponge and soap, moving your hands to pick up some shampoo, but Shigaraki turned to stop you. You stared at his face, lightly flushed and hot, his pupils dilated and positively hungry.

"Aren't you going to do the front too?"

He asked with urgency, his voice hoarse, but it sounded like a demand.

"In a moment, I need to wash your hair and—"

Trying to explain was futile, Shigaraki had already turned around to face you entirely, it was then that you could see his erection, cock already fully hard and throbbing, the supple head of his cock hitting his abdomen. You helplessly stared at it, a sudden heat pooling between your already slick thighs. You mouthed a simple 'oh'.

Shigaraki stood up then, towering over you with his hard, dirty cock being placed mere inches from your face. The potent smell of his musk and arousal was overpowering, and it made you wrinkle your nose. You didn't get a chance to speak up however, and whatever you may have said was lost when a moan was ripped off your lips as Shigaraki roughly groped both of your tits.

"If you aren't going to do it then I'll just use these fat tits to clean my cock."

And immediately he was plunging himself in between your breasts, using his fingers to dig into the soft flesh and squeeze it around his cock, the shaft buried in the valley of your tits. Shigaraki shuddered, lips tightening as a groan purred at his throat before he began thrusting his hips into your cleavage, using the foam coated, slippery mounds of flesh to rub his cock throughly.

You whined, gasping at the painful stimulation on your chest, his bruising touch on your breasts while his hot cock slipped in and out of them, the slickness of the soap making it easy. Your brows furrowed, and you were bitting your lips, the need between your legs becoming unbearable.

Without even thinking, you brought your own fingers to your pussy, digits entering through your puffy folds. Your walls tightened around your own fingers, as you fucked yourself with them in desperation.

Shigaraki noticed such lewd act, of course, and an ample sadistic grin twisted his features.

"Ooh you really like this, don't you? My filthy cock fucking your tits? You damn slut, touching yourself."

Despite his own desperation, Shigaraki was never above mocking you, laughing lowly and grinning down at your flushed face.

Teasing your engorged clit, you knew how to drive yourself to the high of orgasm quite quickly, pinching the sensitive nub as you fingered yourself, and Shigaraki used your breasts like toy for his own pleasure. When you felt the hard buds of your nipples rubbing against his shaft, you meekly mewled his name, back arching and toes curling, your orgasm reaching its peak as your insides clamped down on your fingers, coating them in the slick of your release.

"Ahh, Tomura!"

Just watching you cum was enough to fire him up. "Fuck, fuck...I'm going to cum." He huffed, brows furrowing and grip on you tightening. He was about to blow his load.

"I'm going to cum between these slutty tits."

He groaned, head lolling back as he shut his eyes, body shivering while he kept his cock snugly wrapped by your breasts. Soon the feeling of his hot, smelly semen flooding your cleavage was the only thing you could think of. Shigaraki shot thick jets of cum all over your breasts, coating your skin with it until you were but a sticky mess.

You tried to stand up on wobbly feet, already walking towards the towels to try clean yourself up, but Shigaraki stopped you, roughly grabbing you by the wrist.

"Where do you think are you going?" His red eyes started at yours, wide smile stretching his chapped lips. "Get in the tub."

[waitineedaname]

It was Tommy Coolatta’s birthday, and Gordon Freeman was shaking in a Chuck E. Cheese bathroom.

He hadn’t planned to end up there. He hadn’t planned to be in many of the places he’d been in the past… god. Week? Weeks? Month? The realization that he couldn’t remember how long he’d spent trying to escape Black Mesa made him grip the cheap tile of the bathroom countertops and shake even harder.

He’d tried to make it through the party as long as he could, he really had. He’d danced with Bubby and Coomer and tried his hand at the arcade machines and eaten what pizza he could stomach. But it was just… so much. He wasn’t sure how the others could party like that after everything they’d gone through. Everyone coped differently, he supposed.

He should probably go back out there soon, for Tommy’s sake. It was his birthday, after all, and after everything Tommy had done for him, he owed it to him to at least celebrate with him. He just… needed a minute. Maybe none of them had even realized he’d left yet.

“Mr. Freeman?”

Damn.

“Hey, Tommy.” Gordon offered Tommy a weak smile, though he could see in the mirror that it was more of a grimace. “Sorry, man, I’ll be back out there in a second. It was just… a lot.”

Tommy nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do… Is it okay if I join you?”

“What? You don’t have to keep me company dude, it’s your birthday. Don’t stop having fun on my account.” Gordon tried to wave him towards the door, but Tommy was shaking his head before he’d even finished his sentence.

“No, I… It’s a lot for me too. The-” Tommy gestured vaguely as if searching for a word and failing to find it, “All of it.”

“Oh.” Gordon blinked. “Then, yeah, pull up a chair, I guess.”

Tommy gave him a small smile and shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned his back against it and let out a sigh that Gordon echoed.

They stood there in silence for a while, Gordon doing his best to get his shaking under control. With anyone else, he might have felt awkward, but this was Tommy. Tommy had been the one to practically carry him through countless tunnels and vats of questionable liquid when he was delirious from blood loss. If there was anyone he trusted to not judge him for having a breakdown in the bathroom, it was Tommy.

The metal of the HEV suit clinked against the linoleum of the sink, and suddenly it struck him how much he wanted this thing off.

“Hey, uh,” Gordon spoke up, clearing his throat. Tommy hummed in acknowledgement, “You’ve read a bunch of manuals, right? Did you read the HEV suit manual?”

“Uh, yeah!”

“Think you could get this thing off me?”

Tommy’s eyes widened like he’d only just realized how long Gordon had been wearing the suit. “Oh! Yeah, I can- I think I can do that.”

Tommy approached him slowly, as if approaching a skittish cat, then became more confident in his movements when Gordon gave no sign of flinching away. He began working on the back of Gordon’s chestplate first, slender fingers working deftly on the bolts and buckles that held it together. It was slow work, but with each piece Tommy lifted off him, Gordon felt he could breathe easier. A literal weight was lifted off him, and it only made him more aware of the ache deep in his bones. Every few minutes, there would be a loud noise from the main entertainment area of the Chuck E. Cheese; Gordon would flinch away from the sound, and Tommy would freeze in his movements, but then they would hear Coomer’s loud laughter or a snide, muffled comment from Bubby, and they would relax and resume their work.

After what felt like eons, Tommy finished unclasping the last buckle on Gordon’s boots, stepping back to let him toe them off himself. The HEV suit was a pile of orange rubble surrounding them, and Gordon suddenly felt exposed in nothing but his socks and the dark jumpsuit he’d been wearing under the suit. He felt like he could stand up straight without straining for the first time in weeks, and the feeling of the overpowered Chuck E. Cheese air conditioning seeping through the sleeves of his jumpsuit left him feeling flayed raw. 

Tommy was staring at him with an unreadable look on his face, hands flexing and unflexing in a nervous stim. He reached out a hand, hesitated, then laid it on Gordon’s left forearm. Gordon’s skin burned under his touch. When was the last time he’d felt someone else’s body heat?

“Can…” Tommy’s voice was quiet and sounded as fragile as Gordon felt, “Can I hug you?”

Gordon didn’t trust himself to speak around the lump the size of a tennis ball in his throat, so he just nodded. Tommy outstretched long arms, and the two of them fell into each other. 

Gordon’s whole body felt like it was buzzing right down to his core. He was lightheaded as everything hit him in that moment. All he had gone through. All he had survived. The fact that he was out, and he was alive. The fact that this was the first time he’d touched someone and felt it on his skin since he’d dropped Joshua off at his mom’s the week of the test. And it was Tommy who got to hold the title of the first person to hug him in far too long. Tommy who had been kind to him even when stress was making them all snappish, and who had made jokes with him when things felt grim. Tommy who had been the only one he trusted when everyone else left him for dead, Tommy who fought by his side so loyally and who removed that horrible suit with such impossible tenderness. 

Gordon pressed his face into the shoulder of Tommy’s filthy polo shirt that smelled like sweat and blood but was warm and had probably been soft at some point, and he let out the loudest sob in his life. His voice shattered on the noise, and then he suddenly couldn’t hold it back anymore, sob after sob wrenching its way out of his throat. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever cried like this. Not when he was in labor with Joshua, not at any point during the Resonance Cascade, not even when his arm was being cut off. Nothing compared to these deep sobs that seemed to claw their way out of somewhere deep in his soul to burst out of his chest as everything crashed into him all at once.

He could feel Tommy’s fist balled in the back of his jumpsuit, and he could feel and hear Tommy weeping quietly into where he’d pressed his face into Gordon’s hair, and the raw sensations of it all only made him sob harder.

They stood there, clinging to each other until Gordon’s knees couldn’t hold him up any longer, and then they both sank to the ground, still holding onto each other like they were each other’s life lines. Maybe they were.

Eventually, Gordon simply couldn’t cry anymore, his tear ducts emptied, leaving him with a dehydration headache and a sore throat. He didn’t extricate himself from Tommy’s hold, though, and Tommy didn’t seem like he was going to let go any time soon either. He’d cried himself empty sooner than Gordon had, and now he was just stroking his fingers through Gordon’s knotted curls. Gordon didn’t want to think about how nasty his hair must be right now, caked in blood and sweat and god knows what else, but Tommy’s hand in his hair felt more soothing than aloe on a sunburn. 

He snorted quietly when the simile occurred to him. He’d maybe been spending too much time with Tommy. He then immediately shoved that thought away and squeezed Tommy tighter. No, he had not spent nearly enough time with Tommy. Now that they were out, he could let himself think about spending time with Tommy when they weren’t in mortal danger. He couldn’t wait to watch Tommy’s favorite shows and listen to him infodump about them, or walk Sunkist in the sunshine, or take Tommy to his favorite restaurants, or introduce him to Joshua-

Fuck. God, he really liked this guy, huh.

Tommy pulled back ever so slightly, though he didn’t go far. Just enough to be able to look down at Gordon with those kind, intelligent eyes, and Gordon thought he might pass out. He moved his hand from Gordon’s messy ponytail to cup his cheek, and Gordon was certain he was going to pass out.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked. Gordon laughed despite himself.

“No,” Gordon said, tilting his head to better fit against Tommy’s hand and giving Tommy the tiniest smile, “I don’t think I am.”

Tommy gave him his own sad smile. “That’s okay. I… I don’t think any of us are.”

Gordon snorted. “That’s for damn sure.” 

Tommy was still staring down at him with more tenderness than Gordon was prepared to deal with, “Do…” He paused, licking his lips. Gordon wasn’t embarrassed to say he stared at the motion, “I think I’m done with the party. Do you want to go home?”

“Yeah,” Gordon sighed with more exhaustion than a man his age should feel, “I would love that, bud.”

It took some maneuvering to get them both off the floor without tripping over the chunks of HEV suit on the floor, but neither of them seemed willing to let go of each other more than necessary. Eventually, they made it out of the bathroom, Tommy’s hand warm and solid in Gordon’s own. Dr. Coomer looked up from where he’d been punching apart an arcade machine when they entered the room.

“Ah, hello, Gordon!” He said cheerfully. “You appear to have been peeled!”

“Uh, yeah, Dr. Coomer.” Gordon huffed out a laugh, relieved that that was what Dr. Coomer was pointing out opposed to the fact that his face was definitely puffy and tearstained. “Tommy helped me get the suit off.”

“You look very sporting in your jumpsuit, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said, returning to his destruction of Chuck E. Cheese property. Tommy smiled down at Gordon, and he was suddenly struck by the realization that the HEV suit had given him a couple inches of height because wow, Tommy was tall. Tommy squeezed his hand and looked up to flag down Gman.

“Hello, son. Dr… Freeman.” Gman greeted them both. Gordon nodded at him. The dude still gave him the creeps, but he could appreciate the parental fondness he’d seen him demonstrate for Tommy over the course of the afternoon.

“Hey, dad.” Tommy gave him a slight wave with his free hand, the other still holding Gordon’s. “I- um, this was a really nice party!”

“I’m… glad to, hear it. I, pulled out all the stops.” 

“I can- I can see that! But, uh. I’m pretty tired. I-... Can you open a portal to Mr. Freeman’s apartment?”

If Gman thought there was anything strange about Tommy asking to go to Gordon’s home and not his own, he didn’t say anything of it. “Of… course. I, will begin to… wrap things up here before, our, friends can cause too much… property damage.”

He gestured to the nearest wall with very little flourish to show them the glowing green portal that hadn’t been there a minute earlier. Tommy gently tugged Gordon in its direction. Behind them, he heard Coomer call out “goodbye, Gordon!” and then in a flash, they were standing in his living room. 

Were this any other situation, Gordon would’ve been embarrassed to show someone the messy state of his apartment without tidying beforehand, but he simply didn’t have it in him to care when his bed was within reach for the first time in weeks. It was his turn to tug Tommy up the narrow stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. They both collapsed on his bed, neither bothering to change out of their bloodstained clothes, which Gordon was sure they’d regret in the morning, but considering he could barely summon the energy to pull the sheets over their shoulders, he decided that was a problem for future Gordon. 

Tommy pulled him into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been in Gordon’s apartment, like they hadn’t met less than an hour before the worst disaster of their lives. Gordon felt the soft flannel of his sheets brush against his skin, and he felt the softness of his pillow under his head, and he felt Tommy’s warm body all around him, and he fell asleep solidly for the first time in weeks.

[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 15 - GHOST

----

[2009.]

Cold, unforgiving metal met the tender skin of my arm as I blocked his punch. That's going to leave a bruise. His blows were getting stronger, faster. He was testing my skills, they wanted to see how far I could be pushed. Although I wasn't far from the edge, I wasn't going to let myself fail today either.

"Focus!" He yelled.

I grimaced, ducking under his arm and landing a punch to his gut. Rookie move, but it was all I had at that moment. He grabbed my arm, quick as lightning, and dragged me by the chin so he could look me in the eye. My fists were still clenched but the exhaustion was starting to take a toll on me. I panted heavily as I tried to mask how drained I was.

With my arm still in his grasp, he said, "Who are you fighting for?"

It was almost a mantra that I was forced to reiterate every single time I fucked up. "Hydra."

He said it again, louder this time, his grip on my hand growing tighter. He could break my wrist if I didn't deliver. Hell, he could break every single limb I had. I couldn't fail.

"Hydra!" I scoffed. I belonged to them. I had to die for them. Hydra ran through my blood, and if it was ever spilled one day, it would be justified in their name.

That's what they told me.

Who was I to question them? I was nothing but a vessel, a weapon for these people. If I failed to deliver what was asked of me, I'd be killed. How ironic was that? To kill or be killed.

I hated it.

As soon as he let my arm go, I thrusted the top of my head into his face. I heard what sounded like his nose breaking and true enough, as I regained my balance and faced him, I found him wiping blood from his nose with the heel of his hand. It was satisfying, to say the least, to see that I finally made a dent.

"Perfect." He nodded.

God, it wasn't over yet.

He pulled his knives out of the holsters he wore, spinning them in the air and catching them both flawlessly. It was his signature trick. Honestly, I thought it was a bit too dramatic. But what can I say? Hydra loves their drama.

"Pay attention." He pointed the tip of the knife towards me. "Or you'll bleed."

He pounced, spinning his knives like they were toys and not murder weapons. He thrusted his right knife in the vague direction of my shoulder, I took a half-step back and circled around so I was behind him. It only took a second for him to whip around again, but I expected that move. So, I threw my leg up as soon as he did and I kicked the weapon out of his grip.

The knife spun around threateningly in the air before falling onto the concrete across the room with a thump. He didn't seem to pay any mind to his fallen weapon. That's when I remembered he had another. He twirled it around his fingers before gripping the handle and thrusting his right arm with full force, the gears of his metal arm whirring as he did so.

I thought I had it. I jumped back so he wouldn't catch my rib, but he was quick to calculate my movements. I should have known.

The pain was searing.

Blood oozed out of the newly-made wound on my calf, the knife buried to the hilt. I screamed uncontrollably as the pain of it kicked in, my body going limp immediately.

"That's enough, soldat."

Tears were falling down my face against my will. You know how sometimes your body does things you don't want it to do? I know, logically, tears were just how your body reacted to certain things. For example, being stabbed in the goddamn calf. But I knew, despite literal fucking science, the people around me took it as a sign of weakness. That's how messed up in the head they are.

But I wasn't weak. I just got through 2 hours of intensive training with the Winter Soldier while they just watched.

I'd like to see the lot of you fight him and manage to not get killed.

One of the medics went over to my side and helped me up. The Winter Soldier stepped aside and watched me with disdainful eyes. I knew I disappointed him. That alone could have fucked up my assessment. How did I not see it coming? How did I miscalculate that movement?

The Commander leaned in to talk to him as he watched me limp away. I made eye contact with both of them. The Commander's lips were moving but I couldn't make out a word of what he was saying.

Through pain-ridden eyes and a half-delirious mind, I could almost make sense of what the conversation was about.

Girl...Mission...Out...Threat.

Next thing I know, I was being treated by Dr. Nolan in the Medical Room. I don't think I processed anything yet. My brain felt numb. My eyes were glued to the knife — now on a metal tray — that I failed to dodge.

My mind flickered through all the different scenarios that I could have went with. I was beyond frustrated with myself and with my complete and utter failure. What were they going to do with me now? They couldn't really kill me...could they?

My mind reeled back to the conversation I saw that the Soldier and the Commander had earlier. What were they talking about? Did they finally decide what to do with me? The defective agent?

I wasn't perfect. I tried to be, but I wasn't. Somehow I always found myself disagreeing with their rules and their missions, even if I carried them out anyway. Although, sometimes I couldn't help but protest. I had to. Even if the consequences would hurt me. If they knew that I'd gone against more than just a few of their regulations, there's no doubt I'd be dead within the minute.

Footsteps came through the corridor, yet I didn't even think to look up.

"Your mission." The familiar faded black of a case file was thrown into my lap carelessly, the papers crinkling in protest as it landed. I looked up to see an annoyed expression that was attached to the face of one of the high-ranking agents.

"Mission? I thought I failed the assessment." My thumbs flicked through the papers almost automatically, scanning through the details quickly. I didn't miss the red stamp on the front. This wasn't just any mission.

He–David, I think–shrugged, "The Commander asked me to hand this to you. You're leaving in an hour."

"What?"

I was...thrilled and appalled at the same time. The whole point of the assessment was for them to see that I was worthy enough to be placed on important missions like these. If they trusted me with it, that means I succeeded.

"In an hour?" Dr. Nolan chipped in. "She hasn't fully recovered from her stab wound yet. You need at least two to three weeks of rest."

The red star-shaped stamp looked even more brighter in that moment, even if the room was poorly lit. "I've had worse. I can survive a limp."

"You won't even be able to walk." He raised an eyebrow at me in disagreement. Somewhere deep down, I knew I should listen to him. I wasn't in the best shape for a fight, let alone a mission like this one.

David huffed, "Orders are orders."

Then my brain clicked back into place. David was right. I nodded once. "I'll be at the hangar in 30 minutes."

"You better gear up by then. They wont wait up for you."

Dr. Nolan sighed and shook his head before wrapping my leg up with bandage. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."

———

Snow was blowing in my face. The cold seeped through my coat, prickling my skin like tiny little needles made of ice.

"Any minute now." He spoke through the earpiece.

We were supposed to ambush a S.H.I.E.L.D operation that was a threat to Hydra. I wasn't entirely sure why I was sent along with the Winter Soldier, but I wasn't in the place to argue. Not when I just barely survived the assessment.

"Get in position." I crouched down, trying to smother a whimper that threatened to escape my throat. My calf was burning, but that wasn't a priority right now. Everything was always burning somehow, and I learned to ignore it overtime. I scanned the area through the scope of my sniper rifle. As soon as a car came into view, I steadied my hand on the trigger.

"Now."

Four continuous shots for each tire. Every single one blew out and the car spun out of control, spinning from left to right. It was a narrow road, the plan was bound to work to our liking. After a few nasty turns, the car swerved off the cliff, leaving nothing but dust and debris in it's place.

"They're not dead yet. Keep an eye out."

It was quicker than I expected, but I spotted two figures climbing out of the wreck after a while. Their movements were slow and staggered, but alive nonetheless.

"Target acquired."

I watched through the scope as he stepped out of his position in the shadows. One of the figures moved in front of the other, shielding them with their own body. I knew it was useless. He'd kill them both anyway.

A single shot rang out. I could picture the bullet going through one body to the other. They both dropped to the ground, dead.

"Target eliminated."

"Roger."

He didn't say a word. I didn't hear the usual rustle of his movements through the earpiece. Silence engulfed me. Usually, I wouldn't be so unnerved. He was always silent. But this time it felt...strange. I stayed where I was, unmoving. Something in my head told me I shouldn't move, shouldn't speak.

It seemed too easy.

I don't know what it was, but I didn't take my eyes off him. Something about this whole thing seemed...off. He could have completed this mission alone.

Why did they ask me to go with him?

He turned away from the bodies and faced me. I gulped, hands trembling as I held my rifle reluctantly. What was he doing?

"Sir?" I managed to say. Everything was telling me to RUN. NOW.

Slowly, he raised his gun and pointed it towards me.

Girl...Mission...Out...Threat.

My whole body trembled at the sight before me.

"Take the girl on your next mission. I need you to take her out. She's a threat to us, soldier. She's defective. Eliminate her. "

I was right.

Bang! The sound of a gunshot snapped me back to reality. It was real. They wanted to kill me. The Winter Soldier was standing ten feet away from me with a gun in his hand, ready to kill. To eliminate the threat.

Out of reflex, I pulled the trigger of my rifle that was pointed to his head, only to find it empty.

Four bullets. They only gave me four bullets and nothing more.

Without thinking, I ran. I dropped the rifle and ran as fast as my legs could take me. I heard another gunshot, closer this time. That's when I started to feel a strange sort of stinging at the back of my leg. The pressure felt strenuous as I continued to sprint in the snow.

Oh, God...Dr. Nolan was right.

I could feel the pain taking over once more as my stitches started to pop. Warm, thick liquid ran down my leg and seeped through the pants of my uniform as the wound on my calf bled out. Between the stinging cold and the stinging pain, I was starting to feel hopeless. I couldn't possibly go against him.

Bang!

Closer this time. I was running blindly into a vast, wide-open landscape of infinite snow. Not only that, but I was also leaving behind a trail of blood behind me. Deep scarlet upon stark white. What a contrast. Was this Hansel and Gretel or some shit?

"You cannot run forever." His voice was crisp, threatening. I couldn't take the fear that ran cold through me. If I stopped running now, I wouldn't ever get up again. He was the embodiment of fear, and he was chasing me.

I tore off my earpiece and threw it behind me. How could I have been so foolish today? Of course they sent him out here to kill me.

All along I thought I was playing the part perfectly. But, maybe I didn't hide my doubts of Hydra as well as I thought I had. Did they find out about everything I've failed to do?

How could I have killed those innocent children? How could I have murdered that innocent family? Or that innocent man who just so happened to stumble across a Hydra operation?

I was fine with the blood and the gore. I was used to that. The only thing that never sat right with me was when the innocent had to be slaughtered. The first time I went through with it, they haunted my dreams. Their animalistic cries for mercy, their howls of pain...I couldn't live with myself.

They were right. I was defective. I didn't have the makings of a Hydra agent. I wasn't as ruthless as I should be.

I ran and ran, hoping that he was far behind me. The snow was getting thicker by the minute, it was getting harder for me to see and to navigate.

I ran until my aching feet hit the pavement of a road that led to a small village. It looked homely, with houses and shops lined up along the road. Lanterns hung from roof to roof, providing light in the heavy snowfall. If I didn't know any better, I'd try to hide there. But I knew he would only tear it apart and kill everyone on sight just to eliminate me.

Then I sensed footsteps behind me. There was no time to think. It was my only option.

I sneaked through the worn paths of the area, trying my best to lay low. It didn't help that I was sporting a mean limp and bleeding all over the place. People saw me and they avoided me. I started to wonder why I thought heading here would help me. I scanned the area for anything, anything that would help. A weapon, a car, a spot that I could take shelter in...

Then, out of nowhere, I bumped into a woman.

"Oh!"

I held onto her arms as I tried to keep us both from falling. The woman was wearing a niqab. Her piercing green eyes looked right at me, distracting me from my original plan for a moment.

"Are you alright?" She asked, gently.

I must have looked horrible. Sweaty and bloody with panicked eyes. I didn't notice that her arms were still locked on mine, keeping me upright.

That's when I felt it, the surge of energy suddenly coursing through me. It was a peculiar sensation, but I welcomed it. Her green eyes widened. I knew she felt it too.

"You're-" she gasped, trying to pull away from me. I held onto her tighter, not wanting to let go just yet.

"Please." I begged. "It won't hurt."

I had to go before he came.

I heard gunshots behind me. I couldn't let him get to me, not when I just found the key to my escape.

"Who are you?" The woman whispered, struggling against me.

"Someone you’ll help escape death." I looked into her eyes, trying to let her see how desperate I was. I didn't want to take anything else from her but this.

Her eyes jumped from mine to behind me, before flickering back to look at me again. "You're like me, aren't you?"

"You don't need to do anything." I assured her. "I just need to leave."

It took a second of hesitation for her, but slowly, she nodded. She opened her mouth to say something, but I never heard what it was. Because that's when the screaming erupted.

I closed my eyes and teleported myself the fuck out of there.

[miracleonice87]

69 with Tyler

“So… what are your plans for New Year’s?” ✨with Tyler Seguin, our mutual love

quick note: I took this in a way different direction than I’d originally planned. I blame my withdrawals from hockey for my need to write about the actual game in a holiday piece. (remember when we had NHL hockey around the holidays? le sigh.) also Jamie and Katie are still together in this one, as they always are in my head, except when I’m writing about him as the MC. she’s my idol — sue me.

quick warnings: hockey injury involving blood, swearing

_____

No matter how many times it happened, you still felt ill each time. You’d never get used to seeing the love of your life get injured before your very eyes.

The same sensations of the blood draining from your face, your pulse becoming unsteady, bile rising in your throat. They happened every time.

The next thing you felt after the initial physical reaction was Meg Dowling’s hand gathering your hair at the nape of your neck, stroking it slowly in an attempt to soothe you from the seat behind yours. Katie, ever by your side during Stars games — your left side, per the request of both your boyfriends, after they found out that she had been on your left during most of their best games — immediately took your hand in hers. You swore that Andrea Bishop must have jumped across the bar between where she stood and the seats at the front of the suite where you were, as you felt her hands come to squeeze your shoulders, the only one speaking around you as she coached, “Baby, breathe. He’s okay. He’s gonna be okay.”

You finally found your voice when you saw Tyler move his shoulders after what felt like an eternity, though he was still splayed on the ice after a nasty late hit, with Jamie knelt beside him, Klinger hunched overtop. Rads, Esa, and Bish stood near the goal, wordless. The men at the bench all stood, waiting. Bones looked like he could either start screaming or pass out on the spot. The entire arena was hushed. 

“He’s moving,” you squeaked shakily, the women surrounding you in the suite breathing a collective sigh.

He was moving, yes, but even from high above the ice, you could still see that his eyes were squinted, his hips and legs moving slowly from side to side as he writhed in pain. Terrified, you watched the trainer carefully extricate the helmet from Tyler’s head, and nausea struck when you noticed a significant pool of blood pouring from... where? Where? Where was it coming from? His nose? Ear? Mouth?

“Oh, god, I’m gonna be sick,” you moaned then, pressing a clammy hand to your forehead. Andrea cooed, “Okay, okay. Put your head between your knees. Just breathe — in through your nose.”

Katie rubbed your back as you followed your other friend’s instructions, the girls exchanging frightened looks once your eyes were no longer focused on them, nor on the scene below.

Once you felt that the imminent wave of sickness had passed, you slowly sat up once more, breathing through pursed lips. Upon seeing that Tyler was still lying on his back, the white towel pressed to his face already stained with blood, you turned helplessly to Katie, knowing she would be able to tell what you were thinking.

“You wanna go?” she asked, arranging your hair behind your shoulder. You offered a slight nod. “Okay, let’s go,” she agreed, standing with you as Meg hung your crossbody from your arm.

Alandra Dickinson, your best friend within the group besides Katie, met you at the top of the suite stairs, pressed a kiss to your cheek, and forced a cold bottle of water into your hand.

“Drink that,” she ordered as she pointed to the beverage. “Small sips.” She then pulled you in for a tight, brief hug, and urged you along, Sarah Pavelski squeezing your trembling hand with a sympathetic expression as you reached the door of the box.

As you turned the corner and approached the private elevator, the mechanical doors opened to reveal John, your favorite arena security guard.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, one that didn’t meet his joyful eyes the way it normally did, and he tilted his head to the side, inviting you to join him in the elevator.

“I figured I might meet you here. Come on,” he spoke. You sighed with a thankful half-smile and, with Katie right on your heels, stepped into the elevator.

“Just heard on my radio that they got him up,” John told you quietly when the doors shut. “Needed help, but no stretcher.”

You nodded silently, your hands gripping the water like a vice.

“This was supposed to be a fun game,” you finally said in a strangled murmur. “New Year’s Eve, hang in the box, all go out after.”

Katie placed a tender hand to your upper arm, covered with the denim jacket, yours embroidered with “Seguin 91,” that each of the WAGs had worn tonight to represent their significant other.

“I know, babe,” Katie concurred softly. “It sucks.”

You glanced at her anxiously as the doors opened to the tunnels. John led the way, the other security staff along the corridor nodding knowingly as you and Katie trailed behind him.

Finally, you reached the medical room, where John peeked into the window. One of the medical staff spotted him and nodded, so John opened the door a crack.

“I’ve got Mr. Seguin’s better half here,” John announced. You heard a worried “ah, fuck,” leave Tyler’s lips, which actually left you feeling relieved. “Think she could come in?” John asked. The team doctor, without taking his eyes from Tyler, encouraged, “Yep, send her in.”

You whispered a “thank you” to both Katie and John as you rushed past them into the room. The first thing you saw was Tyler’s arm outstretched from where he sat propped against the exam table, his back to you.

“I’m okay,” he insisted the moment he heard your footsteps. 

A choked exhale fell from your mouth, and you closed both your hands tightly around Tyler’s, careful not to jostle him as the doctor flashed a pen light at his eyes, testing his pupillary reaction, while an assistant held a fresh towel to the right side of his face. You noticed the first towel, now nearly soaked in red, lying on the counter, tossed aside. You shifted your eyes away from it and toward your boyfriend, who, despite his condition, currently had a smirk on his pink lips.

You couldn’t help but smile yourself. “What in god’s name are you smirking about, Seguin?” you asked incredulously.

“Were you sitting on Katie’s left side instead of right today?” Tyler asked hoarsely, the only brow that was visible quirking upward. “Just wondering if I have you to thank for this too or just Neal.”

You sighed, ghosting your hand along the bare skin of his forearm, and your eyes flickered to Katie, a smile slowly spreading across her face from where she stood in the doorway.

“Just Nealer, baby,” you informed him as you turned your attention back toward him, the doctor turning to prepare what looked like a suture kit. “Katie and I know better than to pull that shit.”

Tyler smiled, turning his head to face you as the medical assistant stepped away to help the doctor get prepped. Only then did you lay eyes on the enormous gash on Tyler’s upper cheek, dangerously close to his eye.

Tyler’s expression shifted as he watched you assessing the damage.

“What... is it bad?” he asked innocently.

“What tipped you off?” the assistant joked, glancing at the two of you briefly.

You tried to shake yourself out of it, but struggled to find your words.

“What, am I that ugly?” Tyler joked, attempting to lighten your mood. You opened your dry mouth, shaking your head.

“Uh, no, no,” you replied. “It’s just, um, it looks... um...”

“It’s big,” the doctor supplied as you trailed off. “It’s significant, Tyler. We’re gonna stitch you up, but we’re gonna have to bring in the optometrist to check you out before you leave. He should be here very soon. I don’t think it will affect your vision long-term, but we just want to be sure. And, to no one’s surprise, you do have a concussion as well.”

Tyler rested his head against the cushion behind him, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Great,” he grumbled.

“Hey,” you warned. “None of that. You’re lucky it wasn’t any worse. It looked... it looked like it would be.”

As the doctor wheeled his stool back in front of the table, Tyler gave you a pained look. “I’m sorry I scared you, baby,” he told you softly, lifting your hand to his lips.

You shook your head, pushing back some of his chestnut brown curls from the unmarred side of his face to brush a kiss across his temple.

“Don’t be sorry,” you said. “Wasn’t your fault. It was that little shit James Neal.”

Chuckles erupted from everyone in the room, and the doctor shook his head in amusement as he approached Tyler with a syringe.

“Alright, 91,” he began as he uncapped the large needle, making you feel woozy all over again. “You know the drill. Gonna numb you now. This is gonna hurt.”

Tyler took a breath and you felt his grip on your hand tighten as the doctor inserted the needle. You focused on Tyler’s wincing eyes instead of the object being poked into his face. He hissed and swore, then, a grimace still on his face, quipped, “So... what’s everybody doing for New Year’s?”

You snickered sadly at his attempt to deflect, hanging your shaking head, and squeezed his hand a couple of times. He gave you his best smile.

“I’ll tell you what you’re not gonna be doing is going out gallivanting tonight,” the doctor told him as he finished the injection. “So it looks like your New Year’s plans just got a lot less exciting.”

Tyler scoffed. “C’mon, doc,” he tried to reason. “Do you see this girl standing beside me? She’s an absolute smokeshow, and I know she’s got some pretty dress picked out for tonight, and you’re telling me I can’t take her out?” he argued, motioning toward you dramatically.

You felt yourself blush, and the doctor threw you an understanding smirk.

“Unfortunately, Tyler, yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you,” he said. “You’ve still got a long season ahead of you, and if you want to recover quickly, you need to go home, lay low, and get as much rest as possible. Now, hold still.”

Tyler huffed as the doctor began suturing his cheek, and you cupped the near side of his neck soothingly. He shifted his eyes toward you and gave you an appreciative, if disappointed, smile.

“So much for those big, fancy New Year’s Eve plans with everyone,” he muttered as he laced his fingers with yours. “I’m sorry, love.”

“Whaddya mean?” you teased. “I’m gonna have a great New Year’s. My boyfriend and I are gonna have a nice, quiet, relaxing evening by the fire with the dogs. After he gets his face sewn back together.”

Tyler breathed a laugh, bringing your hand close to his chest. “Well, the fire part sounds like fun, at least.”

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #8: under his loving gaze: Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

In which Steve discovers it’s possible to love two people to the bone and still be crushed by loneliness. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers (sort of) x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) VOYEURISM of the truest, you-don’t-know-you’re-being-watched kind. Vaginal sex. Male masturbation. Lots and lots of pining for not so many words. 

Notes: Another one for my Marvel friends today :) The prompt for day eight is ‘Voyeurism,’ and does he ever watch. Somehow this one turned angsty. I... don’t think I’m sorry, though. 

Kinktober Masterlist

Friday nights never used to be this pathetic.

Steve’s not completely sure when he got so boring. Even when he was a kid, Bucky always had one place or the other to drag him on the weekends. He’d stumble in from a backbreaking shift at the docks, c’mon Stevie, the city awaits, and Steve never really wanted to go, but it was Bucky’s sweat that paid for the roof over their heads, so he never felt good about saying no.

These days, though, his idea of fun is an evening pouring over his briefings. Letting the security footage from the compound flick idly across the monitor. He doesn’t need to watch it. Not when there’s an AI system more sophisticated than any on the planet monitoring their premises.

But Steve’s always been a little old-fashioned.

Tonight, there’s something else on his mind. It’s not something that should be plaguing his thoughts, but his brain doesn’t often listen when he decides he doesn’t want to think about something.

“Gonna be taking your post again tonight, Captain?” Tony’s voice, no matter how genuine, always felt edged with an air of mockery. Tonight’s dinner had been no different. Above the idle chatter surrounding plans for the weekend, he’d decided to speak up.

“Whaddaya mean?” Sam had asked, quirking an eyebrow in Steve’s direction with a bite of chicken-something (prepared by Vision) halfway to his mouth.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Steve remembers low dread curling in his gut at the snappy response from Tony, knowing he was setting up for a lethal blow. “Steve’s been watching all of you do the nasty.”

After his cheeks had gone an appropriate shade of maroon, Steve sputtered through the rest of dinner, insisting that there weren’t any security cameras installed in private areas of the compound.

Then again, based on the way that Tony’s eyes had sparkled once he let the subject drop, Steve isn’t so sure anymore.

The mystery of whether seems hell-bent on keeping Steve from getting any work done tonight. Any time he so much as lowers his eyes to the page, the question plagues intently at the corners of his thoughts, forcing him to re-read the same briefing line at least a dozen times before he gives up and pushes the papers aside.

He’s just going to have to figure it out. Once and for all. He slumps over the edge of the desk, taking the mouse in one oversized hand and navigating to the edge of the window that he’s got open- flicking through the normal course of security footage. Front door, hallways, kitchen, gym, garden, repeat.

Steve is not blessed with extensive computer knowledge. But he knows that the black bar at the top of the screen, scrawled with words like file, edit, preferences, refers to a list of possible commands. So he keeps clicking through them, scrolling through each option until he finds something that points him in the right direction.

Under the view tab there’s another series of options. After mousing over one called ‘cycle settings,’ he realizes that the current feeds cycling through the monitor are only one option of many.

His eyes find ‘quarters’ far more quickly than he would care to admit. For an honest moment he sits there, cursor highlighting the option. He chews hard at his lower lip.

It wouldn’t be right. It would be a violation of privacy. But it’s Friday night. Steve’s willing to bet that hardly anyone is even home at the moment. What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?

Oops, he thinks to himself as he clicks, curiosity getting the best of him. My hand slipped.

The feed that pops up before him is, as he expected, mostly empty. Some of the bedrooms are unused, showing bare rooms with bare mattresses and naked walls.  Even the ones that are designated to his teammates are mostly unoccupied right now, some beds neatly made, some haphazardly rumpled.

There’s a flicker of motion out the corner of his eye that draws Steve’s attention. His heart clenches. Hard.

It’s your room. And you’re there, but you’re not alone.

The relationship that you have with Bucky is no secret. You connected with one another right away, finding peace in one another and happiness. You’ve turned Bucky into a shred of the man he used to be- smiling, grabbing for you in the kitchen, holding you close when you gather in the common room to watch movies or binge Seinfeld.

Steve’s supposed to be happy for you. Both of you. The two most important people in the world to him have found happiness with one another.

But he can’t help the rush of greed that consumes him every time you’re in front of him. Every time you put that love so proudly on display.

He wants you both for himself.

He clicks on the feed and it quickly expands to fill the entire monitor. This way, it’s easier for him to see the way Bucky looks, laid out on top of your stretched body. His knees are between your thighs, and though his hair hides your faces in a sweep of chestnut, his body doesn’t hide the way his hands are currently working themselves under the edge of your tank top, crawling up your ribcage as he kisses you like a man starved.

Based on the angle of the feed, Steve can surmise that the camera is probably situated in the control panel by your door. He should have guessed. Tony’s a sneaky bastard at the best of times. And the concept of boundaries has always been a foreign one to anybody named ‘Stark.’

Bucky rucks your shirt up over your bare chest. Steve swallows hard. He glances over his shoulder to make sure the door to his study is closed, then turns his attention back to the screen. Bucky’s palming one of your breasts, but he’s already kissed his way down to your chest and sucks attentively at the other one.

He’s worshipping your body. God, he’s so in love with you. Steve’s not sure which one of you he wishes he could be. Both. Neither. He wants to be in the middle.

His cock is already beginning to twitch to life inside his stiff chinos, and he shifts a little to palm the growing swell of it down one thigh. His mind is working a mile a minute- wrestling between how badly he knows he shouldn’t be doing this and how badly he wants to anyway.

Bucky tugs your sweatpants down over your hips in one swift motion and Steve reaches for his fly. He can’t fucking take this anymore.

It’s not like you’re going to look over and see him there, peering at you from the other side of the camera.

He’s just thankful that there’s no sound, or he would have definitely lost it by now. He can see the way your lips are moving, though, and imagines what you might be saying to each other. Are you tender? Dirty? He wants to know it all.

Bucky’s got your pants off now, and he’s shimmying out of his shirt, too. Steve tries hard not to admire the graceful dip and swell of his best friend’s muscles. He’s loved Bucky since he was a chubby-cheeked kid, and he wished that neither of them had ever been touched by any of this. But Bucky’s beautiful now, gorgeous in a way that Steve will never be. He handles his new mass with elegance.

The dull silver glint of a dog tag dangles from Bucky’s throat as he crawls up your body again, shucking down his pants. Steve’s already digging through the fabric in his lap, pushing the folds of his pants aside and pulling out his cock. He can’t stop. It’s like his limbs are moving all their own.

You’re both naked now. To Steve, it’s like a trip to the Louvre. Priceless artwork laid out for him alone. Both your bodies are so perfect. He never knew that he could want two things, two people so badly, but to choose between you would be to choose between breath and heartbeat.

He grips the base of his cock and groans as he watches Bucky line up. He’s so careful with you, worshipping your body at every turn. He slips his metal hand beneath your thigh, intertwining his flesh fingers with yours. He leans down to kiss you, so slow and soft it makes Steve’s chest ache to watch.

He’s seen the two of you kiss before. But this is an intimate moment, meant to be shared by just the two of you. For an instant it hits Steve how intrusive this is, to be looking in on a ritual as tender and sacred as this one.

Bucky’s hips ease forward, clean lines of muscle sinking into the sides of his thighs. Steve’s hand gives an involuntary jerk. He needs this- no- deserves this- and what you never find out won’t hurt you.

For all the softness that Bucky’s shown you in the lead-up he settles into a brutal rhythm, pounding rhythmically into your body as your legs twine around his hips to pull him in. It’s even more beautiful to watch from afar, and Steve quickly matches the rhythm of your lovemaking with his fist, pumping his hips into a closed hand and slicking the fluid that leaks from his tip up and down the length of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he gasps, despite himself. “fuuuck.”

Bucky lasts longer than he does.

Steve can’t help himself. Bound by nothing but his own pleasure, he cums fast. His thighs hit the underside of his desk as he swears and jerks and tugs on his cock, bucking his hips into nothing and spurting quick bursts over his fingers and palm. The pleasure that rushes his system is little compared to what he’d feel if he were with you, but… it’s all he can bear to take for himself.

He stays to watch the two of you finish, transfixed by the way Bucky’s hand slips between your legs and your mouth pops open in a silent cry. Even without hearing you he can tell when you’ve hit your peak- your whole body shivers and he fucks you through it, calm and steady as the tide.

He doesn’t last much longer after that, though, and Steve watches in awe. Bucky draws up so tight before he cums it looks like he’s going to snap, all the tendons and muscles in his body stretched to the breaking point. And when it hits him, he collapses forward, thrusting madly into you before his knees go shaky and he just buries himself to the hilt and stops. He trembles against you. Trails kisses down your whole body. And when he pulls out, his softening cock is followed by a handful of fluid- so much- and Steve comes back to himself so quickly he closes the entire security program and unplugs the desktop.

The weight of what he’s just done settles over his shoulders. But, fuck, he loved it. The image of you and Bucky and your bodies moving as one is printed permanently into his mind.

As he cleans himself up and gets dressed again, he wishes there was a way for him to make you both see. If he could just show you how much he adores you, both of you, maybe you’d let him in. If you knew that he didn’t want to come between you, maybe things would be different.

For tonight, though, all he’ll have is stolen memories. And for now, it has to be enough.

[heartofsnark]

Rent-Free (Johnny Silverhand/OC Female V)

Notes; IVE BEEN ENABLED AGAIN!!!!!! AHHHHH BLAME @rosyibby, but uh, yeah basically given how much we talk about Johnny living rent free in V’s head, it made me think of paying rent through other means...*cue the cheesy porn music* Additionally, this does technically go along with my previous Johnny Silverhand fic, but like they’re not so intertwined that you won’t get it. It’s porn, you’ll catch on. Thanks for all the love on my previous nasty Johnny porn. 

Word Count: 2334

Warnings: Oral, Cunnilingus, Unprotected Sex (hologram fucking has perks), Vaginal Sex, Kissing, Johnny being gross, Dirty Talk, I’m lowkey still insecure on writing dirty talk, so hopefully this isn’t bad, also yeah game still isn’t out so he’s prob ooc to some degree

Hot water rushes from the shower head, relaxing Aidan’s aching muscles. Silence around her as she works shampoo into her hair, a welcomed moment of peace in her life, something that’s been so absent since this mess has begun. It’s late, around four in the morning, she just finished a smuggling run with Jackie. Things went south as they often do, her entire body aches from the shootout, but they got out alive and that’s all that matters.  

She works and lather soap into her skin, feeling the roughness of scars gathered contrasting against the soft give of her body. Aidan squeezes her own breast, feeling the heat and tingle of pleasure from her own groping fingers. She starts to move her other hand further down between her thighs, wanting to take advantage of the moment of calm. 

“You pent up again?” 

“God damn it!” She yells out when Johnny’s voice rings through her head, nearly slipping in her own shower. And he laughs at her as he always does, she quickly finishes washing, before stepping out. 

Johnny is leaning against the bathroom wall, arms crossed in front of him as he watched Aidan walk past, no shame in the way his dark brown eyes drag across her naked frame. Weeks have passed since their little…interaction when she tried to find a hookup. The encounter wasn’t brought up again, Aidan refusing to acknowledge it. 

And she still doesn’t acknowledge it, the weird sexual tension that’s been created between her and the ghost in her head. 

“Don’t rush on my account,” Johnny says as she quickly dries off and throws on an overside shirt along with a pair of shorts. She’ll just get to sleep as soon as possible, ignore the dampening heat in her core. 

“You’re the actual worst, you know that?” She grumbles as she leaves the bathroom, making a beeline for her bedroom. Hopefully, none of Johnny’s memories or brain weirdness will come through her dreams, she needs some peace. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me a billion times, well, that is when you weren’t screaming my name or thinking about riding my-“ 

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells out, her neighbors must think she’s crazy, but she can’t help but scream at him as she flops back on her bed. 

Aidan can feel his gaze on her, looking up to see Johnny standing at the foot of her bed, looking down at her. The position reminds her of that night, him watching her getting fucked, the heat in her core rises again. There’s a lazy calmness in the way he looks her over , no hurry or fervor, just taking her in. His eyes hovering around the plush of her thighs, moving up to where her shirt has ridden up, revealing an expanse of her soft stomach. 

“Seriously,” she starts to speak again, hoping her words can cool the heat gathering between her thighs, “you’re like the worlds shittiest roommate.” 

“Am I?” 

“Yes, you really fucking are. You have no boundaries, you do nothing but annoy me, I can’t rid of you, hell, at least a roommate might pay rent.” 

“Oh, you need me to pay rent? Sure, just let me get my wallet,” Johnny says, reaching into his pocket just to pull out his middle finger.

“Cute.” She rolls her eyes, of course he’s going to be a shit about it. 

“Cute enough for you to throw your panties at.” 

“Shut up! Just shut up!” 

He lets out a low chuckle, resonating deep in his chest, the sound stoke the flames in her center just that much more. Why is he so fucking attractive? Then she feels it, a hand grabbing at her shin, the rough callouses of his right hand. 

“You really want me to start contributing something?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice. 

“I mean, I know you can’t, but you could at least stop irritating me.” 

“Eh, don’t think I can, but I can think of something I can do that might make you a little less tense,” he says, hand skimming further up her leg. 

“Seriously, offering sex in place of rent, you watch that much porn?” 

“C’mon, Samurai, we’re way past the point of you pretending you don’t wanna fuck me, don’t you think?” 

And he’s probably right. 

“I’m definitely right.” 

“You know reading my mind is not attractive, right?” 

“Yet, you still find me attractive, funny how that works.” 

“Fine, fine,” she covers her face with her arm, cheeks burning red, “I wanna fuck you, happy?” 

“I mean, wasn’t exactly a secret, but it’s nice hearing you admit it.” 

“Shut up and touch me.” 

And then he’s over her, knees on her mattress on either side of her hips, hands grabbing the bottom of her shirt. He’s quick and rough as he yanks it off over her head, throwing it across the room. She barely has a moment to take in the cool air from her chest being exposed before he’s groping and touching her, the contrast between the smooth cold metal of his left hand and the warm calloused fingers on his right makes her whimper, arching her back to meet his touch.  The feeling of his thumbs rubbing over her nipples draws another gasp from her throat and then the heat of his mouth connects to her chest. 

“Fuck,” she curses as he works harsh kisses down her body, his touch is hungry and passionate, but most importantly of all completely unpredictable. 

There’s no patterns to where he kisses; whether it’s her collarbones, the plush of her breasts, her ribs, or her stomach. No way for Aidan to know if it’ll be the press of his lips, the laving of his tongue, or the bite of his teeth. The only constant is the scratch of his beard, rubbing her tender skin raw under his touch. She tries to wrap her fingers in his hair, to wrap the dark strands around her fingers but he moves too quickly, and she only gets a brief touch of them. 

A sharp nip just above the waistband of her shorts is her only warning before he’s yanking them off of her. Rough fingers run through her slit, just a fleeting touch as Johnny gathers her slick on his fingers. 

“You’re soaked.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be keeping my mouth busy,” he tells her before sucking his fingers into his mouth, licking her wet from his own skin. 

Then he’s practically bending her in half, pressing her thighs back to her chest, the force lifting her hips and ass off the bed. The position completely opens her up to him, no way to hide her cunt from his view. Before she can squirm or get embarrassed, his mouth is on her. His tongue licking through her folds, lapping up every drop of slick. He eats her out like he’s desperate for it, like he needs to drink up every gush of wet to survive, licking deep inside of her. His tongue finding every spot that will make her wetter. 

His beard rubs the lips of her sex raw, but she can’t find it in her to mind the edge of pain, when his tongue runs up to her clit. No true pattern, no way to predict how long he’ll go between sucking harshly on the bundle of the nerves to licking around it; back and forth between too much and not enough. The heat inside of her is reaching a boiling point, nearly crashing over the precipice of pleasure, but he pulls back before she can meet her end every time. She buries her fingers in his hair, finally feeling the softness of the locks, but she despite her pressing she can’t control his pace. 

And he stops. 

She whines at the loss of pleasure as he pulls away from her. Slick coats his lips and chin, shining in the moonlight that drifts into her bedroom. His looks are grossly unfair for someone who’s both dead and technically in his eighties. Oh god, she’s fucking an eighty something year old digital ghost-

He presses his lips to her and she can’t help gasp, tasting herself on his tongue. Johnny presses down on her body, so his body weight presses her thighs down against her chest, erection grinding into her pussy and her ankles practically on his shoulders. Her slick on his chin presses wetly against her, as his tongue pushes deeply into her mouth. She meets his lips and the passion of it, trying to taste Johnny through her own wet, taking in where he tastes like cigarettes.  

“Stop thinking,” he tells her as he pulls away, realizing the lip lock was to stop her train of thoughts about all the reasons this is wrong. 

“I really wish I could, sorry, but I mean…can you honestly say this isn’t fuckin’ weird?” 

“Who gives a shit?” 

“Wow, that fixed all my anxiety, thank you for you endless wealth of wisdom.” Aidan rolls her eyes. 

“So, the goal is now to fuck you hard enough your brain shuts off, got it.” 

“I wi-” she pauses when she feels his cock pressing against her thigh, smearing pre-cum on her skin, “when did you get naked?” 

“I’m a hologram, I can just do that.” 

“Wha-so when you only had your dick out last time, that was purely for effect?”  Aidan is grinning and already on the verge of laughing at the idea of Johnny being that committed to pretending he has to undo his pants. 

“I mean, kinda…” 

And she bursts out laughing, it’s just too silly and ridiculous, he’s so fucking dramatic. How could one man be so dramatic? What the fuck? Her stomach hurts with the force of her laughter. 

“Don’t laugh at me when I’m trying to fuck you.” 

She tries to stifle her laughter , biting her lip as she looks up at Johnny, he’s smiling. Not a smirk or some smug expression, just a soft little smile, as he looks down at her. The anxiety and tension that has started to creep back up have mostly subsided, humor settling her nerves. 

He grinds his cock down against her slick cunt, reminding her of what they’ve been building up too. 

“This is like…safe, right?” 

“Don’t worry, can’t knock you up or anything. I’ll just fuck you like I’m trying to.” 

Her face flushes red at his words and then he thrust his hips, sliding into her. She screams out his name, between the position and her own slick, he hits deep inside of her, no resistance as her body takes him in. He doesn’t tease or hold back, his entire length pressing into her, filling her completely. 

“Fuck, I knew you’d be tight, but god damn, feel like I’m break you open.” 

“Ah, uhhh, don’t say weird shit.” 

Johnny’s thrusts are punishing and harsh, brutal in the snap of his hips and she wishes she could hear the wet slap of their bodies connecting over and over again. 

“What, don’t wanna hear about how your cunt is choking my dick.” 

“Mnnnn….” All she can respond with is a whine. 

“Don’t wanna hear about how I’m gonna fill you up, how I’m gonna make you leak my cum.” 

“Johnny…” 

He’s pounding into her, each thrust and stroke of his cock inside of her building up the heat inside of her, tightening the tension in her core. The head of his dick hits deeply, harshly fucking against the sensitive spot deep inside of her. Slick keeps her able to take it all, despite the roughness and the size of him, each slam of him into her making more gush out. She can feel her own wet dripping down her the curve of her ass.

“Gonna rearrange your fuckin’ guts, make sure you fit me and no one else.” His voice is tight with a slight growl, movements speeding up. 

And while a part of her knows it’s dramatic, just bedroom talk if his dick was in her organs, they’d have some issues. But, she swears he’s doing exactly that. Carving out his place inside of her, a place only meant for him, so deep inside of her she can feel it in her throat. Stroking the embers of a fire that only he can turn into an inferno.

When that inferno of pleasure builds too high, the tension within her snaps, the bubble burst, and she’s crying out incomprehensibly as she cums on his cock. Everything whites out, mind empty as her body is overridden with pleasure, cunt clenching around him and body squirming as he keeps fucking her through her orgasm. 

“Holy fuck, you’re gonna milk me dry, fuck!” 

And he cums inside of her, hot and warm, flooding her with it. Heavy thick spurts of white coating her insides until it’s too much for her body to hold in, dripping out where the two connect. Her body is still twitching and squirming as she works through her aftershocks, once she’s a little more in touch with reality, she wonders whether his cum on her sheets will need cleaning. 

He pulls out of her and even more of it spills out, Aidan whimpers between the loss of him inside of her and the mess on her thighs. Johnny rolls over to lay next to her, it still astounds her just how real he feels, his body heat next to her own. 

She wants to lay on him, she realizes, a desire to lay her head on his chest. Aidan isn’t seriously considering cuddling with him, is she losing her mind? 

“Just ask for what you want, dumbass.” 

He wraps an arm around her sweaty shoulder and tugs her in against him, her cheeks reddening as she hides her face in his chest. There’s a lot she could mull over, a lot to think about, but with her eyelids growing heavier…it’s best to leave it alone for the night, to take Johnny’s advice for once and stop thinking so much. 

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Can we PLEASE get Kohga making Sooga his favorite food? Just something TENDER?

Kohga HAS been a bit mean to poor Sooga, let’s lighten it up a bit!

Kohga knew he was a hell of a top. He knew he could boss around everyone six ways to Sunday, and that included Sooga. But being a top was WAY more than just bossing around your partner. It was taking care of them. It was showing them you cared, and even though Kohga was used to being pampered, he knew he had to give it back. Being a top came with that kind of responsibility. So, Kohga made his men gather intel, and figure out what was Sooga’s ideal meal. He hated finding out it was in fact, deep fried salmon skin, salmon filet stuffed with creamy hyrule herbs, carrot cake, and a nice dirty banana cocktail. Now, the drink and the dessert wasn’t the problem. It was the gross, disgusting, slimy FISH that was an issue. Of all the hunks of men he had to fall for, it was the one that LOVED fish.

“Master Kohga? Are you okay? You’ve been...staring at the fish for like, ten minutes.”

Kohga had sent Sooga out on an errand, and had two foot soldier’s help him prep and clean as he cooked. However, when he brought them the hearty salmon, fresh from the Hebra mountains, he couldn’t help but gawk at it. It smelled awful, and it was STILL wet. Kohga went to touch it, only to wince. Gross, fishy smell, he hated it ever since he was a kid. He recalled his mother trying to feed him fish, only to smack it right out of her hand.

“God, how do you guys EAT this stuff?”

“It’s the fat of the salmon, Master Kohga, it makes it very tasty. If you’d like, WE can handle the fish. You could just make everything else-”

“Nope. I gotta do this. I can do this. I can cook a fish. I know how to cook fish. Gimme the knife, get everything else ready.”

He nodded, before handing Master Kohga the knife. Kohga, groaning to himself, placed his hand on the fish. 

“Ew ew ew ew, it’s SO slimy, I HATE it. Smells like DEATH."

But Kohga pushed himself through it. He shut his eyes, and grabbed a hold of the fish. It’s gross, dead eyes looked up at him. He ran his blade down the length of the body, nearly gagging as he watched the scales fly off. Sooga was so fucking lucky he was cute, else he couldn’t put up with the nasty, gross smell and feel of this fucking thing. He sighed as he finally finished, feeling just a BIT better. The boys next to him clapped as they continued prepping for him, honestly proud.

“Very well done Master Kohga! We’re proud of you! Cutting it will be easy!”

He fought every instinct not to punch them in the mask. None of this was easy. 

"Now...the fins. Why do they have fins, I hate it. I wanna know what kinda damaged person first saw fish, and thought 'hey, let's eat this thing!'"

"To...help them swim-"

"Don't you make me imagine that. This isn't food I'm making, it's a goddamn WAR CRIME."

Kohga cut off the fins, slowly, trying not to lose his shit. He tossed it into the sink beside him, lightly shuddering. Now, arguably the worst part; taking off the slimy, creepy head. Kohga was damn good at butchering, and fishes were no exception, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Because he did NOT like the feel of the knife grazing through the meat. At all. When it finally came off, he groaned.

"Alright, new job for you both. Take this knife, and just stop my pain."

It was going to be a long, long night.

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

"Sooga, you're back, just in time!"

Sooga was greeted by a foot soldier, which he found odd. Not that others didn't like him, it was just weird, getting such an excitable welcome. Though, much was weird about today. Kohga had sent him on a scavenger hunt, gathering items that didn't make sense. Stuff from a dozen warm darners, to a lynel crusher. It wasn’t his place however, to question his master.

"I take it Master Kohga was waiting for me? If so, I apologize, one of the Lynels was rather...stubborn."

"Kohga WAS waiting for you! Come on, this way!"

He followed the foot soldier, right to Kohga's napping spot. He was surprised when he saw a table there, lit up by candles.

"What about Kohga’s list of-”

Kohga suddenly had a hold on his hand, starting to yank him towards the table.

"Shut up, I have a surprise for you. Sit your buns down."

Sooga obeyed, still not understanding what was happening. That is, until Sooga started to bring plates and plates of food to the table. Carrot cake, fresh loaves of bread with goat butter, and the part that really got him excited; the fish. Not just crispy salmon skin, fried till golden and crispy, but thick, juicy cuts of salmon, stuffed to the brim with creamy filling. Sooga found himself nearly clutching his pearls, a bit taken aback.

“Master Kohga...is this, for me?”

“No, I wanna eat fish- yes it’s for you.”

“You cooked fish? For me?”

Kohga took a seat next to him, shuddering at the feel of fish in his hands. He needed a bath. A LONG bath.

“Yeah, I did. So if you ever question how much I love you, I’m gonna remind you, I cooked FISH for you. I had to TOUCH it and-”

Kohga was going to rant further, before Sooga held onto his hand, and kissed the back of his hand.

“I’m honored, totally and completely. Not only to have a place in your heart, but to know you made this with your tender love and care. I adore you, Master Kohga.”

When a man THAT good looking, and THAT sweet said stuff like that to you, it made even Kohga just a bit flustered. Just a smidge. Sooga put his hand down, lifted his mask up a bit, and helped himself. Kohga had seen him eat before; quickly, as if he was in some kind of hurry. Sometimes he wouldn’t even finish his meals, for favor of getting right back to work. Kohga thought he was going to see just that, before he noticed this was different. Sooga wasn’t just tasting things here and there and calling it a day, he was actually tucking in. After kindly offering Kohga some bread (Kohga didn’t want to eat at the same table as fish, but hey, it made Sooga happy), Sooga started to finish some plates. The skin quickly disappeared, his half of the bread was gone, and the plate of fish was quickly torn into. Kohga almost couldn’t believe it.

“You know, just because I made it, doesn’t mean you gotta play it up.”

“Pardon?”

Sooga even spoke with his mouth full, muttering an apology soon after realizing it. He swallowed, before shaking his head.

“Ah, I see what you mean. No, Master Kohga, I am doing no such thing. I love fish, and I genuinely love your cooking. It’s an honor, and makes my heart swell in appreciation. It almost brings me back to my childhood, this dish.”

Kohga could tell he meant it. The way he sighed in content, even the way he wiped his mouth. It was rare to see Sooga not so tense. Sooga smiled, and pushed the heavy serving of carrot cake in between them.

“I would often share desserts with my mother after dinner as well. Do you dislike carrot cake as well?”

Kohga rolled his eyes, before grabbing a fork.

“Lucky for you, I kinda like it. Just how I kinda like you.”

Was it stupid, falling for a man who shoveled carrot cake in his mouth with such a smile? Maybe. Maybe past all of his brilliance, he was a touch stupid for one man. 

One sweet, strong man. One who, despite his stomach’s objections, he’d be happy to keep cooking fish for.