#i almost slipped on that rock by the way.

[star2fishmeg]

ok but luke with an innocent reader sitting in his lap and she asks him to teach her how to make him feel good and he almost DIES feeling how his hands cover almost the entirety of her waist while he’s gripping her hips and moving her back and forth on his length

ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ

[2.5k] Pairing | Luke Hughes x afab!reader Summary | reader wants a turn at making Luke feel good, but she’s in need of assistance from the man himself Warnings | 18+ smut, virgin!reader, reader suggested to be short (sorry!) but no height specified, protected sex, p in v, size kink, riding, making out, swearing Authors Note | okay nonnie, you sent this yonks ago but I HAD to make it a fic

Luke wasn’t entirely convinced she was as innocent as she seemed. Behind those eyes she flashed up at him, batting her eyelashes and asking him all those raunchy questions that flushed his cheeks pink every time, he was sure was a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. But he also wasn’t convinced that his friend Tyler Duke could cook without burning a kitchen down, yet he was proved wrong, so he was fully acceptant that y/n would prove yet another one of his judgements wrong. One thing he knew definitely, was that he absolutely adored and cherished how charmingly small she was compared to him. 

His hands settled around her waist, plush thighs straddled over his lap with his back pressed up against the headboard of his bed, the warm low light of his bedside lamp making their matching dainty necklaces shimmer out to each other. His cock fit snugly inside her, still and stretching her out to fit his size perfectly, with nothing but a dull ache at first which faded into a pleasurable comfort as soon her stomach flipped and fluttered with butterflies she’d never felt before, filling her entirely. Luke had unknowingly set a bar too high; no other man could ever make her feel the way he did, romantically and now sexually, his thick cock filling the capacity of her pussy, bulging out her stomach slightly which drove her up the wall in the best way possible. 

He slid his hands along her waist, palms following her curves with a blank mind, eyes widened and glazed in enticement, heart warm and melting like wax over how she made his hands seem so large naturally. He threw his head back, bumping it against the headboard before closing his eyes slowly, gasping out a ‘fuck’ deeply when she squeezed him tight. Y/n’s smaller hands lay on his stomach, fingers tracing over his abs, tensing under her touch as if he had something to prove, which he didn’t anymore, she loved him anyway and deep down he knew that.  

Watching his head tilt back, she rocked her hips cautiously just as he’d described, eyes flickering between his face and her hips, mouth falling open at the waves of pleasure gushing through her, “Is that okay, Lu? Am I doing it right?”

“That’s it, like that, shit-” he groaned out, voice breathy and low, grip around her waist unconsciously tightening at her pussy taking him, hands guiding her along his cock and dragging every vein against her walls. Little whimpers slipped through her lips, clit throbbing, calling out for his attention but his hands followed down her waist, to her hips, holding them strong as she rolled her hips along his dick with more confidence, his pants and grunts reassuring her that he was drowning in ecstasy. “That's good, angel, keep doing that,”

“What else, Lu? What about- oh fuck,” y/n asked, interrupted when he hit a deeper angle she hadn’t been prepared for, eyes almost rolling to the back of her head with a lewd thrill rattling through her bones, coaxing her into rolling her hips harder, Luke thrusting up on carnal instinct, “that, do that again, Lu! Felt so good,” 

Luke’s lips tugged into a smirk, tilting his head to look at her, adjusting his hips up again to capture her eyes flutter close with an airy moan. With comfort, his thumbs caressed her hipbones, bringing her rocking to a gradual halt before flashing a sweet smile. 

“Use your thighs and pelvis, pretty girl, I got you,” his hands guided her up and down his cock, slowly to begin with, both their breaths tangling at the filthy paradise that surged through their veins. She slipped so perfectly along his length, using her thighs to push up just to sink back down and bury him inside her, building up the courage to express how she needed him to hit her cervix and make her cry out until her voice was sore the next day. To have him pound into her as she’d imagined, ride him until her legs burned and cunt ached from his size. 

Her mouth fell agape, heat prickling over her skin and to Luke’s surprise, she quickened her pace, “Am I doing it right?”

Luke gave a guttural groan in response, eyes fixated on her tits bouncing at the rhythm of his cock burrowing into her, “Fuckin’ feels perfect, knew you’d fit- shit, you take me so well,”

She never thought she’d be in that position; she never thought a man would want her in it if she were honest. Her luck was scarce, not because she was unattractive, but because hookups weren’t her thing and there weren’t a lot of guys who wanted long-term when they were only twenty. Except for Luke, he got it. He may have been twenty-one and still had so much to experience but being a professional hockey player could be limiting, in his experience. It took a lot of sacrifices and adaption to be with one, a lot of flexibility and a tremendous amount of devotion, everything y/n had offered him willingly. She had never asked for anything more than his heart, and Luke had loved hers the day they met. Now his swelled in his chest, thundering as her face screwed up slightly, energy struggling to swallow him in the current motion he was guiding her in and as exhilarating as it felt for him, his dick twitching inside her every time she sank deep onto him and filled her capacity, he didn’t want the high to end too soon, not before she got to cum.   

“C’mere,” he mumbled with his endearing smile, sinking down into the mattress onto his back, hands sliding from her hips, down her forearms with feathery touches to her wrists, leaving an empty feeling on her skin where his hands once sat and pulling her palms flat onto his built chest. Her back arched naturally, her breasts squeezed together in front of his eye-line, what he would call lucky much to his boyish mind, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know about his forever-long love for her tits, he marked them up enough in pink and purple blossoms around the ‘L’ necklace that claimed her. “This should be more comfortable, yeah? Still get to have you bouncing on my cock that you love so much, huh? You like that? Fucking yourself on my cock?” 

“Yes,” her moans were high-pitched and breathy, head filled with desire from gliding along his cock that stuffed her. She wanted Luke to ruin her, make her remember that no one else could make her feel so sated with love as he could, and that no other cunt could stretch for him the way hers could. She relished in the way his cock dragged effortlessly, closing her eyes and letting her voice whine out raw felicity with every roll of her hips.  

Luke was known among his friends to be handsy, barely able to keep his hands to himself and even in the moment, they found their way to her lower back, slipping down to cup her ass firmly, fingers kneading into her flesh like his own stress toy and something about the quiet possession of Luke’s infatuation sparked a brief surge of energy. Y/n rutted faster, with a slither of more force than she had been that had him bottoming out and hitting the deepest parts of her with every bump that took Luke by surprise, guttural moans splurging into the room until fading into desperate whimpers as walls clenched him tight. He bucked his hips up to meet her, to match her pace, to continue his ecstatic high that rushed to his head and fizzled his brain, grunts becoming louder.

“You’re pretty easy to please if you’re making noises like that,” she weakly smirked, sweat beads dripping down her temples, the vault in her chest that held confidence unlocking and seeping through her veins the more Luke’s voice left his lips, hearing his pleasure with her ears felt like a personal heaven and she could listen to him whine and writhe under her all night. 

“Can’t help it, you’re just so tiny it drives me insane, fuck-” he rasped, voice vibrating through his chest as he thrust up, a craving for that fuzzy feeling in his stomach controlling him like a puppet. Seeing his hands mould over curves perfectly reminded him that he could see his own cock moving in and out of her. 

“Oh yeah? What else drives you insane?” y/n panted, moving one hand from his pectoral and tracing one finger down the crevices of his abs just to lay her own hand flat against the bulge in her stomach and how it moved inside her, watching the fire light up in Luke’s eyes and feeling his need to impress shoot through her. He wanted to make her feel good, so good that she’d be thinking about it for weeks, but her stomach was coiling, a tight feeling and a keenness to coat his cock white and no man could resist a boost to his ego.

“The thought of stretching that little pussy, my hand around your throat, when you ask me for help because you can’t reach, and your cute panties peek from under my shirt,” he murmured, curls sticking to his forehead and his hand snaking from her ass to her nape, eyes searching hers, occasionally drifting to her bouncing tits he just had to get his mouth on some time.

Boost a man’s ego, it benefits both parties in this case. Lulling her head to one side, she gave her best doe eyes she could in her limping state, her legs losing their pace but pussy pulsing, calling out Luke’s name, for his fingers to touch her, “Well, can you help me now? I can’t reach my orgasm without you,” 

Their eyes locked but he watched her hand move from her stomach to find his free hand, bringing it to her clit. He gave a simpering smile, raising his eyebrows yet obeying her demands and the pad of his thumb jolted cold against her burning bud, “Does my angel need me to rub her clit too? Like my fingers that much?”

“S’better when you do it, shit-” she breathed, breath trembling when his thumb began to circle her clit in slowly with firm pressure, “-yes Lu, like that, so much fucking better, need you.”

His chest swelled, being needed. She needed him. He’d never felt like anyone needed him personally before. Hockey didn’t need him; hockey needed a defenceman, and he just happened to fill that vacancy. But she needed him, just him and no one else could hear the aphrodisiacal noises of his girlfriend that filled his bedroom like music through a speaker. No one else could send shockwaves of pleasure through her system, have her eyes roll to the back of her head and most importantly, no one else could teach her how to ride his cock, have it drive in and out of her because her pussy was moulded for him and him only.

She leant into him, half from his hand on her nape pulling her softly and half by her own will and dire need to taste him. That space between them closed in a frenzy, noses bumped clumsily but wet lips pressed together, tongues asked no permission and jumping straight into their tango, moaning into each other as they lapped with saliva pooling in the corner of their mouths and moving in a languid rhythm. 

His cock continued to plunge into her cunt, the slapping of wet skin seducing elongated, muffled whines from her with the coil in her stomach tightening every two hits to her cervix. Y/n pulled away panting, fizzling excitement in her chest with how he whimpered at the loss of her tongue on his own, his thumb rubbing over her clit in a satisfying rhythm that coaxed her closer to her climax.

“Wanted you to be the first,” she muttered between mewls, “and only, only need you. Need you to ruin me, Lu. Just wanna fit you.”

Luke threw his head back into the pillows, his heart palpitating harshly in his chest and releasing pants that strained out into whimpers hearing her voice chime in his ears. It was then he was reminded that he was the first and only, he was the first man she’d ever ridden, and he was teaching her how to do it, how to make him feel good and feeling ‘good’ was such an understatement for the truth. He was in heaven, the tight knot in his stomach ready to snap but he felt too delirious to let it end. From her nape, his hand slid down her back, palm flat and pushing her into his chest, nipples brushing against his skin until the intimacy of skin-to-skin eloped him like a hug, other arm winding around her waist and gripping her ass again, the corners of his lips quirking upwards at how she slotted like the last puzzle piece for him in his frame and hips stuttering with frantic greed.

Goosebumps ran along her when he nuzzled into her neck, his breath fanning and his moans muffling into her as his hips snapped up faster, with more need, y/n’s jaw slacking open. He drilled with so much ecstasy that she almost forgot she was supposed to be rolling her hips, content with letting him fuck her limp but the combination of gliding along his cock and clenching around him so tight he had to muffle his groans out to avoid a noise complaint sent too much dizzying euphoria to her head. 

She rolled her hips again, the noise of their bodies working together almost obnoxious and thankfully Jack had gone out for the night, “Baby, please say something, wanna know if you feel as good as I do, m’gonna cum,”

He chuckled with his dopey grin into her neck, moving his lips to her ear and his voice rumbled, “Sorry, baby, fuckin’ me so good you’re makin’ my head go blank. I can’t think straight inside your pussy,”

Y/n’s muscles relaxed in relief, shockwaves washing through her before completely moulding into Luke, his hands holding her into him as the coil in her stomach released, wanton moans blessing his ears like his favourite song of the century, raw from her chest and like nothing he’d ever heard before, high-pitched and elongated with trembling thighs as she coated his cock white. Hearing her orgasm tear through her, his thrusting became sloppy, desperate until he spilt into the condom, arms wrapping around her waist and their breathing trying to find each other's pace in the silence of the room. They didn’t have to say anything to know how each other felt, their heartbeats matching, sweet kisses against cheeks and necks with gentle caressing of hands soothing over skins. Words didn’t need to express the depth of their love; they just knew each other like that.

nhl wags | @bunbunbl0gs

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[venomnyx]

FAVOURS - Josh Washington x F!Reader AO3 // Playlist

WORD COUNT - 5.2k SUMMARY - The Washingtons invite you to stay with them in their lodge over the summer while you heal from a rough breakup with who you thought was the love of your life. One warm evening, when Josh teaches you to smoke for the first time, he offers you a mutually beneficial proposition that you find impossible to resist. TAGS/WARNINGS - female pronouns and anatomy, best friends older brother, recreational drug use (weed smoking), shitty ex-boyfriend, candid conversations, sexual proposition, friends with benefits (with feelings?), sneaking around, oral (fem receiving), outdoor sex, dialogue-heavy, not beta read NOTES - i need this man carnally.

prequel to the fool card, can be read as a standalone fic

The lodge runs cold this time of night, even in the summer.

You tip-toe down the hallway, sneaking past the twin’s bedroom, arms wrapped around your middle as goose pimples drift on your arms. A soft slip of pink light drifts through the underbelly of their door, and, warmed by nostalgia, you fondly remember that Hannah never liked sleeping in the dark.

The stairs creak as you make your way to the kitchen. The varnished wood of the bannister feels glossy and cool beneath your tentative fingertips, steadying your gentle footsteps so as not to disturb anybody.

The expansive windows stretch the further you walk into the main living area, overlooking the mountains. It’s a daunting sensation to realise you’re so small and insignificant, sucked in by the misty rocks and endless snow, ribboned with twilight shades of silver and blue. You quietly wonder what mysteries lay beyond, stretching out in haunting invitation.

His voice comes out of nowhere. “You lost?”

“Jesus, Josh. Scared the shit out of me.” Your voice is a sharp whisper, but the narrowed-eye look you shoot him only makes him laugh— a warm rumbly thing that makes your chest flutter.

“Sorry,” he says, but his mischievous tone is anything but. He glances you up and down. “Cute PJ’s. What’re you doin’ up?”

You suddenly feel exposed in your pyjamas, a little slip of black silk shorts and a matching vest.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest after fiddling with the thin strap on your shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep. I just needed some water.”

You pause, hesitating as if waiting for him to say something.

His smile grows almost imperceptibly, time dragging like slow honey drips as he drinks in your bashful fidgeting and challenges your fast-slipping eye contact.

Eventually, he nods directionally without his gaze leaving you. “Kitchens that way,” he says, and the tension bubble pops between you.

You roll your eyes. “I know, asshole. I practically live here.”

He grins. “That so?” He calls after you as you walk away, mock surprise in his tone. “Guess I never noticed you before.”

You stick your finger up over your shoulder, but there suddenly isn’t a trace of cold in your body.

“Hey, you wanna join me outside for a bit?” Josh asks, peeking his head through the door as you sip your water. “Place gets kinda lonely at night.”

His voice remains low, unconvinced— like he’s not sure you’ll agree. You’re not entirely sure you should. You and Josh aren’t exactly close— friends, sure, but only through his sisters, but his invitation feels warm, not awkward.

Moments later, after brief deliberation and realising you have nothing to lose, you follow him through the side door, the midnight summer air a balm to your skin.

He’s leaning over the balcony railing, eyes cast over the mountain treetops. A thin line of pungent smoke curls up from between his fingers and disappears.

He turns to you with a raised brow when he notices you watching. “Busted,” he says, smirking softly as he lifts the joint to his mouth. “You gonna rat me out to my parents?”

You roll your eyes. “Who’d believe me?”

He laughs, gesturing toward you and offering the joint without preamble. You freeze, hoping to not look like a total loser, but Josh catches your hesitation with perceptive eyes.

“What, never done this before?”

“Honestly? No,” you answer, trying to fight the warmth on your face.

“Really?” He grins, eyes sparkling. “Wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“Go ahead, laugh it up,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. “I never cared to get around to it.”

His grin softens, holding it out to you, cherry-tipped and releasing smoke in gentle waves. “First time for everything?”

You take it off of him, deciding why not. You try mirroring his movements before, drawing in a shallow breath, figuring it works just like smoking a cigarette. The smoke, sharp and unfamiliar, stabs as it reaches your throat. You cough reflexively, flushing as you sputter.

“Oh, God— that sucks.”

He laughs fondly, somehow making you feel a little less embarrassed, and gently takes it from your fingers, leading you over to the plush outdoor bench. A hand on your shoulder as you both sit.

“First times always rough. You gotta do it slower— just- just relax, alright? It’s not a big deal. I’ll show you.”

You swallow, watching as he demonstrates, pulling in a slow drag and letting it fill his lungs before releasing it. There’s something almost hypnotic in the way he does it, so comfortable and at ease, like he did this all the time alone and you had no idea. He hands it over to you, guiding your hand around it carefully, his fingers brushing yours, lingering just a beat longer than they have to.

“Start small— just enough to get the feel.”

Warm under his watchful stare, you try to follow his instructions. You find it’s easier this way, only a slight burn as it passes your throat, gentle when you exhale, if a little irritating. His smile grows.

“There you go,” he praises, clapping your shoulder once before releasing you. “Doesn’t suck so bad, does it?”

“Sure, whatever,” you say, handing it back to him. He only half-chuckles at your dismissal, not put off in the slightest.

The silence settles comfortably, interrupted only by the soft hiss and flicker of the joint as he inhales. He tilts his head, watching the smoke disappear into the night air, expression distant. Thoughtful, like something crosses his mind.

“You and your boyfriend broke up?” He asks with a squint.

You peer over at him, holding onto your shins as you tuck your knees into your chest. “You know about that?”

“Sure. My sisters gossip,” he says, and you swear his eyes give you a once-over when he hands you the joint. “You were together for a long stretch, huh? You wanna talk about it?”

You take a hit, letting the smoke sit whilst you take a moment to hesitate. Josh isn’t exactly your confidant, but there’s something about the late-night, the quiet vulnerability of your interactions, that tempts you to lower your guard.

With an exhale, “It’s… not worth your time.”

He remains steady, sincere. “Try me.”

You sigh through your nose, staring at the sky above as if gathering strength.

“Well, I loved him, but he went to college, hooked up with another girl in the first week. A… mutual friend.”

“Oof.” He releases a low whistle. “Bummer.”

You frown sourly, gaze cast downwards. “Same old story.”

“You don’t have to say that… you seem upset about it,” he observes.

“I’m over it,” you say quickly, defensively. Tense shoulders when you speak. “I mean, I’m over him. He’s… whatever.”

He lounges back, sensing there’s more to the story. “But…”

“I think I’m just more angry with myself because I already felt like I was doing charity work,” you admit after a beat of consideration. “You give the ugly-funny guy a chance and he suddenly thinks he’s some…” you trail off, laughing bitterly. “He was so insecure, you know? Hated that I hung out with guys like you and Matt and— ugh. He was my first love, my first— …he’s not even worth the breath. Wasn’t even a good fuck.”

His eyebrows flash up. “Oh?”

Instantly mortified, you place your hands over your warm face, head swimming behind your closed eyes. “Oh my god, just forget I said that—”

“No, no—” he struggles to speak between bursts of laughter. A quick cough into his fist to compose himself. “Nothing wrong with being… open. Honesty is good.”

You groan, but the weed dulls the blade edge of your humiliation, making it manageable. It doesn’t quite cut your fingers when you hold it. A giggle escapes you from the ridiculousness of it— a light thing that seems to shake some of the weight off your shoulders, like blowing dust off an old book.

“I don’t know why I said that,” you mutter, eyes teary from laughing despite yourself. “It’s probably just the weed talking. Don’t laugh, Josh.”

“I’m not laughing!” He insists, but the teeth-flashing grin says he’s full of amusement.

You shoot him a glare and he laugh-yells when you swing for him with a bench pillow.

“Hey! I feel sorry for you, if anything. Never had him show you a good time.”

“We had good… times,” you say, but your tone fails.

“Uh-huh,” he responds, unconvinced. “Sounds like ugly-funny guy wasn’t all that.”

You drag your hands down your face. “Okay, fine. Honestly, no— he wasn’t. He barely paid attention. Like I was just… there.”

There’s something cathartic about it, opening up to the person you never thought you’d be having this kind of conversation with. It’s hard, with the twins— Beth isn’t exactly romantic, and Hannah’s all rose-tinted glasses. Josh’s perspective is… different. Refreshing. Exciting?

“That blows,” he shrugs. “Guess you got unlucky. Firsts shouldn’t have to suck that bad.”

You hum, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of your high, and his company. “I’m probably oversharing.”

“Nah, I get it,” he says. You peek at him and he’s all soft-smirks and understanding eyes, regarding you with low lashes. “We all got… we all got needs. Like cracking your neck, right? Doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

You nod in shy agreement.

“Just sounds like you need someone who, y’know… understands the art a little better.”

Your heart stutters behind your ribs, wondering if you really picked up on a subtle proposition or if you’re just imagining things. You’re higher than you need to be, but you still inhale another drag with shaking fingers as if the act itself will soothe you.

“Oh, is that right?”

The corner of his mouth ticks with mirth, eyes flickering something dangerous when he glances over your figure, tongue darting out as if drinking you in.

“Yeah, you know. Some better options.”

Your neurons are like butter in a pan: melting, sliding from one thought to another. You very suddenly can’t stop imagining what it would be like to have sex with Josh Washington— and not in the intrusive thought, “ew that’s my best-friends-brother” way, but in a way, that’s far, far more tempting.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep it casual despite the sudden warmth growing in your shorts. “Got any recommendations?”

“Could be me,” he murmurs, voice low and playful. Half-serious, half-joking, a droplet suggestion in a gentle current. “Just as a… temporary thing, you know? We’d be doing each other... favours.”

Your pulse skyrockets, throbbing in your throat and between your thighs. A thrill, driven by your sudden insatiable curiosity. But still, a stab of reluctance pokes through the mist of your weed haze.

“Hey. You can forget I asked,” he says gently, meaningfully. “Just a… thought.”

You can feel yourself getting embarrassingly wetter by the second, desperate to ease the tension with an excuse, any excuse. No, no, God no, you shouldn’t indulge in the forbidden fruit of your best friend’s older brother, of your friend, even if the thought of getting your desperately high sexual frustration quenched is insatiably desirable.

“Josh. We’re both high.”

“…But you’re down?”

You throw him a look, soft, puppyish. Please don’t make you say no because you’re not sure you can.

“Sure, we’re high. Not stupid. Not drunk.” He senses your trepidation. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re friends, right? Besides, we’ve got the whole summer together, so…”

“…Might as well make the most of it.”

He pauses, bottom lip caught between his teeth in thought, and then a nod. “Exactly.”

“Jesus,” you murmur, head swimming after your final smoke.

His eyes don’t leave yours when he has his turn. A quick puff between his teeth, smoke misting around him in the low lighting. A rushed inhale, the cherry glowing, a hiss when he exhales. There’s something deliberate about the way he’s looking at you.

Without breaking eye contact, he flicks the roach over the railing, the dying ember tumbling into the dark. His hands quickly find the back of your neck decisively, thumbing along your jaw, pulling you towards him in a fluid motion, angling his head to meet you— and then he’s on you. His lips capturing yours with a reverent ferocity, an urgency that catches you off guard.

He tastes like acrid weed smoke and something subtle, sweeter, like hard candy lingering on his tongue.

A moment of sobriety snatches you from the moment when you consider what his sisters — your best friends — might think if they found out you were planning on screwing their brother on the family holiday they invited you to.

You pull away, just enough that your noses brush. “Josh…”

“Shh,” he coos, sweeping you up with his attention again. You don’t object, too paralysed by the moment to deny yourself of this. You high-pitch moan against his mouth as his tongue strokes yours, turning gelatinous and pliant when his hand slips down from your shoulder to your breast, to your waist. Gripping, staking claim, just a slip of silk between his fingers and your skin, warm where he holds you.

The kiss intensifies, his mouth moving over yours in a way that’s both gentle and demanding; he’s greedy, savouring every second and every tremble of your hand as you try to steady yourself with fingers bunched into his hoodie. He thumbs along the pulse in your throat and you feel him smile into the kiss, relishing, and you realise he’s loving this— loving kissing you with a slow, aching patience that leaves you needy and breathless.

A hand slides down your body to your thigh, smooth against bare skin. His thumb pressing just enough to make an indent in the soft flesh, fingertips edging to the hem of your pyjamas and your heart jumps.

“This alright?” He asks, as his fingers form a gap between the waistband of your shorts and your skin.

“Mhm.” It pitches high. 

“You’re really hot when you’re excited.”

A hand on his neck. “Let’s hope you back up that talk then, huh?”

His fingers feel cool when they slide against your middle, hot and wet. A shuddery breath escapes you as he rubs slow, once, twice, slickening up.

“You normally this wet?”

“God, d-don’t,” you pant, clutching his shoulders. “It’s been a while.”

He laughs once in a breath, working his wrist slowly. “Don’t worry. Me too.”

Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your clit, heat liquidising and pooling into his touch.

And when he lifts from the couch, fingers retracting from your heat, you suddenly become very shy and very aware that you’re outside. He starts tugging your shorts down, and he shoots a grin in response to your reflexive tense.

“What, lost your nerve?” He murmurs, lowering to his knees. “It’s just us.”

You flash with knowing and suddenly freeze. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Why not? Isn’t this the best part?”

“Um…” you chew on your lip.

Recognition flickers on his face. “Damn. Your ex really was an asshole.” But when he looks up at you again, it’s fond. Sweet.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you.”

You squirm as he pulls your shorts down, silk over flesh, no underwear beneath, eyes hungry. Too embarrassed to watch him as he parts your knees and presses kisses to your inner thigh, traces the blade of his tongue across a stretch mark, too horny to resist. A flash of eye contact— the last chance to back out, but you’re so swept up in the moment you’re not sure you could form the words.

His lips are quick against your warm middle, tongue parting you deliciously slow, a hum of delight and pressure when he pushes deeper. A bated breath escapes you in a shuddering pant, fingers knitting into his hair, all challenging words and witty remarks dissolving on your tongue.

Yeah, you’ll never look at Josh Washington the same after this.

“Fuck.”

He moans contentedly, pleased with your vocalisation, and the vibrations ricochet up your spine.

Can’t remember the last time someone went down on you. Your ex never made a big fuss about it, not that he ever got you there often. You bubble with over-sensitivity, twitching when he licks you, a gentle push on his forehead.

“Slow down,” you stutter.

He kisses your thigh. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Shut up.”

But he listens— pace gentler, more controlled. Flat-tongued strokes that made you shudder, liquid heat pooling against his mouth. So sweet when he suckles on your clit, laps at your core, arms caged around your thighs without possessiveness. Every sweep is like a countdown, weeks of grief and heartbreak a distant memory with his face in your pussy.

Tension coils and everything narrows down. You’re not outside, not getting eaten out by your best friend’s older brother, not doing anything you’ll regret.

You cum quick— quicker than you have with any previous partners. It’s tingly, a rise and fall that leaves you breathless, knees locking, heart pounding. He releases his from you with a soft, wet pop, rising to his feet and white-knuckling a fist into the backrest of the bench. A quick body scan, a tick of his head to see if you’re alright.

When you nod, his free hand reaches to sink two fingers knuckle-deep, parting your slick velvet with ease as you still pulse rhythmically in the aftershocks.

Oh God it’s vulgar, the sounds you make. Honeydew-wet, drip-dropping onto his palm as he curls upwards, a high-strung moan that you bite into the back of your hand. Scrunched eyes flickering up to meet him as he stares down at you, lips shining arousal-wet.

Need flashes through you, the incessant little voice in your head reminding you that this is your friend Josh vanishing with each jolt as he finger-fucks you. Not quite satiated as you squeeze tight around his fingers. You kiss him, lavishing the taste of his mouth, grabbing his wrist to urge him deeper, closer, ball of his palm atom-close to your still throbbing clit.

You break the kiss only to ask, “Do you have a condom?”

His fingers leave you, slick-wet on your thigh as he grips you. “In my pocket.”

“Did you plan this?”

He grabs the foil from his jeans. “Always gotta be prepared.”

There’s no space to take pause and consider the consequences when he tugs you onto his lap, jeans pooled around his ankles, cock sheathed in the condom and hard in his fist— not that you could formulate a cohesive thoughtwhen you’re this high and this horny.

Nails curl around his shoulders for support, desperate to tongue the firm planes you feel beneath his shirt, suck on the pulse that throbs in his neck, but the barrier of friendship draws an invisible line. He steadies you with a hand on your hip when you lower yourself, unhurried at first, just enough to stretch you out.

Shivery eye contact urges you on, and you slowly slide down, inch by eye-rolling inch, and then in one final swift drop, you’re pelvis-deep, wincing against the pleasure burn of the intrusion in your middle. A gasp escapes you, and his eyes find yours.

“Shit,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, breaking into a half-laugh. “You okay?”

You nod, but you’re trembling as you adjust to the size of him. “Yeah… yeah.”

Misty with sweat from the connection, your forehead settles against his, lips parted. You take a moment, adjust to the feeling, the weight of him inside of you. He’s as big as you thought he’d be— not that you’d tell him, as if his ego needs inflating anymore.

“It’s just… a lot.”

“I know,” he says, softer.

The world narrows down to the sensations: the midnight air cool against your skin, intimate heat pooling where you and Josh join, the feel of your heartbeat thrumming so hard your fingers shake against his shoulders. His touch slides down your back, under the small slip of your vest, brushing your sides with the same care he’d use to handle something delicate.

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice low, strained. His stroking hands land on your thighs, thumbs pressing soothing circles into the bones of your hip. Grounding, despite the haze of arousal clouding your judgement.

You nod, swallowing hard, gripping his shoulders as you slowly lift yourself. Lungs tighten with caught breath at the way his cock shifts inside of you, the drag overwhelming and delicious— a punch of liquid-heat pleasure that makes your legs tremble when you lower yourself again, a slow descent that has both of you groaning softly. A gentle rhythm, a burn in the thighs.

“Feels good,” you stutter.

A short laugh, drifting into a tight sigh. “Too good.”

Trickling slow-building pressure settles low in your belly and has your hips shifting, testing. Tentative at first but growing bolder with each, slick pass. His grip tightens when you move, jaw clenching, throat bobbing when he swallows hard.

“I— fuck,” Josh breathes, fingers digging, the corner of his mouth ticking into a smirk despite his strung-tight tension. Abs flexed to gather control, breath hitching when you take him a little deeper. “That’s it, just like that.”

The praise shoots through you like a spark. Your body reacts instinctively— grinding against him, chasing the friction that licks pleasure in your belly like curling smoke. Slow, decadent, spreading, spreading…

“Jesus. You’re unreal.”

“Yeah?” You breathe, movements quickening, testing the waters of his endurance. Lips close to his jaw. “You like it?”

His response is immediate— a low, throaty groan as his hips tilt up to meet yours. “God, yeah,” he rasps, head tipping back, exposing the curve of his throat, the chords bobbing as he swallows thickly. “Fuck. Look at you.”

A smile teases the corner of your lips as you work him with your hips, spurred on by the thrill of his wearing tether.

“Did you really never notice me before?” You ask sweetly.

His head rolls back further, laughter torn through a sharp inhale. “Course I did. I just said that because…”

You tilt your head innocently, rhythm never faltering. “Because what?”

“It’s hard to focus when you keep— fuck— clenching like that,” he breathes after a squeezed blink, voice strained. “I said it because… shit, because you looked so good. Never— never let myself think about you like this before.”

Giddy from the affirmation, you bite on your lower lip. “So you think I’m hot, huh?”

“Don’t start.” His groan carries a weak laugh, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in his eyes. “You’re the one who came downstairs looking like that.”

You laugh breathlessly, a mix of indignation and amusement. “Hey, you invited me out here! I was just getting water.”

“And yet, here you are,” he shoots back, eyes dazed as he struggles to focus, but his smirk still bites mischievous.

“Josh!” You gasp, half-laughing. “You’re taking advantage of me, you know. I’m emotionally vulnerable.”

His smirk softens, shifting into something more genuine. “Yeah? You look real vulnerable right now.” His hands slide to your ass, squeezing with a force that makes you stutter a gasp. “The way you’re moving? Pretty sure you’re the one taking advantage of me.”

Your lips part with a retort sharp on your tongue, but his voice drops to a low murmur that sends heat pooling in your stomach.

“God, keep going. Feels so fucking good.”

Whatever witty comeback you mustered dies on your tongue, replaced by a shy moan as his hands guide you, hips sliding up to meet yours. Hands all over his chest to steady yourself, tingly to the bone when coiling tension blooms at the base of your spine. Pressure builds with each rolling thrust you muster, sharp with a pleasure ache when he nudges deeper.

“Josh,” you whimper, hands smoothing up to grip his tense shoulders. Your motions grow desperate, needy. Bursts of pleasure each time you snap together. Your breath comes faster, body trembling.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, voice strained but tender, teasing. “You close?”

You can’t form words, too lost in the pleasure building inside of you, so you frantically nod.

“C’mon,” he mutters, tone syrupy low and coaxing. His thumb slips between your bodies, finding your clit and applying pressure and circles in time with his thrusts. It’s like a strike of lightning, head tipping back as you arch into him. “That’s it. Let me feel you. I got you, I got you—”

His words shoot arousal straight to your core and your body seizes, locked-tight until the dam breaks, white-hot and all-consuming. Shuddering as you pulse, white-knuckle bunching his hoodie in your fists. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, walls clenching in rhythm around his unrelenting thrusts.

His hips stutter against your clenching, faltering when you fall apart in his arms. He slows— riding out your aftershocks, thumb still pressed against where you flutter and pulse.

“Shit,” he mutters, leaning back, drinking you in. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

You flush warm. “Don’t say that,” you stammer.

“Can’t help myself,” he replies gently, thumb circling you.

Shivering, you place a hand on his forearm, breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“Josh— wait. Sensitive.”

He slows immediately, hands leaving you to cradle your back. “Sorry,” he says, softer. “Got carried away.”

You whimper when he spreads your thighs, an impossible stretch, and drives faster. Too much, too much, too—

“I know, I know,” he breathes. “Just a little longer. I— shit. I’m so close.”

His palms glide under your ass, fingers gripping, lifting and lowering you in a rhythm that’s all his, each rut drawing broken noises from both of you. When he finally lets go, with a collision that notches him deep, it’s with a groan that’s half your name half a sound that you’ll never forget. His breath is shaky, face wincing, as he pulses strongly inside of you, spilling into the condom.

For a long, stretched moment, the only sound is your mingled breathing, bodies still trembling in the aftershocks of strong-beating hearts, cock still twitching within you. The mountain air, cooler now against your sweat, grounds you. Eyes slipping closed as you collapse against his chest, his fingers up and down delicate over your spine.

“Jesus,” he says after a while, ragged when he catches his breath. There’s a subtle laugh to it, more out of disbelief than humour.

You mirror him, shaky and breathless when you laugh. “Yeah.”

The silence spreads thin again, palpable with a not-quite awkwardness, but heavy with something you can’t quite name. Slowly, you ease yourself upright, head lifting to meet his gaze. His eyes are softer now, reverent but searching as if looking for some reassurance.

“You okay?” He asks, voice careful, full of trepidation, a little earnest and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

You nod, smiling tiredly. “Yeah. I’m okay. You?”

“Better than okay,” he admits, grinning sheepishly but all dopamine-warm, sugary sweet in the afterglow. “Kinda feel like I should say thanks or something.”

“Please don’t.” You snort, rolling your eyes as you carefully pull away from him, hollow where he slips out of you soft and wet. Legs gelatinous when you stand, the high buzzing anxiously in your chest now you’ve settled.

He laughs with more strength now, lighter, more familiar. Some tension eases when you pull your shorts up, hyperaware of how exposed you are. You glance at him as he buttons his jeans, knotting and disposing of the condom discreetly.

For a moment, neither of you speak. He leans back on the railing, staring out at the mountains. You follow his gaze, letting the breeze fill the space between you.

“So,” he says after a beat. “We’re… good, right?”

When you glance at him, his expression is carefully neutral. Guarded, like he’s trying not to give too much away.

“We’re good,” you echo, lazy-lidded but mostly sober now.

“Good… good,” he trails off, hand knocking against the railing. “Don’t wanna make things weird, you know?”

“Bit late for that,” you tease, but then you lean next to him affectionately, platonically. “It’s not weird, Josh. It doesn’t have to be. Right?”

He turns to face you, his grin turning playful again. “Right.”

“Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No, no— I don’t regret it, or anything,” he says, a flicker of uncertainty in his tone. “Just gotta make sure where we stand, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, not entirely convinced. “You just didn’t think I had it in me.”

He laughs, gaze dropping as colour rises on his face. “Shut… shut up.”

The quiet settles over you like the weight of the mist hanging over the mountains, heavy and expectant. Josh leans against the railing, his arms crossed as if he’s bracing himself, his gaze drifting to the lodge and then back to you. The air is cool now, biting against your sweat-slick skin, but his eyes— soft, searching— feel warmer than the sun.

A deep breath. You smell pine and mountain dew and a distinct linger of his cologne somewhere on your skin. When you open your eyes, he’s staring at you.

“You going back in, or… staying out here for a while?”

You glance over your shoulder where warm, inside light floods from the sliding doors. He looks on, expectantly. You have to practice some self-control when you speak, a near-melted puddle of organs and bliss from how he looks at you.

“I should probably head back in,” you reply.

His expression doesn’t falter, but the sweetness in his eyes dips a little.

“Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

You hesitate, caught in the lingering gravity between you. Thoughts bob like waves in your head, incessant badgering like: you’re high, it’s hormones, he’s just your friend’s brother.

But it’s not “just” anymore.

“Guess I’ll, uh… see you in the morning?” He says, uncertain as if unsure how to part ways.

You nod, trying to play it cool, but your heart flutters. “See you in the morning.”

He smiles faintly, the mischievous edge creeping back into his expression. “Sweet dreams.”

You roll your eyes as you leave, softened by his teasing demeanour, and you’re unable to bite back your smile.

You feel like you’re floating in your bed, light and airy when you stare up at the ceiling. Mind anything but clear, higher now that you’re alone in the dark.

You try to steady your thoughts, but they keep drifting back to Josh: the curve of his throat, the way he looked at you like he wanted to know more. Cells, pulled apart, pressed onto a slide, microscopically observed.

The heat of his touch lingers on your skin, the ghost of his fingers and lips making your heart ache with something tangled and intangible. Anticipation? Guilt? Excitement?

The summer had barely started— and it already felt like it was spinning out of control. You’re swept up, dictated by the gravity of his shit-eating smile and the feel of him inside of you.

With a sigh, you close your eyes, the sound of the breeze outside lulling you into a restless sleep. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder what tomorrow will bring— and whether Josh will be waiting for you with that same knowing smirk, with more favours to offer you.

divider credits: @saradika-graphics mdni credits: me tag list (let me know if you want to be removed!): @imiqz, @fromjas, @luhvbot, @spinback-kiva, @nx2grace, @strwbrrynd, @fashominnie, @meeganmerkman222333, @arachine, @xxreginaxx, @xprloki, @screaming-potato, @onmyknees4kai,

[gtgbabie0]

-Bi Han x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: {Bi-Han did not have many weaknesses— but you?… you could make him completely fall apart}

For my other works my Masterlist is here <3

!!-18//MDNI-!! Enjoy my lovelies 💕

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It was a rare moment to see your husband so at peace, his brows unfurled and his shoulders relaxed, the sight was welcoming— you daren’t even speak not wanting to break the silence that had blanketed itself around the steamy atmosphere.

The hot springs were always a nice way to end a stressful week, the warmth of the water chased away that chill that nipped the air not to mention how good he looked— his hair pulled back into a bun with a few stubborn strands that fell to frame his face, the way the water glistened across his chest and his toned arms that were resting upon the smooth rocks… you were lucky indeed.

Although such silence spoke more to Bi-Han than words did, he could sense your tender gaze upon him and knew exactly what was going through your mind— perhaps that’s why the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile, he knew you far too well.

“Will you join me anytime soon or will you just keep staring?” He asks, his voice deep and almost commanding beneath the softness that seems to overtake him in your presence. He opens his eyes to look up at you standing there with a silk robe wrapped around your body tightly.

A small scoff falls from your lips as you roll your eyes, averting your gaze in an attempt to be respectful— and to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“I am not staring… just admiring, there’s a difference.” You mutter the response softly, fiddling with your fingers.

“Well your admiring is almost too polite, come here.” His tone carries a certain twinge of playfulness, something you don’t hear a lot from him save for in private— where he can let that mask of his slip and open his heart to you.

With that you let your robe drop, the silk rippling against the curves of your body to pool at your feet leaving you bare for him and he shamelessly drinks in the sight, his gaze dragging along the slope of your shoulders down towards your chest and over your hips and thighs— he was absolutely enraptured by you, every single inch.

Bi-Han’s gaze follows you closely as you step down the stone stairs and into the hot waters, wading closer to him. It was almost a shame to call you mortal because it was clear to him that the gods were your creators, sculpted beneath their fingertips.

Especially right now, with the pale light of the moon kissing your skin and casting an otherworldly glow around your body— you are the girl that all the poets write about.

“You’ve been neglecting me as of late.” You state so matter of factly, sticking your chin out in a playful confidence. The statement breaks him out of the trance you seem to have trapped him in.

At your words he sighs, yes he’d been neglecting you, but it wasn’t on purpose. In fact, he’d gone to bed many nights swamped by guilt for how little time he has had for you recently, but on the other hand, this distance was for you— to build a life where you would be protected.

“I’ve had much to do in preparation, forgive me.” He says, voice gruff yet gentle… always so gentle with you.

You hum in understanding, padding your way closer to him through the steamy water and as soon as you’re close enough his hands immediately find purchase on your bare hips, tugging you near his body, he couldn't help himself, he ought to have more self-control he thinks to himself yet you seem to call to him like a siren does to a sailor.

“Well… am I to remain with this burning between my legs?— or will my husband make up for his negligence?” You respond playfully, brushing your fingers through the water and watching it ripple in small waves, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

The bluntness of your words catches him slightly off guard, making him chuckle through his nose as he drags the roughness of his fingertips along your waist and up your spine then back down again.

“Come here then, I’ll see what I can do about this burning of yours, hmm?” And with that he’s cupping the back of your thigh, pulling you to straddle his lap as the water sloshes up against your bodies and the rocks.

Your hands instinctively reach out to rest against his broad shoulders, stabilising yourself as he cups your chin to tilt your head in his direction— his thumb brushes along your bottom lip with an almost reverent look in his dark eyes.

Being so intimately pressed up against one another sends your mind into a hopeless flurry of emotions and thoughts and Bi-Han reveals in the way squirm against him, the small noises that you make and how your pupils dilate.

“Yes, please—” you breathe almost pleading, meeting him halfway in a slow kiss that borders on desperation. His lips slotting perfectly against your own and he swears you were made for him, every curve and dip of your body.

Your fingers pull on the tie that keeps his hair up, dropping it into the water before running your hands through his dark tresses as he deepens the kiss— his tongue pushing past your parted lips to brush against your own, trying to tug you impossibly closer.

He can’t help but smirk at the feeling of your hips grinding against him in search of that friction you so heedlessly need. “Mm, I’ve got you, my love.” He whispers in between lazy kisses that taper off into small pecks, his lips trailing along your jaw— a hot mixture of teeth and tongue pave the way down your neck and over your collarbones, focusing on the spots that make you whimper and arch into his toned body.

Your whole body flushes with a tingling sensation as he dips his hand between your legs, his fingers dragging along the coarse hairs on your mound before pushing between your slick folds— a sharp gasp escapes your lips and your hand grasps a little tighter in his hair which causes him to groan in return, a sound that makes a familiar heat pool in your abdomen.

It was all so dizzying and the heat from the hot springs certainly didn’t help either, but you couldn’t say you minded not when his calloused fingertips rub slow circles over your clit-- the sudden feeling makes your hips buck against his hand, the warm water lapping up at your back and against the smooth rocks.

“Mhm— more, I need you.” You’re already in a daze of pleasure and lust, it didn’t take that much for him to render you into a blabbering mess and he basked in it every single time.

His hand tightens around your jaw ever so slightly, his thumb pressing into the corner of your mouth and he stares up at you in pure wonderment, enjoying every small little twitch in your face as he continues to circle at your clit.

“Shh my sweet, patience you know I’ll give you everything you want… always,” he seals the promise with a kiss, smiling against your lips as you moan so carelessly into his mouth at the feeling of his middle finger dipping into your wet hole, followed by his ring finger.

The slickness of your walls clenching around his digits only serves to turn him on, his cock hardening in between your thighs as he pumps his fingers in and out of your greedy cunt— curling them deeply in a way that makes you arch and whimper, grinding yourself against the heel of his palm.

His fingers stretch you open slowly, the water splashing up against your body, water droplets trickling down your jaw and rolling along your shoulders.

“I need you… inside me, please.” The words fall from your lips so carelessly, heady in a sense— completely drunk on the pleasure he was giving to you.

He gives in to your wants, as always, he could never find it in himself to make you wait especially when you make such pretty noises— and partly because of how hard he is.

The loss of his thick fingers is soon replaced by his cock, his hands now grasping at the fat on your hips as he slowly guides you down onto him whilst you pant and moan into the crook of his neck— whining about how big he is which only elicits a deep chuckle from him. The sound rumbling through his chest, you could feel it against your own.

“Shh, you can take it… take me so well,” Bi-Han groans, tipping his head backwards slightly as you take all of him deep inside you, practically sucking him in and he breathes some comment about how ‘tight�� you are and how much he 'missed you'.

It’s all such a haze in your mind, your eyes bleary with lust as he helps you move against him— your knees pressing either side of his thighs, your nails biting into his broad shoulders— it drove him insane and he can’t help the way he grunts at the feeling, his hands squeezing at the curve of your ass.

The tip of his cock hits your cervix with every bounce, each one more intense than the other— the drag of his cock along your walls brings you closer and closer to the edge. It was a little embarrassing how quickly your body starts to tremble, the familiar tingle that flickers down your spine leaving a searing heat.

“I can’t— I can’t,” you’re a blabbering mess, letting him take control as he guides your hips up and down along his thick cock— thrusting up into your wet cunt as you practically melt into his strong body.

“You can, my girl… let go.” He whispers through slightly gritted teeth, smirking against the dewy skin of your shoulder as you loop your arms tightly around his neck— “I’m right there with you,” he grunts, turning his head to brush his lips along the curve of your jaw,

Through whiny moans your orgasm washes over you, fingers buried in his hair as your warm heat clamps down around him until he’s spilling deep inside your womb— the pair of you immediately finding each other's lips in a slow and needy kiss, his nose brushing against your own.

“I’ve got you, always,” Bi-Han whispers hoarsely, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him as your body goes all boneless against him, all you can do is whimper in response. The heat from both your bodies and the water provided a sense of comfort, along with the way his calloused hand rubs your back soothingly… he’d never make you wait so long again.

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[theresascove]

oh. oh… vi’s crashing out scene shows how she’s the kind of person to be like, “eh, I don’t care,” but as time goes by they REALLY fucking do

—> so here’s a FULL break down of that 6-9 month time skip scene

• how shaky, flashy, and quick the camera moves and continues to get. It’s similar to how you get when you’re drunk. It starts out clean and then gets snappier as the scene continues

• her relationship with Loris going to shit. It started out with celebrations (you can see them cheering together, arms around each others backs) to him pulling a drink away from Vi, to him sitting further away with his back turns towards her. Then we get another scene of Vi going to cheers w him and he’s not there, she sets the cup down and then proceeds to fall on the bar counter and the drink falls to the floor

• Vi goes from laying fully on the bed on her back to (a few frames later showing a time skip) Vi barely even making it to her bed

• the alcohol bottles piling up & her throwing up from the amount (or possibly from screaming into the sink full of water)

• she also keeps screaming a ton—during fighting, in her apartment (by punching bag and in the sink). the only other times I’ve heard Vi make such a sound is when she’s fighting other people as seen in s1 and s2, so her just screaming in her bedroom is showing INTENSE feelings

• the prision wall day counting on the walls (I didn’t really count, but I estimate there’s about 100+ days seeing as I picked out each grouping and timed it by 5). they seem to show up more as they switch between different frames of Vi in her room. Also be aware this is as much as I COULD count, there’s definitely more just out of frame. The writers confirmed this time skip is about 6-9 months

• smearing the black paint on her face w intent at first but as time goes by she gets messier, full hands on her face and eyes almost rolling up

• she’s literally sobbing against her punching bag (they don’t show her crying anytime else but I’m SURE she did it a lot more… but look at the tears on her face and the pain in her expression-IT KILLS ME).

• ^^towards the end (last photo of her smearing the paint (just before that she had broken the mirror). seemingly getting fed up and reaching a breaking point

• she goes from clean fists, to bloody fingers as the time skip goes on

• how beat up she gets as the time slip continues as she loses focus and begins to fall apart

• Vi going from pit fighting, to the bar, to her room to sleep/get ready/punch the punching bag

• then she “sobers” back up as best as possible, puts the paint on again, just to go there with a heavy heart and get beaten quickly

• Vi hallucinating Caitlyn in many ways. When we see the flag and in the bar scene and one last time when Vi thinks back to when they had that moment in Caitlyn’s room in s1

• Vi hallucinating the girl she “fell in love w” and not who had hurt her/how she had become since Caitlyn’s mother died

• the way she would look up at the Kiramman flags and think of Caitlyn each time she went up the stairs to her room. pictures show her doing it a first time, and then later down the line after a few months—she’s still looking up

• (eventually snatching one at some point and using it as a blanket as shown by the show)

• practically drowning herself in the sink full of water and screaming (maybe to try and silence her thoughts…? Water is quiet)

screenshooting Vi’s crashing out phase is so much more depressing when you take it frame by frame and remove the rock music and upbeat animation

[dissapointu]

How Jinx Would Act if Their Partner Got Hurt

1. Initial Shock, Then Panic

When you get hurt, Jinx’s first reaction is pure shock. She freezes up for a second, her eyes wide as she takes in the sight of you in pain. If it’s something serious, her breath hitches, and she might even stagger back, her hands trembling as if unsure what to do. The chaotic energy that usually surrounds her is completely gone in those first few seconds, replaced with an intense panic. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” she’ll shout, her voice high with worry.

2. Immediate, Protective Instincts Kick In

After the initial shock, her protective instincts take over. Without thinking, she’s rushing to your side, hovering over you like a shield. She’ll try to stop any bleeding, grab whatever supplies are around, and do everything in her power to help you. “Just hold on! I’ve got you!” she’ll say, voice trembling but determined. She might not always know the best way to handle the injury, but she’s resourceful and won’t let you suffer alone.

3. Overwhelming Guilt

Once the initial panic dies down, Jinx will likely blame herself. If she wasn’t around to prevent your injury or if she feels responsible in any way, she’ll spiral. “I should’ve been more careful! This is my fault!” She’ll mutter to herself as she tries to help you, the guilt eating at her, even if it wasn’t her fault. She’ll be apologizing profusely, not knowing how to make it right. “I didn’t mean for this to happen! Please don’t leave me…” Her words will be a mixture of anxiety, desperation, and self-blame.

4. Constant Reassurance

Throughout the whole ordeal, Jinx will be desperately trying to reassure you, even if her actions are a little frantic. She’ll check on you over and over, making sure you’re not slipping in and out of consciousness or feeling worse. “Hey, hey! Stay with me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Don’t leave me.” Her tone will waver, alternating between tough and vulnerable, depending on how scared she’s feeling. She might even try to distract you with jokes or random ramblings just to keep you awake, “So, uh, if we ever get out of here, I think we should start a rock band, you know? Just to make things more interesting, right?”

5. Frantic Attempts to Fix It

Jinx will want to do everything she can to help you heal, even if she doesn’t have the knowledge or skills to do it perfectly. She’ll go into overdrive, grabbing whatever she can find to patch you up. Whether it’s bandages, alcohol, or anything she can improvise, she’ll try to make sure you’re taken care of. “Okay, don’t freak out, I’ve got this… kind of,” she’ll mutter, clearly not knowing what she’s doing but too determined to let that stop her.

6. Unable to Stay Calm

Jinx is rarely calm, but when you’re hurt, she’s even less so. Her nerves are frayed, and she can’t stop moving, her body twitching with energy that she can’t quite direct. She might be pacing back and forth, muttering to herself, and checking your injury over and over. “Why does this always happen to the people I care about?” she’ll say, almost pleading with the universe. Her chaos becomes less playful and more desperate when it comes to your well-being.

7. Won’t Leave Your Side

Once she realizes you’re hurt, Jinx is glued to you. She won’t leave your side, even if you insist that she go do something else. “No way, I’m not leaving you alone like this. You think I’m gonna let you suffer by yourself? Not happening.” Whether you’re at home or in the middle of some chaotic situation, she’ll refuse to go anywhere without you. She might even get a little clingy, not wanting to risk anything else happening to you.

8. Subtle Display of Vulnerability

Despite her tough exterior, Jinx is deeply vulnerable when it comes to those she loves. After you get hurt, she may hide it behind humor or chaotic behavior, but she’s deeply shaken. Her usual confidence falters, and she’ll show a rare side of herself that she tries to keep hidden. “You… you can’t be hurt, okay? I won’t let that happen. I’ll fix this, I promise,” she might say, her voice low and unsteady as she holds you close.

9. Overcompensating with Affection

When she sees you starting to recover, or even if you just need a little comfort, Jinx will shower you with affection. She’ll hug you tightly, kiss your forehead, and refuse to let you go for a while. “You’re gonna be fine, I swear! I’m not letting anyone hurt you, not while I’m around!” She’ll be unusually affectionate, and might even pull you into her lap or cuddle you to make sure you feel safe. Her way of showing that she cares will be to dote on you, even if she’s still a little shaken from what happened.

10. Teasing, But with a Touch of Care

Once she feels like things are back under control and you’re safe, Jinx will return to her usual playful self—but it’ll be softer, gentler than normal. She’ll tease you, trying to lighten the mood, but you’ll notice that her jokes are just a little more caring than usual. “You know, for someone so tough, you sure make a big deal out of a little scrape. You’re lucky I’m here to take care of you!” She’ll still joke, but she’s showing that she’s relieved you’re okay and doesn’t want to let her guard down again.

11. Planning to Make Sure It Doesn’t Happen Again

Once the panic dies down and you’re healing, Jinx will immediately start plotting to ensure nothing like that happens again. “Next time, we get way more prepared. Like, armor prepared, or something.” Her protective instincts kick into overdrive, and she’ll try to figure out every possible scenario to keep you safe in the future. She might even come up with elaborate plans to protect you from harm, even if it’s over-the-top and unnecessary. It’s her way of showing that she’ll do anything to prevent you from being hurt again.

12. Reluctantly Letting You Rest

While Jinx wants to keep you close, she’s also going to keep a watchful eye on you. She might insist that you rest or take it easy, making sure you don’t push yourself too hard. If you’re feeling tired, she’ll stay beside you, making sure you’re comfortable. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You just take it easy, and I’ll be right here with you. I’m not leaving.” Her concern will be tangible, and she’ll do everything in her power to make sure you’re okay.

In conclusion, when you get hurt, Jinx will go into full-on protective mode. She’ll be chaotic, frantic, and full of love and worry, showing how deeply she cares in her own wild, unpredictable way. Whether it’s making sure you’re patched up or keeping you close, she won’t rest until she knows you’re safe and well.

[ash444u]

pt 2!! hehehe + again apologies for any grammatical errors

part one here

SECRET ADMIRER - clark kent x reader

“Hmm it’s getting late.. how about we pick back up tomorrow?”

Clark lets out a shaky breath, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, “y/n that’s not fair..” Your lips curve slightly upwards at his remark, letting your fingertips trace upwards on the exposed skin of his arms you ask, “What’s not fair, Clark?” He stares at you intently, gulping, unable to let his thoughts out. You move closer to Clark, positioning yourself slightly above him, reaching a hand to push his hair back, you whisper lowly, “tell me what you want, Clark..” He looks up at you, his eyes glued to your lips. “You..” he whispers shakily, wrapping his arms around your waist and peering up at you. Smiling at his words you bring your hands down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it off your head and tossing it to the side. Hovering your face over his, you bite your lip, “kiss me, Clark”

He wastes no time delving into your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You feel his strong hands grip your hips as you slowly rock them on his thigh, running your hands through his hair. He looks at you, brows furrowed and eyes glossy, “please…” he whispers, his hands travel up your back, gripping you with despair. You feel his dick grow in his pants, poking you as you straddle him; the thin fabric of your panties and his pants being the only separation between the two of you. You blush to yourself, noting his shaky breaths as you feel the pulse of his erection through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Clark looks at you with desperation in his eyes, his hands gripping harder onto the sides of your hips. Biting your lip, you slowly come down to his neck, kissing him. You feel his body relax into you as you trail your kisses lower and lower down his body. His muscles tense as your kisses reach his v-line. “y/n” he groans, “I don’t know if we should be doing this” he says bringing a hand out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your face. “But I need you too, Clark” you whisper, sitting back up straight and reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. He watches intently, gulping as your bra unclips and your boobs fall into their natural position. You watch him squirm on the bed, trying to create some friction for himself. You lean back down to his v-line, not breaking eye contact, and tug undo the button on his jeans. “Is this ok?” you ask. “Yes,” he says, almost too quickly. You smile as he blushes, “I’ve thought about you.. like this a lot..” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you ask teasingly as you unzip his pants and pull them down. You feel yourself clench when you catch a glimpse of his bulge; a wet patch already on his boxers from the precum. “Me too,” you say breathlessly, reaching towards the top of his boxers, pulling them down. His cock springs out, tip already leaking and veins pulsing. You swallow before looking at him, his eyebrows pointed upward as he pants breathlessly. You reach your head down at the base of his dick, kissing it before licking a long strip up to the tip. Clark moans, and you push your legs together feeling a familiar ache form at your core. You lick the precum off his tip before slowly taking his dick down your mouth. Clark reaches towards you, grabbing a fist full of your hair as you sink down towards the base of his cock.

As you continue working your mouth on his dick, you feel a twitch and stop. You pull away as a string of saliva connects your swollen lips to the tip of Clark Kent’s dick. You climb back up on him, kissing him sloppily as you rub your ass on his dick. His hands find their way to your ass, he pulls away from you. You feel his fingers tug your underwear to the side, and the ache in your core gets stronger. “Clark” you moan into his neck, “I’ve wanted this for so long, y/n” he whispers softly in your ear. You feel his tip against your entrance, your hands move to his head, gripping his hair softly to brace yourself. He sinks into you, filling you up entirely. Clark lets out a groan, throwing his head back as he slowly thrusts upwards into you.

You bury yourself into his neck, muffled moans leaving your mouth as Clark speeds up his pace. “y/n” he moans, wrapping his strong arms around your body, “look at me, please, baby, I need to see your face.” You pull yourself up to look down at him as he ruts into you, his mouth open from pleasure, a small smirk forming across his lips as he sees your face. You bite your lip, trying to supress a moan from falling out of your mouth. Clark notices, smiling before attaching his lips to yours, kissing you messily. You struggle to keep up in the kiss as he increases his pace, you pull away moaning, feeling the knot in your stomach get tighter, before you finally come undone; clenching around him as you ride your high.

You get off his dick and bring your mouth up to it for the second time, taking him in all the way. He whines as you quicken your pace while sucking him; feeling him twitch in your mouth you stop. His cum gushes out into your mouth, you watch as he convulses after ever load he lets out before he stops. You slide your mouth off his dick and swallow before crawling besides him to cuddle. He smiles, wrapping his arms around you, “I’m really glad I wrote that letter.” He says chuckling.

[kpopsexstories]

QUICK FIX #28: NCT Taeyong fucks you in his sailor uniform

Member: NCT Taeyong

Content: Standing, Hiding on a military ship

Type: MEDIUM

Word Count: 1,060

This story is part of my Quick Fix Dirty Kpop Imagines series. Check it out for more smut and other members and groups 😊

It’s visitor’s day for Taeyong and his sailor mates, a day you’ve been longing a long time for. So has Taeyong who hasn’t touched you in months.

“Come on,” he says half way through the tour of his ship. He smirks and takes your hand, then quickly looks left and right through the passageway. “In here.”

You step over a high metal threshold. Taeyong ushers you inside then closes the heavy door behind you. Within seconds your hands and lips are all over each other.

“Mm, Taeyong,” you moan when he squeezes your waist and kisses your neck. “Mm, take it off.”

Taeyong chuckles. “I thought you said you liked my uniform.”

“I do,” you say while he nibbles on your ear and his hand reaches your breasts. “On second thought, keep it on.”

Taeyong suddenly takes a step away from you. He has a naughty, lustful smirk on his face. You reach down to unzip and pull down your jeans, while he does the same to his airy white pants.

You’re in haste. Not just because you might get caught, but because you’re both so horny. When your pants and underwear are down to your ankles you reach out and grab Taeyong’s hard bulge. You look him in the eyes and smile, before he attacks you with his lips and come in close.

He pushes you hard against the wall. You spread your legs and stick your hands down the back of his boxers. You pull them down and free his dick, which quickly finds its way to your vagina.

You’re wet. He’s hard as bone. He hasn’t been inside you in so long and you want his cock to fill you up so badly.

The shaft becomes slippery and his foreskin is pushed back. The pulsing organ stretches your folds as it goes in. You wrap your leg around his thigh and moan.

You lift Taeyong’s white shirt and feel his lower back. His hand slips inside your blouse and eagerly squeeze your bare skin. His lips are firmly planted on yours while he twitches, and the funny hat you’ve joked so much about is sliding down the side of his head.

It falls to the ground when your hand touches his neck. You’ve got your arm so far inside his shirt that it comes out at the top, and his chest and stomach is revealed. You feel his short black hair at the back of his neck, and his naked skin as it presses against yours while he fucks you passionately.

“Ahh, babe I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers.

His dick inside you feels so good. “Mm, me too. God I've missed this.”

Taeyong rests his head on your shoulder while his hips and cute ass rock violently back and forth. His hard dick fills you and goes in and out at a high tempo.

“Mm, mmm!” he moans by your ear. His lips wet your neck and you can feel the tense muscles in his face as he presses his nose and forehead against it. "Mm, mmm."

“Yeah, baby!” you moan loudly.

“Shhh,” he hushes you but chuckles. This is so hot and thrilling.

“S-sorry,” you say while he pushes hard and deep inside you, slamming your body repeatedly against the wall. “I’ve just missed your cock so much.”

Taeyong chuckles again. “That’s what you’ve been missing?” he asks to tease you.

“Well, it’s not all. But fuck I almost forgot how good we are together.”

Taeyong likes hearing those words. And you like how he hits you in just the right spot. He’s always been able to satisfy you and he’s glad that you haven’t lost the spark.

He suddenly goes quiet. He holds his breath while your wet pussy licks his shaft, pleasuring him and igniting his senses.

Your hand around his back rests on his shoulder. You squeeze it hard and pull him closer. He begins to pant, puffing warm air on your cheek and against the wall behind you as he fucks you faster against it.

You can feel a sweat building up at the back of his head. His sailor’s pants and underwear have fallen to the floor by now. You squeeze him tighter with your leg around his thigh and bare ass, to push him deeper still inside you.

The months of longing are over. The slippery dick rubbing your warm clit has come ashore. You’ve missed your boyfriend so intensely, and what you now feel is a wonderful and long overdue release.

“Uhhn, mmm,” Taeyong suddenly moans. You know what that means.

“Ahh, yes, I love you baby,” you say and squirm.

“Mm, mm, Ahh, Ahh!” he pants by your ear, too hot and focused to respond to your words.

“Fuck, you’re so hot my sailor. Yes, fuck me, yes, yes, YES!”

“Ahh, Ahh, AHHHH!”

“Yes, Taeyong, YES, YES, TAEYOOONG!”

Your boyfriend jolts and lets out several fast and deep sighs. He pushes hard and long inside you, while squeezing your side and breast. His open mouth presses against your skin and his damp back and neck breaks into a full sweat.

“Ahhh, fuuck!” he groans while pushing a few more times into your hole.

“Mmm, babe,” you say lovingly and hold him tight.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he finally says and bursts out in an enormous but exhausted grin.

“Ahh, mmm, I love you too,” you say slowly and relax your leg.

Taeyong collapses in your arms. You giggle and hold him and kiss his forehead. He looks up at you and smiles, struggling to catch his breath. He looks weak and exhausted when you kiss, long and lovingly.

“Fuck,” he repeats in a low voice. “I’ve really missed you.”

“Me too,” you say and push him away. “We better get dressed though.”

Taeyong straightens his uniform which you have wrinkled and quickly bends down to pull up his pants. You find yours on the floor and you smile at each other while you put your clothes back on.

“How do I look?” he asks when you’re both done and he adjusts the adorable hat.

“So handsome,” you say and give him a kiss on the lips. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he confirms. He takes your hand and opens the door. Soon you’re walking down the passageway again, happier than ever that he's finally returned from sea.

Find more stories like this one on Story Finder, an external website where you can browse the archives of this blog.

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! I have a story request:

Undertaker (Black Butler) x Ciels sister!reader where maybe during the Campana arc reader kinda helps Ut. Like, maybe the fact that the dead are going to turn into zombies is almost revealed because (for example) a zombie breaks out of their coffin already, so reader lures it back? Idk. I just really want to read about the reader helping Ut because she wants to see him happy and smile and whatnot (I always get so happy when Ut laughs). Seeing as this would be yandere maybe reader is also just a bit obsessed with Ut? Not full blown yandere, just slightly codependent obsession?

Thank you! (Thank you if you do write it. If you don't write it then thank you for all your other wonderful stories)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: This was a bit tricky considering the second part of your request, which I couldn't make it fit here, so I'm just mentioning rather than showing. Overall, I hope you enjoy it. Undertaker is always a delight to write to.

The night was heavy with tension, the air thick with the scent of incense and something far less holy - much heavier, as rotten blood and stitched limbs. The Campania’s lavish halls were brimming with the murmurs, laughters and music, all unaware of the dark secret that writhed below the surface - bodies resting in coffins, waiting for the signal to rise and attack.

Amidst this carefully constructed chaos, you stood near the back of the room, your eyes subtly darting from side to side, scanning for any signs of trouble. You had been on edge since Undertaker had whispered his plan to you, a smile playing on his lips, as if this entire twisted game was no more than a grand performance he had orchestrated.

And yet, when he had explained what he needed to do, you could see the glint of madness, the excitement in his eyes that had sent a chill down your spine. But it was that same glint you couldn’t resist, the way his eyes seemed to light up, the way he smiled that you jumped right onto his plan without him needing to ask you to.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

There was a shuffling sound, barely perceptible, and you stiffened, your hand clenching around the fan you held. Glancing around, your gaze quickly fell toward the source. One of the coffins was rocking slightly, the lid shifting as something within struggled to break free. Panic surged through you; this was too early.

The guests would see, and everything would unravel. Undertaker’s plan would be ruined.

Quickly, you moved closer, slipping past the other coffins with practiced ease. You reached the coffin just as the lid burst open, and a decaying hand clawed its way out, grasping at the air. The corpse’s eyes were wide, empty, and hungry, a sight that would have sent anyone else running in terror. But not you. You had seen far worse, working alongside Undertaker for a few months now.

You had heard Undertaker’s tales, his gentle whispers of how he had perfected this experiment, how it was all leading to this moment. You knew the lengths he would go to for his morbid fascination. And you loved the dreamy look on his eyes, even if you didn't quite understood what he planed to achieve with that.

With a calm that surprised even yourself, you stepped forward, positioning yourself between the coffin and the rest of the room. “Shh, shh… it's alright, dearie.” You whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the murmurs of conversation and the soft strains of the orchestra.

The zombie's head jerked towards you, its movements stiff and unnatural, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you slowly extended your hand, letting it grasp at your fingers, and gently guided it back down. “I know you’re restless and confused, but you need to wait just a little longer,” you continued, almost as if you were speaking to a child. “Go back, and I promise you’ll be able to stretch your legs soon.”

“Well, aren’t you a brave little thing?” He drawled, his voice low, a touch of amusement lacing his tone as he gently caressed your cheek with a soft touch. “I must say, I didn’t expect my sweet little assistant to take matters into her own hands.”

With surprising compliance, the creature obeyed, retreating back into its dark confinement. You gently closed the lid, making sure it was secure, and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You could not be afraid, yet it was terrifying to speak with a dead being.

Turning back, you found yourself face-to-face with Undertaker, his lips curved into a wide, knowing grin.

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you couldn’t help but return his smile, even if just a little. “I couldn’t let your plan fall apart,” you said, keeping your voice light, though your heart was still pounding. “Besides, I know how much this means to you… I couldn’t stand to see you disappointed.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers lingered against your skin, the touch affectionate. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the dim light. “I’m not afraid because I want to see you happy,” you admitted quietly, averting your gaze, afraid to see his reaction. “I know how you are when you’re excited, and… I like it.”

Undertaker’s grin widened, and he took a step closer, his gloved fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Oh, my dear, always so considerate, always thinking about me,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You know, you’re quite the enigma yourself. So delicate, yet so fearless when it comes to helping me play with my little experiments. Are not afraid of them? Of me?”

Undertaker’s eyes softened, and for a moment, his grin melted into something more tender, more genuine. He tilted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the look he gave you was almost reverent. “You’re quite the fascinating creature yourself, little dove.”

His voice barely above a whisper. “Always so eager to please, even when you should be running the other way. I wonder… do you even realize what you’re getting yourself into?”

You knew you should have been afraid, but instead, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest. There was something almost intoxicating about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the world who could understand him, who could share in his dark, twisted delight.

“I don’t care,” you replied softly, your voice steady. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care what happens.”

Undertaker chuckled, the sound low and rich, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve already chosen your side, my dear,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “After all, there’s no turning back now… and I do so love having you by my side. I won't let you get away now, not even if your little brother found us out, not even if the whole world goes up in flames, you're my pretty assistant."

As you stood there, locked in Undertaker’s gaze, you realized you didn’t mind the darkness that surrounded him. In fact, it was that very darkness that drew you in, binding you to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

A smug smile grew on your lips. "Good to know because I'm not planning to let anyone separate us."

And as the night continued, you found yourself more certain than ever that you would do whatever it took to keep that smile on his face, even if it meant dancing along the edge of madness with him.

[vilavi-2]

You may not be able to see @andthendk's gifs embedded in AO3 anymore, and thats because enough people loved and downloaded them that it broke my dropbox bandwidth limit for the day 😅

I was today years old when I learned that was a thing! They should be restored tomorrow, but to prevent a repeat issue I'm reposting everything here. You can download the gifs from this tumblr post (compressed to meet upload requirements here), but please don't nab them from AO3 - they are hosted there via an embedded link that counts each download against me. Thanks and sorry for the trouble! 💕

Sway

It was bad right from the beginning. The physical threat the Red Lanterns posed was one thing, the blinding rage that assaulted her mind was far worse. Raven concentrated fiercely to keep the brunt of it at bay, but each little bit that slipped through was like a needle in her psyche. Soon enough it was as though a swarm of hornets was assailing her, their sharp, relentless stings driving her closer and closer to the locked door where she kept her own anger.

It didn’t help how much Ysmault reminded her of Trigon’s realm. A red, rank, screaming world that seemed almost designed to regress her. The only living things here were her and her fellow heroes; their foes had no heartbeat and the landscape itself was made up of bones, blood, and burning rock. Over all of them was the Red Lantern’s power battery, bathing the scene in malignant light.

Raven couldn’t say when that door eventually cracked open, she only knew it had when she saw her clawed, red hand wrapped around a foe's throat, felt the heat of him in her grip, peered into the raw, animal madness in his eyes. She shouldn’t be this close, it wasn’t her style. Raven fought best from a distance, methodically and without any joy in the act. Now she was in the thick of it, reveling in the up close and personal degradation of her enemies. It was wrong, she knew it was wrong, and yet it felt so good . Truly, she had forgotten how good anger could feel. The Lantern in her grasp spewed more of his viscous, spoiled blood at her trying to win free of the iron grip on his throat. Raven tightened her hand instead, cutting off the stream and tossing him aside. Her enemies' corrosive, burning blood had no effect on her — she’d been bathed in hotter fires than they could ever match.

She and Damian sat there quietly, too exhausted to talk, too edgy to sleep. It’s done, it’s over, relax now , Raven kept telling herself. But the trials of their battle weren’t so easy to shake off. The unhinged fury of the Red Lanterns was like a needle in her mind, sharp and relentless. She’d been able to resist the worst of it, but enough had gotten through to her. The worst part was that everyone had seen. Everyone could still see. Raven did not wear fury well.

She shifted in the Javelin’s jumpseat, trying to get more comfortable. Instead the move just reminded her that she was covered in the viscous, spoiled blood Atrocitus’s minions spewed with abandon. The tacky, wet feeling of it repulsed her even as it compounded her shame and guilt.  

She tried again, futilely, to force the emotional echoes from the Red Lanterns from her mind, glad that she and Damian were alone in this part of the Javelin. The seats near the front were occupied by Titans and Leaguers alike, licking their wounds and trading happy banter about their victory over the Red Lanterns. Raven stole a glance at her teammate, guilt and distress prickling her heart at the injuries that dotted his skin. She had promised to heal him as soon as she was back in full control of herself, to which he’d shrugged and told her in his blunt, cocky way not to worry about it. His gaze hadn’t flickered when he saw her, nor when he’d met her golden eyes with his own. Even when they were kids Damian hadn’t ever seemed bothered when he saw her like this, for which she was endlessly grateful.

He slumped a bit in his seat, arms crossed and eyes closed, though she knew he wasn’t asleep. Raven decided to follow his lead and forced her body to relax, resting her head against his shoulder in hopes that some of his unshakeable composure could leach into her. They’d been here before and she knew he wouldn’t mind. Change back damn it, she thought tiredly. Damian shifted alongside her to settle them both more comfortable and she moved with him effortlessly, exhaustion and contentment finally starting to cool her blood.

Minutes must have passed, but it felt like she’d only just closed her eyes when a bright spike of emotion and noise opened them again. Supergirl and Shazam had taken seats opposite them, flamboyant in their giddiness. A quick look around showed the Javelin had filled up quite a bit since they first boarded and the whir of the engines told her they’d be taking off soon.

“You were amazing !” Billy was telling Kara, the raw admiration in his voice a dead giveaway for his real age. “Atrocitus totally didn’t see it coming! I bet he thought it was Superman that hit him!”

“It was just a lucky shot,” Supergirl said, but she was beaming from the praise. Raven couldn’t help her tired stare, something twisting in her belly when she saw how immaculate the other heroine was. Not a spec of rancid blood, not a tear on her clothes, not a hair out of place. Raven admired her, envied her, maybe hated her. Don’t be stupid. We’d still be out there dealing with rage zombies if not for Kara . She was more spent than she realized, if she wasn’t able to keep those small, petty emotions at bay.

“Don’t even,” Billy went on, goodnaturedly. “You oughta let loose more often. Don’t let your cousin soak up all the attention.”

“Maybe I will,” she grinned back, her aura bright with satisfaction. Only then did Kara seem to take notice of her and Damian sitting across the ship’s aisle. Her smile slowly tapered off, and careful (forced) nonchalance overtook her expression. Billy followed her eyes and quickly adopted the same look. As their twin gazes crawled over her, Raven felt a sinking feeling. She knew what they were seeing. 

Scarlet skin, black horns and claws, four feline yellow eyes. Not to mention the splatters of rank blood that decorated her body. Letting loose doesn’t look quite as good on me as it does her.  

Something unfamiliar stirred in her — shame? vanity? insecurity? she couldn't decide — and she dropped her eyes, reaching up to draw her hood over her head. The least she could do was hide her horns…

Damian caught her wrist in a firm grip and tugged her hand back down into her lap, thwarting her. She looked over in confusion and saw he was alert now, staring unflinchingly back at the two other heroes. His expression was neutral, but there was a clear challenge in the set of his jaw and the steely look his eyes. It was a look that both heroes and villains were known to quail from, and this time was no different.

Shazam was the first to break, ducking his head and muttering out a half-hearted pardon before hurrying to find another seat on the Javelin. Kara was soon to follow, albeit with a bit more grace and an uncertain smile for Raven. The empath felt a touch of guilt for her earlier, uncharitable feelings towards the heroine. It wasn't Kara's fault she was such a mess.

Damian’s unflinching stare followed them up the aisle before he finally turned his eyes to her, the fingers on her wrist sliding to coil with her own. He said nothing for a few seconds, just studied her from behind his mangled domino mask. Raven looked back at him wearily, feeling slightly bitter at his intervention and wishing he would have just let her hide. His expression softened and Raven blinked in surprise when she felt his thumb brush lightly against the skin beneath her second set of eyes before migrating north and tracing one of her ebon horns.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of," he declared, finality in every syllable.

A profound affection swept through her, heating her blood in a different way than before and making her heart beat too fast. The feeling belonged to both of them, Raven realized, and was more than enough to sweep away the last few drops of rage poisoning her psyche. Her vision blurred for a quick second as four eyes became two. Damian dropped his hand, skimming her hair lightly as he did, and settled back against his seat. He kept his eyes on her and Raven felt the unmistakable pride in his gaze. She laid her head on his shoulder again; partly to hide from the power of his regard and partly because of an uncontrollable need for closeness.

He reciprocated, resting his cheek against the crown of her head and exhaling deeply. The sense that she was soiled or shameful, which had dogged her since the battle, was gone now, replaced with the  inexplicable feeling that she was pristine.

“But he who dares not grasp the thorn

Should never crave the rose.”

― Anne Bronte 

DamiRae Week 2024 - Day 3 / Al Khala

Sway

Sometimes, when you and I collide

I fall into an ocean of you

Pull me out in time

damiraeweek2024 contribution from me and @andthendk! Enjoy!

[pissvortex]

Ok @lakemojave I jumped into the river. or waded into the creek. Fuck it I nominate @brucebocchi, Greg, and YOU (the girl reading this) to jump into a fucking river.

Also @jimmyhoffathecat.

Daily click

Donate e-sims

Donate to the PCRF

[gallusrostromegalus]

I got to hold a 500,000 year old hand axe at the museum today.

It's right-handed

I am right-handed

There are grooves for the thumb and knuckle to grip that fit my hand perfectly

I have calluses there from holding my stylus and pencils and the gardening tools.

There are sharper and blunter parts of the edge, for different types of cutting, as well as a point for piercing.

I know exactly how to use this to butcher a carcass.

A homo erectus made it

Some ancestor of mine, three species ago, made a tool that fits my hand perfectly, and that I still know how to use.

Who were you

A man? A woman? Did you even use those words?

Did you craft alone or were you with friends? Did you sing while you worked?

Did you find this stone yourself, or did you trade for it? Was it a gift?

Did you make it for yourself, or someone else, or does the distinction of personal property not really apply here?

Who were you?

What would you think today, seeing your descendant hold your tool and sob because it fits her hands as well?

What about your other descendant, the docent and caretaker of your tool, holding her hands under it the way you hold your hands under your baby's head when a stranger holds them.

Is it bizarre to you, that your most utilitarian object is now revered as holy?

Or has it always been divine?

Or is the divine in how I am watching videos on how to knap stone made by your other descendants, learning by example the way you did?

Tomorrow morning I am going to the local riverbed in search of the appropriate stones, and I will follow your example.

The first blood spilled on it will almost certainly be my own, as I learn the textures and rhythm of how it's done.

Did you have cuss words back then? Gods to blaspheme when the rock slips and you almost take your thumbnail off instead? Or did you just scream?

I'm not religious.

But if spilling my own blood to connect with a stranger who shared it isn't partaking in the divine

I don't know what is.

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, praise, established relationship, whiny nanami, cowgirl, mdni.

nanami loses his mind whenever his dick slips out of you.

thin blond strands of hair stick to his forehead as he stares at you. “sweetheart,” he almost pouts, hearing nothing but white noise in his ears as you’re jerking your body up and down against him. you felt so good, the warmth you always provided for him made him fall more and more in love. your saturated grip was merely addicting. he was quite literally drowning in your cunt. he found himself licking his lips, tossing his head back in bliss with a beefy arm clinging onto the rickety headboard. nanami uses his free hand to hold onto your waist, padded calloused thumbs brushing up and down your waist. “ugh, you do it s- so well, ride me so good,” and his words were like a broken record, a broken whisper. despite its raspiness, you could still hear the neediness lingering underneath. he looked so pretty, glossed up with tears of damp sweat. nanami’s mahongy blown irises rolling back before a low grunt pours from his lips.

“kento, ‘m close,” and as those sweet three words left your quivering spit-glossed lips, you let off a pitchy loud moan. your knees dig themselves deep into his thighs. as you vigorously rock further against his lap, it happens. he’s got a hand attaches to your waist only for his cock to abruptly slip itself out of your slippery cunt mid thrust and you could hear a tiny gasp leave his lips.

“o- oh fuck,” he groans, blinking twice. his entire palm creeps up against your ass as he pants. even the way he swore sounded angelic. the squelching pop sound that created from the sloppy action of your hips makes his ears ring. nanami buries his face into the forbidden crook of your neck in sheer embarrassment, wrapping a few thick fingers over his veiny length. “let me put it back in, s- sweetheart. stay still . . please.”

there was so much entreating beg in his voice, he felt the furrowing curl of his eyebrows compress together before he sprawls your thighs apart further with a single hand.

“okay,” you hum, feeling a breeze of wind rip straight out of your lungs. you’ve lost track of how many hours it’s been, riding him until he was a dumb pussy drunken mess. nanami felt his cock twitch at any and every word escaped from your lips. he could listen to your voice all day and never grow tired. your voice was his own favorite song to listen to on loop. “put it back in, ‘ken.”

“anything for you, my love,” he huffs, broad arms wrapping around your torso. he held you close, never wanting to let go.

the parching hot temperature of your own body radiates against him - your chest, it presses up onto his own and he practically feels himself melting from your balmy heat.

“s- so soaked for me.” he points out with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, preparing to re-align himself. nanami finds himself gawking at just how wet you were, creating a sheeny trail of your heat all on his lap. it made his mouth water at the thought of him licking it right up. he never minded to be messy — especially for you.

anytime you let him go inside, he makes it his entire life goal to make sure you feel good.

you let off a whimper, skimming a few trembly fingers down his faded undercut as he’s going back inside. you can hear his irregular pants as he’s smearing his damp cockhead against your entrance. nanami stares down, practically about to cum just from going back in.

with ease, you suck him in slowly and that moment was gonna always be embedded into his brain. you always swallowed him in so good. his girth, it stretches you open right away and your pussy greets him yet again with another greeting welcome. “k- kento, fuuuck.”

“i know, i know,” he pants, maneuvering soothing circles around your back with a clammy palm. you still had your knees dug into his thighs, making a cute attempt to start moving again. both bodies so close, perspiring with sweat that you start to stick and glue against him. with his sculpted jaw tightening, nanami can’t help but give the left cheek of your ass a nice squeeze. “oh, sweetheart. ‘m not gonna last if you keep— keep clamping down on me like t- this, fuck.”

as he’s fully inside again and his eyes salaciously roll way back, the powerful jerk of your hips starts to accelerate again and he’s already dumb.

dumb from your sweet, sweet cunt - his true enemy, you had him whipped.

there’s already a milky white ring coating around his thickset base. each time you jolt up from his lap only to slam back down, you hear the squelches of your own slippery cunt.

it’s messy, he’s messy. only for you though.

nanami feels the warm palm of your hands playfully shove him back against the fluffed pillows that’s directly behind him. “ah,” he lands back with a sheepish expression, gentle umber colored eyes flickering at your grinding body. “w- what’s this?”

“lie back, ken,” you murmur to him, feeling the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kiss up against your most sweetest spots. it took everything in you for your thighs - for your legs to not collapse right then and there. you see more teary beads of sweat race down the sides of his forehead as he clings onto your unstable waist. “there . . good,” you purr to him, sliding a hand up his abs, a finger ghosting down his chiseled v-line and further back down toward his visible blond happy trail. “good boy.”

he swallows — a soft noise leaving out of him. nanami felt his cock twitch again, and this time, you felt it too. “s- say it again,” he pleads, his voice gruff yet still needy. you steady your hips, creating more haste before pressing a kiss into his neck. “c- call me that again, sweetheart.”

“good boy, kento,” you repeat in a whisper, realizing that he actually got off to your praises. he melts again, this time at your words. the bed creaks and grates in rapture, sweaty bodies mirroring springy movements in sync before he abruptly sinks his face into your chest.

“praise me more,” he utters hoarsely, and you let off a soft moan as he shifts himself underneath you.

you’re still bouncing on him, hearing the groaning springs of the bed sing out a lewd tune of its own and your back arches. as you felt brief bittersweet pangs near the undersides of your thighs spread like wildfire, he whines.

“mhh,” and within seconds, you feel the wet tip of nanami’s tongue lick a long stripe down the valley of your chest. pretty lashes of his flutter shut before he holds your hips in firm place. as you stare down, his twitching thickset cock still concealed deep within your walls, he pouts one more time, squished face tuck right between your chest.

“please. praise me again, my love. pretty please.”

[stunie]

“NEEDIN’ A RIDE REAL, REAL BAD!!”

HAIKYUU + THIGH RIDING ᯓ⭑ ft. bokuto koutarou, daichi sawamura, kuroo tetsurou, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, & ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

contains : explicit smut (18+), thigh riding / dry humping, phone call (keep quiet n ride!), risky sex / very mild: cw exhibitionism, squirting, teasing, praise, kissing <3, hair pulling (you to them), orgasm denial, usage of pet names — 2.9K WC

note : yayya my first haikyuu post on here ! this is my response to this thirst here ૮꒰˶˃ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა hope u all have fun reading this <3

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Whoa whoa,” Kuroo coos through a breathy chuckle, big hand wrapping around your hip to hold you still against his thigh. “Easy now, pretty thing. Let’s pause for a second, okay?”

The sound of your protests and whines almost make him cave right off the bat. “…Tetsu..” you sulk, corners of your lips curling into a sad pout even when he gives you an apologetic smile before he’s jutting his thumb to gesture at his phone, the irritating melody of his ringtone repeating itself as the screen lights up, “Incoming call from: Kenma!” displayed across the top.

“Sorryy,” he huffs. “Can’t. This one’s important.”

He’s giving you a reassuring squeeze around your hip, a silent reminder that he’ll give you everything you need in a few minutes, but you’re not having any of that. Your arms come to stubbornly wrap around his neck before he can pick up the call, sugar sweet voice already making pleas only a second later.

On any other given day, you would have let him take the call with only an irritated huff— just not today. Not with the way you can already feel your orgasm running away from you. “P-please, please Tetsu,” you sob, “I was so close. Can’t wait any longer.. please?”

His eyes are widening a bit at the unfamiliar desperation in your voice, grunt slipping out when his cock reacts to it too, twitching and slapping against his stomach— a reoccurring habit that seems to only occur whenever you give him that needy little look of yours.

“Awww,” he whispers, and you barely catch the strain in his voice. “Well I’m sorry for ruining your moment, angel.”

You’re practically purring as soon as you feel his hand come to lightly cup your jaw, immediately melting into his touch as he smiles in response. “Ah— fine,” Kuroo caves as soon as he sees your hands coming to cutely hold his wrist in place. “Guess i can’t stop you if you need it so bad. But listen here..”

His thumb moves from your jaw, digit pressing into your bottom lip to angle your face at him. The look you’re giving him is just to die for, pouty lips soft against his thumb and you’re peering up at him through those pleady eyes— as if there was even a single chance that Kuroo would ever deny his pretty girl of an orgasm in the first place.

“Nothing crazy. Deal? Kenma hears and..” he presses a little harder into your lip, watching the way your tongue comes to swipe at the invasive finger. “Me and you? Are never hearing the end of it.”

You’re swiftly nodding as soon as the words register, hands coming to rest on the muscles of his shoulders as you resume your movement the next second, gasping at the way your clit catches against his thigh. “Kenma?” You hear him hum, tucking his phone between his cheek and shoulder— quick and casual.

Maybe too casual.

“Mmm,” his eyes flicker back towards you when you take in a sharp inhale. “So it’s about that. You sure you don’t wanna meet up to go over it?”

A loud gasp slips out from you when he abruptly grabs you by your waist, and your hands slam over your mouth, Kuroo tensing beneath you. “…Hm? Yeah, I’m listening.” He chuckles, regaining his composure in an instant as he starts to rock you back and forth against his leg— and fast.

The roughness has your face contorting, nails digging deep into his shoulders as you try and resist the strong hands guiding you back and forth— try and slow him down a bit, delay your oncoming orgasm by even second if anything at all. You hadn’t expected it to come back so fast, and.. you both knew good and well that you weren’t gonna be able to stay quiet.

You give him a look, something resembling your best attempt at a glare, but he’s ignoring it— casually chatting with kenma about something you can’t quite catch. You’re only left to bite your lip, eyebrows deeply furrowed as you desperately fight the knot tightening inside your belly, thighs clamping against his own as he flexes his quad straight into you.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, hand leaving your waist to pick up his phone again, finger hovering over the ‘mute’ button, and your body is falling limp onto his chest, hands balancing yourself on him as you peer up at him through tired eyes and a heavy pant. “Actually..”

“..Looks like I got a bit of a problem to take care of here first.” He smiles. “So give me a minute, yeah?”

MIYA ATSUMU.

“Gonna have to keep that pretty voice of yours down.” Atsumu’s lips brush against the shell of your ear, big hands tight around your hips as he drags you up and down his thigh. “Or ‘Samu’s gonna hear ya.”

Your hips stutter against his leg, drawing a sharp gasp from you- and he curses under his breath. Osamu would be back any second now, and yet he’s got you seated on him, your lounge shorts pulled to the side so he can draw one quick orgasm out of you before the three of you head out for dinner.

Because you— Atsumu’s impatient lil bunny, or so he calls you, just couldn’t wait until after the dinner to get a quick treat.

“‘M trying.” You whisper, voice breathless and whiny, and you tighten your embrace around his middle, burying your face deep into the fabric of his sweater. “Feels ‘s good… so good— need more..”

“I know, I know— later, yeah?” He sounds unsteady from how roughly he’s moving you against him, muscles of his thigh flexing and hardening underneath you. “Gonna give it to ya real good. stuff ya nice and full. How’s that sound, dirty girl?”

You want that.

You know exactly how easy it’d be for him to get you gushing underneath his cock if it weren’t for your insistence on him not cumming. And well.. it kind of made sense to him— considering how your last creampie went. His mind thinks back to how you looked with his cum dribbling down your thighs as you nervously clamped them together, and how no one seemed to noticed the juices dripping into a neat little puddle beneath you.

It’d be so easy— he’s got you all mapped out and knows you like the back of his hand. He could just push those pretty thighs of yours up to your face, hold them nice and still as he pummels the deep spot inside you that has you chanting his name over and over, and your cunt would be gushing right after that.

“‘Tsumu.” You choke out, tightly latching onto him like a koala, “‘M gonna cum..!”

“You are, aren’t ya? I can tell.” He groans, and his thigh bounces up into you, mumbling a curse under his breath when you squeal at the roughness. “Show me that pretty face when you’re lettin’ go.”

A couple more rolls of your hips and you’re gasping and stuttering against him, Atsumu pulling you just right against his thigh as your eyes slam shut, knot inside you violently snapping in an instant as you tremble underneath him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” His voice comes out deep and breathy, hands tightening their grip on you. “Ride it all out f’ me, rela- oh s-shit.”

Your eyes widen as soon as the sound of footsteps registers in your mind, and your head swiftly turns back to see that Atsumu’s already pulling your shorts back over your cunt, your juices immediately soaking through the fabric as he holds you flush against his chest, big hand cradling the back of your head.

“‘Tsumu..!” You whisper, but he’s shushing you with gentle strokes along the back of your head.

“What, ‘Samu?” he calls out, his mind putting together a silent prayer that his twin was not about to open the door.

His prayers go unanswered.

“You two ready yet?” Osamu’s asking as soon as he flings open the door, the knob accidentally slipping through his grasp, and your door crashes against your wall with a loud thud a second later.

You faintly hear him mutter an “oops” before his eyes are finally falling on you, brow raising at the sight of you clinging tightly onto atsumu as your chest heaves up and down.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

“What?” you can feel your concentration falter as soon as the sound of Sakusa’s voice reaches you, and you’re immediately wiping at the frustrated tears that have begun to collect along your lashes. “Can’t cum like that?”

You’re quick to shake your head, and he doesn’t miss the slight tremble to your lips. Cute.

Sakusa had his doubts about this idea of yours from the start. He knows how needy you always get— knows that despite that innocent face of yours, your cunt’s anything but. It’s greedy. Something like this was probably not gonna be able to get you to finish, and he knew that.. but a part of him was just curious.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see you this frustrated. Your chest is rising up and down with each angry pant, arm coming to rub at your nose from the occasional sniffle after being denied orgasm after orgasm.

And him? he’s never felt such a strong ache before. The dark spot on his shorts are a tell-tale sign that he’s been leaking with pre-cum, and he can practically feel it starting to drip down his cock. Neither of you were doing so well, and if he was being honest, he’s on the verge of flipping you over and putting you in a mating press— but the small voice inside him wants to see you come undone on his thighs. Badly.

He’s just gotta see how you look.

“Need your cock, Omi.” You mumble, rising onto your knees to scoot further up, but he’s stopping you only a second later. “Omi? Why..?”

“No.” he says flatly. “You don’t.”

“I do!” You’re protesting immediately after, hands balancing on his shoulders. “Can’t finish without it— ah!”

You yelp when he’s roughly pulling you back down, his quad flexing as soon as your cunt makes contact with his leg. The hands around your hips are tight, and Sakusa’s setting a rhythm only a moment later, keeping the muscles of his legs firm and flexed to better rub against your clit.

“W-wait!” You’re stammering, whining straight into his ear as you frantically latch onto him. He lets you bury your face into the crook of his neck as he works you closer to your high, forcing you into a mind-numbing pace to have you flying right off the edge in a few more seconds.

“You can— don’t fight it.” His voice comes out as a deep grunt, a result of his dragged out attempts at ignoring the borderline painful throb of his cock, and oh- he was so going to take you in a mating press after this. The second you’re finished gushing, he was gonna flip you over and finally rid himself this irritating ache.

“Omi!” You sob, eyes clenching shut as your hips start to stutter, and he can feel you trembling underneath his hands. “Omi.. O-omi— ‘m close!” He only responds by roughly pressing his thigh up against you, thick muscle hitting your clit just right as you choke out a scream, finally gushing all over his thighs.

“See?” He exhales, breath hitching in his throat when your nails dig deep into his back, his hands slowly moving you up and down to ride out your high.

“You can.”

DAICHI SAWAMURA.

“Feeling good, huh? Don’t try to fight it.”

Daichi grunts when you tug at his hair a little harder, face buried deep into his front as you desperately hump his leg. He’s gentle with you, strong hands guiding you up and down his leg, but he’d be lying if he said his patience wasn’t starting to wear thin.

The sweet nothings he’s been whispering into your ear this entire time are starting to sound a lot less like cooing and a lot more like grunting.

He couldn’t help it. He can feel you so so vividly, feel your juices dripping down the sides of his thigh and hear you moaning straight into his chest. You were soaked through and through, and it’s taking everything in him to stay patient and let you have this.

“There you go.” He’s praising you when you grind against him particularly hard, ignoring the way his shorts are feeling painfully tight around his cock. “Just like that— move exactly like that.”

“Daichi,” you whine. “‘M getting so close— feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He exhales deeply, and the way his cock twitches suddenly has him groaning, hands squeezing a bit too hard against your hips as you wince. “Daichi..?”

“Oops, sorry princess.” He’s clenching his jaw, giving you a weak smile as you wrap your arms around him. “That’s my bad. Don’t mind me, okay? Just.. worry about yourself— this is all about you right now.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

You weren’t as subtle as you thought.

His legs just looked so strong, so perfect to sit on, and you couldn’t help yourself. He didn’t seem to think too much of it when you first sat a little lower than you usually did, straddling his mid thigh as he flipped through another manga that Tendou had lent him earlier that week.

Just subtle movements up and down his thigh was your original plan, but it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima’s voice has you jolting from where you’re seated on his left thigh, his gaze now on you and the way you’re frantically waving your arms around in defense, barely able to stammer out a “N-nothing!”

You just barely catch the way his eyebrow raises in suspicion. It has you moving off him the next second, but he’s tossing aside the manga, big and strong hands easily wrapping around your hips to keep you planted on him.

“Don’t leave yet.” He says, stern and flat, but you catch the hint of curiosity swirling deep in his eyes.

The familiar heat of embarrassment is flooding to your face in an instant, and your head hangs low. “S-sorry, Toshi.” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Your thighs just looked so big, just wanted to… ride them.”

It’s silent.

You work up the courage to snack a glance at him again, now faced with the sight of his head tilted a bit, as if confused by your confession. “B-but!” You continue, mouth already running off on its own. “Forget it, okay? It might be weird— Toshi..?”

It was just one little flex of his quad, one that had the muscle pushing up against your clit, but the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded sinful. You can feel his grip around your hips tightening a bit, and he’s leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.

“Wouldn’t it feel better like this?”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU.

It started off with an accidental brush of his knee against your cunt.

Bokuto had always been eager with his kisses. He had you pinned down on his mattress, body hovering over yours as he moved his lips against your own— and he hadn’t even noticed anything different until he heard you suddenly moan into his mouth. He’s pulling away the next second, eyes wide as he tries gauging your reaction again, bringing his knee back to rub over your cunt. And … just like clockwork, your eyes clench shut and you choke back a gasp.

He swallows thickly.

Only five minutes later and he’s got you seated on his thigh, moving you back and forth with a needy grunt, his free hand squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Don’t look away, ‘kay?”

“You look pretty— pretty like that. I just wanna see.”

The look on his face isn’t much different from yours. His mouth is slightly parted in desperate pants, deep red spreading across his cheeks at the sight of you feeling good on his leg. He’s swallowing deeply before he takes in a sharp inhale right after, already pussy drunk and his dick hasn’t even touched you yet.

The way your face starts to contort when you’re rapidly approaching your high has him just hoping he doesn’t end up finishing untouched. It’s throbbing— absolutely aching with need and as soon as you start sobbing his name, he can feel his patience shatter into thin pieces.

You let out a loud yelp as soon as your back hits the mattress, Bokuto looming over you with a strained look on his face as he rushes to line his tip up with your hole. “S-sorry.” His voice is just above a growl. “I can’t help it after all. It’s okay though, right? Gonna make you feel good.”

[dissapointu]

Vi smut: The Ultimate Gift

It’s my birthday soon so..yeah. Happy birthday to me!

———————————————————————-

In the bustling, vibrant city of Piltover, where the lights shimmered against the darkened sky, the air was thick with excitement. It was your birthday, a day that had always held a special place in your heart, but this year felt different. This year, you were sharing it with Vi, the fierce and spirited enforcer who had captured your heart.

The two of you had been together for a while now, your chemistry undeniable. Vi’s adventurous spirit always drew you in, and her boldness in every aspect of life, especially in your intimate moments, left you breathless. As you lounged on the couch, wrapped in each other’s warmth, her playful smile ignited a sense of anticipation within you.

“Happy birthday, love. I have a special surprise for you,” she whispered, leaning in close, her breath tickling your ear. Your heart raced as you followed her into the bedroom, excitement coursing through your veins.

Once inside, Vi pushed you gently onto the bed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She climbed atop you, her weight comforting yet exhilarating. The world outside faded away as she leaned in, nibbling at your earlobes, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

“I want to make you feel good, really good,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your skin like a warm breeze. The intensity of the moment sent your senses into overdrive.

With deliberate slowness, Vi began undressing you, her hands exploring every curve, every inch of your body. Each kiss ignited a fire within you, and as her tongue danced with yours, your breath quickened, and you surrendered to her touch.

“Beautiful,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire. “I can’t wait to make you cum.”

As she descended down to your chest, she takes her time to worship your body, you could hardly contain your moans of pleasure. Vi knew exactly how to tease and tantalize, her tongue skillfully coaxing every response from you. The sensation of her mouth on your sensitive skin pushed you to find yourself lost in a haze of bliss.

“I want to taste you,” she murmured against your breasts, her eyes filled with a hunger that made your heart race. She moved between your legs, the anticipation almost unbearable as she spread you open. The moment her tongue made contact, you gasped, arching your back as she expertly worked her magic.

With every flick and swirl, Vi brought you closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Fingers joined her mouth, plunging deep within you as she found that sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. You were left breathless, trembling as you reached your peak.

“That was just the beginning,” Vi teased, her grin wicked as she reached for something hidden away in her drawer.

Your pulse quickened as she revealed a strap-on, your breath hitching at the thought of what was to come. Vi’s confidence was intoxicating, and the way she slipped it on only heightened your desire. You felt a delicious thrill run through you, eager to experience this new level of intimacy with her.

Positioning herself between your legs, she teased your entrance with the tip. “Are you ready for me?” she asked, her voice low and sultry.

With a nod, you surrendered to her completely. Vi slid inside you, the sensation overwhelming as she filled you in a way you had never experienced before. She rocked her hips, each thrust deep and deliberate, igniting a fire within you that spread like wildfire.

“Harder, Vi. Please,” you begged, your voice a mix of pleasure and need. She obliged, her movements becoming more fervent, driving you to heights you had only dreamed of.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum hard,” she whispered, her breath hot against your ear.

With a final thrust, the world around you faded away as you exploded into ecstasy, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Vi collapsed on top of you, panting and satisfied, her smile brighter than ever.

“Happy birthday,” she said, her voice a soft murmur as she nuzzled into your neck. “I hope that was everything you hoped for and more.”

You nodded, still basking in the afterglow, knowing that this was indeed the best birthday present you could ever receive—a day filled with passion, intimacy, and the unbreakable bond you shared with the love of your life.

[littlelamy]

boat scene with rafe

requested by @gibson-g1rl l <3 😘 part 2

credits: oysters png from @saizun , and amazing gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The boat rocks beneath you as you step toward where Rafe sits bound against the wall, looking both furious and oddly vulnerable. You catch his eye as you enter the room, holding a small packet of aspirin and a plate of food. His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, but his cocky smirk returns almost immediately.

“Look who’s here to take care of me,” he drawls, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing tone, though there’s a flicker of genuine relief in his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to your words. You set the plate down next to him and hand over the aspirin, glancing away to avoid letting him see the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “Thought you’d need this. Can’t have you passing out on us.”

Rafe takes the aspirin from your hand, holding your gaze just a little too long before he swallows it dry. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting room service,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “Didn’t know you cared this much.”

You scoff, folding your arms. “You should know by now I don’t want you dead, Rafe,” you say with a wry smile. “But don’t expect this to become a habit.”

He chuckles, the sound low and a little smug. “We’ll see about that,” he says, shifting against the ropes, clearly enjoying the attention. He nods toward the plate. “So, what—are you gonna feed me, too?”

You blink, taken aback by his nerve, and then raise an eyebrow, letting sarcasm color your voice. “Would you like me to? Or do you think you can manage?” You narrow your eyes, daring him to keep pushing.

Rafe’s smirk wavers, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink as he quickly looks away. “I can handle it,” he mutters, clearly flustered but trying to play it off. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to.” But you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips as you settle back, watching as he tries to pick up a piece of food from the plate with an awkward, fumbling grip, struggling against the restraints.

You stifle a laugh as he tries to eat without making a mess, and he catches you smiling, his jaw tightening. “Something funny?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

You shrug, biting back your amusement. “Nothing at all. You look perfectly in control.”

Rafe grumbles under his breath, focusing intently on his food to avoid meeting your eyes. Another wave rocks the boat, causing you to steady yourself against the wall, and you look back to find him watching you, something almost like concern flickering in his gaze.

“Be careful,” he mutters, his voice softer, dropping the bravado for a split second.

For a moment, you just look at each other, the storm outside and the chaos around you fading into the background. His cocky expression softens, and he gives you a small, grateful nod. He won’t say it, but you know he’s thankful.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, crossing your arms as you lean back against the wall. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

Rafe grins, his cockiness slipping back into place, but now it’s warmer, less of a wall and more like something shared just between the two of you. As he reaches for another bite, he murmurs, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” And as much as you try to resist, you can’t help the small, reluctant smile that crosses your face in response.

The storm hits hard, the boat rocking violently beneath your feet. You’re barely able to keep your balance as you make your way through the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Waves crash against the hull, each one sending a jolt of panic through your body. But there’s something else clawing at you—something that won’t let you ignore the sound of Rafe’s voice, sharp and desperate, calling from another room.

“Come on! Cut me loose!” His voice cracks, the desperation in it too raw to ignore.

You freeze, breath catching in your throat. Rafe. He’s still tied up. The ropes are holding him in place as the boat teeters precariously on the brink of capsizing. You can hear Pope and Cleo yelling from the kitchen, their voices overlapping, trying to convince you to leave it alone. To save yourself. But you can’t. Not this time.

You grip the knife tighter, your fingers cold and trembling from the anxiety rising in your chest. There’s no time to think. Rafe’s call keeps echoing in your head, and that voice—the urgency, the fear—pushes you forward. You make your way toward the room where you heard him last, the sound of the storm growing louder as it pounds against the sides of the boat.

Before you even get to the door, Cleo’s voice rings out. “No! Y/N, No!”

Pope’s voice follows, sharper. “Y/N, stop don’t let him out!”

But you keep moving. You don’t stop. You can’t. There’s no way you’re going to let Rafe stay there, helpless and bound, when you can do something about it.

When you reach the door, you shove it open, and the sight of Rafe tied up against the far wall hits you with a jolt. He’s slumped slightly, sweat slicking his forehead, his face drawn with exhaustion and frustration. His eyes snap to you, and for a split second, they soften with something almost like relief.

“Cut me loose, come on!” He says again, his voice strained, but louder this time, more insistent.

His hands are bound tightly in thick ropes, his legs spread out uncomfortably beneath him. The ropes seem too thick for him to break on his own. You can see the tension in his body, the way his muscles twitch from the strain, and the panic that flickers behind his gaze. There’s no time to waste. You don’t think twice. You crouch in front of him, the knife in your hand glinting in the low light.

Rafe watches you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Don’t make me regret this,” you murmur, feeling your heart beat faster as you cut into the thick rope that’s holding him in place. Your hands are shaking, the knife slipping slightly as the boat tilts again, but you focus on the task at hand.

“Come on, hurry up.” His words are clipped, desperate, and you push aside the nervous tightness in your chest as you work faster, cutting the ropes.

You’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, a stark contrast to the cold, wet air from the storm. The boat groans as another wave slams against it, and Rafe’s eyes flicker to the window, then back to you.

“Please,” he breathes, and it’s that one word that makes everything else fade away—the roaring storm, the panicked shouting from the others, the ticking clock of time slipping away.

The last thread gives way with a sharp cut, and Rafe’s hands are free. His arms immediately reach for you, grabbing hold of your wrist with a surprising amount of force, pulling himself upright.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice rough, but there’s something deeper in it, something like a sense of vulnerability you’ve never seen from him before.

You don’t have time to say anything, to wonder if he’s really thankful or if he’s just grateful to be free. The boat shudders violently, and you both stumble as the hull groans beneath you. The wind howls outside, whipping against the windows, and you know there’s not much time before things get worse.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an invitation. He grabs your arm, pulling you toward the narrow hallway. “We need to get to somewhere safer,” he says, his tone not leaving any room for an argument.

You’re both moving quickly, though the boat keeps pitching wildly. The wind screeches, and water sloshes against the floorboards. Every step feels like a risk, like the boat could capsize at any moment. But Rafe doesn’t let go of your arm. He pulls you behind him, guiding you toward a small corner near the engine room, the only place that might offer even the slightest bit of shelter.

You slide into the corner, pressing yourself against the cold wall. It’s not the safest place, but in the madness of the storm, it’s all you have. Rafe follows, wedging himself beside you. There’s barely enough room for the two of you, but you don’t mind. You’re not focused on that right now. All you can think about is how the boat is rocking, how you’re both on the brink of disaster, and how Rafe’s body is so close to yours.

He leans into you, his breathing ragged and uneven. For a moment, he pulls away, but then his hand is at your waist, his grip tightening. It’s almost like he’s afraid you might slip away from him. He presses his body closer, his face now inches from yours, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart.

Rafe places his head on your neck, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder. The warmth of his breath on your skin is both comforting and unsettling, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you place your hand on his back, the pressure of your touch grounding both of you as the storm rages on around you.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to reassure him or yourself.

Rafe doesn’t respond, but you feel his muscles relax, his tense body unwinding little by little. He’s not just holding onto you for stability; it feels like he’s holding onto you for something more. You can’t explain it, but there’s something in the way he leans into you, something raw and vulnerable that you’ve never seen before.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln

[kamitv]

Saw a pottery video earlier and started thinking about Nanami and how he’d definitely take pottery classes just for fun.

You miraculously attend a class one weekend and meet him there, watching the way his thick fingers dive in and out of the clay over and over and over—secretly wishing that it was your cunt he was sinking those lengthy digits into.

The veins in his hand bulge with every firm press of his fingertips into the moist clay and lord knows your thoughts are everywhere else except for the instructions he’s giving you.

Even when you work on the same item as him and as he guides your noticeably smaller fingers against the steadily molding clay, you can’t keep the erotic thoughts out.

He’d be right there, practically in your ear, hushing out a low, “Juuust like that sweetheart, right there.” In that sexy deep baritone voice of his.

If you weren’t squeezing your legs together before, you damn sure are now.

Hours in and you swore he was doing it on purpose, slipping his smoothly surfaced fingers in between yours and forcing you to curl your digits against the clay as he teased you with his words, “Feel right here? This spot’s important,” You don’t know a damn thing about clay or pottery but you’re pretty sure there’s no reason for him to be speaking like that over some weathered rock.

“Dig in there nice ‘n deep,” Nanami hums right against the shell of your ear. You can feel his hot breath tickling your skin and your lips part to let out an all too lustful breath of air.

Even while he was correcting something you did wrong, your mind was spinning. He’d ease your hands out and whisper yet again, “Not like that, watch me.” Nanami would instruct, tipping his head to the side to find your eyes and watch you watch his hands.

It’s definitely purposeful the way he slides only his middle and ring finger against the wet clay in a downward motion. Then he’s talking again and you’re soaked. “Like this. In and out, sweetheart. Carefully and slowly. Wouldn’t want it to break, would you?” Each word is dripping with a husked tone that makes your legs glue together.

And when he leans in even closer, your breath noticeable hitches. “I’m gonna need an answer from those pretty lips,” He hushes out, voice barely above a whisper.

It’s like it was only you and him in the room—despite there being many other people with their prospective partners or teachers.

Your lips are shaky as they part, “N-No, I-“

“Look at me,” He orders.

Your spine stiffens and your eyes flick up to meet his, only for your lashes to flutter as if to mask the heat that overcomes your flustered expression.

Nanami gives you a kind smile, “There she is. Now, what was that? I couldn’t hear you, you’ll have to speak up a bit for me, pretty girl.”

Your heart clearly wants to jump out of your chest at the intimate eye contact he’s giving you and his gentle words. All as his fingers still dig in and out of the nearby clay. Clearing your throat, you shake your head, “I was s-saying no, I don’t want it to break.”

He nods at your every word and you swear his eyes linger on the outline of your lips far longer than they should be. “Mhm, exactly. Now try again for me.” Nanami requests.

You swallow the lump in your throat and move your hands over to the clay once more. Your entire body feels hot and you pretty much lose your mind when he slides closer to you.

“Careful with the tip, it’s sensitive,” He whispers directly into your ear. Truth be told, he was referring the the edges of what seems to be a small pot forming but, that didn’t matter to you at the moment.

You nod again, “Sorry.”

He hums quietly to acknowledge your little apology and then his hands cup yours again, molding your fingers to almost sensually slide in and out of the forming pot.

Nanami’s lips graze your ear this time and you sigh a little too heavily. “She’ll be set out to dry later but, listen to how wet she is. It’s almost lewd.” He purrs, making your lashes bat at the way he refers to the pot as she instead of an it.

“N-Nanami, I don’t think—“

“Kento,” He corrects, “You can call me Kento.”

You gulp, “Are you-, are we still uhm, talking about pottery?”

The man lets out a low chuckle and he shakes his head, “What else could I be talking about that’s wet and makes lewd noises when you touch it? Hm?”

Oh he’s such a fucking tease.

“N-Nothing, sorry.” Lord knows if you stutter one more time you’re going to lose your damn mind. This is just embarrassing at this point.

“Are you sure?” He presses on, forcing your fingers deeper into the pot ahead. “Because if there’s something else you’d like to talk to me about, I’m all ears.”

Your face is burning. “No. There’s nothing else,” You try to mask your nervousness through words spoken without a stutter but the slight shake in your tone wasn’t helping much.

Nanami hums deeply, the sound vibrating against his throat. “Mmmh, but there is, isn’t there?” He points out, dropping his voice even lower as he moves his lips against your ear again, “Every time I open my mouth, your thighs clench together. Something tells me this soon-to-be pot isn’t the only thing wet right now.”

“I, uhm…” You sigh, “I—“

“It’s okay, I know these sessions can be quite arousing, pretty girl.” Nanami talks to you so quietly and gently, like he’s known what he’s been doing since the start.

“I’m not-, uh,” All you can do is sigh and try to control the constant pulsing in between your legs.

You feel him smile against the shell of your ear before he utters, “Just admit it, you’re soaked.”

How could you not be? Especially when he talks to you like that. “I…”

“Say it for me.” Nanami urges, “I promise I’ll help you after this if you admit it.”

You’ve never admitted to something faster in your life, “O-Okay, fine. Yeah, I am…”

Nanami’s fingers sensually slip against yours, “Good girl.” He hums. You’re so fucked. “See? Was that so hard?” He asks rhetorically, “Now, once we finish with this, I’ll be sure that you do as well.”

All you can do is nod blankly, “Okay…” Then a moment passes as his word truly sink in and you realize what he meant. “Wait, what—“