#i do love ben i swear

[jae-in-a-trenchcoat]

Drew @st4rrmii's Ben edit because he actually looks so good

[livethrushit]

that last scene in the qaf finale was painful. we get a voiceover of michael talking about how some things should never change and the show decided that very much included brian. we then get him dancing in babylon to beat us over the head with the idea that nothing has changed at its core. but everything has in that moment. everything had changed for seasons. with everyone dancing "the way it should be" brian was the only one who didn't fit in that scene, yet there he was smack in the middle of it all

this wasn't growth, it wasn't poetic, it was a poorly written ending

[ravaging-angel]

ur angle and ur davil

[pistachi0art]

Next up: Suave! 💐

[hayaku14]

been listening to lay me down since last night, thinking and crying about kaishin, and earlier today i found a sam smith and ben platt duet version of it and it made it all the more kaishin to me i can't stop listening to it im going so insane maybe i should just make a list of kaishin fics that made me feel like lay me down actually ✋😔

[softquietsteadylove]

Birdie, I've got an idea for Valentine's Day! 🖤✨

Jack is asking his uncle Gilgamesh for an advice for Valentine's Day. So he and Gil are baking heart shaped cookies for their loved ones. On Valentine's Day Jack is giving his cookies to Thena because he loves his aunt very much and Phastos is complaining because he doesn't get a single heart shaped cookie.

Hugs and Love🖤✨

"Did you find out who it is?"

"No," Phastos huffed, watching from around the corner as Jack held up a decorated cookie for Gil to examine and certify. "He won't tell me."

"Perhaps it's best left alone," Ben posited from his chair, much more relaxed than his husband. "If he's not ready to tell us, he's not ready. He is only 11, habibi."

"Exactly, he's just a kid," Phastos hissed back at his partner. He looked back into the kitchen, where Jack was trying to sneak another taste of icing. At least Gil had taken seriously that Jack could not eat that much raw egg safely. He could like the cookie dough spoon, that was it. "He's too young for this."

Ben sighed, shutting his book and standing to join his husband. He slid his hand up his back gently, "well, some humans develop those kinds of feelings early. It's probably just a little crush."

"Little crush my ass," Phastos grumbled in response. He looked at Ben, "he's my kid too, and Eternals love...intensely."

Ben simply nodded, knowing very well that every bond the Eternals had tended to span thousands of years.

"Why are you spying on them?"

"F-!" Phastos sucked his lip between his teeth before he could let out a curse that would rattle even his superpowered glass windows. He glared at his sister, "T, I swear to god, okay?"

"What?" the Warrior Eternal merely blinked at him, still soft around the edges from her nap. She looked into the kitchen as well. "They seem to be enjoying themselves. What is the occasion?"

"Valentine's?" Phastos prompted, only to be met with Thena's 'statue face'. He rolled his eyes, "poor Gil, stuck with you for every damn one of 'em."

Thena pursed her lips at her brother before reaching up and pinching his side. "I will have you know, Gilgamesh prefers to take the lead on such occasions. I participate--that is enough for him."

"I'm sure it is," Ben assuaged, eager to get in between the two immortal beings who bickered like children. "Jack asked Gil for help making the cookies just after you went back to your room."

"Hm," Thena tilted her head at the scene. "Gil often makes something for this day; there is no secret to it."

"Well, this time, there was," Phastos muttered darkly, back to spying. He glared as Jack laughed and Gil patted his shoulder. Phastos turned back to Ben, "he knows I'm his dad, right? We can help him with this stuff!"

"Phastos," his husband chided instead of comforted, back to rubbing his back. "This is what it's like for kids to have uncles and aunts. They get to enjoy their company in a way that's different from ours."

"You go ask," Phastos prompted, shoving Thena away from him and in the direction of the kitchen. She glowered at him for it.

"Ask what?" she seethed at him, raising her fist to punch him in return.

Ben slid in between them again, again trying to mediate their typical family squabbles. "Who the cookies are for. He wouldn't tell when Phastos asked."

"Hm," Thena blinked, but accepted conditions. She turned away from Ben and lowered her fist, "Jack?"

Phastos kissed Ben's temple, "good save."

"Aunt Thena, you're up!" he turned in his chair, getting up on his knees and leaning against the back of it to beam at her. "Did you have a nice sleep?"

"It was lovely," she smiled down at her precious human nephew. She tilted her head, admiring the bounty behind him. "You have been making confections."

"Uncle Gil!"

"It's okay buddy, it wasn't like we were gonna be able to keep 'em secret for long," Gil chuckled as he stood from his chair. He wrapped his arm around Thena's waist, pressing his forehead to hers. "Get some rest?"

"I did," she promised her own partner and husband as he leaned in for a kiss.

"Ahem!!!"

Both Eternals parted, glaring at their agitated brother briefly. Thena looked down at Jack, who was nibbling on his little lip. "Who shall receive your hard work, Jack?"

"Well," the boy fidgeted, his expression shy. His fathers held hands behind his uncle and aunt, but Jack stood from the chair and took Thena's hand. He pulled gently, guiding her to sit where he had been. He turned the plate, on which he had arranged all the heart shaped cookies into one big heart shape. "They're for you, Aunt Thena."

Thena blinked at the platter of cookies. They were all frosted, with varying degrees of colour and skill. They were soft, white sugar cookies with red icing on them. "Me?"

"Of course," Phastos huffed behind them, but was shushed by Ben.

"Valentine's is kinda cringe, but it doesn't have to be for, like, love-stuff," Jack shrugged. "At least that's what they said at school. They said we could do something for our favourite person."

"My own son," Phastos continued to lament.

"So," Jack looked up at Gil, who nodded for him to keep going. "I asked Uncle Gil if he would help me make some cookies for you. But I cracked the eggs perfect! And I decorated all of these ones."

Thena smiled, picking up one of the more grotesque, early experiments. She took a bite, smiling as she chewed the soft, buttery cookie. "They're perfect."

"Really?" Jack lit up.

"Partake in your spoils," she said as she handed him one. "Thank you, Jack. I daresay you are my favourite as well."

"Hey Jack," Phastos inched forward as his son wolfed down one of his own cookies. "Are any of those for your old man, maybe?"

Jack just stared. "You can ask Aunt Thena."

Phastos glared at her , though. "T, remember-"

"Ben may have some."

"Oh, come on!"

Gilgamesh stood aside, laughing at Thena's innate desire to be petty with their brother. He slapped the back of Phastos' shoulder as Ben did sneak in to steal one for himself. "I mean you should've seen that coming, man."

"You guys are married," Jack gesticulated, pointing at the two couples in front of him respectively. "You got each other stuff for today, right? You don't need me to do anything."

Phastos continued to pout about how his own child made his sister cookies but none for him. But Ben smiled, "that's right, we did get each other gifts for today. It was very nice of you to make something for your Aunt Thena, Jack."

Thena moved from the chair to let Jack sit again, "but I shall need help eating all these. Jack, if you would be so kind...?"

"Sure!" It didn't take much to convince him.

Ben led Phastos into the living room to nurse his wounds, while Gil pulled Thena to his side again, further up the table. She sighed as he pressed his lips to her cheek, "is this what you did all afternoon?"

"Yep," Gil whispered. "I think he waited for you to have a nap so he could surprise you."

"It's rather sweet," she smiled at the image of her nephew enjoying a few more cookies. She looked down at this plate, decorated significantly differently. "And these?"

"For you," her lover confirmed, holding one up to display the meticulous design he'd made. "It's Australia!"

It looked like a smear of dirt in a sea of blue.

"Don't worry, I made my own preparations for today," he whispered before nipping at her ear, promising fun more than just some cookies.

"Hm," Thena purred, allowing him to kiss behind her ear and down her neck in their small window of privacy. "You do love this particular occasion."

"Damn right I do," he said against the soft skin of her shoulder, just inside the collar of her dress. "An excuse to lavish my wife with gifts and attention? And make love like wild animals-"

"AHEM!!!"

Gil sighed as he pulled away from her to also glare at Phastos, "what, dude?--don't you also have lavishing to do?"

"Not in the kitchen I don't," Phastos snapped with his hands on his hips. "None of us are having a romantic time until 9 o'clock anyway."

That was Jack's bed time.

"So we're gonna go out for a nice family dinner instead," he declared firmly, as if it were a mission order, and not an invitation to a nice restaurant. He slapped his coat over his arm, "and you two are gonna behave!"

"We always behave," Gil rolled his eyes, following Phastos into the living room and front hall to also retrieve his and Thena's coats.

"Nuh-uh, no, I mean it Gil," Phastos snapped in his brother's face as they both glared at each other amidst helping their partners into their own coats. "No ooey-gooey eyes, no playing footsies under the table, no sneakin' off to the bathroom."

"What if he has to go?" Jack asked much more innocently as he retrieved his own coat. He smiled as Thena held it out for him the same way Gil had done for her.

"That's not-" Phastos sighed, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "Okay, never mind, family dinner, let's go."

[samuraisharkie]

me every time I think about the current state of The Amazing Spider-Man comics: Here’s How Peter Can Still Win

[voidfell]

Applies Loser Baby to other ships like:

Hugo / Varian

Bad Ben / Bad Rook

Ben / Albedo

Hartley / Cisco

Wukong / Macaque

Jack Harkness / The Doctor

Claw Noir / Shadybug

[skinnyscottishbloke]

.

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Finley Rider x Ben x Jay ✤ Stolen Heart​

Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

Tag List: want to be added?

[marvelfilth]

Jealous girl (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: secret relationship, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, daddy kink, fingering, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Natasha's in her 30s), praise, pet names, orgasm denial

Summary: your best friend Peter needs help, Natasha's not happy about it at all.

Masterlist

You're standing in the kitchen when it happens.

Peter barges in, his hair a tangled mess, his sweatshirt inside out. You jump away from Natasha's arms, making her spill her protein shake. She shoots him a dirty look, her lips curling up upon registering his disheveled state.

You try to keep the annoyance from showing on your face, but you know you're doing a terrible job when Peter winces apologetically, throwing a bag full of Ben and Jerry's on the counter.

"Code red," he pants.

You straighten immediately, trying to shoo Natasha away with a look, but, instead of leaving, she makes herself comfortable on the counter with an excited glint in her eyes.

You've been friends with Peter ever since he ran you over with his bike in kindergarten, leaving you with a tiny scar on your shin, and a fear of any two-wheeled object. Your friendship grew over the years, and soon enough you were joined at hip, going to the same school and college, tagging along on his patrols, mainly to keep him out of the police radars.

"What's wrong?" You ask, fearing the worst. "Is Venom acting up again? Is it Felicia? I swear to God, if it's her again I'm gonna-"

That's when you decided to make a secret code to help you stay under the radar. In hindsight, you could've thought of something more elaborate than code red, code green and code yellow, but neither of you had enough brain power for that.

"It's MJ!" He cuts you off, shifting on his feet.

You stammer, looking at Natasha for help, but she appears equally puzzled. "I didn't think she had it in her, to be honest," she says, taking a sip of her shake.

"What?" Peter yelps, before jumping up, his hands flying up in an X motion. "No! She's not- No! She's not a villain, or a criminal, or anything like that."

You decide you've had enough of his blabbering, so you take hold of his shoulders and corner him against the counter. "What is it, Peter?"

He takes a deep breath, his cheeks painted crimson, and blurts out, "I really need you to kiss me."

You jump away like you've been burned, shooting an alarmed look to Natasha, but she doesn't register it, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, her knuckles white from the grip she has on her protein shake. You think you can hear it creak.

You turn back to look at your best friend, who's blissfully unaware of your relationship with the most dangerous person in this building, just like everyone else on the team.

Natasha's reluctance to share her love life with her teammates came to bite her in the ass.

"No, wait. That came out wrong." He winces, his eyes darting to Natasha. You can hear him gulp when their eyes meet.

"I think you were pretty clear, Parker," she gritts, jumping off the counter, and comes to stand behind you, hovering over your shoulder.

You send him an encouraging look, taking hold of Natasha's hand behind your back.

"I have a date with MJ-"

"Doesn't explain why you need my- Y/n to kiss you."

You shoot her a warning look. "Let him finish."

Her jaw clenches, but she relents, nodding to the boy to continue.

He looks like he regrets every life choice that led him to this moment.

"Okay, so. I have a date with MJ, and I planned it all out, right? But… um… there's a problem." He clasps his hands, thumbs fiddling. You stay silent in fear of him closing off, and patiently wait for him to continue. "I've never had a girlfriend before, and I've been kissed twice, if you count that one time when Ned fell on top of me and kind of swallowed my face." Natasha snorts, and Peter blushes deep red, his eyes pleading. "I need practice because otherwise I'll just embarrass myself, and she'll hate me forever."

You feel Natasha tense up again, and you're ready to ask her to leave, but she beats you to it, speaking up before you could open your mouth. "I don't think MJ would like you kissing someone else right before your date." Her tone is even, carefully emotionless, but you feel the way her breathing shakes slightly, her grip on your hand tightening.

Peter looks at you, brows set in confusion. "But it's Y/n, she doesn't count as someone!" You huff, indignant. He winces, but goes on. "I could ask Ned, but I don't think he has any experience, so please, please do this for me?"

You turn around to face Natasha. "Can you leave us?"

Her eyes narrow, lips curled. "You're not kissing him." Her hands land on your waist possessively, and you're suddenly turned around. She lowers her chin to your shoulder, lips grazing the shell of your ear as she speaks, "Listen to me very carefully, Parker."

Peter gulps, and takes a step back, his eyes wide and alert.

"You're going to leave and find someone else to help with your little problem. We'll pretend this conversation never took place, and you'll never even think about kissing Y/n again. Am I being clear?" She almost growls, her eyes flashing.

Peter nods dumbly, before hurrying to the door. He stops halfway to shoot you a bewildered look over his shoulder. "Wait… Are you two-"

"Out, Parker," Natasha barks, her face half buried in the crook of your neck. You blush, and wave your friend goodbye, grateful when he disappears behind the door without any further questions.

"Tasha," you whine, turning in her hold. "That wasn't necessary."

She scoffs, and picks you up with practiced ease, settling you on the counter and taking place between your parted thighs. "Yes it was." She sucks at the tender skin just below your collarbone, leaving a stinging bruise. "I can't believe you wanted me to leave." She squeezes your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth is all over your neck - sucking, biting and licking, claiming. You're sure no amount of concealer will be enough to hide the marks.

"Natty," you whimper, "he's my friend, I wanted to talk some sense into him."

She hums, the skin on the underside of your jaw pulled between her teeth. "I did the same thing, no?" Her fingers sneak past the waistband of your shorts, but you're quick to catch her wrist.

"What are you doing?" You look around, panting heavily. "What if someone walks in?"

"Daddy," you moan, pushing her face lower. Her fingers feel so heavenly that you don't even care about anyone walking in - you need her tongue, now. "Please."

You're pushed flat against the counter then, your back on the cold marble, your ass hanging right off the edge. Your fingers disappear in her tresses when she bends down to place a kiss on your clothed cunt.

"Let them see who you belong to," she murmurs, entering your aching core. You bite back a moan, arching in her hold, your pussy clenching around her long digits. Fleeting kisses are placed all over your stomach, her fingers curling inside your heat.

She chuckles, gently biting on your hip bone. "So needy already? I barely started." She adjusts the angle, fastening the pace, but your shorts get in the way, making you huff impatiently.

"Take them off, please," you whimper, clenching around her.

"And when someone walks in, and sees you spread wide open, what then? You think I'd allow anyone to see this pretty pussy?" Her fingers scissor inside you, stretching your walls.

"N-no."

"That's right," she hums, "because it belongs to me." She pulls out to land a short slap on your slit. "Perfect little hole for daddy to play with."

She teases your folds, collecting wetness before pushing her fingers into your mouth. You eagerly suck them in, letting her fuck your mouth, tips of her fingers pushing against your throat. "Such an obedient girl," she murmurs, dark eyes fixated on your lips. You squirm, hips rocking against her abdomen with desperate need of release.

She pulls out her fingers, smearing your slick mixed with spit over your chin.

"I need you," you whine, catching her wrist and leading her hand lower, your panties sticking to your drenched cunt.

She takes the fabric in her fist, and tugs it up, making it press against your pulsing clit. You moan loudly, throwing your head back. She kneads your supple breast with her other hand, and you arch into her, pulling her closer to your aching core with your hips.

"We'll tell everyone tonight," she murmurs against your lips. "But right now you need to be a good girl and take everything daddy gives you."

You nod, feeling your pussy clench around nothing, begging for Natasha's fingers to return. She tugs on your lower lip with her teeth and plunges three fingers inside, hitting a spongy spot deep in your heat. You arch off the counter, pressing against her front, your legs clenched hard around her hips. She grunts lowly, setting a slow pace, making sure to explore your pussy with each thrust, collecting your wetness when she pulls out only to push it back inside. You bury your face in her shoulder, your fingers disappear in her hair, tugging at the tresses.

"Good?" She whispers against your ear, spreading her fingers inside, her thumb firm on your clit.

You gasp, and bite down on the muscle of her shoulder, nodding with your eyes clenched shut. "S-so good, daddy."

She hums, her full lips pulling in a smirk, and starts circling your pulsing nub. You throw your head back, moaning loudly, and she takes the opportunity to paint your neck purple, sucking on the tender skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"M'gonna… I'm gonna come," you whimper when she hits your sweet spot, making your toes curl.

"Did I say you could, babygirl?" She chuckles into your neck, making sure to hit the spot with each thrust. You shake your head, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows in effort to stop your approaching orgasm, your body as tense as a drawn bowstring. "That's right, baby," she cooes, kissing the corner of your mouth, "you're not allowed to."

Your heart drops to your stomach, torn between wanting to be Natasha's good girl and giving in to the pleasure. “Please, please let me…” you whine, buckling against her hand.

She pulls away, her eyes level with yours, and you want to sob from how good she feels inside you, your pussy clenching around her slender fingers.

“You’ll hold it for me,” she says, “and I'll make up for it later tonight.” You almost huff in frustration, knowing that you'll have to walk around the Compound painfully wet for the rest of the day.

She grabs your jaw, seemingly reading your thoughts. “And don't even think about touching yourself.”

She pulls away abruptly and tugs you off the counter before fixing your shorts and stepping away. You blink rapidly, disoriented by the sudden change, your pussy aching in the sweetest way.

Sam enters the kitchen a second later.

You subtly wipe your mouth clean, and even out your breathing while he rummages the upper shelves. Natasha's eyes glint with mischief as she slowly wipes her fingers with a paper towel.

"You up for a training session?" She asks Sam, and you shoot her a furious look. Your glare does nothing to the redhead, as she continues watching you silently, a teasing smirk pulling at her mouth.

Sam scoffs, looking between you two. "Like you weren't about to get nasty two seconds ago."

Natasha chuckles, her eyes flashing. "About to? You need to work on your observation skills, Wilson."

Sam stills, his eyes darting between you two, and you look away, knowing that nothing could hide your red cheeks and bruised lips.

He chokes on his water the moment he sees your neck. "Damn, Romanoff," he gasps, coughing. "Right here?! This is a sacred place! I cook here!"

Natasha hums, shrugging carelessly. "I eat here," she retorts, and you can tell by the crinkles near her eyes she's about to say something that's gonna make you want to bury yourself. "Actually, I was about to devour something really delic-"

"Natasha!" You shriek, tugging her away from the kitchen, but not before quietly apologizing to Sam.

She laughs quietly, following you to the bedroom. "I think we're banned from the kitchen now."

She thinks. You scoff, shaking your head. Trust Natasha to go from a full secrecy mode to telling every living soul about your sex life.

[figthoughts]

combat knife - soldier boy 18+

summary: soldier boy can’t help but find it amusing when you decide to hold a knife to his throat when you’re high. (soldier boy x gf!reader).

warnings: light smut, dom!soldier boy, swearing, drug use, slight degradation talk, knife play (slightly).

*ೃ༄

“i said shut your mouth,” soldier boy commanded, his big hand wrapped around your throat, “why don’t you ever fuckin’ listen?”

“ben! just one more line…. please?” you whined, giving him your best puppy dog eyes as you straddled him on the couch. “c’mon, i’ll be so good,” you glanced down at the crushed bennies on the coffee table, wanting more, despite the last bump still making your head spin slightly.

“fuck, alright,” he grunted, “just quit your bitchin’ and moaning. s’doing my fuckin’ head in.”

“yeah, course. whatever you say, sir,” you smiled down at him as he grabbed his combat knife off the coffee table and scooped some powder onto the blade.

soldier boy rolled his eyes, trying to hold back a smirk. sir. goddamn it. why did you always know what to say? he swallowed as his cock twitched and he shifted his hips under yours.

“watch it.” he warned as he lifted the knife up to you. he watched you bring your nose just above the powder. “and watch the fuckin’ blade. i’m not dealing with you if you cut your damn lip again. get all pathetic and whingy.”

“oh, shut up. not even.” you narrowed your eyes, trying to prevent the grin from growing on your face.

you closed your eyes and snorted. fuck. that feeling never gets old. you felt the euphoria wash over you and you let out a pleased hum.

“feel good, baby?” he smirked. god, he loved you like this. all carefree and high on his drugs, practically letting your body melt into his. he fucking loved it.

all you could do for a moment was just nod. the air around you felt thicker as you breathed it in. you rubbed your nose and sniffled, looking down at your boyfriend. fuck, he’s handsome.

“words, babygirl.” he raised his brows.

“s’good.” was all you managed to moan out as a smile grew on your face. you closed your eyes and breathed in more of the thick air through your nose.

“you’re so fuckin’ sexy when you’re like this,” soldier boy smirked, “all messy and smiley, not a damn thing in that little head of yours, huh?” he poked your side and your hips jerked involuntarily. your eyes opened and flickered to his.

“there she is,” he cooed, leaving the knife on his chest, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

“mmm, shut up,” you felt your cheeks heat up slightly under his intimidatingly smug gaze.

soldier boy studied your face as he held you in place by your hips. “uh-uh, be good for me now. i let you have another bump, so don’t be actin’ like that.”

you closed your eyes and let out a soft hum as the thick air cuddled around you like a warm blanket. you felt good. soldier boy kept his eyes on you, watching every little movement you made. he could tell you’d had more than enough.

“look at you, can’t even speak.” he chuckled mockingly, giving your hips a squeeze. “so fuckin’ desperate to get like this, aren’t ya?”

you smiled sheepishly, your eyes still squeezed shut. he wasn’t wrong. there’s nothing you liked more than this; sitting on your boyfriend’s lap, his hands all over you as your brain slowly turns to mush from the drugs. it felt good.

soldier boy loved it too, seeing his girl get all soft and so, so compliant. he couldn’t help but want to touch you.

he squeezed your hips again, causing your eyes to flutter open. he smirked and let one of his hands wander down to your inner thighs, closing in on your core. your breath hitched.

“something wrong, angel?”

“n-no…”

“that’s what i thought. be a good girl and keep that mouth shut. i’m sick of sayin’ it.” he moved his hand up the leg of your pyjama shorts, his fingertips tracing along the hem of your panties.

soldier boy grinned as he saw your eyes drop down to his hand, your lids heavy and your mouth parted, the drugs obviously hitting you harder now.

he slipped his fingers into your panties, finding your pussy already soaked. “god, you’re such a slut… already so wet, baby.”

you groaned and covered your face with your hands. yes, you were already wet and he hadn’t even done anything yet. you felt his fingers gently begin to rub your clit. sparks shot up through your nerves, forcing a moan out of your mouth. god, this felt good high… it always does.

“look at me.” soldier boy muttered firmly, his fingers still teasing your pussy.

you reluctantly dropped your hands and found his eyes, a smirk growing on his face as he studied your expression.

“always so embarrassed, huh? i don’t know why… you know you love it when i make you cum on my fingers,” he teased, his fingers speeding up slightly as they moved through your folds.

you let out a moan and dropped your hands to his chest, trying to steady yourself.

“yeah, that’s it. give in, baby. show me what a little slut you are for me,” the smirk remained on his face, his eyes tracing your every feature as his fingers pressed against your clit, forcing your hips to jerk forward.

soldier boy’s grip on your left hip tightened, holding you still. “keep. still.”

you looked at him with your jaw dropped, your brain fogged over from the drugs and the feeling of your boyfriend’s rough fingers against your pussy making breathy moans fall out of your mouth.

“fuuuckin’ look at you. pathetic,” he laughed, keeping up the speed on your clit, “a fuckin’ mess… and all i’ve done is rub your pretty little cunt.”

you whimpered at his words and tried to roll your hips on him, feeling his cock twitch beneath you. you needed more.

“uh! i said keep fuckin’ still.” he squeezed your hip, this time hard. you whimpered and he grinned, moving his hand from your hip to your jaw, forcing you to look down at him.

“yeah, keep whimpering, fuckin’ slut.” your lips parted as more soft moans rolled off your tongue. his fingers picked up the pace on your cunt. you felt yourself clench around nothing.

soldier boy must’ve felt it too. he let out a deep groan and tightened his grip on your jaw. “you gonna cum, baby? huh?” he taunted, letting out a throaty chuckle.

you whimpered again, feeling the familiar pressure building in your lower stomach. fuck. he kept up his relentless pace on your soaked cunt, unable to hide the smug look on his face as he watched you melt onto his hand.

“such a mess.” he laughed.

you whined and squeezed your eyes shut as your cunt kept clenching, desperate to be filled.

soldier boy’s cock could feel every movement of yours. he let out a rough breath, trying to keep himself under control, despite his cock beginning to harden under you.

“fuck, harder… please, sir. so close.” you begged, looking down at him. you tried again to move your hips, desperate for friction against your soaked pussy.

soldier boy pulled his hand out of your shorts. “i said shut up and keep still,” he yanked your face towards him, “can’t even do that, you braindead little slut.”

you whimpered loudly at the loss of his touch and frowned. you didn’t particularly like when he talked to you like that, especially when you were so close to cumming all over his thick fingers.

“ben…” you whined weakly, your head spinning from the drugs and the ache from your cunt.

“shut the fuck up. listen to me or don’t cum. your choice, princess.” he stated firmly. you frowned more.

soldier boy looked at the pout on your lips and cocked an eyebrow, letting out a mocking laugh. “pouting now, are we? c’mon, just do what i fuckin’ say, it’s not that damn hard.”

you let out a huff, the frown staying on your lips. your eyes drifted down to the knife on his chest. before you could think, you found your hand wrapping itself around the handle and putting the blade against soldier boy’s neck.

now, you weren’t stupid… well maybe you were right now, but at any other time you knew that a knife wouldn’t do shit to your supe boyfriend.

and he knew that too. he laughed and looked up at your pouting face, “really? this is what we’re going with?” he wrapped his hand over yours on the handle, pushing the knife against his throat more.

“go on, pet. try your luck.” he mocked with a smirk.

you could feel yourself getting huffy and desperate, just wanting him to lay off a little and give you the release your body so desperately craved. you pushed the blade harder against his neck. “fucking do something,” you whined, “need your fingers back…”

he smirked, “oh, yeah?”

you shoved the knife harder into his neck, still not doing any damage at all, “yeah! touch me, now!” you tried to demand, although it came out more like a desperate whine.

“alright, babygirl.” he laughed and yanked your waistband open, shoving his fingers back against your cunt.

your breath hitched and you tried to keep the firm look on your face as soldier boy’s fingers began to soothe the aching throb of your cunt.

“harder, now.” you said breathily.

he grinned and moved his fingers against your clit harder, resulting in more moans coming from you.

soldier boy kept his eyes on you as he worked his fingers against your slick pussy. he was enjoying this, letting you have your moment of dominance, the feel of the cool metal against his skin. he thought you were so cute, acting like a tiny blade could do any damage to a supe like himself.

normally, he’d have tied your fucking hands together for an act like this, but he couldn’t help it right now. this was amusing to him. he knew that you knew a knife wouldn’t hurt him, even if you tried your hardest. a weak little girl like you was no match for him. not at all.

you cried out as the pressure began building in your stomach again, “fu-uck!” your hips jolted forward as your pussy clenched. you were close. your hands dropped slightly as you moaned and ground your hips down onto his hand and hardened cock.

“nuh-uh,” soldier boy forcefully grabbed your wrist and moved the knife back against his neck, “fuckin’ keep it there. you started this.”

you pushed the knife against his throat again, your eyes finding his. he still had that stupid smug smirk on his face. you whined as you rocked your hips against his fingers. you could feel his cock twitching in his sweatpants beneath your cunt.

“that’s it, babygirl. make yourself cum. good girl.” he chuckled as his fingers moved faster and rougher on your clit. he could feel your cunt clenching around nothing, so fucking needy and desperate for his cock. you always got like this when he got you high with him. and he loved it. a guaranteed needy little hole for him every time.

“g-gonna- gonna cum…” you mumbled out, your words almost slurred as you tried focused on your release.

soldier boy smirked, “that’s it, baby. cum for me. cum on my fingers and show me who’s boss, huh?” he teased, his free hand pulling the knife back harder against his throat.

“oh, fuck!” you cried out, right at the edge of letting go. you leaned forward, unconsciously pushing the knife against his neck harder.

soldier boy grinned as he felt the metal press into his skin more, thanks to your heavy-handedness. obviously, the blade did no damage, not even pricking his skin slightly. this is fun, he thought.

he kept rubbing your pussy as firmly and expertly as he could, keeping his eyes locked on your scrunched up face, wanting to push you over the edge.

“come on, pet. cum for me.” he cooed, somewhat mockingly.

you felt the coil in your stomach snap and your cunt clenched and unclenched as you whined and whimpered through your orgasm.

soldier boy’s fingers didn’t stop though. he pushed you through your orgasm, not relenting the harsh force against your clit. he felt you try to pull your now sensitive pussy away.

he smirked and held you still, wanting to draw out the immense pleasure for as long as he could.

“oh, god… oh… f-fuck… so good…” you rambled on like some cockdrunk virgin, your eyes barely open as you looked down at him with a stupid smile on your face.

soldier boy smirked. you were so beautiful. so fucking cute. especially like this, when you’re barely coherent post-orgasm. he loved the way you reacted to him. to his touch.

as your mind cleared, you let out a deep breathy sigh. you pulled the knife back from his neck, “sorry ‘bout that,” you murmured softly, a slight sheepish smile playing on your lips.

“no. put it back. we’re not done.” soldier boy said gruffly and yanked the knife back to his neck, his hand slipping back into your panties.

A/N: hiii, hope u enjoyed! i didn’t really have a plan for this story, but yolo, right? idk. all ik is that i want soldier boy so bad !!!!!

feedback and requests are always welcome (love some inspo)!!! <3

[hamiltonells]

ALWAYS ~ JUDE BELLINGHAM

[sort of based of this request! so thank you for request. please let me know what you think! always welcome to criticism, also let me know if you would like a series based or this little family! 🍓]

[SUMMARY: being soon to be parents is hard especially being so young as well, but Jude and y/n takes everything in their stride]

[WARNINGS: fluff, smut, morning sickness? not edited, swearing spelling mistakes? ]

You’re feet shuffled across the cold kitchen flooring as you soothed your bump with one hand and held a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the other, Your seven -month bump slightly peaking out of Jude’s shirt.

“Are you still okay for tomorrow, beautiful?” Jude’s voice reaches out over the FaceTime call, as you sitback down on the sofa and put the blanket over your bump.

With Jude being in Madrid, it was decided that you would have dinner at his parents' house in England. Due to your frequent travels between England and Madrid, you rarely have the opportunity to spend time with his family, especially with his mother being in the middle.

you placed the laptop on your lap during the ongoing FaceTime call with Jude, “Yeah all good jude, what time is your flight back” your voice grew tired with every sentence you speak.

“flight is about four in the morning will get back home at seven”Jude's voice making you grow even more tired and relaxed.

You knew it was difficult for Jude to balance being at the top of the football world and being a father at just twenty years of age, but he never complained about it once

It was unexpected for you to become pregnant, and it came as a surprise since you are only nineteen and Jude is twenty years old, but you both took it as your little blessing.

"Is my little one okay? It seems like she's wearing Mommy out" Jude's voice echoes through the FaceTime call, "we're okay, just tired and the usual sickness," your voice tiredly drawls out.

Since discovering you were pregnant, you have been experiencing severe nausea, even if it was morning or night It felt like a constant battle to keep any food down, and the smell of certain foods would instantly trigger your gag reflex.

"Plus, we miss daddy a lot," you said "fuck,don't do that voice, it turns me on" he added with a rough accent, you tutted “better hurry up home then”

"I'll be back home shortly, my Love," he said in his gentle Birmingham accent.

you was sound asleep when you heard the keys jingle in the door, the door open and Jude's footsteps slowly and carefully plodding up the stairs.

You hear Jude carefully open the door to the bedroom where you both share. As you shuffle yourself up to sit against the headboard, you reach for the switch to switch on the lamp, and you switch it on.

"What are you doing awake?" Jude's tired voice broke the silence of the room. You turned to see him rubbing his eyes, looking disheveled and exhausted.

"I missed you, heard you trying to be quiet" you admitted "I'm sorry, I just didn't want to disturb you" he replied, a sheepish smile on his face.

"You could never disturb me. I always want to hear your voice." you said softly, Moving to swing your legs out of bed holding your pregnant belly as you trying to ignore the persistent pressure on your bladder.

You sigh, knowing you have to get out of bed to relieve yourself.

“oi what you doing, let me help” Jude’s voice fills your ears, as he rushes to be by your side, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around you, supporting your weight.

As he presses a soft kiss to your head, Your loving Jude gently helps you out of bed and guides you to the bathroom, making sure you don't trip over your own feet.

Once you’ve emptied your bladder, you get back into bed with a kiss on the cheek from Jude.

You snuggle into the bed sheets, Jude’s bare back now facing you as he’s rambling on about something with his toothbrush in his mouth, you don’t realise your eyes have started to close until you feel the bed dip beside you.

“Sorry baby, didn't mean to wake you again” Jude whispered as he pulled the duvet over the pair of you, with your back facing Jude he slides his arms around you and on to your bump.

"I love you and we both missed you," you murmur softly in response to him, you feel him snuggle into your neck as he presses a soft kiss there.

“hey Jobe”you slightly laugh out his name as he opens the door only to be thrown into a headlock by his own brother, the pair of them shuffling into the living room as they play fight with each other.

You shut the front door and clean your feet on the doormat before untying your shoelaces and removing your shoes.

You enter the living room and see the two brothers sitting on the sofa with a sour expression and Denise giving them a look.

"Y/n, lovely seeing you again” Denise greets you warmly as she glances up and sees you standing in the doorway “you look amazing, not long left now” she hugs you as you smile and look down, “thank you Denise” you gushed as you sat in between Jude and Jobe.

“only a couple more months left, did Jude show you the scan pictures” you continued.

"Yeah, he did," she replied with a smile. "They're amazing, aren't they? I can't believe how much the baby has grown already."

"I know, it's incredible," you said, excitement evident in your voice. "I can't wait to meet him or her."

"As long as they don't look like Jude, they will be alright" Jobe joked “You’re literally like a mini Jude, Jobe” You laughed as you put your hand onto Jude’s thigh.

“It's nice to know that I can actually grow a beard at the moment" Jude mumbles to himself, but loud enough so that Jobe can hear, "you call that a beard" Jobe laughs as he’s dodging Jude's kick.

As Denise calls all of you over for dinner, Jude gets up first to assist you up, putting one hand on your back as he guides you over to the dinner table, he sits next to you his hand on your thigh.

Mark, Jude’s dad is sat across from you, making slight conversation as you start eating your food.

As you took another bite of your food, your stomach churned you felt a wave of nausea wash over you, you reach out to take a sip of your water to hopefully wash it down.

But as the night went on, the feeling only got worse, your hand went straight over your mouth mumbling your apologies as you rush through the house to get to the bathroom.

He trails behind you, apologizing to his family before heading to the bathroom to assist you, gently rubbing circles on your back as you lean over the toilet, feeling him gather your hair up in his hands.

“you okay baby?” His voice soothing you, you lean back into him breathless as the embarrassment washes over you.

”Jude, I am deeply embarrassed. Your mother and your entire family are under the impression that I became sick because of the meal she cooked.“You convey your concern by covering your face with your hands.

“she doesn’t think that, don’t be stupid they know your struggling with your pregnancy” Jude tries to calm your down by wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you both sit in the bathroom floor.

“You okay y/n?” Denise’s worried voice makes you look up, as you see her standing in the doorway “she’s okay mum, bit tired though I think” Jude answers for you as he puts a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'll set up Jude's room for you both, and maybe it'll be best if you stay overnight, I'll bring some lemonade up to help it helped my morning sickness with Jobe" Denise smiles at you .

In a pair of shorts and an old shirt, you lay on the bed of Jude's old bedroom, covered in the familiar smell of his old clothes.

Jude is right next to you, scrolling through his phone on his lap with his hand on your inner thigh as he softly squeezes it, as he as he speaks with Jobe who is laying across the end of the bed, who is also scrolling on his phone.

"How much longer do you have left?" Jobe asks quietly as you open your eyes to his voice. "Just a little over a month, why are you excited, Uncle Jobe?" you playfully respond.

he just hums to your question, focusing back on whatever was on his phone.

The next thing you notice is Jude placing his phone on his bedside table, and then shuffles over and settles his head on your chest while his hands go straight to shirt to lift it up, his hands go to your bump to soothe it.

In your hands, you are gentle touching the ends of his hair gently twisting it and reaching to his scruffy beard gently scratching it as he hums softly to.

When he presses a soft kiss against your bump, your unborn baby gives him a small kick as they responds to his kisses

“Did you feel that?” Jude’s face snaps around to face you as he realizes what has happened “yeah, going to be like there daddy” you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“what? let me feel, move Jude” Jobe says as he rushes to your side and he places his own hand on your bump he pushes Jude's hands away as he presses his own against the bump.

“Jobe, fucking hell it's my kid.” Jude leans down for a for a kiss before getting up and making his way to the bathroom. You giggle as you see Jude's scrunched up face as he gets up and goes to the bathroom.

you’ve just gotten into bed when Jude come in with a glass of water and places it on your bedside table, “mum says goodnight” you hum to answer him while tugging him down to yourself.

"Careful," he laughs as he catches himself on his hands as he's above you, your hands go around his neck as you press a kiss to his lips.

His laughter fades into a soft sigh as he leans in for another kiss, his lips meeting yours once more before he puts his face into your neck and presses a few light kisses.

“You have a good day, baby?” He mumbles into the crook of your neck “the best thank j” you the nickname you call him slides off your tongue easily.

Jude hums“I love you so bloody much”

“I love you more” you giggle even more when be nips your neck.

He seals your lips together once more, using his knees to spread your thighs a bit further apart for him as he spreads them apart.

In the midst of your kiss, he lets out a breathy moan, courtesy of the fingers which are holding his face, interrupting your kiss with a breathy moan.

Jude utilizes the chance to break away and snag a pillow from his side of the bed, urging your hips up by tapping the fluffy thing against your side.

your lift your back up, and he settles it under your lower back and bum to prop you up. Fortunately for him, he has had extensive experience navigating the challenges of your pregnant belly.

he grips your shorts and carefully pulls them off, taking your knickers off and softly pressing a kiss to your thigh in the progress.

Settling between your thighs, Jude giggles when you wraps your legs around his hips and tugs him closer.

Jude’s body hovers over yours , love-sick smiles a breath away from meeting each other, and he drags his fingers through your folds, groaning at how slick you’ve become.

“Oh fuck” you whisper into Jude’s ear, biting back a grin as Jude grips his cock with the fingers that had previously been fondling you.

Jude smiles as their chests are pressed together, enjoying the feeling of their stomachs touching while he guides himself into your slit.

Jude hums appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in how warm and gooey you are for him. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to have you this desperate for him and his touch.

“Need to be quiet, Jobe next door” he whispered as a moan ripped though your body.

"Oh it's so good darling," he mumbles to you, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He made a gentle backward slip, pulling the hips back gently as he slipped forward again, his breath stuttering as he dutifully slipped forward once again.

Guiding him, you softly release a moan, lowering one hand to the lower part of his back. With a whisper that tickles his ear, you affirm, "Jude, So so good." Tickled by the sensation, he squirms slightly and responds with a small laugh.

Jude soft with his movements, cautious of the baby between yourself, "made for being wrapped me huh?" And jude thinks nothing ever been truer.

Your arms were made to hold him, youe hands were made for pulling him closer and closer, and your heart was made to completely consume his.

you reached your high before him, rolling your hips up to try and bring him to the edge, grinding down into your heat as his cock twitches and buries deep in your walls.

Jude knows you’re watching his eyes scrunch shut and his gaping mouth curl into a breathy laugh as he comes “sorry baby, too tired for another one” he breathes into your neck.

As you nod and brush the sweaty spots from his forehead to soothe him and just like that, he is already able to feel lighter. He never has to sorry with you, you’ll always be here for him.

[thelostconsultant]

Motorsport royalty

pairing (future?): Marc Marquez x redbull!driver!reader and/or Max Verstappen x redbull!driver!reader

note: I just had this idea when I bumped into a gifset about Marc. I don't know if I should write a fic about it, though. Like, reader is dating Marc, but Max realizes what he could lose if their relationship became serious. Or something like this.

liked by redbullracing, gresiniracing and 936,357 others

yourusername: MotoGP's very own track terror decided to visit us this weekend. He met one of our resident track terrors, and they were yapping for AN HOUR WITHOUT STOPPING. Anyway, it was nice to meet you, marcmarquez93!

view all comments

maxverstappen1: We weren't talking that much. You, on the other hand...

↳ yourusername: I don't know what you're talking about.

↳ maxverstappen1: Really? No clue?

marcmarquez93: It was fun. We should do this again some other time.

↳ user1: What was fun? The race or the dinner with her? I mean, we all saw the photos...

↳ user2: They were on a date????

↳ yourusername: That would be great. You know my number, give me a call.

user3: I've been shipping her with Max ever since she was announced to join Red Bull this year, but her and Marc? Ladies and gentleman, I'm a changed woman, I want them to become motorsport royalty together.

user4: I love it when my two worlds collide. Will he drive an F1 car again?

maxverstappen1: u know, I've ben thinkink. Lets go 0n a date?

↳ maxverstappen1: Noo, not?. !. yas. !

↳ danielricciardo: Don't mind him, yourusername, I swear we'll take his phone away.

↳ yourusername: Is he okay?

↳ landonorris: Ummm... yes.

↳ user5: This wasn't convincing. Is he drunk?

↳ user6: Oooooooooh, drunk honesty?

[leeknow-thoughts]

blood sucker ━╋

bang chan x reader

♱ ! synopsis : your sweet boyfriend just can't resist you, no matter what time of the month it is, but especially the time when he can feed from your sweet cunt ...

♱ ! content warnings : vampire!chan, human!f!reader, smut (mdni!!), period sex, clit play, cunnilingus, dom!Chris, sub!reader, pet names, daddy kink (act shocked), use of pain medication !!

You were groggy that morning, more so than usual. The pain in your stomach reminded you of why. You grumbled with every step you took to get to the medicine cabinet in your bathroom. Pop open the cap to the bottle of ibuprofen and swallow two of the white pills with a cup of water. You stare at yourself in the dirty mirror above your porcelain sink.

Your hair sat a mess on your head, greasy and in need of a trim, your face was unbelievably puffy, probably from eating so much greasy food for the past few days, and your eye bags seemed to be darker than usual. Your phone vibrating on the counter finally got your attention, upon seeing the caller id you couldn't help but perk up.

"Hi, my sweet girl," his Aussie accent crackles over the speakers of your phone, a sense of calm washing over your tired body, "are you feeling okay?"

"Mhm," you sigh, not fully sure if you are in fact feeling okay, "where are you?"

Your boyfriend's laughter rings in your ears, followed by, "straight to the point today, hmm?"

He is such a tease, but he knows you love it. "I miss you, Channie," you grumble, "when are you going to be home?"

"I'm just a few minutes away baby, what's bothering you, hmm?" he speaks to you so softly it takes your brain a minute to fully register what he is saying.

Chan is quick to talk when you are still contemplating what you need to tell him, "sweet girl? I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"Jus' miss you, need you," normally you'd cringe about how weak you sounded in that moment, but you don't because you know that Chris loves you even when you're weak.

"Oh," Chris' voice is impossibly gentle, "my baby, I'll be home in just a few minutes I swear. When I get back we can watch a show and I'll make us some food."

"Okay," you agree, "see you in a few, I love you."

"Love you more," you can hear his smile over the phone before the dial tone.

You groggily walk back to bed, flopping down onto your soft mattress. Your eyes feel heavier with each passing second but you just can't seem to fall back asleep.

Although your tiredness you can't help but perk up when the keys jingle in the door to your apartment. "Baby?" Chris calls out once he closes the door behind himself.

He steps towards your bedroom, his footsteps causing the wooden floors of your apartment to creak very slightly. He pokes his head in the doorway to your room, "hi my sweet baby," he coos.

"Channie," you're breathless when you talk for whatever the reason may be.

Chris is quick to walk over to your bed and lay right next to you, scooping you up into his arms like you're a baby. You are a baby, you're his baby. "I'm sorry I've been gone, my sweet girl," he apologizes like he can help the fact that he had to go.

"It's okay," you hum in a quiet voice, "you got to eat earlier?"

"Mhm," he flashes you a toothy grin, his fangs catching your eye, "I brought back my two month's supply," he tells you.

His hands run gently through your hair while he asks you about work and your friends and how your mom is doing. At first it used to freak you out about how cold his hands were against your skin. Now, no matter how cold they may be they seem to feel warm and comforting. A comfortable silence fills the air as Chris holds you close to his chest.

It's so easy to slip

"Channie," you break the silence shamelessly, "I-."

The words can't come out of your throat, but Chris knows exactly what you need, shifting quickly to grab a throw blanket and cover you with it. Your body moves unconsciously to the cramp that pulses in your stomach,"are your cramps bothering you?"

"Mhm," you're bending at the center trying to put pressure on your lower stomach, "how'd you know I'm on my period?"

Chris almost seems embarrassed to answer you this time, "can smell it - the blood."

"Does it smell bad?"

"Smells like you, smells delicious," he reassures your worst fears.

You hum in reply, your mind moving all too fast, "would you - y'know? Drink my b-blood?"

"Are you being rhetorical?" Chris' eyes squint trying to see your true intentions.

Honestly, you don't even know your own intentions, why else would you ask your boyfriend who happens to be a vampire if he would drink your period blood. You shrug, Chris continues, "I wouldn't drink it, but I'd love to eat you out and get a taste."

Your face gets all hot, your cheeks are a nice cherry color for sure, and shame wracks your brain. Your thighs are pressing together for some sense of reprieve. Chan likes this though, watching you get all embarrassed and squirmy. "Oh," his voice is deep this time, "my little one likes that idea? You wanna have your daddy eat from your cunt?"

"I-I," you're so embarrassed you could cry, Chris' right hand comes up to your chin and tilts it up so you're looking at him. His eyes are starting to turn red.

He only has red eyes when he's hungry, eating, or angry. He only looks at you with love, though. Chris is quick to manhandle you into a position on your back. While you take in the softness of the sheets, Chris stands up and walks into the bathroom.

He fetches a towel that he brings to the bed, folds it once, and puts it under your hips. "You gonna let daddy get a taste?" he hums, looking at you for confirmation.

"Mhm," you hum and nod in reply.

Your head feels fuzzy as he peels off your sweatpants, tossing them somewhere in the room. "Wait!" you cry out when you think of him seeing your underwear and pad.

All Chris' movements halt instantly, "yes, my baby?"

"C-close your eyes, I d-don't want you to see my pad," you can feel the blood in your face throbbing, as you watch relief wash over Chris' features.

"Baby, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, but if you really don't want me to watch I won't," he agrees, closing his eyes.

You hesitate for a moment before talking, "fine you can take them off," you hum.

You close your eyes so you don't see his reaction to your pad, you hear shuffling around the room and Chris' calloused hands pulling down your underwear. You feel his warmth next to you and the bed dips as it adjusts to his weight. "You can open your eyes now, princess," you can hear the grin in his voice.

When your eyes open you see Chris laying next to you in nothing but his boxers. "O-oh," you gawk at his nearly naked body.

His body is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen and you feel utterly over dressed. You're fast to fiddle with the hem of your crew neck, ready to pull it over your head. "Don't," Chris' voice is firmer, "you'll get cold, I don't want my baby to get cold."

You nod, and pull him down for a tender kiss. With every second that his lips are on your own, you feel more and more desperate to have them somewhere else.

Almost like he can read your mind, Chris is shifting down the bed and parting your legs. He slides between them and your fingers thread through his black curly hair. He looks up at you with his red eyes as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

A growl rips from the back of his throat at the taste of your blood. "Oh, oh God, daddy," you whine, hands tightening in his locks.

Every nerve is on fire in your body as your thighs start to tremble. Chris' composure is surely about to break because as soon as you start sputtering about how good it feels, he starts messily tongue fucking your cunt.

His tongue is drawing shapes on your sensitive clit and he's starting to lose himself in the feeling of it all. You can tell that he's enjoying himself by the way his hips grind against the bed. His pretty fingers prod at your throbbing entrance and push past the ring of muscle.

His fingers expertly curl in your cunt, making you see stars. everything around you starts to dissolve into pleasure and the band in your stomach breaks after a particularly harsh suck to your clit.

You cry out into the abyss of your room as Chris continues to lick you through your orgasm. Eventually, once your cunt stops throbbing, you pull Chris up by his hair, and that's when you see his state.

His eyes are half lidded, almost like he is high, and his lips are swollen, his fangs peeking out from his puffy lips. The lower third of his pretty face is covered in blood, your blood, and he's quick to lick his lips to savor the flavor of it. "Holy shit," you stutter.

"You tasted so sweet, babydoll," his voice is sly, "sorry I came in my pants, will you let me eat you out until my cock is hard again?"

You're definitely not going to deny his wishes when he's this debauched and this sexy.

[azsazz]

Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

_________________________________________

“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he’s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

_________________________________________

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