#i think he doesn’t like his back being exposed + it makes him feel safe 🙏 thanks for coming to my ted talk

[measlyscrapofseafood]

here to spread my tronzler little spoon agenda

bonus:

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, step cest, none of reader's holes are safe

fem reader

Thinking about step-daddy who only married your mom to get closer to you... who thinks an unruly brat like yourself needs his firm hands and teachings to set you on the right course.

You can't believe what’s happening – can’t believe his words.

Your mind is caught in a frenzied state of denial and panic as he forces you down on your bed after you'd told him to get the fuck out of your room when he walked in on you getting dressed to go out, standing there in only a dainty set of panties.

You brace your hands against his broad chest as he bears down on you – trying to create space for you to breathe but achieving little else than if you’d been trying to lift a mountain.

He’s too big and too heavy – too strong.

He doesn’t even bother restraining your fists – not even when you start banging them against him. It’s as if he doesn’t even recognize the assault – busy burying his face in your cute cleavage, nuzzling the soft mounds with sloppy kisses and his bearded chin.

“Stop it!” You hic through tears – sobbing now that the pursuing events dawn on you, coming crashing down, wreaking through your brittle head at the feeling of your panties being tugged down your thighs – flimsy lace splintering before getting ripped off.

He disrupts your cry with a firm hand, taking hold of your chin – and you fall still in wait. 

“You' gonna let Daddy eat your pretty pussy out if you know what's good for you…” His lips brush yours with the vile threat while his other hand cups your bare cunt – whispering ruggedly, “Or I might just have to put you over my knee.”

You’re frozen beneath him – eyes shimmering with gloss, staring up into his impossibly dark stare – feeling leveled under the burden of his threat.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetpea? Y’gonna behave for Daddy? Or am I gonna have to use my belt on you?”

You stay still, and he takes it as your answer – smiling at you before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. 

“That’s Daddy’s good girl~”

Leaning back, he wrings his shirt off over his shoulders, revealing his bulky chest of curls and worn skin before throwing the article aside and looking back down at you with drunken eyes that give you shivers. His old muscles are flecked with age but no less brutal to behold – all intimidating enough to make you swallow thickly.

“You can cry out all you like, pretty girl~” He grins as he takes your thighs in his hands – lifting them, spreading them, then pushing them flat down against your chest – tipping your cunt up to his mouth. "A good girl knows how to scream." His breath is ticklish on your exposed sex. “But the only words I wanna hear come out of your mouth is – yes please, daddy – more please, daddy – and pretty please, daddy, can I cum?”

You whine when he licks a stripe through your folds – dark eyes glinting at the sound, chuckling hotly under his breath.

“Walkin’ ‘round my house dressed up like a little slut – teasin’ me all day long.” He gruffs. “Tch – this pretty cunt’s gonna get what you’ve been beggin’ for, and you’re gonna take it with a smile – understand that, little lady?”

Your toes are immediately curled, gripping the air for purchase as he buries his face in your muff. And he’s messy with it – spitting, then slurping it up again – splitting the lips to suck your clit, then pressing a deep kiss into it – tongue flatly running over the pearl, lapping at it like a dog. All with a heated glare – hungry like a starved animal – eagerly set on your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it, lip caught between teeth – trying to stifle all moans.

But the folded position he has you in presses you free of air – soon leaving you to pant out like a silly bitch in heat – thighs wanting to squeeze shut but kept pinned and trembling in the harsh grip he has on them.

“Oh~ look at yah~ my little slut~” He hums between licks, a grin still slickly plastered on his face – mustache glistening with drool and arousal. “Must feel good to make you tremble like that – does my little girl wanna cum?”

You whine, trying to shake your head in denial – but the pressure builds whether you want it to or not – squeezing tight like a fist in your gut, desperate to unknot.

“Better ask for Daddy’s permission, or I won't be happy.” He adds, giving your thighs a pinch – hard enough to make you yelp – sure to leave bruises.

“Ah – no.”

You don’t want it – you curl your head to the side with a grimace.

You feel gross – reeling as his tongue circles your hotspot, unable to deny the tickle in your gut – recognizing the blossoming, knowing you’d soon bloom.

“Mgh," You whine. "Yes, please! I need – can I please cum?!”

“Call me Daddy.” He demands, talking into your cunt while nuzzling his nose against your clit.

“Please, Daddy – please, can I cum!”

Another chuckle makes you shake – almost impatiently – before he purrs, “Sure, baby – go ahead – make a mess~” 

He gives your clit one last harsh suck before sticking his tongue inside you, deep with a grin, while feeling you tremor on it, tasting your sweet release like it was a victory.

You throw your head back and your chest up – whole body quaking – trembling at the thrill pulsing from your core, zipping along each limb – leaving you feeling cottony and numb from the pleasure.

You pant with softer moans when it dissipates – still feeling twitchy.

Hooded eyes with teary lashes fall from the ceiling to his face – then regret it.

The shame washes away all pleasure – making your sweat go cold.

But if he sees it, he doesn’t care. “That was beautiful, baby girl~” He moans instead, eyes still keenly set on you.

You cringe, chagrined as he kisses your slit once more – tonguing the slick opening and humming at the sweet taste.

He finishes you with a sharp kitten lick flicking off at your clit – then releases your thighs. Pulling you with him as he got up on his feet by the edge of your bed.

“C’mere – on your knees.” His fist wraps your hair – tugging your head back. “Open wide and tongue out fo’me. It's my turn.”

Your brows cinch, feeling your scalp sting from the grip, making you timidly obey.

He groans at the pretty sight – looking so cute with that dewy glow on your cheeks – plush lips wet and welcoming – pink tongue trembling in eager wait of him.

Sighing with a leer, “Such a pretty little thing~” His other hand zips down his fly, pinched free the button, and let the baggy slacks drop to the floor.

Thicker tears pool in your eyes – a horrid burn of humiliation making your tongue feel heavy, kneeling beneath him with your mouth gaping – knowing what was coming.

“This is what you wanted, right – why you've been acting like such a brat?” He pulls your face against the pudgy bulge in his boxer – warm and thick beneath the black fabric with a ripe smell of musk. “You wanna be Daddy’s big fat cock to satisfy all your greedy little holes, hm?”

You don’t close your mouth – the fist ripping your strands from their roots was warning enough to keep you pliant.

“Come on then, little slut~” He started cooing, nudging the sack against your tongue, dipping inside the warm opening. “Show me how much you want it – and don’t look away.” The smile on his face made your guts fold. “I wanna see those pretty eyes beg for it.”

He gives your hair a sharper tug, forcing out a whine from your throat. It spurs him on, making him chuckle – watching your eyes tremble up at him – struggling against his bulbous crotch, cuddling it so cutely, making him twitch.

Rasping out, “Such a needy little whore~” while his other hand dragged the band down.

Your mouth sealed closed on instinct – eyes too – shutting tightly once his cock sprung free. Whimpering when feeling it slug on your face – you tried to turn your head away – but was kept close by the hand fisting your hair.

“Bad girl, I told you to keep your mouth open and your eyes on me.” He sneered, pinching your cheeks open with the other hand – hard enough to make you wince.

You peeled your eyes open again – with tears slipping down your face as you dropped your jaw for him again.

“Playing games like a snotty brat.” He hissed, rubbing his leaky cockhead over your parted lips – smearing his pre on them like lipstick while you shuddered. “Look at you now, mmh~ such a good girl for Daddy~ taking it on your knees.”

He dabbed himself on your tongue, and you had to keep yourself from retching – tasting the bitter salt.

“Mmh~ begging for it like an eager little cum-junkie~” He groaned, lolling forward, cock sliding over the bed of your tongue and hitting the back of your throat in a soft kiss – only with half his veiny shaft in your mouth.

He licked his lips and threw his head back.

“I knew you just needed a firm grip – knew you’d make the most perfect little slut fo’me~”

You gagged when he started thrusting, hands positioning themselves on his sturdy thighs, fingers digging into the muscles as he stuffed your mouth full of his length – weighty balls clapping against your chin where spit started frothing.

He held your jaw in guidance – keeping you steady to receive him.

Throaty moans grated your ears as he abused the wet warmth – looking down at you and how you struggled, unable to take all of him. It didn’t bother him, though – the tight ring of your lips sucking along his veins was enough to make him go crazy.

It felt so right to be throat-fucking your pretty little face; he couldn't believe he hadn't done it sooner – creating such a cute mess all over you – looking so hot on your knees for him like this, with spit and pre cum slicking your face like a young prostitute in the making.

You obeyed as best you could – not used to the size or tempo. You'd given few blowjobs before and never been facefucked. But you figured the sooner you could make him cum, the sooner all this would be over.

He thought about it, too. He could cum down your throat like this, make you swallow – drink his seed like a good whore should.

But the idea is soon replaced by the thought of stuffing your sweet cunt instead – feed your womb his hot load – wear your tight pussy like it was tailored just for him.

He popped out of your mouth, and you coughed before heaving for air – panting – nearly barreling over if it hadn’t been for the grip he still had around your hair. 

Pulling you up by it – his other hand found your throat, and your mouth was taken by his – kissed hungrily with teeth pulling at your lip while tickled by his facial hair.

“Mh- c’mere,” He groaned into your mouth – plopping himself down on the mattress while pulling you along by the neck. “Up on my Daddy’s lap, baby.”

He continues kissing you, with both hands slipping down to squeeze each asscheek, rolling your hips back and forth on him, making your wet cunt grind against the stiff underside of his cock.

You can’t help but make a noise as it licks your sensitive clit, rubbing over it in wet warm strokes. You balance yourself against his chest – hands placed on his muscles – pushing yourself up from slacking against him.

You’re still breathless, left gasping – too weak to fight it when he leans after you, mouth on your tits, sucking your nipples into hardened little peaks.

Your hands go to the hair atop his head, gripping the locks to steady yourself.

He chuckles at the pull, looking up at you while rasping out a filthy “Is my little girl excited to get her little pussy stuffed by Daddy’s cock?” with a lazy grin carved on his face.

And before you can deny it, he’s already confirming the statement.

“You must be – your little cunt is so fucking wet for it.” He cheered. Hand slipping between you to slap his thickness against your slit – rubbing himself between the lips with a mocking pout on his lips. “This poor little pussy, cock-starved and empty~ I know, I know, you want to cum on Daddy’s cock, don’t you?”

He lifts your ass up so that you’re hovering over the tip – using the other hand to angle it against your entrance.

Purring, “Don’t worry, baby~ finally gonna stretch you out nice and tight~ fuck you into size like a proper cock-toy~ fill you up with my hot cum~”

You shake your head and squirm when he begins to nudge the head inside – but both hands place themselves back on your hips, gripping them firmly enough for it to find purchase.

“There we go, ease on down it, baby~ get comfortable~” He coos, even though you’re sinking your nails into the tough muscles of his chest – gasping at the ill sting of the stretch as he pushes you down despite the tight resistance. “Oh, fuuuck – so wet and snug on me~” He sucks his teeth, snapping his hips up to bottom out deeply. “Take all of me, now~ let Daddy bottom out~”

His head hangs back – Adam’s apple bobbing up with his mouth hung wide in a silent moan while you wince – desperately wanting to lift off. 

But he keeps you seated – tensely made to cock-warm him while slowly adjusting to the size – taunt walls rippling along his veins, sucking on it as it settles inside you, molding you to accept its shape.

He squares his jaw, then gives a breathy hum that makes his beard dance – lifting his head to look at where he’s got himself sheathed to the hilt – his eyes lost in it as he sets a slow pace – using both hands to steer your hips, rocking you back and forth with barely any lift to relieve you – keeping himself lodged just as deep – cozily kneading your cervix.

“That’s a good pussy right there – wet and tight and all mine.” He groans, lolling you on him sweetly. “Isn't that right, baby? This pretty pussy belongs to Daddy, doesn’t it?”

He watches your perky tits jiggle for him. Leaning forward, he gives it a suckling wet pop.

“Every inch of this slut’s body belongs to Daddy, isn’t that right, little one?” He demands a little harsher, threatening the nipple between his teeth.

“Ye-yes…” You whimper. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been stretched like that – it’s been a while since your insides have been given any attention at all. When you do it for yourself, you mostly just settle for playing with your clit – happy with one orgasm to take the edge off.

This is touching on more nerves – lighting other fires – different wells – tapping all sources – you’re leaking juices all over him, practically sopping, sucking him in – all but your head overly ecstatic for the attention.

“You wanna cum again – don’t you, my little slut?” He murmurs knowingly, giving your ass a harsh slap while pressing his forehead against yours.

He groans as he picks up the pace – dragging a moan out from your chest.

You want to deny it again like before – but the pleasure allows little else than to be appreciated with heavy shuddering breaths.

“Remember the rules, sweetie. Better beg permission, or you’ll be punished.” He warns.

You spot a grin forming on his lips – sharp like a knife – before uttering the next words.

“Better say, please let me cum on your big fat cock, Daddy~”

You scowl, trying to sneer, “Fuh-fuck you…” but your voice weakens to a whine.

Still, it’s unacceptable.

“That’s not how you speak to your Daddy. Bad slut.” A harder slap cracks across your ass – this time, making you yelp.

Your hair is pulled before you recover – and you’re thrown off his lap. Placed with your knees on the floor and your face in the warm and sweaty seat he’d just been sitting.

He stands above you – using a hand to pin your wrists to the small of your back while another hard smack is given to your already throbbing rear.

“If your pussy won’t follow the rules…” He licks his lips, looking down at the sight of you bent over beneath him, sobbing fat tears from the abuse. “Then this ass is next in line.”

You flinch with the words, eyes going wide. “What?” Already shuffling uneasily, gasping once his heavy hand came back to pet the welted cheek, branded with his handprint, giving it a firm squeeze that had you wince.

“It seems you don’t understand who’s in charge here…” He chided, with a coarse finger settling on the untouched rosebud slicked in pussy-juice, rubbing it slow and steady. “But I bet fucking your tight virgin ass is gonna make that crystal clear.”

“No – please no-” You plead, jostling weakly with your remaining strength – but the digit enters you anyway.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s too late to beg now – you gotta take your punishment,” He dismisses, digging knuckle-deep inside your butthole. “But to be honest with you… I was hoping you’d bite back like that.” He gruffs eerily at your ear. “I dream about putting your bratty ass in its proper place every night.” 

His finger twists and curls inside the hole, loosening it a little before skewering another two in. 

“Make you cry as I turn you into a good little butt-slut for me – get this sweet hole to gape for my cock to fill it up.”

He puts you in a headlock after pulling his three fingers out of your stretched opening – letting go of your wrists in favor of reaching under you to play with your pussy as he bullies his bulbous cockhead into the tight ring while you cry. With nails biting into your palms and your poor gushing cunt clenching around nothing.

He enters slowly, giving it shallow thrusts to fuck it open before feeding it another fat inch. Rubbing your clit between gritty fingers as he sinks inside you – burying his shaft within the snug walls of your tight ass as your hole gives in to his size, swallowing him up until he’s kissing your stomach with his heavy balls squeezed flush against your cunt.

“There you go, my little anal slut~ That’s Daddy’s brat getting taught her place!” He gives your butt another firm slap as he starts dragging out and stuffing you right back up again. “Getting her naughty ass spanked and propped with cock like a little whore~”

The fat arm squeezing your neck and the fingers swirling your clit make your head cloudy – even as your ass screams from the pounding, your cunt begs for the attention – milking nothing as it weeps with slick, running down your thighs into a little pool where you kneel.

“Aah- Daddy…” You moan through a sob. “Please…” Whimpering while you throttle his cock with your taunt ass, all but fucking yourself back on his shaft as he keeps rubbing your clit in steady patterns that have your cunt kissing the air. “Daddy, please – please let me cum…”

His chuckle is lazy and grating, feeling your cute ass swallow his cock all on its own.

“Y’know, only a real whore cums from having her ass fucked, right?”

You can’t help but buck your hips, shaking your ass like a slut as his fingers pick up the pace and rub your bundle of nerves in quicker circles. Begging, “Please…” 

“Oh, what a filthy little girl~ bent over like a mindless animal, fucked in her tight ass.” He patronizes. “Okay, my sweet little slut~ I’ll let you cum – but only after I hear you Say, please, Daddy, can I cum on your big fat cock~”

You’re too close to refuse. Desperation lacing your cute moans, “Ah – Daddy, please – mh-please can I cum on your big- ah – fat cock, please, Daddy please~”

He shoves three fingers in your cunt at that, curling them into your soft spot each time he pumps them inside, finger-fucking the sloppy hole until it spurts, making you scream while you squirt, drooling on your sheets like a mind-broken mess as your thighs and ass shake from the release.

“Good whore~ Remember to say thank you.” He mocks.

“Th-thank you – thank you, Daddy~” You mewl out cutely before he sticks all three slick-glossed fingers inside your mouth – fucking the tired opening as you pant out dewy moans around them, sucking them clean of your mess.

He keeps a steady rhythm, continuing to ream your poor butt until it's his turn to cum.

“Such a good slut~” He slinks out of your pummeled ass and slaps his wet cock against your face where you rest against the bed, all sweaty and dumb from your orgasm. “Come’ere, cum-baby, tongue out as you look up at Daddy~”

He smiles, smothering you between his fat thighs while his balls cover your face, pulling back to tap the tip on your lips.

“Here it comes!”

White ropes lash your tongue, leaving a bitter taste – bejewelling your face with pretty pearls that melt down your smooth skin like drying paint on a canvas.

He groans as he tugs the last few spurts out of his balls, wiping the messy cockhead on your tongue.

“Aw, I gotta have a picture of that. Daddy’s little cum covered whore on her first day of training~”

He holds your chin, rough-handling your jaw between strong fingers as he angles your face to meet the flash of his phone.

Grinning as he sing-songs, “Say, all my holes belong to Daddy~”

Your expression is still dumb, softly blinking up at him with one eye weighed down with his cum, simply mouthing the words back to him. “All my holes belong to Daddy~”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Toji, Kusakabe, Shiu ♡ HQ – Daichi, Kuro, Ukai

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Dick, and Jason reacting to his gn crush told him that they know his secret identity so he would let them bandage his wounds?

Dick

‘You knew?’ Dick said as he sat himself down on your bed, his face covered in bandaids as his arms covered with bandages, dressed in comfortable clothing after a long struggle due to his injuries. ‘How?’

‘There were signs that I ignored or didn’t think to look too deeply in until I did, just for everything to come together and realising that my initial assumptions were close to being right.’ You shrugged as you sat down next to him, looking him over to make sure that you had managed to patch up every possible injury he had, hoping he wasn’t hiding one without your knowledge.

‘That or maybe you just wanted an excuse to patch up my wounds. Or seeing me shirtless as I’m patching up my wounds, one or the other.’ Dick teased but couldn’t help but think of all the possible danger you were now going to be in due to knowing who Nightwing was, and while he wasn’t ready to admit to everything he does as nightwing to you, he knew that if he didn’t then you wound find a way to figure it out on your own somehow.

‘Maybe.’ You said, trying to hide your feelings of sheepishness from him. ‘That or the fact that I know you well enough to see through that domino mask of yours, something that doesn’t do much to hide the more easily recognisable features.’ You add as Dick then sighs.

‘You shouldn’t know this, you really shouldn’t.’ He tells you as he reaches for your hand, squeezing it. ‘I know you were smart enough to connect the dots but I don’t think it would happen so soon. I just wish you would’ve stayed naïve to it for a little while longer, just until I was ready and felt that it was safe enough to say something.’ He looks you in the eyes where you could see his conflicting emotions there. ‘I just wanted to keep you safe from all this, but I failed at that too.’

‘Life doesn’t work the way we always want it to.’ You began, squeezed his hand back in reassurance, ‘I know that from this point onward it won’t be easy for either of us, I’ll have a target on my back but I have made peace with that fact-‘

‘Well I haven’t.’ Dick interrupts. ‘You could be in danger because of me,’ he then uses his free hand to hold your cheek, ‘how am I meant to be okay with this knowing that I might not be able to save you.’

You smiled at him and leaned into his touch, careful of his injuries. ‘You’ll always save me, you’re Nightwing.’ You tell him before giving him a light, reassuring kiss on the forehead.

Jason

‘I’m telling you baby bird I tripped.’ Jason said for what felt like the fifth time that night as you continued to pester him about the gash on his arm.

‘Or you were out being Red hood and gotten hurt protecting some kids from Crime Alley.’ You replied casually as Jason stiffened, now looking at you surprised.

‘Why would you assume i’m him?’ He asked, watching you closely as the fear of the consequences this knowledge would bring, especially when it was someone close to his heart knowing his -now not so- secret identity.

‘You come back with injuries more severe than just tripping over thin air.’ You told him as you held his cheek. ‘That and I may or may not have seen firearms left lying about whenever I visit and thought nothing of it, only to do some research and have come to find that those are the same exact firearms Red hood has.’ You add as Jason internally curses himself for getting too comfortable with leaving his stuff out in the open so carelessly.

Fatigue be damned.

‘Okay you’ve figured me out, congratulations, but you really shouldn’t know that I’m Red hood, I’m not exactly well liked.’ He warns you, not wanting you to get hurt because of him, if you did he wouldn’t forgive himself for as long as he lived.

Loosing you wasn’t worth keeping his secret identity under lock and key. He’d gladly expose himself if it meant keeping you away from harm, but until then he knew that he’d have to keep close tabs on you whenever he could.

Or he could train you in self defence while still watching over you regardless.

‘I know.’ You tell him as you patched up the wound on his arm. ‘But when am I allowed to worry of over for doing something reckless.’

‘I was trained for this lifestyle sweetheart.’ Jason reminded you. ‘I’m more attuned to fighting crime and getting hurt doing so, it’s not a big deal.’

‘It’s a big deal to me.’ You spat, blinking back tears, ‘ I don’t want to see you come home with wounds worse then the last, worried to death that I might loose you.’ You add as you began to cover up the wound on his arm with a gauze before moving onto to adding the bandage securely.

‘Well I don’t want to loose you either.’ Jason said as he lifted his free hand to wipe away the tears that manage to fall from your cheek. ‘My identity is not worth your life baby bird. Not in the slightest. I won’t risk you, you’re too important to me to lose over this.’

‘More important than Red hood?’ You asked, not wanting to ruin the moment between you two.

‘So much more than you’ll ever know.’ Jason replied without hesitation.

[mythicmanuscripts]

i just know that sub!aemond gets really embarassed the first time he properly moans during sex.. like he knows that «only weak guys does that» so he’s really self-concious about it, but after gettibg comfortable it’s ALL he does🤭

I love this!!! I’m always glad to write more soft subby and a little angsty Aemond.

NSFW sub!Aemond below the cut :))

So my first thought when I read this was actually about the time Aegon made Aemond lose his virginity at the brothel? Obviously we know he felt so exposed and vulnerable and never went back or slept with another person until he met you, but I think there’s more to it than that actually.

Obviously he’s nervous, and even though he’s scared it does feel good. He whimpers and moans a little and every time he does the brothel worker chuckles and calls him adorable? But she’s so patronising about it and it just makes Aemond even more uncomfortable.

He doesn’t even consider laying with another again before he meets. Obviously it’s an arranged marriage and he’s very stiff at first, but he gets comfortable and he realises you’ll always care for him and he just finds a safe space.

I think that once Aemond starts to relax and let his walls down, he tends to actually be quite a bit louder? I don’t mean just sexually. I mean when it’s just the two of you and he feels safe and loved then he tends to laugh a lot easier and louder, he’ll also whine more and hum more and just generally be much more expressive. He doesn’t speak as softly either.

As he relaxes he gets louder and he stops being put together. It’s something he doesn’t actually notice and you make a conscious decision not to mention this to him because you know he’ll retreat back into himself if he knew.

And because it takes weeks of just getting to know him and forming a bond before anything sexual happens, you encounter this louder relaxed version of Aemond way before you actually sleep with him. Sometimes he’ll walk into your shared quarters and when he removes his eye patch it’s like you can physically see the weight lifted off his shoulders. He’ll stand there for a moment and then smile wider than he ever does in public and come to join you on the couch or in bed.

When things to get sexual, Aemond struggles to not lose control. I don’t mean fighting you for dominance, because of course we all know he’d never want that, I mean that his head gets all fuzzy and he gets desperate and needy and he so badly wants to just relax against you and let you control him.

The first time you hear him moan is when you’re kissing him and straddling him? Aemond feels like he’s on cloud 9. He’s gripping your hips and panting into your mouth and overwhelmed in all the best ways. You grind your hips down against his crotch and he throws his head back and moans, shaking a little.

It’s quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve heard. But the moment he realises what he’s done he goes stiff and pushes you off. You sit next to him, asking him what’s wrong and he just mumbles he’s sorry and he didn’t mean to do that.

“Didn’t mean to what?” You ask him, pulling him closer and wrapping your arm around his shoulder, “Didn’t mean to feel good?” He blushes and burrows his head in your shoulder in response, clearly embarrassed.

You let it go this time, just letting him relax until he’s asking for more kisses. The make out session ends without much more happening.

The first time you touch his cock, he tries SO hard to stay composed? He’s literally shaking and grinding his teeth to stop himself from making sounds.

You aren’t having it this time though. You pull your hand away and make him look you in the eye and let him know that if wants your attention then he can’t hold back his sounds.

For the next few weeks it seems like every time you do anything sexual for him he only gets louder? Pretty soon he doesn’t even try to stop himself, letting himself whine and moan and beg.

[planet-dusk]

☆ making bad decisions for you ∘ b.c

chan fucked up, and now he's left to deal with the consequences. how does one find someone to help their sweet pup through her heat on such short notice? the first step: call jisung. the second step: stay on the straight path. he has this under control. at least that's what chan thinks, until you throw him a curve...

─── ☆ pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

─── ☆ length: 2.3k

─── ☆ warnings: puppy hybrid!reader, sub!reader, perv!chan, big dick chan, pillow humping, corruption, bondage, unprotected sex, breeding (like a lot), dirty talk, praise, pet names: baby, pup, puppy

─── ☆ note: 18+ minors dni. the characters don’t represent real idols; this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. fictional smut is not a reflection of real life ! always communicate with your partner and practice consensual and safe sex ‹33

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

Chan’s in over his head.

He knew this day would come. He should’ve been prepared. But he’s been so busy lately, and he didn’t keep track of your cycle — fuck, if only he could physically beat himself up for being the world’s shittiest owner. 

And of course he can’t find the informational flyers anywhere, and he doesn’t trust the internet, the advice varying so wildly he isn’t sure what to believe. He could call the shelter, but he doesn’t want them to find out he messed up. What if they take you away from him? 

So he calls the only experienced person he can think of: Jisung. 

“I really don’t know what to do, Han, fuck! Please help…”

“Take a deep breath, it’ll be alright. It’s not your fault there’s a suppressant shortage. You sure you don’t want to…?” 

“I can’t, it’s… it’s wrong,” Chan feels the panic rising in his chest again. He takes another gulp of air to calm his shaky nerves. 

“Fine, okay, it was just a suggestion! No need to yell at me, lemme look into it. I'll find a stud for her and come over as soon as my shift’s done, okay? You try to stay calm in the meantime and do exactly as I've told you to. Can you do that?”

“I’m sorry, it’s - I’m a mess, I should’ve seen it coming, but thank you, Ji. Thank you. I owe you one.”

“No worries, bro. Good luck. Call me if you need any help.”

The call disconnects and Chan is left standing alone in the empty bathroom, his heart galloping in his chest. He failed you. But he needs to be there for you now. He's not proud of what he’s about to do, but you’ll understand. He has no other choice. When this is all over you’ll understand. Please, you have to…

“Please forgive me, Y/N,” he whispers and unlocks the door.

As soon as he steps out of the bathroom Chan’s thrown off balance by your body slamming into his. “Channie, sir, please,” you whimper, pressing yourself tighter against his side and wrapping your arms around his neck. Chan feels a blush rise to his cheeks and turns his head away, swallowing harshly. 

“Let’s go to your bedroom, pup.” 

You yelp excitedly and dart off, throwing yourself on the bed. Your tail wags against the sheets and Chan can’t help but smile. When he was a little kid he always thought he’d get a wolfdog hybrid, or a big husky, but then he saw you at the shelter: a little cream coloured mutt with soft ears and a fluffy tail, and he knew he had to bring you home. 

You’re watching him rummage through his nightstand, head cocked and ears pointed. “‘t hurts, Channie, please hurry,” you roll on your back and stay there, skirt sliding down your thighs and almost exposing your panties. Chan coughs. 

“I know, baby, Channie’s here to make it all better,” he mumbles and fishes a pair of padded handcuffs out of the drawer. “Just give me your hands, okay?”

You give him a puzzled look but comply, letting him attach the cuffs to the headboard. “I'm so sorry, puppy, I'm sorry,” he whispers, avoiding your eyes. 

Then he turns around and hurries out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft but resolute thud. 

Your frustrated howls are loud enough to reach the living room and he flinches. Every noise you make pierces his soul and adds to the pool of guilt in his gut. He had to do it, Jisung told him so — keep her safe, tie her up somewhere, otherwise she might hurt herself. It’s for her best interest. 

Chan knows, but why does it hurt him so much? He checks his phone, looking for a distraction. Two hours left until Jisung’s shift is done. Surely he can find a stud before the end of the day, right? Jisung knows so many people. He said everything would be fine. Chan just has to relax and trust him.

He takes another deep breath and turns on the tv, mindlessly going through the channels. He checks his phone again. 5 minutes have passed. Time’s never felt this slow. 

Eventually he settles on a documentary about tiger hybrids. He almost succeeds in focusing on the (terrible but entertaining) storyline when he notices your howls have changed into softer, breathier sounds. They almost sound like… moans? Chan thinks. He feels his cock stir. He shifts on the couch and stares at the tv, but the screen is a blur and he doesn’t hear a word the voiceover says. 

The noises continue and Chan grows more restless. How…? He looks at his phone again. 90 minutes left. 

With growing curiosity, Chan’s feet lead him to your bedroom almost involuntarily. Your noises have grown softer, little moans and whimpers drifting through the door. With a quiet click he opens it and peeks his head around.

You’re sitting on the bed, awkwardly positioned with your hands still chained to the headboard. Somehow you’ve managed to maneuver one of the pillows between your spread knees. You’re grinding down on it, fluffy tail causing your skirt to ride up. From his position in the doorframe Chan catches a glimpse of your white panties hugging your ass. 

The noises you’re making range from whiny to plain frustrated, the friction not enough to satisfy you. When you bend over to try and find a better position, Chan sucks in a breath, cock swelling at the sight of your soaked panties. You’re so wet the gusset has become almost see through, clinging to the outline of your pussy. 

Chan shouldn’t be here. He should leave before you notice him, before it’s too late. He should go back to the living room, put on his headphones and wait for Jisung to arrive. Let him sort it out. Get you a handsome dog hybrid to help you through your heat. 

“Chan?” your voice is soft, halting his train of thought. “Please…” 

He’s not sure if it’s your broken plea or something else that compels him to move, but Chan steps into your room. Your tail starts to wag slowly and you drop to your elbows, presenting yourself to him. From this distance Chan can see the tantalizing curve where your thighs meet your ass, the spot he wants to lick and suck and tease…

“‘s okay, puppy, Channie’s here.” There’s still time to leave. But you’re looking back at him with your pretty eyes — how could he say no to his sweet pup? He wants to protect you. Keep you safe. Jisung and his stud be damned. 

“I’m so sorry I did this to you, Y/N. I panicked.”

His hand strokes your thigh and you sigh into his touch. “Don’t leave me again, Channie. Promise.”

Chan shakes his head. “It was a mistake, I promise, I’m here with you now pup. Let me help you.” 

You mewl when his fingers graze your clothed slit. “Sir, ‘s hurting, don’t make me wait any longer, need you to breed me now, please,” you trail off, grinding back against his hand. 

Normally Chan would take his time to explore your body, tease you until you’ve cum at least twice before he’d give you his cock. But he hears the urgency in your voice, your pained little whimpers as you tug at your restraints. 

And it’d be a lie to say he hasn’t fantasized about this before. Late at night in his own bedroom while he tried to muffle his moans, unsure of what your sensitive ears could pick up. 

Chan slides your panties down your thighs with shaky hands. Your pretty cunt’s all puffy and glossy with your slick and it drips down his fingers when he pushes two inside. 

Your reaction is instantaneous, a pleasant gasp as you arch your back for him. “Need more, need your cock, need it now,” you plead again. 

“You sure you can take it, puppy?”

Chan rolls his plush bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t want to hurt you. 

“‘Mmm don’t care, make it fit,” you pout and wag your tail for him, “Channie.”

He’ll never tire of hearing his name like this. A broken sound, filled with so much need it goes straight to his head. 

He chucks off his pants and his boxers, hard cock springing free and slapping against his abdomen. He slides the tip over your slit to wet it, holding your hips to keep you still. Then he sheathes himself in your dripping heat inch by inch, whispering soft praises into the air between you. 

“Just like that, puppy, don’t move. Gonna fill you up so good baby, let me take care of you.”

Chan knows he’s big, watches your pretty hole stretch to accommodate him. He groans at how wet and warm you feel. It’s even better than he imagined. When you shift forward on your knees he growls, “Where do you think you’re going, pup? I'm not even halfway in yet.”

He pushes in deeper, watches you arch your back even more. “Channie, so full,” you pant when he finally bottoms out, stilling for a moment to catch his breath. The sensation of your soft, velvety cunt around him is overwhelming all his senses. 

“Yeah? Is my puppy nice and full?”

“Wanted - wanted this for so long,” you say and his heart makes a little leap. He knows it’s just your heat-clouded mind talking, the hormones making you more susceptible to his presence. But there’s a small part of him that dares to hope you’re speaking the truth. 

“Yah - wanted my sir, my Channie,” you nod when he starts moving, holding tight onto the handcuff’s chain. He briefly considers removing them, but you don’t seem to mind being tied up like this, pushing back on his cock like the neediest little thing he’s ever seen.

My Channie.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he groans and you hum at the sound of your name. “Can’t stay away from you - my pretty baby… knew it from the day I brought you home.”

You’re moaning every time his hips meet yours, soft uh-uh-uh’s like music to his ears. Your pussy is gushing around his length, and Chan’s not sure how long he’s going to last if you keep clenching down on him like this.

“Fuck, puppy - you’re hugging my cock so tight,” he lands a playful smack on your ass, “want me to breed you that bad, huh? Want me to stuff you full with pups?”

He tilts your hips to reach even deeper, fat cock slamming into you with force. You’re slumping against the mattress and he hovers over your back to nip at your ear, eliciting another moan from you. The soft fur of your tail tickles his abs but Chan is too focused on the erratic pulsing of your walls around him. 

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? I can feel you’re close, just let go. I’ve got you. Channie’s got you. My good girl.”

You sob and he feels your release gush around him, fucking you through your high with renewed vigor. You’re a blabbering mess, unable to form words except for “Channie,” “please,” and “fuck.” 

“Did my puppy lose her tongue?” He grins. “Getting all dumb on my cock after one orgasm, and I haven’t even bred you yet, baby.”

“Please…need it,” you whisper into the sheets, “need you to cum inside, please, sir.”

Even with his weight pressing you into the bed you’re still angling your hips up more, and Chan buries his face into the crook of your neck. You smell so good, like vanilla and the heady scent of sex. “I always keep my promise, pup, I’m going to breed you so well you’ll feel it dripping out of you for the next three days.”

You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes so glossy and fucked-out Chan loses all composure. He ruts into you one, two more times before ropes of thick cum paint your inner walls and tumble you headfirst into another orgasm. 

His thighs are shaking, your cunt milking him of every last drop until he’s a panting mess on top of you. For a moment the two of you lay still, breathing heavily, until Chan realizes you’re still chained to the bed. He pulls out and you mumble something when you feel his cum drip out of you, rubbing your thighs together. 

Chan unclasps the handcuffs and kisses your wrists, hugs you close and captures your lips with his own. They’re so soft, needy little sounds already escaping you again as you rut against his thigh. “Need more, Channie.” 

“Insatiable little thing,” he grins and traces your puffy cunt with his fingers. “Can’t get enough, can you?” 

He slips one finger in your sensitive hole just as the doorbell rings. You look up in surprise, eyes wide and ears darting in all directions. 

Chan kisses you again. “Ignore the bell, pup. I’m not going anywhere. Made a promise, remember? Need to breed you nice and round. Maybe make you beg a little more for it,” he chuckles, “let me see how needy you can really get.” 

You’re grinding down on his thigh now and Chan doesn’t care how long he has to stay here with you, he’ll give you whatever you want. He’ll spend days holed up inside your nest if he has to. 

You grab his shirt and pull him closer, and the blaring sound of his ringtone rips him out of his reverie. 

He rolls over with a groan and hits the green button, cutting off Jisung’s voice. “It’s already taken care of, Ji. Thank you.”

“Wha —? You sly dog!”

Chan throws his phone into a corner and rolls you onto your back, slotting himself between your thighs with a smile. “Don’t worry, pup. I won’t let anyone else touch you ever again.”

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

[bandgie]

So Sharp You Won't Feel a Thing | Ep. 6

MASTERLIST | Kink: Orgy

🗝 The Others are too much, too obsessed with keeping you on their side. They beg and do everything in their power, but you can't leave everything you know to stay in The Other World forever...can you?

3.6k words

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, DUBIOUS, reader does say stop once from overstim, restrained (f!), orgy, PIV, no protection, throat-fucking, handjobs, oral (f!), thats all I feel like putting

notes! last ep, I'm so happy. this took a lot of planning and I was thinking of how to end it, but I think I like how it turned out. let me know your thoughts of the event! thank you so much for reading. feedback/reblogs are much appreciated!

They’ve moved you to the kitchen which is ironically fitting. With how their hands and mouths devour you, it’s safe to assume you’re the main course.

Everyone has their buttons on you as you’re laid upon the dinner table, legs spread and pushed to your face for what feels like forever. Minho keeps your ankles apart by pressing on the underside of your thighs. He stands above you, upside down so his cock is in your face.

It feels exposing to have you spread so indecently with them here. Minho, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin all watch as Hyunjin slips his cock in with ease. His dull fingernails dig into your sides as if this is the first time he’s been inside, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

Seungmin hadn’t wasted any time on calling the Others, leaving you in a state of shock from the revealing of your kidnapping. Everything happened so slowly and so fast; Felix’s joyful clapping, Minho’s and Jeongin’s matching smug smile, and Hyunjin’s eager expression. Their chatter was white noise even in moving rooms.

The prodding of Hyunjin’s cock snapped you out of it. He was eager, drooling out of his pretty mouth, and slapping the head of his cock on your flaps. Your legs had kicked from overstimulation, but Minho was quick to restrain them.

“Noo,” Hyunjin whined, high-pitched and almost heartbroken. “Don’t do that. Everyone got a taste of your pussy. It’s not fair that I didn’t.”

But it’s been more than a taste. You’re drowning in your own pleasure, gasping and moaning against the underside of Minho’s dick.

You can’t lift your head, but you can guess the sight. You can feel the cream sliding down your ass, the throbbing of your clit, the gushing of your pussy every time he rams back in. There’s not a doubt that you’re swollen and pink pink pink, but the Others can’t seem to look away.

“Look at that pussy. You’re breaking it.”

“If she took it up the ass, she can take it there.”

“Yeah. It’s just one cock. She has about five more to go.”

They all laugh. Even Hyunjin smiles, lips twisted in pleasure as you whine at their words. Their near threats. It feels like your stomach has turned into a puddle of arousal with every thrust. Each time you think you can’t come again, you do. But the constant pounding makes the building overwhelming.

“Nghhh. Waiitt. T-too much. Pleaseee.”

Your arms feel heavy, but there’s enough strength in them to try and grab at Hyunjin. You manage to graze his wrists before Jeongin grabs a hold of your hand with your other being held by Seungmin. 

You might not have gotten him to stop, but your plan succeeds in another way. 

“Huh? T-too much?” Hyunjin sounds worried. “Am I hurting you?” He’s the weakest link, you've learned. Too sweet for his own good. You almost cry in relief when he slows, but it’s short-lived. 

“No, hyung. You aren’t. It just means that she wants kisses.” Jeongin soothes. “Kisses always make everything better.”

Hyunjin nods, too fucked-out to really understand but agrees anyway. His hips begin to pick up their pace again and you cry out. It doesn’t hurt per se, but it is too good to bear. You open your mouth to plead with Hyunjin, but words never make it when Minho presses his tip between your lips to shut you up.

“Mmf!”

His taste is musky and slightly salty. Minho’s cock smoothly glides on your tongue, down until he can see the head poking through your throat.

“Fuck. That’s it. Good kitty.” He rubs his thumb where his tip presses, making you gag. Being upside down makes his cock press deeper. There’s nowhere to turn when he shoves the remaining inches in, balls touching your nose.

He stills. Minho lets you convulse around his cock to get used to his size. When your neck turns pink, he slides out. You can feel how your throat twitches against his shaft. Your tongue sticks out of your mouth when he’s fully out, gasping for air. 

Then he does it all over again.

You’re too busy being fucked in two holes to feel Seungmin and Jeongin wrap your fingers around their cocks. Their warmth registers when they thrust into your makeshift fist. The veiny textures of their cocks have you gripping tighter.

Jeongin grunts from the pressure. He thrusts at a much faster pace than Seungmin who opts to rock. He wants to feel how each finger strokes him. There’s no need for spit or lube for your questionable handjobs. They both leak enough pre-cum to coat your palm and shine their tips. 

“Mmm. Yeah. Yeah. Good slut for us, aren’t ‘ya?” Jeongin wraps both his hands around yours. It’s like your fist is a fleshlight and in a way, your entire body is. The expanding of your throat, the bend of your wrists, and the squelching of your cunt. Everything about your state is absolutely debauched.

Knowing how you look makes the pleasure heightened. Your breasts bounce from Hyunjin's pistons, forcing your throat to take Minho deeper until your eyes roll back. Your limbs are loose, but the men using your hands to tug their cocks hardly mind. But if you come again, you know you’ll break.

Felix, quiet and waiting, can’t help but fall in love with your depravity. So good, so pretty. Cum leaks from his tip, oozing on the floor. The soft padder of his feet goes unnoticed as he stands beside Hyunjin, looking in absolute awe at the stretch between your legs. 

You notice him when little fingers rub your clit. Minho pulls out to hear you squeal, finally lifting your head to see Hyunjin and Felix standing at the other end, beautifully terrifying.

Felix’s finger taps your nub in quick patterns. It’s such a light touch, but it has you squeezing on Hyunjin’s cock. The blonde man giggles gleefully, smiling ear-to-ear when his hyung groans in response. 

Seungmin’s free hand tangles in your hair. You think he’s going to lay you back down and have you swallow Minho’s cock, but he keeps your head up instead. You watch as Felix lowers himself, moving his hand to replace them with his lips. 

“How about them kisses, yeah?”

You let out a drawled moan when you feel his hot mouth. Hyunjin slows just enough to prevent himself from hitting Felix, but his pace is still relentless. It blends together madly.

You’re whining and wiggling your hips in an attempt to escape them. But Minho’s firm grip on your thighs makes the attempts worthless.

Tears brim your eyes. “Fuck! Please! I’m being good. I’m being so good. I can’t- I can’t…”

Felix swirls his tongue deliciously on your clit. It catches the nub in his mouth, pulling on the flesh until it stretches. Your thighs tremble, ass and cunt clenching desperately. Salvia begins to pool at the corner of your mouth. 

“You can’t?” Felix hums with your clit between his lips. He lets it go with a crude pop. Your body relaxes and drops back down on the table, Seungmin’s hand stays under your head to keep it still while Minho rubs his tip on your swollen lips.

“But you have to. Hyunjin got a taste. I only tasted it on Minho-hyung’s fingers. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since.”

You couldn't argue if you wanted to. Minho’s cock feels soft on your mouth, lolling your tongue out and taking him back in. 

Hyunjin must feel the change in your cunt. You feel softer. Warmer. Wetter. It almost hurts how hard you’re gushing from them using every part of your body, but Hyunjin relishes it. His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing labored as he chases the heat of your pussy. 

The bruising tip knocks on your cervix. You already have a cock down your throat, but it feels as though they’ll be two soon. 

Felix’s tongue finds home on your lips again. It slips low enough to taste your arousal, Hyunjin's cock rubbing against it. His face might be getting squished, but he can taste you here. Raw and unfiltered. 

He swipes the cream up your slit. The drag feels slow, a stark difference to your tongue licking Minho’s cock. You find yourself copying his movements unconsciously. The swipe of your tongue matches his when Felix lavishes your clit. Even with your muffled squealing, you rub your tongue over Minho’s slit. 

They grunt. Jeongin and Seungmin who are left with nothing but your hand still manage to twitch in your hold. You don’t mean to grip them so tight. There’s just too much in your mouth and cunt that you need to hold onto something.

Your entire body jolts up and down, side to side from how they use you. It’s like they’re planning on cumming together. 

“Look at that. I wonder if I can see my cum shoot down her throat like this.” Minho sighs dreamily. His cock is too deep for your tongue to do more than lay on the underside, but even then, you try to swipe it back and forth. 

Jeongin tilts his head, hair sticking to his forehead to see your neck bulge from his hyung’s size. It affects him more than he thought. The stretch of Minho’s cock down your throat, the bounce of your tits, and your sputtering when Minho mercifully gives you time to breathe.

One of your hands is being fucked harder than the other. Jeongin grabs onto your breast with his unused hand for purchase, squeezing the nipple Seungmin abused what felt like hours ago now.

“Fuuuck. I’m cumming.” Droplets of cum ooze from his slit. “I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

Those droplets soon turn into ropes. Strings of Jeongin’s arousal shoot out, landing on the table and some on the floor. He pulls his sensitive cock from your hold and squeezes the base. Final spurts burst onto your breast, warm and wet. 

It’s like a butterfly effect. Seungmin‘s knees buckle when his orgasm pours out. He mimics Jeongin and pulls your hand off, but he jerks himself to completion so white cream decorates your other tit.

Seungmin slaps the tip on your nipple, sprinkles of cum shooting out and reaching your neck. 

“Mmm, shit. Your tits are so messy.” The two of them glide their leaking cocks on your breasts, slowly coming down from their high.

Hyunjin nearly topples over you. The sight of your soaked tits and the men’s rubbing cocks is too much. It’s the final push he needs to go over the edge. 

Much rougher than he anticipated, Hyunjin yanks Felix off your clit to push his hips deep. You hear a low groan of pain, a high-pitched wail of pleasure, and you feel the sputtering of Hyunjin’s cock soon after. 

His release coats your walls. The twitching of his cock has you clenching around him, painfully and desperately trying to squeeze the last orgasm out of you. 

You’ll cry if you cum again. You’ve been holding out for so long that it would all be in vain just to finish now. But Minho isn’t letting you get a chance to breathe. The lack of oxygen makes your brain fuzzy and the warmth of Hyunjin’s cum is just too good. 

Clear fluids shoot from your core. It’s so much that it forces Hyunjin's cock out, hips thrusting when you’re empty. You gag around Minho to use your free, cum-soaked hands to push at his thighs. He doesn’t want to pull out, but the veins popping from your neck are almost worrisome. Minho huffs when he slides his cock from between your lips. 

You cough and choke. The sounds are twisted with your moans and whines. You look at the space between your legs to see Hyunjin’s abdomen completely drenched. Felix’s face is worse off, but his buttons shine in amazement. 

“Oh- oh my god. F-fuck! hngg. Mmm…” Your eyes roll back. Your body trembles, legs shaking in Minho’s annoying grip. You hear someone praise, another laugh, but it’s the tongue on your clit that catches your attention. 

Felix. “Nonono. Stop! Pleasepleaseplease. I came. I just came. No more!”

You twist in Minho’s grasp. Jeongin and Seungmin hold your arms down when you reach for Felix’s hair. 

It hurts so good. Your hard nub gets lavished by Felix’s tongue, rough and quick. You squirm your hips in feelable attempts but Hyunjin holds your lower half for Felix to keep eating. 

“Pleeasseee. I-” you hiccup. “I can’t breathe. Too much. It’s too much!”

He flattens his tongue so it runs up your slit. You feel him start at your entrance and slide along your folds, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit. 

Your hips jolt. A squeal emits from your chest. There’s a brief pause before he does it again. It feels almost rougher than the last time. Felix laughs at your sobs, finally pulling away from your cunt and tapping his finger on your slit.

You vibrate.

“Haha! I think she’s gone now.”

Minho lets go of your legs. You didn’t notice how uncomfortable your back was, your spine finally flattening on the table. A groan of relief passes your swollen lips. You can feel Jeongin and Seungmin’s cum running down your breasts. Most of Hyunjin’s has been licked up by Felix, but you swear your cunt is still pooling with release. 

Bare feet softly echo in the kitchen. You’re too tired to focus your sight, but you can see Minho’s blurry figure walk to the other end of the table. 

No.

“You cleaned it all good for me, Felix?” Minho grins his roommate kneeling on the floor. “You know I love how you spread pussy with your tongue.”

Your chest caves with a broken cry. 

Felix giggles. “It’s been a long time since I have. You might have to test it out.”

The men chuckle. You don’t know how long you can keep doing this. The way they’re carving themselves into you feels like it might be permanent and you’re scared you may not ever want it removed. 

Still, you whine when Minho wraps your legs around his torso. You know he won't last long in your cunt. His cock is an angry red, tip leaking so much pre-cum it’s dribbling on your folds.

But you just can’t take anymore.

Clatter from the living room has everyone turning their heads. Light steps thud and you feel a sense of relief. 

And dread. That is, until you hear a familiar voice calling your name.

“B-Bin!” You shout for him. They’re still holding you down, but it doesn't stop you from wiggling. 

Tears sting your eyes. You can’t imagine what he’ll look like when he sees you like this. Confused, maybe. Angry, definitely. You’ll have to explain to him that it's not anything you don’t want, but you desperately need a break from it. 

But the footsteps that carry Changbin’s voice don’t match. He’s not rushing in. There’s not an ounce of worry in his steps as he grows closer.

“Where are you?”

“I’m right here!” Despite the worry, you can’t think about it too much. The heart in your chest feels as though it might burst from how hard it’s beating. It feels like an eternity before he enters the kitchen. 

But it’s not Changbin. Not at all. You reel back into Jeongin at the sight of Jisung. He stands in the entry, smiling so much that his top gums show and his eyes squint. 

“Found you.” Hearing Changbin’s voice come from Jisung's lips makes you shiver. You can handle buttons for eyes. You can handle talking cats and their attitude. But this…this is horrifying. 

You’re trembling so violently that Minho soothes your thighs by running his hands up and down. 

Jeongin’s nose scrunches in distaste. “I fucking hate when you do that. It’s creepy as shit.”

Jisung laughs, using his own voice now. He almost skips to you, but slowing down you shrink back into Jeongin more. His smile turns into a frown as he reaches out to touch you, brushing a stray hair from your face.

There’s so much running in your head. No one’s talking, but everything’s just sounds so loud. The blood drumming in your veins, the pounding of your heart, and the questions swirling in your mind.

“You- How did you- Why-” Breathe. “You sounded just like him.”

“Oldest trick in the book, baby. I can do a lot more than that.”

You’re almost grateful for the other men’s touches of comfort despite them doing what seemed like the opposite moments ago. “How? Who are you?”

His smile reappears. “What do you mean who am I? I’m your landlord!”

You shake your head. “No. You said your grandma-”

“I lied.” He says simply. “She died a while ago. But yes, it’s me that’s collecting your rent. It was also me who showed you the door.” Jisung sees your aghast expression. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. You said it yourself; I was stalking you. A little bit.”

“Pervert.” Minho mumbles.

Jisung scoffs. “I- I am not a pervert!” His hands point to every nude man in the room. “You guys are! Look at yourselves!” There’s an awkward shuffle in the kitchen as if they’ve been caught red-handed. Jisung huffs a final time and leans down to you, voice quiet. “They’ve been fucking you for so long, haven’t they?”

His hand gently runs down your neck, down the valley of your breasts, and stops at your stomach. “Poor baby didn't even get a break.”

You nearly whimper at his touch. Jisung fakes a pout that bursts into a grin, pecking your lips lightly. 

“Since you know everything, you should also know it was Hyunjin hogging her. I barely got my turn before you showed up.” Minho has a sarcastic tone but there’s a playful glint in his buttons.  

“Of course I know that. That’s why I showed up. You were gonna break her.” Jisung nuzzles his nose against yours. “After all, what kind of owner would I be if I didn’t take care of my things?”

Your disorganized thoughts finally settle to the time at the garden. You easily recall telling Jisung those exact words. Including when Jeongin revealed everything to you.

Let’s just say we made a deal with the devil.

“You…you’re the Beldom.”

Jisung’s eyebrows raise, eyes full of shock. “Y-yeah. I haven’t been called that in a long time. How do you know that word?”

Jeongin gulps. The swallow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung. He tuts and shakes his head, “First Seungmin, now you? Whatever. I’ll deal with it later.”

“But you,” Jisung winks in your direction. “I need an answer from you now.”

Confusion etches on your flushed face. “For what?”

“Well, if you wanna stay of course!” Jisung smiles wide. “I’ve been renting out this level for so long, but no one’s been a good candidate. But you…you and your friends…I think you’ll do just fine.”

The other men can sense your fear. Felix takes your hand in his, a small gesture to soothe you. “We know how you feel.”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin agrees. “We’ve been here.”

You already knew they were trapped by the Beldom, but the puzzles didn’t fit until now. The missing men. They’re them. 

“It doesn’t help when he does that freaky thing with his voice,” Jeongin grimaces. “But Han’s just socially awkward. You get used to it.”

“H-Hey! I thought it was funny!”

“The point is,” Minho says sternly, silencing the small chatter. “We want you here. Why would you want to waste your life away stressing out there? If you can afford rent or dinner? No one deserves to live like that.”

“We can keep you safe here.” You turn your head to Seungmin. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Han can do anything. He has done everything for us. Now he wants to do it for you too.”

Different pairs of hands caress your body. It doesn’t feel sexual, but comforting. They run over your breasts, between your legs, intertwining with your fingers, just touching you. They’re right, you haven’t been worrying about money and other trivial matters since meeting them. 

You think of Chan and Changbin and how stressed they’ve been. If they meet the Others here, they’ll be free from all of it too. Won’t they?

“You’ll…You’ll take all of us? Chan and Changbin too?”

Jisung nods, “It won’t be easy, but once they see their pretty little girlfriend on this Side, I don’t think it’ll be too hard to convince them.”

Shit, you’re considering it. You look around the room, locking eyes with every button peering down at you. Waiting. Hopeful.

With a deep breath, you look back at the Beldom. “You have to promise me, Han. That they’ll be here too.”

Jisung puts one hand over his heart and the other with the palm facing you. “Scouts honor. I’ve never failed. If I got Minho-hyung to be a part of my family, I know I can do your friends too.”

You briefly look at Minho. You don’t know why; maybe for a sign or a hint of regret in his burgundy buttons, but he grins instead. “I couldn’t leave Felix by himself.”

You must have nodded. You don’t know because you’re trembling so much, but judging from the smiles on everyone’s faces and Jisung’s clapping, you must have. 

An enormous bug comes from the living room, a platter held in its stick-for-hands. You can’t see the content from your shaky vision, but when Jisung holds the items in the air, you can see it clearly. 

Needle and thread.

“Now, what color would suit you best?”

[coryosbaby]

Subby rafe taking the strap for the first time and he’s still has a fragile but learns to love getting back shots from his hot gf <3

18+, MDNI !!

When he’s sprawled out on the mattress, face buried in the pillows, he hardly speaks. He’s embarrassed, shy, timid. So unlike the usually brooding and dominant boy you know. The hem of his shirt is pulled up— he had asked to keep it on. He says it makes him feel safer when he’s like this. You rub circles into the exposed skin of his lower back as you press the thick head of the strap up against his entrance, watching his facial expressions to see if he’s okay.

“Rafe?” You ask, hovering.

No reply.

“Rafe.”

A hum.

“Hmm?”

He’s so sleepy. Just a few of your fingers and he’s almost knocked out. Deep in thought, too. You can tell.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You ask him. His bangs spill messily over his forehead, and he turns his head so you can lean over to look at him. He nods, a little breathy whine escaping him as he murmurs, “please”.

You press in. You can’t help it— you know you should go slower, but hes so beautiful. An angel. His brows furrow as he adjusts, mouth falling open.

“Oh…”

It’s a different sensation for him. A nice, safe sensation. You smile.

“Good?”

Your fingers move the hair out of his face, watching as he blushes a deep cherry red.

“Yes— yes ma’am,” he corrects himself. “It’s good. Not as— not as scary as I thought it’d be.”

“Yeah?” You push in harder, faster. He mewls, clenching around you. Your hand reaches out to his hip again. “Relax for me, honey.”

“‘M sorry..”

“It’s okay.”

Pressing into him shouldn’t feel so real. His arms wrap around his head, face scrunched up cutely as his hole spreads open on the thick silicone. Your fingers make crescent moons on the flesh of his ass as you pull his cheeks apart. Your boy’s skin is so soft, sweet, and supple; it ripples when you move your hips against him, softly thrusting to get used to the feeling of stretching open another person. You can’t help but drool at the sight of his little hole being ruined by you.

He sighs. Backs himself up against your hips, listens to the slap of skin against skin. He doesn’t think coke can ever compare to when you brush up against his prostate for the first time. He moans, guttural and high pitched, like a girl. It only spurs you on, makes you hit that spot again.

“Right there?” You ask, sugary sweet despite your deep thrusts.

He nods. “Feels so good, mommy, ‘s like cumming over and over..”

You smile, running your nails down the expanse of his back. He shivers.

“I’m gonna put all my weight on you now,” you say. “Is that okay?”

Rafe’s a strong boy, and after pulling up that golden cross all those months ago you weigh practically nothing to him. He nods, keening when he feels your bare breasts pressing against the fabric of his shirt. It’s harder to get thrusts in this way— you aren’t a guy, you aren’t spurred on by the pleasure of something being wrapped around you— so you shallowly move your hips. Your arms envelope him like his own were doing before, wrapped around the crown of his head and keeping him in a safe, enclosed space. Rafe can smell your perfume as you whisper how good he is, how handsome he is, how special he is. It’s perfect, slow and languid, and he never thought he’d like sex this way. But he thinks it’s his favorite now.

general taglist: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

[callsign-rogueone]

one too many

Liam Mairi x reader you have one too many on a night out, but Liam is there to take care of you. this is a part 2 to the spider, but can be read as a standalone. words: 1.0k 🏷: no book spoilers, just fluff, I may be sober but I can still write about drinking and how much it sucks, descriptions of being drunk, she/her "girl" reader, one very minor instance of a guy at the bar being creepy but again -- Liam to the rescue. that's all I got for tags. it's nap time now, byee (yes, there will be a part three to this. it's already in motion.)

You’re definitely starting to regret going out tonight. You have no idea where your friends are, if they’re still here or not, and you really don’t feel good. Weaving through the crowd, you finally spot a friendly face. “Hi, Liam.”

“Hi yourself,” he greets, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you a bit closer to keep you out of the way of the other patrons, and to be able to hear you over the lively conversations and music filling the tavern.

You smile, cuddling into his side contentedly. “Missed you.”

You’ve had a soft spot for the boy for a while now. You don’t spend much time together, being in separate squads, but he’s your across-the-hall neighbor in the dorms — you see him a few times every day, coming to and from your room between classes. 

He’s always nice to you, offering you soft smiles and the occasional kind word or small talk, and the other week, when you’d knocked on his door in a mild panic and asked — begged — him to evict a spider from your room, he’d done it without hesitation, and without judgment.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks gently.

“Head’s a little fuzzy,” you answer with a frown, “but I don’t think I had that much.”

You only remember having one drink, that you’d been sipping on steadily through the night but never finished. You shouldn’t feel this intoxicated — the room is spinning, blurring at the edges, and you feel unsteady on your feet, hence the way you’re rather un-subtly clinging to him.

“There you are,” some guy he doesn’t recognize calls, “thought I lost ya. You ready to go?”

“Who’s your new friend?” Liam asks, holding you a little closer and shifting his body to place himself between you and this new guy, eyeing him with apprehension.

“Oh, this is…” you blink, struggling to recall the other boy’s name. Everything between him walking up to you and the present moment seems a little hazy and unclear.

Liam makes his decision; you’ve had one too many, and you clearly aren’t there enough to agree to go home with a stranger, especially not this guy, who just looks like bad news. “She’s not leaving with you, if that’s what you’re after,” he states flatly, not leaving any room for argument.

The boy scowls, likely thinking that Liam is your boyfriend, and realizing he’s wasted his time flirting with you. He leaves, presumably to find some other girl to sweet-talk into his bed.

“Let’s get you back to the school,” Liam coaxes. 

You agree quietly, letting him guide you out the door and down the street, his arm still around your shoulders to keep you upright. You’re glad you chose sensible shoes for the night — it’s already hard enough to walk in your current state.

You rub at the exposed skin of your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up — you can’t remember if you had brought your jacket with you and forgotten it in the tavern, or if you’d left it in your room.

Ever-observant, Liam shrugs off his own jacket and helps you get your arms through the sleeves. You burrow into the soft fleece-lined leather, warm from his body heat and nicely oversized, the cuffs extending past your knuckles.

“Thank you, Li,” you mumble, taking hold of his arm. “I really didn’t want to go home with that guy.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

You continue to tell him how you feel. “You’re such a good guy, you know. Always looking out for everyone. S’ why I like you so much. Well, that ‘n your eyes.”

“My eyes?” he asks casually, as if you hadn’t just drunkenly confessed to having a crush on him.

You hum in affirmation. “They’re really pretty. Like the ocean. Reminds me of home.”

You cover a yawn with a sleeved hand, exhausted, but keep walking alongside him. The alcohol may have lowered your inhibitions, but he still can’t help but feel a little squeeze of pride that you trust him to do the right thing, to take care of you in your vulnerable state.

You don’t protest, or seem to notice at all, that he’s headed in the opposite direction of the dorms — to the healers’ quadrant, instead. 

You continue holding onto him as he leads you into the infirmary and explains to one of the healers what’s going on.

After a quick glance at you and a flip through your patient file, she identifies the problem: “We gave her a medication last week that shouldn’t be mixed with alcohol — it makes one glass feel like five. She’ll be fine in the morning, just really hungover, but she can’t go out drinking again for a while yet. Make sure she gets some water, and plenty of sleep.”

Liam nods, thanking her.

“She’s lucky to have such a good boyfriend to take care of her.”

Liam doesn’t correct her, just offers her a smile and another thank you before he leads you back across the campus to your room.

Thankfully you’re cognizant enough to unlock the door yourself, and you move to sit on your bed as soon as it’s in your sight.

He uncaps your water bottle, finding it half-full. “You should have some water,” he coaxes, extending it to you. 

You comply, emptying it slowly. 

He certainly isn’t going to change your clothes for you, and you look too exhausted and unsteady to do it yourself, so he settles for tugging off your boots and setting them next to the pile of shoes by the door. You can sleep in your outside clothes for the night and just wash your sheets tomorrow.

He picks your stuffed dragon up off of the desk, handing it to you — you hum happily, hugging it to your chest as you lay down. “You gonna be okay?” He asks softly.

Another hum in affirmation as your eyes start to close. 

“Alright. Blythe can have Deigh wake me up if you need me, okay?”

“Mmkay,” you murmur. “Thank you, Li.”

He lays a featherlight kiss on your forehead, draping a blanket over you. “Get some sleep, pretty girl. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[323cutie]

3:03 am | choi san

fluff. 600 words.

a/n ik milan fashion week is over but i started writing this when it was still a thing . I miss sannie

You weren’t really expecting to call San tonight – especially not at this time. It’s late for you, and you’re almost entirely sure he’s still at the Dolce and Gabbana event he’s in Italy for. 

But you can’t sleep. And it may or may not be related to the fact that he’s in Italy to begin with.

So you take a chance – as the phone rings, you try not to get your hopes up. If he doesn’t answer, you’ll just have to try a couple more melatonin gummies, or maybe a warm cup of tea, or maybe you’ll just doom scroll until you finally feel tired enough, but you have work tomorrow so any sleep would be better than nothing –

“Hello?” San’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you feel all the tension in your body disappear completely. A gentle comfort, and familiar sound. 

“Hey,” you respond, voice a little breathless. You feel silly, emotional at the sound of his voice alone. “You still at that event? I’m not interrupting, am I?”

You can practically see the way he shakes his head. “No, we just got back to the hotel,” he says. There’s a pause, then a slight ruffle of sheets on his end, and then he asks, “everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer, immediate. And it’s not entirely a lie… but you hope he leaves it be anyways. You change the subject quickly. “Saw the pictures you posted.”

San humors you, offering a soft laugh (you wish you could hear it in your room with you). “Did you like them?” 

You nod, but remember he can’t see you, then hum in agreement. Rolling over from your back to your side, you put your phone on top of the pillow next to you. “You look pretty,” you tell him, voice gentle.

He does. All sunkissed skin and beautiful fabrics, he looks like he belongs, a piece of him meant to be in the heart of Italy. He looks lovely in that all-white suit, tailored perfectly to his proportions, an air of elegance around him. But you think your favorite post so far is the one he made when he first arrived – your Sannie, casual and sleek, warm and sweet. Glowing in the streets of Milan.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” San asks suddenly. “It’s way late for you, baby.” 

San sounds so tender, and you wish he was here with you. Fingers interlocked with yours in the dark, safe in his hold, sound asleep. You want to run your hands through his hair and look into his eyes and kiss him. Want to hear his pretty voice without the buffer of a speaker on a phone.

“Can’t sleep,” you tell him honestly. You wrap yourself tighter in your blankets. “...I miss you, you know.”

You thought saying it out loud would help, but the longing you feel only pulls itself tighter, connected to both you and San. Taut and painful, like an exposed nerve, an almost physical ache. There’s quiet on the other end of the call, and you wonder if maybe it dropped –

“Oh, sweetheart,” San murmurs, his voice so warm. “I miss you more.”

You feel unravelled with care, heart pounding at his words despite being with him for so long now. It makes your face hot and you feel the well of tears in your eyes – you sniff and San laughs, but it’s only fond. “I’ll be home soon,” he says, “Okay? Just wait a little longer.”

A noise of agreement leaves you because you’re afraid if you speak it’ll all come rushing out, but you take a deep breath and try to remember the smell of his cologne and the different colors in his eyes. You swear you feel a ghost of a touch from his hands.

“‘Kay,” you eventually respond. The world is a little blurry around the edges of your eyesight, your limbs heavy. “I love you.”

San’s response is immediate, and you manage to catch it before you drift off completely; his voice reaches you from across the world as he says, “I love you too.”

[beenbaanbuun]

warm w/ choi jongho

“sometimes i don’t feel real,” you whisper, voice only just loud enough to hear over the dialogue of the film. perhaps it isn’t a coincidence that you mention it now, as the two main characters argue about something that is no doubt incredibly important to the plot; perhaps you’re hoping that jongho will be far too invested in the false argument to hear your admission. maybe it’s easier to let the help pass you by all while claiming that you tried than to actually let yourself be helped. being helped takes energy and unfortunately you’re using all of that up trying desperately to stay afloat.

“in what way,” jongho hums, not once taking his eyes away from the screen. if you didn’t know him so well you’d be offended that your problems don’t seem to be worth his time. having spent years by his side, however, you can’t help but be grateful as he seemingly ignores you in favour of the film. it makes it so much easier to say what’s wrong when he seems like he isn’t laying attention. no judgement, or pressure—it’s like yelling into the void except this time there’s someone there to listen.

“nothing feels real,” you say, a little louder this time now that you know you can’t hide behind the film. “i’m a person with a life and a boyfriend and that just… i don’t get it.”

jongho leans forward to grab the glass of water he’d placed on the coffee table earlier. your eyes hone on on the ring of condensation left on the coaster, studying the clear water droplets as if they hold all the secrets to the universe. it gives you something to focus on instead of the contemplative silence of your boyfriend. it’s daunting to think about the fact that you don’t know what’s running through his mind; you don’t know whether what’s coming next is good or bad, and while you have a strong inclining that it’s the former, you just can’t be sure.

its then that something cold hits your leg, smearing icy water across the skin exposed by the shorts you wear. it pulls a squeak out of your mouth and your body moves quick to escape whatever if it that’s touching you. your eyes flick down just in time to see jongho retracting his hand back into his lap, fingers wrapping around the glass that he’d shoved between his thighs for safe keeping. he picks it up like nothing has happened, taking a sip of the ice cold water before letting out a grunt of satisfaction as how smooth it trickles down his throat. it’s like nothing happened; like he didn’t just touch you with his icy fingers.

“did you feel that?” his eyes finally meet yours as he asks his question. you nod with furrowed brows, confused and baffled as to why he paused your discussion just to mess with you. “good,” he smiles, “if you felt it then it’s real, right? it’s like when you punch yourself in a dream”

you can’t help but scoff, “i’m not sure that’s how it works, jongho,” a strange new liveliness makes its way into you as you shuffle across the sofa to get closer to him. you work quickly to take the cup of water from him and set it back on the table, not quite expecting to be met with two large hands on your waist the second it taps against the small mat. they tug at you until your spine is pressed against your boyfriend’s chest, his arms moving quick to wrap around your waist and trap you there. you wriggle experimentally, only for his grip to get tighter.

“no escape baby,” he pressed his lips into your neck and kisses your soft skin, “i’m busy proving to you that i’m real.” his voice vibrates through you in a way that has you squirming ticklishly in his lap.

“get off, you big baby,” he doesn’t. he just snickers against your throat, his bared teeth rubbing softly against your sensitive skin. “it tickles, jongho!” you squeal as he presses a series of kisses against your soft skin. they make your way up your neck, the final one landing just beneath your earlobe. the rhythmic pace of his breathing rings through your ear as he brings his lips up past your ear and kisses your temple.

“that’s the point,” he whispers so quiet that it almost isn’t there. but it is, and you lean into it, letting his voice wash over you like the ocean over the shore. right now, it doesn’t really matter whether this is real or not—though you’re pretty sure your brain wouldn’t be able to come up with a scene so perfect—what matters is that it feels good. sitting in the warm embrace of the man you love feels heavenly, and until the next time he so effortlessly tugs you into his lap, you’re sure that nothing will ever beat this feeling.

[tired-biscuit]

oki i saw u repost the ‘herding dog x lamb x wolf’ post and i am asking u to pls walk w me here … that trope with naruto and kiba. maybe naruto is the protective hearding dog, anxiously looking for the lost lamb that strayed a bit too far from the herd one night. the poor pup’s so worried, ears flat against his head and big eyes shaken with fear that something bad happened to you as he walks deeper into the dark forest.

little did he know, the helpless little lamb was far from in trouble. in the arms of the big bad wolf that caught her, how could she be? as poor naruto is wondering around the woods, fearing the worst case scenario, you’re on your chest, squished against the grass as wolf boy kiba mounts you from behind, knot inflating as his canines mark you all over. grunts and moans of pleasure come from the both of you, only aiding naruto in his search.

and when naruto does end up finding you, he’s… conflicted. well of course he’s horrified at first! a wolf is mounting you for goodness’s sake! at the same time, however, he can’t help but feel a bit jealous. why does the stray get to mount you and he can’t? he’s been so nice to you, after all, and he’s known you the longest! if anyone should fill your holes, it should be him!

when naruto interrupts you n kiba, it only turns into a territorial match of who can knock you up first, to truly claim you <33

— possible 🌺 anon? :))

18+ MDNI, fem!reader / cw: hybrids, knotting, breeding

naruto is a tricky one in my opinion, because he might come across as someone who only wants what’s best for you, but then when he gets the chance to pick you up and carry you to safety, he just… falters. doubts himself and his clashing desires.

and the fact that you smell like nothing but sweat and restless hormones doesn’t help his case either. he tries being the hero, tries to stand his ground and threaten and intimidate kiba for taking advantage of a sweet thing like you in such a ‘disgusting’ manner, but the wolf hybrid just sneers, exposing his elongated canines while he tells him that all he did was keep you safe. after all, the woods can be quite the dangerous place for a little lamb such as yourself, so it’s actually a good thing that a big beast like him has kept you warm and protected from other predators, is it not?

but that can’t possibly be true, can it? though come to think of it, the dazed smile that sits on your innocent-looking face now sure tells naruto otherwise… you’re perfectly content, with or without him. you feel safe, even with several bite marks and scratches littered across your plush body.

and you also feel… needy. like you’re in heat.

so it’s no wonder that you bunch up his shirt in your trembling fists and wiggle your hips while he’s still holding onto you. that you whine and immediately try to push away from him and go back to your new scary-looking wolf friend, whose already sharp smile grows even more honed when naruto, being the loyal dog that he is, tells you that you don’t need to worry, that he’s going to get you right back home.

but the problem is that you don’t want to go home! no, no, no, what you want is to stay right here, and feel the dirt underneath your fingernails while the big bad wolf continues to make you feel like one of a kind and special instead of just another head amongst the herd.

so after a bit of back and forth, and a warning growl so deep that it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention when it escapes the wolf hybrid’s throat, naruto finally succumbs.

kiba isn’t particularly happy about it — his gaze is piercing and his teeth are bared in a snarl as he watches you unclasp the collar and unbutton the dog hybrid’s pants — but he lets you do as you wish if it means that you’ll get to stay in the end. his desire to have you underneath him again is just another form of possessiveness. he’ll swallow the bullet even if it kills him.

and naruto, well, he feels this upcoming sense of animalistic frenzy come forth as he watches you lay on the soft grass and spread your legs for him; clearly beckoning him to give in to the urges that he’s been having for months now just so that you can get your way in the end. by the time he finally crawls on top of you and pushes his cock between your wet folds, still visibly hesitant, you’re already pliant, soft, and so slick between your thighs that he can see them glisten.

he knows what the reason behind it is. you’re already so full of cum and fucked out that you take him with utmost ease. your body is so warm and stretchy that when he goes to push your knees to your chest, all you do is sigh with pleasure instead of squirm with discomfort. he cautiously licks the side of your cheek, tasting salt, and his canine instincts take over eventually — making his back hunched and his temples drip with sweat as he mindlessly ruts into you, pounding your sweet pussy in a frighteningly similar way the wolf had previously done.

in the end, they’re two sides of the same coin.

you let out a broken whimper when you feel his knot begin to swell inside you. he’s nothing like the good boy that you’ve once known him to be; no, now his collar lays abandoned in the grass beside you, and he’s growling lowly into the side of your neck, letting his canines drag across your pulse point as he holds onto you with a grip so tight that it might just bruise your already marked skin.

when he sinks his claws into the back of your thighs and spills his load inside you, kiba is already nosing his way between you, cooing at you that you have to roll back onto your belly now because it’s his turn to breed you again, that he has to make sure the pups are his instead of the ‘mutt’s’.

they don’t like each other, that much is obvious.

however, they will refrain from ripping each other’s throats out if it means that you’ll offer them yours.

[overtake]

This is a super short (550-ish words) snippet from the maxiel hockey au I got 30k into before life got in the way. I’ll probably never finish it, so have this random scene. For context, Daniel is staying at Max’s home because he has an ankle injury and the only bedroom at his own place had stairs.

Daniel hears Max before he sees him. Based on the frantic pounding down the stairs, you’d think Max was being chased by a fucking murderer.

“Daniel,” the shadowy figure in Daniel’s doorframe says in a shaky, frantic voice. Daniel hasn’t kept his door shut since the cats first started scratching at it and demanding to be let in, and he briefly wonders in the recesses of his sleep-addled mind if Max has ever Edward from Twilighted him and just watched him sleep.

“Hmmph?” Daniel manages. His brain is thick and sluggish through the foggy, sleep haze surrounding it. He tries to prop himself up on one elbow and immediately fails.

“There’s a spider in my room,” Max hisses, as if he’s scared the spider might somehow hear him and immediately attack. “Can you come kill it?”

“I am not walking up stairs right now,” Daniel groans. It was a brutal PT session, and he spent half his afternoon with his ankle wrapped in ice and elevated. Plus, he’s not exactly fond of spiders either.

“I can’t sleep in there,” Max says, and Daniel wants so badly to make fun of him, but there’s an edge of real panic in his voice. Also, Daniel is even more scared of far more embarrassing shit, so he’d never win.

“Stay in here,” Daniel says, reaching an arm behind him to flop at the empty space. “Plenty of room.”

Max only hesitates for a second before crawling in. “Are you sure?” he asks, like he isn’t already sticking his cold toes against Daniel for warmth.

“The terrors will probably kill the spider by morning for us,” Daniel says, letting his head drop back onto his pillow.

“Jimmy and Sassy are not terrors. It’s not nice how you talk about them,” Max says primly as a crash echoes from somewhere upstairs. Daniel doesn’t dignify him with a response.

He feels Max’s weight settle behind him, and a hand reaches out as his eyes drift back shut and lightly caresses his exposed shoulder. “Thank you, Daniel.”

In the morning, Daniel wakes up to find Max curled in a ball around a pillow he somehow stole from under Daniel’s head, quietly letting out cute little snores. Sassy is lying content on the floor nearby with half a dead spider dangling out her mouth.

“That’s your problem to collect and throw away,” he tells a sleeping Max. He’s got freckles on his shoulders, Daniel notices, a whole constellation of them decorating the broad, pale canvas.

He fights the urge to trace the space between them and instead collects Max’s morning Red Bull from the fridge. He leaves it to drip condensation on the bedside table closest to Max’s pillow-creased face, next to a little note that Daniel is out for his morning walk.

Max texts him twenty minutes in to his stroll.

Max Verstappen: thanks for the red bull. okay if i stay again if we don’t find the spider? It was huge.

Daniel gnaws at his cuticle, contemplating his response for half a second. It’s not like he has proof that spider was the one Max saw. Sassy probably got rid of the evidence, so he can’t ask. He doesn’t want to make Max sleep in a room that makes him anxious.

Daniel Ricciardo: Of course. Better to be safe. That spider could be deadly.

Max Verstappen: Need your Australian powers to scare it off

Daniel Ricciardo: 🤺🤺🤺

When he opens the kitchen bin later that day, he sees the body of the spider sitting on the top.

“Crazy girl. You learned how to open the bin,” he coos to Sassy, aiming for a head scratch she runs away from and pretending he doesn’t see the very human tissue wrapped around the remains.

[niki-phoria]

SAY YOU LOVE ME TIL THE END OF THE WORLD

pairing: hyunsu x gn!reader genre: hurt comfort word count: 719

notes: set in s1, i'm in love with him i can't help it, hyunsu cries, reader cries, hyunsu needs a hug and he gets one !! still haven't finished s2 lol

you’re not exactly sure how you ended up like this. it all feels surreal - being locked inside of your apartment building; monsters coming to life; blood and carnage visible wherever you turn. part of you wishes it’s all a nightmare. that you’ll wake up, safe in hyunsu’s arms in his apartment, listening to the soundtrack of a random drama or your neighbours arguing next door. but it’s not. 

the stairwell is stuffy. you’re almost certain it hasn’t been cleaned in months - if ever. spiderwebs decorate the corners of the walls if you squint hard enough. 

hyunsu doesn’t react to your presence. not when the door closing behind you echoes throughout the dingy space. not when you begin to make your way down the steps. not even when you sit down near the bottom beside him so close that your knees brush against each other. 

with nothing better to do, you begin to study hyunsu’s features. his eye bags have gotten worse. his shoulders sag - likely from a combination of stress and exhaustion. the slight frown on his face has become familiar, a fact that makes your heart ache.

“are you okay?” your voice is little more than a whisper. the words are shaky and uncertain. you don’t know what to say. you don’t know what to do.

hyunsu’s gaze remains unwavering. you resist the urge to push him for answers, instead turning to face the wall alongside him. there are chips in the multiple layers of paint - a of many symptoms of a decrepit building. layers of dust coat the stairwell railing, some older than others. 

“i don’t know.” you’ve been sitting in silence for so long that hyunsu’s voice nearly startles you when he speaks. he takes a shaky breath before he continues, still staring into space. “i’m… scared. what if…” he pauses. tears sting at the corners of his eyes but he blinks them away before they can threaten to fall, though it does little to prevent the way his voice cracks. “what if i become a monster?”

“hyun…” you can’t help yourself. you react without thinking - all but throwing your arms around him as if the tighter you hold him the easier it will be to mend the pieces of his cracked heart back together. 

hyunsu tenses in your arms. his breath hitches in surprise; his eyes widen and his heart beats erratically in his chest. a few agonizing second pass before he reacts. hesitantly. slowly. but he reacts. 

shaky hands wrap around your waist. hyunsu lets his eyes flutter closed as he relaxes into your arms, burying his head into the crook of your neck. thick strands of his dark hair tickle the exposed skin of your neck. you can just barely feel a few stray tears slowly begin to seep into the fabric of your shirt. 

“that won’t happen.” your hands grip his hoodie tightly, almost like he’ll disappear if you let go. pulling away, you reach up to cup hyunsu’s cheek with your hand. “i promise. i won’t let that happen.” 

a beat of silence passes. deep brown eyes stare into your own. leaning in, you press a kiss against his cheek. you can just barely taste the saltiness of his tears. hyunsu closes his eyes, further relaxing against your touch. this time there’s no tension in his shoulders or tremble in his hands when he pulls you closer. 

you kiss him again - this time on the other side of his face. and again. and again. and again. 

his skin feels warm against your own, in contrast to the unrelentingly cold air surrounding you. winters in seoul have always been unforgiving, only made worse by the lack of heating in the lobby of the green home apartment building. 

your touch is gentle when you brush your thumb against his cheek. you don’t hesitate at all when you lean in, pressing your lips against his in a sweet kiss. “i love you,” you murmur. “please don’t ever forget that.”

hyunsu doesn’t respond. at least, not verbally. instead, he intertwines your fingers together, stroking his thumb against your knuckles and tracing the dips and valleys of your palm. it’s soft. so simple you almost don’t realize it’s there - but it is. and you do.

a promise is written against your skin. i love you too.

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, consider checking out my sweet home masterlist <3

[angelicpoison12]

he comes with knives ⌖⋆｡°✩

he's sooo whipped for you. but he's scared he'll hurt you.

word count: 1.4K

tags: hookup, porn w/ feelings, p in v, fondling, steamy makeout, the suit stays ON during sex !!, creampie, against the wall, afab!reader, gn!reader, MFA, pansexual Deadpool (canon)

NSFW, 18+ ⍟

THERE ARE NO DEADPOOL 3: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS!

some would call him dumb for this. maybe even idiotic (even though they both meant the same thing), but hey, you were cute! could you blame him? 

if you’re wondering what the external dialogue is talking about, it's about the situation that the infamous Deadpool is in right now. yes, you had Wade Wilson, the Merc with a mouth, fucking you like it was his last hour on Earth. he was a magnet for holes. if there was a hole, there was a goal-you get it, right? 

what’s odd about this little arrangement that you both have, is that he doesn’t want to share. he dislikes knowing that you’re not officially his if that makes sense. he just aches to have you by his side every night. but that’s dumb. he hasn’t loved anyone since, well, Vanessa.  

Vanessa. even hearing her name, saying it, or hearing a voice that’s familiar to it makes him visibly regret everything he did to her. he doesn’t want to hurt you like that. so, it's safe to keep your little rendezvous to a minimum, even if that means trying to hide the dirty little curse of love that you’d caused him to feel again. 

he had his mask lifted just enough for your lips to press to his. you decided to take him right on top of the Empire State Building. i mean, go big or go home, right? besides, Blind Al had a sneaky link as of a week ago, and you both didn’t really wanna fuck around with that. 

“fuck, Wade,”  you moaned, your head pressed against the wall, letting his lips press to your neck. you felt his gloved hands caress your chest, then squeeze your hips, teeth tugging on the skin of your delicate neck.  “you’re fucking perfect.”  Deadpool nearly growled. he sounded like he was holding himself back, the fear of hurting you in the back of his muddled mind. he was going to take you and take as much as he could get, like a starved animal left for dead. that’s kind of what Deadpool was, the more he thought about you. your love kind of picked him out of the gutter like a stray cat.  

you squeaked when Deadpool cut through your shirt, exposing your smooth chest.  “relax. i wouldn’t hurt you on purpose, baby.”  he cooed, lovingly pecking your cheek, making you feel a small bit of scar tissue against the corner of your mouth.  you gasped when his knife cut through your shorts, just enough to get to the goods. you pouted and punched his shoulder.  "fucker... those were my favorite, y’know.”  you spoke with a sense of despair. but the sadness quickly evaporated from your voice when Deadpool shoved his hand into your shorts, feeling your arousal. he pressed your lips together again, tongues messy, drool running down your chins as his thumb and forefinger felt you up and down. 

“you’re warm... warm and wet. leaking. for me,”  Deadpool whispered into your lips, being oddly gentle. he was usually rough and taking what he wanted. tonight, he wanted to spare it. To savor you. to feel you come apart slowly, as if... he’d never see you again.  

fuck. he really didn’t wanna think like that right now, but it kind of clouded his mind. Deadpool had a terrible habit of letting thoughts come at the worst times.  “Wade?”  your voice made him perk up, white silhouettes of the mask where his eyes laid soft. you swore you could see them growing glossy.  “hey, hey, what’s wrong?”  you asked, tenderly cupping his mask. he flinched a little, making you put your hands down to his chest.  “we don’t have to if you don’t want to, Wade.”  you began, but he shook his head, managing to say,  “no, it’s... no, fuck. it’s not that. it’s not that at all, i promise, baby.”  "then what’s wrong? you zoned out big time.” 

Deadpool took a deep breath.   “i’m sorry. really, i am. i haven’t been honest with you,”  when he saw how panicked you looked, he was quick to clarify.  “i’m not fucking anyone else! don’t worry baby, your pretty little body clings to me way too well for me to give it up, i promise.”  he said with a wink, making you giggle and relax a little. Deadpool swallowed, growing serious once more, his hands on your bare pectorals.  “the truth is... i don’t want to hurt you. you’re too fucking good for me, and-” 

you cut him off with a searing hot kiss. 

as you pulled away from the kiss, you whispered to him,  “Wade, honey... i couldn’t give two shits about that right now. i just want you and i want you here with me in the now, okay? just... please, i love you, okay? nobody else. i’m yours.” 

when he heard you say ‘i’m yours’, it was enough to make him groan, burying his face into the crook of your neck. you swore you could feel him blushing through the mask, and the heat of his cheeks made your heart flutter.   “okay. okay, in the moment, gotcha. so... think ineed to prep you, or-?”  you laughed at the suddenness of his bold exterior, but nodded, nonetheless.  “don’t worry. i'm wet.”  you said, putting his fingers in your underwear just to attest to that, making Deadpool bite his lower lip to suppress a primal groan. 

“fuck... you’re so fucking wet. hold on, lemme,”  he began, starting to undo the brown belt of his suit. you pressed your back against the wall, letting Deadpool hoist a leg over his shoulder, pressing you further into the cold concrete.  “you good, babe?”  he asked, making you nod. he pecked your lips, and you mewled when his cockhead rubbed up and down your sopping cunt.  “c’monnnn, Wadeeee..”  you whined, squirming in a feverish manner. he smirked at you, pulling his mask back down fully. hey, the suit stayed on during sex. neither of you complained, especially since he had a zipper for easy access to the goodies.  

“hey, hey, give me a minute babe, yeah? i’m trying to do some bonding with your sweet little pussy.”  Deadpool said, shamelessly grinding into you, purposely missing your hole.  when you arched your back, he slid inside of you, making you both let out loud moans. Deadpool didn’t have the energy to be mad at you; he had been waiting for this for far too long. 

“fuck, still tight. just as good as i remember,”  he chuckled, starting to grind his hips back and forth, allowing his cock to drag against the silky walls of your fluttering kitty. your arms wrapped around his neck, and he grabbed your other leg, pinning it beside your head. you didn’t even know your body had the ability to be so flexible, and you also knew it was going to fucking kill you for this position. but it felt way too good, too good to stop for sure. 

you felt your climax impending, but Deadpool was being torturous. he’d go fast, then slow, pick up the pace, and do it all over again. he was fully aware of what he was doing. he wanted you nearly melting, your brain a puddle of mush before he’d let you release.  “aw, my poor baby. you’re just aching. so swollen,”  he moaned in your ear, a hand going down, his thumb tenderly rolling over your clitoris. you let out an involuntary sob, your entire body quivering. you were so fucking close. you knew that Deadpool had you right where he wanted you. he leaned in close, headbutting your neck, whispering in your ear,  “go ahead and cum for me, baby. go on, let go. i've got you.” 

that was all you needed. you were cumming, your walls spasming and squeezing, sucking his length in like starved quicksand. Deadpool groaned, his hips stuttering, thrusts growing desperate.  “oh fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck-your pussy’s too fucking good, holy fuck!”  Deadpool almost hollered. his hands were holding your legs, his breath able to be felt against your nose through the fibers of his mask. you felt his cock twitch, then the soft seeping sensation of wetness inside of you, making you squirm weakly. 

Deadpool continued to hold you, going slow as he put your legs down. he laid flat on his back, still inside of you as you laid on top of him, legs on opposite sides of his hips. he couldn’t stop nuzzling you, whispering soft words that were tender and full of love. 

he wanted to give it a second chance. even if it meant making a few mistakes with you, too.  

⌖⋆｡°✩

my sweet little snowflake buddies!

@6esiree, @frxstwalker

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

I Bet You Think About Me Part 2

Braden Schneider x Reader x Matt Rempe

WC: 5K

Summary: We receive the love we think we deserve, too bad Matt doesn’t know that

A/N: THIS IS PART TWO OF THIS ANGST FIC

The air in Matt Rempe’s apartment was filled with the scent of garlic and simmering tomatoes as Y/N stirred the pasta sauce on the stove. A soft laugh escaped her lips as Matt tried, and failed, to flip a piece of dough in the air like a professional chef.

“You’re gonna hurt someone with that,” she teased, watching as the dough flopped onto the countertop.

Matt grinned sheepishly, his tall frame hunched over the counter as he tried to salvage the mess he’d made. “Guess I should stick to hockey.”

“Maybe,” Y/N laughed. “But hey, points for effort.”

It had started out as a simple evening. After

A stressful media day, Y/N hadn’t wanted to be alone. Matt, always the easygoing one, had offered to cook dinner, promising to make her laugh and distract her from the emotional weight of the day. And he had. His humor, his lightness—it was a refreshing change from the intensity she had always felt around Braden.

But as the night wore on, something between them shifted. It wasn’t just about pasta anymore. As they ate and shared a bottle of wine, sitting on the couch watching old movies, Y/N began to notice the way Matt looked at her, the way his hand lingered just a little too long on her knee when he laughed, the way her pulse quickened whenever their shoulders brushed. She had never thought of him like this before. Matt had always been the friend, the easygoing guy who could make her laugh. But tonight felt different—more charged.

She wasn’t sure if it was the wine, or maybe the emotional high from finally standing her ground with Braden, but the moment Matt leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t hesitate. His lips were soft, careful at first, as if he were testing the waters. But when she didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, their bodies gravitating toward each other with an intensity that surprised them both.

Y/N’s hands found the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more urgent. The taste of wine lingered on their tongues, and the world outside seemed to disappear. All that mattered in that moment was the heat between them, the way Matt’s hands explored her back, the way her fingers curled into his hair.

They broke apart only long enough for Matt to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted muscles beneath. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen Matt shirtless before—after all, they were friends, and he was a hockey player—but this time, it felt different. Intimate.

Her heart pounded as his hands found the hem of her shirt, lifting it gently over her head and tossing it aside. She felt exposed, but not in a bad way. There was a tenderness in Matt’s eyes, a warmth that made her feel safe. This wasn’t about rushing into anything. This was about being in the moment, feeling connected to someone who cared about her, someone who didn’t make her feel like she had to be anything other than herself.

Their kisses grew hungrier as they collapsed onto the couch, limbs tangled together in a mix of passion and laughter. Y/N’s skin tingled where Matt’s fingers grazed her, and she found herself lost in the sensation, in the way he made her feel like the only person in the world. It had been so long since she had felt this kind of closeness with someone—without the weight of expectations, without the fear of being hurt.

Just as they were teetering on the edge of something deeper, something more, the doorbell rang, cutting through the haze of their shared moment.

Matt froze, his forehead pressed against hers as they both caught their breath. “Who the hell…?” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“I don’t know,” Y/N whispered, her heart still racing.

The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.

Matt sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I’ll get it. Don’t move,” he said, his tone playful but strained.

He quickly grabbed a shirt from the floor and threw it on before heading to the door. Y/N adjusted her position on the couch, her fingers nervously tugging at the blanket as she tried to calm her racing heart. She didn’t know who would be at the door at this hour, but whoever it was, they had the worst timing in the world.

Matt opened the door, and the color drained from his face.

“Braden,” he said, his voice laced with surprise and tension.

Braden Schneider stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable for a moment. But as his eyes flicked from Matt’s disheveled appearance to Y/N, who was half-covered on the couch with her shirt missing, realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Are you kidding me?” Braden’s voice was low, simmering with barely controlled rage.

Y/N’s heart sank. She scrambled to grab her shirt from the floor, hastily pulling it over her head as she stood up. “Braden, this isn’t—”

“Save it,” he snapped, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at Matt. “I came here to apologize, to try and fix things between us, and this is what I walk into?”

Matt stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Braden, you need to chill. This isn’t what you think.”

Braden let out a bitter laugh, his eyes blazing. “Oh, it’s not? Because it sure as hell looks like you were about to screw my ex-girlfriend, man.”

Y/N winced at the harshness of his words, but she forced herself to stay composed. “Braden, we broke up months ago. You don’t get to come in here and act like this.”

His gaze snapped to her, the hurt in his eyes barely masked by the anger. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna move on with him?”

Y/N crossed her arms, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You broke up with me, Braden. You don’t get to be angry now just because I’m not sitting around waiting for you.”

Braden took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I made a mistake. I know that now. But this—this isn’t right.”

Matt moved between them, his expression hardening. “Braden, back off. You don’t get to come here and start a fight because you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Braden spat, though the fury in his eyes told a different story. “I’m just—this is messed up, Matt. We’re supposed to be friends.”

“And we are,” Matt said, his voice steady but firm. “But you don’t get to control what happens with Y/N. You made your choice.”

Braden’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he might throw a punch. But then his shoulders slumped, and the anger seemed to drain out of him, replaced by something else—something broken.

“I loved you,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto Y/N’s.

Her breath caught in her throat. “I know.”

Braden’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know what to do with everything I was feeling. But I can’t stand this. Seeing you with him—”

“Braden, it’s not about you anymore,” Y/N said softly, her heart aching for him, but knowing that there was no going back. “We’re over. You have to let me go.”

For a long moment, Braden just stood there, staring at her as if trying to find the words that would fix everything. But there were no words. There was no fixing this.

Finally, he turned away, his voice hollow as he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Y/N and Matt standing in the aftermath of a storm neither of them had been prepared for.

Matt turned to her, his expression uncertain. “You okay?”

Y/N nodded, though her heart felt heavy. “Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I will be.”

Matt could feel the tension building long before they even arrived at the arena. The silence in the car, while comfortable, carried an unspoken weight. Y/N had reassured him over breakfast that morning that they’d be fine, that what happened between them last night didn’t need to be complicated by what others thought, especially Braden. But as they pulled into the parking lot, the reality of it settled in Matt’s gut like a stone.

The moment they stepped out of the truck, eyes followed them. He noticed it right away—the way some of the guys paused in their conversations, how the trainers glanced over as they walked past. The easy, familiar camaraderie that normally greeted Matt on his way into the locker room felt stilted, almost like everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see how this would unfold.

Y/N, for her part, kept her head held high, walking beside him with quiet confidence. She had always been resilient, able to handle the pressure of working in a male-dominated space with grace. But Matt knew this was different. This wasn’t about media work or professionalism. This was about Braden.

He could already feel Braden’s presence before he even saw him. His stomach tightened as they approached the locker room, dread twisting his insides like a knot.

“You okay?” Y/N asked quietly as they neared the door, her hand brushing his arm lightly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, though his voice sounded strained even to his own ears.

“Matt,” she pressed, stopping just short of the locker room entrance. Her eyes searched his face, soft but serious. “If you’re not okay with this, if you think it’s going to cause too many problems, we can—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I just… I don’t want things to get ugly with Braden.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of pain in her eyes when he mentioned Braden’s name. “He’ll have to deal with it, Matt. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He nodded, but the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen. She was right, of course. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But guilt still gnawed at the back of his mind—guilt for how things had played out, for the fight he knew was brewing beneath the surface. For how Braden had looked at him last night, betrayed and hurt.

They reached the door to the locker room, and Matt stopped, glancing down at Y/N. The noise of the team inside hummed through the walls, voices laughing, skates clattering against the hard floors. The normal chaos of pre-practice routines. But today, that noise seemed distant, muted by the anticipation of what was about to unfold.

“Good luck today,” Y/N said, her voice soft and warm, pulling Matt from his thoughts. She stepped closer, and before he could react, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a declaration, a quiet reassurance that she was with him.

Matt’s heart stuttered in his chest. He heard someone clear their throat behind him, followed by a few muttered comments from the guys. He knew they were watching—he could feel their stares like a weight on his back. But for a moment, all he could focus on was the warmth of Y/N’s lips on his skin, the way her touch seemed to settle something deep inside him, even with all the chaos swirling around them.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as she pulled away. “I’ll need it.”

She smiled, and for just a moment, the world felt a little less heavy. But as she turned to head down the hallway toward the media offices, the weight of everything came crashing back. Matt took a deep breath and pushed open the locker room door.

Inside, the usual pre-practice buzz hung in the air, but the moment Matt walked in, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations quieted, and a few of the guys exchanged knowing glances. Jacob, always the first to stir the pot, shot Matt a teasing grin.

“Morning, lover boy,” he said, slinging an arm around Matt’s shoulders as he made his way to his locker. “You and Y/N, huh?”

Matt shrugged him off with a roll of his eyes, trying to play it cool, but his heart was pounding. “Shut up, Jacob.”

But it wasn’t Jacob or the other guys’ comments that bothered him. It was Braden, standing at the far end of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes were locked on Matt, dark and unreadable. The tension between them was almost suffocating, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them like a cloud.

Braden hadn’t said anything since last night. Not a single word. But the look on his face told Matt everything he needed to know—he was angry. Hurt. And more than that, betrayed.

Matt tried to focus on getting his gear on, going through the motions like it was just another practice. But his hands shook as he tied his skates, and the knot in his stomach only seemed to tighten as time went on. He could feel Braden’s eyes on him the entire time, could practically hear the accusations running through his old friend’s mind.

Braden was like a storm waiting to break, simmering under the surface, and Matt didn’t know when or how it would explode.

The tension in the locker room only grew as more players filed in, the quiet murmurs turning into hushed whispers about Matt and Y/N, the air thick with speculation. Some of the guys kept it light, teasing Matt about the kiss Y/N had given him outside the locker room. But others, especially those closer to Braden, kept their distance, the lines between friendships subtly shifting as the awkwardness settled in.

As Matt stood up to grab his stick, he couldn’t take it anymore. He walked over to Braden, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to clear the air, to say something, anything, before this exploded into something worse.

“Braden,” he started, his voice low, trying to keep the confrontation private.

Braden’s eyes flicked up, meeting his, cold and unreadable. “What do you want, Matt?”

Matt swallowed hard. “We need to talk about this. About last night.”

Braden let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall. “Talk about what? How you’re screwing Y/N behind my back? How you couldn’t wait to make a move the second I was out of the picture?”

“It’s not like that, man, it’s been months, yu didn’t think she would stay single forver did you?” Matt said, his voice tight. “Besidese we didn’t plan for this to happen. It just… did.”

Braden’s jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. “You didn’t plan for it? That’s your excuse?”

“I don’t want this to cause tension with us.” Matt said, desperation creeping into his voice. “But you broke up with her. You walked away.”

“I know I broke up with her,” Braden snapped, his voice rising, drawing the attention of a few nearby teammates. “But that doesn’t mean you get to just swoop in and take her, because you’ve known her since we we’re dating.”

“Nobody’s ‘taking’ her, Braden,” Matt shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “She’s not a prize you can claim. She’s her own person, and she deserves to move on.”

“Move on?” Braden’s voice cracked, and for a moment, the anger gave way to something raw, something broken. “Is that what this is? You’re helping her move on from me?”

Matt faltered, guilt stabbing at his chest. “It’s not like that.”

Braden took a step closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You were supposed to be my friend.”

Matt’s heart sank. “I still am.”

Braden’s eyes hardened, the anger flickering back. “Not anymore.”

The words hit Matt harder than he expected, cutting deep into the guilt he’d been carrying since last night. He watched as Braden turned away, heading toward his gear with stiff, angry movements, shutting down any further attempt at conversation.

Matt stood there, feeling the weight of the team’s eyes on him, the silence in the room heavy with the tension that had been building for weeks, months even. He knew that what had happened between him and Y/N was going to change things, not just with Braden but with the entire team.

As the guys shuffled around, awkwardly avoiding eye contact, Matt felt a bitter truth settle in his chest: things were never going to be the same again.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

Matt couldn’t shake the weight that had settled in his chest, dragging him down all day. Even during practice, his mind wasn’t on the ice where it should have been. The drills felt mechanical, his movements hollow. Braden’s words had cut deeper than he’d let on in the locker room, and now, as he skated across the rink, his mind was miles away.

Braden’s glare had followed him through every drill, and while Braden never outright said anything after their confrontation, his silence spoke volumes. The rest of the team picked up on it too—guys who were usually cracking jokes around Matt were quiet, their glances nervous, as if unsure where their loyalties lay. Matt had always been one of the guys, but today he felt like he was standing on a frozen lake with cracks forming under his skates.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could ignore the cracks.

By the time practice ended, Matt was exhausted, not just physically but mentally. Every time he tried to focus on the game, his mind wandered back to Braden, to Y/N, to the mess that was now his life. The weight of it all pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t even muster the energy to joke around in the locker room like he usually did. Instead, he showered in silence and headed out without saying much to anyone.

He needed space. He needed to think.

Y/N was waiting for him near the media room when he walked out of the locker room. She was sitting on a bench, her phone in hand, scrolling through something. When she looked up and saw him, her face lit up with a soft smile, the kind that usually made his heart race. But today, it only made the knot in his stomach tighten.

He approached her slowly, the air between them heavy with unspoken tension.

“Hey,” she said, standing up and sliding her phone into her pocket. She stepped toward him, reaching for his hand, but Matt hesitated, and she immediately noticed. Her smile faltered. “You okay? You seemed off out there today.”

Matt’s jaw tightened. He could hear the concern in her voice, see it in her eyes. She wasn’t oblivious—she knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to start. How to tell her that the weight of everything was pressing down on him so hard, he wasn’t sure he could carry it anymore.

“Matt?” she asked softly, stepping closer, her hand brushing his arm.

He swallowed hard, looking down at her. His heart ached. He had been so sure last night that they could make this work, that what they had was worth the fallout. But now, standing here in the aftermath of Braden’s cold silence and the tension hanging over the team, doubt was creeping in like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I don’t know if this is going to work.”

Y/N blinked, her expression falling. “What do you mean?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him again. “I mean… this. Us. It’s messing with my head, it’s messing with the team, and I can’t…” He paused, his throat tightening as the words he’d been avoiding all day finally spilled out. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

Y/N’s face paled slightly, her eyes searching his for answers, but Matt couldn’t even meet her gaze. “Matt, what are you saying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but they were tangled up in the mess of guilt, anger, and confusion swirling inside him. “It’s just… everything with Braden, with the team. It’s been so tense lately and especially after last night, and it’s not just about him being mad at me. It’s affecting the way we’re all playing together. I can feel it. The guys are different now—like they don’t trust me or something.”

Y/N stepped back slightly, her arms folding across her chest as if trying to protect herself from the sting of his words. “So… what? You’re saying you think being with me is going to ruin your career?”

Matt winced at her tone, at the hurt flashing in her eyes. That wasn’t what he meant, but now that she’d said it out loud, the fear of it settled deep in his gut. Was that what this was? Was he scared that choosing her—choosing this—meant sacrificing the life he’d worked so hard to build?

“I don’t know!” Matt blurted, his frustration boiling over. “I don’t know what this is going to do. All I know is that it’s already messing with my head, and if it’s going to mess with the team, then maybe it’s not—”

“Not what?” Y/N interrupted, her voice sharp. “Not worth it? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he immediately regretted how this conversation had spiraled. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he said, his voice low, trying to calm down. But he could see the hurt in her eyes, the way she was already pulling away, and it was killing him. “I just… I don’t know how to do this without losing everything I’ve worked for.”

Y/N’s face hardened, her expression shifting from hurt to something colder, sharper. “You mean your career, right? Hockey. The team. Everything but me.”

Matt’s heart clenched, guilt twisting inside him. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she was important to him, that last night had meant something real. But how could he deny that fear that had been gnawing at him since practice? How could he pretend that this wasn’t already affecting his focus, his game?

Y/N shook her head, her voice breaking. “I knew this was going to be complicated, but I thought… I thought we could figure it out. You’re the one who initiated all this with me Matt remember that. You started the laughes, whispers, longing stares… the kisses. You chose this Matt, but I didn’t think I’d have to fight for you when I accepted it.”

Her words stung, but they also hit home. He had wanted to believe they could figure it out too. That maybe, somehow, it would all just work out. But now, standing here in the cold, harsh light of reality, he wasn’t sure anymore.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Matt said quietly, his voice hoarse. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she took a step back, creating more distance between them. “Maybe the problem is you’re not even sure if you want to fix it.”

Matt flinched, the truth in her words hitting him harder than anything Braden had said. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong. But the silence that hung between them said everything he couldn’t.

Y/N took a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper. “If you’re already having doubts, then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

Matt’s chest tightened, panic surging through him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t want to push her away, but it felt like that was exactly what he was doing. And the worst part? He didn’t know how to stop.

“I don’t want that,” he said, his voice rough with desperation. “But everything’s falling apart, Y/N. I don’t know how to hold it all together.”

She looked at him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them, heavy and suffocating. Then, with a small, sad smile, she said, “Maybe you can’t.”

And with that, Y/N turned and walked away, leaving Matt standing there, watching as the one thing he had been so sure of the night before slipped through his fingers.

As he watched her disappear down the hallway, Matt realized with a sinking heart that maybe he wasn’t strong enough to have both—the career he’d always dreamed of and the girl who made him feel like he could be more than just a hockey player.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he deserved either one anymore.

Y/N hadn’t spoken to Matt or Braden in weeks. Not a single word, not even a glance in their direction. She kept things professional—strictly business during interviews, maintaining the calm, collected exterior she had built over the years. But underneath that composed surface was a bitterness she couldn’t shake, a sadness that clung to her like a second skin.

The first few days had been unbearable. Every time she saw Matt on the ice or Braden walking by, the memories flooded her—memories of Matt’s touch, Braden’s words, the way everything had unraveled so quickly. But Y/N had forced herself to push it all down, to focus on her work, on being the best reporter she could be. She had to. If she let herself feel any of it, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep it together.

At practice, she kept her distance, standing off to the side with her notebook and microphone, making small talk with the other reporters. The guys on the team noticed her silence, the way she avoided Matt’s and Braden’s eyes, but no one said anything. It wasn’t their place to get involved, and Y/N was grateful for that. The last thing she needed was pity or gossip.

Her interviews with Braden were short, her questions crisp and to the point. She never let her emotions slip, never allowed the tension between them to seep into the professional space they now shared. It felt like walking a tightrope, balancing her feelings with the need to maintain a perfect facade. Every time she saw the flicker of guilt or regret in Braden’s eyes, she forced herself to ignore it, to keep her voice steady and her expression neutral.

With Matt, it was even harder. There had been a time when their banter came naturally, when he could make her laugh during interviews, even when she was trying to be serious. But now, the air between them was thick with unspoken words. She would ask her questions, he would answer, and that was it. No lingering eye contact, no soft smiles. Just two people going through the motions.

She thought about their last conversation every day—the way Matt had said he wasn’t sure if being with her was worth the risk, the way she had felt her heart crack as she realized that he wasn’t willing to fight for them. Her anger toward Braden had simmered, but it was Matt’s doubt that had left her feeling hollow. She had been so sure of him, of them, and now it felt like she was grasping at something that had never really been hers to begin with.

One day, after a particularly brutal practice, Y/N found herself in the hallway near the locker rooms, waiting for Matt to finish an interview with another reporter. She watched from a distance, her heart twisting at how tired he looked, the strain clear in the lines of his face. He wasn’t playing like himself lately—everyone on the team had noticed it. He was still good, still Matt, but something was off. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with her, if he was struggling as much as she was to pretend like nothing had happened.

When Matt finished his interview, he glanced her way, his eyes catching hers for the briefest second before she quickly looked away, turning her attention back to her phone. She felt his gaze linger, and for a moment, she thought he might walk over, say something, anything. But he didn’t. He turned and walked down the hall toward the locker room without a word.

The silence between them felt heavier every day. And yet, neither of them seemed to know how to break it.

Braden was no different. Their interactions were purely professional—stilted, formal, devoid of any of the tension that had once simmered between them. But every time she saw him, she was reminded of the hurt he had caused, the way he had torn her apart with his fear and his indecision. He had broken up with her because he hadn’t been able to handle the depth of their connection, and now that it was over, she could see that he regretted it. But it didn’t matter. He had made his choice, and so had she.

Still, there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when Y/N would catch herself watching Matt on the ice, or she would see Braden laughing with the guys and feel a pang of something she didn’t want to admit was longing. She missed them. She missed the way things had been before everything had gotten so complicated.

But every time those feelings surfaced, she buried them deeper, forcing herself to remember that this was for the best. She had told herself that over and over again. Maybe it was better this way, to keep her distance, to focus on her work and leave everything else behind. Maybe she had been foolish to think that she could have it all—her career, her reputation, and a relationship with someone who was tangled up in the same world she was trying to navigate.

And yet, every time she saw Matt or Braden, the doubt crept in. Maybe it wasn’t for the best. Maybe she had given up too soon.

But no matter how much it hurt, Y/N knew that there was no going back now. The walls she had built around herself were too high, and even if either of them tried to break through, she wasn’t sure she’d let them. She had been burned too many times, and the scars were too fresh.

Weeks passed, and the distance between them all only grew. Y/N kept her head down, kept her heart locked away, and did what she did best—pretended like everything was fine. But as the days stretched on, the loneliness gnawed at her, a constant reminder that no matter how hard she tried to separate herself from the pain, it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface.

Because the truth was, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she wasn’t sure she could ever truly let go of either of them.

A/N: Comment who you wanna end up with idk who to pick

[dirtyvulture]

Something’s in the Air - Part 1

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha returns from a mission after being exposed to a chemical that makes her extremely, extraordinarily feral for you. 

Word count: 2362

AN: Here is the opening act of the long-awaited collaboration with @jedi-luca! Enjoy, sinners!

Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Natasha races down the empty hallway, trying to ignore the blaring alarms and flashing lights overhead. She can’t read any of the symbols marking the doors, and all she knows is that she’s looking for one with a triangle in the center of three overlapping circles, like a variation on the classic biohazard sign.

“You find him yet, Nat?” Clint buzzes in her earpiece.

“Not yet,” she responds. 

“Well, you’ve only got about another minute before HYDRA agents flood the building–”

“I know!” she snaps, her eyes finally settling on a triangle surrounded by three circles. “I found it!”

“Get him and let’s go!”

Natasha doesn’t need to be told twice, and she inputs the ten-digit code into the keypad on the door. It lights green to grant her access and she steps into a tiny, square room, no bigger than a broom closet, the heavy steel door automatically closing behind her. 

“Uh oh,” she says when she hears the door click shut. 

Suddenly, a white smoke starts to fill the tiny room, jetting out from the piping running along the walls and ceiling. Natasha covers her mouth with her arm, fumbling on her belt for a proper mask. The smoke stings her eyes and burns her throat, but the initial shock of pain is quickly overtaken by a warm, fuzzy feeling. Natasha staggers back into the wall, not even feeling the impact of the solid concrete as her stomach clenches in a way that’s familiar and foreign at the same time. 

But just as quickly as it had started, the pipes stop pumping out the gas and it clears away through the vents. She wipes at her watering eyes and sees a door in front of her with no lock. More cautiously this time, she opens it and finds herself staring down a young boy behind a glass wall.

“Clint, I found him.”

***********************************************************************

Natasha safely extracts the boy, wrapping him up in a ragged blanket she found on his bed, and carries him out in a bundle. She meets Clint just in time before the HYDRA agents realize their base has been compromised. They leave the boy in the custody of a SHIELD van and six agents. Natasha gives him a chocolate before they part ways. Her and Clint escape on the Quinjet, only breathing a sigh of relief once they are safely hidden amongst the clouds.

“When I was trying to get him, I got sprayed with something,” she tells him in a low voice.

“With what?” Clint doesn’t take his eyes off the dashboard.

“I don’t know.” 

“You seem fine.”

As if on cue, the same sharp pain that she experienced upon first inhaling the smoke punches her stomach again and she doubles over. 

“Shit,” she curses, trying to massage out the ache and feeling her cheeks flame in embarrassment when she finally realizes what the pain reminds her of. Although she wouldn’t describe it as a pain, but that feeling of being so aroused she wants to burst. 

“Nat?”

“Uh, never mind,” she says, not wanting to get into details with him.

“I’ll call ahead and have Dr. Cho ready to see you in the medical bay,” he says.

“I–Wait, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Natasha says, but Clint won’t listen to her, he’s already typing out a message to send to the doctor.

Natasha grumbles wordlessly and takes the seat next to Clint. She still isn’t sure  why SHIELD made such a point to send in some of their best Avengers to free a single young boy, but sometimes, the less details they knew the better, and now she had to worry about what exactly had been in that smoke. 

She takes her phone out from the backpack under the chair and sends you a text. But it’s almost three in the morning, so her text goes unanswered. With another 30 minutes until they’re home, Natasha boredly scrolls back up in the conversation, her attention caught by some of the old pictures you’ve sent her.

The first one she looks at is probably the most innocent of the bunch, a slightly blurred snapshot of you post-workout, your skin gleaming with sweat and your muscles pumped. Natasha bites her lip as her eyes trace down the veins on your stomach, following their path to the waistband of your shorts, which is not quite low enough to reveal perhaps her favorite body part of yours. 

She quickly skips to the next picture, which is much more scandalous and should not be viewed in a public setting, but luckily Clint is sitting in front of her. You’re lying down, the camera positioned down towards your muscular legs, but Natasha’s attention is drawn to the thick cock you have your hand wrapped around. Her center clenches around nothing; Natasha wishes she had your length inside of her, ramming into her hard and fast, until you came undone and pumped your seed deep into her womb.  

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself, crossing one leg over the other, trying to alleviate the pulsing at her core and failing. There was still so much time left until they landed, she didn’t know how she was going to survive. Out of pure desperation, she considers touching herself (still in the vicinity of where Clint can hear her, but he can turn his hearing aid down, can’t he?) right there in the Quinjet, and it takes all of her mental strength to keep her hands on her knees. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her, why she’s so horny all of a sudden. 

All she knows is if she doesn’t have you inside her in the next hour, she may actually die.

Using her advanced Red Room torture resistance techniques, Natasha barely clings to her sanity for the next 30 minutes. She grinds herself subtly on her seat, although it does next to nothing to ease the ache in her stomach. 

“Can’t you fly faster?” she asks Clint eventually through gritted teeth. “It’s not like there’s any traffic in the sky.”

“I’m doing my best,” Cint responds. 

“Well, going a little faster would be nice.”

Clint doesn’t bite back at her even though he wants to. Overall, Natasha seems okay even after her exposure to the unknown gas, but Clint knows his best friend better than herself. Something is bothering her–badly–and she doesn’t want to talk about it, which means it can only be one thing. 

Natasha wants to cry in relief when the iconic “A” of the Avengers Tower comes into view. She practically hijacks the controls from Clint trying to land the plane faster, but just before she can sprint out of the Quinjet, Clint grabs onto her.

“You have to see Dr. Cho first,” Clint says sternly, holding onto her arms in a vice grip. 

“I don’t want to see the doctor. I want Y/N,” Natasha says, almost in tears. Her core is practically on fire at this point and she wouldn’t be surprised if her panties are ruined. 

“Y/N will be there,” Clint assures her, dragging her to the elevator and going one floor down. Despite the early hour, Dr. Cho waits sleepily to greet them at the entrance of the medical bay. Natasha practically throws a fit as Dr. Cho escorts her to a private room, while Clint disappears without an explanation.

“I’m fine, Doctor,” Natasha insists as Dr. Cho has her sit down on the edge of the plastic bed. 

“Agent Barton said you may have been exposed to some unknown chemical,” Dr. Cho says, shining a bright penlight into her eyes and opening her mouth to examine her tongue and tonsils. 

“I’m fine,” Natasha repeats, shifting agitatedly and crinkling the white paper covering the bed. 

Dr. Cho squints at her. “I’ll be back to run some more tests,” she says, disappearing with a flip of her white lab coat. 

Natasha groans and falls back on the bed, unzipping the collar of her uniform down to her chest, flapping her hands to cool her face. She thinks back to the pictures of you she looked at on her phone and before she can even stop herself, sticks her hands down her pants, ignoring how unusually wet she is, her fingers gliding through her soaked folds to press into herself.

“Fuck,” she mutters, kicking her legs wider to find a more comfortable position. Natasha can easily fit three fingers into herself already, a feat that normally takes some working up to, although it pales in comparison to the size of your cock. She pants at the thought of you on top of her, your body hot and heavy against hers, the feeling of your muscles flexing as you devote your strength to pleasuring her. She clenches hard around her fingers, trying to imagine them as your cock instead, hard and throbbing, stretching her apart in the best of ways and filling her better than any toy or substitute can. 

Suddenly, there is a knock on her door and Natasha pauses mid-thrust.

“Nat? Babe, it’s me,” your croaky voice says on the other side.

“Come in!” she responds.

You open the door, still in your pajamas. Clint had called you until you woke up, telling you that while the mission had been a success, Natasha had come down with something and you needed to see her immediately. Without properly dressing, you staggered down to the medical bay, worried about your girlfriend despite your own exhaustion and delirium from being woken up at three in the morning. 

And now you stare at her, jaw dropped, as Natasha is lying on the hospital bed, her hand disappearing down her shorts, her forehead covered in a light layer of sweat. 

“Are you–” you start.

“I need you,” she begs, removing her hand and your heart thumps when you see that it is completely soaked in her slick. “Y/N, please, I need you.”

“What happened?” you ask, as your legs seem to have a mind of their own and gravitate to her side. Natasha reaches out for you, her hand twisting in the front of your shirt to draw you closer. She tugs it up, trying to shove her hand into the waistband of your shorts next and you stop her gently. “Nat.”

“I got sprayed with something while I was trying to free the subject,” she says, clawing at your abs. “At first it didn’t seem to affect me, but when we were on the way back, I just felt this overwhelming need…for you.”

“For me?” 

She nods, biting her lip and looking at you with her bedroom eyes. Suddenly, your whole body lights awake, and you strip out of your shirts and shorts, climbing on the bed with Natasha and the structure squeaks under your added weight. Natasha pulls you on top of her, frantically wiggling out of her suit so she can feel you skin-to-skin. She kisses you ferociously, bruising your lips and clacking her teeth against yours, but you respond with equal enthusiasm, not really sure why she’s so desperate for you all of a sudden but not going to complain either. 

You roll your hips in a gyrating motion, dragging your hardening cock along the insides of her slick thighs, unable to help yourself when you let out a moan at her impressive wetness. You’ve never seen her so ready for you, and you know you’ll have no trouble slipping inside. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Natasha pants, dragging her nails along the muscular planes of your back and gripping onto your butt. “Stop teasing, baby,” she begs, trying to guide you to her entrance but you hold back. 

“I haven’t even gone in and you’re already going to cum,” you point out, although you’re surprisingly close yourself, seeing how turned on your girlfriend is for you. You look down to see your cock shining with her wetness, the veins on it throbbing. 

“I can’t cum without you,” Natasha says, and you lose all patience and discipline. You line yourself up with her entrance and push in hard, moaning when wet velvet wraps around your cock and Natasha moans in absolute relief at finally being filled. You pound into her, the muscles in your thighs and abs flexing like steel bands. Natasha keens as she takes you, knowing that you’re the only one who can bring her to a high that will have her entire body shaking, her lungs screaming, her nails marking red lines down your shoulders and back that everyone will see when you go to the gym tomorrow.

“God, Nat, you’re so wet,” you say between thrusts, using all your strength to hold yourself upright, when Natasha’s pussy is so tight and hot around you that your thighs are trembling and you can’t focus on anything other than the heat between your legs. You want to last longer, so you broaden your strokes, slowing down your pace but burying yourself even deeper with each thrust.

“Yes, just like that,” Natasha moans as the head of your cock presses against her sensitive walls. “Keep going, baby. Don’t stop.” She wants you to be buried to the hilt when you release her load, she wants to drain you of every drop you have to offer.

“Almost…there…” you grunt, squeezing her hips tighter as you pin her against the bed. The ball of arousal in your stomach burns hotter as you near your peak, and Natasha knows your body well enough to sense that your finish is near. She pulses around you harder and you drop your head against her breasts, panting like you’re running the last mile of a marathon. “Nat, Nat I’m gonna–”

It takes one more powerful thrust that causes the entire hospital bed to collapse under your combined weight. You jerk your hips forward as your cum shoots out of your cock in short, hard bursts. Natasha practically cries in relief as you fill her to the brim. 

At the same second all of this is happening, Dr. Cho comes back into the room. She says nothing, only nodding in immediate understanding and quickly backing out. 

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

AN: Part 2 by @jedi-luca is here!

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