#made this achingly soft just for you.

[ya-bug-boy]

hiiii idk if your requests are open but could you possibly do a brassius x trans male reader smut BUT brassius is a trans guy too...

idc what anyone says about scarlet/violet they can pry it from my cold dead hands

Trans Brassius x FTM Trans Reader SMUT

To Brassius, part of his identity as an artist is inherently tied to his gender identity.

With his art, he obsessed with only being profitable. But with his gender, he was held to an overwhelming self expectation to be feminine.

He definitely lost sight of who he was until he recovered mentally and began to explore art and his gender identity for not what it has to be, but what it could be.

Though he may come off as forlorn and depressed, he's actually never been happier! He sees his body changes as part of him making art with himself, taking his once former vessel to be the same shape of his soul.

So when he met you, one that could understand him, he thought that Arceus was much to kind to him for this blessing, a paradise in the shape of another person.

Though he has a male leaning demeanor, he will often switch back and forth between roles with you in terms of sex.

He loves watching your expression the most of all when it comes to sex. Calls your sweet moans and whispers to be considered music and he is your maestro. He will play with you to his heart's content until you are just feeling boneless, every misery melted away by his calloused hands.

He loves running his hands all over your body, praising it as though you are a work of art, kissing your skin in various places, he says that you are his home, you are home to him.

After every session, he lays back with you cuddling him, basking in the warm after glow of sex, as his heart and mind feels at ease with your restful expression.

Though he had found himself, he did not know what he would be like with another so beloved. He loves you dearly.

[khioneee]

TAPPING OUT

synopsis. caleb graduates from the academy, but when you unexpectedly tap him out, a tradition where loved ones step forward to formally release a pilot from their duty, he realizes no achievement compares to having you by his side. (based on this.) word count. 1.1k an. loved doing this for codghost so i might as well do it for this man. lets pretend they have the tradition in their universe. okay? okay.

caleb stood in the crowd, his posture rigid and form still with precision despite the celebration around him. cheers echoed through the room, but they sounded distant, muffled. he watched as pilots, one by one, were tapped out by their loved ones. parents embracing their children, lovers reuniting in tearful hugs.

his chest tightened as his eyes scanned the room. he was waiting for gran, the one person he knew would come. gran had always shown up, had always been his anchor. he learnt not to expect anything more, not to hope for anyone else.

but then, like a shift in the universe, caleb felt you before he saw you.

when you stepped into the room, it was as if the entire world faded away. time slowed, the noise dimmed, and the lights seemed to soften, catching on the edges of your features. you looked beautiful, achingly so. heartbreakingly out of reach. you weren’t supposed to be here, not after the fight, not after the cruel words you’d both thrown at each other before he left.

you moved toward him with purpose, cutting through the room like you were meant to be there all along.

caleb couldn’t breathe. he couldn’t think.

his hands trembled at his sides as he watched you close the distance between you. he could act all stoic, but his heart didn’t feel stoic enough to make him calm.

when you stopped in front of him, there were tears already brimming in your eyes. his carefully constructed control, unshakable during training, steadfast through every grueling challenge, began to crumble.

caleb had faced impossible physical challenges, the grueling expectations of training, and the endless psychological evaluations that pushed him to the edge. but none of those had broken him nearly like you did. you, standing here, looking at him like that.

you were his undoing.

you should be his first sign. the first sign that there was something wrong with him. because you were his obsession. the one he was slowly losing control over.

caleb was not allowed to fall in love with you.

he trembled as your fingers brushed against his, tapping him out of his frozen misery. the soft touch was meant to symbolize recognition, acknowledgment. but to caleb, it was so much more.

you were here. you were real.

there was no second-guessing, no hesitation. before he could stop himself, his arms were around you, pulling you into him with a force that left him breathless. a strangled sigh escaped his lips and found its home in the crook of your neck, right where your heart beats: friends, friends, friends.

he held you like a man drowning, and you were the only thing keeping him afloat. he felt the soft shake of your shoulders, the warmth of your tears against his neck, and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

‘i didn’t think you’d come,’ he whispered, his voice low and raw, breaking under the weight of his emotions. you pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. there was something in his gaze, but before you could respond, he spoke again, quieter this time, like a vow. ‘i’ll never let you go.’

the words made you shiver. they were so soft you almost didn’t catch them.

‘you can try,’ you joked, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to lighten the mood. a nervous laugh escaped as you gently pushed against his chest, pretending to escape his embrace. ‘you love me, i get it.’

but caleb didn’t loosen his hold. instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. there was a quiet laugh, quiet and unsteady, before he murmured, ‘you have no idea, pipsqueak.’

his voice was filled with something raw, something deeper than you could fully understand. it wasn’t just love. it was obsession, devotion, a yearning that had no end.

you smelled like honey. like the same thing you’d been smelling your entire life that made you feel like home in a way that hotels and dorm beds could never manage.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, shining pin they’d given him for finishing aerospace academy. it gleamed in the light, a symbol of everything he’d fought to achieve. without a word, he placed it carefully in your palm.

your fingers brushed his as you took it, and the touch sent sparks up his arm. with careful, deliberate precision, you pinned it to his chest. caleb didn’t move, his gaze fixed on you, watching every motion, every soft touch of your fingers against his uniform.

‘they should give you a medal instead for doing so well,’ you teased softly, smiling up at him.

once the pin was secure, you smoothed down his uniform, your fingers lingering against the fabric. it was such a small gesture, but it felt so intimate that caleb’s breath hitched.

he tried his best not to be frantic, but it was almost impossible when he was overloaded with want, want, want, and with the feeling that this might not happen again, with the fear that if caleb thought about it too hard, he’d stop himself before he did too much.

he couldn’t stop himself any longer. leaning down, he kissed your cheek, his lips lingering on your skin. he didn’t move away immediately, letting the moment stretch as he closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of you.

he felt like a criminal on the run, but it was too good to withdraw from. so, he overdosed on unrequited love.

when he finally pulled back, there was a soft, almost shy smile on his lips. his voice was low, but full of meaning. ‘i already have my reward.’

you looked up at him, your cheeks warm, his cap still sitting crooked on your head. for a moment, neither of you spoke, and the weight of everything unsaid lingered between you.

and caleb, looking at you, standing there with your fingers still on his uniform, knew it was the absolute truth. you didn’t realize it, but you were the center of his universe. his greatest test, his deepest weakness, and the one thing he could never, ever let go of.

i’m a fool, he decided. damned in the bits of exhaustion at pulling and pushing at whatever’s left of trying.

the noise of the crowd finally broke through the haze, the sound of laughter and celebration pulling you both back to the present. caleb stepped back slightly, watching as you adjusted his cap, your smile soft but hesitant.

you didn’t have to know the struggle he’d endured to get here, the battles he’d fought within himself.

you were his obsession. his reason for everything. and he was losing control, but he didn’t care. because having you here, now, was all that mattered.

[tonycries]

Little Heaven

Synopsis. He’s just your friend-with-benefits, right? So why - in the still haze of the soft sheets and you, fúcking you so sensual and tenderly - does he feel like he’s found his own personal heaven?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, kinda fluffy, he’s both pússydrunk and in love, slow to rough, marking, mentions of marriage and kids, morning, swearing.

Word count. 1.3k

A/N. Probably the fluffiest smút I’ve ever written.

You were just his friend-with-benefits, right? No strings attached, right? 

So why was he here? Sinking into your plush mattress, quiet morning sun just barely peeking in through the curtains as he wraps his arms around your naked figure. 

God, he really shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be laying you on your side, drinking in your soft little, “G’mornin’.” Both of your movements languid and still burning with soreness. Your hips pushing back desperately into his as he positions himself so that his leaking tip was just kissing your swollen folds. 

He shouldn’t be whispering soft kisses into the marks that littered your skin. Licking one, long stripe up the sinful trail of hickies down your neck. All sensual touches where it was bruising grips last night. 

That was rule #1, right? No marks. 

Or was it #4… 

Ah, right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Not when his greedy eyes wander the expanse of your face, fingers trailing along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Tracing delicate patterns across your skin, snaking down, down, down to leisurely lift your leg a little higher. 

Bare chest warm against your back, his voice is low and gravelly in your ear as he whispers, “I had a dream y’know.” 

Mind still thinly veiled with sleep, you lean into his warm touch, “Mhm?” 

Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip. Smearing your juices with his thumb as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good. You almost miss the way he buries his face into the crook of your neck, murmuring a soft “Had a dream of us.”

Oh? 

Before you can overthink his words, he’s nudging in gently. So agonizingly gentle. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as he bullies his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. 

You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy and him. 

And it seems he was drunk on you just as much, because as soon as his hips are flush against yours, the words escape him. So quiet and groggy with sleep, that you almost don’t catch them.

“Had a dream that I made you my beautiful bride.”

Oh. 

That was new. His words hung heavy in the heady air. 

Shivers run down your spine - all the way to where he was buried in your dripping cunt. Your voice is slightly shaky as you let out a humorless laugh, “Oh yeah? Must’ve been a nightmare then.”

Soft lips press against your forehead, breathing in your scent. Absolutely searing as he mutters out a muffled, “No, was the best dream I ever had.”

And then, with the audacity of someone who didn’t just send your mind reeling, he pulls his hips back unhurriedly. Immediately fucking into you at a slow, sensual pace. Tip kissing your cervix as he rolls his hips languidly into yours, making sure you feel every bump and graze against your tight walls.

You don’t know what’s more maddening - his agonizing pace or the words that tumble out of his lips. “Y’looked so beautiful in white. So pretty walking down the aisle to me.” 

His lips brush against yours, hands dancing across every inch of you he could reach. Gently caressing the skin like it’s something divine, soothing over the marks from last night as if an apology. “Don’ think I’d want to see anyone else there.”

You glance back at him - only to find his eyes already on you. A jolt of electricity runs across your skin at the pure warmth in them. And you realize that, no, this wasn’t a joke. 

Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply grind your hips down to meet his, abs rubbing against your ass. Letting out a broken whimper of what sounds like his name as he moves down a hand to press rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. 

“Saw a little something else too.” he hums, a sly smile curling his lips as his other hand dances across your body to press down on your stomach. Hard. “Saw that I had some competition - two actually. Funny, right?”

“Hah- h-hilarious.” you manage to choke out as his thumb speeds up on your clit, hips moving a bit more purposefully. A bit more like you were used to. Rock-hard cock plunging into your quivering cunt in deliberate, sloppy thrusts that have you white-knuckling the sheets. 

“Though…” he trails off dangerously, pulling back all the way until his furiously hard tip was just kissing your waiting hole. “I wouldn’t really mind.”

And with that he’s sheathing his throbbing erection in your wet pussy completely. A gasp of delight leaves him at the way you take him so readily. Walls sucking him up so sinfully - perfect. You were always so perfect for him. 

“Dreamt we had a lil’ house with a big garden.” God, he can feel his cock harden so painfully at the fucked-out little ah! ah! ah! leaving your pretty lips each time his hip smack into yours. It’s music to his ears, such a shame he just can’t shut the fuck up right now. “And then you dressed the kids up while I made breakfast.”

“Then you made us do taxes and I didn’t even fucking mind.” His voice is strained now, words slurring together as he rams his cock deeper and deeper, glistening with your slick in the soft morning glow. 

“And finally at night, I say we should make a third one.” 

He looks at you, a sly grin stretching his lips, eyes half-lidded and a dangerous twinkle in them that has you wondering whether everything he said before was merely a ruse to fuck you silly. And it probably shows on your face - because he grins lowly in your ear, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we have till our wedding night f’me to fuck you slow.”

And oh he almost feels guilty. But he can’t bring himself to slow down at the way your swollen lips drop into such a pretty oh! at his words. Mewling at the sting of his heavy balls as they smack your ass. Walls clamping down desperately on his dick, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy as he focuses on making you lose your mind. 

He shifts his angle slightly, grinding expertly against your g-spot just right, and you throw your head back, releasing a low moan of his name.

“Shit. Yeah, say m’name, sweetheart. Jus’ like that.” he moans breathlessly. 

His name - soon to be yours.

Maybe.

You turn your head to face him, eyes fiery as you capture his in an equally scorching kiss. Cock slamming into your poor, abused cunt with an intensity that matches that of your lips.

Probably. 

Biting down on his lower lips, soft yet insistent. Humming deliriously against his mouth - and in the heat of it all, he feels you smile against his lips. Ever-so-slightly. 

Definitely. 

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure behind your eyes, walls clamping down so deliciously around his twitching cock. It sends him over the edge as well - whispering your name as if a prayer, voice hoarse with emotions neither of you could name at this very moment. 

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your trembling cunt white, milking the soul out of him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forming around his base as some truly animalistic part of himself fucks his seed into you - a promise, he likes to think.

“I’m serious about the dream.”

Almost as gentle as that one. 

As the haze settles, his thrusts slowing down to just shallow grinds, a fragile silence envelopes the room as neither of you speak. Because maybe no other words were needed. 

And right now, morning sunlight harsh on his skin, strong arms pulling you warm body flush against his, no one but you two in this quiet world - he doesn’t think he’d like to be anywhere else.

All is well in your little heaven.

- GOJO, GETO, Choso, SUNA, ATSUMU, Tsukishima, Kuroo, EREN

A/N. Bro it took longer to think of what to write than to write this. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[lovelyghst]

soft-tummy simon riley save me… cause you cannot look at that man and tell me he doesn’t love to eat!! like, a constant snacker. and his heart absolutely swells when you indulge so heavily in his needs.

it’s practically his love language, to scarf down anything you put on the table in front of him, and you can certainly tell since now he’s not nearly in the same shape as he was when you found him.

he likes to think you’ve fixed him in a way; spending his evenings cuddling in bed for hours on end with you, rather than heading to the gym for the second time that day to burn off dinner. thanking you for the savory meal with kisses all over instead of fighting off the impulse to purge his usual bland chicken breast and vegetables every night.

and it all hits him far, far deeper than just his gut; feeling it in his heart more than the soft layer of fat blanketing his tummy he has to see in the mirror every morning. just the fact that a sweet thing like you wants to take care of him, ensure he eats plentiful yet still healthy for his work, has him whipped. showering him with endless i love you’s and praising him all up and down until his cheeks tint a light, flustered pink and his dick gets achingly hard in his pants.

he won’t pretend the change was easy on him, seeing the clean-cut abs and fit appearance that made him feel young fade away the further you got into your relationship, but he’d also be a filthy liar if he said he didn’t prefer the pros to his current build way more.

simon begins wearing shirts less around the house on his lazy days, at your lovely request of course, and it does feel quite freeing. especially when he’s able to come up behind you in the kitchen, cage you in with his burly arms, bend you over the counter and fuck you senseless because part of the deal was that his shirts would go to you, and with nothing but your lace panties on underneath.

he can’t help but get riled up seeing you walk around like that, and you’re no saint either when you catch a glimpse of his broad chest and relaxed, pillowy belly as he reads the morning newspaper. you tend to drop to your knees and tug at his boxers faster than he can even greet you properly, showing him just how much you love him.

he loves eating you out more than anything, especially with a full tummy after a late meal. you’ll take his and your empty plates to the kitchen to clean up, but you’re being bent over the counter before you can even wipe it down!! and squealing his name in surprise won’t stop him, nor will your giggles as he’s lifting the skirt of your dress to reveal your pretty ass, getting down on his knees and delving right in.

dragging his tongue through your drenched seam, grinning softly against your skin when you jolt and whine out of sensitivity. tongue-fucking your pretty, tight hole only for a moment before he’s returning to messily play with your swollen clit.

and you just know it’s entirely selfish, simon not even paying mind to the way your legs shake and relentlessly convulse and you can barely stay still because his stubble is unceasingly tickling your inner thighs. making you cum until you can’t anymore, and he’s happily forced to carry your numbed, twitchy body to bed so you can catch your breath and rest while he finishes up the chores.

would probably send you off by say something cliché about you being his favorite dessert. he’s so stupid when he’s horny.

simon is weak for when you ride his stomach, with both his hands planted firmly on your hips as you rub your bare pussy back and forth on his hard abdomen. his hidden muscles become more apparent the longer you go at it and the harder he holds you down, little whimpers spilling from your puffy lips as the light hairs coating his tummy create just the perfect amount of friction to your poor, little clit for that hot, familiar sensation in your lower belly to bubble up.

your hands clawing at his chest and shoulders, leaving lines and crescent indents in his skin that soon turn red in their wake, and the pain only turns him on more, his cock excruciatingly hard, long hums of pleasure omitting straight from his throat as he grits his teeth.

“yeah, that’s it, sweetheart—there’s my dirty girl. jus’ keep goin’ for me now, don’t stop… make yourself cum without me touchin’ you down there, ‘nd then i’ll fuck you real nicely after. alright, princess?”

and you soon follow through with just that, nodding decorously with tears welling at your eyes’ waterlines before you’re lurching forward, crying out his name. thighs giving out and fighting to ride out your orgasm, where simon then saves you with his attentive grip on your hips, finishing the job for you rather recklessly.

“good fuckin’ girl… y’did so well for me, love,” and every other gruff, dragged word of praise in his vocabulary echos in your fuzzy mind as you come down from your high.

you’re still catching your breath, fulling laying on his chest by the time he’s inching you backwards whilst taking his hard dick out from his boxers. lifting your weak hips for you as he whispers small, reassuring hushes right by your ear, soothing your winces as he fully sheathes you on his thick cock, inch by fucking inch.

he fucks himself up into you, not daring to make you overwork your body anymore, and he handles you so delicately you could almost fall asleep on his mattress of a body. you crumble to pieces with the vibrations of his chest from his unending groaning, the feeling of his veiny and rough cock stretching and filling you to the brim almost becoming minute compared to the sleepiness washing over you.

“there ya go, pretty… don’t have’ta do any work now, jus’ like i promised, eh?” he coos, and he could feel you smiling against his collarbone. one of his large hands cradles the back of your head while the other gropes at your ass lovingly. “takin’ me just fine, sweet girl.”

you bury your heated face into his squishy pectoral, whining at the overstimulation to your clit at the particular angle, left so utterly sensitive from your prior orgasm. you’re limp in his strong hold, securer than ever as he lifts your hips up and down his thick cock.

he uses your tender cunt ‘til he’s satisfied, groaning right up against your ticklish ear when he empties his hot cum in your throbbing pussy, the perfect thing milking him dry and turning you exhausted.

he actually sits in the moment for a peaceful while, coddling you against his rising and falling chest and murmuring sweet praises, until eventually his disciplined brain kicks in despite your protests.

“don’t go passin’ out on me yet, sweetheart.” you grumble out a refusing noise which makes him laugh softly, but apparently it’s not enough to win him over. “let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?”

(simon and his size difference & free use kinks go CRAZY in this one. also this instagram reel is so him coded ok bye bye <3 cont.)

[heavenlyfay3]

!somnophillia!

"You’re making such a mess of my cock baby" Nanami said moaning and whimpering you had recently came home drunk from a party at your friends house you saw Nanami sleeping in the bed when you stumbled into your shared apartment

he was looking so sexy laying in the bed messy hair, shirtless and vulnerable so you took the opportunity there was something about getting a little bit of liquor in you that made you so horny for your Kento

in his sleep you crawled onto the bed discarding your heels and purse you drunkenly but carefully pulled down his pajama pants and met his soft member even flaccid Kento's size always seemed to surprise you especially in your drunken state

you leaned down and lick from his tip to his base you almost hoped hed wake up right then and there but you werent so lucky Nanami was a bit of a deep sleeper so you tried your efforts again licking till his member stood tall in your face

When it was finally hard Nanami woke up his heart racing as he looks down at you with bleary eyes he tries to sit up but you push him back down "baby what are you doing are you feeling okay?" he said a little shaken

you ignore him and wrap you lips around his cock taking him in your warm, soft, wet mouth his words turn into a groan as your drunken tongue makes contact with his now achingly hard cock he goes to push your head away instead his hands tangle in your hair

"Dammit lovey you need to stop youre too drunk for this" you dont stop your movements doubling your efforts as you suck his cock with no sign of stopping kento's body eventually gives in to the stimulation. his cock throbs in your mouth "fuck okay fine y-you just take what you need"

Nanami bites back his moans as you sloppily suck his hard cock your drunken enthusiasm overpowering his initial concern. his hips shift restlessly. fucking into your warm mouth "shit if you were gonna suck me off you couldve at least waited till you were sober" he said a little frustrated

"i want it now" you said you were still drunk but you knew full well what you were doing. swirling your tongue around his fat tip "fucking hell" Nanami let out a frustrated chuckle stroking your hair with one hand

[shotmrmiller]

ik i've heard of penpals with cod but like getting simon as your dedicated pal for say, college or something would be terrible.

at first he's reluctant. why would he talk to some civvie that hasn't a clue about what goes on in the world he lives in? probably thinks him a recruiter or something, not a man who has removed the skin off of another just for a name of an enemy.

john tells him to suck it up, it's not like it can kill him.

simon gets the letter and it's... entertaining. you write, almost illegibly, that you really don't want to do this, that if it wasn't such a hefty percent of your grade you wouldn't even have bothered.

nothing but a poor man fighting a rich man's war. like some puppet, manipulated by a more powerful force-- not a single decision nor thought your own.

interesting. he hasn't been talked down to like this since his days as a private. granted, if you knew what he looked like you would've probably swallowed your own tongue but that's neither here nor there.

he chuckles under his breath, and picks up the envelope.

the stamp has a waterfall on it and it says harrison wright falls.

american.

he writes that you're right. he's nothing but a muppet with a hand up his arse. but what's got you so upset over the military? not like you suffer the consequences sitting pretty in your cozy home. the hardest battle you've ever fought is a school project.

the letter you send back has him rumbling with laughter. you're furious. he can see one too many holes from where the pen tore through the paper in your rage, and some words you crossed out with a singular line.

listen, asshole, you falling for the UK military propaganda is not my fault. no one made you sign up, idiot.

you continue on about him being a murderer which he gives a small hum to because you've no idea how right you are. simon vaguely wonders if you'd still write him if you knew just how many necks he's snapped with his bare hands.

you're quite abrasive, a little spitfire that holds nothing back, and it makes him achingly curious to know just who you are.

he pulls up your info on his personal laptop, and can feel his cock stirring just from your driver's license photo alone.

cute. very cute. you look soft, kind. a gentle ㅤsmile graces your lips. he almost doubts that the person on his screen is you, but the signature on your license and the letters you've sent is the exact same.

so very interesting. steel concealed beneath velvet.

he taps his fingers on the surface of his desk as he gazes at your charming, lovely countenance. pretty as a peach.

his chair creaks under him as he reaches for a pen.

simon's kept all your letters, the paper worn and almost in tatters from the amount of times he's read them-- ink smudged from him running his bare fingertips over each hateful word.

he can't wait for next leave; simon's heard that ricketts glen state park is beautiful during the fall.

[pininghermit]

Wifed up on a tuesday

Request: If you are still doing the tropevenia event, can you please write a fic with secret marriage prompt for Adrian Tepes x female reader. ( =＾ω＾)

AN: get this dhampir a wife! Such a fun request

Genre: fluff + Secret Marriage

Pairing(s): Alucard x Wife Reader

Summary: "No one hurts my wife," he said, his voice steady and cold, without sparing a glance back.

"You have a wife?!" Sypha screamed, her voice echoing off the walls as Trevor stared blankly into the void, looking more lost than usual.

You winced at the shriek, gently setting her cup of coffee in front of her. "Nice to meet you," you offered with an awkward smile, unsure if she even heard you through her shock.

Next to you, Adrian cleared his throat, his golden eyes flickering away as a faint blush crept up his pale cheeks. "We have been betrothed for twenty years," he said evenly, though his voice wavered slightly. "It was... a matter of time."

That, of course, did not make things better.

Before you could fully process what happened next, a heavy pile of books toppled onto you, and the sharp sting of a whip lashed across your back.

"Not a curse then," Trevor murmured, standing over you with an expression that teetered between relief and annoyance. From the corner of your eye, you caught Adrian gawking, his face frozen in disbelief.

A bubbling shame welled up in your chest, hot and suffocating. You pushed yourself to your feet, glaring at Trevor. "Indeed, quite human," you snarled, and without hesitation, you swung your fist, landing a solid punch to the oaf’s jaw.

"I am human," you continued, your voice sharp with fury. "At least in part. Adrian and I were betrothed by our parents. And we are now wed."

You could see the dread settling on Sypha's face, her expression torn between shock and dawning understanding. Then you turned your blazing eyes back to Trevor. "You're not welcome in my home. Sleep in the barn tonight."

Adrian's friend or not, no one struck you and got away with it. And if they dared, you made damn sure they understood the cost of their actions.

The silence that followed was tense, broken only by the sound of Trevor groaning from where he had staggered back.

Snapping out of his stupor, Adrian ignored Trevor completely and rushed to your side. His golden eyes scanned you, his hands hovering just shy of your back, as though afraid to touch and cause more harm. "Are you hurt, my love?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with worry.

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, Adrian’s power rippled through the room like a sudden gust of wind. With a sharp crack, a mighty blast of air sent Trevor flying backward, slamming the doors shut with an echoing thud.

"No one hurts my wife," he said, his voice steady and cold, without sparing a glance back. The message was loud and clear to Sypha, who stood frozen, staring at her husband lying in the rubble outside. "And anyone who wishes her harm shall bear my wrath."

In the quiet stillness of your room, Adrian carefully peels the fabric of your dress away from your back, his movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid to hurt you further. His golden eyes scan your unmarred skin, but the frown on his face only deepens.

"I should have stopped him," he mutters, his voice low and filled with guilt. "I was too late... I'm sorry. I just... I didn’t expect it." He rambles, his words tangling together in frustration as his gaze flickers between your back and his own trembling hands.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his voice achingly quiet, like the faintest whisper of wind.

He had failed again. To protect you. To care for you. Gods, he was lacking, and now he had allowed a Belmont, his own friend, to harm you.

His father, who burned the world for his mother, would never have allowed such a thing. Dracula had been many things, but in love, he was absolute. But Adrian knows he will never be his father, in both good and bad.

He will never be the husband you deserve.

But he is in love. Unforgiving love that clutches at his heart, that reminds him with every breath of all the ways he falls short.

His expression crumples, like paper crushed in a fist. Adrian, for all his power, for all his strength, is so terribly fragile when it comes to you.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you reassured him, turning to face him fully. Your hands rose to cup his face, tilting it gently so his eyes met yours. “You know it can’t hurt me. Trevor didn’t strike to harm, only to dislodge potential glamor.”

You could see the mild complaint brewing on his lips. Adrian worried too much. Fretting, after all, was his favorite pastime. His brow furrowed deeply, no doubt already replaying every moment in his mind and finding a thousand ways to blame himself.

“You did nothing wrong,” you said firmly, your thumbs stroking the sharp planes of his cheeks. “You did the right thing. Tomorrow morning, your friend will apologize, and we will forgive him because he is your friend. And then, you will no longer hold this against him.”

Adrian opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off with a stern look.

“Nope. Listen to me. Wife is right.”

His lips quirked upward, despite himself, and the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. His hands moved to rest on yours, cradling them against his face like a lifeline.

“You’re always right,” he murmured softly, leaning into your touch.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased, smiling at him.

Adrian laughed, low and quiet, before pressing a kiss to your palm. “Never,” he promised.

Somehow, Adrian had found a wife. In the bleakest of times, when the world had turned its back on him, you had come to him. And now, you were here, standing in his castle, a presence that soothed even his most troubled thoughts.

When the next morning came, you were greeted by an unexpected sight.

A sizable tuft of brown hair lay at your feet, carefully placed by Sypha, who stood before you with her hands clasped. Outside, just beyond the castle doors, her husband knelt silently, his head bowed low in shame.

The tuft of hair. A Belmont tradition of repentance. An act of humiliation and an offering of guilt.

An act you had no use for.

Still, it would be of little use to ignore it.

"My husband is a dog," Sypha said with a weary sigh, though her tone softened with affection. "He lashes out carelessly. Please, forgive him." She bowed low, an act that clearly caused Adrian discomfort. His eyes flickered with unease as he watched his friends, who seemed more like chastised children than the bold warriors they usually were.

Gently stopping Sypha mid-bow, you reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. "There’s no need for apologies," you said, your voice calm but light with humor. Sparing the kneeling Belmont a glance, you gestured toward the tuft of hair at your feet. "Though I reckon this," you said, pointing to it with a raised brow, "shall make for a very interesting wedding present."

Sypha’s head snapped up, her lips parting in surprise before a laugh bubbled out of her. The tension in her shoulders eased, the corners of her mouth lifting into a grin.

With that simple jest, the air shifted, the weight of guilt and harshness lifting from the room. Grudges were set aside, and forgiveness settled in their place like the morning sun breaking through heavy clouds.

"Bring your dog in for breakfast," you said, your grin widening as you met Sypha’s eyes. "Adrian’s the one cooking today."

The smile she returned was bright, her laughter lightening the room even more. "I’ll hold you to that," she said with a chuckle, turning toward the door to retrieve her sheepish husband.

Behind you, Adrian stepped closer, his expression softening as he gazed at you. "You handled that well," he murmured, his voice laced with quiet admiration.

You turned to him with a playful smile, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "It’s what wives are for, isn’t it darling?"

[kamaluhkhan]

WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE, MY LOVE.

pairing: vi x firelight!reader word count: 2k summary: after years of thinking her dead, ekko brings vi to the firelight base. you don't really know how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. warnings: arcane level angst + lesbian yearning. reader is referred to with she/her pronouns. reader has tattoos and a star-shaped birthmark behind her ear (y'all know vi loves a nickname and i thought 'stargirl' was v cute so i had to make it work). fic gets slightly suggestive at the end ;) author's note: happy act iii release day!!! i wrote this instead of working on my thesis oops. in my defense, vi has sparked something in me that i simply cannot ignore. i'm also working on a werewolf! pitfighter!vi x vampire slayer!reader fic (set in the same universe, just with a slight twist) sooo that might be done before part 2 of this fic (which is where the smut happens hehe). anyways, thank you for reading!

inspired by that quote: "i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. we are good people and we've suffered enough" by nikka ursula

even after all these years, vi is still the first one to notice you. 

her eyes widen as she hesitates to pull away from ekko, but you clear your throat to catch both of their attentions.

“i thought we were gonna question her together.”

ekko wipes a stray tear from his cheek and stands up a little straighter. 

“you were taking too long,” he shrugs. “don’t worry — she’s clean.”

you trust ekko’s judgement, but you still can’t reckon with the fact that vi is alive. you’d splashed cold water on your face just before to make sure you weren’t dreaming. 

“i don’t know.” you walk closer until you’re standing arms length from vi. “the vi i knew wouldn’t be caught dead with a topsider, let alone an enforcer.” 

you examine her carefully, and you imagine she’s doing the same to you. vi looks more grown up — stronger and sharper. you’d spent so much time in limbo, not knowing if she were alive or dead. you aren’t sure how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. 

“i guess the shoddy undercut is a pretty clear give away,” you deadpan.

vi quirks an eyebrow at you. “shoddy, huh? you know, your tattoos look like they were drawn by blindfolded children.”

she smiles, all bright and toothy. the scar on her upper lip stretches, achingly familiar, and you decide there’s nothing you want to do more than to bring her into your arms, to bring her closer, so you do. 

her hair tickles your cheek as you whisper:

“i did those tattoos myself.”

vi chuckles, and you feel it vibrate across her body to yours.

“i know. they’re beautiful.” her index finger traces the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear; you shiver. “i was just messing with you, stargirl.”

vi was the only one who ever called you that, said you made her life brighter or some other sweet nothing that would effortlessly fall from her mouth.

gods, she was the first one who even noticed that birthmark on your skin. 

“i was messing with you, too. the hair — you look hot.”

you feel her heart beating faster against your chest as she smiles into your shoulder.

she’s here.

she’s not some ghost from your past.

she’s really here. 

you’re so overwhelmed by how solid she is against you that you start to pull away, but vi catches your hand before you can fully untangle yourself from her. 

“that’s all i get?” she wonders, licking her lips.

you’re tempted, very tempted, to give her more. maybe you would have, until ekko clears his throat behind you.

“should i….give y’all a moment?” ekko asks. “i’ll go get the piltie.”

you then remember who vi came here with; she might not be working for silco, but you stand by your suspicions at her bringing a topsider to the lanes. 

you slip your hand from hers. you roll your shoulders back as if that would really shake away the hold she’s always had on you.

time has passed. things have changed. neither of you are kids anymore, and you don't have the luxury of indulging in a frivolous crush.

“it's fine, e. let’s show them around.”

“still a night owl, i see.”

vi finds you perched on one of the trees highest branches, surrounded by firelights as you sketch something. you close your sketchbook instantly and place it on the other side of you when vi sits down.

“thought you’d be in bed with that enforcer of yours.” 

“her name’s caitlyn.”

“caitlyn,” you scoff, shaking your head. 

the bitterness you try to hide is all too transparent to vi, who has to bite back a laugh at your pettiness. 

“you say her name like you’re gonna hex her. never pegged you as a jealous ex.”

“technically, we never broke up,” you point out. 

a firelight lands on your hand, and you let it crawl up the lines etched on your skin. 

“if that’s the case, i owe you an apology for cheating on you when i was in prison.”

you frown, but say nothing, your eyes following that same firelight as it illuminates your tattoos. 

“don’t worry, i’m kidding!” vi pauses. “mostly.”

the firelight flies away, and you huff out an annoyed breath. 

“whatever. i don’t care who you’ve fucked, or who you’re fucking. and, you don’t owe me anything. it’s not like we’re anything to each other, anymore.”

vi sucks in a sharp breath — she wouldn’t have expected such harsh words from you.

“is that why you can’t even look at me?” she finally asks.

you’d been strictly business since you first reunited hours ago. you expertly distanced yourself from vi all throughout the tour of the firelights’ base, and throughout dinner, too. 

where’s the girl she’d spend hours goofing around with, who always had a witty response to her sarcastic remarks, who smiled at her in such a way that made her chest glow? where’s the girl who brightened vi’s life when it seemed like the darkness would never leave?

“i don’t know,” you admit. “part of me still can’t believe you’re alive. i know that i should be happy that you are, but i keep thinking about everything i could have done to protect you, and powder —”

“hey. it’s my job to worry about everyone, remember?”

“you weren’t here.”

“i am now.”

she gently moves your chin so that you face her, so that you can see that she’s not going anywhere, at least for tonight. 

which is probably more time than either of you thought you’d ever have together again.

vi notices how your eyes flick down to her lips and back up, and she feels something spark in her chest. but then, you shake your head as though trying to wake up from a dream and turn away once more. 

“that enforcer of yours —”

“she’s not my —”

“whoever she is, she talked about how we all need to heal. i just keep thinking about what you’ve been through, what we’ve all been through…. how it never really stops. healing would be nice, but it’s hard when you have to keep fighting every day. you remember what ekko said, about why we chose this place?” 

of course, she remembers. 

“that if even a seed can survive down here, maybe we could, too.”

 “we. who’s ‘we,’ vi?” you laugh, but there’s no joy behind it. “we’ve gotten used to surviving without each other. maybe it was meant to be that way.”

“that’s not fair.” 

“a lot of things aren’t fair.” you gesture around at the base. “this — this community — took blood, sweat, and tears to build and i just know how easy it would be for someone to destroy it all. which is why we fight, obviously, to protect all this and each other, but i’m scared that we can only do so for so long before we burn out.”

you press your knees to your chest and curl into yourself. vi notices then — the slump of your shoulders, the shadows beneath your eyes, and just how deeply exhausted you must feel, down to your bones. 

you let out a shuddery breath. “is it even all worth it?”

vi swallows the tears building in her throat. you had always been the hopeful one, and it makes vi’s chest ache to think about what you must have endured to lose the brightness that had been woven into your being. 

that's part of what got her through these past few years, and there's no way she's going to let it fade.

“i....i think so,” vi starts, trying to find it within her to be inspirational. “maybe it'll make a difference in the long run, even if we don’t see that now. maybe someone, someday in the future, will be able to not just survive, but live in a better world.”

you raise an eyebrow at her, and vi swears there's a slight smile on your face.

"what?" she asks, her cheeks heating up.

"i'm just...surprised. how is it possible that prison made you less cynical?”

there's a glimmer to your eyes that wasn't there before, something playful, and vi decides to lean into it.

"oh, it wasn't prison," vi says, nudging her shoulder against hers. "see, i ran into this pretty girl from my past and she's this totally badass freedom fighter now, so i think there's some hope in the world."

you snort. "good to know you're still an unbearable flirt."

"i thought you loved that about me."

you laugh, a sparkling sound that vi wishes she could carry with her wherever she goes. it’s contagious, too, and vi finds herself giggling along with you. when it dies down, you rest your head on her shoulder, something you did even back when you were only friends.

“i missed you,” she admits. 

“yeah?” your voice is softer than a whisper. 

you lift your head and vi cradles your face in her hands.

vi nods. “so fucking much, and i want to prove it. if you’ll let me. please.”

“vi,” you exhale. she’s so close now that she can feel you breathing against her lips. “i can’t. you’re with that enforcer.”

“we’re not together,” vi assures, bumping her nose against yours. 

she leans in ever so closely to kiss you, but you move away. 

“you’re still with her, though, and you’re leaving in the morning,” you continue. “things are already so….complicated. i just don’t think we should start something we won’t be able to finish.”

with nothing more to say, you gather your sketchbook and pencils. vi’s sure that you’re not going to bed, just off to nestle into another hiding spot for the night, away from her.

maybe you’re still putting up a cold front, protecting yourself because that’s how you've been surviving in this world where the risk of losing everything lingers, and only gets heavier as you grow older.

but, gods, vi really has missed you, the you she remembers so vividly, the you that shone through just moments ago. she knows that glowing heart of yours is hardened by layers of ice, and she’s determined to make them all melt away.

so, vi gets up, heart beating in her throat, and calls after you:

“haven’t we already?” 

you stop in your tracks. you slowly turn around to back at her.

a moment passes, maybe more. the two of you suspended in time. your eyes are telling her a million different things – you’re confused, you’re scared, you’re tempted, you’re tired – and all vi can do is unsuccessfully blink back more tears because it’s true, how your story together never got the happy ending you deserved. 

“please, y/n. if this is our second chance, even just for a night —”

she’s cut off by you crashing your lips against hers.

the two of you were young, really, just girls when you first kissed. it was awkward and messy and though it ignited something in the pit of vi’s stomach, it was nothing compared to this.

she lets you guide her as you please, lets you press your warm body against hers against the trunk of the tree. she lets your lips mold into hers until her lungs are burning. 

your chest is heaving as you pull away slightly; vi bites back a whine, feeling empty. but air isn’t what she needs, she’s sure of it. what she really needs is more of you.

you study her like a work of art, like you're committing her to memory in case she slips away. your thumb wipes away a fallen tear, across the tattoo on her cheek. 

fuck, no one's held vi this tenderly since, well, you.

“you’re so beautiful.”

vi blushes, becoming increasingly flustered. she'd wanted to make this about you, take care of you in all the ways she'd imagined, but the way you're looking at her, touching her....she's not a religious person, but vi thinks she might have stumbled into her own, personal heaven, with you having some divine hold on her, soft and bright and passionate.

you're kissing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone when you repeat: "you're so fucking beautiful."

“yeah, i know. they should build statues of me,” she breathes, closing her eyes and trying to keep upright on weak knees. she squeezes your hips in an attempt to keep herself steady.

you’re the only person vi can recall calling her beautiful. 

sexy? oh, yeah. charming? definitely. hot? often. 

no one else calls her beautiful, though, let alone makes her feel like it the way you do.

“bad at flirting and full of yourself," you tease. "some things really don't change."

by now your lips are travelling lower, and vi doesn't want to miss a second watching you have your way with her. when her eyes flutter open, vi gets a glimpse of something over your shoulder.

“hm, i guess drawings are a good place to start.” 

she gestures with her chin, which she instantly regrets as you pull away to follow her gaze, eyes landing on the sketches of her from your fallen sketchbook.

“you weren’t supposed to see those,” you groan. "they're personal...."

it's cute, how flustered you get after making vi all hot and bothered.

vi smirks. "personal, huh? had some fun picturing me when i was gone? missed me so much you had to draw me back to life?"

"well, no - wait, yes, obviously, i missed you, but --"

vi cuts you off with a searing kiss.

she tugs on one of your belt loops to bring you closer to her. vi presses her thigh between your legs, relishing in how your mouth opens in a perfect gasp. vi takes the opportunity to bite your bottom lip and you whimper.

“don't be embarrassed, baby," vi mumbles against your mouth, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hips. "you know i missed you, too. 'cept i'm not talented like you, so my creative imagination had to carry me through some long nights."

“is that so….” your hand slips underneath her tank top, and you manage to pull a groan from vi by scratching your nails against her stomach. “maybe you can clue me in to what, exactly, you’ve imagined.”

vi grins triumphantly. she places a kiss on your birthmark before whispering in your ear:

“sure thing, stargirl.”

[screampied]

heyy vaygas how u doin babes?

first of, LOVE your work!!! the dads friend fic? can’t get over it, still did not recover!

can i ask for a mean dom nanami that makes you squirt through your panties and bullies u for it? 🥺 while enjoying himself as well hehe like “look at the mess u made/how messy u are” vibes

thx 💗

❤︎ ໋𓈒 nanami making you squirt for the first time.

warnings. fem! reader, praise, tried making him mean but he’s still soft :>, squirtin, dirty talk, talking you through it, mdni. an. 'm good!! thank u sm!

“make you do what, sweetheart?” he’d murmur right up against your ear. you felt a chill run up your spine the moment he presses a soft kiss near the inside corner of your neck. he was so gentle with his touch, you laid back against him with your legs practically parted—sprawled all open. “tell me what you want from me. talk to me nice.”

a near pout stretched against the corners of your lips before you reply with a sigh, “i- i want you to make me squirt again,” and you dragged out your words just a tad bit. his body heat behind you was immensely hot, warm even. “can never do it right by myself.”

“ah. course you can’t,” he purrs in a low melodic soothing tone. nanami’s fingers strum against the outer part of your panties and your breath achingly hitches. “say pretty please. use those manners, sweetheart. taught you well, did i not?”

he was practically insufferable, although he always did like the sound of your voice. “pretty please,” you reply with a quickness, feeling your knees merely buckle. he was a tease, brushing a few fingers near the middle part of your underwear. “pretty please, i want you to make a mess out of me.”

“atta girl,” he whispers, kissing the back of your forehead. and that’s the moment when he gently squeezes near your thigh, uttering out a playful. “now lie back ‘n i’ll do just that.”

“can i— may i take off my panties?” you breathe, moaning once he gingerly brings his right hand to softly grip near your breasts.

he grazes a thumb to run against your perky nipple before giving it a nice squeeze. he finds it cute, the way you’re so helplessly needy, squirming all against him just so he can start. your entire head was clouded, you hold in a sharp breath before a whine skims past your lips.

“nooo, darling,” he denies you, and that was probably the most sweetest ‘no’ you’ve ever been told before. his other hand that resided between your thighs starts to softly create strokes against your clit. he hums, feeling the nearly faded dampened spot, oh how soaked you were. “good girls get their panties removed. we aren’t past that part yet, are we not?”

you pout, another sweetened sigh leaving out of you. “but i said pretty please.”

“and i heard you the first time, my love,” he says, and you whimper once he feels all over your chest. his rough fingers had such a softness to it, you hadn’t even realized how prematurely soaked you were. it was a bit of playful sass to his tone, you swallow before rubbing the back of your head against his chest. “now. let me make you my messy girl as promised, ‘n i’ll think about removing this pretty panties, okay?”

“… okay.”

nanami lowly chuckles, and you lean back against him the moment he starts to create a bit of stimulation against your clit.

“oh, don’t be so disappointed,” and he starts slow strokes. deep filthy strokes, you wanted for him to just remove your panties … but alas, that wouldn’t happen just yet. nanami created a plethora of chaste kisses near the inner part of your neck whilst your legs twitch in pleasure. you were far too sensitive, moaning each time his tongue softly drags against the sweet soft parts of your neck. you were addicting, equivalent to a drug. nanami loved to kiss up and down your neck, leave all kinds of marks only for him to see. “you want me to go rougher? ‘s that why you keep whining?”

“p-please,” you concur, with a needy nod, feeling him bring a hand near your neck now. thick fingers swiftly of his wrap until you wear his hand that went around your throat like a necklace.

you wanted him to just be a tad bit rougher, just a little. you loved him being gentle, you did. but you also liked when he’d be a little mean. the times where nanami would come home from work stressed and full of fatigue. letting him taking everything out on your sweet pussy, his ultimate cure for stress relief. he was forever grateful for you. “more, kento. ‘wan more, choke me harder.”

his hand that went around your throat had a firm grip to it, a thumb of his softly swipes down the middle part of your throat and he turns your head for a kiss. you were panting heavily, each dramatic breath that left your mouth only grew substantially louder. “such a nasty fuckin’ girl. can feel you pulse all through your panties, sweetheart.”

“kento,” you’d whimper, reaching down to touch his wrist — but he lightly smacks it, earning a sweet whine from you.

“nuh uh. no touching. ‘s only for my hands,” he husks, making his strokes against your panties go ten times faster, the tempo was so vigorous that your moans became even more vocal. “silly girl. did you forget already? you have to ask to touch yourself.”

swallowing an invisible thick lump, you mewl out a sweet, “can i—”

“no baby,” he chortles, finding it cute at your attempt to even ask directly after the fact. nanami could essentially hear the pout curl amongst your lips before your eyebrows form into a perturbed adorable furrow. you were coming close, you knew that very much all too well.

it was coming at such a high chasing pace that you could barely keep up with your own breaths. even at his attempt of being ‘mean’ he was still so sweet. he couldn’t help it, especially if it was with you.

pathetically so, you felt yourself twitching within his hold. nanami’s hand that went around your throat softly massages the part where you breathe, he could feel the candied vibrations of your own moans leave out every few seconds. it was his favorite sound, forevermore his favorite tune to even hear.

“close, are you?” he simpers, and he’s using his entire hand at this point, maneuvering such rough circles against your clit. the cloth of your panties that protected it made you pout, you desperately yearned for it to just be taken off already. “mhm. wait, be quiet for a sec.”

all that could be heard was the sound of your cute exasperated breaths and the squelches that came from your soaked pussy. the fabric of your underwear was thin, basically shielding hardly anything.

“listen to her with me,” he whispers against your neck, referring to your pussy. he’s coating you with various more kisses to make you twitch and throb for more. “she’s needy for me. sloppy ‘n everything, so desperate to make a fuckin’ mess on her husband.”

“k-kentooo,” you’d moan, and his hand that was wrapped around your throat shifts its attention back towards your chest. he squeezes your right tit, massaging all around it before prodding a thumb against your nipple. “f-fuck i feel it.”

your orgasm gradually builds up, it’s like a wave that continued to rise and rise.

your thighs, even your legs began to quaver and by now, you were all slumped up against nanami. his words went straight towards your cunt, ringing all through your ears. even his dirty talk was bittersweet, rich and simply enchanting. “come on,” he sighs lowly, feeling himself start to get hard just from your pleasure. “give it to me. be a good nasty girl ‘n let go on me.”

everything came on a whim, your legs felt so numb and shook before whether moments—you felt yourself finally release.

a sudden slick gush runs out of you, and your panties were even more soaked now. you felt so flushed. the stupidest expression on your face, hooded eyes, maw dangled open as you’re panting heavily … it was a sight.

the dampened spot near the entrance of your underwear was so cute. he chuckles, strumming a thumb against that specific spot while you’re riding out your orgasm, legs vigorously still shaking from impact.

“…my oh my,” he sings, and that’s when he finally pulls your panties towards the side. nanami runs a finger down your slit before giving it a playful pinch just to hear you whimper out. “what a mess.”

“such a messy girl i’ve got myself here,” he continues, and then he slowly sinks a finger into your folds. “mhm. do you wanna be even messier for me though? we can always try it again, without the panties this time, my love.”

[motorsportbarbie13]

Get Unready With Me - Drunk Edition

In which Lando takes care of you after a night out.

Pairing: Lando Norris x FeminineGirlfriend!Reader Warnings: Drunk reader. Tooth achingly sweet fluff tho. Word Count: 1.8k words

Master List

“Lando! I’ve lost my keys!” You cry, opening the flap on your vintage Chanel bag in an attempt to dump the contents out on the floor of your flat’s empty hallway. 

“No you haven’t, you muppet.” He scolds, tugging the purse out of your hands before anything beyond your Charlotte Tilbury lipstick can clatter to the floor. “You gave me your keys after your fifth vodka cran. ‘Lan baby, be my hero and hold my keys so I don’t lose them!’” He mocks, pulling out your keyring from his pocket. 

Your eyes light up, a drunken giggle slipping off your lips as you lean your whole weight onto your boyfriend as he attempts to open the apartment door for you. “My hero!” 

“Besides,” He tuts, slipping the key into the keyhole. “We live together, my keys are your keys.” 

Lando swings the door open, ushering you inside before closing the door behind him with a soft snick of the lock. You look back at him, a bit more unsteady on your feet than you’d like. The pair of you are just getting back from dinner and dancing with a few of the other drivers and their significant others to celebrate the end of the season and you may have gone a bit overboard with the drinks portion of the night.

Flinging your stilettos off your feet, you groan at the relief of feeling the cool tile on your toes, only stumbling a bit when you try to stand up straight. It’s quite the miracle you made it up from the garage to your tenth floor apartment in those heels under your own power really. “I think my feet might just fall off.” 

Lando follows behind you as you stumble towards the couch. “Baby, shouldn’t we just go to bed? It’s late.” 

“My feet don’t work anymore. Carry me?” You pout, reaching for him with grabby hands. You are quite needy when you get this drunk but honestly, Lando doesn’t mind one bit. You’re quite independent, refusing to allow him to pay for much despite his multi-million dollar contract and endorsement deals. In fact, for the first year of your relationship you had refused to move in with him because there had been no way you could afford to split the rent in his posh apartment in Monaco. So when you get needy like this, which isn’t as often as he’d like, Lando likes to take full advantage of it. He likes to feel needed, especially by the woman he is absolutely smitten with. 

“I think your feet work just fine, but I will carry you to bed anyway, pretty girl.” He coos, scooping you up in his arms. 

You wiggle a little against him, nestling your head in the crook of his neck before breathing in his scent deeply. “You smell so good.” 

“I smell like sweat.” He laughs, walking down the hall towards your shared bedroom. 

“It must be the pheromones then. You’re so sexy when you’re sweaty.” You giggle. 

Lando chuckles, knocking the light switch with his elbow as he enters your room. The yellow glow from the lights overhead illuminate your face as you look up at him. In the alcohol induced haze, the thought of how lucky you are to have him flickers through your mind. You two had met a few years ago when you had been attended the British Grand Prix with your uncle Jenson Button. He had literally swept you off your feet when Fernando Alonso had nearly taken you out in the paddock with his scooter. You liked to joke that Lando had literally been your knight in shining armor that day, so of course you fell for him quick and hard. 

“Here you go, love.” Lando gently sets you down on the bed, your eyes already droopy with exhaustion from the day. “Lets get you out of that dress and into something comfy.” 

“Are you trying to seduce me, Lando Norris?” You slur. 

“No, I’m trying to get you into bed because you’re about five seconds away from falling asleep and I don’t want to cuddle you all night with that scratchy dress on.” Lando rolls his eyes but can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He helps you shimmy out of the tight dress, pulling it over your head so you were left in only the skimpy McLaren papaya colored lingerie set. 

“This is new.” He says, slipping a finger under the strap of the lacy bralette that has him biting his bottom lip. You looked so cute sitting there on the bed, dressed only in his team colors. 

“I wore it to surprise you but now I’m too drunk to fuck you.” 

Lando can’t help the laugh that tumbles out of him. Despite you being 3 sheets to the wind, you know his rules: No sex while one of you is drunk and the other is sober.  And Lando is very sober right now, wanting to maintain some control over you as you tend to get a little wild and adventurous (read: you like to wander off) when you’re partying. “We can have a rot in bed day tomorrow and you can wear it then, okay love?” 

Your bottom lip sticks out in a pout, “Fine.” 

“Now, lay down. I’ll go get you a t-shirt and we can go to sleep.” 

You follow his instructions and watch as Lando bustles around the room, first getting changed himself and then pulling a t-shirt out of his closet for you. 

A few moments later, Lando pulls his t-shirt onto your body and tucks you back into bed before going to get some aspirin and a glass of water for you, knowing you’re going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow. He hates to see you in pain, but a part of him is pleased that you’ll be unable to do much tomorrow so he’ll be able to wait on you hand and foot. Being needed is absolutely one of Lando’s love languages. 

As he goes to switch off the lights, finally ready to get into bed beside you, suddenly you sit up. “Lando!” You gasp, smacking him on the shoulder as he sits down on his side of the bed. 

“What is it, pretty girl?” 

“My makeup! If I don’t take it off and wash my face, I’m going to break out and I will not be your pretty girl anymore.” 

Lando rolls his eyes, “Seriously? Can’t you just skip it this one time? You will always be my pretty girl, breakout or not.” 

In addition to being extra needy when you’re drunk, you are also extra stubborn. “I need to do my skincare, Lando.” You whine. 

“Fine.” Lando is quite certain there is no way you’d be able to do it by yourself, judging by the state you’re in though. “Let’s go, I’ll help you.” 

You blink up at him as he rounds the bed to stand before you, offering you his hand. “Really?” 

He looks down at those big eyes and pouty lips of yours and really wants to break the whole ’no sex while only one of us is drunk’ rule. “Yes, really you muppet. Come on.” 

Despite the fact that just a few minutes before you had been insisting your feet were about to fall off, you suddenly find the ability to walk and pad behind him into the large en suite bathroom. It’s a luxurious place, with a large jetted tub and huge shower with two shower heads. You find yourself sharing a shower with Lando more often than not. On the other side of the white and black tiled bathroom are his and hers sinks, yours more cluttered than his with various skin and hair products. You may be independent when it comes to asking for help, but you are certainly not low maintenance when it comes to your hair or skin.  

Lando stands in front of your sink, eyeing the various jars and tubes with a bit of skepticism. “I hope you’re sober enough to tell me what goes first because there is no way I can do this on my own.” He mumbles.

“You watch me do this all the time, baby.” 

“Doesn’t mean I know what any of this is. Now, hop up on the counter and let me take care of you.” He says, kissing the tip of your nose. 

A fire burns in your belly at his order. Secretly, you do love when he takes care of you like this. You just hate to admit it. Being raised by a single mom who was never the biggest fan of the male species, you had always been wary of asking for help but being with Lando had healed some of that trauma and mistrust in you and the longer you were with him, the easier you found depending on him. 

“What’s first?” 

“The micellar water.” 

Panic flashes across Lando’s face. “The what?” 

Giggling, you kick your feet like a toddler and point to the large bottle with clear liquid in it. “That. Put some on a cotton ball and…” 

“Wipe off your makeup. I know, I’ve seen you do it, I just don’t know what goes when.”

Lando squirts some out on a cotton ball like he’s seen you do a thousand times and begins to wipe off the makeup in long, slow strokes. The alcohol makes your brain fuzzy but the way his face is so focused on his task, brows knit together in concentration, has you squeezing your legs together. He can’t quite believe how many cotton balls it takes to get everything off, but eventually most of your makeup is gone. 

“Now is when you use the soap, right?” 

He looks so eager to be right your heart squeezes a bit. “Yes, that bottle right there.” 

Lando continues on with your skincare routine, listening to your every step and following it exactly as described. It takes a little longer than usual, but neither of you mind. The way he so gently rinses the soap off your face and then applies your moisturizer is strangely one of the most romantic things you’ve ever done together. 

Finally, everything is done and you’re bare faced and freshly moisturized. Lando hands you your toothbrush, already prepped with your toothpaste, and the pair of you brush your teeth together. He gently helps you down off the counter and you follow him back into the bedroom, hand in hand. 

“Thank you, baby.” You coo as you slip under the covers, watching as Lando switches off the bedroom lights, plunging the bedroom into darkness. 

“I love taking care of you.” He murmurs when he joins you under the heavy duvet, your warmth radiating towards him in waves. 

“I love you, Lando Norris.” 

“I love you too, pretty girl.” 

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16

Want to be included on the tag list? Send me a message/leave a comment! <3

[miupow]

한지성 ─── 𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗔 , 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬 !

you have a little christmas surprise for your boyfriend...

★ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴。。。han jisung x fem!reader 𝗴。⧼ 🔖 ⧽ ⸝⸝ smut, pwp

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 。。。lingerie kink・est. relationship・lap dance・bondage・sensory deprivation・blindfolds・dirty talk・sub!jisung・begging・dry humping・cumming in pants・degredation kink・praise kink ⸝⸝ ‎ 𝘄𝗰。1. 2 k | 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗿𝘆。

♬ santa, baby 一 laufey

notes from lia。happy early skzhop hiptape release!!! so excited for it's drop at midnight teehee <33 to celebrate here's a lul xmas drabble with jisung!! this was based off of an idea given to me by @sheerfreesia007 ... thank u so much for infecting my mind with this i love u so much

“come on babe, take this stupid blindfold off! I wanna see you!”

“Shh, be patient, Ji!” you giggle, adjusting your grip on the bathrobe as you bend over to turn up the volume on your speaker. “I told you it’s a surprise— be a good boy now, okay?”

Jisung whines at your words, squirming restlessly; truthfully you’ve given him no opportunity to be anything other than patient, with his wrists and ankles tied to the arms and legs of one of your dining room chairs with sparkly holiday ribbon. They were thin and flimsy, and jisung could most likely break out of them with ease, but you were certain your boyfriend loves to be played with far too much to even consider the possibility.

Soft music fills the room as you turn to face him, a sultry rendition of santa, baby that made jisung sit up a little straighter in his chair. Slowly, you make your way over to him, intent to put on a show even if he couldn’t see it quite yet— your hips swing from side to side to the rhythm of the music, sliding a teasing hand up and down jisung’s sweater-clad chest as you circle around his chair. His breath hitches beautifully, his head lolling back to let you ghost your fingers over the curve of his adam’s apple.

…I’ve been an awful good girl, santa, baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…

With a flourish you kick your leg over jisung’s lap, seating yourself perfectly against the swiftly growing bulge in his pants. You can’t help but grind your clit against his fly, the sensation far too much and not enough all at once— jisung whimpers pathetically in your ear, clued in on the fact you were wearing only flimsy panties underneath that robe of yours. Achingly slowly, you untie your robe and let it fall off your shoulders down to the floor. It pools in a heap at jisung’s bound feet, leaving you bare except for the “surprise” you had prepared for his Christmas gift.

“let me see you…” jisung begs quietly, tugging weakly at his restraints. the pout on his plump lips is just too cute, you can’t help but coo.

…Santa, baby, a ’54 convertible too, light blue… I’ll wait up for you dear

You can’t keep denying him any longer, for both his sake and yours— you peel the red silk blindfold from jisung’s eyes, tossing it haphazardly to the floor along with your robe. He blinks a few time to adjust to the light, his heady gaze falling onto you when his eyes finally open.

“oh fuck…” jisung sighs, his brown puppy eyes widening as they trail down your body, soaking in your outfit… or what could barely be considered one.

…Next year I’ll be just as good, if you’ll check off my Christmas list…

You were dressed in a skimpy santa costume, barely enough fabric covering you to be anything more than lingerie. Your little fuzzy skirt did nothing to cover your sparkly red thong, your ass out and your weeping cunt perfectly visible through the sheer material.  Jisung gulps heavily, his adam’s apple bobbing, shifting and squirming and fighting his restraints in a desperate attempt to touch you. he cants his hips up off the chair, the bulge of his hardening cock grinding against your swollen clit. The barely-there pleasure makes you moan lowly, your gloved hands sliding up your bare torso to squeeze at your bikini clad tits— exactly what you know jisung wants to do himself, his pretty lips falling open as he watches your movements in erotic rapture.

…santa, cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex, and checks… sign your x on the line…

“you look so sexy, baby, fuck!” jisung warbles, his hips continuing to move on their own, building a delicious rhythm that makes you both pant and whimper. “wanna touch you so bad, holy shit, please let me touch you—”

“nuh uh~!” you chide, wagging your finger in front of his face with an evil giggle. “I said be a good boy, remember? If you stay perfectly still for me maybe I’ll untie you…”

You plant your heeled feet on the floor for better leverage, bouncing and grinding in his lap as your hands move from your tits down to his belt buckle. Your own patience is running thin, your cunt throbbing with need and wetting jisung’s lap, but teasing him is just too much fun; you make no real movements to unbuckle his belt, only sliding your fingertips across the leather to dip beneath his waistband. Jisung’s hips buck wildly when you begin to caress the warm bare skin of his hipbones, nearly toppling you over onto the floor. Your santa hat begins to slide off your head, so you grab it and tug in onto jisung’s head instead. He looks so cute like that, peeking up at you so sinfully from underneath that goofy floppy hat.

…come and trim my Christmas tree, with some decorations bought at tiffany’s…

Finally, you pull his belt free from his belt loops, letting it fall aside with a metallic clink. his cock strains obscenely in his boxers when you pop the button open and tug the zipper down, a wet spot clearly visible where his head was trapped in the fabric. Jisung whimpers lowly when you retract your hands back to his shoulders, leaving him untouched and desperate.

“come on…” jisung whines through grit teeth, his chest heaving and his covered cock throbbing. “fuck me, baby, please…”

Santa, baby, I forgot to mention one little thing, a ring, I don’t mean on the phone…

“can’t hear you over this music, sungie. You’re gonna have to beg better than that!”

You grind against him harder, faster, making jisung choke and splutter—his thighs shake underneath your weight, a telling sign that he’s close to coming. It surprises you a little, him getting so close to the edge from hardly anything at all, your pussy pulsing with need and excitement. You need to see him cum in his pants. If this is his gift for the holiday season, that would be yours.

"baby-- fuck, fuck, I--" jisung can hardly string together a sentence, his eyes unfocused and hazy. "p-please! please, baby, please, please, please--"

“oh my god, ji, are you gonna cum?” you jeer, a wicked smile spreading across your ruby red lips. “I’m barely even touching you! you’re so cute, sungie, cumming in your pants like a teenager just from some grinding…”

“i—I--!” jisung stutters, his eyes rolling back in his head and his mouth stuck open in a permanent moan. He shakes his head rigorously, like he’s begging you to reconsider, but you’ve already made up your mind.

“go ahead and cum, ji! If you cum I’ll untie you, okay? And then I’ll fuck you, since you’ve been such a good boy for me—!”

Jisung is just too easy, you know him and his body far too well for him to fight back— he cums with a broken cry, sticky hot cum staining his boxers and mixing with the copious amounts of slick that gushed from your needy pussy. You help him ride through his climax with your hand tangled in his dark messy hair, knocking the santa hat aside as you tug at the strands. his moans turn high-pitched and shameless, his body shaking and twitching underneath you as his cock spurts out his last few ropes of cum.

“nasty boy,” you coo to him, staining his jawline and neck with red lipstick marks, “ready for more? This is just part of your present~”

Hurry, hurry, my santa, baby!

[00valentina-writes00]

can you do something with a prompt and vi? “Person A and Person B having sex quietly, so as not to wake up their friends who are sleeping nearby. ”

♡♥︎ Quiet Moments with Vi ♥︎♡

Warnings: NSFW (18+), fingering soft dom/sub dynamics, light touch teasing, established relationship, quiet sex,

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the TV casting long shadows across the walls. Your friends were sprawled out on the floor, passed out in various states of exhaustion after a long night of laughter, junk food, and bad movies. The air was heavy with the scent of popcorn and the faint tang of sweat, but all you could focus on was the warmth of Vi’s body pressed against yours on the couch. Her arm was slung casually over your shoulders, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. Her touch was electric, sending little shocks of warmth through your body.

Vi’s sharp gray eyes flicked to you, a mischievous glint lighting them up. Her magenta hair was slightly tousled, the shaved side catching the faint light, and her piercings glinted as she tilted her head. “You’re awfully quiet,” she murmured, her voice low and rough, carrying that signature edge of hers. Her breath was warm against your ear, and you could feel the faint brush of her pierced nostril as she leaned in closer.

You shifted slightly, your heart pounding in your chest. Vi’s muscular build was obvious even under the loose fabric of her jacket, and the way she moved—confident, deliberate—made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Just… trying not to wake anyone up,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

Vi smirked, her lips quirking up in that cocky, knowing way that always made your pulse race. “Well, that’s not very fun,” she said, her tone teasing. Her hand slid down your arm, her fingers brushing against your side in a way that made you shiver. “You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“About what?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly as her hand settled on your thigh, her touch firm but not demanding.

Vi’s eyes darkened, her gaze dropping to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your eyes again. “About how you’ve been looking at me all night,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. Her thumb began to move in slow, deliberate circles on your thigh, the pressure just enough to make your breath hitch. “And how I’ve been thinking about doing this for hours.”

You swallowed hard, your body instinctively leaning into her touch. Vi’s presence was intoxicating, her confidence and raw energy drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Her hand moved higher, her fingers brushing the hem of your shirt, and you could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric. “Vi…” you whispered, your voice shaky with both fear and desire.

“Shh,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. “We’re being quiet, remember?” Her hand slipped under your shirt, her palm warm against your stomach, and you gasped softly, your body arching slightly into her touch.

Vi’s other hand moved to your face, her fingers gently tilting your chin up so she could look into your eyes. Her thumb brushed over your lower lip, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her eyes were intense, filled with a mix of desire and something deeper, something that made your heart ache in the best way.

And then she kissed you.

It wasn’t rough or hurried—Vi’s kiss was slow, deliberate, and achingly tender. Her lips moved against yours with a gentleness that took your breath away, her tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you opened for her. The taste of her was intoxicating, a mix of mint and something uniquely Vi that made your head spin. Her hand slid up your back, pressing you closer, and you could feel the hard planes of her body against yours, the faint press of her piercings against your skin.

Vi broke the kiss slowly, her breath warm against your lips as she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach clench. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” she whispered, her voice rough with desire. Her fingers traced patterns on your back, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Vi…” you whispered, your voice trembling as your hands moved to her waist, gripping the fabric of her jacket. “We shouldn’t… they’re right there…”

“They’re asleep,” Vi murmured, her lips brushing against your neck as she spoke. Her teeth grazed your skin lightly, just enough to make you gasp. “And I’m not stopping unless you tell me to.”

You didn’t tell her to stop.

Vi’s hand slid down your back, her fingers dipping under the waistband of your pants, and your breath hitched as she cupped your ass, pulling you closer. Her other hand moved to your chest, her fingers brushing over your breast through the fabric of your shirt, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Vi’s touch was electric, every movement deliberate and calculated, and you could feel the heat building in your core with every second.

Her lips moved to your ear, her breath warm against your skin as she whispered, “I want to make you feel good. Let me… please.” There was a vulnerability in her voice, a softness that caught you off guard, and it was that—more than anything—that made you nod, your grip on her jacket tightening.

Vi’s fingers moved to the button of your pants, her hands trembling slightly as she undid it. The sound of the zipper was impossibly loud in the quiet room, and you held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as she slid her hand inside. Her fingers brushed against your underwear, and you gasped softly, your body arching into her touch.

“So wet already,” Vi murmured, her voice thick with desire. Her fingers slipped under the fabric, brushing against your folds, and you bit down on your lip to keep from moaning. Her touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid of hurting you, and the thought made your chest ache.

Vi’s fingers explored you slowly, her touch light and teasing as she traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Her lips found yours again, her kiss soft and reassuring, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away. Her fingers dipped lower, brushing against your clit, and you gasped into her mouth, your hips bucking slightly.

“Shh,” Vi whispered, her lips moving against yours. Her fingers circled your clit, the pressure just enough to make you shudder, and you buried your face in her neck, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” she murmured, her voice rough with emotion. “I want to make you feel good… let me take care of you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded, your hands gripping her jacket as her fingers moved lower, dipping inside you. The feeling was overwhelming, the slow, deliberate movements of her fingers sending waves of pleasure through your body. Vi’s lips moved to your neck, her teeth grazing your skin lightly as she whispered, “That’s it… let go for me.”

Her fingers curled inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that made your vision blur, and you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out. Vi’s pace was slow, her movements careful and deliberate, and you could feel the tension building in your core with every stroke. Her thumb brushed against your clit, the added pressure making your hips buck, and you buried your face in her neck, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

“Vi…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you clung to her. “I… I’m…”

“I know,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. Her fingers moved faster, the pressure increasing slightly, and you could feel the heat building in your core, threatening to overwhelm you. “Come for me, baby… let go.”

and you did.

[tonycries]

Lemme Ride, Baby!

Synopsis. Riding your cocky boyfriend to insanity is not a want, but a need. Especially when he sits there so deliciously arrogant - you just have to break him.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, cowgirl, slight switch! boys, established relationship, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, swearing.

Word count. 1.3k 

A/N. Had this in my drafts for so long.

He sits across from you on the bed. Long legs spread, eyes half-lidded, and kiss-bitten lips turned into an aggravating smirk that makes your dripping cunt clench. 

“Good luck lasting more than five seconds, pretty girl.” he drawled lazily, oozing pure cockiness.

So that’s how he’s gonna play, huh?

“Let’s see if you can live up to your own hype, darling.”

“Mhm, I won’t be the one begging for mercy.”

Ah, for the life of him he should’ve known. Should’ve gotten an inkling at the way you sauntered over to him in nothing but a predatory grin. Should’ve begged for mercy at that carnal gleam in your eyes that made blood rush straight to his traitorously hard cock. You wanted to eat him alive. 

And he was going to eat his words.

At first, your cocky boyfriend pretended to be unfazed, laying back leisurely on his forearms. But you saw the way his eyes flickered with nervousness when you grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and slammed him onto the mattress. You felt the way his already-throbbing erection twitched so animalistically as you urgently swung a leg over his hips. You knew you had him wrapped around your little finger. 

“Let’s hope you can last as long as you talk.”

Bullying his achingly hard cock into your snug cunt, sinking down agonizingly slowly. Relishing the way his eyes roll back in sheer ecstasy as your plushy walls suck him up so desperately. “Fuck, yes. You feel s’amazing wrapped around me. Sure you can handle it all?” 

You waste no time. 

Abruptly slamming down on his leaking cock. “Ah- Hah-” Your boyfriend’s surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth at a punishing pace. 

Pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole. Slick dripping on his length, slamming down down down - his glistening veins massaging that one spot just right. Over and over. Harder. Faster. 

The sinful squelches of your cunt filling the heady air of your bedroom. Driving him to insanity.

“Oh, god yes- jus’ like that ah fuck fuck fuck…” his low groans come in ragged bursts, cock twitching wildly. A large hand shoots up to clutch your bouncing breasts, tweaking your hardened nipples, the other having a white-knuckled grip on the sheets.

“Give up ye- ah! Hngh, you little fucker-” a moan escapes your lips as he bucks his hips defiantly, chasing his high. Thick tip kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

Your hungry eyes bore into his blown-out ones, a defiant glint in them as he still tries to maintain his cool façade. Biting his bottom lip, brows furrowed in heavy concentration as he fights to hold back cumming. 

Stubborn bastard.

Several things happen at once.

Your hand shoots out to grip his exposed neck, nails digging into his skin, hard. Almost as hard as you ram down on his cock, sheathing him till his twitching balls smack your ass. Wasting no time once he’s bottomed out. Harsh, purposeful movements just to fuck his soul out. 

His pretty lips fall into soft oh. Fucked out, gurgled moans leaving his lips around the hand at his throat. “Oh! Ah! Shit, tha’s right. Take every inch.” And if he thought he was going to pass out before then- 

He couldn’t even finish the thought, brain stuck on the way you clamp down so obscenely around him, milking him greedily. Biceps curling, a hand reaches above him to hold onto the headboard - and maybe his sanity.

“Give up yet?” You grind down mercilessly, walls hugging his throbbing erection impossibly tight. Clit rubbing against his toned pelvis. Back and forth and back and forth and- Sloppy, it was so sloppy.

Slick gushing out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “God, fuck- hah. That all you got, pretty girl?.” 

Thighs burning, you alternate between torturously slow strokes and frantic bouncing that left you both restless. Hypnotizing rhythm him slowly towards the edge, only to reel him back again. 

He will eat his words. 

You lose track of time. Maybe it’s been hours - maybe even just a few minutes. 

Pulling and pushing. Over and over. 

“Ah- Hngh-.” Eyes barely keeping open, torn between the fucking obscene view of your dripping pussy swallowing his cock so greedily and the lustful, power-drunk expression on your face. “Wanna- wanna cum, pretty girl.”

“Then beg for it.”

“No.”

Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead. You watch, cunt fluttering at the fucked-out little smile curling his lips, and the carnal way his neck was leaning into the tight grasp you had around it. 

You lean forward, a cruel smile playing on your lips, “Beg for it.” you repeat, voice sultry and dangerous.

He shakes his head desperately, tears peeking out from where his eyes were scrunched closed. “No.” he whispers, jaw clenched tight.

You press impossibly closer, breasts hot against his sculpted chest, sticky with sweat. Not stopping your maddening rhythm, your breath is hot against his ear, “Beg for it, and I’ll let you cum harder than you ever have before.”

He throws his head back, toes curling into the mattress, and thighs quivering at the way you were using him like nothing more than a toy.

“Please.” he finally breathes, words barely audible over the sloppy slapping of skin on skin.

“Louder.” 

“Please, let me cum, pretty girl.” he groans, leaning into the mockingly innocent peck you leave on the tip of his nose.

You reward him, slamming down on his throbbing cock with renewed vigor. Finally giving into the way you were drunk off his cock just as much as he was off your pussy. A hand reaching behind you to massage his balls, feeling the weight on your palm. Tugging on them in a way that has his breath hitching and dick twitching so desperately inside you. Aching for release.

“God, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He lets out a guttural moan, thrusting up into you in short, frantic jabs to match your unforgiving cadence. His leaking tip hitting that perfect angle to send sparks flying behind your eyelids. 

And you let him, chasing your high as much as his, eyes locked on his greedy gaze.

How long has it even been? All he knows is that fuck if heaven was real then he was there right now, looking at a goddess herself. Ah, close. So close. His thrusts grow jerkier, cock pulsing inside you. 

“Cum for me, darling. Fill me up till you’re leaking out of me.”

A sharp whimper of your name and he’s spilling into you. His body bows into yours, thick, hot ropes of his cum that fill your snug cunt. Painting your walls white to match the pleasure that runs down his spine - all the way to his leaking cock. It gushes inside of you, trailing down his sensitive cock to form a creamy ring at his base. 

Stars behind his eyes, teeth gritted. He’s heard of orgasms so powerful they take control of one’s body, and right now fuck if this isn’t that then he didn’t know what was. 

Nails digging into your hips - keeping you still as he pounds into you, fucking his seed deeper and deeper. Cock throbbing around your quivering walls - overstimulated as you cum around the feeling of him filling you up. Vision blurring, blood roaring in your ears as everything crashes together like a tidal wave. 

Before you know it, you’re collapsing onto his heated chest. Limbs tangled and breaths mingling as you both try to catch your breaths. 

You can feel his cum leaking out of you, thick and sticky. Pooling between your legs. Stomach feeling so full of him.

“Looks like you talked a lot more shit than you could handle, darling.” you grin, still breathless. 

Oh. You shouldn’t have said that. 

It was like a flip switched.

Seizing your moment of weakness, rolling over in the blink of an eye. You sink into the now-soaked mattress as his large hands hold a bruising grip on your wrists, pinning them right above your head. 

He loomed menacingly over you, low whisper hot against your ear and sending shivers down your spine. 

“My turn, pretty girl.”

- GOJO, Choso, OIKAWA, Kuroo, Suna, Tsukishima, ATSUMU, EREN

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[4unnyr0se]

Could I ask for Akaashi, Osamu, Kenma, and Bokuto + them giving oral?

❥ til your teeth rot! | akaashi, osamu, kenma, bokuto

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader, cunnilingus (duh), praise, degrading, overstimulation, face sitting, semi-public sex, osamu's accent, kenma is v lazy, fingering

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.8k

a/n: i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so i'm sorry if its awful

got a request? my ask are open!

❥ Keiji Akaashi | Slow and steady

Akaashi eats your pussy like it’s made of glass like it could break at any moment. Every flick of his tongue, every sucking motion on your clit is calculated based on your previous reaction. Did you mewl louder when he harshly sucked on your sensitive bud? He’ll apply more pressure next time, hopefully earning another one of your adorable moans. 

Just because he was calculated to give pleasure does not mean he was inexperienced or selfish. Absolutely not. He could never dream of denying you anything you so plainly desired. All you had to was flash him those beautiful, sparking eyes of yours, and you would be on your back, legs spread, and moaning like an amateur pornstar while Akaashi made you cum for the second time that day.

He never rushes you through your orgasm, he doesn’t think that being intimate with you is some kind of game. It’s a puzzle that he simply wants to solve. His tongue is achingly slow against your folds, making the most precious moments between the two of you last longer. He is savoring each bit of your sweet nectar, and he fucking loves it. 

K-Keiji!” you sobbed, your hands flying to his neat mess of dark curls, desperate for purchase. Your legs were wrapped around his shoulders, just in case he would try to flee. Akaashi fucking loved it when you trapped him between your legs, it made him feel like the two of you were the last people on earth. “Gonna cum!”

Akaashi smiled against your folds, his tongue pausing momentarily. “I know, pretty girl. Wanna fall apart on my tongue again? I love it when you do that.” he praised, diving back to make out with your core. His tongue slipped past your entrance, the tip of the wet muscle gliding in and out with ease. His soft hands squeezed the inside of your thighs, rolling the supple and soft flesh between his fingers. 

Your head was rested on the pillow beneath you, hair growing knotted and messy whilst your thighs trembled in Akaashi’s grasp. His nose rubbed against your clit so deliciously, the additional stimulation pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you as you cried in pleasure, his name leaving your lips over and over again. Akaashi purred at the sensation of your release coating his mouth and tongue, pulling away once your high had subsided.

“Amazing job, pretty girl. You did so well for me.” he praised, wiping your slick from his chin. He leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips, lingering just long enough for you to taste your own release. “See how delicious you are, darling? So unbelievably perfect for me.”

❥ Osamu Miya | No time to lose

Osamu eats your pussy like he has somewhere to be at all times like he’s in a hurry. Being the owner of a popular rice ball spot keeps him occupied most of the time (as well as dealing with his pain-in-the-ass older brother), so when he finds a free moment to be intimate with you, he makes sure he makes himself efficient. 

Even though Osamu is the more relaxed and lazy twin, he’s never lazy in the bedroom. His usually tired and ‘over this’ attitude would melt away the second you two shared a longing kiss, his body being taken over by some kind of insatiable desire. He’s driven by his motivation to make you scream his name for the shop next to him to hear. His tongue lashes at your pussy like a man starving in the middle of a desert. 

If there’s a rare lull in customers entering and exiting his onigiri shop, he’ll change the ‘open’ sign to a ‘come back later’ sign and text you to be in the back of his shop ASAP. And, of course, you’re there in less than ten minutes, your skirt flipped up and your hands supporting your weight on the steel countertop as his tongue ravishes your cunt, drinking in your slick like honey.

“Stay fuckin’ still,” Osamu groaned into your heat, slapping the inside of your thighs. “I can’t make ya cum if yer wigglin’, sweets.” that was a lie. He was a liar. He could make you cum regardless of how much you were moving, he didn’t matter to him. But if you writhed around so much that it caused some ingredients to fall onto the floor, then it became a problem. 

“S-sorry ‘Samu! Fuck!” you moaned, your hands gripping onto the steel material of the counter for dear life as his tongue hungrily, your sweet nectar coating his tongue beautifully. It was the best alcohol he could ever wish to taste. “M’close!”

“Ya better fuckin’ be. I only got five minutes before those fuckers wonder why the shop ain’t open,” his words sent vibrations through your core, your clit painfully pulsating. The rough pad of this thumb swirled around the sensitive bud, pressing against it harshly. “Be a good girl and fuckin’ cum already, yeah? Gotta open up soon, sweets.”

Osamu finally flattened his tongue in the way that drove you over the edge, still swirling your bud with his rough thumb. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned, lapping up your release eagerly. “Taste so fuckin’ good for me.”

He pulled himself out from between your thighs, wiping off his chin with the backside of his hand. Osamu stood up and pecked the top of your head, playfully slapping your soaked cunt. “Get outta here, I got customers to serve.” he also had to sanitize his countertop hard. 

❥ Kenma Kozume | Suffocate him

Kenma will only eat you out if you sit on his face. Not hover, not dangle, fucking sit on it. Despite being a CEO and a popular streamer, this man is lazy as hell. Typically, you do all the work during sex. Bouncing on his cock, sucking him off, etc. But on the rare occasion Kenma wants to eat you out, you still have to pull a heavy load. He is not getting up off his ass by any means, so you might as well cooperate with him. He’s stubborn as a fucking mule.

Kenma was a selfish lover, and he didn’t want to change that. He liked being taken care of and not putting much effort into it. He’s already so successful. Why should he do more work than he already is? That’s so exhausting. But how could he refuse when his pretty girlfriend practically paws at him to help get her off? He’s lying on the bed in a minute, gesturing to you to tear off those pretty red panties and take away his ability to breathe.

“Ride my fucking face,” Kenma groans into your core, squeezing your ass with hands as your hips buck into his mouth wildly. He loved it when you got like this, so desperate and needy for his tongue. His tongue plunged into your sobbing cunt over and over again, eliciting the cutest moans from your pretty lips.

“Fuck, Kenma!” you whimpered, your hands grasping the mahogany headboard like it was the last lifeboat on board. Your ground your clit onto his nose, mewling pathetically as his tongue lashed at your most intimate parts. Kenma savored your sweet honey, adoring how it nicely coated his tongue. Maybe he should make you fit on his face more often. 

His deep brown hair stuck to his forehead, the skin slick with sweat as the tip of his tongue traced meaningless shapes on your clit, occasionally nibbling at the sensitive bud. He knew you were close. The way your entire body was shaking was a dead fucking giveaway. That, and his name practically being screamed repeatedly, was also a good sign. “Gonna cum? Do it, princess. Make a mess on me.”

And you did, your orgasm spilling all over your boyfriend’s cute face. Your writing stopped, with Kenma slapped your ass, indicating that you should get off. You sighed and chose to straddle his lap, pecking his nose gently. “Thank you, baby, that was amazing.”

“Did you think we were finished?” Kenma groaned, resting his arms behind his head. “You got me really fucking hard, princess. How about you take care of that for me, yeah?”

❥ Kotaro Bokuto | Pure addiction

Boktuo fucking loves eating you out. Whenever you mentioned that you were horny, he would drag you into his bed and plunge his face into your thighs until he got you to coat your inner thighs with your release. He could never get enough of you and how good you tasted. How you would only crave his tongue and his fingers on your most imitate parts. 

He didn’t fucking care when or where you were horny, he was more than happy to make you scream in pleasure. Whispering to him in a cafe? He locked the bathroom and had you sitting on the sick, your dress bunched up at your hips, and your stockings ripped so your soaking cunt could be displayed just for him. Woke up at two in the morning from a wet dream? No problem, he had you riding his face while he jerked his fat cock to the sounds you made. Did you also wanna suck him off? No problem, baby! You were sixty-nining until the rooster screeched. Truly, Bokuto was addicted to eating you out. 

“Why are you covering your mouth, baby? I wanna hear your moans,” Bokuto groaned into your cunt, eagerly lapping up your slick like a man gone mad. Your trembling body was pinned against the bathroom door of your favorite restaurant, your skirt pushed upwards, and your soaked panties dangled off your ankles while Bokuto whispered pure filth into your cunt. “Don't you wanna let all those people out there know how good my tongue can make you feel?”

“Ngh, we’ll get in trouble, Kotaro!” you whispered, doing your best to keep your voice at an acceptable level while your boyfriend spelled his name with your tongue, eliciting a sharp squeak in return. “F-fuck, don’t stop!”

“Yeah? You wanna cum on my face in a public bathroom, hm? God, you’re so fucking hot. How’d I get so lucky?” he purred against your clit, swirling the tip of his tongue over the throbbing bud. “You taste so fucking good, holy shit. Way better than lunch.”

His index and ring finger bullied their way inside of you, curling at the spot that made you instantly cum all over his face. He didn’t stop sucking on your folds when your orgasm hit, his fingers still scissoring deep inside of your broken cunt. Your hand slapped over your mouth, covering out your molten cries of ecstasy.

“Good fucking girl, I’m so proud of you.” Bokuto praised, licking off his tongue as he stared at your ruined state. He pulled your panties up and your dress down, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Now, do you wanna go back home and cum again, hm?

[purifiedclitoris69]

Statements

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Shield agent!reader

Summary: Assumptions are made about the relationship you have with Natasha, so you took it upon yourself to make a statement :)

Your relationship with Natasha is built on years of trust, mutual respect, and an unspoken understanding that comes from living in the shadows of espionage. You met when she first joined SHIELD, and while she was still finding her footing within the organization, you were already established as a specialist sniper—someone who worked alone, took the impossible shots, and disappeared before anyone even knew you were there.

At first, your relationship was purely professional. You recognized each other as dangerous and highly capable, but there was always a quiet pull between you. Over time, through shared missions, late-night debriefs, and the rare moments of quiet in a world full of chaos, that pull became something more. It wasn’t dramatic or rushed—it was a slow burn, a natural evolution of two people who understood each other better than most and yearned to show one another a genuine love.

Now, after almost 3 years together, your bond is unshakable. While the Avengers see you around the compound, they don’t truly know the depth of what you and Natasha have. They assume your relationship is casual, just a convenience in a life full of uncertainty. But in reality, Natasha loves you fiercely, and you love her just as much. You’re her safe place, the person she trusts with the parts of herself she doesn’t show anyone else. When the world feels too heavy, she turns to you—not for protection, because she doesn’t need it, but for the rare comfort of knowing she’s not alone.

You don’t need grand gestures or constant declarations. Your love is in the quiet moments—the way she always finds her way to you after a mission, the way you instinctively reach for her hand under the table, the way she relaxes against you when no one is watching. To the outside world, you might just be another agent who occasionally lingers at the compound. But to Natasha, you’re home.

—————————-———

Wanda was the first to recognize the depth of your relationship.

It was early—early enough that most of the team was still asleep or barely functioning. The compound was quiet, save for the soft hum of the coffee machine in the kitchen. You stood by the counter, leaning against it, eyes still heavy with sleep as you waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

Natasha, still in her sleep shorts and one of your old SHIELD t-shirts, wandered in with a yawn, her hair slightly tousled from sleep. She didn’t say anything as she approached—you felt her presence before you saw her. Without hesitation, she walked straight into your space, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face into your chest.

"Mm. Too early," she mumbled against you.

You huffed a quiet laugh, your hand instinctively coming up to rub slow, soothing circles on her back. "You say that every morning, but you’re always up before me."

She hummed but didn’t respond, just tightening her grip around you as if she could steal some of your warmth. You didn’t mind. In fact, moments like this were your favorite—the ones where she let her guard down, where she wasn’t the Black Widow or an Avenger, just Natasha, just yours.

Neither of you noticed Wanda standing by the doorway, frozen mid-step. She had come in for coffee but stopped in her tracks at the sight of Natasha—fierce, guarded Natasha—melted completely against you.

Wanda had always assumed your relationship was casual. Everyone had. You weren’t around often, and Natasha never entertained deep conversations about her personal life. But standing there, watching the way she clung to you, the way your hand moved over her back with the kind of practiced ease that spoke of years of familiarity, Wanda realized they had all been wrong.

This wasn’t casual. This was love—deep, unwavering, and so achingly real.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but eventually, Natasha stirred, tilting her head up to look at you. "Coffee ready?"

"Almost," you murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so natural, that Wanda almost felt like she was intruding.

Before Natasha could move away, you leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. "Go sit. I’ll bring you a cup."

Natasha didn’t argue, just gave you a sleepy, content smile before releasing you and making her way to the kitchen table.

Wanda finally decided to make her presence known, clearing her throat as she stepped fully into the kitchen. "Morning," she greeted, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips as she grabbed a mug and you unpromptedly filled it for her greeting her with a kind smile and filling Nat’s next, starting another pot for anyone else who might want it.

Natasha, already seated, just raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Wanda glanced between the two of you, then just shook her head, her smirk widening. "Nothing. Just... you two are cute," she blew on her coffee.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. Meanwhile, you simply handed Natasha her coffee before grabbing your own along with d the morning crossword, completely unfazed.

Wanda took a sip of her drink, still smiling to herself. Maybe the rest of the team had been blind to it, but now she knew the truth—Natasha Romanoff was hopelessly, completely in love.

—————————-———

The next person was Steve. You had gone on another lengthy mission; it had kept you away for weeks longer than either of you liked. You had kept in touch when you could, brief calls and cryptic messages, but it wasn’t the same. And now, finally, you were back.

Steve wasn’t looking for either of you when he entered the common room. He had just been passing through, planning to grab something from the kitchen before heading to the gym. But as soon as he stepped in, he stopped in his tracks.

The lights were dim, the soft crackle of the old record player filling the space. An oldie—something slow, something familiar. And in the center of the room, barely swaying to the rhythm, was you and Natasha.

She was pressed against you, arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders, her fingers idly playing with the hairs at the back of your neck. Your hands rested on her waist, holding her close as if you needed to feel her warmth to believe this moment had finally come after weeks of waiting.

Neither of you spoke. There was no need. The way Natasha clung to you, the way you held her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, it said everything.

Steve had never seen her like this. Sure, he had seen her care about people, had seen her protect and fight for those she loved. But this? This was different. This was Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, completely at peace. Safe. Home.

He felt like he was intruding on something sacred, so he took a quiet step back, turning to leave—only to nearly bump into Bucky.

“what’s with the face?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at the look on Steve’s face.

Steve exhaled, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. “Nothing, just—” He glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at Bucky. “You and Sam better stop checking Nat out so much.”

Bucky scoffed. “What? We don’t—”

Steve gave him a knowing look.

Bucky shifted. “Alright, maybe Sam does. I just—y’know, appreciate a good—”

Steve cut him off. “Don’t.”

Bucky smirked. “Okay, but why the sudden warning?”

Steve shook his head again, that small smile still lingering. “Because they’re in love. Like, really in love.”

Bucky frowned. “I mean, yeah, I figured they were serious, but—”

“No,” Steve interrupted. “Not just serious. Not just together. In love.”

Bucky studied him for a second, something unreadable passing over his expression before he nodded. “Alright,” he said simply.

Steve gave him a final glance before clapping him on the shoulder and walking off, leaving Bucky standing there, a little quieter than usual.

Because if what Steve was saying was true, then it wasn’t just Natasha they had underestimated. It was you.

—————————-———

The true statement was made in the compound gym.

The gym was alive with movement—punching bags swinging, the clatter of weights, and the rhythmic sound of fists meeting training dummies. You had just finished some shooting drills when you decided to swing by, knowing exactly where Natasha would be.

Sure enough, there she was, moving like a force of nature. Every strike was precise, every kick sharp. She was a sight to behold—dangerous, powerful, and effortlessly graceful.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought so.

You noticed Sam and Bucky standing off to the side, arms crossed, observing her with a little too much focus. Eyes tracked her every movement, and while you weren’t necessarily the jealous type, and were well aware how gorgeous Natasha is; people couldn't help but be enamoured by her, however weren’t about to let this slide.

You strolled up beside them, tilting your head. "Enjoying the view?"

Bucky, to his credit, immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, don’t look at me. I was admiring the technique, alright?" He nodded toward Natasha. "She’s one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen."

You eyed him for a second before nodding, accepting the explanation. Bucky was a lot of things, but he wasn’t dumb enough to cross that line.

Sam, however—

"Look, I’m just saying," Sam started, his eyes still trailing Natasha as she wiped sweat off her forehead. "It’s not my fault she moves like that. That’s a distraction."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Sam glanced at you, then seemed to realize way too late that he had just said that to the one person who could make him regret it. "Uh—"

"You know what?" You rolled your shoulders, tossing your towel aside. "I feel like I haven’t sparred in a while. What do you say, Wilson? A little one-on-one?"

Sam hesitated, looking between you and Bucky, who just took a step back, clearly enjoying the fact that he wasn’t involved.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "I mean, no offense, but I’ve got wings, I’ve fought aliens—"

"You’re standing here watching my girlfriend train. I just want to see how you train too." you cut in, smirking.

The room went silent for half a beat before Bucky let out a low chuckle. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

Clint grinned, nudging Wanda. "Five bucks says Sam regrets this immediately."

Natasha, who had been too focused on training to notice the exchange earlier, finally turned toward the group, eyebrow raised. "What’s going on?"

Wanda smirked. "Your sniper just challenged Sam to a sparring match because he got caught staring at you."

Natasha let out a small laugh, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she walked closer. "Oh, I have to see this."

Sam exhaled, shaking his head. "Y’all are ridiculous. But fine. Let’s do this."

You stepped onto the mat, rolling your shoulders as Sam joined you. He gave a cocky smirk. "You sure you wanna do this? I am pretty fast, you know."

You just smirked back. "We’ll see."

Steve, ever the responsible one, clapped his hands. "Alright, keep it clean."

The second Steve gave the go-ahead, you moved—fast.

Sam barely had time to react before you were already in his space, effortlessly dodging his first strike. You didn’t just block—you controlled. Every punch he threw was sidestepped. Every kick, redirected. You weren’t just fighting Sam. You were toying with him.

The smirk on his face started fading as frustration crept in. "Damn," he muttered, throwing another punch. You caught his wrist, twisting him off-balance before sweeping his legs out from under him.

Sam hit the mat with a grunt.

From the sidelines, Bucky let out a whistle. "That looked like it hurt."

Clint was grinning beside Nat.

Wanda shook her head in amusement. "He walked right into that one."

Sam groaned but pushed himself back up. "Alright, alright—lucky shot."

You didn’t respond. You just motioned for him to try again.

This time, he put more effort into his attacks, but it didn’t make a difference. Every move he made, you were already three steps ahead. You parried, countered, redirected—all with ease.

After a few more humiliating takedowns, Sam finally dropped to the mat, breathing hard, lying flat on his back. "Damn. Alright. Message received."

You crouched down beside him, grinning. "Good. Maybe next time, you’ll keep your eyes to yourself playboy"

Sam exhaled, closing his eyes. "Noted."

You stood up, offering him a hand. He took it, groaning as he got to his feet. "You really don’t like people looking at her, huh?"

You shrugged, "I know she can handle herself, I just felt like making a statement today," you smiled stepping off the mat and walking to Nat

"Possessive looks good on you," Natasha said with her signature smirk

Without a second thought, you grabbed her by the waist and kissed her—really kissed her—right in front of everyone. It was slow, deep, and left no room for doubt. Natasha, normally composed, melted into you, gripping your bicep to steady herself.

When you pulled back, she was a little breathless, a rare blush dusting her cheeks.

You smirked. "See you at dinner, love."

And with that, you walked off, leaving Natasha still catching her breath.

Clint let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Wanda smirked. "That was a statement,” Natasha throwing a towel at her, mumbling out a whatever and heading to the lockers

Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder. "So, you still gonna stare?"

Sam rolled his eyes taking a tired seat on the bench "I hate you all."

[leashybebes]

Hi! Love your work so much! I have a very vague prompt and it’s just Tommy being emotionally vulnerable with Buck. Idc what about I just need this man in tears please and thanks.

well this got longer than intended! i've skimmed over it but basically banged it out in fifteen minutes bc turns out i also need this man in tears

When the bubble pops six weeks after Tommy walked out of the loft, it's not at all what Buck was expecting. He'd hoped for an 'I'm sorry', an 'I was wrong', an 'I want you back'. In bitter moments, he'd even hoped for Tommy to say something really dickish so Buck could just hate him and get on with his life. Hell, even a random string of letters that Buck could interpret as an accident or an attempt to open the lines of communication depending on his mood.

What he gets is:

I've been going to therapy

Finally, right?

I hate it

And then radio silence for the better part of an hour. Buck is about to tear his hair out. He drafts and doesn't send half a dozen responses. The loft smells of chocolate cake by the time the next message comes through.

Sorry, call.

Tell me to get lost, it's fine. But I was wondering if we could talk. I owe you an explanation.

Buck reads it twice, takes the cake out of the oven to cool. Scrolls back up to read the messages from the start. Later, once the cake is filled with sharp redcurrant jelly and covered in a perhaps overly generous layer of toffee buttercream, he picks up his phone again.

I owe you an explanation is glaring at him.

Yeah you do, he sends back. Come over when your shift is done.

The reply is almost instant:

Thank you. 2 hrs.

Two hours suddenly feels like both not enough time to prepare, and far too much time to tie himself up in knots. He deep cleans the kitchen, makes a shopping list, checks in with Maddie. He doesn't mention that he's going to see Tommy.

Somehow, two hours pass in the blink of an eye and Buck realizes - he has no idea what he's going to say. He's spent the last month and a half trying with everything in him not to call Tommy, and he's just now realizing he has no idea what he would have said if he'd given into the urge. Maybe he just wanted to hear the guy's voice, and now he's about to, and he has no idea what to do with himself.

The knock at the door makes him jolt, and that's it, there's no more time to think. His first thought when he opens the door is that it's not fair that Tommy looks so good. He has no business looking so good. His hair is freshly trimmed, those greys at his temple that admittedly send Buck a little feral sparkling in the low light of the hall, his favorite blue Henley soft and stretched across the bulk of his chest, his eyes - Buck's whole train of thought derails because he looks again and Tommy looks - scared. Sad. Like he's holding back from flinching by the skin of his teeth.

"Hey, Tommy."

"Hi, Evan."

Evan, he notes. Steps back. Waves Tommy inside. Tries not to notice the way Tommy's face crumples a little as he steps over the threshold.

"Never thought I'd be here again," he says.

"Me either," Buck admits. "Well, after the first couple weeks when I - " When I sat around and waited for you to come back and tell me you made a mistake. He bites his tongue. Much as he wants to be real bitchy about this, Tommy looks like he is on the edge, and nothing in Buck wants to make that worse.

"You want a coffee?"

"Uh. Sure," Tommy says, and it gives Buck the opportunity to turn his back, to breathe. He's achingly aware of Tommy behind him, of the gravity of his presence, the sound of his breathing (a little shaky), the slight creak as he takes a seat. Buck still has the stupid almond milk and the stupid syrup Tommy likes in his stupid candy flavored coffee, has been buying the former on reflex and can't bring himself to use the latter and taste Tommy's kisses without the man himself. He makes the coffee, even cuts Tommy a slice of cake, and dumps them both in front of him.

Tommy blinks down at the cake, up at Buck. "You made that?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "Been getting real into baking since - well, since."

"Oh." Tommy chews on his lip, looks away again.

"Every time I wanna call you, I bake," Buck admits, the words falling into the silence between them with more weight than they deserve given how ridiculous they are, really.

Tommy glances up at him. "Yeah?"

Buck swivels, pulls open the door to his fridge which is still groaning under the weight of saran wrapped loaves and cakes and tupperwares full of cookies.

"That's - that's a lot."

Buck shrugs. "Yeah, well."

The silence is painful. Awkward in a way they've never really been with each other. Buck throws himself down onto the stool opposite Tommy, tries not to think about how this is exactly where they were sitting when - when. From the look on his face, the way Tommy can't meet his eyes, he's thinking the exact same thing. This is - it's the worst, Buck thinks miserably.

"So, therapy, huh?" he blurts out.

Tommy nods, takes a deep breath. "After I left that night, I - I drove to the movie theater."

Buck blinks. That is…not what he was expecting. "Uh…"

"Bought a ticket and everything. Realized on my way in that that's - that's not normal. Nothing I did that night was normal. You - you made me so happy, and I blew that up the second it sounded like maybe you wanted something long-term. That - that's not normal. The way I think about - about relationships, about love, about myself. It's not normal."

Buck feels like he's holding his breath.

"So I went home. Drank a couple of beers. Psyched myself up. Booked an appointment for the next day."

"That's…" Buck doesn't know what to say. "That's quick."

"Yeah. I don't - " Tommy looks away. Buck can't see it, but he can tell that he's bouncing his leg anxiously. "I wanna stop being a fucking - a wrecking ball. I wanna stop hurting people, stop hurting myself, but it feels like it's all I do."

Buck can't bite his tongue quick enough. "You make choices, Tommy."

Tommy nods and shrinks in on himself. "I know that. I do. It doesn't feel like it, but I do. I get scared and I make the worse choice every time because it's easier than being brave, and I tell myself it's the only choice but - it's not. I know that. I do know that. I'm - I'm so fucked up, Evan."

His eyes are swimming with tears and Buck knows he's no better. Everything in him is screaming at him to reach out, but he clenches his hands together under the table to stop himself. This is - this is maybe the most real Tommy's ever been with him, maybe the most real he's seen Tommy be with himself, and Buck doesn't want to interrupt it, even as every part of him wants to gather Tommy up to him and soothe him and promise him everything's okay. Everything's so far from okay. He watches Tommy take a few deep breaths, recognises the pattern and the count from his own therapy sessions.

"My - my dad - you know, he's an asshole. But he wasn't always. He and my mom - they were so in love. I mean, stars in their eyes, to the exclusion of everything and everyone else, they adored each other. Even before she died, I didn't - there wasn't space for me in there. And after - I guess I remind him of what he lost. They loved each other, and it hurt me. Abby loved me, and I hurt her. I loved N - Nick, and he h - hurt me. I - "

Tommy clears his throat wetly and looks away while Buck thinks who the fuck is Nick and how do I break his kneecaps?

"You what, Tommy?" he asks instead, and it comes out gently.

"I love you," Tommy says, and Buck pretends he isn't paying attention to the tense, pretends his heart isn't rabbiting inside his chest. "I love you, and I hurt us both and I'm - I'm poison, Evan, I'm nothing but sharp edges but I swear I'm trying not to be and I know it's too late but I'm so - I'm so sorry, I'm so - "

He's fully crying now, trying to hide his face in his hands and Buck can't hold back anymore, closes the space between them and gets his arms around the bulk of Tommy's shoulders where they're shaking.

"Don't," Tommy begs, his whole body tightening, so tense Buck's worried something is going to snap. "Don't - d - don't - I don't deserve - "

"Shh," Buck says, pressing his face into Tommy's hair and stopping himself from making it a kiss at the last second. "I don't care what you think you deserve, just let me hold you, okay? Just let me."

Tommy cries harder, soaking Buck's shirt, and Buck doesn't know how long it goes on for but suddenly Tommy's holding him too, clinging in a way he never has before, in a way that feels desperate and fierce and heartbroken.

"It's okay," Buck promises in spite of himself. He strokes his fingers over the short cropped hairs on the nape of Tommy's neck. "I've got you, it's okay. Just try to breathe, baby, you're gonna make yourself sick."

Baby slips out without any intention on his part, but Tommy doesn't seem to notice, just heaves in a hitching, gulping breath, then another, and another. He shifts in Buck's arms, pulling away and Buck lets him. He doesn't retreat to his own seat though, doesn't feel right to put any distance between them while Tommy presses the heels of his hands into his eyes like he can force the tears back inside.

"I'm sorry," he says, when he's a little calmer. "I've got no right - "

"Stop, okay. Just - stop being so horrible to yourself."

Tommy nods. "Yeah. Working on that. I know - I know it's too late, and I swear I didn't come here with the intention of - of crying all over you and making you feel bad for me. I just - I wanted you to know that I'm sorry, and I know that I fucked up real bad. I know - like I said, I know it's too little, too late, but I want you to know I'm working on - on being better."

Buck chews on the inside of his lip clearly for a second too long because Tommy gives a sharp little nod.

"That's all I wanted to say," he says, pushing back from the table and starting to stand. "I'll get out of your - "

"Sit your ass down," Buck says, a little rougher than he intended. Tommy does as he's told, blinking rapidly and Buck pushes away from the table, paces across the kitchen and back again.

"Evan…"

"Shut up. If you keep making decisions for me, I'm gonna - I'm gonna start throwing loaves at your head."

Tommy makes a noise that's half laugh, half sob, and Buck fights back the tiny grin that's tugging at his mouth.

"You - you really think you're this irredeemable asshole that doesn't deserve to be happy, don't you?"

Tommy shrugs, looks away. "If the shoe fits…"

Buck whirls around, yanks open the fridge, grabs the first loaf he sees. "This is coffee and walnut. It's dense. Last warning, jackass."

Tommy's laugh is more distinct this time. "Evan. Okay. Yes, I think that. But I'm - I'm working on not."

"Okay. Okay. So - so work on it." He puts the loaf down. "Work on it, and take me on a date."

Tommy looks like he's being rebooted without warning. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"I - "

"Tell me why I can't be serious."

"Because! Because I'm - I'm a mess. I hurt you. I left."

"You came back," Buck counters. "Even if it was only to apologize."

"You deserve better."

"I want you."

"I don't - I don't know when I'll be - better than I am."

"You're better today than the day you left. You're here."

"Evan…"

"Yes or no, Tommy. Take me on a date."

"I - "

"Yes or no."

"Yes. Please, yes."

Buck exhales for what feels like the first time in weeks. "Okay. Okay. That's a start."

He puts the loaf back in the fridge, takes Tommy's coffee away to reheat it, and the whole time he can feel Tommy's eyes on him, watching him like he's something precious.