#my ankles and hips crack and pop

[john-marshall]

way long ago i was in physical and occupational therapy. they had me do wall push ups and my wrists made the loudest cracking sound and bent so that the back of my hand was almost touching my forearms. so they redesigned the activity. what the hell is wrong with me

[i-am-just-a-skeleton]

you ever just move your leg a little bit after sitting for a while and when you do something in your hip makes an Insanely loud snapping sound

[catcatb0y]

Like all of them

i've experienced popping and cracking in all of the above so i wanna know how normal this is

[tonycries]

KNOTTY GIRL!

Synopsis. Your boyfriend’s in his rút? No worries! Of course, you’re there to help.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, omégaverse AU, alpha!JJK men, RÚTS, knóts, bréeding, ínnappropriate use of jujutsu techniques, jealousy (Toji’s side), slight fóodplay (Nanami), making Sukuna BREAK, cúmplay, spítting, PÚSSYDRUNK JJK MEN, mentions of kids, true form Sukuna, dp, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Last day of k!nktober, this month was lovely and so were y’all.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Mine, doll.

Truthfully, you shouldn’t even be here - you shouldn’t have dared to step through Toji’s firmly shut door for a reason. 

Because he’d already warned you he wasn’t going to be himself once his rut hit, already musing that your cute lil’ self won’t be able to keep up with him this day. This week.

Yet, here you were - folded into such a mean mating press. 

“Toji.” you’re hiccuping when he furiously fists the thickened base of his cock, giving one, two tight squeezes before drooling out in stringy wads of cum from the reddish divot on his fat head, smearing your puffy folds in a sweltering white, white gloss. “D-don’t be such a hngh- tease-”

And he can only grin, “Shoulda thought of that before ya came up hah- begging for my cock, doll.” Tapping the hot curve of his still-hard tip in a sopping wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit. You’re watching with glassy eyes as his thick thumb smears over the milky dredges of cum. Popping it shamelessly into his mouth, “Because this pretty pussy is mine now, ma.” 

Just the thought has him wrenching out an animalistic groan. Using his inhuman strength to haul you even further down the sinfully soaked silken sheets, he throws your trembly legs over two broad, sculpted shoulders. 

You moan and Toji can’t help but snicker. Can’t help but throw his head back with a sleazy grin, “I t-told ya not to catch me like this, needy girl.” Eyes glowing, dragging that pert scar of his smugly down the side of your ankle, before plugging you full- “Now, jus’ sit back n’ let me make a pretty momma outta ya.”

He grunts once your velvety walls close in around his heavy girth, massaging down the sensitive divots of his rock-hard shaft. Shit, he was going to spend every waking minute of this week making you memorize it. 

Viciously he snaps his hips down, bulging knot kissing your swollen folds with a wet thwack! thwack! thwack!

“D-didn’t think you’d be so mean.” you’re puckering your glossed lips into a pout. Gliding your fingers across his rippling abs, it makes his hulking body just shiver, hips stuttering sloppily. 

“D-d-d-didn’t think this cunt of yours would be so slutty.” he’s mocking in his baritone rumble, big beefy arms caging you in to split you apart with every swollen inch of his massive cock. Fucking out those utterly bratty words on your tongue. 

Toji’s thick digits curl firmly around your throat, running a fat thumb down the side of your still-unmarked scent gland. He positively titters at the way you jolt, “So would ya ah- c-care to explain why my girl s’suddenly smellin’ like fuckass Shiu?”

Fuck - you’d forgotten. Being too caught up with Toji to remember how you’d run to the other alpha to understand how to help your dear boyfriend, still wafting with his smokey sweet scent.

Your inner omega whines, clawing to prove him wrong. “N-No–” The words are barely falling from your stupidly drunken mouth before your voice just hitches, strangling out the remnants of a syrupy moan that makes him twitch. “P-promise I jus’ met him to h-help-”

But oh, Toji was more animal than man right now.

A thundering growl cracks at the very back of his throat, rummaging at the very bottom of your pussy with no mercy. And no apologies, either. “Is that so?” His teeth nip on your lips, “Heheh, sure tha’s right. But when I’m done with you-” And something oozing from his tone told you that Toji didn’t mean it to be “done” for a long, long time. “-every other fucker’s gonna look at you n’ know you’re mine.”

The bed creaks riotously when he’s bucking his toned hips into you so hard that you see Toji’s creamy skin redden. 

And Toji was always massive - but in rut he couldn’t stop all the blood pumping twofold into his expansive girth, nudging past every bruised sweet spot and even more. 

“My pretty girl- fuck- even prettier full w’me-” he’s spitting wetly into your pathetically slack lips. Peppering eager kisses down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, lolling his tongue out to suck on your tits. 

His eyes were drooping shut, mouth babbling out drunken purrs of your name. “Fuck- fuck when m’gonna ngh- have these girls all swollen f’me.” One of his hands attach thoroughly at your breasts, circling his fingers over where your nipples were the most sensitive. And he’s smashing into you so rawly, sneaking his fingers all glistening with cum into your already snugly stuffed cunt. Plugging more in and in. “Fill you up so much yer gonna ngh- gonna feel me for months-”

“Yes yes yes-” you’re sobbing out, being fucked utterly stupid on his cock. “Wan’ ah- wan’ it so bad, Toji.”

He chuckles out smugly when your teary sweet lips glide across his in a messy kiss, tightening the fingers around your throat to crane your pretty neck upwards. Into a proper kiss, pinkish lips wrapped around your tongue - he sucks.

“You don’t just ‘want’ it, ma.” His pants grow harsh, shuddering, stars bursting behind his dewy, dark eyes every time your spongy cervix makes his slams recoil backwards. “Yer gonna need it.”

Your spine curves so deliciously upwards into his front when the two long digits sunken into your entrance spread just enough for your sloppy hole to be fed Toji’s achy knot. Pinning you down with his pressurized weight to stop your squirmy wrangling. 

“Gonna need me in ya, so hah- much that this sweet lil’ pussy’s gonna be twice her size, heh-” Those obscenities in his voice make you gasp. “All round n’ gorgeous- they’ll hngh know what I’ve done. Every single fucking one s’gonna look at you and see me me me-” He sinks his teeth into your scent gland, hard.Bonding. “Cos’ you’re mine, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - More, more, more

“K-Ken, s’everything alright?” Your voice trembles with the tiniest whimper when you’re whirling your glassy eyes over your shoulder, meeting your husband’s darkened ones locked on you.

“Of course, my love.” Comes Nanami’s answer - but, shit, you already knew better. “J-just keep doing what you’re doing.”

There’s such a sodden drag of clothes on clothes resounding throughout your cozy kitchen, and your fingers shake where you were whisking a batch of sweet, sweet frosting. 

Because you could already catch the way his words broke into a gruff moan, the slight shiver in his Adam’s apple as his hot, thickened cockhead twitches ferally. Hips buck up against you desperately. 

He’d come home to you in rut. 

He was needy, bothered. Barely even changed out of his work clothes before he’s clutching roughly onto the fabric of your apron.

You’re whining, “Ken– we needa get you-”

“Shhh my pretty wife, m’alright, m’alright. Don’t- ngh! Worry about me, darling. Just-” He gulps before loosening his favorite yellow tie - the room too hot. Scent glands puffing out another heatwave of his expensive pine smell, his massive hands trace down the curve of your hips. Mindlessly. Kneading.

SMACK!

Shit, he didn’t even mean to do that. 

But oh how you gasp so prettily at Nanami’s unusually harsh treatment, the barely-there sound being instantly picked up by his sharpened senses. Restless. Mouth watering. 

God, he could cum just like this. He was ruined for you.

“M’alright jus’ a rut- keep doing- hngh-” he gasps, a feverish puff against your ear as your bodies glissade across one another. “Jus’- ahh- fuck- jus’ need a bit more, my love.” Free hand dancing down your forearm to help you stir your bowl, the other ravenously leading a hot trailway to the hem of your cotton shorts. Pulling - tearing. 

Your shorts are left nothing but tatters on the floor, and Nanami’s throwing his head back with a drunken grin. Eyes falling half-shut at the absolute mess your cunt has made, dribbling a glossy sheen down your inner thighs.

Yeah, shit, this was what he’d left work early for. 

And you could tell he was still staring, still gleaming a translucent coating with just a single roll of his thumb over your throbbing clit. Dragging the very edge of his fingernail down, down, down the crevice of your pretty pussy lips. 

And he’d do it all over again.

You moan - and as soon as you do, you’re finding yourself shoved onto the cool tile of the kitchen counter as Nanami doubles over. “M-more?”

His teeth grit, canines bared, grunts of your name spilling over and over when he hovers them over your racing pulse. Sweat-slicked strands of blond tickle your nose when he’s heaving out, “Yes, darling- j-jus’ a bit more. Just a bit.” One hand of his curls around your throat, wrangling you into such a sweet, sweet french kiss. “-I need it- fuck- need it- s’alright, is it?”

Yes yes yes, your inner omega was keening out to him. Your own shaky fingers tugging lightly on his hair in a way that makes him nip at your mating mark. 

But Nanami didn’t even need that to already know your answer by the way your hip squirm back in wet, swiveling gyrations. Again. And again and again. Honeyed little movements that make him gasp. 

“Shit- ohhh, smell so good- need you so badly-” his gentle baritone voice breaks with something primal. You flinch at the echoing clatter of his belt onto the hardwood floors, and the feeling of something steaming hot pressing into your skin. “Need- you- fuck, didn’t think I’d even make it this hah- long. Been thinkin’ about breeding this sweet cunt all day.”

Then he’s kissing down the very edge of your drooling pussy with a sweeping swipe! of his fat head. Peaking in just the very beginnings of that sinful curve, meshing your sopping folds with his prominent veins that thump thump thump away against your cunt. 

Enough to have him panting - crying out. Pound after pound.

“Stuffin’ ya full- Oh god, y-you have no idea what you do to me-” Nanami’s strict brows furrow into the tightest knit, and his words take on a ragged tone that makes you clench. An obscene little action that he feels against the very tip of his achy cock, gushing out a sticky slosh of precum that sticks to you like a second skin. “No- hah- wait- no no no no- keep ‘er open f’me, my love.”

Those toying fingers on your clit give a sudden pull at the very peak of the sensitive nub - leaving your body wracking with shudders long enough to have Nanami splitting you apart. 

The bowl is knocked over now, and Nanami takes the opportunity to lace his fingers with yours into the most innocent little hold. Dragging your intertwined hands up for him to press a flurry of pecks onto, sucking up that sugary sweet mess on your digits. 

Something you barely even register with how deliciously he was stretching out your snug insides, fucking out each and every thought in your hazy mind with quick, shallow grinds just to fit inside. “Spit.” he’s gritting his teeth at the feeble resistance, and he can feel the way your cunt gapes all around him. “Spit in m’mouth-” 

You do, Nanami groaning appreciatively, gaze flurrying shut. Your puffed-out folds bulging around his hefty cock, snapping deeply into you. Again and again.

All the way until-

“Hah- shit- jus’ a bit more-” Nanami’s groaning, eyes narrowing over his now-disarrayed glasses when he’s greedily thumbing apart your slick-glossed folds. Eyeing himself all stuffed and overspilling inside you, your sloppy hole trying desperately to milk his fattened knot. Clenching around the very tip of the bulge. “Fuck back into me now, darling- ah- fuck back into me n’ lemme make you a pretty momma- jus’ a bit more.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Tongue-twister

Just a taste. Just one.

Two.

Four.

Over and over. Whenever Geto Suguru was on his rut, he couldn’t think of a better heaven than where he was right now - locked in-between those pretty thighs of yours. With you splayed out on the tatami mats of his firmly shut bedroom, your legs on his muscled shoulders, drenched panties pulled just enough to the side to stuff your puffed-up clit in his drunken mouth.

“S-Suguru–”

You feel a sudden - barely-there - nip at the very peak of your sodden sensitive bud. Not enough to hurt, but enough to have your entire body jolting with electricity, Geto snickering against your swollen folds. 

“Fine- hngh Sugu–” you’re crying out, fingers interlacing in his long, soft strands in a pathetically useless attempt to drag him from making out with your poor overworked pussy. “I don’ know- ah if I can cum a-again.” 

That has him quirking up a dark brow in question, parting with your drippingly wet cunt with a gasping grunt of disappointment. You can only watch when his overly-glossed bottom lip wobbles, “Don’t want you to cum again, gorgeous.” He’s pouting, delicate strings of slick snapping with every peck after peck planted on your clit. “I want you to squirt–”

Oh, god, he was hypnotized.

Barely being able to get out the words before reattaching his sly lips down to your own, meshing them in a sopping wet french kiss. It leaves you bucking, and he distantly wonders whether he’d see the imprint of the tatami on your back tomorrow. “Y-you’re so addicted, Sugu-”

“No m’not.” Geto’s pulling out a sudden squelch as he spits a sudden wad of thick, silvery spit down onto the very middle of your puffy pussy lips. Smearing a thumb down between them up and down up and down- before swirling those slender digits easily past your sloppy hole. “S’not my fault you’re so hngh- irresistible- s’yours.”

Shit, to be honest, Geto couldn’t even register what he was saying right now. Couldn’t think of anything but the way you tasted so sweet on his tongue - as syrupy as that scent of yours was puffing out. He wanted- needed more more more-

He’s grinding his painfully aching cock down like some animal, slithering down his free hand to knead over the bulging shaft in quick, solid slides. 

Matching the pace of those two fingers massaging your gummy walls. So hot inside it’s like you were melting, milking his fingers so plianty with every languid push and pull into your g-spot.

“Jus’ one more taste– hah- hold up my hair, can’t see- yeahhh jus’ like that.” Geto’s whining once your trembly fingers wrap tight to collect his stray locks, giving you the perfect view of his high cheeks hollowing. Rosy pink lips wrap around your clit to suck once more. And if his voice cracked ever-so-slightly at the end, well, he was only grateful that his beautiful girl was too fucked-out to notice right now. “S’not addicted if I only want one more- is it? C’mon, honey- please, honey, for me?”

Every groan has such lewd shockwaves sprinting through all your veins, and the sheer overstimulation makes big fat tears well up behind your eyes. God, it was too much. 

Noticing, he’s letting out such calming pheromones of sandalwood - enough to make you dizzily babble out, “Think I’m- ahh- think m’close- Sugu–” To bring you close. Something was pulling taut, knotting in your stomach almost painfully. 

Suddenly, the heady room resounds with a wet gasp - and only later do you realize that it came from Geto himself.

Because oh, are you cumming - and it’s pulled out from all of Geto’s filthiest wet dreams. Because not only do you cum, you’re squirting all down the lower half of his pretty face. Your thighs squeezing tighter and tighter around his head with each crashing wave of pleasure. 

“Shit- ngh-” you’re sobbing out, cheeks wet with all the big, bulbous tears that your high brings. “Oh fuck- Sugu m’cumming m’cumming n’ s’all your fault- ah-”

“M’not addicted.” Is all he can spit out into your convulsing pussy, over and over like his own personal mantra. And it’s only when your orgasm bates into mere tingles, when your eyes roll back down from the back of your head, head just slightly clearer that he can manage to rip himself away. 

Still, groaning gutturally at the loss of your sweet, sweet cunt - he looked so pretty this way. 

Dark hair untamed, curtaining his glassy, pussydrunken eyes. Practically glowing in the dim lighting, devouring you just as much as his mouth had. Glossy, it drip! drip! drips down onto your shaky thighs with every bead of your juices he’d lapped up. Leaving a syrupy aftertaste on his tongue and shit, was he hooked. 

In a split-second, Geto’s smoothly towering his body over yours, placing a sodden kiss right on your lips to let you taste all the honeyed sweetness yourself. 

But just as you were distracted by how rudely he was claiming your tongue, you’re feeling the sharp smack! of something hard and swelteringly hot on your shamelessly spread pussy. His knot.

And then the squelch of ribbon after ribbon of Geto’s hot cum spurting out. Over and over. 

His body half-collapses onto yours, every gushing wave of sticky seed so violent that his head throws back, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Shit, orgasms during a rut always did crash headfirst. Always did have his furiously weepy head dripping out in overly voluminous dredges of thick cum.

“Jus’ ohhh- one more t-taste before I hngh- breed this cute cunt.” Geto hiccups, wet lashes batting up at you in a lazy way from in-between your legs. Long tongue dragging over the mess, smearing across the sheen of white. Every single pearlescent wisp - only to spit it back out onto your cunt. “For now.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Please…”

You’re snapping your head down at Choso teary plea, pecking at the corner of his wobbly lips. All pinkened and kissed raw, wobbling when he begs, “F-for my first knot can I oh- cum inside, baby?”

Shit, your poor boyfriend was so pretty looking up at you with his twinkling, dewy eyes like this. His creamy skin flushed, twitchy fingers craning upwards to grab at the headboard to keep some sense of his sanity when you glide your dripping wet cunt down his cock.

His mouth gasps open in a feverish puff of your name over and over when your gooey walls in turn just squeeze around his sweltering hot girth. Velvety walls sucking up every thrumming vein down his length.

“Please— ah-” Choso’s breath hitches upwards in both volume and pitch when your hips slam down in a particularly harsh squelch! Mouth lolling open at both the filthy way you were riding him and your teasing silence. “Baby- oh, baby please say- s-something-”

You can’t stop your syrupy giggle from escaping your lips, “Awww, m’sorry Cho, What did you say you wanted again?”

And Choso has always been the type to be so greedy when he has you in bed - but you’ve never seen him like this. His first ever rut - a late bloomer - and oh, did that make him extra sensitive. 

Mouth slacking open into a broken cry, frustrated droplets of sweat beading down his forehead, his slender hips just rut upwards in a pressurized thrust that has your sloppy pussy dragging down every one of his swollen inches. 

Spearheading so deliriously deep, his length swirls around to easily massage your tenderized sweet spots.

So needy.

“Want to- want to cum inside–” he whines, thick lashes fluttering at the heavenly feeling inside you. You feel two of his soft palms attach themselves to your hips, bleary gazing tilting downwards to watch himself grind up, up, up trying desperately to squeeze his achingly fat knot into your tight pussy. “Wanna make ya a momma. T-to breed my pretty omega, please- S’calling to me- it hurts ah-”

“My poor baby–” you’re humming, with that honeyed tone of yours that makes the very end of his furiously leaky cock twitch. Leaning down to kiss away his big, pearlescent tears, “You sure you want to-”

“Yes!” he’s cutting you off with a long, dragged-out groan. Head throwing back over and over into the plush pillows when he’s feeling your snug, swollen pussy lips spread over the bulging curve of his knot. Bit by bit. “Yes yes yes- please more- hngh- t-take it all– needa-” One of his thumbs caresses right over where he knew your womb to be, feeling for the nudge of his thick, bulbous head swipe a wet glide across your walls. “-need to make you mine here, too.”

Just as he’s pressing the thick curve of his thumb down hard, both of your ravenous bodies glide together in a harsh ram. 

And shit - you already knew by the way that Choso’s dilated eyes roll to the back of his head, the way his biceps flex with a wracking shudder, the sudden cracking moan of your name - that he’d plugged you full of his knot.

With a gasp your heady senses catch up around the staggeringly wide stretch. The way this was all it took for your elastic walls to constrict around him, being pushed to your very limits. Pulled taut.

Then and only then do the both of you realize that both of you are cumming. 

Your toes curling, moaning out a shrill, “Shit- shit shit shit- I’m–” Before the zaps of white-hot pleasure take over your mind, being fucked pathetically stupid on Choso’s raging cock. 

His feet plant flat on the silken sheets to buck up in meeting your sloppy staccato, his hipbones smack into yours in hard kisses to drag out your pleasure. 

“Yes- oh god.” It’s just about all that he can whimper out right now, and he’s boring his eyes up at you like you were one. Strong arms wrap around your still-shivering waist, until Choso was whispering in hot puffs against your ear, “Gonna fill this ah fuck- t-tight pussy.” Nodding you through every thick wad of seed knocking at your womb, drool dripping down each side of his lips. It overspills - from both lips. “Y-you’ll take it right? Every drop? Gonna hngh- make me a fuck- daddy, right, baby–?”

Fuck, right now all you can do is squeal. 

Let yourself be easily manhandled by all of Choso’s strength when he flips the two of you over, kneeing apart your thighs to fold you in half for him. A thorough mating press, “Yeah- yeah you are-” he breathes into your lips. “She’s gonna have my eyes- n’ your p-pretty smile ah- n’ she’ll call ya ‘momma’ and ohh-”

Just then, for how badly Choso wanted you all full of his knot, he finds himself bawling at the way his stuttering hips can no longer thrust into you back and forth. Locked in place.

“Still gotta-” he’s gasping out through wet licks up the tears streaming down your face. And there’s something so darkly primal in Choso’s tone - something there to send shivers down your spine, to remind you exactly what he is in a rut. “-gotta fill ya up more, ngh- m’still so hard- still cumming, baby.” Furiously, he’s grinding his hips in needy gyrations, weepy cock surging further and further to knock up against your g-spot. “Still need to- breed- you-”

One of Choso’s palms comes pressing down hard onto where his cum was sloshing around your inner walls, and with the dredges of creamy white that spill out - so does his slightly-softened knot.

Enough for him to grin such a dangerous grin. 

Drunken, humorless. Whispering, “Please, baby- c-can my second knot be inside, t-too?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - NO CONTROL!

“Fuck-” you’re hearing Sukuna’s ragged grunt against your ear, low and dark in a way that only his deep baritone could be. “Fuck.”

Oh how you wanted to ask him what was wrong - you wanted to raise your bleary eyes from the silken pillows spread across his royal bed. 

But Sukuna was plummeting his hefty cock into you so deeply, pound after pound that has you scrambling to catch your breath desperately. His thick head was branding circular bruises at the very end of your spongy cervix, girthy shaft stretching you from the inside out. 

And this was only his human form.

He curses at the clingy grip of your gooey walls, unable to tear his devilishly red eyes away from how well your sodden folds were puffed up around him. Milking his staggering size so well.

It has his kiss-bitten lips a little looser than he’d have liked, “Fuck, this filthy pussy of yours mighta jus’ th-thrown me into a rut, brat.”

“What?” you’re gasping, all the air tucked away in your lungs being fucked with another shuddering slam into you. Your limbs tremble where you’re bounced against his hard front on all fours, barely managing to choke out, “Y-you’re in a rut, Kuna?”

“Heh, yes.”

Sukuna can’t help but bark out a rumbling bout of laughter at the way your pretty mouth falls slack. Drool dripping down the side of your lips in a way that he really can’t help but crane over his hulking body to lick. A long, languid drag of his tastebuds.

“Yeahhh- really did kickstart my hah- rut. You naughty girl- now I hafta breed this cute cunt.” Five of his thick fingers kiss the very curve of your ass in a sudden swat, and the sting makes your cunt drool down his inches. Gliding down in a greedy trail to curl around the urgent swelling at his already-thick hilt, he swipes at the syrupy translucent beads of your slick pooling at the very top. “Yet, how come you’re more hngh- affected than me, huh, silly girl?”

Laughably, the only things that your blabbing mouth could get out right now were a few cockdrunken whines and whimpers. 

Music to Sukuna’s ears. That is, until-

“Hah! Sukuna!”

That makes him snap his scrunched eyes open - shit, when did he even close them? Sculpted, broad chest heaving with shuddering inhales for air, and a sudden wave of fatigue mixed with the saccharine sweet high of being sunken into your drooling pussy hits him.

It has him handling two of his hands into a bruising grip on the small of your waist, and the other two-

Other two?

“Y-you–” you’re mewling, each one of your throaty moans spilling and slurring together at how utterly full you felt. Double the sinful stretch of just mere moments before. “-you shifted into your ngh- true form!”

Indeed, the notorious king of curses was so hypnotized by your pussy that he hadn’t even realized when he’d slid back into his true form. Beefy biceps flexing as his inhuman hold on your body roughens, twin cocks spearheading into you maddeningly. 

His pheromones are so overpowering right now, the slight tinge of spice and metal makes the omega in you already purr in satisfaction.

“Y-yeah?” He’s gritting out through clenched teeth, and those sharpened canines make you clench. Makes him use every shred of willpower to pretend that he wasn’t as fucking out of control as he was right now. “N-n’ what about it, brat? Don’t hear ya ah- complainin’.”

Yeah, he’s letting his head throw back, totally on purpose, right? 

Twice the stretch had your teeth sinking down into the pillows. Matchingly throbbing girths drawing matching glides down all your sweet spots, you feel him jostle and bump into each of his cocks. Kissing dripping wet kisses to your cervix and your g-spot your cervix and your g-spot- Gurgling out only little pleas-

“Wha’s this-” you’re hearing Sukuna seethe from above you, voice a few octaves higher than usual. One of his towering palms easily wraps around both your wrists. Hoisting you upwards, “-started my rut n’ now you’re not letting me hear it?”

You’re now fully supported in midair by him - his absolute favorite position.

Because of the perfect angle to spy the way your cunt was swallowing every one of his powerfully pressurized thrusts. 

To have his seeping hot cum trickle out of your surely overspilling cunt - down to his achingly tight balls. Where he’d scold you for wasting his precious seed, and then fuck it back into you all over again.

Because with this, Sukuna’s dancing up one hand about halfway up your stomach, pressing down brandingly where he can feel the bulge of his two thick cocks. “Guess tha’s hah- twice the amount m’gonna fill ya up-” Pressing down with all five digits splayed out. Hard. Your body erupts with tremors when his second hand toys deftly with little circles around your puffed-up clit. “-twice my chances of g-gettin’ an heir-” 

You’re bouncing uncontrollably back and forth into Sukuna’s riotous hips, making him gulp at the few strings of wispy white spurting out of his furiously weepy divots. 

Half-deliriously, he wonders whether you’d be able to take two knots.

Shit, his fattening knots leave wet thwacks at your pussy lips, those ringing squelches only growing louder and louder in your ear as soon as his third hand scissors open your messy entrance even further. Vision spinning when your honeyed scent has him shooting blanks already, stickily soaked balls clenching painfully. 

Again. And again and again-

You were putty in his hands, surely at his mercy. “So the o-only question now is–” Or, at least, that’s what Sukuna was making it seem. Grunting, when he knows he’s on the very tipping point of cumming in such thick, voluminous wads already. “-are ya gonna be a good queen n’ gimme all that?”

He was no match for you.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Like an animal

“Sweetheart- oh, sweetheart—” Gojo’s leering after a hefty gulp of saliva, his breathing comes out in pants. Heaves. Fanning your face in an utterly feverish way, “Sweetheart, we’re not making it outta this alive.” 

And this was the fifth time he was echoing this mantra tonight - the fifth time since breaking down your apartment door into the tiniest of splinters. The floor rattling as the strongest strode his way to take you right then and there on your living room table, already in the throes of his rut.

Ready to ruin.

Looking like he was about to kill.

“Toru- Toru someone could walk by-” you’re gasping, barely able to catch your breath with the sheer, staggering amounts of punishing thrust he was planting on your cunt. Shoveling all thickened inches into you with no mercy or regret. “They’re g-gonna see, Toru–”

Not to mention, the sudden crack! of mahogany wood as the cool surface of the table sags down on one side. Already broken. 

And the first thing you’re being given in response is the powerful slap! of his swollen knot against your puffy pussy lips, leaving a stinging kiss that has you keening. 

The second is your back hitting the soft bounce of your plush mattress - all the way in your bedroom. Teleported in nothing but a split-second. 

“S-s’this ah okay, then?” Gojo tongue half-lolls out with his broken moans, and your glassy eyes peer through your lashes at those bolts of purple jujutsu at the very edges of his half-lidded eyes. “Can’t complain now- h-huh- can’t ah– jus’ let me fill ya up now.”

God, he’s fucking himself pathetically stupid on your gummy cunt, every slobbering drag down your velvety walls having his lids drooping closer together, minty scent puffing out mindlessly, words tinging with a primal sort of hoarseness. 

You’re squealing at the wet thwacks! when he’s pounding you into your fresh silken sheets. “Y-you’re so infuriating-”

And just as your mouth opens in a sloppy whine, Gojo’s taking the lewd opportunity to spit a wad of syrupy sweet saliva onto your tongue. Grinning at the breathless way you’re taking it all - on instinct. By nature. 

“And yet your o-omega loves me as ah- much as ever, huh?” he whispers down at your pretty self, words honeyed with the sort of smugness that only Gojo Satoru could have. 

As if to prove his little point, he’s crushing you even harder with his weight. Strong arms jostling your limply falling legs to lock around his neck so easily, and shit- he could feel the way the very end of his fat, rotund head poke into the bullseye of your g-spot. Sensitive slit swiping back and forth on your heavenly cunt-

But it still wasn’t enough.

CRACK!

Just as soon as the creaking protest of the bed rings across your dazed mind, Gojo’s hauling the two of you into a sitting position. Your cunt sat prettily down his long cock, being bounced up and down with the help of his jittery hands clenched roughly around your waist. 

“Wh-what-” you mewl, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Nails digging red hot marks down the plane of his milky shoulders, “What even b-brought this on–”

“Some fucking curse-” he’s rolling his eyes, with a mindless swat of the slender, rounded tips of his fingers on your clit. Bringing them up, up, up to be popped into his mouth - making him moan. “Heh- can’t help but think about how much sweeter you’d be when I finally breed this pretty cunt.”

And you didn’t realize just how badly Gojo Satoru was ruined because that tiny smack has bands of electricity spiking through your entire body. Arching your spine into a delicious bow that makes his mouth water. 

“Y-your powers-”

“And?”

Electricity sparks at your lips when Gojo’s crashing his own against yours - literally. 

“Please-” he weeps out. And it’s enough to make you sob, your dripping walls being coated in another fresh wave of his precum. “Lemme make a m-momma outta ya- fuck this hngh- cunt till she c-can’t anymore-” His hefty balls shifting underneath your ass with each clench, each twitch. “Wanna ahh- breed you so bad- think I might just die, sweetheart.”

He was losing it. 

He was cumming - and so were you.

Spurting out wave after wave of sweltering hot cum that invades your insides, there’s so much of it. Sloshing around your snug channel sloppily, it’s coating your cervix in a sticky gloss. And you swear you could feel the thick dredges of his seed ooze down your gooey walls. 

Your teeth gnaw at Gojo’s flushed skin on the crook of his neck - and his on yours. Breaking skin, tasting the metallic tinge of red. 

The very taste is enough to have him dumping out another great load of his cum, overstuffing your poor cunt until you could feel yourself swell. It’s enough to drive you mad. 

And enough to have Gojo stuffing his bulging know past your swollen folds with a drawn-out moan of your name. Pretty lower lip quivering, dewy eyes firmly drooping shut as he’s bulling into the feeble ring of muscle. 

Tight. 

“Take it- sweetheart- take it all–” he’s whimpering into your ear, powerful legs jittering upwards to have his cum splurge into every nook and cranny of your cunt. Fingers thrumming jujutsu down your spine, “Sweetheart, sweetheart ah- fuck-” You can only bare your widened eyes at him as he looks over your shoulder, grinning. “The bed’s broken.”

Before you know it, you’re being splayed out on the floor - teleported. 

You’re wincing at the slow, swiveling grind of Gojo’s hips on your own. Too impatient to even let his knot go down before trying to fuck you through your high, teasing out slow pushes and pulls against your cum-coated sweet spots. “Y-you did that on p-purpose, Toru.”

“Y’know what e-else I did on purpose, sweetheart–” his slurring words are accompanied with another smack! to your cunt. And an even filthier press on your stomach to watch his cum dribble out, which Gojo gladly smears along his fingers - pressing into your mouth to let you taste the candied mess. 

“Wh-what?”

Whispering in your ear, “Hah- getting hit by the curse.”

A/N. Of COURSEEE I had to end it off with a guilty pleasure of mine mwahaha

Plagiarism not authorized.

[hungharrington]

Your last blurb has me thinking of Steve and soft early relationship smut where it’s still fairly new and exciting and he’s just so sweet and wants to be close to you 💔💔

this is basically the premise of a little less conversation BUT it’s also such a good prompt anyways that i wanna write something goofy n domestic hehe <3 u put heartbreak emojis but i’m making this goopy sry! and actually it’s not even soft god i’m sorry MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Steve sinks into you in one slow thrust and makes a noise like he’s been stabbed, his forehead to your collarbone.

For one very long moment, he doesn’t move.

“You… you okay?” You ask, all breathy yourself. Your cunt pulses wildly, eager for him to start moving, for some friction— but you’re worried he’s maybe hurt himself somehow. “Steve?”

“I’m good,” He hisses, voice all tight like he is very much not at all good. It blends away as a husky tone threads through his voice. “God, sorry, you just feel—“

He gives a little rock of his hips, pulling out an inch and thrusting back in and a beautiful moan pulls from his lips. He does it again, pulling out a little further and pushing himself back in to your wet, inviting cunt.

He groans again, “Oh my god, I like you so much.”

You startle a laugh, your arms around his neck sliding down so you can pull his head up a bit. Steve’s flushed and looking sheepish by the time you get him face to face. His hips haven’t stopped moving, still small, perfect thrusts in and out, driving you mad.

“Sorry,” He says again, half panting. “Not the best thing to say the first time we fuck but,” He huffs, a throaty moan slipping out in the middle of the sentence. “It’s true.”

You’re beginning to pant too, all your inhales sounding gaspy and high. Your thighs spread more instinctively, pulling them further back to your chest, letting him get in deeper.

“N-No, it’s good,” You say, smiling a bit as he focuses on your face, his lips parted and pupils blown wide. “I really like you too.”

Your words inspire another moan, particularly loud, and his hips rut into you with more fervor, a soft lewd squelching noise beginning to fill the bedroom. Steve moans shakily, peppering sloppy kisses up the side of your neck.

One hand shifts on your hip, sliding up to press your leg further out and unexpectedly, and there’s an audible pop of a joint cracking. Steve stills instantly, still inside you, as he stares down at your hip.

“Oh my god—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” You hastily interrupt, knowing what he’s thinking. You tug his gaze over to you and away from your leg, seeing the smidge of panic in his eyes. “It just cracks sometimes, you couldn’t know that, it’s fine, it didn’t hurt.”

Steve deflates rapidly, giving a relieved chuckle against your chest where he buries his face. When he speaks, his words are all muffled, “I thought I broke your hip.”

You can’t help it, you laugh a bit at that— imagining his panic at the thought. For the third time, you urge his face up and out of hiding, leaning up to nuzzle against his face.

“Quickest way to end a relationship ever,” He jokes, but you can hear the genuine worry beneath his humour.

“No, no, I’m sorry I should’ve told you,” You murmur tenderly, dropping little kisses along his cheeks and nose. His face blazes hot beneath your ardent affection. “But hey, we’re figuring it out, aren’t we? That’s part of the fun, yeah?”

You use your ankles, crossed over his tailbone, to press him into you and Steve gets the message quickly, starting up his gentle thrusts again with a grunt. The soft noises of sex resume, mixed with your combined low moans. The rhythm from before is easy to slip back into. Your cunt throbs hotly, pleasure starting to drool through your stomach.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes heavily, watching your face closely. “Part of the fun. Fuck, you’re so pretty.”

He says it so sincerely that it makes you gasp, clenching around him and eyes screwing closed for a moment. A low whine crawls out your throat.

“God, fuck you for saying that,” You say, with no heat at all. You can’t open your eyes just yet, you’ll combust if you see how handsome he looks right now.

“Yeah?” Steve huffs, sounding a little smug. Your cunt gushes at the sound of his voice. “Oh, you’re right. Figuring this stuff out is the fun part.”

You whine as he fucks in a little harder, the angle just right to have your gut twisting up in pleasure. Your breath is ragged and you finally open your eyes again, swallowing back another sound at the sight of Steve. Messy haired, pink cheeks, reddened lips. He looks hotter than you’ve ever seen him.

“Shut up and hold my hand,” You say— because two can play that game. It works a charm. You can feel the stutter in his hips, see the ripple on his face, hear the whimper in his throat.

Steve keens, tucking his face down into your neck again. His hand searches the sheets til it finds yours, fingers intertwining before he presses your linked hands into the mattress and ruts into your snug cunt harder and faster, deeper.

“F-Fuck,” He stammers, a moan lilting the word. “I like you so much.”

You can’t even laugh this time round because your mind is starting to melt a little at the edges— but it makes the pleasure all that much better, knowing he means it.

[leonw4nter]

Look Into My Eyes and You Won’t Ever Have To Ask

DI!Leon and F!Reader

“Y/N, we’re going to jump into the water. We’ll have to brace for impact, you especially.” Leon informs you urgently as he clutches the top of his dislocated shoulder but he eyes your broken rib, obviously putting more emphasis on your injury even though both your conditions are critical.

“Will we make it with your arm?” You ask before wincing. “Don’t force it back into the joint, you’ll make things worse for yourself.”

Leon scoffs, a soft gust of wind leaving his chapped and busted lips that are somehow still curled skyward. “Drop’s not that high but we still gotta be careful and don’t worry, I won’t pop this thing back in place. I’m not that stupid.”

You two look down from the platform and into the dark and rocky water below; the drop is high and along with other metal debris falling into the water, jumping would be dangerous. The response team’s arrival can’t be estimated due to several factors so you’re not sure how long you and Leon have to stay out in the water; treading will be difficult for him due to his arm and it’s not going to be easy helping Leon stay afloat due to a cracked rib and what you’re guessing, a fractured hip as well. This mission has not been kind to you and him, the B.O.Ws involved seemingly much stronger than those you two have dealt with in the past. The mission was supposed to be a lot simpler, a “slip in and slip out” kind of mission but due to unforeseen circumstances, you two are now on a high platform with broken bones while dressed in formal clothing. There was an auction afterparty on a private island that you two had to infiltrate while posing as a married couple, complete with rings and an expertly-falsified marriage certificate. The goal was to grab the lone sample of an engineered Plaga strain to bring back to a research lab and have scientists re-engineer the DNA to try and weaken it. Sounded simple enough until someone’s advisor recognized Leon and had you two’s cover blown and now landed you two in this shitty situation. Mentally and physically preparing yourselves as much as you can, you two slip your shoes off and chuck them to the water to prevent adding weight to your bodies because staying afloat will prove to be a challenge.

Just as you were about to say you were ready, a Tyrant busts the door and spots the two of you. Not sparing a moment for you two to even think of getting ready, the B.O.W runs towards the both of you. Leon gives you a look and swiftly takes your hand, the both of you leaping into the ocean with eyes shut and breaths held. The impact of sinking into the water knocks the wind out of your lungs, cracked ribs uncomfortably disturbed. Your eyes open, greeted by the dark black blur of the ocean and salt of the sea slowly irritating them. You turn to look for Leon, fighting the pain of your injury and trying to spot him amidst the black sea. You spot a suit trying to swim upwards to get air and that is enough confirmation for you so you try to swim upwards to get some air and try to look for a chopper. Unfortunately, something tugs against your leg and it appears that debris has hooked around your ankle and is dragging you downwards. You bend down and try to wriggle your foot free, feeling around in the dark since you couldn’t see. Fortunately for you, you managed to get it out and you furiously try to get back to the surface to tell Leon you’re fine.

You gasp sharply and tread water despite the roaring ache in your arms and legs, your head turning here and there to look for your partner.

“Y/N!”

You heard a strained call for your name, trying to locate him amidst the splashing surface due to the pitter patter of heavy rains on the surface of the water obstructing your view.

“Leon!” You call out and try to swim to him but he yells your name in a perturbed tone.

“Big wave!”

You look to your right and see a large wave headed for the both of you. You didn’t have time to fully sink back down and so the wave tossed you, causing you to accidentally swallow some water and choke on it while fighting for your life. Could it get any worse? It could, since the Tyrant above you decided to rip the metal door off of its hinges and throw it down into the water above you. Tossed and disoriented in the water while choking, you didn’t realize that you were heading in the direction of a metal part of the door jutting out. You hit your head hard and fell unconscious, all the thrashing and efforts slowly coming to a halt.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon woke up in a hospital, his right arm placed in a sling and his other arm attached to IV drips. There were several electrodes stuck to his chest, connected to a beeping machine. Dazed and confused, especially with the bright lights of the hospital room, he nimbly sat up despite the dizziness that overcame him and got up, not minding if he was connected to several machines. The sudden commotion alerts the nurses on duty, rushing to him just as he reaches to remove the devices attached to him.

“Sir, please calm down–”

“Where is she–”

“Sir, you can’t–”

“Where’s my wife?!”

He had never yelled like that, not even during training when cadets couldn’t get their form right. Not even when he was frustrated with how life turned out for him.

“Where’s my wife? I need to see her,” he repeats less loudly but still retaining the same stern tone he used earlier. He isn’t moving as much but he keeps his eyes peeled on the door of his hospital room.

“She’s on the same floor, 3 rooms across yours, sir. She’s still unconscious the last time I checked so please be careful and try not to make any sudden noise,” a nurse tells him. He calms down, his body no longer as tense as it was earlier. His shoulders sink, occasionally moving his free arm so the nurses can reattach the electrodes that have gone loose when he moved violently earlier.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “And thank you. For telling me.”

“It’s fine, sir. You did that out of love and concern for your wife. You must love her very much if you lost your cool and acted irrationally just to make sure she’s safe.”

“Ah. Yes, of course.”

The nurses helping him simply smiled and continued making sure all instruments on him were secure before helping him back to his hospital bed and making sure he was laying comfortably and didn’t place any pressure on any other injuries he sustained. Before the last nurse turned around to leave him be for the time being to go call a doctor and have the doctor check his vitals, she informed him that guests aren’t allowed at your room for the time being that you’re unconscious. He nods, understanding since you did take a particularly dangerous hit to the head and nearly drowned. He sits in silence, head hung low as he looks at himself and sees his injured arm on a black sling and his suit discarded in favor of a hospital gown. Purples and yellows, along with some small red spots, decorate his skin along with new scars among old ones. Now that he’s more aware of how he’s feeling, he realizes just how much his back hurts and how sore his joints feel. He’s no stranger to an achy and sore body, especially after missions, but as his age progressed the pain seems to have increased along with it. He can’t carry heavy things like he used to and he now takes longer breaks to regain his bearings after training. His gaze falls on his hand and notices the fact that his ring is missing first, not the redness and the bruising in his knuckles on top of recovering wounds from the previous mission. His eyes widened, looking around for his ring until his gaze fell on the ring inside of a tiny ziplock on his bedside table. He sighs, a small lock of brown hair falling down and covering his eye. His mind drifts back to the mission and his small outburst earlier, flitting between the two events. He feels guilty to have taken longer to bring you back up to the surface despite the arm proving to be difficult to swim with. If only he’d already swam up to you and moved you two somewhere less prone to having debris dropped on, you wouldn’t be suffering a concussion. If only he didn’t resist having you style his hair differently, that damn man wouldn’t have recognized him and caused an uproar. For once in a long time, none of his thoughts went into whether or not the mission was a success; he was entirely concerned with your well-being as a nasty guilt eroded his heart slowly and painfully. He loved you, he loved you dangerously for he would do anything brash if it meant securing your safety at the expense of his. He cherished you more than the stars that the night sky offered for your presence outshone even the most stellar cluster of stars. He cherished you more than the serenity that solitude offered for in your presence he could find a peace that solitude could never offer him. He knew the lone and solitary path, having gone down that road almost all his life but when he knew you, he could never go back to living without you by his side again. Hell, he loves you more than he does with whatever freedom he has left after being forced to work for the government for when he’s with you, he finds the true meaning of liberty. For the first time in the longest time, he prays. He stopped praying in the winter of the same year he turned 21, the prospect of believing in a God and holding on to a prayer as good as stupid and a waste of breath. Despite his doubt with the heavens, he is firm in his belief that you will recover soon. In a universe where he sees no god, he prays for you for in you he has found something sacred.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He waits for several days and nights, occasionally getting up from his room to drag himself and the IV drip to the locked door of your hospital room. He tells nurses passing by that he’s your “husband” and that he just wants to see you, even for a little bit. The more he explains to nurses that he’s your “husband”, he feels like a liar. On a fake piece of paper, he is, but do you really want him to be your husband? He is far from ideal– he used to be a heavy drinker, he’s got emotional baggage, and a life with him would put her and possibly, your future family, in constant danger. He knows you’re very capable, more than capable in fact, to defend yourself but you can only do so much to defend yourself, you lying unconscious in a bed attached to tubes being proof of that. As he turns to walk back into his room, a million thoughts run through his head; he decides to tell you about how he feels and treat you the best he can, whether or not you feel the same way towards him. He’ll even request the D.S.O. to put both of you on a break since you both deserve time to focus on your recovery and pursuit of interests outside of work. He also considers writing a book to record his thoughts but considering the injury on his dominant arm, he realizes that writing will be a lot more difficult. On the steps back to his room, he also mentally lists down what he wants to gift you but he stops himself– realizing that he’s getting too ahead of himself.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Oh, he did react violently. Very violently.” your nurse tells you as the doctor with her takes your vitals.

You asked her how he’s doing as soon as you got up, looking around worriedly for your ring and your other belongings. The lights disoriented you for a moment, too bright for your pupils that are still adjusting after being asleep for nearly an entire month. You also learned that he got discharged 2 weeks ago but still came by often to visit you. He’s also been said to occasionally brush your hair away from your face and change the water from the vase and flowers he brought you a day after he got discharged.

“He was yelling, moving so much and screamed ‘where’s my wife?!’. Honestly, it was so cute!” she said with a wide smile.

“The entire floor heard him since he opened the door loudly and screamed even louder but he cared less, even if his ass is poking out of his hospital gown.”

You blushed at the mental image of Leon looking for you like a madman in a hospital gown where he’s naked at the back.

“He only calmed down after we told him where you were and he stayed in his room, head hung low the entire day and we all honestly felt bad for him.”

You nodded to her words, your gaze falling to the ring in the ziploc baggie on your bedside table. You asked for a phone and called him, telling him that you woke up and he can come visit you.

“He seemed really happy, could tell that wideass grin of his even through the phone,” you told the nurse and doctor while they smiled and giggled for you.

“Go give him the best kiss you’ve ever given him and profess your love again like it’s the first time!”

Their words made you blush again, only this time it’s because they don’t know you two aren’t exactly married. You two have only kissed once and that was during the fake wedding that the company set up for you two, present with a witness with no affiliation to any of the guests or you two. You’re not even sure if him talking to you was purely out of kindness or if he did that in order to keep up the image that things have not gone awkward. You’re even surprised Leon doesn’t seem to have been picking up the hints you’ve been dropping at him; for an agent who’s trained to be highly perceptive of people’s actions and body language, he sure doesn’t know how to pick up signs that you’re flirting with him. Unless he doesn’t want you. You groan and carefully rest your head on the pillow behind you but you stop, wincing because you just remembered you’ve got a busted rib or two.

A few minutes later, the sliding door to your room opens and in comes Leon with a bouquet of sunflowers on his free hand because the other is on a black sling. His black leather jacket is draped over his shoulders and he can hardly contain his joy at seeing you awake.

Placing the bouquet on your lap, he cages you in for a hug with consideration for your injuries. You swear you hear a soft sniffle from him and feel his body slightly jerk and as he pulls back, he’s got semi-glossy eyes.

“Y/N. Hey, how are you feeling?” He softly asks as he takes your hand in his.

“Feeling amazing. You?”

“Better than ever now that you’re up.”

“That’s good.”

A comfortable silence settles between the both of you, Leon taking one more good look at you. He thought he had a ton of things on his chest but that couldn’t compare to the amount you had on yours– literally and metaphorically. He breaks the silence first by clearing his throat before speaking.

“I– Uh… I got you some flowers,” he explains as he picks up the bouquet and shows some of the flowers to you.

He definitely picked it up in a rush since you spot a small card in the middle of all the sunflowers that says ‘well wishes on your new business’ in swirly gold lettering. You smile for the first time in a long time, finding the gesture to be sweet coming from Leon. He probably got it seeing as how sunflowers seemed to be a bright and happy kind of flower and he wanted you to feel even a little bit positive even in this condition and it’s definitely working but you still decided to ask him why he chose sunflowers amidst all the different pre-packaged flowers.

“Why sunflowers?” you ask as you gently inhale the scent of the flowers despite sunflowers being odorless.

“It only made sense for me to get these for you since sunflowers always face the sun,” he explains as he drags a chair to sit down on as he talks. “I go to you when I need help with something and you’re always there for me so I guess… in a way… you’re kind of like my sun.”

His words trigger your heart to ram itself against your ribcage, your heartbeat thundering so loudly in your ear as you imagine color furiously rushing to fill in the paleness of your face. Leon looks away, a hand making its way to the back of his neck and rubbing it. His gaze returns to you but his eyes shoot up to his brows, picking up your hand with a finger clipped to the pulse oximeter, looking at you worriedly.

“Your pulse is picking up. You alright? Need water? A nurse?” he rapidly asks. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

The pulse oximeter continues to display your heightened heart rate and you want to tell Leon that you feel fine– amazing even– but that would contradict with the reading of the device. You can’t tell him that whatever he just said made your heart race because you love like him so much, it’s almost embarrassing.

“Water would be nice,” you say. He gets up and pours you a glass of water, handing it to you carefully while keeping his hand near the glass in case you don’t have the strength to hold it yet. For the entire day, he tells you all about what he’s been up to while you were unconscious– the break that the D.S.O. gave to the both of you, the mission, his arm, his thoughts while you were gone, and a lot more things.

“Leon Kennedy prayed for me?” you ask in shock, mouth agape while still curled into a perplexed smile. “Leon ‘religion is beyond me’ Kennedy clasped his hands together, shut his eyes, and devoted a few moments of his day to pray for me.”

You laugh heartily, clapping along. You find the image of Leon praying to be a little funny, impossible even; you know about Leon’s past on religion and how he was a practicing Catholic up until the winter of the same year he turned 21 but it seemed so foreign for him to be praying for you. Little did you know, he found himself praying because his love for you taught him devotion in feelings more powerful than he.

“Shut up,” he mumbles while his cheeks burn pink. “Don’t laugh at me like that, at least it worked.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

You told Leon about what the nurses told you about him nearly having a meltdown as soon as he woke up. You’ve never seen him bury his face into his hands and groan, leaning into your side and burying his face there as he pulled his leather jacket above his head and begged you to stop teasing him about it. It’s been a week since you’ve woken up and Leon’s visited you every single day since then, occasionally bringing personal items you told him to bring for you or lunch boxes he cooked and made for you. Bento boxes, he called them. He showed you the entire playlist of YouTube videos he made full of bento box cooking videos, some of the videos having the red bar underneath them.

“Rebecca told me all about them, said that they were balanced with everything you’ll need to recover,” he explained. “They’re pretty neat, actually. It’s fun making them look all cutesy for you. I’m pretty sure we’re giving the nurses a new reason to giggle every day.”

You smile as you take a bite of the spam, humming in satisfaction as the flavors erupt. You thank him for the effort he’s been putting into cooking for you, to which he smiles and nods to.

“Leon,” you say as you put the lid back on the bento box. “Um– I’ve… There’s…. I have to tell you something.”

“Hm?” He says, putting his pocketbook into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“We’re on a break right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He shifts in the chair and you begin to fiddle with something small in between your fingers.

“Are we still required to keep this up?”

He stays silent for a moment until you gesture to the rings on both of your hands. “Not sure but not until we confirm that the mission is a success in a briefing, I guess we have to.”

“You don’t have to cook for me, you know. The hospital makes sure to feed me everyday.”

“I don’t have to but I want to.”

“I’m sure no one’s suspicious of us being a sham couple. You’re always nice to me and it seems genuine so you’re free to go.”

“Y/N,” Leon begins. “I’m not doing this for the mission. I’m pretty sure praying for you isn’t required by the D.S.O. Before you begin to tell me that I’m being nice for the record, Y/N, I’ve never prayed for anyone to wake up from a coma. You’re the first.”

“Does that mean you love me, Leon?” you ask. You lock stares with him, determined to not let Leon leave your room for the night without getting a direct answer from him.

“Y/N. If you stared any longer and fiercer into my eyes a long time ago, I would’ve crumbled then and there and told you that I have always loved you. All this started from a deception but it led me to the most honest feeling I’ve ever felt so yes, I do love you.”

Silence befalls the both of you in the room, save for the soft beeping of the machines in the same room as you two are in. Amidst the silence, you two come to a wordless understanding that you two are in love and have been in love for a long time. A delicate smile points the tips of your lips upwards before a soft laugh leaves you, genuinely ecstatic that your feelings have been returned and he fiercely feels the same as you do. He follows suit, smiling and chuckling as he takes your hand into his and kisses the back of your knuckles, nuzzling into your open palm as you gently rub your thumb back and forth on his stubbly cheek.

“In a few years time, we’re going to replace these ones with actual rings,” you say to Leon to which he nods, silently basking in your beauty and in the joy that there’s a future ahead for him with you. A nurse knocks at the door, informing Leon that visitation hours end in a minute and he has to go soon.

“Well, looks like I gotta go,” he quietly says though you know he doesn’t want to go just yet and frankly, you don’t want him to go just yet.

“You’ve only got a minute left before you do leave, just wait it out,” you urge him.

Sighing but not out of displeasure, he sits back down and leans near you to bask in your presence before he heads back into his lonely apartment. An entire minute passes by and Leon begins to get up but not before you sit up, reach for the sleeve of another one of his many jackets, pull him down to your level, and place a hungry yet velvety kiss on his lips. His eyes are widened before he shuts them, his free hand traveling to the base of your head and gently drawing your face nearer to deepen his kiss. A nurse walks in again, telling Leon to leave since his visiting hours are over but neither of you are too stubborn to pull away and break the kiss just yet. Your hands finds a portion of Leon’s jacket draped loosely over his shoulders and lifts it up, shielding both your faces as you feel a smile widen on Leon’s lips fitted against yours. You two are definitely giving the nurses a new reason to gush and giggle every time they are going to see either of you. As for you alone, you’ll have some explaining to do to the doctor checking your vitals for the irregularities in your heart rate.

NOTE - I didn't proofread this so if you spotted errors then I'm rlly sorry because I'm lazy (💀). This fic is a lot longer than my other drops lately so I hope we're all okay w that!!! I've got like 2 requests in my Inbox so to my anons who are waiting, it might take a while but I'm def going to work on them and post something for you <3 Happy Pride Month to my queer readers and queer mutuals, you deserve to be seen, heard, celebrated, and appreciated!!! Support your queer friend or someone you know who is queer by doing something for them or getting them a food item that they like, make them feel extra special this month yk :3 Anyways, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!! I <3333333 UUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @roseraris , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[3liza]

On the off chance you've come across this in your own medical research, my partner (POTS, joint hypermobility, ND) needs to crack/pop her joints several times an hour, especially her fingers, wrists, ankles and knees. She specifically remembers it starting when she was 16. It's not really a problem except that if she can't pop a specific joint the feeling develops into pain, and sometimes she just can't get it to happen for a few hours. Is this something you've heard of in connective tissue disorder literature? Doctors have been, as you would expect, totally useless about it, and while it seems harmless now...

this is off the cuff; i havent heard about this but it does just sound like one of those things that could theoretically happen to someone with weird joints. on the other hand joint "popping" is something most normal people also can do, and in the last research on joints popping in those (non-hypermobile) cases that i read (which was a while ago so maybe out of date), it was discovered that joint popping isn't really "doing" anything, it was just making a bubble of gas and a sound using a vacuum basically, but it seems to have a powerful somatic effect which is why chiropractors use it. it's also a really, really common stim for various ND people. i wouldnt assume your partner's joint popping is purely somatic/habitual though, who knows what's going on in there or how it differs from non-hypermobile people

my concern would be that in 99% of the cases of "weird human tricks" that hypermobile people can do, doing those weird human tricks will loosen and damage tissue further and doctors agree that you should absolutely not do them unless demonstrating a symptom to a doctor or something. i would be concerned about continuing the joint-popping habit for this reason. but at the same time, pain is a really strong indicator in the opposite direction. so who knows.

actually now that i type all this out i am reminded that when my neck or hip gets out of joint i have to pop them back into place. i dont know for sure that this is a subluxation (minor dislocation), because im not standing inside an xray when it happens, but thats what it feels like. i do know that this happens to a lot of hypermobile people. the problem with trying to search for the term, which is a real medical term, is that chiropractors (fucking again) have decided that everyone on earth gets subluxations (false) and also that chiropractors can heal every disease by "aligning" your skeleton with powerful blows (false, especially for hypermobile people, who should avoid chiropractors even more dedicatedly than normal people). this is bullshit and can be safely ignored. however, many hypermobile people do actually get minor dislocations frequently, because the connective tissue holding joints together just isnt doing its job. ribs are a really common one. for me its the neck tendons and femoral heads.

i dont think a doctor will have any idea what youre talking about. maybe a physical therapist would be more helpful though, even just to ask questions and see what they think about the "joint popping is possibly damaging my joints further" vs "not popping my joints causes pain" situation

[ki-yomii]

beg | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 1.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, mild degradation, mild praise kink, established relationship, rough oral (m receiving), throatfucking, teasing, pet names, throat bulge, studio sex, wet & messy, reader wears a necklace with yoongi's initial

➥ summary | requested from this - "Oh no, not until you beg." & "Relax your throat." With Min Yoongi :3

➥ notes | for anon~ hope you enjoy 🧡 un-edited, I’ll come back to fix things when it’s not 2 AM lol

masterlist | ask box | AO3

The low hum of the A/C unit overhead and the whir of the computer fan kicking on is almost enough to drown out the wet gags and gargled breathing but only just.

Not that it really matters - the hours had long since crept past midnight, and Yoongi was meticulous when it came to the design of his studio.

Key pad, double doored, soundproofed to hell and back; the whole shebang.

Millions of won poured into the construction of the four walls that made up his altar, his church. Furthermore, not only did others give a wide berth when he's on-site at HYBE, but even fewer have the special privilege of being granted access to his private sanctum.

You're one of the lucky ones.

Mind, it took several (long) months of veiled suggestions and cajoling to get you to where you are now, but it was worth it in the end.

Watching a man so thoroughly married to his work set aside his convictions to give attention to your relationship doesn't sit right with you. Plus, it wasn’t sustainable in the long run - even though you appreciate the effort.

No, this arrangement is much better - the best of both worlds.

Not only do you get to spend time with him, he gets to share what he loves. A win-win for everyone involved, but especially for you when Yoongi is horny and agitated.

“Mm, come on, baby,” Yoongi husks, wicking away the mascara clinging to the swell of your cheek with a rough thumb, “I know you can take me all the way. Now, stop playing, and relax your throat.”

Burning eyes fluttering open, you take in the blurry upside-down view that greets you through clumpy lashes; a sea of dark wood, the pale stretch of his legs, the pool of black basketball shorts puddled around his ankles.

Propped up as you are, head dangling over the thin leather armrest of the couch, you can't get a good angle without giving yourself a crick. Little spasms are already shooting through your neck, and down in between your shoulders because of the lack of proper support.

Something you'll definitely be paying for later.

But you're not about to stop Yoongi.

Not when he has you laid out on your back with his cock in your mouth, both of you working towards stuffing it down your throat. Even if your lips are fucked raw and swollen, your chin slick with spit and pre-cum.

Your tongue stretches out to flick over the fat head of his cock when he slides free with a sticky pop. “Fuck yeah, just like that.”

You hum low in the back of your throat, threads of arousal shivering down your spine as your belly swoops at the low rumble of his voice, the delicate trace of his fingers along the sides of your neck.

He grunts when you dig the tip of your tongue into his weeping slit, lapping and swirling around the spongy crown.

“Heh, you’re such a filthy bitch for me, aren’t you,” Yoongi says, his voice breathless and cracking around the edges. “Now, are you ready to be a good girl and swallow my dick?”

Inhaling deep, you let your breath shudder from you on a shaky moan that teases the insides of his thighs, the base of his cock, “Yes, please. Want it, Yoongs.”

Yoongi hums, satisfied.

“Watch those teeth,” is the only warning you get.

Then he's cradling your jaw with his thumbs and nudging his hips forward to grind against your lips. Eyes sliding shut, you drop your mouth open into a relaxed circle for Yoongi to fuck into.

The initial slide is smooth, aided by the strings of spit and pre-cum clinging to the lower half of your face. Though trouble begins the deeper Yoongi presses towards the back of your throat.

Your muscles tense as your mouth spreads wider and wider to accommodate his girth. An ache settles deep in your temples, little shocks of discomfort shooting down through the hinges of your jaw.

Tears leak past your clenched eyes, the renewed burn of mascara stinging your ducts as your sinuses clog. You whine - a raspy, muffled sound as your tongue wriggles along the underside of his shaft.

He hushes you, and anchors a hand on your shoulder as the other reaches down to twine with your fingers digging into his thigh. “Doing so good for me,” Yoongi said, “fucking perfect, baby.”

Your pussy clenches, your legs tensing against the leather. Sweat gathers behind your knees, your hips shivering with the need to twist, shift, and find a modicum of friction that’ll relieve the ache building behind your navel.

“Yeah, come on, that’s it. Just a little - shit - hah, that - oh fuck!”

His hips jerk forward as you hollow your cheeks to the best of your ability, hissing as teeth scrape along the sides of his shaft as he bullies his way deeper.

And then, with a pop richoetting down your spine, the head of his cock passes the back of your throat.

“Oh, baby,” Yoongi curses, his frame wracked with tremors.

His thighs shudder against your ears, his hips tense with anticipation as he holds himself still. Your throat rebels, rippling like a vice around his shaft, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Feel’s so - feels so good. You take me so well, knew you could. You always do.”

Gagging, your head goes light and floaty at the sudden lack of oxygen, tiny cavities peppering your vision.

Then you focus on breathing through your nose.

In - one, two, three. Out - one, two, three.

Over and over again until the mounting animal panic subsides, and you're left with tingling limbs and a throbbing cunt.

Yoongi groans, “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

Thumbs bracketing the sides of your neck stroke over the visible bulge of his shaft straining against the chain of your necklace, the delicate ‘Y’ charm branding your skin.

It'll leave a welt everyone can see. A little mark to stake his claim. To remember him by when you're separated.

The thought gets you hotter than you care to admit.

“Can see myself in your throat, baby.”

At the praise, liquid fire pulses through your veins, and warmth blooms in your belly. Settling between your hips until your clit twitches.

Slick soaks through the seat of your panties, and you feel all at once so full, and so, so empty.

The scent of his skin - clean and clear. The musk of his cologne - earthy and masculine. The salt of him heavy on your tongue, his cock throbbing in time with his thundering heartbeat as you swallow around him reflexively.

It's enough to send you reeling with the desperation, the desire to feel him cum down your throat, to taste his pleasure.

Half feral, you try bobbing your head, fingers hooking around Yoongi’s hips to drag him into the cradle of your face deeper, faster, harder.

Only to be met with resistance as he refuses to move, to give in to the frantic movements.

Standing stock still, he lets you tug and whine and writhe until your efforts fizzle to nothing.

And only then does he respond, bending over your body to slide a hand between your thighs.

You jerk, hiccup at the feeling of his fingers inching past the soaked hem of your panties. Brushing over the silken folds of your cunt, teasing, testing the slick arousal with his knuckles.

“Oh no, baby,” Yoongi says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through his chest into yours, “You gotta beg me first.”

[andypantsx3]

fruit first (ask questions later) | k. bakugou

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Gender Neutral Reader

length: 3.6k

summary: When the grocery store you’re in becomes collateral in a villain attack, pro hero Dynamight comes to your rescue. When you become armed with a handful of oranges, however, someone may need to come to his rescue…

A short, mostly fluffy nothing for the prompt Bakugou + oranges. Part of the Willow’s House server Meet Fruit collab, where I took “meet fruit” extremely literally. Thank you @willowser for letting me in even though my dumb ass signed up late!!

tags/warnings: sfw, fluff, sexual tension, gender neutral reader

You were in the produce section when it happened.

The season was creeping into summertime now, the weather outside hot and humid and perfect for fresh produce–stalks of crunchy asparagus, fat ruby-red tomatoes, and tiny little berries nestled in their containers like a fistful of jewels.

You had admittedly been getting a little over-indulgent, your basket already straining against the skin of your forearm, heavy with more fruits and vegetables than a single person might feasibly consume before they went bad. But you were heady with visions of summer salads and fancy grain bowls, cool and leafy and refreshing, a balm against the sweltering city heat.

You’d just been adding a couple oranges to your basket when the first sign came.

It started as a rumble from far off, like the sound of slow-rolling thunder.

It echoed through the store, the bass buzzing through the shelves, making them hum. The lights flickered for a moment, their fluorescence dimming. A few of the people around you glanced up curiously, but nothing else in the interior of the store changed—no screaming, no crying, no running.

At first there was nothing to indicate that you might need to abandon your groceries in a pique of terror.

That was, until another boom sounded just overhead. And then the ceiling was suddenly ripped open with violent force.

A hunk of the steel frame was pulled back like the tab on a sardine can, the caging screaming in protest, and a shower of plaster rained down around you, breaking apart in slabs. An enormous, hulking figure peered through the hole, then dropped into the aisles before you, shaking the floor with his heavy landing.

Behind him, several other figures skittered into the building, one woman climbing down the wall like a lizard as a few others dropped in through the hole. A man suddenly popped into existence a few feet away from the orange stand with a crack like a gunshot. You startled, stumbling backwards, knocking into the oranges and sending a wave of them plopping to the floor.

There was no mistaking who these people were.

Villains. An entire crew of them.

All at once, the shoppers around you scrambled for cover, letting out a cacophony of shrieks and screams. You backed away, only for your foot to catch on an orange, rolling your ankle.

A bright stab of pain lanced through the joint, and you went down, hard, banging your elbow on a nearby display. You caught the floor with your rib cage, crushing an orange under your hip, your basket screeching across the floor next to you.

It knocked the breath right out of you, and you gasped, just as a blade of energy went singing overhead, slicing through the shelves and sending explosions of fruits and metal into the air. They rained down around you, a chunk of shelf framing tipping over and slamming down on your leg, fruits and vegetables slapping across every inch of your body.

Screams went up from the far side of the store, and you bit back a yelp of pain, tears forming in your eyes.

“Grab as many civvies as you can!” a deep voice barked out. “Hold ‘em like a shield and get moving to the next location!”

Your whole body iced over in fear, your ankle and leg screaming in protest as your limbs locked up. Footsteps echoed in every direction as the group of villains split up, hunting down their civilian targets. You hoped wildly, desperately that no one had seen you go down behind the citrus display.

Your hopes were in vain, however. Bootsteps rounded the corner, and the man who had appeared from thin air bent over the shelving pinning you down.

He was tall and wiry, with a face like a weasel and a thinning crop of dark hair. A malicious grin split the sides of his face as he took you in, yellow eyes flickering over you. “Hello sweet thing,” he cooed.

Your stomach flipped in despair as he prowled closer, oranges rolling away from his boots. Your hands scrambled at your sides, fingernails digging into the floor, as you tried to drag yourself backwards, away from him.

He cackled, high, reedy and excited, stalking down the aisle between two fruit stands. Two steps brought him right to you, and he leaned in, smiling widely. He reached out his long, straggly fingers, grasping for you—

And then he promptly blinked out of existence as a furious explosion crackled into life right where he had been. The brightness seared your eyes, blinding you, and a scorching heat scalded your face as a deafening boom rattled your teeth.

You snapped your eyes shut reflexively, but the light and heat was gone as soon as it came. The pad of boots approached you over the ringing in your ears, and you blinked open your eyes. Behind the spots that dotted your vision was a familiar face—one you’d seen on TV dozens, if not hundreds of times.

Bakugou Katsuki, alias pro hero Dynamight.

The first, wild, reeling, nonsense thought you had was that he was so much more handsome in person.

Red eyes glowed like scarlet embers through the dark of his black domino mask, and a scowl sat angrily but prettily on his plush mouth. He had scratches raked across one high cheekbone and down the line of his strong jaw, and his hero uniform had endured something worse, torn in several places, baring the bulge of one enormous bicep, and the trim line of his waist at one side.

The sight dazed you almost more than the flash of his explosion had, and Bakugou turned his scowl down on you, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling across his forehead as he did.

“You break anything, extra?” He rasped. His voice was lower, too, gravelly in a way that apparently didn’t translate well over TV airwaves.

You gaped for a moment, then quickly corralled yourself as his scowl deepened. You tried shifting your leg under the shelving, a fresh wave of pain lancing through you. “Um, my ankle I think is no good—I’m not sure if it’s broken—”

You were interrupted by a sound like a gunshot, splitting the air right in front of you, and then the teleport villain appeared just in front of you. He lunged for Bakugou, and you caught the flash of a blade in the fluorescent lighting. A reflexive scream tore out of you, trying to warn Bakugou—

But Bakugou was faster. He whipped around, a terrifying smile splitting his mouth, an explosion already crackling in his palm.

The teleport villain flickered out of sight again, just in time for Bakugou’s explosion to rip apart the air where he had been, splintering several of the displays around you and blasting a shelf of crackers and jelly apart. You could hear the glass and cracker bits raining down like chunks of hail.

Bakugou quickly turned back to you, eyeing you evaluatively. “Stay down, extra, and don’t fuckin’ move. I’ll take care of this asshole.”

You nodded hurriedly, shifting under the shelving that had you pinned. You managed to wedge yourself into the rough wood of the citrus display at your side, as if you could disappear into it if only you pressed hard enough.

Bakugou turned his back to you, one arm out as if to block anyone’s line of sight to you. The lines of his broad shoulders were tense under the white-hot glare of the store lights, and you noticed another gash in his uniform along one shoulder blade, exposing a peek of his back muscles.

Bakugou was moving almost before you even heard the next teleportation crackle, spinning to aim an explosion to his right. He launched himself after it with a vengeance, only to blow right through another display as the villain winked out of existence again. It seemed like he was fast, possibly too fast…

And then that gunshot noise again–and the villain was right next to you. In one impossibly fast movement Bakugou rerouted himself with a searing blast that ripped the tile right off the floor. In less than a second he was screaming down on the villain with all the speed and fiery fury of a falling comet. He aimed another shot right where the villain was standing—

But the villain disappeared again.

Bakugou neatly dodged you with another explosion aimed at the ground, the hot wind of it throwing you back against the orange crate. He somersaulted over the display just as another crack sounded behind it, and you could hear another explosion tearing through yet more of the produce.

And then another growled swear from Bakugou told you the villain had vanished again.

Your heart beat double time, wondering anxiously how bad this match up was. Bakugou was the number two hero, and you’d always assumed he’d be well-matched against any type of quirk. You’d seen a million broadcasts of his takedowns, quick and purposeful and scarily precise, with one of the fastest takedown averages on record.

But it was clear this villain was slippery and all together too quick. You didn’t know how Bakugou was supposed to catch someone who could disappear within milliseconds.

You thought probably the only chance could be to unleash his full power. On the news, you’d seen him send entire buildings crumbling. If he wanted to, he could tear this entire storefront down, set the entire inside on fire and catch the villain no matter where he teleported to in this space.

But instead you were in the middle of things. Bakugou had to aim, had to hold back lest any debris hit you, had to angle himself around you to protect you, all while the teleport villain had no such qualms.

It was possible Bakugou wouldn’t be able to catch this guy under these conditions–and you were the impediment to blame.

You heard Bakugou’s explosion rip apart another display in the distance, and that gunfire crack of the villain disappearing. Heart in your mouth, you cast around you for something, anything that could help him.

If only there was something to even the odds…

And then you found it. Your gaze landed on the spill of oranges at your feet. Fat, round, heavy and hard. Perfectly projectile shaped.

Now that…that was something.

You quickly gathered as many of them as you could, your ankle twinging in protest when you leaned across the shelving that had trapped it. You scooped the oranges up in an armful, depositing them in your lap, grabbing the largest and hefting it aloft just as another gunshot sound echoed in front of you.

The villain flickered into view right in front of you. You drew your arm back, whipping the orange at him with all of your might. But then like a lightning strike, Bakugou was there, explosion in hand. The villain flashed back out of sight, flames raking the store behind him, nearly blinding in their brilliance.

In another millisecond, the orange caught Bakugou on the thigh. You could hear the hard thump of it against the muscle even over the crackle of Bakugou’s explosion. It sent Bakugou slightly off course, and he had to aim another shot at the ground to catch himself before landing on his feet.

Instantly he whipped around to glare at you, smoke rising off his hands. “Oi, brat, what the fuck’re you throwing shit at me for?”

Your mouth dropped open belatedly, shocked that you’d just beaned the number two hero with a navel orange.

“Oh shit—” you gasped out. “I didn’t mean—it was for him—”

Bakugou’s mouth opened, but then another crack sounded across the store, the teleport villain undoubtedly in sight again. Bakugou threw a shot at him again, but you could tell it had missed by the way the villain materialized again just behind Bakugou.

Before you knew what you’d done, another orange was already in flight. Instead of turning to hit the villain, Bakugou was forced to duck before the orange went right through where his head had been. You heard it hit the floor as the villain was gone again, bouncing into a roll.

“Fucking—! Brat, knock it the hell off!” Bakugou growled, his red-hot glare searing your skin. “Or I will cram those things so far up your—”

Another teleportation crack cut him off, and he launched an attack over your head. The heat scalded the top of your head, blowing a flurry of fruits off of the citrus display.

Good. More ammo, regardless of what Bakugou said.

Except, well, this time you would try to aim better.

It was another few heart-pounding minutes before you got your redemption shot, Bakugou and the teleport villain chasing one another all over the grocery store in the most anxiety-inducing game of cat and mouse you had ever witnessed. You could hear entire sections of the store becoming victim to Bakugou’s quirk, hear the sharp cackle of the villain’s laughter and Bakugou’s angry swearing.

And then came the moment.

The gunshot noise that heralded the teleport villain’s quirk exploded in the air right in front of you again, and it was then that you unleashed a volley of fruits–whipping one as hard as you could as you unleashed several more across the floor. A heel materialized just over a rolling orange, and then the rest of the villain—and you watched with malicious pleasure as his ankle buckled and he went to the floor just as hard as you had.

That moment of stunned surprise was all Bakugou needed. He was there in a single second, an explosion catching the villain and blowing him straight across the floor. He hit the side of another display with a sickening thud. Lettuce spattered him in a shower of leaves, plastic bagging fluttering in the aftershocks of Bakugou’s explosion.

Bakugou was on the villain again instantly, and you caught the silver flash of quirk suppressing cuffs as Bakugou buckled him to the shelves, snarling a victorious stream of swear-laden insults. The villain was unresponsive, clearly knocked unconscious by the force of Bakugou’s blow.

In under a minute, Bakugou was striding back over to you, his boots echoing heavily on the tile.

“Watch where the fuck you’re throwing shit next time, brat,” he snipped at you, even as he bent down, hands going under the shelving that had you pinned. His bicep corded with effort, and the metal screeched as it was lifted, clanging to the tile as Bakugou threw it off of you.

You watched it fall, dazed. Bakugou squatted down next to you, catching your ankle and pulling it carefully to him.

You blinked, surprised by the gentle touch, eyes following Bakugou as he leaned over your injury, poking and prodding carefully. His eyelashes dusted the tops of his cheekbones, long and golden and a little too pretty for a man.

“I–ouch–I got him though,” you said defensively.

Bakugou’s scarlet gaze flicked up to your face, and a weird zing went down your spine. He really was so gorgeous in person, you had to admit, even beat to hell like he was now.

“Got me too, you fuckin’ brat,” Bakugou said. Strangely, his expression went clearer as he spoke, however, like he wasn’t even that mad about it. His fingers pressed delicately at the inside of your ankle, just beneath the jut of bone.

“Well you were in the way,” you groused, though you knew your second throw really had been a little poorly aimed. Bakugou snorted.

“...Got a good fucking arm on you though,” he allowed after a few more seconds of prodding.

It startled a laugh out of you, and a surprising hint of a grin cut across Bakugou’s own mouth, white and straight and viciously pleased.

“I—thanks,” you said, strangely flattered. “I think.”

“Yeah yeah,” Bakugou said, red eyes wandering over you. Then he went back to poking around your ankle, and you tried not to watch his arm flex as he shifted through the motions. “‘S fractured but not broken, I think,” he declared when he was finally satisfied.

“Oh,” you said, “Well that’s better than I thought.”

You shifted uneasily, wondering what the process was now that you’d been diagnosed. You’d never been in an attack before. Did you just sit here and wait for a paramedic to come to you? Or, could you ask Bakugou to help get you up to hobble out of the store?

You’d just decided to sit tight when Bakugou decided for you. A strong hand wormed its way under your thighs as another swept around your back, and then you were being hefted into Bakugou’s arms in one smooth, upsettingly easy movement.

Embarrassingly, your thighs clenched, even as your arms reflexively went around Bakugou’s neck.

You could feel a prickle of heat flaming across your face as he looked down at you, those scarlet eyes picking across your features. “Gonna get you to the paramedics, brat, they’ll fix your shit right up,” he said, so close now that you could feel his exhalation on your collarbone.

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. “I—yes, that sounds good—thanks.”

Bakugou nodded, shifting you more securely against him, and then picked his way across the rubble, holding you tight. You tried not to revel in the feeling of his arms around you, aware this was an entirely inappropriate train of thought to have during a rescue. Especially when you’d hit the man with an orange.

It was a disappointingly short journey—you were outside in nearly a minute, and it was only another few seconds before Bakugou set you down on the back of an ambulance. A young, friendly paramedic bustled over and Bakugou relayed your condition in a brusque growl.

Surprisingly, however, he lingered close as the paramedic assessed the condition of your ankle and applied his quirk—a green light that made every nerve in your leg hum in response, but instantly took away the pain in your ankle. Then the paramedic wrapped you in compression bandages to keep it set straight.

“Ice it when you get home and keep it elevated when you sleep,” he advised you in his spritely tone. “I’ve got a regeneration quirk so you should be all healed up by the time you wake up, but you’ll want to keep off of it as much as you can in the meantime.”

You thanked him, and were surprised when Bakugou thanked him too, although much more briskly.

Then Bakugou turned back to you, red eyes catching yours again. You found you couldn’t look away from him, as shy as you were suddenly feeling out in the daylight. A few seconds ticked by, and you could feel your ears going hot as Bakugou looked you over.

“So. You want dinner or what?” Bakugou asked finally, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes got momentarily stuck on the tear in his sleeve, the way the divot of muscle peeked through in the afternoon light.

Then you gaped up at him when you caught up with what he’d said. “Do I—dinner—with you?”

Bakugou looked down at you, a smirk curling his lip as if he’d just realized where your attention had been. “Yeah. ‘M off shift after I give this report. Thought you might want a thanks for the assist or whatever. But if you’re gonna be fuckin’ squirrely about it, then—”

“Yes!” You gasped out, almost before you even realized you’d spoken. A thrill like lightning sang down your spine, electrifying all your nerve endings. Bakugou Katsuki—pro hero Dynamight—had just asked you to dinner?

Of fucking course you were gonna say yes.

Your brain swam, still unsure you’d heard him correctly, but then he leaned in, an arm coming up to catch the side of the ambulance van just beside your face.

“Good,” he said, another viciously pleased smile cutting across his mouth. Something hot crawled into your stomach, and you suddenly realized dinner might be only the tip of the iceberg Bakugou was steering your ship towards. “Gonna have to have a word about your aim, though,” he said, his gaze searing. “Don’t think you’ve gotten out of it just because I like you and you got that teleport asshole too.”

The low, raspy way he spoke was heavier with promise more than reprimand—and it sent another swarm of shivers over your skin.

Bakugou’s eyes caught it, a reply even clearer than if you had spoken. He grinned victoriously, pushing off of the ambulance to stalk over the police presence that had started to amass just beyond the sidewalk, presumably to give his report.

“Stay right here, brat, I’ll be back for you,” he promised, and you grew roots in your seat.

And then you watched him stalk off, staring in disbelief after his broad back. You couldn’t believe the number two hero had just asked you to dinner. And after you’d accidentally beaned him with an orange!

All you’d done was go to the grocery store in anticipation of produce, and you’d walked out with the promise of a date instead.

A ridiculous loop of orange you glad you decided to go grocery shopping? echoed wildly in your brain, a sign of the sheer ridiculousness of your situation. But yeah, you thought, as Bakugou leaned in to speak to a police officer, those scarlet eyes cutting unmistakably back towards you.

You really, really were.

[ssweetleaf]

just like heaven.

| part ii |

pairing— best friend’s brother!steve harrington x fem!reader

♡ summary— steve overhears about your disappointing sex life, but soon starts to imagine how good he could make you feel if only you were with him. (based off this ask)

♡ includes— SMUT 18+, male masturbation, kind of perv!steve, praise, breeding kink, basically stevie fucks his fist thinking about you and gets caught in the act, no specific pronouns used, and no use of y/n, i know some people don’t like that, (i gave steve’s sister a name to make the whole thing a bit easier!)

let me know if you’d like a part two! <3

˖ ࣪⭑

Steve was insatiable; hard as a fucking rock ever since he heard you, on your best friend’s bed, fingers flipping through a cosmo mag and smacking on your cherry gum, completely unaware that King Steve himself was eavesdropping on your rather private conversation.

He didn’t mean to listen in, honest, he was just on his way to the bathroom that just so happened to be next to his sister’s room, the door cracked open ever so slightly, just enough so he could see you on your stomach, ankles crossed and swinging behind you.

“It’s just so disappointing, yknow?” You huffed, eyes narrowing when it caught sight of a certain article on page seventeen about spicing things up in the bedroom. “It’s basically non-existent!”

Tiffany sighed, and his brows started to furrow, trying to get a clue on what they were talking about— slowly creeping closer to their door.

“Babe, it can’t be that bad. What happened to that guy that took you out?” She hummed, trying to think of his name, yet seeming to fall short, the boy completely blanked from her mind.

You groaned, pressing your cheek against your folded arms— and if he craned his neck just a little, he’d be able to see the way your puffy folds sucked up the material of your sleep shorts, riding higher and higher up your thighs each time you kicked your legs.

Oh fuck, he was totally perving…

“Don’t even bother— he was so- so-” you grumbled, huffing at the thought of him before finding the right term to describe that son of a bitch. “Self-absorbed.”

Steve arched a brow, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, the sight before him, all cutesy and whiny, it was enough to have his cock rutting up.

“Come on, babe. Spill the beans, I wanna know what happened.”

You sighed, fighting the urge to hide your face in your hands, before flipping the magazine shut.

“He was just selfish, Tiff- he wanted me to do all the work, didn’t even get me ready just kissed me a little.” You scoffed, recounting the memories and his stupid smirk, “and worst of all, he’s a head pusher- way too forceful, shoved it right down my throat without any warning!”

“Oh my god,” Tiff rolled her eyes, nostrils flaring and she didn’t even know the guy. “What a dick!”

“I know,” you spoke, picking at the remnants of your chipped nail polish, “this is why my sex life is so disappointing.”

˖ ࣪⭑

Steve gnawed at his cheek, traipsing back into his bedroom and kicking the door shut, not even bothering to use the bathroom after— not that he really needed to anyway…

Laying back on his bed, the cool sheets squished beneath him, he thought about you— your pretty thighs and the way they squeezed together mindlessly, the soft fat of your hips from underneath your shorts and the curve of your tits that begged to pop out from your too-small tank top.

You were a total babe, so fucking pretty, and so sweet too, he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone like you had a sex life that was so boring.

I could change that, he thought, fuck, his cock throbbed at the thought. He could take care of you, make you feel better than any of those losers you had been with, sating you on his big cock until you were all dumb and tuckered out.

The thoughts he had were swirling around his brain in a constant tizzy, so much so, he hadn’t even realised he had slipped a hand under his briefs, only realising once it started to leak in his palm, pre-cum staining the material and sticking to his skin.

You were on his mind, your tits, your ass, your pretty thighs- it had him hard as a rock, starting to buck into his own hand, teeth clutching at his lips to stifle his groans— after all, the walls were thin, and there was only one that separated Steve’s room from his sister’s.

He wanted to tease himself, pretend it was you that was teasing him with your pretty fingers— trailing his fingertips along his shaft, running up along the thick vein underneath it before swiping a thumb over his mushroomed tip, all swollen and sensitive, leaking even more now he had his hands on himself.

He sucked that same thumb into his mouth, the salty tang of his arousal on his tongue and the sudden image of his face between your thighs, licking up at your slick pussy and suckling at your peaked clit had his hips bucking.

“Fuck—” he gasped, breath hitching in his throat, sweat already ebbing at his hairline and beginning to slip, cheeks all rosey and flushed, all from the thought of you, you, you.

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, honey-” he was muttering to himself, squeezing his eyes closed and rolling his balls in his palm, playing with him just how he imagined you’d play with them. “wish you were all mine.”

Steve’s fist was tight around his cock, fingers squeezing and pumping it. Up and down, up and down— groaning out into the stuffy air when he thought about your hands stroking at him, fingers barely managing to reach round.

He was leaking, tip bubblegum pink and glistening with pearly beads of pre-cum, dribbling down his shaft and oozing between his fingers, lubing up his cock so nicely— fuck, he thought about your mouth, suckling on him, getting him nice and wet, drooling all over his balls, making a real mess— oh fuckfuckfuck.

“Jus’ wanna fuck you,” he muttered into the air, wishing you could hear him, watch him, “could treat you so well- would spoil you so good.”

He was whining, high and breathy into the stuffy bedroom air, the slick sounds with each jerk were so loud, but he was so pussy-drunk, dumb from the constant swirly thoughts of you, big love hearts pumping in his eyes, he couldn’t find it in him to really care about how loud he was starting to get.

He started to slow down, he had to, already so close to coming, he took his fist away and swirled his fingertips along his cock-head, watching the way his muscles clenched with hooded and hazy eyes.

Steve thought about you on his bed, underneath him, letting him fuck you into the mattress, muttering pretty praises into your sweet skin— licking and sucking at your neck all the while his fat cock punched into your gummy walls and nudged at that special spot so deep inside.

“Bet you’d be such a good girl.” he sighed, starting to stroke himself once again, but much slower than before. “jus’ wanna- fuck— wanna fill you up with my cum, get you all messy and- shit— give you my fuckin’ babies.”

Oh fuck, picturing you all pregnant, tummy all swollen, letting him fuck you from behind while you both lay on your sides, oh god, he was in too deep, but he couldn’t help it. You’d look so fucking pretty all pregnant with his babies— all full of his cum.

His hips stuttered, thighs tensed and his cock twitched, he was so close, so, so close, bottom lip clutched between his teeth, fist squeezing down and shaking from the stimulation.

“G-gonna cum, oh Christ, gonna fucking’ cum!”

He chased his high, jaw slack and mouth agape while long, hot ropes of his sticky cum painted his stomach and thighs, crying out a mixture of your name and a few curses and he swore he hadn’t came as hard before as he did then.

And it all would’ve been fine— he would’ve settled and cleaned up and just went to bed with a little secret in the back of his mind, though the sight of you stood there when his eyes fluttered open— eyes all glassy and lips in a pout, thighs clenching and a cute little wet spot saturating your shorts… oh no.

“I-I can explain!”

⋆˙⟡♡ inbox me eddie and steve stuff ! ♡⟡˙ ⋆

[eisforeidolon]

Question: I have two questions, one for Jensen, and one for both of you.

Jared: Okay. So no Jared question? That's fine.

Jensen: Nope.

Question: First for Jensen, I need to know the story behind this picture, please? [both walk over to look, Jensen mutters something like 'Oh, God']

Jensen: I honestly don't know the story behind that picture. I don't know A) what I'm doing, I'm like sitting in a cast chair and I'm just like pulling my shirt up [mimes the pose]. And I don't -

Jared: If you got it, flaunt it.

Jensen: I don't. Uh, I don't know, I don't know what I would have - I don't even know who took that photo. Or how it got out, but - or why. This is - um.

Jared: I think, I think, here's why -

Jensen: I might have been getting mic'd?

Jared: Yeah, probably.

Jensen: Cause they, when they wire us, when they put the microphones on us, they tape it [tapping center of his chest] to your chest - I mean, there's a few ways they can do it, sometimes they'll wire the jacket, sometimes they'll put it, if you're wearing a tie, they'll put it in the knot of the tie. If you've got a sharp eye, sometimes you can see 'em. But most of the time they'll just tape it to your chest and then the wire kind of goes [gestures down his chest and around to his back] around [points downward] sometimes it goes to an ankle pack, sometimes it clips onto the back of your belt. Anyway. I was probably just going like, [gestures as if pulling up his shirt] okay, wire me. And the person who wires has to put up with that kind of - the shenanigans that we do when we're like [does the fake laugh thing, and shakes back and forth].

Jared: Also, in fairness, I think that was like season one or two? And so twenty years ago, we didn't realize, we were slow, we were not the generation where everything you do lasts forever? And so it's like [fake laugh, pops hip, makes fart noise] Ahh, I'm farting, and it exists twenty fucking years later, so. Naivety on both of our parts, I think.

Jensen: So I don't know if that answers your question, but that's the best I can come up with, so. What was the other question that he might help with anyway?

Question: Both of you, do you feel any pressure from the fans to show that you're still close friends? When you search on Google 'Jensen and Jared' there is the first question that pops there is 'Are they still friends?'. And whatever happens between you two, people just watching, waiting, like are you still close or not -

Jared: So I think, so -

Question: You have this pressure to show that you're still close -

Jensen: It's exhausting.

Jared: [grabs his shoulder] Wow.

Jensen: I'm so glad you brought this up. [turns to Jared] I am, I am exhausted pretending to be your friend -

Jared: That's actually my, that's actually my question that I put into the Google search. I'm like -

Jensen: [cracks up] I haven't heard from him in weeks!

Jared: I haven't heard from Jensen in two days [mimics typing] are they still friends? Does he still like me, circle yes or no? [Jensen cracks up more] I don't feel - I'll speak for myself - I don't feel any pressure to [finger quotes] prove that I'm friends with Jensen or my br- or anybody, you know what I mean? Like, life - we have lives, and we live in different states and, like, if I see him every day for a month, great! If I don't see him for seven months, great! Like if he's good or needs something, or I need something - but yeah, I do find that question funny. And I think it's also, I think it's like, from, was it French Mistake, or? It was like, episode, yeah I did see something online where they're like, 'oh, they're talking'. It's French Mistake.

Jensen: Oh! Yeah yeah yeah.

Jared: And then it became a thing, where they were like -

Jensen: Oh, is that real? Do [they?] not like each other? Yeah.

Jared: We also fucking - I have an alpaca! [Jensen cracks up again] Like, no one hinged on that, like does Jared really have a picture of himself in Warhol style and his wife and a tanning bed and an alpaca at his house? Like no, I don't.

Jensen: You're not far off, though. [laughs]

Jared: Close, close. Got one out of four.

Jensen: Yeah, no. I think there's also - [points at Jared] you kind of touched on it a little bit. You know, I think anybody who can just see us together whether we're onstage or whether we're back stage? Can tell that there's a, you know, legit love for each other. And always will be. Whether - like he said - whether we see each other every day for six weeks or whether we go six weeks without seeing each other. Or without even, like, checking in. Which, we usually text back and forth and stuff, just, you know, about hey, what d'you think - what're you doing with this, or hey I need to ask you a question -

Jared: We have a Wordle text thread.

Jensen: [they talk over each other here, so this next is approximate] Yeah, we Wordle each other every day. Um, so, that would be pretty, again, pretty exhausting to keep that [finger quotes] facade up, if it was a facade and it's not.

[lovelyhan]

Hii Kai how about hooking up lee Chan at home football game where he should be benched but he’s off playing with you instead 🥴 congrats on your milestone bb 💕

02:40 — CHAN

it's a crime how it took me so long to actually work on this AHSHSJA thank you for the mental image of jock dino ditching his games for some pussy nana ur brain is so big 😽😽😽 + this kind of reads more like crack than smut so i hope you forgive me HAHSJW

it's the biggest match of the season. there's equally high stakes for both teams playing and the audience is nothing if not fired up.

team captain choi seungcheol considers this as the game that'll make or break their career as a team, so it's only proper for him to do his usual headcount. but when he notices that they're one person short—

"vernon," he calls out to one of the younger members, frustration making itself known on his face. "have you seen chan? the game's about to start."

the younger athlete stares at him quizzically. "uh, he said he had to go home early. something about a sprained ankle. but won't it be fine? he's benched for today anyway isn't—"

"he went home early 'cause of what?!"

"...a sprained ankle?"

vernon doesn't quite understand why seungcheol is simultaneously having a meltdown and looking like he's about to plan lee chan's funeral and burial all by himself.

"a sprained ankle," the captain begins, pinching the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh, "is code for pussy appointment. that asshole ditched us to get his dick wet!"

on the other side of campus, lee chan sneezes in the middle of fucking your brains out.

"whoa," you chuckle, reaching out to pat your boyfriend's face lightly. "you okay, baby?"

despite being balls deep inside you, chan shivers for reasons completely unrelated to the feel of your cunt squeezing around his dick. "i feel like someone's plotting my death right now."

"channie, that's the most unsexy thing you've told me ever." you roll your eyes, wrapping your thighs around his hips to pull him closer. "can you go back to rambling about how good my pussy feels?"

seeing as he's very much still hot and hard inside you, it seems that your boyfriend wasn't that thrown off by his mid-coitus sneeze. he simply sighs, stares down at you and the spill of your pretty breasts before fucking into you hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall.

"love it when your tits bounce like that," he moans, leaning down to latch his lips around your pebbled nipples.

"y-you love my tits all the time," you accuse, trying your best not to let out any noises that are too embarrassing to bear. "when you saw me in my cheer uniform earlier, you dragged me all the way back to your dorm just to fuck me!"

"can't help it, baby," chan laughs before cupping your face and pressing a kiss on your nose. "that skimpy uniform makes your tits pop out perfectly. good thing i'm not playing today 'cause everyone would've seen my erection in the middle of the field."

you keen sharply when the head of his cock grazes against your g-spot—all snarky comments about his unsolicited plan to sneak out of the game for a pussy appointment going up in smoke.

"r-right there, channie—shit," you whimper, fucking yourself back on his cock to match his fervor. "cock's splitting me so fucking good..."

"that so?" he whispers breathlessly, wandering hands pawing at your breasts before he suckles on them. "does that mean you'll let me drag you off for more quickies from now on?"

"don't caaare," comes your drawled out plea, clammy hands reaching between your legs to rub your clit in tight circles. "'m so close, channie. wanna cum on your cock. please, please, please. want it—need it."

one minute you're scolding him for being unsexy, and the next you're drooling over his pillows as he fucks you stupid. if chan wasn't as desperate to dump his load inside you as he is, he would've dragged this out just to tease you.

"good fucking girl," he hisses when he feels your walls tighten around his length—egging him on to fuck you through your release as he chases after his own orgasm.

when chan spills his cum into your quivering cunt, you let out the prettiest little moan that could beat any sort of practiced cheer from a crowd of spectators. he'd prefer to see the redness dusting your fucked out face over any trophy they're set to win.

and he'd rather lie in bed with the love of his life than warm a bench for the entirety of a game.

"cheol's gonna kill you when he sees you again, you know."

that's the first thing you say when chan brings you to the bathroom—taking the act of aftercare as seriously as ever.

"i know," he says coolly, rubbing a damp washcloth between your thighs.

"and really? you told vernon you sprained your ankle?"

"hey, i'm sure he isn't gen-z enough to know what i really meant."

"yeah, but cheol will definitely understand once vernon tattles on you. i'd be lucky if i still have a boyfriend that's alive once the day ends."

for all your unsolicited concern, chan decides to lean forward and press a soft, chaste kiss on your lips. the expression on your face flits between surprise and endearment and irritation so quickly, chan almost laughs.

"that's what good pussy does to a motherfucker," he murmurs before pressing another kiss on the corner of your mouth. "now let me clean you up before i get in the mood to fuck you again."

⟢ end notes: this is probably the most unserious thing i've written in a while lmfao a million apologies if it only seems half coherent bc it is <333

[darcydarlingdabbles]

The Static Between Us~

RadioApple + Static 🍃Voyerism 🍃Omega!Alastor /Alpha!Lucifer

🍃Explicit🍃Vox Cucking ~ 4.8k

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Thanks for 160 follows, 2.5k likes on Tumblr...and holy shit 27k reads on Ao3!!! Have some crack/smut to celebrate with me XD

🍃🍃🍃

The sleek drone hummed almost imperceptibly as Vox guided it through Hell's smog-choked skies.

His screen flickered with anticipation, cyan teeth bared in a grin as the newly remodeled Hazbin Hotel came into view.

"Let's see what you're up to, old pal," Vox purred, his clawed fingers dancing across the controls.

The drone glided silently over the hotel's new rooftop gardens, a stark contrast of lush greenery against Hell's desolate landscape.

Vox's pupils contracted as he spotted his targets.

Alastor and Lucifer were strolling among the foliage.

Alastor's crimson hair gleamed in the hellish light, his ever-present smile a mask of amusement as he kept his hands folded neatly at the small of his back.

Beside him, Lucifer's smaller frame radiated power—as much as it echoed frustration with every gesture of his blackened hands. .

“What do we have here?" Vox mused, zooming in on the pair. "A lover's quarrel?"

He strained to hear their conversation, cursing the limitations of even his most advanced technology. He reached for a dial, tunning away.

"Just wait," Vox muttered, his screen crackling. "One of these days, I'll catch you slipping, Alastor. And when I do…" He trailed off, lost in visions of finally besting his rival.

Alastor's body language spoke volumes, however—the tilt of his antlers, the sharp gestures of his gloved hands. Classic Radio Demon needling.

"I'm telling you, the color scheme is fine!" Lucifer's shrill voice carried through the audio feed. "The pink would be perfectly fine if you weren’t always covering it in blood splatters!"

Alastor's static-laced chuckle grated on Vox's nerves.

"My dear, I believe you're overthinking this. The sinners won't care about aesthetics when they're being tortured."

“Alastor,” Lucifer huffed, rubbing at his temples with the long fingers of his right hand. “They’re not being tormented, they’re being redeemed.”

“I fail to see the distinction.” The Radio Demon said brightly.

Alastor’s permanent grin was etched onto his face as always, but his usually relaxed posture was now tense. His ears flicking constantly with irritation.

Next to him, Lucifer's normally suave demeanor was replaced with an obvious groan of frustration.

They were a pressure cooker about to pop.

As he watched, a pang of something uncomfortably close to jealousy twisted in Vox's gut. He pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the potential for chaos unfolding before him.

Vox's screen flickered with desire and disdain as he manipulated the drone's camera, panning slowly down Alastor's lithe form.

Even fully clothed from neck to wrist to ankle, the Radio Demon's silhouette was maddeningly seductive. The crimson pinstripe suit hugged Alastor's slim waist, flaring slightly at his hips before tapering down long legs.

Hiding the soft curves of an omega’s body beneath sharp angles and layers of fine fabric.

"Damn you," Vox muttered, his teeth gritting in frustration. "Why do you have to look so good?"

He zoomed in, capturing the subtle sway of Alastor's hips as he walked.

The Radio Demon's backside was pert, perfectly small in his mind. He imagined gripping those hips, claiming that body, making the omega writhe—until his circuits buzzed with want.

The TV demon's fingers twitched and Vox refocused on the conversation unfolding before him.

"And the plumbing is atrocious," Alastor's voice crackled through the feed. "Really, sire, one would think the King of Hell could conjure better pipes."

Lucifer's face tinged gold with a flush. "Don't push me, Alastor. You’ve treading on thin ice."

Vox leaned closer. What was that supposed to mean?

“Treading?” Alastor's grin widened. "My dear, I’ve been tap-dancing on it." He leaned down to the angel’s level. “You’ve simply failed to crack, yet.”

"Last warning," Lucifer growled. "Red light. Quit while you’re behind."

Red light? What kind of threat was that?

On screen, Alastor's ear twitched, his head tilting in a coquettish manner that Vox had never seen before.

There was something in Lucifer's posture, a coiled tension that spoke of barely restrained power.

Alastor's laugh rang out, sharp and challenging. "Make me, your majesty.”

“You asked for it!”

Lucifer's hands shot out, grasping Alastor by the lapels of his precious coat and slamming him against the gnarled trunk of a nearby tree. The impact sent a shower of crimson leaves cascading around them.

"Oh my," Alastor purred, his voice crackling with static. "How terrifying, I’m simply shaking in my boots."

Vox's screen glimmered with excitement, his grin stretching wider than should be possible on his digital face. "Come on, old man," he urged. "Put that pompous asshole in his place."

Lucifer's grip tightened, his knuckles like ash against the deep red of Alastor's coat. "You never know when to stop pushing, do you?" the fallen angel growled, his face inches from Alastor's perpetual, petulant smile.

"Where would be the fun in that?" the omega replied, his tone light and teasing despite his precarious position. "Besides, I do so enjoy seeing your feathers all…ruffled."

Vox's brow furrowed in confusion. He had expected Alastor to fight back, to summon his shadows or at least attempt to break free.

Instead, the Radio Demon seemed almost…relieved?

As he was being tossed around by the devil himself.

On the screen, Lucifer leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that Vox had to strain to hear. "Are you sure you're prepared for the consequences, Bambi?"

Alastor's eyes glinted with mischief, his grin widening impossibly. "Oh, I'm counting on them."

Lucifer yanked Alastor down by his lapels, crushing their lips together in a fierce kiss. The action was so sudden and shocking that Vox's digital eyes widening in disbelief.

"What the actual hell?" the TV demon sputtered, his voice glitching as he processed the scene before him.

The kiss was rough, brutal, and anything but loving. Lucifer's hand snaked up to grip Alastor's hair, tugging it sharply as he deepened the kiss. For a moment, the omega seemed to melt into it, his usual rigid posture softening.

But then, just as quickly, Alastor's hands flew up to Lucifer's chest, shoving hard against the angel.

It was like pushing against a stone wall—Lucifer didn't budge an inch, but he did pull back, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Is that all?" Alastor taunted, his voice husky and slightly breathless. "I expected more from the mighty King."

Lucifer's eyes flashed lethally, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Oh, you want more?"

The angel gripped Alastor's shoulders and forced him down. Until the Radio Demon's knees hit the ground with a dull thud.

Vox's excitement intensified, a thrill running through his circuits. "Now that's more like it," he chuckled darkly. "Look at the high and mighty Radio Demon now, on his knees where he belongs."

He watched the devil grab for the demon’s hands in one of his. Lucifer's grip tightened on Alastor's wrists, pinning them roughly against the gnarled bark of the tree.

The fallen angel leaned in, capturing Alastor's lips in another searing kiss. Alastor's eyes widened momentarily before fluttering shut, a soft hum emanating from his throat.

Vox's screen flared in disbelief.

"Since when do you put up with so much mouth to mouth?" he muttered, his voice tinged.

With one hand still restraining Alastor's arms, Lucifer's other hand deftly popped open the buttons of the demon’s shirt collar. "Such a needy little omega," Lucifer purred, his breath hot against Alastor's ear.

"Needy? Al? " Vox scoffed, rolling his digital eyes. “As if.”

Lucifer's lips curled into a smirk. "If you need attention so badly, Bambi, you could just ask."

Alastor's permanent grin widened, an impish glint in his eyes.

"Now where," he drawled, "would be the fun in that?"

Lucifer's hand shot up, gripping one of the Radio Demon’s antlers and yanking his head back. The deer let out a startled gasp, exposing the pallid column of his throat.

Lucifer's gaze fixed on the spot where Alastor's mating gland lay hidden beneath his skin.

"Is he going to…?" Vox leaned forward, his circuits humming with anticipation, half-expecting Lucifer to tear into Alastor's throat for his insolence.

Lucifer's mouth descended on Alastor's exposed neck, lips latching onto the sensitive mating gland.

Vox watched intently, still expecting gore, when suddenly Alastor's ears drooped and a sound escaped him that the TV demon had never heard before—a deep, throaty sigh.

"What the hell?" Vox muttered.

Alastor's eyes fluttered closed, his usual sharp grin melting into an expression of blissful surrender. Another moan vibrated through the air, sending a jolt of surprise through Vox's circuits.

Vox's digital jaw dropped.

He had never, in all their encounters, heard Alastor make a sound like that.

Nights spent tangled in silk sheets, Alastor's lithe body beneath him, cool and unresponsive. The Radio Demon's smile fixed in place, eyes half-lidded with boredom rather than interest. Vox had always assumed Alastor was simply cold, uninterested in physical intimacy beyond using it as a tool for manipulation.

But this... this was different. Alastor's usual rigid control was crumbling, his body arching into Lucifer's touch.

Another moan escaped him, lower this time, almost a purr.

"Since when do you make noises like that, you smug bastard?" Vox muttered, his voice glitching.

He zoomed in closer, drinking in every detail.

Alastor's chest heaved with each ragged breath, a flush creeping up his neck to stain his greyish cheeks. His ears, usually perked and alert, were drooped in capitulation.

And his eyes…Vox had never seen them so dark, pupils blown wide with unmistakable desire.

Lucifer's hand slid lower, teasing at the waistband of Alastor's trousers. The Radio Demon's hips bucked forward, seeking more contact.

A whimper—an actual fucking whimper—fell from Alastor's lips.

Vox's circuits buzzed with arousal and indignation. He remembered countless nights of trying to coax even the slightest reaction from Alastor.

The Radio Demon had always lay there, occasionally offering a sarcastic quip or rolling his eyes.

At best, he'd been a pillow princess. At worst, a corpse in bed.

Vox's gaze snapped back to the screen, drawn by another breathy sound from Alastor. He cursed under his breath, realizing he'd missed a crucial moment while lost in his own thoughts.

"Thank Satan for recording," he muttered, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. Wincing when he realized he was thanking one of the men on the screen.

Vox shook the idea off.

The Radio Demon’s usual sharp tongue seemed to have deserted him, replaced by breathy gasps and needy whines. When Lucifer nipped at his collarbone, Alastor threw his head back with a keening cry that sent shockwaves through Vox's system.

It was so fucking over the top that—the tv demon seized on the realization with both clawed hand hands.

Alastor…had to be acting. Overacting.

He was the manipulative little dandy from Vox’s bed—it must be Lucifer’s ego that needed all this porn star shit.

"You little minx," Vox snarled. "You were holding out on me all this time?"

He watched, transfixed, as Lucifer's hand dipped lower, disappearing between Alastor's legs.

The Radio Demon's reaction was immediate and intense. His back arched off the tree. His antlers scraped against the bark, leaving gouges in the wood.

Lucifer had Alastor pinned against the tree, the Radio Demon's coat and shirt pulled open to reveal a torso marred with a myriad of scars.

Vox's receivers flickered, desire and resentment coursing through him at the sight.

"Not as untouchable as you pretended to be," Vox sneered, watching Lucifer's hand disappear beneath the waistband of Alastor's slacks.

Vox scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Good luck with that, sire. Our prudish deer boy never—"

His words died in his throat as Alastor's head fell back against the tree, a low, staticky moan escaping him.

Vox's circuits nearly short-circuited at the sight.

"He always smacked my hand away if I even tried to get him off!"

Realization dawned on Vox as he watched the way the devil’s wrist moved. He wasn’t stroking at the omega’s cock—he was shoving those fingers inside Alastor.

"Good luck getting him wet, old man," Vox scoffed, his voice laced with bitterness. "Our dear Radio Demon's about as responsive as a dead battery."

Alastor's voice, dripping with disdain, echoed in his mind. "Such an unpleasant chore. But if it'll shut you up for five minutes…”

"Just another performance to stroke a more powerful ego, eh, Alastor?” Vox's grip tightened on the control panel.

The deer demon always seemed to prefer the fighting over the fucking—before and after.

On the screen, Lucifer slowly withdrew his hand from between Alastor's legs.

Vox leaned forward, anticipating the look of bored arrogance on the Radio Demon's face.

Only to see the glisten of omega slick on the fallen angel’s fingers.

Alastor's ears flattened against his head, a rare display of embarrassment that sent a jolt through Vox's system. He watched, transfixed, as Lucifer brought those fingers to his mouth, cleaning them with slow, deliberate swipes of his forked tongue.

Alastor's voice crackled through the drone's speakers, impatient and breathy. "Enough teasing, you insufferable alpha. Hurry up and fuck me already."

Vox's screen quivered violently, a chaotic swirl of jealousy, anger, and a perverse fascination he couldn't ever shake when it came to Alastor.

"Hurry up and get it over with," he mimicked in a mocking tone. "At least that’s familiar."

Lucifer's hands moved to Alastor's trousers, fingers deftly working at the fastenings.

In a sudden flourish, the fallen angel's magnificent white wings unfurled, their span impressive even through the drone's limited view. The feathers, tipped with crimson, created a shimmering curtain around the couple.

"Oh, come on!" Vox groaned to the sky at being denied his peep show.

To his surprise—and Lucifer's—Alastor's voice rang out, clear and commanding despite its underlying breathiness.

"Put those away, would you?" Alastor purred, his grin sharp and hungry. "I want to get my legs around you properly, darling."

Vox's screen crackled with static, his own shocked expression reflected back at him. Since when did Alastor ask for anything in bed?

Lucifer hesitated, confusion evident in the tilt of his head. "But I thought you'd prefer some privacy, my wicked little doe."

Alastor's laugh was dark and rich, sending an involuntary shiver down Vox's non-existent spine. "Privacy? In Hell? How delightfully naïve."

His clawed hands traced down Lucifer's chest. "Now, be a good alpha and do as you're told."

“You’re gonna pay for that one, too, Bambi.” Lucifer's eyes glowed as his own horns extending from his disheveled blonde hair.

“With interest, Darling.” Alastor purred, his voice a static-laced croon.

With a bemused smile, Lucifer complied, his wings folding back and disappearing from view.

Vox found himself leaning even closer to his monitors, arousal and bitter envy coursing through his circuitry.

The rough bark of the ancient tree scraped against Alastor's back, his shirt just hanging off his shoulders, as Lucifer pressed him firmly against its trunk. The radio demon's fingers dug into the wood, leaving deep gouges as his long legs parted, wrapping around Lucifer's smaller frame.

His hooves brushed the ground, but the archangel's supernatural strength kept him effortlessly pinned.

A sharp gasp escaped Alastor as Lucifer snapped his hips forward—the alpha obviously burying his cock inside the omega.

The warbly moan that followed sent ripples of interference across Vox's screens.

"Fuck," Alastor managed, his smile taking on a strained quality. "I suppose that's one way to compensate for your stature."

Lucifer stilled immediately, his brow furrowing. "Are you alright, Al? We can stop if—"

Alastor's laugh crackled through the air. "Don't you dare, you infuriating cherub. I was merely making an observation."

Vox seethed silently, the barbed compliment stinging more than he cared to admit. He'd never elicited such…enthusiasm from the Radio Demon.

"An observation, hmm?" Lucifer's voice was low, dangerous. "Perhaps I should give you more to pay attention to."

Alastor's grin widened impossibly, his head tilting at an unnatural angle as he met Lucifer's blazing gaze.

To Vox's utter astonishment, a sound unlike any he'd ever heard from the Radio Demon escaped those sharp-toothed jaws—a cloying, submissive omega croon.

"Alpha," Alastor purred, his voice dripping with honeyed venom. "Don't keep me waiting. Show me what that divine strength can do."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, a wicked grin spreading across his angelic features. "As you wish."

With a growl that shook the very foundations of Hell, Lucifer began to move.

The ancient tree groaned in protest as he slammed Alastor against it, setting a brutal, punishing pace that had the Radio Demon gasping and clawing at the bark.

Vox writhed in his control room. His screen flickered wildly as he watched, certain that at any moment Alastor would start his usual routine—taunting, teasing, urging the alpha to hurry up and finish.

But the cutting remarks never came.

Alastor remained uncharacteristically hushed, not silent, save for the tuneless gasps and moans that escaped him with each thrust.

"This can't be real," Vox muttered, his voice tinged with static. "He's faking it. He has to be."

Vox's screen crackled with incredulity as he devoured Alastor's reactions.

The Radio Demon's perpetual smirk had vanished, replaced by open-mouthed gasps of pleasure.

Each thrust from Lucifer was met with unbridled enthusiasm, Alastor's lithe body bowing to meet the smaller alpha's powerful movements.

"Inconceivable," Vox hissed, his digital eyes narrowing. "Since when does the great Radio Demon submit and simper like a common whore?"

But the evidence was undeniable.

Alastor's crimson eyes were half-lidded, his antlers scraping against the tree bark as he threw his head back in abandon.

Lucifer's hand snaked between their bodies, his fingers curling around Alastor’s hard prick.

Vox leaned forward, a cruel chuckle escaping him. "Good luck with that, old man. The prude never wants to—"

His words died as Alastor not only allowed Lucifer's touch but seemed to revel in it. The omega's arms draped around Lucifer's shoulders, pulling him closer.

"That's it, darling," Alastor purred, his voice rough with need. "Don't stop."

Vox's screen flashed violently.

Alastor's composure crumbled entirely, his usual theatrical flair replaced by raw, primal need. His claws dug into Lucifer's back, slicing the fabric of the vest the devil wore.

"Alpha," Alastor implored, his voice crackling with static.

Lucifer growled, a sound that sent shivers through both Alastor and the watching Vox.

He captured Alastor's lips in a bruising kiss, hips snapping. Blood red leaves began falling from the tree with every tremble.

Vox's screen wavered erratically, mirroring his inner turmoil.

"This can't be real," he muttered. "It's another one of his tricks. It has to be."

As Lucifer and Alastor's coupling intensified, the air around them crackled with demonic energy.

The fallen leaves at their feet began to smolder, wisps of smoke curling upward.

Alastor's usual composure shattered completely, his carefully cultivated image crumbling under the onslaught.

"Alpha, please."

Lucifer's eyes glowed with hellfire as he growled, "Such a needy little doe. Is this what you wanted all along?"

He punctuated his words with particularly brutal thrusts, each one drawing a keening whine from the Radio Demon. Alastor's legs tightened around Lucifer's waist, trembling down to his red hooves.

Alastor's ears flattened against his head, a whimper escaping him.

"Alpha, please," he chanted, the words dripping with submission. "My alpha."

Lucifer captured Alastor's lips in a searing kiss, swallowing the Radio Demon's moans.

His hand moved faster on Alastor's cock, thumb swiping over the sensitive head with each stroke. Alastor's hips bucked wildly, caught between the dual sensations of Lucifer's hand and his relentless cock.

The tree behind them groaned, its trunk beginning to splinter under the force of their fucking. Cracks spread through the bark, mirroring the fractures in Alastor's usual mask of control.

His radio dials eyes spun wildly, tuning in and out of different frequencies as pleasure overwhelmed his senses.

"Lucifer," Alastor gasped, his voice breaking.

"Come for me, Bambi," Lucifer commanded, his voice resonating with unearthly power. "Show me how good I make you feel."

With a final, brutal thrust, Lucifer buried himself to the hilt inside Alastor.

The Radio Demon threw his head back as a cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure tore from his throat.

Lucifer stilled against him, grabbing the splintered tree trunk as his hips stuttered and finally stilled.

Vox's screen dimmed, a hollow ache spreading through him.

In all their time together, he had never seen Alastor so…content to surrender. And so satisfied with having done so.

They clung to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure.

Vox watched, transfixed, as Lucifer peppered Alastor's face with gentle kisses.

Soft laughter broke the silence, the tangled lovers falling to the soft grass and leaves at the base of the tree, arms still wrapped around each other.

Alastor's smile, for once, reached his eyes. “You will not hear the end of it if you ruined my coat.”

"You're incorrigible," Lucifer murmured, nuzzling the omega’s cheek.

"You wouldn't have me any other way."

The omega shifted, a small frown crossing his features.

"Well, this is a predicament," he mused, his radio-static voice tinged with amusement.

Lucifer chuckled, his golden hair falling across his forehead, until the Radio Demon’s hands started to right it.

“Hope you don’t need to be anywhere else, Bambi.” The angel chuckled, settling Alastor more comfortably into his lap. “Cause we’re gonna be stuck for a while.”

The realization hit Vox like a surge of electricity.

Alastor had allowed Lucifer to knot him.

The same Alastor who had always used his shadow powers to escape being tied down to Vox.

Resentment, hot and searing, mingled with a deep-seated anger that made his screen crackle—a painful truth began to crystallize.

"He never…not once…" Vox muttered, his voice distorting.

Alastor's fingers intertwined with Lucifer's. His gaze drifted to a fallen magnolia blossom near his hooved feet. With an elegant motion, he plucked it from the ground, his perpetual grin fixed in place, even as the delicate petals withered and browned at his touch.

Melancholy just flashed over that smile, but both alphas caught it.

Lucifer's eyes softened, sliding his other hand into Alastor's.

A warm, golden glow emanated from their joined fingers, enveloping the wilted flower.

Alastor watched, fascinated, as life surged back into the blossom.

Its petals unfurled, pristine and luminous, more vibrant than before.

"How curious," he mused, his radio-tinged voice barely above a whisper. "Your touch brings life, while mine—"

"Dont," Lucifer interrupted gently, tucking the rejuvenated flower into the lapel of Alastor’s coat. "We balance each out."

A genuine smile, softer than his usual manic grin, tugged at Alastor's lips. "I suppose we do, don't we?"

Suddenly, Alastor's head snapped towards the stealthy drone, his radio-dial eyes locking onto the camera.

His lips didn’t move, but that unmistakable voice crackled through the speakers around Vox.

"Enjoying the show, old friend?"

Vox sputtered. "How did you—"

On the screens, Alastor’s grin sharpened, turning wicked as his pupils began to spin.

Vox's face blue-screened with panic.

The air crackled with electromagnetic energy as Alastor's power surged.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you? It's rude to spy."

Vox's meticulously crafted surveillance network disintegrated in an instant, leaving only snow and static in its wake.

"No, no, no!" he snarled, his voice distorting with digital feedback. His fingers flew across the console, desperately trying to salvage the feed. "You smug, Bambi, bastard!"

The screens before him erupted in a cacophony of pixelated chaos.

The footage was gone, corrupted, irretrievable for blackmail. Or Vox’s private collection.

He slammed his fists on the console. "Damn you, Alastor!" His scream reverberated off the metal walls.

Back in the garden, Alastor's smirk widened, a mix of triumph and mischief dancing in his eyes. He savored the moment of Vox's frustration cast across the radio waves.

Then, the omega nestled closer to Lucifer.

His ex could have a tantalizing little show, but the afterglow…that was just for his alpha, and himself.

Alastor turned his attention back to Lucifer, a contented sigh escaping him as he settled more comfortably in the fallen angel's lap.

The knot tying them together pulsed gently, sending pleasant aftershocks through both their bodies.

"Now then," Alastor purred, his voice a low, staticky rumble. "Where were we?"

Lucifer's arms tightened around the Radio Demon, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Alastor's head. His fingers threaded through the soft red hair, careful to avoid the sensitive bases of Alastor's antlers.

"Right about here, I believe," Lucifer murmured, drawing Alastor into a slow, languid kiss.

Gone was the fire of before, replaced by sweetness and affection.

Alastor's lips parted with a soft sigh, allowing Lucifer's forked tongue to slip inside. The fallen angel tasted of brimstone and honey, an intoxicating combination that had Alastor melting further into his embrace.

When they finally broke apart, a dazed smile playing on Alastor’s lips.

Lucifer chuckled, pressing a series of feather-light kisses along the demon’s jaw.

"You're beautiful like this," Lucifer murmured against Alastor's skin. "

A faint blush colored Alastor's cheeks. "Flattery will get you everywhere, darling," he quipped, but there was no real bite to his words.

A faint buzzing filled the air as the drone, now useless, plummeted from the sky. It crashed behind the hotel with a satisfying crunch.

Lucifer, still knotted deeply inside Alastor, jerked around. "What was that?"

Alastor's grin never faltered. "Oh, nothing to worry about, darling," he purred, his voice a silky blend of amusement and innocence. "Just another one of those pesky flying cameras being zapped by your magnificent barrier."

Alastor shifted slightly on the fallen angel’s lap, drawing Lucifer’s attention back to him.

The garden around them was a vibrant tapestry of hellish flora, the air thick with the heady scent of sulfur and sweet blossoms. Alastor's ears twitched, picking up the faint rustle of leaves and distant screams of the damned.

"Now then," Alastor purred, his voice carrying the crackle of radio static, "I believe it's time for a little…privacy, don't you think?" His crimson eyes glinted with mischief as he gazed at Lucifer. "You can bring out those magnificent wings of yours, darling."

Lucifer's lips curled into a smirk, a mixture of amusement and affection dancing in his eyes.

"Oh? And here I thought you enjoyed putting on a show, scandolizing the plants and all."

Despite his teasing words, he unfurled his six majestic archangel wings, their pearlescent feathers catching the eerie light of Hell.

Then, they were wrapping around them both in a cocoon of soft white feathers. The air grew warmer, filled with the scent of alpha contentment and omega bliss.

“Now, why would I ever want to share you?” Alastor hummed, cupping Lucifer’s face close to him.

As the wings enveloped them both, creating a cocoon of ethereal beauty, Alastor felt a rare moment of true contentment wash over him.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them in this intimate sanctuary.

Lucifer's voice, low and rich, broke the silence. "You know, Alastor, if you're needing attention, you can simply ask for it. No need for all this…taunting and provoking."

Alastor chuckled, the sound a mix of static and genuine mirth.

"Oh, but my dear Lucifer," he responded, his grin widening impossibly, "where would be the fun in that?"

That was the thrill of their little game, the push and pull that made their relationship so deliciously unpredictable.

"Besides," Alastor thought to himself, tracing a finger along Lucifer's jawline, "half the enjoyment is in the chase, isn't it?"

Alastor shifted, a mischievous glint in his radio-dial eyes. He rolled his hips experimentally, relishing the sensation of Lucifer's knot still buried deep inside his ass. An unmelodic moan escaped his lips, mixing with the ambient sounds of the garden.

Lucifer's hand shot out, gripping Alastor's hip where fawn spots adorned his skin.

"Easy there," he warned, his voice a mix of amusement and desire. "If you're aiming for another round in our room, you might want to pace yourself."

The Radio Demon's permanent grin widened. "Why would I take it easy on someone with infernal stamina?" he purred, leaning in close. "After all, aren't you the one who boasted about your…endurance?"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes. “ I thought you might be, done, for the night."

"Oh, mon cher," Alastor chuckled, his voice dipping into a lower register. "I just needed to break the seal, so to speak." He closed the distance between them, capturing Lucifer's lips in a searing kiss. As they parted, Alastor's expression softened ever so slightly. " When we return to our room…well, I might be persuaded to show a sweeter side."

Lucifer's eyes widened a fraction, recognizing the rarity of Alastor's offer.

The Radio Demon leaned in, his breath ghosting over Lucifer's ear as he whispered, "That side of me is just for you, after all."

[platinumshawnn]

ESCAPISM | jburrow

AN: I’m here to bring u some bar joe vibes as it was my birthday yesterday, featuring some Nick bosa with RAYE’s music being the vibe here. I also got carried away so bless to souls who actually read this whole thing through lol. I also have yet to decide if I do a second bit to this

Warning(s): alcohol consumption, idk some sexual tension, some lowkey implication of a previous hookup. And PLEASE for the love of god, don’t share drinks with people at the bar, stay safe kids

Word count: 3.9k

Her eyes darted between the clock on the wall and the table in front of her, the box on top of it white and wrapped with a neat, silver bow that would occasionally sparkle under the light of her kitchen; her tv still playing the old-time movie she had been previously engrossed in — a childhood favorite her grandma would play to distract her when she babysat her as a child. 11:59 — one minute.

She turned, heels clacking against the marble tiled floor with each step as she approached the bag that had been lazily tossed earlier that afternoon after her shift, the paper bag crinkling with movement as she fished the small box of candles and the plastic container possessing a single piece of red velvet cake; her gaze on it as she turned and made her way back to where her glass had sat, awaiting her return with lipstick smudge on its rim. Her eyes were temporarily drawn to the television as the scene became the source of commotion that echoed throughout the room, setting the cake and candles down. She reached across the counter to fetch the candle lighter that sat in a bin of items that were usually tossed when she returned home from work, sliding it towards herself as her right hand began to fidget to the dessert, popping open with a cracking sound. Her stance shifted, her hips resting against the countertop while her legs crossed at her ankles as she dropped her eyes to the candles, picking up the box and using her nails to pry open the small cardboard box to slide one out between her fingers; plucking the small wax stick out and plopping it into the slice of red velvet. Her gaze lifted to look across the room at the clock — any second.

She paused, watching as the second hand quickly rounded the seconds, counting down. The lighter was picked up, pressing the ignite switch to trigger a flame that caught her eye for a moment, watching intently as her hand hovered over the cake and caught the wick of the candle to light it; the flame slowly growing from a small spark. Her eyes lifted one last time to the clock as it struck midnight, looking down at the candle again and stepping back one step as she bent over to plant her elbows against the countertop and stared at the flame, her eyes shutting as she paused.

Let this be a good year. Give me one damn good year.

Her eyes opened after a second, sucking in a breath as her lips parted, puckering to sharply blow out; watching as the candle was extinguished in a swift moment, leaving behind nothing more than smoke as a reminisce of its previous bright orange light. She stood upright, reaching for the glass of wine — her fourth, the cause of the buzz that had spread throughout her body, reaching as far as her toes. There was a moment of silence in the apartment, apart from the soft hum of her television as she stared at the cake in front of her, taking a small sip from her glass, the bittersweet drink being held on her tongue for a moment longer before she swallowed and let out a scoff, pathetic that she was putting so much hope and faith into a candle. She brought the glass back to her lips and tipped it back, tossing back the remaining contents with a sharp swallow and exhaling from her nose as she set the glass down suddenly with a harsher thud than intended, an exasperated sigh leaving her as she lifted the glass to eye the base to ensure she hadn’t cracked or broken it. Once the glass was cleared, she placed it back down and eyed the box from her friend on the counter — a little gift, her friend had described it as when she had slid it to her during brunch earlier, wide eyed and stopping her from opening it right then and there in the middle of the restaurant.

“Later, not now!” She had whispered across the table.

Her phone chimed on the counter, tearing her gaze away from the box as she reached for it and lifted it, her friend’s name and face looking back at her as she paused before answering and beginning to walk away from the counter, shutting the plastic lid to the cake as she moved, “Hey, hey.” She greeted, hearing a chorus of shouts over the phone upon her answering the phone, the high pitched squeal of her friend above them all.

“My lover, my birthday girl!” Lauren screeched, more excited than she herself could muster as she reached down with her left hand to smooth the short black dress over her thighs; having ridden up with movement, the black tights not helping their slide.

“I’m just about to leave, I should be there soon.” She answered, sighing out a laugh at the girl on the other end of the phone call.

“Good, we’re waiting on you!” She shouted over the noise that just threatened to drown out her drunken words — she could picture her now as Lauren seemingly brought the phone away from her mouth to yell something to someone on her end of the line, probably plugging her one ear and squinting, crouched over as she struggled to keep upright in her heels that she had only worn for the sake of appearances, despite how much she hated heels. Her voice returned after a moment, raspy from shouting over music, “So, how does it feel? Twenty-five!”

She let out a groan as she rolled her shoulders, flipping her hair back over her right shoulder as she began to walk towards the door to the apartment, shutting off lights as she walked and fixing her left heel while balancing the phone between her shoulder and cheek. “Oh god, don’t say it like that.” She whined.

“Like what? It’s a sexy age!” Lauren defended, having turned twenty-seven just a few months prior. “It’s a perfect age, like a second coming— one year closer to being the hot aunt everyone wants to bang.” She rambled, though there was a slur to her words that reminded her to take her ramblings with a grain of salt as she laughed out loud.

“I’m hanging up, I’ll be—“

“You better not pull out!” Lauren shouted, earning a sharp laugh from her friend who slid her jacket over her shoulders and grabbed her bag, unlocking her apartment door to step into the chilly hallway that was devoid of any sign of life.

“I will be there in fifteen minutes, I’m walking there now.” She interrupted, hearing as Lauren was yet again yelling to someone off mic.

“Okay, don’t get grabbed!”

Her mouth opened, ready to shoot back some type of witty response, something sarcastic but she was met with the tone that Lauren had hung up on her; pulling the phone away from her face as she walked down the hallway towards the elevator, seeing that she had ended the call. A short laugh left her mouth, a stiff sound that resembled more of a scoff as she shut her phone screen off and shoved it away into her purse; slinging the small bag over her shoulder as she stopped outside the elevator and leaned to press the button. If not a good year, give me a good night at least.

—

She had the sudden urge to reach for a cigarette from her purse as she rounded the corner, coming out of the hallway that extended into the club from the entrance, her jacket having been checked in at coat-check, the stupid little ticket being shoved deep into her bag as if that would prevent her from losing it during the night. But her urge would be met with empty efforts after having quit smoking six months prior — the most she would find, if she was lucky, was a lighter that probably was on its last leg after too many nights out and being buried under god knows what in her bag; certain it had fallen in far too many puddles in the wetter months of the year when Lauren had dragged her out. She hated clubs, hated coming to places like this but Lauren was persuasive and she hated the thought of her here alone more, but had found the ability to enjoy it enough to tolerate her and even found it to be exhilarating at times. How many hidden kisses had she experienced in the back hallway, leading towards the bathrooms? Her gaze skimmed over the hallway briefly as she passed it, already beginning to feel the density of the crowd tonight as she stepped on to the floor, her hands reaching for the hem of her dress again as she shuddered at the thought of how many people she had kissed — the thought of how she could barely place faces or names to them gross, but worse when the realization sank in that she couldn’t even remember their faces. She could only justify it by looking up at the neon lights that possessed a blue hue, scanning over the crowd of bodies that seemed to sway with the beat — the dim lights here could make anyone attractive.

Her shoulders were jostled by bodies as she nudged through the crowd, navigating towards the booth section that was elevated over the rest of the club, overlooking the dancefloor that was packed like a can of sardines; her hands in at her waist as she brushed past the endless sea of people. The odd hand would reach out for her elbow as she moved, hearing a whistle over her shoulder, but her gaze stayed fixed forward as she walked while her chin seemed to lower the further into the crowd she managed to get, trying to avoid any unnecessary interactions brought on by accidental eye contact.

Her shoulders relaxed with a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding as she reached the bouncer who was overlooking the entrance to the booth section, having to lean up on her toes to shout her name over the music as he rose an eyebrow at her; the clipboard in his hand held up as if to wordlessly ask for her reservation. His head nodded, turning to allow her past and offering a hand to her to help as she stepped up the two steps that separated the section from the rest of the room, glad as she awkwardly wobbled as she stepped up and straightened her shoulders. Through the dim lighting, she immediately saw Lauren’s hand fly up and wave for her over a shoulder, her head peering around the guy in front of her as she found her friend and pushing past him to shuffle towards her; watching as her hands flew over her chest to contain herself from a wardrobe malfunction with the bouncing motion as her friend slowly began to approach, letting out a laugh and gesturing to her own chest to signify Lauren’s situation.

“Oh, careful!” She shouted as Lauren approached her.

Lauren immediately reached out for a hug, one arm still at her chest and fixing the black strapless front that was barely being held up by what she could assume was some fashion tape, hopes and dreams. “I was worried!” Lauren shouted into her ear.

She scrunched her nose and leaned away from the hug after a moment, shaking her head while her arm wrapped around her waist, guiding her into turning to make her way back to the table where she could make out multiple heads belonging to guests Lauren had gathered on her behalf, “You really shouldn’t worry about me. I can fight.” She joked as the pair approached the group. Lauren’s arm had found her shoulders, squeezing as she then rubbed up and down her arm a couple times as a soothing gesture, her head turned to look at her friend with a frown.

“Don’t joke, you know how crazy shit has gotten.” Lauren stated, her friend’s features softening as she looked at her and nodded reluctantly. Her friend turned to gesture to a few work friends, girls buried deep in the booth who waved and squealed greetings to the birthday girl, Lauren gesturing to a few guys who had collected into one corner and were chattering amongst themselves; the familiar guy Lauren had been talking to, coming out from a trio that had been talking while they settled, “You remember Nick, right?”

Her gaze turned to Lauren briefly, raising her eyebrows subtly as Nick stepped forward and leaned in for a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek as a greeting, “Ah, she made it! Happy birthday.” Nick said as he leaned in, releasing her from his grasp after a moment, her own hand lingering on his shoulder as she pressed a kiss to his opposite cheek and flashed a smile at him, “We were starting to think you were going to back out again.” He remarked, though there was a playful tone to his words as he straightened up.

“Blame work— hours are long, work is hard.” She replied, withdrawing her hand from his shoulder though his remained, touching her side as he laughed.

“Yeah, yeah— Lauren said you were quite the workaholic earlier,” He said, taking a sip of his drink as she shrugged in turn, “I’m starting to see what she meant.” Nick said after a moment, leaning over as he spoke, his lips close to her ear before he withdrew again and took his hand back. Her gaze shot towards Lauren who was mid-task of mixing a drink, a sloppy version of a vodka-cranberry as she watched on, meeting her gaze over the rim of her drink. Nick excused himself, rambling some explanation of allowing her the opportunity to greet the rest of her ‘guests’, reaching to take the expensive bottle of vodka from Lauren and waving with his fingers. She slid her purse from her shoulder and tossed it on to a rack above the booth, looking at Lauren as she exhaled.

“I forgot how touchy he was.”

Lauren choked on her drink, snorting in response and shrugging, her hands lifting in a surrendering gesture as she stuttered out some incoherent noises. She grinned and reached for the drink in her friend’s hand, taking it from her grasp to bring it to her mouth, taking a drink from the thick mock glass cup, “I think he just likes you.” Lauren commented, her voice low enough to prevent him from hearing as he leaned past them to grab a mix from the table, his chest brushing her shoulder as he moved past her to make himself a drink. Her head turned to glance at him, being flashed a smile and an apology as he leaned away after a moment, her head tilting at Lauren and eyes widening as she mouthed for her to shut up. Lauren laughed again and reached for her drink back, hand waiting as she took one last drink before surrendering it back to her, her gaze flipping over her shoulder.

“Too bad you like someone else,” She teased, gesturing by jerking her chin behind her and following Lauren’s gaze over her shoulder to where Joe was distracted by his own conversation; swaying slightly to the music in a way that — from her spot — looked utterly ridiculous. “Joe’s here. Quick, which underwear are you wearing?” She asked, her head snapping towards her friend as she jokingly tugged on the hem of her dress.

She swatted her hand away, “Oh, drop it— leave it alone already, it's been like five years.”

Lauren leaned into her, her shoulder bumping hers, “Four, actually.” She corrected, smiling in her face as she snatched her cup once more to choke down the contents.

“He was on a break with Olivia, the guy is hardly out of there— leave him be.”

“Maybe he use the could pick me up.” Lauren insisted, her eyes on her friend's face as she shuddered, letting out a quiet gag from the drink that was disproportionately poured by her friend's drunk hand; Lauren scoffed, laughing as she took the empty cup away and set it on the table. “If you won’t, maybe I will.”

“You’re so not funny, that’s gross.” She replied, swatting her hip as she reached once more for the bottle that had been returned by Nick a few moments earlier, “Weren’t you talking to Nick? Is that not what I saw?” She asked, though her tone hinted at teasing her friend who snapped up with the bottle and practically choked out an excuse, nodding her head and mouthing a ‘yeah, yeah’ as Lauren nudged by her and started to shuffle back towards Nick, earning a snort.

“What’s not funny?”

She turned as a body appeared behind her, her left shoulder colliding with his chest as she turned slightly to look up at Joe’s face as he stared after Lauren for a moment before looking back down at her; his eyebrows raising as she could faintly make out a small, crooked smile on his face from behind his drink as he took a sip, awaiting her answer,

“Ah, just the man we were talking about.” She responded, his eyebrows raising further as he lowered his cup, “I was just saying we hadn’t heard from you in a while for a minute there— did you change your hair?” She replied, her tone laced with amusement as she reached up and brushed the hair that hung over his forehead.

“I’m a busy guy.” He replied, eyeing her for a moment as her hand dropped from his face as she noted just how close he stood, leaning against the railing with an elbow propped up, “Come on, what did she really say? I want in on the details like one of the girls.”

She snorted, turning entirely to face him and mirroring his posture of leaning into the banister with her elbow, “A guy in a relationship, you mean. You’re not one of the girls though, Joe, sorry — classified.” She witted.

“Not anymore.” He quickly corrected, his gaze fixed on her face as he took a sip from his drink; silent for a moment as the comment weighed there between them, hanging in the air as her eyes scanned his face, head tilted as she then smiled and shook her head.

“It’s good to see you, Joe.” She finally said after a pause, disregarding the warmth in her cheeks as she redirected the conversation.

“It’s good to see you, too, happy birthday by the way.” He replied, swallowing and lowering his cup before he tipped it towards her, drawing her eyes to it for a split second as she registered the offer. He seemed to take her silence as an answer, bringing the lip of the cup to her mouth and tilting it to her lips as her hand rose to try and wrap around the circumference of the cup; though his hand remained there, guiding the drink as she swallowed the sweet liquid — whiskey sour. His gaze held hers as she took a few cautious sips from the cup, careful not to mess her lipstick more or spill any of its contents on herself, “Easy there, baby.” He quietly laughed as she leaned away, her hand coming away from the glass to cover her mouth as she licked her lips clean of excess dribble.

She wouldn’t linger on the nickname, stepping back as her hands dropped to her sides and clenching there for a moment as she inhaled, having to take a quiet breath; a mental reminder of how intense his presence could be, even four years later, the tension palpable as she swayed between her feet and glanced behind him at the rest of the group that was distracted by their own conversations. “I’m going to…” She said, gesturing behind her towards where a bar was shoved into a corner, just below the stairs of their sectioned off area, his eyes following her movements. “I’m going to get a drink.” She finally finished.

His gaze stayed on her as he nodded, mouth turning down in an upside down smile for a moment from behind his drink — she suddenly felt so bare under his stare, backing up a few steps that were wobbly as it felt as though the wine and liquor was starting to catch up to her, her skin on fire and feeling the buzz’s effect as it had reached her fingertips. She turned around to walk, her hand reaching out to skim the banister as she walked as fast as her feet would allow her, flashing a smile to the bouncer who once again offered a hand to help her step down and back to the general floor where she beelined for the bar. Her hands awkwardly gripped the ledge, using it for support as she let out a breath, leaning forward but cautious not to press into the countertop that was sticky from spilled drinks as she waved over a bartender who smiled as she approached; a beautiful girl with that perfect white smile and long hair, skin on display as she slid a drink to a patron to her right,

The bartender leaned over, “What can I get you?”

She hesitated, “A whiskey sour!” She stated, having to shout over the music as the girl nodded and immediately began assembling her drink. Her gaze watched as she perfectly poured the liquor, skilled hands working the bartender then slipped a straw into the cup and handed it over, her hands lifting to mimic the number.

“Twelve!”

“Put it on my tab!” Joe replied over her shoulder as he waved to the bartender who glanced at him then nodded, “I’ll grab another one, too, thanks.” He stated, the girl smiling as she nodded once more and began to put together a second drink, glancing at the two as she slid it across to him and stepped away.

Her head turned as he reached past her to grab the drink from the counter, having already discarded his other cup at some point between reaching her, her gaze on him as he immediately plucked the straw out and tossed it into a garbage just behind the counter. He looked good— with or without the lighting, he always looked good. His haze scanned the crowd for a moment as she stared at him, reminded just how easily he could knock the wind out of her lungs as she had to force herself to breathe normally, his eyes turning to find her again. “Consider it my birthday gift.” He said, leaning down so his mouth was near her ear, his shoulder brushing hers with the movement.

She nodded after a moment, the close proximity bringing forward an image of his lips on her neck, his breath fanning over her skin as he’d mumbled something she could barely make out — she hated guys who were still hung up on exes and were fresh out of relationships.

She lifted her drink to tap his own, “Thank you then.” She sweetly replied, her head turning to look at him as his face hovered close, his nose just nearly brushing hers from the close proximity; finding his eyes that scanned over her face slowly, taking in every inch of her features as he flashed a small grin — that stupid fucking smile. She really hated pretty men, especially pretty men who were hung up on exes.

[switchbladedreamz]

Eating Me Alive

~~~~~

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Reader

(use of y/n? No, not bc I hate her just no name mentions. Plot? What plot? Mention of pipboy, reader is former vault dweller ((i just needed a reason to explain the flashlight)) )

Requested?: nah

Summary: 🔞‼️cunnilingus in an abandoned bar. Thats it. Lol. Cooper eats you like you're the last pack of Miraluke Cakes in the entire wasteland.

~~~~~

~~~~~

It was a day like any other. Scouring around Megaton searching for food and medicine to restock and trade for caps. Today we went further and found a new corner of town. What was also new was the fire breathing ant colony a mere 30 feet from the bar. Looks like they over took a rundown construction site. Cooper pulled us into some building and barricaded the door. "Them fuckers are a pain in the ass to deal with and I don't know about you but I'm not feelin very fireproof right now. We'll wait them out here. Wherever the fuck "here", is." I look around but can't see anything. I turn the flashlight on on my pipboy. I turn and turn, checking all directions until i get a feel for the place. "Huh. It's a bar. I'm gonna look around and make sure this is the only door."

"Okay, there is a back door. I tried to open it and got it a crack, there's a bunch of rubble on the other side. I guess from the building beside us. The little windows in the bathroom are broken but too small for even a baby ant to get through. So I think we'll be safe here waiting out that swarm". Strong hands capture my waist. Warm brown eyes like Sunset Sarsaparilla catch the breath in my throat like a fish on a hook. "Have I told you how sexy you are when you take charge like that?" "Where's this coming from Coop? You already get drunk in the five minutes I was gone?" I laugh him off, not thinking anything of it. Firm glove-covered hands lift me off my feet. My hands fly to Cooper's shoulders. "WHA- what are you doing?!" No answer. Only a thud and sudden stability. Cooper sat me on the edge of a pool table. Must've been nearby. My arms twine themselves around the nape of his neck, his hat falling off in the rush of limbs. Cooper's lips are like burlap pillows against my own mouth. Heat bubbles underneath the surface of my flesh as hot breath, light opened mouth kisses drag down the skin of my throat. A soft whimper escapes when his hips force their way between my thighs. Denim and the curve of his hardening cock press flush against my sex, my legs can't find purchase around his torso fast enough. Cooper pulls away, his brown eyes curious and analytical as he stares at my panting form below him. "well shit you must be made outta sugar an puddin' with how sweet you are. let's see how sweet you taste down here baby." The Ghoul punctuates his statement with a smooth roll of his hips into my core. "okay" I mumble out, mind whirling swirling with butterflies and lust. "Okay? that's all you got to say?" his eyes harden slightly, analytical again. He nods to himself, confirming my consent with himself internally. Coop sticks the tips of his middle fingers in his mouth, yellowed teeth slightly catching on the leather enough that when he pulls his wrists- the gloves pop off. "Be a good bunny and keep your hands above your head". "Okay Coop". The smirk he flashes makes my knees weak and my stomach stir. Cooper's large hand covers my chest, he presses down until i lie on my back. He gives me a nod and small "atta girl" before busying himself with undressing me.

Sand-textured hands caress up, down, slowly up the back of my thighs, a gentle hand grasps each ankle. Cooper stretches my legs to his shoulders, then his hands bury under my hips before lifting my lower body. My ass is hanging off this dusty pool table, Cooper takes advantage of this position. He takes a deep breath, kissing the seam of lips. The wet muscle is warm and thick, familiar and strong as the point of his tongue splits my lips. Warm electricity blooms in my thighs, striking my core. Cooper's tongue rolls in circles against my slick hole, he inches the muscle inside. I can feel him inside me, the tongue twisting and writhing like a man crazed speaking in tongues. My back arches, my weight shifting to my shoulders as my feet press into the ghoul cowboy's back. Cooper takes this opportunity to change his focus. Flat and broad his tongue takes its time licking as he pulls away. And up. up. up. up. Right there. I gasp, he chuckles at me. The movement almost makes my foot slip. The Ghoul's lips draw tight around my clit as he sucks. The world behind my closed eyes swirl, his tongue flicks fast over the small pearl. My thighs close over my lover's ears. "Baby please don't stop" I plead. My eyes close tight, still keeping my hands above my head. Without stopping Cooper lays me back on the table, his hands hook in the crook of my knees. Pushing my knees to my chest his own chest covers my lower half, my feet dangling midway down his back. Furiously shaking his head side to side, his assault blissfully continues. My nipples ache with pleasure, desiring to be touched. My fingers twitch eager to quell the burn in my breasts. Ecstacy's fingers dip into the river of blood that is my veins, lighting my body on fire. The bottom of my feet tingle and my thighs quiver. My breath catches, so close to bursting the dam. I can practically feel the proud smirk tattooed on my pussy while Cooper eats me alive. (Sexually.) The balls of my feet plant into Cooper's shoulder blades, my body squirms and thrashes beneath his frame. My breath catches in my chest as the dam bursts. Cooper's blunt fingertips dig into the thigh meat below my knees as my thrashing body throws itself against his face, that damn wicked tongue, riding my orgasm out like a plasma bullet from a plasma pistol. My breath is shallow and shaky like my vision. Sweat is pouring from every orifice I could possibly have. Cooper untangles himself from me gently. I can feel his irradiated warm brown gaze watching me. Thinking he can hide the cautious look in his eyes with pride. Like he's expecting I'll shatter into dust before I can catch my breath. Once I have I bend forward and grab my pants from the floor. Its a fight to get them up my sweaty thighs but once they cover my ass and are buttoned and zipped I put my boots back on. Cooper is waiting for me on his back laying to one side of the pool table. A knife gripped in his right hand, he uses the tip to clean the dirt from under his nails. "C'mere doll." He says as I crawl my way next to him. He sheaths his dagger then spreads his arm. Opening up my favorite spot just for me.

[64yrsold]

ACHES (bonus - 10.5) lassitude

18+ (please see masterlist for cw) a/n: here's the bonus first-time blurb i promised. i don't think i'll write anything else for aches but i did say that the last time lol. hope u like it!! ♥︎ aches masterlist

“You look drunk,” I giggled, pressing a thumb into his cheek. It was rough and cold, still bitten pink from the wind. 

“Mm,” he mumbled, then laughed, “Don’t look at me that hard.” One jagged edge of his tooth caught my eye, and I brushed over it with my thumb. He bit at it, leaving a shallow indent in the soft center of my thumb. I wiped his saliva on his cheek. 

“But you’re so pretty,” I whispered, trying to stumble out of my shoes. 

“Pretty?” He didn’t seem ashamed of the compliment, just probing for more. He knelt down, wrapping a hand around my ankle as he slid my foot from my boot. I shivered, his palm warm on my skin. 

“Like silk,” I twisted one of his curls between my fingers. He hummed, pulling my foot out of my other boot. I dug my fingers into his scalp, raking through his hair.

“Don’t like silk,” he noted, looking up at me from his knees. I pulled a grey hair from his head.

“Ouch,” I said for him, turning the silver thread between my fingers.

“What?” he blinked, unaware, “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes,” I teased, and shoved his shoulders, toppling him onto his back.

“Shit,” he giggled, grabbing for my wrists and tugging me down. I tumbled on top of him, elbowing his ribcage.

“Oh, shit,” I sputtered, and he groaned and whined under me, cradling his torso. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby.”

He let out a choked moan, “I’m great, I’m fine.” His scrunched nose and gritted teeth gave him away.

“Where’s it hurt?” I whispered, dragging my hands up and down his chest.

“Where you fuckin’ elbowed me, babe,” he grunted, smiling a bit. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I chanted, giggling through my slurred tongue. 

“Yeah?” he said lowly, hooking a finger into the neckline of my dress, “Really sorry?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, pouting and performing for him. I liked the way his tongue dragged against his bottom lip, remembering what I tasted like. He tugged harshly on my dress. My skin rose where the back of his finger brushed against my breast, my heart jumping and reaching for him. 

“Come here,” he whispered, tilting up his chin. He looked at me, through lashes and heavy lids, cheeks pink and lips flushed. “God, do I have to beg?”

I grinned, leaning down and laying my forearms on his chest. I touched my nose to his, smiling into the warm space between us. 

“I like your place,” I said, my lower lip brushing his. He sighed up into me, a crack coming from back of his throat.

“The hotel?” he said, reaching his mouth for mine. I turned my face, letting him kiss my cheek and jaw. He groaned, his hands balling into fists at my hips. 

“Yeah, I like the hotel,” I pushed my hands into his hair, thumbs tracing over his earlobes. His eyebrows drew together at the friction, lips parting as I dragged my nails against his scalp. 

“I like the hotel,” he repeated stupidly, and I giggled. I kissed his cheek, listening to him inhale through his nose deeply. 

“Are you tired?” I asked, nudging his cheekbone with my nose. His hair was unbelievably tangled between my fingers, knotting in my hands. I imagined twisting it into rope, binding and tethering my hands to him. 

“No, sweetheart,” he wrapped his arms around my back, sitting up. I sat above him, happy on his lap, my lips to his forehead and his mouth on my chest. 

“This hurts my knees,” I complained, the carpet digging into the bone. He kissed my collarbone, lips smacking against the skin. His lips were wet when he looked up at me.

“Should we go to bed?” He reached for a strand of hair that had fallen in front of my eye, pulling it behind my ear. It popped out as soon as his hand fell to my back. I nodded. 

The bed was soft when he threw me on it, and he laughed as I pulled the hem of my dress down. 

“What?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“You’re pretty,” he smiled, “Like silk.”

“And?”

He tutted, “Greedy.”

I nodded, “And?”

“Drunk.”

“I’m not!” I kicked at his thigh, which he dodged expertly. He pulled at his tie, tossing it on the bed beside me. I grabbed it, twisting it around my arm tightly. I liked the pressure building in my fingertips, the red blooming up my wrist. He laid down beside me, on top of the blankets. He kissed my palm, unwrapping the tie. 

“You could,” I swallowed, looking at the fabric in his hands, “tie me up.”

He chuckled, “Yeah?”

My heart tripped, “Yeah.”

“Guess I could,” he crawled on top of me, sitting between my thighs. My chest cracked open, my heart spilling out in front of him. My pulse drilled in my ears as I watched him pull the tie between his fingers, wrapping it around his fist. He dragged the fabric against my cheek, sweet and slow, watching my eyelashes flutter and chest rise for him. It was pathetic, how I was pooling and desperate for him, how my cheeks flushed and my fingertips went cold. It wasn’t fair, how his tie smelled like smoke as he brought it down my neck, over my shoulder, and down my arm. He raised my wrist, wrapping the tie around it gently. I watched his hands work, eyes wide and unblinking. My ears were ringing, the room suddenly quiet. He took his hands away, a pretty bow tied around my wrist.

“I–” I began to protest, quieting as he kissed at my wrist, around the bow. 

“What?” He asked, looking at me with his lips on my skin. 

I sighed, “That’s not what I wanted.”

“I know what you want,” he licked his lips. 

“Then why can’t I have it?” I pressed, and he leaned low, kissing me softly. 

“You can,” he said, and it was a promise. It was etched into my skin, engraved into the front of my skull. It looped in my ears, echoed down my spine. 

“Today?” I whispered, and he kissed me again. It was gentle, just to feel me. 

“I don’t know,” he murmured, his nose knocking against mine as he moved to lay beside me. He pulled a pillow under my head, pushing his leg between my thighs and his arms around my back. He kissed me, lazy and drunk, letting heat wash over my face and seep throughout my body. My dress was hitched up to my waist, his clothed thigh against the lace of my underwear. But he just kissed me, letting a haze fall over us, letting a hum sing between us as our hearts synced. He laughed softly when I gasped, his hand crawling up my spine. He kissed and licked my mouth, indulging in my every whimper. I was begging for more, for friction or pain, but he gave me feather touches and teardrop kisses. He held me like the ocean, he felt like a current in my blood. I was deeply, deeply in love with him.

“Do you like me?” I murmured into the dark, his lips catching my question. He brushed my hair back slowly, looking at me carefully. His eyes answered me before his mouth. 

“I like you,” he said anyway, dragging a thumb over my eyebrow. “I like you forever.”

I giggled, “I like you forever.”

“I think you’re the only one,” he pressed a finger into the lines on my forehead, “I think you’re the only one.”

“I’m not drunk anymore,” I mumbled, holding his wrist. My lips were buzzing from his, but all I felt was calm. 

“I could touch you,” he whispered, unsteady. My mouth went dry with lust, and I pressed my lips together. “No?”

“Yes,” I said quickly, kissing his palm, “Of course, yes.” 

His hands found my back again, pulling me impossibly closer as his lips pressed to mine once more. He sighed when I kissed him back, mumbling baby baby as I took his lower lip between my teeth. I pulled open his shirt, button by button, his chest warm and heaving. I pressed my hands over his chest, palms pushing into his skin, running up and down his stomach and gripping his collarbones. I touched his throat, flattening my palm against it to feel him swallow. I moved to feel his heart in his carotid, bursting against my fingertips. His body was an entheogen, and I prayed to the desires he elicited in me. 

“Have you thought about this?” I asked, and he took a deep breath when our lips came apart. 

His hand met my thigh, squeezing as he replied, “Thought about what?” He was being playful, wanting to tease dirty words from me.

I kissed him, “Having me in bed.” He grinned at my blunt reply.

“What should I say?” He asked, trailing his hand up my leg, meeting the thin lace at the top of my thigh. 

“Say you do,” I said, gasping as his fingers traced the frilly edge of my underwear. “Say you think of me all the time.”

“I do think of you all the time,” he rasped, and I believed him, “and I’ve been desperate to have you to myself.” He took the lace at my hip in his fist now, pulling it down my legs. He left it at my ankles, watching me closely as he pressed his thumb into the soft skin above my hip. 

“Do you,” I started, my voice sounding weaker than I hoped, “touch yourself to me?”

He nodded, nose nudging my cheek. I smiled at that.

“What else?” I breathed, wanting to hear everything. Every dirty thought he had about me, everything he fantasized about me. 

“You don’t want to know,” he said, joking. I huffed, and he smiled. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“Say–” I groaned, shuddering as his fingernails ghosted over my lower stomach, “Say you want to fuck me.”

He kissed me, deep and heavy, tongue between my teeth, pulling all the air from my lungs. He dragged two fingers between my thighs, groaning thickly into my mouth. He caught every choked gasp, every tiny moan and aching whimper I passed to him, licking for more eagerly. He let his fingers trace around my entrance, bored or just savoring me, guided by my quickened cries. I was fixated on the way his mouth mimicked his hand, pushing and pressing, gentle and circling, his tongue and fingers filling me. I held his hair in fistfuls, twisting my legs around his waist as he teased and coaxed. 

“Love you,” he murmured, as if he had said it a thousand times, “love you, love you.” I kissed him harder, hands behind his neck, hoping to weld our bones together. I stuttered, thighs tensing as his thumb edged against my clit. 

“You feel—” I managed, then buried my face in his neck as he found a pretty rhythm, my eyes squeezing shut. I was gasping heavily now, my chest meeting his quickly, my dress feeling tight and restrictive over me. The bow on my wrist was untying, draping over his back. It twisted under his arm as I brought my hand to his jaw, stealing a few kisses and panting into his mouth. He seemed to like my nails in his jawbone, his throat reverberating against my skin. Each swipe of his fingers left me hungrier, left my mind circling and wondering about what he would feel like.

I let go of him, finding the hem of my dress instead, trying to wrestle it over my head. He smiled against my cheek, withdrawing his hand to help me with my dress. He pushed it up to my ribs, then pulled me to sit up. I sat in front of him, legs crossed, looking up at him. His eyes were bright, lips red and swollen. Looking at him seemed to soften time, blurring the minutes together. He kissed my shoulder as he pulled my dress over my head, the weight of it all lifting off of me. I felt vulnerable, but noticed his eyes didn’t fall or wander. He just watched my eyes, watched them wonder and beg. 

“You’re so pretty,” he finally said, lip between his teeth. I twisted a smile off my mouth, undoing his belt carefully. “I have to be so careful.”

I shook my head, “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he whispered, shouldering off his unbuttoned shirt. “I want to.”

If I thought about it too hard, I would cry. 

“Can you take these off?” I murmured instead, tugging at his waistband. He bit his cheek, unzipping his pants. 

“These?” He teased, discarding his pants to the floor. I rolled my eyes weakly, laying on my back. He spread my legs with his thighs, tucking a hand behind my head. My legs were already shaking, caused by the cruel mixture of cold air and my desperation. 

“I really need you,” I confessed, and he pressed a paper kiss to my cheek. His head fell to the crook of my shoulder, a sigh falling from his mouth as he stroked himself. I reveled in the way his breath fell over my breasts, a delicate warmth I craved as soon it was gone. 

“I’m gonna be slow,” he said, grainy and shaking. I didn’t care, but I nodded quickly, my hands soft and brushing his back. I whined as he dragged his tip against my core, reaching a hand down to feel him. He was slow when he pushed into me, my hand still at his base. I whimpered, hand trailing up his chest to let him sink into me. 

“Fuck,” I mumbled, brain spinning in my skull at the fullness of him. 

“Fuck,” he returned, rocking into me gently. He pushed through my cracked groans, his punishingly slow pace leaving me restless and wanting to scream. He soothed me with his hands, palming at my breasts and pressing into my neck, always gentle but heavy enough to placate me. 

“Please, I–” I begged, sounding wrecked and breathless. He seemed desperate to fuck harder into me, his hips stuttering with each stroke. “Let me on top.”

“You feel so good,” he groaned, but pulled out of me with a sigh, lying on his back. He was gorgeous, eyes fluttering and mouth gently open. I kissed the pink on his cheeks when I threw my leg over him, feeling weak but too frantic to care. I knelt over his thighs, feeling watched as I took his length in my hand. My body throbbed just looking at him, stiff in my fist, his stomach tightening with each breath. I dipped my head down, looking up at him as I flattened my tongue against his cock, licking up the underside of it. His mouth opened softly, a quiet groan escaping his throat. I circled my tongue around his tip, watching his brows pull together. I took him into my mouth, his jaw flexing, and let him hit the back of my throat.

“Fuck, fuck—“ he moaned, his hands reaching up to grip the headboard. Warmth pooled in my stomach at the sight, and I hollowed my cheeks, trying my best to please him as I bobbed on his cock. He hissed each time I pushed him into my throat, mumbling incoherently when I maintained a steady rhythm. 

“I’m gonna— fuck—“ he groaned, and I let him out of my mouth with a pop. I straddled his hips, his eyes wide. 

“You okay?” I asked, and he nodded, swallowing quickly. 

“Fucking perfect, sweetheart,” he said, grasping my waist as I ground against his length. He let out a slow sigh through tight lips, flittering between squeezing his eyes shut and staring up at me, lust hazy in his eyes. I unclasped my bra, his eyes flicking downwards, then back to me.

“You can look,” I giggled, leaning forward with my palms on his chest. 

“Shit,” he grunted, “I can’t believe how fucking perfect you are.” He pushed a hand between the valley of my breasts, gripping the side of my neck firmly. I watched him as I reached for his cock, lining him up with my center slowly. His chest quickened, and I leaned into his hand on my neck as I sunk onto him. 

“Fu-uck,” he cried, fingers digging into my hip as I let him fill me, my head feeling light. I moaned into the space between us, circling my hips for my pleasure only. He didn’t mind, grabbing both of my thighs when I started to rock against him. He felt fucking delicious, and I couldn’t help but ride him faster, breath catching in my throat each time my hips met his. His hands crawled over me, whispering pretty praises as I senselessly bottomed out, again and again until my vision blurred. He groaned, fucking up into me as my pace slowed from exhaustion, his hands guiding my hips. 

“I can’t,” I gasped, “much longer.”

He nodded, and flipped us over swiftly, maintaining the reckless pace I set. I grasped for his bicep, then trailed a finger down his chest, awe-stricken and spoiled. His curls stuck to his forehead as he thrust against me, kissing my cheek every chance he could. He was overwhelming, but kept finding my gaze to make sure I was still there. I anchored myself to his sound, his quiet groans, the sound of our skin. He pressed two fingers into my clit, rubbing until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I reached to claw at the sheets, then his back. 

“I’m—“ I mumbled, and he listened, fucking me steadily until I choked through a scream, burying it in his neck. My orgasm cracked through my body, catching me by surprise. I wanted to last longer, to last forever, but the pleasure splitting through my veins dulled this desire. 

“Can I—“ he breathed, jaw slack above me. He was gorgeous, fucked-out and begging for me.

“Inside, inside,” I whispered, still hazy and burning with bliss. All I could hear were his strained breaths, melodic to my ear. His hips stuttered once, twice, then he pulled out, spilling warmth on my stomach. 

“Shit,” he growled, forehead stuck to my collarbone. He nipped at the skin there as he rolled beside me, his sticky chest pressed against my arm. I turned my head to kiss him, and he was tender against my sore lips. He kissed it all better, his hands soothed and stroked the pulse in my neck, taming me and bringing me back to him. I could feel it between us, some eternal thing, glowing against the back of him and onto me. 

He hummed, knuckles soft on my cheek, “So pretty.” He kissed my forehead, ducking into the washroom and returning with a damp cloth. It was cold when he pressed it over my stomach, and he laughed under his breath at my dissatisfied cooes. He had the blankets over me, sliding in behind me before I could mouth another complaint. 

“You want a bath?” he asked, lips in my hair. 

“I want you again,” I said, feeling his chest shake with a laugh. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing my shoulder. I slept in his arms, having cotton-like, frothy dreams, waking to a new one each time he tossed in his sleep. I’d wake him up with kisses on his wrist, or he’d wake me, a thumb circling my stomach, then dipping into me, wet and waiting for him always. He’d be slow and languid, both of us in a comfortable state of lassitude, coaxing me to finish with compliments and breathy moans. 

“You’re so pretty when you sleep,” he would murmur, fingers curling inside of me. “I can see you dreaming.” I could only whimper, cheeks flushing as he pushed me over, waiting for me at the bottom. I curled into his chest, kissing the sweat off his sternum until we slept again. 

“Love you,” I would whisper, only when I was sure he was asleep.