#ungh. Sobs into the pillow

[kalashnikovlobotomy]

Shes shooo fucking cute my sweetheart beautiful girl

[sammyluvr]

...hnngh....i-i-... mmnh... arghhh.... hhaaaaha. ungh....i can't think anymore

there are no thots running through my mind i just need jo harvelle desperately

ill reblog the post soon but i need to take a lap, drink some water, scream into a pillow and then reread it to actually form a somewhat coherent review of the fic but as of right now brain is not computing nor running on high speed internet rn 🙃🙃

AJHFL ARGHHH I NEED HER TOOO WAHHHHH sobbing don't worry about the rb too much my sweets <33 i'm just glad to know you enjoyed it hehe <33 there's no need for being coherent <3

[viterbofangirllovestheuntamed]

#wwx immediately looking to jc #jc rolling his eyes but still looking proud #his fond little smirk and headshake (via autumnslantern)

YES! YES, THIS *EXACTLY*

THIS is why this the THE archery scene, no matter how sexily Wei Wuxian saves a bunch of mistreated prisoners!!!

[rintoki]

EATING RINDOU OUT!!!! AFAB!RINDOU IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!! crying and screaming and cumming rn also i love you

HNG SO TRUEEE rindou 🫂🫂☹️💘

mentions of tongue piercings bc i said so 😋

hehhe 🤭🤭 maybe he got a little drunk and confessed that he’s never been eaten out before oopsie. and maybe you should have just forgot about it and moved on, but you just can’t get the image of him; back arched and cumming on your tongue out of your head :(

and albeit a little embarrassed, he didn’t seem averse to the idea of popping this little cherry when u brought it up to him again. ugh he’s so cute, sitting at the edge of the bed in just his panties. you can hear his breathing pick up as you tug his panties down, pushing him to lay on his back while you get comfortable between his thighs. rindou grabbing a pillow to hug and block his view of you; he’s far too nervous about it to look at you, and just seeing your head down there… it’s making his head so dizzy, his face a crimson red.

he squeezes his eyes shut, pussy already throbbing being completely exposed to you right now. and he’s so pretty down here too; flushed pink and you could see the slight glisten from how wet he got. using two fingers, you gently massaged his clit, getting a feel for how sensitive he was, legs jolting on both sides of you. too cute, you toyed with him some more; running your fingers up and down his cunt, brushing over his folds and even his entrance.

“ungh, please,” rindou whines, hips getting fidgety as his pussy aches for more, he so desperately wanted to feel your mouth on him, your warm tongue massaging his sensitive parts—the anticipation was killing him. and you couldn’t deny him too long, it was suffering for you too to not bury your face in his cunt immediately.

removing your fingers, you pressed a kiss to his clit first, watching carefully for his reaction before gently sucking on it; the jolt and a cute gasp, thighs almost squeezing together. and rindou could feel you chuckle into his pussy, muffing his whimper with the pillow as he tries to control his uneven breathing. bringing your fingers to nudge at his entrance, pushing deeper and feeling his warm walls pulsate around you. not too far in and you felt it, massaging the bundle of nerves slowly as his walls fluttered around your fingers, and you could see his grip on the pillow tightening.

needy mewls sounding from him as you fingered him, legs flexing behind you, the slowness was driving him mad. fuck, you couldn’t hold back anymore either. pulling away from him, you grabbed his ass with both hands and with his legs hanging off your shoulders, you lifted him slightly off the bed to meet your mouth as you latched onto his cunt. tongue plunging into his aching hole, you pushed in as far as you could, wiggling your nose against his puffy clit—and rindou’s reaction was heavenly. an absolutely slutty cry ripped from his throat, head thrown back as his hands flew off the pillow to grab the sheets for support. his thighs clamping down around your head, he couldn’t help the way his body shook and his hips jerked, rutting against your mouth in a desperate attempt for more.

flicking your tongue in and out, you made sure to drag your metal tongue stud against his sensitive walls, rindou sobbing out from the extra stimulation of your piercing. god he sounded so hot, you moaned into his cunt, vibrations sending him into another frenzy as he cried out how close he was. alternating between fucking his hole and licking long laps up and down his pussy, and between furious little taps and drawing tight circles, you made sure not to leave his clit unattended.

rindou felt like he was going crazy, he mind completely numb as all thoughts was of the way your mouth was making him lose all control over his body, even the whines and begs falling from his lips, he barely registered what he was saying. the way it felt like you’re making out with his cunt, tongue massaging him exactly where he’s most sensitive, plus the damned piercing to top it all off, he could cry from the pleasure running up his spine. the heat in his lower belly completely unbearable now and the tension finally snaps; a strong broken sobs that vaguely sounds like your name escaping his throat as his body convulses, thighs trembling and struggling to stay apart, your warm tongue stroking him through his high as you feel his walls clenching down on you.

and it’d take a while for him to calm down again, even then rindou still felt like jelly, he was almost certain his legs would give out if he tried to stand. instead he laid where he was, face buried into the pillow as he starts to recall his embarrassing sounds and reactions whilst you massaged his thighs, still a little shaky post orgasm. his pussy would be oversensitive at this point but seeing your self-satisfied face covered in his pussy juices would make him throb again.

[bcbdrums]

What Happens In Vegas

A/N: A silly little gift fic for split-n-splice, partially inspired by this amazing art and also inspired by my imaginings of things she's teased are to come in her outstanding fanfiction, The Company You Keep.

Do view her art, do read her fic... Laugh at my nonsense if you so choose.

Read on:  FFn     AO3

Mature rated fic, you have been warned.

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

Drakken was lying on his back when he woke up to a severe throbbing at the front of his skull. As he opened his eyes to a powerful light, the pain spread like claws out across the rest of his head, and after covering his face with both forearms to block out the blinding brilliance, he realized its source was a ceiling light.

The next thing he became aware of was a very soft yet definitely solid something under his knees, keeping them elevated. And then a tight pain in his feet.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself upright, and he almost fell again as he wiped the drool from the side of his face.

'What happened...?'

His vision was swimming, and through the fog he saw waves of pale green on either side of his knees, surrounded by white and pale pink. His fingers gripped the fabric of what he realized were bed sheets, and before his vision cleared, as he stared at his bare blue legs and came to the realization that the rest of him was bare too, he suddenly knew just what—or rather, who—the soft green mass beneath him was.

"Shego?" he whispered fearfully.

He didn't want to jump to conclusions about what had happened, as his clearing vision began to reveal a spartan motel room surrounding them, but it seemed...like it was a fair assumption to make.

He shifted and felt the tight pain in his feet again, and his brow furrowed as he looked down and saw a familiar pair of black high heels on his feet that most definitely were not his. As he reached to pull them off with a grimace, a glinting of gold caught his eye and his eyes widened as he thrust his hand up to only inches from his nose, squinting at the metal band on the fourth finger of his left hand.

'How...?'

"Ungh..."

The groan from the figure face down on the bed showed his whisper hadn't been soft enough. But he was glad she was waking up, in hopes she might be able to provide answers, and not the ones his mind was insistent on hammering into his aching skull, now with images. A panicked confusion arrested his mind as he realized the images weren't mere groggy fantasies, but memories.

"Shego?" he said a bit more loudly.

Her hands flew to cover her ears as her body began to twist beneath his legs, and then she held her head as if in pain as another groan escaped her.

"What...? My head..."

She started to push upright and Drakken hurriedly removed his legs from her back. This action seemed to startle her to attention, and she sat bolt upright, eyes wide and blinking around them in confusion and fright.

"What? What hap— Dr. D.?"

He watched as she took in the room in mere moments, his nude form afterward, and then herself. Drakken snatched the only pillow left on the bed to cover himself, and then felt guilty as his eyes strayed lower than her face. It was all coming back to him. And he knew that every possible repercussion from what they had done involved him experiencing pain in some way.

What he hadn't expected, however, was for Shego to burst into tears.

"Sh...Shego?" he asked in confusion and concern as she buried her face in her hands, not even bothering to cover herself. His vision clearing at last, he glanced past her at the small purple pharmacy-type box on the nightstand with its colorful promises, and then at the mess on the floor.

The other pillows were everywhere, along with a blanket, their clothes, numerous empty and still sealed bottles of alcohol, and...a scattering of too many wrappers and used condoms.

Drakken swallowed as more and more images flooded back to his mind and tried desperately to calm his panic. He shifted closer to her and felt the tight pain again, and with a scowl he pulled her high heeled shoes off his feet and pushed them aside.

"Shego..." Drakken said again, this time his voice coming out choked and pained. He realized then his throat was hoarse. "Shego I'm sorry..."

Shego wiped her nose twice with the back of her hands, but her eyes remained closed as her bawling grew louder. Drakken glanced at where they sat and after a moment, tentatively tossed the sheet over her lap for a hint of modesty.

"I don't...I don't remember exactly how it started..." he continued, desperation beginning to take over as she wouldn't even acknowledge him. "I remember we were at the casino, and we were drinking... You ordered us two more shots after I'd said it was enough... But Shego please, please know...if I had thought for one instant you didn't want... That this wasn't... I know we were drunk, but you...you took us to the gift shop, and bought that box... You said you couldn't wait and so we got this room... I know I wasn't thinking straight but...but you wanted..."

Drakken trailed off as he wondered if Shego was even hearing him, her sobs continuing unfettered.

"I...I thought you... I know I was very drunk, but I'm...v-very...positive...that this was all your idea... And Shego it would have never, ever entered my mind to... Had I been sober I would have never dreamed of... Shego? Wh-Why aren't you saying anything?"

Drakken had expected rage, green flames, and a verbal assault at the very least. Not the endless streams of crocodile tears that kept falling down her face. Her hands remained uselessly in her lap as her shoulders shook with sobs, and glancing around, Drakken spotted a tissue box that had just avoiding falling off the nightstand—the lamp hadn't.

He leaned over and grabbed a few, and when he pushed them into her hands it startled her. She blinked down at them, and then up at him, her expression unreadable. Drakken bit his lip then as he cautiously reached over her shoulders and pulled her hair to her front to give her more modesty. Shego looked down at this, sniffled once, and then exploded into further sobs.

The panicked confusion continued to race across Drakken's nerves as he watched her cry, a response like nothing he'd ever seen out of his partner in crime save when under the influence of the Moodulator. And even that hadn't been this bad.

"Shego, I... I..."

Drakken finally hung his head with a heavy sigh. If she was so upset to not even...unleash her fury, he knew it was far too great a crime to forgive.

"I'm sorry, Shego," he said quietly, fidgeting lightly with the edge of the pillowcase. "You can...consider your contract fulfilled, and...you can have anything you want in severance. I... I'm so sorry."

He started to shift away from her, thinking to give her some privacy until she was ready to either unleash her fury or apparently leave him without so much as that. He wasn't prepared for her suddenly seizing his arm, and his breath caught. It was about to happen.

"I can't remember any of it," were the words that came from Shego's lips, choked and thick.

Drakken blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I've been trying..." Shego forced out through sobs, "to get you into bed...for two years... And it finally happened—"

Her eyes opened at last and glanced sideways into the room.

"Several times..."

Drakken followed her gaze and he bit his cheek in nervous confusion as he looked at the used condoms.

"And I can't remember any of it!"

Drakken relaxed, shifting nearer to her as she continued to cry, albeit less loudly, finally making use of the tissues he had offered. Once they were spent he hurriedly placed the box in front of her, and she took out another.

"Wait, Shego, you...you...wanted...to get me into bed?" Drakken finally asked, shaking his head in confusion—which he regretted instantly for the hangover.

"Mr. Can't Read Signals when they're literally right in front of his face," Shego grumbled.

"What signals?" he asked, still reeling from the idea that Shego was actually interested.

"All the flirting," Shego said plainly, her tears beginning to still.

"What flirting...?"

Shego looked up and narrowed her reddened eyes on him. "Are you really that dense?"

"Shego, what flirting!?" Drakken said, racking his brain for any time outside of her absurd behavior while under the influence of the Moodulator, either before or after given the time frame she indicated, that could have been considered flirting.

Shego scoffed. "You mean you didn't notice me leaning up into your space, getting so close I could blow on your ear, or putting my chest right at your eye level while you worked?"

Drakken had a flash of memory of times when Shego would suddenly be in front of him, blocking his view of what he was working on, or leaning between him and his tools, or whispering about nothing so close to him that he couldn't concentrate.

He blinked at her several times in succession as he realized...she was serious.

"...What?" Shego said, wiping her nose again and then hugging herself.

"I thought you were trying to annoy me," Drakken said.

"...What!?"

"I didn't know you were flirting! It...didn't come across that way," Drakken said, trailing off at the end as he saw the flashing of green eyes across from him.

Shego screamed. She threw her hands up in the air for a moment and then let them fall at her sides, seemingly finally spent of tears as she blinked at nothing on the bed sheets.

"Shego...why?" Drakken asked.

Shego began gathering the sheet up around herself to wear as a toga.

"Well if it isn't obvious now, blue bonehead, I have a major crush on you. But since the feeling isn't mutual I guess I'll just stop making a fool of myself and—"

Drakken's hand on her arm halted her words at the same time a gasped 'no' left his lips.

"Let me go!"

"Shego."

"This is humiliating enough," she said, struggling against his grip.

"Shego. Look at what happened."

Drakken gestured broadly to the mess of the room, and Shego followed his gaze. She blinked several times as she took in what to him was a very embarrassing scene, the room looking as if it had been trashed by a group of rowdy party-goers and not just defiled by a drunken couple in lust. Or...could it be more?

"Wh-What on earth made you think it wasn't mutual?" Drakken continued, his voice a mixture of nervous, embarrassed, and annoyed. "I've spent four years trying to hide my feelings for you."

"What?" Shego asked, her eyes snapping back to his.

Drakken looked down. "Yes, well... It wouldn't be appropriate, a boss and an employee..."

"Four years?" she said incredulously.

"Sorry," Drakken said, keeping his eyes on his slightly swollen feet.

It was quiet. And then, "Hmmm..."

Drakken looked up at Shego's thoughtful, almost playful tone.

"What?"

"Wouldn't be appropriate, you say?" Her tell-tale smirk was starting to return.

"No..." Drakken said, finding his mouth suddenly dry.

Shego grinned. "I quit."

"What!?"

"How many rubbers came in that box?"

Drakken blinked rapidly, his mind processing her intent so fast that he'd pounced on the purple box on the nightstand and was yanking its contents out onto the bed before he could realize he'd nearly knocked her down in the process.

"There's three left," he said, peering into the empty box as if more would somehow materialize at his will.

"Then put some clothes on and go buy some more," Shego said decisively.

"What, why?" Drakken asked in annoyance.

"Well I count nine all over this room," Shego said. Drakken's face flushed. "Since I can't remember any of that, we're going to have to make up for it all before we leave."

Shego scooped up Drakken's boxers from the floor by the bedside and tossed them at him.

Drakken grinned as he shimmied into them. As he did so, the light glinted off the gold of his ring, and he glanced over at Shego as she began tossing more of his clothes at him. A matching band adorned her slimmer finger. Drakken looked around, and for the first time he noticed the half-folded piece of paper stuck out of the drawer of the nightstand. His brow twisted with nerves but it couldn't stop his smile growing.

"I guess...this is a good time to point out we got married?" Drakken said.

[bitchin-beskar]

Unavoidable Consequences Part 2

Rating: M (sexual situations, cursing) 18+ ONLY please!

Word Count: 2.2k of pure smut! that’s literally all this is! 

A/N: Immediately after writing the request for @din-damn-djarin, I knew I was gonna write a second part. No lie. I love Javi, and getting to write for him is so much fun, so... here we go!!! And for @wickedfrsgrl, who specifically requested that I do a Part 2 so that I can “show those fuckers that Javi can grand slam it home” (honestly thank u for this amazing comment I fucking died when I read it), I hope I don’t disappoint! 

Warning! Features unprotected sex! This is fanfic kiddos, which means it’s not real. Whenever you’re doing the do, wrap it up please! Be safe and responsible!

Tagging: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin, @perropascal, @mxndoscyarika, @hayley-the-comet, @phoenixhalliwell, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @mrschiltoncat, @goblinqueen95, @pedrosdoll 

I tried tagging people who’d responded to Part 1 saying they’d be interested in a Part 2, but I’m sure I probably missed some people. If you’re interested in being tagged in any future works, please please please fill out this survey! It would really help me out so that I don’t miss anyone!

No. 

No, you most certainly weren’t done. 

The tension between you and Javi had been steadily growing the longer you’d been partners, and now that you’d had a taste of each other, neither of you wanted to stop. 

Javi had a very dominating personality, and oh it showed, in the way he kissed you, the way he held you down and devoured you, the way he pinned you to the bed. 

You moaned as Javi tore his mouth from yours, only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck. Panting, you begged Javi for more. 

“Oh, fuck, please Javi, please, I need more, I need–” Your pleas cut off as Javi sank his teeth into the skin where your neck met your shoulder, causing you to cry out. 

“FUCK! Javi, please, I need you to touch me,” you whimper, pulling frantically at your restrained hands, wanting desperately to touch him. He releases you, and immediately your hands fly to tangle in his hair, pulling him back up and into another kiss. 

Javi’s hands aren’t idle, however. He’s busy toying with the hem of your t-shirt, pulling it up, and he pulls away from your mouth in order to yank your shirt over your head. 

Even though there’s no more light in the room than when you woke, you can see Javi’s eyes darken as he stares, entranced, at your chest. You’ve always known what Javi thought of your breasts. He wasn’t exactly subtle whenever you were forced to wear more formal clothes to work, and you always noticed whenever he struggled to keep his eyes level with yours during conversations. 

But now, laying underneath him in bed, shirtless, Javi could stare as long as he wanted.

“Shit, compañera, you’re fucking gorgeous.” 

You feel your cheeks heat at the compliment, but before you can stutter out a response, Javi leans down and wraps his lips around one of your nipples.

“Shiiiiiiiiit,” you groan, your back arching, unconsciously trying to get closer to the absolutely divine sensations that Javi’s laving on your breasts. “Oh my god, Javier–”

Releasing you with a wet pop, Javi looks up at you with hooded eyes. “That’s it baby,” he croons, nipping at your bare skin with his teeth while maintains eye contact. “Tell the whole fucking world who’s making you feel good.”

A shudder runs through your body at the dark tone of Javi’s voice, so demanding, so sinful. “Goddammit Javier, please, I need you.” Your voice is unsteady, and needy, nothing like you’ve ever sounded before. What can you do, though? Javier Peña just seems to bring out the worst–or best, depending on the point of view–in you.

“What do you need, baby? Hmm?” Javi’s tone is bordering on sadistic as he plays dumb, pretending that he doesn’t know exactly what you need. You groan in frustration, your hips gyrating, desperate for friction.

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

“Fuck me!” You gasp, no longer entirely in control of the words leaving your lips. “God, please Javi, I need you to fuck me, I need it, I–”

You cut off with a gasp as Javi grinds his hips roughly against yours, the fabric of his boxers doing little to hide his straining erection. 

“Yeah? Is this what you need, baby? You need my cock?” Javi’s voice is positively dripping with seductive tones, even though you’re already writhing underneath him on the bed. “I’ve already given you one orgasam, and you want more?” 

Javi maintains eye contact as he leans down and bites down gently on your nipple, the sting causing you to squirm under him, inadvertently grinding against him. “God, you’re so fucking greedy, compañera. Just begging me to fuck you.” 

His teeth nip at your sensitive bud again, this time soothing the sting with the flat of his tongue. You’re breathless, but you force yourself to speak.

“Goddamnit, Javier, if you don’t fuck me, right. fucking. now. then I might actually kill you,” you gasp, frantically pulling at his shirt–seriously, how the fuck is this man still fully clothed? 

“You want me to fuck you?” 

You glare at your partner as he sits back, a smirk on his lips, pulling his shirt off over his head, throwing it somewhere on the hotel room floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as more and more of Javi’s skin is revealed to you. 

He suddenly lunges forward, gripping your hips and hauling you up the bed. You squeak in surprise, but Javi’s already leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“Hold onto the headboard, baby. Don’t let go.”

As you’re reaching your hands up to grip at the metal bars of the cheap headboard, Javi’s gripping the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down your legs, along with your underwear. 

You barely have time to feel even a flicker of embarrassment before Javi’s body is covering your own, one hand cradling your face as he kisses you desperately. 

His other hand is busy pushing his own pants off, and when he begins to press into you, the moan you let out is positively obscene. If the sicarios happened to be listening right at that moment, there was no doubt as to just what the two of you were doing. 

He pushes steadily into you, and you groan at the sensation, feeling more full than you’ve ever been before. You’d had your fair share of partners before, but already Javi was surpassing every one of them. 

Finally, finally, Javi was completely seated within you, his hips flush against yours. His forehead came to rest against yours, his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Fuck,” he groaned, his arms trembling with the strain from holding still. 

Your own mouth had fallen open, the air wrenched from your lungs as Javi had pressed deeper and deeper. And even though he’d paused to give you time to adjust, you were rather impatient. 

“Javier,” you breathed, purposefully clenching. “Please, move.”

A strangled groan left Javi’s lips, his hips inadvertently jerking. “Amor, please,” he begged. “I–I can’t, I can’t hold back if you keep–ungh!” He cut off as you clenched again. “I can’t hold back if you keep doing that, compañera.” 

You tightened your grip on the metal bars of the headboard, arching your back so that your breasts pressed against Javi’s chest, bringing his gaze to yours. “I don’t want you to hold back, Javi, I want you to fuck me.” You held his gaze, seeing the conflicting emotions in his eyes, the slight fear that you felt forced to do this just for the sake of your cover lingering. “I’m yours, Javi. Fuck me.” 

He hesitated for only a moment more, but he must have seen the truth in your eyes, the absolute trust you had in him, not with just your life, but now your body. A small smile flitted across his lips. “Well, just remember baby,” Javi’s lips brushed against your ear. “You asked for this.”

Javi suddenly pulled almost completely out, but before you could bemoan the loss, he thrust back in, and the suddenness of the movement made you cry out loudly. 

He set a brutal pace, pulling out quickly before thrusting back in, the movements causing the headboard to slam repeatedly against the wall. A litany of moans and gasps escaped your lips, unable to string together enough words to form a coherent sentence. 

He was fucking you, plain and simple, exactly what you’d asked for, and you couldn’t say you were disappointed. His hips slammed into yours over and over, the wet sounds of flesh smacking against flesh filling the dingy hotel room. 

There was heat quickly pooling in your belly, the coil beginning to tighten. The entire bed was shaking with Javi’s violent movements, and you were practically sobbing as his cock brushed against your sensitive inner walls with each thrust. 

He stopped suddenly, withdrawing from your cunt, leaving you feeling empty. You whimpered at the loss, but before you could ask, he was reaching up and grabbing your wrists, encouraging you to let go of the headboard. 

“On your hands and knees, pretty girl.”

You tried to follow his orders, but you clearly weren’t moving fast enough, as Javi wrapped an arm around you, quickly flipping you over. You nearly collapsed face-first into the pillows, but you caught yourself on your hands at the last second. 

You didn’t have any time to adjust to the change in position as Javi’s hands gripped your waist, pulling your ass up into the air so that your pussy was level with his cock. 

He pushed in, much faster than the first time, and the both of you moaned in unison as he managed to sink even deeper inside you. You didn’t even care about the show you must be putting on for your neighbors, as neither you nor Javi were particularly... quiet, in bed. 

If you’d been staying somewhat professional, you’d probably be trying to think about how the noise the two of you were making was sure to cement your cover as a couple on vacation in Colombia. 

But it was pretty hard to stay professional when Javi was pounding into you from behind, his hands gripping your hips so hard, you were sure you’d have bruises. 

Every thrust pushed you forward, forcing you to rock forward on your hands, and the pleasure shooting up your spine was making your arms go weak. Eventually, you just couldn’t hold yourself up any long, collapsing forward onto the bed, just barely stopping from face-planting in the sheets. 

Javi didn’t stop however. He didn’t even seem to notice that you’d partially collapsed, too focused on giving you exactly what you’d been begging for. 

The coil was tightening again, and it almost shocked you with it’s intensity. You’d never come that close to the peak so soon after an orgasm before, but you couldn’t say that you were surprised that it was Javi who was able to bring you such pleasure. 

One of Javi’s hands left your hip, but before you could lament the loss, he wrapped the arm around you, cupping your breast and pulling you up so that your back was pressed to his chest, and his breath was against your ear.

“How does it feel?” He murmured, his thrusts less violent, but no less deep in this new position. “Your pussy was made for me, pretty girl, so tight, so warm, so fucking perfect,” he grunted, pinching your nipple lightly before trailing his fingers over your sweaty skin, until the palm of his hand rested on your lower belly. 

He pressed against your skin, and you groaned at the strange, but not unwelcome feeling. “Who else makes you feel this good, baby?” 

When you don’t answer right away, he pulled back as much as he could in this position, snapping his hips forward harshly, causing you to cry out. “Who. Else?” He growled.

“No one!” You cried, your whole body trembling. “Only you, Javi!” 

He didn’t answer you, instead choosing to shove you back down onto your hands and knees, pouding into you with a renewed vigor. Before you could really register, you were once again flying over the edge, your whole body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

You think you might’ve cried his name, but you couldn’t be sure, the blood rushing in your ears made it hard to hear much of anything. 

Javi’s thrusts were starting to lose rhythm, and you could tell that he was getting close. You clenched around him, and he groaned, long and low. He leaned forward, once more pushing his chest against your back.

“Fuck, pretty girl, I’m so close, I–” 

You didn’t even let him finish, already knowing what he wanted. You clenched around him again, and his hips stuttered before he moaned, loudly. You felt him release inside you as his teeth sank into your shoulder, trying to stifle his cries. 

Javi slowly fell to the side, keeping you pressed tight against him as he curled up on his side on the bed. His legs tangled with yours, and you felt him still twitching gently inside you. 

One of his arms wrapped tight around your waist, and the other wrapped around your upper chest, keeping you curled in his arms.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, his face buried in your hair. You nodded, wrapping your hands around his wrists, making sure his arms stayed locked around you. 

“I’m more than okay, Javier.” You whispered back, shifting slightly, and grinning at the noise he made behind you. “Do you think they bought it?”

Javi laughed breathlessly, twining his legs with yours. “Compañera, I’m pretty fucking sure all of Colombia bought it.” You can’t see it, but you just know he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face right now. “Every single sicario in the goddamn country knows who you’re fu–” 

You couldn’t exactly smack Javi from your position, so you did the only thing you could to shut him up. 

As he felt your walls clench around him again, he groaned again, cursing lowly under his breath. 

He went to pull away, probably to let you sleep, but you gripped him tight, keeping his arms wrapped around you, and his cock firmly inside you. 

“Just go to sleep, Javi.”

You closed your eyes, grinning as you heard him chuckle. 

“Yes ma’am.”

[gallickingun]

Katsuki throwing you around like a rag doll and fucking into at a rough pace until you're cross eyed and drooling. Bonus points for him if Kiri or Deku walk in to check on you because you sound like you're crying only to see you blissfully fucked out in the throws of your orgasm babbling on about how much you love him🤤😍

babes babes babes ungh-

bakugou in college?? sharing a house with kiri, denki, sero??? deku is over there all the time despite how much baku hates it lol but kiri invites him over so he tolerates it. 

katsuki takes his frustration out on you, in the good kinda way. he’s not really angry, not with you. he’s just shaking with the fact that he can’t just be himself around everyone, not the way he can be when he’s with you. and so, his hands are one flat on your backside, the other tangled up in your hair as he drills into you from behind. he bottoms out into you and you cry out, tears welling over the sides of your lids until they’re dampening the pillow beneath your face. 

“wanna look at you when you come,” katsuki barely is able to breathe out the words before he yanks himself from you, forcing a whine out of your throat. a sob racks your body as his fingertips dig into your hips, bruising your bones as he picks you up. your head lolls back, eyes crossing beneath your lids.

you whimper when he flips you onto your back, your thighs crying out in pain in the form of quivers, muscles throbbing. bakugou chuckles, “tired already, baby?”

you think you’re on orgasm number four or five and so you nod, chapped lips gasping for breath the longer he pins you down. bakugou runs his thumbs over the curve of your breast, “maybe i should stop, huh? you think it’s time to be done?”

“no!” you’re whining pathetically now, eyes glazed over as you try to make contact with his carmine irises. “p-please, suki, please!”

bakugou tilts his head, “please what?”

all you can do is start telling him how much you want him, how much you need him. how you need to feel him filling you up, holding you down. you’re in tears as you say it, somewhere between bliss and ecstasy, the sheer force of his cock slamming into you drawing out another droplet with every thrust. 

a particularly loud sob parts your mouth into another round of declarations, your hands grabbing for him like a child who desperately wants to be held. bakugou grunts something along the lines of, “so fuckin close baby, just a little longer, yeah? think you can hold out for me?” when the bedroom door bursts open and a mop of green hair gives way to bright eyes- 

“kacchan! is everything o-holy shit,” and then deku is a mess, blubbering out apologies as bakugou turns to light up his palm, an armor piercing shot aimed straight at shitty deku’s face. the guy manages to make it out of the room, dodging the shot before slamming the door shut with another squeal of “i’m so sorry!”

you sniffle and bakugou turns to face you, his entire demeanor softening once he sees your glassy eyes and heaving chest. his hands find your face, palms smoothing over your cheeks and hair, kisses pressed into your face. he noses over your cheek, oddly affectionate given the circumstance, but that doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering when he utters the words, “you’re such a good girl for me, yeah? such a perfect pussy, so pretty,” bakugou kisses the line of your jaw, “i’ll kill that fucking nerd,” kisses to your ear, “he won’t ever look at you again, princess. don’t you worry.”

come thirst talk with me

[90sgrungestory]

Chapter Eleven: Chris's POV

A/N: New chapter! Sorry it’s so late :( This is kinda short so I’ll try to post the next one quickly.

TW for panic attacks and vomiting.

Chris wakes up in a bed he instantly recognizes as Jeff’s – he’s spent a lot of drunken nights crashing at Jeff’s when he couldn’t make it home. He rolls over, still a little disoriented, and sees Jeff sleeping on the floor next to the bed, wrapped in an overlarge flannel shirt.

“Jeff,” he mumbles, stretching his arm out and poking Jeff lightly. “Jeff.” He’s aching all over, his head is pounding, and he already feels nauseated, but he also feels like he might die if he doesn’t get some water. “Jeff!”

“Ungh,” Jeff groans. “What, Chris?”

“I need some water,” Chris says, and his throat is so dry he can barely stand to talk. Jeff doesn’t move. “Jeff, I need some water!”

“Jesus,” Jeff mutters, pushing himself up drowsily. “Fine, hang on.”

Chris slowly sinks back down into the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut. It occurs to him that his shirt is totally soaked in sweat, and he sits up suddenly to take it off and nearly vomits at the spike of pain in his head. Since when had he become such a lightweight?

Jeff returns a minute later with a glass of water and Chris gulps it down desperately, savoring the cool relief on his parched throat, before he gags and throws it up on Jeff’s sheets. Granted, it seems to be pretty much entirely water, but Jeff still lets out a furious, “What the hell, man?!” and Chris groans a little and eases himself back down; his arms are weak and he can feel them trembling violently under his weight.

Jeff stomps over and yanks the sheets off, glaring at Chris, and Chris shivers violently at the sudden cold. “I’m not supposed to have hangovers this bad anymore,” he says to no one in particular, and Jeff shoots him a look.

“Well, you just puked on my sheets, so deal with it,” Jeff snaps. Chris mumbles a half-hearted “sorry,” reprimanded, and Jeff leaves to put the sheets in the wash. Chris curls up in a ball and doesn’t move until he feels Jeff tapping his shoulder.

“You okay?” Jeff asks reluctantly, and Chris thinks he might get sick again if he nods so he forces out a quiet “yes” and that seems to satisfy him. After a minute or two Jeff taps his shoulder again and Chris reluctantly opens his eyes.

“What?” he mumbles, and Jeff sets a massive Tupperware down in front of him on the bed, obscuring his view.

“Throw up in this if you can’t make it to the bathroom,” he instructs, and Chris tries to convey without moving or speaking that he understands. Thankfully, Jeff doesn’t seem to care.

“Okay,” he says, “are you okay for a while? I need to go feed Eddie’s cat.”

“Yuh,” Chris grunts, and immediately squeezes his eyes shut when Jeff flips on the lights.

“Sorry,” Jeff says, not sounding very sorry. “I have to find my keys.”

Chris doesn’t bother responding – in fact, he’s starting to drift off when Jeff finally turns the lights off again. He feels the bed dip suddenly and figures Jeff must have sat down on it.

“Listen, Chris,” Jeff starts, and sure enough, his voice is closer than before and grating as hell. “I’m guessing you’re too hungover to talk about it right now. And I know I don’t normally – do this kind of thing,” he says, sounding incredibly embarrassed. “But this is getting to be a problem, Chris. I’m serious.”

Chris’s brain takes a minute or two to understand that, and even then he can’t think of an intelligent response, so he just stays quiet.

“Okay,” Jeff says after a minute, quietly. He sounds disappointed. “See you in a bit.”

“’Kay,” Chris croaks out, and feels Jeff get up. For a minute he listens to Jeff’s footsteps receding, and then the door slamming behind him, and then he slowly, painfully pushes himself up, stopping every time he starts to feel queasy. As sick as he may be, there’s no way he’s just laying around in Jeff’s apartment until Jeff gets back just to be lectured. Besides, he wants to be there if Stone – or Eddie – tries to call him. Slowly, painfully, he struggles to his feet.

Chris wakes up to the sound of someone yelling his name and smacking him in the face; he blinks a few times to clear his eyes and sees that it’s Jeff.

“Wha’?” he mumbles, wincing at the pain in his head, and Jeff stops instantly.

“Chris! Jesus, I thought –” he blurts, and hugs Chris tightly, scaring him half to death.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, weakly trying to push Jeff off. “Where am I?”

“My hallway,” Jeff says, sitting back and seeming a little embarrassed. “I guess you passed out trying to get to the bathroom or something, I found you laying face down, right there, totally still…” His voice trails off and Chris figures out why he hugged him.

“Oh,” he says, and throws up again. Jeff groans in disgust and scoots back so he doesn’t get hit.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Remind me to never be worried about you again.”

“It’s just water,” Chris groans out. His head hurts so bad he thinks he might pass out again. “Got any Oxy?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Jeff says, getting up. “Hang on, I still have to clean up your puke.”

“Jeff,” Chris pleads shakily. Jeff sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “One sec.”

Chris lays his head back down in the vomit puddle and lets his eyes rest for a minute until he hears Jeff swear loudly above him.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” Jeff says when Chris opens his eyes drowsily, but he’s too tired and sick to move. After a minute he feels Jeff pulling him up and he allows himself to be dragged to the bathtub. Jeff dumps him inside, a little roughly, and Chris groans in pain. Jeff takes pity and hands him the baggy of Oxy, thank God, and Chris dry swallows all of them.

“Don’t take that many, the last thing I need is the lead singer of Soundgarden dying in my bathtub,” Jeff mutters, but Chris doesn’t bother answering. It’s Jeff’s own fault for bringing him to his house.

“I gotta get back to my house,” he says, and starts to sit up before he gets slapped in the face with his own vomit-y hair. “Jesus,” he mutters in disgust, and Jeff eases him back down before he abruptly flips on the shower, ice cold. Chris yelps in shock and then winces at the noise, and Jeff looks smug.

“This is your fault,” he reminds Chris, and it hits Chris so hard he almost throws up again. He feels his chest tightening and his stomach turns over, and he frantically scrambles up and out of the bathtub, trying to get out of the water. He’s already struggling to breathe.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” Jeff demands, his voice slightly higher.

“I – I can’t – I can’t breathe,” Chris wheezes out, shaking his hands out frantically and trying to make Jeff understand. “I can’t –”

“Okay, calm down,” Jeff says, gently but a little awkwardly. Chris shakes his head, panicked.

“Jeff,” he moans, gasping helplessly for air, and Jeff pats his arm unhelpfully. Chris shakes his head, and stumbles back a little; his vision is filled with black spots and his head feels light. He distantly hears Jeff saying “woah,” and all of a sudden he’s on the floor, leaned over and heaving desperately.

“Okay,” Jeff says from somewhere behind him, and he feels a hand rubbing his back. “Okay, just try to breathe slowly, okay? Uh, shit,” he mutters. Chris squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a noise of agitation, but he can feel the intense pressure in his chest easing up a little and it’s not so hard to breathe. He still stays like that, on his hands and knees, and pants heavily as he recovers for a few minutes, Jeff’s hand heavy on his back.

“Okay,” Jeff says, sounding a little scared, and Chris lets out a shaky breath and sits back. “Are you good now?”

Chris nods weakly, exhausted. “Shit,” he whispers, letting his eyes drift shut. Jeff pats his back awkwardly and finally drops his hand.

“Whoo,” Jeff breathes out, wiping his forehead. “Okay. I’m gonna go… call Stone.”

“Stone’s driving to California,” Chris tells his back, and Jeff mumbles something incomprehensible and doesn’t stop. Chris exhales and buries his head in his hands, letting a few shaky sobs escape before he feels himself starting to get panicky and forces himself to calm down and breathe slowly.

“Jeff,” he calls out shakily, but Jeff doesn’t answer so he just sits on the bathroom floor until he can’t stand it anymore. He pushes himself up and grabs the wall, regaining his balance for a minute before he starts down the hallway.

To his surprise Chris can actually hear Jeff talking on the phone to someone, although he can’t tell who. He quietly unlocks the door and slips out before Jeff can notice. It occurs to him as he starts walking towards home that he doesn’t have a car and he’s still hungover as fuck. He manages to walk almost a full block before he gets lightheaded and has to kneel on the sidewalk for a minute to regain his balance; he’s still kneeling there when a battered yet familiar green truck pulls up next to him, and Chris doesn’t bother glancing over before he struggles to his feet and walks around to get in the passenger’s side.

“Hey, Chris,” Kim says, turning the radio down slightly as he peels out. “Heading home after your ‘special night’ with Jeff?”

“Ha, ha,” Chris mutters, and turns the radio down more. His head is pounding.

“Nice bandage,” Kim quips, gesturing at Chris’s head. “Aren’t you supposed to not get those wet?”

“Maybe,” Chris says. He doesn’t feel like talking. Kim finally glances over and raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Is Cornell hungover?” he asks lightly. “I thought you were immune.”

“Apparently not,” Chris snaps, laying his head back on the headrest and staring out the window intently. Kim doesn’t seem to get the message.

“Hey, this is rare, you can’t expect me not to milk it,” he says sarcastically. “Are you actually going home, by the way?”

Chris exhales heavily. “Yes,” he says, a little painfully. He’s still trying not to look at Kim.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about the whole hiatus thing,” Kim says after a moment, sounding slightly unsure. “I’ve been thinking… I know Matt is doing that whole Mookie Blaylock thing now. I think we should –”

“Make it permanent,” Chris finishes for him because he knows what Kim will say, already feeling that familiar sense of numb detachment.

“What?” Kim whips his head around to stare at Chris in horror. “You want to break up the band?”

“I – what?” Chris suddenly feels a little dizzy at the rush of emotions. “You don’t?”

“No, of course not!” Kim says, still clearly horrified. “I was going to say it was time to end the hiatus, not the band! What the fuck, Chris?!”

“I – I don’t know,” Chris whispers, almost inaudible even to his own ears. “I thought that was what you were going to say, I didn’t – I don’t–"

“Okay,” Kim says after a second, rubbing his eyes. “So you don’t actually think we should break up?”

“No, I mean,” Chris is starting to get short of breath and he really needs to calm himself down, “I thought that’s what you guys wanted. Because of – me. I wanted to stay a band, I didn’t even want a break, I just agreed because I thought you guys needed to – Kim I really can’t breathe,” he blurts and Kim immediately pulls over, glancing over in concern.

“Are you having an anxiety attack?” he asks alertly, because he’s used to Chris’s antics, and Chris grips his knees and drops his head, taking deep, shaky breaths. Kim rubs his shoulders, like he has a million times before, and Chris closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling until he feels the intense pressure in his chest begin to ease up.

“I’m okay,” he breathes out after a few minutes, and Kim nods but doesn’t start driving again.

“Has this been happening a lot?” he asks, clearly trying to sound less worried than he is. Chris winces in guilt.

“No,” he lies, “just a normal amount.”

“Okay,” Kim says doubtfully, “because normally it takes a lot more.”

“Oh,” Chris says, suddenly incredibly embarrassed. He is being kind of a pussy. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s – not the point,” Kim mutters, and Chris can tell he’s disappointed even though he’s not sure why.

“Sorry,” he says again, quieter, and Kim just shakes his head and starts driving again.

“So – the band,” he says, and Chris nods quickly. “You want to end the hiatus, right?”

“Yes,” Chris says instantly, and then realizes that was too fast. “If everyone else wants to, obviously.”

“I do,” Kim says. “I know Ben does, I already asked him. It’s just Matt we have to talk to, because he’s doing the Mookie Blaylock thing.”

“Okay,” Chris says, although he knows Matt won’t come back when he could be in a band with Eddie instead. Besides, even if he would come back, he couldn’t do that to Eddie – or Stone, or Jeff, or Mike.

“So… let’s go talk to him,” Kim says, like it’s obvious.

“Right now?” Chris says. He’d thought he would have more time to come up with an excuse.

“Stone and what’s-his-face are in California, Jeff’s recovering from your rough barebacking – this is the perfect time to talk to him, when they’re not there to convince him to stay.”

“I didn’t fuck Jeff,” Chris mutters, like it matters. Kim is looking at him expectantly. “That doesn’t seem really fair, anyway,” he adds hesitantly. Kim raises his eyebrows.

“Chris, he was in our band first,” he says forcefully. “They poached him from us, it’s not like we’re stealing one of their founding members.”

“…Okay,” Chris says, because he really misses being in a band. Eddie can always find another drummer.

“Sweet,” Kim says, grinning at him, and Chris smiles a little too even though his head is still pounding and he’s sweating a ridiculous amount considering how cold he is. “To Matt’s house.”

“To Matt’s,” Chris mutters, shooting Kim a tiny smile. Kim beams back, and Chris is finally starting to feel like things are right again.

[softnow]

One word prompt- rough

She’s going to be bruised to hell tomorrow. She’s going to be in turtlenecks for a week. She’s...she’s...she’s going to fucking come if he keeps this up.

His hips are drilling her into the mattress, his groin hot and heavy against the reddened handprints he left on her ass. Her cheek is smushed into the pillow, his fist in her hair holding her down.

She reaches around for him and he grabs her wrist, forces it to the bed. His sweat drips down her back, slicking her shoulder blades where they rub against his chest.

“Uh-uh,” he warns, and she can hear his smug fucking grin. Her clit throbs. “If you want it, you’re gonna take it. Be good.”

He slips almost all of the way out of her and slams back in. A broken sob escapes her lips. Her nerve endings burn. She aches with how badly she needs it.

“’S what you get,” he says to the curve of her shoulder, the points of his teeth against her skin. He sounds as drunk as she feels. “Teasing me all day. Fucking—tight—little—skirt.”

He punctuates each word with a harsh thrust, the fist in her hair tightening. Her eyes roll back in her head and she quakes around him. Just a little more. She needs just a little more.

“You—ungh,” she groans when he releases her wrist to reach under her, his fingers mercilessly tight around one over-sensitized nipple. “You liked it.”

“I liked it.” He laughs, a dark sound that makes her shiver. He tugs her head back just a little and nips at her throat before shoving her down. “I like this. I like you taking this cock. S’it feel good, baby, huh? Does my big cock feel good?”

The sounds that pull from her throat—she’d be ashamed with anyone else.

“Yeah,” she pants. “Yeah—yes.”

The hand on her breast moves south and he pinches her clit between two fingers. She ripples against him, scrabbling for purchase in the sheets. One corner pulls free of the mattress, snapping up against her arm.

He pops her with his hips again, again, again. The wet sound between her legs is obscene. She moans and squeezes around him.

“Fuck.” He bites her shoulder—hard. “You’re gonna fucking make me... You’re gonna make me fucking come, baby, s’that what you want? Want me to come in you? Want me to fill you up?”

It’s enough. His cock, his hands, the sting of burst capillaries in her neck, her ass, her inner thighs—and now this. She can’t help it. One more thrust, and she’s gone, crying and thrashing and open-mouthed drooling into the pillow. 

“Christ,” he groans, and then he’s there, too. She can feel him pulsing within her. Filling her up. It makes her shudder all over again.

Finally, he collapses onto her, pinning her down. It’s a little hard to breathe, but she doesn’t mind. His heart hammers against her spine as he loosens his grip on her hair. He nuzzles against her and plants a row of sweet, soft kisses from her ear to her mouth.

“Scully,” he pants. “Baby.”

She turns just enough to kiss him back. He tastes like salt and sex, warm and tangy and hers.

[sofreakinmanyfandoms]

November 16 - Best Birthday Ever

So, in case you couldn’t tell, I'm rather behind at the moment. I got hit with both a working weekend and a major depressive episode at the same time. Whee.

That said, I am catching up, and I should get two or three stories posted daily until I'm all caught up. (Because I'm honest with myself and know I can't get all four I'm currently down by done in one day.) I'm hoping to have the next one up in an hour or so.

Enjoy some fluff! I set it in summer just because I wanted to do his birthday.

Word count: 1802

Warnings: Fluff, strongly implied sexual activity

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

You woke up slowly, enjoying the warmth of the sun coming through the window but facing away from it so it wasn’t in your eyes. Your husband’s face was pressed against the back of your head and his arms held you tightly, pulling your back flush with his chest. Each time he exhaled his breath lightly tickled your neck, and the depth of them let you know he was still asleep.

You attempted to get up without waking him, but when you were almost out of his grasp, he shifted and pulled you back against him. Every wiggle resulted in him holding you tighter, until you were sure he was awake and messing with you.

“Good morning, babe,” you chuckled.

“Mmm,” he hummed into the back of your neck, “don’t go. Stay. It’s cold. Tony always turns the air conditioning up too high.”

“Steve,” you futilely pawed at his arms, trying to free yourself, “I need to pee. You’re supposed to meet Sam and Bucky for a run in 20 minutes anyway.”

“Already cancelled it,” Steve said smugly. “I’ve got all day to stay in bed with you.”

“As delightful as that would be, it’s not true because we have the party later, and I still need to pee.”

He released you with a huff. “Come back when you’re done?”

“If you’re awake.” You kissed him on the forehead and slipped off to the restroom.

By the time you made it back out, showered and ready for the day, Steve was fast asleep again, curled around your pillow. You weren’t surprised; he’d gotten back late from a long mission and practically collapsed. His body could use all the sleep it could get.

To avoid waking him, you slipped out into the kitchen and started making breakfast. You’d learned early on in the relationship just how much food it took to feed a super soldier, so you always factored that into your meal planning. Since it was a special day, you took the time to make waffles, adding blueberries and chopped-up strawberries to the batter, just how Steve liked them. Once you had the first waffle going, you started a pan for the sausages and one for the eggs. Anyone who didn’t know you would think you were cooking for twenty people, but you were actually only cooking for four.

(Well, technically five, but no one else knew that yet.)

“Where’s the lazy birthday boy?” Bucky practically shouted as he and Sam busted in through your front door. “He missed our run.”

“He’s still in bed,” you called back, “but feel free to wake him. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Sam joined you in the kitchen while Bucky bolted down the hallway, sounding far too delighted as he headed for the door calling, “Wakey, wakey, Stevie boy! It’s your special day, punk!”

“How do you survive the two of them?” Sam asked you, shaking his head at the brunet soldier’s antics and the loud protests Steve was howling out – something about Bucky being “too old to jump on people while they’re trying to sleep.”

“I have you to pass them off on occasionally,” you teased. “How was your run?”

He shrugged and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Hot and sweaty. About what you’d expect from a run in early July.”

“Steeevvveeee, hurry up! I want breakfast!” Bucky whined, bouncing up and down in the hallway.

“Good grief, Bucky,” Steve mumbled as he exited the bedroom pulling on a shirt. “Have a little patience. I can only move so fast with broken ribs.”

“I didn’t break your ribs, punk. You’re supposed to be tougher than that.”

“Breakfast is ready,” you cut in, turning off the heat for the eggs and sausages. “There will be more waffles coming but I’ve got enough for round one.”

Steve hugged you from behind and planted a kiss to the back of your neck. “It smells wonderful, baby girl. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You squirmed around so you were facing him and gave him a chaste kiss. “Happy birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah, cute couple stuff, we get it, can we eat now?” Bucky asked.

You laughed as Steve shot his friend a withering glare. “Of course we can, Buck. Everyone dig in.”

From your stake by the waffle iron you watched your husband and his friends. It was light-hearted interaction, lots of teasing and laughing, and their smiles only made yours grow. You could count the number of times you’d seen your husband enjoying himself this much in your year and a half of marriage on your fingers, and you were looking forward to making today the record for how happy you’d seen him.

(Except for maybe your wedding day. It was okay if that day kept first place.)

----------

“I could have gotten this myself, you know,” you teased, leaning around to plant a kiss on your husband’s cheek.

Steve grinned at you, elbows-deep in suds and hot water. “You make breakfast. I do the dishes. It’s our usual deal.”

“But today is not a usual day,” you smirked, hand running down his back to where it could cup his ass and squeeze. “It’s your birthday, and dishes can wait until tomorrow.”

Steve didn’t even rinse his hands before his arms were around you and his face buried in your neck.

----------

Your husbands smile was relaxed and happy as the two of you lay curled up in bed, wrapped each other’s arms. You were using his chest as a pillow as he ran both hands up and down your back in lingering strokes, and the thumb on your hand that was resting on his chest was moving in lazy circles.

“We only have an hour until everyone else shows up,” you observed, making no attempts to get up.

Steve hummed noncommittally, eyes still closed.

“So we should probably get up.”

“Or we could stay here and snuggle for another hour and a half.”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds good,” you agreed, already drifting off to sleep.

----------

Bucky had woken the two of you up fifteen minutes before the party was supposed to start, barging in with his usual lack of respect for the privacy of others. “Come on, sleepyheads, everyone’ll be here soon and they wanna see the birthday boy in more than his birthday suit.”

Now you were on opposite ends of the living room as Steve was surrounded by well-wishers and you kept the snack table stocked. It always amazed you how much your friend group could eat. Between the two super soldiers and the god of thunder, you were surprised even Tony could afford to keep the kitchen stocked.

Speaking of the billionaire, he sauntered into the kitchen as you were pulling another batch of cookies off their baking sheet and threw an arm around your shoulders.

“Mrs. Rogers,” he said, sneaking a cookie from the cooling rack, “you have once again outdone yourself. How on earth are you keeping up with the number of cookies this group eats?”

“I bought the dough,” you admitted with a laugh. “No way am I ever again mixing up as much cookie dough as it takes to feed you lot.”

Tony winced at the memory of the first party you’d thrown after moving in. “Yeah, that was rough. Clint enjoyed helping, though.”

“Clint ate half the dough before it could turn into cookies.”

“So that’s why he was so sick after,” Tony laughed. “Well, if you need a break at any point, there are plenty of bags of chips and tubs of dip to keep everyone happy without having warm cookies as well. Don’t work yourself too hard.”

“I appreciate your concern,” you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “This is the last batch. There’s more dough if anyone else wants to bake more, but I’m ready to join the party.”

“Good, because the party is ready for you to join it,” Tony replied with a wink as he exited the kitchen.

You carefully washed your hands and picked up the cooling rack to carry the fresh cookies out to the snack table. Half of them were already gone before you set it down.

----------

“Ungh,” Steve groaned, lying on his back in the middle of the living room, surrounded by popped balloons and pieces of confetti. “Can we skip celebrating my birthday next year? Independence Day is enough work on its own. We could have a cookout or something instead of bringing the entire team into our tiny apartment.”

“Tony would give us a bigger apartment if we asked,” you teased, smiling down at your husband.

He held up his hand and flopped it around, grabbing at you to encourage you to join him on the floor. “But it’s just the right size for us. It’s the team that’s too big for it.”

You dodged his hand and turned towards the bedroom. “How about we revisit this conversation after I give you your birthday present?”

“You mean our pre-party activities weren’t my gift?” he called out, and you heard him scrambling to his feet.

When he entered your bedroom, he found you sitting on the bed holding a small rectangular box. You passed it to him carefully, eyes glued to his face, and he found himself being extremely cautious while opening it so as not to break anything that could be inside.

Lifting the lid, he saw a pregnancy test in a plastic bag, two pink lines staring up at him. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, and he looked up at you with tears in his eyes.

“We’re pregnant?” he whispered, afraid if he talked too loudly the spell would break. You nodded and he dropped the box, pulling you into his eyes and sobbing. “I’m gonna be a dad. I’m gonna be a dad!”

“You’re gonna be a daddy,” you whispered in his ear, tears now tracking down your own cheeks. “Congratulations, Mr. Rogers, and happy birthday.”

“Best birthday ever,” he mumbled into your shoulder, and you had to laugh. “I promise I’ll take good care of both of you.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said, pulling back and taking his face in your hands. “You, Steven Grant Rogers, are going to be an amazing father. Also, Fury isn’t allowed to send you on any missions until after our first ultrasound in two days.”

“Hear that, little one?” Steve asked, placing a hand over your stomach. “Two days, and I get to see you for the first time.”

You snuggled into your husband’s chest as he held you close, talking to both you and the baby about how you’d need an apartment with a room for the nursery and how much the Avengers were going to love him or her. No matter what happened, you knew he’d make sure you and your child were okay.

[rottenworkmylove]

getting Tag teamed by a soft dom and a hard dom. im laying flat on the bed while the hard dom is between my legs and the soft dom is casually sitting on my face wearing panties, facing the other dom. hard dom has my legs spread and pinned down while soft dom trapped my wrists at my sides, leaving me helpless to their actions. theyre talking like im not there, giggling about how cute my little reactions are and how much they want to ruin me

“how about we turn on this vibrator for the little girl, how does that sound?”

the soft dom giggles as i whimper loudly into her panties, unable to see or speak. “i think she likes that”

there’s a pause until i hear the whirring of the hitachi wand and without warning, my pussy is spread and the wand is on my clit. my gasp is muffled but my whole body tries to arch off the bed and the doms laugh as they apply more pressure to my limbs.

“such a sensitive slut, this is only the lowest setting yet you’re already ready to cream everywhere. we can’t have that, can we?”

“why don’t we edge her over and over again until she cums and then torture her some more? i think that’ll teach her some patience”

im whimpering and begging into her panties, not even knowing whether i desperately don’t want it or do. soft dom grins and grabs me by the hair behind her back. “it’s ok sweetie, shh shh”

i hear clicks of the wand setting increasing and when it is placed on me again, it is pulsating in waves. My waist sinks into the bed but my upper body rises, trying to arch again, but the soft dom easily places both hands on my upper chest and pushes it down with all her weight.

“you should feel how good her begging feels on my pussy. she’s so sensitive”

“im barely touching her and she’s so wet. i think she likes this a little too much”

i feel something just to rise and my body is trying to squirm and my breath is coming out loud and shallow and needy as i reach that peak— but then the sensation is gone. but the feeling doesn’t even FUCK and I feel my legs shaking, and I keen as i have the shortest orgasm of my life.

“you just don’t know how to follow fucking directions do you. your mommy and mistress had one request and you couldn’t even not cum on your first edging. how are we supposed to take care of you if you won’t even listen to us?” her voice is getting more and more cutting as she puts the wand back on me. im hot with embarrassment but panicking and squirming as my sensitivity is abused. it feels like a fountain drink bubbling over as i scream into soft dom’s panties, unable to escape my punishment. im wild and uncontrollable, body on autopilot to try to escape the horrible overstimulation.

“it still feels like she’s enjoying this too much. what’s the highest setting on that thing?”

there’s a pause, and i can only imagine their expressions. then i hear a dozen clicks, and within a second a finger is sliding deep inside me and the most intense sensation of my life is back. im trying to move like crazy, openly sobbing now, as my vulva is abused and conflicted to lose or gain arousal. my noises are more of a mix of sniffling and sobs now, not a moment where im quiet, while mommy grinds appreciatively down on my face.

then there it is. all of a sudden the pain starts to feel pleasurable again, and my entire body starts to tremble as i become afraid, knowing that this orgasm will absolutely ruin me. mistress is curling her finger, pressing periodically on my g spot but moving the wand in tight circles as she feels me clenching and getting closer to cumming.

i don’t know how she read my mind but i hear “yes yes cum for us, i want to see you squirt all over the sheets, let us ruin your pussy and use you and— ah ungh yes YES fuck fuck~ hah haah cum cumcum..!”

and i scream as im overcome and black out.

when i come to, my head is on a pillow, and my hand is held as mommy presses kisses on my face. mistress is wiping my body over and i breath in and out deeply, feeling taken care of. my mommy and mistress know how to keep me in line

[aquastelli]

Feel Something

John watched Sherlock with an unending patience that surprised the consulting detective even after a total of eight years. John was leaning against the counter, a cup of tea in his right hand that he occasionally sipped whenever Sherlock began writhing in heat. This was an agreement they’d come to. After so many years of taking repressants, Sherlock had finally stopped taking them at least six months ago, much to John’s appreciation. It was unlike Sherlock to let John see him in any vulnerable state.

Usually, it was normal for the omega to dominate the room whilst at a crime scene and John usually watched right beside his detective, giving his opinion when needed because it was Sherlock who knew what was best in these situations. As an alpha, John had an impossible sense of patience, something almost all alphas absolutely did not have. John attributed it to his days in the war, learning immense self control was of utmost importance when alphas couldn’t control their damn impulses around an omega, especially when their heat came to fruition.

It was what drew Sherlock to John and the detective knew this. At first, he deduced that John might be a beta what with the amount of self control he had. Most alphas had to make themselves known in a room, especially in a room full of omegas. It was all about dominance to most alphas. Power, control, and breeding. For a very long time, Sherlock swore to himself that he would live out the rest of his years alone than belong to some imbecile alpha.

Then, John.

Of course everything changed after John because Sherlock’s controlled life flipped onto an entirely different axis where Sherlock was forced to look at things through a more humane observation. It didn’t take Sherlock very long to fall in love with John and abhor the man at the same time for making him feel anything akin to love. But somehow, as sure as he was married to his work, Sherlock became espoused to the army doctor as well. Sherlock found himself making space for John, physically, emotionally, and mentally. He noted he would make two cups of tea instead of one. He held doors open for John rather than rushing off to the next location. He considered John’s well-being before his own. The man even had his own room in Sherlock’s mind palace. Everything was John and, one day, Sherlock awoke to a realisation that he didn’t care anymore.

John looked at Sherlock now, this impossible and brilliant man who was now causing a wet spot to pool on the leather couch below him, his curls matted down by sweat. John thought that Sherlock couldn’t look anymore beautiful than he was now, but the doctor knew that was impossible.

They’d had an agreement, John recalled, where Sherlock said: When I get my first heat, I want to feel it. All of it. The emptiness, the need, the burn. I want to know what it’s like. John...I want you to be there to watch. To tell me what to do. Then, when I am at my wit’s end, when I can’t take it anymore....I want you to take me. Knot me. When I say it, you’ll know. Don’t give into me until I say it, John.

John readjusted himself in his chair, his cock already hard from the pheromones in the air and the sight from Sherlock alone. The tea was the only thing John knew would calm him down and prevent him from giving into his baser instincts to breed and fuck and own.

“Sherlock,” John spoke for the first time in what felt like hours

Sherlock’s head immediately snapped over to where John was sitting and his eyes clouded over in confusion as if he’d forgotten John was there.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Sherlock nodded and rose onto shaky hands before pulling himself off of the couch. With trembling steps, the detective made his way down the hall to their bedroom. John set his mug down onto the side table next to his chair and followed behind Sherlock silently, feeling like a predator trying to catch its prey.

John shut them into the room where Sherlock was now standing, fiddling with the hem of his ratty, grey t-shirt.

“Strip,” John ordered softly, slowly rounding Sherlock as he quickly pulled his shirt off, then his pajama bottoms. “Touch your toes.” John murmured, careful not to touch the detective in any way that would set him off. Sherlock swiftly leaned over, showing the slick dripping down the back of his thighs. A growl rose from the base of John’s throat, but he pushed it down and took a deep breath. “Good, Sherlock,” John finally let his hand drift down the contours of Sherlock’s spine, eliciting a sharp intake a breath from the man below him. “You’re so good for me.”

“John... please. ” Sherlock gasped, trying to push his hips back against John. With quick movement, John pulled back so that Sherlock touched nothing but air. A whine left the detective’s mouth, then a frustrated groan.

“You’re not at your wit’s end quite yet, Sherlock. Lie on the bed for me. On your stomach.”

Without another word, Sherlock gave a nod and climbed onto the mattress, his alabaster skin standing out against the silk sheets. John let out a shaky breath and began to undress. Sherlock watched over his shoulder through widened eyes. When John removed his pants, Sherlock began to grind his hips into the bed.

“Please. Give it to me.” Sherlock gasped.

John grabbed a pillow. “Hips up,” and Sherlock followed, letting his alpha put pillow under his hips so that Sherlock would have something to grind against. John also knew it was a simply a torture device–that Sherlock would never be able to come alone from grinding against a pillow no matter how wound up he was. Not in a heat.

Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief as he settled, then his breaths turned panicked as he began to realise what John had just done. His hips couldn’t stop grinding, even if he had wanted them to stop. With each thrust, a gush of slick pushed out of Sherlock’s hole until the pillow below him was wet enough for the sound to resonate off of the walls.

“John...ungh. God, please. John. Please. Fuck me. ”

John watched, enraptured and hungry at the sight below him. He absolutely wanted to devour the man below him, make him his. And it would be so simple if he just leaned down and spread Sherlock open for him…

John shook it out of his head, pushing the alpha in him back into a corner, no matter how much with each wave of slick that left Sherlock had John feeling as if he was being driven mad.

Sherlock was still grinding against the pillow below him, sobs being punched from his throat. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and onto the sheets below him. But there was no sign of Sherlock coming close to a stop. His knuckles had turned white from clenching the sheets in his fists, his hips doing quick and sensuous thrusts against the pillow, following his baser instincts to keep going and don’t stop.

John held back a moan and began rounding the bed to look his omega in his eyes. He could see the veins straining against Sherlock’s pale hands, his curls were wet from his sweating, and his verdigris eyes– wet with tears–were entirely unfocused as if Sherlock was lost somewhere within himself, nowhere to be found.

“God,” John gasped upon seeing Sherlock entirely lose control.

With each thrust, Sherlock released short, baritone grunts until his entire body was trembling. His jaw was set and, with every other push of the pillow against his cock, Sherlock would release a shaky wail that resonated within John’s head, a sound he would keep and store with him forever.

Then, Sherlock’s eyes met his. Verdigris to midnight blue. And Sherlock didn’t look away. His hips continued to slam against the pillow, shoving his cock against the material.

“John. ” it was all Sherlock said, but it was enough for John feel most of his control leave. A growl punched its way out of Sherlock’s throat and Sherlock’s eyes rolled back with a tortured, broken moan. “Knot me. Do it.”

That was the only cue John needed, rounding Sherlock’s body until he stood in between the man’s long, pale legs. John pulled himself onto the bed and spread Sherlock open for him.

Take. Fuck. Knot.

John pushed his cock deep into Sherlock’s hole without any preamble.

Sherlock came immediately with a muffled scream.

His cock shot out endless streams of come and John continued, surging into Sherlock as if he were trying to climb inside the man himself. Sherlock rose his hips to meet every thrust, his head turned so that he could see John better. Then, John pulled out and swiftly turned Sherlock onto his back. His hips and torso were nearly covered in his own slick, but his cock was still hard against his stomach. John thrust back into his omega, leaving Sherlock breathless. Now, there was no space in between them. John’s forehead pressed against Sherlock’s, their eyes never leaving one another’s as John began to roll his hips to slam against Sherlock’s prostate on every thrust.

Sherlock’s hands scrabbled up to grab John’s face as if holding the alpha in place as moans fell from his lips like a litany of prayers.

John could feel his knot forming at the base of his cock and began slamming into Sherlock harder, eliciting the most carnal sounds from the both of them.

“Yes, John. John, John. Please, knot me. Make me yours.” Sherlock sobbed as John’s knot began pushing past his rim, making Sherlock feel he was being ripped in half.

John’s fingers wrapped into Sherlock’s curls, tilting his head back, and sank his teeth into the pale skin. With a shattering scream, Sherlock came forcefully, his hole taking in John’s knot. John growled lowly as his cock emptied itself into Sherlock, his hips trembling with the force of it. Then, John was pulling back to run his tongue along Sherlock’s bite to ease the pain.

They were still for a very long time, Sherlock’s breathing slowing back to normal despite the mini orgasms his body forced him into upon John’s knot being pressed directly against his prostate.

When their eyes met, John saw that Sherlock was still crying.

“Did I hurt you?” John asked, concerned.

“Of course not,” Sherlock scoffed, leaving out his usual don’t be ridiculous. “You were perfect, John. Absolutely perfect.” he leaned up so that John could meet him halfway in a kiss. Their lips molded together, much like their bodies, leaving them both breathless. Sherlock’s body trembled with the movement and gazed up at John with a fondness the doctor didn’t think would stop surprising him. “Thank you.” Sherlock murmured.

“Anytime.” John smiled, kissing the corner of Sherlock’s mouth, then his lips. “Anything for you.”