#plot drop: snow storm

[lcrcmcrie]

Who: Lara & @joshlane

When: During the storm

Where: Lara's front yard

Lara stood out on her front yard with her shovel. Lily had run off to play in the snow, and would be back. So she decided to try to get started in clearing her driveway. Her boots were well-insulated but it was still extra cold. She was still going to try. A gust of wind blew against her, nearly making her beanie fall off her head. Before she could tug it down further, it fell off and blew to the side. She waved at the person who just so happened to be passing by. Seeing it was Josh, she relaxed a bit and ran after her beanie. "You're out in the storm!" she signed pointedly, teasing him slightly.

[oliverxsutton]

Who: Oliver & @nicholas-quinn

When: March 24

Where: Somewhere between the Market and Suburbs

Oliver had left to get some last minute groceries before the snow got really bad. He hoped it was early enough, because snow was unpredictable, and even though his car was decent enough to get through light snow, the heavier snow would be a challenge. He ran a hand through his hair after loading the car and starting his car. He was nearly home before the car started sputtering out. "No, no no..." he grumbled to himself. He sighed, shutting the engine off and starting it again The clicking had stopped, so that was a good sign, maybe? Still no such luck.

[jmiemagvans]

Who: Jamie & @theobrowningfd

When: March 23 2025

Where: Merrock Hospital

Jamie looked at his watch when the announcement came about the storm. He was barely halfway through his shift but with the storm approaching, it meant that he'd have to stay a little longer. "Well, that's just great," he sighed, pushing his hair back. He went over to one of the computers to check the logs and see who else was there and how they were still going to be staffed for the next undetermined number of hours. He walked to the front of the clinic. "Theo? Oh, hey," he said, slightly confused but he welcomed the familiar face. "You came just in time for everyone to be told to stick around."

[xjoellasuh]

Who: Joella & @jazfields

When: March 23

Where: Downtown

Jo was starting to think that trying to have a pre-storm shopping run was a bad idea. Everyone was running around trying to grab supplies, and get home as soon as possible. "Oh!" she nearly ran into someone as she shuffled around the store, basket on her arm. She let out a soft yelp. "Are you okay?" she asked, stepping back to make sure the other person was alright and she didn't cause too much damage. "I think you dropped this," she said to Jasmine, picking up one of the packages that had fallen on the floor.

[mcndyhcrtmcn]

Mandy leaned against them. She was comfy around them and that just said a lot about their relationship. Even on a cold, stormy night like this one. It meant a lot that they had been through so much together because it was important to her. “You’re probably right. And once the snow is gone I’ll go check on them,” she nodded with a wrinkle of her nose. “Yeah, I know,” she chuckled. “We might as well stay warm while we can and then figure it out when we won’t fall into the snow anymore,” she said. “I’m

Stelly felt themselves warm from head to toe, both from being tucked up tight under the blanket, and also from having Mandy next to them, snuggled up close, those little words tumbling from her lips. Turning their head just enough, they pressed their lips to the top of her head and let out a breath, "and I love you, too, babe." Not something Stelly ever imagined themselves saying so freely to any partner, but Mandy changed things. For the better, always. "Oh, I know you will," they said with a laugh, "and if we can't get through with a text, then we'll venture out as soon as we can and check on everyone by foot. Or... car, 'cuz I'm not walking to the coast to check on your siblings. But at least if we have to wait, we can wait together."

[oatmealwrites]

JJK Warming You Up!

how they warm you when the heat is out! [NSFW]

non-curese au ig -> let me be happy

regular master list | JJK masterlist

Tags: established relationships, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, creampies galore, no protection, couch sex, semi public sex, car sex, breeding kink [sukuna], pure filth, maybe there's some plot [not rlly], 18+, MDNI, im so sorry in advance fr

Characters: Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Kamo Choso, Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Higuruma Hiromi, Ryomen Sukuna, Shoko Ieiri

not proofread

word count: 5.2k [IM SORRY OK im ovulating it's not my fault]

~~~~~~

Nanami Kento -> the heater is out!

The shared apartment is colder than you expect when you and Kento return home from a long day of work. Kicking your shoes off and heading for the thermostat to check the frigid temperature, you move to prepare dinner while your husband calls the heating company– confirming your suspicions that it was down for the whole neighborhood given the winter storm. You both eat a warm meal while heavy snow falls outside the window and the temperature remains steadily dropping. 

After finishing dinner, you lay against his chest in a cuddled position on the couch beneath several layers of throw blankets. Kento always insists on watching the evening news to stay up to date on current events while you nuzzle into his neck in an attempt to stay warm. 

His gaze is intently focused on the news anchor going over the current stock market reactions to geopolitical tensions, but his hand falls from your waist to play with the hem of your work skirt. It’s a long, professional, knee-length fabric that he pushes up slightly to rest his hand in between your plush thighs.

“Kento– your hands are cold.”

“Hmm?” he hums, clearly not caring. “But it’s so warm here.”

You can’t see his fingers underneath, but you can certainly feel them. He keeps kneading and pinching the flesh as you paw at him to keep his cold hands to himself. Kento keeps up his ministrations for a few more minutes until he eventually guides you to lay flat against the sofa cushions; without a word he plants a quick kiss to your lips before dipping under the blankets.

It’s his favorite to warm you up, so why not do it now when you really need it the most? ;)

He takes his time eating you out from underneath the fuzzy fabric; your skirt is hiked up to your waist and he simply pushes your panites to the side to make room for his mouth. Breath hot on your weeping cunt, his nose ruts against your puffy clit as his tongue works its way inside. The sighs escaping your lips are a siren’s call as he pathetically grinds into the cushions in a poor attempt to relieve the erection hard in his slacks. 

No matter how many times you and Kento get physical, it always feels so fresh and erotic. The messy french kiss he’s giving your pussy leaves a pool of saliva and slick staining the fabric of the couch beneath your hips. Slipping in a slim long finger, he drags his tongue further up to lick and suck at your clit.

He continues pumping his finger in and out, adding in a second one to grind against your walls in search of your g-spot; the way you whimper and twitch is indication when his finger pads rub against it. The feeling is euphoric and the temperature no longer causes you discomfort. Sweat beads at Kento’s forehead and pulling back and up from the blankets, his hair is slicked back from the heat generated.

He doesn’t let you pout long, upset at your denied orgasm, before he shimmies down his slacks and boxers and kicks them to the living room floor. Delicious length grinds on your lower navel a few times, admiring the way his length measures to just how deep it’s about to be inside you, before he slaps your clit with his flushed tip for good measure and slides in.

Sex with Kento when it’s cold out is never one round; his stamina keeps up as he’s determined to make sure you keep warm. And the best way to do that? With your feet on his shoulders as he pumps you full of multiple loads of his hot cum. He’s not satisfied until he’s shooting blanks, there are fat tears coating your eyelashes, and there’s so much cum leaking from your pussy it makes you groan at the sensation of being so stuffed. 

What a gentleman~

Fushiguro Toji -> no cold feet!

It’s impossible to get warm at all as you shuffle beneath the covers of your shared bed. Your knees are originally tucked into yourself for warmth, but when your back hurts from the angle, you kick them out again with a shiver. You’re tucked into Toji with your back nuzzled in his chest, but the body heat isn’t enough to ease the chill in your bones. With a gruff sigh, you frown when he holds you still as if the temperature doesn’t affect him at all.

Though you’re pretty sure he’s the one who forgot to pay the heating bill.

You shuffle around once more before a strong forearm holds your waist firmly into him.

“Stop fucking moving.”

With a sigh, you halt your squirming; the deep and tired sound of his voice making you feel a little guilty for the way your movements have woken him up. But it’s no use, the cold sheets keep you shivering despite the way his hot breath pants on your neck.

You wait to hear his light snores even out before shuffling once again; the grip on your hips tightens to a vice.

“Stop putting your cold feet on me.”

“Ughh, Tojiii” you whine out and place the soles of your feet on his hot calves again. “I can’t help it.”

An annoyed sigh escapes his lips and with minimal effort he flips you over and onto your back; a strong muscular thigh splays your legs with his knee grinding into your cunt. A whimper escapes you at the movement. 

“S’to keep your damn feet off mine.”

You furrow your brows at him and he responds by peeling an eye open and smirking devilishly at you. He flexes the muscles of his thigh to pulse against your clothed pussy and leans in to place a few hot open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Toji–” You warn.

He chuckles into your throat and lifts himself up to hover over you; his leg still between your own. “Hmm? Not my fucking fault, you’ve been grinding your ass into my crotch all night.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down a bit, a bratty look on your face. “I can’t help it! It’s too cold!”

He latches his lips to yours and slowly replaces his thigh with the erection pulsing in his gray sweatpants; a small stain of precum already pooling from arousal. A calloused hand pinches your pajama pants and tugs them down and off your ankles before tossing them to the floor.

The coolness makes you shiver and huddle into yourself while Toji tuts in disappointment before splaying you open once more. Impatient hands tug down his own sweatpants and kicks them off somewhere under the sheets before a long finger dips to slide up and down your slick folds.

“Shiiiit, you all worked up already? Did you plan this?”

You roll your eyes and tug him down to kiss you again, that way his cocky mouth wouldn’t piss you off anymore. He chuckles a few times before sitting back on his heels to peel off his boxers and free his cock from the confines of fabric; instead of reaching forward to place himself at your hips again, he throws your calves over his shoulders.

“S’the only way to keep those fucking ice cold toes off of me.”

The rest of the night he ensures each position he fucks you in is one where your feet are no where near him. Over his shoulders, behind him when he pounds into you in doggy, even in a mating press he ensures your icicle-like appendages are nowhere near him. Even when you're both panting, covered in sweat, and loads of hot thick cum is seeping pathetically from your abused cunt, Toji ensures when you lay back down for bed, your cold feet are as far away as possible. 

Kamo Choso -> matching sweatshirts look better on the floor!

When your boyfriend initially invited you to his and his brother’s apartment, you figured it would be like any other casual movie night. Instead, you sit shivering at the kitchen island while Choso and Yuji try to figure out why the central air is stuck on ‘cool’ instead of ‘heat’, and Nobara and Megumi move to turn the oven on in an attempt to get some sort of hot air. 

Arms tucked into yourself, you’re beyond grateful for wearing a hoodie to the apartment and not the original tee you had initially planned on. It’s a sweatshirt that matches with Choso, having exchanged them during the holidays as a cute couples gift; though now the fabric barely warms your chilled skin up at all. 

“Here, let’s get you something thicker to wear ok?”  Choso’s voice mumbles concern in your ear as strong arms wrap around your waist; gentle kisses litter your neck in a silent apology for the temperature. 

You hum in agreement and hop off the island stool while Nobara, Megumi, and Yuji head over to the couch to start a movie and collect every throw blanket available. Choso’s room is slightly messy, his bed unmade and some clothes littering the floor, but you don’t mind as he digs through his drawers in search of sweatpants. 

When he tosses them to you, you don’t hesitate to slide down the cool fabric of your jeans and kick them to the side; Choso stands idly by the door eyeing the way your purple panties hug your ass just right.

“Take a photo perv, it’ll last longer.” You muse while holding up the sweatpants to see how long they might fall on your legs.

Choso laughs gently before twisting the lock on the bedroom door and pushing down the fabric in your hands, preventing you from putting them on.

“Hm? What are you doing Cho?”

He hums and reaches up to pull the elastic bands from his hair; ears pink from the cold and now hidden from his shaggy hair falling freely down. It’s a move he only does when he wants you to notice him, and with a knowing smile you wrap your arms around his neck and tilt your head to the side. “Oh, what are you thinking?”

Warm hands rub circles on your pelvic bones before dipping down to knead the flesh of your ass. “Just that I know another way to warm you up…”

“Really? What’s gotten you so suddenly in the mood.”

Choso leans down to sucks gentle marks on your neck above where the fabric of your sweatshirt rests; his hands peel back the waistband of your panties before releasing the elastic band to smack against your hips. “Just really like seeing you in that hoodie… s’cute when we match.”

Ever the possessive boyfriend, you giggle at his honesty and drag him backwards until the back of your thighs meet his disheveled bed; he tugs off the matching sweatshirts from both of your bodies. Planting a few more kisses to your neck before pushing you flat against his comforter and tugging the wet gusset of your panties down slightly. Large dark eyes bat innocently at you in a silent request for permission.

As soon as you rest on your elbows and nod, the fabric is tugged down your ankles and thrown with the other pile of clothes that litter his floor. Sinking immediately to lean against the bed, Choso throws a leg over his shoulder and attaches his lips to your cunt like a starved man. He doesn’t stop until your hands are nearly ripping out chunks of his hair and his chin is shiny with your slick painting his flesh.

Choso just likes to make sure you’re comfortable in this cold weather is all! He may be a bit jealous, overprotective, and possessive…but it’s just ‘cause he loves you so much. He just wants you to be warm– so he leaves your pussy dripping out loads of his cum while you all watch a movie. Sitting on the couch in his sweatpants, pussy aching from the abuse and rounds it just took, Choso keeps his hands under the blankets and cupping your cunt, pushing his seed back inside when too much leaks out. 

Geto Suguru -> steamy shower sex!

It’s sooo damn cold in his apartment to the point you’re wondering if you two should call a friend to stay somewhere else. Your flat’s electricity went out in the winter storm and it seems like the heat in Suguru’s building has just cut as well. Your boyfriend sits at his laptop in the kitchen while you shiver at his side, convinced you can see your breath in the room.

Suguru has already recommended you simply head to bed, but the cold sheets without your personal space heater left you wandering back to the kitchen after only 5 minutes. Peering at his laptop screen, you notice the way his work load seems to be more intense than initially anticipated and with a small sigh, you head to take a warm shower.

Steam pouring up from the glass wall of the shower door, you shut your eyes and enjoy the boiling water that provides warmth to your skin. The feeling is so comfortable that you remain in the bathroom for longer than you had anticipated, jumping at the sound of Suguru opening the door.

“Hey, I just gotta brush my tee–” He pauses in front of the half fogged wall and raises an eyebrow while letting out a low whistle. “You’re naked.”

Rolling your eyes, you wipe away the condensation as he wolfishly smiles at you. “Yea, how ELSE do you shower?”

Your boyfriend ignores your tease and steps back to peel off his layers and kick them haphazardly to the floor. Steam escapes when he pulls the shower door back and steps in, crowding you to the cool tiles of the opposite wall. 

“Need some help?”

Giving Suguru a knowing smile that his ‘help’ was more than simply washing your back, he lazily smiles and grabs your hips to press against his own. Nipples hard from the cool temperature of the wall and the arousal of your boyfriend’s touch, you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him into the water. 

It starts off tame, kissing under the water and giggling when you’re both nearly waterboarded from the pressure, until he slicks your soaked hair back and gently guides you to your knees. Dark pubes tickling your nose and his weeping cockhead scraping your throat, Suguru sighs pathetically above you at the pleasure coursing through him. 

Gently face-fucking you under the water, he guides your mouth off him before he can cum embarrassingly early and lifts you to your feet to push you flush against the glass door. It’s the easiest way to warm you up of course– from the inside out.

Tits squished against the glass, Suguru guides your ass back and guides his cock up and down your drenched folds a few times before sinking in. It’s the same delicious stretch your poor cunt can never get used to; the length of his shaft is held in a vice grip as you flutter around him in an attempt to accommodate his size.

It’s the warmth you’ve been needing this cold evening, and Suguru is more than happy to provide it. Skin against skin under the hot stream of water, he’s dead set on making sure you won’t be complaining about the temperature again. And if the generous load of cum he pumps into you happens to drip from your swollen pussy and get washed down the drain…he’ll have to be a good boyfriend and simply fill you up again. 

Gojo Satoru -> fogged up windows, even though the heater isn't on!

You’ve told Satoru a million and one times before to get his car checked out before the winter storm, and every single time he’s waved you off. Insisting that he can only get his car serviced at Mercedes dealership mechanics, he put off getting his air system fixed and now they’re booked for the next two weeks. In the middle of a winter storm. 

The two of you sit in Nanami’s work parking lot, waiting for him to finish so you three can meet Suguru, Shoko, and Haibara for a group dinner. 

“It’s freezing” you complain in the passenger seat, shivering despite your puffer coat and scarf.

Satoru tries to act as nonchalant as possible, as if the cold wasn’t that bad, though the puffs of his breath you can see in the air prove otherwise. Before you can mumble another ‘i told you so’, there’s a ping on your phone from the communal group chat. 

From: Nanamin–

Sorry, it will be another 20 minutes. I’ll try to finish as soon as possible. 

You sigh and Satoru moves to shut the engine to save gas; the two of you sit in a small silence scrolling on your phones until your boyfriend has seemingly had enough and unclicks his seatbelt.

“Are you going in to get Na–”

“Backseat.”

An eyebrow raising at the command, Satoru pleads his eyes into yours while plastering a partial smirk on his lips. “We can warm the car that way. If you want to, princess.”

Biting your lip and thinking about it for a moment, you nod and follow him over the center console and to the back row of his car. It starts with you on his lap, grinding on his lap through the denim on his thighs while he pushes your skirt up to your waist. Sloppy kisses are exchanged as his hands squeeze and grab at the plush flesh on your hips and ass until neither one of you can wait any longer.

Satoru guides you off him for a moment to hastily release the button and fly off his jeans before shoving them and his boxers down to his mid thighs. He grabs you by the hips to reclaim your previous seat before whining at the sudden hindrance of your heat-tech tights blocking him from your pretty pussy.

“Ah, I forgot… it’ll be hard to get them off in here..”

Lips pursed in frustration, you don’t notice when Satoru reaches forward to the console cup holder to grab his car keys; sitting back down, he grabs the fabric around your crotch and tears through it with the metal ignition key.

“H-Hey!”

“I’ll buy you new ones. 10 more. Whatever you want…just–just sit. Please baby.” He begs in a desperate breath; needing to feel your cunt wrapped around him now, as if waiting until after dinner might kill him. 

The way you ride him is enough to cause employees getting off work to raise an eyebrow at the way the white Mercedes seems to rock in the parking lot. Windows fogged up from the body heat, Satoru keeps desperate hands on your hips to rock back and forth while his feet are planted firmly to thrust up into you deeper. 

He’s doing his loving boyfriend duties– ensuring the car will be nice and warm for you ;)

It’s mind numbing, and no coherent thoughts can form on your lips when the pace increases to bully your g-spot over and over again. Hips twitching as you grind further to rub your swollen clit on his pubes, the friction makes you fall forward as your orgasm washes over you. 

Satoru throws his head back; Adam’s apple bobbing sluttily as he groans your name like a mantra as he stuffs your cunt full of hot ropes of cum. Panting to catch your breaths, the ping of the group chat leaves you both scrambling back to the front seats.

Your skirt is barely on by the time Nanami opens the back passenger door and clicks on his seat belt. “Oh, did you get your heating fixed, Satoru?”

Higuruma Hiromi -> offering you his jacket!

It’s hard to hide your shivers as you sit across from your lovely boyfriend at dinner; the front door to the restaurant opens every few minutes as people come in and out and cause gusts of cold wind to fill the air. Hiromi had reserved a table with the best view of the city, and unfortunately that also meant being seated near the exit. 

You wave it off at first, not wanting to spoil the evening and just enjoy the night with your boyfriend who was finally able to get out of work early for once. He frowns at each of your shivers and surveys the restaurant in case any other tables might be open; frowning when he sees the place is totally booked. He had planned for this evening to be perfect– he wanted to show you how much your company means to him and ask if you would like to move in with him.

When the door opens again and lets in another cold breeze from outside, Hiromi swallows hard as your nipples harden through the flimsy fabric of your satin mini dress. How you can call it a dress is beyond him– your tits are basically spilling out of it. 

Coughing slightly, he stands up and shimmies off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders to assist in warming you up. The musky cologne he always wears leaves you sighing into the fabric while Hiromi only realizes how fucked he is…you’re even sexier wearing it. 

Wondering if maybe he should just propose to you instead, he snaps out of his thoughts when your heeled foot grazes his thigh from under the table. Before a word can leave his lips, the tip of your shoe playfully pushes on his erection; a coy smile adoring your lips while blink at him. 

The entire moment is too much for either one of you; the door opening every minute and the both of you dripping in primal desire. Naturally, being the doting and devoted boyfriend he is, Hiromi offers to meet you in the single-room bathroom to ‘warm you up’.

That proposition is how you end up with hands on the marble sink counter top, dress hiked up to your waist, and suit jacket still on as your boyfriend fucks you from behind. The intensity of each thrust leaves your acrylic nails painfully bending at the way your fingers attempt to dig into the marble for support and Hiromi doesn't let up the pace when you whimper in pleasure as his tip bullies against your g-spot.

The hand on your mouth to keep you quiet does little to deafen the way his heavy balls smack into your ass and the squelch of your pussy from your prior orgasm. (Hiromi can’t fuck you without eating your cunt out and grinding his nose against your clit– it would be like eating the main course before the appetizer if he didnt.)

His cock reaches deep in your womb as Hiromi is babbling about a million different thoughts from behind you; drunk on the way your pussy wraps around him so perfectly, like it was made to take him. Stuttering his hips and throwing his head back in desperation, Hiromi thrusts a few more times before hot cum spurts into your pussy– all the while he’s begging you to finally move in with him… that way he can always make you warm and full ;)

Ryomen Sukuna -> sharing the bed in his childhood bedroom!

A favor to Jin to watch over Yuji for the weekend leaves Sukuna in his childhood home as a winter storm roars outside; complaining the entire first day, stating Yuji was old enough to be alone and that Jin was being ‘too soft’ on him. Though when his nephew begs to have his friends stay the night, Sukuna snatches the opportunity.

“You can have your stupid friends over… as long as my girl can come by too.”

Yuji rolls his eyes and makes a disgusted face with his tongue out. “Fine, deal.”

It’s freezing by the time you arrive, several inches of snow piled on the roads, and Sukuna doesn’t hesitate to pull you aside as soon as you enter the home. He had proposed you come over to entertain his nephew and friends with movies and cookies, though you knew it wasn't the real reason he called you over after 8pm.

With Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi asleep on the couch not even halfway through the movie, you and Sukuna sneak upstairs and into his childhood bedroom. Any other time you come to Jin’s house, you would spend time cooing at all the photos and memorabilia from years ago; tonight you’re being guided to the twin bed with impatient fervor.

Lips against his in a desperate manner, Sukuna whispers a few scolds when you moan just a little too loud when his mouth sucks fat hickies into the delicate flesh of your neck. Clothing peeling off to take advantage of the opportunity that the group downstairs was asleep, Sukuna pushes you flat onto his colorful childhood comforter. He places kisses down your navel and drags down your jeans and panties in one tug before settling comfortably between your thighs.

“Promise to take extra care of you later– just gotta be quick this one time, ok?”

Drunk in lust, you aren’t really sure if the man between your legs is speaking to you or your pussy, but you don’t care regardless. Sukuna sits forward to plant a few kisses to your puffy clit before rocking back onto his ankles and guiding his cockhead up and down your folds.

A knowing smirk on his face, he sinks in each of his nine inches inside, cursing with furrowed eyebrows at the immediate pleasure coursing through his veins. It’s a familiar stretch your poor pussy can never get used to, though he gives you a few moments to accommodate his splitting size before rocking in and out. 

The small twin bed frame rocks into the wall with each thrust and Sukuna gives up on trying to keep it quiet– too focused on reaching both your highs than what his stupid nephew might think downstairs. It’s a disgusting thought that passes through his head really; fucking his cock deep in your pussy while your slick pastes his pubes to his pelvis, that in his childhood bedroom, the two of you could make a child. 

That would warm you up right? All the times he can’t be there to keep you company while he’s at work– his kid in your stomach could. 

Moans escape your pretty lips while Sukuna places his hands under your plush thighs and pushes them to fold into your chest; tits squishing from the pressure of your knees against them. It’s a mean mating press, and the image of you plump and swollen with his kid unleashes a fetish Sukuna didn’t think he had.

Thrusts sputtering at the image, Sukuna exhales pathetically and rocks his hips into yours a few more times before cumming embarrassingly early. Cum pouring from his weeping cock as he pumps his seed deeper and deeper, you wearily look up at him in shock and longing for your own release.

Sukuna’s a caring boyfriend who makes good on his promises though, and he pulls out before shimmying back down between your thighs. His erection is slowly softening despite his mind not any clearer post-nut; the sight of his cum dripping from your cunt has him reaching forward to push it back in with long fingers.

He mutters about cumming prematurely since you both hadn’t seen each other in a few days, but the way he eyes the photos of Jin and baby Yuji in the hallway later make you question his real motives. 

Shoko Ieiri -> why is the doctor's office always so cold??

Why all medical buildings are freezing cold is beyond you– and your girlfriend’s office is no exception. Sitting in a swivel chair next to her as she fills out mountains of paperwork, you hug your arms into yourself at the frigid temperature. Maybe it’s your fault the cropped and tight baby tee you’re wearing isn’t the most appropriate given the weather, but it’s too cute not to wear. Besides, as much as Ieiri chides you for complaining, you can tell the way her eyes linger on your perky nipples through the fabric that she’s secretly enjoying the show. 

“Ieiriiii”

“Hm?” She hums, not looking up from her patient’s file.

“Are you almost done? I’m freezing and hungry.”

She notes down a few symptoms of her current patient and types a few memos into her desktop computer; a coy eye lingers on your chest once again. “Yes I am. And don’t worry– I’m hungry too.”

Before you can pull up your phone for nearby restaurants, Ieiri is pushing back from her desk and sliding her chair away from both of you. Dropping to her knees, she grabs the bones of your knees and spins you to face her crouched body.

“Ieiri?”

“Mmmm– said I was hungry, didn’t I?”

In a simple motion, she splays your legs apart and peers up your skirt to admire the small arousal stain forming on your cute pink panties she had bought you last Valentine’s Day. You can’t even shut your legs in embarrassment, her strength keeping them open, and her hot breath fanning the flesh on your thighs. 

Ieiri only looks up once with pupils blown wide before she pushes up the fabric of your skirt and happily inserts herself right in front of your cunt. The tip of her nose grinds against your clit through your panties while she licks hot stripes up and down the gusset to taste the slick that’s already been soaked through.

Hands in her hair and hot pants leaving your lips, you arch your back into the seat and shiver from the sensation and cool air of the office. Tugging your panties to the side, she repositions herself to allow her tongue to thrust in and out of your tight hole while an index finger rubs circles on your clit just the way you like. 

It’s a disgusting french kiss she’s giving your cunt; occasionally spitting onto your pussy and using the mixture of saliva and arousal to insert her index and middle finger to replace her tongue. Her name leaves your lips in a desperate mantra as deft surgeon hands massage the rough spot in your cunt that leaves you twitching your hips into her mouth. 

Ieiri peels back to watch your face as you come undone, loving the way that only she is the one making you feel so good; your hands are tugging at the hair on her scalp in a not-so-subtle way of letting her know of your impending orgasm. With a few more grinds of her fingers on your g-spot, you’re cumming hard onto her hands.

She doesn’t stop when you whimper in overstimulation, her lips attaching to your cunt again to lap up all the cum, until you tug her back wearily. Pussy drunk eyes gaze lazily at you through hooded lids as she rests her head onto your thigh; a smirk on her lips and cum coating her chin.

Ieiri is just being the good girlfriend she always wants to be for you. Eating you out in her office to keep you warm is just another task she’s happy to fulfill. ;)

i have no excuse for this fr...

a/n: am i behind on posting? yes. am i too busy watching got7 promotions for their new comeback? yes.

i really do mean to stay focused but it's hard when you're ovulating these fine ass men are posting for their new comback ok?

anyway~ sorry for the pure filth, I promise im working on finishing holiday hoes and the next chapters for da usual series

also: i need to reply to all the nice comments you all leave on here! i promise i see them and want to respond to each one bc YOU ARE ALL SO SWEET IT HURTS <333

comments/likes/reblogs all appreciated

i luv u sluts -oatmeal

[horny-marbles]

PLS DO MORE TOBY LIL FICS PLS PLS PLS I LOVED THE OBSESSED READER SHIZZ AND THE ENITRE PLOT wondering if you’ll write more of those bc I deadass loved that fic and everysingle writings you publish

babe... ask and you shall receive 🙏🏻 but thank you so much ahhhh!!! currently working on some requests but i have an extensive list of shit for toby that's clawing at my hands everytime i open my notes app lol THEY'RE COMING

ꋪꏂ꒯ ꒒ꋬꉔꏂ (Ticci Toby x F!Reader)

CW: stalking, home invasion, themes of obsession, creep behavior lol, feral drooling toby that curses like a sailor, degradation but in an adoring way, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), squirting, some mild biting and choking, a liiiittle anal play, creampie

summary: you're a regular ass chick that never looks twice over her shoulder because who the hell would stalk you? well...

word count 7k

It started on a night so cold the air cut. Winter didn’t feel like a season—it felt like punishment. Every breath stung lungs raw, wind bit through the alleyways like teeth and the snow—sharp-edged and crusted with ice—cracked under heavy boots. No one with a working brain was outside. No one except you.

You, and Toby.

You stormed down the sidewalk like it owed you money, diner work uniform half-tucked under a coat three sizes bigger, carrying a greasy bag of cold leftovers. The street was dead silent, a graveyard of snowplowed sludge and flickering streetlamps. You didn’t care. You never seemed to care.

“Fuckin’ hell—shit,” you grumbled as your foot skidded on a patch of black ice. “If I eat it and die out here, I hope someone loots my corpse.”

Your voice punched into the stillness like a brick through glass.

That was the moment.

Toby hadn’t been following you. He didn’t do that shit—didn’t have the patience, didn’t care enough about people to watch them. Stalking missions were the worst. All that sneaking around just to gut someone later anyway. Waste of time. He was just... out. He liked the cold. Couldn't feel it, but liked how it made the world shut up. No traffic, no people, just silence and sharp air.

But your voice cut through the air like you were the only thing alive. Sharp, pissed-off, no filter. Not afraid. Not aware.

From the dark between two alley dumpsters, his head tilted.

You looked like nobody. Plain. Tired. Lips cracked from the cold, hair stuffed under a beanie, boots scuffed to hell. The kind of girl people forgot after ten seconds. You smelled like fryer grease and cheap soap. You didn’t check over your shoulder once.

You didn’t give a fuck.

That was what made him follow.

You were pissed at the ground. That was your crime. The moment he saw your middle finger fly up at a mailbox when your elbow clipped it, something ugly flared up in his chest. You weren’t trying to be seen—but he couldn’t stop looking. There was something fucking wrong with the way you grabbed his attention like that. Like instinct. Like hunger.

He trailed you all the way back. A little closer than he should’ve, just to test if you’d notice.

You didn’t.

Inside, you moved like a creature in its habitat—half-unconscious, messy, private. You dropped your keys on the counter, kicked your shoes off, threw your snow damp coat across a chair without shutting the blinds. Your apartment lights made you glow from where he crouched across the street, barely breathing, pupils blown.

He thought about leaving. Just a glance. Just curiosity.

Then you started undressing.

Not slow. Not sexy. Just peeled your shirt off like it was suffocating you, tugged your bra straps down without a second thought, tits bouncing a little as you yanked the whole thing over your head. No hesitation. No audience.

Except him.

Toby’s breath caught hard in his throat.

You stood there, topless, scratching absently at your ribs, red, irritated bra dents across your back and shoulder blades. One hand shoved into your waistband to dig out the edge of your underwear. You kicked your pants off in a pile near the couch on your way to the kitchen, panties riding up the curve of your ass as you bent to adjust your sock. You didn’t even think about it.

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t think anyone watched you. Why would they? You were average. You felt average. Regular job, regular body, regular goddamn life. Who the fuck would waste their time stalking you?

You were wrong.

You were perfect.

Toby’s cock throbbed in his pants. Hard in an instant. Ugly hard. He hadn’t even realized he was touching himself until his hand stilled over the bulge in his jeans, breath fogging the air. Your body wasn’t a fantasy, wasn’t porn-polished—it was real. Unposed. Flawed. Soft in all the right places, limbs heavy with exhaustion, belly relaxed. You moved without self-consciousness, because you believed no one gave a shit.

And that was the first night he knew: you were his. You just didn’t know it yet.

The days that followed bled into weeks. Then months.

And you didn’t notice.

Why would you?

Your life had a shape—small, predictable, unremarkable. The kind that didn’t attract attention. You worked nights at a diner that smelled like stale grease and cheap cologne, mostly because the night shift came with extra tips and less people. You didn’t like people. Or maybe people didn’t like you. Either way, it worked out.

He watched it all.

From rooftops, alley shadows, behind dumpsters—he tracked your patterns like instinct, until he could map your movements by memory. You never deviated. Your world was contained within a few blocks: the diner, a 24/7 bodega you hit for shitty wine and paper towels, a laundromat where your socks disappeared two at a time, and your apartment—a one-bedroom shoebox you barely maintained, where the curtains stayed open just enough to tempt a demon.

You thought you were boring. You acted accordingly.

You stripped in front of open windows, sat in threadbare panties with one leg hanging off the edge of the bed, doomscrolling Reddit and Tumblr while scratching absently under your tits. Sometimes you’d read smut—illegible from where he sat, to his frustration—eyes glazed, one hand creeping down under your waistband, the other holding your phone like a vice. Sometimes you'd finish with a half-hearted gasp and slump sideways, scrolling again like nothing happened.

He watched the way your face changed when you touched yourself—disbelieving, desperate, as if you were grateful just to feel something.

Toby learned quickly how lonely you really were. You didn’t talk to anyone. Not really. The phone never rang unless it was a coworker begging you to cover a shift. You’d slam it down and bitch out loud like the walls were listening. No family visits. No best friends stopping by. No boyfriend. No one.

Just you. You in your weird little world, raw and cracked open and unaware that someone was eating you alive from the outside in.

And it made Toby fucking dizzy. You were starving. Not just for touch—for company. For care. For proof that someone saw you, that someone was just as hungry. And he was already full of teeth.

He started creeping closer. He couldn’t help it. It was a compulsion, like chewing, like scratching, like panting.

First time he broke in, it was almost boring.

The window slid open like an invitation. Not even locked. Not even latched. He stood there staring at the frame, muttering under his breath in disbelief. “What the f-fuck, bitch. Y-You don’t luh-lock your windows...?”

He was inside your room with both feet planted before his heart even finished beating once. You weren’t home. You wouldn’t be for hours. And still, he stood in your space like it was stolen.

It reeked of you.

Faint perfume. Sour sweat. Clean sheets with your warmth pressed into the fabric. Towel on the floor. Pajamas discarded over the bedpost. There was something obscene about how much life you left scattered around.

Toby’s knees hit the mattress fast. Face down. Deep breath. He buried himself in the covers like a dog in heat, nose first, groaning—groaning—at the flood of scent: shampoo and detergent and wet cunt and skin and something hopeless.

He pressed his palm into his dick through his jeans and rocked forward once, hasty.

Then again. Then with both hands—groping and grunting and rutting into his palms—getting off to the made up image of what you'd look like on top of him while he slammed up into you. Spread open, eyes rolled, tits bouncing in circles, fucked out and drooling.

He came messy, fast, gritting his teeth against your sheets, making no effort to stop the noise. It was gross. It was ugly. It felt like worship.

Next night, he came back.

Your drawer was half-open. Sloppy. Like you were in a rush that evening. His fingers dipped inside, careful. He shuffled through cotton and the occasional lace until he found the pair you always seemed to wear right after laundry day. Favorite ones, clearly. Faded black with a cute embroidered skull on the mound. Worn thin at the seams. He stuffed them in his jacket pocket and took one more long breath at the foot of your bed before slipping out again.

You noticed, eventually.

You reached into your drawer a couple nights later, half-asleep, hunting that comfort pair. They weren’t there. You checked the laundry, the hamper, the floor. Nothing.

“The fuck,” you mumbled. “Fucking laundromat probably ate ‘em too. Big and greedy, man."

Brushed it off. Moved on.

But Toby wasn’t finished.

Two nights later, you opened your drawer again—and froze.

Sitting neatly on top was a new pair. Not your style. Not your brand. A blood-red lace thong, crotchless, strappy, slutty, like it belonged in a porn photoshoot.

And resting on top, a torn scrap of receipt paper with something scribbled on it, looking like it was written by someone that hadn't been sober a day in their life.

Fuck those worn out panties, you'd look better in these. —T

Your face went pale. You backpedaled so hard you almost fell. Slammed the drawer shut. Yanked it open again. The note was still there.

You tore through the apartment. Checked the locks. Windows. Under the bed. Inside the closet. No sign of a break-in. Nothing disturbed.

Just that pair of panties. Just that note.

He stayed away for a week. Slipped back into the cold, into the dark, adrenaline still crackling in his bones. And for the first time in his life, Toby waited.

He thought he was fucked. Figured the cops would show up any day now, that you’d call, report a break-in, scream bloody murder about a pervert sniffing around your drawers. That the second he climbed back through your window, there’d be some twitchy beat cop waiting with a hand on the gun at his belt.

But it never came.

A day passed. Then two. Then five.

And the next time he slid up to your building, fingers twitching against the cold brick, he took his usual place by the window—careful not to fog the glass, careful not to make a single sound. He crouched low, eyes barely cresting the sill. Expecting quiet. Maybe the glow of your laptop, maybe you asleep in your usual tangled mess of sheets.

Instead, he found you spread out across the bed, glowing with sweat and heat and that particular, private kind of shame.

He blinked, breath leaving his lungs in one ragged, fuck me exhale.

You were wearing them. His gift, wrapped around your hips like a fucking ribbon. Thin red lace soaked through with slick and need and oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Cutting sharp into your ass, skimpy straps where the crotch should've been digging into the crease of your thighs, framing your puffy cunt like a work of art. One hand between your legs, soaked. The other gripping the pillow behind your head, fingers curled like claws.

You didn’t even look like you were breathing—just panting in short, stuttering bursts, lips bitten red and glossy, that look in your eyes like you were about to cry from how fucking badly you wanted it.

Toby stared and made the quietest, sickest sound in the back of his throat—half tic, half need—teeth clamping into his lip until it bled, muffling a groan. His goggles were shoved up into his hair, but the mouth guard stayed on—habit, maybe. Or maybe it was just the sick hope that, in case you were mentally deranged enough to let him fuck you—like he'd been dreaming about for months—his scars wouldn't freak you out right off the bat.

You didn’t stop.

You hadn’t even noticed him yet.

He watched your fingers work slow at first, hips twitching like you were trying to hold off—trying to edge yourself stupid. Your face was flushed. Brows drawn in tight. Little, messy curses spilling from your mouth as your eyes fluttered shut, back arching up off the mattress like it was too much to stay still.

His dick, heavy and aching, grinded against the seam like it was trying to break through and pull his entire body with it through the window.

It wasn’t just that you were touching yourself. It wasn’t just the panties. It was that you were doing it for him. You didn’t even know he was there—yet the evidence was everywhere.

He couldn’t hold it anymore. He moved to the glass and knocked—once, sharp. Not loud enough to wake the neighbors. Just loud enough for you.

You jumped.

Your head snapped toward the window, eyes wide and glassy, chest heaving. You didn’t scream. You didn’t move. Just froze with your hand still between your legs, blinking at the shape crouched just outside the glass. Face flushed, glistening with sweat. Thighs trembling.

He watched you recognize him—the shape of an intruder, the silhouette of danger. Watched your eyes dart to the goggles pushed up on his head, the mouthguard still in place, hiding the worst of the scar. He didn’t smile. Didn’t wave.

Your heart was beating so loud it drowned out the world. A roaring drumline in your chest, crashing against your ribs so hard you swore he could hear it from the other side of the glass.

You’d only just barely started to breathe again. Your orgasm had been hanging on by a string—your body strung up and ready to snap—and then you looked up, and met brown eyes.

Brown, human eyes, burning through the glass, lit with something so famished it made your stomach drop clean through your pelvis. Fear, yes—but also heat, immediate and wet. A sick pulse between your legs that flickered sharp and electric, tangled in the panic like barbed wire. You didn’t mean to leave your hand there, still twitching on your clit, fingertips slippery with need—but the moment froze.

Your cunt was throbbing.

He just stared at you like you were meat—waiting, shoulders twitching ever so slightly, barely contained. But you didn’t pull your hand away.

And that’s when it hit him.

You wanted this. Maybe not in some clean, healthy way—but it was there. That need. That hunger. Just as fucked as his, simmering under your skin. You needed dick like your lungs needed air.

You still hadn’t moved. Just stared right back. But he saw it. The tiniest little twitch of your hips again. Just enough to rub against your palm. His mouth twitched under the mask, equal parts grin and snarl.

You were panting, dazed, wide-eyed—and something in you, deep in the filth of your loneliness and need, made your hand shift. Not down, not back to your clit—but up. A small wave. Shaky. Awkward. A little stupid. Half a question, half an invitation.

And that was all it took.

Toby moved before you could even finish the gesture. One hand slammed the window open with a sharp snap of the latch, and the other hauled him in with the kind of strength that wasn’t fair. He was inside before your gasp even fully left your lips, a blurred motion of boots and gloves and fogged-up goggles before his feet hit your floor like a warning shot.

You shrieked. A real sound, startled and breathless, hands flying to cover yourself—more out of instinctual panic than modesty. Because looked like he was about to fucking devour you.

He stood tall. Taller than you thought—broad-shouldered and twitching with leftover adrenaline, fog and icy air trailing in behind him. His clothes smelled like snow and smoke and him, sharp pine and something raw, and your legs squeezed together without your permission. Because fuck, even though part of you shamefully fantasized about a good looking, well built, kind-of-fucked-up-but-not-entirely-mental stalker, the reality was that it could've been anyone. Anything.

But it was him.

His eyes drank in the whole scene. The way you trembled, caught in the act, heat still clinging to your skin like a fever. The fear in your eyes contradicting your open legs. His jaw ticked under the strap of his mouthguard, and you saw his gloved fingers twitch like they were aching to grab you by the throat and tear you to shreds.

And then, voice low, raspy from the cold, dripping with filth that made your cunt clench, “you really di-didn’t call the c-cops, huh?”

He took a step closer.

“You just s-sat he—slut— here. In my f-fucking gift. Rubbing that p-pussy like I wasn’t about to show up and tuh-t-take it for myself.”

Your breath caught, mouth falling open in a strangled sound, some hybrid of embarrassment and arousal and holy fucking shit.

“You got off thinkin’ a-about me, didn’t you?” His eyes flicked down your body, then back up—slow and nasty. “Say it.”

Another step. “Tell me y-you came thinking about m-me breaking in. Tell me you were w-waiting f-for it.”

Your hand twitched again, almost moving back between your legs, and Toby noticed. His laugh was more like a scoff, crooked and giddy in the filth.

“Nasty b-bitch,” he muttered, almost to himself. “God, you’re sick.”

He didn't even lean forward—he lunged, like an animal that never learned the concept of anticipation.

Your wave—your invitation—hit him like a line of coke. He pounced, hands slamming down on the mattress, body dropping between your legs like gravity had lost all patience with him. The bed dipped hard, bounced, and you let out a startled gasp—but it didn’t matter. He was already there. On you. Over you. Caging you in like something that didn’t understand restraint.

Heat rolled off him in thick waves, despite the cold outside. His breath punched out through his mask, harsh and wet. He didn’t touch you—yet—but his hands trembled where they landed, planted beside your thighs like he needed them to keep from shaking apart. His goggles caught the light as his head jerked—sharp and sudden—and his gaze dropped, fixating on the gap in lace exposing your pussy like it was bait.

He made a sound. Low. Unfiltered. Somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

“Ff—fuck,” he rasped. “You were gonna m-make yourself cum in my panties, huh?”

The way he said it—like it physically hurt—made your thighs tense. You opened your mouth to explain, to deny, but nothing came out but breath. Heat and nerves and shame choking up in your throat.

Toby laughed, short and disbelieving. “Didn’t even know th-th-they were mine and you still—fffuckin’—humped ‘em?” His voice cracked awkwardly, every stutter slicing the words open and bleeding them raw. “G-God. Say it. S-Say it was me.”

You stammered, your voice caught halfway between a moan and a laugh, nervous and breathless and trapped. “I—y-yeah, I—fuck, I didn’t know—I mean I didn’t know it was you, but I—”

He groaned, loud and ruined, like your words were jerking him off.

“You didn’t know,” he gasped, licking his lips behind the mask. “Ffffuck, th-that’s worse. You didn’t even know and still—still touched yourself like a f-fucked up whore.”

“I didn’t—fuck, I wasn’t thinking, I just—needed something,” you whimpered, hands curling into the sheets, chest rising and falling like you couldn’t get enough air. “I—I thought maybe if I put them on it’d be like—like I was with someone—”

He surged forward like that simple explanation was enough to make him fold—face burying in the crook of your neck with a desperate, feral moan. His mask scraped your skin. The lenses of his goggles bumped your collarbone. His whole body jerked—tics dragging him forward, making him twitch and spasm like the sheer effort of not devouring you was pain.

“You don’t even know h-how fffucked that is,” he muttered, breath catching. “L-lonely little slut wh—who doesn’t even c-call the cops when some freak breaks in. Just wears the gift and j-jacks off. That it baby? Huh?”

Your hips shifted, trying to meet his, desperately seeking out friction, a gasp catching in your throat. “I didn’t know what to do. I just—”

He snarled against your throat. “You let me in.”

Your hands found his jacket, tugging, dragging him closer like you couldn’t stand not having him all over you. Your fingers fumbled at his zipper, clumsy and feverish.

“You—fuck, y-you want it off?” he asked, voice cracking into disbelief, like the very idea made his brain short-circuit. “You want me?”

You nodded, frantic, and layers hit the floor in seconds. Gloves flung. Jacket peeled off with shaking hands. His chest rose and fell in heaves, scars catching the light—long and pink and brutal, carved across lean muscle that jumped under your gaze.

Then his fingers went to the straps of his mask, and you froze.

Because you didn't know what you expected to be hidden underneath—shit, you barely realized something was even covering his face—but you weren't expecting a deep, torn chunk eaten right through the meat of his cheek, healed but violent, exposing teeth and a glimpse of raw gum.

But his mouth—fuck, his mouth was perfect. Wet. Parted. Red and bitten raw from chewing on it, tongue darting out to lick the corners like he couldn’t help himself.

He didn’t say a word. Just let you look, let you decide—like it made a difference.

And you did. Eyes flicking over the wound, the lips, down to his chest, the aching bulge suffocating under his zipper, back up. Your breath caught and your thighs squeezed together, still open, still on full display. You were fucking soaked.

“I don’t care,” you whispered. “I need your mouth. Now.”

That broke him wide open.

Toby whined—pitiful, breathless—and grabbed your thighs like they were the only thing keeping him alive. His nails bit in. His mouth twitched.

“Yeah? You w-want my fucking tongue on that messy little c-kh-cunt, huh?” he growled. “Gonna let me ruin it? Sit on my ffffuckin’ face? I’ll make you scream so loud I—I’ll get caught, and you won’t even care.”

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped, head dropping back. “Yes, fucking do it.”

“Beg for it.”

His hand slammed the mattress beside your head with a spasm sharp enough to shake the bedframe.

“Ff-fuckin’ beg.”

Your whisper cracked with desperation, soaked and shaking. “Please… please, I need your mouth—I’ll do anything, I’ll fucking beg, just—”

His eyes rolled back for a beat, chest shuddering as a ragged, broken groan tore up from deep in his lungs, like it hurt to hear how pretty you could beg. Like whatever pornographic sounds his mind conjured up paled in comparison.

He smashed his mouth to yours, hot and open and so fucking wet. It wasn’t a kiss, not really—he didn’t know how to kiss, he devoured. Tongue everywhere, spit and teeth, sucking your lips into his mouth like he needed to drink you. The sheer noise of it was obscene—slick, sloppy, breathless. Your knees bucked and trembled as he knocked them wider with his forearm, your hands clawing at his bare shoulders while he rutted against your thigh like he was holding back from humping you through his jeans.

“Ffffuckin’—say it again,” he gasped against your mouth, panting like a dog. His voice cracked, stuttered. “Say you want me. S-say you want your fuckin’—your s-s-sick psycho stalker.”

You whimpered, brain melted. “I do—I do—I want you, I want you so fucking bad—”

He snapped—body twitching as his hand flew down and yanked those two skimpy strands of fabric surrounding your pussy until they snapped. Two scarred fingers pressed into the heat of your cunt like they belonged there, spreading you open—and the second he felt how soaked you were, he choked.

“Holy sh-shit,” he breathed, like he was stunned. His jaw ticked. “You’re—you’re dripping, bitch. I haven’t even—I barely t-touched you and you’re drenched."

You moaned into his mouth, thighs clenching around his arm, head falling back to expose your throat—and he just stared down at you, trembling, breath shaking like he was holding in a laugh.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he whispered, and suddenly his voice was lower. Threatening. Talking more to himself than to you. “Goddamn lonely. Letting a freak like m-m-me in your room. I could k-kill you right now and you wouldn’t even get the chance to run.”

Your heart dropped. A real, shivering pulse of terror hit your gut. Your body locked up, breath caught, but two fingers pushed inside before you really had time to fully process his words.

And the panic dissolved into a whimper.

He groaned as he felt you clench around him, tight and wet and sucking him in like you were trying to pull his hand deeper, trembling around the stretch. Your hips jolted up into his palm, shame flushed red across your face as your hands clutched at his arms.

“Oh—f-fuck—”

“Yeah,” he growled, voice cracking, lips twitching in half snarl, half mocking grin. “Y-you like that? You sc-s-scared and still letting me fuck you with my fingers like a d-dog in heat?”

But that wasn’t what he wanted. His fingers slipped out with a wet pop and he groaned like he missed the feel of you already. But then he shoved those same fingers between his lips—sucking them deep, moaning around them like he was starving. Eyes fluttered half-shut as he tasted you, mouth shining with spit and slick.

You barely had time to breathe before he dove down.

Tongue first—hot, thick, flat and immediate, dragging a foul stripe from your hole to your clit. He groaned deep in his throat when you jolted, scarred cheek pressed against your thigh, drool mixing with slick in a way that made your eyes roll back and whatever survival instinct you still had vanish.

His mouth latched onto your clit and sucked, tongue flicking relentless and wet, twitching with little tics that only made it worse, better, crueler. His hands locked around your thighs—tight, bruising grip—and held you open like you belonged to him, nose scrunched against your mound and his spit running down to your ass in strings.

You could only kick your legs uselessly.

“Ffffuck—t-tastes like you missed me,” he slurred into your cunt, voice wrecked and broken and gleeful. His lips slipped against your soaked skin, words barely intelligible. “G-gonna fuckin' eat you alive, gonna—mmfuck—”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, hips rolling into his face, loud and shameless as your moans cracked into the quiet room.

“Wh-what the—fuck—oh my—”

He growled. His tongue jammed inside you, licking you open like he was trying to tunnel into your soul, then back up to your clit, where he sucked again hard, chin soaked, eyes wild.

“You gonna cum already?” he grinned into your pussy, teeth catching your clit ever so slightly with every lick. “G-gonna fuckin’ scream for the ff-freak who’s been jackin’ off with your panties under his p-pillow?”

You cried out. Loud. Raw. Helpless. You were right there, stomach tight, walls trembling, thighs shaking around his head when he popped his mouth off your clit, breath hot and sticky against your cunt, and shoved two fingers back inside with no ceremony. Curling them knuckle-deep like he was trying to hook behind your bones, dragging that spot so deep and tender it made your entire body jerk.

Then, with his lips brushing your slick, throbbing clit, he mouthed into you like a threat.

“Say my name, bitch.”

Your jaw dropped, a high, warbled moan catching in your throat as your hands grabbed at the sheets.

“I—I—I don’t—fuck—I don’t know it—”

And he ripped his fingers out, hand soaked to the wrist, only to bring it down across your cunt in a wet crack.

Your whole body seized, a strangled scream bursting from your mouth—shock, pain, heat flooding through you all at once. It stung like fire, too hard, too fast—like he had no clue how strong he was—but you didn’t even have time to reel before he leaned in and kissed your pussy where he’d hit it. Soft, messy, tender.

Didn’t help.

Didn’t matter.

“Toby. S-Say it.”

Your whole body jerked, cunt clenching around nothing as your eyes flew open, lips parting with a whimper so desperate it sounded like prayer.

"Toby—Toby, please, c'mon, just—”

“That’s it,” he hissed, voice warping at the edges with something animal. “K-Keep fuckin' sayin' it, baby.”

Satisfied, his fingers were back. Shoved in to the hilt, curling fast and relentless, fucking up into that sweet spot with punishing speed while his mouth latched onto your clit again like he was trying to suck your soul through it. His moans were shameless, loud and snarling, tongue flicking, chin soaked, breath shuddering through his nose as he devoured you.

Your body snapped with a gasp—froze—then convulsed, crying out his name as your cunt clenched and spasmed around his fingers. Your thighs shook, your hips bucked wildly, wet gushes spurting around his fingers and drenching the sheets under your ass, his arm, his mouth.

He groaned like it knocked the wind out of him.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered, voice half gone, still licking through it like he was wringing you out. “Knew you'd be a f-filthy f-fucking slut for me."

You were left twitching, flat on your back, trembling all over and soaked in sweat and spit and squirt, one leg hanging off the bed and the other bent up from where he’d folded you open, pussy still fluttering from the aftershocks.

You barely even noticed him move. Just felt the scrape of his teeth on your thigh, the way he bit his way up to your knee with animal heat in his breath—eyes bugging and fixed on your face, chest heaving, hands tugging open his jeans so rough the zipper snapped open. He kicked them off clumsily and launched them halfway off the bed like they were a personal offense.

The wet, heavy smack of his cock hitting the mess between your legs snapped your attention back. Toby was leering down at you, eyes blown wide and hungry, lips parted, breath shaking as he pressed one of your thighs up, pinned it to the mattress with his palm, and threw your other leg over his shoulder to open you up and fold you like a beloved toy.

His cock—thick, flushed, leaking and twitching—dragged through the mess of your cunt, catching on your clit just enough to make your hips jerk.

"Y-you want it? Huh? You want this dick? After everything I fuckin’ did to you?”

Your breath caught, eyes wide and glassy. He leaned in over you, pressing his cock against your slit, grinding just enough to tease, enough to make your mouth drop open with a whine.

You nodded. Too fast. Too eager. “Y-yeah. Yeah—I want it—fuck—please, Toby, please—”

He pushed in, slow, inch by inch, teeth bared as your cunt gripped him—tight, soaked, vacuuming around him like you were trying to suck the meat off his dick. His arms shook, jaw clenched, eyes rolled back for a second as he bottomed out, torn between making this last—to savor every clench and throb after surviving off the thought of it for months—and needing to fuck you within an inch of your life.

“…God, you're just lettin’ me ff-fuck you? Just like that? Just—fuckin’—goddamn—” He breathed hard, nostrils flaring, his whole body trembling with restraint. “I could f-fuckin’ cry.”

He snapped his hips back and slammed forward, the first thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs. No rhythm, no warning—just piston-fire force, his hips crashing into you, bed screeching with every slam. One hand clamped down around your throat—just to hold you still, thumb brushing your chin as you moaned open-mouthed and raw.

Your hands clawed at his arms, his back, his hair, anything you could reach, mindless with the stretch, the pound of it, the filthy wet slap of skin on skin and the obnoxious slam of the headboard denting the wall behind.

“Fuckin’ knew you’d tuh-t-take it like this,” he grunted, drool on his lip, sweat dripping from his temples, eyes wild. “L-Lonely fuckin' skank… so fuckin’ desperate, you let your fuckin’ stalker in—let me eat you out, let me fuck you—sh-shit—”

Your cunt clamped around him.

“Ohhh my fuckin’ god—do that again—do that a-again and I’ll fuckin' b-break you—I’ll cum so deep you’ll be pissin’ m-me out tomorrow—”

The second your back arched up off the sheets, trying to keep up with the brutal rhythm of his thrusts, Toby’s hands were everywhere. Tits bouncing as he grabbed them in both hands, rough and greedy, mouth latching onto one nipple with a desperate, snarling suck, free palm slapping down over the other, squeezing so tight you whimpered, your legs kicking weakly beside his waist.

"Fuckin’—god, you’re perfect, you—ffuck, these tits, shit—” he slurred around your skin, drooling down your chest, tongue dragging across your tits while he humped against you.

He was losing it. Could barely finish his sentences, just panting and stuttering and grinding into you, overwhelmed. His whole body shaking with restraint he didn’t have, already teetering on the edge. But he couldn't have that. He couldn't end it now, when you were drooling and tearing up and his.

So he pulled out and moved—rough, hurried, no warning—with a snarl that tore through your daze like a serrated knife. Hands snatching at your waist, yanking you up like a ragdoll, flipping you onto your stomach and shoving your face into the pillows as he hauled your hips up with both hands.

You yelped—surprised, breathless, a little laugh punching out of you on instinct.

“W-Wait, give me a s—"

“Sh-shut up,” he barked, voice all gravel and desperation, slapping your ass so hard it rippled. “J-just—stay right there, fuck—stay like that—”

He climbed over you, thighs bracketing yours, one boot planting into the mattress next to your calf as he lifne hand hooked into your waist to keep you impaled, the other palming your ass, slapping it again, fingers pressing into the dip of your lower back to force the arch deeper. Then in your hair, yanking your head back so you had to look over your shoulder as he sank back in with a guttural groan.

“L-Look at me— Look at who's t-tuh-t-FUCK, tearing this pussy up."

The wall behind the bed didn't stand a fucking chance. Paint chipping and flying off like it was being hit with a hammer. His hips slapping into your ass, hand clutching your hair tight enough to burn your scalp as he rutted into you from behind like he was trying to climb inside. You were wailing into the sheets, jaw dropped, tongue out, drooling into the pillow while he made you take every inch over and over again.

“D-didn’t stalk you f-for months for some soft shit,” he grunted, cock buried to the hilt, “w-wanted this—wanted to see you like this, fuckin’ s-stupid, moaning on my dick like a f-f-fucked up nympho, all wet and messy and—fuckin’ m-mine. All m-mine.”

You couldn’t even answer, couldn't even think twice about what he said. Just babbled, breath hitching, tears streaking down your cheeks from how hard he hit that spot inside you, every thrust like a punch to the gut.

Toby whined when you clenched up—when your pussy milked him, fluttering around his cock like your body was begging to be bred—and his voice cracked when he hissed through his teeth. “Cum-cumming again, slut? Fffuck yes, come— Come on t-this fuckin' dick—”

It slammed into you like a fucking car crash.

No warning. No build. Just white-hot, bone-deep release that made your whole body seize and flutter, sobs punched out of you from the inside as your cunt clenched hard around his cock. You twitched—hard, full-body, legs buckling underneath you as he kept your hips up, kept pounding, riding you through the quake like some unchained beast.

And you were crying and grinning, in some fucked-up mix of bliss and madness—head spinning, tears in your eyes, drool on the pillow from how your mouth hung open, panting, trying to form a thought, any thought.

It'd been so long. So fucking long since someone touched you like this. Since someone made you feel like this. Your brain tried to hold onto it but your body was short-circuiting, curling in on itself, torn between wanting more and being too overwhelmed to take one more push.

That’s when his hand came down—slow, dragging from your waist to your head. His fingers swept your hair aside, thumb brushing your jaw, then slipped down until it found the corner of your mouth.

You blinked up at him over your shoulder, still gasping, tears glistening. His lip twitched in a snarl—eyes burning, chest heaving—and he shoved his thumb into your mouth, deep and filthy.

“Suck,” he rasped. His voice cracked. “Get it wet, baby—c'mon."

You whined around it, lips wrapping tight, suckling instinctively, hollowing your cheeks—and he moaned, hips stuttering. His thumb popped free, spit trailing off the knuckle, and he immediately slid it down between your ass cheeks.

You barely got out a breathless little “wait—!” before it was in, his thumb pressing past the rim of muscle—slippery with your spit, buried to the root in your ass—and your vision blurred. Your back arched, your body twitched, everything locking up all over again, cunt gushing around his cock with a sudden squirt.

He fucking lost it.

Toby let out a shattered, broken noise—half sob, half snarl—and his hips snapped forward one final time, so vicious it made you slide forward and knock your head into the headboard. Cock pulsing deep, balls tight, and you felt it flooding you—every rope of cum, every twitch, every grind.

And he collapsed. Heavy like his bones were made of tungsten, weight pressing you down, face smushed into the sweaty curve of your spine, mouth open against your back. You felt his tongue—lazily licking at the salt-slick skin there, huffing like he’d run a marathon, muttering breathless curses into your ribs. Basking in it.

“Fffuck—fuck, oh my God,” he groaned. “Y-you—you feel that, baby? Th-that’s mine, you’re mine, this pussy—fuck...”

You were twitching, still limp under him, breath fogging the pillow in short, shattered puffs. He hadn’t moved, not really, just laying there draped over you like a heat-struck dog, panting into the dip of your spine. His cock still pulsed, softening where it was buried deep inside, every flutter of your cunt making his breath hitch and grin against your skin.

He dragged his teeth across your shoulder—slow, blunt little scrapes that made you shiver—then pressed his mouth to the spot and kissed it sweet and wet. Down your spine, to the curve of your waist. Another bite. Another kiss.

"F-fuckin' beautiful," he muttered, more to himself than you, hands sliding over your ass, kneading where you were sore, where he'd gripped too hard.

He slipped out, and you gasped at the sudden emptiness—whined, actually—left slick and gaping and leaking. His cum, already dribbling down the backs of your thighs in thick strings, stretching between you before they broke.

"H-holy shit, baby," he breathed, sitting back on his haunches, hands spreading your ass cheeks open just to watch.

"Look at this shit," he murmured, voice dipping into a low purr, his grin vile.

He leaned in to kiss your lower back, trailing down to your ass, mouthing warm, lazy kisses across the bruises he’d left. You shuddered, overstimulated and dizzy, still pressed into the pillow, and he laughed—softly, like he adored you.

“Y'gonna m-miss me, angel? Hm?” he whispered, nosing along the swell of your hip, breath ghosting warm over spit-slick skin. “Gonna miss bein’ f-full like this?”

You gave a broken little sound—something between a whimper and a laugh—and he smiled against your skin, all teeth.

“Y-you’re not lonely anymore, baby,” he whispered. “M'not goin' anywhere."

[xjoellasuh]

Joella had made it to Cobblestone, breathing out a huff of relief that she was indoors again. The snow had stopped and she was in desperate need of some caffeine and something sweet. The bar had been closed for the nights when the weather was disagreeable. She glanced over as the barista spoke, smirking when she spotted Raf. Of course, he'd be there in that very moment. When it was her turn, she stepped up to the counter. "Well, in that case, I'll have one of those chai drinks with the foam on the bottom, not on the top, extra spice and--" she looked at the barista's horrified expression before shaking her head. "I'm messing with you," she said, before ordering a London Fog, not her usual go-to but it was what she was craving. "And one of those cookies," she smiled, and took the pastry bag after paying, then plopped in the seat in front of Raf. "Are you having a staring contest with your computer?"

WHO: Rafael & OPEN!

WHERE: Cobblestone Cafe, downtown

WHEN: March 27th, 2025

Finally, a lull. Rafael loved his parents, had enjoyed having them over, was still insisting that they stay with him until at least the weekend passed, but when he had woken up that morning and saw no snow falling from the sky, he made his break down to Cobblestone, his laptop and briefcase in hand, tucking himself into one of the corner booths. He had a coffee and pastry in front of him, eyes moving from door to front counter, watching them as they made their way to the front to order and pay, only to have the barista offer a smile and shake her head. "The gentleman in the corner is picking up the tab for all orders this morning, you're good!" As he felt eyes on him, he offered a quick smile and a lift of his fingers before returning to clicking away at his laptop.

[grimmsbride]

⠀⠀⠀ ▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ Promises, promises. Johnny Storm

summary. out of desperation you make a deal with the literal fiery devil. let’s see if you can keep up your end of the bargain.

tags. johnny storm is ooc (based off my interpretation of him in the game & little things i remember from the movies). reader is a healer. mentions of usual game mechanics. not proofread. smut. porn with little plot. face seating. oral sex (fem. recieving). reader is chubby/curvy & black girl coded (all are free to read ofc). attempts dirty talk. like one pet name. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. entire plot is inspired by that one luna snow & human torch comic by; CEO OF MILFS on twitter.

author’s note. trying to get back into tumblr writing with marvel rivals, i’m sorry for being so mia everyone. i hope you enjoy and as always please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes.

I’m tired.. The statement was simple running through your mind, jogging closely behind a salivating Venom and your other teammates. Being a hero was a daunting job, one you didn’t regret— but daunting nonetheless. And having to use your abilities to heal wounds was even harder; the concentration that went into it— nevermind the fact some people were just so demanding at times.

A heavy sigh escaped you, hands caressing the air to heal Venom, hearing his tongue-filled thank you shortly after. The time was ticking, only about a minute and thirty seconds left, with zero progress to the last objective. Your teammates were dropping like flies and it seemed like they took even longer to come back from recovering.

Between the match looking quite bleak and the tiredness running through your body, you wanted nothing more but to find a corner and hide; awaiting that familiar feminine voice to tell you, the team had lost.

Caught up in your thoughts, you jumped in surprise the moment something slammed into the wall beside you; concrete crumbling from the impact. You spun around, gasping as a familiar silhouette came into view.

“Johnny!” His name escaped your lips urgently, rushing over and stepping carefully over the debris. Your eyes scanned his body, noting the fact his skin was back to normal as he laid amongst the rubble. A hiss escaped, lowering to your knees and gently scooping the man closer.

You couldn’t deny the level of affection you held for the infamous Human Torch. Despite his frat boyish and overly flirty ways, you knew there was a good heart underneath all that flame.

Not that you would ever admit it anyway.

“I got you, Johnny.” You mummured, hand rising right above him and healing him, the pink glow covering his body like a comforting blanket. You watched happily as his eyebrows undid from his pained crease, watching his own gaze focus on your face.

A boyish grin crossed his features, “Hey, thanks…” He spoke, albeit strained. Though soon he coughed, a hand rising to cover his lips. “I—I think you missed a spot with your healing.

Your eyebrows pressed close, eyes scanning up and down his body for a moment. “Where?”

Like the overgrown child he was, Johnny pointed right to his lips, even making an effort to pucker them in your direction. You gave a loud groan, basically tossing him off you and back into the rubble where pained laughter escaped him.

“Be serious for once, we’re about to lose.” You huffed, slowly dragging your body to standing whilst patting your bodysuit free of rocks and debris. You glanced down at your watch spotting the fact you had forty seconds left. Forty, and your teammates progress wasn’t far at all.

You gritted your teeth, glancing down at Johnny who seemed all too comfy on a bed of rocks.

“Johnny— come on! We have to help the others.”

Johnny gave an unenthused expression, tucking his hands behind his head. “Let the time run out, we can’t do much like this anyway.”

You crossed your arms, struggling not to strangle him right then and there. “I thought the Fantastic Four always fought to the end. I wonder what Reed would think of this..”

The threat went unnoticed, Johnny seemingly tuning you out. Now with only twenty seconds left, it seemed the anxiety began to stir within you, debating on whether to leave him behind and go back to your team.

It would be best, even without some extra firepower you going back to healing would help expeditiously.

Still..

With nothing left to lose, and clenched fists, you stared down at the man with a serious expression. One he caught quickly.

“Wha—“

“If you get up right now, help, and we somehow win this; I’ll sit on your face for however long you want.”

All was silent for a moment, Johnny slowly removing his hands from behind his head, staring at you with an unreadable expression. Suddenly, the air around you was getting hot— way too hot.

A loud flame on! thundered from Johnny’s throat, skin coated in flame as he blasted from the debris and back to the fighting area. You didn’t actually expect that to work, at all. You expected some laughter and him continuing to ride the time out. Not the sudden burst of energy.

But you couldn’t complain.

You chased close behind, hands rising to heal your teammates as they came into view. Sweat trickled down your body, eyes flickering between the time and the objective. It was reaching overtime, it growing closer and closer— more stressful as the seconds passed.

Your team was pushing though, whether with the extra fire or not you couldn’t tell— nor was it a main concern right now. You just needed to keep healing, even when your eyes grew blurry and body ached; you had to keep healing.

Flame began to consume your opponents, their numbers dwindling as you pushed and pushed, the seconds draining but oh so fulfilling.

Finally you made it , the objective clearing as a triumphant you win! echoed around you.

As this reality set you couldn’t help but smile, feeling your body relax slowly. Only to tense the moment you remembered.

You made a promise. And unfortunately for you. Johnny didn’t seem like the type to forget those so easily.

. . .

You dragged the towel along your body, drying your skin completely whilst standing in the middle of your bedroom. After the match you made your way quickly to your quarters, far too excited to wash off the sweat and grime that accumulated from the battle. The water was way too soothing, you nearly extending your shower but not wishing for your skin to get pruny.

With a heavy sigh you placed your towel off to the side, sliding on some panties first before going for your night gown; a pale pink cami style night gown that hung at your ankles, silky and soft against your fresh skin.

You lowered to your bed, legs crossed as you slid some shea butter along them. Focused on smoothing the lotion evenly, you jumped the moment someone knocked on your door, eyebrows creasing in slight concern.

It was getting late, and you weren’t exactly prepared for guests nor were you in the mood to hold any ounce of conversation.

But with another knock you were rising, lips curling into a grimace as you waltzed over to the door in lazy strides. Soon enough you were infront of it, fingers locking around the knob as you turned and pulled, opening the door to reveal the one and only Johnny Storm.

He was dressed in a simple pair of sweatpants and a black tshirt, hair tousled yet still neat enough. Johnny’s gaze traced your attire, smiling to himself.

“Nice gown.”

You rolled your eyes, arms crossing. “What do you want, Johnny? I wanna some sleep after today.”

The man wore a disgruntled expression and despite your best efforts — which really weren’t any — he crept into your room, busying himself with picking up some random knick knack upon your vanity.

“So soon? What about your promise?”

You rose a single eyebrow, trying to make sense of what he said. Silently you stood, arms crossed and staring straight ahead in thought— Johnny waiting ever so patiently, his own gaze settled on your form.

Finally it hit you, like a train, all at once— the stupid promise you made in the heat of battle.

You began to sputter, instinctively shutting the door behind you in fear of what someone might hear;

“Ar—are you seriously going to hold me to that? For what I said in the heat of the moment— that wasn’t a pun.” You added quickly the moment you noticed that damned smirk creep onto his face.

Johnny placed your random item off to the side, shrugging a little as he took you in.

“I mean.. you sounded pretty serious back there..” He hummed, eyes rising from you up to the ceiling. “And I did..” The man stretched the word to really get his point across;

“Hold up my end of the bargain.” Again, Johnny shrugged as if it was no big deal, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed.

“So how about it [Name]? Looking to keep your promise?”

You couldn’t handle the way he was staring at you, your gaze quickly looking at anything but him. From your vanity to your ceiling, your eyes danced about as if the answer was written plainly in the air. You expected to be in bed by now, cuddled up under blankets and sleeping away the stress of the day.

Not being propositioned for a statement you said randomly without a single thought.

As your eyes flicked back to the man, you noticed how he stood patiently— for once. Fully waiting for your reply. Maybe even a hint of excitement resting in his eyes.

Your teeth dragged across the inside of your cheek, rising a single hand and pointing towards your bed.

“Lay down..” You tried to sound much more confident than you were letting on, but you were sure your voice wavered with each word. Though it didn’t seem to faze the man, as Johnny was more than ready to abide your command; basically running over to the bed and dropping to his back— bouncing a little from the impact.

You took in a sharp breath, bending as your hands ran across your thighs for a moment, under your dress, and hooking onto your panties. All under his watchful gaze you slid them down, the fabric bundling before landing against your floor.

Stepping out of them, you glanced up spotting the excited smile practically glued to his face. Slowly you stepped closer, approaching your bed and going knee first onto the comfy blankets. Carefully you crawled up and over him, soon standing right over his torso, collecting your night gown in both hands.

Johnny stared up at you, hands going to glide across your exposed legs, awaiting your next move.

You clenched your dress, lips pursing as you spoke, “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Sit and find out.”

Johnny spoke far too quickly, voice devoid of his usual playfulness. You couldn’t deny his words sent a shiver down to the right places, your anxiety simply churning even more.

But, you couldn’t turn back now. Or rather, you didn’t want to. So with a careful step, you inched until you were directly standing right above his head, slowly bending your knees.

Just when you were an inch above his face, strong arms suddenly locked around your waist, quickly pulling you down the rest of the way. You couldn’t help but gasp, face flushed with warmth the moment you felt his gentle breathing right against your center.

“I—I’m not too heavy…right?”

You jumped the moment his annoyed grunt tickled against you, deciding it may be best to shut up right then and there instead of focusing on such trivial things. Rather you began to focus on his lips, and how they gently pressed against you.

Your own parted as the softest oh escaped. The feeling foreign but not at all unwanted. Your eyes fluttered closed, breathing softly as the gentle ministrations continued, Johnny purposely warming you up, slowly.

And when it seemed like you would get enough of just his lips, his tongue poked through, prodding at your lips before sliding them open with a slow lick.

You shook, clenching your night gown tight as those licks continued. His tongue was thick and long, slithering from your entrance right to your clit; paying special attention to that little bud. You were growing hot, eyebrows creasing closer as the pleasure grew. You weren’t experienced in this sort of thing; no one has ever gifted you the pleasure of cunninglingus, yet here you were; with a fellow hero nonetheless.

Your coworker, really, one whose tongue was doing wonders.

“Johnny..” His name fell from your lips in a soft moan, it etching into a groan the moment you felt a hand of his move towards your ass, a warm palm gripping a handful. There, Johnny’s rhythm sped up, his tongue twirling, creating a sloppy mess of your cunt.

Filthy sounds echoed from between your legs, a combination of your pussy and the downright sexy groans that the man was humming right into you. His fingers gripped your skin tightly, assuring you didn’t move an inch as he kept up his treatment.

Your legs began to shake, his hair tickling your thighs as your stomach tightened. A hand released your nightgown to instead grip your headboard, even leaning forward to rest your forehead against the cool wood. The pleasure was clouding your mind, hips slowly moving; grinding right down on his face— without a care if he could breathe anymore.

Johnny’s enjoyment was clear in the way his tongue went flat, gifting you a perfect surface to ride upon. The man was in pure heaven, having such a pretty thing right on his face, unable to move unless he says so. And albeit muffled because of your thick thighs, your moans were the perfectly melody to his already splendid front row seats.

The Human Torch wondered how loud he could get you with just his mouth. Maybe enough that someone bangs on the wall, begging for some peace within the night. Johnny couldn’t help but grin to himself, lips slowly circling your swollen bud, sucking eagerly.

“Fu—fuck…Johnny, Joh—johnny please!”

That’s it.. The man thought to himself, far too happy. He wish he could speak properly, muttering sweet praises and teases; wishing to mock you for being so loud yet encourage it in the safe breath. For now though, Johnny settled on humming along to your moans; the action causing the sweetest vibration.

Your hips increased in ferocity, chasing that high as the band within your stomach continued to tighten. Your eyes were going hazy, struggling to keep your voice at bay. It seemed your night gown went completely forgot, pushed up on your waist whilst your free hand went for his hair, tugging at the perfect locks; feeling the man grunt in response.

The harshest moan escaped you, hips grinding to a stop as you came; a sticky mess painting his face. Your chest rose and fell, heavy breaths escaping as your eyes shut close in an effort to relax.

Which, proved useless the moment you realized Johnny hadn’t stopped. At all. Not for a second. His tongue remained on your cunt, licking you clean of your orgasm and then some.

The pleasure bordered on torture now, quickly turning into overstimulation that had you babbling for mercy;

“J—johnny..! Ple..please I need a break..!—“ You reached for his forehead, pushing weakly at the space. The man didn’t move an inch, him even making an effort to snake a tight arm around your leg so you didn’t move off him.

Tears sprung to your eyes, using the headboard to steady yourself as tremors ran through your body. You could only sit there, paying the price for your poor choice of words in sobs and moans, the tears now streaming right down your warm cheeks.

Johnny was somehow able to peek at you, something he instantly regretted the moment he saw your features. So beautiful, face flushed, eyes glossy, and with the tiniest pout. He felt himself getting harder right in his boxers, struggling not to use a hand to stroke against the growing bulge. But the man knew if given the opportunity you would probably jump right off, so instead he settled on moving his hips uselessly in the air— hoping the friction would relieve even an ounce of tension.

“So fucking wet…I might drown.” Johnny managed to say right into your pussy, a loopy chuckle escaping him; as if drunk off your taste. But with the way his eyes were rolling back, he just might be.

“Jo..johnny, Johnny, please..”

“Fu..fuck..” The man muttered, sucking you up with such vigor as if his jaw was made of metal. “Keep.. saying my name, baby. Let me hear you.”

You obeyed his request easily, his name falling from your lips in a desperate mantra. With each call it pitched, your eyes going blurrier— possibly even rolling to the back of your skull. That familiar feeling broached your stomach, only harsher than before; a feeling that nearly scared you if it wasn’t for the pleasure that quickly washed over.

With shaky legs you were riding his face, your own a complete mess with tears, pressed against the cool wood of your headboard. Your eyes pinched closed, broken gasps and heavy moans escaping you— voice going raw the moment it all came crashing down.

Heavier than before, surely soaking Johnny completely with your mess. You struggled to breathe, eyes pinched closed as the hold on his hair and your headboard loosened.

You whined the moment you felt movement, worrying he would pick back up but pleasantly surprised to feel the man gently pushing you down to rest on his chest, hearing a sharp breath escape him.

Your head went slack, eyes opening to land on his face. Johnny was a mess, skin coated with your arousal and his saliva, marking up his lips and cheeks. Along with that, he was a little red, hair even messier than before.

Yet he still grinned easily, gliding his hands up and down your thighs, soothing you a little.

“See? I knew you could do it.”

You rolled your eyes slowly, shifting a little and moving in an attempt to crawl off. Yet you didn’t move an inch as his arms tightened, refusing to let you go.

You caught his gaze, Johnny chuckling softly at the look of confusion painting your features. His hand rose, thumb curling to your waist.

“You said for as long as I like..”

“John—“

The man gave a playful pout, head tilting up at you.

“You wanna keep your promise.. don’t you?”

[vividxpages]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sweet reunion ⋆°. *࿐

pairing: Garrick Tavis x fem!Reader

words: 3.4k

summary: two weeks apart from him have been way too long.

warnings: no plot just porn, lots of cursing, dirty talk, reunion sex, making out, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (they both take the suppressant), Garrick using distance wielding to have sex against a wall, oral sex (female receiving), written during ovulation

a/n: my first fic for Garrick, this man has made me insane ever since Onyx Storm dropped and I needed an outlet. (I think he'd be a FREAK.) I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I have when I wrote it! 🖤 thank you to my sister @still-jon-snow for always listening and being excited and just the best!

.♡ 🦋

It had been fourteen days since you had last kissed Garrick Tavis at the landing site of Riorson House.

Fourteen days since you had last spoken with him, laughed with him, been with him.

Today, the mess in which you had lived for the past two weeks, was going to end. You had kept yourself busy with tidying the room – quite shocked over the discovery that he was the clean one out of the two of you – and training with your friends earlier this morning, trying to shake off the nerves upon the arrival of his unit.

You were growing restless by the time the sun stood high above Tyrrendor, the sight beautiful yet lacking the elegant swing of dragon wings. Everyone had been waiting all day. A control mission, nothing out of the ordinary, everyone kept telling you. You had said nothing, not happy with any of it.

But just as you opted to leave yours and his room to watch the goddamn sky yourself, you heard movement in the corridor, a few commands cutting through the silence in the courtyard.

Oh thank the gods, your dragon’s voice rumbled unimpressed in your mind. I can’t bear another day of you moping around like this

Someone down the hallway outside your door shouted: “They’re back!”

It was the last thing you heard before the air in the room suddenly shifted, the dancing dust particles stiffening in the sun streaming through the windows, making space, fleeing from-

Two heavy leather boots hit the creaking wooden floor, breaking through the otherwise strange silence of his arrival.

- him.

You were up on your feet before you knew it, his large shirt on you pooling around your naked legs as you stared at him, the way he briefly oriented himself around the room, then spun around to face you.

In the blink of an eye, both of you rushed forward and you were lifted effortlessly into the air, both of your legs coming to wrap around his waist as he held you close. You let out a happy laugh near his ear, his arms tightening their hold around you as his hands roamed over you, touching everywhere at once.

“Fuck, how I missed that laugh.” Garrick mumbled deeply, his free hand cupping your cheek and making you look at him. You smiled brightly, placing your hand over his and drinking in the sight of him. Unharmed. Love swirling fiercely in his captivating eyes.

He was home.

You bridged the distance between him and you, kissing him slowly and with relish. Knowing Garrick, these kinds of kisses soon wouldn’t do anymore, at least not to sate the bottomless need inside of him.

He tilted his head to the side, hand sliding into your hair as he snaked his other arm around you. With a small gasp, you came to stand on your tiptoes, busy touching his biceps, his strong shoulders and neck…

Without breaking the kiss, Garrick walked over to the edge of the bed, his tongue licking fire into your mouth as he sat down with you and let his hands travel over your naked thighs. You let out a small sound at the sudden closeness before willing yourself to break away for just a moment.

He stared back at you with heavy breath and half-lidded eyes, his usually pale cheeks now getting some lovely color because of you.

“Everything went okay?” You asked quietly, shuffling forward in his lap so your chests pressed against each other, hearts starting to messily beat in sync once more.

Garrick nodded, tucking back a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand staying on your cheek. “We all couldn’t get back fast enough though.”

You caressed down his muscles as they flexed instinctively underneath your tender touch. Your eyes stayed on his, drowning in the warm hazel tone and the fire burning behind it. As your lips parted with a relieved sigh when he splayed his big hands over your hips now, Garrick tugged you even closer against the heat of his body. His scar, so familiar in the way it ran down his temple and vanished at his stoic jaw, shined silverly, the healed tissue soft and rough at once under your fingertips.

You examined him quietly, counting his exhales and the seconds where more of his patience dissolved into thin air as he did sometimes. No bruises or cuts. He was alright. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the tension having followed you for days making its leave as well.

“I’m okay.” He mumbled under his breath, not missing anything. His thumb brushed over your cheek and the gesture was so loving in this time of unease, it nearly made you cry right then.

But you had missed him, desired him when it became dark outside and the mattress beside you was still empty, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“I missed you.” You confessed under your breath, a hungering something in your stomach curling itself tight. “I hate sleeping alone.”

“You don’t have to for a long while, trust me.” Garrick promised confidently and then you were kissing again, all softness from earlier forgotten as he nearly devoured you, needing to familiarize himself again with the feel of your soft lips, the taste of you.

You wound your arms around his strong neck and bucked your hips forward only to make him groan when your core brushed right over his hardness. Fuck.

“You don’t smell like me anymore.” He stated between hurried kisses, his tongue licking over the sensitive spot underneath your ear, making you arch against his tall form. Garrick always knew how to make you melt in just a couple of moments and his impatient nature was only intensifying the need, especially after you had been separated for so long.

You looked at him, a little out of breath, and slowly leaned forward to playfully nip at his bottom lip with your teeth. Not breaking eye-contact, you whispered: “You should change that, Lieutenant.”

He was on you in a split second.

He quickly rose with you in his arms, spinning around and then falling onto the sheets with you. Letting out a squeal at the sudden movement, you had no time to recover as he slid above you and kissed you hard, biting down on your plump bottom lip and pushing his hips forward. The warm riding leathers rubbed over your panties and you groaned. As hot as this was, you needed something else. Something only he could give you.

“Too many clothes.” You gasped against his lips and he hummed in agreement and switched to kissing down your neck, soothingly sucking at your favorite spot all your friends would soon tease you about. “Get the fuck naked, Tavis.”

Sometimes you wondered if his signet came with the power of unnatural speed as well, because within under a minute by far, Garrick had torn away your clothes entirely, leaving you wanting and naked on the bed before him, his eyes travelling lazily over your body as if he suddenly had all the time in the world again.

Lifting his shirt over his head, Garrick took a deep breath as the muscles in his stomach flexed. He was hard through his briefs and subconsciously, you licked your lips.

“Show me.” He said quietly and you spread your legs, presenting the evidence of your desire to him, your hunger a roaring pit in your stomach as you felt yourself drip onto the sheets for him. Your own company hadn’t been enough to fill the hole he left behind when he had to leave.

Garrick slowly licked his lips, eyes staying on your pussy as he crawled forward and finally got rid of his shirt. When he pulled down his briefs, your breath hitched, enticed by his hard dick springing against his abs, deliciously leaking at the tip.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered in awe of you and you beamed at the praise, your back arching into his touch as he drew a circle around your belly button, slowly travelling down… “So fucking wet for me, hm?”

As if to prove his point, he gently pressed your thighs further apart, breathing heavily as he let a trail of spit fall down on your folds, the sudden contact making a nerve in your calf twitch. Finally.

The first touch of his fingertips against your clit set you aflame.

Your hands fisted the sheets, your entire body suddenly helpless underneath his touch as he began to draw slow, wet circles on your most sensitive part, the friction so heavenly you could not help but throw your head back and gasp for air.

“Eyes on me, love.” Garrick commanded calmly and you obeyed, every cell in your body needing to please him, to be loved and adored by him.

A needy whimper left your lips as he kept rubbing you and you writhed against the bedding, willing to let him play with you however he wanted if you only got to come soon, or even better -  have him inside of you again. He bit his lip, an approving rumble going through his chest as you bucked your hips into his touch.

“Garrick…” You breathed longingly as he fisted his weeping cock, his thumb stroking your clit in adoration as his other fingers swept through your wetness. “Please.”

“Shh, just a moment longer.” He said, transfixed and uncharacteristically patient as he slowly eased a finger inside of your hot pussy, the tightness and warmth of your walls making his dick twitch. You reached out in an attempt to jerk him off, but midair you froze and you nearly forgot yourself as he suddenly curled his digit upwards.

“Have you touched yourself while I was gone?” He asked curiously and you almost managed to roll your eyes on him before the first was quickly joined by another finger and you groaned at the pleasurepain of it.

“Have you?” You managed to bite back, instantly rewarded by his beautiful low laughter.

“Baby…” His thumb brushed over your sensitive folds and clit, the other hand soothingly stroking your thighs. “Just about every night, you know?”

Gods, how he pleased you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so well.” Garrick promised huskily, a smug grin taking over his face at the filthy sounds your pussy made as he fingered you.

“Then do it.” You gasped, shivering as he scissored his digits once more before he pulled them out, a string of your wetness following him as if a part of you just couldn’t let him go this easily. “I need you to fuck me. Now, Garrick.”

“Such an attitude.” Garrick grinned, shaking his head as if he didn’t love every fucking second of this. His girl, soaked and trembling under him, the scent of her welcoming heat clouding every rationality in his mind.

You held on to his broad shoulders as he lowered himself down on you, his hips resting snugly between your thighs and for a moment, it was quiet and good and you finally felt whole again.

You moaned shakingly in union with him, briefly biting down on his collarbone as he eased inside of you, inch by inch until your thighs were already shaking and his hips were cradled warmly between your thighs. Garrick grunted, resting his forehead between your tits, his breath fanning over the warm skin and making it break out in pleased shivers. The strong arms resting at your sides were trembling slightly.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed, his tongue swirling around one of your aching buds before he looked at you awe-struck, not knowing how the hell he deserved to return to a heavenly woman like you. “’s been way too long…”

Your muscles flexed around him and he groaned, cock twitching inside of you. In a breathless whisper, you protested: “You’ve only been gone for two weeks.” Now you were challenging your luck.

“Two weeks too long, baby.” He muttered seriously before he caught your mouth in a hot and messy kiss, your moan swallowed by him as he pressed forward once again and then slowly pulled back, just to slowly fuck into you again when your head dropped helplessly onto his pillow.

Garrick rolled his hips, building up an intoxicating rhythm as you shook, your neglected pussy overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of it, of feeling him inside of you when you had to put up with your own fingers for the last days when the longing had become too much.

“Fuck baby, you’re gripping me so tightly…really missed me, huh?” He smiled at you brightly and if he hadn’t been balls deep inside of you right then, dragging his dick just right against your walls, you might’ve slapped him playfully.

“Don’t get cocky now.” Gods, you sounded ruined already and you knew he had not even started with you.

He grinned down at you, relishing the little twin pains in his shoulder blades where you held on to him tightly, still at his mercy while he oh so slowly fucked you. Garrick winked before he looked down to where his cock was sliding out of you, the sounds slippery and absolutely filthy as he used your puffy cunt to lube himself up more before he pushed back in. “Too late, hm?”

You glared at him, purposefully flexing around him and throwing your legs around his waist, causing him to plunge deeper inside of you. Garrick gasped in surprise but quickly regained his posture of confidence as he leaned down to kiss your chest, beginning to fuck you in earnest now.

The change was so sudden, it nearly gave you whiplash.

You were so wet, he could easily pound into you, his arms caging you in as his hips met yours. You bit back a scream as he lifted your bum from the mattress, holding on to him for dear life and then suddenly, the air split in two and-

- he suddenly stood with you in his arms, adjusting his grip on your thighs. You blinked at him in a second of confusion, peeking over his shoulder to see the abandoned messy bed where you two had just laid.

Garrick had wielded the distance. With you.

And he was still very much inside of you.

Your naked back hit the wall behind you and he bent his knees just slightly, the new angle making the delicious curve of his cock dragged over your sweet spot. You moaned loudly, the back of your head hitting the wall as he stared at you like you were his own personal goddess.

“Better.” He decided and lifted you, only to push you down onto his cock again. As if you weighed nothing in his arms, he resumed to fucking you once again, his thrusts sharp and passionate, lacking the patience from earlier and gaining more wildness with every push and pull.

You could do nothing but hold on to him as he fucked you, your high moans swallowed by his deep kisses when he wasn’t busy with ravishing your bared neck. He seemed to be everywhere at once, insatiable in his want for you.

Your nails raked down his muscular back and he moaned right into your mouth, utterly consumed by the feel of you as he rocked into you like it’d be the last time in his life. And you met him with each thrust, rolling your hips and feeling the mouth-watering friction of his abdomen against your clit every time.

“Come on, come on.” You urged him on raspily, sensing the familiar stutter in his rhythm, the way his fingers in your hair trembled. “I know you’re close, I’m right there with you. Let go, Gar…”

With a final shout, Garrick buried his face in your neck and released deep inside of you and as he reached down to touch you, you followed him right over the edge with a scream, your orgasm crashing over you like a thunderstorm.

Feeling the warmth of his come within you, your eyes fluttered closed as you both breathed in sync, unwilling to part yet as Garrick held you close like he never wanted to let go again.

“So perfect…” He mumbled against your skin and you giggled happily and drunk on pleasure.

You slumped down against him, trusting him blindly to catch you and he did. His strong arms held you close against his chest as his heavy exhales tickled the top of your head. You were boneless, completely happy and done with the world as long as your man held you and a sigh so wholly satisfied left your lips, it almost felt blasphemous.

A heaviness seeped into your body, but just as you wanted to hug Garrick and let yourself be carried to bed, he drew back. You whined, displeased as he slipped out of you, not understanding.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you yet.” He said with a simple shake of his head and slid down, his hands placing your bum back against the wall, one of them sliding underneath your thigh and lifting until he rested one of your shaky legs over his shoulder.

He got down on his knees.

“Garrick-“ Your eyes widened at the realization of what was about to occur, but it seemed like they hadn’t fed the returning soldiers at Riorson House yet. Because in the next second, Garrick was surging forward, moaning deeply as he buried his face in your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice nearly catapulting you into the next life.

You slammed your hand over your mouth, shrieking as he licked into you, his tongue dragging your combined releases over your spread folds before he suckled hard at your clit. He was all that held you up, his strength enough for the two of you as he devoured you without any saturation in sight.

Your hand was ripped away from your mouth and then, his glistening lips brushed over your knuckles, his eyes holding you captive as he slowly shook his head. “Let me hear you.”

Your answer was a broken moan, close to a blissful sob as he kissed and licked at you like his life depended on it, eager to taste every drop until you’d shatter underneath his skilled tongue.

“Fuck, Garrick-”

“Give me everything, baby.” He praised you, his hot breath fanning over your throbbing overstimulated clit for a moment as you panted and clawed at his shoulders in an attempt to try and keep up with him. “Such a good fucking girl, I missed you so much…”

“-missed you.” You gasped, twitching in his hold as he laid his tongue flat on you and licked a fat stripe upwards. And did it again and again.

A scorching heat tore through your stomach and it shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already there again, almost ready to jump over the cliff he had been leading you to.

Garrick, sensing your nearing release, looked up at you, his tongue still dancing around your clit as he laced your hands together and placed them both on the wall behind you.

“Every second I’m apart from you is still filled with you.” He vowed. “I love you.”

With one last stroke against you, you shattered apart. Unable to hold you up anymore, your legs gave in and Garrick caught you and pulled you against his chest as your second orgasm tore through you violently. His hands around your waist would likely leave marks later as you panted against his throat, trying to breathe through the last waves of pleasure rushing through you.

“Easy, love.” He murmured, peppering soft kisses over your temple, the top of your head and nose as you slowly calmed down. Garrick was so warm, a human furnace of a man, you felt your eyelids droop almost immediately, the position in his lap way too comfy to want to get up and clean yourself.

“I love you too…” You told him quietly, snuggling into his chest and relishing the closeness you had missed so dearly. You kissed his chest, right over his pounding, love-struck heart as he smiled warmly at you. “Welcome back.”

The sunbeams streaming in through the windows caressed the two of you, quietly laughing with each other and finally, reunited again.

[callsign-rogueone]

Ridoc to the rescue

Ridoc Gamlyn x flier!reader

words: 2.1k

🏷️: set in iron flame, the only major warning is descriptions of blood / heavy bleeding, and some minor gross medical procedures performed by Brennan to save you, nothing too much worse than canon, nobody asked for this, it just came to me in a vision and I had to execute it. never written flier reader before, nor Ridoc pov, but I think I did okay, poorly formatted because I’m posting from my phone, okay that’s it bye!

“Incoming,” Sawyer says quietly, nodding across the table — Cat is headed straight for us.

I file through my inventory of snappy remarks, prepared to turn anything she says around on her, but it’s not Violet she’s here for.

“Ridoc,” she pants, “we need you. One of ours hasn’t come back from patrol, and the storm is too strong for us to go look for her.”

“Why me?”

“We think she’s trapped in a snowbank. And you can make it melt, right? You can get her out of there?”

I may have been part of a very short-lived plot to kill her yesterday, but the genuine worry in her eyes is compelling. Whoever this girl is, she deserves my help.

“I can try.”

———

This search and rescue mission is damned difficult with the amount of snow that’s still falling, despite me being able to direct it away from us. It’s too hard to see anything, and the wind is blowing straight at us.

Aotrom decides to land in a clearing by the edge of the forest, the unexpected drop having me yelping in surprise. He lets me slide down, and continues walking, sniffing the frozen ground intently — and then I see it.

There’s a trail of blood leading into the forest, and clawed footprints that look like they could be a gryphon’s. They were dragging something, from the looks of it. Or someone. Sure enough, fifty feet away from the tree line is a gryphon, with the blurred shape of a human beside them. I step closer until it finally notices me, and makes a sound between a screech and a hiss, which undoubtedly means “back the fuck up”.

“Easy,” I soothe, putting my hands up as I continue to step closer. “I’m here to help. She’s going to freeze to death if I don’t do anything.”

The bird appears to consider it for a moment, casting a glance down at their curled-up, bloodied flier, and then back at me… nodding?

Alright.

“Hey,” I prod.

No response. She’s breathing, at least — breathing is good. Breathing means she has a chance of making it back to the house. And Cat probably wouldn’t ever forgive me if she died, especially not after what happened on that gods-awful hike two weeks ago.

Forget Cat’s opinion of me. This is just the right thing to do.

If I can get her out of the forest, then Aotrom can give us both a lift back to the house, and Brennan can mend whatever injuries she has. I hadn’t realized I’d been talking to myself — the gryphon makes a squawk that probably translates to “no way in hell are you putting her on the back of a dragon”.

“Are you going to carry her back there in that snowstorm? Can you? — Don’t snap your beak at me. I’m trying to keep your rider — flier — alive. And you, too.”

She stirs, making a soft, pained sound, and turns enough that I can see her face. There’s a cut across her cheekbone, bruises along her temples… I can’t see much more skin than that, but I’m sure this isn’t the extent of her injuries.

“Hey,” I try again, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She gathers up the strength to crack open her eyes, which immediately widen with panic — she’s near defenseless, and a rider is standing over her.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Cat sent me to help you get back to the fortress.”

She considers it for a moment, then nods, attempting to sit up — and immediately squeezes her eyes shut, lying back down against the gryphon’s wing with a soft swear. “My side.”

“Can I check it?”

She nods, letting me unbutton her jacket and pull up her shirt. There’s a bruise on her left side the size of a watermelon, darker than any other bruise I’ve seen. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s internal bleeding, and it’s bad.

Evidently I press too hard as I check for broken bones, because she yelps in pain, flinching away. The gryphon’s eyes narrow, ready to bite, but she calls it off. “S’ okay, girl,” she reassures, struggling to keep her eyes open and her breathing even. “Not his fault.”

“What happened, anyway?”

“Storm was too strong,” she wheezes. “I got thrown, and landed on a — fuck — bigass rock.”

There’s only one rock in sight that I would consider to be in the bigass category, and it’s fucking huge. And not at all flat. It easily could have killed her if she’d landed differently.

It might still kill her anyway.

“That one?” I ask, nodding back to the open area.

“That one.”

There’s a gust of freezing wind that has her shuddering, tugging her shirt back down and twisting up her sleeves to tighten them to her arms. Right. Other people are bothered by the cold. I have no idea what her signet — gift — is, but it clearly isn’t anything to do with fire or ice.

We can talk about that later, once we’re not in the middle of a snowstorm. “Let’s get you out of here. Brennan can fix you when we’re back at the house.”

She nods, even as I realize that she probably has no idea who I’m talking about. She doesn’t really have any choice but to trust me. Well, I guess she does; dying here, or trusting me.

“Do you think you can stand?”

Another nod. I reach down, extending my hands, and she takes them, struggling to hold on — she’s probably lost feeling in her fingers by now. She gets upright, her boots sinking into the snow underneath us, and immediately turns away from me, dropping my hands, and doubles over, retching — red blood splatters against the pure white of the snow.

“Fuck,” I breathe. “Okay. C’mere.”

She doesn’t respond, still blinking slowly at the brown sleeve of her jacket, which is now stained crimson from her wiping her mouth with it.

“C’mere,” I coax again.

She follows without question, letting me put an arm around her waist to steady her, my hand on her good side. I do my best to keep both of us upright despite the wind and the way she’s stumbling — walking through snow this deep is difficult enough, but it’s clear that her vision is blurred, and her balance off-kilter.

She stops in her tracks, tensing, and I immediately see the problem; her eyes are locked with Aotrom’s. Another moment of instinct taking over, twenty years of considering us a threat setting off an internal alarm in her head.

“He won’t hurt you. He’s probably the chillest guy in the riot, honestly.”

I hope that’s reassuring. She nods again, trying to deepen her breathing. Is she just not the chatty type, or is it too hard to form words?

Aotrom lays down in the snow, flat enough that we can walk across his leg to mount up. I’m glad that he hasn’t been weird about taking her back with us. Tairn would rather die than carry a flier.

“He’d rather kill the flier,” Aotrom corrects.

That, too.

Getting her up into the saddle is surprisingly easy. It helps that she’s absolutely exhausted, and doesn’t fuss about having to sit in front of me, with my chest pressed to her back. She settles down easily, pulling up her flight goggles -- the left lens is cracked from her fall, but still in one piece. If the glass had broken all the way through…

“It didn’t, and that’s what matters.”

She’s a little limp for my liking, but she doesn’t seem to be in as much pain now that she’s upright and not moving. I’m sure each breath still burns like hell, though. I’ve never had a broken rib before.

“Yet.”

“Entirely unnecessary,” I fire back, but he doesn’t respond, just launches us into the air.

———

Thank the gods that whoever designed this fortress put the infirmary on the bottom floor, and close to the gates. It is, however, completely deserted. No healers came with us from Basgiath, nor any from Cliffsbane, and at this time of day, everyone’s probably in class.

I take the liberty of laying her down in the first empty bed I see, apologizing as the movement jostles her broken ribs, but she doesn’t complain, even as I get her out of her flight jacket and pull up her shirt to expose the bruise.

“You never told me your name,” she murmurs.

“Ridoc,” I say softly, smoothing a hand over her hair, because that’s the only thing I can do, and because it’s sticking up in every direction after flying in that storm.

“Thank you, Ridoc. Glad I get to die in a real bed.”

My response comes out more harshly than I intend it to. “I didn’t bring you all the way back here just for you to die on me.”

“M’sorry.”

She’s not operating at full capacity here, and she doesn’t know me — she must think I’m mad at her. And for some reason, that feels like the end of the world.

“Don’t apologize. Just keep those pretty eyes open, hm?”

What’s taking Brennan so long?

“Here!” he calls, out of breath.

Thank the gods. “He’s gonna fix you up, okay?”

She doesn’t respond. Her pulse is racing under my fingertips, but it’s obvious that she’s fading away, and fast. With the amount of blood that’s no longer flowing through her veins, but instead pooling under her skin… she isn’t getting enough oxygen, and her heart is going to run out of blood to pump.

Brennan seems to realize the same thing. “She doesn’t have time for me to mend it — it’s compressing her lungs. We have to do this the old fashioned way.”

Before I can ask what that means, he unsheathes one of his daggers, uncapping a bottle of alcohol and dousing it quickly — then sinks it into the center of the bruise, slicing down to the bottom. Immediately, blood flows out, so dark it’s almost black, spilling onto the bedsheets and dripping onto the floor. The sight is something from a nightmare, and the smell…

Forget that. Focus on her.

She hasn’t cried, hasn’t shown any signs of pain, despite Brennan having cut her side clean open, and that’s almost more concerning than anything else.

“Menders can block pain,” Aotrom reminds gently. “She doesn’t feel a thing.”

Right. He’d done the same for me, weeks prior.

I feel completely useless just standing here while he works, but I’m not going to interrupt him to ask what I should do. I’ll just keep holding her hand, I guess, try to warm her up. Her skin is still cold to the touch — she’d been lying in the snow for gods know how long.

“I found the problem,” Brennan announces. “Problems plural, really. But I can fix them.”

I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder to see what he’s doing, immediately turning back and focusing on her face. She doesn’t look as cold as she did outside, but she doesn’t look healthy, either.

Of course she’s not healthy. She’s bleeding buckets. But I don’t know how else to describe the look of her skin, the feel of it on mine. It’s somehow warm and cold at the same time, clammy and dull. But she’s breathing, even with the gaping wound in her side and Brennan doing… I don’t want to think about what he’s doing. She’s breathing. That’s the only thing keeping me calm, that she’s still breathing, and holding my hand.

“Done.”

I brave another look back, seeing the skin slowly start to knit itself back together, leaving only a thin scar behind.

Brennan produces a towel out of nowhere, and starts wiping his hands, but he’s still stained red up to his wrists. “I can’t replace the blood she lost, but the injuries are fixed. It’ll take her a while to wake up.”

All I can do is nod. I don’t know what to say, after seeing all that.

He extends a hand, and I blink at him like an idiot for a second before I realize he’s offering to mend her blood off my skin. I hadn’t noticed it was there.

I let him, because I don’t want to get up to wash it off myself, and because the sight of it under my nails and lining the creases of my palms is making me feel sick.

“You’ve never been squeamish about blood,” Aotrom observes, sounding as neutral as he can.

The response comes automatically. “It’s never been hers.”

Only then do I finally realize — I don’t even know her name.

[vincexmatthews]

He knew how it went. People were stubborn. And that was just the way things went. He nodded with a laugh. “Something like that,” he said. “Yeah, could you think just how popular I could have been?” He laughed again. “Like, snacks are something that make everything people and something that people are actually guaranteed to actually like, isn’t it?” He nodded. He was the type to help keep the offices lively. He didn’t want things to get boring, that would just make the day go slower. “And they just make them taste better than the other mixins in there!”

"For some reason," he agreed with a shake of his head. Maybe it could just be chalked up to humans not actually being all that bright, to be honest. They knew better than to do certain things, say other things, feel a kind of way, but it wasn't ever going to be enough to stop them, unfortunately. "I bet," he grinned, "you were their favorite person until the next person probably took the idea, ran with it, and brought them snacks." Or offered to take everyone out afterwards for drinks. Ryder found that it had worked quite well for him. If you wanted to bond with your co-workers, just ask them to go get drunk. "I won't judge," he promised with a quick smirk, "we all like what we like, don't we?"

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol

technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3

The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening. 

The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground.  The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.  

It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.

The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer.  “Honey!  Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen.  She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade.  The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself.  She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.

Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.

Your parents were always really… energetic.  They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house.  To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…

“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.

“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.  

“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”

Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside.  “Wo-hoah!  You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…

As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.

He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something.  Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?  

“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.

“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.

Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily.  In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath.  He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church.  So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard.  It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it 

“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.

“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit.  He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…

“Let me make you two some drinks!  What are you having?”

He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now.  He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked.  He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.

“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen.  He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair.  She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to.  “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”

“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied.  “I’ll help with the silverware.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them. 

“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand.  You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.

He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work.  “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”

“What?” 

“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed.  “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”

You scoffed a bit.  “And where should I put the opium spoon?”

“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing.  “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.

“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret.  Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…

“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up.  “Food’s coming out!  Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”

Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side.  “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.

“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted.  She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party.  She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.

And you.  She’d never mentioned you.

As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least.  He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.

Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence.  “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.  

“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy.  What have you been doing?”

“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.

“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

Shit.  That illusion didn’t last long.  “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”

You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was.  Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?

“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”

“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered.  “I graduated a semester early.”

“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great.  You’ve always been really smart…”

“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.

“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”

Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.

The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase.  He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet.  But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…

So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything.  Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him.  Now was it okay to look at you?

He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in.  He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.

“You look bored,” you noticed.

“Yeah?  I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.

“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered.  “What’s boarding school like?”

“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true.  “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”

“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.

“Some,” he said.  “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”

“Like what?” you pressed.  “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”

“Oh, all the time,” he laughed.  “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly.  I mean, I never got caught, so…”

You raised an eyebrow.  “You smoke?”

He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble.  He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little.  “What?” he wondered.

“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.

“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone.  But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.

“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered.  He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.

He grinned excitedly.  “Right now?”

“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.

“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”

~

“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind.  “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”

You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.

You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.

“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.

When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you.  Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night.  No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.

You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.

You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything.  He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.

“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside.  “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers.  “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?” 

You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly.  “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.

You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end.  His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.

“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked.  “Or did college make you more rebellious?”

“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.

“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.

“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready.  “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”

He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.  

You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.

He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times.  You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.

“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.

He cleared his throat and shook his head.  “N-not really, no,” he admitted.  “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”

“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.

“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer.  He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.

You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face.  He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.

“Better?” you asked.

“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”

“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat.  You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?

After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier.  You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.

“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.

“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled.  “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”

“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.

“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.

“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.

“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.

“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement.  Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.

After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high.  You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence.  “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him.  “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”

“I did,” you mumbled.

“R-really?” he choked.  “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”

“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.

“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”

He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.

“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you.  “I’m eighteen.”

“You mentioned that.”

“Right.  Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that.  I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature.  At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you.  I can’t really compete with college guys…”

“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head.  “What are you competing for?”

“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.  

“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again.  “My attention?”

“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.  

“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car.  “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”

He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp.  “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.  

You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already.  You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time.  Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop.  He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.

His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back.  You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow.  It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.

You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it.  Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little.  What a polite boy.

“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips.  One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence.  He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.

Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser.  You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.

One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin.  “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg.  You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.

“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.

“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass.  You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t.  It was still Angus, after all.

In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did.  He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra.  “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.

You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.

He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.

He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response.  “Fuck, are my hands cold?  I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.

“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath.  You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.

Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them.  “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth.  You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you.  “Fuck, Angus—”

“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats.  He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.

You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully.  You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would.  You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t.  Not very much, at least.  Certainly not enough to stop you.

You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt.  “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach.  “We're really gonna—?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.

He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.

“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”

You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression.  “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him.  “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”

“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.

Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch.  “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.

“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.

“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him.  He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.  

“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.

“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured.  “I can turn the light off if you want though—”

“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light.  “No, I still wanna see.”

You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly.  “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.  

He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.

“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge.  The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”

You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan.  “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him.  “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”

He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.

“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly.  “You feel so fucking good…”

He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.

A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you.  Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you.  “Did you… just come?” you asked.

He was still panting, his face starting to flush red.  “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly.  “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”

“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”

“Uh…” he stalled anxiously.  “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him.  “It’s cute, honestly.  I don’t mind being your first.”

“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted.  “I imagined it like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car.  “Like this?”

“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed.  “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed.  And whipped cream—”

“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, “we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”

You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”

“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.

“No, they don’t care— please?  Please just keep going?  I’m still hard, I can—”

“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced.  “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright?  We just have to get back inside now.”

He lit up instantly.  “Really?  So we can— we’ll do this again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged.

“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort.  “Of course I wanna see you again.  I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”

“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.

You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.

Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead.  “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.

“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.

“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on.  “You ready?”

“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be.  W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”

You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask.  You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected.  Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming.  His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.

Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.

You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind.  “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”

[series masterlist here]

[allpiesforourown]

I was thinking about the adventurering buddies bingyuan au and I think it would be so hilarious if the laws of PIDW just straight up didn’t apply to shen yuan bc of his technical status as an outsider in the world. The usual papapa plots are foiled, not bc of sheer skill on shen yuan’s part but sheer dumb luck and slight foresight. He trips over a root, accidentally dodging a lashing vine of some deadly aphrodisiac plant. It was cold that day so he picks up the curse artifact with his good leather gloves on. He spills the tea cup of poison, watching in shock as it eat through the floor boards.

I also think this power would apply to tropes. Oh there’s only one bed available at the inn? Don’t worry, Binghe, this one brought his sleeping roll 😌 (or another room is magically vacated yay!). There’s a snow storm outside this run down cabin they’re in?! Say no more, shen yuan reaches into his qiankun pouch and pulls out a fire talisman/artifact/plant that he just happens to have. Only married couples can enter this specific village that they need to get into? No problem, shen yuan actually knows a secret way to get in bc of his meta knowledge.

And at first I think that this would be a lowkey huge draw in for luo binghe. Bc maybe it’s kind of nice to chill out on an adventure with someone he already knows and who isn’t trying to get anything from him AND he doesn’t have to dual cultivate with shen yuan at the drop of a hat. But at some point, when the wife beam finally hits its target, it feels as if the entire universe is cockblocking luo binghe and he is Very Upset about it.

it's okay Binghe will simply bend the rules of reality to make shen yuan a part of these wife plots through sheer desire

the system: +400 bpoints for compensation

shen yuan: ...compensation for what

the system: the laws of this world apply to you know :)

shen yuan: what does that mean

*robe randomly rips apart to show his chest*

shen yuan: SYSTEM WHAT DID YOU DO

[xcaptainhannax]

Until the Storm Broke (joel miller x reader)

Plot: When a routine patrol turns into a deadly ambush, the reader risks everything to save Joel from a group of vengeful Fireflies—emerging wounded but victorious, and giving Joel a reason to keep going.

Warnings: violence, blood, tlou SPOILERS!!!! if you haven't seen the new chapter please be aware.

A/N: i knew what was gonna happen bc i played the game but still i couldn't watch it, i actually closed my eyes for it bc i was gonna cry BUT since this is fanfiction and im free to do whatever the fuck i want, joel lives and is happy and loved. I've taken some liberty on this for eg. jackson is not under attack and the events might no be carbon copy but i mean the plot is there ok?

The storm was brewing like a secret. Heavy clouds pushed against the peaks, and the air had that bite — the kind that told you you were on borrowed time.

Joel and Dina left early. East patrol. Joel had said something casual over coffee, a rare smile tucked behind his cup.

“Be back by sundown. Try not to miss me.”

You tried to play it cool, but you watched him ride off longer than you should’ve.

By the time you, Ellie, and Jesse mounted up a few hours later, the wind had picked up. The snow came down slow at first, just dusting the trees. You were supposed to loop through the western perimeter and check in every hour. Easy.

It stopped being easy when the radio started breaking up.

Jesse fiddled with the receiver, frowning. “They should’ve checked in by now.”

“Joel?” Ellie leaned close to the radio, voice low. “Dina? Come in.”

Static.

A burst of something.

“—not responding—ski—”

Another crackle.

“—fuck—Joel—”

Silence.

You locked eyes with Jesse.

“We go now,” you said, already kicking your horse forward.

Ellie was on your heels. No one argued.

The storm swallowed you whole. Visibility dropped, your scarf iced over, and it was almost impossible to see the trail. But you knew the old ski lodge wasn’t far. Joel had taken you there once, told you to remember the path.

You did.

The lodge was barely visible through the flurrying snow — a crooked silhouette of a cabin with boards over the windows. A warm glow leaked through a cracked door.

You dismounted first. Pistol drawn. You couldn’t explain it, but something felt off.

Inside, it was hell.

Dina was on the floor, slumped against the wall. She looked uninjured, but her eyes were shut and her breathing was shallow. Drugged — not bleeding.

You rushed to her first, checked her pulse. Strong.

“Dina,” you whispered. No response.

Then you saw Joel.

On his knees. Breathing heavy. A man grabbing him by the shoulders, keeping him down. Blood ran down his face. His hands were cuffed behind him.

Surrounding him were five strangers. Weapons drawn. Faces full of something ugly — like it wasn’t about survival.

Like it was personal.

You didn’t wait.

“NOW!” you shouted.

Jesse burst through the doorway and opened fire. Ellie rolled in behind him, a clean shot to the guy nearest Joel. You ran for him, ducking behind a broken counter.

“JOEL!” you shouted. “Down!”

He dropped as best he could. You vaulted over a chair and fired three rounds — hit one square in the neck. Another turned toward you, and before you could react, his bullet grazed your side, burning pain flaring across your ribs.

But you were already moving.

You tackled the man who had pinned Joel, knocking him off balance, and your shoulder cracked hard against the floor. You cried out, but reached for your knife.

Too late.

He lunged.

A shot rang out.

Jesse. Clean through the guy’s temple.

You panted, chest heaving, as the last one — the woman with the golf club— turned and ran.

She didn’t get far.

Ellie chased her down. You heard the scuffle. Then nothing.

Silence.

You crawled over to Joel, uncuffing him with shaking hands.

His eyes widened when he saw your blood.

“Y/N—”

“I’m okay,” you lied, breath hitching. “We got you.”

Joel leaned forward, cupping the back of your neck, his blood mixing with yours. “You shouldn’t’ve come.”

You laughed bitterly. “Like hell I wouldn’t.”

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By the time you got back to Jackson, you were half-frozen and barely conscious.

They patched you up. The bullet had passed through clean, no organ damage. Your shoulder, though, was wrecked. And your ribs would be sore for weeks.

Joel never left your side.

Neither did Ellie. You knew she was still resentful with Joel but the attack clearly left her scared.

Dina, still groggy, came to see you the next morning. “They gave me something. Knocked me out cold. I didn’t even see it coming.”

She was safe. All of you were and that’s all that mattered.

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

Joel sat next to your bed that night, hand in yours, eyes tired but alive.

“Reckless,” he muttered. “Damn fool thing you did.”

“You’d do it for me.”

He was quiet.

“Already did,” you added softly.

Joel leaned in then, forehead brushing yours.

“I’d do it again,” he said.

There was a long silence before he spoke again, voice lower, heavier.

“They were Fireflies.”

You looked at him.

“The girl—the one who swung the bat. Her name was Abby. She was the daughter of that surgeon. The one I… killed. Back in Salt Lake. To get Ellie out.”

His voice cracked just a little. “They were after me because of that. Spent years hunting me.”

You squeezed his hand, gently.

“And they found you. And they lost.”

You met his eyes, firm.

“You saved Ellie that day. I’d have done the same. And I’ll keep saving you now, every damn time if I have to.”

Joel stared at you, a thousand things flashing behind those storm-colored eyes. He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he leaned closer, pressing his forehead to yours again.

“Goddamn lucky you’re stubborn.”

You smiled. “You love that about me.”

He chuckled — a soft, broken sound.

“I do.”

[mcndyhcrtmcn]

Mandy was grateful that the storm had finally cleared over, mostly. It was still cold out and the ground was covered. She decided to head out in the cold. Gatsby needed to be taken out anyway. Even if she had to carry him halfway there and back, she would do it.

So she bundled up and pulled on her boots before heading out, corgi in tow and carefully stepped out into the snow. “Okay, go ahead,” she nudged him to do his business, waiting for him to finish. After cleaning up his mess, the two trudged towards Cobblestone.

She jumped when she heard a noise and Gatsby barked. “Are… you okay?” She moved towards the person and the car.

Who: Marius & Open (2/3)

Where: Downtown, a few blocks away from Cobblestone

When: March 28th, 2025 - evening

Marius knew that despite the truly awful weather outside (he’d really taken England’s rain for granted, it seemed), he had to clock into work just like any other week. He didn’t show up on the days when it was nearly impossible for him to do so, but starting Wednesday, he had returned as normal. It did seem like there had been an influx of new patients over the week, which meant he truly had to focus on his work and not care if he were to slip on ice as he was leaving his house.

Fortunately, his power had returned on Wednesday, but being in mostly darkness for a few days had left him miserable, to say the least. Not that he wasn’t usually glum to begin with, but the snowstorm had really left him irritable.

Case in point, he headed outside of Cobblestone with his usual iced latte, something he usually purchased in the morning for all-day shifts. He had a gut feeling he was going to be needed at the hospital again for whatever reason, though, so he figured another wouldn’t hurt. He began walking towards his car, where remnants of the nasty ice storm in the morning lingered atop the paint, yet besides the notable ice, his car was mostly okay. Sighing, he placed his drink on the hood for a moment as he fumbled to find his keys.

“Where the fuck are they?!” he bellowed, to nobody in particular—although he didn’t particularly care if anyone was nearby. After around a minute, he found them in one of his several coat pockets and sighed in relief. Upon pressing the button to unlock his car, he moved to open it, though his face visibly paled when it didn’t. He took a deep breath to compose himself, and amidst his fury, wondered if it were a smart move to open his trunk, take out his emergency shovel, and smash his window to get in. He pocketed his keys again.

Marius clenched his teeth, muttered under his breath, and moved to tug on the door’s handle with both hands as if that would be of any help. After around thirty seconds, he gave up on trying that and moved to his trunk, finding the latch and opening it successfully. He smiled slightly, grabbing the shovel before closing it and returning to the driver’s side. Positioning his hands, he reeled back, moving to try and break the window with the handle. As he was about to begin, he noticed a figure in the distance and grinned. “This is my car, don’t judge!” He was not about to ask for help; he wasn’t even certain as to why he spoke first. “Shit won’t open, it’s not my fault.”