#Cross Hairline Finish Sheets

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 26

degradation - sakusa kiyoomi x reader

word count: 674

warnings: degrading language obviously, don’t read it if that offends you, fingering, swearing, nsfw content, praise towards the end

word count: 676

kinktober masterlist

The room was dark and silent, illuminated only by the streetlight that shone in through the open curtains. It fell over the bed in one long, yellow stripe, trailing over your naked, shivering legs. Sakusa took in the sight, breathing deeply and marveling at how gorgeous your writhing, bare figure looked in the restricted light. He knew your mind was already half gone, legs contracting and relaxing with every movement of his long, skilled fingers inside you. You were breathing hard, sweat building up on your hairline, hands fisted in the sheets beside your head. In the dim light, Sakusa could see the unshed tears shimmering in your eyes.

You were a vision. But he wasn’t going to tell you in those words.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured. “Pathetic little slut. Opening your legs for me so willingly. Have you no shame?”

You whimpered, face scrunching and lip trembling as the tears finally escaped your eyes. Sakusa’s tone was as harsh as his words, but the way you clenched so tight around him told him just how much you loved it when he got like this.

And Sakusa? He thrived in it.

His fingers curled in you, pushing and pulling until you were crying out, eyes squeezing shut. He roughly pushed in, knuckle deep, prodding at the little spongy spot inside you that he knew would have you seeing stars. You reacted instantly, gasping and arching up into him, legs jerking.

“Listen to these filthy noises,” he continued. “Listen to the way you sound. Whore. That’s what you are, right? Just a convenient whore.”

“Yes!” You squeaked. “I am.”

Sakusa bit back a moan at how wrecked you already sounded, how much you got off on the distaste in his voice. He felt every last bit of his blood rush to his dick, fueling his desire to finger you into oblivion. He ran his thumb roughly over your clit, watching you keen at the feeling.

“You love this.” He groaned as he watched you weep on his fingers, eyeing the juices trailing down his hand and dripping at his wrist. “Making a mess all over me and the bed. So desperate, it’s embarrassing.”

“Please,” you managed to gasp, sounding so pornographic it almost made Sakusa cum. “Omi, please. Wanna- I….. want-”

“Wanna cum?” He finished for you, staring at the trail of drool running from the corner of your mouth as your eyes crossed. “That’s all it took to fuck you dumb? You’re so easy, you slut. Do you even deserve to cum?”

He sped up his fingers as he talked, ignoring the cramp forming in his bicep, focused solely on making sure that you fall apart on his hand.

“Can’t hold it!” You shrieked, trying to grab his wrist to try and stop him. Sakusa ignored your attempts, reveling in how panicked you looked. “Can’t- Omi, I’m cumming-”

He tsked. “You have no self control, do you? Completely useless for anything except taking cock. Come on then, whore. Cum on my hand.”

And then you arched up impossibly high, gripping his wrist tight until all Sakusa could do was curl his fingers inside you over and over, prolonging your already very intense orgasm. You choked and gasped, eyes rolling up in your head, and Sakusa wondered how you would feel clenching this hard around his cock instead. It was a feeling he intended to realize very soon.

As you breathed hard, coming down from your high, tears still swimming between your eyelids, struggling to stay conscious, Sakusa leaned close to you, lips brushing over the skin of your neck and the shell of your ear.

“Beautiful.” He whispered. “So gorgeous. So perfect for me. So, so pretty.”

He ran gentle hands down your sides, your outer thighs, soothing their trembling. He continued to pour into your skin every sweet word he thought about you, every ounce of love he felt with his closed off heart.

He had a weird way of expressing himself. He was just happy he found someone who understood him regardless.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[anincompletelist]

[read free on patreon here!]

written for the word prompt: thunder

“Can I sleep on your floor?” 

Half-awake, Henry blinks the sleep from his eyes and squints at his new roommate, clad in a checkered pajama set and clutching a blanket tight to his chest outside of his bedroom door. 

“What?” he rasps. 

“Fuck. Sorry. I should’ve explained first,” Alex curses, dragging a shaky hand through his hair. “Look, I’m really sorry to wake you up in the middle of the night but there’s this storm that came through after we went to sleep and it’s just— I don’t— I don’t do thunder.” 

“You don’t… do thunder,” Henry repeats. Part of him is still convinced he’s dreaming. It’s the only way he’d imagined Alex would ever show up at his bedroom door in the dead of night. But during his move-in interview, Henry had admittedly pictured him less ashen and visibly trembling when it happened. 

“Like, loud noises,” Alex elaborates with a jerky shrug, talking so quickly that Henry struggles to understand him. “Usually I make arrangements but I didn’t know the rain was coming and—”

Before he can finish, another round of the storm bears down outside, a flash of lightning and then an angry, rumbling line of thunder. Alex’s eyes squeeze shut and he drops the blanket to the floor to clutch his hands over his ears instead, a stark contrast from the confident, bubbly person he’d been at dinner hours before, eager to get to know Henry over beers and his homemade Tex-Mex. 

Henry wakes up a little more at the sight of it, dropping down to scoop up the soft blanket and toss it back around Alex’s shoulders, putting a hand on his hip and pulling him through the open bedroom door. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he’s saying, over and over again as Henry leads him to the bed. “Can I sleep on your floor? I’m sorry, I—” 

“Alex,” Henry stops him. “It’s alright. You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, no. You can’t sleep on the floor. This is your room.” 

The sky rumbles outside and he quickly goes back on his decision, diving sideways to burrow himself beneath Henry’s duvet. David grumbles a bit at being woken up, then promptly rearranges himself right up by Alex’s snuffling nose on the pillows with a curious sniff. 

With a delirious, lopsided smile, Henry grabs the extra one and a clean blanket and heads for the rug. 

“Wait,” he hears from the pile of his sheets. He glances up at Alex’s eyes, the only thing visible from under the blanket, and raises a brow. “You can— it’s a big bed. Just— you can sleep on the other side.” 

Henry hesitates for a moment. “I— are you certain?” 

“I mean, it’s fine with me.” Alex slides both hands over his face. “Fuck. This is not how our first night as roommates was supposed to go. I’m so sorry, Henry. You probably think I’m, like, insane.” 

His smile grows a lot less lopsided and a lot more fond as he crosses back over to the bed, slipping quietly into his own side. He lays facing Alex, David nestled between them, and thinks about how nice it is to have someone around again. 

“I don’t think you’re insane.” 

“Right,” Alex huffs a shaky laugh, his eyes still wide as he blinks, but shivering lessening. “Just don’t kick me out, okay? M’not usually like this. I promise. I’m really cool.” 

Henry presses a grin into his pillow just as Alex’s fingers start lightly tracing over David’s ears in a steady back and forth, tugging him closer to his chest. 

“Either’s fine with me, I think,” he murmurs. 

“You’re always welcome in my bed too, y’know.” Henry’s eyebrows fly into his hairline as Alex rushes to correct himself, a flush spreading on his cheeks. “I mean— fuck. Holy shit I am so not playing this cool right now,” he breathes. “I just meant, like, if you ever have any weird shit that you’re scared of, I— I’m here for you too, I mean. For— for a long time, I hope.” 

Beneath the covers, Henry’s heart does an odd little flip-flop in his chest, almost like something thawing and chipping away, a new layer presenting itself underneath. He raises a hand to pet David as well, and he doesn’t move away when their fingers brush. Alex smiles softly, even as the thunder rolls quietly outside the window. 

“I’d like that very much, Alex.” 

Pez had been right, not that Henry would ever admit it to him. Finding a roommate was a very, very good idea.

[starfirewildheart]

Scars and Souvenirs 

Chapter 2

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 2,324

Rating: NO MINORS, NSFW under cut. Police yourself please, mentions of war, being a POW, death and animal abuse. A little more detail in this one. More abused animals rescued all happy endings I promise.

Sy texted Debbie for the tenth time. His Ma was still talking and didn't look to be slowing down anytime soon and he didn't want her doing all the work herself.

Sy: Sugar, come back to the house. Ma's still ramblin' a mile a minute and showing no signs of slowin' down. Got steaks marinating for dinner. We can put the round bales out tomorrow and I'll help you finish brushin' everyone down then.

Deb: You spend time with your mom. I got dis! I have one more thing to do and then I'm comin' to the house. I haven’t been alone all day anyway. I have a friend.

Sy: oh?

(Not my dog or my pic)

Deb: she said you better have some steak for her too!

"Austin, are you listening to me?" Sara Syverson scolded.

"Sorry," he told her sheepishly. " I'm trying to get Deb to stop for the day. She's been out there for hours."

"Well honey it's hard work taking care of animals, she needs to know that."

Sy's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "What?"

"This animal rescue stuff is all her idea. She's spending your money and using you as a workhorse," she fussed. She loved her son and it broke her heart to see him used like this.

"Wait just a minute here, ma. I don't know what you're going on about but you are very wrong! This ranch was my dream and I asked her to join me.  When we heard about the horses being abused and sold for meat we BOTH wanted to rescue them, not just her." He moved to sit by her on the soda and took her hand. "I don't know why you don't like her or what's going on with you but you're blaming her for things that aren't her fault."

"You are with her 24/7. Is it too much to ask that you spend some time with your momma?" 

Sy cringed, "No of course not. I'm sorry," he hugged her as he tried to blink the tears from his eyes. "I never realized," his breath caught in his throat. "I'll do better, I promise."

The screen door banged open and Aika came bounding in jumping up on Sy sensing his anxiety. Debbie came in a few seconds later. "Wheew it's hot out there." She stopped in her tracks as she picked up on the heaviness in the room. "Is everything ok?" 

"Yea," Sy got up and hugged her. "We've just been catchin' up." She gave him a concerned look but didn't push. "Will you fix your famous potatoes for the grill before you take a shower sugar?"

Deb laughed. "Are you trying to say I smell, Sir?" She teased as she headed to the kitchen squeaking when he playfully smacked her ass.

"Ya reek sugar," he smirked as he got the foil out for her.

She could feel Sara's eyes on her as they moved around the kitchen, perfectly attuned to each other without even having to speak. She scrubbed her hands good then put some butter in a dish to melt in the microwave before moving to the sink to scrub the potatoes. Once that was done she retrieved the melted butter and started tearing off sheets of foil for each one. Brushing the potatoes all over with the butter  she then sprinkled them with sea salt, Italian herbs, garlic and onion powder then wrapped them all up tightly. "You sure that's all you want me to do?"

"Affirmative, get outta here." He smacked her ass again then grabbed her wrist and pulled her flush against him kissing her when she started to walk away. He took advantage of her soft gasp and deepened the kiss exploring her mouth and getting lost in the feeling of her pressed tight against him. They both nearly jumped out of their skin when his mom's voice rang out loudly. Deb hid her flushed face against his neck.

"It's getting late. Shouldn't you be starting dinner?" Sara sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm gonna go clean up," She said, still blushing wildly. She didn't miss the disapproving look Sara shot her as she rushed out of the room.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Sy watched as Deb flopped face first across the bed still fully dressed. He toed off his boots and laid down on his back beside, her resting his hand on her ass. 

" Mmmmm mmmmhm hummm." He laughed, "can't understand you with your face smashed in the mattress sugar." She turned her face toward him. "Your mom hates me"

"No, it's not you sugar, it's me. She's not been the same since I got stateside," he shrugged. "Guess her baby boy is too broken now." If the word 'D'fuq??' had a face Debbie was using it on him now and he couldn’t help the big belly laugh that escaped him.

"Austin Lee Syverson, that woman loves you more than life itself." She got to her hands and knees and straddled him pressing soft kisses on his lips and jaw. "And you, my love, are not broken. You are handsome, loving, passionate, strong, a leader, a hero." She punctuated each word with a kiss or a nip to his neck as she reached under his shirt and lightly ran her nails over his chest and stomach.

"Fuck", Sy moaned as she ground her core against his now hard bulge. "Way too many clothes," he growled before quickly stripping them both. This time he crawled on top of her with a wicked grin. He kissed his way down her body only stopping when he reached her shaved mound. "Mine," his growl was possessive. Since his return he was extremely possessive of her and didn't want anyone else even near her. He wanted the world to know she was his so he had started marking her by sucking or biting places and today it would be here.

He bent her legs and pushed them up to her chest, opening her beautiful flower to him. "So wet for me sugar. Look at you, already clinching, needing my cock."

"Please Sy," She mewled as she bucked up trying for his touch.

He quickly thrust three fingers knuckle deep into her while taking his left hand and exposing her hidden pearl before diving in and licking and sucking it.

"Oh fuck! Sy!" She circled her hips thrusting against his hand and mouth seeking that pleasure starting to build in her belly. The scruff on his face was leaving beard burn but she didn’t care Sy's mouth was a national treasure and the way he used suction and even a light scraping of teeth could make her cum in an instant. "Oh god!" She reached down and pushed his face harder against her throbbing pussy fucking up against his face until she cum with a scream, her body clenching and quivering, her legs shaking. As the throb started to die down she felt Sy's teeth sink in gently against her bare mound marking her causing her to his and yelp.

He licked the mark he'd made to soothe the ache before placing a kiss on the red mark already forming then crawled back up her body. "Mine."

"Only yours, always," She pulled him into a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue.

He kept her legs hitched up by his arms and rubbed his cock over her still sensitive folds before he started pressing inside her. They both moaned at the sensation."So fuckin' tight. Your body is made for me, sugar. Fits like a fuckin glove."

Debbie clinched around him as he filled her almost to full, the final push making her feel like she was going to burst leaving her panting. "So big baby. So full." She was beyond the ability to string words together at this point much less form sentences.

Always the best at what he does, Sy moved slowly at first. Slow, languid thrusts while he circled his hips. After her third orgasm clamped down on him he couldn’t hold back any more and started pounding into her. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, the wet sound of her juices leaking out around him and the cock drunk look of bliss on her face and he felt his balls start to draw up tight and his dick swell even more. "One more sugar. Give me one more. I wanna feel you milking me when I cum!" Reaching between them he started rubbing her clit and soon they were both falling apart crying out each other's names as he collapsed on top of her. He laid there a minuet before slipping out of her and rolling to his side pulling her against him. "I love you."

Deb snuggled to his side and pressed a kiss to his chest. "Love to Sy."

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

A few days had passed and things were normal on the ranch. Deb had been researching an upcoming auction while Sy was trying to find a home for a mare and her foal that were ready for a family. "The Winston's are going to take them," he smiled happily.

"That’s wonderful. Their little girl will have a ball with the foal."

He walked over to her desk and sat on the edge of it. "Any prospects? "

"A few, sadly. There are a lot of rumors about a stallion that was beaten and abused to the point no one could even approach him then left uncared for. I read that his hooves are so overgrown they are curled around his feet."

"Damn," he shook his head. "I'll have the farrier and the vet on stand-by for Friday morning. Hopefully we can get him calm enough to give him some help right away."

"Sometimes I just really hate people."

He kissed the top of her head and hugged her.  "There are a few good ones out there still."

"So What you're saying is I can't break 'em all and make' em snap like glow sticks or push 'em down the stairs like slinkies?" She asked innocently. 

He flashed his crooked grin. "Just a few of the many reasons I love ya."

"Life will never be boring with me."

"That’s for damn sure," he chuckled. "Do we have everything we need in case this storm front is as bad as they think it's gonna be?" It was that season where bad weather could knock the power for days due to floods, wind and debris and they were calling for a bad one to start late tonight or early in the morning. 

"Animal's food and backup water supply is safely stored and ready. Aika had plenty of food and treatos. I stocked up on food and supplies for us yesterday and incase shit really hits the fan we gave the lovely MRE's hidden in the closet." They both cringed at the thought. "We filled the sandbags and got them ready the day before yesterday and we picked up three gerri cans of fuel for the generators. We are about as set as we are gonna be." She could see the crease between his brows and that he was chewing at his bottom lip which were all warnings of anxiety building in him. She reached over and put her hand on his thigh giving it a gentle squeeze. "You worried sweetheart?"

He took her hand in both of his. She could always tell if even the slightest thing was off with him. She and she alone was the reason that he made it through his POW recovery and the loss of his men. She spent weeks just holding him while he screamed and cried fighting tortures who were no longer there physically but in his mind were electrocuting him, beating him, breaking his bones, stabbing him, burning him, trying to drown him and killing his men and torturing them in front of him because he was an officer and they wanted information. He shook the thoughts from his mind when he felt her hands on his face and saw her standing in front of him. "No, I'm not worried about the storm sugar."

"Then what's going on up here? " She softly tapped his forehead. 

"Ma needs me to come by and put some sand bags by her back door and put the shutters on her windows."

"Ok." She wasn't sure why he'd be upset by that. "I'll grab my shoes."

"She wants me to come alone."

Ah, there it was. Sy hadn't spent more than 20 minutes without Debbie where she could get to him quickly since he landed in Germany.  She was his anchor. According to the army shrink, just the same way that sounds, smells and other things could trigger PTSD her voice, her scent and her touch helped ground him and pull him back. "I can go and wait in the truck," She offered.

He pressed his forehead against hers. "No. It's just Ma's place right? What could possibly happen to trigger me there? Besides, I've not had a flashback in months. I'll be fine."

He tried to sound convincing but she could tell he felt anything but. Protectiveness told her to demand to go with him but she knew she couldn't. Sy was a grown man making astounding strides in recovery and she had to show him her faith in him. She smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I'm a text or call away if you need anything." 

He gave her a kiss and a hug before calling for Aika and heading to his moms.

@shellyshellshell

@enchantedbytomandhenry

[kybercrystals94]

Where Fears Are Born

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

(posting this on tumblr in preparation for my sequel that I’m about to post on here! 😄)

Bad Things Happen Bingo | Prompt: And I Must Scream

Rating: G

Words: 232

Summary: The reason the Batch develops a fear of spiders (a prequel to @just-here-with-my-thoughts’ Phobia)

TW: Arachnophobia

“Tech, shut it off!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to touch the screen!”

“Ugh, for kark's sake,” Crosshair said, snatching the offending data pad out of Tech’s lap. He deftly exited out of the program and dropped it back into its place.

Tech shoved it away as though it were one of the arachnids that had swarmed the woman in the film. Crowded together, shoulder to shoulder, the four cadets stared at the dark data pad now innocently nestled in the rumpled sheets of Tech’s bunk.

“That was definitely not a documentary,” Hunter said, shooting his bespectacled brother a disdainful look.

“The description was deceptively vague,” Tech protested, “How should I have known it was of the horror genre?”

“I’m never watching anything you download again,” Wrecker whimpered, pressing closer to Crosshair. “Are you sure there’s none of those spider things on Kamino?”

“None are native to this planet,” Tech said.

Crosshair smiled wickedly. “Doesn’t mean troopers don’t accidentally bring some back with them when they’ve been off planet. I’m sure there’s all sorts of spiders in the city not native to Kamino.”

“Stop it, Crosshair,” Hunter scolded, but the way his voice shook a little made Crosshair chuckle darkly.

“I bet they crawl under the doors of the barracks and hide in our beds,” Crosshair continued, wriggling his fingers.

“You have no way of knowing that is true.” Despite his own statement, Tech hugged his arms around himself and glanced around his bunk.

“And you,” Crosshair returned, “have no way of knowing it’s not .”

“Stop it!” Hunter said again, more firmly. “If it will help Tech and Wrecker sleep better, we can check all the beds.”

“Me sleep better?” cried Tech indignantly. “I’m not scared.”

“I’m not either,” Wrecker declared.

Crosshair carefully reached around and brushed one fingertip across the back of Hunter’s exposed neck, just at his hairline. The undignified shriek that emitted as a result sent Wrecker and Tech into a panic alongside, and before Crosshair even had a chance to inhale in order to laugh at them, all three of his brothers were all the way across the room.

“That wasn’t funny!” Hunter squawked, even as he pawed frantically at his neck, searching for the nonexistent, 8 legged creature.

“You’re right,” Crosshair gasped between fits of laughter, “It was hilarious!”

Tech pointed at him. “You are a fiend.”

“Was there actually a spider?” Wrecker asked, taking a step away from Hunter.

“No,” Hunter growled, scrunching his shoulders to resist the urge to continue his search, “It was just Crosshair.”

“This time,” Crosshair admitted. “Next time...it will be the real thing. Crawling in your blankets, in your hair, in your ears...”

“That’s it,” Hunter said decisively, “We are stripping all the bunks and checking for spiders.”

No one argued and set to work.

Crosshair didn’t help.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“What are you doing?”

Crosshair looked up from where he was carefully releasing a spider in Hunter’s bunk, trying to coax the little thing to climb the wall. “Shh,” Crosshair hissed, “Hunter’ll hear you.”

“Why are you doing that?” Echo reiterated, crossing his arms.

“Because it’s funny, di’kut. Now, shut your mouth.”

Echo frowned, but quietly watched as Crosshair finished his task. When the sniper stood upright, he grabbed Echo by the arm and pulled him off the ship and a good thirty feet away from the door.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re putting a spider in Hunter’s rack?” Echo asked, keeping his voice low.

Crosshair put on an air of faux patience. “It’s a little something some of us call a prank .”

Echo rolled his eyes. “I know what a prank is. But why a spider? Is Hunter scared of spiders?”

“Terrified,” Crosshair said with a rare smile. “They all are. Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech. We accidentally watched a stupid horror holo as cadets about spiders. Tech thought it was a documentary when he downloaded it.”

“So, what, you’ve terrorized them ever since?”

Crosshair shrugged. “It’s a good way to pass the time.”

Suddenly, chaos erupted from the Marauder, raised voices tangling over each other. Three full-grown men, some of the greatest commandos in the GAR, thundered down the ramp of the ship. Crosshair and Echo approached the trembling trio.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong” Crosshair sounded convincingly concerned, the edge of his usual sneer present but tamed.

Hunter bellowed, “Get it out!”

“Get what out?” Crosshair asked, eyes narrowed with uncomprehending innocence.

Echo had to bite the inside of his cheek avoid smiling.

“There’s a kriffing spider in my rack!” Hunter said, pointing emphatically back at the door.

Crosshair rolled his eyes. “It probably came in on your armor.”

The color drained from Hunter’s face, but he managed to bluster on in his best sergeant's tone. “I don’t care how it got there. Get. It. Out.”

Crosshair held up his hands placably. “Alright, alright.” He started to amble up the steps. “Hope it’s not poisonous. Are you sure you didn’t get bit, Hunter?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Hunter snapped, but the doubt in his voice was palpable.

Crosshair disappeared into the ship.

Echo waited with Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech – all three of them carefully avoiding eye contact. He’d only been with Clone Force 99 for a few weeks, and it was their first time planet side with any downtime. He wondered if this happened often.

“Creepy little things,” Echo observed casually. “Spiders.”

Tech looked annoyed. “Depending on the species, arachnids can be deadly,” he intoned.

“What species was this one?” Echo asked.

Tech shifted, his eyes finding something interesting to look at past Echo’s shoulder. “I didn’t get a good look at it, so it would be impossible to say.”

“Ah,” Echo said, nodding. “Hope Crosshair doesn’t get bit then. Just in case.”

“He knows how to properly dispose of them,” Tech said.

“That’s good,” Echo said.

Tangible, awkward silence followed. Echo enjoyed every second of it.

Crosshair came out of the Marauder with an unreadable look on his face. “I couldn’t find that spider anywhere. Pulled your whole bunk apart,” he said to Hunter. “Are you sure it was there?”

“Yes! We all saw it!” Wrecker sounded absolutely distraught.

Crosshair frowned. “I don’t know what you want me to do then. I can’t find the thing anywhere.” Echo noticed Crosshair’s loosely balled fist.

Reluctantly, grudgingly, depressingly, the three traumatized soldiers exchanged glances before trudging up the ramp to resume their tasks. Crosshair shook out his hand, and a little spider fell out, skittering away on frantic legs.

“You are a monster,” Echo said with a smile and a shake of his head.

Crosshair chuckled. “You’ll keep my secret?”

“Not my secret to tell,” Echo said. “But don’t expect me to participate.”

“You already did by not telling them what you saw,” Crosshair said with a devilish grin. “You’re in this now too. And if I go down, you’re going down with me.”

END

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[satankilledmyghost]

Hi! Can I request something with wolf that has a comedic undertone? Something fluffy and light would be great!

hey Sharlulu! here's your request. it's kinda short but hopefully you enjoy!

warnings: swearing

snow day - wolf keum x reader

"Get out of bed."

"No."

"Why do you fight me every single morning?"

"Because you never learn. Now get your ass back here so I can sleep." Wolf grumbles, catching your wrist that's trying to pull the duvet off of him to yank you down back into bed.

"Wolf!" You yelped, flailing around as he brings you closer to him, hugging you to his chest and pinning you there. You gave up trying to free yourself and sighed. "I don't know how the hell you're going to pass high school. You do this every morning."

"I'll pass because the teachers know I'll beat their asses if they don't." A groan leaves your lips. "You know, you're not going to get through life by beating people up."

You felt Wolf smile into your hairline at your words, "Yeah, but the school called in a snow day today anyways so it's not like it's going to matter if we show up."

It took you three seconds to process the information before you jolted up out of Wolf's hold and reached for your pillow.

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! YOU LET ME WAKE UP HOURS BEFORE I WANT TO AND GET COMPLETELY READY FOR SCHOOL, FULLY KNOWING WE DON'T HAVE IT TODAY?!"

A list of profanities filled Wolf's bedroom along with the flurry of deep thuds from your pillow making contact with Wolf's face. He was cackling, enjoying your frustration with him. When he felt like you had enough of beating him up, he took your pillow away from you and placed it out of your reach behind him.

You lunged after your pillow, mad that your weapon had been stolen mid-attack. You collided with Wolf's other arm that barricaded your launch route and he pushed you away from him. "No, you've had enough and I don't enjoy getting smacked in the face first thing in the morning." Wolf gives you a coy smile when you glare at him.

"Well if you don't want your face hit, then don't let me get ready for a school day we don't even have!" You fume, crossing your arms. "Not my fault you didn't check your phone. Deal with it." "You're a piece of work, you know that?" You snip, no real heat behind your voice.

"I do. And it didn't take you hours to get ready, it took you one hour. Now go change and come back to bed. I'm tired and I want to sleep."

"Yeah, well you better sleep with one eye open unless you wanna be in the news headlines tomorrow." You fumed, leaving the bed to go to Wolf's closet where you kept some spare clothes to change into.

"You try that and see how well that goes for you." Wolf smirks, laying on his back and grabbing the duvet and sheets that were tussled all around the bed from your pillow ambush.

You finish changing and crawl back into bed. Wolf took no time to reach out to you, pulling you close to him. You rested your head onto his chest and Wolf starting drawing circles on your back.

"You're an asshole." You murmured, closing your eyes. "Not my fault, you knew what you were getting into."

"You're still an asshole, asshole."

[spurious]

The Call

(read on AO3)

Rodney gets the call at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday, the phone on his lab desk trilling to life and interrupting his train of thought.

“I swear I’m just going to unplug this thing and make them get me a secretary,” he grumbles—one of the worst things about being back on Earth, working at Area 51 again while various world governments argue about the future of his city, is that he’s so much more reachable now. People who want something from Dr. Rodney McKay no longer have to know someone who knows someone who knows someone at SGC and can get a message into the Atlantis databurst; now every idiot with a minor security clearance can look up Rodney’s goddamn phone number.

“What?” He barks into the phone, scribbling down notations with his other hand.

“Dr. Rodney McKay?” says the voice on the other end, unfamiliar and female.

“Yes, what do you want?”

“I’m calling from Penrose Hospital in Colorado Springs—“

Rodney’s stomach churns at the word “hospital,” and when she says “Colorado Springs” he interrupts, chest tight.

“John? It’s John, isn’t it, he—“

The doctor—or nurse, or receptionist, Rodney’s not listening and frankly doesn’t care, because he’s waving down one of the grunts from the hallway and shouting that he needs to get to Colorado Springs now, is the Daedalus in orbit, or the Hammond?—is saying “yes, Mr. Sheppard indicated you as his next of kin, and…”

About fourteen responses flash through Rodney’s mind then, starting with “It’s Colonel Sheppard,” taking a detour at “I’m his next of kin!?” followed by “Of course I’m his next of kin,” and finally finishing on the important question, which he verbalizes: “Is he alive?”

“Yes,” the woman answers quickly, and Rodney lets out a breath, “he arrived in critical condition, however—“

“I’ll be there in…” Rodney says, snapping his fingers at the frightened Marine he’d flagged down, “fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

And then Rodney hangs up the phone and gets on the radio to harangue whoever’s high up enough to make sure he keeps his word; and through a combination of threats, favor-calling, and good old-fashioned shouting, he finds himself running into the ER waiting room at Penrose Hospital.

The whole rigamarole leaves him with only about three uninterrupted minutes to think, during which he works himself into a pretty impressive spiral about what the hell John had gotten himself into—he was supposed to be on leave, for fuck’s sake, and as soon as Rodney’s certain he’s alive he’s going to kill him for making him worry like this.

The anger floods out of him, though, when he’s brought to the little curtained-off area where John is lying in a hospital bed, looking small and exhausted against the stark white sheets.

”Sheppard,” Rodney breathes out, heart hammering in his chest as he crosses the floor and throws himself onto the tiny stool next to the bed. “John.”

John looks wrecked, in a way that’s not wholly unfamiliar to Rodney: there’s gauze and tape across his nose and one cheek, remnants of blood flecked up into his hairline, and the arm that’s laid out over the blanket, IV tucked into the crook of the elbow, is marred by a series of contusions.

Rodney stares, rapt and anxious, as John blinks his eyes open, focusing on Rodney and giving him a dopey little smile.

“You came,” he says, voice soft and raspy.

“Yes, I’m looking forward to the lecture I’ll get from some uniform on not misusing important SGC resources, but what the hell did you expect, that I wouldn’t?”

Rodney wrings his hands, wanting to reach out and touch, reassure himself that John’s alive, heart beating.

There’s another long, slow blink—like the way that cats show affection, Rodney thinks, half-hysterically—and then John tilts his head, thoughtful.

“You beamed in?”

Rodney rolls his eyes. “Yes, keep up please? How else was I supposed to get here fast enough?”

John grins at him, white teeth and little spray of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, and Rodney wants to strangle him, Rodney wants to kiss him, Rodney wants to wrap him up in fucking bubble wrap and lock him away somewhere safe.

“What the hell happened, Sheppard?”

John looks away, fiddling with the edge of the sheets, and Rodney suddenly knows this injury is the result of some sort of ridiculous extreme sporting endeavor.

“Well, I was on my skateboard…”

“I’m going to kill you,” Rodney growls, furious fondness fluttering in his stomach. “Did you break any bones? You’re not getting any younger, you know?” He breaks his self-imposed rule of not touching then, palpating across the expanse of John’s body, half self-soothing and half an attempt to catalog the damage. “You obviously hit your head, which, well, I don’t think I need to remind you just how many head injuries you’ve sustained already—or maybe I do, maybe the brain damage has already set in and that’s why you’ve done something so reckless, so idiotic that—“

Quicker than Rodney would expect from a man drugged to the gills on pain meds, John’s hand comes up, fingers tangling with Rodney’s and squeezing, hard.

“Hey, Rodney?” John says, and Rodney raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“‘M glad you came.”

Rodney flattens his mouth, looks down at their joined hands, and shrugs. “I’ll always come, you know that.”

[haetrack]

spur of the moment (ldh)

part 2 here!

pairing: haechan x afab!reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: basically just smut (sorry), perv!haechan, masturbation (male), bed humping, fleshlight, he thinks about reader who he doesn’t really talk to, unprotected sex mentioned, he’s kinda gross here (sorry to haechan), thinks he’s a dom, he’s really not, not edited

a/n: i genuinely do not know what caused this but it was truly a spur of the moment (walks away)

there’s a certain ache in his back and strain in his fingers.

after being sat at his desk playing a game for… an unknown amount of hours, haechan can finally feel the pain settling in. it’s not exactly his fault though, an event came up for his favorite game, and if he didn’t get the prize for completing the challenges, he’d never be able to live with himself. he plays it off like it’s a joke, but it would probably haunt his dreams if he never got the mysterious prize.

haechan checks the time at the bottom of his computer screen, reading just a little past 11 pm. his friend had stopped playing earlier after feeling like he wasn’t making any progress, to which haechan told his friend it was because he sucks ass. he stretches in his gaming chair, and his body responds by making large cracking sounds. he cringes at the sound and decides it’s probably best if he goes to sleep.

he makes a quick trip to his restroom to freshen up. once he’s finished, he goes to his bed. it’s not made and his blanket is thrown haphazardly across it. he crawls into it, body laid flat onto it. he drapes the blanket over his body, his hands crossed over his stomach as he shuts his eyes.

haechan tries. haechan really tries to go to sleep. he’s not sure if it’s because he was attached to his computer screen for half of the day, but he can’t stop thinking. he’s not really thinking of anything, he just knows it’s there. he tries laying on his sides, tries laying flat down, even tries curling up into a ball. it’s not until he moves to lay on his stomach where he shifts his hips, his cock suddenly twitching in interest.

he internally groans, but a small smirk forms on his face. he moves his hips slowly to grind down onto his bed, the feeling of his shorts rubbing against him causing him to softly groan out. it doesn’t take long for him to grow hard, his body suddenly becoming very needy from lack of attention recently. okay, fine, lack of attention from another person in a while.

haechan continues grinding down onto his bed, his body growing hot at the sensation. he feels kinda pathetic for doing this, back arching in order to gain the most pleasure. he can feel his tip leaking with precum, staining the front of his shorts, which will eventually stain his sheets. his hands grip tightly onto his sheets, his moans successfully covered by his face shoved into his pillow. he can’t see his own face, but he can tell he’s red.

haechan realizes he’s very close to cumming. the realization of him getting close from humping his own bed like a dog in heat dawns on him. embarrassment floods his head, and he moves to sit up. he’s breathing quite heavily, sweat forming at his hairline. his mind shifts to the box under his bed, containing an item he’s quite embarrassed about.

he gets down on his knees to look under his bed, a shaky hand reaching out to find the box he’s stashed away from the world. inside of the box, he reaches for his fleshlight. in his mind, he tries to defend himself by saying it was just a gag gift and nothing more, but the amount of times he’s used it says otherwise. he promises that he’s not a gross pervert, he can’t help that it feels better than his hand.

while moving to lay back down on his bed, a thought crosses his mind: he’s not quite sure when he’s last cleaned it. once again, he promises he really isn’t a gross person and he’s actually very clean. he tries not to let this ruin his session though, he just decides to clean it now and move on. he gets back up to move to his restroom, reaching for his glasses to slide them back onto his face.

he reaches his sink, and he looks in the mirror to really assess what he’s doing. he’s about to clean his pocket pussy just so he can quickly get off. a feeling of shame passes through him, is this really who he is as a person?

the shame quickly leaves his body as he begins washing it. he lets water drip through it, and he pumps soap in his hands in order to clean it. one more promise, he swears he at least cleaned the cum out of it last time, he was just scared of how dust might collect under his bed. anyways, he lathers soap onto his fingers and presses his pointer and middle finger to the small hole of the fleshlight.

he pushes his soap-lathered fingers in, and his face heats up once again. the warm water caused the inside of the fleshlight to feel warm too, and, well, he can’t help but think it’s like the real thing. his dick twitches in interest at the thought of it, and he can’t help how his hips hump into the counter of his sink. a small moan escapes his lips, the thought of sex making his body move on its own.

he continues pumping his fingers in and out of the toy, fingers appearing out the other side. the warm water and soap help aid the movement of his fingers, and he imagines that it would be how warm and wet your pussy would feel around him.

he pauses his movements at his sudden thoughts. he’s not quite sure how his thoughts moved to think of you, the person who sits in front of him in his ethics class. he only took the class because he had to, but he doesn’t mind waking up early in order to see the outfits you wear, to hear your voice answer the professor’s questions. and no, he’s never really talked to you, besides the time you turned around and asked how his morning was.

he remembers the interaction, he somehow stuttered answering you, the sight of your lips moving and your eyes looking up at him because of the elevated row. from that point forward, he knew he had to at least talk to you once before the semester ends. he was so sure he wasn’t obsessed with a person he doesn’t know too well, but his actions right now prove otherwise.

accepting the fact that he’s going to get off to the thought of you, his movements turn hasty. his hips move to the rhythm of his fingers, his shorts rubbing against his tip perfectly. small whimpers fall from his mouth, the thought of you under him, him fingering you and you crying out his name proving to be too much for his mind. his thumb moves to the fake clit, making small circles over it. he imagines you begging for release, telling him how much you need him.

with his mind racing, he reaches down to pull his cock free from the confines of his shorts. he can’t let himself cum without the warmth of your pussy, can’t imagine not fucking your pussy full of his cum. his dick slaps against his stomach, waiting to be touched. he positions the toy in front of him, imagines that he’s bending you over the sink, forcing you to watch him fuck you.

haechan pushes his dick slowly into the toy, biting down onto his bottom lip to stop the moan that threatens to escape him. it’s warm and wet, the water helps ease his dick slowly into it. once he’s fully in, he has to stop and take a few breaths in order to stop himself from cumming so fast. he feels like a loser from almost cumming too fast from a toy, and he looks up into the mirror to see how flushed his face is, sweat dripping down his temples.

horniness overrides his embarrassment as he swivels his hips against the toy, the tip of his dick reaching out the other side of it. he slowly slides back out of the toy before slamming his hips back into it. the warmth sends shivers down his spine, and he can’t help but think about how you would be begging for him to move already. “c-can’t let my baby wait, right?” he whispers out to the hypothetical thought of you under him.

he lets his hips move on their own, his mind completely filled with the thought of you. whimpers slip out from the drag of his tip against the toy. if you were here with him, he’d force you up to look at the two of you in the mirror, he’d whisper in your ear and tell you how dirty you are. instead, he looks up and sees the image of him, his hair sticking to his forehead and fog filling up his glass lenses. how dirty.

whimpers of your name fill the restroom, and if he thinks hard enough, he can feel you in front of him. his hips slapping against your ass, his hands would grip onto your hips before moving onto your chest to grope around. he’d bite down onto your shoulder before licking a strip up your neck. your hand would reach for his to drag it down to your clit. “my baby needs more?” and you would nod along to his words, whimpering out a please, haechan.

of course, he would always give you what you want. his hand moves to the front of the pocket pussy, rubbing at the clit, his other hand tightening around the toy to imagine how it would feel for you to clench around him. his cock presses deep inside, everything feeling too much for him to hold back anymore.

“tell me what you need, baby, ‘m so close- oh fuck- need you to talk to me.” haechan would groan in your ear. he imagines you would babble back to him, “please let me cum, love you so much, always wanted this, please make me cum haechan.”

he’s huffing, heavy breaths turning to whimpers. it feels too real, as if you were really there with him. how soft your skin would feel, how your voice and your moans would tell him everything he needs to hear. how your tight pussy would suck him in, cementing how much you really love him. you would tell him how much you love him, how good of a boyfriend he is. you would try to reach back to kiss him softly on his lips, contrasting your perverse actions.

he’s too far in his head to realize that he’s the pervert. he’s pathetically getting himself off to you, who he’s only talked to once, with a fake pussy. he could’ve just gone to sleep, seen you tomorrow and asked if you would like to hang out with him, but he’s doing this. he can’t talk to you normally, so he needs to fuck a toy in order to feel close to you. you mean so much to him, and you’ve only shown interest in him once. that’s all he needs from someone like you, pretty enough for him to imagine cumming deep in you.

“you’d let me cum in you, r-right? let everyone know who you belong to?” he’s rambling now, pretending you’re nodding along to his words, telling him to shove his cum deep inside of you. his fingers messily rub against the clit, his mouth open, drool spilling past his lips. his glasses slip down his nose, too sweaty and too fogged up for him to see out of anyway.

his dick is twitching, his balls tightening. although he wishes he could be like this forever, the moment is ending too fast for him to stop. “gonna give you everything,” a loud moan cuts him off, “i love you so much.”

his dick slams into the toy, spurts of cum drip out of his tip and into the sink. his hips subconsciously move on their own in order to release the last of his cum into the toy. he has to catch his breath, the orgasm feeling too real. he slowly slips out of the toy, feeling too overly sensitive to move too fast.

he keeps his tip at the entrance, watching the last of his cum slip out of the toy. it feels too real, and his fingers move absentmindedly to shove the cum back into the fake pussy. after a few moments, it feels as though he’s regained consciousness. he looks around to see his cum all over the sink and on his fingers. he sighs, using his clean hand to scratch the back of his sweaty neck.

he’s not sure how he’s going to look you in the eyes tomorrow.

taglist: @froggyforyoongi

[fabrinox]

Why would you choose the Fabrinox Brand for your home?

Steel shits are molded by an industrial process into thin and fast sheets that are later used for various purposes in various sectors starting from living spaces to industrial spaces. After forming into thin and flat sheets they are later Fabricated into numerous amounts of everyday objects. The thickness of these steel sheets may vary prominently. The thinnest sheets are Dalles foil while the thickest sheets are called structural sheets. While most households are looking for stainless sheets for various purposes since they are extremely durable, resistant to corrosion, and are strong and sturdy. The structure and texture of stainless steel are long-lasting However, a coating of PVD, makes it everlasting.

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Also, read:

Stainless Steel Furniture in Delhi

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PVD Colour Stainless steel sheets

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[fabrinoxin-blog]

STAINLESS STEEL KITCHEN

Stainless steel, which was historically only used in building as a base material, is slowly gaining prominence in the design of modern kitchens. While they have been used for many years by commercial kitchens, primarily for their strength and ease of maintenance, domestic kitchens are increasingly opening up to the possibilities offered by stainless steel kitchens.

Fabrinox is the industry leader in the manufacture and supply of mobile kitchens made of stainless steel. Their creative team gives your kitchen a streamlined, sleek look to make your cooking experience trouble-free. 

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[jarofstyles]

For mafia harry, I just love the fact that’s he’s only soft for his girl. So something soft!!!! Plss n thxx

He’s literally so soft for her it’s ridiculous.

Warnings: fluff, talk of murder, mafia type stuff

Check out our Patreon!

—-

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to come home with bruised knuckles. While he tended to have his men take care of business, he couldn’t help but be hands on sometimes.

When it came to certain motherfuckers, he truly couldn’t help but get in on the action and keep his name at the top of the’ who not to mess with’ list.

But his one and true weakness was sleepy eyed and soft as she stepped into his arms. He had gotten home from some business only an hour ago and put on the coffee pot. Being out all night was not ideal in the slightest, mainly because he had Y/N at home. Before meeting her he could go days at a time without sleep, without even being home. But having a woman he loved so deeply in his bed, who truly adored him and looked past his very unusual career path. She was so giving to him, with her time, energy, body, affection. He had hit the jackpot when it came to women and he knew all to well. So did anyone else.

It took a lot to get a man like Harry soft. He was hard and jagged around the edges. Throwing a punch or getting rid of someone wasn’t a big deal to him. Then Y/N stumbled into his life by accident and he found the heart he had covered with ice melted into a puddle of mush that she hand shaped in her own form. It was comical at times to see his attitude change when she would walk into the room.

“H?” She whispered sleepily. She shouldn’t be awake, but her body had somehow known her hero was home. While Y/N was well aware of his faults and his dangerous job and tendencies? He fiercely protected and cared for her. Provided for her. Gave her a home and a best friend and loved wrapped into one. No one was perfect, but Harry was perfect for her. “Where were you all night?” His stomach twinged with guilt as he pulled her into his chest, large hand cupping the back of her head and keeping her body close to his.

“M’so sorry, angel.” He whispered, pressing multiple kisses to her hairline. “We found one of the rats.” He grumbled, making Y/N freeze. Her head pulled up from his chest and her eyes were a dangerous glint. One that, quite frankly? Made him hard. As soft and gentle as Y/N is, she had come to take Harry and his men as family. You fuck with them? You fuck with her.

“And you took care of it?” Her tone was low, Harry still shocked at how fierce his little angel could be. How protective. She made them cookies and tea and brought sweets to the underground clubs, but was willing to put someone on their ass if they hurt Harry. It was fucking hot.

“Y’know I did, sweet girl. M’always taking care of my people.” He was cut off by her lips pressing to his jaw, her head tucking back into his neck. It was early and she hadn’t slept well. Y/N usually didn’t when it came to Harry being out and doing dangerous things. Her sleep schedule had been the worst it’s been since dating him, but it was the easiest sacrifice to make because she was getting to be in his arms. When he was home?

She got the best sleep of her entire life. Especially after getting dicked down.

“Know you do.” She relaxed, hand running over his broad back. The shirt was slightly damp form his sweat but she didn’t mind. The skin under was hot and it did get her mind going to think about how sexy he looked when he was mad. As long as it wasn’t at her? It went straight to her cunt.

Okay. Maybe even when it was at her. But it was very hard to make him angry at her. He was 100% a pushover for his girl. Y/N was the only one ever allowed to raise her voice at him.

~

The first time it had happened around others, they’d all nearly choked. Harry had ate the last of the cookie butter, which Y/N had been saving. It actually pissed her the fuck off, and not realizing he was in a meeting she had stormed down the hallway with her volume on 10. The girl wasn’t one too raise her voice often, but Harry knew how to push her buttons.

“Harry fucking Styles! You better hope to god you’re busy because I’m going to shove this jar up your ass!” She seethed, the stomping of her feet making everyone’s eyes widen. The men he worked closely with usually had a softer version of her. But it was earlier in the day, not their normal time, and gathered in the office in Harry’s large home.

Harry froze, realizing what it was and winced as he watched the door fly open. There, in all her big shirt, no pants and freshly woken glory was his beautiful Y/N. Empty jar in hand. Her eyes cut around the room but the fury she felt was too deep. This was personal!

Of course, they all were tense because No One talks to Harry Styles in a tone like that and got away with it. The shock that crossed their faces when Harry sheepishly got up and crossed the room, hushing her and trying to approach her like a wounded puppy was pure and utter insanity. The big man who always had a straight face, mean punches that knocked out cold, little regard for most people and took care of many a week was letting his woman talk to him like that.

“M’sorry, baby, I meant to get more but we called an emergency-“ he was cut off by a single hand raising, lips snapping closed as he watched his little love step closer to him.

“If you aren’t ready to go to Trader Joe’s in the next 15 minutes….” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll be cut off.” And Harry knew exactly what that meant.

No sex.

There was no way he was risking that.

“Okay, okay.” He raised his own hands in surrender. “M’gonna finish up. Go get ready, we’ll take the Audi.”

They all learned that day that you didn’t mess with Y/N’s food, and Harry Styles only had one singular weakness.

~

Granted, Harry never was ashamed of it. He always said that his woman was half of his strength. She didn’t need him, but he needed her. Harry loved her so wholly and deeply that he knew that she was it for him. He had bought an engagement ring only 2 months in. So no, he didn’t ever deny it.

If anyone ever tried to use Y/N against him, they ended up in the river. Or in several pieces. He had very little restraint over that, considering all threats he took very, very seriously. The one light in his life was something he kept close, protected, and loved.

“Why don’t we go shower n’then we sleep? Hm? M’sorry to keep you up late, angel.” He puckered his lips down at her to be met with a soft peck, nodding her head at the idea. “And then we can make some ‘brunch’, whatever you call it.”

It got a laugh out of her, so he considered it a win.

“Mhm. If you thought I was letting you into our clean sheets smelling like guns and sweat. It’s sexy for dirty sheets but I’m simply too tired. Got the new ones I got online too.” She sighed, playfully teasing him because she knew it would get him to smile. He saw horrors every day, and if she could get some silliness in him it would lessen his stress.

“Oi. Don’t be callin’ me smelly, little girl.” He pinched her cheek, obnoxious kissing her mouth. “Better get your ass up there and get naked so we can pass out. M’Gonna need those pretty hands helping me wash, I fear… I’m a dead man walking.” He was dramatic, obviously overtired and it got a giggle from her.

“In your dreams, Mafia Man. Let’s move.”

“You’re right, I do dream about that.”

[subspencer]

I had this in my thought in my head all day during so listen:

Sub!spencer with his glasses ! He has been needy all day, so he has been whining all day and getting on you nerves a bit. As punishment you tie his hands up and tease/edge the absolute shit outta him. It’s getting so heated that his cute little glasses start fogging up and bc he is tied up, he cant do anything about it which in turn makes him even more frustrated. Just imagine the desperate noises he’d make 🤤

wc: 965 cw: dom!afab!reader, sub!spencer, light breath play, bondage, orgasm denial (briefly), little bit of crying and begging

______

“Please?” he pants, squirming against his restraints. “I wanna see you.” Spencer cries out and it turns into a whine the longer you stay quiet.

You only tied up his wrists, but you may as well have blindfolded him, too. The second things got hot — literally — his glasses fogged up with the condensation from his own warm breath. He couldn’t see out of them enough to recognize anything even an inch from his face, let alone to see you on top of him, rocking your hips as you fucked him slowly.

You fawn at his desperation, grazing his jaw with your hand tenderly. “You know you can’t, baby.” 

His begging doesn’t help his case. It’s what got him into this situation in the first place.

All day long, he followed your trail, begging for your attention. “Such a needy whore,” you mutter, remembering how he acted earlier. 

You got one day off from work, and you wanted to use it to get some things done around the house. Cleaning, chores, errands — boring, but necessary things. And Spencer decided he was more important, trying to interrupt you every time your attention moved away from him.

He tends to be well-behaved for you, but today was the closest he got to being a brat. He got in the way of everything, begging to be kissed just one more time for five times in a row each time you stopped. Every task took twice as long with him lingering around in your home. 

Then the way he acted at the market crosses your mind, and you grind down harder on his dick, scratching your nails down his chest. A hiss leaves his lips and you smile.

You thought maybe he’d settle down once you left the house, so you let him come shop with you. Turns out that if he’s desperate enough, his hesitance to PDA flies out the window. He kept wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder when you wouldn’t look at him, nuzzling into your neck and peppering kisses on you for attention. He said he’d stop if you kissed him, but he lied. Repeatedly.

Nothing was enough for him. Not then, and certainly not now. You were going to make sure of that. Spencer wasn’t going to get nearly enough to make him cum tonight.

“Can you feel that, baby?” you smile, your hips picking up pace. He nods furiously, a soft sob leaving his lips. He knows what you feel like when you’re about to finish, the way your muscles tighten around him as you chase the feeling. 

His head thrashes to the side as he tries to use his arms to knock the glasses off his face. 

“Just let me see —” He starts to plead again, and you cut him off with a hand on his throat. You don’t squeeze down, at least not very hard. It’s just a warning that you could very easily stop him from speaking, if you wanted. 

In a moment of kindness, you bend forward to give him a kiss, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment as he feeds his hunger. He groans when you pull away too soon, tilting your head back to let your sounds release freely as you feel yourself reaching the end. 

Your hands dig harder into his chest, helping you thrust down harder, faster, until you feel the knot in your stomach burst. Fluttering around him as you quietly scream his name, dropping your head and biting his shoulder as you settle down from your high. 

He didn’t see any of it, but he felt every millisecond of it. And it left him aching, still hard inside you. As you climb off of him, you can see how red his cock is, leaking at the end. Desperate to cum, just like you knew he would be. 

You run a thumb across the tip, wiping the fluid leaking from it, and clean it off with your mouth. He whines again, hips pushing into thin air, unable to find any friction or relief. 

 “I know, baby, I know you wanna finish.” You hum, pushing the sweaty hair off his forehead and combing it neatly to the side. “And I almost wanna let you.” 

His mouth hangs open, a stream of begs escape. “Please — I’ll be good, I’ll be so good I promise.” 

“After today, why would I believe you?”

He doesn’t have a good answer. He’s an absolute mess, writhing against the sheets and rubbing his wrists against the restraints until they turn red. A tiny tear rolls down his face, wetting his temple and hairline, as his chest wracks with a quiet sob.  

“Are you really that needy? Gonna cry for me?” You tease. 

He nods, unashamed of how much he needs you. 

“Fine,” you grunt. It would be so easy to deprive him, walk away from the bed and leave him like this until he learns his lesson. But this is Spencer, and you’ve always known how needy he is, and it shouldn’t surprise you when he behaves this way anymore. 

Your palm hovers over him, ready to help him over the edge, when he’s already coming hard, making a mess all over himself. Now that is a surprise; you’ve seen him in all stages of neediness, but he’s never cum without contact until now. 

He whines, breathy and high pitched, and pants as he calms down. You laugh at this new layer of desperation you’ve uncovered, like it’s a new trick he’s just learned. With soft pecks on his nose, right at the bridge where his glasses rest, you smile, “Just when I thought you couldn’t get worse, you prove me wrong.”

[babblydrabbly]

A Necessary Break || Rick Flag x Reader || Smut

Pairing: Rick Flag x Lieutenant f!reader

Warnings: Language. Smut. Kissing. piv.

Wordcount: 1.8k+

Rating: Lemon

[ A sexy request for @lacontroller1991 <3 I like to think Waller doesn't let him have an office as a power move. But the joke's on her. His gf has a very nice office tyvm. ]

You find Rick Flag exactly where you want him.

You find Rick in your office just as you expect. It’s become a regular occurrence; his small desk over on Task Force X’s main floor left him little peace when he had to focus on paperwork. Rick detested the red tape that came with missions- but being on the suicide squad didn’t exempt him from filling out reports. You lean on your doorframe quietly, a small smile on your face as you nurse a paper cup of coffee in your hands.

Rick’s got his fingers shoved into the front of his sandy hair, his elbow resting on the ink blotter you have laid out on your desk. He pinches his brow in concentration and you can’t help but admire the scowl on his lips. Nor the deep veins that carve into his hand and arm as he pulls at the strands near his hairline idly. You loved these moments. You loved witnessing Rick Flag lost in thought, unobserved and untroubled. Well, nearly untroubled.

“Uh oh,” You finally greet, catching his attention. His tired smile is instant. The colonel removes his fingers from his hair and you’re sad to see them fall to the desk. “Cap’s off. Must be jotting down something serious.”

He chuckles and glances over at his baseball cap sitting by the computer. “Just need t’get this done and over with.”

You squeeze your crossed knees together. He looks so damn handsome, and he’s just sitting there. Waller’s had you running around the base all day; the thought of Rick being in your office, of Rick in your chair with those strong legs spread and bouncing with anxious focus has kept your mind wandering for the last few hours.

He goes back to scratching his thoughts down onto the sheet in front of him and you busy yourself with closing the door. Rick doesn’t seem to notice the soft click of the lock. When you make your way around the desk his face is pressed with that stark concentration again. You smooth your hand across his broad, firm shoulders.

“Take a break?” You try suggesting softly.  “It’s almost 2200 hours.”

He makes a sound of agreement but doesn’t glance up. You chuckle and take his chin in your hand, guiding his eyes away from the desk top.

“Ricky.” You murmur coyly. That earns you a pause. Rick grips the pen, half in surprise. You’ve never used the pet name at work. At this point, Rick Flag only associated it with your private, breathless whimpering- your voice toppling over the edge. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you marvel in the way his eyes seem to dilate for you on command. The colonel parts his lips before licking them needfully.

“Why don’t you let me finish up here and I’ll take care of you at home, darlin’?” He tries with a rasp.

Your mouth slowly curls into a devious smile. You reach over and slip the pen out of his grasp without any resistance. Rick lets you swivel the office chair around until he’s facing you, his boots dragging across the tiles until they’re planted toe to toe with yours. Your movements are sure as you draw your skirt up with one hand and place your knee beside his outer thigh. You do the same with the other until you straddle Rick comfortably in the cushy chair. He fists either arm rest in the meantime. You’re pleased when his spine finally finds the back of the chair, relenting as you advance on him. Of course he does. All it takes is one closed door to have your Rick heeding every silent command.

He sucks in a breath when you seat your core over the growing bulge in his tact pants. It’s hot- burning. There’s little between the two of you with your thin black panties pressed flushed to his length. Rick’s large hands instantly slide around your waist to keep you pressed to him.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He utters. Rick curls his fingers and gets a handful of you from behind.

You lean down and steal a quick kiss, repeating the action until you’re peppering his face from chin to jawline gently. Rick’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle.

“I’ve been running around this compound all day, Rick Flag. When I say I need you… I mean right now.”

You reach back and guide one of his hands around to your center, and when Rick presses two fingers against your clothed sex, he exhales out a ragged breath. Lust washes over his features before your eyes. It sends a thrilling shiver through you.

“You’re soaked, baby girl.” He growls. You whimper when he rubs his fingers against the drenched fabric. Right over your aching clit. You place both your palms on his shoulders and cant your hips, willing him to stroke you harder. Rick’s gaze flickers between your exposed panties and the bottom lip you take between your teeth and bite down on.

“You won’t make me wait, will you, Ricky?”

“Fuck no, baby.” He says into the crook of your neck. You hum as he laves at your collarbone while his hands work to undo his belt and zipper in a few quick movements. You’re there to fish his stiff length from his boxer briefs, eliciting another heavy sigh from the man as you give it a few eager strokes. The weight and heat of him in your grasp makes you salivate, but you don’t want to get off his lap. Not tonight. You don’t even wait for Rick to slip your panties down your thighs. Pushing the fabric aside, you shift your weight until his head is pushing past your slick folds.

Rick groans. His brow creases as you sink deeper on to his thick cock. You stretch down over every inch of him, and when you bottom out, your pussy clenches around him involuntarily, tearing a moan from the man’s throat. You watch his head fall back. Watch his eyes flutter shut as he braces either hand on your hips.

Rick’s eyes open again when you wrap your fingers around his neck gently. Not squeezing. Just simply cupping his Adam’s apple. You delight in the way it bobs under your palm. Rick swallows thickly as he gazes up at you with all the adoration he can muster in the moment. “You feel like heaven, sweetheart.”

You grin as you raise your hips. The hot, velvet drag of him against your wet walls is intoxicating as always. You lift yourself until his head catches at your entrance before rolling your hips back down, sheathing him all in one movement. You both moan in unison.

You both liked to start off slow at home- liked to feel your pussy get used to his impossible girth every time. Rick’s nails dig into your bare thighs as you glide up and down on his again with that agonizingly languid pace. You’ve stoked the flame, and now Rick is as awake and wanton as you are.

“Come on, baby. I know you wanna ride me harder than that.” He coaxes. His mouth finds its way to your pulse. It sends goosebumps over your neck. “Know you need this cock.”

“Rick,” You snap your hips while your cheeks flush. You grip his shoulder with your free hand and shove his neck back. Rick slams back into the chair, his head bouncing off the headrest with a groan.

He absolutely loves you like this. The way you take your orgasm from him like he ain’t shit. Like he’s not made of pure muscle and could pick you right up off the ground with ease. He’s the colonel and you’re the lieutenant. But in moments like this, Rick Flag would get down on his knees and kiss your boots if that’s what got you off. His breath runs ragged as you pick up the pace. The chair squeaks with all the added weight as you thrust yourself up and down on his length.

But you’re merciful tonight. You’ve missed him. And you need his love as much as you need his cock right now.

“Fuck me, Ricky. Please, baby.” You plead. You release his neck and smooth your hands over his chest. Press your palm over his racing heart. Rick growls as his fingers dig into you roughly, crescent shaped bruises already forming. You yelp when his hips thrust to meet yours, nearly bouncing you off his lap. You bury your face in his neck as his head falls back again, hips moving of their own accord to chase the hot pleasure inside you.

“So hot. So fuckin’ wet.” He says, “You been walking around Argus all day, thinkin’ about me burying this cock in your tight little pussy, huh?”

You keen as he thrusts into you. Rick shudders. “You need me so bad, don’t you baby girl? Shit- need you too.”

Rick muffles your staccato breathing with a rough kiss, your lips melding together as you both near the edge. The slap of Rick’s pelvis against your own is enough to rub over your clit again and again, making your walls spasm as you draw near. Rick’s brows pinch together as he gather’s you up in his arms and thrusts into you even harder. His pants and briefs slip down his thighs with every rough punch of his hips.

“Missed you, darlin’. Fucking need you.” He says brokenly. Your floral shampoo drowns his senses as he buries his face in your neck again, mixed with the sweet scent of your sex that always turns him into a wild mess. Rick bucks up into you until you finally let out a cry. Your walls clench around him in a vice as he fucks you through your sudden release. You tug at the nape of his neck as you crest that familiar wave again and again.

“Oh fuck,” Rick whines. His face twists as the pace of his hips stutters. He gives you one last thrust as he comes deep inside you, cock twitching as it pumps you full. You whimper again.

The two of you collapse back into the chair with your arms around each other. Rick’s heartbeat slows back down as you rest your head on his shoulder. And you’re idly aware that he’s combing his fingers over your scalp, placing tired kisses to your hairline.

You draw away from him with an easy smile so you can get a good look at his fucked out face. Rick grins back at you before eyeing the door.

“Someone definitely heard that little show.” He muses.

“At this hour anyone still on this floor is just looking for trouble.”

“Like you?”

You scoff and flick at his ear lightly. “This is my office, you know.”

“Yeah.” He mumbles. Rick’s eyes linger on your lips until he’s placing another kiss to them- slow and sweet. “And you’re nothin’ but trouble.”

[details-later]

Soft Love with Stanley Uris

Summary: Having a day off Stan and His Wife,(y/n), spend the day in a bubble of love and reassurance.

A/N: I was going to finish this but inspiration tanked and i knew i would never finish it but i wanted to still share it with you all

A/N: I rewatched IT chapter one yesterday and it made me just remember how much I love Stan so i wanted to write this. Also I did make this a Female Reader as this is just very self indulgent for me.

A warm golden light filtered in through pale beige curtains. The soft colors of milky brown caused by the curtains gave a homely feel to the bedroom. Deep earthy toned sheets and the dark bed frame made the room look as if Gaia herself resided there. Atop the bed a curly mop of hair hid eyes of warm browns as the man stared at the woman next to him. A wide yet soft smile graced his face. He almost couldn’t believe she was his. Her hair fell around her in a halo, the muted sun flooded across the tops of high cheekbones. 

Soft eyes fluttered open, flickering around the room she finally set sights on the man next to her. A joyous smile bloomed on her face, light wrinkles deepened with the happiness that caused them to form in the first place. She outstretched her hand to his face. Caressing his cheek her heart flooded with the love she has felt for him since they met. “Good morning pumpkin.” The woman said her almond shaped nails running over his scalp. The mans eyes fluttered as the blunt nails scratched in the thick ringlets of his hair. “G’morning love.” He said his smile growing at the image of his wife smiling up at him in a sleepy haze. 

“What's with the stares Stanley?” She said in a teasing voice the smile grows on her face. “What I cant look at my beautiful wife?” Stanley says continuing “Is it now a crime to look at you?” His voice slowly creeping into a teasing tone to match hers. “Its not a crime but it is absolutely adorable.” She spoke pinching the cheek she was still caressing on Stans face lightly. Stans face bloomed with a deep pink and his warm eyes widened slightly. “u-uh no t-thats you.” He chuckled out, trying to match the unshakable confidence his wife had when complimenting him.

That sweet smile on her face grew again. "Stan I love you so much, but... you cant flirt." (y/n) spoke the light teasing giggle slowly bloomed into a boisterous laugh. Stan watched her, his own giggles flaring up, he truly believed she could never look more gorgeous than right now. Her nose crinkling and her mouth dropped open in a large smile with a crackling laugh flowing out of it. He was sure if she saw herself she'd compare herself to a hyena, but to him she looked like an absolute angel.

She twisted and turned to stretch. A long and loud yawn tore through her throat. "Well I think some tea is in order to wake up." (Y/n)  said finally wishing to get out of the bed and start her day with Stan. Siting up with Stan holding her back. He always likes helping her even in small ways like having her sit up or even just smearing a kiss to her hairline on rough days. They never really needed words to communicate how much Stan cared for her.

As (Y/N) stood up Stans eyes followed her. Watching as she changed from soft white pajamas to Mom jeans and a button up green shirt that she rolled the sleeves of. Stan wondered how she could look so ethereal even in such mundane ways. He wondered how she was able to look like she came straight out of a painting, even after just waking up. Her soft eyes encased in a ring of faint dark circles, yet she still looked like a goddess.

This made Stan think about his own looks. Catching his reflection in the mirror of the vanity she stood infront of. He began to pick apart his own looks. Comparing how her dark circles gave her a natural eyeshadow while his made him look almost ten years older. How her lightly curled hair looked soft and shiny, yet his was frizzed and more greasy than shiny. His brows subconsciously furrowed as he scrutinized himself. He didn’t even notice her turning to him, and the almost sad look that crossed her face seeing how he mentally picked himself apart.

Walking over to him slowly, a lovingly concerned look filled her eyes. Sitting close to him she lifted her hand to rub out the wrinkles in his forehead and between his brows. “ My love you need to stop thinking so negativity about yourself.” Her sweet voice dripped into his head. He wasn’t shocked at how she could quickly read his emotions by just a fraction of a tick in his brow. He knew she had an almost supernatural power at reading him like a book.

His face relaxed as she smoothed his face out. “I’m sorry babylove.” Stan said, his head slightly bowing as if he was a child and was scolded for lying about homework. “Theres nothing to say sorry about Stan.” (y/n) said a light smile graced her face as she pecked his lips “I just wish you could see yourself like how I see you.” a sad tone slipped out as she spoke. Her hard work of trying to say strong and help Stan through his insecurities faltered.

Stan forced a small smile to her. “ I understand babylove. Thank you for trying to help me.” He spoke softly. 

[nev3rfound]

don't go yet, please : h.z

you shouldn't have followed after your dear friend, but then again, the baron should know better by now that you'll never be too far behind. (1.8k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: well I had a request from @geekgirlofarchangels for friends to lovers and this is what I came up with as I'm a bitch for zemo rn warnings: mentions of blood, descriptions from tfatws also a brief attempt at german (I'm sorry if it's terrible)

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

It was one big mistake going along. You should've stayed back in the apartment as Zemo suggested. However, having been friends with the Baron for many years, he should know better by now than assume you'd do as he suggests.

Standing in the warehouse, you were watching Walker carefully. He was becoming twitchy, his patience clearly wearing thin. "It's too quiet." He states, looking over at Bucky who remains silent.

"I could check, but I am preoccupied here." Zemo chimes in, holding up his cuffed wrists, not missing the quiet chuckle from you.

"Tough crowd, Baron." You spare him a glance, noticing how he is already eyeing up the small lock on the cuffs.

"I'm going in," John steps forward, only to be blocked by Bucky.

That was the beginning of the end for things to work out smoothly. Sure, Zemo being handcuffed by Walker was one thing, but you knew Zemo well enough after all these years to know he'd be out of those within minutes. However, Walker himself was becoming a loose cannon, and you know what they say about those.

"It hasn't been ten minutes yet, John. Just sit tight." Bucky comments.

John continues to pace, nearing you and Zemo. "Don't do that, don't patronize me." John spits back, his breathing becoming frantic.

"He knows what he's doing." You speak up, ignoring Zemo muttering your name at the sight of John pausing and turning his attention to you. "Unlike some people."

"You might wanna watch yourself," John seethes, watching Zemo tug on his handcuffs. "and find better people to hang around with, sweetheart." He looks you up and down, forcing a smirk before focusing on the clock.

Stepping backwards, you can feel a hand brush across yours. Without looking, you accept it and squeeze it three times, relieved when he squeezes back.

"I'm goin' in." John marches toward Bucky, only to be pushed back. "This must be easy for you. With all that serum running through your veins." He scoffs. "Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?"

The question hangs in the air too long, and without needing an answer, John shoves past Bucky with Lemar on his tail.

"Seriously?" You huff, moving toward Bucky and following behind him.

"Y/n," Zemo speaks up, his voice now echoing in the empty room. "you seem to be forgetting my situation." He motions to his cuffed hand.

"Well, Helmut," Slowly you walk toward him, crossing your arms over your chest whilst you try to suppress the grin forming on your lips. "I suppose you'll just have to get yourself out, you're a pro after all." You tease, turning around and leaving him be knowing he'll be right behind you in a matter of minutes.

*

Echoes of gunfire and voices bounce from the walls as you continue to run through the endless corridors, unsure where you're even heading.

Breathlessly, you find Sam who couldn't look more disappointed. "I was so close getting through to her." He admits, shaking his head. "Walkers lost control, Y/n."

"Where is he?" You ask, but Sam sighs. "I'll find him."

"Y/n," Bucky walks into the room. "I lost her." He states. "There's a dozen of them in there."

"This place is a maze." Sam mutters, taking his eye off you for a moment, just a moment long enough for you to slip out of the room and toward a spiral staircase.

If there's anything Zemo has taught you over the years, always look for a distraction. And for once, it's actually working in your favour.

Your feet guide you toward a large open part of the warehouse, lined with dusted windows.

"Don't," Karli yells, another round of shots being fired from someone whilst you remain out of sight, ducking behind one of the barrels.

Daring to peer around it, you swear to yourself seeing the Baron stood with his gun aimed at the young girl.

"This, this is all," Zemo keeps his gun trained on Karli whilst his attention shifts to the vials of serum beneath his feet. "wrong." He smiles to himself as he stamps on the first bottle, ignoring Karli's cries for him to stop.

"Helmut!" You yell, leaving your hiding spot and head straight toward him.

Before Zemo can finish his mission, his eyes widen at the sound of your voice. "Y/n?" He turns around, only to see the shield enter his peripheral a millisecond too late.

Falling to the ground with a dull thud, your out cold.

Unable to focus on anything else, Zemo rushes to your side. Blood marks your hairline from the impact and he lifts your head up, cradling it in his arms. "My liebling," Zemo mutters, brushing his fingers along the crimson dripping down your cheek. "why must you be so reckless?"

"I learn from the best." You weakly mutter, forcing your eyes to open despite the immense pain coursing through your head.

"What have you done?" Walker emerges from the shadows, a darker look across his eyes that Zemo easily recognises. "You'll pay for this," Zemo seethes, reaching for his gun as his hand shakes, crimson coating his fingertips.

John laughs and steps toward the pair of you, noting you trying to stay awake with little success. "I don't think I will somehow." John states confidently, tearing Zemo's gun from his grip and throws it forcefully against the wall, breaking it into pieces. "Have fun, Zemo." John salutes to the Baron before disappearing back into the shadows, knowing what he has to do.

Taking your hand in his, Zemo squeezes it three times in hope of a response, but you remain limp in his arms. "Come on, Y/n," He whispers, bringing your hand to his lips and presses his lips against your palm. "I can't lose you too."

*

When Zemo emerges from the building, the world is a different place. A man's body lies beneath the feet of Captain America, blood staining the shield and you lay in Zemo's arms.

"Y/n?" Bucky hits Sams arm forcefully, averting his eyes from the scene in the middle of the square to a dishevelled looking baron cradling your body close to his chest.

"What happened?" Sam demands, now walking alongside Zemo who remains lost in his thoughts, thinking back to all that time you spent visiting him in prison, trying to provide some level of sanity to keep him occupied for the short while you had alone.

"He did." Zemo spits the words, his eyes remaining glued to your face, dried blood coating the left side that is hidden in the fur of his coat, tainting the pure white. "I'm going to kill him once my Y/n is awake." He mutters under his breath, not caring if either men hear his comment.

Once they reach Zemo's apartment, the silence between the trio is deafening.

Zemo takes you straight toward his bedroom, knowing you'd prefer privacy rather than being under the watchful eyes of your other friends.

"Oh, little dove," Pulling the silk sheets over your body, Zemo lowers the glass of scotch onto the bedside table alongside a damp towel to clean your blood.

As he presses the towel along your hairline, his free hand cups your face. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, humming a familiar tune.

"This is a nice way to wake up." You mumble, feeling Zemo tense momentarily whilst you keep your eyes closed. "Are the blinds open?"

"Hold on." Zemo moves away from you, taking the warmth with him causing a shiver to ripple through you.

Hiding you from the daylight and the cold reality of the world, darkness coats the walls. "Thanks." You comment, trying to sit upright only to wince and have your arm bat lightly by Zemo's hand.

"Don't move." Zemo instructs, perching on the edge of the bed, his coat thrown across the chair in the corner of the room, hiding the bloodied fur from your view. "You really are stupid sometimes, schatz."

"You really want to have this conversation, now?" Quick to retort, you glare up at your friend, having not forgotten what you witnessed in that warehouse. "It's all gone, isn't it?"

Zemo's prolonged silence answers your question, and he listens to you hum in response.

"Du bist ein idiot, Helmut." You state in German, not missing the tug on the corner of his lips. "But you're my idiot, nonetheless."

Stretching your arm out, you take a hold of his hand, squeezing it three times. "I thought I'd lost you for a moment in there, Y/n." Zemo painfully admits, knowing you were slipping in and out of consciousness.

"I know," You rub your thumb across his knuckles, his hands were always so soft against yours. "but I promise you, Helmut, I'll never go down without a fight."

"I don't want you to fight, Y/n." Zemo sighs heavily. "I just want you to be safe."

Scoffing lightly, you force yourself upright despite Zemo shifting closer. "You can't control that, Helmut." You remind him, having visited him once or twice with some minor injuries from smaller missions with Sam. "Nothing about us is certain, I mean," Trailing off, you can feel the mere thought of the conversation is causing your head to thump.

"Come," Zemo rises to his feet and walks around the bed. "get some rest. We can talk in the morning."

As Zemo approaches the door, you interrupt him. "Helmut, please, don't go." You whimper, faintly seeing him turn back to face you. "I don't want to be alone if I don't have to."

Smiling sadly to himself, Zemo removes his shoes and slides beneath the covers. Within a matter of seconds, he holds you close in his arms, your head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/n." Zemo whispers, kissing the top of your head as your eyes close, tears dampening his shirt. "Not when I just got you back."

"You sure about that?" You dare to ask, glancing up to see the faint outline of a sad smile crossing his lips as those dark eyes remain on yours.

"When it comes to you, I'm certain." He mutters, feeling you shift in his arms.

Your breath fans his lips before you softly kiss him. Zemo reacts instantly, his hand moving to cradle your neck as he kisses you back, desperate to not let you go.

Eventually, you both part. "Helmut," You breathe out, only for him to kiss you chastely. "I,"

"Don't say it, Y/n." Zemo hushes, knowing if he heard those three words leave your lips he'll never forgive himself if anything happened to you or him. "Save them for me, okay?"

Nodding in response, you mould back into Zemo, his fingers gliding across your shoulder creating various patterns including love hearts without realising it.

Yet, as you begin to drift off, you hear those three words from him, hoping that one day you can say them in return.

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[some-kindofgnome]

sick day

Hawks comes home after a few days away. You’ve come down with a nasty cold in his absence. 

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), reader with a head cold (lil snot action here and there), soft soft SOFT hawks who goes down on u in the morning >:) 

requests: from 2 anons!: I have a request ! I love me some hawks taking care of his sick s/o and when they are better ! He pounces for sex ! Huzzah

&

I’m in desperate need of a hawks taking care of his sick s/o , also because I love your work and also because I’m sick and want to take care of me.

notes: i. adore. writing soft hawks. i just want him to take care of me oh-kay? let this man love. please! 💖 

Masterlist

You’re so sick when Hawks get in, you’ve almost forgotten how long he was away.

After a growing mission took him away from the city for a few days, he gets back early in the afternoon with the sun streaming into the kitchen windows. And with you, hunched over your laptop at the counter with tissues littering the counter and floor around you.

“Hey, bluebird,” he calls as his keys jingle in the door. “God, it’s only getting colder out there by the minute now. How’s you- oh, no.”

When he spots the mess you’ve become, his little mission bag slips to the tiled floor, pulling you out of your fever-induced trance. You tear burning eyes away from your document, and the smile that crosses your face is sleepy and swollen.

“Hey babe,” you sniffle. It’s evident in your voice, your body language, everything. Keigo’s only been gone a couple of days, but it was long enough for you to come down with a nasty little bug.

“How was your trip?”

He cringes at the congested sound of your voice. Sucks in a deep little breath through his teeth.

“What are you doing?” He asks. “Are you working?”

You glance guiltily over your shoulder at your laptop. “Well, yeah, I-I was feeling alright this morning, so I-“

“No way,” he interrupts firmly. He’s already shrugging out of his hero clothes. They’re streaked with soot and mud, but he’s going to worry about himself later.

He comes up behind you jacketless, belt already unbuckled and jingling loose around his thighs. He sets one hand on your shoulder and the other on the back of the chair next to you.

“Email your boss,” he rumbles. “Tell her you’re taking the afternoon off. Tell her you’re sick, for the love of god.”

“Babe, I can work,” you plead. “It’s a cold. I’m not dying.”

“You need to rest,” he argues. He brings both hands to your shoulders, digging his thumbs gently against your aching muscles. You try your best to hide how sensitive they are, but you can’t help the little spasms that make you twitch and sigh.

“C’mon,” he hums, dipping close. He pushes a kiss against the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you catch the soft, musky scent of the sweat that clings to his hairline. He smells earthy and cold, like he’s been outside a while.

Maybe he flew all the way back here.

“We both need showers,” he offers. And when he rumbles it all low and tempting in your ear, there’s no way you can put up much of a fight.

“Okay,” you groan. Keigo turns away with a triumphant pump of his fist. You try to keep the idiotic grin off your face as you open a new email. To no avail.

You and your boss have a close enough relationship that it’s easy for you to type out a casual little email explaining everything to her. She gets back to you right away, and even though you’re too busy being dragged to the bathroom, you can tell by the first few lines of the email that it’s all fine by her.

You kind of regret not telling her before about the fever you’re running. But none of that matters now. You’ve got the last few hours of the afternoon off, and you intend on spending at least some of that time in the shower with Keigo.

He’s already naked and warming up the water for you. You want to ache for him- he’s been away all weekend, after all- but you’re both too exhausted to do anything but climb under the water together. You pause for a moment with rivulets running over both your bodies, and he cups your cheeks, biting his lower lip hard as conflict floods his features.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now,” he groans.

“I missed you, too,” you giggle back, reaching up to push your wet fingers through his soaking hair. “But I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.”

He knows you’re right, settling for a soft little kiss to your shoulder instead. He turns you around and lets warm water spray down your back as he rubs your shoulders, your neck, working all the tension from your muscles. The pain in your head whittles away the longer you stand there, and before long it’s nothing more than a dull throb while he’s reaching for the shampoo.

There’s no feeling you love more than Keigo washing your hair for you. His fingers are attentive and devoted, scratching itches you never realized were bothering you. He scrunches his fingers through the ends of your hair before reaching for the removable shower head, smoothing one rinsed palm over your forehead to tilt your head back.

“Eyes closed,” he coos. You’re still smiling like a goddamned idiot.

The suds sluice down your back as he passes the shower wand over your hair. The bubbles send wafts of fragrance through your senses. There’s nothing like coconut-scented shampoo when winter closes in on the city. It’s like a little trip to the beach, every time you get in the shower.

It was Keigo’s idea.  

He combs loving fingers coated with slippery conditioner through your hair. He lathers up your favourite body wash and trails his slick fingers over your tired skin. You can feel him getting excited behind you, but you’re both too tired to do anything about it. All he does is pull you lovingly back against his chest, letting his half-hard cock rest against the curve of your ass. He lays another soft kiss to the crook of your shoulder and you let out a deep, drippy sigh.

“C’mon,” he rumbles into your ear, tender like a dove. “Let’s get out before your nose starts to run, yeah?”

He dries himself off quickly, leaving you the bathroom for a few minutes. Wrapping your fluffy towel around your shoulders, you pad across the heated tile to pluck a tissue from the box by the mirror.

You blow. Hard. The steam lingering in the room helps to dislodge some of your congestion, and you emerge from the bathroom with the newfound ability to breathe through your left nostril.

Progress.

When you get into the bedroom, there are clothes laid out for you. Your favourite pair of clean sweatpants and one of Hawks’ t-shirts. You slip into the pants and give the t-shirt a little cuddle, burying your nose into the fabric and smiling when you catch the barest whiff of his spicy scent through your dulled senses.

You don’t even notice that the blankets are gone from the bed until you realize where they’ve been moved. As you emerge from your shared bedroom, you immediately spot the fluffy duvet and pillows spread out on the couch.

Hawks is in the kitchen, tapping away on his phone. When he spots you, he smiles so tender and soft it makes your sick little heart swell. He gives a little nod toward the couch as his wings bristle gently, encouraging.

“Go on,” he quips. “Get comfy.”

He comes around the side of the counter as you curl into the nest of pillows and gets down on his knees beside you.

“Here we go,” he hums. “A warm little nest for my cozy little bluebird.” He tugs the edges of the blanket back over and around you, wrapping you up in the fluffy comforter like a sick little sushi roll. Once you’re well tucked in, he smooths the hair back from your forehead. His chin juts forward- he wants to kiss you- but he restrains himself.

“I ordered you some food, okay?”

You snuggle deeper into your cozy retreat, until only your eyes and nose poke over the top of the blankets. The soft, soapy scent of the laundry detergent you use sends sweet washes of comfort through your tired brain.

“What kind of food?”

“Noodle soup,” he hums. You can tell he’s restraining the urge to grin as he looks you over. God, you’ve missed him. “From that place down the road.”

“Yum,” you gasp. You fiddle with the edges of your blanket to shove one hand out the side, grabbing his fingers and giving them a loving little squeeze. He chuckles, taking your hand between both of his and stroking the back of your palm over with both thumbs.

“Here,” he adds. He twists over one shoulder, grabbing the remote for the TV. “Put on anything you want. The food’ll be here soon, and then you can eat and go to bed, yeah?”

He glanced toward the armchair, not far from the couch. You try to hide the way your heart sinks.

He’s still got work to do.

“Sounds good,” you mumble, taking the cool plastic remote from his hand. You think about putting something on for the two of you, but he’s given you express instructions to indulge. So you find the show that brings you the most comfort and let its familiar sounds bring you down from the edge of a demanding work day.

When the food arrives, you sit up and slurp your noodles diligently. He keeps refilling your water, giving you a little dose of cold medication once you’ve got something in your stomach.

He’s ordered a bowl of soup for himself, too, but it stays largely untouched as he taps away on his laptop, finishing the report for the mission he’d raced back from, no doubt.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you half-wake to the sleepy sensation of being lifted. In a drowsy stupor you don’t even open your eyes, simply letting your head rock forward against Keigo’s familiar chest as he carries you to bed.

The next morning, you feel like a changed person.

The first thing you realize when you open your eyes is that you can breathe through your nose. Both sides. The passages of your sinus are so clear they nearly hurt, but you take deep, greedy breaths, revelling in your ability to clear your sleepy head with fresh, cool oxygen.

The second thing you notice is the very mischievous bird in the sheets beside you.

“G’morning, bluebird.”

He snuggles close to you, dropping a sordid kiss to your shoulder. He trails kisses into the crook of your neck and his hot breath tickles your tender skin in a way that you’ve dearly missed.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” you conclude with a drowsy little smile. Your limbs have a pleasant, sleepy weight to them, but he’s quickly wearing the ache of rest from your tired eyes.

“Like… I’m probably not contagious anymore.”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

“God,” he sighs, rolling on top of you. He dips his mouth to yours, soft at first, then insistent. “I missed ya, kid.”

He kisses all the way down the side of your neck again, drawing tight little shivers from the length of your spine. He’s impatient, though, pushing your t-shirt up and curling his fingers into the loose hem of your sweatpants to rid you of them quickly.

He pushes your thighs apart, settling onto his belly between them. His wings dip and fold gracefully behind his back. You reach out and stroke the apex of one of them, making it flutter. He shoots you a sly grin and you watch the way his hips dip into the mattress.

Fuck, it feels good to be horny again.

Keigo kisses and nips a long path up the inside of one sensitive thigh, leaving tiny little welts where he sooths his tongue over your flesh. By the time he gets to the joint of your pelvis, you’re squirming for him, achy and needing.

“Fuck,” he sighs, nozing at the apex of one thigh. He takes a deep inhale and kisses there. “I missed this.”

He licks, gentle and loving. You keen and sigh. The sensation is beautifully familiar- even more so as he finds the swell of your clit, pushing a scruffy kiss to it and then starting to suck.

Keigo always eats you out sloppy. But it drives you crazy, the way he slides his arms under your thighs to leverage your hips against his face. The way he licks and slurps at you shamelessly, unafraid to overwhelm your sensitive form. His fingers dig gently into the meat of your thighs when he finds the tenderest angle from which to attack your clit, and you ride a wave of pleasure so smooth that it clears the last vestiges of your cloudy headache from the edges of your temples.

He makes you cum hard, letting you dive your fingers into his hair and pull while he feasts on your pussy. When he pulls back from between your thighs, his scruff is slick with spit and you and he’s licking his lips like they’re coated in honey.

“Hmm, fuck,” he groans, rolling his hips into the mattress again before climbing to his knees. “God. You gave me so much, bluebird.” He wipes his chin on the back of his hand, examining the sheen of your juices with a wolfish grin.

If he was hard before he’s straining now, but he bats his hands away before you can even get close.

“No way,” he quips, climbing out of bed. “You need to rest more.”

“Aw, c’mon,” you fuss. But Keigo’s firm.

“Stay in bed, bluebird. I gotcha.” He moves toward the door of your bedroom, then glances over his shoulder and grins.

“How d’you feel about pancakes?”

There’s no instance that Keigo’s tried to make pancakes that hasn’t ended in sheer disaster. But you’ve missed him too much not to adore him for trying. You pull the blankets back over your spent form, beaming at him from the pillows.

“Sounds good.”

[imomomi]

write gojo taking care of his sick girlfriend

Her fever burned high—high enough that it broke the dam of sleep and woke Gojo up. He blinked blearily against the darkness and shifted so he was on his elbow, turning Y/N around gently. Her skin blistered beneath his cool hand, sweat pooling along her hairline and down her neck.

“Oi,” he shook her lightly. “Wake up. You’re dying.”

She groaned, kicking her leg feebly in his direction. Gojo laughed, pulling the sheet back and exposing her to the cold. He rolled Y/N over, lifting the sweat soaked bedsheets with one hand as he balanced her against his knee.

The sudden motion caused Y/N to wake. Her brow formed a wrinkled line as her lids lifted heavily. “It’s nighttime?”

“Shh, you’re dreaming,” he said, but it wasn’t enough to but her back to sleep. She shifted, sitting up and looked around the room. Her head hung heavy, rolling forward before it snapped back up. “You’ve got a bit of a fever.”

“It’s my latest attempt at killing you,” she muttered. Her hands pressed against her eyes, holding tightly.

“Bathroom?”

“Yes, please.”

He hauled her up, arm around her waist as they walked toward the bathroom. She stumbled into the doorway, heading straight to the toilet, before glaring at him through the dark. “Go do something useful.”

“Is that anyway to speak to the world’s stro—”

“So, help me god, Satoru—” He left before she could finish her threat, laughing as he heard something crash in the bathroom and then her hushed cursing. Stripping the bed sheets, he changed them and then head to the kitchen to grab some water and aspirin. He balanced two water bottles and the medicine in one hand, grabbing a box of fresh macarons in the other.

When he arrived, Y/N was out of her old clothes, wearing one of his old shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms he vaguely remembered her wearing in high school.

“Can you kill me?” she asked staring at him from the corner of her eye. He tossed her medicine, cackling loudly when it hit her cheek and handed her the water bottle. She drank eagerly, as if it would set out the fire running through her veins. As she slowed, she noticed the box of macarons and shot him a glare. He held one up, asking silently if she wanted one.

Speaking around the food in his mouth, he said, “I’m convinced you’re cursed—not like an actual one, but like some sort of past-life bad luck.”

“I must have killed the emperor to end up with you,” she muttered, pulling the covers over her head. He laughed, leaning against the headboard to watch as she fell right back to sleep. It wasn’t often that Y/N needed something from him. It was what drew him to her in the first place, that fierce independence that often them left them at odds with one another when they did need to work together, but years had tempered their understanding to the point where they could work around one another without ever crossing hairs.

But the soft quiet moments when she did need him, he was there without any words passing between each other. His hand brushed against the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair if only to feel how it brushed against his skin, soft and hers.

A/N: Any grammar mistakes are cause I’m also working and English is like my third language, don't judge me