#I WANT THEM TO BE ZERO INCHES APART

[pendwelling]

The Empire's clingiest Holy Knights 🥹

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, references to nonconsensual situations (very brief, nothing graphic, and not Az)

a/n: Hope this clears some stuff up ;) More to come and especially more Az to come. Thank you forever for reading and sharing your thoughts! This is getting me through the semester <3

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 6 ♡

Series Masterlist

~~

Azriel walked you to your room. 

He knew exactly where to go, which corners to turn and which to pass, which was very convenient as you still found yourself struggling with the task. The House of Wind, as everyone so lovingly called it, was practically a maze for someone with no memory of its twists and turns. But Azriel had absolutely no trouble getting you to your room. 

Once you got to your room, however, he appeared to have many troubles. 

“You can come in,” you prompted, looking over your shoulder to find the shadowsinger with his shoes at the threshold. “I promise I just cleaned it. Or, at least I’m pretty sure I cleaned it. It’s hard to know where to put things when I only just started…” 

Your voice trailed off. Upon further inspection of the man standing just outside your door, you found that he didn’t simply look hesitant to enter. He had his hands pressed to the doorframe, his head slightly leaned into the room, and his eyes were slowly trailing along your belongings. The expression on his face read as forlorn, but his body read as tense. 

He had been here before, obviously. Of course this would be hard for him. You probably had everything in the wrong place and he had just told you about the difficult time he was having—how close the two of you had been before you lost everything. 

“Um,” you began, pressing your lips together tightly when his gaze flickered to you. “Maybe you could… or would you mind maybe telling me where my bags are? If you know. Mor gave me a surface-level tour, but she didn’t seem to know everything.” 

Azriel looked down to the ground beneath your feet. He blinked back up to meet your eyes. “Of course,” he replied, with so much practiced restraint in his tone you weren’t sure how he gritted out the words. 

When he stepped in the room, it felt as if something shifted. He walked between tables and furniture and he fit like a puzzle, his wings never brushing anything, his eyes never casting down to analyze his body in the space. He looked like he belonged—he looked like he completed the space. 

Something finally felt right. 

Nothing felt right… but this did. 

Azriel pushed open the closet doors, rifling through a cabinet you had only glanced at before. After a few silent moments, he walked out with bags in hand. His shadows hadn’t followed him. They drifted towards the bed instead, burrowing into the blankets and pillows until the plush surface became dark. 

Azriel zeroed in on them as he placed the bags by your feet, staring off at his shadows as you brought your attention back to him. This close, you were able to catch his scent—the cedar and night-kissed air you’d recognized many times in recent days. But it had been so faint before, like he had been gone for weeks and the scent still lingered, or he had been in the room but only for a brief time. Nothing like now, with his chest only inches from your face. 

“They seem to like my bed,” you laughed, just a small, breathy sound. An attempt to diffuse some of the untouched tension in the room. 

The side of Azriel’s mouth curled up. You watched it rise, silently relishing in the heat of his body as it radiated into the space between you. “I can see that.” 

He wasn’t a man of very many words—that’s something Mor had thankfully shared with you—but you wanted to fight against that. You wanted to hear the soft, low rumble of his voice. You wanted his laugh to spark in the air, to feel his words against your skin as you had just a few moments earlier. Azriel told you he didn’t hate you, that he was close to you, and suddenly the space between you felt impossible. 

You just wanted to hear his voice. 

“Have I changed things much?” you asked, heart thudding when he brought his gaze down to you. “I don’t know how much time you used to spend in here… or currently spend in here, I suppose—it’s only been a few days—but I’ve moved a few things. If you could tell.” 

Azriel took in a long breath. “Actually, you—” he shook his head with an expression you could only decipher as baffled “—you put everything back. Cassian and Feyre, they moved a few things around when you were being brought home. Things that might have… well, we just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.” 

Overwhelmed. 

“We should have known that was a ridiculous idea. You’re too brilliant, even without the context.” 

Warmth flooded you; one compliment from Azriel and it was as if nothing mattered. You didn’t need your memories, you only needed this.

Azriel’s cheeks colored as if he felt the rush of emotions himself, his eyes bright. 

No, that wasn’t right—you needed your memories. You needed to remember each and every time he had looked like this. 

“Probably didn’t help that there were a bunch of empty spaces everywhere. If you leave nails on the wall it becomes quite obvious that something belongs there,” you quipped, a small smirk playing at your features. 

Azriel laughed. Not a full laugh, but one that you had no idea you were missing before. “I will be sure to pass on the message.” 

“Good. Cassian has many messages coming from me, it seems. Conflicting ones as well.” 

“Right, of course. I will convey to him that you missed his presence earlier, but also that he is awful at hiding things from an amnesiac.” 

“Perfect, thank you, Azriel.” 

He gazed upon you, eyes flickering to every corner of your face. 

They rested on your lips and then your eyes, trailing up until his hand followed to move the strand of hair that had wisped across your forehead. He brushed it away with delicate fingers, not a touch of hesitancy in them. Like it was natural for him, normal. 

And maybe it was. 

“I don’t know what to pack,” you whispered, trying to keep some of the lightness in the room. “Can you help? I haven’t a clue where most of my things are and you appear to be much more knowledgeable.” 

Azriel drew his hand back, his eyes closing for a few long moments. 

You wished you could delve into his mind the way Rhysand could—that you could understand some of the pain written in the tight clench of his eyelids. 

“Of course I’ll help you.” 

It began with him gathering things from the connected washroom. He entered the tiled room and opened drawers without fault or mistake, collecting perfumes you had been gravitating towards and zipping up products you hadn’t even found yet. He packed your brushes and jewelry as if he’d done this all before, as if your request for help wasn’t really a request, but an expectation. 

“Have we traveled together before?” you found yourself asking as you followed behind the shadowsinger, a bag hanging from his arm. 

Azriel smiled, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “A few times.” 

You were very close friends, then. 

Azriel led you back to the closet where he pulled a few articles of clothing from the hangers, holding each out for you to approve before he neatly folded them. You denied nothing, rather surprised by his taste and sense for whatever the weather was like in Day. 

He moved further into the closet, half of which was sparsely filled. Maybe you filtered out your clothes with the seasons. 

Or maybe something was missing. 

Azriel paused.

You watched his scarred fingers brush over the purple dress you had worn on the first day you spoke to him after waking up. He rubbed the material against the pad of his thumb once, and then twice, before closing the closet doors and taking an abrupt step back. You stepped with him. 

The shadowsinger said nothing.

“All done?” you asked. “Anything else I would need at Day?” 

His shoulders rose and fell. Some of his shadows returned to make revolutions around his body.

“Azriel?” 

“I—I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

The shadowsinger stalked over to the bed, went to sit, but then seemed to think against it and began pacing instead. You tucked your fingers into your palm as you watched him, trying to hide the discomfort you felt as his clear unease. 

Had you done something wrong? 

Maybe you were being too familiar. This friendship between you was new and comfortable and exciting, but that was for you. 

For Azriel, there was a gap, an immense amount of pain and missing connection. 

He didn’t hate you, and that was… wonderful news, but this was also uncharted territory. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his help—shouldn’t have invited him in. 

“Azriel, I—” 

“I need to explain this to you,” Azriel began, running a hand through disheveled locks. “I need you to understand why this is so hard. I don’t want you to assume this is your fault or that this is anything other than what it is.”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up to see your confirmation. 

Azriel sighed and his wings flared slightly, returning back to his body in a quivering motion. 

“I am terrified, y/n.” 

This time, Azriel did look up to catch your gaze. 

“I am terrified because this has happened before. It’s like I’m reliving it. Like you’re reliving it but you just don’t remember.” 

Your fists unfurled as your brows met a point. “No one’s told me—“ 

“I know,” he breathed out, defeat the most prominent emotion on his beautiful face. “Last time this happened, the more we told you about the past—about certain aspects of your life—the more it hurt you, y/n. You’d… you’d scream until your lungs gave out every time we tried to share something new. It was like that for weeks.” 

The Illyrian forfeited his internal battle with the bed, dropping down into a seat on the foot of it. Unsure of your place within your own room, you simply followed him, standing in front of his bent knees, eyes prompting him to continue. 

He watched you as you moved. 

“Has anyone told you what you do for this court? Your job?” 

You shook your head. 

Azriel continued. “You work as an emissary between courts and continents, but that’s more of a cover—a more comprehensible title for those outside of our circle. It’s hard to explain, but that power Rhys mentioned? It’s—it’s as if you have this intuition. For everything. You look at things, at people, and you just… know them. You look past lies and you pick up on things that are seemingly impossible to catch.” 

Your head shook as Azriel fumbled over each of his words, confusion swirling in your gut. “That doesn't make any sense. Mor said that Rhys found me working at some boatyard by the Sidra. She said I used to help build vessels—there’s no way I have a power like that.” 

“You do,” Azriel affirmed. “Rhys only went to find you because he heard of a girl building boats from memory. You took one look at him and knew what he wanted. Rhys said he barely had to offer you the job.” 

It was a struggle not to grind your teeth together in frustration. 

You used to know everything. 

And now you knew nothing. 

Your head began to hurt, or maybe you were just noticing that it had never stopped hurting.

“You said—” you started, tone heavy with vexation. Your eyes couldn’t find a solid place to land “—you said this has happened before. What does that have to do with these powers?” 

Sensing the rise in your mood, Azriel seemed to even his own out. A balance between the two of you. You became agitated, he became calm. But you could tell he was struggling.

“Around 270 years ago, after you’d been working for the court for a few decades, Rhys sent you to Day. It was routine. You were going to gather information for a High Lord’s summit meant to take place there, but really, Rhys wanted you to scope out the area. To get insight on any plans, any secret dealings. You were meant to be gone for a few days at the most.” 

Azriel’s fists clenched atop his knees. His face remained impassive.

“You were gone for six months. Gone. No one could reach you, Helion had assumed you went home already. It was right after you and I… became friends, so I was worried for you. More than the others, but no one was without worry. We found you eventually, but you—”

Something choked. Azriel choked. His head hung down and you replayed the last few of his words in your mind—the way they tightened and then tapered off. 

This was too much. 

Conveying comfort in the only way you knew how—in the way this family tended to love—you stepped between Azriel’s legs and brought a hand to his cheek, raising his face until his glassy eyes came into view. 

“You don’t have to talk about this,” you whispered. “If it’s too hard, we can stop.” 

Azriel’s jaw quivered. His next words seemed to tumble from his mouth without warning. 

“Fuck, I miss you.” 

It was simple instinct that led to your reply. “I’m right here.” 

Something stirred within you, tugging lightly. Your heart, you deduced, beating so fast it was playing tricks on you. The shadowsinger in your hands twisted slightly, just barely so that the corner of his mouth touched your palm. Your heart tugged again.

“You didn’t remember anything, like now,” Azriel revealed, speaking just as you were about to pull away. You stopped yourself, feeling as if your touch was an encouragement to speak. “It was worse though, you were in so much pain. Any time you tried to remember anything, or even just tried to learn, it was like you were being pierced through the skull. You—you screamed so much.

“But it didn’t take us very long to figure it out. My spies in Day found the culprit and it was easy to capture him. He was weak. Strong powers, but weak in every other sense of the word. It was another Daemati—like Rhys. He became infatuated with you during your time in Day. He knocked you out, found a way to use your powers against you, to make them hurt.” 

Azriel shuddered. His mouth got closer to your hand like he was leaning into it. 

“It took a few weeks to get him to fix it. But those months, y/n—the time you were gone. You don’t remember them. I can only imagine what you went through. And when we brought you home you hurt so badly. So that's why… why us going back there is hard. Because this is all so similar and if it’s happening again I can’t…” 

“Azriel,” you softly called, sure that this was the most amount of speaking the shadowsinger had done in a while. Sure that he needed a break. A respite. “It’s not the same, is it? You know that. My head hurts, but not like that. I don’t struggle to be reminded of the past. I learn new things. There is no evil villain waiting to take me away.” 

“Y/n—” 

“It’s not the same. I might not have access to these all-encompassing powers you speak of, but I can tell you that much. I’m sorry for what you went through before—that you had to watch a member of your family go through that then and then now… but it’s different. It’s different and I’ll be okay.” 

His pond water eyes stared back at you as you attempted a reassuring smile. You felt his knees press against your thighs where you stood between them, and the pressure spurred you on. You ran your thumb along the high point of his cheek, relishing in the flutter of his lashes, gravitating towards him to relish in that closeness as well. This moment felt like yours, and something was telling you it was yours. That no one else could have this with him. 

But you didn’t have your powers, your fae abilities, so maybe that feeling was nothing but hope.

Your thudding heart lulled you into a long breath. 

“Maybe, if it would put you at ease, you could stay with me while we’re in Day? At my side, I mean. You could whisper everyone’s names into my ear so I don’t look like a fool and make sure I don’t get lost—” 

“Yes,” Azriel replied, sure and resolute with no traces of the impending tears that had made his hazel eyes a pretty pool just moments before. “I won’t leave your side once. I promise.” 

His devotion made you pause, surprise evident in the rapid blinking of your eyes. You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to promise something so taxing, but determination had set in his brow, and Azriel—your friend—wanted this. Needed this. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, Azriel. For telling me all of this even though it was hard. For being here for me even though I know that’s hard, too. You’re a wonderful friend. I can’t wait to continue to find that out. I promise to be just as wonderful.” 

“You are already the most wonderful thing in my life.” 

Part 6 ♡

[tawfu]

photograph

cw: dom reader, sub childe, masturbation, face slapping, nipple play, degradation, masochism, dacryphilia, coming in pants, coming untouched, gn reader, childe is a pervert

wc: 1.2k

Summary: Your virgin, touch starved comrade finally gets some action.

The rivalry between you and Childe has somewhat turned into companionship. Everywhere you go, you’ll find him lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to cause a little trouble.

It’s not like you mind. In fact, it brings a tinge of thrill to your travels. You always end up sparring, pushing each other to the limit as you explore Childe’s tactics and weak spots. Once in a while, you like to explore one another’s weak spots a bit further.

At first, Childe thought you hated him. It didn’t do much to hinder his advances, because your passion for fighting was delightful. Holding back was never an option for you, and he loved it… A lot.

Enough to find himself in front of the mirror after every fight of yours, admiring the cuts and bruises formed by your hands. That was more than enough for him to fall to his knees, pressing on those spots and hissing in pain, thinking about the way you looked when you placed them on him until small beads of precum would make their appearance on his underwear.

He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s found himself in front of his laptop, biting his shirt and drooling on it while fisting his aching cock to whatever porn video he could find where the actor’s looks resembled yours even slightly.

Sometimes, he’d fall into a rabbit hole of S&M videos, unable to stop touching himself until he was hyperventilating from overstimulation, his whole room reeking of his smell, body covered in sticky cum and sweat. He wanted you to use him so badly.

Childe would become increasingly more obvious with his attraction towards you, towards your strength and the pain you inflicted on him. Grunts became louder, his legs would become shaky, and he’d even slip in quiet whimpers when you taunted him. 

His swings would become clumsy for only a moment while his eyes zeroed in on your body, cheeks ruddy as he observed the way your muscles flexed and the teasing look in your eye, so determined to take him down. Fuck, when will you just force him to his knees and have your way with him?!

That instant of gawking was more than enough for you to trip him to the ground, the feeling of your sharp blade pricking the underside of his jaw just enough to draw a drop of blood, snapping him out of his trance.

“You’re pretty sloppy today, Childe. I’m disappointed.”

“You can’t expect me to always be in top condition. I have yet to recover from how rough you went on me last time,” he chuckled, chest heaving as he panted loudly.

“Right. I’ll believe that when you start wearing a pair of pants that’ll actually cover your erection.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s not because of you.”

You inched closer, before stomping on his wrist with your foot, and Childe cried out at the sheer force of it.

“Don’t lie. The last thing a masochistic slut like you should pretend to have is pride,” you scoffed.

Oh, he knows. He just wants to savor the sight of you, looking down at him from above like this and mocking him.

“H-help me then. Hurt me, please–” Childe replied shakily in an attempt to entice you.

You’d be lying if you said that taking the chance to play with your sparring buddy like this was something you hadn’t imagined before.

That sitting on his stomach, ripping his shirt apart and toying with his body wasn’t in your list of fantasies. He was already arching up into you, trying to feel more of your weight on top of him.

Your hands cupped his cheek, almost surprising him with your gentle touch, before it left him abruptly, returning as a harsh smack to his face. A grin formed on your face, and you didn’t stop, alternating between his cheeks until they turned red, marked with your handprints. 

He could probably escape if he tried, but why would he? You were touching him, and after all the nights he spent thinking about you, desperate to feel you in any sort of way, what you do to him doesn’t matter.

The only sounds Childe was able to let out were wails of pleasure, as his body squirmed and arched further into you. He finally spoke after you slowed down, allowing him to catch his breath. His eyes were teary, looking up into your own with nothing but lust.

“S-shit! That’s so good!”

You smiled mischievously, letting your fingertips dance across his neck and grazing it with your nails. That gentle touch of yours, paired with the stinging on his face, was like heaven to Childe. His cock was already throbbing within its confines, just as needy as him… just as pathetic as him.

“I can feel you poking me from behind. I hope you don’t think I’d ever touch that disgusting thing.”

A retort was sitting right at the tip of his tongue, trying so hard to save a fragment of his dignity, but there was no way he could oppose you. Especially not when he felt his tip drool because of those very insults.

Naturally, your next stop would be his chest, cupping and fondling it the way one would a woman. He could’ve sworn that you had at some point even teased him about it, referring to them as tits. Or maybe he had just imagined it when he was–

“Fuck! Why!” he yelped, yet his hips betrayed his words, bucking into thin air at the feeling of your fingers pinching his nipples, before gently circling his areolas.

You ignored him, continuing your attacks on his chest by flicking and pulling on each nipple while your other hand moved to his neck, ripping a shaky sigh out of Childe as you squeezed it.

“What’s the point of all our training, if you’re gonna turn into a drooling, good for nothing mess the moment someone touches you like this? What if a group of samurai attacked you? Would you squirm like a little girl and let them use you too?”

Your ridiculing wouldn’t cease, but Childe could only moan in bliss, the image you inserted into his head making his eyes roll back. The grip around his neck was tight enough to leave bruises, and he was sweating profusely, hands trying, albeit in vain, to claw themselves into the floor for any sort of support.

“M-more! Please, it’s too much!”

He couldn’t think anymore. There was no point. His cheeks were already stained with tears, his hips jumping uncontrollably as he cried out in pleasure, ropey streaks of cum spilling into his pants.

Even after you let go of him, his body wouldn’t stop twitching. He was in a haze, only snapping out of it when he felt your nails digging into his cheeks as you grabbed his jaw forcefully.

“We didn’t agree on letting you cum, did we? Yet you came in your pants like a teenage boy,” you spat.

“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

“Looks like you’ll have to make it up to me, then.”

…

Why was this motherfucker grinning?!

[goodlucktai]

What if I said 10 & 20 as portal duo thanks so much

dialogue prompts

10. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”

+ 20. “Get away! You’re hurting them!”

for my beloved meeks

x

They weren’t supposed to be here. It’s stupid, but it’s the first thing that springs to Mikey’s mind. 

Leo had only recently graduated with honors from those initial grueling physical therapy sessions that usually ended in tears (not always Leo’s) to daily exercises that got easier and easier until he was breezing through them the way he used to breeze through everything. 

If he went farther than two steps away from his arm crutches Donnie appeared out of thin air looking ready to breathe fire at him, and Raph was in the habit now of holding Leo out at arm’s length immediately after every hug in the manner of scruffing an unruly kitten to double-check he was wearing his leg brace and compression sleeve, and Mikey had learned the hard way what everyone meant when they said medics make the absolute worst patients. 

But for the most part Leo was doing really good! He was hitting all his marks and only driving everyone a tiny bit insane—well within the allotted Leo amount! 

So when he had smiled that crooked, conspiring smile at Mikey the minute the coast was clear and said, “There’s no better strengthening exercise then sneaking out with my favorite little brother for a past-due victory smoothie,” what was Mikey supposed to tell him? No??

It did occur to him, a tiny little guilty whisper. Leo was healing. He’d been so badly hurt. Even Splinter, who spoiled Leonardo rotten, hadn’t given into the slider’s constant pleas to rush the recovery process along. They were going by the book. Literally, since Donatello had stepped up as team medic in the interim. Don and Raph and April and even Casey were all very good at not bending an inch no matter how many tragic looks got sent their way. Mikey wasn’t very good at that at all. 

And anyway, joy had drowned out that whisper with a shout. He lit up with it, that newly-discovered supernova inside him curling up like a happy cat in a patch of sunshine. There’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how old he gets, or how powerful his mystic arts become—he’ll always be Michelangelo, and Michelangelo will follow Leonardo absolutely anywhere. 

So he said, “I’ll get my hoodie!” and darted out the door with zero ninja stealth, clipping his shoulder on the frame and almost crashing into the table in the hall. Leo laughed behind him, and the unrestrained sound made Mikey feel like he could float. Maybe he actually did for a second or two. 

He’ll never forget those horrible minutes after the portal closed, after Leo’s comms went dead, when he had wondered if he would ever hear his brother’s voice again. When he wondered what, exactly, his last words to Leo had been—they almost certainly weren’t I love you or please don’t leave so they didn’t count. 

To make up for it, he wanted to tell Leo everything every chance he got. He wanted to make him laugh all the time. He wanted to crowd into the little twin-size infirmary bed to watch movies or do art projects that got glitter everywhere. He wanted to sneak out for smoothies even though it would get them in big trouble, because that was literally why he helped save the world in the first place. 

And now he’s standing in a dim sidestreet, an orange streetlight buzzing dully above him, two smoothies melting in his hands. It’s their usual shortcut home, through a bunch of foreclosed apartment buildings and a dead end road. Leonardo is in front of him, shoulders stiff, ninpo humming weakly beneath his skin like a tired little beetle that shouldn’t be up from hibernation just yet. 

Across the road are half a dozen humans in what looks like riot gear labeled TCRI and a man in a black suit. The man somehow looks more dangerous than the people in police armor. 

“Leo,” Mikey says in a small voice. His brother doesn’t answer, but he does shift his weight to put Mikey more firmly behind him, which is answer enough. 

And Mikey thinks, We weren’t supposed to be here. No one knows where we are. 

The man in the suit starts talking into the bulky earpiece he’s wearing, but Mikey can’t make out what he’s saying over the buzzing of the streetlamp and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. All he hears is Leonardo murmur, “Mikey, go.”

“No,” Mikey’s mouth says automatically. It doesn’t even need any input from his brain to say it. Because no. 

“Mike,” Leo says, in his best leader voice. But his tone is urgent in a way that borders on being scared so closely it must mean he’s actually terrified, or he would never have let Mikey hear even a hint of it. “I’d go with you if I could. I’m sorry I can’t.” 

His hands tighten on his crutches. He can’t run. He’s still healing. He should be at home, doing his exercises with those little pink dumbbells in the warmth and safety of the lair, complaining the whole time in between tossing out ideas for dinner. 

Mikey should have said no to sneaking out the way Donnie and Raphie would have instantly said no. He should be better at taking care of Leo the way he needs to be taken care of, the way everyone else does so easily. 

The armored people start to shift to the side, moving around Mikey and Leo in a wide formation, hands on the guns holstered at their waists. Containing them. The man in the suit is still talking, face inscrutable behind the tinted glasses he’s wearing, but his face hasn’t twitched away from their direction even once. 

“Hey,” Leo says, bringing Mikey’s attention back. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

He’s smiling over his shoulder like it’s any other back-alley brawl with the mutant of the week or a handful of those Foot soldiers who never know when to quit, and not a horrible high-stakes situation in which Mikey stands to lose one of the most important things in the entire world if he makes the wrong move. 

“Just get home and get the guys, okay? Then come right back for me. You can outrun these goons without breaking a sweat. You can do anything.”

Mikey drops the smoothies and the cold wet soaks through one of his sneakers instantly but he needs his hands free so he can clutch the back of Leo’s stupid hoodie. He needs to hold on tight and make sure whoever tries to take his brother away knows exactly what kind of knock-down drag-out fight they’re in for. 

“I don’t care,” Mikey says, too loud in the stillness. “I’m not leaving you.”

He wishes he were a snapper like Raphie. If he was big and strong and had a shell that was as good as bulletproof armor, he’d scoop Leonardo up and shield him from the guns and run them both away. 

If he was a genius like Donnie, he’d have one or a dozen gadgets on his person that would have saved them. 

But he’s just Mikey, who isn’t big and strong, who isn’t a genius, who isn’t one of the people Leonardo is willing to step down and be weak in front of and depend on. Just Mikey, who Leo saved all his best jokes for during painful rehab, like it mattered to him that Mikey didn’t see him struggle. Just Mikey, who Leo always lifts both arms for the second he sees him coming and squishes into the world’s best hug, even if he’s pissed off at everybody else. Just Mikey, who Leo wants to get better for, be the best for, be one of the constant things on this planet Mikey never needs to doubt, like gravity and sunrise and overpriced street food. 

Because there’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how mature he gets, or how accomplished a ninja master he becomes—he’ll always be Leonardo, and Leonardo would do anything to make sure Michelangelo keeps smiling. 

Leo is also very stupid, because he doesn’t seem to understand that Mikey will never smile again if his big brother goes away. 

When the TCRI agents explode forward at some signal Mikey missed, and grab the brothers and drag them apart, Leo stumbles and falls when his crutches are wrenched away. He’d probably be making a smart-ass comment if his jaw wasn’t clenched, the sudden fall probably radiating pain all the way up his spine, distress making his gold eyes burn neon yellow. 

Like a flip was switched, all the panic inside of Mikey evaporates into a red-tinged mist. 

The supernova inside him sleeps most of the time, because he’s not big enough to contain its multitudes yet, and it doesn’t want to cause pain. It only wants to shine light in dark places, it only wants to help. But it wakes up with a fury and fills every inch of him to the brim and the overflow spills right out of him, lifts him right off the ground, makes his voice a resounding thunderclap when he yells, “GET AWAY! You’re hurting him!” 

Staggering back and shouting in alarm, the agents begin firing, because humans in a panic are trigger-happy creatures, even well-trained ones like these guys must be. Every round fired disintegrates the second it meets the glow pouring out of Mikey, disappearing before it can do harm. 

“Holy shit,” Leo says, eyes wide. It’s the way Mikey imagines he probably looked at Leo, when everyone else feared Raphael was a lost cause but Leo put his hand on Mikey’s shoulder and told him, I’m not giving up on him. I’m not leaving him behind. A sailor lost in a storm and their first glimpse of the lighthouse in the dark, close enough to save them.

“Hold your fire!” the man in the black suit barks suddenly, his voice viciously angry. “I did not clear any of you to fire!” 

Mikey doesn’t care who the scary Men In Black guy is, or what reason he has for tracking Mikey and his brother down, or why he’s calling the dogs off now. He cares about helping Leo get back on his feet, scooping the crutches up off the ground and getting Leo’s arms in them, and staring right into Agent Sunglasses’s stupid face while the supernova burns and burns and burns inside him. 

Try it, he doesn’t say. Just try it. If the Krang couldn’t take my brother from me, what hope do you think you have?

He feels Leo’s arm slip around his, locking them together at the elbow. Leo’s ninpo, a soft breeze instead of the playful gale it’s supposed to be, weaves through Mikey’s own to lead it. 

‘Like this,’ the wind tells the sunburst, guiding it through the process it wants it to take the same way bigger hands used to guide a smaller Mikey through katas, readjusting his arms and poking him playfully on the beak when he scrunched it in frustration. The golden portal that opens beneath their feet costs him nothing, appearing as effortlessly as Leo’s spinning blue ones always do. 

The agent’s face goes slack with shock the second before the turtles disappear. 

They land on the sofa with enough force that it almost collapses, and Leo makes a pained noise, hands pressed to his plastron like he’s trying to contain a full-body ache with sheer willpower. Mikey scrambles off of him and falls off the sofa for his trouble. His clothes are prickly, like he’s covered in static electricity. A magazine left on the coffee table begins to move, pages flipping as if in a breeze. One of the beanbag chairs lifts up slightly, like gravity has gotten lighter in that specific spot. 

He feels too big for himself. There are multitudes inside him, a million different things that are all true at the same time. He’s still so angry, and he’s still so afraid, and he’s still just Mikey, who couldn’t be what Leo needed him to be until the last possible second. 

Just Mikey, who Leo saves his best smile for. Just Mikey, who Leo hugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bring another person that close and trust them right next to his heart. 

“You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Leo says, like it’s another truth Mikey can keep for as long as he wants. Forever, even.

There will be hell to pay when their brothers get home. There’s a brand-new danger their family needs to be made aware of. Leo tried to leave him behind again and it reopened a wound that was still raw and healing.

But for now that wild star in his heart doesn’t need to burn so bright. It can put all the furniture that began to float back down and go back to sleep. And Mikey can press his face into the cracked print of Leo’s favorite Chappell Roan hoodie and say, “Hope you enjoyed your last taste of freedom for the next hundred years.”

Leo laughs, but doesn’t let go of Mikey right away. He clings extra hard for an extra long minute.

He would have left, Mikey realizes, but he didn’t want to go. When he was alone on the Technodrome, staring down a monster and a portal and the truth of how to save everyone, he didn’t want to go. If there was any other choice, he would have taken it. He would have come home. 

Mikey isn’t Leo, who will do what he has to do no matter what it costs himself. Mikey isn't Raph or Donnie. Mikey is and always has been the spoiled baby of the family, who will do exactly what he wants to do and damn the consequences. He’ll tear a thousand holes open in the universe if that’s what it takes to keep his family together, and if the Hamato ancestors don’t like it then they can come and take their ninpo back. 

They can try, anyway. 

[fiveht]

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?" 

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

[highvern]

Secret Games

Pairing: Chwe Vernon x f!reader

Genre: angst, smut, 18+

Warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, penetrative sex, toxic relationship

Length: 1.7k

Note: i cried writing this. the most toxic piece ive ever written but sometimes fic is the best place to work out issues lmao. originally inspired by girlfriend - avril lavigne but i took it and made it a lot worse. thank you @gyuswhore for being the best beta in the world

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Vernon is convinced the entire universe is playing a practical joke on him. It has to be. Vernon would never cheat on his girlfriend, wouldn’t even entertain the idea, and if someone told him a month ago he’d be where he is now, he’d take them to the hospital for a CT scan. 

But a month ago he hadn’t met you, and now Vernon feels like the biggest asshole on the face of the earth.

He loves Olivia. She’s his soulmate, his favorite person, the girl he told his mom was the one since they started dating when he was a junior in college. Four years together and never once did he question if she was the person he wanted to be with.

Until you.

The only person to blame was himself. Getting caught up in the attention of the newest addition to the friend group, failing to ignore longing looks or sideways glances, reacting to your not so subtle touches. It didn’t matter if his girlfriend was sitting in his lap or she was nowhere to be seen, you seemed to zero in on him the moment you entered the room.

From the first night in the smoky club, you had him in the palm of your hand. Dancing on another man while your eyes never left his. Watching him over the mystery man's shoulder, while Olivia pressed her front to his. Pretended the body under his palms belonged to you, the lips pressed to his neck were yours. 

Something passed between you two that night and since then every waking moment of Vernon’s existence revolved around how shitty of a boyfriend he became when put to the test.

But he’d been better lately. Avoiding nights out where you might be lurking, urging his girlfriend to have as many girls’ nights as she wants, hoping she might be slipping the same way he was. But Olivia didn’t look at anyone the way she looked at him. She’d never betray him, never think twice about another man even when they flirt with her out in the open like her boyfriend isn’t sitting right next to her. 

That knowledge only makes the truth harder to swallow. 

The beginning of the end starts in a small hall closet at Soonyoung’s apartment. Everyone came over to celebrate his recent promotion. Several rounds of drinks later, the subject of celebration insisted in a game of hide and seek. There weren't many options to hide almost twenty bodies but alcohol has a way of soothing practical concerns.

Mingyu’s voice boomed through the apartment, jumping into action immediately and sending bodies scurrying for cover. 

Vernon pulled the closet door tight, praying Jun’s attempt to hide behind a lamp and Jeonghan half sticking out from under the couch would buy him enough time to avoid capture.

He could still hear the older man counting when the door opened. A sliver of light cuts across his eyes, casting the body pressing into the space in shadow. For a split second he thinks its his girlfriend, already laughing with childish glee at being so close.

But then Vernon realizes the person pushing in is you.

“Ready or not!”

Vernon tries to move back as far as he can into the wall but the bite of the shelves into his spine prevent more than a few inches of space between you. The door barely manages to click shut in time for footsteps to trample by, Mingyu’s laughter bleeding through the wood. 

In the darkness, Vernon finds a sudden awareness of your body. The roar of blood in his ears does little to drown out the sound of your breathing. Painfully measured breaths that stop every time someone shuffles by on the other side of the door. The heat radiating off your back across the inch of space between your bodies, a ghost of the real thing.

A loud bang makes you both jump, and with the limited space you end up in flat against Vernon’s chest, his arms around your waist to steady you. He knows you can feel his heart pounding. Not from being caught in such a silly game but from the proximity of your ass to his crotch; bodies firmly suctioned against one another. 

He tries not to react when you wiggle against him in an attempt to create more space. Vernon is desperate for you to ignore the hard curve of his pants, rising with each movement, each inhale of your perfume. 

“Vernon?” you call. “I said you're stepping on my foot.”

“Shit, sorry.” 

“Wait, let me just,” you whisper back.

At that moment, all of his defenses crumble. Chest to chest, your breath brushing against his ear, Vernon knows it’s futile to fight what he’s feeling. Your hands skating down his chest confirm it, rocketing his heart into a tailspin. 

He wants you.

And the way you look up at him, with lazy blinks and a drunk smile, tells Vernon you want him too.

A flush makes its way up his neck and he’s thankful for the darkness you're both absorbed in. The thought of all the others beyond the space you two occupy isn’t a blip in his mind. Vernon doesn’t want you to see what an obvious effect you have on him; even if the evidence is digging into the softness of your stomach.

A pass of your lips against his jaw scorches the flesh. Barely a second of contact; simple, chaste. But the imprint will stain his consciousness forever. Each lave of your tongue against the column of his throat forces him deeper into the pits of hell.

The sting of our teeth precedes an airy whine, “Vernon.”

His head drops back at the sound of his name on your tongue again. He wants to taste, to suck the words out of your mouth while his hands force it from your lips over and over again. 

Just as he’s about to, the door knob jiggles.

“Y/N, Vernon! We know you’re in there! We caught everyone else.”

Splitting apart, the warm light from the hall floods the tight space. Stumbling out, Vernon shoulders past you, past his friends, to where Olivia is waiting with a knowing gaze. He can’t look at her. Can’t look at his friends all laughing drunkenly, declaring you the winner 

Despite the look of absolute disappointment Olivia appraises him with, she doesn’t object when his hand circles her wrist and Vernon tugs her through the front door.

—

Vernon tries to bury what he felt in that closet in his girlfriend’s body. Tries to remember how much he loves her, wants to be with her.

Neither of them seem to be fully present. He can feel it in her body, the way she stiffens under his hands like they freeze her muscles solid. The rasps of Olivia’s half hearted moans churn his stomach, tying knots over and over again until he thinks he might be sick. 

They’ve been knocked off their axis by something, someone. The practiced ease of their bodies is nowhere to be found. She’s a step ahead and he’s a step behind but rather than stop and talk about it like they usually do, they both press forward as if it’s normal.

Who they’re pretending for, Vernon has no idea. Each other? Themselves? All the people who’ve watched their relationship bloom over the years? It doesn’t matter. He can feel years of love turning to dust and he can’t bare to watch.

Thoughts of you break the dam in his mind. How you felt under his hands, your lips against his skin, how you’d taste on his tongue. What sounds you’d make if no one interrupted what was just over the edge in the closet. 

The mirage of you, head thrown back in bliss as you take his cock rockets him to the end. Eyes cinched shut, imagination running rampant. It’s you underneath him, skin sticking to his, nails raking down his spine. It’s the smell of your shampoo still lingering in his nose as he buries his face in Olivia’s neck and loses himself in the motions. 

Vernon doesn’t realize he cums with your name on his lips until Olivia’s sobs reach his ears.

–

You shudder against the freezing wind, puffs of smoke washing away as soon as they exit your nostrils. A bile of shame and regret burns the back of your throat; something not even the sting of liquor is able to drive away. But that won’t stop you from drinking straight from the bottle you nabbed from Mingyu’s hand before running outside.

Maybe it's the weed or the booze but you’ve never felt so empty. A bitter hollowness, rotting you to the core. Tear tracks stain your cheeks, prickling in the frigid winter air. The cacophony of street noise falls on deaf ears as you replay the events filling you with misery.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Flirting with Vernon had been Olivia’s idea. A friend helping a friend. She wanted to test his loyalty. Begged you to help her assuage her doubts about their relationship. Vernon’s lack of reassurance, her belief that he’d leave her for someone else. All you were supposed to do was smile and make bedroom eyes and see if he’d cave. When that didn’t work, she told you to step it up; looks turned into touches, and flirty comments turned into late night texts where she told you exactly what to say to have him wrapped around his finger. 

And when that didn’t work, she shoved you into the closet with her boyfriend to see what’d take place in the dark, away from prying eyes.

Olivia got what she thought she wanted in the end. A nod from you was all the confirmation she needed as her boyfriend whisked her out the door. 

No one else seemed to pick up the tension trickling out of the closet. They were all so eager to believe that Vernon and Olivia were in love; the type of couple who you aspire to be like, so wrapped up in one another that the thought of them separated made no logical sense. Why would Vernon even consider someone else? The thought he’d do anything to jeopardize such a clandestine pairing wasn’t even a thought in the horizon.

The buzz of your phone knocks you from your stupor. A humorless huff of air sighs through your nose as you silence the fourth call in the last ten minutes. Barely a second for the same name to pop up again.

Incoming call… Vernon Chwe

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @ourdawnishotterthanourday

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[izurou]

⋆ .˚ 𖤐 — ft. SHIDOU RYUSEI ⋮ contains: f! reader. pet names. fingering. mentions of cum. alludes to reader being in a toxic relationship (not with shidou)

your roommate ryusei absolutely hates your boyfriend’s guts—and he makes it known.

they had their fair share of arguments before you stopped bringing him around altogether—most of which were focused on the way he treats you, and all of which resulted in him fleeing with his tail between his legs, because when ryusei bares his fangs—one’s chances of making it out alive plummet to zero.

however—limiting their contact with each other wasn’t enough to mellow ryusei out, because the mere thought of you and this douchebag being together had him seeing shades of red unknown to the human eye.

you should be with him instead. yeah, he’d treat you so much better, give you everything you want and more, have you seeing stars every night—oh, how you drive him insane, he fucking hates that you’re not with him instead.

but then, like a sweet little angel with a shattered wing—you return to your shared apartment late one night, tears staining your cheeks, a little pout glued to your lips—and ryusei feels pure elation for the first time in months.

“awwwwww,” he coos, immediately making your personal space his own as he brings his hands up to cup your cheeks—wiping at the wet trails with his thumbs. “what’s wrong, pretty girl? you been cryin’?”

he’s holding your face just inches from his own—his presence all consuming as he tilts his head to the side and puts on a faux frown to match yours.

“leave me alone ryusei,” you mutter, avoiding his persistent gaze as you place your hands atop his wrists and pull them down.

you brush past him—just looking to head for your bed so you can snuggle under the covers with a box of tissues, but you don’t get too far.

“hey,” he calls, and you turn just in time to watch every ounce of humanity drain from his face—an animalistic snarl taking over his lips, paired with two balled up fists that cause his biceps to flex. “what’d that asshole do this time?”

“doesn’t matter,” you sniffle, rubbing your eye with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “we’re over.”

“oh, that’s too bad sweetheart,” he hums, though his grin is back—tripled in size as he steps toward you once more, reaching out to tilt your chin up with his index finger. “you okay?“

you shake your head no—knowing he’d see right through you if you’d lied and said the opposite.

“what can i do for you, hm?” he persists, gingerly pressing a kiss to your cheek and licking his lips right after—savouring the saltiness of your tears with a sadistic smirk. “i’ll fuckin’ kill him if you want, would that make it better?”

“no, i just wanna forget about him,” you admit—hesitant to soak up all the attention he’s giving you. “never wanna think about him again.”

“why don’t i help, sweetheart?” he purrs, leaning down to let his breath fan over the shell of your ear. “won’t even remember your name when i’m done with you.”

and maybe it was his words that got you, or the relentless need to be loved in that very moment—but you end up in his bed, propped up against a pillow as he hovers over you.

“yeah, that’s it,” he chuckles—one hand planted beside your head for support, while the other is buried between your thighs. “you hear yourself? pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, gonna cum for me?”

his long middle and ring fingers curl inside you, squelching with each thrust as they coax more and more arousal out of your pretty cunt.

“r-ryu—i, i’m,” you choke on your words, already feeling tears stinging the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure he’s providing, though some still carry all the emotions you came home with.

“shit, pretty fuckin’ girl,” he groans, dropping to his forearm and craning his neck—pressing his lips against the fresh trail of tears. “mmm, you’re gonna kill me, y’know.”

his cock strains against his sweatpants as you writhe beneath him, definitely a pretty shade of pink as the tip cries from excitement. he’s only imagined this every damn night for god knows how long, even fucked his fist to the thought of it—even with you and that asshole right next door.

you feel the knot in your stomach tighten before it comes undone, reducing you to a squirming pile of gasps and moans as you pulse on his fingers—prompting him to straighten up and watch as you fall apart.

“yeaahh, look at that,” he drawls, watching your walls contract around his digits through hooded lids. “think i’m about to cum, shit.”

he rips his fingers from your messy cunt and pops them into his mouth, sucking the thin layer of you clean off. he hums in content, and you watch his abs tense up—breath faltering as a little patch on his sweats turns a shade darker.

“see what you do to me, sweetheart?” he sighs, dropping his hand back down and shoving it into his pants. he tugs his cock from behind the sticky fabric—pumping his last bit of cum onto his hand.

“ryusei, please,” you whine, desperate for more, hoping to erase your memory even further—but also just plain turned on by the fact that he creamed his pants because of you.

“don’t worry, i’m just gettin’ started,” he laughs, letting his tongue fall out of his mouth—a little preview of the next thing you’ll be cumming on.

[porcalinecunt]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 — 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘

💀 KINKTOBER EVENT

🎧 𝐊𝐔𝐀𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐆 (𝐒𝐔𝐁 𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎) 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐜𝐰 — sub!reader. dom!kuai liang. ftm!reader. ice play. fingering. oral sex. squirting.

a/n: this was definitely rushed and i honestly didn’t like it, so my apologies! either way, ive been obsessed with kuai liang as sub zero bc he looks so DILFY like..god..anyways! please enjoy! 🫶🏼

“How do you feel now..?”

Kuai Liang whispered against your ear, while you shivered under his touch. His icy fingertips trailed against your stomach, inching upwards towards your chest. The yukata you wore was slipping off, slowly exposing more and more skin.

You could only nod at his question, as opening your mouth would threaten a moan spilling out. Kuai chuckled, amused at your reaction. You could feel his erection poking against your clothed thigh, as the sound of his fingers becoming ice made you flinch a bit.

“If it’s too much, I can sto-“

You shook your head, protesting by taking his hand and licking his frozen fingers. It didn’t matter if it made your tongue freeze. Your lips trembled, whispering ‘More’ over and over again.

The grandmaster chuckled, pressing a passionate kiss against your lips till you fell onto the warmer sheets. He towered over you, leaning down to shove his tongue into your mouth while pushing the rest of the yukata out of the way.

Your hands shot up to his shoulders once you felt something cold against your thigh, looking down to see it was his fully frozen hands. The tiny specks of ice spread to his wrists, with a fully blue and smoking hand. They gripped your thighs apart, the sudden and brutally cold feeling made you yelp.

“Shhh..it’s okay my love, just relax for me..”

He reassured you, giving you one last kiss before lowering himself. He fully spread your thighs apart before setting them down on his shoulders, the melting ice ran down on them and meeting your hips. Your legs quivered, as the ice ninja pressed a warm kiss on your clit before pressing his hot tongue against your cunt.

You whined, unable to handle the feeling of his bone cold hands and his hot, wet tongue all at once. The sensation intensified as you begin to grind desperately, his beard tickled your cunny as it became soaked with your arousal.

“K-Kuai Liang..! ‘M gonna cum..! Gonna!—“

A cold hand covered your mouth, as your eyes rolled back from the feeling of the grandmaster shoving two of his frozen digits into your cunt. It hit every nerve as chills ran up and down your spine. Kuai Liang quickly fingered you and would pull them out just to tease your swollen clit before shoving them back in.

He increased his speed, leaning down as he blew a breath of ice against your chest, stimulating your nipples as they grew hard. Your moans became shaky, watching as he took one in his mouth. Kuai Liang smirked against the flushed skin, as your legs shook even more, indicating your orgasm.

“Come on..you can cum love, i know you want to..”

The ice felt like it was hitting your g-spot till it went numb, as you sobbed out against his frozen hand. You squirted, hard enough to soak his whole forearm and your inner thighs. Babbles of his name were muffled, as he gave one last lick to your nipple before pulling away with a pop!

He stared down at his soaked forearm and the ice that still remained on your cold body, chuckling as it all melted and he wrapped your body in blankets. You try to stop shivering, but Kuai Liang placed wet kisses on your neck. Wrapping his large arms around you.

“You did so good f’me love, so beautiful..”

🎧 this work belongs to @porcalinecunt. reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

[wosowrites]

There's a Time for Everything (Ona Batlle x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️SMUT WARNING⚠️

a/n: most detailed smut I've written and a slow burn! and the person who requested this accidentally sent it not anonymously and asked me not to share the ask

prompt: Apart for a while, team drinks, a bathroom stall, what more was there to say?

An emergency flight back to the Netherlands due to your mother's health deteriorating had you on a break from WSL duties for two weeks. You spent some time by your mum's side in Leyde before flying back to Manchester once she was in the clear. But two weeks without Ona was hard. You had come to Manchester at the same time and clicked instantly. Both in a new country, both defenders, both looking to create a name for yourselves.

You started dating after three months of being friends. Things moved quickly with you two, but it never felt wrong.

So it was needless to say that when you got back to your shared apartment in downtown Manchester, you wanted nothing but Ona. You wanted to feel her, to kiss her, to smell her shampoo and to trace your fingers on her abs. It was a need at this point, and the thought alone… well it had you biting your lips so hard they bled.

But a last minute text from Mary had your plans all turned around. She had invited you all to go out for drinks as a team, as you had a rare two days in a row off this week due to having just played the FA cup semi final.

The second you saw the text in the taxi going from the airport to the apartment, you almost groaned before texting your girlfriend.

you: We don't have to go, right?

ona: come on now, si we do, its both of our last season with the girls, were gonna miss them and we need to hangout with them as a team.

you: I missed you more in this week than I could ever miss them in a lifetime.

ona: do not tell them that. plus, you only missed my abs.

you: your abs... and your lips. and your hair and your kisses and your smile and your eyes.

ona: I guess I missed you too mi amor ;)

You laughed at her text before putting your phone away as the cab driver pulled up to the apartment complex. You payed the driver and then walked up to the building. You could not wait. You couldn't wait to jump into her arms and kiss her... and then get ready to go out where you couldn't feel every inch of her.

"Great," you groaned as you scanned your key card and walked into the halls of the apartment.

But it was all gonna work out, you knew that the second you opened the door, finding Ona standing in front of it. You dropped your suitcase and opened your arms wide. The spaniard ran up to you and jumped into them, wrapping her legs around your waist and burrying her head into your neck. She was a little bit shorter than you, and your height difference made her a perfect fit in your arms. You were quick to hold her up, not so sneakily placing one of your hands on her ass and the other one on her back. But when she pulled her head away, you moved your hands to cup her face and kiss her. You had backed up against the door and were completely submerged in Ona's lips when she pulled away. "Sorry, mi amor. We need to leave in like... forty minutes," Ona said, tucking loose hair behind your ear. "Put me down now," she said, making you groan. "No." you pouted. "You’re where you belong, with me, in my arms," you said to her, placing your forehead against hers and then kissing the tip of it.

"Trust me. There’s nowhere more I want to be. But you need to get out of your airplane clothes… and you need a shower," she said, sniffing your hair. "Wow, thanks babe," you laughed, putting her down. "I’m being honest! It’s that plane stench," she said, pouring herself a glass of OJ. "If you’ll make me shower, at least join me…" you said, wrapping your arms around her waist and laying your chin on her shoulder blade.

"Nope. My makeup is done, my outfit is on and my hair is up. I love you but I look too good to have to start from zero," she said to you.

You rocked back and forth, keeping your hands around her waist. She did look good. She had white dress pants and a short sleeve white button up on with sunglasses hanging from the neck of the shirt. Her hair was up in her classic messy bun and you knew she would wear the grey jordan’s you bought her for her birthday. "You do look amazing, and I guess I should go fix myself up so I can try to look at least half as good as you," you told her, trailing teasing kisses down her neck. She tilted her head to the side, giving you more access to suck on a soft spot.

You took pleasure in marking her, gently passing your tongue over the hickey you had just left to sooth the area. Ona snapped out of her daze a few seconds later though, pushing you away. "Stop that! Enough. Go shower!" she said laughing and pointing at the washroom. "Yes ma’am," you said, raising your hands in the air in submission.

After showering quickly, you blow dried your hair and then walked into your bedroom. You opened the closet you shared with Ona and picked out a pair of blue jeans along with a white tee shirt. You weren’t big on the fancy outfits, choosing instead to make boring outfits more stylish with jewelry and shoes. You put on a gold locket, put on gold earrings in your helix and three lobe piercings. You then chose your own pair of sunglasses and put it on your head before slipping on orange air forces.

You walked out of the bedroom, finding Ona taking a mirror picture. You quickly walked up to her, snaking your hands around her waist again and kissing her cheek. "You look amazing, mi vida," she gently said, turning to look at you and then kissing your lips softly, taking time to suck on your bottom lip for a second. "Hey, no teasing," you groaned.

You left for the bars minutes later, only after Ona made a post to her story of you two.

Getting to the bar by car proved to be harder than expected. For whatever reason, the traffic was insane. So you parked the car about ten minutes from the bar at the first free spot you could find and then hopped out.

"Okay, google maps says that if we go straight for… 2 kilometres and then turn right for 1 the bar should be on our right," you said, looking at your phone and then putting it in your pocket. "Perfecto," she smiled, grabbing your hand and rubbing her thumb gently over the surface.

You walked the distance, catching up on life, talking about your mother and just enjoying Manchester at night. Once you got to the bar though, the fun really started. You met Ella and Alessia outside of the bar, giving them a hug each and telling them you missed them and were excited to get back to playing.

"Game against Liverpool, you gonna be ready for that?" Ella asked as you opened the door to the bar. "You bet. But no work talk. I’m here to be with my girls and only with my girls," you smiled.

You held the door open for the three women and then walked in yourself, the music taking over you. You showed your ID’s to the man standing there and then got in.

Finding the rest of the team wasn’t hard. Mary, Maya, Vilde and Lucia had already taken on the dance floor while Keets, Hannah, Katie, Leah and Jayde were sitting at the bar, having a drink. Clearly, Ella was quick to drag Lessi away to dance.

"Get us drinks!" she yelled back at you before joining Mary in throwing her hands up in the air and swinging her hips.

"Okay then. How about you then? Drinks or dancing?" you asked, knowing her answer. "Do you mind if I leave you to go dance?" she asked, looking at you with her sweet, warm eyes. "Of course not. Go!" you convinced her.

She left after giving you a kiss and then you walked up to the bar, slapping your hands down onto Leah’s shoulders, making her jump. "Y/n! It’s been so long we miss you at training!" she said, turning around when she saw you and giving you a quick hug. "I did too. Don’t worry i’m back next session," you said, taking a spare seat. "Good. Where’s the girlfriend?" she asked.

You looked behind you and pointed out Ona who was dancing with Ella.

"Can I get you anything?" the bartender asked, a tattooed feminine woman. "Uh, yeah. A gin and tonic and for the ladies over there can I get two rum and cokes," you said to the woman. "Of course," she said, sending you a flirty wink.

You ignored her and just turned your attention back to your girlfriend who was now dancing pretty sensually with Vilde. But you didn't mind, she was Spanish after all. In fact, it kind of just turned you on more, made you want to be at Vilde's spot. But preferably in private, and with less clothes on. You stayed fixed on her, watching her hips, her hands, her biceps and the way she laughed loudly at Vilde's hands stroking her hips. "Aren't you jealous?" Jayde asked, watching you watch Ona. "Not at all. She's mine and we all know that. They're just having fun and it doesn't mean anything," you said, smiling at Jayde. "Huh, I could never. If my boyfriend was dancing with another girl like that..." she started saying. "It's different between girls I guess. And its a personality thing as well. I'm just not a jealous person. Unless it was a complete stranger. She's just Spanish," you said.

A hand tapped your back and you turned around to see the bartender with the drinks in front of her. "Perfect, thank you," you said, making sure not to look at her too long as to not lead her on. "Watch my drink while I give these to Less and Ella?" you asked Jayde who nodded and put her hand over it.

You grabbed the rum and cokes and walked onto the dance floor, handing them over to Ella and Alessia. They both thanked you loudly and then started drinking. "Want anything?" you asked your girlfriend when the room got more quiet as it was in-between a song. "Beer?" she asked you. "On it," you answered.

"Could I get a beer for my girlfriend, please?" you asked the bartender. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened a little before she nodded. She opened the lid and handed it to you before you went over and gave it to Ona. "You sureeee you don't wanna dance, mi amor?" she asked you. "I'm sure. I look stupid when I dance."

She laughed and kissed your lips softly before going back to her next victim, Lucia.

You drank your gin and tonic but you were soon joined by Mary who despite being sweaty from dancing still looked and smelled amazing. "Mary!" you said happily, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. "Do shots with me?" you asked even though you were already feeling the buzz of the previous drink you had had. "Fuck yes!" she said happily.

The bartender had now changed and you asked a muscly, buff man for three shots each. "Are you guys doing shots?" Katie asked, laughing at you and Mary who were being poured the alcohol. "Hell yeah! Want in?" you asked her. "No, no but I'll film," she laughed, pulling out her phone.

You grabbed a shot of tequila and then linked arms with Mary. "Three, two, one-" you said at the same time before downing the alcohol. "Wooh!" Mary yelled, shaking her head. You then downed the two others in the same fashion, making the room spin and your feelings heightened. All feelings. The sight of Ona on the dance floor had you squeezing your things together when you weren't tipsy, but now, watching her beer in hand, seeing the way her hips moved and her mouth hung open...

You were on your feet quicker than you knew it. You pushed your way past people and found Ona. "Dance with me," you basically moaned into her ear.

Ona didn't have to be asked twice. Lucia was quickly forgotten and soon enough her hips were grinding onto yours, your bodies pressed against each other and your breaths tangled. "I couldn't help but notice..." you breathed gently into her ear, putting your hands flat against her collarbone and then trailing them down her curves, "...that the washrooms are single stalled," you said. Ona's breath hitched once your hands ended up cupping her core quickly, but enough for a heat to form in her stomach. "Vamos then," she breathed.

You gripped her hand tightly and led her through the crowd into the quieter washroom area. The hallway was empty except for a couple making out against a wall. There were four single stall washrooms and you chose the closest one to you. The washroom wasn't too small, there was a counter with a sink and a mirror as well as a toilet. However the sink wasn't centred, leaving enough room to sit on one side of the counter. She went in first and you closed the door behind you both, locking it hurriedly.

In the seconds you locked the door, the distance between your bodies could have killed you. Quicker than you thought humanly possible, you pushed Ona up against the wall, making a picture frame fall crooked. You trapped her between the cement and your own body, quickly attacking her lips, kissing them roughly and slipping your tongue into her mouth, fighting for dominance. Her hands were pushed against your abs while yours found rest on her hips. You wanted nothing more but to see her, to feel every inch of her, but what was a little teasing? You stopped kissing her to trail kisses down her neck, leaving another hickey you knew she didn't have the makeup to cover. As you sucked her neck, you wrapped your arms around her waist, appreciating her soft moans and the way she threw her head back. "Please, baby, I need you," she groaned as you sucked her collarbone. "Ask again, beg," you whispered, unbuttoning the first button of her shirt painfully slowly.

"I'm begging. Please. I need your fingers in me," she breathed out.

That was good enough for you. You picked her up and placed her on the counter, her back against the mirror. You gently looked into her eyes as you unbuttoned her shirt slowly, leaving her in her bra. You didn't need to take her shirt off, but seeing her abs and her tits made sex with her even better.

"You're so beautiful," you said to her as you unlatched her bra and threw it on the bathroom floor. You quickly started sucking on her nipple, placing your left hand flat on her breast and pressing against it, squeezing it, feeling it. "Are you wet, baby?" you said to her once her nipples were hard.

You unbuttoned her dress pants and slowly slipped them down to her ankles, not taking them off fully. She indeed was. Her panties were completely drenched, probably ruined, but it made you ecstatic. "All that for me? You're too much baby," you breathed.

Without warning, you pressed your palm harshly against her pussy. She would have screamed if it wasn't for the fact that you quickly slapped your hand against her mouth. "Shh. I want to hear you more than anything but we don't want to get kicked out do we? Well not until I've fucked you," you winked. She nodded quickly, looking into your eyes and giving you the okay to remove your hand.

You rubbed the pad of your thumb on her clit through her underwear, making her grind her hips up in the air, craving more pressure. "Eager, are we?" you said. "Please, no more teasing," she breathed out, looking at you with her big brown eyes.

You nodded and got down on your knees, looking up at her, admiring her tits, and the sharpness of her chin. You slipped off her underwear, exposing her wet folds and then spreading her legs open. You made quick work of passing your tongue through her pussy, soaking up her current wetness. You sucked gently on her clit, using your hands to control her grinding by pressing down on her hips. "Your fingers!" she basically yelled, making you chuckle into her core. "Patience," you said softly. You harshly slipped your tongue into her hole, using your teeth to graze every inch of her and making her hold in another yell of pleasure. She came for the first time with the concealed moan, letting you lick up her juices. Her thighs squeezed against each side of your head, but you knew she wasn't satisfied.

You didn't think you had ever seen her so wet, and without warning, you slipped in two fingers, making her back arch, her legs shake and her bare chest heave up and down.

Fingers pumping, mind foggy from how beautiful she was, you made sure to hit her spot with every pump. You knew you didn't have long before your teammates got suspicious, so you were adamant on making the most out of the short time you both had.

You girlfriend came about two minutes later with the help of your fingers in her, your nails on her abs and your words of affirmation.

By the time she did, you were beyond wet yourself, but you knew there wasn't any time. "What about you?" Ona said, catching her breath. "No time, at home?" you said to her. "If you can last till then," she winked. Her knuckles were white from holding onto the counter, and you thought that the sight of her naked self sitting there was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You grabber her bra off the floor as she kept on recovering from your fingers. Gently, you put your hands under her arms and brought her body to yours. You slipped the bra on and then gently put her head on your shoulder to have better access to clip it at the back. You helped her slip on her shirt and then clean her underwear with brown paper as for it to be a little dryer. You then lifted her off the counter and let her put her pants back on.

She took a step forward and stumbled a bit. "Can you walk?" you laughed, catching her and looking into her eyes. "I think so," she laughed as well. You smiled at her, putting your hands in her hair and undoing her bun. "To cover the hickeys," you winked. She fixed her hair as you washed your hands and fixed your own hair. Once she looked as though she hadn't just had the best sex of her life in that washroom, she opened the door for you and you both slipped out quickly.

"There you guys are! Where were you?" Maya asked rather innocently as the older players behind her giggled. "Uh... there was this guy who was pretty chatty," you said, pointing to a random innocent man in the bar. "Oh, well were thinking of going back to Mary's, you guys down?" She asked.

You exchanged a look with Ona and shrugged. "Sure," you said, putting your arm around your waist.

Mary came up to you guys as you left the bar, putting her head between you both. "You can come but don't fuck on my bed. Or in my washroom, or in the guest room," she whispered.

Ona had never looked more embarrassed.

[delespresso]

DESERVING ━━ Antonio Dawson x fem!reader

author's note; this one has been in my drafts for a while and honestly i have mixed feelings about it. but oh well, i might as well just put it out lol enjoy <3

summary; antonio had only ever been casual with her, but called it quits a while ago. only to come back after a rough case, finally realising it wasn't so casual after all

━━ ☄. *. ⋆

Molly's wasn't as crowded that night. She sat at the bar, nursing a drink in her hand as she rested her head in her palm with her elbow on the bartop. After a long day of back-to-back surgeries at Med, all she needed was a drink to wind down.

For the past couple of months, that drink was with some company. Tonight, it went back to the usual routine.

She wasn't sure where any of it went wrong. She hardly even realized there was anything wrong, really. Maybe it just wasn't right.

She took a large swig of her drink at the thought. The only thing that kept her mind off him had been her patients. Now that she didn't have that, she zeroed back into him without wanting to.

He'd consumed her entirely in the short months they were together. She should've known better. Getting involved with a man recently divorced – what was she thinking?

It felt so good to just be wrapped up in someone after long, awful shifts. And it was a win-win situation. She wasn't the only one benefiting from it.

Refusing to sit at the bar any longer, she shot her drink down in one go and left some cash on the bar. Usually she'd be chatting with Hermann before she left. Not tonight.

She didn't want to drive after that. Maybe she'd only had about two glasses, but she didn't want to take any chances. So she walked. She'd take her car in the morning.

Her apartment was just down the block anyway. It hardly took her more than five minutes to get back there.

Fiddling through the keys in her hands, she turned down the hallway towards her door. Stopping short when she looked up, very nearly dropping her keys.

“Antonio?”

Her voice came out uncertain.

He turned instantly. His fist dropped, he was just about to knock on her door.

For a moment the man just stood there and looked at her. He put his hands back into the pockets of his coat, rocking on his heels slightly as he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Hearing his voice again seemed to sober her up suddenly – if she was even that tipsy in the first place. The last time they'd spoken to each other was three weeks ago. The time he hit the brakes on what they had.

“Hi,” she nodded.

Antonio hesitated. He dropped his gaze for a second, before shrugging lightly.

“Look, I uh–”

He met her gaze. She hadn't moved an inch. They were facing each other in the hallway of the apartment.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he admitted gently. “It's been a… rough day.”

She nodded slowly. It had been a rough day, for sure.

Bomb threats all over important locations in the city. Police stations, schools, hospitals – Chicago Med was the very last. They may have mostly been a hoax, but Intelligence didn't take it lightly.

Antonio's team was all over it. The second one of those bombs was real, dropped off at the park just within half a mile radius from Chicago Med – they went head first to find the perp. He ran with his team to investigate it all, while she was busy rushing the victims through surgery.

“It was,” she agreed. “It was rough.”

The keys tapped along her palm lightly as she looked at him. Neither of them seemed to be able to tear their gazes away.

“And how are you?” she then asked softly.

Antonio only stared at her. He looked tired. Like he always did after long cases like this one. These bomb hoaxes had been going on for weeks. It was only today that something truly happened.

And while they haven't found the perp, he took a small step back and let his team play their part as well.

“I've been better,” he replied.

She let out a slow breath. Holding the key in one hand, she gestured to her door lightly.

“Wanna come in?” she offered.

She wasn't sure why she did that. If it was even a good idea after everything.

After all, it was him who said they should stop. That it wasn't the right time for either of them. That they should probably work out their own careers first.

Antonio took a beat. His lips parted to speak as he looked at her, then he glanced at her door.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

She only stepped past him in response, unlocking her door and stepping in. Holding the door open to the side, she gestured for him to enter.

The place was just like he remembered. Although, he doubted much would change in merely three weeks. They ended up standing on two different sides of her kitchen counter, a bottle of beer in each of their hands.

Antonio glanced around the place, his fingers lightly tapping on his beer bottle.

“You finally got the heater to work,” he commented.

She'd been having an issue with her heater forever, it felt like. But now as he stood there, he realized it was warmer here despite the cold outside.

She hummed, nodding as she took a sip of her beer.

“I got a new one,” she replied. “Nothing lasts forever, right?”

Their eyes met. Something about what she said made them both pause and think. She didn't mean to imply anything, but she noticed what she did a second too late. Her eyes dropped and she took another sip of her beer, no longer knowing what to do with herself.

Antonio was just as bad. But he did know how he felt, at least.

“We were good together,” he spoke softly, breaking the sudden silence.

She paused. His words were like a wound in salt.

He knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't be pushing after he was the one that had broken her. But he couldn't stop himself. Suddenly he was around the counter, beer bottle abandoned as his hand reached up to cup her cheek.

When she looked up at him it was with those same doe eyes he fell for. The ones that made his blood rush and heart pumping. The ones that felt like a breath of fresh air after being cooped up for so long.

“I messed up. And instead of fixing it, I made it worse,” he told her. “And I'm sorry. I don't say it as often as I should, but I'm telling you and I mean it. I'm sorry.”

The words hung heavy in the air for a moment as she simply stared up at him with her soft, tender eyes. There was a clear hurt still in them and it made his heart clench.

“I don't deserve you. I really don't. But God if you let me, I'm willing to put in the work. To be the man deserving of you. I just… I just need your word. And your time of day.”

When he continued, she didn't even notice the way her eyes watered. This was the most vulnerable this man had ever been with her. Her heart was thundering as she realised she never got over him. And she knows she never will.

She didn't say a word. She didn't give him an answer, not verbally. Instead, her hands reached up for his jacket to tug him down gently so their lips could meet.

And when she kissed him it was with everything she had. It wasn't lustful or hungry. It was pure love and desire. A yearning that never once faded.

When he kissed her back, she knew then. It was undeniable — she was his. And he was undoubtedly hers.

liked this tale? be a member and buy me some coffee!

[mothiir]

Absolutely love the way you're writing 30k Lion. Absolutely Zero Rizz on this man, only instinct. Need more of him some how not fumbling the bag on a baddie and being a feral ass space knight man.

Awww thank you! I love him. Here is more zero rizz all instinct . Warning this is quite literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever written

Cw: the lion doesn’t understand female biology

He inches himself in, finally -- finally -- hot and sweet and tight and so so good. By the sword of the Emperor Himself -- the Lion didn’t think anything could feel so good. Pressure all around him, clinging, sucking him in deeper and deeper and --

The head of his cock spikes against something solid; you yowl in pain, crumpling under him, burying your face deeper into the pillow. He frowns, pulls out an inch, and tries to ram himself back in. He’s not all the way inside yet, and he has to be, he has to be. 

Once again, he smacks against the obstruction; your squeal of pain echoes once more, your little feet drumming on the mattress. You flatten yourself against his bed, trying your best to wrangle yourself away from him. His brow furrows, and he catches your head -- one hand mantling your whole scalp -- and yanks your face up so you can answer his questions. 

“Open up for me,” he orders, pushing back in, very -- very -- careful as he grinds himself in slow deliberate circles, the head of his cock pressing against that unyielding tissue, his thighs tense to stop his full body weight crashing down on you. You whimper. 

“I am -- I am -- “

“You’re not. I want to be all the way inside -- you’re stopping me --”

“Tha -- tha -- do you not know what that is?” you stammer, lashes wet and mouth swollen and red. He wants to kiss you. He wants to bite your lips clean off your face. 

He growls. 

“It’s -- it’s my cervix. It’s -- you can’t open it, it stops my womb uh -- falling out.”

This does not sound quite correct, but he does not know all of the intricacies of female biology -- why would he learn it? He does not need to know about the innards of human women, not really; only how easily they die, when they defy him or his Father. 

Apart from now -- now he does. The gap in his knowledge is a thorn under his skin, and he does not want to acknowledge it.  He scrounges through his memory, unearths something that Luther told him, back in the shadowed days of their youth. When I take someone to bed….

“Luther never mentioned a cervix. He said --” What was it? “He said you take it slowly, open them on your fingers, use lubrication if need be. That you look for a special little nub inside that makes the whole process more enjoyable.”

“...inside? Uh. So. Uh -- “

The Lion thrusts again, and you squall. 

“--are you sure Luther was talking about women?”

“What do you mean?” the Lion says, licking over your sweat-glossed shoulders, irritated at the conversation, and yet…by the forest, he likes hearing your voice. 

“It sounds like Luther was, uh. Talking about fucking men -- ow!”

“Why would he do that?”

“Maybe because he likes fucking -- ow --”

Your voice is adorable, but your little pleas and moans are even better. Besides: he does not want to talk about his brother when he’s buried inside you. Luther taking men to bed? No concern of his. Just like this is no concern of yours. Cervix be damned, he’ll work out something around it. Foolish human biology. 

[brrrkdslek]

MINGI, YUNHO & THE PROFESSOR!

✦ 2 — YUNHO &

❒ you loved all your students equally. actually, scratch that. you loved them sure, but no one beats your top student, jeong yunho. along with the lowest, song mingi. curiosity takes you on a ride as you find out the two are secretly lovers.

❒ college au, teeth-rotting toe-curling smut, student! yunho, professor! male! reader

❒ cheating, dacryphilia, non-consensual (at first), praising, hickies, semi-public sex, good boy! yunho, nipple play, choking kink, hand fetish, possessiveness, teasing, creampie

"so, this equation here..." you pointed at the written equation on the white board with your dry-erase marker. looking around to make sure the students understood the material, you roll your eyes as a few students start dozing off.

"guys, i know finals are over but don't think i can't reduce your marks to zero right now." you lean against the board and smirk seeing the sleeping students now rising from the dead, sitting straight with the biggest smiles on their faces.

you let out a breathy laugh, "ha, that's more like it." spinning the marker with your fingers, you continue to solve the equation, glancing back at the students every once in a while, especially your top student, jeong yunho.

he was sat nicely in the front row, just where you liked. he works diligently and jots down everything from what you write to what you say. he is a 10/10 student as all the other teachers have said too.

you lick your bottom lip as you stare at the male jotting down notes for a few seconds. he looked so cute today... so cute you just wanted to fuck him full of your cum, and you'll make sure that happens today.

as the class comes to an end, you dismiss the students, packing up yourself but pausing as you see yunho still seated, chin propped against his palm.

you followed his eyes to your hands, which were erasing the white board. you smirk and finish cleaning the board before walking towards a dozed-off yunho, tapping his shoulder gently. "uh- huh?" he looks up and turns red seeing you kneeling at the height of the bench and smiling at him, "oh- sorry! i must have dozed off... i'll get going n-" you pulled him back down, "how about we chat a bit, hm?"

yunho bit back his grin and nodded, eager to chat with his favourite professor. you pull him towards your desk as he leaned against the desk, you sat at your chair, "so, top scoring again, huh?" you grinned as he let out a happy giggle, "only for my favourite professor!"

how cute. you got up from your seat, "i heard you've been tutoring mingi, correct?" he physically stiffens at the mention of his lover, "ah- yes, i've been tutoring him for a fee months now-" "weird. although the too student is tutoring him, he still failed his finals," you slowly crept towards him as his ass hits the edge of your desk, leaning in at the shell of his ear,"it'd be a shame if you were doing something else other than studying, right?"

yunho shivers, hands placed on your chest, pushing you away. but you don't budge, instead you leaned even closer to him, lips brushing his ear, hot breath making him all dizzy. he gripped your shirt, biting back a whimper when you suddenly pull away. "but of course, you wouldn't do that," caressing his cheek gently, you bring his face closer to yours, so that you were only inches apart, "after all, you're my best student, there's no way you'd... do something you're not supposed to, right?"

yunho swallows before nodding slowly. sliding your fingers along his jawline to tilt his chin up, "s-sir, we shouldn't-" yunho felt like his heart was beating out of his chest, he wanted it so bad, he wanted you so bad. but he couldn't, not when- "-mingi is waiting out there for you.' did i get that right?" you smirk as you see his smile falter, absolutely terrified. "h-how, i- i'm sorry...!" he looks down in despair, dreading what you were going to do with him next.

you cooed, "hey, there's no problem. i'm just worried about you," you hold his waist gently and press your chest against him, face only inches apart, "no, sir- i- no, we shouldn't..." ignoring him you kiss up his neck, sending the butterflies in his stomach swarming. "do you really think, mingi, who is labeled as kq's 'himbo' would stay loyal to such a good man such as yourself?" his hands which were on your chest, grips the fabric in his hand, "w-what do you mean?" "now i'm not saying this for certain, but i heard he hooked up with one of the seniors-" "what? no- mingi wouldn't that, he- he wouldn't do that to me..." he began tearing up, "there's no way..."

"would he?" you nibbled at the skin of his neck, hands squeezing his waist gently. yunho bit his lip, he knew the answer well, he just didn't want to believe, he didn't want to believe that mingi would do that to him. he let a tear slip out as he moaned quietly, wrapping his hands around your neck. you slowly laid him on the desk, shoving your things off of it in a hurry. you bit and sucked at his neck like you were a starved man, he whimpered and felt his toes curl inside his shoes.

pulling away, you hum in satisfaction at the disheveled yunho. there were tears prickling the corners of his eyes, hair messy, shirt crumpled, and a big noticeable erection from his jeans. "so, should we?" you lift up his shirt, whistling at you brushed your fingers over his toned abs, sending shivers down his spine. "j-just this once..." you frowned a bit, "just once? awe, i guess i have to make the most out of it then."

yunho coughed out as your hand flew up to his neck, squeezing gently. his hands flew to grip your wrist, letting out a breathy moan, he squeezed his legs together. looking up at you, he bit his lip as he smiled lustfully at you. "you like this don't you?" squeezing harder, he moaned out, music to your ears. you smirked, "i see you watching my hands every lesson, baby. you think you're slick, huh?" letting go of him, yunho whimpers at the emptiness before taking in a deep breath, "i can't believe my good yunho is so," you caressed his cheek, "bad and sexy..."

"sir..." you hummed, "please, i- i want you..." he buried his face in your chest from embarrassment, you smiled widely at that, "gladly." leaning down, you capture the boy's lip in a hot kiss. slipping your tongue into his mouth, he moaned at the feeling, letting you take full charge. "taste so good..." you mumbled against his lips, grinding his hips against yours. yunho whimpered and toyed with your hair, messing it up.

pulling away, a string of saliva connecting between your lips, eyes never leaving each other, your grip on his hips tightens as you rub against him. yunho began tearing up again, shutting his eyes as he cried. you panicked, "oh god, nonono- baby, oh, what's going on?" you hold his face in your hands, wiping the tears that were falling. "i- i can't believe mingi would ch-cheat on me...!" he cried as you held him in your arms, "he doesn't deserve you, love."

you kiss his forehead as he breathes in, "you're such a good man, he's missing out." kissing him again, yunho tangles his limbs with yours, never wanting this to end. he internally curses himself for never choosing you first, he was so afraid just because you were a teacher and he was a student. but now, does it even matter anymore? not just from you, but he's heard from his friends that mingi was a player and fucked around. yunho was pure and gave him the benefit of the doubt, which he regrets now.

you brush his fluffy hair and coo, "i should make you forget about him for now, hm?" licking a stripe up his neck, he only whimpers and pulls you in closer, "would you like that, my love?" he felt his stomach do flips at the nickname, he flashed you a tiny smile before nodding his head. "i should reward you, anyways. you did so well on the exam, my little champ." connecting your lips, you made out with him passionately.

"f-fuck me already, sir!" yunho mumbled against your lips, thighs gripping your hips as he grinded into you impatiently. you laugh, "so impatient," you kiss his cheek, "so damn pretty, yuyu..." yunho breathed heavily, his hands unmoving from above his head.

as you unbuckled your belt and slid your pants off, yunho ripped open your dress shirt and almost drooled at the sight of your muscular bod. sure, it was prominent even when you wore sweaters over your dress shirts in winter, outlining your juicy pecs. but god, seeing it close-up is a way better experience than daydreaming about it during classes.

slidding your boxers down, your lengthy cock sprung to life. yunho's hole clenched and unclenched at the sight of your large girth, eyes begging you to put it in already. and for a moment, yunho forgets that he ever had a boyfriend, just enjoying this moment as much as he could. since he never knew if this would be the first and last time he'd get such treatment.

grinning, you pull yunho close and rub your tip against his hole, teasing him in the process. kissing up his jawine, you muttered against his ear, "'aight prince, this might hurt so hold onto me, m'kay?" yunho shivered slightly as he nodded, a bit anxious about your size. he buried his head into your neck as you slowly pushed yourself in, not even needing lube as you both are both literally and figuratively dripping.

yunho let out a tiny high-pitched moan just below your ear, almost making you go manic. gripping his thighs eagerly, you continue to slowly push yourself in, not wanting to hurt the male. yunho shut his eyes in a daze, the full feeling at his stomach making his body shake with pleasure. you could be inside him forever and he wouldn't ever mutter a word of complain.

you groaned roughly as you bit down on his neck, drawing out a lengthy moan from the taller male. as you pushed in completely, yunho felt your tip brush against his prostate, making his eyes roll backwards. you laugh at the male, gripping his throat gently, "we barely started and you're already close," you tutted, "maybe this will end earlier than i thought, hm?" you pulled out as yunho's eyes widen, "n-no! i... i can hold it in, sir! please, please please!" tears started forming at the corners of his eyes as he pleaded for you pathetically. hands gripping your shoulders as his body still shook.

suddenly, your hips snap forward, filling him with warmth once again. yunho yelped as his toes curled, nails scratching along your shoulder blades, eyes twitching from the pain and pleasure. you nibbled at the shell of his ear as he adjusted with your large genital, "heh, i was only joking, baby~ how could i ever leave a gem as rare as you?" quickly, you catch his lips in a heated makeout sesh, slowly dragging your cock against his velvety walls. you groaned into the kiss when he clenched against your dick, you swore he could've cut it in half with how tight he was.

yunho moaned, tangling his fingers with your hair. he felt like he was in heaven, the feeling so dreamy, yet so real. he felt every pulse, twitch and movement of your cock, milking it along the way. yunho grinned as your grip on his thighs tightened, making him all giddy. pulling away from the kiss, yunho whimpered, "sir, faster please!" laying himself back onto the desk surface, he positioned his arms above his head as he looked up at you with lust in his eyes, begging you silently to fuck him already.

you peck his lip, "you're wish is my command, prince." as if on cue, you began thrusting harshly into the boy, sending waves of pleasure into his body and all the way to his cock, which was holding itself from cumming on the spot. yunho's body bounced with each thrust, moans aligning with the beat of your thrusts. lewd noises of skin slapping and yunho's moans echoed through the large hall, making the two's horniness shoot through the roof.

you leaned down and caught his nipple between your teeth, biting and sucking it. "ah- no, sir!" yunho felt electricity shoot throughout his body the moment your teeth made contact with his already erect nipple, "n-not there, ngh~!" tears fell from his eyes at the overwhelming sense of pleasure he was feeling at the moment. he never wanted this to end, and he never wanted to part from you again.

you bit down at the flesh of his chest, making the boy moan out loud as his grip on your hair tightened, making you moan too. pulling away from his chest, a string of saliva still connected between your bottom lip and his nipple, you look down to see the boy's stomach covered in his own cum. you giggled, "gosh, am i that good?" you caressed his teary face, "i'm flattered." bloodshot eyes look up at you, "will this happen again? i-i just don't wanna be away from you..." he began tearing up again at the thought of him being your one night stand, it broke his little heart. yunho felt your cock twitch and- did it just get bigger?

yunho's eyes widen, "w-why did it just-" "did i tell you i have a fetish for when you cry?" massaging his hips gently, you slowly fucked into him as you maintained eye contact, filled with passion and lust, so much desire, and so much love. yunho's face heated up along with the tips of his ears, "every time you cried to me when you did bad on an exam, i had to stop myself from fucking you right then and there," yunho looked away from your burning gaze, "you can from now on..." you grinned, "i-i don't mind-" yunho moaned out as you sufdenly thrusted manically again.

his hips were bruising at how tight you were gripping it, eyes closed and head thrown back as you continued thrusting into him, groaning every few seconds. you fixed your composure and grinned evilly at the sight of yunho's twitching cock, your hand immediately flying to jerk him off, sending him off the rails.

"ah! sir, wait- mmh~! i'll cum if you-" tightening your grip on his cock, your hand matching the pace of your thrusts, his back arched as he came in got, white ropes, dripping down his dick and onto your hands, you came a few seconds after him, spraying your seeds deep inside him. yunho whimpered at the lingering touch of your warm hand as he watched you bring your cum-stained hand to your lips, tongue swirling across your fingers as you swallowed his cum, the salty taste lingering in your tongue.

just as he thought it was over, you started thrusting again. "what!? ah- wait! that's enough... i-i can't anymore...!" yunho cried at the burning feeling of your cock, his stomached churned at your possessive gaze. "well doll, i need to mark you well, so that you only remember me for the rest of your life~" yunho's cock hardened at the crazy glint in your eyes, cockhead abusing his prostate as he thrusted again and again.

god, he's gonna be so sore for the next month.

©BRRRKDSLEK 2023

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

when it all comes Crashing Down

tags: 18+, afab!reader, childhood friends to friends(?) with benefits, codependent relationship

summary: it fascinates you how someone so manipulative and cruel can be so sensitive and needy

a/n: writing pro-tip, always write down random sentences whenever they come to you because you never know when it’ll be the source of inspiration for a story. in this case, an introspective think piece on makima’s loneliness that is also smut where neither of you are the good guy. also available on AO3.

If windows are eyes to the soul, you wonder what that means for someone like Makima. 

Or rather, you wonder what people see when they look at them. You’ve known her for the better part of your life and at 25, you still aren’t sure what others see. That is at the forefront of your mind as gold eyes with red rings look back at you, a calculating smile accompanying them.

“Are you listening to me?” Makima tilts her head as she rests her chin on her palm.

You nod vaguely at your childhood friend, turning your gaze to your phone screen. “I heard you say a week ago that you have a partner assignment due this week and yet somehow you’re here at my place instead of doing that.” You have your apartment to yourself for once, your roommate gone for the weekend to stay the night at one of her girlfriends’ apartments. “Shouldn’t you be out doing your homework?”

“I can’t visit my best friend from time to time?” Makima implores as if she is surprised by your own inquiry

“That isn’t what I asked,” yet you already know the answer. You aren’t completely well-acquainted with Aki Hayakawa. He’s a friend of a friend and you see him from time to time when said friends throw parties or have other get-togethers. Those were enough encounters for you to know the man is absolutely smitten with the redhead in front of you, spooning a piece of the tiramisu she brought over. He’d do anything Makima asked of him with more enthusiasm you could ever produce.

Unsurprisingly, Makima confirms what you already suspect. “Hayakawa told me he could do the rest of it,” she replies lightly with a smile. And there we go. You wonder what the poor sap sees in her when you know Makima doesn’t see him as more than an amusing puppy chasing after her braid. “I wanted to visit because I thought you might be lonely. Here,” she raises her spoon towards your lips. “I made this for you.”

“Nah I’m good,” Makima’s baking isn’t necessarily the problem. It’s the measurements, her measurements just aren’t for you.

“You said you wanted to try tiramisu recently,” Makima counters, her hand not moving an inch.

“First, I mentioned that in passing,” you raise a finger and quickly follow it with another. “Second, I also said I was going to try it out with Quanxi next Saturday.” One of her girlfriend’s, Long, is having a birthday celebration at an Italian restaurant. “They say patience is a virtue, I can wait.”

“I think it’s a voluntary virtue when it comes to food,” Makima lowers her hand for a moment. “Are you just trying to say you don’t want to eat my baking?”

You snort, “that’s exactly what I’m saying, yes. I trust your cooking, not your baking. You have never gotten the right amount of sugar that I can stomach.” You’ve never been able to eat things too sweet. Even as a child you would scrape off most of the frosting on cupcakes, sliding it onto Makima’s plate who welcomed the additional sweetness.

“That’s a bit mean” that is hilarious coming from the undisputed Queen of Mean. You distinctly remember the time in middle school where Makima laughed at a scene of a protagonist crying over the death of a friend. That in itself was ironic coming from the same girl who, at the beginning of that same semester, clutched your shirt and sobbed like it was the end of the world when you found out you shared zero classes and had separate lunch periods. “I worked hard to make this for you. You should spoil a person more when you’ve known them since you were 6.”

You distinctly know the spoiling she is referring to is about herself. “I always spoil you,” I’ve been doing it since we were kids. It crosses your mind, not for the first time, that if it weren’t for your parents, you are sure you and Makima would never have become friends.

Your mom was her mom’s friend in university and by some chance, they ended up enrolling you both at the same school and found out when you were both picked up later after classes. There began your days of playing whatever game Makima desired and your possessions somehow becoming her possessions. Whenever you voiced your grievances to your mom, however, she always told you to be kind and understanding in a tone that let you know that you recognized even now. A tone that says “this has something to do with something we adults discussed”.

It didn’t take too long for you at that age to notice the traces of what your mother was likely referring to.

You never saw much of Makima’s parents when you were younger; you don't see much of them now.

School events, holidays and a few random things in between. It wasn’t Makima’s family that shared them with her but yours. That realization made you think back to the times you would complain about mandatory family time and your mother would rebuttal, “not everyone is lucky to have parents that love them so much, [First], you should be grateful.”  

Indulging Makima became habit after that as long as it was in reason.

You’re sure there is a part of her that resents you choosing to room with a classmate rather than her though. 

“Just try it,” Makima raises her spoon again and, with a sigh, you relent. 

Almost immediately, you balk at the taste, nose scrunching in displeasure. “Like I said,” you grab Makima’s cup of black tea and down a large mouthful. “You always make things too sweet. This is why I’m gonna eat it at a restaurant with an actual baker.” 

You lay your head on the foot of the couch, rejecting the too-sweet tiramisu in its entirety. “I’ll just make Quanxi pay for it when I order it. She owes me for what happened last weekend.” You aren’t one to knock someone getting laid but your roommate fucking her girlfriends loudly all night the night before you had a exam was evil. All she did when you banged on the door to keep it down was toss her noise-canceling headphones before closing it again. At least when I fuck in the house I have the decency to keep shit down, you grumble internally pushing away the fact Quanxi technically also offered to let you join in the fun.

You probably would have joined if you weren’t sleep-deprived and irritated.

C’est la vie.

“[First].”

“Hmm,” you hum in response without opening your eyes. Your eyes find themselves opening a moment later when you feel the distinct feeling of another body over your own, Makima placing her legs on either side of your hips as she sits on your lap. 

Red frames gold as she looks down on you and you stare back wordlessly before her lips press against yours.

It fascinates you how someone so manipulative and cruel can be so sensitive and needy.

Cruelty comes easy to Makima, no different than a child experiencing troubles at home taking out their frustrations on a random kid at school.

She’s angelic in appearance, devilish in nature.

She wants to be treated gently when she is incapable of treating people gently herself.

By your second to last year of high school, you wondered what your relationship meant about you. 

Knowing her ways yet staying her friend regardless which only birthed the question as to why you remained her friend. It donned on you not too long after that the reason was pity when you held a distraught Makima in your arms in your room when a former mutual friend stated his intentions not to associate with her any longer. You remember finding it strange that she was so upset when you didn’t think Makima even considered Madoka to be a friend in the first place.

She said as much when you asked her before the event transpired.

“He’s more like an acquaintance, they all are,” Makima had told you. “But not you [First], you’re my real friend.”

The only one she has.

It dawned on you then if Madoka wanting nothing to do with her could make her cry, you doing the same would make Makima undoubtedly break. It’s ironic how the loneliest people can be the most sadistic.

So she can be cruel; as long as that cruelty never turns to you, you will continue to be there even when you are sure you both know that your friendship has long since passed the expiry date. You’ll be there when she needs to cry, you’ll accompany her on walks for her dogs and you’ll lay her down in your bed when she wants to feel the skin of another on her own like you are now.

Makima’s arms tighten around your shoulders, hips bucking as the butt of your palm rubs against her clit as you thrust your fingers inside her. She’s absolutely soaked and you can’t help relishing that fact as Makima moans your name like it’s the only word she knows.

Maybe this was inevitable, the two of you like this, you think vaguely as you leave a trail of wet kisses from her breasts to her belly before settling between her legs. You lap at her core slowly, bringing one of your hands to clasp her own and Makima intertwines her fingers between yours tightly.

You press one finger in her pussy, sucking on her clit.

You add a second when you kiss her folds.

You continue thrusting your fingers once you add a third and Makima moves her hips to press into your ministrations. It takes a few moments to find a rhythm, alternating between licking and maintaining the movement of your finger. It doesn’t take much longer for Makima’s thighs to tighten around your head, coming with a soft cry.

You pull out your fingers, vaguely acknowledging the ache in your wrist and glance in her direction. From your position you can see her chest heave up and down, hand tightly gripping yours as she reels from the aftershocks. If she held it any tighter, you’re sure it would break.

With two light taps on her hip, Makima loosens her grip on your head tiredly and you kiss her inner thighs before finally moving to lay on your pillow beside her. It takes a moment to pull your hand away from hers, Makima’s grip iron tight. “Hey, I need that hand to hug you, weirdo,” is all it takes for her hand to loosen its hold and gently you take back your hand.

There is no fighting against your tugging as you pull Makima into your chest like you’ve done many times before holding firmly but gently, just as she likes. You don’t comment on the soft sniffle you hear, it’s an unspoken rule for you both not to point out when she cries during sex. Almost instinctively, Makima presses herself even closer as she wraps her arms around your waist. Sometimes you wonder if she is trying to live in your skin.

“[First],” Makima murmurs almost too softly for you to hear when she’s wound down.

You fiddle with a lock of her hair, “What is it?”

“Stay the night with me tomorrow,” her nails dig into your back and you note she sounds almost uncertain in her command. Desperate.

You close your eyes, tired. “We can go in the morning.”

[midwestmade29]

Challenge 😏

Felt spicy, might delete later 😏 (probably not)

Word count: 1.1k Divider by: @saradika-graphics GIF credit: @cardinalbiggles

Disclaimers: Cursing, oral sex, unprotected sex. Read at your own discretion.

The playful challenge you issued against Adam quickly turns into much more...

When Adam opened the bathroom door, pillows of steam filled the bedroom. As he walked into view, you noticed he was wearing nothing but a towel tucked around his hips. You did a double take when you saw how perfectly it hung there, just low enough to make you salivate.

Water droplets fell from his wet hair and slid down his body making you want to lick some of them away. “Like what you see princess?” Adam teased when he caught you staring for a little too long.

“Yes, yes I do,” you smirked. You drug your tongue over your bottom lip before taking it in between your teeth. Fuck did he look good.

“I see you commandeered another one of my tshirts. I’m a little offended that it looks better on you than it does me,”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing,” you quipped, making Adam let out a hearty laugh.

“Is that so? Well what if I changed my mind and want it back?” He asked while taking a step towards the bed. He had a devious look in his eyes.

“Then I say why don’t you come over here and try to take it from me then,”

Your challenge was met instantly when Adam leaped onto the foot of the bed, and army crawled on his stomach towards you. You threw off the covers and tried to get away, but he grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled you back down. Your laughter filled the room as he pinned you in place with his body.

He placed his hands under the hemline of the shirt, making sure his fingertips were grazing your skin as he slid it up your torso. What started as a silly little game turned into something much more as he took in the sight of every inch of your newly exposed skin. You could feel him growing harder against you, surely the towel he had on was about to come loose.

There was zero protest from you when he pulled it up and over your head before tossing it on the floor. “Mmm, just look at you, my beautiful girl. You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on,”

Adam’s hand found your breast, making you squirm a little when he started to massage it. His eyes were set intently on yours, watching you and how well you were responding to his touch. He took your nipple in between his fingers as he rolled it and pinched, making it pucker and stiffen.

He kissed his way up your torso starting at each hip bone, sucking and nipping along the trail he was creating with his lips. You let out a contented “mmm” with each new piece of skin they touched, encouraging him to keep going. He sucked your nipple into his mouth harshly, making you gasp as his teeth grazed over it before soothing it with his wet tongue. His movements were driving you crazy!

“A-Adam, please. I want, I need more,” you begged. He loves it when you beg.

“Music to my ears princess,” he smiled and removed your panties. He placed his hands between your thighs and pried them apart, placing his fingertips around your clit and began toying with it. Your hips bucked off the bed from his skilled movements, but you still weren’t satisfied.

“Please, kiss me there. I want your mouth on me,”

“So greedy tonight, aren’t you? My insatiable girl,”

Adam wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled you mere inches away from his mouth, diving in and devouring your sweetness immediately. His tongue flicked against your clit, teasing it before sucking into his mouth. His hums of satisfaction vibrated off your bundle of nerves, sending you into overdrive.

One of your hands was wrapped in his hair, the other gripping the bedsheets as if they would both help anchor you. Adam inserted two fingers into your slick cunt, curling them and brushing them against your sweet spot. Adam knows exactly what his beautiful girl needs.

Moments before you were about to cum, Adam removed his fingers from you and flicked his tongue against your clit one last time. You groaned loudly as you tumbled down from the apex instead of over it.

“Wh-why did you stop?!” Your words breathy and full of frustration when you asked. At first Adam didn’t say anything as you watched him sit back on his heels and undo his towel. His cock was practically throbbing and more than ready to be inside your tight cunt.

“Because you will cum when I say so, not when your body decides it’s time. I’m in control princess, we’re playing by my rules,”

Once Adam was positioned, he pushed himself inside of you, making your back arch off the bed. He placed his hand around your throat, holding you in place and forcing you to look at him. “Eyes on me princess. Don’t you dare look away. I want to watch as you fall apart around me,”

Every thrust was deep and purposeful. The way his pelvic bone pressed against your clit made you moan. Adam was working your body in all the best ways and he was definitely taking what he needed from it.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me. So so good. I can feel how ready you are princess. I think it’s time you let yourself go. Cum for me. I want to hear you and I want to see you,”

As Adam continued to slam himself into you, he finally brought you over the edge. Your eyes were locked on him and you tried your best to keep them open when your orgasm ripped through you. He bent over and kissed you hard, stealing every whimper and moan from you before they even had a chance to greet the air. He fucked you through your release, the feeling of your walls contracting around him did him in.

He erupted inside of you, filling you with everything he had to give. His hair fell around your face as his orgasm made him nearly collapse on top of you from its intensity. His breathing was ragged, his heart was hammering against his chest. The sight of him so undone and so consumed with pleasure gave you goosebumps!

Adam was incredibly sweet afterwards as he cleaned you up. He made sure you were comfortable and taken care of before sliding in bed next to you. With your head on his chest, he wrapped his arms around you while he played with your hair. The two of you fell asleep just like that and remained tangled together until morning.

[ceilingfan5]

make it count

"problem" for @taznovembercelebration

Kravitz thought he was already having a weird night, but the guy tumbling out of his closet was, honestly, a real surprise. 

“AUGH, FUCK,” Kravitz says, flawlessy parried by closet guy’s “FUCK, AUGH.”

Kravitz steps back. Too far. The bed catches his ass, which hopefully looks like he sat down intentionally and didn’t reverse kneecap himself. Closet guy straightens up, long, gorgeous hair all over the place, and he spits hair out of his mouth and eyes Kravitz, steely, but also nervous, like Kravitz might be angling to kick his ass. 

Kravitz might. He hasn’t decided yet. He’s a little panicked, and he doesn’t like, WANT to call the cops, obviously, but there’s a fuckin’ dude in his closet and he’s been home for like three hours now. He’s played dad rock as high as his phone could go and danced in his boxers, and showered, and changed into pajamas, and eaten popcorn like both a horse and the tender but misunderstood delinquent girl feeding that horse and maybe that’s not necessarily something he wanted some kind of malignant fucknugget to witness.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in my apartment??” he demands, grabbing the nearest heavy object and brandishing his shitty lamp that makes an annoying noise when it’s on like it’s some kind of newfangled glaive-mace. 

“Who the fuck are you and where am I?” closet guy retorts aggressively, in a funny accent Kravitz can’t really place. Maybe it’s fake. Is this guy fucking with him? He’s too tired to be fucked with. He won’t allow it. 

“My apartment, asshole, keep up!” 

“Answer the first question!”

“You first!” Kravitz juts with the lamp, which is unfortunately a little flaccid, what with its flexible spine and all. He should have grabbed a shoe and just chucked it. 

“I don’t remember what you said!” the guy admits, which, okay, Kravitz kind of gets it, and it’s sort of hard to stay serious, even with his hackles up as they are. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“I’m in my pajamas!” Kravitz says, defensive. He knows the old, old Death Note t-shirt and Jack Skellington pants, which he got from the defunct K-mart mumble years ago, are not like. Flattering. BUT!! Listen. His vintage monogrammed pjs are in the dirty pile. And the dirty pile has gotten a little big, cause things have been nuts at work, and he’s worn out and exhausted and other words for fuckin’ wiped. What is it people say now. Eepy? Baby you’d best believe he’s eepy to the core like some kind of fucking blood disease. 

Man. Maybe he should get his vitamins checked. 

But also fuck you, closet guy, he’s in his own home, and no one was supposed to witness him tonight. He’s done being seen and perceived. You hear him? Done!

“Is that…so.” The guy squints at him. Kravitz would be assuming what the fuck he’s judging Kravitz on, but he kind of got lost in the attractive freckles and his long elegant fingers, and the gap in his teeth. And the hair, despite the fact that it is still all over the place, isn’t a minus. “I am Taako, prince of the elves.” 

“Oh, okay, and we’re back to zero,” Kravitz says, cheerfully realizing he’s going to have to fucking call 911 because he truly cannot figure out what the better option is. Except. He’s going to get strangled in his fucking Death Note t-shirt from 2013 because his goddamn Jack Skellington pants don’t have pockets and his phone is in the kitchen, actually, and they may not put that in his eulogy but everyone is going to know anyway, because of cringe osmosis. 

He doesn’t usually believe in cringe. Funny what imminent death does to your philosophy. 

“Why is that?” Taako squints at him, tucking hair behind his ears. And, shit, maybe he’s done costume work for whatever the fuck this is, maybe he’s had some insane plastic surgery, but his ears truly are crazy pointy. Not even elf in a movie pointy, like ten, twelve inches long, and they flick when Taako touches them. Kravitz reorients some facts, none of which add up, and he struggles.

“I’m Kravitz,” he says, against both his good judgement and his judgement he uses when his good judgement is dirty. 

Taako squints at him harder. Kravitz wonders if he should put the lamp down, especially considering it knocked over his wifi router which is blinking frantically like some kind of crying electric beast, but honestly whatever at this point. Like, is he going to die? Shit, then at least he doesn’t have to work tomorrow, you know? Sorry mama, he promises he cares, mostly. 

“Assistant head of sales,” he adds. Taako considers this at length. 

“I think I took the wrong portal,” he decides. He turns back to the closet, which reveals that he has a tail, actually, for real, as far as Kravitz can gather, and puts his hands on his enticing hips in frustration when he finds Kravitz’s bullshit mess of Work clothes, Dress Up clothes, Play clothes, and Nobody Can See Me Fuck Off clothes. And also four wigs, his heated blanket, the printer he’s mad at, an embarrassing amount of hangers,  and two paper boxes full of dumb garbage he can’t let go of from two moves ago. And some glitter. Shut up is why. 

"What the fuck is going on?" Kravitz demands. 

"Well," Taako says, with deep conviction, and doesn't finish. He turns back to face Kravitz. That tail flicks dismissively, still somehow incredibly appearing to be legitimate. Kravitz eyes him over, takes in his elaborate and scrumbled suit-gown of purple and gold gossamer and his thighs high boots and his golden eye makeup and also the way he keeps glancing at Kravitz's pajama pants. 

"Well?" Kravitz prompts. "You realize you're in Austin, Texas?" 

"Nah, uh," Taako looks a little pale now. "Chaboi was in Phandolin, in uh, Faerun, the fuck is a Texas?" 

So true. 

"Don't you dare tell me you hopped through a portal in my closet like reverse Narnia." 

"Narnia?" 

Man. Maybe Kravitz will hit him with the lamp. Shame he's so pretty. 

"I don't have time for this," he mutters. "You always watch those fantasy movies and they just handle it, but I don't have- what am I supposed to do, call in an elf prince personal day? If I'm going to take an elf prince personal day you can bet- sorry, I…" Kravitz winces. Just because he wants this to be fake doesn't mean there isn't a situation at hand. 

"I mean, Taako is all for an elf prince personal day if it means what I think it means." Taako grins, showing surprisingly sharp teeth, which Kravitz feels totally regular about, no details thanks. "I was running from some assholes who wanted to murder me. I mean, I don't necessarily think monarchy is the way of the future either, but you don't see me assassing about it." 

"Well, no monarchy here." Kravitz can't help but be glib. He finally puts the stupid lamp down. Just on the bed. No way he's sleeping anytime soon. This makes the cord pull taut. His sad router just slumps onto the floor. Taako jumps and inspects its flashing lights, alarmed but also kind of fascinated. 

"No?" He glances at Kravitz, and back at the lights. "Sick. That sounds easier."

"Well, it's not like there's no- we don't have to do politics. Hey, Taako, if I take this as nonfiction, which I am not committed to, and do not faint, which I am also not committed to, what the fuck am I meant to do next?"

"I mean either we take that elf prince personal day, really make it count, or uh, you magic me back home, mister?" 

"Magic isn't real!" Kravitz runs his hands down his face, excruciatingly aware of the comedy of the situation. 

"Ah," Taako says, really tasting the gravity here. "Guess there's no option but to fuck me." 

"Now hang on," Kravitz says, struggling not to laugh. 

"No, I'm right, probably." 

[heda-in-the-clouds]

How long before they 👌👈

It's been two weeks since Lexa first attended Clarke's self defense class. Class was now over and Clarke and Lexa openly flirted with each other as the other students left for the night. Usually, Anya interrupted their shameless flirting and dragged Lexa back home. However, Anya couldn't make it to class tonight which left Clarke and Lexa all the time in the world.

Nearly half an hour passed before either of them noticed they were the only ones left in the studio. Clarke apologized for keeping Lexa so late. Lexa smiled and said that she didn't mind it at all. She could spend all night talking with someone as charming as her.

At this point, Clarke noticed that Anya wasn't around to take Lexa back home. When she asked, Lexa told Clarke that she took an Uber to class so she'll just take one back home. Clarke offered to give Lexa a ride back home which she accepted.

Their flirting didn't stop during the car ride. In fact, Clarke had trouble keeping her eyes on the road when all she wanted was to stare at Lexa in her passenger seat. Meanwhile, Lexa kept her hand on Clarke's thigh inching closer to her crotch the closer they got to her place.

Once the car was parked, the realization dawned between them what would inevitably happen if Lexa invited Clarke inside her apartment. Lexa spoke first to break the tension and asked if Clarke would like to come upstairs. Clarke eagerly said yes.

As soon as Lexa closed her door, Clarke spun her around and kissed her hard. They moaned once they felt the warmth of each other's lips and bodies pressed tightly against each other. They deepened the kiss sensing the growing heat between their bodies.  Suddenly, Clarke pulled away causing Lexa to whine the loss of her body against hers.

"Lexa wait!"

"Why'd you stop Clarke? Do you not want this?"

"God Lexa. I want you so damn much but I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm your instructor. I feel bad that you spent your money on my class just so you can flirt and sleep with me. I feel like I should give you your money back."

"I'm not that worried about money Clarke. I actually like your class and getting to flirt with you was always a bonus."

"Who's the charming one now?"

"Well, I learned from the best. Now, can we please get back to where we left things off?"

"Okay but I have a challenge first. You said you actually like my class. Well, I want you to prove it."

"Uh, prove it how?"

"Show me you actually learned something useful from all of my lessons. We're going to spar and I want you to pin me down for 5 seconds. Manage that and we'll get back to making out."

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yeah. This will make me feel better about myself."

"Fine. 5 seconds doesn't seem too long."

"And I won't be holding back. You'll actually have to use the techniques I taught you."

"Ugh come on Clarke! We could have been getting sweaty in my bed by now."

"Nope. I won't fall for that Lexa."

"Can't blame me for trying."

"Oh and one more thing Lexa. If you can't pin me down in 5 minutes, I'm leaving and you'll have to wait until next week's class."

"Really?!"

"Think of it as incentive. You'll get your reward if you beat me."

Despite Lexa's pouting, Clarke held firm in her stance. Lexa motioned them to move to her living room for more space. They stood on opposite corners, Clarke in a defensive stance while Lexa maintained an offensive position. Once Lexa moved forward, Clarke started her 5 minute timer.

At first, Lexa decided to test out if Clarke was actually serious. She lazily launched herself at Clarke who quickly countered and pushed Lexa away. Lexa tried again but met the same result as she was knocked down on her ass. Lexa realized that Clarke was actually taking this whole challenge seriously. No matter what Lexa did, Clarke easily blocked and deflected her moves.

As the timer ticked closer to zero, Lexa was getting frustrated that she hasn't been able to land a solid tackle on Clarke. She had to break Clarke's focus so she needed to find a way to distract her. A devious idea then popped into her head. Lexa knew she had to play dirty to win the challenge. She suddenly stripped out of her sports bra and shorts, leaving her fully naked in front of Clarke.

Clarke was frozen in disbelief that she's now face to face with a fully nude Lexa. She never envisioned her first time seeing Lexa naked would happen this way. Although she daydreamed Lexa naked multiple times during class, the actual sight of Lexa's nude body in front of her surpassed her expectations.

Seeing Clarke distracted and caught off guard, Lexa made her move and rushed towards her. She aimed low and drove her full strength towards Clarke's hips. She pushed Clarke off balance and tackled her to the ground. She quickly pinned her in a basic hold down and started counting.

"One. Two. Three. Four and Five! Fuck yeah! I did it! We get to fuck now!"

Lexa hopped off Clarke in triumph and started prancing around the room in excitement at her victory. Clarke was still in shock and left speechless that Lexa's dirty move actually worked. Clarke groaned as she watched Lexa bounce with excitement in front of her.

Lexa told Clarke to stop frowning because she won the challenge and she wants to claim her reward now. She tells Clarke that she'll be waiting for her in the bedroom. Lexa sauntered away putting an extra sway in her hips.

Finally snapping out of her daze, Clarke realized that she still wins in the end because she now gets to sleep with Lexa. Clarke quickly got off the floor and chased a cocky Lexa to her bedroom.

Once inside, she threw herself at Lexa and pushed her to her bed.

"Now that's a strong tackle."

"How about you show me a powerful thrust instead?"