#I had to cut like half the fics I wanted to recommend

[abbyshands]

Good nigth darling,you're okay?can we have more nerdy!abby pleaase i beg you 🙏🙏🙏(srry for my inglish)

teach me

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

a/n; hello, my love! i’m good, and i hope you are too! of course EEK i was going to write more for her anyway, i love a nerdy girl. also this is cut off asf I’M SORRY i’m tired, maybe i’ll do a part 2 if y’all ask <3

synopsis; you’ve never been good at science, let alone college biology. when your professor all but forced you to get a tutor, who should you end up with but your nerdy girlfriend, who has a very unique way of getting you to study?

pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader

warnings; abby uses baby/princess, use of a strap-on, cockwarming + edging (kinda), abby refers to the strap as her dick and it’s referred to as her dick/cock, choking, spanking, degradation (ish. abby’s tone is just mean), anddd i prob missed smt so lmk <3

wc; 2.2k

p.s.; ALSO this is was ib an ellie fic i saw bro idk where tf it is 😭 searching for it tho. i js remember it was nerdy ellie. it was so good BUT LIKE WHERE IS ITTT idk i’ll link it here if i find it

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

you’ve always sucked at science. biology, chemistry, whatever the hell it was, it had never been your cup of tea.

your professor had not so kindly recommended you get a tutor. otherwise, your grades would decline (more than they already were, that is). you didn't want a tutor, let alone for it to be someone you didn't know. you were already feeling awkward enough having to have someone tutor you at all—you couldn't imagine if it was by an unfamiliar.

that's where abby came in.

abby anderson was your girlfriend, and she was a nerd. like, cliche movie nerd. if you couldn't find her in her dorm, with you, or in class, she was at the library, doing homework until she couldn't anymore. she was a coffee addict with how late she was up each evening, study sessions, unnecessarily reviewing, and, again, homework.

let's just say, abby anderson would do crazy things for an a.

you didn't necessarily want to have abby as your tutor. for some reason, it was embarrassing to you. you had already felt that way when you told her you needed one at all. it would be 10x worse if she would be the one doing it.

not only that, the focus.

how the fuck were you going to focus when you have abby fucking anderson in front of you? when your mind races with memories of her fucking you from behind, or kissing down your neck, or making you the wettest you've ever been, just by being alive?

you weren't.

but abby was persistent. you had originally said no when she first asked to tutor you, but when the guy who was supposed to tutor you didn't even show for your first session, it was no longer a request.

it was a demand.

you were sitting beside abby in her dorm, working on an assignment for your biology class that was due the following day. you had taken up to ten breaks by now, and it had only been an hour and a half or so.

abby pushed her glasses up on her face as she looked over at you, eyebrow raised. you had been dozing off, elbow on the desk and chin on your palm as your eyes began to fall shut.

"hey," abby snapped her large hand in front of your face, making your eyes open again just as quickly as it had happened. "are you listening to me?"

no.

"yeah. yeah, sorry, i just, um—dna and rna. that's what we're learning now, right?" you ask confusedly, doing your best to make it seem like you know what you’re talking about.

but the look on abby's face tells you all you need to know.

"mhm, like, ten minutes ago," abby hums a bit annoyedly, and you can't help but let out a sigh. it's bad enough you have to be here at all, but letting abby down, or worse, pissing her off, was the last thing you wanted to do. “you're never going to learn if you don't put any effort in," she sighs.

“c’mon, abs,” you whined as you set your pencil aside, putting your head down on the desk, eyes on abby. the blonde set her own pen down with a small shake of the head, expression unreadable. “i can’t do this anymore,” you said dramatically. abby rolled her eyes.

“what’s wrong now?” abby asked, but it’s not like she really wanted to know the answer. you knew how seriously abby took her own schoolwork, which may be the reason she was annoyed that you didn’t. but you just weren’t like that.

“none of this makes sense. i can’t remember a thing we go over. god, i hate biology,” you complained once more, looking away from abby.

abby sighed as she put a hand on your shoulder. as much as she wanted to be annoyed, she loved you, and she knew full well that even if you were smart, biology was your worst class.

“what can i do to help, baby? flashcards, d’you want me to quiz you? what do you need?” abby asked as she moved her hand to your back, rubbing it. you shrugged.

“i dunno. i don’t think any of that stuff is going to help me, abby. my memory’s—not that good,” you lamely huffed, but it was true. your memory was best when it came down to the things you cared for. college biology was not one of them.

“hm,” abby hummed. it took a beat, a small pause. but then, abby’s perked eyebrows told you that she had just gotten an idea, and so did the way her plump lips curled into a grin.

“i think i know what’ll do the trick.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

that’s how you ended up on abby’s lap, her cock buried deep inside of you as she gripped you by the bottom. abby’s way of bettering your sour memory came in the form of one of the most agonizing experiences you had ever had.

“how does dna differ from rna?” abby asks you casually, as if she isn’t filling you to the brim. you feel your face getting hot, bottom lip bitten down on as you look at her nervously.

“u- uhm. d- dna has a d- double helix model, fuck,” you whine. you must be at least a little correct, because abby bucks her hips up into you, causing the silicone dildo to move inside of you. “rna’s single, a- and involved in a different process than dna.”

“attagirl,” abby praised. it’s then that she grabbed you by the ass, hard, and forced you to ride up to the top of her dick, just before she’s slamming you back down. for only a few seconds, you gain some pleasure by moving your body like that, or abby doing it for you, that is.

but then, she’s robbing it away from you, just like that.

“a- abby, please, c’mon,” you whimper. this had been going on for a third of an hour or so. abby would ask you a question from the deck of index cards she had made for you, and you would answer. simple, right?

wrong.

because here's the thing: she wouldn’t move unless you answered her, and it had to be correct. and if not?

smack.

abby's large hand comes down on your ass as if to shut you up. really, it doesn't. you let out a moan as she then grabs your ass again, not giving a care to how sore you may be.

because she's already slapped you way too many times to count.

“don't act like this isn't for your own good," she says firmly, reprimanding you. "you got that one wrong last time. and we’re not going to stop until you’ve got that whole fucking deck memorized, you got that?” she asks, signaling to the forgotten pile of index cards on the desk behind you. you whine, body too achy for abby to deny her.

“f- fine," you whine, because who the hell would you be to say no?

“good girl," abby praises as she rubs her hands over your bottom, caressing you in a loving manner, a wide difference to the way she was addressing you mere seconds before. "now, can you tell me what a neuron is?”

doing your best to not focus on the feeling inside you, you nod, and easily answer. “a- a neuron—" you huff. "is a specialized cell.”

abby moves her hands to your hips and pushed you up, so that you're around halfway down on her cock. you let out a small shudder, but it must mean you're correct. “and what’s it do?” abby then asks.

to some degree.

but you know this one. after all, it was one of the last cards you looked at in the deck. so, you respond, “transmit.”

abby moves you up more, and this time, she brings one of her hands up to cup your tit. she plays with your nipple if only for a second, causing you to let out a low moan. but just when you think she's going to keep going, of course, she doesn't.

“transmit what?” she asks firmly as her fingers caress your rib cage, and it's all you can do not to roll your eyes.

“nerve impulses," you say a bit too fast, eager to have her hands back on you. your neediness helped you on that one. "i- it’s the basic unit of the nervous system," you add, for good measure.

"that's right, princess," abby smirked, course she did. she had always had way too much fun when she was driving you crazy during sex. this was no different.

but you're pleased to find yourself rewarded, because abby allows you to ride her again. you move up and down a little quickly, scared that your girlfriend will rob you of the feeling before it's even begun. abby begins to rub your clit as she gazes at you fucking yourself on her dick, way too needy for her touch.

"eager girl," abby cooed, rubbing her index on your clit in quick circles. "so needy for my cock, aren't you?"

"yes," you huff out fast, eyes closing shut at the feeling under you.

"too bad."

abby shoves you all the way back down her dick, so that you're all the way back down at the base. it pleasures you for only a second, before the feeling vanishes, just like that.

"abby, f- fuck," you groan annoyedly, body begging for a release you know abby won't give you unless you do what she tells you to do.

and she doesn't like your words.

abby grabs you by the neck, forcing you to look at her as you roll your eyes in the brattiest manner she's ever seen from you. "look at me. look at me when i'm talking to you," and she uses that tone you know she only uses when she's not playing games, barking your full name out at the end like the word pains her tongue.

once she's got your eyes on her, she speaks once more. "if you really want this dick, and i know you do, you're gonna take what i give you like the good girl you are. that clear?"

you keep your eyes on her, scared of what will happen if you don't, face hot as you answer. "y- yes, ma'am."

"primary use of the kidneys?" abby asks, not even giving you praise for obeying her. but you're not at all surprised by that: if there was one thing about abby, she did not like your bratty side.

this time, unlike what abby's asked you before, you can't remember the answer to this. like, at all. you fumble with it for a second, digging through your head for what it could be. but you don't get a response.

"i- i don't know," you dumbly stutter, genuinely unsure of what to say. abby isn't having it, obviously, because one mlre spank is coming down onto your ass before you know it.

"f- fuck!" you whine brokenly, head rocking back, and bottom sore from each hit abby's given you. she doesn't seem to care.

"yes, you do," she all but growls at you, and you think of your real class all too quickly, like she's your professor. "we went over this. so fucking tell me," she says, and it only makes your abdomen churn more.

and fill with butterflies.

“s- something to do with b- blood pressure, right? c- controlling it? please say yes," you were begging more to yourself than to abby, not even sure where that answer came from.

“mhm, and what else?" she coos, doing what she's done a million times before: moving you halfway up her cock.

"i- i don't know, abs. can't remember," you mutter, and really, how could you by now?

it looks like abby is feeling a little generous this time, because she helps you along. "what’s it do to your body, princess? begins with an 'r',” she asked.

even when your brain begins to fog up with all of the questions in your head, and what's happening besides that, it seems to click for you when abby says the letter 'r.' “r- regulates it? th- the fluid balance?”

“mhm," abby says with a small nod of approval, even kissing your chest this time as a reward.

"there’s my smart girl.”

and it goes on like that forever, question, answer, question, answer. sometimes, you got abby's cock easily. most times, you weren't so lucky.

your eyes are drooping, body aching and face hot as you stutter out the answer to the final card in the deck. once you do, you let out a deep, long exhale, which makes abby chuckle.

"see, pretty girl? wasn't that bad, was it?" abby coos, putting her hand up to cup your cheek. obviously, you want to say no. but after all of this, it was too risky to be bratty to abby. so you shake your head.

and you hadn’t even finished yet.

"n- no, it was—fine," you lie, and abby knows you are. but she doesn't ask about it, knowing full well how much she's done to you already.

"look on the good side.”

“you'll remember better now, won't you?"

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

reblogs are very much welcomed <3

———

[goldenempyrean]

Do you think you could write a fic where we’re sick and our work place makes us show up to work, knowing fully well we are sick because we tried to call in but they denied us. Anyways Nat ends up wondering where we are because she came back from a mission and sees that their are utensils and tupperware around and medication bottles and just in general clues that we weren’t feeling well, so she goes to find us because she wants to see us and make sure we’re fine. Only to walk in on one of our managers yelling at us (in a public area) because we were slacking off at “our job” (a task that they told us to do for them but it’s not in our job description) when we were simply putting our head in our hands for a few minutes because we didn’t feel well. Anyways Nat swoops in, saves the day, and the manager miraculously gets fired, and we somehow have a better job.

If you write this thank you :) and if you don’t it’s fine

Too Good To Me

〚 Notes - Hey anon! God, let's not talk about how long this was sitting in my inbox. I wrote this while rewatching supergirl so I may start getting some of my old Alex requests done soon! :D 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Your boss wont let you take a sick day from work. Natasha isn't going to be happy when she finds out. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1620 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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“Sorry Y/N, there’s nothing we can do. You’re just going have to suck it up and get yourself into work I’m afraid. We can’t afford any missing staff.” 

“But I-“ Your hoarse objection was rudely cut off by the call clicking off. You stared at your phone in disbelief, a sinking feeling of dread settling in your stomach. The fever was making you lightheaded, and every muscle in your body ached, but you had no choice. You had to go to work today. 

It was ridiculous honestly. Your boss knew you were sick, in fact the whole office was slowly coming down with whatever virus had been circulating. But it was coming to the end on the month meaning deadlines were approaching and it seemed meeting targets was more of a priority than employee wellbeing. 

Dragging yourself out of bed felt like an insurmountable task, but you managed to get dressed and somehow make your way to the office - the only thing keeping you upright was several more doses of DayQuil then the recommended standard. Even though it was short the walk from the parking lot to the front door left you breathless, and by the time you sat down at your desk, a cold sweat had broken out across your forehead. 

“Damn, you look awful.” One of your colleagues looked up over their desk at the sound of a series of sneezes you couldn’t quite hold back. They gave you a sympathetic glance and pulled out a packet of tissues and chucked them over. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled, catching the tissues clumsily. You wiped your nose and tried to focus on your computer screen, but the words blurred together, and your head throbbed with each keystroke. 

Meanwhile, Natasha had been having a fairly good day. Her mission had ended significantly earlier than she’d been expecting meaning she’d get to see you sooner. Of course, the two of you always kept in close contact whenever possible when she had to go on missions, but facetime was nowhere near as good as seeing you in person. 

Nat couldn't wait to surprise you. She had picked up some of your favourite takeout and decided to swing by the apartment. However, as soon as she stepped inside, her smile faded. 

The place was a mess. Not just a few stray cups or plates strewn about. The sink was piled up with unwashed pots. In the living room, the curtains were still pulled closed clouding the room in a dull haze. Meanwhile tissues and cough drop wrappers littered the coffee table amongst several half-empty medicine bottles. 

Nat felt her heart melt a little at the thought of you being sick and alone. Keeping her movements a little quieter now, she crept towards your shared room, pulling open the door carefully. Natasha had expected to see you curled up beneath the blankets, but she frowned and flicked on the light in surprise when all she saw was an empty, unmade bed. 

What the- wait, if you weren’t here then where were you? 

Hunched over, coughing miserably at your desk. That was where. Around midday, your manager approached you with a stack of papers, slamming them in front of you. “I need you to handle these reports. They need to be done by the end of the day,” He ordered, barely sparing a glance to look at you. 

“Sir, I’m really not feeling well,” You began, but he cut you off with a dismissive wave. 

“Not my problem. Just get it done.” He walked off, not willing to waste another moment on you. 

You stared blankly at the stack of papers, the text blurring in and out of focus. As time dragged on, you couldn’t stop yourself drifting in and out of a feverish haze, your productivity taking a swan dive. 

Every so often, you caught your colleagues shooting you concerned glances, but no one dared to speak up. Everyone was aware of the hostile nature of your manager, and no one dared to speak up incase that temper of his was thrown their way. 

Once an hour had passed, you could hardly keep your eyes open. You rested your head in your hands for just a moment, hoping to stave off the waves of dizziness. It was then that your manager reappeared, his face twisted with anger. 

“What do you think you’re doing? Slacking off again?” he barked, drawing the attention of the entire office. Heads turned, and conversations halted as everyone watched the scene unfold. 

“I-I’m just not feeling well,” you stammered, lifting your head to meet his furious gaze. Your vision swam, and you had to blink several times to focus. 

“Excuses! Always excuses with you! If you can’t handle the workload, maybe you should find another job!” 

“Excuse me, what exactly do you think you’re doing?” Natasha’s stern voice cut through the room like a knife. Everyone turned to see her standing in the centre of the room, her posture radiating quiet fury. 

“Scolding an incompetent employee,” Your manager blinked, momentarily taken aback. “And just who do you think you are?” 

“Natasha Romanoff.” She kept a quick pace as she walked towards him, her eyes narrowing, “The Black Widow, Superhero, Avenger and Wife.” 

Your manager's face drained of colour as Natasha's words sank in. He opened his mouth to argue, but no sound came out. The entire office watched in stunned silence as she closed the distance between them. 

Nat’s voice remained cold and steady. "If you have a problem with my spouse, you'll answer to me." She turned her attention to you when you ducked into your elbow was a stifled sneeze. 

“Bless you sweetheart,” She murmured softly, swiping a tissue from a box on a nearby desk and handing it to you, “Come on, get your things, we’re going home.” 

You stood shakily, relieved and grateful, but still a bit dazed at how Nat could even be here. The redhead wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying you as you stumbled. "Lean on me baby," She murmured gently. 

Nobody else said a word as the two of you made your way out the building. Once outside the fresh air hit your face, and you took a deep breath, feeling slightly more grounded. Natasha led you to her car, helping you into the passenger seat before getting in herself. 

"Thank you," You murmured, leaning back against the headrest before curling into your side with a harsh cough. 

"Don't mention it sweetheart,” She replied as starting the engine, but you didn’t miss the way her brow crinkled as at the sound of you, “I'm sorry your boss is such a dick. How are you feeling?” 

"Terrible," You mumbled, closing your eyes as you let your head rest against the cool glass window, “I’ve had a fever all day…. But you- you’re meant to be on a mission-“ Your voice was hoarse and cracked as you spoke. 

“I’m not surprised,” Nat raised a hand to your forehead before gently cupping your cheek, “And I finished my mission early, I swung by the apartment and well, you can guess the rest.” She kept one hand on the wheel and the other lightly resting on your knee as she drove. 

The rest of the drive was fairly quiet, Nat didn’t want to force you to talk, and it was obvious from the way your head kept periodically bobbing forward that you were exhausted.  

By the time she’d pulled up to the parking lot, you had dozed off against the window, small stuffy snores letting her know you were out for the count. Of course, it would’ve been easier to wake you, but she just didn’t have the heart. Instead, Nat carefully made her way to the passenger door, unbuckled your seatbelt and pulled you safely up into her arms. 

Trying her best to jostle you, Natasha carried you up towards the apartment, opening the door with ease and stepping inside. “Mm?” You gave a groggy mumble as you slowly blinked awake. 

“Shh, we’re home sweetheart.” Nat soothed you quietly, keeping her arm around your waist as she lowered you to be standing up by yourself. 

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the light in the room, and you made an audibly confused noise as you took in the surroundings. The place was spotless. The pots from earlier washed and stacked away. The stacks of tissues and wrappers had been thrown in the trash, the whole apartment looked fresh and clean - nothing compared to the absolute mess it had been several hours ago. 

“You cleaned? You didn’t have to-“ You began but 

Natasha cut you off with a gentle smile, her fingers brushing a stray hair from your forehead. “I wanted to,” she said softly. “You’ve been working hard and dealing with that jerk of a boss while feeling awful. You deserve to come home to a clean space.” 

You leaned into her touch, feeling a wave of gratitude and relief. "Thank you," You murmured again, your voice still raspy as you sniffled quietly. 

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” Nat led you to the bedroom, her arm still securely around your waist. She helped you sit down on the edge of the bed, then knelt to untie your shoes, “Now you best believe I’ll have your manager fired for how he behaved earlier.” 

“You’re too good to me,” You murmured, watching her with tired eyes as you tried to hold back a yawn. 

“You’re my world Y/N,” she replied simply, slipping off your shoes and guiding you to lie down. She pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in with care. “Now get some rest, you need it.” 

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[wonustars]

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘈𝘸𝘢𝘺

I recommend listening to Still by Jeff Bernat while reading the first part!

Summary: It’s been a year since you and your ex-boyfriend, Wonwoo, had broken up. You have been having a hard time getting over him, no thanks to the fact you share mutual friends. Friends who liked to constantly update you on how he’s doing. After having no contact for the past 12 months, you two end up at the same party.

Tags: angst, fluff, hurt and comfort, smut (mdni) j.ww x reader, nonidol! au, nonidol!wonwoo, exbf!wonwoo, jealous!wonwoo, mentions of most svt members (S.Coups, Jeonghan, Hoshi, Minghao, Mingyu Seungkwan.), exes to lovers, y/n has way too much pride, pining over eachother during the whole party omf, they both assume too much, a little mingyu x reader if you squint, low tolerance hoshi as always, mingyu is bullied but thats normal atp.

Smut Tags/Warnings: smut mdni! dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, afab!reader, bathroom sex, p in v sex, semi-public sex, fingering, literally one spank (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, tiniest bit of degradation, praise, lots of petnames (baby, princess, love,). if i've missed anything lmk! :}

Word count: 4556 words.

Note: HELLO OOMFG, my first ever seventeen fic has now graced this website. literally no one asked for this… i just love wonwoo. I can't believe i even finished this with how hectic school is wtf. any ways this is my first Wonwoo fic and i'm very excited and NERVOUS to share it with you all...... anyways i hope u like it haha. lmk what you guys think of it PLEASE i want feedback, i crave feedback. love u all enjoy hfiasuheiuhafsi.

SMUT UNDERNEATH THIS CUT. MDNI! 18+.

After a year of not seeing one another, the pang in your heart never subsided. The thought of even breathing the same air as him was already causing you to feel the uneasiness boiling in your stomach. You heard from everyone how well he’s doing without you, you didn’t want to have to see it with your own eyes too. 

Unassumingly, you walked into Soonyoung’s apartment expecting to be greeted by the host himself. Instead, you donned upon a familiar set of eyes. Soft brown eyes, the same ones that you looked into every morning for three years. 

You tried your best to act ok, but the familiar ache in your chest was creeping in once again. The same ache that hasn’t left for the past 12 months. The same ache that hasn’t left since you watched him walk out your front door. 

The two of you are still standing there. Awkwardness started to settle in. You clear your throat and attempt to give your best poker face. 

“Hi, uhm is Soonyoung in there?” You Inquire. Cursing yourself mentally due to the audible shake in your voice. 

“Hey Y/n long time no see, and yeah he’s already become good friends with his toilet. You know how he gets with alcohol.” He chuckled. 

Now you’re mentally cursing him. He looks so composed compared to you. He’s even joking around with you. You have half the mind to back out and just drive home. But you can't. You can't because it’ll make you look like he still has an effect on you. Even though you’re not over him you still have some pride left in you. 

“Oh haha that doesn’t sound too good. Anyways, it’s nice seeing you again but I’m gonna go and greet everyone now.” You declare, eyes not even meeting him. If they did you wouldn’t be able to stay calm any longer. 

His hair got longer, you thought to yourself. He looked so good even after all this time. The thick rimmed glasses he wore complimented his features well. Alongside the creme knit sweater, the sleeves sitting above his elbows. It gives you a good view of his strong forearms. The same ones that held you while you fell asleep every night. 

“It’s nice seeing you too Y/n.” His voice is almost a whisper. Eyes scanning your face for any type of reaction. 

To Wonwoo’s dismay you only nod your head half-heartedly and trudge past him. He can feel his heart skip a beat, with both joy and sadness. Being able to see you is so bittersweet, and you still look as good as you did when he last saw you a year ago. 

He watches you make your way through the room. Your eyes particularly light up as you spot Mingyu. Curious eyes peer over to your frame and see how Mingyu engulfs you into a tight hug. Wonwoo's fists ball up tightly and he shuts the door with more force than normal. 

If things were different, it would be him that has his arms around you. Not his best friend.

You laugh at Mingyu's joke, but you’re still conscious of the pair of eyes that are burning into your back. You didn’t have to turn around to know who was staring at you. A part of you is happy, why is Wonwoo keeping his eyes on you? The other part of you is anxious. Why is Wonwoo keeping his eyes on you? 

“We’ve really missed you around here y/n.” Mingyu's soft voice brings you back to reality. 

“I’ve missed you guys too, Gyu.” You professed. Your hand moves to give his bicep a reassuring pat. To the two of you it’s nothing but a friendly gesture. To Wonwoo, it appears to be more than that. 

His jealousy is brewing in the pit of his stomach. 

You, on the other hand, are very aware of the way Wonwoo is eyeing you and Mingyu. If you didn’t know any better, you would assume that Wonwoo is jealous of Mingyu. As much as you want that to be the actual reason, you suppress your inner thoughts. Instead, you let Mingyu continue to talk your ear off about why he thinks Lane's character deserved a better ending in Gilmore Girls. 

…

Hours passed and the party has dyed down considerably. The only

people left at Sooyoung's apartment are now sitting around chatting in the living room. Everyone but Soonyoung (who Jeonghan and Minghao eventually put to rest in his room) have been engaging in the group’s conversation. 

“Haha, Hey Mingyu! Remember that time you tried to do a flip in the pool just to impress Y/n?” Jeonghan decided to make up a game called Mingyu's embarrassing moments. Group bonding he likes to call it. You can't help but laugh at the way the boys like to tease Mingyu. 

Though you found it surprising that Mingyu's failed flip was because he was trying to gain your attention. 

“I’m sick of you guys bringing that up! My back hurt for a whole week..” Mingyu huffs, he looks at you with a pout. Allyou can do is giggle. 

“It’s ok Gyu, you can show me your flip the next time we go to the pool!” You try not to burst into laughter as you reassuringly pat his shoulder. In the middle of all of this you felt a pair of eyes on you the whole time. Without even turning to look you knew who it was.

Excusing yourself to go to the washroom, you let the group continue to share their favourite moments of Mingyu embarrassing himself.

While you stood there, eyes closed, a sigh left your lips. All your energy had been drained from the party. Especially because 90% of your brain power had been used on looking at Wonwoo without making it obvious. You couldn’t help but steal glances, especially because he looked so good sitting there laughing with the guys. 

The tap was still running when you heard the door open and shut firmly behind you. You look up at the mirror to see a pair of cat-like eyes staring back at you. The squeeze in your chest intensifies. Out of all the people who could be in this small space with you right now, it’s him. 

“Are you and Mingyu a thing?” He cuts to the chase. Wonwoo was never the type to beat around the bush. Whenever he was curious about something he would ask. He finds it exhausting to play coy. It doesn’t make sense to him. 

You cough due to the awkward atmosphere. “W-what? Of course not! Me and Mingyu are just friends. He’s your best friend Wonwoo. I would never do that to you.” 

“I’m sorry I just don’t like the way you two seem so close.” He deflates. His eyes are still piercing into your soul. 

“Why? He’s both our friend Won.” You retort. His nickname leaves your lips so easily. The blush spreads across your cheeks in a matter of seconds. It’s been awhile since you’ve been this close to him. Since you’ve last called him by his nickname. 

“It’s the way he’s always trying to get your attention. I think he likes you Y/n.” Wonwoo sighs, he hates that you're so oblivious to Mingyu’s advances. Everyone but you seems to see the double meaning to his actions. 

“Even if Mingyu does like me, I would kindly reject him.” You assure him. You’re not sure why though, you two aren’t even together anymore. Following that thought, your heart aches once again. 

We’re not together anymore, you repeat in your head. 

You turn around to face him. With your backside pressed up against the bathroom counter, your breath gets caught in your throat. 

“My love, why did we even break up?” Wonwoo questioned you with a sad expression. You frowned. You recall the last few weeks before you broke up with him. 

He was so respectful of your decision it almost seemed like he wanted it to happen too. 

“Because I could tell that the last thing you needed was a relationship. Work was hectic for you, I was barely around because of my last year at school. It just felt like we were always at two different places. I loved you but I don’t think it would’ve been long before we called it quits. I just decided-.” He cuts you off. 

“Yes. You decided without me. We could’ve made it work. But you decided to break it off when it could’ve been fixed easily. I didn’t put up a fight when it happened because you seemed so sure that you didn’t love me anymore.” The tears in your eyes were threatening to spill. His face is so close to yours. The proximity of both your bodies. It was so much of him after not having him at all for so long. 

“I’m sorry, I just thought about what’s best for you.” You countered. A pout settling on your face. His arms are placed on the counter, gripping the marble on each side of you, locking you in. 

“There you go again, making decisions for the both of us.” His voice barely above a whisper. 

Wonwoo's eyes are still trained on yours, and you can’t seem to look away. The sparkle isn’t there anymore. It hasn’t been there since the day you left him. 

“Baby tell me you don’t love me anymore. Tell me that so I can move on. Because everyday that I’m not waking up beside you is another day my heart breaks a little more. I can’t even breathe properly without you. So please, just tell me you don’t love me.” The crack in his voice causes a tear in your heart. He’s begging you, the desperation in his words are clear. 

You look down. Wonwoo's knuckles are turning white because of how hard he’s gripping the countertop. The both of you are breathing heavily, and you fear that he can hear how hard your heart is pounding. 

“I’m sorry Won, but I can’t do that.” You murmured. “As much as I want you to be happy, I can’t tell you that I don’t love you. I don’t think I can ever stop.” 

“If you love me then come back to me. Please Y/n whatever it was that caused us to break up, we can fix it.” Pleading you, he grabs your face with his large hands. The motion makes you look back up into his eyes. He’s crying. 

The tears in his eyes slip gracefully down his face. Even in this sad moment he still looked so beautiful. A blush prominent on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. His long lashes wet with tears. Sorrow somehow makes him look so pretty in the dull lighting of the bathroom. 

Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest and your tongue dry. What are you even meant to say? Is it worth it to come back to a relationship you thought you couldn’t salvage? As much as you love Wonwoo, you two had so much ahead of you. His career was clearly taking off before you broke up with him and you just didn’t want to hold him back. You needed love, you needed attention but he just became too busy, rightfully so. You would never blame him for prioritizing his work, even if it meant straining your relationship. 

On the other hand you were in the final stages of completing your thesis. The two of you were always missing each other. He was always coming home in the later hours of the night while you were still asleep, and by the time it was morning the bed was neatly made beside him. 

“Won, I love you, I do. But I can tell you’re better off without me. From what Cheol and the boys are saying, you’re happy. I even heard you're dating again.” you chuckle bitterly, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying. 

“No Y/n, I’m fucking miserable without you. I don’t care what the boys are saying. I only went on a date because Soonyoung said it would be good to try again, but I can’t do it. I can’t because it's not you. And I can’t stand the thought of you ending up with someone else. I want to be your last. I miss waking up to you every morning, and I miss the way the house smelt when you were still around. I even miss the way you would snore in your sleep. I need you in my life, but if you don’t feel the same way anymore then I won’t bother you anymore. You won’t have to worry about me.” Wonwoo’s voice cracks, the desperation clear in his voice. 

His hands are still caging you in, the proximity becoming overwhelming. Your faces are inches apart, and all you can smell is his peach scented cologne. His scent only ever reminded you of home. God why was he so good with his words, you thought. The tears in your eyes start to fall. Fuck. This is not how you thought this night was going to go. 

“I love you Wonwoo.” is all you can say in response. It comes out as a whisper as the gap between you two starts to fade. 

Your lips move against his with fluidity. He feels the same way he did a year ago, you thought. The sound of the running tap and the sounds of kissing fill the small bathroom. Wonwoo’s hands move from the countertop to your waist, gripping you tight. As if you were about to disappear into thin air if he let you go. 

All you could think about at that moment was that he felt so good on top of you. Your bodies pressed up against each other once again. You haven’t been with anyone since the two of you broke up, you just couldn’t do it. No one could get you as turned on as Wonwoo does. It doesn’t feel right unless it's him, it doesn’t feel right to have anyone inside you except him. 

Wonwoo still has his iron grip on you, but now his hands are creeping under your shirt to feel your bare waist. You don’t stop him, if anything you want him to keep going. Fuck everyone who can hear you outside. Right now, at this moment, it's just you and him. 

Both of your breathing becomes laboured as you deepen the kiss, opening your mouth to let his tongue explore the inside of your mouth. His mouth finally leaves yours; looking at you again with those piercing eyes. Staring back with the same intensity you just smile and place a hand on his cheek. He breaks the contact only to dive into your neck, kissing and licking every square inch he has access to. You can only whimper as you feel him marking you up. Even though it's a bad idea for him to leave hickies, he can’t help it. Wonwoo wants to show you how badly he’s missed you. 

You two are close enough in distance that you can feel his hard on pressing against your thigh. He’s rubbing himself against you as he licks up your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. 

“Hmm feels good baby,” you whisper, as you move your head to give him more surface area. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, your hand gripping his bicep to keep you grounded throughout all the pleasure. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, you can’t help but feel sensitive to every miniscule touch that you’re receiving. 

“I need you so bad Won,” you whimper to him. His hold on you tightens at your words. All of this feels like a dream that you don’t want to wake up from. Wonwoo’s lips feathering soft kisses against your skin as he holds you; it just feels too good to be true. 

“Shh I know baby, I’ll give you what you want, just let me savour you for a bit.” He whispers back in your ear, one hand slowly moving towards your chest. His hand was fully under your shirt by this point. You force him to reconnect his lips with yours again, kissing him harder. You pull away again just to take off your shirt, your bra following without a second to spare. Not wasting any time your pants come off next, leaving you fully naked against the sink. 

Before you can take off any of Wonwoo’s clothes he stops you, his eyes dark with want. Moving you to sit on top of the counter, he spreads your legs. You sit there with anticipation as he massages your thighs, admiring your glistening pussy. He hasn’t done much but he still looked so attractive under the fluorescent light. Your walls lining with slick the more you looked at him. Fingers creeping close to where you need him most, he plays with your wetness. You sigh, the relief washing over you as he rubs slow, lazy circles on your clit. 

“Need more, please baby.” you whine, grabbing his wrist to bring him closer to your entrance. He pulls back with a tsk. 

“No love, let me play with you for a bit.” He’s not asking, and you know how he gets when you two are like this. You’ve always been a brat with him, and he was never one to give in. Always playing the long game, edging you until you beg him to let you cum. Today was not the day to play games with you though. 

“No. Wanna feel you inside me now.” you demand, leading his hands towards your soaking cunt. 

He can only sigh, giving into you for the first time. 

“This is the only time I’m letting you get what you want. Next time you better be begging for me.” He looked serious, and you know not to play brat any more than you have now. 

Without warning he shoves two fingers inside of you. Letting out a moan, you throw your head back. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as you spread your legs further. Wonwoo curls his fingers as he pumps them in and out of you, feeling how wet you are for him. He can’t help but grin to himself. He knows he’s the only one who can get you this needy, and he's enjoying every single second of it. 

Your moans get louder and he slaps his other hand over your mouth. 

“If you wanna be a good little whore for me, you better keep quiet. Can’t have the others hearing you now, isn’t that right baby?” he spits. You can only nod, your brows furrowing with pleasure. 

“You're so wet already, this is just for me isn't it?” he hums, picking up the speed as he finger fucks you. You moan against his hand, not being able to give a proper response due to all the pleasure. You forgot how good his fingers feel compared to your own. They fill you up so well, not even your vibrator can make you feel this good. 

He continues with his ministrations, the sounds of your wet folds squelching echoes inside the bathroom. Your mind wanders to whether or not the guys can hear you, but they quickly dissipate as his thumb finds your clit once again. Rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his fingers. The familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching creeps up on you. 

“G-gonna cum Won.” you breathe out. His hand leaves your mouth, replacing it with his lips. The speed of his fingers increases, the other hand fondling your tits to get you closer to the edge. You moan into the kiss as relief washes over you, your cunt dripping with cum. It covers his hands and your inner thighs. Before you could say anything, Wonwoo shoves his fingers in your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. 

“Good job baby, you’re doing so well for me aren’t you?” He chuckles as you obediently lick up your cum from his fingers. The praise and your recent orgasm makes your head dizzy. 

Opening your mouth you remove his fingers. You pout and pull him closer to you, and he goes back to placing his hands at each of your sides on the counter, leaning in to give you a peck on your lips. 

“Want your cock, please baby.” you whine, grabbing the ends of his sweater to attempt to lift it off of him. He can only laugh at how needy you are for him. “Wanna feel you cum inside me please.” 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” 

He removes his clothes quickly, both your bodies buzzing with anticipation. His pants pooling at his ankles, and his member stands hard and leaking with pre cum. Your mouth can’t help but water. As much as you want to suck him off right now, you don’t. Mentally leaving a note to yourself to ask him about it next time. Next time, you thought. It still sounded funny considering you haven’t been with him like this in a long time. 

Parting your legs apart further, Wonwoo moves in between them, his hands guiding his dick towards your entrance. Teasingly he rubs himself against your cunt, collecting your juices for an easier entrance. You look down between the two of you and your pussy clenches at how big he is.

“Stop teasing please, I want you inside me now.” you beg, pushing your hips to meet his. He just chuckles, shaking his head before he forces his cock past your folds. 

Gasping at the sudden intrusion, he doesn’t give you time to adjust; grabbing your thighs to hook them between his arms, spreading you further. It gives him a new angle to fuck into you deeper, his thrusts fast and hard just how you’ve always liked it. The pleasure becomes more overwhelming with every move he makes. The feeling of his hard member rubbing against your gummy walls sends you into overdrive. He continues to hit that spot in you that you know no one else can reach. The vigour in every movement causes slapping sounds to fill the room alongside the wet sounds of his cock entering in and out of you. If anything it just turns you one even more. 

“Feels so good baby, keep going.” You moan as he places his mouth around your nipple sucking on it as he continues to fuck you. He moves your legs once again to place them around his hips, allowing his free hand to rub your clit once more. The feeling of it all is hitting you hard, especially with how sensitive you are from the previous orgasm. 

“So fucking tight for me princess.” Wonwoo grunts, his words causing you to clench around him even harder. He’s groaning above you, trying hard to not cum for as long as possible. You’re already drunk off his cock but he wants to savour every moment of this. The uncertainty of it all is keeping him from cumming too quickly. 

The moans coming from your mouth only get louder the more he plays with your clit, and before you know it you’re coming undone for the second time tonight. But Wonwoo perseveres, his thrusts never falter. Not until you feel his member twitch inside you. 

“Cum inside me Won, wanna be filled up please.” you’re blubbering at this point, overstimulated and overwhelmed. You just want to feel his cum spurt into your hole. He groans at how the filthy words spewing from your lips, causing him to release inside you. You whimper against his shoulder, feeling the hot white liquid spilling into your pussy. As you clench around him once more you bring his face to yours, giving a deep and meaningful kiss. 

“Come home with me. I’m not done with you.” He demands. His dick still inside of you, he refuses to pull out, finding comfort in your warmth. 

“I’ll do whatever you want Jeon Wonwoo, as long as I get to ride you later.” you laugh, removing yourself from his grip. He smiles, the pink tinge apparent on his cheeks. 

You hop off the counter to put on your clothes, and as you bend down to grab your things you feel a sharp slap hit your ass. Yelping, you turn to give him a dirty look. He can only smile mischievously, the sight of his cum leaking from your pussy lips onto your thighs is turning him on again. As he gets dressed his head fills with intrusive thoughts, ultimately, he decides to save it for later. 

The two of you end up leaving the bathroom just to see everyone still drinking and talking in a circle. All the attention turns towards the two of you. Out of all the people you can’t help but notice the way Mingyu isn’t his usual cheerful self, the difference earlier on in the party is a stark contrast from his current mood. Your thoughts are cut off by Seungkwan’s voice. 

“Finally! My god, we didn’t know when you two were gonna make up, its been to fucking long.” he exasperates, both you and Wonwoo giggle bashfully. 

“For real, the tension between the both of you was too thick. All you needed was a good fuck.” Jeonghan chimes in, giving you two a suggestive wink. 

You feel the heat rise creep up your neck to cheeks. In the heat of the moment the bathroom fuck was good, but you know the boys aren’t going to let you two live it down. They never do, Mingyu being a prime example. 

“Ok ok, I hope you all got your jokes in. Me and Y/n are going home.” Wonwoo announces, leading you to the doorway with his hand on the small of your back. 

“Good night guys!” You bid them farewell and you make your way out of Soonyoung’s apartment. They all say their goodnights to you two, along with some cheers at the news that you and Wonwoo are back to normal.

The two of you walk towards Wonwoo’s car, his hand entangled with yours; holding you tight to ensure you don’t leave him again. The fall breeze sends chills down your spine, the leaves dancing in circles along the pavement. Wonwoo pulls you in closer, trying to preserve your warmth. You can’t help but smile at the fact that he just knew, even when you didn’t say anything. 

As you reach the destination of his car, he opens the door for you. Letting you get comfortable before climbing in himself and turning it on to start. The radio immediately connects to his phone, the song humming quietly in the background. Wonwoo’s hand finds yours again, looking at you with warm eyes. He places a quick peck on your lips before pulling away. There’s only one destination for him in mind. 

“Home?” he asks. 

“Home.” you respond.

© wonustars

a/n: there you have it kind reader! you've reached the end. i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it :D leave a like, comment or even a reblog!!! i wanna hear your thoughts. mwah mwah, anna <3.

plz note: 𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙞’𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 !

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 10)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 9, Part 11

summary: In the morning, Miguel reminisces.

warnings: smut! grinding, humping, alcohol, PIV, switch-y behaviour (what's new), aftercare, mentions of depression. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: soft melty mig >>>

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 4.5k

Oh! and I finally made the series' playlists (very open to requests) <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

between your bodies;

You wake up with a headache and a lump in your throat.

Bleary eyes; and you rub away sleep, rosy and warm around the edges. Everything smells like him, is your very first thought. It's the kind of thing that has you reeling, tossing and turning in unfamiliar sheets before looking up at a mottled ceiling. Light creeps in from curtains cracked open, rays spreading like wildfire on everything it touches. Miguel's bed is by the window, and you can't help but curl up what little light spills in with your hands; palm upwards, slowly balled into fists. It's warm, and your hand feels a little different.

Oh.

Like a bolt of lightning, memories of the night before run up your spine; dancing up and down between the sheets. Miguel's hand in yours, his skin pressed up against you, a room spinning in the kind of way that seems romantic. Seems romantic; you note. It could've been the alcohol, but you had felt something between you two, yesterday. Something… different . Your cheeks grow warm at the thought of last night; drunken revelations and so much light, it burns.

I like the way your eyes scrunch up when you smile. I like the way you look in the morning, squinting at labels and cereal packets. You've got the prettiest lips I've ever seen, Miguel.

You burrow under the covers as you recall it; the memory of Miguel between your thighs, his head in the crook of your shoulder. The way he had half-laughed, heady and heavy and thick with want, low groans pooling by the shell of your ear. You're not too sure if you meant it; really, really meant it; and you're scared of what that means. Casual sex was the agreement, and you didn't think you had the capacity for much else.

Sighing, you stretch your leg out from under the covers, dipping a tentative toe on the rug. Bare, except for a T-shirt whose hem kisses your thighs. Mig's t-shirt, of course, and you tug it down as you slip out of his bed. The aftermath, things tossed off shelves and awards that had clattered to the ground, lies in last night's wake. Guiltily, you root around to pick up his things.

They're more personal than the things around the house. You notice a plaque or two from undergrad, his diploma  - biomechanics and chemical engineering with honours - and even a certificate from a middle school science fair. The image makes you smile: little Mig with braces and a distinct frown, handed a plastic trophy in front of a spotty crowd. 'First Place' it says, and knowing him his entry was less baking soda volcano and more miniature Hadron Collider . If he's anything like he is now; he was probably a mouthy little pain-in-the-ass, too.

You take a watch off of the floor, half hidden under his bed. A knee brushes past a clear box; that jostles and rattles around like nails in a metal can. From vague outlines, you can see a box of junk , in every sense of the word: scrap metal, wires, plastic tubing. A whole scrapyard under his bed, and you reach for it, curious.  Something knicks at your hand in the process. Glass, from a broken pane of a frame slipped under the bed. Softly, you hiss, sucking at the cut that draws blood.

More careful, now, you push the frame towards you, sweeping up the glass as best you can. In the lowlight, you can't make out much. Carefully, you hold it by a corner - an intricate thing, all twisted metal and brushed bronze. From out under the bed, you see it, or rather, him: Miguel, a little younger, surrounded by a couple of unfamiliar faces. A taller man, a much older woman - and they both smile in the way he does, crows feet and with the kind of warmth that reaches their eyes. In his arms (Miguel's, but not your Miguel) is a little girl. She is small; wide-eyed, gap-toothed; looking up at him, as if the camera wasn't there. The adoration in her face makes you smile. His sister, maybe? His brother, Gabi, and his dear mama ? 

Gently, you place it on the side table. You sweep up the glass into your hand, ignoring the sting that spreads to your palms. It's not a deep cut, but you head to the kitchen anyway, in search of warm soapy water and something to mop it up. 

Slipping past the doorway, it is deathly quiet. Morning spills in through a window, illuminating a lone figure - broad shoulders, tan and bare save for pyjama pants, hunched over the dining table. 

Miguel doesn't seem to notice as you get closer, finally able to hear slight noise and chatter from a tinny phone. Cup of coffee in hand, you watch as he scrolls, replaying the same video over and over. From over his shoulder, you can just about make it out: music that had deafened you at the time, loops with a pathetic whine. A video from last night, it seems, and you recognise the icon of Lyla's story. Bright lights, your dress sparkling and a pretty little laugh drowned out by Lyla's - he seems to replay the same couple of seconds over, and over, and–

“Mig?” He jumps, leaping almost 3 feet into the air, it seems. His phone shuts off with a clatter, slammed onto the table. Turning, he seems guilty, before flattening his face into something more socially acceptable.

“H-Hi. Morning.” He clears his throat, giving you an awkward nod.

“Morning,” Softening, you slink down to take a seat. He knows, of course: he knows that you know, that you saw exactly what he's been doing. But you're both going to ignore it, let it settle in the gaps between you - a gap that quickly shrinks, he notes. 

The chair drags across the floor, almost catching at a rug on the wooden slats. When you seat yourself by him; closer, closer, oh-so close; you can't help but brush your legs to his, addicted to the way it makes him shiver. Payback, you think, grabbing at his mug and stealing a sip before he can say anything. For all the times he's fucked with your head.

Miguel knows better than to protest, crossing his arms resolutely. He sighs - not maliciously, but with a tinge of defeat. You're too pretty, and too close for him to think properly; to even muster up the energy to argue. And so he doesn't, opting to chew at the inside of his cheek. 

“ Hey .” You say, hand coming up to cheekbone, stroking at it with your thumb. Miguel tries not to lean into it, to melt into the touch. “ Careful. Where'd you go?”

It makes him laugh, bitterly, ruefully - whatever you want to call it. Where'd you go? And you say it like you've got an inkling of all the shit that goes on in his head. He goes to the same place he always seems to be, these days. Somewhere that reminds him of you , of your nights together, of your nights apart–

“Did you sleep well?” You're asking, and it takes him a second to process it.

“Sure.” Shrugging, he lies, and you pretend to believe him. “Long night, I suppose.”

When he picks that moment to look at you, to bore into your soul, you take your hand away; feeling naked , feeling bare . 

“What about you? Did you sleep well?” 

And you hum, non-committal, in response.

“Can’t remember much.” It’s a bold-faced lie, and he knows it.

He chews at his lips, eyes dragged down to your figure. He’s shameless, lashes fluttering before he sighs - with the kind of tiredness that rattles at his chest - scratching at a 5 o’clock shadow.

He’s pinching at the bridge of his nose like he’s battling a headache - and losing miserably. Miguel; your Miguel, this time; looks so pathetic, with the countenance of a wet mop. It’s not a grimace, nor a frown, like always. It looks like melancholy - thinly veiled, bone-deep - and it makes your heart splinter.

You just… you just want to comfort him. To hold him in your arms and stroke his hair, to press kisses into the crinkles at the side of his mouth, his forehead: to be warm and soft and somewhere safe , for him.

It’s a compulsion you can’t fight, clambering over him to sit on his lap. His gaze flickers, pointedly trying to ignore you, but his hand rests comfortably on plush thigh. It sends a shiver down your spine; how tender his touch is, even when like this. 

“I…” You start, tracing a hand to his scratchy jaw and gently tilting him towards you. “I remember enough.”

 He can’t help it, hand travelling a little further up and eyes flitting to your lips. 

“... Yeah ?” And it comes with an unceremonious squeeze at your ass, wetting his lips with pink tongue.

That gap between you shrinks even more as you press your chest to his, with a hand at his shoulder. God, his skin is hot to the touch; lean muscle that tenses under your palm. He gets closer.

“What are you doing today?” He’s trying so hard, forcing himself to look you in the eye - betrayed only by a pounding heart and a lingering look to your lips. 

Coupled with the way he looks at you; kneading at your thighs, leaning into your gentle palm; it makes your throat close up. 

“...U-Umm, I think–”

“It’s Friday, right?” He hums, head cocked as if deep in thought. “You’ve got… stats and lab prep, today.”

You frown. “Yeah, actually. How did you–”

“You’re always complaining about Fridays.”

“I didn’t yesterday.”

“I’ve barely seen you all week, sweetheart.” 

“ And who’s fault is that? ” Muttering, you roll your eyes, trying not to show him the way it makes you melt.

“I listen.” He says, soft. 

“...sometimes.” You finish, but it’s half-hearted. You know, he knows; he listens . He always has. 

“I think…” You clear your throat. “T-Think m’gonna take the day off. I’m pretty–”

Tired. Exhausted. Ready to kiss your roommate if it meant he would look at you like that for a little longer.

“ – hungover .” He whispers, thumb stroking your hip as you snort; ready to bat him away. 

Wriggling, his grip tightens, slotting you closer as if in a trance. You’re laughing, a sharp retort at the tip of your tongue, but his wry smile seems tinged with something else. It’s a something that makes your heart skip a beat – but it’s his next words that have you reeling.

“I’ve got the day off, too.”

You’re taken aback. “Don’t you…? I-I mean I thought you’re taking extra hours at Alchemax…”

“Nope.” Resolute, he shakes his head. “We’ve got appraisals or something, today. Upper management only. I thought I told you.”

Brows kneaded, you give him a look he’s well accustomed to. And Miguel; because he’s Miguel, of course; counters it almost immediately.

“Don't give me that … You didn’t even know I wore glasses until yesterday.”

“That’s not fair , Mig.”

“You don’t want to spend the day with me? Dios mio, hermosa.”

“Mig–”

Dramatic, he tips his head back, clutching at his chest. “Am I that bad? You can’t spend a couple hours with me–”

“Mig –”

“Just a couple, sweetheart, and then I’m out of your hair, and you can complain about me to–”

“ Mig! ” You exclaim, giggling whilst you nudge his head forward to meet your gaze.

“You called?” He flutters his eyelashes playfully, with a hint of a smile. 

It looks good on him, you think; glad that he feels comfortable enough to finally let go.

There’s a gentle lull and he places hot palms at your thighs to hike you up even closer. You adjust yourself on his lap, watching the way he groans with his head in your hands. It makes you bold: the way he moves to clutch at your hand and dart under the lip of your shirt to press you closer. 

A roll of your hips makes him purr , eyes fluttering as he rocks up in thin pants. Quickly hardening, he’s wearing a dopey smile - one you return as you press your forehead to his. He angles his hips just right, causing little moans to spill out from pretty lips. The hand at his jaw travels to the nape of his neck, tugging in that way you know that he likes. You know him, and that makes your chest warm: the way he purrs and rumbles as you touch him in a way only you can.

Roughly, he swallows, head tilted up to catch at your cheek. 

“Do you remember what you said last night?” It’s whispered into skin, soft and barely-there. “What you asked me to do?”

Kiss me. Why won’t you kiss me?

Like something sharp and intense through your veins, the memory makes you shiver, leaning into Miguel so his clothed cock catches at your clit. Like this , you don’t want to look at him - you can’t. 

Ask me tomorrow.

And so you shake your head, nuzzling into his side with a weak whimper.

There’s a pause so imperceptible you might have imagined it. If Miguel is disappointed - or relieved, or frustrated - you can’t quite tell. Unceremoniously, he latches on, taking large handfuls of your ass and sucking ugly hickies into pretty skin.

“You asked me–” He says it between wet kisses, sloppy and hungry and quickly deepening. “You asked me to fuck you .”

You gulp, hips rolling as you close your eyes. 

“ Just the tip, you said.” He lifts you up slightly, rolling back plaid pants. He nips at your neck, all tongue and teeth and claws. “Do you remember now?”

He’s not even inside, teasing your bare folds with the wide head of his cock. Your head tilts to give him more access to that juncture of your jaw. A dry chuckle leaves your lips at his tone and countenance; asking if you remember as he does his best to make you forget even the simplest of things. And that’s the thing about Miguel O’Hara, saccharine-sweet, gorgeous -in-the-low-light O’Hara: he makes you feel so good, everything else falls away.

“ Fuck.” He heaves. “”J-Just the–”

Impatient, you shift your hips, slipping him inside with one delicious movement. You can taste it: pleasure , white-hot and building up just below your gut. Miguel separates with a wet pop, hands trailing up to rid you of your shirt – his shirt, you realise with a moan. Exposed, he eyes your pretty stomach and then the peak of your breast. He keeps you flush to his hips, right at the sharp cut of his v-line, tufts of hair leading to where you both meet. With the way his eyes flutter, you can tell: he wants to kiss you, slathering up your chest to collarbone, and then from collarbone to jaw. He gets close, pressing shaky kisses to the corner of your lips – threatening to break the promise you made to each other long ago. And God , with the way he pistons up into your cunt, you… you just might let him.

Then his hips shift, pubic bone at your clit in a way that brings pleasure to the burn. You’re stretched out, filled to the brim and then leaning back to press your forearms onto the grain of the dining table. Like this, his hands stay squeezing the flesh at the tops of your thighs; only able to watch as you take over. You use a bit of leverage to tilt your hips this way and that - eyes low, not leaving his.

“Feels good , Mig.” You’re whining, eyes locked onto his because you want to watch him fall apart - to watch as all his troubles melt away. “So good. Uhh –Always does. I remember… shit … remember this. ” 

And you take his hand, wrapping your lips around his index and middle finger - thick and large - with the memories of how they felt inside you only making you wetter. Gushing praise as best you can, you slobber and slather over his fingers, studying every twitch and gorgeous groan that he gives. He pulls his hand away from you; gentle, but cursing nevertheless; alternating from slapping your ass to tugging at the stiff peak of your nipple. It’s your turn to stutter, hips jumping as you cum - an orgasm so hard he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from spilling into you. There’s blood in his mouth, he notes as he studies the way you look: beautiful, always beautiful; framed in the gentle pink and purple from a rising sun.

Miguel slips out of you, painfully hard. Still heaving from your orgasm, you lean forward to press his cock between your bodies: bare and gorgeously framed in morning sun. Writhing, you kiss his neck, trailing up to the shell of his ear, whispering sweet nothings.

“Want you to cum, Mig.” And you do… oh God , you do. “You close?”

All he does is groan, nodding fervently into the crook of your neck. Diligently, you wrap him up in your arms, crooning and sweet, carefully rocking into him so his cock slides up and down your soft skin. For once, he doesn’t complain, holding you just as tight. 

“M’gonna… o–ohh ffuck …”

“Cum, Mig. For me.”

You’re firm but gentle, pressing your tits up against him and making sure his cock gets that well needed friction. As such, you can feel it almost immediately; hot cum slathered over your tits and body - leaving so much glistening on your skin. 

With a rough gulp, he heaves, eyes screwed tightly shut. You can’t help it, brushing away stray hairs from his face, leaving soft kisses in your wake. And maybe, just maybe, you hear him sob - muffled whimpering and whining with every slight shift of your body against his. And oh . It makes your heart melt when you realise, still carding your fingers through the nape of his neck.

He’s overstimulated. It’s too much.

Limp, he stays wrapped around you for a while, muttering nonsense into your skin.

“ Sorry. ” Shakily, he says – like he even has anything to be sorry about. “M’really— fuck. I just need a moment.”

You hum. It makes your heart heavy that he thinks he needs to be ready now , that he thinks he doesn’t deserve more than a moment to process his pleasure. You want Miguel to feel good, you always have. But with the realisation that you want him to be happy ; to feel safe, to feel loved; well…

…it scares you more than anything.

~~~

Aftercare .

Miguel admits, he’s not too familiar with the term.

It’s not something he’s proud of. With many a one night stand under his belt - even, occasionally seeing a girl more than once - he’s never been too good at it. He’s tried, definitely. Tried so very hard to stick around a little longer, to stay curled up in bed and guide his partner through their comedown. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite come naturally to him - oft susceptible to a glass of water by the bedside and a gentle nudge to an Uber. That physicality: the cuddling , and kissing, the sappy, wholesome, relationship-adjacent thing? He’s never had that desire after sex, much too stuck in his own head for that.

So why does this feel… so good?

You’re taking care of him. He’s not stupid; knowing that your bedside manner is much better than his. You’re merely doing the right thing and helping him past such an intense orgasm: and that seems to come in the form of his head on your chest, limbs tangled up together on your beat up old couch. This doesn’t count , he’s convinced himself: all those rules and boundaries you’ve both come so close to breaking - a little cuddling doesn't even scratch that surface. And if it feels so good to have your hand playing with his hair, to ground himself with the steady thump-thump of your heart, then who is he to complain?

He’s just a man, he decides. A mere mortal, unable to resist that taste of heaven he’s been given - unable to say no . Absentmindedly, you’re humming some stupid song you’ve had stuck in your head for at least a week, now, eyes trained towards a cheesy soap on the TV. There’s a mug of coffee on the table - it tastes like shit, but Miguel is more than happy to gulp it down if  it makes you feel better - hot and steaming as you tug the blanket so it covers him a little better. 

Unknowingly, you’re lulling him to sleep - the very same sleep he’s been chasing for the past couple of hours. Tossing and turning at night, but barely 10 minutes in your arms and his body only seems to listen to you , for some reason. Traitorous bastard, he thinks, fighting to keep his eyes open. 

You’ve cleaned the both of you up - even though he had insisted otherwise. Let me take care of you , he had slurred, and you just laughed ; that pretty, infuriating laugh, with that pretty, infuriating smile – the very same one he’s wanted to kiss off of you since the beginning. Weakly, he protested, following you into the kitchen only to make a nuisance of himself. 

It’s like you're drunk, Mig.  

In some ways, maybe he is. You had steered him away, and onto couch cushions. Which must have been quite the feat, he notes, able to control all 6”5 of his sleep-deprived, hefty limbs. But he supposes, yet again, his body doesn’t quite listen to him anymore. Only you.

Was it that good? Did I fuck the fine motor skills out of you?

He remembers groaning. He remembers trying not to be drawn in by that lilting giggle, covering his ears with a rough blanket. Most of all, though, he remembers the feeling of your body on his, slipping on top of him to dig him out of that heap.

Miguel? Baby, it’s a joke! I’m kidding, I promise.

He had poked his head out. Baby. He likes that, likes the way his name sounds out of your mouth. It anchors him to this mortal plane like a sharp hook, cutting through the brain fog and burying itself into his chest. You had clasped your hands around his face, steadfast despite his wriggling.

…Oh God, even worse. I think I fucked the common sense out of you instead.

He remembers wanting to kiss you. Your lips curled up into that stupid smile, clearly so pleased at a shitty joke. It makes him warm, thinking about it now. Or maybe, it’s just the blanket you’ve tried to suffocate him in. 

“When did you sleep?” You ask, and he has to blink up at you to collect his thoughts.

“Late.” He says it simply. 

That answer doesn’t satisfy you, and you’re poking and prodding at his face, gently pulling at slowly deepening eyebags.

“ No fucking wonder .” You mutter. “You’re turning into me. No more late nights, Mig.”

When he frowns, you stick your tongue out, gleefully watching as his grimace deepens. 

“Or what?” 

“Or we stop having sex.”

That makes him rocket u pwards, indignant. “ You can’t just– ”

“I can do what I want.” Slowly, your face morphs into what must be worry. At least, he thinks it does, not too familiar with someone worrying about him like this. “No more late nights, please”

You say it so softly his heart might break. He clears his throat of its cobwebs.

“That's not really up to me, sweetheart.” Thesis deadlines. Tutoring. Taking on more hours at Alchemax in preparation for a big event. Slowly, his plate mounts, and it takes everything in him to keep going.

“I know,” You settle his head onto your lap, now. Absent-mindedly, you wrap one of his curls around your finger, hand in his hair in a way that feels more intimate than the past hour, days, weeks spent together. “I just wish you'd take care of yourself better.”

It's not said to chastise him, and you don't sound disappointed ; not tinged with the same flavour of guilt that his mama has over the phone, or that Gabi has when he hits him with that deep sigh. It's pure, selfless, plain-and-simple worry. He doesn't deserve it, he thinks.

He looks up at you. Beautifully oblivious, your gaze is still pinned to the TV. It’s domestic, comfortable in the afterglow of sex. That’s what it must be: contentment and bliss settling over him like a warm blanket. The aftermath of being in your arms, of your body on his; purely physical , that follows the kind of euphoria that he imagines can only be found in a needle. Honestly, he’s still expecting a sharp decline, a rough comedown that tastes like regret, or despair, or deep, deep empty. It doesn’t come.

Always the pessimist, but Miguel can’t help it, really; he’s been chasing something just out of reach for too long. 

“You’re gone again.” You say it so quietly he almost misses it. You give him a weary smile, hand clutching at the fabric that pools around him. He watches as you rearrange it by his shoulders, pinching the folds with a kneaded brow. Finally satisfied, you look him in the eye. “Like Ophelia. ”

He doesn’t sigh. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or any of the half dozen ways he’s learnt to repress difficult emotions. Slipping under the water - the makeshift waves made of a ratty blanket - passive to his own suffering. You don’t say it, and he hasn’t even told you the half of it; but somehow, you see it . You see him.

He remembers the first time he met you. Thundering and clattering through his space; bulldozing every carefully placed wall he’s spent years putting up. And then he remembers the first time he actually met you; behind the sharp tongue and quick retorts, finding you watery and forlorn on the floor of your shared apartment. Beautiful, of course – always, always beautiful. But that time, the kind of beauty only found in a painting: tragedy captured in oils, careful brushstrokes muddied by time, by loss, by hurt. You’ve been hurting for a while, he thinks, well before any mention of shitty ex-boyfriends and missed lectures.

Miguel recalls late nights spent trying to still his heart, fixated on a sudden, betraying question that rattles around in his head. Are you like him? Do you understand ? Born with something missing, a tick-tick-tick of the count, radioactive and broken and–

Your hand drapes lazily across his chest, tapping and pointing at something on the screen. He hums, non-committal, the words out of your mouth barely registering. It feels familiar. It feels warm. It feels like nights spent on the couch trying not to laugh at your frustratingly witty remarks. He remembers holding his breath when your leg brushed against his; stealing careful glances to his side; trying not to stare at the way the gloom of the TV looks ethereal against you, snug to the slope of your features, cut this way and that.  

But more than anything, he remembers wanting to kiss you. God. Maybe he always has. 

_

_

_

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

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[ashrayus]

PLSSSS MORE FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS OF JASON TODDDD!

DUDEE!!!! really happy u asked but also omg this got long agaiN who would have thought (!) i added summaries this time tho :)

here is part one of my fic recs XD

andd heres the new ones!! pls give them some love if u read them :D

Dick and Jason:

how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill by sunlitlemonade

There were blood drops dripping down his fingers to the ground. The puddle was big enough for it to have spread around more than half the tub. His breaths shuddered, they were shallow and waning. But he was breathing and Dick’s world centered around that.

starting strong with Angst go read all of sun’s fics i always die and get revived <333 pls mind the tags on this one

cast on/cast off by hellsreluctantheir

“This is surprisingly non-destructive for Jason,” Dick comments, lightly. In the parking lot, Jason pulls a grenade out of one of his pockets, yanks the pin, and tosses it through the roller door and out of sight, before tearing out of the parking lot in chase of the truck. “Well, for a minute there,” Dick amends. He takes a step back towards the alley the batmobile is parked in, giving Bruce a quick glance. “We following? “No,” Bruce says, as the grenade goes off. “He’s cleared the warehouse. We can get into the office.” Dick sighs again. But Jason knows he can call in if he needs help.

time loop!!! read most of this writer's fics and fell in love with them all,, go read fr

bloodstained by hellsreluctantheir

“I know where the clinic is, asshole,” Jason said. The wad of gauze he was using to keep pressure kept slipping against his shoulder. The knife had caught the space between two panels, split to allow movement. Lucky shot. “Ok, let me make sure you get there without passing out from blood loss,” Dick said, a deliberate evenness to his tone, like he was doing his best to accomodate someone who was being completely unreasonable. Shithead. “I’m not going to pass out,” Jason said, ignoring the fact that he was actually feeling pretty unsteady on his feet. He caught himself with his good shoulder on the entry to the bathroom, took a deep breath. “What would Daddy Bats think if he knew you were here, trying to help me?” “I assume something like, ‘Wow, Dick, you’re such a good brother, trying so hard to make sure Jason is ok even when he’s being a complete idiot about it,’” Dick sniped.

heres another one from them. jasons scars and dick. andd another one next

brothers in arms by hellsreluctantheir

It wasn’t like none of them went undercover. Jason practically lived there. And he’d punch anyone who tried to make it a sob story for him, to cluck over the times he’d been alone in a pit of vipers, act like it was some tragedy. But given half a minute to think about it, Dick somewhere completely cut off from everyone but Bruce, no allies on hand, surrounded by enemies. Angry as he was at the lie, there was something about that he just fucking hated. or Thinking your brother is dead and then finding out he's been alive the whole time really has a way of making you rethink the relationship.

Shelter by Ptelea

Two safe houses, two nights dealing with the aftermath of fear toxin, multiple conversations, several meals. Written for Sholio's September 2020 Comfort Fest for a prompt from Musesfool. Warning-wise, there's nothing graphic here but there are definitely references to past canon trauma for both the characters.

the way they are written here <33

Rotten Fruits by couldyoublameme

“I’m fine,” Dick assured gently, sitting up slightly. “Just a bad night, is all.” It’s a familiar phrase he has used so often. Whenever the addiction crawls back into his mind, a parasite he can never truly get rid of. The family knows what it means. Knows what the ‘bad’ is. Knows what to do. “Oh,” Jason says. “Why?”

absolutely murdered me. pls do mind the tags

You Can Do Better Than That by AlexaAffect

All Jason could hear was his own ragged breathing. He desperately gasped for air, each breath more exhausting than the last and his lungs and throat burned with the effort. In. And, he needed a second longer with every breath he took, out. His arms had been suspended for the last… 15? minutes? Jason had quit keeping track of the time, he’d been too preoccupied trying to hold himself upright, trying to ease his position, switch it up, anything to prolong the guaranteed death. “Red Hood?” That was Dick’s voice. Huh. So they had found him fast enough. Or alternatively; Dick finds a kidnapped Jason shortly before he asphyxiates.

this fic is just oddly comforting to me idk. very precious

Equivalent Exchange by Lysical

Apparently favors don't expire on death. --"What do you want, Dick?" "For you to be happy, Jay." Dick leaned over and pinched his cheek. Jason reached up and swiped at him, scowling. "And world peace."

ADORABLE and fun

Just for Now by Lysical

Jason was back in Gotham and the timing couldn't be worse for him to need assistance on a case. He didn't want to see any of the Bats and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Nightwing was the worst option for Oracle to pick to help him out.

To Reconcile by CasualDanger

“Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?”

he ain't heavy, he's my brother by someplacewarm

Dick's been putting off meeting with Jason for a while now, but when a distress call comes through, he has no choice but to answer. Or the one where Dick and Jason talk, fight, get high and cuddle. In that order.

making gold out of it by vmkhoney

Dick talks himself back down on the bathroom floor, clinical and detached. (For someone whose primary skill is manipulating his body, it’s not very often that he feels connected to it.) - Or, five years after Blockbuster, Dick begins teetering on the ledge of processing what Catalina did to him.

a wonderful dick grayson fic, and jason is there being a good brother. mind the tags

What Hurts You by blueyeti

Dick comes to Jason's aid when he's injured in a fight, or at least he thinks he has.

jason has no scars!! and thats also sad

at me, too, someone is looking by bacondoughnut

Dick Grayson knows he's got problems when the Red Hood's busted leg somehow becomes his concern. aka; How Dick Grayson finds out Jason Todd is alive. A story about healing.

a rather long one for my standards XD (very short attention span) but this made me sit down and read. very fun jason

Bruce and Jason:

Saltwater and Desperation by bacondoughnut

Jason's not sure how he even manages to get himself out of the harbor. He's just glad Bruce is there when he does. Not that he'll ever, ever admit as much out loud.

same writer, love this jason (and bruce) so much

Insomnolence by navree

It's not like he slept much as a kid anyway; this is just a return to the status quo. He's not overly tired, and even if he's been sleeping less than his already limited amount throughout April, that's still not any of her business. Bad memories are already bad enough even before they spend the next few years in the aftermath becoming nightmares.

navree being The bruce and jason writer for me all of their fics are so o(- (

Ash Into The Wind by navree

This is his dad in there, the first man he ever called Dad, at any rate, and even after everything, booze and jail and Bruce and death and then death again, there's never going to be a part of Jason that isn't gutted that he's dead. One night, a wraith in a red helmet slips onto the grounds of Blackgate Penitentiary to steal one specific thing.

another one from them

Trapped by lurkinglurkerwholurks

BatFam Week 2018, Day Two. Prompt: Trapped Yes, the prompt is "trapped" and it's a Jason fic. I'm so, so sorry. (Not really, though.) Please see tags for potential triggers.

binge read this writers fics recently they write them so nice

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies

Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance.

Jason and Batfam:

Names and Neapolitan by Muddell

“Goddamnnit Robin,” Hood is there, pulling him into his arms. Robin sees that helmet, he sees the green eyes, the dark hair, he sees open, gray, Gotham sky, and hears tires squealing, and then he sees stone. He sees the cave. Bruce is there. Alfred is there. Dick is there. And Hood is there. Robin rolls in and out of consciousness. He reaches out, snatches the smell of copper and the touch of leather, and he holds Hood’s hand and he does not let go. He’s allowed to say it now. “Jason,” he says. “Don’t leave.” Or, following Dick telling Tim about his older brother, to Tim actually knowing him.

read a couple fics from this writer all so good!!!

Six Ways to Sunday by Muddell

Jason catches Duke hiding a headache and says, is anyone going to deal with that?

same writer!! really love their jason

Settle Down and Sleep by OberonBronze

A series of vignettes about seeking comfort. Damian tries his hand at being a comfort animal; Tim shows up at Jason’s place for an impromptu sleepover; Jason bonds with his older brother after a damaging fear toxin trip; Dick and Bruce have a long-overdue conversation.

really liked jason and dick in this :)

Tuck Me In by OberonBronze

Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.

think how great it is to fall asleep (and how terrible it is to wake up) by mikkal

Jason was fifteen, barely five foot, and underweight for his age when he died. When he came back to his body, suddenly he was too tall, too scarred, too much, too different. And he just... never got used to it. (Or: 5 times a Bat noticed/discovered his body dysphoria post resurrection)

Stranger Danger by alchemistsarego, whumpinaheartbeat (alchemistsarego)

There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness. Everything simply flashed from one thing to the next, even though some part of him understood that time had been passing in between. He had been sitting upright, rolling his eyes at something someone had said, then he was on the ground being pinned by some unknowable weight. All at once the weight was gone again, replaced instead by something not only lighter, but much warmer too. A blanket? No, a jacket.

jason and others:

Past Experience by Rookblonkorules

He thinks he might be dying. Again.

clark and jason :)

Bats in the Belfry by endlessnepenthe

Hal idly wonders how long he has before he's found. Probably not very. The Bat's freaky like that. (Or, Hal goes to Gotham and discovers that Batman's brand of freaky isn't exactly one of a kind.)

jason and hal jordan??! and slade? and magic.

[cor-lapis]

I decided to have a go at doing my own redesigns because these three are my favourites and I love them very much. further notes + sources under the readmore (warning: lots of text). I did my best with the research, but if there's anything I overlooked, I'd really appreciate people letting me know :)

Tighnari:

My main source for Tighnari was this excellent thread, from which I looked up each item of clothing individually. Since djellabas tend to be quite long, and Tighnari needs mobility for forest ranger activities, I figured he would cut and re-hem the lower half. He also has a lot of clothing pieces that are traditionally multicoloured, but to keep his design cohesive I decided to use the same colours across different items, but using a larger palette of colours than I would usually. I like the bright colours on him a lot though!

There are also some minor details I just changed because I wanted to. The flower on his chest is now a nilotpala lotus, because I thought it was nice to include his acension material/the material he asks you to help gather. The dirt stains/scuff marks are because rainforests are muddy and I wanted the design to emphasise Tighnari being very practical and hands-on with his work (see also, the specimen belt).

Finally, I shrunk the magnifying glass on his back (because I'm pretty sure it's meant to be his first magnifying glass toy and that thing is very large for a child to handle) and gave him an undercut because it seemed right. Also, I merged his front and back trailing cloths into a scarf type of thing that he could wrap around his nose and mouth to prevent inhaling spores from mushrooms.

Collei:

COLLEI my beloved. I had a mild nightmare trying to figure out a specific source culture for her design, but nobody seemed to know specifics and her outfit wasn't matching with any traditional dress I looked up, so in the end decided to keep the overall look the same. Just in case I assigned her something else, but then it turned out I missed her actual inspiration.

Anyway, I made her shoes simpler (no fur, heels, and open toes in the rainforest seemed reasonable to me), and gave her shorts. I liked the green colour because it's pretty unique under a dark dress, and pairs nicely with Nahida's white dress + green undersides. Amber's tie stays, but I made most of her jewellery smaller since it felt a little clunky for a trainee ranger.

Her earring and necklace(?) are allusions to the Evil Eye and the Khmissa/Hamsa, both symbols of protection. Especially considering the fact they're meant to ward off evil, and very common across multiple MENA cultures, it seemed fitting for Collei to have them. Also, she has Eleazar scars, and I used the design for her stockings as inspiration for the combination knee braces (similar to those used for arthritis, since Eleazar also causes stiff limbs and I HC that people affected would probably still need some recovery support)/knee pads (in the case of a fall). I like the idea that Kaveh would have helped make them for her (tangent but the fic Here is the House explores similar ideas; it's really really good, I heavily recommend it). Finally, she has curly hair because I thought it would be cute.

Cyno:

Here's the thread I found for Cyno. The main critique was to do with the eras from which each aspect of his clothing drew inspiration, but I admittedly wouldn't be able to do much about this without a lot of research. One thing I did try and verify was the small strip of cloth on the left of his chest, and I found a few wall murals where the people seem to be wearing similar strips of cloth? (example here; rightmost figure) Therefore, I didn't remove it, but if someone wants to explain Ancient Egyptian clothing history to me I'd be really interested to hear it 6.6

I might iterate on the design in the future, but for now the changes are mostly HC territory. Cyno wearing his hair in locs (a protective hairstyle) makes sense for someone who does a lot of hiking after rogue scholars, and I also gave him quite old and faded top surgery scars because healthcare is canonically free in Sumeru (thanks for that information, al-Haitham)(though tbf Cyno makes bank anyway). I also adjusted the colours a bit, since Genshin tends to use desaturated shades for metallic elements.

I also considered giving Cyno more scars, but figured that it could indicate Hermanubis' presence that someone you'd expect to get injured a lot is relatively scar-free (i.e. some sort of godly healing factor/resistance to damage). However, we know next to nothing about Hermanubis, so Cyno having a lot of scars also makes sense. This paragraph is mostly just a cry for help cyno story quest 2 literally any more elaboration about the nature of Hermanubis' pact and the Temple of Silence.

Conclusion

I wasn't intending to write one when I started the explanations but this got REALLY long so if you made it this far, thank you so so much ToT please check out the links; the threads especially were a great resource, and I'm grateful that people take the time to make them <3 genshin's character design department are cowards but I'm glad I learned some new things through the redesign process

[dinogoofymutated]

NSFW! Cable/AFAB!Reader

Alright! Last time this one will be posted lol. Thanks everyone for being patient with me, I know Cable isn't exactly a fan favorite compared to the other characters I write for on this blog, so I appreciate everyone being cool while I've been finishing this :) If you'd rather read the SFW version, You can find it here :) also, This fic has come callbacks to the previous cable fics I've written, So I'd recommend you read/Reread that one first! TWS: MDNI!!! Jealousy, creepy men, we choose the bear and the bear is Cable. Slight miscommunication, but healthy talks happen. PNV sex, fingering, dirty talk. Usage of pet name "pretty girl". Raw sex, wrap it bf u tap it guys.

    The bar is busier tonight than you’ve ever seen it. It’s humid, stuffy, and overly loud with all the warm bodies packed into the small space. You’ve never been one for crowds, but you know for a fact that Cable is certainly not a people person.

    The two of you had been crammed into a corner booth for about an hour and a half, originally having come to the bar to meet a contact that never ended up showing. Normally, the two of you would have gone home by now. It was your idea to stay and get something to eat, wanting to at least make some good with the newfound downtime. 

    You were comforted by the feeling of Cable’s keen gaze keeping an eye on you as you wove through the crowd, finding your way to the bar. You hold back a smile as you sit down, ordering some drinks for the two of you as you wait on the food. Eventually, you glance back at Cable and find him still staring at you, making eye contact as you send him a smile. You’re not surprised, but you raise a playful eyebrow at him. Cable, ever the protective grump, rolls his eyes at you in response, but you still spot the small smile he gives you when you send him a wink.

    “That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

    “Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

    “Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

    “Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't. 

    “What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip. 

    “This Husband.” Cable grunts. 

    All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

    “What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and was getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately try to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable is ignoring the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

    “ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

    “Ohhkay. Yeah, let’s go.” You tug on Cable's arm, practically dragging him away at first. You weren’t worried about the drunk, that guy sure as hell wasn’t getting up any time soon. To be honest, you were more concerned with the fact that you could never meet someone in this bar discreetly ever again. Yay. 

    The drive back to today’s apartment is silent, and you’re thinking too much about Cable, honestly. He’s not necessarily talkative himself, arms crossed in the passenger seat as he looks out the window. You send a nervous glance his way. You had called him your husband, and although it felt right in the moment as you tried to get another man off your back, you didn’t think that Cable would actually hear you. And boy, did he hear you. Sure, he responded… like he did. The memory of it almost makes your stomach flutter. Part of you wants to be absolutely delusional and just revel in the fact that he inadvertently called himself your husband, but what if he felt forced into it? What if he only said that so that you wouldn’t be caught in a lie? When you think about it, that had to be it. I mean, he was being overprotective in the first place, but he was just trying to defend you from unwanted attention. God- you just wish you could pull your thoughts together. Pick up the confusion and chuck it out the door.

    You drive on autopilot, and before you know it, you’re already “home”. Nathan splits off from you, going to change probably. The fact that he hasn’t really looked at you yet makes you even more anxious, but to be honest, you probably wouldn’t have noticed if he had. He wasn’t usually affectionate when he was high-strung, and you knew that, but still. You can't seem to let it go.  You’re curled up on the couch when Nathan joins you, fresh out of the shower and already in casual clothes. He gives you a little space as he sits, like he doesn’t want to startle you. He’s still as stoic as ever, but at least he doesn’t look angry. You’re itching to say something, to speak, and he can tell. 

    Nathan could feel your anxiety since the car, and no matter how badly he wanted to know why, he could tell that you needed a moment to get it out. He crosses his arms with a sigh. He didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but when that idiot at the bar started talking to you he just couldn’t stand it. He knows he blew your cover big time with that punch, but there would always be another crusty bar to go to. In all honesty, he was more concerned with your change in attitude. You receded into yourself in-between the bar and the car, and he didn’t want to know if he was the reason why. He wonders if he overstepped.

    “Sorry, by the way.” You finally manage to say. Nathan cocks an eyebrow at you.

    “For what?” He asks. You look away nervously, fiddling with your fingers.

    “For when I called you my husband back there. I know we’re certainty not… well, I was just scrambling and needed something concrete- and calling you my boyfriend felt weird so-” 

    “Take a breath.” You’re surprised as he cuts you off, feeling a little stupid as you try to collect yourself. There was so much you had been through, so much that you had learned how to handle, but this?? Why was it so hard to communicate feelings like this when you normally can communicate with him so easily on the battlefield? He was probably tired of your rambling.

    “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I get it. We wouldn’t have even had a problem if the guy had taken a hint.” Nathan says, pissed off at the thought of the guy putting his hands on you still. You glance at him, a confused look on your face as you lean back on the couch.

    “So…?”

    “So, don’t apologize. It’s not like I actually…” Nathan stops for a moment, and your heart skips a beat. “I didn’t mind it” He finishes.

    “Oh?... Oh.” You say, slightly taken aback. Nathan is flushed red, staring straight ahead as he avoids looking at you.

    “So we’re okay, right?” You ask.

    “Of course we are,” Nate responds immediately, without even thinking. He looks over at you finally, still blushing a little. You relax at that, having a bit of deja vu. You realize that one of you had moved closer during the conversation, and your sides were pressing together. Nathan’s hair is messy, the gell having washed out during his shower. You always liked how fluffy it was like this, and to be honest, you can't help but reach up and run a hand through his hair. He huffs at the action, a ghost of a smile on his face as he rolls his eyes at you, but he doesn’t stop you from doing it. He’s a bit too tall for you to comfortably reach, even sitting down. Your arm is getting a bit tired, but you don’t want to ruin a sweet moment like this one. After a minute of you debating what to do, Nathan sighs and pulls you into his lap. 

    “You think too much.” He says, closing his eyes. He brings one of your hands back up to his hair, encouraging you to keep going. You hadn’t expected the action, almost startled by it. Sure, it wasn't like you had never touched him before, but the two of you… you were still getting the hang of things. New changes, familiar feelings. It felt good to be this close to him, and for once you know that you don’t have to worry about your time together being cut short.

    “Does it bother you?” You ask quietly. “When I think too much?” Nathan hums, hands resting on your waist.

    “...No. You think more than anyone I’ve ever met. Your mind is always running about something or other. Really, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t thinking.” You notice a slight change in his demeanor during his last sentence, but you don’t comment on it. Instead, you find yourself admiring his face. Your hands shift down from his hair, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes, across his cheekbones. Your eyes drift down to his lips, and you can’t help but lean in and kiss him. He’s surprised for a moment, eyes flickering open and then shut as he cups the nape of your neck and kisses you back. You sigh into him, moving to straddle his legs as his left arm tugs you closer to him by your waist. The cold metal chills you through the fabric of your shirt, his thumb idly rubbing against you. 

    Both of you are out of breath when you separate, caught up in the unbreakable connection between the two of you. You look into his pretty brown eyes, and you want to say it. You want to say those little words so badly. But you know you shouldn’t. There was something about saying it that made everything a little too real, that made everything seem a bit too different. You want to say it, but you don't. You know he knows. You know- you hope he feels the same. It’s all you could ever hope.

    “Of course I do,” Nathan whispers, a look so similar to heartbreak on his face. Your eyes widen, once again not realizing his intrusion into your thoughts. Then again, maybe you were just so used to him lingering in the back of your mind that you didn’t notice anymore. You kiss him again. This one is slower, more intimate, more sensual, and he returns it in the same manner. You’re feeling a little sappy, but content just the same. Nathan finds himself in a similar well of emotions, hoping that next time he won't have to remind you for you to know it’s true. 

    Nathan kisses you again, and again. He drags his teeth across your lower lip before smoothing the skin with his tongue. You eagerly open your mouth, goosebumps forming on your skin as he takes the invitation. Both of his hands have moved down to your waist, squeezing the plush skin as the kiss begins to morph into something a little more intense than it originally was. You feel cold fingers start to drift under the fabric of your shirt for a split second before he shifts you to the side.

    Nathan begins to crawl over you, pressing your back onto the couch cushions as he keeps kissing you. He holds himself up with his left arm as the other one begins to slide further underneath your shirt. He’s completely caught up in you and the feeling of you against him. His kisses begin to trail down the side of your neck, and it’s like he knows every sensitive spot by heart. You tangle a hand in his hair again in an entirely different manner than you had done the last time. He shifts his weight so that his other arm has more room to work with. 

    The mood dies a little when your hair gets pinched by something. You let out a yelp of pain, and Nathan immediately recedes from you. You flinch at another tug, realizing that your hair has gotten caught in his metal arm. Nathan is wide-eyed as he leans up, untangling himself from you so that he can carefully tug your hair free. You sit up as he does, rubbing your sore scalp. He raises a hand like he wants to do the same but doesn’t. He makes a sour look at himself and his arm before he begins to lean away from you completely.

    “Sorry, I’ve overstepped,” Nathan says. Your stomach drops to your feet as you scramble to grab a hold of his shirt, keeping him close to you in a bit of an awkward position.

    “No!” You say, a little louder than you intended to. Nathan looks a you, more confused than surprised, like he couldn’t fathom why you were holding onto him, why you wanted him to continue.

     “I… I’m fine with… just-” You’re struggling to say it, flushed beet red at just the thought of what you’re trying to say. Eventually, you huff and give up, fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. You tug on it a little, but Nathan doesn’t move.

    “Don’t make me ask, Nate.” You say. His breath hitches. You bite your lip and his eyes catch on the sight. He catches himself before he gets a little too distracted, and glances away for a moment before making a decision.

    “Okay. But we're not doing this on the couch.” Nathan grumbles. He stands, pulling you up with him as he does so, and you can’t stop yourself from tugging him down for yet another kiss. He has to bend down to meet you, a little too tall to kiss you comfortably. It’s not much of a problem though, especially when the man you're kissing is strong enough to lift you into his arms like you're weightless. The kiss only breaks for a second as he lifts you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him as he walks to the bedroom. You realize just how much warmth had begun to pool at the change of position, feeling a wetness between your legs that you wonder if he can feel. 

    You don’t want to distract him as he carries you, but every time you pull away from his kisses he drags you back to him, biting and sucking on your lips in faux annoyance.  It’s like he already has the apartment mapped out in his mind, barely needing to look to navigate through it all. He doesn’t bother closing the bedroom door when he gets there, plopping you down on the bed before he’s crawling over you again, kissing your neck and collarbones as his hands drift underneath your shirt. His hand is rough and calloused compared to the plush skin he finds there, the metal of his other one cold and smooth. You swear it leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

    You clench your thighs together as he touches you, not quite used to the feeling. It’s been a while since anyone has touched you like this, and you find yourself completely overtaken by Nathan. He nips at the skin of your neck, and you gasp at the feeling. He continues to suck and lick at the spot, and when he’s done, he starts another one. You wonder if the man at the bar would have still approached you if you had been marked up like this before, wearing a purple, tender kind of jewelry that you’d only let Nathan give to you. You try to project the thought on purpose, hoping that he’ll pick it up. You think about everywhere else he could mark you, and Nathan curses as he sees the images in his mind as clearly as they appear in yours, a hand thumbing at your bra before it slides under you to unclip it.

    Nathan leans back as he takes your shirt off, the bra coming with it. You try not to shy up as he openly admires your breasts, watching as your nipple pebbles when he brings his cool left hand up to caress the skin. His eyes catch your own as he leans down to your chest, kissing a trail from your collarbones to the peak of your left breast. He sucks and nips at the soft, squishy skin, taking the nipple into his mouth after he had his fill. You let out a small noise of pleasure, gasping at the feeling of his tongue against the sensitive nub as his other hand lovingly caresses the other.

    Your hands wander up and down the expanse of his back, sliding under his pajama shirt. Nathan shudders as you gingerly slide your fingers over his scars, and the torn skin that marks the difference between man and machine. Your fingers follow the seam of scarring delicately, caressing the skin. You feel how his skin prickles, and wonder about the extent of his sensitivities before he nips a little harshly at your nipple to catch your attention. You wince at the feeling before he smoothes it over with his tongue. He kisses your breast one last time before he moves back to your lips. 

   You lean into the kiss with a hum, inviting him inside of your mouth as his hands trail down to your waistband. His thumbs hook underneath the fabric before he starts to pull it off of you, underwear included. He breaks from the kiss, wiping the trail of spit that connects your mouths. He leans back onto his knees, kissing down your stomach as he slides your pants off completely. His shirt is next to go, revealing the strong muscles that lie underneath. Your eyes trail down to the bulge in his pants, a certain kind of warmth forming in your chest as you realize that every part of him is intimidating. You feel yourself clench at the thought, spreading your legs shyly, inviting him to touch you where you want him the most.

    It’s like something in Nathan's snaps as he takes in the sight of you. Your flushed face, heaving chest. The marks he’s left across your upper body.

    “Fuck.” He practically growls as he grabs ahold of your thighs, dragging your core flush to his hips and grinding into you smoothly. You can’t help but moan in both pleasure and surprise at the sensation of his soft pajama pants pressing into your bare lips. He feels good against you, his hardness hot and aching to be inside of your warmth.

    “Please,” You gasp. “Please, Nate. I need you.” He curses again at the sound of your voice, his hips jerking into your own. 

    “Not yet. Beautiful.” He rumbles, Struggling to pull himself away from the steady grind. “-Can’t yet. Don’t want to hurt you.” You whine when he stops moving, and he leans forward to kiss you. You twitch at the feeling of his thick fingers sliding through your folds, collecting the wetness he finds there. Nathan groans, knowing just how much you want him from that simple action. He teases you, sliding the pads of his fingers down from your clit to the slit below it, circling your entrance before doing it all over again. You don’t have to say a word for Nathan to know you’re complaining. He chuckles at you, before slipping a finger inside.

    It’s thick. You knew it would be, but feeling it was entirely different. You break from the kiss with a moan as he curls the finger and catches that spongey spot inside of you. He moves his kisses to your cheek, and the spot below your ear as he has one arm keep your hips from jerking. He’s slow and thorough as he prepares you, a second finger sliding in with ease when he deems you ready for it. You knew he was good with his hands, but this was giving you a whole new definition of the phrase. The wet noises coming from you are almost embarrassing as he fingers you, hand absolutely soaked from your wetness already. He uses his other hand to start rubbing your clit, and the pleasure almost becomes too much.

    “Nathan.” You whimper his name, pleading with him. You needed him, badly. You didn’t want to cum yet, not without him inside of you, not without hearing his low groans and moans as you take him exactly like you were meant to. You clench around his fingers at the thought, and he hums as he pulls them away. 

    He pulls you up, switching the position so that you’re on top of him. You don’t hide the fact that you’re watching him as he finally takes off his pants, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen as it slips out of the waistband. You wait till he’s fully kicked them off before you begin to stroke him, twisting your hand at the head of his cock. He groans out your name, and another plume of fire lights inside of you as he does so. You really liked how that sounded, falling from his lips. 

    He’s just as thick as you thought he would be. Your hand can't wrap fully around him, red and straining. His cock twitches as you run your thumb across the slit, collecting the precum that was beading there. You're addicted to the noises falling from his mouth, giving him a slight squeeze to hear him moan again. 

    Nathan grabs your wrist gently when he's had enough, face flushed and breathing heavily. He helps you angle your hips over him, lining himself up with your slit. The head of his cock notches against you, and both of you want so desperately for him to be inside. There's a quiet - schlick- as he slides through that first ring of muscle, both of you moaning at the feeling.

    You take it slow while you're taking him in, circling your hips as You lower yourself down slowly. Fuck- this feels so much better than his fingers. You rest your head against his chest as you struggle to take him, even as wet as you are.

    His hands comfortingly slide up and down your thighs when he bottoms out. You take a moment to collect yourself, feeling a slight pinch with how deeply he fit inside of you. Nathan gives you time, pulling you into another breath taking kiss as you adjust.

    When you're comfortable, you begin gently rocking your hips against his own, feeling Nathan sigh against you. You're grinding your clit against his pelvis each time you rock, enjoying the added pressure against your sweet spot. You begin to work yourself into a pace, reveling in Nathan's groans as you bounce on top of him. 

    His cock is hitting all the right spots inside of you, his hands now gripping the flesh of your ass as he thrusts up into you with each stroke of your hips. He feels so unbelievably good, hot and heavy inside of you. 

    You desperately try to keep up as his thrusts pick up the pace, wanting all of him and more. But your thighs were staring to get sore, and your knees aching from the position. You tuck your head into the crook of Nathan’s neck, balancing yourself on him as a means to catch up, but you just can't. You slow your hips, catching your breath as Nathan continues to trust his hips. He's trying his best to slow down for you, absolutely lost in the feeling of your soft skin and wet cunt.

  “Come on, pretty girl. You can do better than that.” Nate says, making you moan in surprise as he gives you a particularly sharp thrust. You shake your head, pleading with him to just roll you over, take you at whatever speed he would like. He's hesitant at first but you're kissing his neck, nipping and sucking at a spot he doesn't remember being so sensitive.

    “Please, Nate.” You whisper into his ear, and he shivers, body stiffening under you. “Please,” 

    In less than a second, you're under him, legs on top of his shoulders as he thrusts into you wildly. His eyes are hooded, gazing at you lustfully as your breasts bounce with every movement. The sound of skin slapping on skin is loud and pornographic as his balls slap against you with his thrusts, the grunts and moans coming from the both of you not much better.

    Nathan brings a hand down to rub at your clit as his hips begin to stutter, closing in on his pleasure. Your hips jerk as he does so, quickly reaching that peak of white-hot pleasure yourself. He moans your name as your inner walls clench, back arching as you get closer- closer- so close-

    You call out for him when you cum, his hands holding you still by your hips as he ruthlessly fights to reach that peak of pleasure. You're clenching around him as you ride out your orgasm, and it's almost too much.

    Nathan pulls out of you when he cums, sticky streams of white splattering on your stomach. He grinds himself against you a few more times, coming down from the pleasure. Your legs have gone limp against him, boneless as you pant and tremble beneath him. Nathan kisses the inside of your ankles before he eases them down. 

    He leans above you, kissing you tenderly as he cleans you up with his shirt, having dragged the clothing into his hands with his telekinesis. When he's done thoroughly wiping you down, he falls beside you. He rolls you onto his side as he holds you tightly. He's pleasantly exhausted, looking at you in a way that you've never seen before. 

    His large hand comes up to rest against your neck, thumb running over the tender spots on your skin. You make a bit of a face at the soreness.

    “Those are definitely gonna bruise, aren't they?” You ask, somewhat weary of the marks now that the sexy excitement has worn off. Nate huffs a laugh.

    “Yeah.” He affirms. You pout at him as he brushes the hair out of your face, sighing in exasperation. To be honest, you didn’t mind it too much. Certainly not enough to be mad at him for it. 

    “Did you mean what you said earlier?” You ask, closing your eyes as you snuggle into him. Nathan’s hand rubs your back soothingly as you start to drift off.

    “Hm?”

    “Did you mean it. When you said you didn’t mind me calling you my husband.” Nathan is silent for a moment. You don’t quite have the energy to read into it like you would have before, but you're relieved when he speaks up.

    “...yeah” You smile at his answer, pressing a chaste kiss to his chest as you begin to fall asleep, content and wrapped in his arms.

[veroniquesboutique]

A Pain Like Home - Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Back-to-back smutty fics? I've hit my stride!

Total transparency, this idea came to me while perusing a few smut prompt posts. One of the prompts literally possessed my body, and I had to get the words out as fast as possible. I conceived of the idea, wrote it, and edited it in a matter of a day and a half, which is way faster than these things usually go.

You and Tsukishima Kei broke up months ago as your life fell into a downward spiral. However, every time you go searching for home, you inexplicably end up right back in his arms.

Hope you enjoy!

Title: A Pain Like Home

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:

AFAB!Reader, Female Reader, Explicit PV Sex, fingering, m-handjob, couch sex, unprotected sex, crying during sex, chest/body shots, baby used once as pet name, ANGST, ex sex, college au, mention of parent death, mention of injury, Y/N has chronic pain, super brief mention of suicidal ideation, Tsuki is kind of a dick in this one, but then again so are you

Characters & ships: ex!Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word count: 4.6k words

A/N: This Y/N really tiptoes a line between reader insert and OC. She has a lot more backstory than my usual reader fics have. If you'd prefer more of a blank slate (and don't need to know the backstory of how you and Tsuki have found yourself in this situation to enjoy the explicit angst), then feel free to skip the italicized part. If you're here for the angst, though, I'd highly recommend it.

18+ Minors DNI!

More explicit below the cut

“You always end up back here.”

You jump, startled, at the sound of Kei Tsukkishima’s voice echoing through the gymnasium. It was late - later than usual - and the lights had been dimmed, so you weren’t expecting anyone when you slipped your key into the door’s lock. Your college’s gym feels more like home than any other place, and sometimes, on nights like this one, you needed to feel like you were home. On nights like this one, you broke into the gym.

It was about 50/50 on if you ran into your ex, Tsukki.

On this evening, the net was still up following the men’s team practice, and Tsukki was on the far side of the gym away from you. You could stay split like this, share the court half and half, and everyone could be happy.

“I could say the same for you,” You toss the comment at him, unbothered and unprovoked, just as you toss your gym bag to the ground out of the way and pick up the first wayward volleyball you see. You press your fingers into it, bounce it off the floor a few times, and then lob it into the air and strike it down hard and fast on your own side of the court. It hits the ground with a loud smack and bounces into the bleachers, wildly pinballing around, but you’re too distracted in picking up your next ball to pay too much attention. “I could set for you, if you want,” Tsukki half-heartedly spikes his own volleyball, but his attention is on you as you whip every ounce of fury and burning hurt into your shoulder and through the ball as it ricochets from your hand and into the rafters.

“I don’t need a setter.”

“No, you don’t,” He observes another ball whiz through the air, “But it could make this practice meaningful instead of you just hitting balls because you feel like it.”

You glare at him, squeezing the volleyball you have between your hands, knowing the way that this goes every single time.

Still, you were the one who chose to come home.

“Fine.” You duck under the net to join him on his side and pass him the volleyball with too much force that he diffuses easily under his taped finger tips. He bounces it once before sending it up in the air, and you, too, jump through the air to strike it down with a hard smack. It hits the floor with speed and precision, and despite the surprise gently caressing Tsukki’s face in the bend of his eyebrows or the twitch of his mouth, you roll your neck, shake it off, and get in position to hit another one. A pain shoots up through your leg, but you swallow it down, ignore it, push through it.

“You’ve been practicing.”

“Sometimes.”

“You’re being short. And I don’t just mean your height-”

“Just set the next one, Kei.”

He puffs out an annoyed sigh, but still he nods and sends another into the air. You jump again, smack, and fall. The ball nearly causes the air to crack with it’s intensity. That one hurt just a little, and you’re left rubbing the sting out of your palm as Tsukki traverses the gym, collecting the rogue balls to keep setting to you.

“Is it the same old problems?”

“You don’t get to know that anymore.”

Tsukki tosses another in the air, and you smack it down. He tosses again, you smack again. Toss, smack. Toss, smack. Toss, smack. By the time he runs out of balls again, your heart feels nearly as numb as your hands. You try to walk through the pain wrecking havoc in your body, but each step is a stumble instead of a stride. He starts to collect the balls again but stops by the net and turns back to you as you lean your body forward, hands on your knees and gasping for air.

“Look, you can say it’s not my place, but it is. You come in here fuming all the time when you have the power to change the circumstances you’re in-”

“-if I wanted your advice I’d ask-”

“You spend all this time trying to make other people fucking happy, acting like you have no choice, but you’re not powerless. You’re not some fucking damsel in distress. Make a goddamned decision for once.”

“I did when I left you.”

He scoffs out a disbelieving laugh. “What, to hop over to bench warmer Fuckface McGee to chase something to fill the void in you? I don’t even know the guy’s name, but it’s not like it matters because you’ve slept through the entire volleyball team roster. You just happened to start with me.”

You stare at him, his face twisted in annoyed anger and your own features throbbing with sick-of-his-shit disbelief. “Go to hell, Kei.”

“That was the plan. I was getting ready to head back home when you walked in.” He drops the ball in his hand, grabs his bag from the sideline, and beelines to the exit. His hand is on the door when he turns back to you. “Are you coming?”

It takes less time than usual for you to grab your own bag and fall in step behind him.

————————

Your relationship with Kei was many things. Strange, a little toxic, the longest relationship you’d ever been in, full of a deep love you didn’t quite understand.

You were recruited by your college’s volleyball team when you, as captain, took your high school volleyball team all the way to win nationals for the first and still only time in your school’s history. In every news outlet reporting on the triumph, the success was attributed to you, and you had offers from all over the nation swarm in and drown you in a decision-making process that still gives you anxiety sweats just thinking about it. At the end of the day, your goal was to make the national team, and in order to do that, you had to go to the best school with the best team that was offering you a spot, even though that college was hours away from your family and the life you had spent 18 long years building for yourself.

You packed your bags, said goodbye to your family, and moved across the country to go to school. It’s a huge, urban university, swimming with hundreds or thousands of faces you’ll never see more than once when passing on the street.

Before you even checked into your dorm, you found your way to the gym, a beautiful, state-of-the-art fancy schmancy thing. You walked in the doors, following the sound of squeaking shoes and bouncing balls, and when you walked in to see the men’s team practicing on the court, it felt just like home. A beautiful, blond boy with a baby face and triple taped fingers was up to serve, and this was the first time you met Tsukkishima.

He nearly hit you with his spike.

“Watch it!” He yelled, shooing you out of the way with a dismissive wave, and thus, it was hate at first sight between the two of you.

Your university was looking to switch things up that year, however, following a string of embarrassing losses the season before, and they decided to name freshman for their captains on both the men’s and women’s team. You found yourself with a new captain’s jacket, and unfortunately, on the men’s side, so did Tsukkishima.

The goal of the switch up was to keep the teams on their toes, get fresh ideas that hadn’t been brainwashed by years of already being on the team, and keep new talent consistently striving for better. What ended up happening was just that, but at the same time, you and Tsukki were completely isolated from the rest of the team, being rejected as the favorites who unfairly were given spots way above their league. In hindsight, you understand why your teammates hated you, but in the moment, it hurt more than you imagined it would. All you had wanted was to help them get better, and it felt like no one understood that image except for Tsukki.

It didn’t help that you saw him nearly all the time. He was always at practice, he went to every media event both of you had to be at as captains, he lived in the same dorm as you and found the same study spots you thought you had claimed in secret for yourself, he even had the same major as you. He was in your face near constantly, and the unending ribbing and competition and forced, disgruntled companionship turned hate to tolerance, tolerance to like, and like to love.

He asked you out to the spring carnival your freshman year. It shocked you how easy the word yes slipped from your lips.

And from there you two started your two year long relationship. It was easy being with Kei. Even as overbearing and sometimes rude as he was, you two existed on the same wavelength. You had the same goals, the same interests, the same emotional bursts and flairs, and the same understanding as the other snapped. You never had to explain yourself to him; after every twist and turn, he was waiting for you with open arms when you were ready, and you did the same for him.

He was the one who was there when your father unexpectedly passed towards the end of your sophomore year of college. He was the one who stayed with you for weeks, never going back to his own place so you didn’t have to ever be alone. He was the one who made the trip back home with you, silently waiting and watching as you helped with preparation because he knew what you needed the most was just his presence and not his big mouth or overbearing nature. He was the one who took over both practices when you simply couldn’t get yourself out of bed and across campus to the gym. He was the one there ready to receive you and bring you back to the world when you picked yourself up and kept going.

He was also the one who was there when you lost everything your junior year. It was during the quarter final game at a nation wide tournament in the fall of the volleyball season. You fell hard and at exactly the wrong angle, snapped your leg in three places, and tore tendons from your knee to your toes. You were taken out in a stretcher, and the minute Kei heard, he left his own team’s quarter final game to ride with you to the hospital. He didn’t even think twice.

Your team lost without you. His team won without him. It’s unclear which truth hurt more.

You were given the worst news an athlete could hear. Weeks later, he stood next to you in the gym as you wobbled in your boot and in your words and officially resigned as captain and stepped away from the team. As your dream of making the national team died, so did your will, and you found yourself in the same blurry nothingness you were in when your father passed, but this time it felt like nothing could bring you out. Even as Tsukki tried and tried and tried to reach you, it was dark and painful and drowning where you were.

You broke up with him a week before your two year anniversary.

Since then, you’ve flunked most of your classes, nearly dropped out of school, get out of bed only to go to physical therapy, watched your ex-team have an incredibly underwhelming fall season without you for your senior year, and bounced from dick to dick of every boy you have ever met. Unfortunately, that’s pretty much only the men’s volleyball team. All of this has isolated Tsukki even more from his teammates, and now he’s alone, quiet except for the angry outburst, and hated more than ever.

He was there the first night you broke into the gym in the midst of a panic attack. You had been ready to find a way to the roof of the building when you walked in, sobbing and crazed, to see Tsukki alone with a volleyball in hand.

He talked you down. You went home with him.

That’s just how it’s been ever since.

————————

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” You mutter, following him up the stairs of his apartment building as he unlocks the door and holds it open for you. You instinctively find the elevator, pressing the specific number code that calls the elevator to the first floor that you have memorized like it’s nothing.

“You don’t usually talk to the stray cats you bring home.”

“You’re such a dick.”

He just hums in response, staring away from you as the elevator door opens and you both step inside. The ride up to his apartment is quiet and cold. He leans against the wall furthest from you, scrolling though an app noncommittally with an awkward hand in his pocket. You watch him the whole way up, and he doesn’t look at you once.

You follow him out of the elevator and into his apartment. You sit on his sofa with a comfortable ease on the side that you naturally think of as your side. You watch him as he glides through the kitchen, filling up two glasses with ice and sparkling water - your favorite flavor that you forced him to start liking while you were together. You accept the glass as he hands you one and sits on the other side of the couch, a huge gap between you. You wait as he pulls his phone out again, another app on his screen.

You’re always the one to make the first move.

Setting the drink down on the table, you close the gap between you two, hesitantly pressing your side against his and leaning into him. After a reluctant moment, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, which you take as an invitation. You take the glass and the phone from his hands, place it on the coffee table, and in one fell swoop, swing your leg over his lap to straddle him.

With a soft gentle caress, you brush your fingers over his cheeks and press your forehead to his. His eyes were always your favorite, the light honey brown tint sparkled in the moonlight, and it made your stomach flutter with butterflies. He was the first one to lean up and in, tilting your head with his nose until his lips touched yours. You sit like this, softly kissing, pulling away for just small gasps and pants of air, for long enough that the automatic light in the kitchen shutters off.

Practiced and with ease, you run your hands back through his hair, pulling at the soft, fluffy strands as they thread through your fingers. He moans softly into your mouth, his own hands finding your waist and puling you closer to him. You can feel the hot rigid length in his lap, and as you slowly grind against him, he rewards you by pressing his fingertips into your lower back, his palms cupping your waist like they were made to sit there.

His eyelashes finally flutter closed, and you watch his face freeze with pleasure, his jaw locked open with your lips suctioned to his lower lip. Your own nails scratch against his scalp, and he shivers beneath your touch. It’s nearly painful the need that has built between you two when you finally slide off him and peel your pants off. He slides out of his own pants, and when he looks back at you to pull you back onto his lap, you can’t help the embarrassment at the intricate brace on your knee. You drop your hands to hide the appliance, but he bats your hand out of the way and pulls you back to straddle him again.

“You act like I’ve never seen you naked,” He whispers, his hand finding its way between your legs. His nimble, strong fingers find the absolute wet mess you’ve made, and both of your roll your eyes back in a moan as a single finger glides across your slick slit.

“I’m afraid-” You moan, cutting yourself off as he pushes the fabric of your underwear out of the way and circles your clit with his fingertip.

“Of?”

“Judgment.” You think for a second as a shiver runs down your back from the stimulation between your legs. “Rejection.”

He brings his other hand to your arm, gripping your flesh and brushing softly against your skin to bring goosebumps to the surface.

“Me? Judge?” He smiles up at you as he presses against your clit again. You moan lewdly, nearly falling forward at the shock of pleasure. “I’d never.”

You scoff out a laugh before reaching a hand to move his own underwear out of the way. His cock springs forward, bouncing softly against his stomach, as you bring your hand to between your legs to meet his. You interlock your fingers with his as they slide against you, back and forth, teasing your clit to your entrance, and you both moan loudly at the feeling. In the moonlight, you can see the glistening pre-cum on his tip, and it makes you nearly vibrate with need. Thankfully, Tsukki can read your body language like it’s his native tongue, and he guides your fingers to dip into you. Both of your hands push into you, and you groan as you settle onto your hands. Rocking your hips back and forth, you throw your head back with pleasure.

“Like a fucking angel,” He mutters, leaning forward to press his lips against your collarbones and bite. Wet pleasure drips from you onto your palm, and when it feels like enough, you pull your fingers from yourself and suddenly grip Tsukki’s needy length. Your wetness and his pre-cum mix to make it slick and easy for your hand to stroke up and down. His body freezes in response, all of his muscles twitching with every pass of your hand.

His fingers curl deep inside you, and with each of your strokes, your rock your hips against his fingers. He’s deep enough inside you that he presses into that sweet spot, and his fingers find it with familiar ease every time you shift your hips.

“Kiss me,” You whisper into the night, and he shakes himself free enough for his lips to find yours. Your tongues press against each other, your hot breath billowing down each other’s necks, and each other’s hands milking pleasure out of your body. He tastes like knowing each other’s bodies like the back of your own hands.

You could’ve finished like this, in each other’s hands, if it wasn’t for the sudden shooting pain that radiates from your knee where you are kneeling in his lap. You flinch, taking the weight off it, and Tsukki supports you by grabbing your other hip with his free hand.

“Are you okay?”

“My leg,” You grunt out, moving your hands to grip the back of the couch as the pain fires even worse through your whole leg. He rubs at your hip, staring up at you to gauge your pain on your face, and when he sees you bite your lip and furrow your brow, he picks you up off his lap and deposits you on your back on the couch. Having your weight off your knee lightens the pain, and soon he has your brace off your leg and is massaging your joint with his hands.

He learned how to when you first hurt your leg, and he’s so comfortable that it feels second nature for him. It feels absolutely humiliating for you.

“Please stop,” You whisper, letting your leg fall, your foot hitting the floor, and you take his collar and pull his shirt over his head. Your nails gently drag against his chest, and he leans forward, catching himself by landing his hands on either side of your head.

“Does it hurt?”

You groan at the question, shimmying enough out of your shirt and bra that your chest was on display for Tsukki, but he maintains concerned eye contact with you.

“I just want you to fuck me like you did before,” You whisper, shifting your hips closer to his still protruding length.

He studies your face for a long time, but the desire in his chest must have won out, because he’s finally shirking off his boxers and settling himself between your thighs. He kisses you a few more times, soft and measured, before his tip presses against your entrance, and he sinks deep into you, bottoming out in your wet, hot, squishy insides.

You arch your back at the feeling of being so full of him, and his head drops to your neck, teeth grazing and sucking at the skin, and your arms wrap around his back to grip him as the feeling overwhelms you. Your stomach flops, and your brain swims. You drown in the smell of him, his cologne, his shampoo, his sweat and musk, and it smells, it feels, it overwhelms like home.

His thrusts into you feel deeper with each rock of his hips, and it sends shocks of nearly painful pleasure from your head to your toes. He’s groaning in your ear, and it’s a sweet song you miss like a lullaby you desperately want to remember when you’re lying alone in your own room at your own apartment. When his fingers find and tease your clit again, he moves in just the way you like that makes your toes curl, and that feels like the last straw.

Tears well in your eyes and drip down the sides of your face. With a sniffle, Tsukki finally brings his eyes back to your face, and when he sees your tears, he sighs softly with care. He shifts to his knees, pulling you just barely onto his lap, and he wraps his arms all the way around your body, his fingers gripping behind and around your shoulders so that your bodies are fully pressed against each other.

He shushes you softly in your ear. “I got you,” He whispers, squeezing his fingers into your skin, “I got you.”

His kindness makes the pain in your chest worst. “Please don’t stop,” You nearly sob, dropping your head into the crook of his neck. “Please keep going.”

Tsukki hesitates, but your begs and the needy rocking of your hips convinces him to slowly continue fucking into you. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“Then fuck it out of me, Kei,” You writhe against him, and after the internal struggle behind his eyes, he lays you on your back, grabs the back of your good leg, grips the arm of the couch behind you, and pounds his cock deep into you. It’s so sudden that it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. You choke on your tongue, nails digging into any flesh on Tsukki’s body that you can find. “Oh God, yes, fuck,” You groan into his ear.

“You feel so good,” He grunts back, placing his hand on your cheek and your thumb on your lips. With tears still falling down the side of your face, you suck his thumb into our mouth and tongue against the skin.

“S-so deep,” You hiccup out as he lays into you, his cock pumping in and out. Your hand snakes down between the two of you, and you rub against your clit. You clench against his cock, and both of you moan out sweetly at the feeling.

“I got you," He mumbles again, bringing his forehead to yours to keep eye contact. "Can you cum for me, baby?” He asks, and you shiver at his words, moving your fingers faster and harder to get to where you want. You nod, your hair sticking to your face in the tears. He groans, his hips starting to stutter. “Then cum, baby, cum.”

You pant and groan and whimper and suddenly you’re cumming around his cock, your body short-circuiting with the feeling of your orgasm. For these few moments, nothing in your body hurts. The physical pain, the emotional pain, it’s silenced in the pleasurable waves rolling through your body. You arch your back and press your body against Tsukki, his warm pants and moans stinging your skin with electricity.

Even though you wrap your good leg around Tsukki’s waist, like you would when you were together, he pulls out and finishes across your stomach and chest. He strokes himself through it, the sweat glistening on his forehead in the moonlight as his cum paints your skin. You close your eyes, letting the sticky wet feeling cover you.

It takes a few moments of panting before he falls back to a seated position on the couch. You can feel the aching pain return to your knee, and before you grab anything to wipe yourself clean, you reach down for your brace.

“Let me help you,” He sounds vaguely annoyed with the whole thing, but his fingers are still gentle as they pull the brace on and into position.

“Thank you.” Your voice is small, the tears finally slowing. You rub your hands down your face, and then you search for something to clean yourself off with. Tsukki throws you his shirt, not even glancing your way.

“I hate it when you cry on me like that.”

“I thought you liked my misery.”

“Only when I’m causing it.” His smirk is half-hearted. He folds his leg underneath him, his other leg bending for him to place his chin on as he stared out the window.

You reach for your drink on the coffee table as you wipe away the leftover Tsukki on your body. You find your sweatshirt on the ground and throw it over your head, and now you two are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, just like before with just a few less clothes.

“Why do you do this for me if you don’t even like me?” You ask in a small voice, taking a sip of the drink in your hand, and he finally turns to look at you. His face shocked in disbelief.

“If I don’t even like you? Are you dense? I’m in love with you. I’m so madly in love with you that it hurts me every single day. You’re the one who broke up with me, so I should be asking you that question. Why do you come to me?”

Because you know he’ll understand you. You know you’ll be seen. You know he cares about you. You’d never actually answer that, though, because it’ll make you seem the callous bitch that he’s supposed to be.

“I don’t do it on purpose. You’re always in the gym.” The answer feels incomplete. “I like you, Kei.”

He watches your face as you refuse to meet his eyes. It takes a while before he stands, the hot anger radiating off of him, and he cleans up the space piece by piece. When he takes your empty glass to the sink he finally speaks.

“If we liked each other, we wouldn’t keep doing this.”

You watch him move from the kitchen to his bedroom door, but he hesitates before leaving you to the silence and darkness of his living room. He sighs, annoyed. “Are you staying the night.”

“I shouldn’t,” You spit back quickly, but you don’t get up to leave, and he doesn’t disappear to his bedroom. You two stare at each other for a long time, much too long. Finally he opens the door.

“Your pajamas are in the second drawer of my dresser,” then he squints his eyes at you, “but you should shower first. My sheets are clean.”

He disappears, leaving the door open behind him.

It takes you less time than usual to follow him in.

[cleo-writes]

Leo valdez x Apollo!reader

Pt2

°•~《☆》~•°

A/n: wrote this fic out of nowhere. Definitely didnt start out as a percy fic... let me know if you want a part 2!

Warnings: slight cussing, kinda gore stuff but honestly nothing :)

Enjoy!

°•~《☆》~•°

"Again?" You groan as you see Leo stumble through the infirmary door, bloody, bruised, and a shit eating grin on his face, for the seventh time this week.

It's Friday, capture the flag. The infirmary was busier than ever, so Leo showing up (again) was more of an annoyance than a flattering gesture as per usual. You didn't have time for his sassy-sarcastic-filled conversations.

His grin somehow grows wider when he hears your voice, your tone more annoyed each time he walked into the infirmary. it seemed impossible how he could grin like that when he was probably in a hell of a lot of pain.

You checked over the damages. Black eye, minor scratches on his palms, clutching his own stomach, and bruises everywhere. He was probably bleeding under his shirt, too.

It crossed your mind that maybe that was done on purpose, so you had to take his shirt off. You quickly shook off the thought. It was probably not true and just something you made up, right? Right?

"Yeah... yeah, hi." Leo mumbled, the pain evident in his voice. You scoff and look around for one of your siblings to take Leo off your hands. You already had so many patients on your plate. You couldn't deal with Leo right now.

"I'll get Will to fix you up, Leo. I don't have time -" You started to say before:

"No! No... p-please?" Leo whined, vulnerability laced within his tone of voice.

You frowned, a little confused but not giving in.

"Leo Valdez, I don't have time to deal with this--with you right now. There's too much to do, and we're running low on supplies and-and." You cut your rant off with a heavy sigh.

"No," You said.

"Please, y/n? I'm... I'm hurt." Leo pouts, though he sounded serious for once

You groan and grab his wrist, triggering a wince out of him. Gods, he was bruised everywhere.

You lead Leo into an empty room, practically shove him on the infirmary bed, and lock the door.

Leo chuckled and winced, but there was no sarcastic comment on how you dragged him here. This was the most concerning thing of all.

You turn to face him, seeing a grimace on his face though he tried (and failed) to keep a nonchalant expression.

"Rate your pain 1-10." You mumble to him, almost in annoyance.

"0 out of ... out of ten. Wouldn't...Wouldn't recommend."

"Okay, repeating words but keeping a sarcastic attitude. I'll put that at a 9..."

You take Leos arm and inspect the damage. Not much, a few minor scratches, and one bigger scratch, but nothing major. You checked his other arm to find mostly the same things.

"You better be thankful for this, I have so much to deal with right now, and you aren't helping." You said to Leo while rolling up his shirt sleeve to see his left shoulder.

"Yeah, well, gotta see....see, my favorite doctor." Leo beamed, though he stumbled over words. You frowned.

"Where's it hurt most?" You asked gently after seeing nothing major that would cause his stumbling.

Leo pointed to his lower torso.

Shit.

You grimace. This might be a worse injury then you thought.

"Take ... take off your shirt." You tell him, looking away for just a second. Shitshitshi-

Leo grins like the devil and says: "Well, jeez, y/n. Take me out to dinner first." Before slowly removing his shirt, peeling it away from a nasty cut with a wince.

When Leo finally got his shirt over his head, you saw just how many scars he had. Not ones that were fresh and still bleeding, but ones that were months, years old.

Of course, you have scars of your own, but with how many healed scars Leo had... it couldn't be good in any way.

"...damaged goods, I know." Leo chuckled half heartedly. It shattered your heart into a billion different pieces.

"No," you whispered while rummaging through drawers for supplies. The actual bleeding cut on his left lower torso was pretty damn bad.

"You're not damaged goods, leo."

- You grabbed bandages -

"and even if you were, that wouldn't change the way people see you. You -" You cut yourself off, not sure why you were going on this big rant trying to convince Leo he was worth something to someone - to everyone.

It was the truth, but why did you care for the obnoxious, flirty, son of hephestus?

°•~《☆》~•°

Yay I'm finally done. Part 2 anyone?

[thealtoduck]

Being a mutant and joining Xavier’s school…

X-Men x Male Reader

Warnings: Justin Timberlake shade…

Summary: You’re a mutant and you’re invited to attend Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters…

(A/n: I gave you Emma Frost’s powers because i’m lazy)

(A/n 2: Yet another unplanned fic… i’m so sorry)

(A/n 3: I was gonna write more but word limit…)

——

It all started in school, everything was normal.

You just heard the regular chatter of the students. Then suddenly you heard EVERYTHING, every thought of every single person in the school. You quickly went in to the men’s bathrooms, locking yourself in a stall.

Your head pulsated as if it was about to explode, you felt as if it were on fire. You didn’t understand what was happening. You curled up in a ball on the toilet trying to keep the voices out as tears streamed down your eyes. You have had similar headaches before but never like this.

After about half an hour the voices stopped, you were shaking and sweating, did you have some kind of fever. You got up from the toilet and left the stall. You went to a sink and cupped your hands and splashed some water on your face.

You readjusted your shirt that had gotten a bit messy. You looked in the mirror and noticed something strange, your left hand looked weird, it was glistening looking like some kind of glass. You quickly lifted your hand in front of your eyes… it looked normal.

You then made sure you looked decent before you left to go to the nurse’s office. You told her what had happened about your splitting headache and seeing weird stuff in the mirror. She took your temperature and looked you over, but everything seemed completely normal.

You were scared of the idea of having to go to class and getting another headache in front of everyone. Luckily for you, the school nurse was very nice and wanted to make sure you were okay, so she called your mom and asked if she could come pick you up.

You got in to your mom’s car and she looked at you worried. ”Hi sweetie, are you feeling okay?” she asked. ”Yeah at the moment at least” you said and explained. She was understanding and started driving the two of you home.

As she was driving you started hearing things again, your mom sat quiet, you looked around no people. Then they started growing louder and louder. ”Hey, let’s see what’s on the radio” your mom said pressing the radio button.

And like the flip of a switch, you felt a cutting pain in your head making you lean forwards and groan loudly. ”Oh, come on Y/n, Justin Timberlake isn’t THAT bad” you mom said. Slowly realisation crept up on her that it wasn’t about the pop star’s music playing.

She quickly pulled over the car trying to make sure you were okay. But she soon realised your pain wasn’t going away, so she immediately started driving towards the closest hospital. She also turned off Justin Timberlake, you might be in pain but you didn’t need to be tortured

Even at the hospital the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with you, but they recommended you take some headache medicine and to get some bedrest over the weekend. You tried but the headaches came on and off, keeping you from falling asleep.

While trying to rest the doorbell rang, you walked towards the door and opened it. You were met with a bald man in a wheel chair and a woman with long red hair, you didn’t recognise either. ”Can i help you?” you asked.

The bald man spoke up and greeted ”Hi, my name is Professor Charles Xavier and this is Doctor Jean Grey, mind if we come in for a chat?”.

Oh god… you had become a medical spectacle you thought to yourself.

You let the two in and served tea for the three of you. ”So, why do you want to speak with me?” you asked. ”Well Mr L/n, have you ever heard of mutants?” Professor Xavier asked.

”You mean those guys on the news with those freaky powers that everyone are afraid off?” you questioned. Professor Xavier nodded with a smile and said ”That’s one way to describe them”.

”You’ve been experiencing painful headaches recently, right?” Doctor Jean Grey asked. ”Y-Yeah” you said unsure, had your parents already called in medical experts to examine you…

”We have reason to believe you are a mutant, who has recently developed the power of telepathy” the professor explained. You sat in silence a moment, only being able to then utter ”I… What?”.

”It’s a gift that will let you read and see inside the minds of others” the professor continued to explain. You stood up and found yourself saying ”You should both leave, you’ve found the wrong person… I-I… I’m not a mutant you must be looking for someon- ahh!”.

You were cut off in the middle of your sentence by another sudden headache making you fall to your knees, holding your aching head. The Professor rolled closer to you and put a hand on your head and suddenly the pain eased.

”What did you?…” you asked confused looking at the professor. ”I used my freaky mutant powers to mute your powers slightly, to make them more manageable” he explained with a small smile. ”Look at Jean” he told you and pointed at the doctor.

”Now try to look inside her mind to see what she’s thinking” he instructed. You did as told and looked at the red haired woman, then without her opening her mouth you heard her say ”Hello Y/n” making you stumble backwards.

”How did you? How did i?” you questioned in complete shock. ”How about you sit down and we can answer all of your questions” Professor Xavier suggested.

So turns out you were a mutant.

It scared you but you decided to gather your courage and tell your parents about it… not a good idea. They got terrified of the idea of their son being a mutant and told you to go to your room.

So once you got to your room you made the impulsive descision to run away from home. You were worried what your parents would do… would they call the cops? Is being a mutant a crime?… Professor Xavier had given you his number. So you grabbed your phone and called the number.

He picked up. ”Hello, this is Charles Xavier” he greeted. ”Hey, it’s Y/n, i’m calling about your offer… you really have room for another student?” you questioned. ”Of course, we do” the professor answered kindly.

You packed a suitcase and climbed out of the window, silently sneaking away from the house. You took a bus leading to new york where’d you’d be picked up. A car was waiting when you got off the bus, Doctor Jean Grey was standing by it.

You got in the car and she drove the two of you towards the school. ”Are you nervous?” she asked, you wondered if you looked that obvious or if her own telepathy gave her a hint. You nodded.

”Don’t be you’ll fit right in. We might be a school but we’re also like a family, we take care of each other” she assured you. ”What about my powers? What if i accidentally hurt someone?” you asked. ”We’re gonna make sure you learn to control them, the Professor has dampened your powers and we’ll unlock them little by little, it shouldn’t be an issue” she explained comfortingly.

The car the pulled up beside a fancy looking mansion. You couldn’t help but be awed seeing it. It looked almost magical. You got out and got your suitcase, Jean led you to the enterance. It was just as impressive on the inside.

She showed you your room which you would be sharing with another student named Peter Rasputin, who according to Jean could turn his skin in to steel.

She gave you a tour of the rest of manor, introduced you to some of the other students and then left you to explore and get settled in. As you made your way around you were greeted and welcomed by the other teachers of the school.

The other students looked curiously at you as you passed, probably wondering who you are and what your powers are.

That night you also got to meet your roomate Peter who Jean had told you about, he was tall, handsome and very muscular. He was also very kind as he greeted you. As the two of you got ready for bed he asked ”Considering we’re sharing space now, do you mind if i’m sleeping shirtless?”.

”No, i don’t mind, do you mind if i do?” you returned the question. He gave you a quick flirty look up and down before saying ”No”.

[taintandviolent]

The Dork Theory ; Max Cooperman x reader

summary: Against better judgement, you decide to go to a college party. You run into a familiar face there, and you decide to test a long running theory to do with dorks and big 🍆 . Shameless smut ensues.

warnings: smut without plot, pnv, car sex, unprotected sex, handjobs, oral sex, degradation/shaming, recording.

a/n: max deserves it. he really does. not beta-read. this was just a whim kinda fic, so I hope it's not total garbage. enjoy! thanks for reading if you did.

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

It was a party, so you were forcing yourself to do party things. Or so you kept telling yourself. Really, it was a live streaming event for some stupid college fight, which was an event that you wouldn’t be caught dead at – under any circumstances. It wasn’t your scene, you couldn’t care less about fighting – outside of the carnal, hormonal fact that you got to see rippling muscles and displays of strength. At times, even you were simple. Whatever fight had already happened and judging by the sudden uptick in shouts and cheers, you assumed the preferred candidate won. The party was now in full swing with people mingling and drinking excessively. Ah, college. 

Admittedly, you weren’t one for college parties either. It was a place to drink, screw, and in most cases, as a byproduct of the previous two mixing, fight. Of those three things, you only really enjoyed one of them and hadn’t done it in a while – long enough for you to crave it. Maybe that’s why you came to the party to begin with; to get some tail. Albeit hypocritically, you were also drinking. You weren’t drunk, but definitely heading there; your head felt fuzzy as you stared into your half-empty red Solo cup. Whoever had mixed the drinks had erred on the side of too strong.

“Well… hey there.”

You looked up from said cup, one brow quirked. In front of you, stood a guy who looked oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place him. Eyes narrowed, you scanned him from his shoes to his lush, curly brown locks. He wore jeans and a Something Corporate t-shirt. Really? You realized you’d seen him earlier, schmoozing with girls, explaining something very passionately. They hung on his arms, but seemed distant – but no, that still wasn’t where you recognized him from. 

He was scanning you up and down, lingering on all the right parts of your body; your hips, your breasts, your face. Finally, he spoke. "My name's Max, what's yer--"

"Wait, hold on." You pressed a single finger against his lips, which pressed back into your finger, almost like he was kissing it. 

"Max?" 

He nodded, still compressed against your fingertip. He didn't need to confirm it, really, because just like that, it all came rushing back; it had been years but you knew exactly who he was and you were about to make sure he remembered, too. You withdrew your hand with a breathy chuckle. 

"Like... Max.... Cooperman? The chubby kid who was always recording fights in the schoolyard?"

Ouch. Max cringed, knotting his mouth up to one side. Starting off strong with this one. “Yep, that – was me. And for the record, I was a part of those fights from time to time. And I trained -”  

"Ohhhh my god," you breathed, cutting him off as you covered your mouth with your hand. "You were such a dork, you know that, don't you? Like, such a dork.” 

“Okay, alright.” he said, looking behind him for a brief moment. “I came over ‘cause I have a policy that no cute girls are allowed to stand alone, especially at one of my parties. Are you just gonna’ stand here and bust my balls all night?” 

So he thought you were cute. Your cunt clenched — you’d take that thought to the bank. You grinned inwardly, rocking back and forth on your heels. “I can, if you want me to.” 

He cocked his head like a dog, unsure how to take that. “What, are we gonna’ play fight?” 

“Something like that.” 

You reached forward, teasingly slapping his cheek. With an intrigued expression, Max caught your hand and yanked you towards him, looking at your lips. You mirrored his gaze, wondering what they tasted like, and if they were as soft as they looked.

You couldn’t deny the facts; he wasn’t the dorky kid that you passively paid attention to. He stood taller and had trimmed down, a result of likely more physical activity and maybe better eating habits. The attraction that bubbled up in your core wasn’t new, it had just been dormant for many years. You ran your tongue along your bottom lip, wetting it and Max’s dark brown eyes followed your tongue as it travelled, a smirk stretching across his lips. 

"You still have that Mustang?" 

"Pffft, of course I do." 

“You wanna’ um…” 

Wide-eyed and eager, Max nodded. “Uh, YEAH?” 

The two of you made your way outside, with Max quickly navigating you to where his car was parked. The cool night air bit at your skin, goose flesh erupting over anything that was exposed – mostly your legs. Now in front of the car, your eyes swept over the Mustang, admiring it. You weren’t a car girl, by any means, but you knew when to appreciate them. This was decidedly one of those times. He took care of his car, that much was apparent. 

With a deep breath, you turned back to Max, an expectant smirk on your lips. “So, is this the part where you tell me you’ve had a crush on me since high school?” 

Max laughed as he leaned against the door of the car, shaking his head. You were cute, but this wasn’t a teenage romcom. “Actually, no, I don’t know you. I mean… I wanna’ know you.” 

He reached for you, snaking his hands around your hips to pull you closer. 

“Ohhoh shit, someone gained some confidence when they lost that baby fat, huh?” 

“Damn, okay.” He looked away, almost annoyed, but the lust that was now coursing through his system trumped any fleeting anger. “You seem to know a lot about me.” 

You paused, taken aback as you stared at him. You did. Because while he didn’t remember you, you remembered him. You’d always had an affinity for dorks and paid attention to them, despite cringing at their cornball behaviour – because if you knew one thing, it was that the weird, shy guys were always hung – and there was one particular day where you’d made your opinions about Max Cooperman. 

It was May, somewhere in the middle of the month. You were in a hurry to get to 4th period when you heard a bunch of guys shouting and jeering at each other. The natural instinct to watch a fight took over and you slowed your steps. 

You’d only paused for a second, not wanting to be late to class. He was fighting behind the bleachers, bright, red blood running down his top lip, fists up in front of his face, shouting at some guy: “I got this, bro! I got this!” 

You blinked. Back to reality. 

“Maybe I knew you. Maybe I thought you were cute,” you confessed, letting the alcohol take over your nerves. “Maybe I have a theory that dorky dudes have big cocks.” 

“Butterball Cooperman? Cute? What am I now then, huh?” 

You chewed your lip, not saying anything. Max caught your glance, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes that promised it would lead somewhere — it was the kind of look that said, Hey. My dick just woke up and it’s because of you. You crushed your lips against his, tangling both of your hands in his warm curls. A whisper of fucking hot echoed in your mind. Max didn’t need to hear it, he felt the heat coming off your body, rolling towards him in waves. With his groin throbbing, he connected your bodies again, pulling you tight at the waist. His free hand stretched behind him, fumbling for the door handle. 

“Wanna’ find out?” He asked, breaking the kiss. 

You nodded. 

Max threw the door open, and pulled the driver’s seat up, allowing you some space to crawl in first. You leaned in — making sure your ass was on full display in the short, denim skirt you’d chosen earlier that night — and moved  quickly to the passenger side. With your knees pressing into the black, leather interior of his backseat, you sat upright, making room for him as he joined you. 

He faced you, leaning his back against the window and angled his hips towards you, knees to his chest. You stretched forward, tapped one side of his closed knees. “Lemme in, Cooperman.” 

Immediately, they fell open, exposing the bulge in his jeans. There was a dirty, devilish little smirk on his face; he knew you were looking, sizing him up. Not such a dork now, huh?

“Theory proven?” 

“Maybe. I’ve gotta’ see.” 

You palmed his half-hard cock outside of his jeans, the tips of your fingers tracing the faint outline, until they came to the tip. Applying pressure, the pad of your pointer finger swept back and forth into the squishy flesh until your finger was met with a wet spot. You’d given a fair number of handjobs in your life, enough to be confident in your skills. 

“Shit,” Max hissed above you. “Shit.” 

Underneath the fabric, you felt his dick shift in his jeans. With a pleased smirk, giving him what he so clearly wanted, you unbuttoned and unzipped, allowing his hard-on some room to breathe. The bulge pitched forward slightly as you reached for the ruched edge of his boxers, and pulled them down over his balls. His cock now free, it flopped heavily against his stomach, searing hot on his abdomen. It was about as long as you’d expected, but much thicker. With a wanton gaze, you took hold of the shaft and began stroking, feeling the veins swell with each pass. Every so often, you paid special attention to the underside, gliding your fingers over the thickest veins. Eventually, his cock stood at attention, the tip reddened and leaking profusely. You bit your lip. 

“Ooooooh, Max Cooperman has a big thick cock.” You tittered in a teasing lilt, still fondling it. He whimpered loud, a high pitched desperate sound that filled the car. You hadn’t expected him to be so whiny, but somehow you weren’t surprised — it seemed appropriate for that nerd in the schoolyard. Whiny then, whiny now. Every obscene word was punctuated with a whine, like a teenager getting his first handjob. He rutted his hips helplessly against your fingers, grinding his stiffness into your grip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, just like that - fuck.” 

Almost to shut him up, you craned forward to kiss him again, your mouths crushing together in violent desperation. After a few seconds, Max sloppily broke the kiss to look down at your hand, saliva stringing from his bottom lip to yours.

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” he breathed, watching your fingers as they stroked his swollen cock, paying special attention to the scarlet, almost purple head. His cock twitched again in your grip, expelling more precum. “Oh my fuckin’ god, holy shit, holy shit…” 

You were delighted by the position of power you were in, and even more than that, delighted by the way that Max was literally coming undone in front of you. All his acquired cockiness had melted away, replaced by the desperate dork you remembered. 

“I knew he was in there,” you whispered under your breath before giving his cock a firm grip, milking another whine from his lips. Max was too far gone to even respond logically to anything, you weren’t sure he’d even heard you over his ragged, uneven pants.  

Feeling adventurous (and perhaps cruel), you extended your tongue, flattening it against the underside of his cock. The salty pre-cum oozed onto it. Max gasped, lifting his hips upright, which forced his dick further into your mouth. You pulled back, shaking your head softly. For a moment, he did nothing but stare at his own cock, watching it as your hand drug up and down over it, working it inches from your lips. You thought he was going to lose it, but with a heavy breath, he lowered his hips again and went back to breathing unevenly.

“Please,” he begged incessantly, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. “Please lemme’ fuck you…”

“Uh-uh.” 

Max whimpered again, bumping his head against the window repeatedly like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“You can’t, Max. There isn’t enough room here.” 

“Yeaaah, baby, yeah there is. We’ll make it work.” 

You paused for a moment, surveying your surroundings. Even with the seats pushed forward, the backseat left little room for moving around, and the oddly placed hump in the center was undeniably impeding any laying down. Max’s hips were already jutted up oddly, you couldn’t picture laying down atop of it… unless….

“You wanna’ fuck me, Max? How bad you wanna’ fuck me?” You asked, already knowing the answer. 

Slack-jawed, he nodded, his curls bouncing. The collar of his shirt was a shade darker with sweat. “So bad. So fuckin’ bad, you have no idea. You can’t even fathom.” 

You thought about it. And thought about it some more, until finally, you said: “Move over.”

Obediently, Max scooted his hips up, his dick bobbing before he shifted himself onto the floor, allowing you to crawl forward, using the curve of the backseat like a sex pillow, your ass tilted up towards the now very fogged up back window. Your cunt was already warm and aching from giving him head, and with a deep breath, you imagined the wet slit that would greet him as soon as he got up behind you. 

Curious, you reached up between your legs, pressing them into the satin fabric – just as you thought. Soaked. Finding the hem of your underwear, you yanked them to the side, exposing her. Your middle finger then slipped inside, dragging some of the slick down to your clit, which you tapped, bringing the sensitivity higher. 

“Oh shit,” he gasped, seeing this erotic display that sent spikes of arousal straight to his already engorged and aching cock. Still on the floor, but now behind the passenger’s seat, Max leaned forward. Still awkwardly positioned – you silently applauded the desperation in which he did it – Max went for your cunt, bending his head at angle so that his tongue could flick out against your wet folds, getting a taste of your sweet, leaking juices. You couldn’t help but moan into the leather, clenching and shaking as he lingered there for a moment, just lapping at it, swallowing and mouth breathing heavily onto her. 

“Fuck–” He straightened up, and used the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. “You taste so good, baby.” 

You wiggled your ass in response, smiling against the seat. After a little bit of strained and clumsy maneuvering, Max was finally behind you, dick in hand. He shuffled closer, his jean-clad thighs pressing into the backs of your bare ones. Using his free hand, he glided over the curve of your ass and down your spine, as far as the jean skirt would let him. You felt the warm head bumping into her over and over again with a haphazard rhythm, strings of precum dripping down onto the seat below you  – he was jerking off into your cunt. 

“I thought you were going to fuck me.” 

“I am,” he panted. “I am… this is just too good. Fuck! I wish I had my camera.” 

After using the tip to play with your wetness for a bit longer, Max finally lined up and sunk his cock inside of you, using your hips to pull himself deeper. He bottomed out – the stretching heat burned, filling you from wall to wall as his hips began bucking instinctively, finding a carnal rhythm – you let out a low moan. You begged, wanting him to press himself as deep into you as he could.  

“Record it,” you suddenly ordered. 

“Wha-?” he choked, out of breath and still pumping himself into you. 

“Record it. You have your phone, don’t you?” You arched your back, pushing up into him. 

“You serious?” 

“Yeah, I’m serious. It’d be hot.” 

Still in awe of your lustful demand, Max reached in his back pocket and pulled his phone out. He quickly navigated to the camera app, tapped the red button, and held the phone above you, getting a wider angle. The flash was on; he pulled his thick, glistening cock out of you slowly, while his dark eyes darted back and forth between watching you and watching it on the screen. Knowing he was going to have this to later jerk it to… shit – his breath hitched in his throat. He bumped his hips into you a few times, popping the head into your cunt.

“Yeah, you like that?” 

At first, Max breathily answered, but remembering he was recording, cleared his throat and answered in a lower tone. “Fuck yeah.” 

“Oh stop,” you laughed, wiggling your hips on his cock. “Afraid to let your dorky voice out again?” 

“Shut up, I’m not a dork.” 

“Yeaaaah, yeah you are. A big dork with a big cock.” 

Much to his own dismay, Max whined, picking up speed as he hammered into you, his little desperate bunny humps rutting against your pussy, sending shockwaves through your core.  The sounds of skin slapping against skin, paired with your broken moans and Max’s pathetic, horny whines filled the car. He’d never really been one for degradation, but the way you teased him, throwing your verbal right hooks every chance you got, had him in pieces. Every time you did it, his dick twinged painfully, stiffening past the point of comfort. He took hold of it, jerking it a few times into your pussy. Making sure the camera was capturing it, Max went back to thrusting, sinking his aching cock halfway in before bottoming out again. The video would never see the light of day, you knew it. He’d have to mute it to save his ego, and what was the point of muting porn? Max was way too whiny to show his macho friends, every other thrust was accompanied by a desperate little whimper. 

“Shit, I’m gonna’ - I’m gonna’ baby, oh my god, I’m sorry I’m gonna’ – auuggh!”

With a final whimper, Max yanked his cock from your pussy, allowing his orgasm to burst out over your exposed cunt; hot, milky strings decorating your folds and ass cheeks.

Immediately after pumping the rest of his cum onto your ass, like a gentleman, Max sunk two fingers in your pussy, curling them up to masterfully find the sensitive, spongy flesh inside. So, he’d had practice, too. You took fistfuls of the seat, digging your nails into the soft, polished leather. Thankfully for him, you were close, so the way he pumped his fingers in and out of you brought you over the edge within a matter of seconds. 

With a final: “Ffffuck!!”, you clenched around his fingers, pleasure rupturing your entire core. You squeezed your eyes shut, riding out the orgasm and backing up into his fingers to increase the pressure. You heard Max hiss in a breath through his teeth as he watched you, enjoyed you, and recorded you in your most intimate moments. The thought drove your orgasm forward even further. 

As the pulses subsided, you flopped down heavily, out of breath and drenched in sweat. You pivoted your body, rolling back over onto your back. Max was still recording, absentmindedly playing with your still weeping cunt. You watched him with a smile, entertained and enamoured that he was so invested with you. With a little dinging sound, the recording finally ended, and he tucked the phone back into his pocket. 

You two sat in silence, breathing heavily until, in a moment of post-nut clarity, Max said: “Shit, I was supposed to spar with Matt.” 

“Who?” You couldn’t care less. 

“Uh, my friend.”

“Mm, well… Matt is just gonna’ have to take a rain check. That’s too bad.” 

He laughed, leaning his head against the window again. After a few moments, he spoke again, his voice soft and low.  

“So, your theory is true, huh?” 

“Oh, yeah. It’s true. Took me years to prove it, but… it’s definitely true.” You leaned up and ran your pointer finger along the inseam of his jeans, smirking to yourself. “Definitely true.”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser /

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[windydrawallday]

[A Different Type Of Hunt]

[...] “Well then,” he capitulated, “if you won't interrupt, I'll allow your presence for the time being on this hunt,” he said, before he thought about the other a little longer, and spoke up cautiously: “Unless you wish to compete for the ‘bounty’?” “Is there anything to be gained from it?” came an immediate ask, which made him relax as he almost let out a snicker. “Nothing but personal satisfaction.” […] “It's almost cute how much you want me gone, Prowl.” “After all this, you better hope you won't find me straight up adorable,” Prowl shot back with irritation, making sure to cause the branch he was holding to hit the hunter straight in his stupid face, even if he had to jump up to reach one at the adequate height.

➡️[Keep Reading the Full Story HERE]⬅️

My art entry (and first year participating) for the @tf-bigbang ! And because this was a "Mini-Reverse" version, I took the opportunity of illustrating a very BIG COMPLEX picture of my fav TFA rascals of course 🐦🦡💚

🌟 And I matched with @ivycorp as a writer pal! She did such an AWESOMESAUCE job portraying them in this dynamic! Practically a 1:1 of how I see them personally: lots of funny, endearing, bantering, and even somber moments plus a delightful of descriptions that's like taking a sip of a tropical drink 🍹

✨ Please, give it a read! Or if you know someone who likes this pairing, recommend it! We tried to make something that can be enjoyed by many without the need to support them as a pairing and I think this will be one of the few SFW fics on AO3 of them LMAO that was a plus goal achieved.

Under the cut, I'll keep babbling about my piece because... this had quite THE journey of a process for me, enjoy!

If you think the final thing looks already complicated: watch again, here is the ORIGINAL PLAN...

I usually don't render this refined because I don't use textured-pattern-ready brushes but work stroke by stroke on the canvas like an old oil painting. Most of the time I render all in one layer (or merge various layers at the end). So it ends quite taxing, but so rewarding to look at!

It got quite the amount of rearranging and redrawing of scenes to fit better in each place, so that was another factor that burned me up slowly, I guess...

Sadly, I didn't take into account how much time these took, and because I'm not the same person from years ago with free time to sit down and focus for more than 3 hs on a pic (these usually demand between 6 to 8 hs of attention without counting extra corrections) I ended cutting down half the planed scenes :')

But hey! Probably I'll go back to them and finish them to set everything how originally was supposed to be. But for now, I'll take a good rest (my wrists are still trembling a bit) and bask in the beauty of my pal's work too... and bless the admins of the event FOR BEING SO PATIENT WITH ME orz

Thank you, from the moon and back! 🌙💖

[trumanbluee]

if its not with you (part two) - matty healy

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!!

please reblog if you like it! ᡣ𐭩

this is part two of this fic!! i recommend reading that before this one, but it's not necessary!!

word count: 2.7k

content/warnings: afab main character, established relationship, unprotected sex (no mention of protection). please lmk if i missed anything, thanks! <3

a/n: enjoy!! i've missed posting on here!

She sat on her couch in anticipation, leg bobbing rhythmically as she scrolled through her phone, expecting a call from Matty any minute.

At 9am on the dot, his name flashed across her phone, interrupting the TikTok she was watching. She clicks the ‘accept’ button as if it’s muscle memory, which it is by now, they’d called so many times in the last few months,  and presses her phone to her ear.

“Matty?”

“Hey baby! Just got off the plane. Wanted to let you know I’ll be home in about an hour and a half, ‘kay?” She could hear his smile through his words, and her chest bubbled with excitement at the thought of their reunion.

“Are you sure you don’t want me t’come get you? I’ve got the car, I can just-”

She’s cut off when he tuts over the phone, and she can practically see him shaking his head.

“Nah, honey. Thank you. Just wanna come home to you, yeah? Don’t want the first time I see my girl in months to be in some grimy airport, baby. I love you, I’ll see ya’ in a bit.”

And just like that the call was over, though she wasn’t offended by the abrupt end. Matty’s brain moved extremely quickly, and he often got distracted from the task at hand. She didn’t take it personally, she just couldn’t wait to see him.

She spent the hour she had before he got home tidying up, not wanting Matty to come home to a messy house. Now, she stood in front of the mirror, attempting to tidy herself up to look somewhat presentable for her boyfriend, though she knew he wouldn’t care how she looked. She still donned his oversized - on her at least - dress shirt, buttoned up to just above her cleavage, but had brushed her hair and applied a light amount of makeup, not wanting to seem too messy.

She sat, anxiously, on the couch facing the front door, ears perking at every sound that came from the hallway leading to their shared apartment. 

Then, she heard the rattling of the door, as well as a huff of slight frustration as Matty struggled to walk through the door, dragging his suitcase and carry-ons with him.

She sprung up, rushing over to him in record time. Fiddling with his bags, he finally notices her there in front of him, and dropped everything he was holding on the hardwood floor, instead opening his arms for her to fall into.

Slamming herself into his chest, she wrapped her arms around him, squashing her cheek against his chest.

He stumbled at the impact, chuckling slightly at her eagerness. 

“Hi baby,” he leaned down to whisper in her ear, one hand wrapped tightly around her as the other caressed the back of her head, carding through her soft hair. “Missed me, huh?”

She nodded against his firm chest, chin planting against it as she looked up at him through her eyelashes, eyes bleary with tears. He had no idea.

He cooed, “Oh darlin’, I missed you too. So much.” With this, he picked her up, with her instinctually wrapping her legs around him. He shoved his head into her shoulders, breathing in her scent that he’d missed so much, a mixture of her strawberry shampoo and floral perfume, though she hadn’t even put any on today.

He sighed, keeping one hand on her back, rubbing slow, comforting circles as he hugged her tight, placing his other hand on her bum to keep her stable.

Sniffling slightly, she rubbed the wetness around her eyes away with her fist, placing her head back onto Matty’s shoulder.

“Missed you so much, baby,” He whispered in her ear, planting a soft kiss just behind it as he said it, sending a shiver down her spine. He continued, placing kisses across the side of her neck and along her chin, lifting her head slightly to grant him more access. 

She sighed airily at the feeling of his soft lips against the sensitive skin of her throat, bringing her hand up to twirl the curls at the nape of neck.

“Need you, Matty,” She whined in his ear.

“I know, honey. Wanna take my time with you though, yeah? Haven’t seen you in so long, baby.” He spoke softly into her ear, pressing a kiss to her cheek sweetly before gripping her tightly, her legs still wrapped around his waist.

She reached her head up, placing her lips on his in a desperate kiss, almost as though she was trying to show him how much she’d missed him.

Matty sighed into the kiss, like it was a relief to him to feel her lips on his, and continued the kiss, deepening it slightly as he made the short walk from the hallway to their bedroom and over to their bed, his knees hitting the soft bedding that laid over the end.

He kissed her once more, still holding her in his arms, before he gently laid her back on the bed, the lower half of her body hanging off slightly. She watched him, smiling down at him as he knelt between her legs, pushing her feet softly so they’d bend at the knees, opening her up to him. 

She whined as he pushed up the bottom of his dress-shirt so it bunched up just above her belly button, Matty planting a soft kiss just above the hem of her underwear. 

He hummed, “Missed this, honey. Missed you being such a good girl for me.” He slipped a thumb into her underwear, using his other hand to gently lift her hips up in order to pull them down her legs. 

He kissed the side of her right knee, trailing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all the way up until he reached her cunt, now sopping wet, before doing the same thing to the other leg.

“M-matty,” she whined, drawn out in complaint at his teasing, “Puh- please.”

He smirked up at her through hooded eyes to see her looking down at him the best she could, eyes furrowed, cheeks red, and biting her lip. 

“What’s wrong baby? Please what?” He pressed a kiss to her throbbing clit, spreading her open with his hand as he did so, before blowing cool air over her aching pussy. 

“W-want you,” she managed to stutter out, already almost completely fucked out from his teasing kisses. 

“Yeah, baby? Want me where, darlin’? Here?” He placed an open mouthed kiss on her lower thigh, “Or here?” He placed another kiss on her soft stomach, hearing a loud whine above him.

He faked surprise, “No? Not there, darlin’? What about here, then?” And with that, he finally placed his hot mouth against her, swirling his tongue lightly around her puffy clit. She keened above him, lifting her hips to meet his mouth, only for them to be softly pushed back down on to the bed, Mattys arm coming up to lay across her stomach, holding her hips down with the weight. 

“Fuck, honey. Y’taste even better than I remember.” He praised, licking a strip from her hole up, earning a loud moan. 

She reaches her hand down, twirling her hand into Matty’s thick, dark-chocolate curls, and presses his face into her pussy. He obeys her silent command, licking and sucking her clit as he brings his hand - the one not occupied with holding her impatient hips down - up to her dripping hole, teasing a single digit at the entrance slowly. 

She whines, hand tightening in Matty’s hair, and grinds her hips to meet Matty’s kitten licks. Taking pity on her, Matty pushes two fingers inside her, curling them up to hit the spot he knows oh so well. She keens, back arching slightly off the bed, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden, though not unwelcome, intrusion. 

He pushes his fingers in and out, in and out, in a steady rhythm, while continuing his attack on her pudgy clit, wanton moans sounding in the air around him, though he can barely hear them as her thighs tighten around his head, muffling any and all sound. Though he doesn’t mind at all, she could suffocate him in her pussy, right here, right now, and he would die a happy death. 

He groans against her pussy, sending vibrations throughout her entire body, as he begins to buck his hips against the edge of the bed in the same rhythm his fingers are fucking her. He’s rock hard, and can’t help but attempt to relieve the uncomfortable pressure building in the tent of his pants. 

Moaning against her clit, he speeds up the movement of his fingers, curling them upwards as he does so. She groans, a slightly guttural sound from the back of her throat, and begins moving her hips back and further against Matty’s face rapidly. 

“G-gonna cum f’me, honey?” Matty asks, hips stuttering against the bedcover as he quickly approaches his own orgasm, the sound of her pleasure being enough to get him off. 

She whined, nodding rapidly as her eyebrows furrow and thighs close around Mattys head. He felt his stomach tighten as her moans got louder, less contained, and he let out a final moan against her clit, sending her over the edge as he came against the grey sweatpants he’d worn on the plane. Her chest rose rapidly, breathes short and high-pitched as she came down from her high, Matty’s fingers still inside her, guiding her through it softly. 

Catching her breath, Matty crawls up the bed, holding himself above her, and begins kissing up her neck, his knees pressed against her sensitive cunt. 

“God, darlin’ y’taste so good you made me cum in my pants.” He admits, laughing slightly as he kisses along her jaw sweetly. 

She giggles, lidded eyes looking up at him as he holds himself up over her, “Really? God that’s so hot.” 

They both laughed softly, basking in each other's presence, but she could still feel the heat of need in the pit of her stomach, oozing down between her legs. She reaches her hand up, curling it around the back of Matty’s neck to pull his head down to reach her, smashing her lips against his. 

“Still need you, baby,” She whispered against his lips, lifting her hips off the bed to grind up against his hardening cock. 

“Fuck, honey, y’killin’ me, wearin’ my shirt. Y’look so gorgeous, sweetheart,” He placed kisses down her neck, stopping to suck on the sweet spot just above her collarbone, before bringing his hands up to tug at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off to expose her boobs, nipples perking up at the exposure to the cold air in the room. 

He takes one into his mouth, sucking and biting softly as he caresses the other in his hand, thumb brushing over her sensitive nipple harshly, causing her to jolt and let out a loud, drawn-out moan. 

“Missed you so much, sweetheart,” He whispers against her skin, eyes looking up at her adoringly before he turns his attention to her other nipple, performing the same actions again. 

She reaches down, tugging at the top of his sweatpants, silently telling him she wants them off, and he obeys, sitting up to pull his shirt off too, before he returns back up to her face, pressing a soft kiss against her lips, eyes fluttering closed. He reaches his hand down, gripping his hard length, pumping it softly, dragging it teasingly up and down her sticky slit, tapping it on her puffy, red, clit twice, before pressing his thick head into her hole slowly. 

He leans forward, shoving his head into the crook of her shoulder as he slowly pushes into her, feeling her soaking cunt tighten around him as she welcomes him in, welcomes him home. A broken, high pitched whimper sounds below her ear as he finally bottoms out, hips stilling as he feels her tight pussy contract around his cock, her breathy moans in his ear making it difficult to control himself as he slowly drags his cock out, before slowly pushing back in again. 

He lets out a low groan as she cries out, wrapping her legs around his waist, interlocking her heels to keep him inside her.

“Such a good girl, darlin’. So gorgeous… Fuck, I love you so much, baby,” he mumbled out, hips stuttering as he continues his slow rocks into her, her hands reaching his back, dragging her nails up and down. 

She cries out, tight cunt clamping around him as he leans further over her, grabbing one of her hands and intertwining them, placing it on the pillow above her head. 

“L-love you so much Matty, fuck… feels so good.” she stutters out, tears sprouting in the corner of her eyes as he fucks into her slowly, hitting that sweet spot inside her over and over again. She’s completely overwhelmed. That, mixed with how he squeezed her hand almost reassuringly, and peppered kisses over her face and neck, was fogging her brain, and all she could think was, ‘Matty, Matty, Matty’, over and over. 

She said his name like a prayer, breathily calling out to him as she felt herself get tighter and tighter around him, gripping on to his hand in an attempt to ground herself as he brought her closer and closer to coming. 

His brows furrowed, eyes lidded in pleasure as he felt her contract around him. He knew her like the back of his hand, and he could tell from the way her brows screwed up, her mouth lolled open, and how her cheeks grew a bright pink, that she was on the brink of her orgasm. He kept his rhythm, slipping his head back into the crook of her neck and placing kisses across her shoulder as he fucked his cock in and out of her. 

“C’mon, honey,” He whispered in her ear, planting a kiss on her earlobe softly, “Can feel you tightening around me, baby. Gonna cum with me? Yeah?”. He pulled back from her neck to see her nodding, eyes rolled back in her head as her mouth opened in a silent scream.

 He felt her gush around him, and, as if on cue, he felt that familiar tightness in the pit of his stomach, continuing to work his hips, slowly fucking his cock in to her, guiding her through her orgasm, he felt himself spill into her, eyes closed tight as he let out a low groan before stilling inside her. 

Their heavy breathes filled the room, both of their chests rising rapidly as Matty pulled out as carefully as he could, rubbing soft shapes on her upper thigh with his thumb as he did so. She whined at the sensitivity as Matty pulled out, feeling the mixture of both of their orgasms seep out onto the white sheets of their shared bed. 

She allowed her eyes to fall closed, sleep beginning to overtake her when she was brought to reality by the warmth of a wet towel being swiped over her skin, with Matty beside her, shushing and comforting her softly as he cleaned her up. 

“Come on, honey. Ran you a nice warm bath, okay?” He took her hand, placing a hand on her back to guide her up, before leading her into their ensuite, thumb rubbing smooth lines across her knuckles. He helped her step into the bath, arms holding her elbows as he helped her to sit down, before going to walk out of the bathroom. 

He was quickly stopped, however, when he heard her sweet voice from behind him call, “Matty? Aren’t you gonna sit with me?”

His heart stopped at her soft tone of voice, spinning on his heel to face her. 

“Of course, honey. I was just ‘gonna get you some water, yeah?” 

She shook her head, no, pouting down at the water, she spoke softly, “Just want you in here, please.”

He nodded, already beginning to strip the clean sweatpants he’d thrown on mere minutes ago. 

“Of course, sweet girl,” he cooed, settling himself in the bubble bath he’d run for her, “C’mere.” He ushered her over and she placed herself between his legs, head rested on his chest lazily as she drew circles on his open palm whilst he told her all about the tour, and what the band had been up to while they were away. 

©trumanbluee - reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! but i do not wish for my work to be republished, translated, or copied. thanks!

[jellys-compendium]

He Wears it Better

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only, Minors DNI)

Pairing: Dad!Vash x F!Reader Summary: Vash has fantasized about fucking you in an apron multiple times, but you being his clever wife, end up playing the uno reverse card ;) Cw: smut, apron kink, vanilla sex, p in v sex, creampie, oral (m!receiving), sub to dom Vash, switch!reader, marking/hickeys, praise, established relationship, domestic fluff, cheesy flirting (hello, it's Vash) Wc: 4K A/n: The infamous apron returns. This fic can be read as a standalone, but if you're wanting all the brainrot, I recommend reading Aprons are Sexy and chapter 2 of my Spicy Dad!Vash drabbles. If you want more Dad!Vash check out my Trimax series.

A delicious aroma is the first thing that greets you when you enter your home. Kicking off your work boots onto the dusty welcome mat, you take a moment to breathe in the comforting smell. It mingles with the cool air of your home, a welcome reprieve from the grueling morning chores that you’d been occupied with since the crack of dawn.

Piping up, your stomach growls in a vie with your thoughts for your attention. But, you elect to ignore the demanding thing. You have a couple of things to finish up before you’re able to sit down for lunch. 

Securing your grip on the heavy pail in your right hand, you make your way into the kitchen. With each step you take, the comforting smell intensifies along with the hissing sound of bubbling oil.  

“Hey honey!”

You stop dead in your tracks and stare. Vash is standing by the stove, greeting you with a big smile and also, coincidentally, wearing nothing except his jeans and your ruffled, frilly, lacey, red apron. 

Vash looks…breathtaking.

Your gaze first lingers on the ties that sit perfectly at his waist, outlining the filled out yet still inexplicably muscular and lean dad bod he’s acquired over the last few years. The sweetheart cut at the neckline perfectly accentuates all of Vash’s assets from the waist up, and you can’t help but feel a salacious little lick of heat pool in your tummy at the thought of exploring every little part of him with your lips.

Eyes continuing to indulge in the sight that is your husband, you move up to Vash’s tousled, long black hair. It sits in a messy half top knot, the loose ends brushing delicately along the tops of his muscular shoulders. 

By the time you make it to his sky, blue eyes, Vash rewards your very unsubtle appreciation of him with a cheeky wink.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

His teasing ignites your own playful spirit, making your soul feel joyful and light despite the tiredness in your flesh and bones. Vash has always had that effect on you. 

“I wouldn’t say the cat has it.” You smile coyly as you make your way towards the kitchen table. With a grunt, you manage to hoist the large pail in your hands up and onto the wooden slab. 

“More like it was stolen by my handsome husband and that sweetheart neckline. You don’t suppose I’d be able to come closer and have a more thorough look?”

Vash lets out a girlish gasp at your flirtatious suggestion, jokingly covering the parts of his exposed chest with one of his arms.

“Pervert.” He accuses. “What’s gotten into my sweet, little wife?”

“My irresistible tease of a husband, that’s who!”

Your combined laughter fills the space in the kitchen, bubbling and joyful, the levity of the moment is a cathartic release for the both of you. With the ranch, home renovations and four children to care for, things have been so mind bogglingly busy that it has left little time for either you or Vash to unwind, much less time to unwind while in each other’s company.   

It feels…really nice. Just like old times.

As the laughter dies down, Vash returns his attention to the frying pan while you begin to pull out the massive tomas eggs that you’d collected that morning from the pail. Now, the only question is where in No Man’s Land are you going to store these?

“Whoa.”

Looking up at Vash, your smile widens when you see that his eyes are wide with wonder as he studies the collection of eggs on the kitchen table.

“Are those from Betty?”

You nod, picking up one of the enormous eggs and cradling it with both hands.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised, she’s the biggest girl on the ranch.” 

You study the egg in your hands through the kitchen light above, making sure that there’s no little stowaways beneath the shell.

“I figure one of these is enough to feed a family of six at least.”

“Or the twins.” Vash quips with a chuckle.

Oh boy.

Despite Vash’s playful tone, he hit the nail on the head. The stomachs on those two are positively bottomless. Thank goodness for the ranch, otherwise Luca and Layla would eat you all out of house and home.

“Well, those two little handfuls have to get that limitless energy from somewhere right?”

Vash nods.

“That’s why I’m getting a head start on supper. Have to give them something to fill their bellies when they come back from their play date. Unless you want them to tear up our house again.”

“Yeah, no. Let’s avoid that.”

Finishing with the eggs, you make your way over to Vash and wrap your arms around his waist from behind. Vash hums appreciatively at your touch, the pleasant vibration of his affirmation soothes you as you stand on your tip toes and peer over his shoulder at the food he has sizzling in the frying pan.

“Croquettes?”

Vash nods, a proud smile spreading across his face as he glances at you from over his shoulder.

“The kids have been begging for me to make them for days now. Thought I’d whip up a batch for a little Friday surprise.”

You can practically feel your heart melting in your chest at the sweetness of Vash’s gesture. He truly is one of the most caring and loving fathers you’d ever known. Everyday, in spite of the paralyzing guilt and trauma he harbors, Vash always tries his best to give his children the childhood he’d never had. One that’s full of love and comfort and trust. 

And of course, while there are some days that are harder than others, the proof of that pure and genuine joy lies in his smiles. Those soft and warm smiles that crinkle the skin at the corner of his eyes while wordlessly conveying all those feelings he cannot put to words.

Rising up on your tiptoes again, you tap on Vash’s shoulder and press a tender kiss to his cheek when he turns his head to look at you.

“You’re the sweetest papa ever.” You softly whisper. “The kids are going to love them.”

Landing back on your heels, you wrap your arms tighter around Vash’s waist, hugging him closely from behind. Vash’s body relaxes at your touch, his heat melting into your own. Signing contentedly, you rest your face between his shoulder blades and pamper the scarred skin on his back with soft little kisses.

You wish you could spoil Vash like this everyday, but the organized chaos that is now your shared family life makes indulging in these private little moments difficult. The least you can do is make good on the promise the two of you made to each other on that emotional night years ago. To protect the life you all shared together.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hmm?” Vash hums, turning off the stove before transferring the sizzling croquettes to the paper towel covered plate he’d set out earlier. “I’m feeling great, why’re you asking?”

“It’s just…” You pause, contemplating how you’re going to put that anxious little worry at the back of your brain into words. Vash patiently waits for you to continue, the sizzling of the oil fading into a light popping sound by the time you find your voice. 

“We’ve been so busy. Having the twins, purchasing and restoring this ranch, rescuing and caring for all those toma, keeping up with our jobs to make ends meet…it’s been a lot on us.”

Wordlessly, Vash removes the cast iron skillet from the burner and turns off the stove before turning to face you. The playful glint in his eyes is long gone, now replaced with that steely seriousness that is also very much a part of him.

“Do you have any regrets?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you shake your head.

“Never.”

Vash heaves a sigh of relief, his big arms coming to wrap around you in a tight hug, pressing your face to his chest as he holds you close.

“Neither do I.” Vash reassures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Sure, there have been some days that have been exhausting, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smile against the fabric of that silly, frilly red apron.

“Even when you have to check for monsters under the bed at one in the morning?”

Vash chuckles.

“Even then.”

You snuggle closer, reciprocating  your husband’s bear hug with a cozy one of your own. But as you press your body flush against Vash’s, the air abruptly shifts, and the warm and homey energy that engulfs the two of you changes into one that is anything but.

“Speaking of regrets,” Vash’s voice drops to a low purr as his hands begin traveling downwards. His lips hover over the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending delighted shivers down your spine as his hands firmly cup your ass.

“I do miss our alone time, mayfly.”

Without missing a beat you kiss him, swallowing Vash’s surprised little gasp by caressing his tongue with your own. Giving into your desire, your hands so eager to explore, slip under that slutty little apron to play with your husband’s chest. 

Vash hums, returning your kiss with one of equal fervor as your right hand gently traces the grate over his heart while your left finds and teases his remaining scarred nipple.

A shudder courses through Vash as he groans hotly against your lips, pressing his big body closer to yours and deepening the kiss.

Encouraged by his reaction, you tease at his chest for a few moments longer before your hands travel lower, slipping out of the apron at the waist to bypass the tie. You slip back under, sucking lewdly on Vash’s tongue while your eager hands tease the skin at the hem of his jeans.

Releasing Vash’s mouth, you sensually whisper.

“Let’s get these off.” 

Vash nods, a soft little whimper that he no doubt tried to hide manages to escape this throat. You bite your lip, clenching your thighs together as a wave of heat pools in your core. Fuck, he sounds so damn good when he’s needy.

Popping the button of Vash’s jeans, your fingers make quick work of unzipping his fly. The purring rumble of the zipper’s descent makes you near dizzy with anticipation and it must be having the same effect on Vash, because no sooner do you get the thing down does he claim your lips with his.

Humming happily into Vash’s kiss, your fingers explore along his dark, curly, happy trail. He’s not wearing anything underneath. Perfect.

Wiggling a bit in Vash’s grasp, he immediately understands your intent and lets you go, giving you one more final peck on the lips before you lower yourself onto your knees and pull his pants all the way down to his ankles. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Vash reaching behind his back, no doubt in an attempt to undo the apron’s tie, but you stop his hands in an instant.

“Leave it on.”

Vash blinks dumbly at you for a moment, then an adorable blush spreads across his cheeks. You watch, devilishly pleased at yourself as it travels all the way up to his ears.

“You really are a pervert.”

Smiling sweetly, you press a frisky little peck to his apron covered groin.

“Only for you, Vash.”

Once you slip off Vash's pants completely, you take a moment to admire him. Unsurprisingly, he’s an absolute sight to behold. 

His long black hair frames his pretty, flushed face. His bright blue eyes are wide and brimming with erotic anticipation. The red apron that so perfectly accentuates his frame matches the cerise color of his cheeks, highlighting his adorable sheepishness at having you admire him so openly like this.

“You’re so beautiful, Vash.”

His blush deepens and the bulge between his legs twitches, demanding your attention from behind the obscure fabric of the apron. 

With your heart hammering in your chest, you place Vash’s discarded jeans under your knees to help you feel more comfortable. Then, propping yourself up, you delicately run both of your hands up his legs, purring with satisfaction once they land on Vash’s meaty thighs.

“Mayfly.”

Gently, you massage the soft yet firm flesh you find there, your fingers occasionally brushing along the sporadic tufts of Vash’s body hair. Another insecurity of his, caused by all the scar tissue he possesses.

“Lift it up?” You softly ask, gaze falling from his to eyeball the apron’s skirt. “Let me see how pretty you look.”

Vash’s blush deepens, but he does as you command, bunching that ruffled red fabric in his big hands before lifting it up to expose himself.

You don’t even bother restraining your moan of pleasure. 

Vash is gorgeous. He always has been.

Leaning in, you press a kiss to Vash’s semi hard cock, paying special attention to the scar along the side that he used to be so self-conscious about. Vash releases a shuddering breath as he watches you toy with him, his fingers tightening in the apron’s fabric as the muscles beneath his soft skin tense.

“You’re so handsome.” You murmur in between kisses. “The apron really suits you.”

Vash groans, his eyelids drooping as he intently watches your lustful display.

“That should be my line.”

You slip his cock into your mouth, his unique taste making you groan. Vash sighs, a whisper of your name dancing off his tongue as he leans back and savors the feeling of your soft lips wrapped around his cock.

Pooling your saliva, your tongue swirls and teases his glands, flicking along his slit and savoring the little drop of precum he produces before taking him deeper into your mouth. Vash’s breath hitches, a soft whine escaping his lips as his thighs shudder beneath your fingertips. 

“So good.” He praises through panting breaths. “Feels so good, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, willing your throat to relax as you slowly take in a deep breath through your nose. Then, you swallow Vash down to the hilt. 

Your husband gasps, nearly spending himself down your throat the instant he feels your hot, wet mouth sucking him in so deep. But, Vash restrains himself, and so do you. He’s big, your fingernails dig into his thighs as you fight against the gag that pulses at the back of your throat.

“Oh mayfly—oh fuuuck.”

With Vash’s pleasured moan egging you on, your tongue slips out to lick at his heavy sack. Vash groans, his hips involuntarily thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth at the sensation. But the moment he hits the back of your throat, you gag fiercely and immediately pull yourself off of him, coughing and sputtering. 

A curse flies from Vash’s lips and his hands are immediately on you, stroking your hair and cheeks, soothing you as he desperately attempts to make sure you’re alright.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You manage to reassure him after you catch your breath. Once you’ve composed yourself, you encourage Vash to stand again, then lean back in and press a kiss to his shaft before lifting his cock and pressing it flush against his navel. 

Now that you have access to pamper his sensitive frenulum, you do just that. Laving your tongue across the expanse of his skin, you purr with satisfaction as you trace the bump and groove of his scar with your tongue. 

“You’re really cute when you’re excited.”

A pouty little frown crosses your husband’s features at your words.

“I can’t help but feel like you’re teasing me.”

Grinning, you suck along his length, running your mouth teasingly from base to tip before popping his glands into your mouth. Vash’s breath explodes from his lungs in a rush as he watches you pamper the head of his cock. But your lithe little fingers don’t escape the humanoid typhoon’s notice.

Eagerly, Vash watches, near breathless as you reach down to unbutton your own jeans and sink your hand into your panties. 

Vash groans, another thick drop of precum escaping him as he watches you pleasure yourself while shamelessly sucking on his cock. 

“I’ll admit,” You breathe, releasing him from your ministrations for a moment. “I’m teasing you a little. But I want you to know that when I’m complimenting you, I’m being completely sincere.” 

Giving Vash’s cock another kittenish lick, you remove your now soaked hand from your panties and wrap your slick fingers around him, stroking his dick up and down while looking directly into those boundless sky blues.

“You’re really cute, Vash.”

Vash groans at your words, his entire body quivering oh so sweetly in your hands. Licking his lips, Vash leans back against the stove and you waste no time sinking back down on his cock, sucking on him until he starts to arch and twitch in your mouth.

“M-mayfly, if you keep this up I’m—aaahh!”

You stop sucking, cradling his leaking glands on your tongue as you stroke the rest of him.

“Do you want to cum right here or…”

The hungry look in your husband’s eyes is all the answer you need.

You let him go, chuckling as Vash lets out an adorable little whine at the loss of your touch.

“Sit on the chair.”

Immediately, Vash does as you ask, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and plopping himself down. 

Once he’s situated, you peel off your own jeans and panties and unbutton the plaid shirt you’d stolen from him this morning. Once you’re fully exposed from the waist down, you crawl onto Vash’s lap, his hands sliding up your thighs before resting on the cradle of your hips. 

Smiling, you reach up to cup his face. Vash’s sigh of pleasure as you lean forward to kiss him is one of the most achingly beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard.

“I’ve fantasized about this, you know.” Vash murmurs against your mouth, the confession a deep drawl in his chest, turning you on even more. You moan as Vash pulls you down on top of him, trapping his cock beneath the apron and your sex as he desperately seeks friction against your slick folds. 

“Making love to you like this, except you were the one wearing the apron.”

You laugh and seal his lips with a slow and passionate kiss, hips rolling like liquid as you grind back against him.

“You wear it better.” 

“Debatable.”

At the edge of your restraint, you reach down and pull the apron up, exposing Vash again before grasping his cock and raising your hips. Vash purrs with anticipation as you steady yourself against him by placing your free hand on his chest. You glide his cock head between your folds, preparing yourself while drenching him in your arousal.

Vash bites his lip, his fingers tightening their grip and digging into the fat on your hips as his eyes glaze over with unrestrained lust.

“Sit on it, love. Use my cock to make yourself feel good. Please, let me serve you.”

Shuddering, you nestle the head of Vash’s cock at your entrance, then in perfect harmony, the two of you exhale pleasured moans as you sink down and take Vash’s thick cock all the way down to the base in a single thrust.

“Ah! S-so perfect.” You gasp, eagerly receiving Vash’s sloppy kisses as you ride him. “Filling me up so good, baby. Give me more!”

Vash’s eyes squeeze shut as he cries out with pleasure, his hips pathetically thrusting up into you as bounce on his dick. Wanting to make Vash melt even more, your hands slip back under his apron and squeeze his chest, pinching and toying with his perked and sensitive nipple while your teeth graze the thick column of his throat. 

“So pretty,” You groan, sucking at his pulse point, nibbling and bruising the skin below your tongue. Vash’s grip tightens, no doubt excited at the thought that everyone who’ll lay eyes on him tomorrow will know exactly who it was that put that pretty little hickey on his neck.

“M-mayfly. Oh god, I—”

Vash’s words are interrupted by a high pitched moan, a desperate curse falling from his lips as his cock twitches and pumps another glob of precum inside you. He’s so close.

Your mouth travels to his ear, your harsh breaths creating pretty little goosebumps all along his flesh as you make your way.

“Don’t hold back. Go ahead and fill me up. Come as much as you want, angel.”

The moment those words leave your mouth, Vash abruptly wraps his strong arms around you and hoists you up into the air, holding you tightly against him so as not to let you fall.

At the mercy of his flurry of movement, Vash’s name escapes you in a surprised gasp. You wrap your arms around his neck as he turns the both of you around and sits your bare ass down on the chair he had just occupied.

Releasing him, your hands reach down to brace yourself on the seat. Vash growls, eyes feral and hungry as he holds your legs apart, stretching you wide open before he starts to pound desperately into your swollen cunt.

“Oh fuck, mayfly” His voice is a desperate whine, making the coiling heat in your tummy tighten as your pussy squeezes down around him, milking him in anticipation of what’s to come. 

Vash clenches his teeth, groaning as he thrusts harder, the weight of him and the wet slap of his body on top of yours making you cry out with abandon.

“V–Va—ash!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, honey. I’ve been waiting to fuck you like this for so long. Having you moaning and arching and feeling so good under me. Fuck, you’re so wet, taking me in so easily. Does fucking me in your apron really turn you on?”

Your eyes nearly roll back in your head, Vash’s dirty words making you squirm and gush around him all the more.

“Y-yes!” You mewl, back arching as Vash rewards your honesty with a deep thrust that nearly has you coming right then and there.

“Good,” Vash growls, his right hand reaching up to your breasts, releasing them from your bra so he can sensually torture your hardened nipples with tongue and teeth.

“Feels so good, you’re so incredible Vash—ahhh—I can’t think straight!”

“Don’t,” Vash groans, releasing your breasts and wrapping his strong arms around you, cradling you close as his pace slows to a sensual, deep glide.

“Don’t think, mayfly.” His teeth are on your jaw, moving up to bite on your earlobe. “Just feel good. Just feel good with me.”

Your whimper Vash’s name like a prayer. Your trembling legs wrap around his hips as the lewd feeling of your combined fluids drips down onto the seat of the chair. He’s made such a mess out of you, you need to return the favour. 

Reaching down, you grab the apron’s waist tie and use it as leverage as you meet Vash’s slow and deep thrusts with a wicked roll of your hips, your walls clamping down on him, begging for his hot load of cum.

Vash moans as the two of you lock eyes, speechless and trembling as you drown in one another’s electric ecstasy. Your bodies grind and writhe against the other, until finally, with choked moans and muscles seizing, you and Vash reach the peak of your shared pleasure in breathless unison. 

You hold one another, panting and whispering babbled praise and love as you ride out your orgasms together. Once the two of you finally come down from your high, you stare at Vash. He’s panting, his chest and shoulders heaving, but despite his exhaustion, his signature charming smile spreads across his handsome face.

“You’re so pretty.” He coos drunkenly.

“Pffft.”

You can’t help but giggle at Vash’s dopey, lovey-dovey expression. God, you love this man. To the moon, and back, and then some.

“So are you. Giving me a run for my money in that apron.”

Vash’s smile widens, his eyes light up with a mischievous gleam as his dark brows wiggle.

“Well, how about next time we get a matching pair, mayfly?”

dividers by @/saradika

[doeiika]

Movie poster for Blood Under the Snow, the second part of The Devils series by Amras

I'll say it again- It's such a fantastic series. Here's my pitch to you: Micah and Arthur travel across America to retrieve Micah's inheritance from his brother, Amos. They have to navigate the treacherous landscape of their persons as well as the countryside. Big sexy and very evil things happen and it's so good. It's written so well and there's a moment where I had to lie down 'cus the fic was so good. I highly recommend (especially if you like Western movies with nasty fellas, tense atmospheres, and action) 😈😈

Here is a link to the speed paint video

I put some sketches + references below the cut.

Here's some thumbnails I drew physically. I tried a few layouts. Most of them featured Micah up at the top and Amos at the bottom. I wanted a really strong silhouette and a white background to represent the snow part of the title/setting.

I found the poster for The Horseman and the Samurai and took direct inspiration from it.

I had one idea where the silhouette would be a certain character's dead body half uncovered in the snow/ white of the background. Then I'd put the rest of the characters inside that shape. There's another concept where the silhouette would take shape of a playing card where Micah is at the top and Amos is upside down. Scrapped that idea because I wanted more of a traditional movie poster look where the main focus would be the faces of the characters. Flipping a main character upside down wold mess with the hypothetical movie goers lololol

Something I figured out while looking at references is- man, the movie title and the movie star names take up almost equal attention real estate.

[slutouttanowhere]

WIP WEEK

Drew McIntyre x (plus size) Black!oc

Warnings: Not for Minors, unprotected sex, light fem dom mentions, rough sex.

A/n: aside from the fact I’ve been desperate to post something, it’s a wip week, and this is a scene for a fic that’s already posted(‘Never Lose Me’ see masterlist). The chapter in general was already getting way too long so I cut this part out so I guess you can call this an alternate ending….that still somehow isn’t finished. This wip even though it relates to an already made plot, I remixed it a little for funsies. Hope you enjoy, follow me for more. Title inspired by Better Than Me by Doja Cat

Better Than Me

Drew hooked his finger underneath my chin, and gently turned my face back to him, his gray-blue irises looked like a stormy sky. His eyebrows drawn together, he said, “She never took me away from you.” He declared, no longer upset with him, and Mandy long forgotten, I launched myself onto Drew’s side of the sofa. My arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, and my face nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

A strong scent of tea tree mint wafted into my nostrils, my lips turned upward into a smile for the first time today. Just as he was wrapping his arms around my waist I pulled back, “Are you still washing your hair with the same hair company I recommend?”

“Of course, why would I change it?” His lips curled into a playful grin, my fingers played with his soft, dark hair. He never let it get too long, he usually kept it trimmed at his shoulders. His hands crept underneath my sweater top, caressing my skin, slowly moving up, and down my back. I straddled his waist, my knees on either side of his thighs, and I stood up on my knees so that I now towered over him.

“I love seeing you like this, so fucking beautiful.” He breathed, his hands slid up my thighs to my hips, then moved further up to my waistline and squeezed me in his palms. “So soft.” He whispered as his hands continued to worship me. On his way back down his fingers gently traced over the stretch marks along my hips before moving on to my ass. He gripped a handful of my booty in both his hands, and spread my cheeks apart. “Can I taste you…please.”

A dark sensation washed over me, and I was suddenly in the mood. My fingers gripped his hair with authority, and pulled his head back. Drew let out a deep groan, his nails digging into my flesh, but the stinging sensations sent a tingle down my spine and right between my legs. “I liked it when you begged me, you should do it more often.” I whispered, my lips just barely touched his, and when he tried to move his head to meet me halfway, I yanked his hair.

“Relax baby doll.” I teased, I trailed kisses down his neck, licking, and sucking his skin as I went. His body melted under my lips, I pulled his shirt over his head, and continued to pepper kisses across his broad chest.

When I get past his belly button he starts to make a fuss, “We don’t have to–

“Don’t speak unless I say so, you deserve this.” I snapped at him, Drew’s lips pressed together agreeing to be compliant. I understood that he could physically overpower me if he wanted, and since he didn’t I knew he craved this tonight.

“Look at where acting like a slut got you, right back to me.” I traced the line of hair that ran from his bellybutton, and disappeared underneath his jeans. The hairs across his chest, and stomach were soft, thin, and even spreaded. Such a drastic difference than when we first met, he was damn near hairless.

“Take off your jeans.” I ordered him, nearly jumping up off the sofa, and doing what was told. The cats had long since abandoned us, and my food had gotten cold as it sat half eaten on the glass coffee table. He kicked his jeans off, “briefs too cowboy.” I teased, he was hasty with his movements not wanting to waste a second, I patted his spot where he was sitting. “Sit.” My voice dropped to a whisper, I moaned out upon seeing his semi hardened cock. He was thicker than I remembered, fat even, it flopped around as he got back into a comfortable sitting position. The sound of his flesh slapping against flesh made my pussy tingle with desire.

He reached his hand down to wrap around himself but I smacked his hand away, a look of annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Oh you still think this about you tonight? You can leave ya know?” I folded my arms over my chest, daring him to challenge me, but he didn’t move off the couch.

“Desiree please—

I cut him off before he could continue, “Do it again.” I smirked, my heart beating excitedly, I was getting a rush of adrenaline from the power I was feeling.

“Say…please.” I mocked in a melodic voice, I sat perched on my knees beside him, I placed my hand on his thigh. His eyes slid closed, I leaned in, tucked his hair behind his ear, and softly kissed the tip of his ear. “I hate to have to ask twice.” I whispered huskily, my hand crept up his thigh, and up to his lower stomach. He still didn’t give, his eyelids snapped open, they sparkled with defiance. I bit my lip to hold back my laughter.

“Always thought you were a brat, that’s fine.” I shrugged, my hand ghosted over his tip, I watched his face closely as I gently swiped the pre-cum off with my index finger. He watched as I brought my finger up to my lips, flicking my tongue out, and licking the stickiness off. I licked my hand, then reached down again, this time gripping his dick in my palm; not too tightly, but just the way he liked.

“Shit, please, I just need to feel your lips. I missed them so much, please.” He begged, his breathing deepened, and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

My unoccupied hand reached up to wrap around the top of his head, I caressed his hair like a pet. “That’s a good boy, now, was that so hard?” I pulled my sweater over my head revealing my bare breast, Drew’s eyes dropped to my chest, I could feel his fingers twitch against my thigh where his hand rested. His eyes darted back up to my face, and back to my chest, wordlessly asking me for permission. I lifted an eyebrow questioning him.

“Can I touch you?” He blurted out as if he had been holding his breath, I stifled a laugh, and wondered to myself if this was how I looked when our roles were reversed.

“You can touch me anywhere you want.” I caved, though I’m proud of myself for getting this far, and astounded Drew allowed my shenanigans to ensue. I missed the way he touched me, he’s always gentle as if he might break me.

His hand slid from my thigh up the side of my hip, and around to my lower back. The other grasped onto my hand, placed it back around his dick, the tip of him peeking out more and more as he became more aroused. “Fuck, you always know how to stroke me princess.” He groaned, he grabbed me by the chin, and met me halfway in a deep, heated kiss. Our lips intertwined as we moaned into each other, wordlessly begging for more.

“Tell me what you want from me first.” Drew mumbled between kisses, his hands caressing my body, and found their way to my breast. His fingers took my nipple between his thick fingers, at first he squeezed gently as if testing his own strength, but then applying pressure.

My back arched, stinging sensation traveled down to the core of me between my thighs. “My pussy, I need it.” My whine, I held on to his large shoulder for balance. Drew sucked on my skin, following up with wet sloppy kisses, then repeating the same with my other breast. He presses his face into my cleavage then breaths me in, his hands on my back, nails digging into my skin as he drags them down. I let out a shuddering breath, for a moment we just stay there like that.

“Lay back.” He murmurs against my skin, then kisses me one last time before letting me go so I could reposition myself. I rest comfortably on the sofa pillows, my hands found their way to my breast, and lightly ghost over my nipples. The tickling sensation causes them to tighten, almost painfully; I open my eyes to see Drew already staring down at me, slowly stroking himself. I place my feet on his thighs, and slide them up, replacing his hands. “Fuck, that feels good princess.” He moaned as I gently brushed my toes against him, his eyes closed for a moment, and his breaths deepened. Grabbing me by my legs, and pushing them back further, and spreading me open wider. He lowered between my thighs pressing his lips softly, and leaving a wet trail of kisses down to my core.

“Spread it open for me sweetheart.” He instructed huskily, his chest rising and falling, and sweat lining his forehead. His eyes watched mine as my hands moved down between my sticky thighs, I slipped two of my fingers into my vagina. Drew’s eyes were intently focused on my hand, when I slowly pulled my fingers out, and spread myself wide for him. He licked his lips, then gently, he pushed himself into me. Not only had it been two years of not being with him, but a long two years of not having the touch of a man at all. I had hit a depressive low causing my desires to fully leave my body, I didn’t want to be looked at or touched by anyone but myself. Drew stretched me in a way I had forgotten about, he slowly, and carefully slid into me. At first the pain was unavoidable, my hands gripped his sides, and I couldn’t help the way my nails dug into his flesh.

“Drew.” I cried, my eyes began to water, but soon the pain was gone after a few more thrust. My muscles gripped around him, and my arm hooked around the back of his neck.The way he was rocking my body from his rough hip thrusting I needed something to hold on to.

“I know princess, it’s been a while, but I swear to you I won��t make you wait any longer.” He grunted, his accent thicker than before, and I loved every bit of it. My other hand pulled at his thick, dark beard, our gazes intensely locked on each other, and our breaths nearly matching.

“I bet you never fucked Mandy like this.” I breathed out, his body lowered on top of me as if trying to get as close as humanly possible. His body weight pressed me into the bed making it difficult for me to breathe, but his strokes felt too good for me to care.

“Fuck no baby, being inside you is something I’ve dreamt about—ugh god you’re pussy is so fucking good, I wanna cum in it.” He moaned out, he slowed his pace nearly pulling all the way out of me, and slammed back in.

Wrapping my legs and thighs around his waist, and arching my back off the sheets, my words came out barely above a whisper but he heard me. “Give it to me.” Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around me holding me closer to him, his hips drilled into me at a pace I couldn’t keep up with. Both our bodies overhead in a sheen of sweat, my bonnet long since slid off, and all my coils fanned out around my head.

“I'm all yours, fuck I’m so close.” He whimpered out, I couldn’t even see straight, my muscles were tense, and my pussy throbbed pleasurably. The back of my head pressed against the pillow, I could feel my own wetness roll down my thighs, and I knew I was done for.

“Tell me I’m yours, I need to hear it, please.” Drew begged in my ear, his lips pressed to me, and I wish I had the ability to argue right now because I sure as fuck didn’t have the ability to talk.

“Mine, mine, mine, you’re —ah!” My own orgasm cut me off, my words caught in my throat, my whole body prickled with goosebumps. Never had he made me cum as hard as I did right then. My hips twitched and spasamed underneath him, but that didn’t stop Drew from finishing us off. His hot stickiness shot inside of me, it was enough to fill me up twice, and he didn’t stop there. He pulled out of me, and watched his milky white semen spill out of me. His hand was still wrapped around his shaft slowly stroking himself, his head fell back as he sat on his knees before me. Mouth hung open, and his eyes screwed shut, I knew he wasn’t empty yet.

“Fuck I’ve got more baby.” He breathed…see I told you.