#Imagine what they’re going to give us for this spin-off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monstersflashlight · 4 months

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Hi :) Uhmm ... I like how you write, these past few days it become my obsession and joy. ( I am so sorry, I am so bad at giving compliments!)

Uhmmm .... If I may be so bold I would like to share an idea? I just thought about absolutely cocky and arogant male, womanizer Cerberos. The reader has love/hate relationship towards him. Well and after one wild party, he would corner reader and showed them his true form. And holding onto his word to rock reader´s world (quite literally)

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoy my content, it means the world. Sorry for the long wait, adult life sucks so bad. Also, I added the anon question, hope you don’t mind. The idea that Cerberus is the one you hit on when tipsy sounds so cute to let it pass. I took the liberty to make cerberus a type of monster, so they’re just one of them and not THE cerberus, you know. I imagine they’re like a werewolf but with three heads, and like not human form, just a wolfy-guy with three heads. Each head talks separately, but in this there’s no difference between them to not make it hard to follow, but I think it’s quite good. Hope you enjoy! <3

Three heads are better than one

Cerberus (they/them) x fem!reader || fingering, public sex, dirty talk

When a cerberus started to work on your law firm, you two hit it the wrong way from the start. You were a top tier lawyer and they couldn’t understand that a human could be better than them. Three heads think better than one, how could a puny human like you be better than them? But you were, and it infuriated them. But it also fueled your banter with so much sexual tension you could taste it. But you didn’t do anything about it because everyone at the office knew they were a womanizer, they had a new girl every few days and never dated anyone. They were just there for the sex. Or that’s what everyone at the office said. But dang you wanted to hit it off with them so bad, you needed to know what their three mouths tasted like, how would it be to have three brains focused on your pleasure… That sounded delicious in the best possible way.

So when you catch them and their friends in a bar, after a few drinks, you think it’s time. You approach them and their friends at the end of the bar, ready to do something about your pent up sexual tension. You two have been dancing around each other for what feels like ages, and your tipsy brain thinks the best moment to do something about it is right now, right there. When you get closer, you can hear their friends making fun of them and elbowing them as they all giggle, pointing at you. You add a little bit of movement to your hips and hope it doesn’t look too ridiculous.

“Hi darling, how’s your night going?” You touch their pecs as all three of their heads focus on you. You blush, but keep caressing their torso over their shirt, you squeeze a bit and they slap your hand softly.

“Human, get lost.” You can’t understand how their voice can sound so harsh and so sexy at the same time, you can feel your panties melting. Maybe the alcohol has a part to blame, drinking always made you horny, and today is not different.

You pout, bating your lashes in your best puppy look. “Why are you always so mean?” Their three heads blink slowly at you, almost took out balance by your question.

“What? We’re not mean, you are just too soft,” they answer. You scoff, if they want to play that game you can give as better as receive. Uh, receiving… That’s exactly what you want. In a sexy way, against a wall if possible. They look like they can lift you up and fuck you.

“I’m not soft. I’m human. And you are mean.” You think you heard him say something about how they’re already aware that you are human, but you aren’t sure, the bar is really loud and the world is spinning around you.

“You need to go away before we do something all of us would regret.” Their central head is the one doing the talking, but the other two nod along.

“I don’t want to.” You know you sound bratty and entitled, but you are horny and everyone says they’re a womanizer, why are they not womanizing you? “You don’t like humans, is that it?”

“Trust me, they like humans. They like them reeeeeal good.” One of their friends says behind them. All of them laugh, but your coworkers are looking at you like they are going to dig a hole through your body just with their eyes.

“Come with me.” They sound fed up, like they are going to scold you and it’s going to feel awful. But your tipsy brain doesn’t process it fully, so you follow them without questioning. They lead you to the back of the bar, the hallway that leads to the bathroom. The music is softer there, you can listen to your own brain better.

They push you against the wall, they body pressing against your front. You shiver, anticipation filling your guts and their low growl making you whimper. “We can smell how wet you are, we can almost taste your desire. You are too tempting for your own good, honey.” You think the pet name was condescending every time they used it before, but at that moment, it sounds like a caress.

Their hands found the edge of your skirt as they grab your leg and position it against their hip. You are open and exposed, your skirt riding up and your soaked panties in the open. You whine again. You never felt as dirty and naughty as you do now, it’s maddening. They cress the outside of your thigh as they rock their hips against you, letting you feel their cock through your panties. You moan loudly.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please.” You know you’d be embarrassed beyond belief about it the next morning, but right now you don’t care. You can only think about how good their finger feels inside of you, and how much you wish that was their cock. When they move your panties to the side and push one finger inside your needy pussy, you cry out.

“Not here, little human.” They press against your G-spot, making your knees buckle under you. They grab your waist and holds you pressed against the wall as you pant. “If tomorrow you feel like this again, then we can talk.” They said, their fingers slowly thrusting into you.

“What?” You ask, trying to focus on their words and not the wonders they’re doing on your pussy. Their thumb rolls over your clit and you have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. It feels so good. You start to move your hips at the rhythm of their thrusts.

“We’ve been waiting forever to get your attention, We’re not wasting it on a quick fuck on a bar.” Their voice sounds serious and you feel confused as fuck. What are they talking about? They hate you, they always pick stupid fights with you over the silliest things.

“What?” You ask, trying to grab their hand but holding onto their shoulders, moving your hips faster. The rational part of you is not present, only your whore-ish part.

“We’ve been waiting to ask you out but we thought you wouldn’t want us.” They mutter that under their breath, you barely catch it.

“What?” You ask, once more. Are they saying they like you? They wanted to ask you out? But… But the gossip. They said they didn’t date, you never saw them with anybody, just random hookups. “What?” You ask again.

“You… We… We have a bit of a human kink with you, okay? You are so soft and so pretty. We can’t stop thinking about you. And then you get up in front of the judge and good lord do you look good. You look magnificent.” Their voice sounds amazed, like they are telling the truth and they truly like you. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your question is lost when their thumb starts rubbing against your clit. You think they answer something, but your brain is fuzzy with pleasure. “Stop touching my clit I can’t focus.” You whisper, trying to look at them and see if they aren’t lying. There’s no way they want you, is it?

“What if we don’t want you to focus? What if we want you coming around our fingers until you are crying out how much you love it? How much you like being stretched in public by us?” You moan so loud they have to cover your mouth with their unoccupied hand. “Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” Your pussy involuntarily clenches around their fingers. “Oh, naughty girl, you do want to get caught. Does that excite you? Do you want everyone to see how improper you really are? You are such a good lawyer but then you part your legs for us in the back of the bar… Such a dirty, dirty woman.” You shiver, your juices flowing around their fingers. You’ve never been as turned on as you are right there, their fingers feel divine and you are so fucking close.

“Please…” Your plea sounds pathetic and you blush, but they just smirk at you, two of their heads attacking your neck at the same time. Feeling the two sets of mouths against your neck combined with the feel of their fingers moving inside of you is getting you so wet their hand is making filthy sounds.

“You are so wet for us, so soft. I bet you taste amazing. We are going to spend so much time licking you. Do you know what they say about cerberus?” You shake your head. “We give the best head because we have three of them. Do you want to feel three tongues against your pussy, honey? Do you want to be worshiped by three heads?” The image they are painting in your head is so good you want to open your legs and ask them to do it right there. But you are so close already, their fingers feel so fantastic inside of you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rolling your hips. They accompany your movement, getting you almost to the edge.

“Are you going to come for us? Are you going to be a good woman and come around our fingers? We can’t wait to feel you around our dicks, bet you are going to feel better than any pussy we ever had. Our first human. Our only human. What are you gonna do, honey? Do you want to suck us off?” You nod eagerly, so close. “Of course you want to, you want to be a good little human for us.” You get the feeling them calling you human is doing more for them than for you. Their human kink is playing in your favor. “Come for us, human.” They whisper against your ear as the other two heads suck on your neck.

The combination of fingers and mouths makes your body shake uncontrollably against theirs, your orgasm so good you almost fall down. You can feel your juices dripping down and soaking your panties and their fingers. They take their fingers away and you watch in amazement as they raise their hand to lick it, all three of their heads getting some. You moan as aftershocks rock your body.

They put your panties back in place and slowly lower your leg. Your legs are shaky and you grab onto their arm. Three heads smile down at you, one of them looking specially smug. They pass an arm over your shoulders and help you walk out of the hallway. “Let us take you home.” They whisper, their hold on you so hard it feels wonderful. It feels so good you could fall asleep right there. They gave you the orgasm of your life and on top of it, they are sweet about it. You judged them so bad you feel like shit. You can always make it up to them at some point. You add it to your mental list of things to do in the morning, even though you know you won’t remember.

“There’s no need.” You try to argue, without any force behind your words. You really want to spend more time with them.

“We want to.” Their voice is final, you know that tone. That’s the tone they use in court, and you know you can’t win against it.

They drive you home as you fidget with your rings, nervous after what happened, after what they said. You want to run, to break the silence, but you are speechless. You don’t know what to say and the alcohol you had is kicking you really hard. You feel sleepy and tired, more than ready to go to bed.

They follow you to your house, opening your door and leading you to your bedroom where they help you get undressed. You think they are going to do something more, but they barely touch your naked body as they cover you with a blanket.

You feel three soft forehead kisses before they say: “We aren’t playing games with you, honey. We want to play with your pussy, yes, but not with your heart. We hope you give us a chance.” You nod, and try to answer, but your eyes are so heavy that you can’t keep them open, your brain shutting down.

When you wake up the next morning with a text saying: “We can’t wait to have you sucking our cock. And then we can go to dinner, we booked the fancy restaurant you like.” You giggle on your pillow and kick your legs. Yeah… That sounds like the start of a very fun game.

#cerberus #cerberus x reader #cerberus x human #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster x human #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato #request #fem!human #banter

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usedpidemo · 27 days

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Cruel flower (Jo Yuri)

“You sure you really like my dress for today?”

For the record, this is the fifth time Yuri has asked you this question. Whether or not you disagree, your choice doesn’t matter. She’s going to show off, and for good reason.

You’re not the only one anticipating some antics on stage.

To be fair, they’re not exactly the kind of antics you’d expect, as though one makes a fool of themselves like it was part of a humiliation ritual. Yuri is much more intricate and flirty, as seen with her choice of outfit for today’s performance. It’s tasteful with a hint of sexy, yet easy on the eyes. The kind that leaves your mind questioning as to why she dresses herself like someone she’s not, even if you enjoy staring at her bewitching appearance.

She makes your heart race in countless ways you never knew could happen.

“I mean—even if I said no, you’ve already made up your mind. So what is the point,” you tell her, covering your mouth, your gaze peering down at the garter and stocking combo completing her floral ensemble. To say they complement her would be an understatement; even by her relatively tame standards, this is a little too bold and showy for her fans.

But the thing is, it’s not her normal audience she’s performing for. Thousands of fans are lined up all over the convention floor, mainly to see their more popular favorites. Not helping matters is that she’s one of the rare handful of soloists, the number which you can count with just your fingers, which typically don’t generate as much interest as an average group. Right from the start, she’s fighting an uphill battle, and this is her one of the limited opportunities to steal everyone’s hearts and attention, especially on a bigger platform.

Yuri turns around from the mirror, having put on the finishing touches of her makeup, facing you with a dour, mocking pout. “You’re no fun.”

Indifferent, you brush her off. Her contemptuous responses are part of the package, something that encompasses your daily routine. The less you entertain her, the better and the wiser you are, especially during these more serious times. You’ve learned that you find yourself less likely to fall in danger when you don’t give Yuri even the smallest of openings.

Unfortunately, it’s a lesson you have to be reminded of more often.

“But you gotta admit, I look really good, right?” she questions you, as if you haven’t been ogling her from the moment she presented herself to you in just her lingerie, garter and stockings. The dress is just the cherry on top of what you consider near perfection.

It’s intentional trolling at this point.

“I don’t know,” you tell her, hiding no hint of sarcasm. “Could use a little less”—you suddenly stammer—”You know—”

“Could use a little less what, babe?” Yuri approaches you, seated on the couch, pressing her palms on your knees, smirking, plotting. The thin layer of dress sweeps forward, revealing some cleavage and her necklace. She’s all up in your face, her lips nibbling on the ridge of your ear, her neck flashing a still fresh hickey from earlier in the day, her hot breath sending chills down your spine—her favorite form of showing affection.

If you had any less restraint, you’d take her on this very couch, rip off her clothes and fuck her on said mattress in every position imaginable. Forget the crowd, much less the fact that you’re in a backstage room, where the walls are paper thin, so much so that even the slightest sounds can be heard from the outside. No matter how you spin it, there’s always clear and present danger waiting for the most inopportune time to strike. This is how Yuri gets you: by putting you both in the most uncomfortable situations possible, career be damned. It isn’t due to a heightened sense of thrill under duress, but it’s just the way she is. Insatiable.

As easy it would be to fold right then and there, you make it a point to keep her in check, much to her disappointment. In a way, you’re kind of her unofficial co-manager, except you just so happen to share the same bed with her.

“No,” you tell her, holding face, holding her by the wrists, rising from the couch and leading her against the makeup table. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Fuck you,” she replies, not hiding her frustration. She matches your stern glare with of her own, but she comes off as more of a spoiled child than an actual threat. There’s more charm to find than seriousness in Yuri’s cutesy features. “You really are no fun at all, asshole.”

Releasing your grip on her hands, you make a concerted effort to fix up her loose dress, then leave a peck on the cheek. All while you admire the little details that complete her look. You can’t help but kiss her softly, inadvertently calming her down. Undoubtedly, she’s pretty, but she’s even more special today.

“It’s only a what? Thirty minute set? It’ll go by in a breeze,” you tell her, as if she hasn’t been going through the festival circuit just the other month. On her part, it feels way longer since she performed in public, and that’s in no small part to her spending all her spare time with you more than anything or anyone else—to the point of being overly attached.

Yuri sighs, rolling her eyes, hating the notion of being away from you for more than a few minutes. She makes one last hail mary effort to lead you on by wrapping a leg around yours, but you immediately catch on and put her in place. She’s so visibly miffed, that it’s easy to feel any sort of sympathy for her, but you know this little devil is going to exploit your kindness and bury you in the process.

“Please,” she pleads in her softest tone, ready to drop to her knees on command. “I don’t even need you to fuck me like a whore, but—please—let me suck your cock instead. Let me take a warm load down my throat and I’ll be good to go.”

Try as hard as she can, the idea passes through one ear and comes out the other. You don’t budge. Not in the slightest.

“Please, babe—promise I’ll let you use me anyway you want.” Right on cue, Yuri sheds tears, eyes wide and bargaining. “I’ll let you tie me up and tease me with your toys like the bad girl that I am. Just give me this one thing. Please.”

Still, nothing she does changes your mind. You even toy with the fact she’s needy as hell. “Didn’t you just call me an asshole, asshole? Why would I let you suck my cock, let alone shove it anywhere near you or inside you?”

Her facade immediately disappears in place of self-defense. “Oh come on. I call you asshole all the time, asshole. Since you like that word so much, here: asshole, asshole, asshole. I bet it’s because it reminds you of how much you love using my—”

Unamused, you interrupt Yuri by backing her against the table again, imposing your superior stature over the frankly petite idol. She doesn’t look intimidated, and for good reason: you won’t do a damn thing to hurt her. Despite the clear assertion of power, it’s actually the opposite—she recognizes that you’re falling into her hand and gets off on bothering you.

“Go on. What are you gonna do? Spank my ass? I bet you’d love to do that to me now, do you?” Yuri’s chuckling, grinning wickedly through every word, knowing your attempts at punishing her only serve to derive her pleasure instead. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation. Fold and risk your frisky relationship to the public at your expense, or only delay the inevitable and continue to be tormented at every chance she gets. The trouble never ends.

You end up backing away and leaving her alone in the room. You remember; it’s a miracle. “Just—act normal,” you tell her, sounding defeated as you open the door.

—————

For the most part, she does.

Yuri is a natural performer, as usual. She never really needed you to begin with. You found her like this. Any sign of weakness or doubt is virtually unrecognizable.

Being near the front has its benefits. For one, you’re merely a stone’s throw away from Yuri, meaning you don’t have to strain your eyes or constantly turn to the screen. No LED panel can truly display Yuri’s in all their glory. It also means when her earpiece randomly stops functioning, you’re a few inches away when she decides to entertain the fans with typical fanservice: giving high-fives, completing hearts, partaking in pictures, and so on. While everyone around you has their phones and lightsticks raised, you’re just watching along, basking in the moment, watching your girl do the thing she loves the most, besides doing you.

Yuri passes by your section, and immediately recognizes you on sight in the midst of the crowd. She throws a wink and a kiss in your direction—much to everyone else’s delight, but not yours. Apart from that one scene, there isn’t much fanfare or anything fanciful that you haven’t already seen from her. After only five songs, she bids farewell to the audience.

Minutes later, you reunite with her backstage at her assigned dressing room.

“Well well,” says Yuri, waiting by her lonesome at the makeup desk as you enter, sounding self-indulgent. “I did it, babe. Wasn’t so hard.”

Of course. Yuri can keep herself in control; she just chooses not to. It’s hardly a surprise to anyone, especially you.

“Were you expecting a cookie?” you comment, making sure her head doesn’t leave orbit.

“Don’t be such a bitch,” she retorts, pouting her lips, irked at your remark. “Just say I did a good job. Being kind costs nothing.”

“And being an asshole also costs zero,” you retaliate, never letting up on the sarcasm. “Good job.”

“And? You’re missing one more thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, growing slightly crabby. “What? Isn’t a simple good job already enough?”

“C’mon.” Yuri steps forward with all the confidence in the world. The change of attitude in the room is sudden, abrupt. One quick shove sends you stumbling back onto the couch. Before you’re able to react, she straddles herself on your lap, having all of the leverage. “You know I gotta get my reward after every performance, babe.”

No matter where you turn, you end up back at square one: against Yuri. Her hands lead your wandering gaze toward hers. “God, Yuri, no—”

She shushes you, places a finger between your lips, shaking her head in disapproval. “I did my part. It’s only right that you have to return the favor. That’s the rules.”

“What rules?”

Yuri laughs. Shoots you this inviting, alluring look that’s asking—begging—for trouble. A perfect encapsulation of who she is whenever you’re alone together. Her fingers begin to pick through the buttons of your dress shirt, your countenance slowly unraveling as dread and danger clouds your mental functions. No amount of ignorance can save you. You’re trapped.

There’s your answer.

As if that wasn’t enough, the finger between your lips is now replaced with hers. A kiss. Deep. Tender. Passionate. She’s engrossed in the moment, cupping your face to pull you down with her, forcing you into submission. There’s no escape. Whatever resolve you have left she gradually weakens, until you eventually close your eyes and reciprocate those feelings back at her, too.

It’s a good thing you locked the door beforehand, as if you knew this was going to happen.

You’re stuck in this fervent position for what feels like an eternity, when in reality, it’s only been a couple of minutes. Despite the precarious state you’re in, there’s something sincere when it comes to Yuri. Probably because she’s the only person on this planet with a face that could look innocent while clearly committing the act. Still, she’s up to no good, and she has you exactly where she wants you to be.

She pulls away from the kiss, her eyes glazed, her lips melding in the shape of a moan, even though you’re still clothed—for now.

“Jesus, Yul, we really should—”

A second kiss interrupts your desperate plea. Yuri doesn’t want to hear any part of it. She knows what she wants. No amount of resistance will deny her this opportunity. She finishes unbuttoning the last of your shirt, slipping it off before throwing it aside, caressing your bare shoulders. All this while shaking her head.

Pulling away from your lips again, she slips one of her dress straps down her shoulder. “I don’t fucking care. I want you now.”

Clambering off your lap, Yuri tugs at the hem of your pants, jutting your hips forward. You can only watch helplessly while she strains her lanky arms, unzipping your trousers, pulling on them again and again until they pool around your ankles and shoes. Her eyes fixate on your groin, gleaming at the welcome sight: a growing bulge beneath your boxers.

“How long have you been hard for me, hm?” She swipes at your erection a handful of times, each touch eliciting an airy groan from your lips. Biting on her lower lip, the sensation arouses her even further. “Did I dress a little too sexy for you today?”

If you could talk at that moment, you would say yes. The entire time you’ve been watching her on stage, your primary focus was her outfit over everything, including her soulful voice. As flattering as the simple but sexy ensemble was on its own, it’s even hotter in motion. It reminds you of when you first met in a similar place. Instead of thousands in attendance, it was only a handful of patrons at a small bar. And out of the dozens she could have ended the night with, it happened to be you. From the moment you laid your eyes on each other and exchanged smiles, you knew there was never going back.

You’re aimlessly pulling at strings, hoping to find a way out, a miracle. Instead, you’re digging your grave even further. The other strap falls down, pulling the rest of her dress along with it. Not of her own volition, with the culprit being your own hand. There’s nothing worth saving at this point, not even yourself.

What a way to surrender. You haven’t answered her question formally, yet she understands what you were going to say.

Yuri leans forward, her attitude as bold as it's ever been. Despite her pretty smile, the hint of cleavage right in front of you sweeps away your gaze. Every part of her is a sight for sore eyes. She shudders, closes her eyes, slowly grinds herself against your throbbing bulge, finding your place beneath her even more suffocating. You can only sink back on the couch, moan along and let her neediness weigh you down.

As the garment slips further down down her lithe frame, landing at the waist, you bury your head against Yuri’s neck. Romantic as it may look, it’s anything but. She keens against your ear, her nails scratching at your nape—all while you clamp down on her collarbones. Her whines sound needy, wanton, shameless. Her voice echoes beyond the four corners of this room, removing any pretense to any innocent soul passing by. Conveniently, music from the main stage is loud enough to cover your little act.

Maybe she really had it planned out all along.

While Yuri remains preoccupied by her senses betraying her, you reposition her away from you towards the table. You never let up on the passionate kisses and bite marks till her creamy, pale skin glows a deep shade of red. Then you twiddle with the zipper on her corset, sharply yanking it down, almost snapping the clasp in your haste to undress her. Fortunately, you manage to push the rest of her lingerie down to her waist, enough to where you can feel her bare figure with your hands.

Asserting your control—something you should have had the entire time—you lay Yuri face down on the sofa, clambering yourself on top of the powerless idol. Manhandling her is as easy as breathing; she folds at the slightest push and prefers to be used as a means of personal release.

Reaching from behind, you rest a hand on her chest. You squeeze; she yelps. The feeling of her nub held between your palm while drawing out little, saccharine noises from her dirty lips scratches that sweet spot in your brain perfectly. It’s an addicting sensation you can’t get enough of. She is unable to fight back, her nails digging deep into the fabric of the couch, desperate to hang on, only to find herself going weak at the knees.

More and more, you find yourself losing control, becoming more ravenous. You quickly shed your boxers, pushing them down as far as your knees, your struggling cock freed from its restraints. Your noises are turning more primal: less human, more animalistic, as your grip on Yuri tightens. You lay her body flat on the couch, make use of what little space is left, before digging between her legs to strip the panties beneath her skirt.

Part of you wants to slip a finger or two in there and play with her clit. It’s inconsequential, if not a small diversion from what really matters. Until you remember just how far off the beaten path you’ve already gone. If you don’t fuck her right then and there, you just might lose it.

Pressing the head of your cock along her lips, you come to a predictable conclusion: she’s soaking wet. Wet enough to raise some deep concerns. Your breaths tense up as you slowly enter and the walls pulse around you; the gap between you and her couldn’t be any narrower.

The groan you release as you bury yourself to the hilt is worth a thousand reliefs. Nothing is as satisfying as that first entry into Yuri’s tight, suffocating pussy. Every single time.

“Oh—fuck—” you blurt, immediately overwhelmed by the rapid surge of heat. In response, she lets out this sharp, echoey moan, stretching her head ever so slightly forward as she endures the stabbing sensation. The feeling doesn’t last long; you pull back, her walls pulsating against your cock, only to plunge right back in.

The little discomfort soon dissipates for pleasure. Yuri’s so intoxicatingly tight, so hot when you fill her with your cock. That’s why despite the uncomfortable scenarios she puts you in, you always fold, because you feel right at home in her cunt. It would be a disservice to take her like some dainty, delicate doll. And you wonder why she’s always so needy.

Spreading her thighs wider, you fuck her, slowly foregoing the comfort of a slow grind in favor of a erratic, torrid pace. Each thrust you deliver is hard, emphatic strokes, as if to prove two points: that you don’t take lightly to her antics, and that you will always overpower her. You shouldn’t be deriving any joy from this, but you’re loving every second using her as she wanted: as an outlet for your frustration.

As for Yuri, she’s just as pathetic and helpless as always. Reduced to a heaping pile of moans and mewls. Her national position. Her favorite position. You should be wondering just how incredibly manipulative and conniving she is, getting you to act out for a little miscreant like her, when she should have known her place by now. Ultimately, there’s no point; there’s nothing that will get her to change her wicked ways, and every consequence only serves as her motivation to push you even further.

The sounds filling the room are almost indistinguishable. Whether it’s the supposed thumping on the door or skin against skin, you don’t know. You’re twisting her dark hair around your finger, and her keen and shriek are one and the same. Meanwhile, your other hand can’t decide between her waist and her ass, both sensitive and satisfying to the touch. You’re both too engrossed in each other’s pleasure to care about anything other than the relentless collision of your bodies. At this point, you’re certain it is, in fact, a knock on the outside, but it will eventually disappear. They all do.

Yuri is shaking, violently trembling, gripping to the couch’s handles, desperate for air. ‘More—harder—fuck me—’ she begs in repetition, every word spilling like a prayer. It’s amazing how she holds up against you. You wonder if her goal is to be seen like this—to be recognized as the fucktoy and brat she is. You can only contain her for so long; it’s only a matter of time before it blows out of proportion. That’s the thrill of the chase—to avoid being found and to escape with an inch of your life.

Your grip around her hair reaches a fever pitch, your teeth gritted and your breath heaving. You want to say you’re close, but that’s basically asking for trouble. Still, you can’t bear it any longer. “So close, Yuri. I’m gonna cum—”

“Fucking do it. Cum all over me. Inside me. Anywhere you want,” is her response, with you pressing her down on the couch out of fear any more filth from her lips will upend you quicker, when in reality, you were already in the process of falling apart. As far as vulgarity goes, it is among her tamest. You’re delaying the inevitable by only a few precious moments.

Then she cums. Unannounced, out of the blue. For all you know, she could have been screaming into the void the way her cries are muffled by the sofa.

Her juices flood your cock, almost making you snap in return. The feeling overwhelms you beyond definition; it takes every last bit of resolve not to break down right then and there. With a sharp draw from her warmth, her slick leaks from her cunt, spills down to the couch. Coating every inch of your shaft, the suffocating heat of her pussy pulls you right back in, and that final thrust sends you over the edge.

All that pent-up want and tension, unglued in an instant.

Ignore that you let out this hoarse, powerful grunt from the depth of your lungs as you fill Yuri’s cunt with every last drop you have, as if you haven’t been fucking her multiple times a day for the last two weeks. The spillage on her skirt and dress doesn’t matter; as long as she feels every last speck of your cum inside her. You find solace on her shoulders, pushing your throbbing cock deep into her cunt over and over as you blast fleck after fleck that seemingly never ends.

Eventually, you crash down on the other side of the couch, opposite where Yuri’s face rests. Taking a minute to catch your breath, you get a glimpse of your handiwork: your cum continuously spewing from her sopping cunt, down to the now soiled linen, the damage long-lasting, if not permanent. Had you torn the dress and skirt concealing her inner thighs, the signs wouldn’t have been any more obvious.

It takes a little longer than normal for you to gather your bearings. After all, you were straining your legs in a crowded room an hour before this little escapade. But you’ve been through worse—way worse.

When you finally regain some of your strength, you grab the still exhausted Yuri by the waist and bring her in front of the dressing room mirror. Her bare chest is in clear view, with her dress all crumpled up at the midsection; it’s going to require more than a simple fix.

“Look what you made me do, you fucking brat,” you hiss, giving Yuri a thunderous slap on her ass. She sees it as not a punishment, but as a reward for pushing you far beyond your comfort zone.

She can barely move a muscle, but is able to respond in spaced out breaths. “Told you it was better than the bedroom.”

You respond with another spank. Then another. A few more. More than you can count. Each hit as thunderous as the clap of her cunt. You know it’s not going to stop her; she knows you can do nothing else.

Her hands cling to the desk, her breaths still heavy, while you slowly rip through the skirt, foregoing any logic. You catch a peek of even more of your handiwork, her ass burning with the same fiery red as the rest of her shapely body.

Spreading her supple cheeks, you line your cock between her pussy and her legs, resting your head forward beside hers. Grabbing Yuri by the hair, you tilt her face down, moaning against her ear as your bodies entangle together. “Fuck you, Yuri. Sincerely, fuck you, fuck you. Fuck. You.”

With half an eye opened, you catch a glimpse of your reflection, and it’s as messy as you expect. Yuri’s mouth is spread in a deep, wide ‘O’ shape, still riding a prolonged high, while your fingers are all over her. On her breasts. In and out of her hair. The image is arousing enough that you instinctively push your bodies forward. You can feel your cock hardening again.

But right as you get into a rhythm, a knock on the door again snaps you from your shared daze.

“Well? Bodyguard, you better go and get that,” she says with a slight smirk, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

You throw your head back, groaning in despair. “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter, much to her delight and laughter.

Yuri shimmies from your clasp, picking up pieces of her now ruined dress before walking to the bathroom, while you hike across the room to gather your wear. If there’s one thing about sex with her, it’s how filthy it gets. Clothes scatter everywhere, she’s loud enough to draw attention, and despite everything, it’s hot and messy in all the right ways. You end up fucking her in positions you never thought you’d ever try.

You barely make yourself presentable as you pick up the door, only to be greeted by a blonde beauty on the other side. Her dress immediately stands out; it’s simpler in both design and color (a plain black all over), yet so daring, it makes Yuri seem conservative by comparison. She knows what her best assets are and how she’ll flaunt them for all to see.

What also sticks out is her natural accent. “Hey. Don’t mind if I ask, but is Yuri around?”

With the narrowest of turns, you manage to ascertain her presence, or lack thereof. “You barely missed her, Somi. She just left.”

“Did she tell you where she went?”

“No idea.”

Somi pouts. It’s a familiar look. “But I just heard her voice here. It was really loud!”

“You just gotta text her. I seriously don’t know where she went off.”

Her eyes wander down to your ragged appearance, a stark contrast to your blunt tone. The loose belt, the partially unbuttoned shirt, the rolled up sleeves of varying folds. It’s a disaster of epic proportions, and you can barely hold it together. “You sure nothing’s happened in there?” she asks, hiding the littlest of grins. “You look kinda rough.”

“I’ll be fine. Just had to deal with”—you pause, a moment stretched out longer than it should have any right being—“some stuff.”

“Right.” Her eyes peek into the back, even with your best efforts to gently block her view, only to find nothing and no one. She considers her options, before saying, “Surely I can just wait till she comes back? I mean, you’re her bodyguard—”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea.” You shut her down immediately. “When she returns, I’ll let her know you were looking for her.”

There’s that trick again: a loose strap sliding down her shoulder. Her hand is glued to the doorpost, unwilling to move, expression undeterred. “I’ll just wait here. We still have a final goodbye to do for the fans. Don’t worry. I just really need to talk to her.”

Her friendly smile turns into a mischievous grin.

It’s deja vu.

—————

The goodbye never comes.

Some poor random idol has to take Somi’s MC job at the eleventh hour because she’s nowhere to be found. Despite security’s best efforts, she couldn’t be seen, and neither is Jo Yuri, for the last sighting of the two is them leaving the venue by themselves, one after the other. Apart from a handful of disappointed fans, their absence can be hardly felt by everyone else.

Not a soul knows where they went—and they never will find out, nor will they ever care. Only you may have the smallest of clues, for you are buried between two pairs of legs, preoccupied with eating out pussy while your hands squeeze on a couple sets of breasts in the cover of a hotel room.

—————

(A/N: HE HAS RISEN, BABYGIRL! *IRIS INTENSIFIES*)

(For real, what a trip these last two months have been. I'm feeling conflicted about it all. I could easily have published like five to seven fics in that time period, but no! Life gets in the way sometimes, and let's just say it gave me roadworks that stretched on for miles on end. I already told you about the flu/cough arc, and it's all in the past now. Like I said, college has started up for me, and this could be my final academic year before I have to deal with thesis/internship shit before eventually graduating, so I really am on borrowed time. I really should have used my time better when I was healthy, but it is what it is.)

(I really wish this was longer, considering the gap between the last fic. Writing these past two months has been hell, like I had writers' block on steroids, if that even is a thing. I fucking scrapped two fics, including one that was 7000 words in before I made the executive decision to restart the entire work from scratch. I don't know. I'm very perfectionist about the process. Writing is hard, man. Everyone's been killing it lately (including some incredible returns) and I don't know where my place belongs in this. But what matters is that you've been waiting for me and giving me best wishes during some really challenging times. With only four months left to go, let's finish the year on a high. Got nothing else meaningful to say, Yuri's KCON outfit is just really fucking hot. This would feel wrong if I didn't mention Box somewhere, so shoutout's to them XD Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #yuri #jo yuri

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natstulip · 2 months

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Good girl ♡ ︎𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

I’ve never really written smut before so I hope it’s okay!🤍

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Imagine agreeing to let Wanda and Nat use you however and whenever they wish. No you’re not in a relationship, but you help to keep their own relationship interesting- as they like to say.

Both women had been out on a mission for a few weeks, with a lot of the team. You, not being an avenger, of course missed the company, the compound being fairly empty and so as a result really quiet. In fact, the team were due back yesterday from the mission, but fury let us know they’d been delayed so would likely get back soon.

——-

I was laying in bed, mindlessly scrolling on my phone as I watched whatever happened to be on the television. Although that didn’t take me long to get bored, it’s how I’d spent basically all my time since being left all alone. I pick up my phone deciding to listen some music, and I grab my headphones because come on, music is way better when it feels like it’s taking over your brain.

I’m dancing away and singing too, with my eyes closed getting really into it. I only stop when I feel a tap on my back. “AGHH” I can’t help the scream I let out, as I rip my headphones off and spin around with a fighting stance ready.

When I realise it’s in fact Wanda and Nat and they’re back from their mission, I feel my face burn in embarrassment. The massive smirk on Nat’s face speaks for itself, as she mumbles “I wasn’t expecting a welcome back show but I have to say I really enjoyed it.”

I blush a deep shade of red at her teasing, only giving a little smile of my own when I see Wanda smack Nat’s arm saying “Hey, leave her alone.”

Nat huffs “Why should I? Look at her cute red face.”

I’m avoiding all eye contact whatsoever right now, not wanting to make a fool of myself any more than I clearly already have.

Wanda chuckles in response to Nat’s words “She’s totally adorable, you’re right about that.”

I don’t even know what to do with myself when they’re practically talking about me as if I’m not standing right here.

Wanda interrupts my inner battle, “Come here baby, I want a hug.” I look up excited, I’ve really missed her touch, and I see her arms opened wide. I rush into her, making her laugh, as she wraps her arms tight around me. I nuzzle my face into her neck, always feeling more at ease from her comforting smell. She rubs my back and mumbles against my head “I’ve missed you so much my sweet girl.” I move my head so I can reach her face, giving her a quick peck on the lips, with a shy look on my face “I missed you lots mommy.”

I hear a cough behind us, “What about daddy, huh?” I’m spun around rather quickly, and Nat’s finger is under my chin. I murmur “I missed you too daddy, a lot.” She hums what seems to be an approval to my words, seemingly waiting for something. I’m not as bold with anything when it comes to Natasha. I’ll kiss Wanda sometimes by me initiating because she’s so comforting but Nat scares me a little. She stares at me until I cave, and hesitantly lean towards her, with a burning face, and kiss her lips quickly.

After an anxious pause, I get a “good girl” from her making me give a goofy smile, and I feel Wanda stroking my hair softly. “Our good good little girl, you going to let us take care of you tonight?” I look at her with wide eyes, causing them both to give each other a smile.

Natasha set herself down on the desk chair in my room, patting her lap while uttering “Sit baby.” I know better than to argue with her so I instantly walk over and make a move to straddle her lap. I don’t get very far because she places a hand on my chest and then does a ‘spin motion’ with her finger, telling me to turn around. Even though I’m a little confused, I turn and face Wanda. I feel Nat grab my hips from behind and pull me to sit, facing away from her. She rests her head on my shoulder, and Wanda crouched down in front of us.

I feel her hands on my legs, and Nat start to kiss my neck, making me instantly feel hot and flustered. I feel like my body stiffens since it’s been so long since I let them have all control.

“Baby, hey, look at mommy.” I move my gaze slowly to Wanda. “We’re here now, you don’t have to let your thoughts take over.” Natasha interrupts her to say “We’ll fuck the thoughts out of you baby, until all you can think about is mommy and daddy, yeah?”

Before I even have time to think about responding, Nat has spread my legs open wide, keeping her legs locked with mine- so I can’t move. It takes my breath away, not expecting her to be so upfront about it, as usually Wanda starts off more gentle, “What daddy let me go..”

Wanda cups my face to direct my eyes to hers, “shhh shhh, you’re okay, let daddy do what she pleases.” She makes no move to let go of my face, and I hope she doesn’t because her comforting touch really helps me through everything.

When I feel more kisses on my neck, and a rougher hand move down my stomach, I let out a gasp and grip onto Wanda’s arm. “Mommy’s staying right here baby, daddy’s gonna make you feel good, hm?”

At the same time as Wanda pulls me in for a kiss, Nat’s hand moves into my shorts, making me gasp. She cups me for a moment, not moving her hand, seemingly waiting for me to start squirming. Eventually she slowly runs the tip of her finger over my folds, just teasingly stroking there for what feels like a very long time, making me shiver.

I feel the soft breath of a chuckle on my neck, “You’re so sensitive huh my baby? I wonder if you could cum from just daddy barely touching you, and mommy kissing those pretty lips. We’ll have to try it sometime, because right now.. we’re trying something new” She raises her eyebrows at Wanda, who swiftly grabs something I assume with her magic, and holds it behind her back.

She moves back to stand in front of me, kissing my forehead, as she hands whatever she grabbed to Nat. I can’t see Nat’s face but I can picture her smirk while Wanda gives her a kiss, before returning to her position earlier, cupping my cheeks.

“Look at mommy.” I listen and look up at her. “We haven’t done what we’re gonna do now before. I’m sure you’ll like it darling but remember call ‘red’ if it’s too much or you want to stop at any point, okay?” I give her a nod, “Okay mommy, I understand.” I watch a smile arise on her face as she strokes my cheek, “My good girl.”

I feel a rush of cold air as Nat pulls the front of my shorts and underwear open for a brief moment, as she shoves something in there, to rest against my clit. “What’s that daddy?” Just as I ask the question it starts vibrating against me, making me let out a breath. She whispers against my ear, “It’s a vibrator baby, it’s gonna make you feel all better while daddy holds you open; and because you’ve been our good little girl we’re going to let you cum as much as you want.”

The first time she pushed me over the edge was nice, with Wanda stroking my face and a pleasurable vibration against me. Though it didn’t take long to get uncomfortable, when Nat said they were going to let me cum as much as I want, she definitely meant as much as they want, never seeming to let me stop and breathe. Every time I reach that point she just ups the vibrations and makes me go again.

I’ve lost count by this point how many times she’s made me cum, resorting to wriggling and kicking my legs and trying to pry her off with my hands; but that was silly as they’re much stronger than me. Nat simply shut me down by grabbing hold of my thighs with her hands and legs now- keeping me pinned to her lap. “Please daddy.. dadddy ‘s too much please…”

She presses a kiss to my shoulder mumbling “Just one more baby, one more, and then we’re done.” With Wanda gently wiping my tears, I can’t help the loud moan I let out as I reach my last climax. My legs are uncontrollably shaking, as Nat carefully removes the vibrator.

Wanda makes a move to pick me up into her arms, “I’ve got you my sweet girl,” as Nat makes her way to the bathroom to get a towel to clean me up with.

I’m laying down, on top of Wanda, while Nat gently cleans me up, and after only a few minutes I’m falling asleep against her chest, with only mommy and daddy on my mind.

#elizabeth olsen #scarlett johansson #wanda x reader #wandanat #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader

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azsazz · 4 days

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Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

_________________________________________

“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he��s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #hockey!bat boys #hockey!azriel #acotar hockey au #acotar au #azriel au

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prythianpages · 9 months

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I Put A Spell On You | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch Reader | summary: Feyre invites you to Rita's and you drink more than you can handle. Good thing your loving mate is there to take care of you.

warning: implied smut in the beginning, drinking, some fluff

a/n: this is based off this request. Thank you so much for sending! Hope you like it! I tried to incorporate a little bit of everything ♥️ I feel like this can be read as a stand alone imagine.

“You’re staring.”

Your tone dances on the edge of light teasing as you meet Azriel’s gaze through your vanity mirror. You hook your earrings on and turn, lips curving up into a sly grin.

Azriel doesn’t look away. He’s sitting on the bed and uses his elbows to prop himself up as he leans backwards. His hazel eyes drink you in like a man who’s been deprived of water, appreciating every inch and curve of your form in that short dress of yours.

“How can I not when you’re dressed like that?”

“Like what?” You ask innocently. You miss the incredulous look he sends your way as you bend over to clasps the straps of your heels, inadvertently giving him a lovely view of your breasts.

You’ll be the death of him, he thinks as he sucks in a sharp breath, wondering if he could convince you to stay home tonight. It’s been a month since you accepted the mating bond and the urge to have you and keep you by his side at all times is insatiable.

You struggle with the clasps of your heels, nearly stumbling over your own feet. Azriel rises from the bed and kneels down in front of you, clasping the straps with a graceful ease. His touch lingers on your ankles and he’s well aware of the inviting heat of your body. So are his shadows. They eagerly slither up your legs.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your calf and then another, following after his shadows. His gentle touch both comforts and thrills you. He smiles against your skin when he feels your skin tingling and tightening with goosebumps.

“Az,” you protest but the small moan that escapes your lips when he kisses his way up to your thigh betrays you. “We’re going to be late.”

“They’re not going to care or notice.” Azriel replies, reluctantly accepting that there’s no way he can convince you to stay in tonight. You’ve barely seen Feyre and tonight was all you could talk about the past couple of days. But he knows he can convince you to stay home just a while longer so he pulls away from your thighs briefly.

The look he gives you as he gazes up at you is downright sinful and you’re melting into his promising warmth.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a dance of vibrant colors over the grand venue. Laughter and animated conversations weave through the air along with the pulsating beats resonating from the dance floor. Your smile widens when you spot Feyre and you’re tugging Azriel along with you.

“You’re late!” Feyre quips, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry, I got a little held up,” you reply and then turn to Azriel with a subtle raise of your eyebrows, your eyes silently screaming: “I told you so.”

“I’m not sorry.” Azriel says, wearing a pleased look and you smack his arm in response, prompting a laugh from Feyre.

“Az, my man!” Cassian greets and the liquid in the glass he’s holding spills over slightly.

The two of you are being split into different directions. Cassian, with a playful grin, tugs Azriel to the table they reserved for the night, where Rhysand and Amren sit. Meanwhile, Feyre excitedly guides you toward the dance floor. You ask her where Elain is, noticing she’s the only one missing from your group but she tells you her sister is the one watching Nyx for the night along with Lucien.

Mor, already holding a drink in hand, offers it to you with a wink. You take a sip and immediately grimace at the bitter taste, making her laugh. But she insists for you to chug so you do and before you could dwell on the burn of the harsh liquid in your stomach, Nesta is spinning you into a dance.

Azriel watches you, his eyes alight with a tender affection that paints a soft glow in their hazel depths. A subtle, contented smile graces his lips. You’re laughing and smiling as you dance with the girls–a playful exchange of twirls and spins.

The dress you’re wearing is a delicate cascade of yellow, reminiscent of dandelions in a sunlit meadow and as you twirl and raise your arms, the material of your dress rides up your thighs. He takes pleasure in knowing that if your dress rode up further, it’d reveal the marks he left on your skin earlier.

Rhysand chuckles. He doesn’t need to read Azriel’s mind to know what’s on his mind and as if caught red handed, Azriel turns to his friends.

“Like you weren’t the same way with Feyre,” Cassian retorts playfully.

“As were you, boy.” Amren rolls her eyes. “All of you but I will say that I am surprised Azriel is handling tonight so well.”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

With a mischievous glint in her silver eyes, Amren simply raises her glass in your direction and Azriel follows. You’re still dancing with the girls, oblivious to the greedy eyes on you. They linger longer than he likes and when a group of high fae approach you, his shadows are discreetly darting to you while one remains. It curls around his ear and whispers to him and he catches snippets of your conversation. They’re thanking you for a potion they bought from you and he allows himself to relax. But only a little.

“I can’t keep up with her.” Feyre breathes heavily and Rhysand welcomes her to his lap, chuckling at her.

“Your mate is popular.” Nesta comments, smirking when she catches the glare Azriel sends her way.

Azriel lost count of the amount of drinks you’ve had but he knows you're captured in a spell of euphoric bliss when you’re swaying more than usual and the hair you had tied up is now loose around your shoulders. Mor is still with you and to his dismay, so is the small group of high fae that had approached you.

Although he knows Mor is a friend, he can’t help the unsettling feeling in his stomach when she rests her hands on your waist because you’re his and the primal instinct to make his claim and remind everyone of it is strong. He knows it’s the bond and he reminds himself of this when you lean into Mor with a smile. It’s when a dark haired female comes up behind you and her touch lingers longer than needed and brushes in places it shouldn’t that the unsettling feeling slithers into his heart like a green serpent and he loses it.

“Azriel!” You gasp happily and throw your arms around his neck.

Azriel steadies you, placing a hand at your waist in a possessive manner. His attention is on the dark haired female. You’re oblivious to the way his gaze darkens and his eyes narrow at her in a silent warning but you’re not oblivious to the tightening of his muscles.

You rest your hands on his chest, a slight pout on your face. “Why are you so tense?”

“Because she was looking at you like she wanted to fucking devour you.”

“Who?” You pull away slightly to look up at him. Your eyebrows knit together at the bitterness of his tone, even though it’s not directed at you. Then, a laugh escapes from you because the only ones you were dancing with were Mor and the female you just made friends with. “Az, she’s just a friend! Let me introduce you.”

When you turn around, your friend is nowhere in sight. “She was just here…” you murmur with a small frown.

Mor snorts besides you. “y/n, sweetie, she was definitely hitting on you.”

“Oh.”

“I need another drink,” Mor says suddenly. She pats Azriel’s shoulder playfully as she heads toward the bar. “She’s all yours now.”

You’re gleaming with delight at Azriel when he looks back at you. “You were jealous.”

“And that amuses you?” He huffs, pulling you closer to him.

“Yes,” your hands toy with his dress shirt. The uppermost buttons on his dress shirt were left undone and with a bite of your lip, you deviously unbutton more. Your hands are slipping under his shirt with easier access and caressing his chest, following the intricate pattern of his tattoos. A wave of heated desire courses through him at your touch.

“I find it kinda hot. You’re hot. Like really, really hot.”

A flush of warmth paints his cheeks and he’s thankful for the dim lighting. He stands there, with you still in his arms, momentarily speechless because he knows those words would never escape from your sober, bashful lips.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, a smile curving his lips when you flutter your eyelashes at him in response. Amusement dances in his eyes. “Like really, really drunk.”

You poke a finger at his chest. “Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

The lively tempo of the upbeat music gracefully yields to a more intimate melody. As the first notes echo through the air, your mouth parts in delighted surprise.

“I love this song! Dance with me?”

The excitement in your voice is contagious and before Azriel can respond, you’ve already taken matters into your own hands as they grasp for his. You place one at the small of your back and entwine your fingers with the other.

“I put a spell on you."

"Because you’re mine.”

Your movements are clumsy but Azriel adjusts and guides you effortlessly. The grin on your face deepens as he twirls you, the music weaving a spell around both of you. “Mine, mine. All mine.” You sing to him, your voice joining the rhythm of the song.

As the final notes linger in the air, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “All yours,” he confirms with a loving smile.

You nestle your head onto his shoulder, breathing softly onto his neck. You’re the one who breaks the tender spell of the moment. With a wicked gleam in your eye, you nip at the spot you know is extremely sensitive and his body shudders beneath your bold move.

“y/n.”

You giggle when you see that your lipstick left its imprint on his skin and Azriel senses that tonight will be a long one.

As the night unfolds, more people approach you to thank you for your elixirs and advice. Some of them are your regulars and you excitedly introduce them to Azriel and then they’re buying you both shots. It’s nearly a miracle when he manages to bring you back to the table. You sit on his lap and drape an arm around his neck and he tucks you into his side.

“Is the room spinning or is it just me?” You say as you lazily brush a hand down his exposed chest. “Or is it you, my pretty?”

Unlike the lighting on the dance floor, the chandelier hanging above the table bathes you all in a bright glow, highlighting the blush on Azriel’s flustered face. Laughter erupts from Cassian and Rhysand and Feyre breaks into an amused smile. Until now, she was the only one aware of your flirty nature when drunk...because when you would drink together in the Spring court, she’s been on the receiving end of it.

Shadows are pushing your drink in front of you away from you, replacing it with a glass of water instead. Your fingers are toying with the buttons on his shirt again. “This is such a nice outfit,” you murmur.

“Thank you.” Azriel replies, bringing his drink to his lips.

You lean into his ear to whisper. “It’d look even better if it were on my bedroom floor.”

Azriel nearly chokes on his drink. Water splashes onto Cassian, who sits beside him. He glances between you and Azriel. He takes note of the deepening of Azriel’s blush and then the satisfied smirk on your face.

“Drink some water, y/n.” Azriel says in a slightly breathless, unusually ruffled rush. A wave of relief comes over him when he brings the drink in front of you to your lips and you don’t protest. “You sound a little thirsty.”

“Only for you.”

“Azzy, I’m feeling a little thirsty too.” Cassian teases. He can’t help himself and leans in toward his friend, playfully batting his eyelashes at him.

You’re suddenly enveloped in a sea of green and the unwelcome visitor that had come upon Azriel earlier is now knocking on your door. You don’t like how close Cassian is to Azriel. Your mate. He’s yours and only yours.

“Back off.” You nearly growl.

“Or what?” Cassian challenges, ignoring the kick Nesta gives his leg under the table in warning.

“Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble–”

“Hey Az, your mate is putting a curse on me.”

“I’m her mate, not her master,” Azriel replies with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “y/n is free to do as she pleases.”

He knows you well enough to know that the words you are spewing are nothing but nonsense. A means to scare Cassian and he takes delight in the flicker of panic he sees flash in his friend's eyes.

“Can you at least tell her to stop staring at me like that?” Cassian nearly whines, avoiding your eyes when they darken at him.

When Azriel turns to you, your eyes are back to normal and softened with a sweetness that melts his heart. “I’m not doing anything,” you say coyly and Azriel finds the pout on your face unbearingly adorable.

“Stop being a baby, Cas.”

Azriel nearly has to drag you out of Rita’s. There’s only so much teasing and flirting he can take from you and he welcomes the cool breeze of the night as soon as you both step outside. With a sigh, he effortlessly hoists you over his shoulder.

“Let’s go home, love.”

He pauses at the giggle that escapes from you. “What is it?”

“I have a perfect view of your ass from here.”

Azriel shifts you from being over his shoulders to cradling you gently in his arms instead. You hum in content and raise your hand to brush against the face you adore so much. “Still a lovely view.”

“Better I hope?” He quips.

“I don’t know,” you muse with a teasing gleam in your eye. “Your ass is pretty nice too.”

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow.” Azriel huffs a laugh as he takes you home.

He’s grateful that you live only a couple of blocks away from Rita’s. He’s opening the door to your home only a couple minutes later, greeting your cat, Binx, who is lounging on your couch with a smile. Binx’s curious eyes take in your state and Azriel swears the cat winks at him.

Azriel carries you all the way to your room, using his foot to nudge the door open. He carefully places you on your bed before turning to the set of drawers. He grabs some clothes for you both to change into and when he turns to face you again, you’re curled onto your side and snoring softly.

His heart warms at the sight.

He gently slides your dress off of you, replacing it with something comfier--one of his shirt’s. He unclasps the straps of your heels and then removes your earrings. He wipes away your makeup with a dampened towel, knowing that if he doesn’t, you’d wake up with irritated skin.

Finally, after making sure you’re comfortable, he slips under the blankets. You stir and although your mind is hazy from the alcohol and drowsiness, your body still seeks out the comfort of his warmth.

“I can’t believe you're really all mine.” You murmur softly as you cuddle up to him.

He buries his head into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender he’s so fond of. He closes his eyes and smiles. He still can’t believe you’re all his either.

Another glorious morning greets you, the sun glaring brightly through your thin curtains. Your mouth feels extremely dry and a thin layer of sweat forms over your skin. The arm around your waist tightens in response to your movement. You’re shifting in the bed, turning to face Azriel.

His eyes are closed yet the subtle upward curve of his lips confirms he’s awake. “Good morning, love.”

“There’s nothing good about this morning,” you groan.

Your entire body is aching and as you stretch your sore muscles, a sudden wave of nausea hits you like a ton of bricks. You're slipping under Azriel’s hold and running to your bathroom. He follows after you, brushing your hair away and holding it back for you as you hurl all the contents from your stomach.

You lean your head against the marble cabinet near the toilet, reveling in its cool touch. “Please never let me drink like that again.”

“I quite liked drunk y/n,” Azriel teases as he helps you up to your feet. He hands you your toothbrush and leans against the doorway with his arms crossed. “She’s bold.”

All your blood rushes to your cheeks. You meet his gaze through the mirror. Bold can mean many things and as you try to remember the events from last night, you’re coming up blank. “What did I say?”

“You nearly cursed Cas,” Azriel replies. He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he says his next words but the mischief reflected in his eyes contradict his casual demeanor. “And you said my ass is nice.”

Azriel watches you, savoring the role reversal as now you’re the one in a flustered state. You push past him with your hands on your face–a futile attempt to cover your mortified expression. You walk back into your bedroom.

“Why are your clothes all over the floor?”

Azriel normally places his worn clothes in the hamper that sits in the corner of your room but in his haste to take care of you, he carelessly threw them on the floor. He smirks, taking advantage of the perfect opportunity to tease you further.

“Because you said they’d look better there than on me.”

“Fire burn and cauldron boil me.”

a/n: when writing this, I was listening to the song I Put a Spell on You and I found that there's another version of the song that Austin Giorgio sings called You Put a Spell on Me and it's very Az coded in this au. Imagine him singing it you 😩

tagging: @fxckmiup

[series masterlist]

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x witch!reader #azriel imagines #acotar x reader #acotar imagines #azriel fluff #az!dandelions

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fourmoony · 8 months

Text

𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧

james potter x f!reader | modern!hockey au

cw: injury, language, use of pain medication (gas and air), exes reconciliation

summary - James is there for ex!reader when she has an accident on the ice.

2.8k

Took a break from writing ch3 of FOW to write this lil ficcy.

---

The arena goes silent the minute the programme music starts, the lights a deep blue, the music soft and slow. He’s on the Gryffindor bench, helmet at his feet, bottle half empty and hanging limply from his hands – they’re cold now they’re out of his gloves. The rest of the team has eyes on the tunnel, the whole arena does, and when James catches sight of you, he understands why, would singlehandedly go into the stands and force anyone who wasn’t paying enough attention to just – look.

Look at the way you skate so softly, like every movement comes straight from your soul, the way your dress glitters under the light, the way it makes your skin glow. He thinks you’re ethereal, honestly. He always has. But he’s not exactly allowed to think that, anymore, is he?

You skid to a stop in the middle of the ice, getting into position. Remus places a supportive hand on James’ shoulder, gives his friend an understanding look. Everything you do is always so precise, so fluid and beautiful. The way you skate is pure elegance, unlike hockey, which is rough and fast, harsh movements and even harsher words. The music fades out, changes to the start of a song James has never seen you skate to, before. But then, he supposes – he hasn’t seen you skate in four months. He hasn’t watched you try, and try, fall, and try, and fall again until you get a new move, a new routine, a sense of achievement.

He hasn’t sat on the bleachers freezing his arse off after practice just to be in your presence, or took you to eat, after. He hasn’t made sure you’re eating, sleeping, taking time to look after and care for yourself, and not just your talent.

You look different. Still beautiful, still the girl James fell in love with. But you look different. He can’t pinpoint it, really. There’s just a difference in the way you look straight at the empty penalty box as you wait for your cue that doesn’t sit right in James’ chest. It’s clunky and a little painful, a broken promise of something. You’re not looking at him. Whenever you skate at Hogwarts Arena – you look for James. Whether he’s playing or in the crowd. A nod from him, and you’re off like a shot into whatever performance your coach has chosen. Now, though, you’re staring blankly at the penalty box, not James.

He gets it, he does. It’s over. Has been for a while. But he wishes you’d look over, knows how nervous you get, wants to give you a reassuring smile. James sees the way your knees wobble as you kick off, floating across the ice like you could be flying.

You make it look so effortless, skating. You look weightless as you twist and turn into jumps James could never imagine being able to pull off – and he’s been skating since he could walk. He admires the steady movements, the emotion on your face as you glide, and spin, and jump, and the emotion on your face as the music follows the highs and lows of your routine. You’re so focussed you don’t seem to notice how the pain, the heartache of the song, the weight of the routine, bleeds from you.

It’s beautiful, in a way.

You’re beautiful in every way.

James feels the weight of watching you crushing him like a building sitting on his chest. He’s been slammed into the boards eight times in the first two quarters – not once had it hurt as much as watching you out there, so lovely, so gentle, so sad, so close but so fucking far. James thinks perhaps Remus’ hand on his shoulder is to keep him in place, for if it wasn’t there, he’d be out on the ice following you, right now. Heart in his hand, begging you to take it, no matter what it costs you both.

He’s always been selfish with love. He knows that, now. He does.

James should see it coming a mile off. He knows everything about you, the way you skate. He has every breath change, every wobble, every movement you make on the ice memorised. So, when you jump off with your left pick instead of your right – James should know what’s about to happen. You spin once, and James realises, too late, that jumping with the wrong foot has thrown you off. You’re on the ice in less than a second, the music cuts off, the crowd and both teams make gasping noises, murmured concerns. James doesn’t hear any of it.

All he can hear is the ice shattering scream you let out.

You don’t get up. James waits several seconds, and you don’t get up. Remus shoves him, Sirius pulls open the board door and James, in only his under armour and protective trousers, skates loosened for the break, skates to you as fast as he can. There’s cheering from the crowd when James comes flying out of the team box, but James can’t hear any of it over the sounds you’re making.

He’s seen you fall hundreds of times. He’s seen you pull muscles and break ribs, bruise tail bones, sprain ankles and he has never heard you make noise like this in his life. The medics haven’t arrived yet, James skids to a stop, drops to his knees. You don’t look up, face tilted towards the ice – a media training stunt so the crowd can’t see how much pain you’re actually in. But he can tell your eyes are screwed shut, fists clenched so tight he’s concerned you might break your wrists.

He says your name, soft, gentle, and it sounds foreign coming out of his mouth.

You take a shuddering breath, head tilting in the cage your arms have made for it just slightly. Your eyes are filled with so much fear that James finds it hard to breathe, tears spilling out and onto your red cheeks, “My hip. My hip, Jamie, my hip.”

You sound terrified, broken, in agonising pain. James shouts for a medic, loud enough that he thinks the whole arena can hear. There’s refs and managers, your skating coach, all on the ice when the medics come running. James feels as though he could throttle every last one for taking so long. You’re crying, curled in on yourself, and James knows better than to touch you, like this. It makes the pain worse, makes you feel like you’re suffocating. And he thinks, maybe, that you just don’t want him to touch you, regardless, anyway.

The medics slide the board under you, roll you onto your back and the scream of agony you let out breaks James. He’s crying, and you reach for his hand, squeeze it so tight he feels his bones rub together.

“Potter!” Moody, his coach, yells after him when he starts to follow the medics off the ice with you.

“I’m not leaving her.” James doesn’t leave room for negotiation, doesn’t want Moody to challenge him on this because he might do something stupid and lose his place in the league all together.

His coach sighs, nods, and James is off like a shot. He catches up with you in the tunnel, headed straight for the Gryffindor PT room. You’re still sobbing, awful, throaty cries that are etching their way around James’ ribs, threatening to break and scratch and pull at them. It’s a flurry of noise and shouting and protests from you whenever someone comes close to touching your hip. It’s chaos.

James isn’t really all that sure if you’ve fully registered that he’s there, honestly, or if you’re in so much pain you don’t have it in you to argue over his presence. The medic gives James a look, a rather pointed one, when you refuse for the millionth time to let anyone touch your hip. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. You’re not his girlfriend, anymore. You’re not his, you don’t love him. He can’t comfort you the way he used to.

“Jamie,” You’re breathless, face red and blotchy, hand gripping his, looking up at him with fear, “Don’t let them. It hurts.”

And James feels like he’s drowning.

“Hey,” He gets close to your face, the thumb of his free hand swiping away the tears from your eyes, “They can’t help you if you don’t let them see what’s wrong.”

“It hurts.”

“I know,” He soothes, pushing strands of hair from your forehead, “But it’s gonna hurt a lot longer if you don’t let them fix it.”

You seem to consider, hiccupping breaths filling the silence. The medic makes an impatient sound and James throws him a cutting look.

“Short term pain, long term gain.” James murmurs into the skin of your forehead. It's a joke saying - something you used to say rather bitterly when you hurt yourself learning a new stunt.

You don’t flinch, don’t pull away or protest when he presses his lips to the heated skin. It provides the distraction the medics need to cut the seam of your dress and reveal the skin of your hip. A junior medic passes you a nozzle, wheels a tank to the side of the table you’re on, and passes you it, “Gas and air. You’re going to need it.”

James wishes he could have some, too.

The medics work, you almost chew through the air nozzle when they try to push your hip back into place, and eventually, James has to murmur panicked and overly loud sweet nothings into your ear over the gut wrenching cries you let out when the medic yanks and then pushes your hip right back into place.

The game is long since over. Gryffindor won.

You’re limp on the table, waiting for the crowd to leave before the ambulance can make it to the player exit. James sits, watches you drift in and out of consciousness, begs his heart to return to normal because you’re not in pain anymore, not in danger. You’re here. In front of him. Okay.

Sirius appears a little after the game, freshly showered and in his suit.

“She okay?” He asks, hands stuffed into his suit trouser pockets.

You and Sirius are close. Still. James doesn’t hold it against either of you. You’ve both been such an intracule part of each other’s lives that he’d be evil for expecting that to come to an end just because you and James didn’t work out. You both deserve better than his jealousy.

“Dislocated her hip. They think she’s torn some ligaments; need to wait on the hospital scans to be sure.” James replies, eyes roving over your face.

You look so peaceful, asleep. So free of pain, of the fear and agony you’d been in only half an hour ago. His heart aches. He wants to coddle you, assure you you’ll be okay. He knows he can’t.

Sirius nods, “She’ll skate again? Or no?”

The medic hadn’t seemed hopeful. James doesn’t know who’s going to have the job of telling you, but he’s praying for them. You won’t take this news lightly, “Not at the level she’s at now.”

He watches the concern wash over Sirius. They both know what it’s like to skate. Sure, hockey and figure skating are different – but the mindset is often the same. James can’t imagine being told he couldn’t skate. It’s part of him – his soul. As it is, yours.

“You okay?”

James shakes his head, “No. I can’t stop hearing her. That scream, Padfoot - It hollowed me out.”

Sirius nods, like he understands. Perhaps he does, in some way. He heard it, too. “She’s okay. For now. You going in the ambulance?”

“I don’t think she’d appreciate that.”

“I’ll wait for you in the car, then.” Sirius leaves without another word but offers James an understanding look. He gets it. He knows what it’s like for love to hurt. He and Remus spent years hurting each other for no good reason.

The room is quiet when Sirius goes. Just the steady sounds of your breathing, the beeping of your monitor. James allows himself to press his palm to your cheek one last time. He wills himself to stand up, to leave. He can’t manage it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to walk away from you. Not like this.

“Stay. Please.”

You’re awake. He’s not sure how long you’ve been awake, but he has a feeling you heard his conversation with Sirius. His heart feels like it’s been kick started, like for the first time since you hit the ice, he can breathe.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promises, thumb rubbing at your neck, hand cupping your jaw.

You nod, swallow, “I won’t skate again, will I?”

“You don’t know that.”

A noise akin to a scoff escapes your lips, which wobble as you speak, “Everyone knows how these injuries end, Jamie. I’ll be a coach, at best.”

He wishes he could tell you that you might make a full recovery, that you’ll go back to being the ethereal, elegant skater you’ve been since he met you all those years ago. He’s never lied to you before, though, so he won’t start now. You both know the statistics, the stories, how it goes. Rehab for six months, and if you’re lucky, you’ll skate in a straight line again.

“I’m so, so, sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You shush him, a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, “I should’ve looked for you. I should’ve, I knew I should’ve, but I thought if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from coming to you. From coming to tell you that I was sorry, that I was wrong, I should’ve…”

James takes his turn shushing you as the quiet sobs rack your body. You used to chide him for his superstitions, it breaks his heart that you think breaking one caused this. He leans over, lips to the skin of your forehead, pressing over and over as though it might make the weight of his love settle into your brain, “No. Please don’t do that, please. Don’t blame yourself. These things happen. Accidents, they happen, no one is a perfect skater, okay?”

“But it’s my fault we broke up.”

You sound so broken, so tired. James doesn’t know what to say, isn't sure what relevance that has to this, so he says nothing.

Time passes, the medics return, bring James his joggies and hoodie and his shoes. He changes quickly, comes in the ambulance to the hospital.

He waits with you, holds your hand, gives you as much reassurance as he can. The doctor tells you three hours later that you’ll never skate at the same level again, and James holds you. He’s careful not to crush you when he climbs into the hospital bed, and he holds you until there’s no more tears left for you to cry. He sits with you in the silence, is patient when you get angry, frustrated, blame yourself and the world, even him, and he’s there. He stays. He doesn’t allow you to push him away this time.

The sun creeps up over the trees, cuts through the fluorescent hospital lighting and casts its golden glow on you, and James remembers.

He remembers all the time away from the rink, the beach, his parent’s summer house, road trips, theme parks, early mornings in his apartment, coffees in the car after practice. He remembers that there, once, had been more to your relationship than skating. It became habit, after a while. Skate, fight, train, skate, fight, train. It got tiring. It got old, and it drove a wedge between you both.

But he remembers how freely you once loved each other, the person you are, not the way you skate. Your soul, bright and luminous, off the ice. You’re so much more than a pair of skates and a beautiful routine. You’re ethereal all on your own.

You wake not long after, the pain medication worn off and reality starting to set in.

If you’re surprised to find James in your hospital bed with you, you don’t show it. You offer him a gentle smile. A kind smile. A hopeful smile. He kisses the crown of your head, nestles as close as your hip will allow. You make a grateful humming noise.

"I'll survive this."

James notes that you don't sound all that sure. But he knows you will. He squeezes you gently, "You will."

"And you'll be there? I know it's selfish of me to ask..."

"I'm not going anywhere. Promise." James' thumb pulls your lip from where it's worrying between your teeth, and you look so soft, so scared. So. Lovely.

You seem happy with that answer, cheek rubbing happily against his shoulder, "We'll work it out."

"We will."

934 notes · View notes

peachsukii · 6 months

Note

Okay I’m back I’m sorry your writing is like cocaine to me idk you’re awesome-

Bakugou x reader where they’re on a mission and it involves a teams of heroes to dress up like Dynamight to confuse the enemy??? Just like Bakugou’s reaction to seeing his girlfriend decked out in his gear like 😭😭😭

but like picture like reader trying to fit Bakugou into a version of her costume too-

Ohkay I’m going even further now- Bakugou and reader wearing formal wear modeled after each other at a Hero’s gala to debut their relationship to the world???? I can just imagine after the mission they just really like wearing each other’s stuff-

Anyways you’re amazing have an amazing day!!

I’m so so sorry this took me so long to get to! You’re the sweetest!! 🥰 thank you so much for rec and coming back! I’ve enjoyed the ideas you’ve suggested so much and hope you like this one. 💖✨

Substitute Gear

『 ♡』 k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ pro-hero au | age 24 | lovers (bf/gf) ꒱ ⇢ bakugo and reader are joking around in their apartment one night when they decide to try on each others costumes! this leads to a fun inspiration for the upcoming hero gala as their agencies recommend for them to reveal their relationship officially. Why not do it in style?

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ no cw minus cursing | fun & fluffy ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~1.1k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

“Ugh, what an ugly shift,” you complain as you’re walking through the front door of your apartment. You’re kicking off your dirty boots in the entryway when Katsuki comes to greet you.

“Long day?” He asks, analyzing how filthy your hero suit is. It doesn’t stop him from giving you a light peck on the lips to welcome you home.

“More like what didn’t happen today. A kid threw up on me, and when I washed that off, some asshole bled all over me when I cuffed him! To top it all off, I tripped and fell into the mud while in pursuit of a robbery. Head first!”

As you’re rattling off the laundry list of shitty things that happened during the day, Katsuki’s silently instructing you to take the suit off. He spins you around, unzipping the neck piece and carefully removing all of your components and accessories.

“I broke my damn helmet in that fall,” you groan, wiping dried dirt from your cheek.

“Better than your head, dumbass,” Katsuki counters. “Ya got extras, no use cryin’ over one of ‘em.”

You shimmy the suit off of your shoulders and pull out of the material one limb at a time.

“You’d think as heroes, there’d be a professional laundry service or something,” you complain, letting your suit crumple on the floor. It comically puffs out a dried cloud of grime.

Katsuki stifles a laugh. “Weird way of sayin’ I do all your laundry. Get your ass in the shower, you reek.” He smacks your barely-covered ass to get you moving, continuing to snicker to himself as you waddle down the hallway.

───

After a long and hot shower, you emerge from the bathroom with a dramatic haze of steam following you.

“Ya done yet, peach? Dinners done,” Katsuki calls from the kitchen, dishes clattering as he’s prepping plates for the two of you. You scamper down the hall to meet him in the kitchen, a delicious aroma filling your senses when you approach the stove. He hands you one of the plates of beef and peppers stacked high on a bed of rice.

“Mmm, you even made me extra peppers!” You chirp, flashing him a cheesy smile. He grins in response and slips past you to sit on the couch.

The news channel is droning in the background during dinner, the news anchors excitedly discussing the upcoming annual Hero Gala - the glitz and glamour side of it, anyways. The Gala itself is an enormous event to celebrate Japan’s hero society and to announce the year’s hero ranking; however, everyone treats it as one extravagant event, red carpet and all.

“I’ve never been to the gala before,” you say before taking another mouthful of rice. “I never qualified to attend until this year. I’m kinda nervous to be…debuting us, if I’m being honest.”

Your agencies had caught wind of your relationship - rather, Katsuki’s assistant accidentally caught you two kissing in his office - and wanted to use you as an opportunity to introduce the “new hottest hero couple.” Agencies care about appearances and tabloid drama just as much as actual hero work. What's hotter than a top hero dating a lower - much lower - ranked hero?

The gala is in two weeks and the two of you haven't settled on what to do about it.

“Th’ agencies wanting to use us as an attention grab is fuckin’ stupid," Katsuki mumbles, brows scrunched in frustration. "Who gives a shit who we're dating? Doesn't affect my ability ta do my job."

He had a point, of course, but that didn't make you any less nervous about it. You were being pressured to have an extremely public date and let "fans" know that Dynamight was off the market. The thought of fans metaphorically bashing your head in wasn't ideal, but whatever gets "ratings," right?

"We might as well just show up in each others' costumes," you joke, rolling your eyes as the news anchor shifts topics to the latest update on another nonsense story.

"That's...not a bad idea!" He shouts, putting his plate on the coffee table and excitedly jogging down the hall to the bedroom. "Where's your backup suit?"

"In the closet, why? There's no way your muscular ass is getting in that tight suit."

"No, dumbass! C'mere!"

You place your plate next to his and get up from the couch, waltzing to the bedroom to see what he's on about. Both your hero suit and his are laying on the bed next to each other.

"What if we swapped colors?" He asked, pointing to the suit designs. "You wear mine and I wear yours. That'll give the media somethin' to yap about."

That's actually...a brilliant idea! The media would absolutely eat up the "bad boy" Dynamight strutting into the gala with his partner's color pallet, especially because your colors were pinks and purples.

You raise an eyebrow to him, smirking as you begin to imagine him in a sharp pink and purple suit. "You do look good in pink, the few times you've worn it."

Katsuki cackles and winks at you. "Course I do, I make anythin' look good."

He immediately calls his agency to request the garments - they agreed wholeheartedly and offered to fund both outfits.

───

The night of the gala has finally arrived! There are plenty of news crews from all channels present, huddled around the main red carpet entrance. The scene is bedazzled with flashing camera lights, the shutter sounds of multiple cameras capturing photos in tandem. Your complimentary custom outfits are pristine and Katsuki's hand is in yours as the limo pulls up to the gateway, giving you a soft squeeze to gather your attention.

"It'll be fine, sweets. Jus' follow my lead, 'kay?"

You nod while taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. "Thanks babe."

The limo attendant outside skips to the door, opening it for the two of you and ushering you to the entrance. You're both standing in line behind other heroes awaiting their turn to enter the building, attention already building in your direction. A few minutes go by before one of the hosts motions for the two of you to proceed to the entrance.

Your heart is racing, threatening to burst right through your ribcage as the hot spotlights are covering the two of you. Cameras are flashing rapidly, waves of unintelligible shouting invading your senses - "Dynamight! Over here, look this way!" "Just one this way, you two!" "To the left, please!"

Katsuki's jaw is tense as his eyes are roaming around to satisfy multiple camera men, the resting glare he normally sports on patrol adoring his features. Your attempting to keep a soft smile, posing and waving gently. Suddenly, you're tugged into Katsuki's side, his hand leaving yours and wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his personal space. He spins you to face him, cupping your chin and dipping you backwards as his lips grace your own, holding you in place.

The world around explodes with surprise, the peanut gallery clamoring with questions about the two of you - "Are you two an item?" "Oh! A higher ranked hero and a brand new one!" "What a scandalous amount of PDA!"

When you part, he pulls you back to his side and keeps his hand on your waist while the two of you continue into the gala together. The paparazzi outside are tailing the two of you as they're stopped at the door, shouting for answers as he flips them off over his head.

"Told ya it'd be fine. Now let's fuckin' eat and enjoy the damn night."

thanks again for the suggestion @queenpiranhadon ! ✨

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #my hero academia #☆.from the stars #☆.rei writes

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zweiginator · 3 months

Note

i need something about patrick ripping your panties and fucking you against the wall idk i just need it

*reader calls patrick daddy in this so be warned if that's not ur thing

i’m imagining patrick really really liking you. he’s used to fucking girls on the first date. spitting in their mouths and calling them sluts with his hand wrapped around their jaws.

but he really likes you!!! it scares him that he’s dreamt of proposing to you. buying a cute house and having two or three kids with you.

you’ve only been dating for a few months. and everything has been going well. but patrick has been holding back sexually. he doesn’t want to scare you away, doesn’t want to go too hard and have you feeling like he doesn’t respect you.

but you’re kind of unsatisfied.

of course, he’s great in bed. and sometimes, the slow, loving, deep sex is great. but sometimes you want him to fuck you. and you don’t know if you’re being selfish but is this even going to work out if you don’t see eye to eye sexually?

it’s odd because you have heard things about patrick. he oozes sex appeal and cockiness and you assumed that would translate to the bedroom. maybe those girls were just exceptionally vanilla. or maybe they exaggerated. hell, maybe they never fucked patrick in the first place.

you’re talking with your friends at one of patrick’s matches. it’s about to start, so you assume he’s doing drills. maybe listening to a playlist to pump himself up.

“he’s just—soft.” you tell them, lowly.

“what do you mean?” one of your friends asks.

“like—he’s good at sex but it’s just—kind of boring. that sounds really mean but i thought he would be a little more rough sometimes.”

your friends are surprised. they share the same assumptions about your boyfriend.

patrick is under the bleachers, sneaking a cigarette and hears all of it.

he plays exceptionally well. doesn’t miss a serve, uses all the tricks in the book and wins easily. it barely looks like he broke a sweat the whole time.

and he’s quiet on the way home. taps his fingers against the steering wheel and fuck—did he hear you?

“pat, what’s up? are you okay?” your trepidation is palpable to him.

“‘m fine. just didn’t realize i was such a boring fuck for you, is all.”

so he did.

“patrick i—im sorry. i didn’t mean that you’re boring i dunno. i just had assumptions.”

“assumptions about what?”

“come on, i know im not your first. i’ve heard things.” you reply.

he puts the car in park. tilts your chin up so you have to look him in the eye. they’re stern. it makes him look older.

“if you want something—you have to be a big girl and ask.”

and then he drops you off. you assumed you were spending the night at his house, but you get out of the car anyway, unsure of where you stand with him.

is he mad at you? did you irreparably fuck up this relationship that is otherwise perfect?

and for the next few days, patrick is busier than usual. you know he’s faking it. he doesn’t pick up your calls and he barely texts you.

you’ve been crying all day. so you drive to his house and ring his doorbell. you feel so small and stupid and like you ruined the one good precious thing left in the world.

patrick answers; he hates to see you cry. and he knows he’s been an asshole.

“come inside, sweetheart. i won't bite.” but the way he says it is menacing, facetious.

so you do. you’re confused when he spins you around, pushes you against the wall by the front door. you feel your heartbeat against it; the mirror hung next to you wobbles and you’re afraid it might fall.

patrick’s lips ghost over the nape of your neck, latch under your ear. the mini skirt you're wearing is hiked up from how patrick spreads your legs, his knee propped perfectly in between.

he sees your pretty panties. wonders if you wore them on purpose. to give your pussy to him as a peace offering. but patrick isn't in the mood to be given anything. he wants to take, take, take. so he does.

he palms your ass, ignoring your pleads for a kiss. you're so confused and lightheaded and turned on. patrick has never acted like this. but it feels not like he is leaving his comfort zone, no, instead he's entering it.

because it feels natural how he spanks you, yanks your hair back, groans in your ear. feels your wet cunt through your panties and calls you a slut for liking this.

you feel like one.

patrick's biceps bulge as he presses his cock against you, forearms braced on either side of your head.

"i can fuck you. make you feel like a slut." patrick flips your skirt up completely. "just gotta ask me, sweet girl."

you nod. and you don't know where it comes from but you mutter, "yes sir."

"fuck." he mutters. it's a groan in your ear. "you like when im in charge of you? when i use your little pussy?"

you grind your ass against his cock, almost unaware you're doing it. you're so fucking desperate for him. but he's punishing you. for talking behind his back. for not using your words.

he yanks your hair back, forming a makeshift ponytail. "answer me."

"yes--yes please. use my pussy. it's all yours."

"i know it is." he tears your panties off. you don't know how he does it. and maybe you underestimated his strength before this moment--but you'll never do it again. he restricts your movement easily. and the weight of his chest against your back, his breath in your ear should feel suffocating. but you fucking love it, how he overpowers you like this.

the baby pink lace is torn into two on the ground beneath your feet as patrick fucks into you from behind, his hands holding your waist so tight you won't be surprised if there are fingertip shaped bruises there the next day.

"oh baby, i'm stretching you out. feel how deep i am? you're squeezing me so tight.." it almost feels like he's mocking you.

it's a complete 180 from the usual coos and sweet nothings.

the carnal, guttural moans he is letting out are fully him and you love it.

so you lean into it. "fuck me--daddy fuck me. this pussy is all yours--take it."

one hand snakes up your body as he pulls you against his chest. they run over your tits and up to your throat. his abdomen is soaked in sweat and he pushes against your jugular.

"who knew you were such a dirty fucking girl--gonna make me cum."

and usually he would pull out and aim on your ass or stomach, but you keep him inside. look him in the eye when he fills you up. and for the duration of his orgasm as you hold his forehead to yours, you're in charge.

#challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #and then you live happily ever after

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

Text

You don’t get to tell me about sad

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n part two! Thank you for everyone who read the first one. So glad some of you liked it so much. 🫧🤍

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“No threats, nothing," Azriel dropped the report down on the table. Rhys had been the one to go meet with Autumn’s high lord. Bringing back the reports of everything that had been happening the past three days. “Eris said that everyone still thinks she’s there," Rhys stated. They planned on spinning a lie about you visiting an old relative, but it was better if the people who had inflicted the first attack would be misled about your true location.

“This could have been a one-time thing," Cassian hums, flipping through the report himself. “Or someone is waiting for the right moment," Rhys links his fingers together, resting his chin on them. “Why her?”, Cassian frowns. Yeah, Azriel asked that too at first. You didn’t seem to be magically gifted. There was nothing special about you, as far as he was aware. “Eris said she’s a weak link," the spymaster muttered.

“They’re close? That would explain things," and Cassian was right there. Love might be the worst weapon to have. Once, it slipped into the wrong hands. Azriel let out a sigh.

“Considering how he delivered the news, he loves her a lot. I believe, besides Lucien, she’s the closest to him." If he was being truthful, he hadn’t given it much thought. Here in Velaris, he could leave you on your own devices for the most part, at least. He didn’t need to trail after you. There was no need. Azriel had eyes almost everywhere.

“We’ll figure something out. I will ask around to see if something is stirring." Rhys leans back, his eyes now fixed on Azriel, “How are you?”. Azriel tries to hold back to not roll his eyes. “I’ve been fine for two weeks ago." And he was. Yes, his left side still hurt. The scar was deep and rather long. Rapping around his ribcage. Not to mention that he had pulled the stitches out way too many times. “Don’t start this," Rhys says bluntly.

“I could be up at the camps doing what I do best," Azriel points out. Itching to pick this topic back up. “Dying in the snow?"—that was a straight blow from his brother. Rhys hadn’t been able to say it out loud for the first couple of weeks. The thought of Azriel dying had messed with his head. “I said no, so it’s a no. Plus, you have a new responsibility," Rhys states firmly, and Azriel knows that there is no use in nagging him any further. “Counting days till she’s out of my sight," he mutters beneath his breath, standing up to leave. He just forgot to mean the words he spoke.

Velaris was different from what you had imagined it to be. In a good way, but it still wasn’t home. The ever-green trees almost bugged you. It was all too alive. Too bright. You missed the deep oranges. The crunching of the leaves beneath your feet. Rhys tried to be a caring host by giving you an autumn-themed room, but that only left a bitter taste in your mouth. So even if you had been advised by their healer to keep all weight off your swollen ankle for a while, you still found yourself, pulling away the decorations and shoving away the autumn theme blankets, the little trinkets.

You tried to keep out of everyone’s hair. Choosing to take your food into your room. But the four walls were starting to drive you mad. You had tasted freedom, and you didn’t want to be back there. Locked up. Hidden. Forgotten. So when your eyes landed on the two males sparing in the front yard, you, of course, first observed them from your window. Watching through the curtains and then pushing back.

“You should be resting your leg," Azriel hadn’t even turned to face you when his voice found you. A slight smirk tugging at your lips. He had been avoiding you. Or maybe you were too full of yourself. Maybe he was just busy. There was no requirement for him to be at your side twenty-four-seven.

“You’re a shit bodyguard if you didn’t know that I've been doing just that for the past three days," you muse, stepping closer to the racks of weapons that line their training ground. Fingers l brushing over a set of onyx black daggers. “Madja said at least a couple of weeks," Azriel points out, reaching to rewrap his knuckles. “And I said that I'm bored, and now we are here," you purr, lifting one of the daggers, feeling out the weight as you twist your wrist. You could feel Azriel’s eyes. Watching you. Following your every move.

“Or you just wanted a closer look at this“, the male next to him, who you had come to learn was Cassian, smirks, gesturing to his bare chest. Abs glistening with sweat. Yeah, the view wasn’t bad. Autumn males, at least the ones you know, didn’t compare. “And I thought this one was full of himself." You hooked your thumb at Azriel, rolling your eyes.

He shakes his head, “Would it hurt you to say my name?”, "Yes, Mr. Tree, trunk up my ass." You give him the most obnoxious smile you could master. Earning a deep growl from the spymaster in return. Until your eyes landed on the wooden bow, neatly placed on the ground by the buckets of water. “I want to shoot arrows," you mutter, pointing to the weapon, making Azriel’s gaze follow suit.

He let out a small snort, “Have you ever held a bow in your delicate hands?”. That prick. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh, news flash, he is also a sexist,” you hiss. Rounding his side to reach for the arrows. “I just don’t want you falling and tripping once again, princess," he teases in an almost mocking tone. You step closer to him. You doubt that he finds you intimidating, considering that you need to look up to even meet his gaze. But your face stays ice cold as you point to the bow, “Give it to me." He doesn’t move at first. As if on purpose. Giving you extra time to look at him. His face. There is a light scar over his right eyebrow. It’s not all that visible. Unless you take your time to… but, your little daydream is cut short by a bow being shoved at your chest. You nearly lose your footing. And just like that, you are snapped out of your daze.

“Don’t start crying when you miss," Azriel says, too full of himself as always. Leaning on the side beam like a smug, fucking cat. Too bad you grew up among five arrogant males. Six if you include that sadist of a father. That’s enough for the amber to catch fire deep within your chest. You line the arrow up. Taking a deep breath. Eyes falling to the target at the edge of the field ahead. And then it’s muscle memory as you let it loose. The first one hit the bull's eye. A satisfied smile speeds on your face as you reach for the second and third. You’re petty like that. Not in the mood to give Azriel a chance to call it fool’s luck.

A loud chuckle fills your ears, and then someone is nudging your shoulder. “She handed you your ass on a silver plate, brother." Cassian’s laughter booms, and you can’t help but match his grin. “Choke on the dust," you muse, flipping him off as you twist away from him. But Azriel is quick as always, grasping your elbow as he spin you back. “Know your place," he says through gritted teeth. Nostrils flaring.

“Maybe you should show me my place," you mutter, crossing an x on his chest. You yank your hand from his grip, glancing at Cassian, “Put the dog on the leash." Azriel curses, making Cassian snort, before the general starts barking, moving to the side to tackle his brother. You shake your head, continuing to walk away. Only catching a faint warning from Azriel, “Don’t fucking encourage it.”

Azriel chose to leave you alone for the rest of the day. Yet he could deny it all he wanted, but the shots were clean. Not to mention that he was almost relieved that you had left your room. A burden or not, he didn’t want you just rotting between the four walls. So he’s not all that surprised when your figure steps out onto the balcony. A lantern in your hand. One that you carefully place on the ledge before placing your hand on the stones. Stepping on your tiptoes, leaning to look over the edge.

"Snooping", the sudden sound of his voice makes you jump, your elbow hitting the lantern and pushing it over the edge. “You’re insane. Absolute sociopath," you gasp, hand on your chest as you try to wipe the threat from your face.

“You’re pathetic if that made you scared," Azriel shrugs, stepping out for the shadows. It wasn’t pathetic. He knew that. If he didn’t want to be seen, no one would see him. So blaming this on you was lame, but he could excuse it. For now. “You’re a creep," you hiss, leaning over the edge to look for the broken glass, now scattered on the ground. “Who sits in the dark like that?”, you ask, shaking your head and pulling your ginger hair over to one side. Fidgeting with the ends. That’s a new habit, Azriel thinks to himself, one he hadn’t yet observed.

You just shake your head once you don’t receive an answer from him. Eyes darting up the sky. It’s almost pitch black. The last traces of orange and deep purple are coloring the very edges of the horizon. “The sky is beautiful here as well," you breathe out. Not sure why. It felt stupid to get sentimental with that crazy man behind you. “It is," Azriel admits, forcing his eyes from your frame to lift to the sky. But the stars only manage to hold his attention for so long. Before they glance right back down at you, Azriel can’t tell from your face, but he feels the wave of sadness crashing into his chest.

And not even a heartbeat later you speak up again. “I usually take walks with the dogs in the evening, so... old habits die hard. I feel the itch." It’s an almost bitter chuckle that slips past your lips as you speak. Azriel walks close to the railing. “I feel the same if I don’t get to work late at night," he’s not sure why he’s even saying that. Admitting something that you don’t need to know. Or probably care to know. Your nose screeches up. “That’s a weird thing to like," you mutter. Azriel rolls his eyes, “Stomping through the woods isn’t any better.”

The breeze picks up. Chasing the last bits of warmth away. Making you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, but you don’t step back. Don’t move to head inside. “So, you’re a working late and sleep-in type of guy," you mutter. Azriel realizes it then. You’re here because you don’t want to be alone. Force-pushing the conversation to keep someone else in your company. Flashes of the basement flicker through his mind.

“No, I wake up early," he answers, a heartbeat too late, and yet you’re still nodding along. “So, no sleep type of guy," you mutter beneath your breath. The darkness is now fully draping over you two. Hiding you both from the world. “And you’re a talk just to listen to yourself speak type of girl," Azriel points out, making you huff. “And here, I thought we were having a moment." He watches as you turn around, shaking your head. “Jumping to conclusions kind of girl too," he says firmly, and this time it’s enough to drag a little chuckle from your lips as your head falls back ever so slightly.

But the distant pain doesn’t leave your eyes when you glance back at him. “Did Eris say anything by any chance?”, you mutter. A part of Azriel considers lying. Twisting the truth. A white lie. But he can’t bring himself to. Too many people were already keeping you in the dark, so he mutters a quiet, "No." Watching as you nod way too eagerly at his answer, “Of course, delighted to get rid of the troublemaker," there was that pained smile at the end as you finally chose to spread the distance between you two. “Lucien is coming tomorrow, though," Azriel points out, your tense shoulders easing ever so slightly. You don’t say anything as you reach for the glass door.

“Are you going to sleep?”, Azriel asks, almost cringing himself out. What was this sound of desperation? He didn’t fucking care what you did. “Not yet. I will walk in the garden for a bit." You gesture to the fields wrapping around the house. Azriel nods firmly, “Keep to the upper parts; don’t go past the rose garden if you get by the white... ”, “Okay, okay, mother... Tie me to your chair and watch me wilt away while you’re at it," you huff, your lips thinning into a tight line. “I’ll finish some work and come to do a room sweep," the spymaster says in an almost demanding manner. You simply raise your hand to your forehead, saluting him with a quiet “Yes, sir," before disappearing into the house.

It took Azriel way longer to get through his usual routine. He liked his office tidy for his morning working session. So at night, even if he was tired to his bones, he made the effort to sort through every pile of documents. Arrange them neatly. When he finally made it up to the top floor, where your room was located, it was well past midnight. Azriel knew that he could just drop it. He didn’t have to show up and check the room. Yet he still stood there right by your door.

"Princess," he knocked gently, not really in the mood to startle you once again tonight. You might be small and fierce, but everyone has a limit. When no response follows, he tries again: "Yn, it’s Azriel, can I come in?”, but still nothing. He could just walk in, but you weren’t a prisoner per se. “This is your last warning," he says, waiting for a heartbeat before pushing onto the handle.

It was dead quiet in the room. He would have concluded that you might not have returned yet if not for the mess that your bed was. He frowns slightly. Following the line of blankets that lead to the fireplace. And here you are. Curled by the fire, all the blankets dragged from the bed. Piles of books scattered all around you. He didn’t know that you had gone to the library. Or maybe this was Nesta’s doing. In that case, he didn’t wish to find out what was written in them. Azriel scannes the room. His eyes fell on the pens and pencils on the table. A sketchbook. A strange feeling kindled in Azriel’s chest. He has a pad just like that. Kept it in his leathers. So if he feels the urge or if something captures his attention begging to be sketched, he could easily do so.

Azriel steps closer, trying not to leave evidence of looking through your stuff. It makes him uneasy just how close you are to the fireplace, but then. Flame calls to flame. He knows that he should turn away. Just leave you be. There’s no danger here. He knows it. But he finds himself stepping forward, kneeling by your body. He hasn’t seen you so peacefully innocent before. He only knew the frowning, tantrum-throwing princess.

Tilting his head to the side, he tries to drink your features in. You were a Vanserra. The resemblance to Eris and Lucien was there. But a much softer version. With freckles all over your face. Long eyelashes. Your hair was more ginger than fire-red. But then his gaze halted. Your left shoulder was bare. The very top of your breast... a scar. It was a scare that made him halt. On your collarbone. And then two lines going beneath your shirt. Azriel’s scowl only deepened at the sight of one more white line at the side of your throat. “What did they do to you?", he mutters quietly. But it’s enough to make your eyes snap open as you jolt up. And once again, there’s a dagger aimed at Azriel’s throat, this time from the side. The very tip pressing into his flesh.

“What the fuck?", you huff, lowering your hand. “That’s a much better aim. You’re learning fast, princess." Azriel tries to keep his face cool as he steps back. Standing tall. “Why are you here standing over me like that?”, you scowl, pulling the blanket tighter over your shoulders.

“I just came to check the room," Azriel says, moving his gaze to the window. Anything was better now than looking into your burning eyes. “And decided that you can just let yourself in," you say, pushing to stand up. “You were on the floor by the fire; who knows, maybe you were lying there dead?", Azriel bits back, gesturing at the mess you had created. It was embarrassing that he had seen it. No one was supposed to see it. A bitter laugh slips past your lips, “You wish that would be...", and in a blink of an eye, he is there. Inches away from you. Hand reaching for your hair. No doubt he had thought about just yanking it back but decided against it at the last minute.

“Don’t finish that," he says, opting for a warning finger once more. As if he’s scolding a child. “Or what?", you flash your teeth at him. Pretending to bite the very tip of his finger. “You love picking fights, huh?", he straightens, smothering his hair back. The slight curls falling over his forehead. “You love changing the subject, huh?”, you mock back in the same tone. “You might just be one of the most frustrating things that came out of autumn," and you can see that he probably didn’t even mean to say it out loud. But he did. And now you two were standing in the aftermath of it. Your hands curling into fists. “Thing...", you smile at him, “How sweet of you; ladies probably drop their pants for that," and here it was that cold, cold look on your face. "Out," you hiss, now pointing Azriel to the door. Dismissing him.

The next morning is rather awkward. Azriel finds you in the sunroom of the house. Your legs tugged beneath you. You don’t lift your head, and he says nothing. Taking his usual spot by the window to drink his coffee. It unsettles him. The silence. He doesn’t want you to feel like he’s some creepy stalker. Maybe you both should settle the ground rules. Talk about the situation. But once he finally finds the courage to open his mouth, the door opens. A gasp slips past your lips as you jump up, rushing to the male standing in the doorway.

"Luci," you breathe, wrapping your arms around your brother’s neck. The warmth he carried seeping into your body. “My little flicker," he mutters against your hair, leaving a couple of kisses on the side of your head. "Azriel," Lucien nods in acknowledgment. Azriel follows his movement. “I’ve got it from here”, Luci smiles at the spymaster, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“What’s going on?”, you mutter against his chest, refusing to let go. “What did Eris say?”, your brother asks, and it’s enough to make you pull back. “I don’t give a fuck about what he said," you grunt. “I want to know what you know," you demand. You have a full right to. Lucien holds your gaze for a moment before letting out a tired sigh, “We will be heading back for a bit." You shake your head, turning away from him.

“I will tell you as soon as I can, I promise," he says as he steps forward, holding you by your shoulder as he lowers his forehead to lean against you.“Why are we going back?” It’s a whisper, but blood runs thicker than water. And you need to stick together, as you always did. Even if you still don’t understand anything, “There is a public outing. He needs us by his side." That makes you chuckle, “I also needed him by my side in case anyone was wondering.”.

"Yn," Lucien sighs, but you shake your head. “You don’t get to make me feel bad for him." It’s selfish, you know that. But they had sworn to protect you, and this feels like the opposite of it. “He’s figuring this out too; be kind," Lucien mumbles, pulling your hands into his and squeezing them. “Come on, you’ll get to watch the joy on Azriel’s face when I tell him that he’ll have to spend a couple of nights in autumn," he nudges you, making you smile ever so slightly, “Now that I can get behind”.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @emryb

#azriel acotar imagine #azriel x oc #eris x azriel #azriel x you #azriel imagien #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x oc #lucien vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you

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spectorgram · 1 month

Text

rooftop

dick grayson x f! reader content: nsfw implications but not actual nsfw word count: 1.0k

The brisk autumn breeze feels good against your skin as you climb up onto the rooftop of the Gotham Museum of Art, necklace in hand. You peer down at it, the ruby and sapphires winking back at you in the moonlight. It’s beautiful and you’re sure Selina will be able to raise its price even higher.

You stretch your arms up, enjoying the pull in your back, and you’re about to make your egress when your ears prick up. The sound of footsteps makes you smile; how considerate of him to announce his arrival. “Lovely night we’re having,” Nightwing says from behind you.

“Perfect for a nighttime stroll, no?” you reply.

“Looks like you’re here for a little more than that, Pantheress,” he says.

You finally turn to face him, shamelessly drinking him in. The black and blue suit clings to him like a second skin and you bite the corner of your lip, meeting his eyes with a cheeky grin. “You’re more than welcome to join me on my walk,” you tell him.

Nightwing smiles back at you. “Sure thing,” he says. “I’ll just need to take that, though.” He motions to the jewelry in hand.

“If that’s your condition, I guess we’ll have to take a rain check.”

“I still can’t let you leave.”

“Aww, you like me that much, birdy?”

He gives you an exasperated look. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You hum, pretending to think as you stalk toward him. His eyes follow your moves and he doesn’t move, even as your chest brushes against him. You glance at him. What color are his eyes under that mask, you wonder. You imagine that they’re electric blue, just as pretty as the rest of him. “How about this?” You move your arm behind your back, tightening your grip on the necklace. “We do this my way.”

And in a flash, you take off. You leap from building to building, Nightwing not too far off. You slow just a little bit to glance back when the sound of footsteps disappear behind you. You smirk to yourself, but as you jump for another rooftop, a body intercepts you.

Nightwing twists his body to take the brunt of the force and you tumble on top of him. You hastily try to regain footing but he flips, pinning you beneath him. You realized belatedly that the necklace is no longer in your hand, your head lifting to look around. Then, you see his Nightwing’s hand. You make one, quick grab at it but he’s faster, jerking his arm away, prompting you to sigh, “Thought we were having fun, Wing.”

“There’s nothing fun about theft, Pantheress.”

“You and I both know that rich assholes won’t be hurting too much from the loss,” you hiss at him.

“Stealing isn’t right,” he says firmly, “no matter what.”

You roll your eyes. “But I don’t see you locking up any millionaires who are pushing people out of their neighborhoods and building luxury properties on top of them.”

“That’s because it’s within the confines of the law, and even if I don’t agree with it, it’s still legal.”

You scowl and swipe at him, the retractable claws in your gloves unsheathing. He dodges but the way he shifts his weight gives you just enough time to shove him off you and put some distance between the two of you.

“You never go down without a fight,” he says, pocketing the necklace — you’re not even sure how it’s possible in that skin-tight suit — and reaching for the two escrima sticks strapped to his back.

“I thought that’s what you like about me.”

He lunges for your first and you leap away, bobbing and weaving underneath the swing of his escrima sticks. You claws graze the fabric of his suit, tearing a hole in the sleeve. You aim a kick at his chest but he drops one of his batons, using his free hand to grab your ankle and spin you off balance. Before you fall, you manage to grab him, pulling him down with you. You land on your chest, a strangled grunt leaving your lips as Nightwing lands on top of you. “We need to stop meeting like this,” you pant.

He snorts in amusement on top of you, sitting up. You scoff when you hear the clink of handcuffs. “Is that really necessary?”

“You know theft is a crime. I have to take you in.” As he tries to fasten one cuff around your left wrist, you start squirming, hoping your movements would throw him off guard. Instead, he holds a firm's hand on the center of your back. “Stop moving,” he hisses. It takes you a beat to realize there’s something hardening against your back.

You snicker, “Guess you really are happy to see me, birdy.”

For once, there’s no clever quip to come out of his mouth. You squirm more, delighting in the way he struggles to deal with you and stopping any sound from escaping. Then, Nightwing’s weight is thrown off you suddenly and the sounds of a small scuffle reach your ears. You take the chance to see Selina standing behind you. She tilts her head at you, smirking. “I’ve never had to bail you out like this, kitten.”

“My hero.” You peer over his shoulder. “Is the Bat following you?”

“Should be here shortly,” she says. “So we should take our leave.”

Before Nightwing has a chance to stop you again, Selina ushers you to the edge of the building and you two leap, disappearing into the night.

Dick curses as he watches you fade into the darkness below. Bruce lands beside him, and Dick resheaths his escrima sticks. “They got away,” Bruce says, though he doesn’t sound too unhappy.

“Yeah,” Dick replies. Next time, he’ll catch you. The thought excites him, makes him antsy for the next encounter. “At least we got the necklace back.” When he reaches into his pocket, he finds empty space. “Shit.”

a/n: i don’t think this is my finest work and it’s a bit rushed but i really wanted to write for one of my favorite and most beloved characters so i hope you enjoyed

#✶ nove writes #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing scenario

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rain-day-today · 4 months

Text

One thing that really rots my brain is the idea of the guild during the og baby fairytail members time and the domesticity of it. Cause like no way was gramps letting a bunch of super powered ( and incredibly destructive) 7-14year olds out of his sight.

Just imagine:

Little Natsu and emo teen Laxus having breakfast while very quietly whispering about their respective hoards collections of cat theme things ( I KNOW LAXUS IS A SECRET CAT LOVER I JUST KNOW IT)

Tiny Gray having an emo phase. Mira (a punk 14 year old) helping him out (after teasing him of course). The two spending many hours and lots of jewel to find and look through dozens of fashion magazines. Eventually falling asleep sprawled on the floor in a nest of semi-laminated paper.

Tween Lissana and levy giggling over the kissy scenes in books and Erza overhearing them. Spitting out her cake into Laxus’s face which makes them burst out into full on cackling.

Little Cana teaching natsu to make card pyramids for 3 hours and when he finally gets it, Elfman knocks it over. Every one thinks Natsu is going to punch someone, but he doesn’t, instead he starts full on bawling. Nobody knows what to do. Little Natsu cannot be comforted. Levy shuts him up by shoving candy into his mouth while cana really quickly rebuilds the pyramid.

Erza and Mira having a dance off on some of the tables ( mira breaks 3 of them in half with her stomping, Erza somehow stabs one). This is how everyone finds out to never take either of them to parties cause they dance like the deaf baby of giraffes and a buffalo.

Gray and climbing a tree to the very top and forgetting that he doesn’t know how to get down? He stays there till the next morning and seethes for the next week cause LISSANA had to carry him down.

Natsu following Gray around like a lost puppy his first week cause “he’s friend sized” and what else was he supposed to do? He knows nothing! Dudes not even from this time period. At least if he follows loud stripper he knows he wont get run over by a car. Gray not noticing or caring that he is being followed cause little guy has his own problems to deal with and “as long as he doesn’t take my food or breath on me.”

Cana having a plague doctor mask that elfman bought for her 13th birthday. She wears it to scare the shit out of everyone at the sleepovers.

Weekly “sleepovers” in the guildhall because it’s easier to do gramps weekly count of them when they are all lined up in their my little pony sleeping bags (yes this includes laxus and mira)

When Romeo is born they have a guild wide contest on whose name he says first (the answer is his own cause the little dude is a true fairytail wizard)

Levy managing to give everyone a heart attack after casually admitting that she hasn’t slept or ate anything but crackers and coffee cause she was trying to teach herself the equivalent of ancient greek.

Laxus and gray not knowing how to hold a baby (romeo)

Natsu “teething” on Erza. Everyone stares in shock cause there’s just Erza sitting there stone faced in full armor while Natsu chops down on her arm like he has rabies. ( he still bites her even when they’re older if he’s really stressed)

Everyone having a default crush on laxus or Mira

The guild kids try to make homemade shaved ice with grays ice and end up covering the entire town with really weird ice sculptures

Mira scaring the shit out of kids with her demon souls during Halloween

Someone stealing Mira or Natsu’s food and ending up with a burn on their tounge followed by natsu trying to “kiss it better”

Levy dozing off on the rafters and falling down onto poor elfman

Spin the bottle but instead of kissing you fight (grays idea)

Laxus has a spray bottle filled with water mixed with really bad smelling cologne that he uses to spray people when they’re bad, like cats.

No one in the guild knew how to swim until they turned 16 Lissana still can’t swim.

Its really really common to see elfman or gray duck-taped to the wall (its levy who does it)

Dont fall asleep around teen Mira she will draw titties on your face. (Where do you think natsu got it from?)

They all took a living 101 class when lissana was 13. It failed miserably. Laxus ended up being the grandfather to 6 rats and 3 hamsters

Laxus takes Lissana and Elfman out for brunch once a month because it pisses mira off to no end.

Levy, Lissana, and Laxus accidentally forming an L name club and plan their “meetings” within earshot of Mira and Erza to make them jealous.

“We should get cookies!”-levy

“And ice cream!”- lissana

“(Super smug face) im craving strawberry cake.”-laxus

*sounds of Erza bursting into flames of jealousy*

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Note

Peachy I am so in love with the dead disco Omegaverse AU! It absolutely plays on my heartstrings!

Can we have a continuation of the story so far? What happens when Darling finally comes off of her heat—I’m ready for the tough conversation!!!

-💀👻

18+ MDNI / dead disco omegaverse au / mature themes

takes place after this

Your head is stuffed with cotton. It’s full of nonsense, heavy and confused, like you’re drifting between a dream and reality, only one thing painfully clear.

Your heat is fading away, you’re nestled between two very warm bodies. It’s a hazy kind of warmth, the type that hangs heavy in the air, and your face presses further into the searing temperature of skin, seeking, smelling. You’re drinking in the scent of your alphas, blinking to try to clear your eyesight in the dark. The smell of them, woodsmoke and balsam, sinks through your consciousness until you’re shifting restlessly, detangling your limbs from the web of bodies, pushing and pulling against their grip.

You come to reality very quickly, and fear floods your nervous system.

No. No, no, no- you… you didn’t, they… they can’t have been here. They shouldn’t have been here-

“Omega.” Johnny murmurs against the back of your head, hand holding your hip steady, stroking circles into your skin to soothe you, keeping you in place. “Ye with us?”

You whimper. You can’t help it. It comes second nature, slipping out before you can stop it. Your muscles seize, like they’re preparing to spur you into action, and the room spins.

“No.” Simon murmurs. “Settle, darling.” He starts up a deep hum from his chest, harmonics vibrating through his bones to yours, genetics and hormones reacting to the pull of his designation, your body going boneless between them. “That’s it, good girl.”

Something is wrong. Beneath their efforts at producing a calming, soothing scent and atmosphere, there’s a tinge of anxiety. Of worry. Of distress.

You swallow.

“What’s going on?” You whisper, clenching your eyes shut.

You don’t want to face this. You don’t want to hear it… the truth. What they’ll say to you. About you.

Whispers of your past shudder across your mind, memories that you’ve worked so hard to keep away, locked up in a little box somewhere in the back of your consciousness.

You’re dirty. Your heats are dirty. You’re disgusting, like all omegas. Useless. Nothing. Just a thing to be bred, to be used. You have no value.

“I need ye to take a deep breath for me.” Johnny coaches, hand nestling against your breastbone from behind. When you do, it’s a struggle, jagged and rough. His lips find the shell of your ear, breathe fanning over your cheek. “Another one, darling. Try again-“ your ribs expand, and he kisses you sweetly. “Good. That’s it, just like that.”

“Are you hungry?” Simon asks, and you nod automatically. You’re starving, and they’ve most likely been listening to your stomach rumble for hours. He gives you a gentle smile. “I’m going to start some breakfast, and Johnny’ll get you in a shower in a minute.” You nod again. You feel like jelly, sore all over, and you imagine you probably haven’t been out of this bed in days.

The door opens, orange dusk filtering in from the living room as Johnny gives you another kiss along your jaw and sits up, pulling you close.

“Alright darling. Let’s get in the shower.”

Simon made way too much breakfast.

All your favorites, which is a good sign, you guess. And Johnny is glued to you, holding you in his lap on the couch while you eat, moving your plate and your coffee cup to and from the table to your hands.

Maybe this means they won’t throw you out.

“So.” You try to smile but it feels forced and wrong. “Am I in trouble?”

“No.” Johnny vows.

“No, of course not.” Simon agrees, pulling the plate from your fingers with a gentle tug. “But there’s a lot we need to talk about.” Your nose tingles with the threat of tears, and you fist your fingers together.

The silence is loud for a long moment. Uncomfortable, until Simon breaks it.

“I’m not going to ask why you didn’t tell us, because we know.”

The tears start immediately. You’re breaking under the weight of your shame, your fear, your past. It’s too heavy, and it hurts, ice in your chest like you’re dying.

“You know?”

“I called your doctor.” What? He what? Anger, and panic wells up in the back of your throat.

“You had no right-“

“You left the flat in the middle of your heat, in a near feral state. We found you on the street with another Alpha trying to lay a claim to you. I’m sorry for invading your privacy, but I’m not sorry for protecting you. We needed to know what was going on.” You tamp down the urge to jump to your feet and run out the front door. Johnny keeps his arms firm around your body, and you press against him anxiously.

You can’t do this. They’ll want to talk about it. They’ll want to know everything. They’ll know you’re dirty.

“Darling, hey. Look at me.” It’s Simon again, trying to catch your eye. “Everything is alright. There is nothing, nothing that you could ever do, or ever tell us, that would make us love you any less.” He’s so soft with his words, trying to coax you, but your head swings back and forth in denial.

“That’s not true.” You have to get out of here. Something is banging at the brink of your mind… something wild and raw, something trying to claw its way in. It’s violent… and feral. “I have to go.”

“What?” Johnny tugs you in tighter, but you thrash against the feeling, hysteria bubbling up in your stomach.

“Easy.” Simon wraps a hand around the back of your neck, squeezing just a bit. “Why is that not true?” When you don’t answer, he sighs. “Omega.” It’s a pull, the command of an Alpha, and you grit your teeth.

“I… I was always taught that heats are wrong, that Omegas are useless. That I’m-“

“No.” Johnny stops you. “There’s nothing wrong with ye.”

“You don’t understand.” You protest, and they both watch you mournfully.

Johnny presses his lips to your hair, and Simon pulls your hand into his.

“So tell us.”

#💀 👻 anon #peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au #ghost x soap x reader

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imababblekat · 1 year

Text

To Catch A Turtle

@foxespen, "So part of the spiderman powers are having enhanced strength, right? So they could probably pick up any one of the turtles pretty easy, even if they stand at like half the brothers’ height. Imagine during a fight one of the boys gets thrown off a roof and their friendly neighborhood spider catches them and is just hold them bridal style and says like “if you’re gonna fall for me, it doesn’t have to be on a roof”Or something"

~xXx~

It wasn’t often the boys and (s,n) would get into a tough fight, but it seemed that with BeBop and Rocksteady, it always was one. They were two formidable foes for the ninja turtles alone, so having someone like you to fight along side them in these cases was always a welcome advantage.

When Donnie had relayed an alert from Casey, it wasn’t long till the four brothers found themselves fighting the two enemy mutants atop a bank building. Five minutes into the fight and you made your entrance by web launching yourself into BeeBop’s face, with a corny, “Starting the party without me I see!”, as you back flipped off the warthogs face. Just like that, with cheerful greetings, you and the crime fighting terrapins fell into sync, dishing out all you could against the other two. However, as the fight drew on, perhaps due to growing exhaustion, not everyone was able to stay on top of their toes.

“What do these guys even want?!”, you asked aloud, dodging a thrown pipe and landing next to Leo.

The leader in blue charged forward, swinging his dual swords at Rocksteady who was quick to hold up a chunk of broken building to block the attack. Narrowly ducking out of a punch from BeBop, Donnie swung his staff into the warthogs side, earning a harsh yelp from the assailant.

“Not sure. April thinks they’re making some sort of deal and need the cash to do so.”

“Stay out of our business, turtles!”, BeeBop snapped, grabbing Donnies staff and shoving the taller terrapin back into Raphael who had tried to attack from the side.

“The zoo’s not going to take you two, no matter how much you bribe them!”, you quipped, easily dodging Bebops attacks and jumping onto his back, blinding him with multiple web shots and tugging him in different directions as he started a blind rampage.

A loud laugh came from Mikey as he watched you rodeo the warthog, Leo and Donnie running towards you to assist.

“Good one, angel cakes!”, Mikey winked, just missing a punch from Rocksteady.

“The insects jokes are lame!”, the rhino grunted with irritation, grabbing a hold of Mikeys swinging nun-chuck and pulling him forward to give him a hard kick.

“Hey! Only I can call their jokes lame!”

Rocksteady quickly looked over at the person who had shouted, only to suddenly be tackled by a very heated Raphael. With a strong hold of the larger mutants midsection, the red clad ninja used all of his might to push the other to the edge of the building. Despite nearly having the wind knocked out of him by Raphael, Rocksteady was quick to firmly grasp his shell. With a loud grunt from above, Raphael had suddenly found himself being lifted into the air, staring down at a triumphant Rocksteady before being sent flying over the tall buildings edge. The last thing heard, as Raphael struggled to regain sense of what was up and what was down, were his brothers frantically shouting after him. At the height he just been thrown from, Raphael knew that even collapsing into his shell would prove futile to the crushing gravity once he hit the streets below.

Out of nowhere, Raphael felt his stomach lurch back and forth as something, or rather someone, swiftly swung him from one side of a building to another in a quick descent. It wasn’t till the world stopped spinning around him did Raphael peek open an eye, confusion followed quickly by shock when he realized who had been his savior.

“You know, Raphael, you make quite the cute damsel in distress if I do say so myself.”, you cheekily jested, and said turtle could just picture your eyebrows wagging beneath your mask.

(S,n) had been holding the bulky terrapin like he was air. Their arms snuggly wrapped beneath his knees and the midsection of his shell. Despite the alarming size difference, you cradled Raphael so carefully and securely, in a way that he had wished to someday carry a significant other. Yet, to be the one being held in such a manner, caused the macho man of a turtle to feel his face quickly heat up, and scramble out of your arms even quicker when he heard the approaching foot steps of his brothers. One could practically feel the heat of embarrassment radiating off of him, as he tried desperately to play things cool.

“What happened to BeBop and Rocksteady?”, Raph questioned his brothers, hoping beyond belief that they hadn’t seen a thing.

“They managed to get away, but not without leaving behind what they tried to steal. Casey and the NYPD are on their way to pick up the stolen goods.”, Leo informed, looking between his flustered sibling and the spider person beside him.

Raphael just let out a scoff, turning sharply and walking off in a random direction.

“Where are you going?”, Mikey confusingly asked.

“To find my sai's.”

“Your welcome by the way!”, you shouted out, to which Raphael simply sent you back a deep scowl before returning to his search.

Despite the aggravated grumbling you could hear come from the hot headed person you saved, you continued to smile to yourself, the squinted eyes of your mask telling of your hidden expression. Pulling out a pen and small note pad, the parchment labeled (s,n) Notes, Donnie began to scribble away.

“Did he even weigh anything to you?”, he questioned with scientific curiosity.

You shrugged, hands on your hips as you peered up at Donnie.

“Like a feather.”

“Oo, oo! Me next!”, Mikey excitedly shouted, bounding towards you at top speed.

Not even your spidey senses could have prepared you for Mikey’s suddenness, you both collapsing to the ground just as you’d barely caught him in your arms. Leo merely shook his head in slight disappointment, Donnie continuing to jot down notes, and Raphael in the distance still trying to calm his flustered heart.

~xXx~

#bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raph x reader #bayverse raphael x reader #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse donnie x reader #bayverse donatello x reader #bayverse mikey x reader #bayverse michelangelo x reader #tmnt x reader #aged up tmnt #tmnt spiderman au #spiderman reader #@foxespen #imababblekat's writing

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thiefoflight68 · 1 year

Text

TAMING OF THE CREW

Bakusquad x Fem!reader Insert

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

I recently read a great story on Tumblr by @succubisblog

Bakusquad G*ngbang Drabble 18+ - Link to story (also reblogged on my Tumblr account). If you want to read it first.

Love a great GB, but got me thinking about how I could make a sequel with a TWIST! You know I LOVE me some fluffy GngBng!!

Enjoy!!

STOP! If you are not over 18, please DNI

4 men 1 woman/use of slut/whore/praise/daddy/baby girl. Blowjob, toys, penetration/ references to anal sex

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Sitting in the living room, you suck down a coffee while typing on your laptop, you glance at the clock, not much time, you need to finish.

“Hey, (y/n), you’re not streaming yet?” Looking up you see Mina come out of her bedroom. She stumbles and collapses onto the couch. “Fuck,” she moans.

“What the hell?” You move in time as her head almost lands in your lap.

“Sorry,” she spins around looking up, her skin white and sweaty. Touching her forehead lightly you frown, furrowing your brows. “Crap,” she touches her face, “that bad?”

“Kinda,” you turn your attention back to the computer. “I heard you went to the frat party last night. The football players?” You give her a hard stare.

“They had a live band!” She whines.

Shrugging you laugh, “you know why those guys hire them, right?”

“I know, I know, but-”

“Fuck!” The door slams as your other roommate storms into the apartment throwing down her grocery bags.

“Whoa! What the hell girl? What’s wrong?”

Looking up she just shakes her head, putting away her food.

You notice Mina covering her face, glancing between the two of them, you watch as food is all but thrown into the fridge.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Mina,” she shoves her empty bags into the pantry and stalks to the couch. “Next time you get drunk at their fucking frat house, you” she points in her face, “are on your own!” Marching down the hall she disappears into her room, slamming her door.

“What happened to-” you pause seeing the look on Mina’s face. “No,” you cover your mouth, looking down the hall and back at her, she nods. “With her?” She nods again. “Of all the people, I never thought she’d get pulled into that nonsense.”

“Helllloooo!” Ochako opens the door, her cheeks red from the cool air. Pulling off her coat, she plops into the chair across from you. “It feels nice in here, but we should turn the heat up,” she rubs her arms. You throw a blanket at her. Laughing she wraps herself up, “what’s wrong with her?” She nods towards Mina.

“Hungover.” Mina moans loudly as emphasis.

“Crap you didn’t go to the frat party last night did you?”

“I did but Bakugou called an Uber for me.” You snort loudly grabbing your computer, you begin typing again. “What?!” Mina looks up at you.

“Only because,” you cast a look down the hall, “someone else was getting gangbanged, otherwise it would’ve been you Mina.”

“Oh shit!” Ochako leans forward, “did-”

“Yes,” Mina sighed, getting up. “She came to get me last night because I was drunk and I guess she got sweet-talked into playing with them.”

“She hates them!”

“She does,” you agree.

“You can’t trust them,” Mina quips.

“Then why’d you go?” Ochako’s voice is icy, almost snippy.

“They had Wrong Way/One Way playing last night,” Mina pulls the other blanket off the couch and curls around the fuzzy softness. “You know how much I like them...” her voice trails off as she picks at the edge of the blanket.

“How does anyone get sweet-talked into ‘playing’ with those guys,” you roll your eyes. “They think they’re god’s gift to sex.” You look back at the computer keeping your eyes downcast, you don’t want them to see the disappointment in your eyes. “Who was there last night?” You side-eye Mina.

“I think just Kiri, Bakugou and Denki?” She shakes her head, “I can’t imagine all those cocks at once could be that good,” giggling as she buries her face in the blanket.

“Um,” Ochako coughs slightly blushing, “it’s pretty amazing.” Looking up, your brows shoot up. Blushing redder, she looks away.

“You too?”

“Not all of them, it was just Bakugou and Kirishima,” she jumps up, going into the kitchen, she grabs the kettle. “Anyone want tea?”

“I do,” Mina looks up, “I can’t believe you fucked them Ochako!” She bites her lip, “so is it true?”

“What true?” Ochako flips the heat on the kettle and pulls out the tea.

Shrugging she picks more at the blanket, “I heard they can make you orgasm like ten times.” You peer at her for a moment and look back at Ochako.

“Ten is an exaggeration, but,” she smiles wistfully, “it was close.”

“Seriously?” Mina stands up, her skin growing paler, “oh shit, I shouldn’t move that fast.”

“Sit down before you puke on the rug,” you push her back. “So, how many times did they cum?” Ochako crinkles her forehead.

“Crap, (Y/n),” she laughs, “I can’t remember, maybe two times each?”

“Anything else?”

“Anything else?” She tilts her head, giving you a quizzical look, “besides cumming?”

“Did they tie you up? Blindfold you?” You turn off your computer, it’s time to stream soon.

“Oh!” Ochako blooms another shade of red. “No, Bakugou controls the whole thing, he told Kiri what to do with me,” a soft smile plays on her lips. “And he gets pretty verbal, things like ‘be a good whore’ and ‘look only at me’. He has a daddy kink too.” She pours hot water over the tea and lifts one for you.

“He does?” standing up you grab the tea cup, “thanks.”

“What are you doing? A research paper on them?” Ochako laughs nervously as she hands Mina one of the mugs.

“Sort of,” you give her a weak smile as you pick up your stuff and walk down the hall.

“Good luck on your stream,” Mina calls as you head into your room.

Sitting down on your bed, you sigh heavily. Katsuki Bakugou was someone that had been stuck in your head for a long time. You’d been in a freshman class your first semester with him and his whole crew. They’d been different then, as nervous as everyone else, well everyone but Bakugou, he’d been cocky from the start.

Stop it!

Scolding yourself, you focus on getting ready for class, Rolling out your yoga mat, you set up the ring light, still trying to shake off those feelings from long ago. Try as you might though, unwanted memories continue floating through your mind. Somehow you’d ended up at the same table as them and had been assigned to a project with Bakugou. It had been a complicated research presentation and you’d had to meet several times. What you discovered was that he was actually a fairly nice person, not something most knew about him. While you had hid it well, it was during that time you’d fallen for him, nursing a one-sided crush. It was right after that project he’d pledged the fraternity with all of his friends and then you rarely saw him, except for tests or presentations. You found out someone was taking notes for the group and based on the stories you knew they were either on the football field or throwing parties. Their fraternity parties were getting more wild and word spread about their legendary gangbangs. You’d steered clear of them at that point and pushed away your feelings for Bakugou. Well, at least tried, you still listened to the rumors and it was the growing stories of their sexual prowess that had piqued your interest. Not that you ever planned on getting sucked into their shit, but it was around that time you started your journey into increasing your own sexual abilities. You weren’t sure why…or did you know? Smiling, you sit and flip on your stream. In some way you still feel weirdly connected to him, like a itch that had never been scratched. You’d been motivated to think you could be his equal or maybe better and deep down you do know why. “Ten orgasms,” you mutter sarcastically but an intense ache throbs through your clit, sucking in a deep breath, you look up at the ceiling. The fantasy you nursed was quite simple, you’d dreamed that you could make him so desperate from your sexual abilities that he’d devote himself to you. Laughing off the wild dream, you see the camera light click red.

“Alright, we are almost done for tonight everyone,” you sit down on your mat. The room is softly lit now by candles, your ring light turned down. “Great job, remember this session is for new people and I know,” you hold up your hands, “in the beginning you don’t think you feel anything. Trust me, I was there once too.” Pausing as you read some comments, you laugh at the sarcastic quips, “I promise in a few months your muscles will get stronger and before you know it, you’ll be able to really tell the difference.” Stretching your arms over your head, you read more in the chat. “Hi Simpplaidgirl,” you laugh to yourself, the user names always make you chuckle. “I stream twice a week to go over exercises and questions. I know these seem really basic but,” you sit up tall pointing to your lower abdomen, “we need to increase the strength in our pelvic floor muscles before learning how to isolate our vaginal walls. The beginning is just doing contractions, but as you advance we will move on to squeezing and learning how to move the right and left sides compared to the front and back of our canal. In fact, you will be able to lock, twist and pulse your partner’s penis deep inside you.” You wink, “I can even suck a vibrator completely into my vagina, push it out and pull it back in again,” wiggling your fingers, “with no hands.” Grinning you see the comments flying through one after the other. “I know, I know but look if I can do it, so can you. Right now though we need to stretch and then anyone who wants to stay,” you hold up a dildo, “we’ll be going over blowjob techniques.” You lay back looking into the camera, “now, lift up your right leg and cross it over your left.”

Running as fast as you can down the hall, you see the room number, “finally,” you hiss out and dash into the room. Stopping you manage to grab the door before it bangs shut behind you. A few people look up and then back to the professor, who is writing out the lecture notes on the board. Scanning the room you spy a table with a couple of open chairs and race to it, sitting down quickly, you pull out your laptop. Taking a moment to breathe you pick up on what the professor is saying. A small cough to your right gets your attention, looking over you freeze, hands hovering above your keyboard. It’s him, your heart leaps in your chest, blood pounds almost painfully through your body. A cocky grin sweeps across his face, winking Katsuki smirks at you. You finally manage to smile back but realize he’s already focused on the lecture again. Shaking your head you quickly start copying what is on the board. After a few moments you cast a quick glance back around the table, your stomach doing a flip, they’re all there. Eijiro smiles at you briefly as he types into his computer, Kaminari is busy playing on his phone. Swallowing hard you realize you picked the absolute worst seat in the world, the only one missing is Sero. The door closes again and someone crosses the room and sits in the empty seat next to you, looking over you almost groan out loud, it’s Sero. He grins at you as he pulls out his computer. Focusing on the professor you refuse to smile back, trying to pretend you’re anywhere else. The lecture isn’t long, you breathe a sigh of relief as the professor wraps up.

“I have a small project for each table to complete over winter break,” he points to a stack of papers. “This isn’t difficult but it’s an excellent warm up for our final.” Someone grabs the papers and starts handing them out. “Let’s not get fancy, whatever table you're with right now is your group. Please write your names on one of the papers going around so that I know who is at what table. This should only take you a couple of weeks, so good luck everyone.”

Your mouth falls open as the TA slides the blank sheet of paper onto your table. Denki writes his name and pushes it to Kiri who slides it over to Sero, grabbing the sheet from him, Bakugou quickly scribbles on it and hands it back to the assistant.

“Uh, wait!” You reach out towards the TA as he walks away. “Hey,” you glare at Katsuki, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

The gleam in his eye makes you pause, “I need to put my name on the list.” You wonder why you’re even arguing. “I actually have to get a good grade in this class,” you huff, as much as you hate to work with them, you have to keep up your gpa for your grad school applications.

Packing up his bag, he shrugs, “I put your name down.”

“You - You know who I am?” Your voice slowly rises in disbelief.

Ignoring you, he picks up a packet, “let’s meet on Thursday to get this done.” All three men look at him curiously.

“We have two weeks Bakugou,” Sero laughs, “what’s the rush?”

“I want to get it done, what the fuck’s the problem?”

Peeking at them as you push your computer into the bag you see everyone exchange quick glances, Kiri looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Thursday good for you? Um, sorry I don’t know your name.” Kiri asks, still looking at you.

“(Y/N), I’m Mina’s roommate,” Kaminari swings his head to look at you, a lascivious look on his face. You scowl at him, “other roommate.”

“Oh.”

“You room with Ochako too,” Eijiro closes his computer, his eyes twinkling.

“I do,” your voice clipped, you grab one of the project packs. “I have a better idea, let’s assign duties and that way we can work online.”

“We have to get to practice,” Bakugou shoves back his chair. Reaching over he writes a number on your paperwork, “text me to confirm Thursday or we’ll find another day.” He starts for the door.

Staring at the phone number, your mind is spinning, you need to figure something out quickly. “Thursday I have something and I’m usually slammed during the week, how about this weekend?” You smile wide, they always have parties or games, weekends would never be good for them.

“We can do Friday,” Kaminari is already looking at his phone, “bye week this week.”

“Oh, what’s a bye week?” You ask lamely, Friday night was definitely worse.

“Means no game,” Kiri throws his bag over his shoulder, “we can meet anytime after 5, just let Bakugou know when you can get together.” Giving you a long look, he follows the rest of the group.

“(Y/N)?” You turn to see Ochako at a table across the way. “Where were you?” Standing, she watches them leave, “I saved you a seat.”

Closing your eyes, you want to cry, “I forgot they changed rooms this week and went to the auditorium.”

“Oh shit. So, who are you working with on the project?” She cocks a brow knowingly.

“No one,” you groan, grabbing your bag. “Let’s go.”

Sitting on your bed, you bite your lip, your finger hovering over your phone. Finally you type in his number. You’ve already decided that a public place was the only way you’d meet with them.

(Y/n) - Friday is fine, 6 pm at the library

The text sits unread, waiting a few minutes, you breathe out. “Crap,” you set down the phone just as it flashes with his response.

(Bakugou) - Library closed early on Friday, meet at our fraternity house - same time.

“What?!” Opening the campus website you scroll quickly to the information page, there on the top is the announcement of the library closure on Friday through Monday. “Nooo!” You wail, staring at the screen trying to think of any other place.

(Y/n) - No, a cafe instead

(Bakugou) - You know I don’t like working at places like that, fraternity house or ask the prof for a different group.

You can practically hear the growl behind the text. “Shit,” clearly he knows who you are and remembers the time you’d spent working on the last project. He’d never wanted to meet anywhere public and had always insisted on the private dorm study rooms available only to freshmen. Sighing, you debate your choices. Your phone flashes with another text.

(Bakugou) - Worried?

Snorting you glare at your phone. “Yes,” you mumble.

(Y/N) - No

(Bakugou) - See you Friday then, 6 pm - our house.

“Ugh!” Flopping down on your bed, you hug your pillow. Why, why, why? Why did you wait to take this class with Ochako, you’d be done by now! Why did you forget the classroom change today? Sighing you close your eyes, outside of asking for a table switch, which you dreaded, the damn professor had been anything but nice, you’d have to go and work on the project with them. Picking up your phone you read through the texts again. He’d remembered you, a small thrill courses through your body. You’d figured he’d forgotten, but he’d actually remembered your name. Sitting back up, you touch the screen of your phone, the thrill turning into a deeper ache. Friday night, hugging your knees, the swirling of nervous energy in your stomach turns into a full storm blowing through your body. Isn’t this what you’d wanted all along? “Here’s your chance girl, grab it,” you whisper but you're still trembling. You’d spent over two years perfecting your skills for one man, you steel yourself, even if he comes with a pack, it was worth everything. It would be a challenge but you wanted him to be the one having ten orgasms. Laughing, you jump up, opening your closet and begin picking out your clothes carefully.

Getting out of your car, you smooth your clothes. You chose a simple black skirt and a soft low cut blouse that showed the swell of your breasts without being blatant. Underneath you wore black silk thigh highs with your favorite dark pink lingerie set, a butt plug firmly in place. You’d hydrated, eaten right, cleaned everything and packed your toys, since your past boyfriends always struggled to bring you to orgasm, you’d decided to bring your personal equipment, in case the rumors weren’t true. Working your way to the large fraternity house, you knew you were more than prepared physically. Squeezing your pussy walls together in a quick whipping motion you try to make yourself feel confident. If something did happen and anyone was going to be begging for more tonight, it would be them. The fantasy you’d nursed for three years was taking shape as you stepped up on the wide porch, gripping the handle of your backpack tightly, you bravely knock on the door. It swings wide as Denki smiles and waves.

“There you are.”

Your heart leaps in your chest. Smiling back your calm face hides the crazed emotions rolling through your mind and body.

“Come in,” he motions for you to follow him through the large home. Walking through the expansive hallway, you stare at the multitude of paintings and pictures, the house is really beautiful.

“How does this place stay so nice?”

“What?” Denki turns to look at you following your gaze.

“The parties,” you explain.

“Oh, those are held out back,” he waves his hand over his head, “there’s a rec room that way, we try to keep these areas free of all that shit.”

“That's gotta be hard,” you note the wood is in almost perfect condition. He laughs and bounds up the steps, turning he watches you come up the rest of the stairs not moving as you step on the top step.

“You’re really pretty,” Kaminari appraises your body, “what a waste.”

You choke for a moment, “ a waste?” You blink, was he being serious?

“Yeah,” he looks over his shoulder, “we were given strict instructions-”

“Denki!” Bakugou shouts, interrupting as he strides out of a wide door across from the stairs, “where the hell is she?” Poking your head around the smaller blonde’s body you smile.

“Here.” You see his eyes flare for a moment as he clicks his tongue.

“We don’t have all day, let’s get this done.”

Following Denki, you walk into a room that appears to be an oversized library or office, you aren’t sure which. A large desk sits to one side surrounded by endless shelves of books. Several large tables fill the room, Sero and Eijiro sit with their computers, both don’t look happy. You set your bag on the table, “great way to spend Friday night, right?” You mutter apologetically. Sero glares over at Bakugou then down at his computer.

“No one had plans,” Katsuki sits down pointing to an empty chair, “take that seat.”

“I grabbed some more drinks and snacks,” Sero pushes more food onto the table, without glancing up you grab some chips and begin munching. It’d been three hours and you were exhausted, but true to his word Bakugou had made everyone power through and you were finally done.

“A title page and that’s it,” leaning back you stretch and stand up, bouncing around trying to get the blood back into your legs.

“I’ve got that,” Kirishima finishes typing while watching you jump around.

“That’s it?” Denki lays on his arm, closing his eyes in relief. “If this was an easy warm up, man, that final is going to be killer.”

“We could study for it together if you want,” the words are out of your mouth before you realize what you’ve said, you close your mouth. He lifts his head for a moment then plops back down.

“Maybe.”

Feeling relief at his non-committal attitude you sit back down. The whole night had been so normal you really meant what you said. The group had studied and put together the project, no stares or winks, some smiles and a few glances at your chest, but nothing else. Your confidence had been growing by leaps and bounds as you’d watched them work together naturally. Clearly Bakugou was in charge, Kiri and Denki seemed to rely on him the most, both flanking him on either side. You’d chuckled at how they hung on his words and actions. Eijiro was sincere and hard working, seeking praise from Bakugou while Kaminari just played around the whole time and only offered a few bits of help when Katsuki snarled at him. Sero seemed to be the only one that would challenge Bakugou at anything. It was at these times that Katsuki would listen and make his decision, whereas with Denki and Kiri, he usually immediately dismissed them, until Sero agreed with them and then he would soften and contemplate the disagreement.

“We’re done,” Kirishima looks at his phone, “and it’s still early.”

Glancing at your own phone, it's just after 9, your nerves start to pick back up. Would they say something now? “Glad that’s over,” you laugh self-consciously, cleaning up your stuff, you peek up at Bakugou. He’s focused on his computer.

“I sent everyone the project,” he looks up. “I don’t think we have to present this one, but if we do, we’ll figure it out later.” His red eyes land on you, “is that cool?” He notices a slight hesitation flicker across your face as you nod. “I guess that’s a night then,” standing he stretches and comes up behind you, reaching for your bag.

“Why in a hurry?” Denki snickers softly, leaning his chin into his hands, he bats his long gold lashes.

“Cut it out,” Katsuki grabs your bag and pulls your chair out, he glares at Kaminari.

“What’s up Bakugou?” Sero tips his head, “don’t want to share her?”

“Share me?” You step back, colliding into Katsuki’s solid chest. “S-sorry!” You jump forward stumbling, his hand catches your arm holding you steady.

“Oi, stop moving around.” Casting an annoyed look at Sero, his jaw clenches. “She isn’t someone that could handle this group.” Tugging on your arm, he softens his tone. “Get your computer and I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Can’t handle this group?” You spin around glaring at him, “I’m not some baby!” Fiercely grabbing your bag in Katsuki’s hands, you pull it away from him.

“I’ve got it,” Bakugou barks, pulling at the same time.

“Wait! NO!” You watch in horror as the bag tips upside down, one by one your toys spill out onto the floor. First your clit vibrator, followed by your vibrating beads, then the bottle of lube lands with a thud, spinning a few times and rolling to a stop at Bakugou’s feet.

Tilting his head, a cocky grin crosses his face. “Maybe I judged you wrong (Y/n)?” Leaning over he picks up the items from the floor and sets them on the table, still holding the small vibrator. He cups your chin running a thumb across your lips. “Were you hoping for an after-study session?” Lifting the device he pushes the button to start the buzzing.

You hear chairs scrape back as the others stand. “Whatcha got there?” Sero picks up the lube, “this is good stuff, what are you planning on doing with this?” His tone is playful.

For a moment you want to run and hide, to take back all the preparation, maybe you weren’t ready for this group. Looking down you try to think of what to say, slowly looking up you stare into those molten red eyes, gazing at you openly now, a fire ignites deep inside you. The surge of desire you’ve been holding back all these past years floods your senses. Biting his thumb still on your lip, you smile. “The vibrator,” you reach up and touch the button to turn up the intensity, “is because no can bring me to orgasm without this,” your voice edged with the challenge. Grinning wickedly, his thumb slides over the device to turn it off.

“Then I guess we won’t need it,” tossing it back on the table, he flicks a quick look at Sero, “grab the lube.” Laying a hand on your backside, he squeezes your ass.

Watching the vibrator bounce on the table, you tilt your head, “you sure about that?“ You tease, looking around at the others, moving around you, their eyes gleaming with desire. “Are we going to do it here?” you thump the table. There is a flicker of uncertainty for a brief second in Bakugou’s eyes, you smile inwardly to your toes, you’ve surprised him. “Not that I mind, but is there somewhere a bit more comfortable?” You reach out and run a finger along his jawline, “since there’s so many of us.” Rough hands land on your hips.

“Let’s go to Bakugou’s room,” Eijiro kisses your ear sending a tremor through your body, his fingers kneading your hips.

Tipping your head back so your lips are as close to his ear as possible, you run your hand through his hair, “what a good boy,” you murmur so softly only he can hear, his face flushes a deep red. He stares at you, the same look of uncertainty shines in his eyes. You conceal a triumphant smile.

Bakugou jerks you suddenly from Kiri’s grip, slamming you into his chest, looping his arm heavily over your shoulders. “This way,” he leads you abruptly out the door and down the hall, opening his bedroom door. The others walk quickly behind him. Stopping he swings you around, his mouth covers yours in a punishing kiss, rough and urgent, you revel in the fierceness, looping your arm around his neck you push into him, demanding even more. You feel hands sliding up your skirt.

“Wait,” you try to pull back but Katsuki presses you tightly against his body.

“No waiting, (Y/n), you’re ours now,” Denki snickers, closing and locking the door.

Peering around Bakugou’s shoulder you give Denki a smoldering look that freezes him in his tracks, “if you want to play Kaminari, then everyone plays by my rules.” Sweeping a gaze at each man, you lift a brow, “otherwise nothing happens.”

“Too late-”

“What rules?” Bakugou growls, cutting off Sero, he lays a heavy hand on your face, “go on.”

“No filming,” you peek again at Denki, who is already holding up his phone, his gold eyes darting to Katsuki. “If I tap someone or call out that I’m in pain, then everyone has to stop so I can get comfortable again, afterall,” you level a sultry gaze at Katsuki who is looming above you, “this is about pleasure, right?”

“Yeah,” he points to Denki, “no camera,” turning back he waits for a moment but you’re quiet, “anything else?”

“One last thing,” taking a deep breath you summon every shred of courage possible. The fantasy that has played in your mind is now a possibility, you’re going to grab for the brass ring. “If I can make all of you cum before I do, you all have to be my devoted slaves for one month.”

“Your what?” His brows furrow.

“You heard me,” you smirk at Katsuki’s incredulous look, “if I win then for one month, you and your crew have to do whatever I ask.” You spread your hands over his chest, “maybe slaves is too harsh a word.” You look at all of them, “let’s say devoted boyfriends for one month if I can make all of you cum before I do.” His tongue clicks lightly as he studies you.

“All of us cum first? Shit, I’ll take that bet any day.” Sero laughs. “What do we get?”

You glance at Sero, “If I lose, then I’ll be the devoted slave for whoever doesn’t cum during the next thirty days.” You pat Sero’s shoulder, “are you in?” You turn to Eijiro whose face is still bright red, “Kirishima?”

“Well, I, uh,” he’s staring desperately at Katsuki.

“You serve all of us or no deal,” Bakugou snaps, “and we choose who goes when and where.”

Twisting your lips, you nod slightly, “okay, I agree to serve all of you but” you shake your head, “we decide together on who goes when.” You don’t want Bakugou first, your body is already too fired up from touching him. You know you need to finish off the others first, if he’s last and feeling pressured you had a chance with him.

“Worried?” He laughs sarcastically, “or maybe your bark is worse than your bite,” he hooks his thumb into the corner of your mouth, opening your lips you let him press inside, you don’t answer. “Who goes first then?” He doesn’t take his thumb out of your mouth, you flick a glance at Denki, then to Sero and last to Kirishima. Chuckling he grins wide.

“Denki, you’ve been underestimated again,” he laughs as your eyes widen. Digging his thumb deeper, he steps within an inch of your face, “our cameraman has delayed ejaculation, that’s why he mainly films, he takes too long.”

“Why?” You mouth around his thumb.

“Cause I like a strong grip,” Denki sidles up alongside you, “been masturbating so long, I only cum with a tight fist, no pussy gives me that feeling.”

Pulling out his thumb, Katsuki sweeps his gaze up your body, “so, I go last? How about you warm up Sero in your mouth while Denki fucks you for the next hour or until your senseless?” He pulls off his T-shirt. Your eyes go owl wide as you stare at his chest. Laughing at your expression, Katsuki tosses his shirt to the side, “this is like taking candy from a fucking baby.”

The rest of them take off their shirts, looking around, you realize you’re in the middle of four of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. “My turn,” you shake off yourself mentally and slip off your shirt, exposing the lacy bra you’d chosen. This piece has always been your favorite as it shows your breasts off perfectly. You hear a soft whistle.

“Damn, (Y/n), you hide those way too well,” Kaminari’s eyes are glued to your chest. He was definitely a boob man, reaching forward you take his hands and put them on your breasts feeling your nipples harden under his warmth. Whatever it took to get him excited fast would make it easier to get him to cum. His hands begin to knead you roughly, pinching your nipples, your body wakes up pushing a soft moan from your lips.

“Don’t make this too easy on us,” Kaminari leans over pushing aside the lace and suckles at your nipple. Another moan, this one louder erupts from your lungs. His tongue flicking at your hard nub. His mouth feels amazing but you know getting yourself to orgasm isn’t easy, something only you’ve been able to do with your toys. You can hear the others begin removing the rest of their clothes, you reach and unclip your skirt letting it pool at your ankles, exposing black thigh highs and your strappy thong with small chains running around your hips.

“Fuck,” you hear Kiri breath out, turning to him, you grab his face and pull him in for a deep kiss, playing with his tongue. Sero’s mouth closes around your other nipple, you utter a guttural groan in the kiss. Two at once with different tempos is mind blowing.

“Since everyone is so busy, let me start back here,” Bakugou walks behind you, slapping your ass appreciatively. Getting down on his knees, he pulls your thong aside and pauses, tapping your butt plug. “Looks like we have someone that likes ass play.”

“What?” Sero snaps his head up, “seriously? Oh shit,” he breathes out.

“No ass for you Sero, you’ll cum just thinking about it, in fact, her fucking ass is off limits for everyone.”

“Katsuki!”

“Fucking shut it, after she cums Sero, win the damn bet and you can fuck her ass all you want for the next thirty days.” Pushing his face between your legs, he begins licking up your already drenched folds. “She’s nice and wet already,” he laughs, reaching deep with his tongue.

You shiver at the sudden intrusion, heat building into your pussy, you focus back on the kiss with Kiri, pushing away the intense throbbing now pulsing under your clit.

Sero latches back onto your nipple, now nipping, “I’ll fucking make you cum, (Y/n). I want that ass.”

“I think this little slut will cum before one cock splits this pussy,” Bakugou smiles as he feels your walls flutter in reaction to his mouth. “You like that?” He runs his hands up your legs enjoying the silky feel of your stockings.

“Mmmm,” you move your hips back to push his mouth against your clit.

“Kinda risky, don’t you think?” His mouth wraps around your swollen clit as he begins to suck. You mewl loudly at the sweet feeling of his tongue dragging you into his mouth rhythmically.

“F-Fuck,” you kiss Eijiro deeper, reacting to the others working on your body. You’ve never experienced so many sensations at once, you need to get Denki into your body before you give them too much time. “Lube?” You pull back digging your fingers into Sero’s soft hair, he bites your nipple and looks up, black eyes glittering. Reaching back, he pulls the bottle off the table. Snagging it, you pump some in your hand, you grasp Denki’s swollen cock. Slathering him liberally, you fist his dick tightly and begin to stroke. His mouth falls open releasing your nipple as he gasps from your grip. You feel Bakugou pull away from your pussy.

“Kaminari,” he stands quickly, grabbing your hand. “You’ll fucking cum too fast that way,” he growls, “fucking dunce head.” Pushing him sideways, he grabs your face from Kiri’s mouth, squeezing your cheeks, “on all fours, now.” His hand presses hard on your back.

Stumbling forward you grab Sero to balance yourself, his hands guide you down. “Thanks,” you mumble, getting yourself comfortable.

“Shove your dick in her mouth,” he nods to Sero.

“I know what the fuck to do Bakugou,” he grins as you look up opening your mouth wide, tongue hanging out. “What a good fucking slut,” Sero strokes your cheek, “let’s see what you can do with this,” he smiles, shoving his dick into your face.

Playful, he likes playful. Looping your fingers around his stiff cock, you suck hard, working the tip with your lips and tongue. Denki’s hands are on your ass, spreading you open, you shudder waiting as he slides his hard dick against you.

“Damn you look so fucking good,” Denki licks his lips, “don’t even need lube, you’re so fucking wet.” Sliding slowly into your pussy, his eyes close as you grip him tightly. “Oh fuck yeah, that feels good.”

Bakugou wiggles himself under your body, his mouth latching onto your nipple, he sucks hard. He reaches down at the same time, fingering your throbbing clit. “Gonna make you cum fast,” he pinches your clit.

Squeezing your eyes shut you move your hips as his fingers start to pull at the increasing restlessness inside you. Distract yourself. Concentrating back on Sero, you tease him as you bounce and suck on his cock, slowly taking him all the way into your mouth. Finally you plunge his cock against the back of your throat. Glancing sideways you see Kiri is watching you with a tight expression on his face. Pumping lube in your hand, you reach out for him. He catches your fingers and guides you to his stiff cock, its huge, side-eyeing him again, you see it, thick and long. You shudder again as Denki pushes deeper starting to pump into your pussy, the incredible jolt from his cock and Bakugou’s finger on your clit has you groaning on Sero’s cock.

“That’s it baby, cum for daddy,” Bakugou times his rhythm on your clit with Denki’s thrusts.

Clenching your throat around Sero, you’re surprised by the first telltale pops pulling tautly deep inside your body. You have to finish Denki off and fast. Fighting the growing orgasm, you lock down on him just as thrusts hard inside you. He likes it tight. Caught in your vice grip, you feel him try to pull back a few times, his cock stuck in your pussy.

“Hey-” Your next move rips the words from his brain.

Squeezing his cock with all your strength, you move the walls of your pussy back and forth, stroking him in a fast twisting motion.

“H-HEY!” Denki squeals, you feel his hands on your ass trying to pull back even harder. His attempts make you almost giggle as you raise your eyes up to Sero and open your mouth around his dick, letting saliva spill down your chin, you smile.

“Good girl,” he murmurs all of his attention on your mouth.

Keeping Denki in an iron grip, you begin to contract your pussy quickly, pulsing along his whole shaft, mimicking a tight hand job. His cock bulges as you stroke faster. Grinning, you continue to suckle Sero as you run a thumb over the tip of Kiri’s cock, precum gushes over your fingers. The masterful finger on your clit is driving you wild but you continue to push it out of your mind concentrating hard on making Denki cum.

“(Y/n)” Kaminari whimpers as his cock starts twitching, whatever you’re doing feels just like an iron fist squeezing his whole dick. “Don’t - fuck - don’t-“ his balls pull tight as a deep pulsing rips through his muscles. Digging his fingers into your hips, he screams, “OH HELL!!”

The finger on your clit stops as you pull Kaminari’s cock deeper into your pussy with another fast contraction, his body shaking as he lets out another loud cry, his hips thrusting unmoving against you as hot cum fills your pussy. Sighing, you relax your body, pushing your mouth down Sero’s length again. One down.

Feeling your pussy release him, Denki pulls out fast, falling back, he catches himself as he lands on his ass. Sagging onto the carpet, his body still trembling, he looks up to see Bakugou sit up and stare at him sprawled on the ground.

“Did you fucking cum?” Disbelief on his face.

You see Katsuki out of the corner of your eye move behind you, pulsing your pussy outward, you push Denki’s thick cum out so he can see your first victory. If your mouth wasn’t filled with Sero’s cock, you’d laugh at his deep growl of frustration. Opening wider as Sero thrusts, you catch his cock on the ridges of your throat, swallowing rapidly, you squeeze and release the tip of his dick. His fingers dig into your hair as he starts shaking, yanking your face into his body, he thrusts hard. Your tongue moves non-stop, coaxing him to orgasm. A large hand grabs your fingers wrapped around Kiri’s dick.

“Stop,” Bakugou unhooks your hand.

“Fuck! Bakugou, that felt fucking good.” Kiri catches his breath.

“Yeah? Too fucking good, you wanna be her bitch for a month?”

“No?” For a moment Eijiro isn’t really sure he cares.

“Sero!” He snaps, but he can see his jaw is slack as he thrusts into your mouth. His head tips back as he moans loudly. “Fuck! Sero!” Too late, Katsuki watches his eyes flutter as he pumps hard, his mouth working open and shut, gritting his teeth at the last moment.

Sucking hard, you’re rewarded as cum fills your mouth, hot and tangy, sliding down your throat and overflowing over your tongue, you grin as you pull back. Opening your mouth you turn to Katsuki, cum oozing down your lips, eyes twinkling, you hold up two fingers.

“Kaminari,” he yanks him to his feet. “Go back to the study, get her vibrating thing, it's on the table.”

Sitting up on your knees, you smile, “worried?” You try to keep a light teasing tone but your stomach clenches, if he uses the vibrator, you’re toast. Standing slowly you press yourself against him. “I guess you’re like all the others then?” Licking the cum from your lips slowly, you frown, “no one can ever get me off without that toy.” He squints at you, his eyes a fiery red. Grabbing your throat, he tightens his hand for a moment, you relax under his fingers. “Daddy,” you whisper hoarsely, “don’t hurt me,” his hand starts to cut off your airflow.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he snarls.

“Not yet,” you croak, winking as you look towards Kiri, “he’s next.”

“That’s right,” laughing harshly Katsuki releases your throat, “it’s his turn.” Slapping his friend on the shoulder he smiles. “Eijiro, time to use that big dick on our girl here and get her so cock drunk, she won’t know which end is fucking up.” Denki bursts through the door with your toy handing it to him. Palming the device, he puts it on the bookcase. “We’ll see how you like Kiri first,” he smirks knowingly. Pushing you roughly down again, his hand lands on your ass with a loud crack.

Pain sings across your skin as you jerk up, pushing you down again, his hand lands on your other ass cheek. Crying out you close your eyes, sucking in a deep breath.

“Those are fucking hot Bakugou,” Kiri fingers the perfect white hand prints outlined in red on each side of your ass.

“That’s right,” Katsuki settles himself in front of you, grabbing your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Daddy’s in fucking charge now and our little girl is gonna cum so hard, she’ll paint your dick white Kiri.” Pointing, he nods at him, “no fucking mercy.” Grinning wide, Eijiro grabs your hips and pushes himself inside you in one thrust.

“F-f-f” you stutter as your pussy spreads wide, painfully full. Thrusting deeper he manages to hit your favorite spot. “N-No,” you stammer as he begins to fuck you hard.

“That’s it,” Bakugou feels your body letting go, your eyes are clouding over. “Look at me,” he locks eyes with you, “Now I know why I've always liked you,” he grins, “you’re such a cocky little slut, would’ve never guessed.” He laughs as your face begins to melt in pleasure. “You rattled me by taking two out at once, but Kiri’s gonna drill you now.”

FOCUS! Your brain is numb but your body responds, wriggling forwards you try finding Kiri’s rhythm, “so big,” you whisper.

“Where’re you going?” Kiri wraps his hands around your waist. “You’re not going anywhere slut,” pulling your body backwards, he relishes in the cries coming from you, your head jerking back at his merciless fucking.

“He's deep in there, huh, baby girl?” Bakugou slides his fingers into your mouth, “suck,” he hisses at you.

Nodding you wrap your lips around his hand, Kiri’s cock is pushing at building the climax at an unrelenting pace. Control! Control! your mind chants, your endless training takes over, you clamp hard with all your muscles at once to slow him down. Timing your squeezing with his thrusts, you begin milking his cock.

“Oh wow,” Kiri’s eyes grow wide, he’s struggling to thrust, stopping he begins to grind in deep instead, he gasps as your pussy begins sliding up and down his cock, starting at the base and moving upwards suckling the tip and back again.

“What?” Bakugou sees his pace change, he looks back at you. “What the fuck’re you doing?”

Tears gather in your eyes, Eijiro’s cock is making you want to forget and just get carried away by the orgasm that’s growing beyond anything you’ve ever felt. Moving your pussy furiously, you continue milking Kiri, your teeth biting down on Bakugou’s fingers still in your mouth.

Tugging his hand from your mouth, he sees the look on Kiri’s face, “don’t fucking cum!” He leaps up to grab him.

Your pussy stretches painfully as Kiri’s cock bulges, YES! Ignoring the pain you move faster, milking with speed now, no more slow strokes. Closing your eyes you work hard as the telltale twitching begins, his fingers gripping painfully into your hips. Katsuki yanks his hand from your mouth, but you’ve got him. Eijiro’s balls, pressed hard against you, start jerking as a loud grunt fills the room. More hot cum fills your pussy, gushing out, dribbling down your leg. Panting hard, you drop to your forearms, letting him go as you relax trying to breathe. “Three,” you can barely talk, you're so close to cumming yourself. You're tired, more than ever, you slide off his spent dick and fall to the floor, swiping at the sweat on your forehead. Your hips thrusting unconsciously as your body is begging for release.

Seeing the look on Bakugou’s face, Kiri grimaces as he sits back. “I’m - I’m sorry, that,” he puts a hand on your ass gently, “she’s,” he grows quiet.

“She’s what?”

“Fucking amazing,” Kiri moves back not making eye contact.

Staring down at you, Katsuki watches as your hips move, you’re close to cumming, closer than you probably think. Katsuki thinks for a moment, you obviously enjoyed Eijiro but you’d still managed to not orgasm, something has to take you over the edge. Lifting his head, he points to the door, “everyone get the fuck out.”

“Hell no!” Denki’s lounging in the chair debating if he should still try to video everything, he wants everyone to hurry up so he can feel your pussy again. “This is better than porn man!” The look that crosses the big blonde’s face makes him jump up. Grabbing his clothes he shoots out the door, “let me know if I’ve gotta fuck toy or if I’m the chump,” he laughs as he goes out the door. Kiri stands unsteadily eyeing Bakugou.

“You sure?” he picks up his pants and slides them on, “I can help-”

“Go!”

“What about her ass?” Sero sighs, he squats down running his hand up your back.

Turning you smile up at him laughing, “if he loses then I’ll still let you fuck my ass.” Sero glances up at his glowering friend.

Leaning closer he smiles conspiratorially, “he loves his balls to be played with, he’ll cum in an instant.” Jumping up, Sero races out the door.

“Damn idiot!” Katsuki roars.

You try to call out thanks but you’re too tired. Instead you turn back and smile at Bakugou, who’s glaring at Sero’s retreating body, “you and I alone?” You're not sure what he’s doing, but the few minutes rest has helped, you’ve caught your breath and managed to tamp down your orgasm as best as possible. Flipping over you catch sight of Katsuki standing over you, his body is powerfully built, you see bruises across his left thigh, probably from football. Your eyes drift to his cock, you wince inwardly, it’s stiff and almost as big as Kiri. “Are you sure you want to be with me by yourself?” You keep your voice confident but you’re worried, Kiri had you at the edge. Sero’s hint might help but considering how you’re feeling you’ll probably cum first. His hand extends towards you, taking it hesitantly, he pulls you to your feet and into his arms.

“You’re the one that slipped away a long time ago,” he kisses your cheek, moving to your ear.

“Am I?” you practically purr as he runs his tongue along the shell of your ear, teasing you.

“Mmmm mmm.”

“Why don’t I believe that?” You tip your head laughing softly. “Are you trying to seduce me into cumming?” His chuckle vibrates against your ear, sending a spray of chills down your arms.

His hands wander over your body, touching lightly, he nuzzles your neck feeling your pulse beating wildly. “I’ve wanted to explore your body for a long time.”

“You have?” Your voice hitches slightly, closing your eyes, his breath is warm as he kisses your neck, his tongue igniting every inch of skin he licks. You’ve wanted to hear and feel him for so long, his touch is maddening, you have to keep it impersonal. “Then fuck me,” you wrap your hand around his silky cock.

Gritting his teeth, he pulls you into a kiss, “not yet,” he sucks at your lips, “I want to check out this body first,” pushing you back on the bed, he hauls you up propping you against the pillows. His mouth works its way down your neck. Listening to your gasps and moans, he follows your sounds as he runs his tongue along your collarbone, nipping at your skin, his rough hands massaging your breasts. Dipping his head, he pulls your nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking.

His hands on your body are too much, you can feel the throbbing tension returning fast, the taut ball tightening under your clit. “No,” you groan, his mouth sucks harder. Clamping your mouth shut you realize he’s reacting to your moans. Holding your breath, you try to keep yourself from making any noise. You try to focus on anything to keep from cumming but it’s just a matter of time, his mouth is stealing every thought from your head. You need him to hurry and just fuck you but even then you could be out of luck.

“That’s it,” Katsuki can see you can barely hold back anymore, you're trying to stay quiet but he can see you’re close. Smiling in his victory, he moves down between your legs, now for the final blow.

“No!” Jerking up, you buck your hips away from him.

“Hold still,” he grabs you tight, his tongue already swiping up your clit. “You taste like cum.” He lifts his head as you sit up grabbing his blonde spikes, your eyes wide.

“Please daddy,” you beg softly pulling out all the stops now, “just fuck me, isn’t that what this about? It’s me against you.” You see him contemplating what you’re proposing. Your exhaustion mixes into your broiling emotions, words start tumbling from your brain. “I - I never stopped liking you,” red eyes register surprise and something else. “I’ve been perfecting my technique for you, all of this time,” weaving your fingers into his hair, you tug, continuing your confession. “I’m really tired and,” you laugh, “close to cumming, so you’re probably gonna win, but let me show off a little bit of what I can do,” your brows raise pleadingly.

Watching you closely Katsuki can tell you’re not bullshitting, sitting up he presses your legs open. “Don’t worry (Y/n), when you lose you can show me all your little tricks, I plan on using you everyday for the next month.”

Dragging his face to yours, you kiss him urgently, “fuck me then right now, please?” You moan in relief as he lines up to slide into you. Never have you wanted anyone so badly. Moving his cock along your pussy, he flicks the tip of his dick against your clit, sending your hips straight off the bed.

“Beg me again,” he pulls away from the kiss to watch you.

Looking into those blazing eyes, you realize he’s dancing on the precipice with you, both so fucking turned on you’re ready to explode. Look only at me, remembering his words, you hold his gaze. “Please, I want you, I want your cock in me daddy,” you squirm your hips but he slaps your thigh.

“Hold still then baby girl.” Sliding his hands under your ass he grabs a pillow and shoves it underneath you. “Gives me the perfect angle for that right spot,” rearing back, he slams deep into you in one thrust. Pausing he closes his eyes, your tight, way fucking tighter than he expected, especially after Kiri’s big cock. Waiting expectantly, he doesn’t feel anything but your soft tight pussy. Licking his fingers he begins to rub your clit expertly.

His cock is so deep you convulse around him, “sh- fu-“ you stammer, the popping jolts under your clit start exploding, your walls clenching tight. You try to relax, calm down. Breathing deep, you use the fluttering of your building orgasm to work to your advantage. Creating a whip-like motion with every clench, you massage his cock from bottom to top, stopping to contract and suckle the tip buried deep inside. Licking your hand you reach down and gently clasp his balls at the same time. A low growl erupts from Katsuki, you feel him bulge inside your pussy. Your body erupts in a shuddering tremble. Bucking your hips you push into him harder. “Kat-”

“What the hell are you doing?” He cuts you off, voice raspy, he can’t focus, his finger stalls as you grip his cock with another incredible squeeze that slides up, feeling like your pussy is sucking on his dick. Grinding against you, he tries to thrust but the pleasure is overwhelming.

His face, just inches above your own, is tense from holding back. Using the last of your strength you clamp around him and begin to twist his cock back and forth, continuing to pulse from base to tip.

“Sh-shit!” His head tips back as he feels the massive pull through his muscles, his balls jerking hard, grabbing your hips he drives hard as thick streams of cum drench your pussy, your cry surprises him as you rear back, body shaking. Falling to his forearms he watches as you writhe in pleasure, his fingers moving again on your clit, “that’s it baby,” he concedes his loss “cum for me.”

The orgasm hits so hard you cry out, your body clenching so tight you feel a cramp snake down your calf, then the deep tremors roll through you, one after another, holding Katuski’s body tight, you press into his chest, his arm wraps around you, finger moving on your clit, his voice echoing in your ear. “Kat?” You look up dazed, completely drained, you sink back into the pillows. “Did I? Did I really win?”

“Uh, (y/n)?” Mina steps into your room, eyeing the clothes strewn on the bed.

“Oh hey Mina,” coming out of your bathroom you fasten your earring. “What’s up, I thought you were going out?”

“I was, but Ochako ended up having an extra spot in her family's cabin in the mountains and invited me up with everyone for the week and,” she pauses and points over her shoulder, “more importantly, why the fuck is half the football team in our living room?”

Giggling you pluck your jacket off the hanger, “it isn’t half the team Mina, just four of them.”

Eyebrows shoot up as she leans out your bedroom door and looks down the hallway. “Okay, why is Bakugou in our apartment?” She glares at you.

“When do you leave for the cabin?” you change the topic.

Blinking for a moment, she shakes her head, “them first.”

“We’re going out,” you shrug and slip past her. Grabbing your arm she spins you around.

“You are going out with all of them?”

“I sure am,” you smile, “just having dinner and maybe a movie. Denki wants to see some strange horror film they’re presenting on campus.”

“Why are you talking like this is no big deal?” She’s whispering loudly. A small cough in the living room interrupts her.

Patting her head, you push your finger on her lips, “because it is no big deal.” Turning around, you smile and walk down the hall as she cautiously follows you. "So," you look at her, "when are you going to the mountains?”

“You’re going somewhere?” Kaminari’s head pops up from looking at his phone.

“I am,” Mina slinks into the room. “I came to grab my bag and say goodbye.” She looks at Bakugou lounging on the sofa before eyeing you again, “can I really leave you alone with them?”

“You can,” pushing yourself between Sero and Katsuki, you run your hands along both their thighs. “We’re just hanging out, I promise.”

Huffing slightly, Mina grabs her suitcase and walks slowly to the front door, “okay, text me if you need anything,” squinting hard at each man, she thins her lips, “I mean anything.”

“See you,” you sigh as she leaves.

“Are you really alone all week?” Katsuki runs his finger along your cheek, he grins as you shiver.

“I guess I am, I didn’t realize she was going too,” Sero lifts you up and slides underneath you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’m hungry but we could just get delivery.”

Sitting down at your feet, Kiri nudges your legs apart, laying his head on one leg. “The movie doesn’t start for a couple of hours.”

“Wait, are we going to fool around?” Denki jumps up, “I get to go first!”

“Fuck you, you went first last time, I go first,” Kiri pushes up your skirt, nipping at your tender skin.

“I don’t care when I go, but (Y/n) promise me her ass,” Sero nuzzles your neck.

“Hold up,” Katsuki growls at them, keeping his hand pressed on your cheek, twisting his lips, he smirks slightly, “what do you want to do (y/n)?”

Laughing, you catch his hand and kiss his palm, “another bet?”

“No,” his red eyes catch fire, “no more bets, tonight, we’re gonna make you cum.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

“Really,” Sero chimes in with Katsuki.

Kiri licks your leg, “absolutely.”

“How many times?” Your voice is hesitant.

Coming up behind you on the sofa, Denki kisses the back of your neck, a thrill slides down your spine. “How many times do you want to cum?”

“Ten,” you blush a deep red, “please, I want to cum ten times.”

“Whatever you say,” pulling you into a deep kiss, Katsuki begins to slide your jacket off your shoulders.

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