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mahalachives · 3 months ago

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Part 1: The Meet Cute

Azriel x f!reader

Genre: fated mates, rom-com, crack humor, eventual angst, eventual smut

Summary: Azriel never expected to finally meet his mate and to be… this.

A walking disaster with a talent for tripping over air, an uncanny ability to charm even the grumpiest Illyrian, and a knack for throwing herself headfirst into situations that require his immediate intervention.

She is warmth where he is shadow, laughter where he is silence. And worst of all? She makes him smile without trying.

Azriel, Are you Okay? - Masterlist

There were worse ways to die, you supposed.

You could've been mauled by a rabid Suriel.

Or trampled by a particularly aggressive herd of Illyrians during training.

But no. Your fate was to perish from sheer mortification, sprawled across the chest of the most feared male in Velaris.

And, in all likelihood, take him down with you.

Twelve Hours Earlier...

Life in Velaris was, for the most part, peaceful. You loved it here: the bustling markets, the shimmering Sidra, the endless opportunities to get lost in one of the city's many bookstores or cafés.

You had grown up in the Night Court, an ordinary High Fae with no claim to power, no noble name. No extraordinary skill besides the ability to make friends with everyone. (And, perhaps, your uncanny ability to trip over nothing.)

That was why you worked where you did. The Velaris Botanical Archives was the perfect job. Curating and cataloging the history of rare flora, researching the best ways to preserve the Night Court's unique plant life.

You adored every part of it.

Except for the fact that the bookshelves were designed for Illyrians.

Which was how you ended up in this situation.

All you'd wanted was a book on Moonbloom flowers. A single book. But when you asked the head librarian for assistance, she'd waved you off, muttering something about "independent young fae" before disappearing.

So. That left you and your greatest foe.

A ridiculously tall bookshelf.

The logical solution? Climb.

Was it your smartest idea? No. But it wasn't the first time you'd scaled one of these shelves, and it likely wouldn't be the last.

You had nearly reached the book when...crack.

The shelf trembled beneath you.

Your stomach plunged.

"Oh, no," you breathed, right before the entire world tilted.

And then you were falling.

Present Moment.

The only upside to your current predicament was that you hadn't been crushed beneath an avalanche of books.

The downside?

You were currently draped over Azriel.

The Azriel.

The Shadowsinger. The Night Court's lethal spymaster. A legend whispered about in the darkest corners of Prythian.

And you had just fallen on top of him.

The world had gone deathly silent.

You didn't dare breathe.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, you lifted your head.

And...oh. Mother above.

Azriel lay beneath you, sprawled against the floor like he'd been tackled from the heavens. His wings flared slightly behind him, dark as the night sky, his hands firm on your waist where he had somehow instinctively caught you.

His hazel eyes, rich and unreadable, blinked up at you in pure disbelief.

You, meanwhile, were a very mortified starfish.

"I am so sorry," you gasped, scrambling to move. In your rush to not be straddling the Night Court's most terrifying male, you made a fatal mistake.

Your foot slipped on a fallen book.

And like a damn fool, you face-planted right back onto his chest.

Azriel let out a very slow, very deep breath.

You felt the rumble of it beneath you, his self-restraint practically vibrating through his muscles.

His voice, when it finally came, was dangerously calm.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

You squeaked, immediately trying to push yourself up again, but your elbow landed on his stomach.

Azriel made a very small, very controlled noise. A sound that might have been a grunt.

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, wait, no! I just..." You sucked in a breath. "This isn't what it looks like."

Azriel arched a slow, painfully unimpressed brow. His gaze flickered to your current position: fully draped over him like an overeager blanket.

"Really?" he drawled.

You swallowed. "Okay," you admitted, "this is exactly what it looks like."

A choking noise came from somewhere nearby.

And that was when you realized you had an audience.

At the entrance of the library, standing in a semi-circle of unholy amusement, were Rhysand, Cassian, Mor, and Amren.

Cassian's entire face was rapidly turning purple as he tried and failed to hold in his laughter.

Mor gasped before cackling so hard she stumbled against Rhys.

Rhysand's lips twitched, but his violet eyes gleamed with utter delight.

And Amren? Stoic, ancient Amren?

She merely crossed her arms and muttered, "Well. This is interesting."

You wanted to die. Right there. On the spot. Just spontaneously combust into fae dust.

Azriel, to his credit, was silent. Completely unreadable. But the way his wings twitched, the way his hands were still on your waist...

You felt it then.

A shift.

A sensation that curled into your ribs, warm and terrifying.

Your eyes met his again.

And there, in the depths of those night-kissed irises...

Recognition.

The world tilted.

Your breath caught.

"Oh no," you whispered.

Azriel blinked, his expression sharpening, like something had just slotted into place. Like he felt it, too.

A single second stretched into eternity.

Then, finally, finally, Azriel exhaled.

"Oh no."

And that was the exact moment Cassian completely lost his mind.

The roar of his laughter shattered the silence. His wings flared as he doubled over, hands on his knees, absolutely howling.

Mor collapsed against Rhys, wheezing.

Rhysand sighed through his smirk, shaking his head. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order."

Azriel was still beneath you.

Still touching you.

Still looking at you like you'd just flipped his entire existence upside down.

And you?

You did the only thing your panicked, humiliated, fate-cursed mind could think to do.

You covered your face with your hands and wailed,

"WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?"

Note: Wrote this during an eight-hour layover. Gotta love airport inspiration! Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be tagged for future chapters! ☺️

#acotar #azriel x oc #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #cassian #rhysand #azriel x you #feyre acotar #nesta acotar

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wheres-mylove · 9 months ago

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ice-cold revelations - modern!cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

Summary: You are in a risky secret relationship with your brother's best friend. What happens when Cregan's unexpected injury exposes your feelings? Well, isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.8k

The wind tore through the streets with a biting ferocity, tugging at (Y/N)’s skirt and making her instantly regret both her outfit choice and this entire trip to the bus stop.

“Stupid winter has to be coming,” she muttered, yanking a colorful scarf up to cover her nose. Her phone chimed in her pocket, vibrating with the familiar sound of a new message. She fumbled with one hand to pull it out, her fingers stiff from the cold.

🐺: jace wouldn’t stop bugging me about that earring under my bed

🐺: i convinced him sara must’ve left it when she crashed at our place lmao

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her breath fogging the air as she sighed. The last thing she needed was her brother playing the part of a suspicious rom-com wife, finding random jewelry in odd places and jumping to conclusions. At least he hadn’t figured out where he’d seen that earring before.

Jacaerys Velaryon, as much as she adored him, had a habit of being a little too protective. He was always there when she needed him. But he was also the kind of brother who, despite being only a few minutes older, seemed to think that fact gave him full control over her dating life. Any guy who so much as glanced her way was either a potential threat or one of his friends. And friends were off-limits. Too much drama, he’d say. Too awkward if things went south. Even more awkward if things somehow worked out. Conflict of interest. Absolutely not.

Which was precisely why, in the grand scheme of things, the most logical solution was for her to start dating his best friend and his hockey team captain, Cregan Stark.

Cregan was wonderful. The kind of guy who would do anything for her, no questions asked. That's what had brought them to where they were now. Hiding their relationship from her dramatic brother and quite literally gaslighting him.

Did she feel guilty? Absolutely. Did she know it would be a hundred times worse if Jace found out? Also yes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a bus speeding past the stop, tires screeching as it flew by. Her bus. Of course.

With impressive force, she pressed the green phone icon.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Cregan answered in three seconds. Her irritation melted a little at the sound of his deep voice. Down bad.

“Hey, did you guys finish practice?”

“Yeah, just now, I couldn’t cut the boys any slack before tomorrow.”

“Any chance the strict captain could give me a ride home? I missed the bus. Or more like the bus missed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Cregan said, sympathy already thick in his voice. “Of course I’ll come get you.” He paused for a beat, then cleared his throat. “Only thing is… Jace wanted a ride too.”

“The gods are punishing me today,” she groaned.

“Call him. It'll be the same ride. Just, you know, he'll think it was his idea,” Cregan suggested.

“Are we bad people, Cregan?” she asked, half-serious now.

“Nah. He’ll find out eventually, just better if I’m in full hockey gear when it happens.”

“Fair enough,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up and immediately dialed her brother, requesting the same exact thing.

“Sure, you owe me one though,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t have my car today, so we’ll have to go with Stark. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” No, her boyfriend wouldn’t be a problem.

(Y/N) Velaryon paced back and forth under the shelter of the bus stop, her boots crunching against the thin layer of frost that had already formed on the pavement. She rubbed her arms, trying to keep the cold at bay, when the familiar growl of a black Jeep Wrangler cut through the quiet. It rolled to a stop near the curb.

She jogged toward the car, her breath puffing out in small clouds, as the driver’s window slid down.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Cregan announced with a mock flourish.

“More like a toad,” Jace quipped from the passenger seat, his grin unmistakable.

“One more word and you’ll get my bag to the head. I’ve got half my textbooks in there,” she threatened playfully as she slid into the backseat.

The backseat of this car had witnessed many events, and that was the first thought that crossed her mind. One look at Cregan in the side mirror, and she knew he was thinking the same.

She pretended to be very engrossed in buckling her seatbelt.

“How was practice?” she asked out of politeness.

“Not bad. Stark was all business today, but it was necessary. Big day tomorrow,” Jace replied, fiddling with the radio. Cregan slapped his hand away as he slowed down for a red light.

“Great,” the girl muttered, not trusting her tongue around the two of them together.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by some random song. How long can a red light last?

“So, (Y/N),” Cregan began, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice wavered, but Jace was in his own world, watching pedestrians crossing the street. “How’s it going? How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, playing with the hem of her skirt. “Though the classes dragged on.”

The devil on her shoulder won an uneven fight with the weak angel. She smirked.

“‘M absolutely knackered.”

Cregan inhaled slowly through his nose.

“Dude, it’s green,” Jace informed him, just before the car behind them honked.

“I can see,” Cregan reassured him, finally moving forward. “I’ll need your sister’s address since I’ve never been there before.”

If Jace had one more brain cell, he wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Sure thing,” her brother agreed, typing the info into the GPS on his phone. “Hey, kid, are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” (Y/N) asked angrily, kicking his seat. “Baela’s taking me.”

“You know what I think?” Jace started, spreading his arms dramatically. “A girlfriend in the stands is such a power boost. Such a boost… I never play as well as when Baela supports me from the bleachers.”

“You never play well,” His sister muttered under her breath, but Jacaerys was currently listening only to himself.

“Cregan wouldn’t get it,” He patted Cregan on the shoulder in the meantime. “If you combined your skills with that support, if you brought a girl, trust me, your performance would be a hundred times better.”

“Talented people don’t need superstitions to play well, Jace,” (Y/N) chimed in, leaning forward. “Besides, Cregan is single.”

“Because he’s too serious and broody, girls don’t like that,” her brother declared in a know-it-all voice. She gave him a side-eye. “He is afraid of women.”

“Are you afraid of women, Stark?” she asked seriously, barely holding back laughter.

Cregan shot her a look in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Terrified,” he deadpanned. “That’s why I’m thinking maybe your sister should be my good luck charm tomorrow. Just as a friend, of course.”

“Eh, it’s not the same,” Jace protested, scrunching his face.

“Don’t you believe in the power of friendship?” the driver asked with full seriousness.

“Can I get a jersey with your number?” (Y/N) batted her lashes playfully at her boyfriend.

A jersey with his number was already hanging in her closet.

“Alright, you’ll see, you need deeper feelings for it to work, otherwise it just won’t…”

Jacaerys continued his monologue all the way to her apartment. The girl sighed with relief once she was back in her room, the familiarity of it a welcome escape from the tension.

Two new messages.

🐺: you looked so pretty today

🐺: but next time wear a damn coat, or you’ll catch a cold!!!

The fluorescent light above (Y/N)’s head flickered ominously, casting creepy shadows across the cramped janitor’s closet. She swore that if the bulb died completely, she'd either pee her pants or spiral into a full-blown claustrophobic meltdown. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to focus on the neatly arranged rows of brooms and mops. Soon, the door creaked open, revealing Cregan in all his glory.

Full hockey gear? Check. Helmet? Tucked under his arm. That goofy, ridiculous smile? Definitely check.

“You look so good,” she admitted, grabby hands already in the air. “Come here.”

Cregan shut the door behind him with a soft click, casting a glance at the flickering light overhead. He sighed, took one of her hands, and kissed her wrist softly.

“We have to tell your brother,” Stark said, his voice serious as he placed his helmet on the wooden shelf beside them. “It’s not right that my girl has to sneak me a good-luck kiss in a smelly closet. You should be able to strut right into the locker room.”

His girl grinned. “You’ve got your gear on,” she pointed out. “We can tell him after the game. Besides, Baela’s softening him up for us. I asked her to.”

Baela Targaryen was known for sniffing out secrets, and the second she spotted (Y/N) wearing Cregan’s jersey before the game, she didn’t even need to ask. Her knowing look said it all, and within minutes, Velaryon girl spilled the truth, enduring Baela’s delighted squeal that had probably echoed for miles.

“I knew you had high standards, girl. Going straight for the captain!” Baela teased, laughing. “Jace obviously doesn’t know? He hasn’t said anything... and Stark’s still breathing.”

Thankfully, Baela had been more than willing to help, distracting Jace so Cregan could sneak away after the pre-game pep talk. Now, Cregan was looking at (Y/N) with pride, his eyes lingering on the jersey she wore.

“She’s a real one for that,” he mused. “But seriously, we have to tell him. I want a picture of us on my lock screen, and that asshole keeps looking over my shoulder.”

She laughed, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, savoring the way his rough stubble tickled her skin.

“For now,” she murmured against his lips, “just focus on the game. You’re incredible. An amazing captain. And it’s going to go great. I believe in you.”

Cregan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe one more kiss. Just to make sure we win.”

“The power of having a girl in the stands,” she teased, poking his chest playfully.

“Jace definitely exaggerated that theory,” Cregan confessed with a chuckle. “But honestly... I’m just glad you’re here.”

With butterflies in her stomach and a grin she couldn’t wipe off her face, (Y/N) found herself in the stands minutes later, sitting next to Baela. Her friend was watching the silent exchange of glances between her and Cregan with thinly veiled amusement.

“I always knew Jace was blind, but this is just tragic,” Baela remarked, elbowing her in the ribs. Jace, oblivious as ever, waved enthusiastically from the rink. Both girls waved back, cheering with the crowd.

“You’ll boo with me when the Dornish Spears come out, right?” (Y/N) asked.

Baela gave her a mock-serious look. “Technically, we shouldn’t. Obviously, I will,” she promised.

The game was fast, brutal, and nearly deadlocked until the very end. (Y/N) had never yelled so much in her life, though her shouts were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Cregan played like a man possessed, commanding the ice with his usual grace. At least twenty times during the match, she found herself holding her breath, her heart leaping into her throat with every risky play. But she knew he had it under control. He always did.

Of course they won.

The victory rippled through the stands like a wave, and (Y/N) screamed herself hoarse as the crowd erupted around her. Cregan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the stands until he found her. His smile—tired and breathtaking—was for her, and her alone. She didn’t regret the ringing in her ears or the scratch in her throat for a second. Moments later, he was swept up in a sea of celebrating teammates.

“Girl, are you crying?” Baela asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I’m just emotional. I just like that boy so fucking much, Bae.”

“I know, honey. Come on, they’re heading off the ice. Let’s congratulate them, and then have a crazy party or something. No time for tears.”

Cregan was one of the last players to leave the ice, trailing just behind Jace. But before he could step off, the captain of the opposing team, his face twisted with anger, skated up to him. For a moment, it looked like they might talk it out. But then, it all happened too fast.

The player from Dorne shoved Cregan hard against the wall. Stark, ever the calm one, simply raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

And then he took a fist to the face. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed across the rink.

“What the hell is going on? Jace!” Baela shouted, holding her friend back as she tried to rush forward.

Jace jumped back onto the ice, but by the time he got there, the other team had pulled their enraged captain away. Cregan stumbled off the ice just as (Y/N) reached him.

“Are you okay? Oh gods, let me see,” she fretted, her hands hovering near his face.

“What a fucking jerk!” Jace nearly screamed, skidding to a stop by the exit. “I called for help, they’ll be here in a second.”

(Y/N) carefully moved Cregan’s hand away, revealing the damage. His face was a swollen mess, his nose clearly broken.

“Do you think they’ll make me lie face-down on the ice?” Cregan joked weakly, leaning on her for support.

“Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should sit down. Oh shit, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, sweetheart. Calm down,” Cregan murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Just then, the medic arrived, momentarily distracting Jace. But despite the chaos, he had clearly heard what Cregan just said. For a moment, Jace stood there, his face pale as the words and the image before him sank in.

“Sweetheart?” he echoed softly, but no one paid him any attention.

“Jace, maybe now’s not the time,” Baela said gently, stepping up beside him.

“I feel physically sick,” Jace muttered, staggering to the railing for support.

The medic handed Cregan an ice pack. “Hold this to your face for a bit. I’ll get you something for the pain right away, but a doctor’s gonna have to set that nose.”

Cregan winced but smiled through it. “You might wanna check on my friend first,” he said, gesturing toward Jace. “I can wait. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jace did, in fact, end up passing out.

Cregan had to take a break from sports after that little adventure. He’d recovered, but now sported a slightly crooked nose—something his girlfriend found oddly hot.

(Y/N) saw his temporary recovery as the perfect chance to manipulate him into watching Teen Wolf with her every evening. After all, the title worked in her favor.

They were nestled on the couch, wrapped together in a soft gray blanket. It was their first time lounging in the living room of the apartment Cregan shared with her brother, rather than hiding behind the securely locked door of his bedroom.

It would be perfect, really. If it weren’t for Jace’s constant, deliberate trips to the kitchen and bathroom, each one an obvious reminder that he was keeping an eye on them.

“Dear Jacaerys,” (Y/N) said, her patience wearing thin, “you do know we don’t need a chaperone, right?”

Jace barely paused, shooting her a sidelong glance before muttering, “You need someone to knock the stupid ideas out of your heads,” as he slammed the bathroom door.

Cregan chuckled softly, pulling her closer. “Give him some time,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “To be honest, I thought it would be worse. He’ll come around eventually.”

They’d already gone through several long, tension-filled conversations, with Baela stepping in as the voice of reason when things got too heated. They were careful now, avoiding anything that might provoke Jace further.

But Cregan was right—Jace was slowly coming around, even if he was still stubborn. The days of silent treatment had finally passed.

“This is on us for hiding things from him,” (Y/N) sighed, watching her brother embark on yet another purposeful long journey to the kitchen. “No more secrets now.”

“Your brother’s just looking out for you,” Cregan called out, raising his voice slightly so Jace could hear. “He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I respect that. I don’t know anyone else who cares like he does.”

Jace stopped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a sweet, mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” he began, drawing out the word. “So tell me sister, when are you introducing him to Mom?”

#cregan stark #modern cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #hotd #modern hotd #modern jacaerys velaryon #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan imagine

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moon-fics · 1 month ago

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Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

A/n: I haven't done any creative writing in months. I'm finally doing it again so PLEASE! PLEASE don't be made if I fuck this up.

Request: reader comforting bob (any bob, could be Reynolds or Floyd) after a nightmare abt a mission gone wrong 🙏🙏 may it be filled with all the comfort our dear robert could ever ask for 😌😌😌

Warnings: Swears, mentions of violence

Your first warning was the lights flickering. It was sudden and lasted way longer than a faulty wire would. Your second warning was the vibrations coming from your mirror. The third warning won't be as kind if you ignore it.

You know these warning signs, and you often look out for them. So, you rush out of your room. The dark hallways of the tower are barely lit, but you know your way to his room. You've run to them so often it's almost ingrained in your mind.

You don't even knock before opening his door and closing it behind you. You're met with a familiar sight of Bob curled up on his bed, trembling and gasping. He isn't awake and won't wake up unless someone helps him.

You stumble over to his bed and nearly trip on a Rubik's cube. You grab his shoulders once you reach him, shaking him lightly. This is a strategic mission because Bob is not a gracious person when he wakes up. With his powers, it's a 50/50 chance you get thrown across the room. Thankfully, the only time he's attacked in his sleep, you were able to dodge. Can't say the same for Alexei.

"Bob, wake up," you say while still shaking him. His oversized sweater is covered in sweat that sticks to your hands. "Come on, Bob. Come back to me." You say softly. You've found that yelling has never had a good outcome. So, using a softer tone is the only solution.

After a few seconds, you can see him stirring. His eyes move behind his lids, and his lips press together. You've memorized most of his face and reactions at this point. You've spent so much time with him it was only natural.

With one last shake, he's startled awake. A yell escapes his throat before dying out quickly. He frantically looks around his room before his eyes find you. Oh, do they find you.

It's like a puppy finding its owner after thinking it was lost. His eyes soften, and his breathing becomes controlled. It's rapid, but he's trying to slow it down.

"Did I-?" He can barely ask before you nod. "Was it bad? Did someone get hurt?" His usual questions.

"No, no one was hurt. You didn't do anything bad," You assure him while climbing onto the edge of his bed. You don't give yourself the entitlement of holding him or getting under the covers without her permission. "Was it a bad nightmare?" You ask.

He swallows whatever saliva is in his mouth and nods. "Yeah, it wasn't the best," He chuckles weakly. He pats the space next to him, allowing you into his space. You gladly take it and scoot closer to him.

"I, uh, I couldn't save anyone," He clears his throat awkwardly. You've both gotten into a groove of skipping the 'wanna talk about it' and the 'no, I'm ok'. It always leads to him talking about it and her comforting him back to sleep. "We were on a mission, and you wouldn't leave my side. I don't know what happened, but you were all hanging off a building, and suddenly I wasn't strong enough," He continues.

Having nightmares about bad missions or impossible situations isn't new to anyone in the tower. However, it is to Bob. He wasn't trained as an assassin or for combat. He was just some guy who got dealt bad cards and one wild card.

"Yeah, well, if we go down, at least we do it together," You nudge him. It's clear that doesn't help as his frown grows. "Hey, nothing is going to happen. I'm right here, and Bucky is right across the hall snoring." You say.

You gently rest a hand on his and squeeze for proof. He isn't alone anymore. He has a whole team of people who care and want the best for him. You're both silent as time passes. He can feel your pulse in your hand and how warm you are. Definitely not dead.

"Can you stay tonight?" He asks softly. His softness used to break your heart at how sad he seemed. Now, it's comforting. He doesn't sound as sad but more meek-like.

"Only if you don't kick me in your sleep again," You agree. A half smile spreads on his lips as an answer. You know he's going to kick you, and it's going to be annoying. However, you at least get to have a pretty view the entire night.

He turns over on his side and shifts under the covers. You carefully get under them as well and adjust yourself. Your chest presses against his back, and you wrap an arm around him.

You find it comical that a man this muscular likes being the little spoon, but you have no complaints. If it gets him a good night's sleep, you'll hold him all night.

"I'm right here," You repeat while shutting your eyes.

#bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x y/n #sentry x reader #sentry x you #sentry x y/n #void x reader #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts #the thunderbolts #the thunderbolts*#lewis pullman

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natti-ice · 10 months ago

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— just a stranger.

18+ mdni

pairing: male character x fem!reader

cw: p in v, public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

The smell of smoke and hand soap lingers in the air around you as your mouth clashes with his, the loud bass from the live band vibrates the small bathroom stall, you can’t help but moan as his tongue slides against yours. You don’t normally hook up with strangers at bars but there was something so captivating about this man you couldn’t deny his invitation to the bathroom, the taste of whiskey off his lips sends a flood down to your core- desperate for friction you reach down and unbuckle his belt as fast as possible.

He takes the hint and takes over, unbuttoning his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers. You gasp softly against his mouth as you feel your dress being yanked above your waist, his fingers make their way into the band of your soaked panties. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his finger tips gently graze your swollen clit “Jesus, sweetheart, you’re already wet” his husky, lust filled voice scratches something in your brain. The horny daze you’re in takes over your body, you don’t think about your next move you just let your body take control.

You reach down and grab a hold of his cock and gently stroke it while looking deep into his eyes, without breaking eye contact he pushes your panties down to your knees and moves you against the cold metal stall door. He steps right in front of you and brings his cock between your legs, your legs tremble as the tip glides up and down your puffy lips. He pulls your legs apart more and you grab a hold of the toilet paper holder for balance, the head of his dick slow presses into your entrance asking for permission. You nod quickly giving him the okay, you couldn’t help but feel so needy right now. The ache between your legs could only be fixed by one solution and that solution was this stranger’s big cock.

You cover your mouth immediately as he pushes further into you until he bottoms out, you bite your tongue hard to fight back the moan of pure ecstasy that’s lodged in your throat. His pleasured groans meet your ears as he starts to pump into you, his hand slams against the door that holds you up to balance himself, your free hand snakes behind him and grips his ass. Soft swears are muttered against your neck as his hot lips place gentle kisses against your sensitive skin. Your body tenses immediately as you hear the bathroom door open and a few people come stumbling in, your brain tells you to push the guy away but you’re so lost in pleasure that you don’t move.

He pulls away from your neck for a moment and you look up at him to see a wicked grin slapped across his face, his pace doesn’t slow down as he reaches up and grabs your wrist to pull away your hand that’s clamped over your mouth. He whispers to you “don’t hold back sweetheart, let the whole bar hear what a good girl you are.” His voice was pure sex and you couldn’t help but listen to his demand, you let out the moans, allowing yourself to enjoy this very hot situation. You could hear laughing coming from outside the stall but you didn’t care, the orgasm you were chasing was too tempting to pass up.

Your back arches as a loud grunt leaves his perfect mouth, your pussy clenches around him as you go over the edge, you don’t hold anything back as you cum- letting all the swears fill the small space around you. His amused chuckle is followed by a shuttered groan as you feel him spill into your body, he collapses against you, panting softly as the both of you catch your breath. After a few moments past the haze starts to clear, you feel his breath against your ear, there’s a gentleness to his words as he says, “best pussy of my life.”

For some reason you believed him, you’ve only know him for a few hours but something about the way he said it makes you truly believe that you’re the best he’s ever had.

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chuellas · 4 months ago

Text

Evictions on Your Door | E is for Exhibitionism

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E.

Warnings | Fem!Reader, N.SFW, 18+ only, use of the names “Doll” and “Baby”, exhibitionism, fingering with/out gloves on, spanking, finger sucking, gagging, unprotected sex, creampie, plugging, not edited like at all ajdjsjdjsjjds WC: 2.4k

A/N | Ik I’ve said it a million times today but Happy Valentine’s Day. This one i had to cut short bc I went way over my self allotted limit 🤡 Hope you all thoroughly enjoy <3

You should have known better than to tease Chuuya before a three hour long meeting. Normally, you wouldn’t sit next to him in the meeting, being Verlaine’s representative. The absent man’s seat was always across the table from Chuuya while Kouyou’s was next to the ginger. Outside of executive meetings you and Chuuya rarely interact while working, especially after Akutagawa took the position of overseeing the Black Lizard instead of Hirotsu reporting directly to Chuuya.

You had brazenly tossed your panties at him in the privacy of his office earlier in the morning, a pair of royal blue silk and lace high-cut underwear. You’d caught him eyeing you in the rare pencil skirt, something you only wear on days you know for certain you won’t be going into the field. You know that Chuuya’s favorite feature of yours is your legs. So, you thought you would pay him a visit — tease him a little. You were not disappointed by his reaction.

But now you’re paying for it as you sit right next to Chuuya at this crowded meeting table with not only the executives but with their second in command and even third in command. Mori isn’t here, doing some sort of damage control within the Armed Detective Agency’s President and the government. It was up to the executives to lead this meeting to figure out how to rebuild Yokohama after the devastation that Ame-no-Gozen brought onto the city.

You’re almost two hours into the meeting and Chuuya’s gloved fingers are snuggly nestled in your drooling cunt. It started off as teasing of his own, leather gliding up and down the expanse of your inner thighs. You slapped his hand away a few times, trying desperately to pay attention to what Kouyou was saying but your self-control wilted at an alarming rate.

Chuuya easily hides the flexing of his arm underneath his coat that hangs over his shoulders. Every time he opens his mouth to add to the conversation your stomach twists is both excitement and fear. You try your best to keep your composure but Chuuya is relentless.

The ginger bullies his middle and ring finger into your cunt, stopping every time you even hint at fluttering around you.

You’re hunched over the table, the lower half of your face being concealed by your folded hands, hoping to god that you just appear to be really intrigued by whatever it is being discussed, when in reality you’re just crumbling under the touch of the man sitting beside you. Your concentration is fluctuating, you’re only getting bits and pieces of the solutions being shared and the opinions being bounced around. You’ve barely given any input yourself, which was a shame considering you had planned on contributing to this meeting at least once.

You can hear the faint sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you and you hope once again that Akutagawa, who is sitting on your other side, can’t hear it. The way his body is stiffer than normal, jaw so taught it looks painful, tells you otherwise. Your thighs involuntarily squeeze in desperation to quiet the noise and you have to work double time to suppress a gasp when Chuuya slots his leg between yours and pries your legs back open.

You’re close again, eyes burning with unshed tears you’re desperately trying to hold back. Everything is buzzing, your chest is heaving, your stomach is in knots and your head is vibrating. You can’t tell if it’s hot in this room or if the dampness you feel underneath you on the seat is your slick pooling in the chair.

You subtly move your index finger between your teeth to keep your mouth occupied with something so you don’t make any noise.

You’re going to get caught in a room full of the Port Mafia’s most important members getting finger fucked by a man who is not supposed to be touching you, per Verlaine’s personal request. Just as you’re about to let the taut cord in your lower abdomen snap, Chuuya removes his hand completely, causing you to shiver from the sudden loss of his warmth. You bite down on your finger harder, just barely catching the whimper clawing at your throat.

Chuuya loudly clears his throat and it catches everyone’s attention. “It’s been over three hours now, Kouyou. Don’t you think we should give everyone a break? Maybe we can revisit this tomorrow with less people, now that we’ve come up with a solid foundation of how we’re gonna fix this damn mess.”

Kuoyou stares at the other ginger for a moment before curtly nodding her head. “Fine, we’ll bring what we have to the Executives table tomorrow and finalize it with Mori.”

Chuuya slyly shoves his now ungloved hand in his pocket and rises to his feet, his head tilted as a way to point at you. “You can head out, she offered to help me clean up.”

Verlaine narrows his eyes at that statement, scrutinizing the two of you before letting it go and turning on his heel, probably going back to whatever hole he was allowed to crawl out of. You watch silently as everyone shuffles out in a hurry. You’re thankful for that, not wanting anyone to linger so you can finally compose yourself and actually clean up the mess Chuuya made.

Akutagawa lingers and you give him a puzzled expression but he’s not looking at you, his gaze set on the remaining executive. “You don’t have to stay, Chuuya-san. I can help clean up in your stead.”

Chuuya lets out an easy chuckle, completely unbothered by Akutagawa’s offer. “Nah, don’t worry about it and how many times do I gotta tell you? Drop the damn formalities, it’s just Chuuya. Now go, I’m sure Gin is waiting for you.”

At the mention of his sister, the Port Mafia’s Black-Fanged Hellhound no longer hesitates to round the table and walk out the double doors, pushing them to swing shut behind him. Despite the flimsy effort, the door doesn’t quite latch closed all the way, you can still see out into the now empty hallway from the slivered gap between the doors. This boardroom is in a far corner that people rarely visit. You know for a fact that no one will be coming by for at least an hour, maybe more, because this room was booked for five and a half hours.

Even so, when Chuuya bends you over the table and lifts your skirt up to bunch at your hips you let out a whine. “Chuuya- Wait…What if someone catches us?”

“Let them, not like they can do anything about it. Did you forget that I’m an executive?”

The gravity manipulator emphasizes his words by landing a harsh slap to your ass — immediately followed by him kneading and massaging the sore flesh. He repeats his actions on your other cheek and you finally let out a loud moan, losing all capability to hold them in any longer. Chuuya looms over you, leaning in and gingerly moving your hair to the side, his breath hot as it tickles the tip of your ear.

He grazes his teeth against the shell of your ear and you let out another noise, this one far more pathetic than the last as he simultaneously inserts his fingers back into your cunt. “That teach you to not tease me like that ever again, Doll? How’d it feel, huh? Knowing Akutagawa was aware of everything that was happening under this table? Could see how tight his pants were when he got up. Y’know, he has a little crush on you? It was cute how he tried to stop this from happening. Shoulda kept him here and let him watch as I fuck you dumb into this table.”

“Chuuya-” You let out a sharp gasp when his fingertips graze that sensitive spot, making your walls flutter around him already.

You spent hours pent up thanks to him and now that you were finally alone you pray he finally lets you cum. Luckily for you, your prayers are heard. Chuuya quickens his ministrations and brushes his index finger against your clit messily.

Your mouth falls open and a string of moans flow out as your walls tighten around Chuuya. The taut cord in your abdomen finally snaps and you’re seeing stars before your vision goes completely white. Your ears feel plugged, everything sounding like you're inside of a long tunnel. You feel something wet running down your chin and you distantly think it might be your own drool. You collapse onto the table, but you don’t get much time to think because you’re being yanked up by a pair of strong arms.

“We’re not done yet, you still got at least one more in you, yeah?” Chuuya litters kisses across your jawline and brings his hand up to your mouth. “Suck.”

You’re barely lucid enough to understand what he’s saying but you get the gist when he impatiently taps his fingers against your mouth. Pink and swollen lips warp around his middle and ring finger, then you peer back at him as you suck and twirl your tongue around the digits. You hum around his fingers in appreciation and the vibrations go straight to his dick that is now free from his pants and nestled between your thighs.

Chuuya removes his hands from your mouth when he’s sure you’ve cleaned all of your own juices off. When he takes his hand away he’s almost immediately bringing it back and stuffing something in your mouth you look down and your eyes widen — Your panties. He had kept them with him all day. Your eyes flutter at the thought and you can’t help but to press your ass into his hips.

The executive lets out a hum. “Since you’re so worried about getting caught. Can’t have anyone else hearing you now, can we, Baby?”

To keep you from removing the fabric from your mouth, he takes both your arms and holds them securely behind your back with one hand.

You moan but the noise gets lost in the fabric stuffed in your mouth. Chuuya smirks at your response and finally guides his cock to your entrance, bending you over the table again. When he sinks into your slick cunt, you both sigh out moans, his noises louder than yours since he can let them out freely. His hips stutter on their own and his free hand takes purchase on your hip so he can give himself a moment to ground his eager body.

“Shit, you’re s’fuckin’ warm and soft. God damn- Feel like ’m gonna cum already, the fuck are you doin’ to me, Doll?” The ginger’s head lolls back and he starts languidly thrusting in and out of you.

You whimper, trying to respond but resigned to simply look back at him with pleading eyes.

“Hah…Ok, ok. Don’t gimme that look, I got you.”

Chuuya’s pace picks up and it’s not long until his hips are slamming into you. The whole table rocks, loudly scraping against the marbled floors. You desperately try to keep yourself upright but one particularly harsh jostle has your core muscles loosening, giving out on you and you sink into the cold surface of the tabletop.

Muffled noises catch in your panties and Chuuya is letting out a string of curses. Your hips are twitching and thighs trembling from the oversensitivity and you’re embarrassingly close to cumming already. Though, from the way Chuuya’s hips are stuttering and losing their rhythm, you’d say he isn’t too far off either.

As if he can read your mind, Chuuya voices your suspicions. “Fuck, fuck, Doll. Gonna- shit- ‘m gonna cum, you close? Gonna cum with me, yeah? C’mon, Baby, cum with me.”

His hand sneaks around your hips and his fingers find your clit with ease. Just a few passes and pumps of his cock and your clamping down on him while wailing into the material stuffed into your mouth. Your vision goes white again, black creeping in at the edges, and your ears start to ring. You distantly hear Chuuya’s moans and his hips still as he spills into you, cumming just as hard as you.

You try to catch your breath and after a few moments your vision returns and the ringing turns into a slight buzzing. Still disoriented, your head becomes dizzy again when Chuuya flips you around so your back is now resting on the table. You don’t know how much time has passed nor do you remember where you even are at this very moment

All you know is Chuuya.

The man in question regains himself faster than you and removes the makeshift gag from your mouth. He carefully pulls his now softened cock out of your hole and quickly plugs you up with the very same panties that were in your mouth just seconds ago. The loss of him filling you up hits you and that’s when all your senses finally come flooding back and you return to the boardroom finally.

“What are you doing?” You croak out and you wince at the hoarseness of your voice.

The ginger doesn’t respond. Instead he leans back down to rest his head on your chest. A grunt leaves your throat at the sudden weight and the pressure he puts on your stomach makes it hard to keep anything from spilling out of you.

You can’t believe you still have to tidy up when all you want to do is get into bed with him and sleep. After the stunt he pulled, you should be furious with him, but he was right in his confidence earlier. There would have been no repercussions because Chuuya is invaluable to the Port Mafia.

That doesn’t stop you from feeling bitter.

“Chuuya-” You’re about to scold him, tell him to get off of you because he volunteered you both to clean up and all you’ve done so far is make a bigger mess, when he cuts you off.

“I know, I know. Just- Gimme a second, ok?” And how are you supposed to say no when he nudges his nose against your chin and rubs his fingers into your hips so soothingly?

#chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #chuuya x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #chuuya x fem!reader #bsd x fem!reader #bungo stray dogs x fem!reader #bsd chuuya #writings ʚїɞ

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cyberm4n · 1 year ago

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OK, I NEED SO BAD Adam,Alastor and Husk smut hc's with a hypersexual fem!Reader 😭. Maybe after both finished a round (One of all they had lol), a few seconds pass and she says smiling "can we do it again?" But they have already crossed their own limit.

Sorry for my Bad English 😿

BAHAHA I LOVE THIS IDEA

i had to do a little research on being hypersexual to make sure i was doing this right but if i got anything wrong/inaccurate please let me know!!

cw: smut, reader gets eaten out, reference to rough sex?

alastor —

■ looks im imagining this to be so funny cause alastor is big on rough sex so like moments after fucking you senseless only for you to be like "again? :D" REALLY MESSES WITH HIM

■ like especially cause he feels spent, like he put a lot of effort in there and like??? you're just straight back to normal?? you want more??? how?

■ i think if he's completely spent he'll summon his like shadow self and then it becomes a mental thing

■ cause he's still controlling that but he's not having to do the physical work

■ but otherwise i think he'd probably have a toy for after in the future

■ hear me out but like he's JUST filled you up with his cum and hes immediately pushing a vibrator into you that's on max, making sure you stay all marked up and too stupid to beg for more

■ he'd adjust just fine

adam —

■ this is even more funny to me cause like he's 100% the type to slump over on you after hes cum, still sheathed in you.

■ he seems the type to want multiple rounds so let's say this is like round 3 just finished

■ so when you're like "again please?" literally less than a minute later his eyes snap open

■ like, he knows women typically come back faster than men from this shit but like he's pretty certain he's gonna start shooting blanks if he goes any more

■ there's a beat of silence before he's like "are you fucking serious" and you pout a little, assuming he's making fun of you

■ but like it's adam, this man LOVES sex so the fact you're like so down all the time is great

■ i dont see him being the type to have toys for you (he definitely owns one of those men's masturbaters tho) so he'd find other solutions

■ it's 50/50 he either has you cock warm him until he's ready to go again or he's eating you out like there's no tomorrow

husk —

■ okay he'd be so confused

■ he's a 1 round kind of man but like, he's barely even pulled out and you're like "can we do it again?" with a smile

■ and he's shocked to hear you mean like, right now

■ he'd adjust fine to it though

■ again, don't think he'd have toys but he's cool to go down on you

■ his favorite is rubbing your clit though, just his fingers

■ maybe he'd eventually get a little vibrator or something for you

■ just wanting to make sure you're happy <3

■ i think husk would be the only one to really ask questions abt it, yknow kinda figure out your preferences and stuff

■ he knows he doesn't work the same so he wants to make sure he's treating you well

■ but if you let him eat you out it's like a perfect wind down activity he definitely gets sucked into

■ eyes closed, going to town in making you moan and quiver. like he'd get soo pussy drunk

■ and he's ripping orgasms out of you with no problem, you'll probably have to tell him to stop.

long story short, all 3 absolutely love the fact you're hypersexual and they embrace it :)

#alastor smut #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #husk smut #husk x reader #adam smut #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #husker hazbin hotel

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concretejunglefm · 2 months ago

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So, it's me again with another thot or request if you want to...🥹

I'm on my period which means I'm either sad or horny. That also means I want Noah to fuck me so hard that he has to stop and ask 'Hey are you here with me?' and then give me the sweetest aftercare ever🥹

here he is for you bb! 💕 he's like a shark in the water during that time of the month, I swear 🤭

CW: includes mentions of unprotected sex (p in v), multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), oral (f + m receiving), period sex with mentions of blood, dirty talk, slight dom!noah vibes, brat!reader vibes, heavy on the aftercare and fluff (noah puts readers tampon in).

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

It’s no surprise that Noah always knows when you’re on your period. Part of it is his control-freak nature—he tracks your cycle with meticulous attention—but more than that, it’s the way he’s so deeply in tune with you. It’s like he’s wired into your body, hyper-aware of even the subtlest shifts, especially during this time of the month.

What gives it away most is your mouth. If you’re not weepy from the hormonal roller coaster, you’re insatiably horny—and completely without a filter. The things you let slip between those plush lips could ruin him, especially because you never seem to say them in private. You say them in public, in company, in moments that make him clench his jaw and fight to keep control. They tumble out like you don’t even realize the effect they have, but he knows better—you do.

“This fucking mouth,” Noah murmurs, his thumb gliding along the soft pink hue of your lipstick before pressing just enough to smear it. You’d had plans to go out tonight—until your tongue got a little too bold, a little too filthy. Now, his hand is wrapped around your chin, holding you in place, the heat in his gaze leaving no room for doubt about what’s coming next.

“Are you going to keep staring at it or fuck it?” you shoot back, your voice dripping with challenge. The sound he makes in response is low and guttural, his thumb swiping over your lips again. You part them, slow and deliberate, letting your teeth graze the pad of his thumb before your tongue flicks against it—suggestive and teasing.

There’s no mistaking what’s on your mind. Even now—when most would consider you ‘off-limits’—Noah sees you differently. To him, your heightened need, your sensitivity, your craving for him are an invitation. An opportunity to give you exactly what your body aches for: release.

Sad, horny, cramping—it doesn’t matter. His solution is always the same. Make you cum. Again and again, until your mind is blissfully empty and your body hums with pleasure. He knows how much more malleable you become like this, how willingly you melt under his touch, surrendering to the worship he gives you so thoroughly.

When he finally sinks into your mouth, it’s everything he imagined—warm, wet, eager. Your moan vibrates around him, hungry and greedy, and he has to steel himself not to lose it right then. Your lashes flutter as you look up at him from beneath them, playing the perfect picture of innocence—even though it was your bratty mouth that got you here in the first place, lips stretched around the very thing you dared him to use.

His hand finds a firm grip at the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair as he guides your movements. His hips roll forward to meet your mouth, and his head tilts back, lips parting with a low, drawn-out moan. “Fuck… getting it nice and wet for me to fuck you?” he grunts, voice thick with desire.

Not that he needs you to. You can already feel the slick heat between your thighs—your arousal mingling with the slow, steady flow of blood, making you impossibly wet. It’s something Noah adores, the way he can slide into you so easily, your blood acting as its own kind of lubricant, but more than that, he loves your sensitivity—how every touch, every brush of his skin against yours, leaves you trembling, desperate, and so utterly responsive beneath him.

Once your clothes are gone and you’re laid back on the bed, a towel placed beneath you, Noah parts your thighs with a reverence that borders on hunger. He licks his lips, eyes fixed between your legs like he’s about to indulge in his favorite meal—and in a way, he is. There’s no place he’d rather be than buried between your thighs, his mouth pressed to your pussy, whether he’s drinking in everything you offer or lazily teasing your clit with soft, deliberate kisses that send flutters through your belly.

But right now, nothing excites him more than the faint trail of blood glistening down your folds. His gaze darkens, and then he’s leaning in, tongue flattened as he gives a slow, purposeful lick—ending with a flick against your already oversensitive clit. You gasp, hips bucking, moaning aloud as the contact sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

He loves how your body reacts—how you arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging him closer, silently begging for more. The moment his tongue touches you again, the tension begins to build. He circles your clit once, twice, a third time, and your moans quickly turn to needy whines, soft pleas tumbling from your lips. You need more, you need him, and Noah knows exactly how to give it to you.

He hasn’t even slipped more than a single finger inside you, yet you’re already unraveling—sensitive and strung out, your body responding to his touch like it’s second nature. He knows exactly what you need when you’re like this: the slow build of multiple orgasms that leave you trembling, pleasure flooding your system and momentarily easing the ache—but never the craving.

“Do you need more, baby?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, though it’s not really a question. Not when he’s curling his fingers just right, coaxing a whimper from your lips. And before you can respond, his mouth finds your clit again, tongue flattening to press and flick against it, firm and purposeful. Your hips move on instinct, grinding against his face, chasing more of the sensation he so generously offers.

“Noah, baby, please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me.” The bratty tone you’d had earlier is gone now, dissolved into desperation, leaving you at his mercy—soft, needy, pleading for the only kind of relief that ever truly satisfies you.

Noah doesn’t hesitate. The moment his cock slides inside you, so effortlessly, he feels you tighten around him, your pussy more sensitive than ever, pulling him deeper as though it’s an instinctive need. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, bottoming out, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix with every deep thrust.

His hand moves between your legs, his thumb circling your clit before pressing down firmly, adding another layer of stimulation. His mouth latches onto your nipple, teasing the peak between his teeth in a manner that makes your back arch, a high-pitched moan slipping from your lips as another orgasm crashes through you, your body trembling with pleasure.

“Fuck, I can feel you pulsing around me,” Noah groans, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping them spread wide as his thrusts slow, savoring the feeling of your walls tightening around him, of how deeply he’s buried in you. He relishes in the sensation of your body reacting to him, every inch of you still buzzing from the multiple orgasms he’s drawn from you already.

“Can you feel that, baby? Does it feel better?” Noah asks, his hand slipping up to press gently on your stomach, just where your cramps had been earlier. The pressure only intensifies the deep, rolling thrusts he gives, feeling the bulge of his cock press against you.

But you don’t respond.

“Baby?” His voice softens with concern, looking down at you, his eyes searching your face. Your eyes are rolled back, a look of pure bliss on your features as your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. “Hey, are you with me?” You can’t catch your breath fast enough to reassure him, and the lust-drunk smile that lingers on your lips only deepens his worry.

When he pulls out of you, he’s immediately all over you, trying to ground you, his fingers gently combing through your hair as he whispers soft, comforting words. Your whole body still trembles, floating in a blissful haze, too far gone to fully register Noah’s concern until you slowly begin to return to yourself.

“Baby,” he murmurs against the side of your head.

You turn to look up at him, your eyes slowly focusing back on him, and you let out a breathless laugh. “That was…” Your words trail off, but Noah silences you with a kiss to the crown of your head, gently shushing you as he holds you close through your come-down.

“I think that’s enough for now.”

You want to protest, to whine about how he never got to cum, maybe make a dirty joke about the creampie he could’ve cleaned up, knowing he’d have done it no matter how messy things got, but the words never make it past your lips—your mind clouded, thoughts slipping away as the haze deepens.

“Let’s get you in a bath,” Noah suggests softly.

When Noah scoops you up from the bed, you instinctively cling to him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you across the hall to the bathroom.

He sets a towel on the edge of the tub before gently sitting you down on it. The simple gesture feels thoughtful against the cool plastic, and for a brief moment, you refuse to let go of him. Your head buries against his neck with a soft hum, inhaling his scent—the mixture of sweat and sex that clings to him, somehow making him smell even more intoxicating.

When you finally release him, he steps away briefly, moving toward the sink to retrieve a glass of water and returns with it, offering it to you along with a few vitamins in the palm of his hand.

“Drink. Swallow.” He instructs, his voice calm but firm. You meet his gaze briefly, the brattiness still lingering in you despite the haze of pleasure, but it only makes the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.

You follow his instructions, and he turns his attention to the tub, running the taps after slipping the plug in place. Once the water begins to fill, he’s back by your side, his arm wrapping around you to guide you gently against his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back in an effort to ground you.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his gaze soft with concern. You understand why. It’s one of the rare times he’s taken you to the edge of your wits, with barely a coherent thought left in your head. The only time you’ve been this far gone was when he made you pass out from overstimulation—but that was different. This was a deep, dizzying pleasure.

“Mm, really good,” you murmur dreamily, your body still humming with the aftershocks of the pleasure he gave you.

“Yeah?” His fingers comb through your hair, the tenderness in his touch making you feel even more cared for. He reaches past you to grab a bottle of bath soak, adding a small amount to the water for a gentle lather of bubbles. He dips his hand in to test the water, stirring it until the bubbles form, then turns off the tap.

With his arm still around you, he keeps you steady, his attention back on you. “Can you join me?” you ask, gazing up at him, your eyes soft as if he’s the most ethereal thing you’ve ever seen. Even without the post-orgasm glow, you’d still feel this way about him.

You sense him about to argue, to remind you that this moment is for you, but before he can speak, his expression softens. He nods, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and once again, those butterflies stir in your stomach. You love these moments, how gentle and loving he is with you, especially now. You want to soak in it, to bask in the warmth of his care.

As he helps you into the bath and joins you moments later, settling behind you so you can rest between his thighs, you know this is all you need. This, right here and now with him, is all you ever need.

“Thank you,” you murmur softly, pressing gentle kisses to his arms as they loosely wrap around you, your fingers going on to trace the intricate tattoos that adorn his skin.

As Noah pulls you closer, you feel the warm press of his mouth on your shoulder, causing you to sigh. Your eyes flutter closed as he places a delicate series of kisses along the back of your neck. “Do you still hurt?” he asks, his voice quiet and concerned. You know he means your cramps and one hand slips beneath the water, resting on your stomach, offering himself as a human heating pad.

“A little,” you reply. Your cramps have been somewhat alleviated, but you can already feel them slowly returning. There’s only so much you can do to keep them at bay.

“Would a massage help?” Noah offers and before you can respond, you feel the gentle pressure of his fingers pressing against your stomach, moving with purpose as he searches for the most painful spot.

When you make a soft sound, he knows he’s found it and as his focus remains there, he leans forward, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Anything you need, baby.” His words are a quiet reaffirmation, and you know he means them. Noah has always been the kind to put your needs first, always wanting to make you feel good, no matter what it takes.

As he begins to wash you, he’s slow and meticulous, taking his time with each movement of the washcloth against your skin, leaving soft kisses where the soap has already been washed away, his touch tender, like he’s worshipping you with every delicate gesture.

“You’re so beautiful, every inch of you. You know that, right?” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but you blush as though it is, feeling a warmth spread through you. You try to pull away, but you’re trapped between his thighs, unable to escape as he continues to appreciate every part of you. And no part of you goes unnoticed. Noah wants nothing more than to stake his claim on you, even on the softer areas—behind your ear, the back of your neck, the crease of your arm.

If he could, he’d leave a soft reminder of himself everywhere he touches.

Even when his hand slips between your thighs, Noah remains gentle. There’s nothing overtly sexual in his touch—just a quiet, sensual care as his fingers part you under the water. You gasp, and he pauses, but then his fingers move again, spreading you tenderly as if to help cleanse you more thoroughly, but when his fingertip begins to circle your clit, your body melts against his.

The sensation is too much and not enough all at once, and the words spill from your lips before you can stop them. “Noah, please…” you whisper, tilting your head back, your mouth catching his jaw between your teeth in a soft, playful bite as his fingers continue—slow, practiced, and devastatingly good.

“One more,” he breathes, the words sounding more like a promise to himself than to you, as if he’s trying to convince himself this will be the last, though you both know it never is. You’re just as insatiable for each other.

He doesn’t rush. He draws it out deliberately, teasing you with slow, purposeful circles over your most sensitive spot. His free hand cradles your body against his chest as he kisses you—slow and deep, sensual and unhurried. Everything about this moment is for you—your pleasure, your comfort, the way he carefully unravels you like he’s memorizing everything about you.

You ride the wave he builds with infinite patience, your body trembling in his arms. His kisses trail from your lips to your jawline, down the column of your throat, his fingers slipping inside you and curling just right—pressing against the spot that sends you soaring.

You cling to him, whimpering softly, your body shivering as your climax begins to fade. He holds you steady, whispering grounding words while you melt into his chest, letting yourself be supported, loved, and cared for. And when the high has passed, when your breathing steadies, Noah resumes what he started—cleaning you off with the same quiet tenderness, never rushing, never letting go.

Noah is the first to step out of the tub, leaving you sitting in the slowly draining water, your eyes following him as he moves. The sound of his soft humming fills the bathroom—he’s always humming something. Whether it’s one of his own songs, a track that’s been stuck in his head all day, or even an anime theme, it’s a sound that soothes you. It’s a quiet reminder that he’s there, that you’re not alone.

“Come on, let’s get you dry,” he murmurs, holding a towel out for you.

You glance over at him, biting your lower lip as you take in the sight of him—water glistening on his bare, tattooed chest, the towel hanging low on his hips. He looks like something out of a painting, a Greek god in the flesh, and it feels almost unfair to be witnessing it. His muscles flex subtly as he waits for you, holding the towel open, an offering for you.

Rising from the now-lukewarm water, you step into his arms and into the waiting towel, his embrace wrapping around you along with the soft fabric. You can’t help but tease, giggling softly as you look up at him. “Are you going to dress me next?”

He looks down at you with that familiar lovesick gaze, eyes warm and shining. “If I have to.”

You already know the truth—Noah would do anything for you, and he never makes you feel like it’s a chore.

“Well, I appreciate that. But you don’t have to,” you reply gently, though you know it won’t stop him. He’s already moving the towel over your skin, drying you off with slow, deliberate strokes. When he drops to his knees to reach lower, he continues murmuring soft words of love against your skin, kissing your hip, your thigh, like it’s second nature.

“Let me help you put your tampon in,” he says quietly, eyes trained on you.

The words catch you off guard. You grow shy, instinctively stepping back, but his hands slide to your hips, grounding you, holding you in place—not with force, but with tenderness.

“Baby, please?” he asks, so softly, so sweetly. There’s no pressure in his voice—just that familiar, earnest desire to care for you in any way you’ll let him and when you reach for the drawer, he stops you with a soft touch. “Let me,” he says again, voice soft.

There’s no teasing in his voice—only quiet devotion.

You hesitate for a breath, watching him, and then slowly nod. His touch is careful as he kneels in front of you, his hands steady and respectful. He takes the tampon with the same calm he’s shown all evening, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he murmurs.

His fingers guide with gentle precision, the moment surprisingly intimate in a way that leaves your chest aching—in a good way. Not because it’s sexual, but because it’s him, because he sees all of you, even like this, and never flinches. When it’s done, he presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, then rises to meet you again, towel still in hand, like nothing about this moment ever needs to be hidden.

Once you’re finished in the bathroom, Noah gently guides you back into the bedroom. He quickly finds a pair of sleep shorts and one of his shirts for you to wear, helping you slip them on just as he promised. When you’re dressed, he climbs into bed with you, arms immediately reaching out to pull you into his chest, wrapping you up securely in his embrace.

You settle against him, your body melting into the warmth of his, and he presses a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. A quiet, contented sigh escapes you, and just before sleep can pull you under, you hear him murmur, “I love you,” against your skin.

And you melt, completely, into him and his love.

#v 💕#noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens smut #noah sebastian x f!reader #concretejunglefm fics

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matchpointfaist · 4 months ago

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won't you save me? ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

sheltered art x flirty reader pt ii

the second time art saw you, you were clean from your usual messy makeup, your hair pulled into a bun and a pink hoodie covering the frame he'd become uncomfortably familiar with. you had a coffee in one hand and a vape in the other, looking irritated and frazzled and not at all how he'd seen you the week prior.

he must have been too lost in thought to watch where he was going, or maybe you had him under some sort of trance, but next thing he knew his shirt was covered in iced coffee, and you were looking up at him with wide eyes, apologies spilling from your lips in record time.

"oh! oh, gosh, no, it's alright," he rambled, the cold liquid slicking his shirt to his chest. "it's my fault, i wasn't paying attention-" his breath caught as you pulled the hoodie over your head, leaving you in a lace trimmed tank top, much tighter than the pink fabric had been. just as he started to gain some composure, your hands were on him, blotting his shirt with your jacket like it was the most obvious solution in the world.

"i'm such a clutz," you laughed regretfully, wiping his shirt down, "i am so sorry," "it's okay!" his voice was suddenly hoarse, his face hot and hands shaking, "i can clean it up, don't ruin your hoodie," "i don't mind," and there it was- that smile that weakened his knees, the one he'd seen you giving all the boys at that stupid frat party, this time directed at him. and oh god, he was fucked.

"you're art, right?" you asked, pulling the hoodie away to survey the condition of his t shirt, "donaldson?" "yeah!" it came out quicker than he would've liked, "uh, yes, that's me. i didn't know we knew each other,"

"oh, i try to make a habit of knowing all the tennis boys," he could've sworn you were teasing him, "especially the blonde ones," "w-why's that?" he borderline squeaked, "do you like tennis, i mean?"

"sure, somethin like that," you grinned, and dear god, you winked at him, "cute necklace,"

and then, when art thought it couldn't get any worse, your black fingernails were on his silver crucifix, your eyes inspecting it curiously, "you christian?"

"catholic," he nearly choked out, "i- it's a crucifix, when they nailed him to the cross-" "i know what a crucifix is, donaldson," you rolled your eyes, but your smile was back; oh god, your smile.

"well i have to get to class," his heart was pounding, the tent in his sweats threatening to give him away, to expose him and all his impure thoughts and fantasies- your hand was on his arm. and he was so fucking gone.

"you should call me sometime," you said softly, your eyes all wide and sweet and your lashes were so long and oh god, there he was, thinking about your on your knees again. "i don't have your number," was all he managed, his breath stuck in his tightening throat.

"give me your phone," it was like a command, like you were controlling his actions, because before he could even think, you were typing your number into his cell and passing it back to him with another wink.

"see you, artie," you grinned, patting his shoulder, "oh, and you might wanna do some extra praying to make up for all that," you giggled as your eyes fell to his thighs, to the obvious tent, to the very thing he'd been so desperate to hide.

before he could protest, or make some last ditch excuse, you were gone, the smell of your perfume lingering enough to nearly make his mouth water.

he watched you go, each sway of your hips adding to the tension, adding to the twisted longing he felt for you.

that night, he hovered over your contact, debating what he'd even say to you. 'hey, it's art. i think i'm in love with you.' 'hi! it's art. i jerked off to you last week.' 'hey, it's art donaldson. you make me question my faith.' finally, 'hey, it's art, from earlier.'

your reply came minutes later, the vibration off his phone interrupting his nightly prayer, and he tried to ignore the guilt as he paused his talk with god to begin his arguably more important talk with you.

'hi, art from earlier.' you'd sent, 'whatcha doin?'

'fantasizing about you.' 'just getting ready for bed. you?'

'same.' and then there it was, and he felt sick, he felt restless and needy and depraved and you were on his screen, a selfie of you in your silk pajamas, your hair down just barely covering your chest and his own chest was growing so very tight, his breathing restricted, his eyes taking in every single detail.

'oh.' was all he could manage to reply, shifting uncomfortably in his boxers, his skin flushed, 'goodnight then.'

'night, artie :) hope you handled your little problem from earlier.'

oh, he'd handle it. god, he wished you could handle it for him.

#art x reader #art donaldson fic #challengers 2024 #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #artdonaldson #art donaldson smut #challengers #sheltered! art x flirty reader #sheltered! art #sheltered art x flirty reader

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digitalmarketinqatar · 1 year ago

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In Saudi Arabia, vibration control solutions are increasingly sought after to address various challenges in construction, industrial, and transportation sectors. These solutions include vibration isolators, damping materials, and structural modifications designed to minimize the transmission of vibrations and noise. With a growing focus on infrastructure development and industrial expansion, numerous providers offer specialized vibration control solutions tailored to the specific needs of projects across the kingdom.

#Vibration Control Solutions in Saudi Arabia

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cupcakeslushie · 1 year ago

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For your brainwash au, do we get so see exactly how Donnie got captured by Kendra? And would this au be a full comic or just bits and pieces here and there? (Not pressuring just curious) Love the au and I hope you’re having a good day! :)

Don’t know why, but I felt like writing this part out instead of drawing it! (Sorry for bad grammar. I wrote this lying in bed, sleep deprived and did no editing)

——

The sad, pained look on his little brother’s face is enough to set off that dark protective fire in Donatello’s belly. And Michael has been a tiny storm of negative emotions since Leo slapped the small cast on his ankle. Donnie may not be able to pick apart and decipher all of the subtitles his brother is feeling right now, but he knows he’s in pain, and that’s enough.

“How many strips of bacon do you think we can get from Meat Sweat’s corpse?” Donnie ponders as he wraps an arm around his little brother’s shoulders, and carefully pulls him closer. Mikey lets out a quiet huff, but the joke doesn’t land the way Donnie had been hoping.

“Michael?”

“I’m okay,” Mikey assures. Then a hesitant second later adds, “it’s stupid.”

“Oh well if it’s stupid, allow me to grab ‘Nardo. He might be able to help you better.”

That gets the laugh he was looking for.

“I’m not in pain or anything. It’s just, tonight was the midnight signing of Joshua Bear’s new cook book. He’s a YouTuber chef that I’ve been following for years, and I went to his first release…I really wanted the second for my collection.”

Donatello does vaguely remember Angelo telling Raph something about this event last night, during dinner. He’d been so excited, and now he looks crushed at the idea of missing it.

“What if I went?” At the suggestion, Mikey’s face becomes brighter than a super nova, almost too bright for Donnie to stare at directly. It takes a moment for Michael to really calm down enough to speak.

“You’d really go wait in line for three hours? Just to get a book?” Donatello laughs at the question. Any opportunity in which his brothers were interested in the world of literature, no matter the subject (except maybe geology) was a time to be supportive.

Mikey pulls him in for a tight hug, and holds up his phone to snap a picture of them. Donnie snorts and slides out of his little brother’s hammock, careful not to disturb it too much. Mikey is already bouncing enough that he’s in danger of falling out.

“Yes, yes. Sing my praises on all your media socials. Let the world know how I’m your favorite older sibling!” Mikey drops the phone to his chest and holds his arms up, practically vibrating for one more hug. Donnie complies. He’s long given up maintaining his bad boy image when it’s just the two of them.

“You’re the best, Donnie! Really!” The words do a hell of a job replacing that previous fury he’d been harboring, the smile and warmth coming from Mikey, now fully restored. The proper order of the universe righted with a simple solution. This was what he loved most about being a brother. Fixing his siblings problems, in any way he could. And if healing the broken bone outright was (for now) out of his control—at least he could do this.

Donnie glances at his watch and notes he should get going if the turn out is going to be as big as Angelo predicts. He sneaks past the living room where he can hear his other two brethren yelling over a game of Mario Kart. He has zero interest in either of his brothers tagging along. He loves them, but neither are suited to standing in a long line for hours. For the last Jupiter Jim reboot, Donatello was seconds away from a double fratricide before they were even allowed into the theater.

Besides. He’s practically 18 (in four weeks). He can run up to the surface for a few hours, without having to call upon the archaic buddy system.

———

He’s in line for about an hour, when he sees suspicious movement out the corner of his eye. A young woman, parting the line a little ways ahead from where he stands, walks quickly into the closest alley. That alone might be no cause for alarm—maybe it’s a short cut. But the tall, hooded creep trailing after her, has his metaphorical hackles rising. It’s a clear case of sinister intentions. He quickly glances around to see if anyone else has witnessed this, but he’s the only one who seems to be showing any type of concern. Typical New York.

“What a town” Donnie sighs. He doesn’t bother asking the old man behind him to save his spot, seeing as he’s practically at the end of the line, and quickly races to the alley to play hero.

It’s a deep one, the lights of the street not quite hitting all the eerie nooks and crannies. Plenty of blind spots.

“Hello there? Stalker and or damsel in distress? Is anyone in need of assistance? Anyone hopefully bear maced and in need of a being escorted to the nearest precinct?”

No answer.

The non-existent hairs on Donnie’s arms stand straight up. Just as he’s reaching for his ninpo to materialize a bo-staff, something thick wraps around his neck from behind. The arm is almost as big as Raphael’s, if lacking in the muscle department.

But before his can break the hold, the solid feeling of a needle slides into the meat of his neck and something rushes into his veins. Within seconds he’s released and stumbling from the lack of support.

Someone is talking to him. It takes a second of his gaze bouncing around to pick them out. Mildly embarrassing, considering they’re standing right in front of him now. Out of all the colors popping in and out of his vision, Donnie only just catches the same turquoise hoodie that seemed to belong to the unassuming young woman.

A honey pot trap, he realizes, stumbling and falling pathetically backwards on his own ass.

He sees pink hair and is almost relieved, if humiliated. With all their enemies, the Purple Dragons are D tier. But the chances he can free himself before his brothers even notice his absence is high. Just the thought of the savage teasing he would be forced to endure if his brothers found out—Donatello is not eager to hear any of it.

As the nauseating colors finally bleed away, and start to leave black growing in their wake, Donatello swears to cause a big explosion on his way out.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise donnie #rise mikey #rise kendra #Kendratello au #ask slushie #rottmnt writing #kendratello au ask

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