#and bounce back and forth between fics

[reading-writing-dying]

Don't look now but I may have had another scarian fic idea today 🙈

[streets-in-paradise]

I am doing a titanical effort trying not to let the Gladiator daydreams overrun my desire to write for Troy.

The inside of my mind feels like this:

[domoz-writes]

I love the implied pining of the summary of 'in the corner of another room'. Could I prompt you for 100 words of that (and if you're feeling generous 100 of 'Wood Tar, Charcoal Ginger, And Honey')

so much pining, just pointed in not quite the right direction

In the Corner of Another Room

Then on the third day of searching, he's pointed towards a young servant woman who works as a gardener for the town's magistrate. "Oh sure, he was here!" She says easily. "He wanted to make some paintings of the flowers. Sat pretty much right there as he did." She points at a space between the rows of primroses. Izuna must control his expression too well as his heart pounds, because she hesitates when she looks up to see the blankness on his face. "Ah, he's not… In trouble, is he?" "No." Izuna breathes. And then louder, "No, not in trouble. Do you know where he went?"

Wood Tar, Charcoal, Ginger, and Honey

With no fanfare that same hand makes a new sign and a blade of pure chakra forms at the ends of his fingers. "One cut in the subclavian artery, one in the illiac vein." That's all the warning he gives before pulling Izuna's robes open entirely and cutting into him. One on his upper chest and one into his side. Small things though Madara still has to force himself not to surge forward and drag the Senju away by the back of his clothes. The blood that flows out of them is sluggish and dark -- one of his hands still rests glowing on Izuna's chest, so he must be doing something to staunch the flow.

[enidsinclajr]

update on fics: got a new desk setup and am off of work this weekend. hoping to get some stuff done!!!

[flyingspicerack]

SHIT!!! i SHOULD have brought my tablet today... i wanna draw pics for those otome and mao asks.... wtf ....

[aceofstars16]

I’m not even like…a fourth of the way through “Against the Moon” but I’m loving it so much, the kiddos are so in character and I’m just…so happy…I know it’s not completed but it’s still fun to read! Though I never imagined Lupin getting so hurt with his transformations, I mean it makes sense but still I’m just 😭

[amberishrose]

Started a new brain dump document to get the Thoughts (TM) out because guess who got blugeoned over the head with a new story idea today at work :D

[littlexdeaths]

there is a little nod to a specific twilight quote/convo in this upcoming it’s a recipe for disaster fic i’ve got cooking

[okiankeno]

debating if I should add a new chapter to my x reader oneshot or just make a new post on ao3 and link them as a series but.... the x reader is like mandatory context for the fic so I think that I'll do the former option hmmm

[thetalee]

...where did this second gurney come from? there’s one ambulance, and they only carry a single gurney, where-

Wait, wait, I forget

back-engineered TARDIS tech

[potchi-fics]

note; yall fuck with me rapidly posting new fics? ill get to yalls ask btw, specifically the pervy cait and the basketball player cait fics. ooh and ill also prolly pick up the ambessa one too!!!

tw; amab academic rival caitlyn, orgasm denial, overstim

      you and caitlyn have been at each other’s throats since the start of the semester, actually ever since you were kids. she may have excelled in the ranges of her rifle, but you prospered in close-range, via hand-to-hand combat.

one thing you both have in common is academics. you have a higher score? she’ll bounce right back and take the number one spot—it’s a back-and-forth between you two.

and when she gets in a slump, you just have the right thing to help her get back on track.

“eight-point ninety-nine expansion–damn it. how am i su-supposed to focus when you’re sucking me like you want to suck the soul out of m-me?” caitlyn pants out while looking down at you with lidded eyes, her glasses look like they’re about to fall off. you glare at her before taking her to the hilt, your nose hitting cleanly shaven pelvic bone, “fuck.”

you swallow around her twitching dick, massaging her using your throat before rising up for much-needed air, “focus, caitlyn. answer the question.”

      her hips buckle up, lifting off the sofa in your apartment. she’s trying her best to recall where she stopped, but the feeling of your wet, hot—warm throat sidetracks her.

caitlyn could only tip her head back, eyes rolling to the back of her head because you, her academic rival, are giving her the best head she’s ever gonna have for the rest of her life.

she doesn’t mind getting in a slump if it means getting you to do this to her. caitlyn’s head lolls back down to look at you giving her a stare; continue.

shit, this is too much for her. “eight-point ninety-nine expansion negative nine–gonna cu—” 

you still your movements, soaking in how her eyes seem to plead for you to let her cum. her dick’s still throbbing in your hold, jumping and twitching at the cold air hitting her, “not yet, baby. you gotta answer correctly.”

she grits her teeth to hold the tightening knot in the lower part of her stomach, “eight-point ninety-nine expansion positive nine–”

“there you go.”

      you take her tip back in your mouth, jerking the rest of her untouched dick. she cums in thick spurts, cock spasming, and her legs are shaking, making you moan softly when you taste her.

she weakly paws at your head when the pleasure you prolonged gets too much. but you think to yourself: she deserves a reward, doesn’t she?

[alchemistc]

As usual my idle thoughts have turned into another fic.

Saturday

"What are you doing Saturday?" he asks, even though Evan has been not-quite-yelling at him while Tommy tries to fly a fucking helicopter. He's been going for almost four minutes straight. Tommy's pretty certain he's listing off the things he never told Tommy he was pissed off about in reverse sequential order from "Thanks, it was fun." back. He's barely past "Basketball tickets, Tommy? Basketball? In six months, I played basketball badly with you once and then spent every Lakers game we watched elbow deep in a subreddit about moths or something!"

Evan pauses. Blinks at the question. It's the first moment Tommy's been able to hear the rotors working in at least nine and a half minutes, back before he started to argue back.

"I'm free," he says, and Tommy thinks of the first time he'd ever asked, nerves propelling him out the door with finger guns, the tapping foot all the way down the elevator while he ran the words back and forth in his head over and over again, the way he kept randomly smiling the entire drive home to grab his work bag. So you're free, he'd asked, and he hadn't understood the significance of Evan's response until days later, until he'd done his first of many runners, how I am free, meant so much more than available for dinner and a movie on Saturday at 8.

Tommy nods. Chances a look at Evan to see him glaring at Tommy while he sucks in his lips to try to hide the way the corners of his lips are upturned. "Pick you up at 8," he says, and thinks of bullet point number... thirteen in Evan's rant where he implied Tommy never actually told him how he was feeling at any point in time during the entirety of their relationship. Maybe he can explain how excruciatingly vulnerable he felt he was being with making it so fucking obvious he'd chewed over the conversation they'd had after their first kiss so long and so obsessively that he'd memorized it.

"Great," Evan says

"Fine," Tommy replies.

"Awesome."

"Copacetic."

This earns him an eye roll and a glance he'd call fond if it weren't for the anger still stirring behind Evans eyes.

He only thinks to regret the question days later when Saturday is taken up by a funeral procession.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, with Evan plastered to his side, working himself up to a snore.

He pats at some of the loose curls he's been obsessively rolling through his fingers, entranced by the way the moonlight bounces off of them, entranced by the wet heat of Evan's breath against his skin.

"More of exactly this," Evan says, and Tommy snorts.

"If I fiddle with your hair any more it might start falling out."

He's a loose-limbed weight against Tommy's side, and Tommy would like to roll himself into the space between his muscle and skin and just nestle there for the rest of time. "Y'like my hair to-," he swallows a yawn, "too much for that."

That's true, at least. He had a point in asking, but he's struggling to remember what it was.

"Waz haturday?" he gets, in a mumble around another yawn.

Tommy twirls another lock of hair between his fingers. "There's a new exhibit at the Getty. Thought you might wanna go."

"Museum, and this," Evan manages into Tommy's ribcage.

"It's a date," Tommy murmurs, and waits for the telltale snuffle of Evan passing the fuck out.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, tongue between his teeth as he backs his way towards the chopper. He has to yell, even though Evan is five feet away, and Evan grins back, eyeing Tommy's hair being kicked around by the vortex of the blades.

"Handbook!" Hen chirps over the noise, her shorthand for stop flirting in my general vicinity I'll kill you both.

Evan shoots her a challenging grin. Glances around long enough to notice a few eavesdropping firefighters from other stations lingering near enough to hear. Sighs, and mouths a silent "You" that's visible from space. Tommy's gonna get so much shit from Harbor when this makes it's rounds, but Evan was extra hot today and Tommy's pretty sure his brain chemistry has been irrevocably altered by getting to sleep in his bed multiple nights a week.

"Pick me up at 8," Tommy yells over the noise, and, mortifyingly, throws the fingers guns back into play a moment before he turns to leave. Why had Evan ever thought he was cool?

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Evans asks, while Tommy balances his phone on a bin of protein powder before going back to digging in his junk drawer. "Also do you own a bandsaw."

Tommy glances up from the drawer. Takes in the sight of Evan, lounging on his pillows, looking indecent while he plays at innocence. Tommy wishes he was there, but he has way too much shit to do tomorrow to justify the drive, tonight.

"What the hell do you need a bandsaw for?"

Evan blinks. "You can find out Saturday if you bring it over."

"Evan, if you've been watching DIY videos to fall asleep again..."

"I get plenty of sleep, Tommy!"

Tommy begs to differ. If he's not around to point out Evan meant to be asleep an hour earlier, he's positive Evan loses at least three hours to YouTube and Twitter most nights.

Tommy sighs. "It's heavy as hell, Evan, and I'd have to jerry rig a pulley system to get it past the Impala while the engine's still out. Is this something we can do here?"

Evan contemplates. Nods.

"I'm assuming you need the truck, too."

"I can fit everything in the Jeep."

Tommy shoots him a look that does nothing to quell the shit-eating grin coming through the phone right now.

He bites back this particular sigh. "I'll pick you up."

"At 8."

Tommy shoots him a raised brow. Apparently Evan wants to piss off the neighbors.

"AM."

"Evan."

"I'll stop by that donut place early and get you that horrible pink drink you like."

Tommy's said 'no' to this man less times than he has drill sergeants. "You realize you're signing yourself up for the grumpiest boyfriend of all time?"

"I love grumpy Tommy," Evan says, and sounds like he means it.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Maddie asks, and Evan's gaze gets a little foggy for a moment.

His sister raises a brow at Tommy.

"Just a little inside joke," Tommy assures her, and can't hide his grin when Evan squeezes his knee under the table.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, and listens to Sal try to make excuses for a full minute and a half.

"...why do you ask," Sal finally asks after he runs dry.

"I'm moving. Thought I might bribe you with pizza and beer for some muscle."

Sal is quiet for longer than Tommy thinks he's ever managed. He ruins it by whistling his disbelief for at least fifteen seconds.

"Well, if it's that serious, Buckley better fucking be there so I can finally meet the kid who made you fucking crazy." He pauses. "Crazier," he amends. "What the fuck are you gonna do with the lift?"

"So I'll see you at my place at ten?"

"You're not freaking out. Why are you not freaking out?"

Tommy has a list of those reasons tucked behind a book Evan deemed 'the most boring thing I've ever let my eyes see' because he's still a little self conscious about the half-assed attempt at journaling he's been doing. He doesn't think Sal deserves a single one of those reasons.

"Bring extra packing tape," he shoots back, and hangs up before Sal can respond.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Eddie asks, and Tommy, irrationally, sort of wants to shoot him with lasers. Karen would probably let him borrow some.

He's not actually sure what Karen does in that lab of hers, but there has to be lasers, right?

Evan glances up from his perusal of the back of his beer label. "Um?" He darts his gaze to Tommy.

They haven't told anyone, and Tommy is pretending to be normal and chill and cool about that. He can keep a secret for another few days.

"If this is a sex thing you can keep it to yourself. I don't need another refresher on Tommy and Buck's sex life."

Tommy flickers between smug pleasure and exasperated annoyance. He settles somewhere in the middle, and spends the thirty seconds of eye contact and communicative facial expressions between Evan and Eddie thinking about what the weekend has in store for him.

"I mean, there's gonna be sex, but that's not, like, the point of the weekend."

Tommy raises a brow. "I never promised sex."

"It's a prerequisite for the other parts of the weekend."

"Oh look, I need a refill," Eddie says, already standing, holding up his mostly full bottle.

Evan kicks him under the table the moment Eddie's out of hearing range. "Stop freaking out. He's not the one who's getting a ring at the end of this trip."

Planning out their proposals together hadn't been something he ever thought he'd do, but once Evan had thrown it out there he'd gotten so lost in the sauce he'd forgoten it was weird. It's taken months to line this up and schedule it. They've talked it through so many times Tommy's pretty sure he could recite their itinerary from memory.

He's never gonna live down admitting he saw Eddie as competition. If it's not in Evan's proposal it might be in his vows.

"You didn't think I'd ditch you in a romantic cabin in the woods with a Jacuzzi tub that fits us both just because Eddie wanted to do something on Saturday, did you?"

No. But also yes. It's just his caveman brain shouting from behind the door Tommy locked it in when he finally understood exactly what he meant to Evan.

He's working on it.

"Just didn't want to spoil the surprise," he intones, and Evan narrows his eyes.

"Tommy."

Tommy slaps a hand on the table for Evan to grasp. "He's not the one getting a ring, Evan."

"Damn right. His hands are way too small. You ever notice he's got dainty fingers? That thing would fall off his thumb."

Tommy's dimples twitch, and Evan's grin is triumphant.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, and from halfway across the station he can hear a faint "Handbook!" in Hen's voice.

Evan rolls his eyes.

"I have to put on a tux and marry this dude," Evan says. "Why, you got something else in mind?"

Tommy shifts half an inch closer. "What a coincidence. I have to marry some dude this Saturday, too."

"Buck has work today, Thomas! And this is technically against the rules, you're not supposed to see each other!" Howie, this time, much closer to the bay doors than Hen was.

Tommy taps his knuckles against the hood of his truck. Leans into Evans space and steals a quick kiss. "See you Saturday?"

"See you tomorrow," Evan says, and ignores the peanut gallery to steal a lingering kiss of his own.

[wol-fica]

I LOVED LOVED LOVE, your Sabrina carpenter fic can you do more PLEASE like maybe a continuation of the first one I NEED MORE (and maybe some NSFW) 😳☺️☺️

just because you asked so nicely, here’s this out of my good graces ;) - an

————————

Moonlight Startlight

parings - Sabrina Carpenter x G!Preader

warnings - thigh riding, fingering(s receiving), oral(r receiving), semi!public sex, swearing

an - coffeeeeeee 🤤

————————

“Mmm…” Sabrina moaned quietly in your ear, clutching onto you as you left little kisses on her neck.

You both were entangled in the back of her BMW, clinging to one another like velcro while you tortured her with gentle hickeys. Her show had ended a few hours ago, and after parking in the driveway to her mansion, you both had decided you couldn’t contain yourselves anymore.

See, watching Sabrina perform almost every night has gotten you quite peckish, especially seeing the variety of poses she does for Juno knowing full well you were the one she was executing those with. You knew she had wanted to screw around in her dressing room after she was done, but once you saw her bouncing up and down on stage and looking at you with such a seductive stare, you knew you needed to handle her elsewhere.

Now you were here with her shifting in your lap, whimpering softly as your knee rocked back and forth between her thighs, her wetness covering your jeans as she feebly got herself off. She still had her skirt on, brown plaid paired with a button down shirt (which was currently fully unbuttoned) while her panties were stuffed into her mouth. You had used your belt to tie her hands behind her back, gripping her hips to ever so slightly guide her movements during your assault on her neck.

She looked so delicious, her skin glowing from the moonlight shining down through the sunroof. Tears dripped down her face, filling her beautiful blue eyes with a soft warmth. Her eyebrows were upturned, in a position of awareness and pleasure from your consistent touching on her body.

“You look breathtaking my love.” You murmured into her temple, pushing your leg up into her, “So gorgeous.”

She moaned in response, letting her head tilt to the side to rest on yours as she rolled her hips forward and back. Her legs started to shake, thighs tensing and breathing becoming quicker as she began to approach her orgasm. You helped her along, nibbling on her collar bone and licking her sweat coated skin as she tumbled into her release.

She collapsed into your chest, panting softly and taking in gulps of the cold air when you removed her panties from her mouth. You whispered praises in her ear, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of her skirt before pulling the item down her legs.

“Don’t get to comfortable, Sab.” You said, reaching around to undo the belt while the other slipped between her thighs, “I’m not quite done with you.”

“F-fuck.” She stuttered, her soaked cunt clenching around nothing while your digits ran through her folds, “…n-need you...”

You chuckled, nudging her cheek when she inhaled sharply from your fingers pressing against her entrance, “Oh, I know sweetheart.”

You kissed the shell of her ear before pushing two fingers up into her, sighing in delight from how wet she really was. She gasped, naturally arching her back like you taught her to while she tilted her head back , semiconsciously opening her legs more to give you better access.

She cried out softly, her hand flying to her mouth to cover it when you pressed against that sweet spot just behind her pelvic bone. You curled your fingers into it, pumping them back and forth inside of her without missing a beat. Her walls began to pulse around your digits, clenching in a spastic rhythm, almost of a heart beat.

“Babe…” She whined behind her hand, her eyes fluttering from the intrusion, “m’ close…feels good….”

“I know, baby, I know.” You cooed, rolling your wrist upwards into her with each curl, “I’ll tell you when.”

She nodded, holding onto your bicep for support as she rocked her hips back and forth. You noted on her expression, eyes shut tightly, teeth sinking into her thumb, her cheeks rosy red, all familiar signs of her holding her orgasm at bay.

“Such a good girl, so obedient.” You praised, smiling when she interlaced her fingers with yours, “Cum for me, Sabrina.”

She moaned deeply, a thick sound exuding from the back of her throat. Her body tensed, the tightness of her cunt telling you that she did what you asked, and promptly covered your fingers with her wetness.

You nuzzled her cheek with your nose, slowly removing your fingers and bringing them up to your lips. Her eyes immediately snapped to you, her gaze darkening when you opened your mouth to taste her. As soon as her juices hit your tongue, you groaned, eyes rolling and smiling softly from how delicious she was.

“Tasty.” You commented, wiping the spit off your fingers on your jeans, “As always.”

“Better fucking be.” Sabrina pouted, fidgeting with the button on your pants, “I wanna please you now.”

“Yeah?” You replied, squeezing her hips gently, “Whatcha’ got in mind sweets?”

She hummed, undoing your jeans and pulling them down along with your boxers. Your cock sprung free, bobbing heavily between your legs. She slid to her knees, tying her hair back neatly before leaning forward.

Her eyes locked with yours, big, round, and innocent looking as she began to lick a stripe from the base of your cock all the way to the head. Once she reached the top, she took it in her lips, letting them wrap around your diameter before taking a few more inches into her mouth.

The sight was pleasing, to say the least. Being able to watch such a beautiful woman like Sabrina suck you off like it was her last day on earth was so special. It was intoxicating how she handled you, taking all of you into her mouth with no gag reflex, and slowly dragging all the way back up all whilst blinking innocently up at you was something out of this world.

“God ‘Brina.” You groaned, reaching forward to brush some hair out of her face, “You look so damn good with my dick down your throat.”

She hummed, making you moan from the stimulation, and started to bob her head up and down at a steady pace. Sounds of erotic slurping filled the car, precum mixed with saliva covering your girthy length as she gave you head.

Soon, your orgasm appeared, and you were quick to pushed her head all the way down so her nose was flush with your stomach. You pumped your seed down her throat, moaning in satisfaction when you heard her gulping as much as she could.

“That mouth is something else.” You said, smiling when she giggled as she got back into your lap, “Always the best, baby.”

“Again, better be.” She replied sternly, wiping your cum from the corners of her mouth and popping her fingers between her lips, “I am THE BEST for a reason, remember?”

You laughed, squeezing the fat of her ass, She wrapped her arms around your neck, gazing at you lovingly.

“I’m so in love with you, Y/L/N.” Sabrina whispered, playing with your hair.

“I’m so in love with you, Carpenter.” You whispered back, leaning in before sealing your lips together.

What a great night.

—————————

is this enough food for you people?

[rosierin]

power play | atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; (y/n) could've sworn "power play" meant something else. (aka she misuses it in a sentence and accidentally exposes one of atsumu's kinks)

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It was supposed to be a chill evening.

The volleyball match on TV was intense—national-level, high-stakes, and exciting enough to have the boys talking over the commentators.

Atsumu and Osamu were perched on the couch, already deep in a serious debate about serve formations. Suna lounged in his usual armchair, one leg hooked over the side, sipping from a half-empty can of Coke and muttering the occasional critique like a low-effort sports analyst.

(Y/n) sat cross-legged on the beanbag in front of them, a warm cup of tea in hand, eyes drifting between the scoreboard and the increasingly animated boys behind her.

The energy in the room buzzed—not just from the game, but from the commentary bouncing back and forth around her.

A particularly aggressive rally played out onscreen—fast, brutal, ending in a decisive spike that made Atsumu sit forward with an impressed “Oof!”

“S'about time!" he roared, throwing his arms up.

And then—completely unprompted—(y/n) turned toward Atsumu with a thoughtful crease between her brows.

“Wait—Atsumu,” she said, eyes shining with genuine curiosity. “You’re into power play, right?”

Even the world stopped to listen.

Three heads whipped toward her. At the exact same time.

Then slowly swivelled toward each other.

Then snapped back to her.

In the background, the referee's whistle could be heard.

Osamu’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

Suna looked like Christmas had come early.

Atsumu looked like he didn't know whether to feel immense pride or shame.

“I—I’m sorry, what?” he stammered, blinking like he’d just needed to reboot his brain.

(Y/n) blinked back, confused but earnest. “Power play? I swear you mentioned liking that once..."

Within the span of ten seconds, Atsumu went from pale, all the colour drained from his face, to a fierce shade of scarlet. The kind that crawled from the tips of his ears down to his neck. “I mean—I wouldn’t say into it, but—”

Suna was practically hanging off the edge of his seat.

Even Osamu had leaned forward, jerking his thumb towards the hallway with an impish grin. “Should we be leavin’ the room, or...?”

“I just mean,” (y/n) went on, blissfully unaware, “you’re always going on about fast-paced games and momentum shifts—so I figured power play was your thing.”

Atsumu opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again.

He started putting the pieces together.

“What... do you mean by power play?” He asked cautiously.

She gestured innocently toward the screen. “You know. When one team’s got the advantage? More players at the net, tighter rotation, big swings—high pressure, high risk. Power play.”

She said it with full confidence. With absolute conviction and positively zero clue.

And that was what broke them.

Suna wheeze-laughed, slapping his hand against the couch. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “Who the hell told her that’s what it meant?!”

(Y/n) turned defensive. And frankly, a little confused. Very confused. "Nobody! As I said, i just assumed."

Osamu was doubled over. “There's no way," he said, shoving Atsumu’s shoulder. “Look at you—turnin’ beet red thinkin' she'd outed one of yer kinks."

“I thought she was callin’ me out!” Atsumu barked. “What was I supposed to do—deny it? Pretend I wasn’t into—ya know what, forget it.”

(Y/n)’s eyes went wide with creeping realisation. “Wait—kinks? I'm confused. What else does it mean, then?”

Suna, without an ounce of trepidation, smirked. “It’s a sex thing.”

(Y/n) went crimson. “Oh my god—really? No! I didn't—!”

Atsumu had officially recovered.

He grinned, teeth sharp, pride blooming now that the worst had passed. “Too late, sweetheart. It’s on record now."

Osamu was giggling. Actual giggling. Shoulders shaking like a schoolboy in sex ed.

“Oh, (y/n),” he said, wiping his eyes. “Bless yer little heart.”

“I swear I didn’t know!” she groaned, smacking a pillow into her own face. “I was talking about volleyball!”

“And yet,” Suna said, gesturing toward Atsumu like he was presenting a rare species, “you managed to expose this degenerate without even trying.”

"He's right," Osamu chimed in, eyebrows raised thoughtfully. "She said ya mentioned it to her once."

He tutted. "Ya filthy, filthy pervert."

The grin finally slipped off Atsumu’s face, replaced with something halfway between wounded pride and defensive panic.

“Okay, first of all,” he said, holding up a finger. “You all have your weird little kinks. Don’t act like I’m the only one.”

Nobody denied it.

And (y/n) cursed herself for noticing.

Her eyes flicked to Osamu—stoic, unfazed, arms crossed—and then to Suna, who just sipped his drink with that same old unreadable expression.

...Somehow that made things worse.

Her brain, against her will, began to spiral. Did she even want to know?

No. Probably not. Definitely not. But maybe...

God, her imagination was already filling in the blanks—

“(Y/n).”

Atsumu’s voice cut through her thoughts, and when she looked up, he was wearing that infuriatingly smug grin.

“If ya ever wanna talk strategy,” he said, all faux innocence. “Volleyball strategy, of course.”

He winked.

“Ya know where to find me.”

The boys howled.

(Y/n) groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Don’t start.”

[starboye]

starring: soldier boy x male reader

request: I need a Soldier Boy x Male Reader fic about Butcher leaving Reader with Soldier Boy alone. Soldier Boy offers Reader a few drinks and they both get hammered. A few drunken conversations later, and Soldier Boy drunkenly admits to wanting to fuck Reader ever since they first met. Maybe add butcher walking on them at the end for a funny touch ? ❤️

warnings: smut, drinking, alcohol mentioned, ass smacking, rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex, cursing, drunk sex

it was just supposed to be something to take a little edge off from the constant stress of everything, butcher had left to go handle some errands and left you with the one hundred and something year old popsicle, so what better thing to do rather than drink.

downing shot after shot and drinking beer after beer until you were both shit faced drunk, talking about some random shit until soldier boy decides to reveal a secret "y'know i've always wanted to fuck you" he slurred a little "oh yeah" you turned on your side to look at him "mhm, you gotta nice ass" he smirks.

and just in the moment an idea popped in your head, straddling yourself on his lap and rubbing your ass on his bulge "what're you doing" you moves his hands to your hips to keep your clumsy drunk ass from falling over "we can fuck right now, no harm in a little fun right" you tease.

"don't gotta tell me twice" he rips off your pants and quickly makes work of taking off his pants revealing no underwear making you look at him with a raised eyebrow "what i like going commando" he smirks rubbing your ass back and forth of his hardening cock until he was rock hard.

using some spit as lube and making quick work of getting in your hole, his cock plunging in and out of you in no time, and along with your bouncing up and down on his dick, the moan and groans were filling the room in no time "fuck this ass didn't disappoint" he huffs turning you over on your back, his hands tightly grabbing your waist to continue fucking your hole.

the headboard of the bed was slamming against the wall at this point, adding to the loud noise already being made between you two "fuck me harder" you demand wrapping your legs around his waist to lock him in "you sure you can take all this" he slows his thrusts to fuck his cock deeper into you with more sensitivity, shivers running up your spine.

"please just do" you moan pulling him closer to kiss, moaning into his mouth when he starts slamming his cock into your hole, his hips working overtime to make sure you feel him destroying you "shitttt fuck meeee" you whine out, from the mix of him fucking you and the alcohol in your system the room was spinning "im gonna fucking fill this ass so well" he grunts smacking your ass "please please do" you beg matching his movements.

one more thrust and you both were cumming at the same time, your cum spurting all over his and your chest while he painted your walls white with his load, you both came down from your high relatively quick, him falling next you with heavy breaths "was it like how you imagined" you ask "even better" he laughs.

"ah what the hell mate, i leave you two fucking shits alone for one hour and this is wat ya do" butcher walks into the room "no regrets" you say.

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[solardrop]

mean drunk.

aaron hotchner x fem!reader.

summary: after a bau night on the town your boyfriend tries to get you to admit to being mean when you drink. But he can't seem to keep his hands to himself either... (or hotch says you're a mean drunk and you say 'nuh uh") tags: smut NSFW 18+ alcohol use. dubious consent because both parties are drunk but 'consenting'. oral m/f receiving. unprotected p in v. spitting. literally like 2 seconds of anal. word count: ~2.6k a/n: be nice to me you aren't allowed to be mean this is my first time writing a fic since the finnick odair x oc fic i posted on ff.net when I was like 12 LMAO. first smut in general too so. yeah. all divider creds. to @cafekitsune

The two of you stumbled into the entryway of Hotch's bedroom with your faces all but glued together. Thick hands grasped at the small patch of skin revealed as your shirt rode up your back. 

You lean into his chest and grips a handful of your breast in his hand appreciatively before walking you backwards to the plush comfort of his bed. Suddenly, he pulls away from you completely and boyishly smiles down at you perched  on the edge of his bed.

His lips and neck are covered in a glittery brown sheen from your lip gloss. Black hair spiking in unnatural directions. The powder blue dress shirt he wore haphazardly wrinkled from your efforts to untuck the crisp fabric from his now tightening dress pant. You could eat him from the top down. But he was just standing there. Smiling at you instead of stripping. 

"Aaron, I swear if you dont fucking touch me I'll kill you-"

He giggles as he unbuttons his shirt, "Very mean drunk."

A successful case led the entire team to a night of drinks at O'Keefe's. Penelope was all but pouring shots down everyone's throats; she somehow even managed to get Hotch to down a few extra glasses of scotch than his typical. Unsurprisingly the result was everyone being absolutely sloshed. Everyone was giggly and free, playing stupid drinking games before the topic of 'drunk personalities' came to the table. 

JJ declared herself a sleepy drunk, while Derek, Garcia, and Emily all admitted to being more flirty. Spencer and David started going back and forth about the psychological implications of the human personality traits while intoxicated. So their categorization as chatty drunks went without saying. You were starting to agree with JJ on being sleepy when your annoying man decided to cut you off and say you were mean when drunk. 

Sure, liquid courage did loosen your tongue a bit. You were guilty of causing few hurt feelings after a night out. And maybe Aaron had to whisk you away from a few bar fights with people you couldn't take without your handgun. But you were not a mean drunk!

An uncharacteristic back and forth bounces between you for the remainder of the night. Only ceasing when he smashes his lips against yours in the taxi home. 

His calloused hands flip you around roughly. Propping your hips up towards his face. Your face heats as he presses his face into your wetness, inhaling deeply and moaning at the scent of you.

"So pretty.." He spreads your lips apart with his thumbs, the moisture there almost holding them together. 

Your head was spinning, now from more than just the alcohol. The position was just embarrassing. You were almost completely upside down and your back arched shamelessly. Hell, you couldn't even see Aaron's pretty face like this. His strong thighs and thickening length weren't bad to look at either but you wanted to see him. 

you crane your neck around to tell him as much when he closes his lips around your clit and sucks greedily. 

"Aar-" you gasp. 

You squirm in the grasp he has on your hips. He tightens his hands around you, preventing your from escape. the warmth of his lips travel up from your nub to lick a few long stripes against your slit. 

"Oh fuck off-" you start.

He was going to kill you like this. Your face and neck were too hot, your back was starting to ache. The alcohol and your arousal swirling your mind into a fog.  Hotch continues his attack on your sex. Sucking and licking with whatever intensity he pleased. His words slur together as he praises you. The sound so intelligible you're convinced that they're more for himself than you. 

When the warmth of his tongue prods at your entrance, you fall forward. The wiry hairs along his thigh press into your cheek as your face is squished there. The invasion has you moaning and wailing, bucking your hips closer to him now; begging for him to delve deeper. Your desperation must amuse him because you feel a short puff of air and the semblance of a smile against you. What an absolute drunken ass. 

With a renewed burst of energy, you lean over without warning and suck the head of his length into your mouth. The strong, salty flavor of him spreads along your tongue as you circle the muscle around his tip. 

"Fucking hell-" he rips his mouth from you and yelps out. 

He jerks at your stimulation. His hips thrust into your mouth reflexively, the erratic movement causing his shaft to slip deeper into your mouth. You allow it, pressing your face closer and closer to him until the coarse patch of curls above his length pressed against your chin. 

He's always been so thick. But being held like this, he felt even heavier and stiffer in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks to pull off of him almost completely, the remaining glitter on your lips streaking up his shaft, before quickly pressing yourself down to the hilt. His tip taps against the back of your throat, you welcome the intrusion and swallow around him. 

He stutters your name out, the syllables melting together as you bob your head along him. You giggle at his lack of articulation. The mean, pristine, crime-fighting machine Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner. Reduced to nothing but a gasping mess from a moment in your mouth and a few glasses of whiskey. A hum vibrates from your chest when you pull of to stroke him with a taunt. A string of saliva still connecting your lips to his swollen pink tip.

"See honey? if I was such a meanie drunk," a bead of precum weeps from his slip, you tongue darts out to collect it, "I would take such good care of you like this. Right?"

You slip back down to bask in your self-proclaimed victory. Savoring the heady taste of him before Aaron abruptly drives two thick fingers into you. 

Your eyes snap open and the sound that rips from your throat reverberates around the room, even muffled by the length of him. He picks up a rapid pace. The wet sounds of your pleasure winding you up even further than you thought possible. His girth slips with a pop. Moaninh against his calf as your body slides from its arched position to lay almost flat against his outstretched legs.

"Aar- '' you cry. "Aar this is so- Baby I- I don't think I can-"

You jump as he spits on your lips and grinds a thumb into your nub. As if you needed to be any slicker. The tight circles he makes are punishing. His saliva cooling against your folds doing little to waver the heat building between your legs. His fingers slam into you over and over, sometimes curling down and brushing that soft, sweet spot deep inside you. 

"Uh uh. The gorgeous girl I know can do anything," he presses an additional finger into you, "isn't that right?" 

You buck your hips back into him, the praise sending a shock to your core. You chance a glance over your shoulder at him, and you have to screw your eyes shut again and groan at the sight. The entire lower half of his face was covered in you. The bottom lip tucked between his lips shiny, red, and swollen. His eyes were low, hyperfocused on the movement of his hands between your legs.  Pale face still red from the night of festivities. He looked absolutely entranced. Completely pleased himself and they way he was wrecking you. 

"Aaron, Please just-" He wickedly pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger and you squeal. 

"Hm? That attitude" he says as he pinches you again.

"Fuck-"

"See?" Another pinch. " I told you, you're a mean drunk," he does it again. 

Tears prickle in your eyes, sweat along your forehead clinging your curls to your warm skin. You thrash and cry as he continues his onslaught.  He was sitting beneath you, pushing and twisting and gripping your body in any way he wanted while you cried and you were the mean drunk?

You try to slip away from him, the pleasure too much, yet not enough to send you over the edge. But he slips his fingers out of you to grab you by the hips, spreading the globes of ass apart to spit on you again. 

Except this time the cold shock landed right on the pucker of your asshole. 

"Aaron!" you whimper

"If only my baby was nicer to me," he has the nerve to sigh wistfully, "I'm so damn hard, if she asked me politely I'd fuck her so good she'd lose it..." 

He rubbed his thumb over your hole, not pushing in, but applying enough pressure to have you keening in pleasure. 

He sighs again, completely ignoring your pants and cries. "But I think I can finish without touching just like this, hm? Maybe in 30? An hour?"

No. Nope. Absolutely not. 

If you had a lick of sense left in your brain right now you'd realize he was fucking with you. You'd recognize his words and the creeping smile on his face as the bullshit they were. But right now all your muddled mind was registering was the danger of being held shaking and pained for an hour without release. You would never finish like this, you couldn't. You needed to look into his eyes, feel his lips graze along your face as you came.  You wouldn't get that, not like this, you'd be stuck like this.

"Pleaseplease Aaron- Aar- fuck. Please I need you, Aar. Please-" 

He breathes out a laugh. Finally granting you mercy from his wicked hands. He grunts a little at the effort of pulling himself up around you, kissing your shoulder as his face finally nears yours. 

"I thought you'd never ask" he smiles, "Where do you want me gorgeous?"

You twist to move on your back, and Hotch shifts to allow you more space. You face him for the first time in a while, and your heat clenches almost automatically when his eyes meet yours. 

It was fucking sick how he had the nerve to call you gorgeous when he looked so positively delicious himself. His lids were still low and his cheeks were still tinged pink. But now you had a true view of the slick coating his mouth and chin. A crooked smile beamed off his face, smile lines deepening at the gesture. 

"Like this," You hold his face in your palms, pulling him down to peck on the lips quickly, "I want to see you, please."

"Anything you want, legs up for me." He playfully taps his hand on the side of your ass. Your legs shoot up quickly, and his eyes crinkle with laughter at your desperation when he props your knees on his shoulders. 

He presses his lips to yours again before shifting all his weight to one arm, the muscle there flexing while he reaches down to grip himself with his free hand.

He runs the tip of his length along your folds, every brush causing you to twitch with sensitivity. Special attention is given to your already swollen clit, nudging his hips forward to swipe against the delicate bundle of nerves.  He pulls away and slots his lips above yours to kiss you fully. 

You eagerly press yourself closer to him, deepening the kiss. His tongue presses into your mouth and you groan when the taste of your wetness mingles with the familiar bite of the dark liquor on his tongue. 

He notches himself at your entrance, massaging but still failing to push inside of you. A whine bubbled from the back of your throat. 

"Baby, I promise I'm already wet enou- Oh!" your murmuring is cut short by Aaron thrusting into you all at once. 

He doesn't even move before your wretched body betrays you. the abrupt force and fullness pushing a white-hot pleasure throughout your entire being. Your thighs beg to snap shut, but the spread of your knees on his shoulders denies them. Your walls lock around him in a vice, causing him to grunt above you. You're saying something, probably some warbled nonsense, but you can't even hear yourself above the heartbeat in your ears. 

Aaron presses his face into the crook of your neck as you come down from your high. Whispering your name and 'i love you', 'so beautiful's into your skin. 

The fluttering of your core begins to slow when he pulls almost completely out of you, only the head remaining within your warmth. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly, when your breath catches.

"We're not done here are we? Best one of two?" He doesn't wait for an answer before pushing into you, this time much slower.

you mewl at the firm stretch of him. Your hands reach up to grip the back of his neck, pressing his forehead to your own. Your eyes bounce around his features, burning each one into every empty space in your mind like you could ever forget. The precious mole you loved to kiss on his cheek. The unruly hairs sticking up on his temples. His pretty jet-black lashes flutterinh as he struggles to keep his eyes open for you.

His pace intensifies as he gets closer to his own climax, ramming into you. Every push tickles your clit with the thatch of curls that crown his shaft. 

"Such a good girl for me," he tries to hold back a moan causing him to stutter, " Y-you have one more in you I know it." 

The rough sensation of his calloused hands running up your side makes you shiver. You feel it again as he continues to bully his way through your center, the intense warmth pooling in your toes before creeping upwards. You nod your head at him, begging him to keep going, go faster, fuck into you deeper, love you fully. He complies with every soft cry, kissing and biting at your jaw as he forces you over into your second orgasm. 

You were almost completely gone for this one. Screaming into Aaron's mouth as he continues to chase his own release using your body. Your body shakes and you grip his biceps until the crescent marks of your fingernails are guaranteed to become a permanent fixture on his body. 

The breathless whimpering in your ear is what helps slowly bring you back down from your own world. You could tell he was close, his eyes screwing shut and his hips bucking into you out of pace every few beats. Using the last of your strength you push your hips up to meet his thrusts, fucking him back. You press a kiss on his good ear. 

"You treat me so well Honey," you murmur, "Come for me, you're so, so good to me, let me have you"

You suck the lobe of his ear into your mouth and bite down. He punches into you with one final thrust before you feel him twitch, bursts of his warm release spurting deeply inside you. He gasps your name out like a prayer as he comes down. 

Normailly his hardness slipping out of you after a session would cause you to cringe, but right now you were so fucking tired you barely even took note of the sensation. Clearly he was just as out of it as he plopped unceremoniously next to you in silence instead of his normal bossy demands for you to get up and pee after he wore you out. Before you even realize it both of you are drifting off into the best sleep you've had in a while. 

This had to be the worst sleep Aaron's had in a while. His mouth was dry, his head pounding, and his skin felt parched and scratchy despite the sweat that slicked off him. Not to mention the very obvious lack of clothes he was sporting under his bed sheet. 

Before he could grab his phone to send Strauss a termination request form for Garcia (the one he kept saved in his files, yes for moments just like this) you burst into the bedroom and flip the bright lights on. He groans as the rays stab him in the back of the head. You giggle, his pain clearly amusing to you. You saunter over, place a glass of water on the nightstand and press a kiss to his beating forehead. 

"I was wrong, you aren't a mean drunk. You're just mean." he sighs.

You throw your head back in glee

"I'm fine with being the mean drunk," you shrug, "at least we know for sure you're the horny drunk."