#every time he pulls out that pipe i want to smack it out of his hands skdhdjdn

[witchklng]

actually gehn they hate you for all the atrocities, but sure keep telling yourself that it’s because of the ytram pipe frog bong

inspired by x

alternate version under the cut:

**i decided to have katran drag gehn in the actual post, but i had to include this version as well**

because nothing is funnier than gehn's own mother dunking on him

[cute-little-crow]

You’re in a particular mood whilst in the midst of intimate shenanigans and it’s about to get you in a whole heap of trouble. Or when you ask them…

“Is it in yet?”

feat: Rafayel, Sylus, Xavier & Zayne (separately)

tw: female reader, brat behaviour, regretting decisions, smut smut and more smut, edging, overstimulation, temp play, light bondage (held bodily), all the boys bringing out their Dom sides to varying degrees, spanking, oral fixation, creampies, hair pulling, phew sorry if I missed something

“Excuse me?”

“What? It was an innocent question,” you huffed, biting your lip and glancing towards the ceiling light over his shoulder.

You could feel the hard length of Rafayel’s cock twitch within your walls, his hand, splayed wide at your hip, tensed until his fingertips pressed harder into the soft yield of your skin.

The urge to squirm was growing more intense, but then he would know. He would know you were goading him. Hell, he probably already knew given the narrow of his violet hued eyes and the crease forming between his eyebrows.

When he didn’t speak, didn’t move, barely drew breath, you piped up once more—pushing your luck too far.

“All I asked was if it was in yet. What’s the problem, Raf?”

Rafayel hissed.

The unnatural noise made you jump, a pathetic moan tumbling from your lips when the jerking motion nudged the tip of his cock against your swollen pleasure spot.

“Brat…” he seethed, pulling out of you and leaning back to spread your thighs wide apart. “And to think I was being so nice to you. Clearly, you don’t want nice.”

His long fingers splayed out on your sensitive inner thighs, holding you down on the bed with your cunt gaping and flexing from where he had just been buried. Arousal dripped along your slit until it dribbled to the sheets below.

You reached from him, squalling from the sudden empty feeling but he pushed away your hand and gave a stern shake of his head.

“Rafay—”

“Hush. Don’t speak. Let’s see how long you can last, hm?”

Gripping the base of his cock, he spread his knees wider so he was closer to you once more. The fat tip leaked with precum which he smeared around your entrance before pushing into you, but stopping when the tip disappeared.

It felt delicious and your skin warmed all over from the sensation. You keened, attempting to roll your hips upward only to be stopped by a firm grip.

“Oh? You feel it now… shame.”

Frowning, you licked over your suddenly parched lips.

Rafayel was pissed.

It turned you on to see him darken; from the colours swirling in his eyes to the shadow falling over his face to his entire demeanour growing sterner, everything more angular and sharp.

Again he withdrew and let his cockhead slap against your puffy clit, far from gentle. Your nerve endings were on fire, sweat gathering on your hairline.

Over and over Rafayel repeated the process. He gave you only ever an inch and never for long enough. Your stomach was in knots from the treatment, the continued smacking of your swollen pearl which he would reach down and tweak every now and again, stopping when he knew you were getting close.

“Please…” you begged, broken and near tears. “I need to feel all of you. ‘want your cock.”

“What’s that, cutie? I didn’t think you could feel anything… and now you want it all? Brats don’t get treats, they get tricks so hush until I’m ready.”

Rafayel edged you for the next hour; giving you enough stimulation to keep you tense and desperate but never enough to satisfy your needs.

It would be quite some time until you decided to be sassy with the Lemurian again.

Sylus paused.

His mouth pulled back from your neck, steady breaths tickling your skin and emphasising the bruises blooming to life.

“I’m sorry, I think I must have misheard you. What did you say, sweetie?”

You were regretting your moment of madness already, heart pounding so harshly in your chest that it just might beat right out. Funnily enough, your voice disappeared into nothing but a strand of whimpered syllables.

He clicked his tongue in dismay, and cupped your chin firmly to bring your focus to his face. You couldn’t run from the piercing intensity of his vermillion eyes, nor from the hold on your jaw that tightened until you were close to squeaking out.

“Nothing, I’m sorry—”

“No, no. You should repeat what you asked me, kitten. Something about ‘is it in yet?’, no?” His voice was a deadly calm whisper and that was so much worse than an overly emotional reaction.

Sylus thrust harshly into you when your mouth flapped open and closed like a fish out of water, your stomach clenched and your legs wrapped more tightly around his waist.

“Seems like you can feel me just fine… so why deny it? Does the kitten want to brat me tonight? Tsk tsk. Bad kitty.”

He peeled away your legs from his sides carefully, thumbs digging into the backs of your knees whilst he adjusted your body beneath him. You went from being intimately close to having your knees digging into your chest and your ankles by your ears.

The adjustment allowed him to sink deeper into you, knocking the air from your lungs. Sylus loomed over your folded body with one stretched hand holding your ankles. It was enough to keep you in the position he desired, enough that every forward momentum felt like you might burst all over him.

“I can’t hear you, sweetie.”

You squealed and squirmed. Your eyes rolled over to the back of your head. You wet his cock so thoroughly that slick dripped from his balls, only emphasising the smacking sound when they impacted heavily against your backside.

Over and over he drove you through orgasm after orgasm. Sylus wrung you like an overly used towel and listened to you sing his name along with the best attempts at apologies you could muster. Every sound was desperation incarnate and he let out an amused huff that gave way to a guttural groan signalling his own release.

“Sylus… oh fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Instead of releasing your trembling legs, the cunning man above you ran his fingers around the base of his cock, coating them in the mixed essence of you both which had managed to escape.

The digits came away creamy, shiny and debauched. With a wolfish grin, he pushed them into your mouth to silence your continued pleas for mercy. Your tongue flattened against roughened pads, the tang lighting up your taste buds and saliva rushed to meet them.

“I heard you, but bad kitties need to be reminded of their manners. Now then, suck my fingers cleans so I can fill you with another load. I need to make sure you really feel it after all…”

Sylus made you pay for your sass over and over that night…

“… did I? Did I hear you right?”

“Did I stutter? I said… is it in yet, Xav?” You asked churlishly. His cerulean eyes swam like oceans in front of your face, a fleeting look of hurt passing over his features and that was enough to deflate most of your bravado.

“Wait, baby, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve—”

Xavier cut you off with a move you could only describe as pro wrestling adjacent.

One moment he was cradled by the comfort of your body and the next, he was rolling you over onto your stomach and straddling your thighs. His hand traced the curve of your spine, pressing your chest deep into the plush mattress and ending by winding around your hair.

“No, baby. You don’t deserve to be given half-assed dick. Let me make up for my failings,” he rasped into your ear, leaning over you whilst his slick cock rocked between the cleft of your ass.

He tugged on the makeshift ponytail he’d made, drawing your head up at the same time the rest of you was crushed into the sheets, your hands trapped beneath your stomach—useless.

“Spread your legs—that’s it—I see you’re not completely off the rails tonight.”

Xavier worked himself through the gap of your thighs, the blunt head of him butting up against your clit and drawing little gasping hisses from you. His fingers tightened in your hair, and you squirmed, futile beneath his weight.

When he finally notched at your fluttering hole, you were holding your breath so hard you could hear the blood flowing in your ears. His hips descended, dropping himself flush along your body at the same moment he fucked into you.

“Shit!! Xav! Oh god…”

Xavier chuckled nasally, a hungry mouth clamping over the beating pulse in your neck. He set a harsh pace immediately, fucking you prone bone.

You could do absolutely nothing but take every hit. His cock moulding your pussy to fit him and him alone. The angle had him rutting right up near your cervix, so close to flashes of pain but measured enough to stop before he could inflict any actual damage.

He huffed into the crook of your neck, biting and licking over the hurt with shallow breathing that mimicked your own. Xavier was relentless and you had never seen him quite like this.

“So tight, princess. You feel me now? Tell me. Do you feel me in your belly? Gonna spill any minute,” he admitted with a heavy grunt punctuating the words.

In your belly? You could feel him in your damn throat with how deep he was hitting and all you could do was squeal. The sound heightened into a high pitch shriek only animals would hear when he shifted himself to deliver a hearty smack to your backside.

“C’mon… tell me. Is it in now? Is my cock deep enough? The cream you’re leaking tells me yes but I want to hear it from you.”

“Yes! Xavier, yes!”

Never again would you make that same mistake. Who knew your star boy had it in him?

At first, you weren’t sure if he had heard you. Zayne was frozen above, hands pressed to either side of your head and his eyes fixedly shut.

You were about to repeat your attempt at being a brat just to see how the good doctor would react when he blinked open his eyes and your jaw snapped shut.

The frown deepening his brow seemed genuinely startled and he raised a hand to feel your forehead like he was assessing you for a medical condition.

“You don’t feel feverish… perhaps some neurological condition has manifested,” he muttered almost to himself.

“Zayne—don’t be silly. All I asked was if it was in yet?”

He hummed—thoughtfully. “Yes. I heard you, but I can’t quite correlate the words with the sentiment because I know you can feel me.”

“Oh, you do, huh? Sound pretty full of yourself, Dr Zayne.”

As if for emphasis, he pumped himself into you with a snap of his hips. It resulted exactly as he wanted, with your breathless gasp and your head flying back against the pillows.

“You were saying?” He asked coolly. “Perhaps I should check your reactions to other stimuli, just to be sure…”

“What does that—oh!”

Ice veiled the tips of his fingers, careful blue veins creating intricate patterns. Zayne sat back on his haunches, cock still plugged into your clenching cunt, and traced those frozen digits down the column of your throat and towards your breasts.

“Cold! Cold! Stop that,” you yelped, swatting at his hand which diligently refused to be dissuaded.

Only the very corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, his smart, ever assessing eyes watching intently whilst he circled your puffy nipples and they stiffened further from the cold.

“You seem to react to low temperatures within normal ranges, how about warm temperatures,” he mused absently.

Without further warning, his head dipped and his tongue brushed your pert nipple. Zayne’s lips surrounded the bud and suckled with enthusiasm. The instant heat of his mouth bowed your spine and raised your ass so you were grinding yourself shamelessly against Zayne’s front.

“Zayne… fuck.”

The friction elicited from the coarse thatch of neatly trimmed hair at his pelvis caused you to mewl and whine. Your fingers carded through his dark hair and all rational thought flew from your mind.

Just as you were getting used to the hot sensation of your nipple being sucked and pinched by careful teeth, he switched. Ice enveloped the swollen skin, a burn gnawed at your gut but it was a pleasant one.

Zayne continued to tweak at your nipples in turn, cooling them down and warming them up with his tongue, all whilst he maintained a steady pace within you. His cock throbbed and your walls spasmed.

“My diagnosis,” he said quite suddenly, mouth breaking from your breasts with a shallow pant, “is that of brattitude. Quite a severe case too…”

You groaned aloud, eyes cast heavenward at the near orgasm that was close to cresting over you like a playful wave.

“Treatment begins now. I’ll make sure you continue to feel me all night long.”

The good doctor was true to his word, and come morning, the only thing you couldn’t feel were your legs.

[ln4bub]

hii i love your five so much omfg i was wondering if you could do 11 and 83 with lando or daniel w a bit of a breeding kink i’ve got major baby fever rn😭🫶

A/N i wasn't planning on writing this one yet, but the dr3 breeding kink was voted for in my last poll and so this one had to be done so i could tag it properly for the anon that requested it <3

DR3 Request

---------------------------------------------

Lando was always in control; being the deciding voice in what needs to be changed with the McLaren he had to drive week in, week out. So when the MCL-60 wasn't performing, leaving him stranded out in P17 or scraping points in P9, you could see it was starting to get to him. You'd bore the brunt of his frustration, traumatising poor Oscar after every bad result. But it was wearing Lando down, and so when he dragged you back to the hotel after the Canadian GP you were half expecting him to break.

So when his lips greedily meshed with yours you were surprised, you thought for sure this would be the final straw for him. His tongue clashed with yours, tasting the fruity soda you had consumed during the race. The groan he lets out into your mouth makes your body tingle, pulling at the hairs at the nape of his neck. Lando pulls you on top of him, collapsing on the bed you shared. He pulls his lips away from yours with a smack, heavy breaths now filling the space between you.

"I want you to take control tonight."

Your stomach clenches at his words, images of a flushed and desperate Lando writhing underneath you fill your mind. "Are you sure?" You mutter back, brushing that one loose curl from his forehead. His eyes close at your soft touch before fluttering open, glazed over and wide staring at you. "So sure baby, just don't want to think right now." He practically whispers, voice nervous and slightly shaky.

You press your lips to his forehead, leaving a faint glossy sheen behind. He smiles softly up at you, his tongue poking out to wet his lips in nervousness, waiting for your response. "Whatever you need," you tell him, mirroring his own smile. He leans forward to kiss you, lips hovering over your own before he feels a sharp tug in his hair. His mouth stays parted, eyes closing as you brush your lips gently over his own. You feel the way he tries to capture your lips, the barely there brush leaving behind a thin layer of spit to add to your lip-gloss.

Your tongue peaks out, running over his lower lip before capturing it between your teeth and pulling gently. Lando whimpers at the sting, large hands encompassing your face to pull you towards his own. Your lips move in sync with his, practiced and perfected over time. You adjust your position, straddling him as you continue to kiss. He whines at the weight of you against his cock, straining now against his black jeans.

Your soft hands slide underneath his shirt, pushing it up to expose his tanned skin. Lando takes the hint and removes his team merch, throwing it on the floor with a thud. His large hands slide up your back, kissing along your jaw as your nails begin lightly scratching his back. "Take it off, please, wanna see you baby." Lando whispers against your skin, the movement of his lips against your neck making you moan softly. You heed his request, pulling your dress off and leaving you in your matching set. It was Lando's favourite, all black with custom fluoro yellow piping around the edges.

He groans at the sight of you, leaning back into the pillows when you gently shove his chest. Your lips connect with his own once more, sloppily coating them in the last of your lip gloss. Lando chases your lips as you pull away but you simply smirk at him, dipping your head to suck at the apex of his jaw. A loud moan leaves Lando's mouth at the action, his head tilting back to give you more access to his thick neck; access that you happily utilise.

Your lips are everywhere, overwhelming Lando in every sense, nibbling and sucking before swiping your tongue over the fresh marks left behind. Normally you'd avoid giving him hickeys but the next race wasn't until July so they had time to fade, and Lando loved the feeling of you claiming him in this way. His cock was starting to throb in his jeans with each press of your lips against his skin, especially when you migrated further south.

You kissed every inch of his skin, tracing every mole across his chest and stomach with your lips. His body erupted in goosebumps with each touch, squirming underneath you at the teasing. You slide your pinkies underneath the waistband of his jeans before undoing the button and sliding down the zipper. You hear Lando breathe a sigh of relief at the release of pressure, lifting his hips to allow you to slide his jeans down.

You kiss his length of his underwear, feeling it twitch with the first touch of your lips. "Y/N, babe, come here." Lando mutters, pulling at your arm. You hover over his bulge, the heat from between your legs radiating for Lando to feel. "What is it baby?" You ask, looking into Lando's glossy eyes. His pupils are blown wide, lips red and bitten as a consequence of your teasing. "Just want to feel you, is that okay?" He asks, eyes pleading.

"Of course it is Lan, but you're gonna have to beg for it, can you do that for me?" You question, dragging your nails down his chest as he smiles shyly with a nod. You remove your remaining underwear as Lando does the same before hovering over his hard cock, the tip bumping your clit as you position yourself.

"Please baby, need to feel you." Lando mutters as you glide your pussy over his cock, coating him in your wetness. He stutters out a groan at the feeling of your slick covering him, "Oh god, so fucking wet. Please, god please, let me feel you baby." He continues, hands squeezing your hips in an effort not to buck his hips into you. You slide his tip into your pussy, moaning at the stretch. Lando echoes the same moan, cock twitching at the feeling of your warmth.

"Fuck, feels s'good baby, more, please, give me more please, wanna be buried inside you s'bad." Lando hurries out, voice strained with restraint as he tries not to slam himself inside you. You heed his request, slamming yourself down onto his length before riding him at a wild pace, your legs immediately starting to burn.

"Holy shit, oh my god, love you, love being inside you, so good to me, yes baby, don't stop." Streams of praise and whines leave Lando's mouth, his body falling slack at the pleasure rippling over him. Moans spill out of the both of you, the burning pain of your legs adding to your pleasure as his cock hits you at the perfect angle. "Fuck Lan, made for me weren't you baby?" You mutter, hand resting on the side of his flushed face.

He nods with a whine, "Yeah baby, all yours, no-one else's, fuck yes. Use me just like that, my cock's all for you." His mouth drops open in a loud moan of your name, "So close, wanna feel you cum, please cum, need it." He slurs, hairline beginning to stick to his forehead with sweat. Your hand slips down from his face, your other hand joining it to wrap around his thick neck as you continue to fuck yourself on his dick.

His thumb reaches over from where his hand has sat on your hips, rubbing against your clit with every bounce you make. It sends you flying over the edge, your walls clenching around Lando's cock and pulling his own orgasm from him. He releases with a loud groan, your hands tightening around his neck. His cum fills you, beginning to spill out from where you remained connected. You ease the pressure on his neck, collapsing forward on top of him.

You lift yourself on shaky legs, allowing Lando to slip out of you. You crawl up the bed before swinging your legs over Lando's face, his large hands cupping your ass. "Clean up your mess Lan." You tell him and he wastes no time, pulling you against his face as his tongue delves between your folds. He flicks and swirls like a madman, shaking his face in-between your legs, his nose bumping your clit with each movement as he cleans the combination of your cum that spills out. It doesn't take long for you to cum on his tongue, sensitive from your first orgasm.

Lando lifts you off his face, cuddling himself into you but not before kissing you sweetly, allowing you to taste the both of you on his tongue. "Thank you." He mutters, a sentiment repeated at the next race when Lando gets P4, and the next race when Lando gets his first home podium, and the week after when he secures another P2.

Oscar stands next to you in the garage as Lando gives his interviews after the race, "Whatever you did to him in that hotel room after Canada must have worked miracles, are you a witch?" He asks, laughing at the blush that coats your face. "Shut up pastry, unless you're only asking because you want some help getting those podiums too?" You retort. Oscar blushes fiercely, causing you to laugh this time before Lando joins you both, "What's so funny?"

[pyramid-of-starrs]

I’ve been thinking about this Seonghwa a lot…

This Seonghwa would absolutely text you after Coachella just saying “meet me in the room, be ready” you weren’t sure what your soft and sweet boyfriend meant. Maybe he had a cute dinner planned so you touched up your make up and put on a cute dress to go out for dinner. Little did you know when he walked through the hotel door he would rip you out that dress and drag you right back to the bed.

Leaving a wet trail of kisses down your neck, the adrenaline from the performance still flowing through him making him hot and eager. His soft lips started leaving kisses down your chest until he ripped the rest of the dress off you with ease. Those workout sessions with San being put to good use.

“That was new you know!” You would scold him.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He said hungrily attacking your breast with his lips, drool spilling out the sides as his long tongue attacked your nipples. His other hand gripped and massaged your other boob while his thumb flicked your nipple. His body heat made your body feel like it was on fire. You were already pooling in your panties from the passionate performance your boyfriend gave for both shows but this made you flood the thin lace thong you had on.

“C-can I suck your dick?” You asked between your heavy breaths. “Please? I wanna make you feel good Hwa…” he paused to look up at you, thinking that he knew how good it made you feel to suck him off. Suddenly he removed his hand from your chest and slid his hand into your panties and between your wet folds. Rubbing circles on your throbbing clit, you hissed at his actions.

“Just wanna fuck you, wanna break this pussy tonight.” He grumbled. He stuffed two fingers inside your needy hole and began to pump them in and out. His lips latched back onto your nipples, you tried your best to control the moans leaving your lips and you even wanted to protest him denying you but you couldn’t even think straight anymore. He continued to fuck his fingers into you until he felt your walls starting to squeeze. He removed his fingers, causing you to throw a mini tantrum. He quickly removed your panties and turned you on your stomach. He undid his belt and pulled his pants and boxers off, his pipe hard dick stood proud as he wiped your slick along his length.

He lifted your hips in the air, your head rested on your folded arms on the bed as you patiently waited. He drug his tip along your folds teasing you for a moment, even getting small whispers from you.

“While I was performing all I could think about was how much I wanted to fuck this wet pussy, did you want me to come back and fuck your brains out baby?” He poked the very top of is dick into your entrance.

“…yes” you said softly, a hand leaving your hips and smacking your ass.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Ah~ yes, please- want you to fuck me so bad.” Your hole started to squeeze his tip. He cockily smiled and sank all the way into you. He stroked a few times so you could adjust to his length then all mercy left his body at the slight feeling of you loosening up. He started to pound into you like he hated you. Your hands gripped the sheets under you so you could try to stay sane but it was no use. You could feel him deep in your gut every time he slammed into you, hitting your spot effortlessly. You couldn’t control your mouth as loud and whiney moans and words ran carelessly from your lips.

“All those fans watching and wanting me and the only pussy I wanna fuck is yours. The only pussy that deserves this cock is yours baby.” His words making your walls contract around his dick. Your body couldn’t take much as you lost your leg strength to hold yourself up, it didn’t change much as you fell into collapsed doggy which made his able to fuck even deeper into you. Your mind was blanking as drool and started to come out your mouth, your eyes rolled all the way back. All you could do is babble his name, your slick covered his balls and pelvis as his continued his eager pace. All he wanted to do was fuck you dumb and he knew he was successful.

“You wanna cum for me baby? Wanna cover my dick in your cum?” You nodded like the cockslut he knew you were. Seonghwa gripped you ass hard and pounded deeper and faster into you, your moans getting louder and his tip fucking your ovaries.

A dragged out “fuck” signaled your orgasm, which caused Seonghwa to cum deep inside you. He fucked you through your orgasm as he finished his as well, you both breathed heavily before he finally pulled out and collapsed on top of you. You both just breathed, both drenched in sweat.

“We actually do need to get dressed for a team dinner…” he said as you both looked at your dress that was now in pieces on the floor. “…sorry”

[azrielwingspan]

RED SERPENT (Mob! Bucky x f!reader)

Summary: King and Queen of New York. The one who knows how to play the game, survives.

Warnings: Violence, mature content, sexual themes, foul language.

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the actions written in this story.

You had always associated the colour blue with peace. Clear skies and vast oceans , their expanse making one seem insignificant. It grounded you and reminded you that there are greater forces at play.

That was a year ago.

Now, you associate the colour blue with James Bucky Buchanan Barnes.

King of New York.

The White Wolf.

Your husband.

Smoldering blue flames blazed in his eyes, all consuming and enrapturing. You were yet to figure out how they made you feel. For now, you watched as the steel blue gaze was directed at the man in front of him.

"This is the second time this month , Wilson. I'm going to give you a minute to explain." His tone indicated that he was anything but patient, brewing with explosive anger.

Sam Wilson was Bucky's head of security. His loyalty and discipline throughout the years was the only reason he was given time to explain himself. If it were anyone else, they'd be dead.

Reading the underlying threat in Bucky's words, Sam explained tensely, "There was a fire. Half the men were pulled to control it and the rest were reassigned. Whoever it was, struck then. The fire was the distraction."

A muscle ticked in Bucky's jaw as he restrained himself from lashing out. You sat by his side, ever the pretty wife, not moving an inch. Face devoid of any emotion, you leaned forward with feline like grace.

"Sam, how are you planning on luring the culprit?"

His eyes flicked to you, the slight relief passing through them not escaping your notice. You were far less intimidating than your darling husband. Albeit, far more venomous than anyone realized. One couldn't be married to a madman without having a certain...mental disposition.. as you liked to put it.

"We narrowed it down to Alexander Pierce. Haven't gotten the proof yet but his men's movements over the past few days suggest so."

"Interesting." you lean back in your seat, watching your husband from the corner of your eye. He seemed to calm down and collect his thoughts. Good.

That's how it had been over the past year. Bucky would lose his cool at the snap of a finger and you would garner attention in your direction to give him time to collect himself. A game. Every single moment of the day.

Power came to those who knew how to play the game.

"Did you deal with the police?" Bucky asked finally, his voice steady.

"Yeah, covered it up as a generator blast. Told our man in the department that we would deal with these fuckers on our own." Sam spat out, anger clouding his eyes.

Ugh, men. This was exactly what the other side wanted. Anger to cloud their vision.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you decided to intervene yet again. "Set up a bait."

Bucky's head finally snapped in your direction as you held back a smirk. You'd merely thrown a hint. They could build on it, couldn't they?

"That could work." Bucky said, his eyes roaming over your face. Turning back towards Sam, he continued "Another shipment scheduled a week from now. No product at all, just empty cargo. Increase security around the yard. Meanwhile, I'll redirect shipments and deal with the clients."

Sam nodded his head in agreement and stayed for a bit longer as the two smoothed out the plan. Not finding any reason to pipe in, you spent your time listening to them sipping on a glass of old fashioned.

After what seemed like hours, Sam finally left giving you a small nod in acknowledgement.

Silence ensued as Bucky got up with a groan and poured himself a glass of whisky.

Taking a sip, he smacked his lips before saying "You know the difference between you and me, Y/N?"

He took another sip of his whisky and flicked the glass with his other hand. “We’re drinking the same damn thing. The only difference is I like my whisky neat and you decorate it with fancy shit to make it seem more sophisticated.”

I scoff at his words, shaking my head in amusement. He continued on. “We’re the same, you and I. You hide behind a mask of false politeness and practised smiles. I don’t.”

“What is the point you’re trying to make, James?” you leaned your head back against the couch as the buzz from the alcohol settled into you.

“I must either be foolish or recklessly brave to have married a fucking serpent. You amaze me, Y/N.”

Letting out a genuine laugh at his choice of words , you tip back the rest of the drink, licking your lips as the bitterness leaves its mark behind. A warm hand encircles your hand partially as Bucky takes the glass from you and places it on the table.

Closing your eyes to lean your head back against the couch once more, you let your husbands cologne encompass you.

Let's get one thing clear.

You and Bucky weren't in love. No, this was purely transactional. You got along well , you were able to satisfy each others needs but love was an emotion that didn't come easy to either of you.

So, when his lips trailed soft kisses along your neck, the only emotion involved was lust. Letting out a soft sigh, your eyes still closed, you let yourself enjoy the feeling of his hands running across your body and his lips brushing underneath your jaw.

"You look devastating today." he whispered in your ear, nipping it lightly. Back slightly arching off the couch in pleasure, you turned your body towards his, looping your hands around his neck. "I hadn't noticed." you say breathlessly as his metal arm slips down the strap of your dress and your senses are at his mercy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stepping out of the steam bath, you put on a bath robe and start doing your skin care. Sleep was ready to take you under. Having sex with Bucky always tended to get you tired...not that you were complaining really.

Like he was summoned by your thoughts, Bucky walked into the bathroom with a somber face.

"What is it?" your hand was halfway to your face, focus honed in on your husband.

Not bothering to respond, he reached around you to grab the spare gun from the overhead cupboard.

"James."

No response yet again.

"JA--"

"Go to sleep." were the three words you got before he slammed the door to the bathroom and left you fuming in the silence of the house.

This. This was why you could never fall in love with him. No matter how good Bucky Barnes could fuck you, make you laugh and protect you, he would never respect you fully.

Soon.

Soon...this world would bow down to you.

Soon.

CHAPTER 2

[artinvain]

Sevika's reaction to her girlfriend cumming untouched from eating her out AAAAA pulling out my hair bangin on the walls I'm so normal for her I have nothing else to say I'm just vibrating at unimaginable speeds

fuuuckk thank u - been watching the bear so in keeping with that — we have chef!sevika

angst, fluff, smut, degradation, dom!sevika, oral (sevika receiving) after care, drugs (weed).

being a chef at one of piltover’s five star restaurants could kill sevika. sure she was strong physically, and she could hide her pain, but in the kitchen she was vulnerable. in the kitchen she was young again, clinging to her mother’s legs as she baked this thing or the other.

so when the head chef had told her that she had disappointed him with her fucking choux? to say she was devastated was an understatement. how did she fuck up a pastry she’s been making since she started culinary school almost a decade ago.

he went in on her, about her ethic — “you gave yourself too much to do again, you do not delegate and that does not work in our kitchen’s brigade.”

jesus christ he was worse than usual today. she tried to focus on folding in her pastry, thinking about; the eggs she had going low over vinegar, the last meal review — there were bones in a bake and she had shit on jinx for overlooking something so simple. and yet here she was, fucking up a choux. she could feel bile in her throat.

“Yes, chef,” sevika replied, restarting her batter and taking a deep breath,

“and when was the last time you did quick checks?”

“twenty three minutes go, chef,”

“for this event? for brunch sevika are you incompetent now?” he asks slamming his hand down on the hard metal of her island, “do you not know how quickly breakfast foods go? you need checks every ten chef,”

“yes, chef,”

“but here you are doing a choux a second time, something so simple you could do it asleep,”

“sorry chef,” sevika says, she couldn’t explain herself even if she wanted to. there was no conversation with silco — he talks and sevika listens, learns and adapts.

“we’re wasting piltover resources on undercity scum for charity we do not pay for fucking incompetence,” silco says so loudly the kitchen goes quiet for a moment. sevika can’t hear or see anything anymore. can’t hear silco asking her how she got into this industry, why she thought she was good enough. told her that she would never be good enough.

“are you fucking mute?” silco asks.

“no chef,” sevika says void of emotion.

“they chose you, despite my protestations. yes you are creative - but you have no work ethic” chef silco rounds her station,

“I’ll do better chef,” sevika says starting to pipe her choux, these were perfect.

“and here you are, disappointing me, as expected. but what do I know, right?”

there are people glancing nervously, they liked sevika, they were a family when silco wasn’t around and spent months trying to convince her that they loved her, regardless of where she came from which was “pretty fucking cool” according to them. they had finally started to get her to believe that she wasn’t a good chef she was great, one of the best — all that work undone in a moment.

sevika spent hours after her shift fucking up the punching bag at the gym, by the time she’s home — she’d cried for over an hour in the gym shower and now she was kind of just pissed. she didn’t want to feel small or afraid. she was a good chef — inside she knew that. she made a mistake and she couldn’t afford any inconsistency, it gave her heart palpitations. she wanted to be respected, revered, praised and when she enters your shared home she knows you’ll give yourself over to her in that way, you always do.

when she crawls into your bed, you put down your book and start to scratch through her damp hair and kiss her forehead, you can tell from the look on her face. “bad day?” you ask gently as she pulls you over her lap to straddle her lap. she rubs her hands over your thighs, grunting when you roll your hips and she smacks your ass. you’re stunning, sitting above her in her sweater, it’s falling off your shoulder and she feels your neck is too clean so she sits up to lick and kiss and suck on your neck so she can hear your pretty moans.

“promise, I’ll make it better,” you yelp and your breath hitches when she smacks your ass. you pull her face toward hers and kiss her feverently, licking into her mouth and moaning as she sucks on your tongue.

she pants into your mouth, her arms around her, guiding you to grind down on her. kisses you, her lips tasting and biting and sucking yours.

“get on your knees for me baby,” sevika pants, watching you kneel between her legs, moaning when you arch your back. you bend down so you’re nuzzling her mound, your ass on display for her. and she’s got a wet spot on her boxers, “yeah,” sev moans — “boxers off” she pants as you kiss her through her underwear, instead - teasing sucking and moaning around her clit.

“get them off, now sweetpea or you won’t cum for a week,” sevika nods “good girl,” when you scramble your remove her underwear and she whimpers when you face her cunt, warm and leaking as your dip your fingers through her lips, the soft hair of her mound against your cheek.

“please,” you gasp out, near burying your face between her legs but tittering on the edge - waiting for permission.

“I don’t know if you deserve it,” she tuts, a hand in your hair, tugging gently and keeping your head away from her pussy — all she wants it so suffocate you with her cunt but god did she love to hear you beg. “tell me you want me, beg to eat me out,”

“want to make you feel good sevika, please I need it, makes me feel good tasting you,”

“fuck you’re pathetic, so needy for my cunt aren’t you,”

you moans and kiss and suck her inner thighs,

“need to see you cum. please you take such good care of me — of everything, want you to feel good,” you whimper as sevika whispers out praise, “what a pretty slut I have — so needy just to get me off.”

sevika guides your face towards her cunt and — “come on be a good, dumb little fuck toy and eat my pussy baby,” you whine, your hips sharply meeting the bed, your body going weak as you taste her. her soft, wet pussy lips rubbing on your cheeks as you lick into her, going to suck on her clit after running your tongue up and down her slit, tasting her sweet and tart cunt.

“god, yeah good — jus like that,” she’s already on edge, so pent up, her back is tightening when you moan around her, she looks down and sees that you’re rutting against the bed, grinding on the sheets between your thighs as you eat her. “fuck, so riled up huh? you need this as much as I do - don’t you honey? yeah, christ just like that,” she groans when you dip your tongue into her leaking hole.

“fuck you’re such a slut, getting off on making me feel good — so needy for me,” she moans, cupping the back of your head and holding you to her as you start to suck and roll your tongue against the underside of her clit. “fuck lemme - let me fuck y-your face just a little baby,” she huffs “stick your tongue out for me, wanna use your mouth just a little,” sevika moans loudly as you whimper around her clit and she starts to buck her hips against your face.

sevika groans, her hips near lifting off the bed as she grips your head and guides your mouth, bobbing your head as you suck on her clit, moaning at the sounds of you slurping at her, whimpering against her.

“so good baby,” sevika moans “so good letting me use you like this, my perfect girl,” she whimpers you shift up a little bit, her thighs resting on your shoulders. you twitch, your thighs twisting together as you salivate on her pussy, pulling her close the feeling of the soft sheets on your clit, your lacy panties rubbing your swollen nub. your head is dizzy, her taste leaking into your mouth you swallow gratefully and moan, your hips twitching.

“oh my god, loot at you, actually fucking getting off, shit baby, you’re the prettiest slut I’m so lucky to have you,” she moans and you whine your nails biting into her thighs, you look up at sevika meeting her hooded eyes, “I love you baby,” she moans and your eyes roll back in your head as you cum.

seeing you cum all from eating her out, the feeling your you licking and sucking her cunt, your tongue rolling against her as she controls your movements, controls your pleasure. fuck, she’s cumming — holding your head in place she’s riding your face, hot white pleasure warming her body.

“f-fingers, fingers!” she whines when you sink two fingers into her and curl until you’re rubbing the perfect spot, fucking into her until she’s squirting, wetting your face and leaking down onto the sheets, you’re moaning and sucking at her clit and drinking all her pussy offers until she’s pushing your head away from oversensitivity, moaning when you resist her and keep fucking your fingers into her, sucking gently on her clit.

“fucking brat, shit, mm’gonna — keep -“ she’s fucking drunk on pleasure, her hands solely resting on your head as you fuck her into another orgasm.

when she comes down and you let off her clit, gently slipping your fingers from her and crawling up to have her bury her head between your tits and brush her hair away from her face.

“fuck thank you,” she sighs, pulling you in close and wrapping her arms around you, “I love taking care of you vika,” you say, kissing her face with sticky lips and then kissing her mouth.

“need to clean you up, maybe we take a bath and you can tell me about today?” you ask gently and sevika nods, you run the bath and fetch her when the water is hot and soapy. she can feel her muscles relax, smell the lavender and eucalyptus essential oils and,

“did you put the cbd oils in here?” she asks and you slide in, getting between her thighs - your legs on either side of her hips.

“yes, and I brought a joint,” you say as if it’s obvious, she smiles and kisses you, and puffs on it,

“I fucking hate silco,” she groans and fills to air around you with her exhale,

“I’m gonna kill him,” you say, “he terrorises you,”

“today i fucked up a choux and he called me undercity scum,” she sighs, she can only laugh about it now, but you’re enraged.

“what the fuck?” you say, trying to stand but sevika tugs you down by your arm, “no, I’m calling the resturant he can’t talk to you like that,” you say, “you’re not scum, you’re the best person I know,” you say sternly and sevika smiles at your protective nature.

“I know, because you remind me every day,” she pulls you closer and stuff the joint head in your mouth, “there, pacify yourself, I’m fine,” she grunts and kisses your cheek.

🤲🏼🏷️ @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul @ariariarr

[beenbaanbuun]

Do you think it's possible Yeosang might try and run away one day, possibly due to not feeling good enough to be part of the family?

in normal circumstances, no. he doesn’t have time to feel insecure when (even with the new addition of san) he has darling clinging onto him. every single bad thought about himself is wiped away whenever she flops down onto his stomach and curl into his warmth. how can he doubt himself when he has someone who loves him this much?

having said that, if the two of them were to ever argue i think yeosang would take it personally. he might blame you for a little while, but it’ll begin to take a toll on him after a short while, especially if it’s over something that happened during the full moon.

he’s the type to not show how he’s feeling until he’s reached the peak of his emotions, which is when he packs his bag and heads downstairs in the dead of night. no need for useless goodbyes or explanations if he leaves when everyone else is asleep. he can go back to mingi without kicking up too much of a fuss.

but seonghwa is too observant for his own good. if anything is wrong with any of his family, moody werewolf included, he’s the first to know. so when yeosang tiptoes along the corridor to the stairs, he’s shocked to find seonghwa sitting on the top step nursing a cup of pomegranate tea. he doesn’t say anything as he takes a seat next to the man and hugs his knees to his chest. he wouldn’t feel the need to say anything when seonghwa is bound to already know it.

“leaving so soon?” seonghwa says to the werewolf before taking a sip of his piping hot tea. the look yeosang gets over the rim is all-knowing; yeosang isn’t going to get out of this easily. seonghwa pulls the cup away and smacks his lips, “thought you might at least say goodbye before running off… or are you too good for goodbyes?”

“didn’t want to upset anyone,” the wolf shies away, choosing instead to look at the dirt beneath his fingernails. you’d have sat him down and cleaned them for him had the circumstances been different. the fact that you hadn’t is only further proof of how much you must hate him. “any more than i already have done, that is.”

perhaps laughing at yeosang was quite cruel, but seonghwa couldn’t hold it back. the cackle bubbled up before he could stop it and the poor mutt had no choice but to accept it. seonghwa was laughing at him…

“sorry, pup,” he manages to force out through the laughter, “but no one is upset with you. my precious lamb knew the risks of annoying you during the full moon. she reaped what she sowed and that’s no fault of yours.”

“but—”

“no buts,” seonghwa stands before putting the cup down on the top step. he holds a hand out to the wolf, and yeosang reluctantly takes it. “get some sleep, pup; she’ll have forgotten all about it by morning.”

[ph4ngz]

BACKSEAT LOVE || mechanic!bkg x anxious!reader

PART 1

A/N : ITS FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED YOU GUYS *HAPPY DANCE* :D

It's been two days since your last encounter with that gorgeous mechanic.

You'd be lying if you said he hadn't been the subject of your dreams, daydreams, wet dreams… all you can think about is him. Him and that perfect face, you still remember every splatter of grease and oil laid out on his features, you think you may have burnt the image into your brain.

His card is right there in the pocket of your denim shorts, just begging you to pull it out and stare at it for the nth time this Sunday morning. Your legs kick up and down on the bed as you lay on your tummy, doing nothing to help your friends pack up and get ready to leave the motel. Glancing back up at them, your eyes only seem to lose focus and any thoughts of packing your bags are, surprise, replaced by a certain blonde.

You wanted to call him, you really did. Would it be odd to show up at his garage again after two days without contact? It's possible you've missed your chance with him now that you've basically been ignoring the guy. You could pretend something is wrong with your car as an excuse to apologise! Nah, because then he'd check it out...

"Whatcha thinkin' about babe?" A mischievous, high pitched voice and a bounce of your mattress breaks you out of your inner struggle.

"I wanna see him…" you admit, realising too late that you hadn’t told your friends about Katsuki.

"See who?" Another voice, much more softer than Mina's, pipes up. Not many things can grasp Jiro's attention, but regarding you and boys…

Oh god, here we go. You and your stupid brain. There's no escaping this nonsense now. You can already hear the giggling and terrible impressions and they haven't even started yet.

But really, should you tell them about him? There'd be nothing wrong with that! However, something is telling you to keep him all to yourself. Jealousy? Panic? Perhaps he's so perfect that you're wary of other better girls stealing him away from you?

"Oh, just this guyyy, y'know… just this guy who gave her his number? And he’s a mechanic by the looks of things." Mina reads off the card he had given you that day, you having been completely unaware that she'd swiped it from your pockets until now.

"Hey!" You squirm under her weight, an elbow leaning on you as if you were an armchair as she carries on.

"Is he hot? What does he look like?" Jiro grins and leaps onto the mattress beside Mina, and before too long Uraraka is straddling your lower back, keeping you pinned down.

"Is he like one of those guys in the movies? Like, all sweaty and dirty and dreamy with a nice smile…" Uraraka's eyes trail upward to the spinning ceiling fan as she describes your mechanic with deadly accuracy.

Your eyes widen involuntarily.

"AH! Ochaco's right! You've gotta go see him again! Did he ask you out? Have you called him?" Mina squeals beside you, but then her face falls into a state of great suspense.

You know what's coming now. Sigh.

"Don't tell me you pulled one of your specials…" she guesses ominously, referring to your notorious moments of Boy Anxiety™.

Jiro smiles menacingly from behind her, "D-D-Did you?"

You find a smidge of respect for Uraraka for not joining in although you know she wants to. Rolling your eyes, you respond with a muffled "almost" after throwing your head into the covers out of embarrassment.

The hyperactive trio share a quick, knowing glance and simultaneously drown out the click-clacking of the old fan airing the motel room with a loud "AAHHH", Uraraka shaking your shoulders and Mina slapping the bed sheets.

"Where did you even find that anyways?" Jiro asks softly amidst the noise.

"It was hiding in one of her ass pockets." The pink haired thief replies proudly, jokingly smacking your asscheek and making it jiggle as your face heats up, still concealed by the covers.

The girls gossip about you as if you're not even there, and you decide you're perfectly fine with that if it means nobody is nagging you, so you let them talk. A few minutes pass by without a single word leaving your mouth until a finger messily taps on your bare shoulder.

Craning your head around to rest atop of your crossed arms, you shamefully eye the cutie straddling your back, internally smiling at the way her fringe is tied back on top of her head.

"Mm?" you hum groggily, awaiting her next words.

"I can always ask 'Zuku to give us all a ride home...?"

Your grumpy pout swiftly fades into a light and appreciative curl of your lips at her suggestion...

"...We aren't the only ones goin' for a ride today-"

...But soon enough the grumpy pout returns.

Excited cackling, thumping of dancing feet upon the floor and a group rendition of "tryna' catch me ridin' dirty" that is least to be desired fill the small room.

"UGHHughhhUGhhhhh," You exhale a tired groan into the back of your forearm, a wavering one at that, courtesy of Uraraka twirling an imaginary lasso in her hand and rocking back and forth on you like she's at a rodeo.

Eventually, an amused grin makes its way onto your face, with their antics (Mina's horrific excuse for dancing) too hilarious to even attempt keeping a straight face.

|| || || ||

"Oh, so you know Kacchan?" Izuku Midoriya's question almost has you jump as you open the car door to your driver's seat, curse him from coming up behind you like that.

"Who?" you furrow your brows innocently, your back pocket feeling particularly empty for some odd reason. You subtly glance behind the mess of green hair partially blocking your view at the three of your friends singing along to the radio in the backseat of his car.

"Whoops, sorry! I meant Katsuki." The thick fingers suddenly shoved in your confused face hold and point at a certain card you'd only just pried from someones grabby hands. God, this guy too!? Is everybody here a damn pickpocket?

Hastily snatching the card from Izuku's hand, you stutter an unnerved answer, "U-Uh! Yeah! No! I mean, we only met the other day, that's all..."

No way this bastard is going back in my pocket, you think.

"No need to freak out, promise I'm not being nosy or anything. I was just wondering, seeing as me and him are... I guess you could say childhood friends! He's actually doing some work on my Jeep, hence the basic rent-out. I knowww, I don't look like a Ford guy." He drawls on cheerfully, ignoring how you stuff the card inside your bra. You smirk at his choice to disregard your actions, and force down the invasive questions you so badly want to ask concerning your beloved mechanic.

"You better go before the girls set up a makeshift concert venue in the trunk." Beaming, you gesture to his bouncing vehicle.

"Shit, you're right. Ah, it was nice seeing you again!" Izuku waves whilst stumbling backwards, making you stifle a giggle whilst lowering into your own car.

|| || || ||

Pesky butterflies erupt within your chest when you finally pull over, the garage you so thankfully came across on your way to the motel stood conspicuously along the deserted highway. The garage door is shut this time around, the worn metal glinting under the aureate setting sun. However, the smaller door located at the side of the run-down building displays a twisted 'open' sign hanging behind the chalky window.

You've done it before, you can do it again. That's what you repeat to yourself inside your head as you hesitantly exit your car and approach the door. After a two minute standoff between your nervousness and the handle, you decide "fuck it!" and let yourself inside. You peer out from behind a brick wall separating the entrance from the main garage and it's nice, just like last time. Slow guitar and heavy bass emitting from what sounds like a vintage cassette boombox, the strong scent of gasoline and copper, fake potted plants hung up in every empty wall space unoccupied by shelves and posters, a huge dusty jeep... you can't see him though.

He's still here, you can hear a few faint grunts and the clanking of metal from beyond your place leant against the doorframe. You wonder, is he fixing some other girl's car? What if he isn't groaning for the reasons you think? The garage door is closed. Is somebody here with him? You're probably stupid for coming here after two days with no contact, he's most likely fallen for someone else thinking you would never come back. Subconscious curiosity leads you into the main room, fretful thoughts diminishing with no wall allowing your train of thought to stray from its tracks.

"Katsuki?-"

Your meek call of his name dies out on your tongue when the man himself emerges from behind the raised hood of the jeep with a "hm?". He's still as breathtaking as you remember, you reminisce about your last encounter whilst he's approaching you, his heavy booted feet seeming to send vibrations to your racing heart.

Your knees weaken when you realise the mechanic threw off putting a shirt on this time, specks of splattered oil glistening on his hard abs underneath the warm sunset rays filtering through the blinds. Forcing yourself to pay attention to his face instead of rudely ogling at his body, you come to find that he's secured his scruffy hair back with a clip, just like Uraraka, allowing you to view all of his features. He's been observing you for about a minute now, silently enjoying the way you're studying him as if he were a stone sculpture. Just give him a second, he'll say something eventually.

"Voice disappear or somethin'?" He asks cheekily, the sudden movement of a smirk emerging on his face breaking you out of whatever pesky trance you fell into.

"Oh! Uh, no! No, it's here! I can speak… yeah…" You spew a panicked sentence that would've been incoherent if you'd forced it out any harder. The anxious smile you’re wearing slowly fades as you start to chew on the inside of your cheek, nostrils flaring at how self aware you've become. Gosh, you're so stupid. Why can't you just speak like a normal person!? Stuttering and stumbling all over your words like this must look really sad. You hurl a mental slap at your face, scolding yourself for being so pathetic. Bakugo chuckles through his nose at your timid state and lightly scratches his bare stomach, deciding his next move. A big hand impulsively moves to your bare upper arm, mindlessly stroking your soft skin with his thumb for a short moment.

"Chill, it's just me. Stop acting like 'm gonna turn around and kill you." The man says casually with his usually downturned brows raised in amusement, removing his arm from you to take a few steps back and continue his work behind the jeep's hood. It's just him? JUST HIM? Being killed doesn't seem to be at the top of your list of worries right now, but the possibility increases as you're starting to picture your heart failing on the spot purely because of his existence. How are you supposed to "chill" when the sight of his broad, shiny, tanned, firm chest is enough to coax your eyes to roll back?!

You're thinking so damn hard about what to say as he's working, but nothing is good enough. Maybe you should leave and apologise, save your last ounce of self confidence. Maybe you should tell him the truth about your little anxiety issue. Nah, he wouldn't get it. Would he? Before you can stop yourself, a few words come tumbling out of your mouth to form the most unexpected question that leaves yourself dumbfounded.

"C-Can I kiss you?"

You stop breathing once Bakugo peers at you from behind the metal, mildly surprised and overwhelmed by your sudden request. That was fuckin' quick, he muses. Amidst a moment of fleeting courage, you will yourself to continue even if it's dizzying due to your heart beating a million miles per second.

"I’m sorry. I wanted to call you. Or at least— text you! I got so nervous and my friends all make fun of me whenever I talk to a guy so—"

"C'mere." The blonde gestures with his free hand while the other supports his leaning weight by pressing his palm upon the edge of the hood, spanner held tightly between his fingers. Now or never, you chant to occupy your brain. Head hanging low, you do as he says and come to a halt when only a few inches are left between your bare arm and his. Without another word to spare, Bakugo takes hold of your waist and veers your body to the tight space in front of him, caging you in. You fit underneath the metal canopy, the jeep's ginormous wheels providing some serious height. You're still staring intently at the dirty concrete area uncovered by either of your feet, unknowing of how to react.

The boombox in the corner of the room provides the only sound other than your ragged breathing, the music doing its best job to calm your nerves. You want this. You want this so bad, so don't fuck it up. Just move your damn head, that's it! Tears eventually cloud your vision, but before they can drip to the ground your chin is nudged upwards, letting the salty droplets slide down your heated cheeks. You're forced to look him in the eye whilst his heavy touch travels to the top of your muddled head, narrowed crimson gaze boring into your own, guilty and utterly captivated.

When he gently pulls you in by the nape of your neck, and his surprisingly soft lips make contact with yours... it's like all energy is drained from your body. As you kiss, you find your weakening form melting into his broad and hard chest, gradually tipping closer and closer until your bodies are pressed against one another's. Any thoughts previously occupying your mind have vanished without a trace, brain completely blank and depending entirely on the feeling of instinct. You're both sighing contently through your noses, each noise emitted from one has the other deepen the slanting of their mouth until a tinge of ferocity is thrown into the mix.

Your knees buckle abruptly at one point and breaks the kiss in a way that's too depriving of elation to bear, although Bakugo doesn't appear to care that much as he urgently hoists you up by your thighs to recklessly brush all the nuts and bolts strewn across his desk and replace them with your ass instead. A smile appears on the man's face when he catches your shoulders jerk at the reverberating clangour of metal hitting the floor. He situates himself further between your legs after making sure to shield the back of your head from the wall, worried that he'll hurt you with his ungentlemanly tendencies. His heavy breathing is causing your brows to bow in a state of pure bliss, the occasional grunt he sounds causing your jaw to go slack.

The amorous mechanic takes advantage of this and hungrily slips his tongue past your plumped lips to slither in tandem with yours for a while, evoking a muffled and greatly pleasured sob to escape into his mouth more than once, all of which he gladly engraves deep within his memory before yanking you forward by the waist once again, this time positioning your lower half close-packed and pressed to his hips. Bakugo is panting once he separates his face from yours, directing an avid ruby-red glance your way before lowering his head beside your neck.

The summer air is so hot, laced with the scent of diesel and unrivalled desire. Everything is surreal. The moody, crackly guitar in the background, the setting sun decorating the paint-splattered walls with strips of gold, the mess of blonde untamed locks you're tugging on brushing along the line of your jaw. His eagerness is evident with how rushed and sloppily his tongue glides across your skin, teeth providing harsh nibbles just under your ear and his lips hurriedly ghosting over any areas left untouched so he can suck on them hard enough to leave an instant bruise.

He's got his hands beneath your loose tank top, thick and skilled fingers splayed out and exploring every inch of your arching back. The hefty, warm touch backtracks to run over the goosebumps that had formed in its wake, sending intense shivers all throughout your limp form that have the muscles in his arms vibrate with your shaky movements. Venturing lower, Bakugo drags his palms all the way to your hips, almost drooling at how your soft flesh juts out the slightest bit above the hem of your denim shorts. He's acting hastily, like he's been set a deadline, moving to skim his thumbs over your ribs to the ticklish area below the cups of your bra.

Both of your bodies are rolling into each other now, sweat glazing the skin left uncovered by your clothes. The dim lamp and other miscellaneous items rocking back and forth on the desk struggle to stay upright or in place when every brusque, heedless motion of the mechanic's hips comes paired with the sheer power of desperation. Before you know it, he's fervently sucking on your tongue once more with a steel grip cupping the back of your bent knees, blunt nails digging in and making you uncontrollably exhale breathy whimpers that have his ears almost twitching to hear more.

Mixed saliva is coating your lips, an outcome of paying less attention to the kiss when your abdomen started to clench with anticipation. Confidence still a bit on the wobbly side, you take his bottom lip in your teeth and lightly tug on it as you pull away for breath, earning a pleased, sexy open-mouthed groan from Bakugo. Neither of you have opened your eyes in a while, much too focused on experiencing every overwhelmingly delectable feeling as they come. Jaws too tired to close your mouths, the taller man decides to give a harder thrust of his lower half and revels in the little gasps you reward him with, the growing bulge filling the space between your plush thighs gyrating into your pulsing core just right.

Long fingers abruptly spread out over your bra, opting for a quick squeeze before eagerly unhooking the clasp and greedily taking a handful of your bare tits from underneath the loosened cups. It seems he can't be bothered to seductively throw it to the ground like in the movie scenes Uraraka forced you to watch on YouTube earlier. And yet I prefer that, you smile to yourself and let out an erotic moan when your excited mechanic's huge palms rub your nipples. The sudden stimulation coaxes your inner walls to aimlessly contract, as if they're yearning to clench around the hardening, clothed length relentlessly grinding on you. His teeth return to the marked surface of your neck.

The steady speed and strength Bakugo infuses his thrusts with is impressive and you would probably be wondering how he hasn't wasted all of his energy if his hard-on wasn't consistently nudging the thick material of your shorts into your clit, the pressure so perfect it's dangerously close to maddening. The swollen bud throbs urgently at the sensation, a warning which you take notice of a mere second too late. The loud, repetitive knocking of wood swiftly being forced into solid bricks only serves to pull on the knot within your abdomen until only a single fraying thread remains intact. Not for long though, all it takes is simply a short and gruff "fuck" from the focused mans chest to snap it.

"Nnnguh!" your muscles tense instantly as you abruptly cry out, barely managing to yank him in further with the heels of your sneakers pushing at his ass. Bakugo hurriedly opens his eyes, vision blurred a bit when he moves to watch your features scrunch up under the control of absolute ecstasy. Although he's pleasantly surprised by your sudden release, his hips keep moving under the greedy pressure of your feet. Soon enough, your facial expression morphs into one of wide glossy eyes and quivering lips following the slow disappearance of your orgasm. He's smitten, without a doubt. Looking down at you like you're the one he's been looking for all his life, almost melancholic with the unmistakeable glint of rapture prominent in the pretty red rings of his gaze.

"Jesus, what brought that on?" he teases with raised, bushy brows. Ready for an embarrassed excuse, one that he'll remember forever. You’re out of breath already, one orgasm enough to render you far gone, too far gone to watch your words. You see the way he’s looking at you all expectantly, waiting for a reason to pick on you and make you burn up. If he wants an answer, he can have one.

"You, you did." your response has the mechanic blushing like a mad man, the three words prompting a sudden few drops of pre-cum to leak into the fabric of his underwear. Acting as nonchalantly as possible, Bakugo clears his throat and straightens his slumped posture with a try hard grin.

"That so." His voice is a smidge softer than before as he contemplates ripping off your clothes and going at you right then and there. The soggy feeling of his boxers rubbing against the sensitive tip of his cock serves as a reminder. A reminder that he's not the type to hold back when he's inside. ...Alright, he'll wait for you, just let him wash away the oily mess painting his hands first. Hastily propping you up so that you don’t fall, he orders you a quick "sit" then rushes to the sink stationed opposite from you.

You scoff at your own impatience whilst you're unbuttoning the shorts hugging your waist, something that Bakugo catches on his way back to you. "Someone's excited," he murmurs like it's second nature and gestures to you with dripping hands. "Take em' off for me."

Choosing to let his attitude slide, you obey willingly. You hardly get to finish removing the denim before your mechanic is pouncing on you akin to a wildcat, bared fangs hovering just below your navel then hungrily clamping down on the lacy material of your panties. It's fucking delicious, the manner in which the man prises the lace waistband away to release it unexpectedly, letting it snap upon the hypersensitive skin with an addictive sting. A devilish smile plays on the man's lips, the adorable sounds you bless him with doing nothing to lessen the discomfort between his legs.

Taking your underwear in his teeth again, he repeats his last actions. However, the stretching fabric doesn’t make contact with your abdomen this time around, instead they're being dragged just below your knees. Ah, you see. Your restricting panties leave enough space for his head to fit between your thighs, but they don't allow you to spread them any further. Swollen clit pulsing, you grip the edge of the desk tighter with anticipation as Bakugo lifts your legs to situate himself underneath and rests them on his broad shoulders.

"Hngh, please please please~" you whine for him whilst twirling strands of his hair with antsy hands. A genuine laugh from the mechanic blows a few puffs of cool air directly over your pussy and the abrupt change in temperature has your body rolling closer in hopes that his mouth will bring more heat. His fingers are still wet with water as they refrain from touching the top of your thighs, the droplets cooling your skin when they land.

"Gah—!" a pathetic, surprised gasp evoked from you makes the blonde's heart melt into a puddle. Did you think he was going to warn you with a sweet kitten lick? Who do you think he is? Of course he'd start with a harsh suck on your clit. Your grip loosens in Bakugo's locks when he opts to suck and flick his tongue simultaneously, the seemingly endless flow of pleasure sending your body into an exhausted state almost straight away. "K-Katsuki, Katsuki— mnnghWAit!"

Finally, his skilled mouth detaches from your overwhelmed bud with a muted pop and you can take a deep breath. So it looks like having your legs forced to remain in a relaxed position heightens the effects. You're mind-blown, nobody's ever done something so confidently, so assertively to you before. If he had continued whatever that was then you might've…

"Too much f'you? Shorry shweetheart," the muscular fiend muffling apologies beneath you is still gliding his tongue over your saturated entrance, swallowing greedily and peering into your fucking soul with those ruby eyes. "Mnnbut you shoulda known, m'nothing like anything you've ever had before…"

Without a second's notice, Bakugo easily slides his dripping middle finger inside of you, a hot and amused laugh vibrating through you due to his face still being pressed into your throbbing cunt. "Sho eashily…" you hear him comment. You're squirming with every movement he makes, the digit creating pressure within your contracting walls coaxing animalistic moans from your chest that even you don't recognise. It's when his eager tongue begins to lap relentlessly at your clit too that your focus wavers, poor brain trying to acknowledge everything at once. Eventually, the euphoria has you doubled over with your mind seeing nothing but crimson stars studying you from between a pair of weak legs.

"Good girl, yeah yeah yeah," the blonde praises whilst savouring the view above, his jolting cock demanding for him to push three fingers inside just to hurry things up. "So f’ckin tasty and wet for me, think you can take three fingers?" he asks lowly, almost states it. You nod rapidly, barely in the know of what you're agreeing to but you get the gist. It's slightly embarrassing how his thick fingers slide in without an issue, though it doesn't look as if Bakugo has anything to say. Instead, he's elated. If only you could see how rock hard he is right now in this moment, how much of an effect you have on his body. If his dick could get any bigger it would tear a damn hole in his clothes!

"Like you were goddamn made for it." he confirms to himself and nuzzles his face further.

Twisting, turning, tapping, your horny mechanic bullies your narrowing inner walls with his heavy touch. You're holding your breath again, you can't even help it with how insanely good he's making you feel and he's not even inside you yet. The mere thought of his cock draws a long, somewhat frustrated groan from your throat, voice cracking softly when his plumped lips close over your heated pussy to suck on your overstimulated clit once more. On cue, your mouth opens in a silent scream before the words can come out prepared.

"Katsuki! Too, huh, good! I-I think—" you try to warn him as best as you can in such a state but Bakugo proceeds to dart his tongue, coated heavily with your sweet arousal, back and forth over the sore bud until you're clenching on his fingers so much that he can't move them. "Hhhhhoh my god! Again-n! M'cumming!"

And with that, the man between your thighs swiftly withdrawals to stick his tongue out and carelessly skim the convulsing bundle of nerves by shaking his head. Somehow the mechanic expected the clear liquid to come spraying from your sopping cunt, he'd just prepared himself and you saw it. Your body is tensing in ways you've never experienced in your entire life as your juices hit the concrete with an obscene splat. The fact that you're squirting everywhere is shocking enough, but the fact that the man who's face you're currently cumming on already knew exactly how to make it happen...

Your walls are vicelike around nothing as Bakugo savours the flavour present on the tip of his tongue, the fading end of your release enhancing the emptines within. Did he do that on purpose too? To keep you wanting more? Your widened eyes immediately search to be met with his own narrowed and lust-tainted leer, and then you realise something. This guy really does know what he's doing, so much so that you're almost scared by how good you feel. His head certainly would've been crushed if you hadn't tried to keep your legs open. After retreating from his spot in front of you, the mechanic mutters a "let's get these fuckin' things outta my way" breathlessly and proceeds to rid of your cute panties. Your cunt drools arousal as he dangles them in your face, giving his wrist a little twirl before pretending to throw them to the ground. Little do you know, they're actually stuffed nice and cozy in his pocket. How sneaky.

"Need you…" whispering sweetly once he's stood before you again, you reach over slightly to cup his clothed and ever-hardening length. The low-key gasp that's sucked past the burly man’s lips is then exhaled as a deep "ah", the forceful back and forth motion of your palm causing him to feel as if his spirit is about to ascend to fucking cloud nine and beyond.

"Need me, hah?" he asks rhetorically. You don't stop as he's soon hurrying to unbuckle the belt looped around his waist, in fact his visible determination has your blood sparking with newfound energy. A kind of energy that influences the muscles in your legs to feel unused, begging you to ride him until they give out. Bakugo is moments away from letting his leaky cock breathe, finally able to free himself from the painfully claustrophobic material that is his underwear after removing the first layer—

"Wait, wait, in the car... can we? In the back sea-"

The sound of a car door opening hardly registers and you're being thrown playfully into the velvety backseat of a spacious jeep before you can even finish your question. Luckily, you're given a mere few seconds to reposition yourself until the unruly blonde sits beside you, bare legs spread to make room for one hand lazily grabbing and shaking the base of his hard-on beneath damp fabric. Observing his current state, your half lidded eyes are drawn to his shiny pink tip poking out from under the soaked cotton briefs you so badly wish to yank down. It's swollen, trying to jolt whilst being pressed into his abdomen and causing even more cloudy, sticky pre to droop in a string of small beads. The desperate mechanic is also watching with bowed brows, eventually turning his head to you as if to silently plead, simultaneously lifting his ass up to fidget halfway out of his underwear.

Holy shit, he's big. You knew he was big, but… he's big. And veiny. His huge fingers wrap around his bare member for a second time, influencing him to throw his head back and toy with himself. You’re stunned for a good moment, zero thoughts as you play witness to Bakugo’s solo pleasure. You hadn't seen his features contort in such a manner before, as his face had been hidden from your eyes whenever they were open. He's got this look about him right now, like he's totally losing himself in rapture for you. Mesmerising, truly. Those rock solid abs rise and fall at quite a fast pace, you shouldn't keep him waiting but… This guy is fucking delicious, you could just lick him right now. You bet even the sweat coating his face in a pretty shine tastes like salted caramel. You want a taste. Without hesitation, you straddle the man's lap, a firm grip stationed on his shoulders with his cock bobbing involuntarily into your puffy clit. Daringly, you grab him by the chin to lick a clean, wet stripe along his pink cheek.

Such a salacious action offers no small reward, you realise this when a clenched fist in your hair pulls you back just enough to have your noses bumping into one another, a dangerous growl fleeing from behind gritted teeth, straight from the tasty mechanic's dick rather than his brain. You're rather puzzled as he slowly ghosts his mouth over your own, until he speaks.

"M'I okay to rough you up a little? Hm?" Voice gravelly and deeply smooth enough to have your head spinning, he asks impatiently and narrow-eyed. You're most likely getting yourself into some kind of trouble judging by the sheer size of him, but how can you say no to something so utterly passion stoked? Answering with a simple nod and another teasing lick over those talented, wetted lips of his, you lower your already bucking hips. It burns, it fucking burns. Yet it's intoxicating. How odd for such a searing pain to have you wishing time would stop. Whimpering and grimacing, you've just about managed to fit half of his length past your soaking entrance.

"Want me t' rough my pretty baby up in the backseat?" He's asking you rhetorically, almost tauntingly, though somehow there's more than a hint of soothing behind his words. "Take it easy, baby. That's it…" he's being so gentle with his tone, breathing shaky as he memorises every damn detail of the view in front of him.

Fuck, it's stretching you out so much! The slippery, warm tip is squished between your succulent inner walls, gradually nudging them further apart to accommodate more with the shallow rise and dip of your body. "Hngh... fuck— nngh!" your pained grunts and contracting around him both have Bakugo digging his front teeth into his tender lower lip, ruby gaze tracking a lone drop of sweat trickling down your temple. Hyper-aware of your existence, of the velvety soft ridges massaging his length, a subtle smile enhances the shamefully mushy blonde's features and a thumb swipes the rolling droplet from your face.

With every inch nearly a struggle to slide past your tender, wet entrance, the longer and less frequent your trepidatious gasps for air grow. It's the pure fervour dancing in the depths of your abdomen to blame for your lack of air intake, for this overwhelming lightheadedness that makes you feel as if you might just pass out on your mechanic's fat dick. Then it becomes apparent, you've been so focused on easing the pain that the rapturous inferno spreading within yourself has been stealing your breath away. A flustered giggle is pulled from you when Bakugo cracks a stupid joke regarding your breathing pattern.

"Damn, I knew- ah, shit..." he shudders when the sensitive head of his cock reaches deeper parts of you, canines chattering together with a moan before carrying on. "I knew I was hot, but fucking breathe, heheh..."

However, your embarrassed grin flickers in the presence of intense enjoyment as you sense your frame succumbing to the man's increasing touch located at your sides. Rough hands are guiding your hips from their ongoing gentle bob to a faster, shorter and heavier bounce. This new movement finally drives the remaining inches of the mechanic's length inside of you, the harsh impact producing a pornographic splurt to sound as your arousal caves into the building pressure and escapes from your throbbing, stretching entrance.

"GAH—!"

"Oh-hohoooooh, baby..."

He doesn't stop there, either. The back of your thighs smack upon the top of his own, the lewd noises increasing in volume every time Bakugo lifts himself up to brutally slam you back down simultaneously. Strings of your slick connect to his sticky skin, linking the both of you together like some filthy double meaning in a movie. Your insides experience a sinfully pleasing ache with the continuous and vigorous moving, the way he's ramming in and out so fucking fast and rough and perfectly— God, there's absolutely no way that you can delay another orgasm like this, no chance in hell. How are you even supposed to function right now when his cock is so amazingly able to stimulate your over-sensitive clit from the inside?

"Ka-a-at'ski-i~" your near sing-song-ish moan of his name is prolonged by the drag and drop of your weight. It's the whiniest shit he's ever heard, the wavering of your wobbly voice positively addictive to the unruly mechanic.

"I can't stop, can't stop it!" a hurried, raspy whisper into his pink-tinged ear indicates the unstoppable approach of another brain-melting orgasm on your end, and Bakugo really can't help himself from pistoning his long dick as deep as your spasming cunt will allow before the involuntary push of the juicy walls clamping over him can render you empty again. This is the hardest one yet, this time causing your form to lock up as soon as your palms caress the prickly stubble on the blonde's jaw. He's fucking delighted, peeking up at your distressed features from beneath your weak hold. It's so adorable, how you can barely handle the pleasure he's gladly supplying you with, slutty little body already so drunk on sex.

"Ugh-huh! Plea—easeeee," you cry out and impulsively bring the mechanic's head forward to bury your sobs and babbles into his natural, soft spikes. "Mmnn- please, so good..."

He notices that you're not fidgeting anymore. Instead, you've been ultimately paralysed by ecstasy. Your back arched and your trembling thighs raised, needy body in prime position to just fucking take it. You're doing exactly that, perky tits jolting into his chin whilst you let him pound your sweet pussy however he wants. Narrow eyes rolling back, a husky moan breaks the hold of his lips. There's no need to see your face to know how far gone you are, but just in case, Bakugo checks in with a dirty laugh and an utterly sexual "don't even know whatcha' beggin' for, do ya?"

Hardly capable of a simple yes or no, you can only respond with a long, broken hum into his tear-dampened hair. Fuuuuck, the car is rocking with the man's thrusts and it has the act of jutting his hips upward becoming so much easier. After a short moment of sucking on one of your pebbled nipples to have you squeezing his length, he decides a slight change needs to be made before he can cum. Without warning, Bakugo hastily manhandles you so that you're facing away from him with your lolling head leaning upon the headrest in front of you, arms around the seat and gripping on for dear life.

The musky, intimate scent of sex has an incredibly intoxicating effect, neither of you able to get enough of the lusty, hot air filling the vehicle. It influences the mechanic to ram his cock in you once again, but this time he doesn't pull back, choosing to drag you into his broad, glistening chest and guide your tired hips to gyrate in his lap. You're absolutely fucking destroyed down there, he notes pridefully when he lets his fingers slip back and forth over your numbing clit. At this point, you can only feel the pleasure his fingers are bringing you, rather than his actual digits themselves. Your mind is completely de-railed, train of thought tipped over onto its damn side. This guy is literally going to fuck your brains out!

"Keep goin', gorgeous. M' almost there," Bakugo groans whilst one of his hands trails to your throat. He can feel his dick stirring within your tight cunt, he can feel your entrance squeezing the base as your walls attempt to milk him for all he's worth. To be honest, hes lost count of your orgasms. You have, that's for sure. In fact, he doesn't think you could count to 3 right now, even if you tried your hardest. Let's make that 2, he muses to himself just as your clit starts to pulse beneath his dangerously intense touch.

"Ka... Kat'ski..." you mumble through the pressure situated under your jawbone, unable to keep your head from falling back into the crook of his neck with a silent scream. The contracting of your mellow insides circling his blunt tip has the tense mechanic blurting:

"Cum for me, baby. C-cum f'me, m'gonna cum for you too, n'kay?"

Another splash of clear liquid is sprayed from between your legs as soon as Bakugo's words register, his endless rocking and thick fingers creating gaps in stream which only makes everything that much messier. You're still in the end throes of your release when the man behind you loses control of the curses previously sat at the tip of his tongue, all of them falling from his quivering mouth within a matter of seconds.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck— cuh—! Cumming!" he strains into your tangled hair, the hold around your throat gradually tightening with each forceful spurt of white from his jumping cock. Hips bucking lightly during the fading continuation of his orgasm, the brawny man removes his hand from your neck, allowing you to inhale a deep breath.

Then.

Reality kicks in.

Full throttle.

"Oh my fucking god. We need to fuckin' get out."

Slowly coming to your senses, you angle your tired head to peer at your mechanic who seems to be troubled.

"Why's that?" you question and kiss his flushed cheek, face plastered with cute curiosity. However, that cute curiosity is quickly replaced with utmost panic when Bakugo doesn't reply, instead observing the mess surrounding the two of you. "Shit! This is..."

Izuku's fucking jeep.

|| || || ||

Hours pass, all spent scrubbing the entirety of the jeep's backseat area. You'd prefer not to remember the chosen method of exiting the vehicle whilst being impaled and full of cum, although it was pretty hilarious at the time. Oh, right now? Right now you're on a stealth mission, currently waiting for Bakugo to signal your leave with obvious hand gestures whilst Izuku asks about his car. Hm... you feel like you're forgetting something— Woah, shit! He's signalling, okay. Refraining from letting a giggle escape at the blonde's tight-lipped and wide eyed expression, you sneak out from behind his childhood friend and quietly leave the building.

"So it's all good now?" Izuku pats the hood of his jeep, emerald eyes eager for his answer.

"Mm, yup. Stay there a sec while I go get your keys, loser."

You're on your way to your own car, still wondering if maybe you'd left something back there when Bakugo appears from behind the door in the corner of your vision. Spinning on your heels, you tilt your head at the cocky smirk he's blessing you with. You're confused, until you clock him dangling your lacy panties on one finger.

'Wh— HEY!' you mouth at him with a frown of disbelief. So that's what you were forgetting! You're about to storm right back over there, but the manner in which the blonde peers over his shoulder with an awkward face tells you that Izuku's waiting patiently. He doesn't mouth anything back to you, just opts to blow you a mischievous kiss, a kiss that he plants on the fabric of your panties, before cheekily shutting the door on you.

"Unbelievable." your hands flail around as you murmur with an amused smile. Guess you'll have to come back for those.

|| || || ||

Taglist :

@artdumpsstuff @endlessfreaky @passionateuchiha

[hijackalx]

GORTASH NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

hmm honestly feel like it depends on if hes feeling u or not. if he was just trying to catch a nut hes rude af. like before he leaves he'll throw a wet rag at u. and he used cold water to get it wet 🥲 BUTTTT if he really does like u i think he'll prolly run a bath for u both or something. i can see him washing ur hair/body for u 🥺

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

his chest duhhh lol thats why he walks around with his titties out. i think hes got a really good upper body in general. like shoulders/arms/chest. and i feel like hes an ass man. yes that means all booties ALL. he likes to spank, bite, and leave marks all over it. omggg the type to smack or pinch ur ass in public LMAO

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

yall already know im a firm believer that this man cums bucketfuls. he'll have u sitting there like "damn why is it still going" LMFAO almost exclusively wants to cum inside. to the point to where its hard to convince him not to. he wants to breed u sooo bad 😭😭

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

*NONCON MENTION* it gets him concerningly hard when u tell him no but let him do it anyway. like i dont think he would ever AGGRESSIVELY force u to do anything hence the "let him", but something about being able to change ur mind/overpower u does something to him *NONCON MENTION OVER*

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

well. i think hes an expert when it comes to pleasing himself (which is typically thru penetration, so for my AFABs if yall can finish vaginally just know he do be laying pipe 🤤) but he didnt really grow up caring about his sexual partners much lol. i do think he wants to please you though, like badly. thats the only reason hes willing to let u offer some guidance when it comes to giving oral/fingering u.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

mating press yall. like when he hooks ur legs over his shoulders and basically folds u like a lawn chair lol. also likes doggy though so he can pull ur hair and leave welts on ur ass lol.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

hes wayyyy too intense to be goofy at any moment while u guys are fuckin LMAO. like this man loves sex and gives his ALL. he puts his mf game face on and locks IN baby 😹😹

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

YESSSSSS !!!!! YES !!!!! this man is SO hairy EVERYWHERE !!!! the same texture as the hair on his head. im about to faint yall catch me

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

uhh. i can see him being kind of romantic on special occasions. but like i said hes pretty intense usually and to me that doesnt leave much room for romance lol. especially since he can be so mean too

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

yeah. like all the time. hes a hornball so if ur not around as an alternative he WILL be jizzing into his hand. omfg if yall are like, ever distanced from each other he will want to send nasty ass letters back and forth to keep him satisfied until u get back LMAO god forbid they ever end up at the wrong place

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his office. will fuck on every surface and up against every wall. everyone else is afraid to touch anything in there 😭

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he likes when u seem weaker than him, either in the sense that he has a physical or mental advantage over u. dont let anyone else treat u like that tho or he'll think ur a pussy lol

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

^^ as i mentioned letting other ppl have the same power over u as he does is a turn off. so if ur like me u got to grow a backbone or get the boot 🥾🤾‍♀️ 😭😭  anyway. i dont think he'll be willing to do anything that makes him feel "lesser" or more submissive. i mean u could probably trick him into doing it if u make him think its his idea or something LMAO

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

i genuinely think he eventually gains an affinity for giving ??? he likes the sounds u make and the way u pull his hair. so yeah, gives lots of kisses and will mutter a lot of praises while down there too. dont get me wrong though u better be giving back too 😹😹

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

rough as fuckkkk bro. doesnt ever like to be gentle. sex just brings out a lot of aggression in him. u will be sore and bruised after. if u convince him to chill out he'll be a pouty baby about it

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

anywhere and everywhere possible. i dont think its a goal of his to be seen by others while doing it but i also dont think he cares so that doesnt really stop him

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he'll try to get u to do all kinds of fucked up shit. including shit that is probably lowkey dangerous 😹😹 hes pretty sadistic so get ready gurl

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

15-20 mins max shawty lmao sorry 😹😹 and since he wants to act like a wild ape ur prolly not getting a round 2 since he wore himself out. but if u didnt get off in time he'll use his hand to help u finish even if hes sleepy 😴

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

will tease u at random times throughout the day by saying some absolutely horrendous shit in ur ear while ur in public and then acting like nothing happened. but usually doesnt want to waste much time before the act, so he might tease just enough to get u ready. nothing more though

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

heavy grunter and breather. will only moan occasionally if its really hitting right 😹😹 if u do get him to moan i can see it being decently loud. its like a reward

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

very high libido man........ prepare ur hole 🪦

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

sometimes he can stay awake long enough for aftercare but other times itll have to come after a power nap 😭 youll be like "bae how was it" and turn around to see him completely unconscious. snoring and everythang

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Buddy i’ll cuff you to a piped radiator if i don’t get a part two to the no nut November thing. i’m knawing on my cage i need james so bad 🤤

A/n: This is technically part four but you asked for James so I figured I'd use this for James

Warnings: Smut, spanking, semipublic sex, mentions of voyeurism, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Intro

James had heard Kirk was out, it bugged him he wasn't the first with you but he was also in it for the money. Then he heard Lars was out, and he couldn't believe he let that rat touch you before he got to.

He practically stormed the house looking for you only to find you outside sun tanning by the pool.

He quickly came out and sat near you, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. He was in his jeans and a band tee, not something to wear out in the sun by the pool.

You smiled at him as he sat down, thinking up some sort of plan.

You rolled onto your stomach and reached for the bottle of lotion, holding it up towards him. "Jamie, do you mind putting lotion on my back?" You asked innocently enough.

James heart fluttered at the nickname alone and he nodded as he got up. He sat on the edge of your chair and squeezed a dollop onto his palm, rubbing it on his hands before bringing his hands to your back.

The lotion was cold, causing you to gasp softly. He did his best to not be creepy or anything, but you kept making noises and it was driving him crazy.

"Jamie, what are you doing?" You asked in a teasing tone. James had been lost in thought, your voice drew him back and he realized he'd just straight up grabbed your chest.

He opened his mouth and pulled his hands away, immediately going to apologize before he decided against it. "Not my fault you're so fucking hot" He said, smacking your ass. Not too harsh, yet.

You lifted your head to look through the large glass panels leading into the house. "What if someone sees?"

James scoffed. "Like you really give a shit." You chewed your cheek, you didn't care, honestly you wanted it to happen. "Besides, no one else is home." There went your hopes.

You sucked your bottom lip as you thought about it, but you didn't get to say anything more before James was taking his clothes off behind you.

You watched him undress, watched his hard cock slap his abdomen, watched as he moved between your legs and gripped your hips in a tight hold, sure to leave bruises the next morning, just to pull your ass back to him.

He pushed your bikini bottoms to the side and pushed in, a deep groan leaving him as he did so. "Fuck, I should've just taken you for myself, never let Kirk or Lars touch you in the first place." He grumbled. You wanted to question him more on that but he started moving his hips, setting a fast pace already.

He was big and hit deep in you, rubbing against your walls so perfectly. He held your hips in place as he rammed into you, shoving your face into the thin pillow you'd been resting on.

"Fuck, Jamie! Slow-slow down." James had been desperate for you to be around him and now that he had it it was driving him crazy.

The chair creaked and James barely reacted in time to catch you before you faceplanted into the concrete below as the chair leg gave out, snapping off.

James couldn't bring himself to care about that right now. He had one arm around your waist, hand in your bikini and rubbing your clit, his other arm around your chest, groping your tits, all while he kissed up your neck, licking and biting you.

The only real privacy you had were the bushes surrounding the yard, you were certain the neighbours could and would hear with how loud you were being.

"I wanted this since the minute you walked through that door." He grunted in your ear. "Took every part of me not to run out here and fuck you right then and there." You weren't really listening, too busy getting fucked dumb to pay attention.

"Want to feel you cumming on my dick, sweetheart," he grunted, licking a spot on your neck, "can you do that for me?" You nodded, already feeling that knot building inside you. "Good." James bit down on you, making you squeal.

Your breath hitched and your eyes rolled back, knees buckling and legs going weak.

James, having been so, so fucking needy for you, came as soon as he felt your walls clenching around him, deep moans falling right into your ears, his big hands holding you flush against him.

"Dude..." A voice came. Cliff had come home early for whatever reason and was blowing smoke out his mouth as he stared at the both of you.

[redbleedingrose]

Traditions ~ Cassian x Reader

 Summary: You teach Cassian a family tradition 

Warnings: slight angst, infertility, tbh mostly fluff

A/N: OMG 2.7k-ish words later!!! I am so sorry to have kept y’all waiting. I know you asked for an Azriel piece but this one was just stuck in my mind. Anyway, I guess this is the time to thank you all for 1.3k followers! That is huge and totally unexpected. I am forever thankful! Please leave your thoughts in the comments below, I always appreciate your likes, and love your reblogs. Let me know if you want to be added to my general taglist. Enjoy! 

Your mate gaped at you from where he was seated on your large bed, several feet away from your vanity he had built with his brothers as a mating gift when you had finally accepted the bond. It had been nearly an hour since you had emerged from the bath that Cassian had first started after your supper. You had joined him when the water was still piping hot and as the water had gone luke-warm, your needy husband spent the entire bath running his large, calloused hands all over your body, massaging your sorest parts every now and then, and squeezing at your soft flesh in any place he could without earning a smack on his thigh. The warm pot roast with mashed potatoes settled into your stomach with a glass of red wine to follow, had you feeling sated and cozy while you rested against Cass’ chest. Time well spent cooking with the general, who was barely able to keep his hands off you, until you nearly kicked him out of the kitchen, settling for the occasional spank on your ass. 

You calmly moved into the next step of your nighttime routine, circling your aloe cream into your cheeks and under eyes, ignoring your pouting mate who whined in the background, trying to get your attention to pull you away from your seat and into your bed. When you had walked out of your shared bathroom, you wore nothing but a silk robe that ran down to right above your knees, exposing your newly moisturized legs that smelled of his favorite honey and milk lotion. Cassian was feeling almost feral at the sight of you, wanting nothing more than to toss you over any surface so he could have his way with you for hours. Maybe, you wouldn’t be getting the rest you had planned on, and you were okay with that. But, right now? This was your time to relax, to ease into the night, to let the various worries of the day slip out of your mind and into the dark abyss of tomorrow. 

So, he sat. 

He sat on the large bed, with his arms crossed over his chest, huffing and puffing with his jaw hung open as you heated the fresh hyssop oil in your hands, coating it in your palms before running your fingers through your hair. You hummed in contentment, sneaking a glance at your impatient husband, sending him a sneaky, yet, gentle smile before massaging the silky liquid through your scalp all the way down to the roots of your hair. You watched him through the mirror, as you continued to hum, staring at you with his head tilted to the side in curiosity, his pupils blowing out his cinnamon mixed with copper iris’. 

Not once had your dear husband ever asked what it is that you were doing, not once did he ask what your nighttime routine actually was. He never asked why it took so long, he never asked why you had so many steps in the process. He only stared at you in wonder. You weren't exactly sure why Cassian never felt the need to ask, but you had assumed it was because it didn't matter, despite how strange it looked, as long as you were at peace in the end. 

It was simple, really. A tradition that had run in your family for centuries. Oiling your hair that is. Your great grandmother had done it to your grandmother, your grandmother had done it to your mother, and your mother had done it to you. It was a form of love, of devotion, and of doting on someone you love. It always brought memories that felt like balm after a long, difficult day. Your mother used to sing you hymns as she settled you between her knees on the floor, rubbing the oil through her hands to warm it before pressing it into your hair.

 She would run her hands through your hair softly, “it will open up your mind, my sweet little bird,” murmuring to you her love as she would bounce her fingers against your scalp. After she was done, she would press a kiss onto your forehead before braiding your hair and then sending you off to bed. The tips of your fingers played with the ends of your hair that you had weaved into that simple braid, sliding it over your shoulders, and easing back into the soft white chair you were seated in before calling out to your mate, “C’mere my love.” 

He shot out of bed obediently, rushing over to where you were seated, grinning as you spread your legs open, slowly and sensually, till your knees were fully spread apart, exposing your glistening sex. You tilted your head back with a smirk, watching his reaction. The poor male was nearly drooling at the sight of his mate all spread out for him, his pretty eyes sparkling with what could only be described as pure hunger for his mate. “Get on your knees, Cass.” Not a second later, he fell to his knees, right in front of you, growling at your scent that seemed to bleed into the room, his soft hair falling forward over his shoulders as he leaned over to take a huff of your essence. You couldn't help but let a breeze of laughter escape you, resting your foot flat against his shoulder and pushing him back without much force. “Sweetheart,” he started with another growl, reaching up to rest his hand on your ankle, “Not yet, General,” you interrupted with another chuckle, “turn around.” 

“B- But–,” his hungry smirk fell into a forlorn expression that made your smile widen, “Nuh uh Cassie baby, turn around,” you twirled your finger around in a spinning motion, trying to motion for him to turn faster. Your poor mate sighed before following your order, willing to do whatever you wished, even if it meant tasting your cunt later in the night rather than right now, like he so craved doing. He expected you to be playing one of your games, though he wasn’t sure what it was. Even after centuries of being together, you still managed to find ways to surprise him, keeping him on his toes, or rather, his knees, and keeping the spark alive in your relationship. You sent a stroke of love and satisfaction down your vibrating bond, soothing his restless soul as his thumb continued to stroke and press into your outer ankle that was resting on the padded floor next to his hip. 

You lifted the vial, using the dropper to access the oil that you had used only moments prior, humming the same tunes your mother used to when you sat in the same position as Cassian is now. You settled the vial back onto the glass vanity, warming the oil in your hands as you leaned forward towards your mate, pressing a kiss into his temple. His eyes fluttered shut, resting his cheek against your knee before turning his head to drop a swift kiss onto the exposed skin. He lingered for a moment, smiling into you, pulses of an overwhelming sense of adoration and warmth emanated through your bond from him. It was so clear to you how smitten he still was with you, how devoted he was with you, how he still delighted in your presence even if it meant pushing off your most intimate display of affection for whatever it is that you have planned for him. 

He more or less whined as your soft fingers burrowed into his hair, running along his scalp, his head nearly falling back into your lap, reveling in the feeling of you bouncing your fingers into his skin. His jaw fell open further as you gathered even more oil before running it through his silky ink hair, making sure to cover every single strand with it. It glimmered in the soft lighting emitting from the fireplace as you brushed his hair back with your fingers, pulling the tips to the top of his scalp to coat every end. Cassian couldn’t even force his eyes open to watch, his head had begun to lightly pulse at the sensation of his beautiful, wonderful mate playing with his hair. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in weeks with the new conflicts in Illyria sending him and his brothers over the edge with tension and anxiety. His lips lifted of their own accord into an open smile every time he felt you press a sweet kiss into his forehead, smoothing down any residual wrinkles of stress. It was when you pushed his head back up with such ease that he sat back up, thinking you were done with whatever it was that you were doing.

 He found, pleasantly, that he was wrong. 

Your fingers shifted through his hair, pulling it back into what he could've sworn would be a ponytail, but you let his hair go, letting it fall back to his shoulders. He could feel you hesitate, shuffling closer to him and pressing your legs closer into his side. He waited patiently, unsure of what your next step would be, startling slightly when you began whispering as your hands ran up his spine, “Have you ever wondered why I put this oil in my hair, Cass?” Basking in the feeling of you so near, your warmth radiating off you, your scent almost overwhelming, he murmured an agreement, pressing a kiss onto your other exposed knee. You grinned down at your mates euphoric state, a state similar to the ones that only happened after hours of love making, continuing with your mistrations at his shoulders before threading his hair in your warm grasp to form a simple braid. 

Words began slipping out of you like sweetened tea, and Cass listened intently, always wanting to bury every single statement you uttered into his memory so he would never forget, “It’s a tradition that has run through my family for generations. It is said that hyssop oil that is freshly pressed is extremely hydrating to one's hair, and that it helps refresh a person's aura. And so, as tradition goes, my mother would do this for me, warming the oil right in her palm as a form of love, nearly soaking my scalp and hair in it, following that with a simple braid to let it enrich my hair and my aura. And she would sing some hymns to me in the old language while doing so. If there ever were a way to calm me down, it would be this. I guess you could say, it is a way to show your affection to someone.” You rambled softly, hoping that Cassian wouldn’t mind you doing this for him, that he would understand, and that hopefully, he would let you do this again. 

His warm hand was now fully pressing into your ankle, squeezing it thrice every so often, an easy smile lilting his beautiful rugged face while you babbled on, “It’s sweet though, if you think about it, Cass. My grandmother did this to my mother. And my mother did this to me. And maybe one day…” you paused, anxiously looking down at your mate who had finally opened his burnt cinnamon eyes to look up at you like you were a goddess to be worshiped. He squeezed your ankle once again, this time more firmly, stabilizing you before pressing a hard kiss into your plush lower inner thigh to reassure you into continuing. You cleared your throat, pushing down the small, painful lump that had formed, “And maybe one day, I can do it for our future babe, whenever that will be.” 

It had been almost three years of you trying with Cassian to have a babe, and it still hadn’t happened. No matter how many potions Majda had given you, no matter the reassurance Cass and your friends from the inner circle had given you, especially Feyre, it still hurt. It still didn’t make any sense to you as to how it hadn’t happened yet. And you knew. You knew that sometimes, it could take decades for fae, even longer for Illyrians. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less. That didn’t mean it was any less difficult. You and Cassian had both hoped that it would happen relatively quickly, given how quickly Feyre had gotten pregnant with Nyx. But that didn’t seem to be how it worked out for you both. 

And it was hard. 

It was painful. 

You had spent nights crying yourself to sleep over it not happening. Every month, when your cycle would come, it felt like another stab to your already bleeding heart. You couldn’t help but feel as though you had failed. Failed at reproducing. Failed at being a female. Failed at being a mate. 

But Cass never let you feel that way for long. His constant reassurance and strength had been the only thing in recent months that had been helping you push through this period of difficulty in your life. He was the perfect male, the perfect husband, the perfect mate really. Not even for a second did he blame you for your troubles with infertility. Not for a second did he make you feel incapable. He was truly your rock against the crashing waves that kept you standing. 

And you loved him for it.

And he loved you for it. He always would.

You were so deep in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Cassian was now turned towards you, sitting up on his knees and staring at you in concern, his calloused hands resting on your cheeks, stroking away the stray tears that had slipped out. You sniffled, trying to smile at your mate as you snuggled into his palm, raising up your own hand to rest against his, “your braid will slip open my love, turn around so I can tie it.” He started to shake his head, “Sweetheart– ,” you hummed, not letting him finish what he had planned to say, patting at his broad shoulders with a small grin rising on your face, “C’mon Cassie, quickly.” 

His iris shifted between yours, looking for any signs of remaining sadness that had seemed to slip out of you as quickly as it had come. And when he found none, he nodded slowly, pecking your lips before turning silently and resting his ass against his shins. You remove the hair tie that has been wrapped around your wrist, gently tying off his braid before running a finger down the length of it. He catches your wrist, pulling it around his body towards his front and planting kisses right along the inner portion, resting it on his chest to where you can feel his heart beating at your fingertips. You blushed at the sensation, the pulses of love he sends down your already buzzing mating bond provide a source of comfort that you could not begin to describe. 

“I love you, sweetheart, so much,” his voice barely above a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear, “and we will have a beautiful little babe that you can do this with.” He shifted, hooking his arm under your thigh and swiftly pulling you out of your chair and into his lap. You landed in his embrace with a yelp, his arms pulled you further into his hold allowing him the access to peck your flushed cheeks, the tip of your nose, the edge of your jawline, the base of your forehead, and finally, your lips. His kiss sent tingles from your lips down to your heart which morphed into butterflies that exploded in your soft tummy. Cassian held you there, moving his lips in gentle succession until a smile formed against your lips. He ended the kiss with another soft peck, “But until then, you can continue your traditions with me. All that affection and love you are saving for our future babe, you can give some for me to hold onto until the mother blesses us. What do you think?” A huff of a breath escapes you in a barely formed laugh, your smile too large for you to contain as you lean up to kiss your husband again, nodding once while watching his own smile widen, right before returning your lips against his.

General taglist: @nyotamalfoy @brekkershadowsinger @kennedy-brooke @fieldofdaisiies 

Masterlist

[the-writer-in-the-winter-forest]

The Universe Next-door

Summary: While on his "Search for a New Anchor Being" montage, Wade comes across Wolverine and Storm variants who rain on his parade.

A spin on the scene from Deadpool Vol 5 #15 (2013)

Pairing: Storm x Wolverine

Word Count: 980

No Warnings/ Pretty Tame

A/N: Is the humor forced and bad? Mayhaps, but I gave it a try. Please be merciful upon me.

If Wade had known that jumping from one universe to the next in search of a new anchor being would take this much time and painful effort, he would have packed snacks. What situation can't be improved with snacks? This one could use a protein bar or something. Low blood sugar is a bitch! It’s only when the TemPad opens another gate that Wade's nostrils are filled with the oh-so-sweet smell of breakfast foods. 

“Huh, so does the X-Mansion look the same in every universe, or did the studio just not want to pay for another location? I guess it is all about location, location, location.” That might work to his advantage. Besides much of the layout remaining the same, only a few noticeable differences were noticeable: a painting and chachi here and there, different light fixtures, and rugs. 

Wade looks around the halls curiously. “Now, which door leads to the Blackbird? No, no, stay focused. Note to self, though, find universe with easily accessible Blackbird.”

A joyride would have to wait for now; Wade starts to follow where that oh-so-delectable smell came from. A systems crash is now becoming a controlled systems crash. Students move around the dining room, gathering food on their plates and searching for friends to sit and eat with. 

“I don’t think they'll mind if I help myself.”

The dining room went silent as all eyes focused on the strangely dressed visitor helping himself to a large stack of pancakes. Students murmured amongst themselves in disbelief. This couldn't be a new teacher.

“Be not afraid, you beautiful freaks of nature. Don't mind me. I’m just grabbing a quick shnack; then I have to grab another shnack who happens to be one of your hairy custodians, and no, I’m not talking about that hairy blue guy with the glasses. The sofa in the foyer is covered in hair.” He leans into his plate of pancakes. “That hair shall not taint you, my sweet, sweet flapjacks.” 

After a bit of bribery, which entailed kidnapping their history professor, which would guarantee them no more homework, Wade makes his way to the second floor, down the hall, takes a right, and it’s three doors down. 

“Oh my gosh.” He squeals. “I love that band.”

Wade does grant the courtesy of knocking on the door three times before bursting in unannounced. The curtains are closed, the room smells faintly of cigars, clothes lay askew on the floor, and an unmistakable lump lies curled up in bed, buried deep under the covers.

“Oh my. He does sleep like an animal. Hairy and nude.” Wade's body shutters with excitement before skipping over to the curtains. “Ding, dong, my Wolvie is dead. Rub your eyes, get out of bed.” With one motion, the room is flooded with sunlight. “Ooooh, what a beautiful morning!” The lump under the covers only stirs slightly. “Huh, I thought I could summon him with singing. Maybe if I tell him, he can host the Oscars again.”

Wade walks over to the lump, placing a firm smack on his ass before laying down next to him. “You must be like me and need your eight hours of beauty sleep, cuz let’s be honest, it isn't just diet, exercise, and good mental health that keeps thyself oh so lovely. “ No response is given. “Alright,” Wade sighs heavily, getting up from the bed. “Time to get dressed for school.”  Before Wade can feed the impulse to stick a sword up his target's ass, he suddenly feels a tiny droplet of water on his forehead. It would have been of little concern until heavy rain began to fill the room. "Guess ol Charlie needs to fix his pipes."

Wade is pulled from his ramblings when his intended target emerges from the adjoining bathroom with a towel around his waist and slicked-back hair. He freezes upon seeing the uninvited guest. “You ain’t supposed to be here, bub.” He snarls, his claws extended in a flash of light. Wade's eyes widen as he ever so slowly turns his head back towards the bed.

The body under the blankets pulls itself out to reveal a very unpleasant morning-faced, dark-skinned woman with shockingly short, white, spiked hair. “Huh,” Wade looks curiously at the woman. “Gotta admit I love the hair. If it wasn't for the rain, I was gonna assume that the studio just gender and ethnicity bent another Wolverine.” He stares off into the distance, seemingly addressing no one. “Wierd move, guys.”

The weather Goddess sneers at Wade. “Do you know what happens to-”

“Yes, I know what happens to a toad when it’s struck by lightning.” Wade groans. “Man, Bryan Singer did not do you justice. Unless you’re from the new timeline, then Simon Kinberg really did you dirty. And apparently, this fuckin fanfic writer likes callbacks like some musical theater putz.” 

Her smile then turns wicked. “Then you should know what happens next.”

Wade doesn't get a word out before his body receives an agonizing jolt of blazing hot electricity through its system. This was undoubtedly a first for him, and this amount of voltage bleeding through him is a record.

He raises his trembling hand to speak, only to fall straight back onto the floor with a loud thud. “There is a nice tingly feeling all over now.” Wade whispers weakly. "Got it. This one's not up for grabs." He says to Storm. Wade manages enough movement to activate the TemPad and slip through the gateway before the angered Wolverine can stab him through his corneas. Thankfully, he doesn't fall far and lands on something soft. In one quick motion, he returns to a seated position, trying to shake out the remainder of the body tingles. “Well,” He huffs, finally getting back up. That’s certainly a rarity in the fanbase. But those two are getting freaky? Tsk, that girl should know better.”

*Wink*

[dwaekkiforpresident]

okay hear me out

making gingerbread houses with bang chan (write fluff as reparations for the angst you made me read)

now i have to repent for my sins???? wtf???

anyway making the holidays with chan in general are always magical. the giddy feeling of delight that pours off of him is infectious, his good vibes rolling off in waves.

chan is a firm believer that christmas is for spending time together. he expects no gifts (even if he’s bought you one…. or four) and will get pouty if you lied about buying him a gift. he loves it, he loves anything from you, but he doesn’t see the importance of buying something for him. you ask how it differs from him buying you a gift and you buying him a gift, he stumbles over his words in such a adorable manner that you end up dropping the interrogations.

“what’s that?” chan had come through the front door with a large tupperware in his arms. he made his way over to where you were standing in the kitchen and handed you the container with a large smile. you suppose this is how he wanted to answer your question.

you pop open the lid to see what looks like homemade gingerbread and a decent sized bag of white icing. “felix asked me if we’d want some gingerbread if he made some,” he says watching you realize why the cookies are cut in large squares and rectangles. “and i said yes. i always made gingerbread houses with my family as a kid and i wanted to do it with you too… if that’s okay.”

saying no to him??? is he crazy??? his shy expression as he asks for the sweetest way to spend some holiday time together is enough for you to lean in and kiss his cheek, balancing the container on one hand while the other rests on his cheek. “of course i want to, baby.”

fast forward past a quick convenience store run for candies and some banter over the music that should be playing while you two construct a tiny home for cookie people, then you have a very wobbly foundation for your gingerbread house. chan insists on piping the frosting to keep the house together, brow furrowed in concentration and his eyes lighting up when the pieces stay together. he turns to look at you while you give him an impressed nod. he does a little celebratory dance and relinquishes the creative details to you.

chan can’t sit still, from watching you work with his elbow propped on the counter or hugging you from behind, it’s like he’s a kid on christmas eve.

because it is christmas eve. and your boyfriend is a big kid when it comes to you.

as you put the finishing touches of gumdrops and rainbow gumballs on the house, you take a dramatic step back like a chef on food network, smiling proudly.

chan would play along, walking around the counter to get a full 360° look at it while wearing his best serious face. once he gets back to you, he crosses his arms and nods silently.

“it looks awful.” he says while breaking into a small fit of laughter, your jaw dropping and a laugh of disbelief leaving your throat.

“you’re an ass!” you groan, lightly smacking his arm that causes him to laugh harder and fake that your hit hurt him. after a moment he stands back upright and catches his break, pulling you into a hug. you stubbornly keep your arms down although you’re not even mad; it really did look bad. smudged icing everywhere, a mess of rainbow candies and dents from where certain pieces had fallen off. it was fun regardless.

“that just means that we’ll have to hire an interior decorator when we move in together. that’s all.” chan says nonchalantly with a slick smirk on his face that you don’t have to see to know is there. you shake your head and finally hug him back.

every christmas with chan somehow tops the last.

[seventeenpins]

wanna be felled by you, held by you

pairing: Joel Miller x nonbinary!Reader

word count: 4.7k

summary: Joel has always issues with relinquishing control. Time in the safety and community of Jackson has changed him, though, and he wants to give all his control to you, let you pull him apart.

content/warnings: established relationship, non-binary transmasculine reader, no implied age gap, Joel is uncircumcised, vaguely implied past Joel x Reader x Tess polycule, Joel calls you sir & daddy, you call Joel a good boy, sub!joel, cock sucking, titty fucking (reader has breasts big enough to partake in such), face sitting, piv, a smidge of dysphoria alluded to, crying, everyone's bi, one (1) smack to the face, it's literally just 4.3k of smut with 400 words of domesticity, slight bit of bloodthirstiness (but just as love as consumption)

a/n: title from NFWMB by Hozier. There's a lot of fic out there with helpless naive reader (which is fucking excellent, don't get me wrong), but I wanted to write something where you and Joel are on par with one another. Also, wanted to say--this is written as one character's experience as a nonbinary person. I'm nonbinary, but in no way want to suggest that the way I've written this is necessarily a universal nonbinary experience. Pls be kind 💜 Would love to know if y'all like this and would read more nb reader fics!!

✨check out my masterlist for other fics 😚✨

The first time Joel asked you to blindfold him and fuck him rough, you thought he was joking.

You laughed and stroked his cheek, "That would be fun," you admitted, teasing, "Be careful what you wish for, baby."

He rolled his eyes and kissed you, and the day went on, uneventful.

The thought weighed on you. It would be fun, but this was Joel Miller talking. He was, arguably, something of a control freak. Insistent on shouldering burdens not only his own, but of all the people he loved. You'd never seen him willingly give up an ounce of control, and the few unwilling times it'd happened, he would drive himself nearly to death trying to seem unaffected by injury. He'd carry on as he insisted he must, even when his bones were broken or he was bleeding out. Even when you, or Ellie, or, Tess (back in the day) were patching up cuts or setting bones, he'd grumble and insist he was fine, only shutting up when he quite literally passed out from the pain or blood loss. He was as stubborn as he was devoted, and he was a devoted man.

So the idea of Joel relinquishing even a crumb of control seemed outlandish. You were a better shot than him. A faster runner, too. But he was so self-possessed. You were certain, too, it was part of the reason he was such a good fuck. He payed attention to every detail, noticed every one of your gasps and whines, at this point able to get you off faster than you could get yourself off. His fingers knew right where to press, his tongue licking and sucking at you, teeth biting at nipples, grip bruising you so deliciously. He could fuck you for hours and leave you stumbling, spent and sated.

That said, it'd be a lie to say it was an unappealing thought to turn the tables on him.

You'd love to pull him apart piece by piece, if he would ever let you.

Joel was off patrolling today, due back any time, and you were making dinner. You were thankful for the ingredients available in Jackson and swore to make good use of them, every single time.

You'd roasted butternut squash with garlic and sage, scooped out the flesh, and mixed it with spinach and cheese. Then, carefully piped it back into the squash skins and roasted it again.

It was decadent, and a favorite of yours. Rich and creamy and everything you loved about autumn flavors.

Right as you were turning the oven on to broil, you heard the latch click and heavy footsteps crossed the threshold.

"Supper's nearly ready," you call, and you hear a soft grumble from across the room as he stomped off his boots and hung up his coat.

Joel slides up behind you, arms circling around your stomach, chin resting on your shoulder.

"Hey baby," you greet, turning your head to place a kiss on the curve of his nose. "Good day?"

"Hmm," he grunts, noncommittal, "Better now that I'm home with you. Dinner smells great."

"Just a few more minutes left. Letting the cheese get bubbly."

"Mmm," he groaned, "Is this that squash thing?"

"Yep."

"Ellie home?"

"Nah. Out for the night, I think."

"So I get you all to myself?" He shoots you a cheeky grin.

"Don't distract me, Miller," you snort, "You will not cause me to burn dinner again, so help me God."

"Distract you?" He says in mock offense as he walks over to the fridge, "I would never distract you, baby."

He pulls out two beers and pops the tops, handing one to you. You clink with him and both take a swig. Jackson beer was something else. After years of nothing even slightly palatable, it was a luxury you swore you would never take for granted again.

Your timer buzzes and you pull the roasting pan out of the oven as Joel sets the table.

Dinner is pleasant. Joel's famished from patrol and he wolfs down his first serving at a speed that might have rivalled Ellie's, back when you were all travelling together. He finishes his first beer, and then a second, and when he reaches for the whiskey, you raise an eyebrow at him.

"You're really putting that away," you frown, and he winces, sheepish.

"I-" He starts, and stumbles, hesitating.

"You okay, Joel?" You ask.

He nods, and grins, and it's a funny grin because if you didn't know better you'd think he was nervous.

"I'm a bit nervous," he says, and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Why you nervous baby? Did something go bad on patrol?"

"No, I-"

"You trying to propose?" you tease, "Wait, no--you're cheating on me?"

"Oh shut up," he rolls his eyes and laughs. "Nothin' so serious."

"So-?" you press, "What is it then?"

He pours a finger of whiskey and takes a sip, and it's calculated. Calming. That bit of control, again, he needs to put off.

"You remember the other week, what I said?"

"My back hurts?" you suggest.

"Smartass," he snorts.

"My knees hurt."

"Jesus. No, the other thing."

You try and take account of whatever it might be, but nothing's coming to you.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, Joel."

He takes a deep breath and looks at you dead in the eye. Determined.

"I know you thought I was joking, but I wasn't joking," he says, "I want you to blindfold me. Fuck me rough. Let me... lose myself in you. Use me."

There's a moment of silence.

"You sure, Joel?" you ask, not wanting to sound too eager. "Cos I'm happy to do it, I just know that... well. If I were to expect anyone would like to be blindfolded, you're not at the top of my list."

"Oh really? And who's at the top of your list."

"Well, I bet Tommy would--"

Joel cuts you off with a sputtering cough as his whiskey goes down wrong. "Let's not talk about my brother right now."

"I remember Tess used to," you recall, and Joel nods. Shrugs.

"I guess I just- I've never seen you out of control. You sure you can do that for me?"

Joel ponders and nods. "I can be good for you," he insists.

"Okay, then," you tell him, "When do you wanna do this?"

"Well," he grins, and runs a hand down your arm, "Like you said, we'll be alone tonight."

"Joel Miller, you absolute freak," you tease and he grumbles.

You ponder for a moment before nodding. "Okay, baby, let's get showered and then we can start. I'm covered in cooking sweat, and I think you might still have a bit of clicker gunk on you."

He brushes at a chunk of something in his hair and grimaces. "I'll take care of dishes later. Let's go, baby."

Shower sex wasn't really your thing; there was always less friction than you'd expect, and one person would hog the water while the other was standing, freezing in the extraneous spray. It was easy to slip, and the angle was never quite right.

You did, however, love shower foreplay.

You let Joel run his hands across your back, spreading suds up and down you, rubbing at the sore impressions where your binder had cut into you throughout the day. You loved feeling his body, slick from the wet with coarse curls of hair across his entire chest, trailing down his torso, his belly, into the thick thatch between his legs. More than anything, though, you loved feeling his cock hardening against your leg as he massaged conditioner into your scalp, before you could turn around and return the favor.

Once you were both clean, you made your way to the bedroom.

Thankful that you'd changed the sheets this morning, you were thrilled that the bed was made with your favorite linen sheets. A little luxury that you could bask in, sensation that always delivered.

"You ready, Joel?" you ask, and he nods.

"Let's do it."

From the box under the bed, you pull out the blindfold. A makeshift piece that was once a sleeping mask, cut and stitched to have long, tying ends that could be pulled taught and prevent any light getting in. The two of you didn't use it often, and you'd been the only one to ever wear it, but it helped that it was a familiar thing.

"Sit," you tell him, and he backs up on to the bed. You take a moment to look him up and down, drink him in. You want him to see how you're looking at him. At all of him. From his freshly washed feet to his heavy, half-hard cock, to the damp curls of his salt-and-pepper hair, you want him to know exactly what it is you see. A man. A partner. A whole fucking meal.

You hold the blindfold up to him and wrap it around his head, crossing the ends over front and back again before giving it a little tug.

"Can you see anything?" you ask, and his face twitches a little as he tests it.

"No," he confirms, "Can't see a thing."

"Okay," you tell him, "Good boy."

He lets out a sharp, surprised exhale and you immediately see how his cock stiffens at your words.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" you ask, and he nods.

"Use your words, Joel," you tell him and he scrambles to obey.

"Yes, yes, sir, I like that."

"Mmm," you hum in affirmation, "Glad to hear it."

You start torturously slow, directing him as needed.

"Lay back," you tell him, "All the way on the bed," and he does, inching his way up.

"Arms up, too," you command, "You don't get to touch me without my say-so, got it?"

He lets out a grumble but nods.

"I'm gonna take my time with you," you tell him, and now you're making your way up the bed, close to straddling him, but not letting an inch of your skin press against his hard cock.

You know that the warmth of your cunt is radiating heat towards him, and that he can feel it as his hips unconsciously buck up towards you, focused enough that he still doesn't dare touch you, but not by much. You feel yourself start to get wet at the sight of him laid bare before you. It's times like these that you're awe-struck. So in love with this man you want to slice him open and bury yourself in the sticky wet viscera. Eat his guts. Kill for him. Die for him. Consume every part of him and let him consume you.

You lean over his body and press kisses to every silvered scar you can find. From his forehead, to the old bullet wound on his arm. Down his chest, his belly. The gouge you and Ellie had had to stitch up years ago, ugly and pink and perfect; a testament to his endurance.

Every press of your lips to his skin and Joel is gasping. You know he's feeling it--the thing you like most about being blindfolded is not knowing where sensation will occur next. Not being able to anticipate a touch here, a bite there, the way his hands grip your body. The surprise is part of the allure, and with every kiss you place on his bare skin, he lets out another shuddering breath.

"You're doing good for me," you praise, and you swear you can see him blush, his cheeks reddening beneath the blindfold.

You start slowly, dragging your calloused fingertips from the swell of his thighs, up his torso to his nipples, pinching them a little, delighting in the way he shudders at the sensation. You avoid his cock, but every time you run your fingers along his inner thighs, he would rut up towards you in a mortifying involuntary motion.

He was so eager. He was so fucking perfect. Exactly what you needed. You were so grateful, every day, that you'd made it this far when it had often felt impossible that you might live another day.

"Gonna let me play with you the way I want to?" you ask, and he nods, vigorous.

"So good for me," you tell him, "So good. Hard for me, ready for me to use, huh?"

"Yes," he agreed, "Use me, please."

You rub your drooling pussy against his length, getting it wet and slick. Then, you take his cock in your hand.

He wasn't expecting it and he's shuddering at the sensation. "It's so much," he whispers, awed.

Joel thrusts into your hand as you start pumping along his length in earnest. Your thumb swipes over his slit, and then slides down, gripping with your forefinger as you apply pressure to the base of his shaft, You watch as the blood vessels swell, your hands working as a pseudo-cock ring, and Joel whimpers and pants against the sensation.

"Look at how fat your cock is for me," you praise, "I can't wait to sit on this."

Joel's inhale sounds ragged and worn, and he exhales something close to a sob.

"Feel so good, honey," he tells you, "Fuck, your hands feel so good around me."

"You like this, huh, Joel?" you ask, and you know it's true. He's so hard, rubbing against you as he gives you all his faith, all his trust.

"Yes, Christ, yes!-" he gasps.

You give him a few more strokes and then lower yourself over him, holding your breasts tight together, letting his hard cock press up between them.

Your breasts weren't your favorite thing, God knows if top surgery were a safe option in this world you'd probably opt for it, but apart from an occasional dysphoric spell, you'd more or less made peace with that part of yourself. You knew, too, how Joel loved feeling the plush of your breasts against his skin, and when you were comfortable, you were happy to make the most of them.

The second you slid his cock between your heavy breasts, Joel lets out a strangled groan. "God, yes baby," he heaves, and without thinking, reaches to grab at you, clutching your shoulder with one hand and burying his hand in your hair with the other.

You immediately stop and draw back, delivering a firm smack to his jaw. Not enough to hurt, just enough to startle, and he reels back, throwing his head back onto the pillow.

"The fuck did I say, hmm?" you ask, and he lets out a breath.

"I'm sorry baby, sorry sir-"

"You know what you did wrong?"

"Touched you-" his breathing is heavy, labored in the most beautiful, raw way. "Touched you without your permission."

"That's right," you tell him. You drag your fingertips through his hair, along his scalp, down his neck and across his chest. He shudders and his hips buck up towards nothing, involuntary.

"You gonna be good for me now?" you ask him and he nods, vigorous.

"I'll be good for you," he hisses, "You're so good to me, fuck, thank you, thank you-!"

You lean back down, pressing your breasts together again. Fisting his cock and stroking it, watching him squirm. You press down again, letting him fuck up between your tits.

"Don't move," you warn him when you see his fingers start to twitch, "Keep those hands above your head and let me make you feel good."

"Yes sir-"

"Good boy."

He groans, and you start to move. Pressing your breasts tighter together, swallowing his length entirely, gliding up and down. You feel the slick of his tip starting to weep precum, smell the delicious tang of it.

With your free hand, you swipe a thumb over his head, delighting in the way he squirms and ruts against you.

You lick the slickness off your thumb and moan. "Taste so good, baby," you tell him, "You wanna try it?"

"Oh fuck, yes, please," he whines.

You swipe your thumb over his slit again and bring it up to his mouth, still sliding your breasts up and down his length.

"Open up," you direct, prodding at the side of his mouth. He does, opens his mouth with a shuddering breath, tongue glistening and ready. You press your thumb against his tongue and he licks and sucks at it greedily.

"Look at you," you tell him, "Licking up your own cum like a good boy, huh? So fucking good for me."

"Thank you sir," he hums, and you give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'm gonna suck your cock now, Joel," you tell him, "And then I'm gonna ride you. And I'm gonna get myself off at least three times on you before you get to come. You got that?"

"Jesus Christ," he groans, "Yes-! Can I-" he cuts himself off.

"What?" you ask.

"Can I eat your pussy?" he asks.

You grin. "Ooh, look at you," you tell him, "Taking the initiative, huh? What a good boy you are. But you gotta be patient for me."

You scoot back on the bed and let a string of saliva drip from your mouth onto the head of his cock. He immediately shudders and fucks his hips up towards the air.

"Blindfold still blocking everything, yeah?" you ask.

"Yeah," he confirms, "Can't see a thing."

"Good," you say, and then without an ounce of warning, you grip his cock, stroking down, pulling his foreskin back and plunging the hot wet gash of your mouth down and around his entire length, nose pressing into the sweaty curls at his base.

The shout he lets out is delicious. Loud and strangled, half an exclamation, half a curse–"Fuck baby, Jesus fuckin' Christ that mouth feels so fucking good. I don't fuckin' deserve you, don't deserve how fuckin' perfect you are, how good you make me feel-"

You bob your head up and down, swallowing him deep and then pulling back, making sure to swirl your tongue along his head.

"So damn good," he gasps, and his words are stilted and broken.

You keep going, for maybe a minute, maybe an hour. The sensation is too much and he's panting and gasping. "I can't-" he cries, "you're gonna make me come, please-"

You pull off immediately, and he hisses at the loss of your lips around him, and then moans into your mouth when you lean in to lick against his tongue, letting him taste every bit of his own musk.

"You're doing good, baby," you praise, loving the way he shudders in response. "Now hold still, I'm gonna ride that cock."

You straddle his hips, swipe your cunt along his length, feeling the way he shakes and twitches against you. You're wet, so damn turned on, soaking, trailing your slick along him as you rut up against him. Then, you fist his cock and, excruciatingly slowly, sink down onto him.

The broken wail that escapes his lips is delicious, ragged and beautiful.

You bounce up and down, watching with pleasure as Joel's fingers twitch, like he's trying so hard not to reach for you, grab for you like he usually does.

You rock along his length, sliding up and down, nearly unseating him from you before sinking back down. You find the right angle for his cock head to press just right against that sweet spot and feel your legs start to shake.

"I can feel it," he grunts, teeth bared, "Feel you getting close."

"Think you deserve to feel me come around you?" You ask, and you can feel it approach. "Think you can feel me come all over this dick and you won't come yourself?"

"Yes, sir," he cries out, "I'll be so good for you. Won't come till you let me."

"Good boy," you stroke his cheek and rub your thumb over your clit in punishing circles, feel your pussy start to clench.

"Gonna ride this out," you tell him, and feel yourself tip over the edge with a broken gasp. Your walls throb around him, pulsing tightly, and Joel looks absolutely pained as you slam yourself down him over and over, practically choking his cock with your tightness.

You're heaving and half-overstimulated but the way he looks wrecked is so beautiful you need more.

"Think you can handle another one?" You ask and he splutters a gasp.

"Already?" he breathes.

You keep your thumb pressing circles round your clit as you keep riding.

"Already." You agree. You've barely finished riding through the aftershocks but you're so wound up, you know you can get yourself there quickly.

"Fuck," Joel whines, "Oh god, oh god-"

You feel yourself start to tip over the edge again and Joel's face is screwed up in concentration, doing his absolute best not to bust in you before he has your permission. His cheeks and chest are flushed, sweat dripping down his temple, soaking into the blindfold. He breathes ragged, heaving breaths and the sight before you makes you come all that much harder.

"God, you feel so fucking good, baby," you tell him, and your pussy's still clenching around him, your slick gushing around him, drenching his thighs.

You pull off of him and he chokes at the loss of contact.

"Gotta taste us now, baby. Clean this pussy up. When you're done, I'll let you come."

He nods, eager, and opens his mouth, his tongue waiting to taste you.

"Need you down the bed," you tell him, and he scoots down, tongue still out. You climb up his body, straddling his stomach and his chest, trailing slick all up his torso, before resting your knees on either side of his face and slowly lowering down.

He's so dedicated, the moment he feels your heat near him you can see the way his mouth waters, his tongue darting out to find your folds. He licks you deep and long, groaning at the taste.

"How do we taste?" you ask, and his exhale is shaky and rough.

"Never tasted anythin' this good in my life." He tells you, wrecked. "We taste so fuckin' good together. Could drink ya all day long."

"We might have to try that," you ponder, "But for now, I just need you to give me one more. Can you do that? One more, baby boy?"

"Fuck, yes sir." He nods his head vigorously and reaches his neck up to press his lips back to your dripping cunt.

"Yeah, that's it. Nice long strokes now, yeah? You gotta swallow every drop of me baby, every drop of this pussy juice I can give you."

He grunts an affirming noise and does as you ask. Long licks from taint to clit. Deep, hot, laving wetness, making you jerk and mewl, riding his face like he was made to take it. Maybe he was.

"When it's good and clean," you instruct, "I need you to focus on this clit, yeah? That's it, baby, point your tongue. Press hard. I've already come twice and I'm nearly numb– Need that extra bit of sensation if you're gonna get me off right, and I know you will get me off right if you wanna come tonight."

Every sound he makes is akin to a whine, a gasp, a sob. He buries his face deep, at one point nearly reaching up to grab your thighs and pull you closer, but he realizes his mistake before he starts to touch you.

"Good boy remembering the rules," you praise, and you grab him by the wrists, holding them against the bed, above his head. You sink lower, letting yourself nearly suffocate him, but he doesn't mind. He loves it. Growls into your pussy and eats you till tears are pooling in his eyes and your legs are trembling so hard you're worried any extra sensation might topple you over. It's building quick and fast and so fucking nice.

"Joel, I-" you stumble, nearly unable to speak. Overwhelmed. "I think I'm gonna come again." You say, and you feel the rumble of his affirmation against you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes just like that, you eat pussy so fucking good, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-"

You come with a scream, thighs smothering him, hips rocking against his chin, his tongue, his nose. The scratch of his patchy beard feels incredible against your soft skin and you fuck his face hard, less careful than ever before about how you sink into him.

Catching your breath, sated, you pull yourself up and off Joel, licking his face clean of your cum as you allow him to catch his breath.

"Done so good for me," you tell him, "You ready to come now too?"

"Yes-" he cries, still gasping for breath, "Yes, sir."

"Can't believe we've never done this before," you praise, "You're a natural. Just gotta give up a little control like a good boy, let daddy make you feel good."

He shudders and twitches, groaning at the name you've given yourself.

You turn your attention back to his cock and nearly gasp. It looks red and angry with need, precum catching at his foreskin before overflowing, streaming down his length.

"Where do you want to come?" you ask him, giving him this one concession.

"Huh?" he asks, clearly surprised.

"In me?" you suggest, "On me? Pick a hole. Pick a body part. It's yours."

"Jesus," he groans, and thinks. "Your mouth," he decides, "Wanna come in that sweet mouth."

"It's yours."

You seat yourself at the end of the bed and give him a few kitten licks, loving the way he hisses as you clean the arousal off of him. "You can come for me whenever you want, now, baby," you tell him. "Did so good, I think you deserve it."

"Thank you," he cries, "Fuck, thank you baby."

You pull his foreskin back again and wrap your lips around his throbbing head, loving the taste of the tangy musk of the nectar spilling from him. You don't go down far, just around the head and back again, just a little. Sucking hard. Licking. Drinking him in. He shudders and gasps and cries and you're pretty sure he's weeping at this point, his hips bucking up, pressing his cock deeper and deeper down your throat.

You let him. He's certainly earned it by now.

In a few moments, his thrusts get erratic, and you run your teeth gently along the pulsing veins, marveling at the beautiful, intricate web of life that rushes through him, red and hot and so close to the surface. Blood pumping so fast and thick.

"I'm comin'-" he chokes, and suddenly, hot sputtering bursts of cum filling your mouth, coming and coming and coming till it's dripping out the sides of your lips and dripping down your chin.

You keep a hand around the base of his cock, jacking him gently till you're sure everything he has to give is in you. Running a hand up his body, you delight in the harsh, heavy breaths he gasps out.

Groping around his head, you pull at the blindfold, tugging gently till it's pulled above his eyes. He scrunches them closed for a moment, readjusting to the lit room, before looking at you, jaw dropped.

You're sitting before him, totally bare, skin sticky with sweat, thighs glistening, and his cum in your mouth, except for where it's dripped down your chin and breasts. You open your mouth to show him, just for a moment, and then swallow, delighting in the way he groans at the sight. Then you wipe your chin with the back of your hand, lick it up, and pull him up towards you so you can kiss him properly.

He grabs you by the back of the head and pulls you in, hungry and sated at the same time.

"That was so good, honey," he tells you, "So fucking good."

You give him a gentle kiss to his forehead, enjoying the sensation of your sweaty, sticky bodies pressed against one another. His tears, unimpeded now, are streaming down his cheeks but he's grinning like a maniac.

"Never thought you'd let someone fuck you blindfolded like that," you tell him and he snorts.

"Me neither," he admits, "But- I trust you. And I'm workin' on it. On bein'- vulnerable."

"I liked it."

"Me too."

"So, can I tie you up next time?"

Joel snorts. "We'll see. Might need at least a week to recover from this one."

"We'll see," you agree, smirking. "We will see."

[somanyratsinthewalls]

FHey! If requests are still open, could you do fudge brownie + daisy please 👉🏻👈🏻

Hi! OMG welcome to my first ever Sabo fic I'm so excited, I hope it's good!

Pairing: Sabo x Revolutionary Afab!Reader

WC: 2300 I got carried away lmao

Prompt: “I can’t even speak when I’m with you, all the words I’ve known are lost inside your body.” 

— — 

You and Sabo had known each other for a decade at this point. He was your superior, being the Chief of Staff, but you weren’t too far behind. You trained in the Revolutionary Army together when you were younger. He was your close friend, but you had no idea that he felt differently about you this whole time. 

— —

*Y/N & Sabo, age 12* 

“Stop smacking me with that stupid pipe, ugly rat!” You whine and cover your head with your arms. “We’re supposed to be training, anyway!” You kick your leg out at the obnoxious blonde boy who was nearly a foot shorter than you. 

“Rat? You’re the little rat, rat!” Sabo continued his barrage with his metal pipe. He had the urge to engage you in combat after he saw you practicing fighting with another trainee. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt the need to shift your focus to him, but he knew he had to get your attention somehow. 

“Get away from me, weirdo!” You push him on the ground and go back to your place on the training ground. 

Sabo snarled at you as you walked away. He would get you to fight him eventually. 

— —

*Y/n and Sabo, age 17* 

“You! Won’t! Ever! Win!” Your weapon hit Sabo’s repeatedly as you were caught in the heat of your daily sparring session. After wearing you down years ago, you agreed to train combat with him every morning.

“Hah!” Sabo huffs out with a smile. “That’s what you think, y/n. I’ve been getting special training from the boss and I’m going to learn powers you’ll never have!”

“Oh yeah?” You snort. “Well, until then, your ass is mine!” With those final words you land a blow and hear Sabo’s pipe clatter to the ground. You use your last strike to knock his top hat off his head. You smirk. Once again, he is defeated. Sabo pants heavily, chest close to yours and looking down at you now that he’s grown to almost his full height. You feel his hot breath on your nose. Sabo looks into your eyes, his own round eyes filled with the vigor of battle but also a little extra… sparkle. 

*bddpp bddpp bddpp* 

Sabo is knocked out of his trance by the sound of his mini den den mushi ringing in his coat pocket. He reaches in to his jacket, pulls it out and answers it. 

“Yes?”

*muffled voices on the other line*

“We’ll be right there.” Sabo hangs up the snail. 

“Boss wants us. Special mission again.” Sabo meets your eyes again as he slips the snail back into his coat. 

“Fine, maybe you’ll learn something from me this time.” You playfully wink at Sabo and turn tail to jog up the road towards the base. Sabo felt something stir inside him when he saw you wink and smile at him. You had become so beautiful and it was hard for him to ignore his feelings any longer…

“I’m so fucked…” Sabo laughs to himself before he hurries after you. 

— —

*Y/n and Sabo, age 23* 

You speed-walk through the halls of the base towards the Chief of Staff’s office. You reach the office door and rip it open without knocking. 

“Oh almighty, all powerful, all knowing, Chief of Staff, I finished the absolute FUCK ton of paperwork you requested.” You dramatically flail the passive stack of papers you spent all day working on around in the air as you strode angrily towards the blonde man at his desk. 

“Incredible to hear, y/n.” Sabo flashed you a smile as you slammed the papers down in front of him on his desk and rolled your eyes. 

“Still can’t believe you got this promotion. Would’ve been mine if I had a penis…” You grumble as you fold your arms as you walk towards the door to leave. 

“Come on, y/n. You know I have a year on you in rank. Not sure how much it has to do with my, um…” Sabo organizes the papers in front of him instead of finishing his sentence. 

“Whatever.” You move to leave. You hear Sabo let out a big sigh behind you. You had to admit you missed your sparring sessions and occasional lunches together since he got his promotion. He didn’t have as much time to train and hang out as he used to. As annoying as he was, you did miss his company. You grab the door in your left hand and pause. You turn back towards Sabo who was sitting at his desk with his head hung low. 

“Hey… me and some of the guys having beers tonight. You should join us.” You give Sabo a small smile as he looks up at you from across the room. 

“Yeah? You think?” Sabo cocks his head.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t kill you to get out of this sad-ass office for once.” You chuckle warmly and head back to your room, shutting the office door behind you. 

— —

*5 hours later*

You sat in the dimly lit mess hall with several of your Revolutionary Army counterparts imbibing the last of the alcohol stores before you restocked tomorrow. 

“I was up to my fucking ass in paperwork all day, can we do shots instead?” You finish your beer and slam the empty bottle down on the wooden table. 

“Girl, you read my mind!” Koala grabs shot glasses out of the cabinet and brings them to the table and starts to fill them with clear liquor. 

Suddenly, the swinging door to the mess hall opens and the Chief of Staff strolls in. The merriment pauses and everyone turns to look towards Sabo standing in the middle of the room. 

“Speaking of paperwork. Come take a shot, Chief…” You grab another shot glass and add it to the line of shots Koala was pouring. Once full, you raise one for yourself and another shot for Sabo, which he gingerly steps towards you and grabs to raise against your shot glass. The rest of the party including Koala raise their shots to the center to meet yours. You meet Sabo’s eyes across the circle from you. You make a toast. 

“To us, to the revolution, and to no regrets.” You smile and clink your shots together. Your friends hoot and holler. After a messy clank, you all down your liquor. Sabo coughs and sputters along with a few other army members. You and Koala laugh. 

“Chief of Staff can’t handle his white rum? What kinda man of the seas is that?” You slur out at Sabo and giggle. 

You all pour more drinks and sink in your seats to continue the celebration. As the night went on, you felt Sabo creep closer and slower to you, eventually ending up at your side as you played cards with a few others. Clearly the alcohol was affecting him as he sidled up close to your body. You heard Sabo giggle to himself and he leaned into your neck and slipped his hand onto your thigh. He began to whisper. 

“How about I show you what kind of man of the sea I am y/n, huh?…” 

You pull back and look at him with wide eyes. He had never shown affection to you in this way, you were shocked. You took far too long to formulate a response. 

“Y/n… I-I’m sorry! I-I’ll see you tomorrow!” Sabo stutters out at you, clearly embarrassed. 

Sabo was already out the door of the mess hall before you could respond. 

“Sabo, wait!” He was gone. You rise out of your seat and go to follow him to his quarters. 

Not bothering to knock (again), you ripped the door of Sabo’s room open. He was stripped of his hat and jacket sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. 

“Sabo…” You lower your voice and move towards him. He doesn’t lift his head. 

“I apologized, y/n. Can we just forget about that. That’d be great.” Sabo still remains motionless. 

You walk slowly to right in front of where he has his head hung. You quietly drop to your knees, one at a time, and hold his head in your hands. You bring his face up gently to meet your eyes. 

“Hey… you didn’t give me a chance to answer your question…” You smile and look into his welling, shameful eyes. 

“W-what?” 

“Show me what kind of man of the seas you are, Sabo.” You whisper to him as you hold his face in your palms. 

Wordlessly, Sabo pushes his lips into yours and grabs your neck to pull you into him further. You tangle your tongues and lips together and take fistfuls of each others hair as you engaged in a kiss years in the making. 

It was messy, it was needy, but neither of you progressed beyond kissing for several minutes. The two of you were just relishing in the feeling of years of pent up emotions coming to a head. Sabo removes himself from your lips and moves down your neck. He bites at the junction of your neck and shoulder before he whispers to you. 

“How long… how long have you felt this way…? How long have I waited?” Sabo breaths out into your hot skin. 

“I.. I don’t know…” You grasped at his broad shoulders as he nips and sucks at your sensitive neck.  “I just know I need you now…” 

“I’ve loved you since I saw you, y/n…” Sabo moves lower on your body and lifts your shirt and bra over your head swiftly. He kisses your exposed chest and grips your breast and lifts it so he can take your nipple in his mouth. You head lolls back and you sigh as he moves his lips to the other nipple while squeezing the abandoned one with his fingers. He continues his confession to you. 

“Years ago… I remember it was my birthday… 20 maybe?” Sabo says as he kisses from your breast down to the waistline of your pants. “You wore a pink dress… just barely covered your ass… that was when I knew…” He continues to kiss your abdomen and begins to unbutton your pants and shimmies them down your legs with your panties. You were now naked in front of your childhood friend. Sabo pushes you back on the bed and spreads your legs as he kneels in front of you. He silently gasps as he lays eyes on your dripping sex, mere inches in front of him. 

“That was when I knew I had to have you like this. Spread out, open for me.” Sabo leans in and takes a tentative slurp from the bottom of your hole to the top of your mound. You gasp at the sensation on your cunt. 

“Sabo! Please! More!” You writhe in his grip on your thighs. Sabo obliges and licks you up and down again, slowly. 

“You don’t need to beg, y/n, not from me. I’d give you the sea if you asked me for it… I just want to please you…” And with this declaration, Sabo dives into your pussy fully and attaches his lips to your aching clit. He swirls his tongue and suctions his mouth in ways that have you screaming and arching your back towards the ceiling of Sabo’s private quarters. You feel yourself being brought towards the precipice of pleasure when Sabo sticks two fingers in your hole and you whine and clench around his digits. 

“Sabo! C-close!” You moan out. 

“Do it, sweet girl, cum for me…” Sabo mumbles into your cunt and continues sucking and flicking his tongue on your clit. You cum hard into Sabo’s waiting mouth and flop back onto the bed with heaving breaths. Sabo rubbed soothing circles onto your pussy with his palm as he pulled back. You twitched at the gentle stimulation. 

“Shit, Sabo, I didn’t… I didn’t know…” You tried to catch your breath. He brought his body over your own on the bed and kissed you deeply. You pulled back and stared into his eyes. His blonde hair was disheveled, and you had so rarely seen him without his stupid hat, you felt like you were seeing him even more intimately than just naked. 

“Shh… I know that now… Let me show you how much I want you….” Sabo sheds his pants and hops up on top of you. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes himself in slowly. The both of you moan out loud at the feeling. 

With Sabo’s huge cock spearing you, you grab the back of his head and push it into your neck. 

“Fuck! Sabo!” You cry out as he sucks on your neck again, pulling himself out and thrusting back into you. 

“Y/n… You have no idea how hard it’s been… having to work like this...” Sabo whispers into your ear as he fucks you slowly yet deeply. “I can’t even speak when I’m with you, all the words I’ve known are lost inside your body.” Sabo speeds up his thrusts and pulls your lower back upwards to hit your most precious spot. Sabo fucks you hard and passionately, nothing but soft praises and moans filling the room. 

“You’re everything I need, y/n… tell me you’re mine…” Sabo leans in over you as he pushes your knees back to your ears. 

In your lust filled haze you look him in his round, sparkling eyes and confess to him. 

“I-I’m yours, Sabo…” You grip the hair at the back of his neck tighter. 

“Y/n… yes…” Sabo pushes harder into your sweet spot with his rigid cock as he pushes you over the edge of climax and watches you keen and whine with pleasure. As Sabo feels you clench and cream all over his dick he finds himself uncontrollably releasing all over your insides. He comes to after a powerful orgasm and leans back to watch all his pent-up load drip out of your hole around the edges of his cock. He tried not to get hard again as he pulled out and flopped down onto the bed beside you. 

After a few quiet moments with only your breathing and the lapping of waves at the rocks on the edge of the base, Sabo turns over and pulls you into his grasp. 

“So… I finally win?” The Chief of Staff smirks as he caresses your lower back. 

“For now….” You smirk and nuzzle into his chest to fall asleep. 

xx Mo

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

My thing with writing König is trying to find the sweet spot balance point of like 3-4 different angles that are integral to the characterization I want to put out there.

I want him absolutely riddled with the kind of dangerous loser vibes that start the first day of kindergarten as almost an leprotic aura of Contaminated: Do Not Touch that everyone he comes into contact with wordlessly picks up on and carries for his entire life.

Just borderline violent othering that he struggles to fight, embrace, and figure out without ever getting a clear answer or mitigation method. He gets older and becomes a problem, a human toxic waste dump, and the avoidance is tinged with alarm. He figured out how to cover it, though, like he’s pulling on a patchwork person suit.

I’m a real boy, I’m like everyone else, nevermind the seams. Yeah, they’ll split the longer you’re around, but maybe this time—this time—I will have become an endeared thing and I will be understood instead of left.

Skin-splitting horniness, which is ha-ha on the surface, but Jesus Christ, it’s starvation, straight-up. Man is a fucking alien, he doesn’t get people, his veneer of normality is quick to shatter, and he just wants-wants-wants to be wanted. To be needed is a pipe dream. He’s like a dog taken away from mom and litter mates too soon—the need for closeness is set at so high a threshold it’ll never be met, never be fixed.

Fucking is a quick fix for this desperation. Bandaid over a bullet hole, finger in a cracked dam. Gets sharper teeth and longer claws the lower the fuel gauge is, and he’s been running on fumes for years. He’ll eat any scraps given to him at any table. Any even mildly kind word, any mote of attention, approval, or acceptance.

Even in his worst mind, he knows he’s not owed, he is not dying because he is not getting fucked or loved or befriended, but god fucking dammit, what he wouldn’t give for company to cut the bleakness, to not be fucking flinched at or eye-rolled. He wants to eat someone piecemeal as they eat him piecemeal, and the brutal symbolism of cannibalism is the best way he can understand the depth of this fragile-skinned desire.

A level of jaundiced, yellow-eyed sweatiness that pervades every aspect of his life. This is more difficult to describe. It’s literal sweat—from flop or exertion, it doesn’t matter—it’s also a state of being. It’s having not a flicker of volume control—indoor yelling or outdoor muttering. It’s being exhausted and anxious to the point of hysterical cry-laughing at hallucinations after 3-4 days sleepless. It’s saying the wrong fucking thing at the wrong fucking time and chasing yet another person off and wanting to kill himself for it.

It’s surviving on 4 hours of sleep and cigarettes and any kind of caffeine and below-board military amphetamines he can get his hands on for the last ten years because he feels like he’s wasting time. It’s getting smacked because his monstrosity of a body fucking hurts and being borderline greened-out makes it easier to go grocery shopping or to the gym or outside. It’s showering and then cutting his hair over the sink and not giving a fuck what it looks like as long as it’s not getting caught in his collars.

He doesn’t blink, he doesn’t sleep, he’s constantly spilling hyena-pitched stupid nervous laughter, and he bites when he’s overdone, and his teeth aren’t dull. He’s never threatened violence that he can’t overpay out on. He pulls on his face and his scars and that might as well be the same thing, gets sick to his stomach that they’re still numb and he can’t push into the pain he remembers from them. Sometimes he just moans and groans, shoves a hand up under his mask to cover his mouth like he’s going to hold back the tide of bile. He does this shit in front of people, and wants to die when he figures it out.

He likes killing people, he likes feeling powerful, he likes being seen when he’s the executioner, he likes being a scary nightmare. He doesn’t even know if he’d rather fight than fuck, but at least he’s good at it, and there’s undeniable imagery in driving a knife in between ribs over and over and over. He’s never not throbbing hard at exfil, and he’s never not sick to death with himself and his fantasies after he beats off the second he gets privacy.

Anyway I love him, he’s a sad sack.