#i’m under your bed prime!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nouearth · 20 days

Text

feel the rush.

tom holland x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. rushing a fraternity is highly-competitive, and all-so overwhelming. if it was up to you, you wouldn't have participated in the first place. fortunately, tom was here to provide you all of the shortcuts in receiving a bid to the greek life, as long as you did a bang-up job.

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 5.5k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 college!au 〳 frat!tom 〳brief alcoholic drinking 〳 closeted!reader 〳 reader is kinda religious coded 〳 sexual content: top!tom, bottom!reader, breeding, kissing, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), humiliation, dirty talk, muscle worship, scent!kink.

“You know you’re not exactly dressed for the occasion, right?”

The door closed behind Tom, sectioning you off from the party. The atmosphere of the event was tangible regardless. Strong beats throttled from wall to wall, tremors from a familiar song tickling your feet. Chants, albeit muffled, were resonant as you could only presume that someone executed a keg stand for the nth time of the night.

Chug, chug, chug, chug, and the crowd roared as if downing a keg of beer prevented Earth from being infiltrated by extraterrestrials. Granted, that was within the best scenario, in which alcohol and everything loud and deafening like university students wanting to fit in were highly toxic to those devious space invaders.

“What—how do you mean? Rushing is pretty formal, isn’t it? That’s what my mom tells me, anyway.”

You felt small from Tom’s comment, taking a peek at yourself in his mirror and shamefully finding nothing out of the ordinary with your white dress shirt, polka-dotted tie, and khaki pants. Though, you had to be honest. It wasn’t a fair assessment, considering you were judging under the purple hue of his dim lights. The compact size of his room certainly didn’t help either.

“Yes and no. Obviously, you don’t want to look like a slob. But you also don’t want to stand out too much. You’re not going to be a Greek if you wear Ralph Lauren from head to toe—that’s obnoxious. It looks like your mum dressed you for the Lord’s Supper or someone’s granddad, which is frankly the worst offender: don’t look like a square.”

“These are all I have—duly noted—so, it’s okay to dress… like you then? Won’t I blend in with everyone else?”

Tom wore a snapback, a blue polo, and white cargo shorts—which was brazen of him considering the amount of drinking and bile you had seen before the party had even began. It was simple to replicate. If it was your mother’s judgement, she would have all the men and women cover up their legs and arms, while embarrassingly leaving you as the prime example of what a gentleman should dress like.

But your mother wasn’t here, was she? Which meant, you could enjoy the holy sight of Tom’s biceps threatening to burst his shirt at the sleeve, his bulky chest at the placket—all for a little while longer before your intuition stepped in at the call of your mother, and forced those thoughts to scurry off.

That was ungentlemanly.

“That’s the point. You blend in, which means you put in the extra effort to get you noticed by the brothers—by us. Outfit aside, I reckon you’re off to a mighty start. Could be a pledge if you keep this up. I’m certainly noticing you,” Tom muttered after taking a sip of his beer, backing you with small, but imposing steps, until your ankles knocked against the footer of his bed, making you fall back. “Here, loosen up.”

He handed you his beer can.

“I don’t—“

“Just a sip to get in the mood. Not asking you to get blackout drunk here, Christ.”

“Sorry, mama.” You tipped the can into your mouth and instantly, the first taste of lager made you grimace, your face and body shriveling up like the bitter bubbles in the back of your throat. “That’s not… pleasant.”

“You get used to it.”

You were an easy target, weren’t you?

All you had to do was lurk around the party like a lost puppy, head and shoulders down as if the entire objecting of rushing was the complete opposite of being noticeable, and then Tom came around to your aid. He flashed that confident, gorgeous smile of his, immediately knowing you’d do anything to receive a bid from anyone at Alpha Kappa Psi, to be a pledge, without ever doing the hard-work of politely boasting about yourself to complete strangers.

Using your body was easier.

“You’ve done this before?” Tom took the can out of your hand and set it on his desk. He joined you at the foot of the bed after, his thigh touching yours. Then his hand on your knee, rubbing to simultaneously appease those nervous twiddling fingers of yours, and to warm you up.

“Yes—but don’t tell my mom, all right? She doesn’t know that I’m—Just… a couple of hook-ups back at home. Nothing much.” You nervously laughed to fill the silence, watching Tom’s hand warm your knee in gentle strokes that seem to ascend closer to your thigh with every cycle.

He stopped at your inner thigh. “I don’t plan on it unless you do a bad job. And/or your ass somehow rips my dick off and I need someone to take accountability for your actions.”

Your body straightened when Tom began kneading at your tender skin. “Not funny, I mean it.”

“Relax, I’m not telling your mom. It’ll be fun…” With one smooth motion, Tom turned his snapback around, the visor facing the back, and his mouth lowered to the shell of your ear. “And if I can be honest…? It turns me on knowing you’re hiding such a dirty secret from your poor mother.”

There was a shuffling, and then a firm grip on your nape that made your breath hitch. Before your instincts to pull away could react, Tom drew you in for a pressing kiss.

You breathed in, sucking the taste of liquor into your lungs, and trailed after the sweep of his lips. His nose smashed against yours, you could practically hear him inhaling you, and you barely got a sound out before your lips were pushed apart with Tom’s wet tongue. He tasted of familiar lager, yet certainly much more appetizing than drinking from the source itself as you pressed closer to him, welcoming him into your mouth with messy licks to the slithering muscle.

“Mm…”

Electricity shot up your spine when his tongue began properly mingling with yours. Sparks ricocheted off your cranium, then back down to your toes, where they flexed and brought the rest of your legs onto Tom’s bed. Heat flushed through your veins, the kiss all-consuming like Tom had needed your moans to survive. He drew you in closer, holding you close, exploring your mouth with his. You let out small whimpers and pressed into him, drowning yourself in his groans as your hand experimented with desperate tugs and kneads to his growing erection. He licked and nipped at your lips in revenge, countering your touch with a much more brazen hand down your khakis and briefs, toying with your bare chub in his palm.

“Had my eyes on you since you walked through that door,” Tom’s breath spilled over your neck, kissing at the stretch of skin in between the seconds of stripping your clothes off and his after. “You stuck out like a sore thumb. Have no idea why you thought you even had a chance, but then I thought about it for longer, watching you stick to the walls, observing everyone, drinking our punch. I knew you weren’t as innocent as you looked.”

You were lost in this sanity. Your lips were swollen and nearly numb from use, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. They tingled in all the right ways, sending signals to your exposed cock, throbbing out in the open air after many clumsy movements of shimmying yourself out of your pants and briefs.

You helped Tom with his clothes, fingers swiping across his muscular back when you pulled off his polo, palms brushing over his toned thighs when it came to undoing his shorts. Surprisingly, no briefs to remove after, which made you even harder, even when you were nearly assaulted in the face with the spring of his erection.

All of Tom was impressive, especially his hard, thick cock.

“Mom told me to make some friends—“

When Tom returned his grasp onto your nape and pushed your head toward his groin, you lost all semblance of self-control. He held you close enough to smell his cock, but far enough to deprive you the pleasure of having him in your mouth. He smelled salty, something of sweat that made your nostrils flare for more, so you pushed your head. You sniffed, lowering yourself until your nose was buried into his heavy balls, and inhaled your curiosities.

The aroma of Tom’s musk was familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. It was intoxicating. The scent was strong and pure when you pressed in. It was here, a pungent assault to your nose when you took another indulgent breath of his sweaty balls, and your senses went haywire when Tom’s fingers dug into your nape, scraping sweet lines of fire across the nape of your neck, and pulled you over his leaking cock.

Your inability to control yourself was as much of an arousal for Tom, judging by how his cock was twitching with every breath you took to fight off the urge in gulping him down.

“Wow, you really are a momma’s boy, aren’t you? Bet you have her constantly in your mind, telling you what’s right from wrong, don’t you? Tell me, what’s she saying while you’re sucking me off?”

“I don’t know what—mmf!”

Just like that, your mouth was full of Tom’s smell, full of him, god. Your eyes snapped shut and you choked down a moan as you took his thick cock into your mouth at the help of Tom’s bruising grip. One hand braced on his toned and flexed thigh while the other was wrapped around his shaft, holding him steady in your mouth. Your lips wrapped snug around him, hallowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue over veins—multiple veins that were the source of his pre-cum leaking into your mouth like a broken faucet.

Salt spread on your tongue, wakening every taste bud to an early bloom as you squeezed and stroked him at the base, forcing out more drips of pre-cum onto your tongue.

“Fuck, your mouth’s so warm…” His eyes widened at the warm and wet embrace of your tongue slobbering over his cock, groaning at the obscene sounds of your saliva spit-shining his shaft as he was leaning on his elbows. “God, look at you.”

“I’m doing okay…?” You gasped after pulling his cock out of your mouth, spitting out the thick, droopy web of saliva that connected your lips to Tom’s shaft back over the plump, swollen glans. You looked up at him for approval, wide-eyed and dazed, recovering from the stretch Tom had provided your mouth seconds prior.

When you needed a breather, you licked at the underside of his cock, tending to the inches you couldn’t possibly fit inside of your mouth with multiple tantalizing strokes of your hand. You spread your spit thick over his hard flesh, massaging every spit bubble until his cock and balls were moisturized with the slick of your mouth.

“Better than I could imagine, honestly…” Tom marveled with a chuckle, exhaling slow and deep from his gut to seemingly keep himself from spilling too early from your unrelenting strokes. His toes wiggled in his socks, a tic you found yourself simpering about because it was rather the opposite of Tom’s imposing demeanor.

He pressed two fingers against his own tongue, slicking it up with spit, before shoving them into your mouth to get a second opinion on your cock-sucking skills. Tom hummed, his hand removed from your nape to hold your chin up while he watched you take his fingers, pumping them in and out of your tight, sucking lips.

He seemed pleased.

Somehow, it was more intimate sucking his fingers off. Tom was staring. He had always been, which made you nervous since he introduced himself to you. But he was staring, as if he could control your every move with a simple look, as if he was capable of communicating with you without uttering a word. His lips parted, his brow raised, and you quickly caught on to reflect upon his wishes, diligently opening your lips to welcome a third slicked up finger into your mouth.

Right then and there, you figured Tom had taken your brain cells hostage and forged them to work in his favor. Whatever he wanted, you were absolutely pleased to do without a single complaint peeping from your end.

He pulled out embarrassing sounds that would’ve gotten you stoned if your mother ever heard them from your room. His other hand worked on your leaking cock, massaging your testicles and palming the plump tip, because he can—because you let him.

You were Tom’s puppet, and your body was at his disposal.

“See? This is fun, right?”

He slid his fingers out of your mouth ever so-slowly, the dim light catching onto the trail of spit that bridged his fingers and your tongue with a magical glint. They eventually lost their sparkle when Tom was quick to bring his hand to your ass and wet your exposed rim with a finger, circling the flesh at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“M-mm…”

It was pathetic how deprived of touch you were.

Something as simple as a tease made you writhe on all fours. All it took was a lazy stroke of his finger for you to arch your back and draw your ass out. You couldn’t manage more than a moan as Tom guided you flat on your stomach and himself behind you, continuing his taunts after freshly lubing his fingers and throbbing cock.

Upon the next turn, Tom had the generosity of delivering you of a fill that had been making your cock leak into his sheets, that had been making you rock your hips like you were an animal in heat.

After pushing your legs apart, Tom slowly slid one finger inside of you, his mouth opening in rapport, but also in wonder, as your tight hole welcomed his thick digit in with such warmth, your body locking up as pleasure entered your body.

“C-Christ…” you hissed, thighs clenching and ass squeezing around the foreign intrusion. Something like panic, mixed with agonizing, desperate need, froze you in your place, yet you could feel your body melt, beads of sweat forming over the slope of your tense shoulders and back muscles. Every contact point of your body meeting his, from his firm hand kneading your plump ass, to the tender push and pull of his finger, scorched.

“I don’t know, (M/N)… I don’t know if you can take my cock. My finger can barely move. Might have to call it a night…”

The thudding of your heart muffled your ears as Tom pressed in another finger after slowly working you open. Upon instinct, you closed your legs, only for Tom to spread them back apart before your sweaty thighs could meet, keeping yourself exposed and bare under his direction.

You chewed on a whimper, your face pressing into a pillow in your arms while Tom’s two fingers curled and pumped deep inside of you. You felt yourself pulsate around him, the tight ring of muscle unrelenting in its grip around his fingers, but Tom was determined to break you, another digit joining the pair of fingers, demeaning the tightness of your hole with an obnoxious whistle while pushing into your resistance. “Damn, look at that hole… barely fitting in three fingers.”

“N-no, I can take it. Please…” you gasped on an onslaught of curls, fast and repetitive until you were stretched enough for Tom to yank his fingers completely out of you and quickly feel withdrawal symptoms of his fill. Your thighs shook, your ass pushed out for more, your hole twitched in rapport—you murmured a whine that you needed Tom to hear, but was too self-conscious to let it be known, so you settled biting into his pillow to resist your throat from spilling.

“Such a shame. I thought you made the perfect fit for A.K.P., too.”

His touch was soft and exploring, smearing the sweat on your back over the expanse of your ass and covering it in a humiliating sheen that you’d reckon Tom was stroking himself to upon picking up on the lewd, slick sounds of lube sliding over something thick behind you.

“S-stop, stop, please. I-I’ve taken it before, just—give me a chance, yeah? Please? Hear me—feel me out?”

“You’re that desperate, huh? Don’t know if you need the pledge more, or my cock…”

“Your cock… Tom, please—“

“So, you wouldn’t mind if you received nothing in return, as long as my cock was inside of you? Fucking you? Breeding you?”

“No, I just—“

No, no, no. I don’t want you to stop. Please don’t stop. Your ass communicated those pleas in desperate wiggles. A strong smack to your ass cheeks meant to halt you in place, but it only made your hips more fervent as you graciously backed into the thick of Tom’s cock, reaching back and giving him a needy pump or two, then slid him against your crack.

A needy moan escaped when you felt the weight of his cock sandwiched between your cheeks.

“So, you don’t want my cock? I’m confused on what exactly you’re telling me. Hurry, before I lose my patience.”

You felt a stickiness to your rim. Peeking over your shoulder, you took a glimpse of Tom presumably tracing your hole with his cock and spreading his pre-cum thick over the smooth flesh. The small space grew humid with the tension between your body and his, heavy breaths adding onto the heavy air as Tom rocked into you, holding you by the waist, gliding his cock through the wetness of your lubed ass cheeks. His shaft rubbed over your hole, and your cock throbbed and leaked in between your legs at the chance that anytime now—Tom could breach you open, and fill you wondrously. Your hole clenched at the thought, aided by Tom’s hands pressing your cheeks tighter around his cock as it slid over you.

If only you could command your asshole to open, because you would’ve taken him in by now.

“I want you inside of me, Tom. F-forget the pledge, I just—I need something, someone inside of me. Please, just—Christ, fuck me. Fuck me with your thick cock. Fuck your cum into me. Fuck my ass until I’m nothing but a gaping hole dripping with your seed. Don’t even care if we never see each other again, please, Tom—”

Your eagerness took Tom by surprise, making him chuckle and slap his cock over your blinking hole before resuming on sliding his shaft against your crack, hopefully for one last turn. “Who knew you had such a potty mouth?”

You don’t know what drew you back to looking at Tom again. Maybe it was the hard, brawn structure of his body, cut straight from a sculpture of the most heroic Greek warrior. The firm lines of his abdominal muscles, or the way his snapback was adjusted backwards, emphasizing his soft, yet handsome looks. All in all, you didn’t mean what you said.

You would absolutely care if you never saw him again.

He was too good.

His rough hands over your ass, smacking them whenever you would try to angle your hips in a way to fit him in, were too good. His delicate kisses on your neck, back, and shoulders, quelling the tremble of your limbs, were too good. His soft lips, when you and him met halfway until your mouths were exchanging breaths, making the effort of holding yourself still against him excruciating, were too good.

Tom’s lips ghosted over yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You groaned as he supported your core with a strong hand, opening your mouth to take more. Every part of you, even the moisture in your body, wanted to touch him. You were sweating, drooling into his mouth, leaking into Tom’s palm when he wandered down to stroke your cock; all strong indicators that you were losing control, if you hadn’t already.

His voice, as he murmured something about your body in your ear while he was gathering you against him, was too good. His breath forced itself between your lips, breathing out a supply of oxygen into your mouth, into your lungs, to prepare you for the inevitable, and you had never felt so fragile before—especially so, when you found yourself quickly using up Tom’s oxygen when he pushed his cock into you without hesitation, without warning, your body hammered by a thousand needles in the process.

“T-Tom!” you hissed in a breath, but it only made the grip on your hips more strident when his thrust made you collapse back onto all fours. It wouldn’t be surprising if your skin was blemished with bruises the very next day with the way his fingers dug into your flesh.

Tom was generous enough to let you adjust to his size, indulging in the warmth and tightness of your entrance with only the tip of his plump cock despite feeling like he had toppled your backside with all of his body weight. Even then, those minuscule ruts were enough to make you whimper out of agony.

“So fucking tight…”

Tom pulled himself out and spread your ass cheeks apart, marveling and silently wondering to himself how he was going to puzzle himself inside of you. Some spit would surely help. He licked his fingers, then pressed it over your swollen hole, smoothing the skin before pushing the tip back in, having only a tenuous grasp on his self-control.

After the burning mellowed with the help of multiple deep exhales and kisses from Tom, you felt yourself finally unravel the moment he moved his hips. Your fingers raked against his abs as you reached back to pace his hips, palm on his pelvis to keep from completely ruining you. A shiver ran down the length of your spine as Tom smoothed a hand over your back, then kept it at the lower half, pushing deeper into you while he held you still. You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, pleasured yet disoriented by the ample stretch Tom was providing you with. It gutted the fog of arousal, you could feel your hole instinctively pushing his cock out with overwhelmed pulses, but Tom was persistent, driving into you deeper— harder—the moment your body tried to resist him.

“Don’t mind it hard, right?” Tom asked against your ear, gruff in between his slow, yet deep strokes.

“Please,” you whimpered, barely getting the word out before Tom’s hand found its way to your mouth, covering it and holding your head back at the millisecond your answer registered in his brain, giving him the green light to pummel you relentlessly.

Your eyes popped open when Tom soared, bucking his hips wildly into you. Cries of pleasure, your whimpers and moans of being hammered with such overwhelming desire for your body, were muffled into the palm of Tom’s hand. He squeezed your cheeks, loud groans leaving your throat, and your torso arched into the mattress.

The brutal stretch was what you’d been needing. All this pent up sex drive that you had been harboring for so long came exploding out of you like molten lava, scorching your torso and all in effect. Your body was on fire, coupling with Tom’s as sweat dripped from his forehead, and somewhere onto your backside. Your mind emptied out while you hovered in the space between deprived arousal and complete ecstasy, only perfected by Tom’s cockhead screwing into your tight, clamping hole.

“Open,” Tom demanded with a huff, and you did as you were told at the prodding of his fingers. You welcomed him in with the parting of your lips, luring each digit with the curl of your wet tongue. “You like that? You like taking my hard cock like this? Fucking you open until you’re nothing but a hole? God, look at you drooling…”

As Tom pumped inside of you at a steady pace, angling his hips so he stretched you wider, you suckled on his fingers as they remained hooked over your mouth—you were starting to guess that he loved having them sucked, or at least, liked playing with the idea of having himself inside of you in more ways than one.

It was a messy affair. Pools of saliva leaked from either corners of your mouth. The smell of sex was thickening in between the heavy pants that you and Tom would collectively exile. It wouldn’t be long until your body was drenched in sweat, and you’d come to realize that you wouldn’t be alone in that department. Tom had his sweaty arm around your throat, pushing all of his body weight onto you and gutting you open with the deep hammering of his thrusts. His chest rumbled with wild growls as he pounded into you from behind, burying your hole to the root of his shaft, fucking you with the salacious sound of his heavy and musky sack slapping against your sweat-stained taint. You whimpered when his cockhead brushed past that sweet spot of yours, an unfamiliar feeling that you had no doubts in wanting to befriend.

“O-oh, that’s s-so g-good—“ You bit into his forearms, the thick vein pulsing through looking appetizing, and you were glad you did it because—it was like an ‘on’ switch for Tom.

“Taking my cock so well—your mom would be disgusted, wouldn’t she? Knowing her baby boy is taking a man’s cock. Want you to remember this. I don’t care how many cocks you had before me. I want you to remember what my cock feels like, digging deep inside of you. And when I’m done with you, I don’t want you coming home, crying to mommy—because I’ll never be done with you. Once you get your bid, you’re fucking mine.”

This was it.

This was Tom at his peak performance.

And your body was at his mercy.

He pulled out, flipped you over, then hooked your legs over his shoulders before resuming in his relentless rapture.

You stroked yourself to the image before you, a tight fist around your aching cock, squeezing from base to tip, spreading your pre-cum down your already sticky length, while your other hand toyed with your nipples, playing with the perky nubs.

Tom’s muscular body dripped in sweat. His teeth gritted as he struggled to control his volume. Glimpses of the base of his cock would appear when he would pull out, only to be hidden by the trimmed hairs of his pubic hair when he would shove himself back in, veins of his large cock throbbing and basking in your warmth. Hard and strong kisses layered your ankles while Tom’s pecs jiggled with every thrust he made. Even if you weren’t being fucked right now, you could get off to this. You could come right now, to the absolute bliss on Tom’s face as he buried himself deep inside of you, impaling you with his cock, moulding your hole to the shape of his shaft.

It enthralled you knowing how much pleasure your body gave Tom.

The squeaking of the bed roped everything together, gathering all sorts of noises—lewd sounds of sex and delirious desire—like a beautiful symphony. Your moans against his were the choir when Tom came down to kiss you hard on the mouth, sloppy and wet as he explored you open both ways. His tongue curious into your mouth and his thick cock rearranging your guts.

Your hands freely roamed over the expanse of his broad back, clutching and scratching at his back muscles when he curled his hips in a way that made you arch your body off the bed and knocked the breath out of you. God, he was so strong. So buff. You could feel his back muscles move in sync with his hips, flexing and flaring as he sank his cock deep into you. Your body stuttered, your eyes shut tight, tears nearly welling from the utter pleasure, shriveling as Tom would batter your prostate with better precision every time his hips came down on you. You couldn't be bothered to find the proper words to tell Tom how good he was making you feel, so you settled for a mixture of gasps, whimpers, and a daring scratch over the length of his spine.

That was telling enough, right?

Tom growled at the sting overloading his senses when you made your marks, grazing his teeth and lips over the palm of your hand when he reached back to take and hold the culprit of the forming welts before him. You and him shared a gaze, a kiss when he lowered himself and briefly settled on imposing you with strong, but slow and deep thrusts. To catch his breath. To catch yours. You both exchanged breaths, swapped saliva, explored each other's mouths, held each other hands, and the intimacy of it all made it all the more tranquilizing for you.

“Gonna breed that ass of yours. Fuck, it’s perfect for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Have your hole dripping, gaping, and raw? Maybe I’ll get the bros to look at the mess you made. Maybe they’ll want in on it and have a turn at your body, too. It could be your initiation, hm? Could skip the entire process, and be a Greek, as long as you let all of us breed you. How does that sound?”

“Holy, s-shit—“

You pumped your cock, a familiar feeling quickly bubbling to a high from the pit of your stomach, all the way to your swollen nipples, and you knew what awaited you as that sensation wouldn’t falter. Your heart beat ran faster than the effort of caffeine. Even though it was muffled, the rhythmic beats downstairs were still resonant, and you were absolutely outpacing its tempo. The heat of Tom’s hands returned on your body. He caressed and rubbed your hips, thighs, chest, balls, and ass, all while he urged you to come.

“There we go. Good boy. Keep fucking that fist. Yeah, fuck—“

His palms smoothed over your skin, up the sides of your body, thumbs pressing into either sides of your hips, then maneuvered you with his strength to meet him half-way into his strong thrusts. His biceps flexed, thick veins demonstrating his rush of adrenaline and sheer strength as he brought you down onto his cock with thundering claps, sweaty skin contacting sweaty skin, constantly assaulting your prostate with his swollen cockhead.

It both frightened and thrilled you, your eyes blown, and you felt yourself quickly spill, thick and heavy over your stomach, knowing you were at Tom’s disposal. You shuddered, watching the thick ropes of cum fly high before splattering and soon pooling at the plane of your body.

“I’m close—“

“Come inside of me, please–“

You were panting as your cock finished spilling itself all over your stomach and chest, as Tom’s big cock pounded in and out of you with such ease now, the weight of his hips coming down on you making you continuously bounce on the mattress.

“Fuck.”

His breathing was even heavier than yours, laced with grunts as he used your ass like a toy, pulling hard and pushing you as he pleased, breaching you with the thick of his cock. His thrusts become wilder, sweat dampening his snapback as Tom mustered up the rest of his strength and energy to completely overpower you. His swollen cock dug deep, you could feel every veins about to burst. With a choke of your name, he delivered one more grandiose rut against your ass, the impact of his hips biting sharp into the back of your thighs, and filled you with his cum, burying you to the root.

“Holy shit…”

“O-oh, god—“

Warmth spread thick inside of you, and you writhed and groaned as your hole swallowed another fat fill. Tom’s body goes slack, crashing into your arms immediately, and he moaned on each slow thrust, creaming you from the inside and out. You strained toward him in desperation, wrapping your legs around his hips to lock him in place, and reaching over to his ass to push him deeper, to urge him to keep breeding you as your hole held Tom’s sensitive cock with gratitude, taking his thick seed without hesitation, until his cock veins stopped pulsating.

As promised, Tom kept you impaled, rocking his hips and kissing you once more, soft and passionate, something of him owing you one laced in the way he smooched your lips and refused to let you reciprocate—because Tom never came like that before. His hand was tender on your cheek, stroking the dried stain of drool that was left abandoned when he pulled away to look at you, properly this time. You sighed, brushing the snapback off his head to let his scalp breathe, and pulled him in at the introduction of a sudden draft, your legs still anchored by his hips.

You lay intertwined, sharing deep kisses in between moments of recovery, where the post-nut clarity rendered you and Tom into fit of collective shy laughter, incredulous to the affair both of you had just engaged in.

“So, you live on campus?”

“Oh—yeah. East side, near Turing…”

“Figured you’d be a science guy. Anyways, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Give me your phone.”

“Pick me up? For what?”

“Christ. Did I fuck the memory out of you or something? Bid day’s tomorrow. It gets hectic, so I think it’ll be better if you stick with me.”

“Won’t that… be suspicious?”

“Nah. Plus, I figured we’d get an early start on your initiation…”

“You mean—“

“Fuck, yeah.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x male reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x m!reader #tom holland smut #male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #x reader #tom holland imagine #nou.fics

812 notes · View notes

fatkish · 4 months

Note

Would you please write for some of the Pro Heroes in a situation where their s/o (reader) gets out of surgery and is so absolutely zooted that they don't recognize their partner, but flirt aggressively with them. Basically like that video of the guy who wakes up from surgery and starts hitting on his wife and then is thrilled to learn that they're actually married.

Pro Heroes x Reader Headcannons

Drugged Confessions

You had been in surgery and had finally gotten out of it. When you had woken up, you were still under the affects of the anesthesia and were a little loopy. You saw a handsome man/beautiful woman sitting in a chair next to your bed. You knew you couldn’t pass up the chance to ask them out so you tried your best to flirt with them. Here’s how each Pro Heroes interaction goes.

Aizawa:

Reader: hi handsome

Aizawa: hi (y/n)

Reader: *gasp* you know my name?

Aizawa: of course I do

Reader: did you sit on a pile of sugar, cause you’ve got a sweet ass

Aizawa: *chuckles* you’re cute, go back to sleep

Reader: only if you sleep with me

Aizawa: alright *climbs into the bed with you*

All Might:

Toshinori: darling, you’re awake

Reader: hello

Toshinori: hi

Reader: are you butt dialing, cause I swear that ass is calling me

Toshinori: *spits out blood* (y/n)!

Reader: what’s the chance I can get in your pants?

Toshinori: (y/n) please now is not the time for this

Present Mic:

Hizashi: good afternoon darling

Reader: hello handsome

Hizashi: why thank you beautiful

Reader: there’s something wrong with my bed, you’re not in it

Hizashi: well then let’s fix that *crawls in bed with you*

Best Jeanist:

Best Jeanist: you’re awake, how are you feeling?

Reader: I’m good

Best Jeanist: that’s good to hear

Reader: nice shirt, can I talk you out of it?

Best Jeanist: when we get home maybe, but not right now

Reader: then take me home

Hawks:

Reader: are you an angel?

Hawks: no

Reader: I think you might be my angel

Hawks: aww you’re still loopy, I’m so gonna record this *takes out phone and starts recording you*

Reader: do you have any streaming services? Cause I wanna Netflix and chill, Hulu and do you, IMAX and climax, Amazon Prime and nasty time

Hawks: *laughing* oh? Tell me more.

Reader: I’m not a baker, but I’ll stay up late with you to make a cream pie

Hawks: well beautiful, your face is a work of art, we should frame it with my legs

Reader: *blushes* yes

Midnight:

Nemuri: I see you’re awake

Reader: I am now gorgeous

Nemuri: we’ll aren’t you sweet

Reader: I’d like to use your thighs as earmuffs

Nemuri: once you’re better you can

Ryukyu:

Reader: who are you, pretty lady?

Ryukyu: did you forget who I am?

Reader: no… I know that four plus four equals eight, but you plus me equals fate.

Ryukyu: That’s cute sweetie

Reader: nooo… you’re cute

Ryukyu: well I’m already taken, sorry

Reader: noooooo… by who

Ryukyu: by you

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #all might x reader #toshnori yagi x child reader #hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader #best jeanist x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #midnight x reader #nemuri kayama #ryukyu x reader

1K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 11 months

Note

you satisfy the urge to see Ghost with little babies and simultaneously make me want more of him with little babies

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader

He sleeps like the dead on and off for the almost three days.

Uninterrupted, undisturbed, face buried in a pillow, television cranked as loud as he can get away with, the noise one of the only things capable of lulling him to sleep and keeping him under when he’s not on an op or in an active engagement zone. He gets up to eat, use the bathroom or shower, climb the four floors to the roof to smoke, but otherwise, he sleeps. He eats, and sleeps, and repeats this very simple routine, as he always does when he’s here, until it’s interrupted one night, by the tap of a hesitant knock on his door.

The sound freezes his blood, every nerve ending in his body lighting up in alert, muscles priming for an offensive position. He finds the one of many guns stashed in the flat on his way to open the door, mask slipping over his face, holding the weapon tucked carefully behind his body as he looks through the peephole to find… you. The girl from the roof, the baby, Emmaline, in your arms, your eyes nervously darting down the hallway before looking back to his door expectantly. Shit.

“I’m sorry.” You rush out immediately when he opens it, peering up at him with exhausted eyes. Emma is against your chest, and one of your hands cradles her head, the other under her bum, while you bounce her up and down while also rocking back and forth. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the arse but, is there any way I can ask you to turn your TV volume down a bit?” You try to smile but it straightens into a grimace and then your eyes dart to the ground before looking back up at him. “We uh, share a wall.” You tilt your head to the left, to the unit next to his and his eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, I’m not trying to be that neighbor but-“ Jesus Christ. You share a wall with him? His mind drifts to an image of you asleep in your bed, tucked up under your covers all sweet, lashes laying delicately on your cheeks.

“Of course. It’s not a bother.” The baby cries in response, a broken wail making her lower lip tremble and you pat her back soothingly until she quiets, little hiccups coming from her mouth while she rubs her face into your shirt.

“Thank you.” You’re still bouncing, still swaying, and he’s mystified, watching you stroke a gentle finger through her fine curls. She yawns sleepily against you, and the tension leaks from your body a bit, spine slumping slightly, shoulders relaxing a notch. You look down at her, checking for something he doesn’t understand, before raising your radiant, tired face back up to his. He really, really wishes he wasn’t holding a handgun behind his back right now. “They told me, when I rented… that you weren’t around much. I thought it’d be a good fit since…” you gesture with an eyebrow towards Emmaline, and he nods.

“I travel for work.” His voice sounds more raspy than normal, a byproduct of too much sleep, something you look like you’d probably kill to have. Fuck. He’s been blasting his television while you’ve been up with a screaming baby for two bleedin’ days.

“Right, well I hope we won’t be too noisy for you, when you are home.” A door slams on third floor above the two of you, the bang of it swinging shut too loud and you tense, something bleak flickering across your face before it’s chased away with a half-forced smile. “Anyway… thanks, again.”

“Of course.” He repeats it, like it’s obvious, and then just as you turn away, he remembers something: “I’m Simon.” You glance back at him, timid smile tugging at your lips, your own name falling from your mouth like you’re giving him a gift.

“Oh, and you know Emmaline already.” You lightly tease, and he nods, his own lips lifting in an almost smile behind the mask in response.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

2K notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 6 months

Text

tits, ass or thighs w/ ateez

words - 🤠

genre - fluff/smut

warnings - groping (consensual), size kink (yunho), manhandling (yunho, kind of yeosang), kind of somnophilia in sans, mingi is always eating pussy in my fics…, spanking (mingi and wooyoung), i think that’s the major ones…

kim hongjoong - ass

so my theory is that hongjoong likes having you on his lap; more specifically, straddling his lap. whether that’s during sex, cuddling, or just to chat, he wants you sitting on his thighs, staring into his eyes. of course, half of it is about the intimacy of it all - face to face, eye to eye, all that good stuff - but he can’t deny that he really does love the way it gives him the perfect opportunity to grope your ass.

his arms are always wrapped around you to hold you close, and your ass is just the natural place his hands fall. you can’t expect him not to cop a feel when his hands are already there in prime position. besides, your ass is just too nice not to squeeze; it gives his hands something to do whilst you’re telling him about your day… and that’s not even mentioning the way it makes you squirm whenever he’s balls deep inside of you, using his grip on your ass to guide your pace as you ride him into oblivion.

park seonghwa - tits

seonghwa is a gentleman except when it comes to your tits. he is always just touching them, giving some sort of shitty excuse as to why he needs to. ‘oh, i slammed the breaks too hard and didn’t want the seatbelt to hurt you,’ he says as he slowly draws his hand away from where it was just sitting on your breast. ‘i meant to touch your shoulder but i missed,’ he smiles prettily as if that excuses the way he’s pawing at your tit. the way he sees it, he shouldn’t even need an excuse to feel you up at any given moment in time…

because you can’t really blame him for wanting to touch them constantly. he likes soft, cute things are your tits? well they just happen to be the softest, cutest things around! sue him if they’re like magnets for his hands! he can’t help the way they draw them in now can he?

jeong yunho - thighs

BIG HAND ON THIGH I REPEAT BIG HAND… ON THIGH!!!! like when he’s driving you places?!?!? or even when you’re just watching a movie together?!?!?!? UGH!!! it just makes you feel so small and protected and the thought of you being so small and fragile for him? that shit makes yunho weak at the knees. it’s even better when he gets to squeeze your thighs and feel your plush flesh under his fingertips. he likes the way it never fails to make you wriggle in your seat.

and i’m sorry but it all comes down to the fact that this man definitely has a size kink and whatever he can do to make himself feel like the big strong knight and you his tiny little damsel in distress, he will do it. unfortunately that means that he literally always has his hand on your thigh just to show you how big he is compared to you, and just how easy it would be to manhandle you into any position he wants…

kang yeosang - thighs

i think i’ve spoken about yeosang being a dom enough on this account, so i won’t go into any more details about that. all i will say is that he loves pinning you by your thighs. pretty boy is so strong and he just adores the way you helplessly squirm as he holds you to the bed by them. he will literally torture you for hours with his face between your legs, but you can’t even buck your hips with how tightly he’s holding onto your shaking thighs.

and don’t get me started on the bruises he leaves in his wake. he’s spend hours kissing and admiring the fingerprints left on your skin the day after, trailing over them with his fingers and his tongue until he has you squirming and begging for him to give you more. there’s rarely a day goes by where you don’t have tiny purple marks painted up and down your thighs…

choi san - tits

san likes to cuddle something when he sleeps, right? since sharing your bed, that something has become you. he likes his arms wrapped around your waist and his head pressed to your chest, your soft flesh acting as the fluffiest pillow in the world. it’s even better when you play with his hair, sending him into a sleepy daze in minutes.

and it’s not his fault when you wake up to him rutting against your thigh, face pressed between your tits as he incoherently mumbles about how gorgeous you are. actually, it’s yours for sleeping without a bra on. how is san supposed to not be horny when he wakes up every morning to your pretty nipples poking through his tshirt that he let you sleep in. it’s only right that you help him fix his problem, right? that you let him drool over your boobs as he dribbles cum onto your thighs?

song mingi - ass

with the amount i talk about mingi being a slut for eating pussy, i think we all saw this coming, right? like your ass is just the perfect place to hold onto while he tucks in to his favourite meal. he especially likes it when you’re sitting on his face and he can just grab it, using it as leverage to pin you to his face when you start to become oversensitive from his rough licks.

and don’t even get me started about how feral he gets when he eats your pussy from the back. literally eyes closed, moaning like a whore as he licks at you from behind. loves to just grope you while he eats you out, pinching and smacking it every few seconds because he adores the way it makes your pussy clench and squeeze out even more of your precious fluids. he’s literally a bitch in heat when it comes to eating pussy, you will never convince me otherwise

jung wooyoung - ass

he’s a smacker… that’s all i have to say. any time, anywhere, you always need to be on guard because you never know when wooyoung is going to come up behind you and just smack! he likes the way it makes you squeal and blush, thinking you look the most adorable when you’re pouting and scolding him for spanking your ass in the middle of a grocery store! most of the time he just gives you a cheeky smirk before promising - with his fingers crossed, of course - that he won’t do it again.

and he can’t lie, he likes the way it feels in his hand too. the way it jiggles from the impact hypnotises him, and it’s always a struggle for him to pull himself away and not do just one more. but it’s fine, because you never complain when he has you face down ass up in bed, hands raining down spank after spank on your pretty cheeks until they’re red from the impact.

choi jongho - tits

i’m 90% certain that if you’re in a relationship with this man, your tits will become his new favourite thing. whether that’s to look at, to play with, to suck on, it doesn’t really matter. what does matter is they’re his and he will never leave them alone. like he always insists that you wear no bra at home so he can see your pretty nipples; even better if you’re wearing a thin white tshirt too so he can see the colour of them through the material.

the no bra thing also helps when he has his hand slung over your shoulder and he’s pawing at one of them like it’s a stress ball. he won’t even be paying attention to you, yet his hand will be rhythmically palming your tit, his finger flicking against the nipple every so often. and then after all that, when you inevitably ask him to deal with the mess he’s made between your thighs, he’ll have the audacity to act like it’s your fault that you’re horny! he’ll still fuck you though, and you’ll still end up with a nice selection of new purple hickeys across your chest…

#ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez smut #jongho x reader #jongho smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #mingi x reader #mingi smut #san x reader #san smut #yeosang x reader #yeosang smut #yunho x reader #yunho smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut

2K notes · View notes

nateezfics · 3 months

Text

❝ game over ❞

: ̗̀➛ when your boyfriend is paying more attention to his game than to you, you decide to take matters into your own hands. 1.8k words.

: ̗̀➛ jeong yunho; gamer boyfriend!yunho. established relationship. fluff. smut.

: ̗̀➛ warnings: minors do not interact! explicit sexual content. unprotected sex. masturbation. fingering. slight size kink. sexual language. soft dom!yunho. sub!reader. fem bodied!reader. intentional lower case and small font.

“it’ll just be a quick game, then i’m all yours.”

you huffed and rolled over on the bed, your face smooshed into the plush pillow. the other side of the bed where your boyfriend should have been was vacant and cold. the space of the bed felt much too large without his presence; you craved his closeness, his warmth, his touch. he should’ve been here, holding you, fucking you. you whined into the pillow.

you’d had an everything shower. you washed. you exfoliated. you shaved everywhere. you even slipped on one of the cute little silk nighties he loved to see you in. you were so primed and ready to get dicked all the way down tonight. and what does your darling boyfriend do? got on that fucking game, leaving you lonely and horny. he said it was just a quick game, but you knew the moment he said it that he was lying. even with the best intentions, there was never any quick games with him.

that “quick game” turned into hours. now you were trying to find sleep, hoping slumber would distract you from the empty ache between your legs. you heard his voice from the other room, heard the shouts of victory and the rough curses after a loss. there were grunts of frustration, and they were certainly not helping your need at all. your cunt pulsed between your legs when you heard him, mind full of all the ways he could be making noises like that while fucking you straight into this mattress you lied upon. rubbing your thighs together didn’t help much; you were needy for your man. he was so close but yet so far. that stupid video game…

you traced a hand down your body until your fingers slipped under the nightie, pads grazing the lace of your underwear. you dipped your hand beneath the band of your panties to cup your sex; you’d grown wet already just from your desire alone, and from the sound of his voice in the other room. you whined at the pressure against your neglected clit. you circled your mound of nerves slowly, eyes closing shut as you imagined it was his fingers instead of your own. you mimicked the way he loved to touch you, the way his long fingers smoothed over your clit in such a way that would have you purring. you pushed one finger through your folds and moaned, curling it the best you could. you added a second finger and repeated the motion. you quickly realized your fingers couldn’t reach as deep as his could, couldn’t graze that sweet little gummy spot nestled within. he always found it with ease, so effortlessly.

“yunho…” you cried out his name into the space of your bedroom. the heel of your palm pressed into your clit while your fingers sunk in and out of your hole. your free hand cupped your breast over the silk gown. god, maybe you could get yourself off without him…

you weren’t aware of how much time had passed. you were too consumed with getting yourself to your release to notice that yunho had stopped gaming and now stood in the doorway to your room. and fuck, you were almost there. “having fun, baby?”

your whole body froze at the sound of his voice. your eyes snapped open and caught his large frame standing within the doorway, his own eyes watching you intently. through the dim lighting you made out what looked like a small smirk on his lips. “…when did you stop gaming?”

he shrugged. “a little bit ago,” yunho responded. “finished just in time to catch you touching yourself.” he sounded enthused, smug. he sauntered to the edge of the bed, and your whole body was buzzing at his proximity. he leaned over you, and though there were covers over you, you felt so exposed under his attention. “seems like i wasn’t the only one playing games.”

“i was just —”

“just what, hm?” yunho peeled the covers off you. you hissed at the rush of cool air against your skin. he drunk in the sight of you in the low light; you in your little nightie, your hand stuffed inside your panties, fingers deep in your pussy. his dick stirred to life in his sweats. “what game were you playing? ‘touch yourself without letting your boyfriend know’?”

you shook your head, now feeling the need to explain yourself. “i was so needy, and you were gaming…”

yunho cooed while his large hand inched its way up your thigh. he chuckled at the way you instantly began to squirm. “poor baby. couldn’t wait on me, huh?”

you whimpered. your fingers curled inside you slightly. “i was waiting. i waited so long…”

yunho’s fingers ghosted along your panties, touching your hand through the fabric. “does my baby feel neglected?” when you hummed, he chuckled. “i’m sorry. i got carried away. if i had known you were this needy, i…” he trailed off when his fingers hooked your panties and tugged, finding the wetness that lied beneath. “how close were you?”

“so close, yunho.”

“keep going. make yourself cum.” his knuckles were grazing yours. he felt how soaked you were, felt where your fingers plunged into your pussy. he wanted to replace them with his own. “don’t let me get in the way of your fun.”

“yunho, i want your fingers instead.” you were desperate for the way his fingers could fuck you better than your own. nonetheless, you began to move yours again in slow pumps.

“you’ll get them, baby. first i want you to cum on yours. you can do that for me, right?” yunho felt your hand move as you fingered yourself. he heard the wet squelches and groaned, cock rock hard.

you wound yourself back up, finding that build up you’d lost when yunho found you. with his closeness it wasn’t hard to get worked up. “yunho, i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah, baby? are you pretending its my fingers, hm? is that what you were doing earlier, wishing you had my fingers stuffing this little cunt?”

“y-yes…” you were throbbing around your fingers. you were dangerously close.

“such a needy baby. so desperate for me. now cum for me. cum for me, baby, and i promise i’ll give you what you want.” yunho watched as your back arched off the mattress. your high wracked your form, and he was there to witness how beautiful you looked with your face contorted in pleasure. “that’s it, baby. just like that. so good for me.”

you milked yourself of your orgasm before your boyfriend was pulling your fingers out of you, quickly replacing them with two of his own. you cried out, his fingers reaching beyond what yours ever could. and you were sensitive from the fresh orgasm. your body shook when his pads immediately pressed into your gummy spot. “fuck, yunho…”

“this feel better? my fingers fuck you so much better than your tiny little ones.” yunho found your sweet spot and was relentless, curling his digits while steadily pumping in and out. he churned your insides over and over until your pussy was making the most lewd sounds. you were making a mess all over his fingers, and he couldn’t wait to feel your wet warmth wrapped around his cock. he thumbed your clit. “wanna make you cum again, baby.”

your second orgasm swept you up soon after, his skilled gamer fingers bringing you immense pleasure that had you crying out. “yunho…” you sighed his name as you came down, back settling into the mattress as you relaxed.

yunho removed his fingers and licked them clean while he climbed over your body. “such a sweet taste,” he complimented just as he worked his pants down with his other hand. “i’ll be sure to savor it right from the source in the morning. now, let me make up for making my baby wait.” his cock was free and leaking and aching to be inside you. he pulled your panties to the side again and lined himself up against your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock between your folds.

you whined when he pushed himself in. inch by inch he stretched you wide with his thickness. your hands found his shoulders and you anchored yourself to him. “yunho, so much!”

he smirked. “and you fucking take all of it.” he bottomed out and groaned. you were warm and wet and tight; he savored the feeling, keeping his hips still to allow you a moment to adjust. he gazed down at you and admired your beauty. you looked small under his large frame, and it drove him crazy how your little pussy was taking him so well. you were smaller than him but yet meant to take him all so good. “you’re perfect,” he said as he pulled out all the way to his tip. his hips snapped back. your cry was immediate. “so fucking perfect.”

your hands traveled from his shoulders to his hair. you pulled his face down to yours and captured his lips in a searing kiss just as he bottomed out again. he swallowed up your moan while his tongue swiped across your bottom lip.

yunho set a rhythm. a rhythm that had you gasping out against his mouth over and over. “am i fucking you good enough, baby? was this worth the wait?”

fucking hell it was. and he knew it, what with the way you were clinging to him and whimpering constantly. your cunt was drenched, leaking around his cock every time he pumped in and out. yunho had a bad habit of gaming for way too long, but he always made it up to you in the end. he always made it worth it. “yunho.”

yunho’s lips grazed yours. “yeah, baby?”

“i’m so close.” your walls squeezed him so good; he could feel how close you were. he groaned.

“cum for me, baby. all over my cock.” he urged you closer with a thumb to your clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. your body convulsed under him when your high overtook you, your walls clamping around him so tight it made his head spin. he rocked his hips back and forth and grew sloppier as your own orgasm brought him to his own. “fuck, where do you want me to cum?”

“inside me, yunho,” you breathed.

“fuck.” yunho came with one last thrust, stilling above you while he spilled inside your tight heat. he filled you up and whimpered at the feeling. he huffed and collapsed on top of you, still careful not to crush you. his peppered kisses on your cheek.

“yunho?” your voice was growing heavy with sleepiness.

“hm?”

“tomorrow, i wanna play video games with you.”

yunho chuckled. “okay, baby.”

notes from nat: this is so random but i wrote a little bit of gamer!yunho in my “cockwarming ateez” post and haven’t been able to get it out of my head. also,, i’ve changed my fic set up; what do ya think??

taglist: @abiaswreck @charreddonuts @hongthoven @httpseungmxn @itza-meee @jungkookieprincess @jaerisdiction @lilie-dctl @mjyungi @marievllr-abg @maltesejjong @mylovelymito @nebulousbookshelf @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @staytinyinmybpack @svintsandghosts @thesafecafe @wolfgurl2600-blog @5starduca @yyaurii

networks: @kflixnet @wonderlandnet

#wonderlandnet #yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez smut drabbles #yunho smut drabbles #yunho fanfiction #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

873 notes · View notes

stevieschrodinger · 2 months

Text

Part One Two Three four

Steve’s eating a bowl of cereal, squinting in the morning light. He’s barefoot, wearing nothing but sleep shorts, and is considering going back to bed. He shouldn’t though; he has to be on time today.

Since the mall burned down, Scoops Ahoy is, annoyingly, no more. Robin thinks she has something though, some guy at Family Video who probably has the hots for her or something. Doesn’t matter though, Steve doesn’t really care what this Keith guys motivation is as long as it results in gainful employment for the both of them.

He really should shower.

Steve can see the pool from here, so he’s in a prime position to watch as Eddie pulls himself out of the water and makes his way to the back door.

This is the second time Eddie has come into the house, if you don’t count the emergency temporary over nighter in the bath tub. Well, it’s the second time Eddie has brought himself into the house, at least.

He waits patiently at the back door, like a cat waiting to be let in, and Steve opens the door for him, cereal bowl still balanced in the other hand.

He holds himself in that same way, flat of his tail curled up beneath him, giving him a little height, and he sits himself uncertainly in the middle of the kitchen floor, “hi Eddie.”

“Stee. Buddidy”

Steve gets him some celery from the bottom of the fridge and gives him the whole thing. They stand, and sit, together in comfortable silence, crunching their way through their respective breakfasts.

Steve watches as Eddie cautiously makes his way to the fridge once he’s done, looking to Steve with his his hand on the door, a question on his face, Steve nods, “yeah.”

Eddie opens the door, and Steve watches as he explores, carefully moving jars and condiments and stuff around, glass clinking quietly, before he opens the drawer at the bottom and pulls out a pear, carefully closing the drawer and door again after. He eats the whole thing, stalk, core, seeds, everything.

Steve washes up his dish, checking the time, “want to watch some TV?”

Eddie cocks his head, but follows Steve into the lounge. He sits, looking around, feeling the carpet under his hands, running his nails carefully through the pile until the TV catches his attention.

He moves closer. And then closer again, making Steve laugh when he taps a nail on the curved glass of the screen.

“I’m going to go shower, you shouldn't sit so close, it’s bad for your eyes.”

Robin does her make up in the car on the way over to Family Video, “how’s Eddie?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, it really means a lot to me, how much you care about my well being.”

She sighs through her nose and rolls her eyes, and Steve tuts at her.

“He came in the house this morning, I left him watching TV.”

“Huh. I mean normally I would say it’ll rot his brain but, something for him to do would be good, right?”

“Yeah. And if I’m getting a job, we should try and teach him to use the walkie’s at least. In case there’s like an emergency or something.”

“A fruit and veg related emergency.”

“Yeah, kind of. We really need to figure out what to do with him, he can’t just sit in my pool forever.”

She hums in agreement.

It’s just starting to rain when Steve gets home, the first break in the nearly two weeks of sunny weather they’ve been having.

Probably won’t be sharing a beer with Eddie tonight then. Well, Steve hasn’t really been sharing, he’s been letting Eddie steal the last third of a bottle, which isn’t really the same thing.

Eddie’s actually sitting on on the couch when Steve gets in, which surprises him momentarily. There’s an empty container on the cushion next to him, Steve figures he found the grapes.

“Hey.”

Eddie turns to see him, smiling, clearly pleased to see him, which is a nice change of pace. Sure he knows Robin loves him, but she’s never actually openly really happy to see him unless she’s, like, drunk or high. And the kids. Steve knows they must at least kind of like him, but they’re all just little shits. Having someone to come home to who is genuinely pleased to see him is a really nice change of pace.

“It just started raining.”

“Raiiniing.”

“Yeah,” Steve points at the window, “uhm, wet. Uhm. Sky wet.”

“Et.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s eyes widen suddenly, scrabbling off the couch in clear panic, “Et! Et!”

“Yeah Buddy, what’s wrong-”

Eddie’s frantically slithering across the lounge carpet with what is a truly amazing turn of speed considering his anatomy, “et inied! Book! NO! NO!”

“Oh, shit! Your book,” Steve hops over Eddie’s tail, making it to the door and then sprinting across the grass, grabbing the book and bringing it back.

Eddie’s sitting in the door way, hands clasped together, watching anxiously, “it’s not so bad, just a little damp.” Steve holds the book out to show him where drops of rain have speckled the pages, “it’s not bad.”

“Not bad. Good,” but he’s still frowning, clearly concerned where the paper is discolored by the water.

“Wait,” Eddie does as he’s told as Steve runs upstairs for the hair dryer, plugging it in in the lounge and sitting on the floor, Eddie joining him with the book. “Here, feel,” he turns it on, pointing it Eddie’s way.

Eddie sticks his fingers towards it, and then pulls the back, startled. Then he does it again before watching Steve dry the pages of the book, “dry. Et inied.”

“That’s right buddy.”

“Stee Edidie budidy.”

“That’s right. Yeah.”

Eddie sits next to Steve watching nervously as Steve gets the final pages dried off, and Steve hands the book back.

Eddie grins, “thanks Birdidie,” and then darts forward to press his lips to Steve’s cheek. It's just a press, not a real kiss.

“Oh,” and then Steve chuckles when he realizes what’s happened, the behavior that Eddie's seen and is now mimicking, “no. Uhm. Thank you Steve.”

Eddie cocks his head.

“Wait, wait,” Steve takes the hair dryer with him, heading up the stairs again, and this time coming back with a handful of Polaroids, he shuffles them into a neat stack, sitting next to Eddie on the floor. “Right, this is Robin. Birdie.”

“Thanks Birdidie.”

“Yeah, that’s right, that’s Birdie, now,” Steve shuffles through, “Max,” he says pointing, “and El.”

“El. Max.”

It’s thirty minutes and two pears later, but Eddie seems to be able to identify everyone reliably from their photographs, “no, Dustin.”

“Dust bin,” Eddie replies, confidently.

“You know what, sure, dust bin. Let’s go with that. Kind of suits him, actually.”

Steve’s drinking his evening beer. The weather much better again today, but the evenings are drawing in, and the sun set has almost taken Steve by surprise with how early it’s painting the sky pink. Summer’s coming to a close. Which brings some urgency to the question; what are they going to do with Eddie? The pool isn’t heated, and it usually gets drained and covered for the winter months. It’ll definitely freeze over at some point if they leave it open like this, and there’s no way Eddie could survive that, could he?

Steve doesn’t know. There’s just too much they don’t know about Eddie.

Steve’s got his first shift at Family Video tomorrow, a closing shift with the manager, Keith. Apparently he wants to show Steve the ropes when it comes to shutting down the store; Steve figures just from that that he’s going to be stuck with more than his fair share of late shifts.

He wonders if Eddie’s going to miss his evening beer. He really should teach Eddie to use a walkie. Tomorrow, he decides, will be as good a time as any. Tomorrow morning, and then Steve can leave one with Eddie and take one to work with him.

At least he knows Eddie can get into the house if he really has to, if he gets hungry or whatever. He really could do with some sort of cover out here though. Some where to leave his book in case of the rain. Maybe put a couple of towels in there, some food in the cool box when Steve’s out, the walkie, that sort of stuff.

Eddie swims over, pushing his floating toy bucket along ahead of him in the water. There are things in it tonight, which is a first. Eddie puts his bucket on the side of the pool before pulling himself out to sit beside Steve.

He pulls something out of his bucket to show to Steve, “oh, it’s a pine cone. Hold on.” Steve puts his beer down to grab the encyclopedia, and Eddie duly swipes it. Steve flicks through the book wile Eddie sips the beer, “look, this is a tree.”

“Tee.”

“Tree.”

“Trrreeee.”

“Yeah, it’s a seed for a tree,” Steve shows Eddie the series of pictures, how the seed underground grows a little shoot that grows, eventually, into a tree.

Eddie fetches something else from his bucket, showing Steve, “trree?”

“Leaf,” Steve points at the leaf in Eddie’s hand, then, “tree,” as he points to the tree line at the bottom edge of the yard.

Eddie’s frowning at the page in the book, but he does nod, so Steve doesn’t push it any further.

“Steve do you know how early it is.”

“I know, but I don’t care, do you still have that tent you were playing around with last summer?”

“Camping, Steve, I went camping with-what do you want it for, anyway?”

“It’s for Eddie.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dustin’s tone changes to immediately helpful, “yeah, do you want to come and get it? I’m pretty sure I still have it-MAAAAA! MAAAAAAA DO YOU KNOW-”

Steve pulls the receiver away from his head while Dustin's hollering at his poor mother.

“Yeah, we know where it is, you coming now?”

Eddie’s holding a piece of plastic tubing, looking concerned, and watching Steve struggle with the worlds smallest two man tent, “it’s okay, I got this.”

Eddie tilts his head one way and then the other, like a curious bird, as Steve struggles. It takes a couple of failed attempts, not helped by the fact that Dustin couldn’t find the instructions, but it doesn’t take that long before the tent is ready. Steve sets it on the grass, the doorway edge butted up against the tiles that surround the pool edge. Steve fixes the guy ropes using metal tent pegs driven into the lawn. It’s not hugely spacious inside, just big enough to accommodate two medium sized dudes when lying down, just as long as those two medium sized dudes are super comfortable with each other, then it’s fine.

Steve goes backward and forward, lining the bottom with a couple of sleeping mats he also borrowed from Dustin, and then putting in a couple of towels, Eddie’s book, and rescuing the Rubik's cube and slinkie from where they've lain, ignored, on the side of the pool, “there, what do you think?”

Eddie moves closer, cautiously looking inside before looking back to Steve, “yeah, good. Go in, it's okay,” Steve nods and smiles and generally tries to be encouraging.

Eddie goes inside before turning to look out, sitting on his tail.

Steve sits in the doorway, “it’ll keep your book dry.”

Eddie ponders that a moment, touching his book, before looking up. He carefully touches the inside of the tent roof, “et inied?”

“Yeah buddy, that’s right. Good.”

Part six

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #pre steddie #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie

704 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 9 months

Text

Bark bark bark awoooo

No content warnings

You’re gonna fucking combust.

Somehow, someway, this is Johnny’s fault. You’re not sure how yet, so he it isn’t fair for him to be in trouble, but you know it.

“This is your fault,” you tell him, pouting in bed — bare ass naked, but that means nothing to him, he’s a dog. He cocks his head, and you wave your (broken) vibrator at him. “I don’t know how, but it is. Is this because I wanna chop your balls off?”

His mouth closes, eyes big - like he actually understands you. In your horny delirium, you almost believe he really does.

You flop onto your back with a sigh, eyes a little wet with frustration.

It’s been two months since you last successfully got off. Your vibrator (and its replacement… and its replacement’s replacement) keep breaking, or running out of battery. The plug is defective or falls out of the socket.

Once you successfully got right to the edge - just for it to die. You almost did cry that time.

Sure, there’s your hand. But every time you try ol’ reliable a certain four-legged roommate interrupts one way or another. And when you tried to kick him out of the room, and then ignored the howling, scratching, and general drama - there was loud and rapid knocking at your door.

Like fucking clockwork. If you get anywhere at all, you never get to finish.

It wouldn’t be so bad, either. Your libido isn’t anything crazy, you don’t think. At least it wasn’t before. But now there’s Soap.

Soap who you should not be so attracted to. Who has no sense of propriety or boundaries, who murmurs the dirtiest things to you in the most public and otherwise mundane places. And he just keeps. Showing. Up.

Like he’s got a tracker on you or something. (You’ve checked, he doesn’t.)

He’s like every guilty fantasy you had as a good, studious girl back in high school. The kind of guy to grab your thigh under your parents’ dinner table and take your virginity in the back of his car. Maybe corner you by the lockers between classes to kiss you silly and drive up your absence record.

You never actually went for those boys — and perhaps gratefully, they never went for you. In romance novels, it would be a quaint little coming of age story. The stuff to swoon over. But reality was a lot scarier for you, especially with your older sister always keeping an ear out to report back to your parents and… well, yeah.

You’ve always been a firm introvert, anyway. That’s why you live out in the woods with only a dog for regular company.

But Soap. Soap is some unholy amalgamation of those innocent, shy girl fantasies turned R-rated. Like the grown-up version of those cute YA novels.

And you have no defense for it — except distrust, that is.

Soft-hearted as you are, you know you don’t do casual well. And you know that guys like Soap just like to spin you up and up until you finally give in, think the dreaded words “maybe it’ll work out” despite that rational voice in your head saying, “don’t bet on it.”

Doesn’t stop you from secretly wanting him though.

Fear is the only thing keeping you in check now. Some of it for you own feelings; of getting invested in a guy that has done nothing but treat you like a prime cut of meat. The rest of it is a genuine concern that he might be a bit dangerous. He’s so much bigger than you, visibly stronger. Has gone out of his way to make you uncomfortable (doesn’t matter that a very dark and slutty part of you liked it) and ignored your attempts at brushing him off.

Fear, unfortunately, is beginning to add to the temptation.

“I’m not going to do it,” you tell yourself, or maybe Johnny. Soap’s contact is on the screen. You don’t remember putting it into your phone, but you must have at some point. “Nope. No way.”

You slide a sideways look at Johnny, tail wagging at a steady clip.

“He’s probably a former frat boy or something, right?” you muse.

Snort.

“No, you don’t think so?” you question, sitting up. He happily crawls into your lap when you pat your thighs, chin resting on your tummy. “Nah, you’re right. Could almost imagine him beating the hell out of one for pissing him off.”

A little grumbly noise. You smile and start petting absently over his head and ears, phone forgotten now.

“This is dumb anyway,” you sigh, head tilted back to the ceiling. “You don’t like men. I couldn’t bring him back here.”

Johnny’s ears flick. You giggle and start flopping them around, making airplane noises. Eventually he huffs and starts licking at your face until you stop, complaining that you’ll need to wash off now.

—

“Fuck it.”

Johnny picks his head up, staring at you as you run a hand down your face.

“Fuck it all. I’m going to a bar. I’m getting… I dunno. Laid or something.” Thank god it’s only Johnny here. You don’t think you could live with the embarrassment of someone else hearing the way you talk.

You set your hands on your hips, nod to yourself.

“And if it happens to be Soap, then… sign from the universe, right?” You grimace a bit, striding for your bedroom. “Please don’t let him be a murderer or something…”

For once, Johnny is perfectly behaved as you get ready. He doesn’t try to lick at you when you come out of shower (freshly shaved and lotioned and everything). Sits patiently on the bed as you pick through your closet, even noses at a pretty pink dress you rarely wear but were considering for this.

He doesn’t try to bump your arms or hands while you do your makeup, just watches attentively. You choose a pretty, matching bra-panty set, apply a light spritz of perfume. Hesitate over jewelry.

“Is it normal to wear jewelry when you plan on fucking?” you wander allowed.

A little “boof” from the bed. You’ll take that as a yes.

You decide on a set of faux pearls with a gold heart pendant in the center. Not quite a choker, but high enough on your throat to suggest one. A delicate bracelet, a pair of stud earrings, and you’re just about set.

“Christ, I hate doing this alone,” you mutter, fumbling with the zip on the back of the dress.

Lastly, the shoes.

“Fuck it,” you say again. Your mantra for the evening, apparently. Wobble into a pair of heels, a bow on the outside of each ankle where you buckle them.

You pause when you’re done, giving yourself a once over in the full length mirror. Pleased with what you see. Coquettish and pretty, not necessarily bombshell sexy maybe, at least not on first glance. But the necklace, the heels, the cutouts at the waist of your dress… it’s all exactly what you wanted.

“Alright,” you breathe, tummy swooping with excitement. “I can do this… right?”

Johnny’s gotten down off the bed, is keeping a respectful distance. You appreciate it, don’t want to have to lint roll hair off yourself.

“Oh, god. What if he’s bad?” You ask, giving him a horrified look. “What if he’s been, like, compensating?”

To your shock, he stomps his paw and starts damn near howling. Carrying on and on like he’s bitching you out. You blink in shock, almost laugh — then check the time.

“Oh! Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you starve!”

You toddle off to the kitchen and prep his dinner, scrunching your nose at the raw chicken and beef liver. He grumbles and fusses the whole way, making you laugh as you pretend to have a whole conversation about the economy with him.

“Okay, bonnie Johnny,” you coo, setting his bowl down. “Be good, okay? If I bring someone back here please don’t eat them, okay?”

More grumbles and whines and growls. You roll your eyes, blow him a kiss, and slip out the door.

You tell yourself you just need action with someone. Don’t admit to yourself that there’s really a specific someone you’re hoping to see.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au

2K notes · View notes

hazelfoureyes · 2 months

Text

Loss of decorum (part two)

I’m feeling too angsty to finish up part nine of ADIF (they’re so in love I can’t make them feel angsty in this moment) or write the very smutty Radioapple so… we’re here! 🫠 better than not writing ig

Part 1

How Alastor ended up dry humping a hotel resident in a hallway.

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x GN!Reader, pillow humping, reader humping, violence against bedding, angsty little shit」

MINORS DNI 🍷 🛏️

What could he do? What power did he have when your existence collided so mercilessly into his?

You had started out as another thing in his peripheral.

He wasn’t sure when his perception of you shifted from the American Common Squirrel energy wielding sinner to a black hole of his focus.

You were always moving, be it your body or your mouth. Depending on if the topic fell under one of your litany of obsessions, you could go on for far too long. Your voice became background noise. Ambient sound he didn’t notice anymore until you left the room and suddenly— ah, the uncomfortable silence.

The shape shifting from small, inferior creature in his orbit to something substantially worse was too subtle for Alastor to clock it.

Was he finding a space to settle while he read the paper? Well where were you mindlessly mumbling to yourself…. That’d be a good spot.

Everyone gathered in the common area to waste time discussing the future? He’d find himself waiting for your arrival before zoning out.

Distance soon became irksome. He’d approach the bar inches behind you in hopes you’d jump and shriek with surprise. But you’d be so focused on whatever nonsense task you were busy with (like cleaning or bonding with Husk) to notice him, moving away from his bubble before registering any shock.

The audacity.

It only got worse from there.

Your scent lingering faintly in the air where you had just been. The warmth of your hand still seeping from the wood of the bar top.

Absence was suddenly something he became acutely aware of now. The void left behind from you in every room, and soon, on every piece of him.

He was taken by surprise himself when one day you forgot yourself and placed a hand on his lower back. Just trying to get his attention so you could walk behind him safely, Alastor spun around and gave you the dirtiest look.

“Excuse you.” He hissed, and to his dismay you smiled back and moved on. But the feeling lingered on his back. And when he removed his coat and waist coat before bed he could still feel the pressure of that hand. Small compared to his own, he noted, as he let his larger palm settle over your ghostly one to try and replace the sensation. It was of no use. You’d marked him somehow.

A slap to his arm when he said something you thought was hilarious did it too. Then the time your leg brushed against his for a moment when you took a seat beside him. He moved to a nearby chair but it had been too late. Before long he was covered in your absence. It spread, a piece of thigh now the knee up. He could feel it. All the places you no longer were.

Alastor was quite sure he had blacked out. The first night he lost some battle he wasn’t aware was waging in himself, he left his body entirely. The beginning of the trouble. He remembered undressing and checking his skin for any signs of you. And then….

Somehow, at some point, he’d pulled his pants down enough to free the uncomfortable tightness there. Unsure of when, he grabbed hold of a pillow. He was sure it was the whiskey… he told himself as much as he thrust down into the long and soft tube of down-feathers. His head was heavy, antlers looming and forcing him to rest his forehead against the mattress.

What exactly he was thinking about he couldn’t say for sure. It was all a blur of sweat and fuzzy images and errant feathers as his claws tore into the pillow accidentally. He’d been too rough, hands shredding the fabric and hips thrusting the poor stuffing from its casing.

Humid breath primed the sheets for the drool that left his panting, open mouth. While your name could only be pieced together across butchered syllables intermingled with gasps and groans, you were there. He focused on the sound of you, the nape of your neck, the warmth of your skin, the softness he was sure you had for him.

And then the pillow was utterly ruined, messy in ways not entirely dissimilar to his earthside victims. Different fluids, different innards, same principle, he thought. A moment of passion he struggled to control.

A moment that became a pattern. A routine.

Alcohol didn’t help, as he often found himself destroying more bedding when he imbibed… no, it didn’t help. Until it helped too much.

Until you followed him down an empty hallway late at night. Stumbling and slurring, having gone drink-to-drink with him, you reached out and hugged his arm against your chest and said his name in a way he could only perceive as intimate.

Once again, his memory was full of holes about the details. But soon you were on the wall, his hands at your chin and hip, one of your legs around his thigh as he pressed his growing erection into you. He pulled back nearly as quickly as he pressed in, but when you moaned he flinched.

“Do you like this?” Barely understandable as it was diced by the static sharpness of his radio tones.

You nodded, sliding both hands up his wide chest and holding onto his shoulders. He wished he could stop, his face pure frustration as his body took the reins. He watched somewhat helplessly as he humped into you like a hapless teenager. His muscles knew the motions now by heart, memory driving the feeling of his cock up and down your core. Through the discomfort of the friction you found the pleasure of the circumstance.

His hands pulled your legs up by the thighs and you wrapped your body around him instinctively. So tight and determined was your hold on him that he could let his hands roam elsewhere. Tenderly and clumsily he tried to not tear you like your pillow counterparts. His hands roamed and flexed as if telegraphing his thoughts of calm down, gentle.

Drunk or not, you were aware it was a public space so you bit your lip to keep the louder sounds down. Alastor felt his cock jump with every whine you made; his body lit up by just your stifled moans into his chest.

You felt it too, the twitching of something large and solid rubbing against you. Your body tried to roll back against his thrusts, chasing the pleasure available there, but Alastor held you firm in response. “Don’t move, I’m already at my limit.”

For some reason he had thought he could pull away before cumming, but he couldn’t. It was impossible to stop himself, not with you so eagerly clinging to him. His body grew stiff against you, breath held in his lungs as you looked down to see the smallest sheen forming just to the side of his pants zipper.

You wanted to touch it, to feel the sticky proof of his want for you, but found yourself landing ass first as your support disappeared with no warning. He heard your yelp as your tailbone hit the hard floor but he was already gone in every sense that mattered.

He went about the following day glaring menacingly at you; an unspoken warning.

You took the hint.

But when Alastor found himself again rubbing his clothed erection into yet another pillow, he suddenly regretted the cold attitude he gave you. The pillow was now utterly useless.

It lacked the scent of you that rose off your neck, heated blood rushing through your veins. It was too soft, no true form to accept his cock and give him the sensation of closeness to something so tantalizingly unknown. The room was too quiet, your satisfied sounds so loud in his memory. The bunch of feathers and fabric wasn’t capable of wrapping trembling arms around his body to remind him this was something both parties wanted. No twitches. No warmth. No sighs.

No accident that night when he tore the pillow in half. He’d fucked himself by not quite fucking you. Nothing in his bed would be able to satisfy him any longer. Before, he could ignore the occasional physical arousal easily enough as he had nothing to compare that option against. He’d nearly always powered through it, and when it was just unbearable his fist was enough.

Then, somehow, for some reason, he needed to act out the way you made him feel. His thighs and core throbbing to move. The pillow was fine, if not embarrassing in new and horrifying ways.

And now, his hand and cushions were all moot. He’d had a glimpse of what he didn’t know he was missing. Ignorant bliss torn from him like it had been from Adam in his garden.

He simply couldn’t go back. Alastor wondered how long he could keep himself from you. Worried if your hands would snake up his shoulders again or push him away.

Panic turned his blood cold and cock soft. What if you denied him? What if the damage had already been done to you both?

He knew the only way to find out was to try again.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @whateverlololo

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 ,

@star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @smoky000

#hazbin hotel #Alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x gn!reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #alastor smut

413 notes · View notes

tetsumie · 2 months

Text

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

genre: comfort

content: kuroo hasn't seen you in days and makes his way to your apartment to see what's going on with you

cw: reader has a depressive episode and displays depressive symptoms

a/n: hello! i tried writing something for my pookie wookie kuroo tetsuro also lwk very self indulgent.. love u all and tysm for the endless support and as always likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! i could not be here without you all <333

"hi! this is y/n l/n! sorry i couldn’t answer your phone call. i’m a bit busy right now but leave a message and i’ll call you back the first chance i get than-" kuroo hangs up the phone for nth time today and sighs.

kuroo hasn't heard from you for the past few days and to be completely honest, it’s like you've completely vanished off the planet. your designated seat next to him in both chemistry and english lectures have remained empty for the past week and he can’t seem to get ahold of you at all.

at first, he didn’t really worry much about it. he didn’t want to pry on why you weren’t coming to school. he understood everyone needed their space. but when he intercepted your friends one day and asked them how you were doing and they too were unsure as well, he knew there was something severely wrong.

on the other hand, you’ve been home all week.

you haven’t been in the best place for the past week. you feel like your body is slowly succumbing to the stress and your body is practically giving out on you, working overtime. motivating yourself to study and to work is already difficult enough as is but doing basic things such as getting out of bed and even taking a shower feels impossible.

you feel stuck in this never ending loop of time where the same things just keep happening over and over. you wake up at the prime hour of 12 pm and realize you’ve missed all your morning classes but then immediately head back to bed. you fall asleep and then wake up at 2 pm and stare at the ceiling above you with no particular thought in mind. eventually, you find yourself scrolling through social media on your phone but then ditch it after a few minutes because a wave of social anxiety crashes into you.

it doesn’t help that you’ve also been skipping meals and you’re starting to catch a cold. man, you haven’t even gotten out of bed, let alone left your bedroom. you can’t even get yourself to do the bare minimum right now and making yourself an actual meal is a bit too out of your comfort zone.

and what makes this entire situation worse is the fact that you’ve been pushing everyone away, from your friends to family to the one and only kuroo tetsuro.

there was no justification behind why you were avoiding them. you just couldn’t allow yourself to let them see you in such a lethargic condition. it hurt your pride and in general, you hated having people worry for you. it made you feel, in a sense, hopeless.

you just wanted to shut yourself off from the world.

the week goes by in a flash and friday evening rolls around. your phone lights up again for the nth time. you see it flash white but you roll over away, not having the energy to grab it. doing anything especially talking to other people feels exhausting.

a few minutes later, someone's banging on the door. it sounded like the fbi was at your door with a search warrant as if you were harboring drugs. you don't answer the door, not feeling like leaving the comfort and safe haven of your bed.

but the banging doesn’t seem to stop and you're getting irritated so you’re forced to get out of bed and tell the person at the door to come at another time.

to your surprise, when you open the door, you find your boyfriend, kuroo, staring at you with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

“y/n, where have you been?” he begins the interrogation.

you mumble. “nowhere. been at home.”

he looks you up and down, taking in your disheveled state. your face is pale, the bags under your eyes seep deeply, giving away the countless sleepless nights you've had. your shoulders are slumped and the corners of your mouth turn down slightly, a subtle but constant frown. your hair is unkempt, reflecting the lack of energy to even try to care for yourself. an aura of exhaustion and hopelessness hangs around you, making it clear that you're struggling to find the strength to even function.

“then why haven’t you answered my calls?” he continues.

“i’ve just been preoccupied,” you lie and he catches on immediately.

no words are exchanged between the both of you for a few moments. you take his silence as your cue to end this awkward conversation and to send him on his way.

"i'm sure you have better things to do, just go-"

you're about to close the door on him until he says, "let me in."

you sigh again.

“can you come back later tetsu?” you don’t want to have him deal with you like this. he's seen more than enough of you in this condition.

his piercing gaze locks with your tired eyes and he feels his heart clench. the usual shimmer in your eyes gone and all he can see the numbness in your expression.

"no let me in," he states in a strict tone. "we have to talk."

with no choice, you open up the door entirely and kuroo takes a look at the state of your apartment. he would be lying if he wasn't caught by surprise. clothes are strewn across the couch and bowls of empty ramen are lying on the kitchen counter. your apartment is a mess.

putting his stuff down near the door, he begins to slowly pick up your clothes off the floor and tosses them into the laundry bin. seeing him make an attempt at cleaning your mess made you uncomfortable to the point your skin started to crawl.

"tetsuro, stop."

"no."

"please stop," you plead in desperation.

"y/n, i’m trying to help you!" he replies, his voice growing a little louder with irritation at your refusal.

“what if i don’t want your help?” you shoot back and his mouth closes shut. “i don’t want your help or your pity or condolences or whatever it is! just go home!”

although your mouth said one thing, your mind was trying to telepathically convey another.

please don’t leave me now. please stay.

you don’t say a word as you walk into your bedroom, closing the door behind you, hoping he'll leave on his own. the moment he hears the click of your bedroom door, kuroo begins to try to organize as much as he can in your living room. he takes out your old leftover foods and tidies up the kitchen. he starts working his way through the living room, silently sweeping the dust off the floor and reorganizing your items that were strewn on the floor.

as he’s silently working, he begins to hear sniffles and sobs coming from your room. dropping everything, he finds himself standing in front of your closed door, fist about to knock the door.

“love, can we talk?” he says out loud.

it's silence from the other end.

"y/n... please..." kuroo's voice cracks. "i just want to see you."

"door's open," your voice is muffled slightly through the door.

he opens the door and is greeted by you wrapped around in your comforter, looking away from the door. kuroo takes in the state of your room. the curtains are drawn out and there are tissues littering your night stand along with your computer lying in the corner with a pile of clothes in the corner waiting to be cleaned.

you were always so organized, what started this?

kuroo goes over to the other side of the bed and your face is huddled into your comforter. he crouches down and starts to stroke your hair with his hand.

"baby? talk to me, love. what's going on in that pretty head of yours huh?" he coos in hopes of getting you to open up.

refusing to look him in the eye, you mumble into your comforter loud enough for him to understand. "it's been getting bad again... it’s been bad all week and i'm just tired all the time."

he kisses the top of your head. "and that's okay. not everyday is supposed to be a great day. you're supposed to have good days and bad days."

you finally emerge from your cocoon and the sight he's greeted with break his heart into pieces. your face has a slight red flush tint with the remnants of your tear stains on your face. he sees how you're trying to maintain a steady face, trying your best not to fall apart in front of him.

no questions asked, he brings you into his chest and the tears you worked so hard to keep at bay come apart. you start sobbing into his chest. he strokes your back in a rhythmic up and down motion, adding the occasional kiss on the top of your head. he finds himself crawling into your bed with you on his lap as you continue to sob into his chest.

once your crying subsides a bit and your throat feels a bit sore from the crying, you look up at him and he gives that genuine small smile of his that you've grown to love so much.

"i love you, you know that right?" he reassures as your eyes meet.

your eyes shift from one eye to another and you look at him as if he hung the stars just for you.

"i know and i don't know why you love me. i don't deserve you. you deserve someone who's put together and on top of it and just perfect. hell, you could do so much better than me... i don't even know why you're still with me."

his heart cracks at the heartbreaking words, escaping your mouth. he feels so stupid. have you been feeling like this for all this time and haven't said a word to him? he should've done something.

"when we started dating, from that very moment, i knew i wanted all of you. i want everything. i want your bad days and your good days and your lazy days and your rotting in bed days. i want your good and bad. i want your highs and lows. y/n, i just want you." he kisses your cheek.

he continues to reassure you, "i want all of it. and i want to be there for you the entire time. i don't want you to have to hide yourself from me. i never wanted you to be perfect. i wanted you to be just you. that's who i fell in love with."

"i love you with all your 'imperfections' you know that right?" he does the air quotes around the word "imperfections."

"yeah but it's so hard for me to accept-," you start but he brings his pointer finger to your lips, telling you to stop your train of overthinking.

you both are enveloped in a comfortable silence with kuroo's reassuring words hanging in the air.

"i love you so much, you have no idea," you finally say, cuddled into his chest.

"oh yeah? i couldn't tell," he begins to tease. "tell me more actually."

you let out a chuckle, playfully slapping his arm, and that warm, sweet smile of his forms again on hisi lips.

"there's my gorgeous girl. oh how i've missed you."

"missed you too, tetsu."

445 notes · View notes

pickingupmymercedes · 3 months

Text

Improvised Compensation - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

request: "Hi can we maybe have a smut where your work gets in the way of your plans, so you have to make do somewhere else" - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities.

Also, wrap it before you tap it guys

wordcount: +2K

a/n: I had this video as inspo and this request and my mind RAN wild with it (cut the wordings from the request to keep the explicit part under the cut). Hope you guys have fun reading it.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

Lewis tiptoed into the kitchen, the early California sun painting golden stripes across the floor. His weekend fantasy of waking up next to Y/n, tangled in sheets met a reality that both frustrated and thrilled him.

The kitchen island was his first clue. Y/n, perched on the marble counter, her back arched in a way that he felt in his groin, typed away on her laptop. Her usual sharp focus clearly clouded by fatigue, evidenced by the round, black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose - a rare sight - and a messy bun that barely contained her unusually unruly hair.

"Ugh, finally" she muttered, pressing enter and slumping back onto the countertop with a sigh that did something daring to the hem of his old t-shirt she wore. The flimsy cotton barely concealed the lace of her panties, and all Lewis focus was on not giving into the urge to rip the shirt right off her.

He cleared his throat, the sound making her head snap up. A smile, as bright as the California sun, chased away the fatigue on her face. "Lew! You’re up" she exclaimed, flinging her arms open.

As he crossed the distance between them, her hand met him halfway, instinctively settling on his lower abdomen. The touch making his gaze drop to where her thumb rest near his boxers.

"Morning beautiful" he greeted, his voice husky with sleep and something more. He captured her arm by the elbow, his fingers brushing against the soft skin and moving her fingers from his naked chest.

"I fucking love those glasses on you," he murmured his voice dropping to a low growl. His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were dark with desire.

Y/n chuckled; a breathy sound laced with amusement. "Sorry to disappoint, babe," she said, her voice teasing. "Looks like our plans for a slow morning in bed just went out the window."

The playfulness in her eyes only stirred him on. "It's Sunday, love" he murmured, leaning in close. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. "My plans definitely involve you" he continued, "but they can be done anywhere"

He reached past her, his hand hovering over the mouse on her laptop. "What are you even doing up so early dealing with work emails?"

"You wouldn't believe it," Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes theatrically. "Apparently, Europe is still eight hours ahead, and some people think weekends are prime time for micromanaging."

Lewis grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Sounds like someone needs a new boss," he said, shutting down her computer with a decisive snap.

"Whoa!" Y/n squeaked, reaching for the machine in a mock panic.

He easily overpowered her by holding her wrists above her head, his body pressing against hers. The sudden closeness of his chest to her back pulled a ragged breath from both.

"Relax, love," he said, his voice husky with desire on the back of her head. "I’m gonna make you forget work even exists"

He pulled her backwards, the t-shirt riding up even higher, revealing a sliver of smooth skin between her stomach and the waistband of her panties.

Her breath hitched as she landed on the cool surface of the counter with her forearms. He caged her body between his legs, and his voice dropped to a whisper near her ear. "Tell me, Mrs. Demanding Boss," he began, his voice dripping with amusement, "how would you like to be appropriately… compensated… for working on a Sunday?"

Y/n bit her lip, her mind a delicious filled with arousal. "Improvised compensation," she finally managed breathless "sounds… promising."

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated against her back. "Improvised, indeed," he agreed, his eyes roaming over her flushed face. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he reached down and got rid of his boxers "Let's make this kitchen a little more interesting, shall we?"

Y/n's pulse quickened, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched, from the corner of her eyes, Lewis's eyes darken with a hunger. He leaned closer, his breath hot against her neck, making her shiver. "You're always so good, babe," he murmured, his hands sliding up her thighs, pushing the oversized t-shirt higher until it bunched around her waist. "Always so ready for me."

She moaned softly, arching her back as his fingers traced the edge of her lace panties. "I had always wondered," she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation, "what it would feel like to do it here, in the kitchen"

He growled "Your wish is my command" His hands slid under her shirt, skimming over her soft skin. With one swift motion, he turned her around and lifted her onto the island, positioning himself between her legs. "Let’s make that fantasy come true." His eyes met hers in the dark haze she couldn’t look away.

Their mouths met in a searing kiss, all tongues and teeth, each breath stolen between desperate gasps. Y/n's hands roamed over his back and chest, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him. His hands were everywhere, caressing, kneading, exploring.

"Fuck, I do love these glasses on you" Lewis murmured against her lips, his hands tangling in her hair. "You have no idea what you do to me."

She smirked, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "Show me then" she challenged, her voice a husky whisper.

Without breaking from the kiss, Lewis's hands slipped under her panties, pulling them down her legs and tossing them aside. He ran a finger teasingly along her folds, feeling how wet she was for him. "God, you’re soaked," he groaned in her lips, his thumb circling her clit in slow, torturous circles.

Y/n gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily towards his hand. "Please, Lewis," she whimpered throwing her head back as he watched her face contort, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "I need you."

He didn't need any more encouragement. He pumped his dick a couple times, his member already hard and ready as he lined himself up with her entrance, pausing for just a moment to look into her eyes. "Ready, love?" he asked, his voice strained with desire.

"Yeah" she breathed, her eyes locking with his. "God, yes."

With a powerful thrust, he buried himself inside her at once, both of them gasping and gripping into each other. He set a slow, deliberate pace, each movement deep and controlled, making her feel every inch of him. "This what you wanted?" he panted, his hands gripping at her thighs.

Y/n nodded, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "God, just like that." she moaned, her nails digging into his back.

He picked up the pace, hitting her harder and faster, driving. The sound of their bodies clashing together filled the kitchen, mingled with their moans and gasps. "Fuck, Y/n" he groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder. "You’re always so good."

She could feel the pressure building inside her, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. "Lewis," she gasped, her nails raking down his back. "I’m close."

"Come for me, babe," he growled, his pace relentless. "Come all over my cock."

That was all it took. With a cry, Y/n's orgasm crashed over her, her body trembling as pleasure took over. Their moans mingled as Y/n's orgasm crashed over her, her body trembling with the intensity of her release.

But Lewis wasn't done. He slowed down but kept his thrusts steady through her high, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing slow, torturous circles.

"Oh, God" she whimpered, her body still shaking from the aftershocks.

"That's it, babe," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I want to hear you. Let it all out for me."

Her whimpers turned into desperate cries as his relentless stimulation, her walls continuing to clench around him, making him groan. "Fuck, Y/n" he panted, feeling the tight grip of her pussy.

When her haze finally lifted and her eyes focused back on him, he captured her mouth in a heated kiss. Only then did he slowly pull out, the sensation making them both gasp.

Without missing a beat, he turned her around and bent her over the counter. "Hands on the counter" he commanded; his voice rough with desire.

She complied, arching her back and presenting herself to him. Lewis positioned himself behind her, guiding his cock back into her wet heat. The new angle made her gasp, and he adjusted his angles so that his balls slapped hard against her pussy and clit with every thrust.

"Lew, right there" she moaned, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter.

He started pounding into her, each thrust deeper until he was sure his head was hitting her cervix. "You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "I'm gonna come, babe"

"Do it" she urged, pushing back against him. "Fill me up."

With a final movement, he buried himself deep inside her, his release exploding through him. His groan mingled with her cries, their bodies shuddering together in the aftermath.

For a few moments, they stayed like that, his lips leaving kisses on her skin as their breaths came out heavy. Finally, Lewis pulled back, pressing a longer kiss to her shoulder. "God, I love you," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her glistening back

Y/n smiled, her eyes shining with love and satisfaction. "I love you too," she whispered, turning and pulling him into another kiss.

She laughed, the sound light and happy. "Definitely not what I had planned for a Sunday morning" she agreed, "but I can’t complain."

Lewis grinned, helping her turn on his arms. "Come here," he murmured, lifting her legs on the island, his hands either side of her. "We're not quite done."

Before she could respond, his mouth when to her core, his hands spreading her thighs. She gasped as his tongue traced the mixture of their releases, the sensation making her shiver. "Lewis" she moaned, her fingers tangling in his braids.

He didn't stop, his tongue lapping at her folds, his hands gripping her hips to keep her from jolting away. The combined taste of them only fueling his pace. His tongue flicked over her clit, and she bucked against his mouth, her whimpers turning into desperate cries.

"Yeah" she panted, her body trembling. "Gonna come again."

He intensified his movements, his tongue and lips working her clit until she shattered around him, her orgasm washing over her. He held her through it, his hands soothing over her thigh.

Finally, he stood, capturing her mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of their combined orgasm was intoxicating.

When they parted, his eyes were dark with satisfaction. "Well, now we can start our day," he said with a smirk.

Y/n chuckled, breathless and spent. "You are definitely better than coffee at keeping me awake" she replied, her tone teasing.

His arms scooped her up effortlessly. "Let me run a bath for us, love" he said, carrying her towards the bathroom, taking off her glasses halfway through. "I don't want you even thinking about any type of work for the rest of the day."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling against him. "Think I can manage that" her voice filled with affection.

He kissed her forehead as they entered the bathroom, setting her down gently. "Good" he murmured, turning on the taps and letting the warm water fill the tub.

As the steam began to rise, Y/n sighed contentedly, leaning into his chest. "Just the way I like it" she said, her eyes sparkling.

Lewis smiled, leaving light kisses on her shoulders. "Just the way I like it too" he echoed, his voice soft and full of promise.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis hamilton smut #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

725 notes · View notes

stararch4ngelqueen · 1 year

Note

For the Jason drabbles, what about Jason conforting/taking care of reader while they are sick or even on their period?

We love a supportive man. What he receives he gives back tenfold.

“Show me where, baby.”

His hand roamed along your lower abdomen, imagining the soreness in your tense muscles. The spikes of pain that riddled you bedridden during your most heavy days.

“Here?” He applies pressure, fingers rubbing circles down just under your stomach, along the spot near your hip bone.

“Oww, yes,” you whine, wincing from the pain before being soothed by his massage.

Jason knew what periods were. He knew it’s a natural thing women dealt with. He’s worked with women for years, alongside doing his own research on it during one time you hadn’t left your bed for a while, thinking you were sick at first. It was an.. interesting conversation with Babs over what more he could do to help that the internet didn’t tell him about those relentlessly heavy cycles.

Pain like this took a lot longer to be rid of than a heating pad would allow. Especially the good quality ones with different settings.

Or, if you want something different, something fun that he wouldn’t mind shoving into the microwave for a minute, he’d get you a heatable, plush teddy bear. Or a duck. Or a menstruation crustacean.

He had no idea what the hell that was until you showed him on the site. You received whatever you chose in a box nearly three days later from Prime shipping.

Don’t freak out about blood. Accidents happen. If you got some on the sheets, along his lap when he held you, or on the couch, he could’ve cared less.

He wouldn’t even point it out, if you didn’t know. If you did notice it, he’d immediately shush you in an consolation attack, hiding your shameful expression in the crook of his shoulder.

“Shh, baby,” he’d murmur in your ear. “Easy. Nothin’ I haven’t seen before. S’alright, it’s okay.”

With advice from Babs, he cooks a lot more iron rich meals for you a lot more during this time. Usually, it’s been a team effort. You cook, he cleans up, you wash dishes together. Vice versa.

This week, regardless if you suffer from irregular periods, he does it all. He’ll do it even if he was a walking zombie, he doesn’t care.

Jason will not, no matter what you say, let you lift a finger if he knows you’re in pain. He’s an expert of masking his own, he can tell when you do it.

This even goes if you’re not used to being babied, get used to it. You tend to him for weeks at a time in a single month alone, this is his way of saying thank you for it all.

“Bed.” Jason demands, not even having to turn around from his attention on the stove to hear your shuffling to the kitchen.

“But I’m—“

“I brought you a drink,” he replies. A cup of warm raspberry leaf tea sitting on your bedside.

“No, I mean—“

“I know it hurts, but you can’t take anything until after you eat,” Jason peers over his shoulder, seeing his olive green shirt loosely draped over your body. “Go back to bed, Princess.”

“Can I stay here?” You plea, making his shoulders slump with a sigh. Try as he may, your weakened state makes him more pliable to your every request.

Might as well, since you’re already up. Stubborn girl.

“Go sit on the couch,” he sighs, knowing a few comforters were folded up on the cushions. “Get comfortable, an’ stay there. Dinner’s almost done.”

Jason has pills, plenty of them. From plain Tylenol, ibuprofen, to doctor prescribed muscle relaxers, morphine, etc. All thanks to Alfred.

Broken bones or severe, suture required injuries would be the only times Jason felt complied to take them. He knew addiction, watching it first hand and being involved in it at one point himself. He only took them when he absolutely, positively needed it.

For you, if you needed something stronger, he’d give you half of one pill, or a full, single pill at most. No way would you ever fall victim to such a cruel, toxic routine. He’d keep them locked up, for both your safety and his.

After your said hearty, iron rich meal, you remained on the couch snuggled up together like true lovers.

His guilty pleasure during your period of vulnerability was how much you relied on him for comfort. Positions varied, but his most favorite would be your body laying in his lap as he lounged on his reading recliner.

A gray comforter over your shoulders, some fuzzy socks on your feet. The furnace you called your boyfriend leaving you nice and toasty, his hands settling along your hair and back, preparing to soothe and massage when needed.

He adored when you needed him, he loved catering to you. You were his woman, his little nurse turned patient.

This also sort of gave him an excuse to skip out on patrols, but he never voiced the reasons why he’s gotten calls about it. He just didn’t feel like it, refusing the idea of abandoning you late at night, leaving him tense and unfocused on his routine on if you needed something, and he wasn’t there.

The others, with their detective mindsets could figure it out for themselves as to why Jason didn’t show up on a Saturday night. Or a Sunday, and definitely not a Monday.

He had important priorities, after all.

Just him, you; snuggly comfortable and content, and your herbal scented, menstruation crustacean.

#jason todd x y/n #Jason Todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd dc

2K notes · View notes

boundinparchment · 1 year

Text

Storm’s End

Usually, he can manage just fine when the season comes. Every season, he fights this. And every season, it gets harder and harder to ignore. Until he cannot wait any longer and you are perfect, just as you are.

Neuvillette/Female Reader, in which Neuvillette is a dragon, determined to breed. Explicit sexual content; breeding kink. MDNI.

Story also on AO3; link only accessible for registered users.

Usually, he can manage just fine when the season comes. Bury himself in work, keep busy, limit his interaction with you until it passes and he is no longer blinded by pure, needy lust. You are disappointed, nerves frayed, but nonetheless, understanding.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, or force you into a decision all because of his instincts. Instincts that override all basic logic.

Neuvillette is fighting them as you wish him a good morning. He can smell the difference in your hormones, your body undergoing your own cycle, priming itself. Very rarely were you in sync with him.

He swallows.

You’re perfect right now. He could take you, here in the kitchen, and have you filled to the brim before the pot of coffee has even finished—

“Neuvi?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Concern lines your brow for the briefest of seconds.

“Let me help,” you plea. “Please, Neuvillette, I’m your partner…”

“You do not know what you ask of me, mon cœur.”

“Then tell me. Prepare me. How is it any different than what we’ve done before?”

That fire, that fight, in you isn’t helping anything. Certainly not the strain of his members against his pants. The knowledge that you are ripe, absolutely divine and essentially guaranteed to bloom only compounds matters more and he grips the top of his cane tighter, gloves squeaking slightly.

Every season, he fights this. And every season, it gets harder and harder to ignore.

“I cannot stop once I give in,” he says at last. “Not until…”

You step up to him and whisper teasingly against his lips.

“Then breed me, Neuvillette.”

The last of his self-control snaps as your breath carries every reminder, changed by your hormones.

You are pinned to the kitchen wall in an instant, skirt hiked and panties pushed aside, his forked tongue tasting every inch of your mouth. His teeth graze your lips and he tastes tiny drops of blood as your moan catches against his tongue. His fingers delve, finding you not only wet but eager. He pulls away just enough to take in your swollen lips, flushed face, half-lidded eyes.

Beautiful. And he intends to make you even more so.

He holds your gaze, under no impression he is composed any longer; your eyes flicker to his lips and you wiggle against him, creating friction that sends a delicious shiver up his spine. Neuvillette presses you against the wall further.

“There’s no going back,” he says with what little control he can muster. “You won’t be leaving his house until your womb is full or the season ends. The former is far more probable.”

It’s your turn for your breath to catch and you swallow audibly.

“Then at least take me in bed, first?” you ask.

The bedroom isn’t far. In the haze of your musk, Neuvillette manages to swiftly throw you onto the bed, unfasten his belt, and return his mouth to yours with unprecedented speed. His tips nudge you, one aligned at your clit and the other at your entrance. Neuvillette cannot help the growl that escapes him as he pushes into you to the hilt.

His strokes are deep and your walls clench, already demanding seed from him; he hasn’t even begun properly and you would see both of you undone in mere seconds.

That won’t stop him. Not in this state.

You buck against him, meeting stroke for stroke but far too eager to keep a solid pace.

“Both, please, Neuvi. I can take it,” you whine. “Want to take it.”

You never have before. His heart quickens and his cocks throb at the prospect. He feels pre-cum drip from his exposed tip.

He obliges you without hesitation, withdrawing entirely and slowly parting you with both members. You are tight, perhaps too tight, and he fights the urge to bury himself immediately.

And then, all is lost.

He can feel nothing but the warm velvet of your walls. The room fills with your delicious moans and cries and the wet sounds of your coupling, the slap of skin on skin as he lifts your legs and pounds into you. He has perfect access at this angle. As your orgasm rips a silent scream from you, Neuvillette shoots deep inside, pumping into you as you ride out the first and then a second peak.

Neuvillette doesn’t leave you and instead helps turn you both onto your sides, facing one another. You roll your hips, still eager, but your movement is languid and fatigued, your eyes glazed over with satisfaction and exhaustion.

A good session, but not successful.

Not yet.

The mere thought makes him twitch inside you again. But first, he must let you rest. It was a delicate balance now between caring for you and seeing to it that his seed took. And it will. It is only a matter of when, for he is nothing if not dedicated.

“Sleep for now, mon cœur,” he whispers. “We are far from finished.”

#neuvillette #neuvillette/female reader #neuvillette x female reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette genshin #neuvilette x reader #tw: smut #tw: breeding #Limited to AO3 temporarily while I navigated mobile nonsense

3K notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 7 months

Text

My Future in You | 2.7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, fluff, vague mentions of a blowjob, enemies to lovers kinda thing, babies and fluff and more babies, domestic fluff, character sickness at the end, we: 3.8k

…

“Bradley, your son wants you.” You mumble into his bare chest, eyes practically glued shut, the steady chorus of his breathing already trying to lull you back to sleep mid-sentence.

If you had told him a year ago that he would be spending his prime-time Saturday 2am slot just barely awake, cradling a girl and getting ready to go and change a diaper — he would have turned and run for the hills. Now that he’s in it, it’s not so bad.

As he turns his face into the curve of your neck and inhales the familiar scent of you, the idea of getting out of bed, now that seems bad.

“He’s not even crying yet.” Bradley mumbles into your hair, his eyelids heavy, the mattress soft and pillowy under him, inviting him back to sleep. Your palm smacks into his stomach and he groans. “Fine, I’m up. I’m up.”

The baby is just starting to grumble really, kicking his feet and waving up at the mobile above his bassinet. He’s really starting to look at things now. The light fixture in the living room seems to fascinate the kid.

Bradley leans into you and he kisses your hair, before pushing the covers back and rolling out of bed with a groan. He pads around to the other side of the bed and squints tiredly at the bassinet. Thomas kicks his legs and flaps his hands, apparently excited to be awake at this time of night.

“Come here, little guy,” He whispers, his thumbs stretching far across the infant’s tiny chest, his fingers hooking under his back. He lifts him and sets him against his chest, rubbing his back softly. “I’ve got ya.”

He’s getting real wriggly now. He turns his face into Bradley’s bare chest and coos, arms and legs stretching out as Bradley holds him close.

You hum softly and roll onto your back, blinking through the darkness to look at the two of them. Thomas fits against his shoulder like a puzzle piece. Bradley’s hand still covers the entire length of his back. He always looks so doll-like in his dad’s arms.

“Go back to sleep, babe.” Bradley urges you, patting Thomas’ back and turning to head for the living room. He’s hungry. Bradley has learned that’s what this kind of grizzling sound means — he’s a lot louder when he needs a diaper change.

He almost has it down to a routine now. Could maybe do it with his eyes closed if he was trying. He blinks tiredly, swaying side to side as he lets a few droplets fall from the tip of the bottle onto the inside of his wrist.

“A little longer, little man.” Bradley whispers, setting the bottle down again, shifting Thomas in his arms. He’s getting bigger. A whole two and a half pounds in the last five weeks. Longer too. His feet now extend beyond the length of Bradley’s forearm and onto his palm.

His nose wrinkles in the air and his mitten covered hands rub haphazardly at his face. He takes short, warbling breaths. Bradley has learned by now that means a big cry is coming.

“Shh, shh, shh— I know, I know — Daddy should make it cool down faster, I’m working on it.” He whispers, rocking side to side and gently bouncing the infant against his arm.

You talk to him all the time and he seems to just quieten up and listen.

“Your mom’s got it all figured out, huh?” Bradley will never get over how soft Thomas’ cheeks are. Round and plush, so delicate. He trails his thumb in soft circles over the apples of his cheeks, watching the way his infant son matches him with a seemingly pleased wriggle.

“I’m getting there.” It’s like Bradley’s telling both of them, really. He nods his head and picks up the bottle again. That’ll do.

They settle onto the couch and Bradley nestles him into the crook of his elbow, holding the bottle up high so the air doesn’t get in, blinking tiredly at ESPN’s coverage of a baseball game from a week ago. Glancing down, he finds that Thomas’ eyes aren’t on the light fixture above them. It’s not switched on. He’s looking right, staring at the blue and white glow of the television.

The book on the coffee table says he can only see a couple of inches from his own face still, more than last week but not as much as he’ll be able to see next week. He just likes the lights, Bradley guesses.

Still, he kicks his feet up onto the table and smiles a bit.

“We’ll watch tonnes of these together,” Bradley tells him, over the sounds of Thomas gulping hungrily at the bottle. “I’m sorry that the first game you’re seeing is an Astros game. They suck. But, don’t tell your Uncle that I said that.”

He stares at the screen. “You don’t have to be into baseball. It’d be cool if you’d watch a game with me every now and again, but I won’t hold you to it. We could be into… swimming, or something — I don’t know, it’s 3am, I can’t think of other sports right now.”

When he looks down this time, Thomas is looking up at his face. His eyes are heavy and kind of crossed, apparently that’s normal when they’re drinking.

“Yeah,” Bradley whispers, stroking at the baby’s forearm with his thumb as his other hand holds the bottle steady. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll have something in common, right? — We’ll figure it out.”

His face softens, breathing out a soft and amused noise as Thomas’ eyes roll back and his hands stretch up towards his head.

“That’s good, huh?” He smiles.

He drinks about four ounces each time now. Then, Bradley sits him up — he has grown awfully familiar with the importance of a muslin during this step — and pats his back softly for a couple of minutes. This part is especially hard because Thomas almost always tries to fall asleep immediately after eating.

Not tonight.

Tonight, he’s wide awake and still kicking away on his play mat at 4:30am. Bradley’s sitting at his side, propped up against the couch and now somehow watching a documentary on the mesozoic era.

He yawns, combing a hair through his wild curls and stretching his legs out in front of him. As the narrator stops to take a breath, Bradley hears your bedroom door click open.

You pad along the hallway and round the corner into the living room. He looks barely awake, blinking at you.

“What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” You answer him, crossing the living room and stepping over his legs. He loops his arms around your middle as you straddle his waist and rest your head against his shoulder. “The bed was cold. You didn’t come back.”

“Yeah, sorry, babe, we were just having too much fun out here without you.” Bradley mumbles into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes for a moment. His eyes sting behind his eyelids and your warmth against him is threatening to send him back to sleep.

You hum amusedly, kissing softly at his shoulder. You reach just past him and hold Thomas’ onesie covered foot, your mouth stretching upward into a grin. “Did Daddy get you too excited to go back to sleep, huh? — You two have no respect for bedtime, you know that?”

Bradley chuckles, pulling back and turning his head to watch the two of you.

“I have respect for bedtime, I was in bed on time. Our kid is a bad influence on me.”

“Yeah? Did daddy let you stay up and watch dinosaurs?” You grin, tickling your fingers lightly across the embroidered teddy bear that covers his stomach. Bradley turns his face into your neck, letting his eyes fall shut for just a moment. Quickly, they shoot back open as you let out a gasp.

“He’s smiling!” You push out of Bradley’s lap and kneel closer to the little activity mat. “Was that funny? Are you smiling at me?”

Bradley pushes up onto his knees and leans closer to get a look, and sure enough, his lips are twitched just a bit at the corners and as Bradley leans in, his mouth opens real wide. It looks like a real grin.

Not just the kind of smile he usually does before he pukes either. This one looks more real. Like he really did find you funny. Bradley’s lips twitch. He kisses your shoulder softly, his hand resting against your waist as you kiss Thomas’ cheek.

His cheeks dimple, his grin stretching as he makes a gargling coo sound, kicking his legs eagerly.

“That’s so a real smile! He’s happy!” You gasp, beaming as your head whips around to look at Bradley.

His thumb dips under your sleep shirt, stroking over the inch wide space above your shorts. He inhales deeply, then exhales, smiling back at you.

“Of course he’s happy.” Bradley says quietly. He watches you lean over and kiss Thomas’s stomach, then his face, then all over his mitten-covered hands. Then, you turn back and set yourself in Bradley’s lap again, your hands resting against his shoulders.

“We’re doing a good job, right?” You ask him.

“Feels like it.” He tells you quietly. You nod your head back at him. For a moment, the two of you just stare back at each other.

Just your eyes locked on his, the glow of the television behind you and the faint consistency of the dinosaur spiel and Thomas’ cooing. He’s really looking at you. His thumbs circle your hips and it feels like he’s just reading you like a book — like he has learned how to understand the position of your lips and the shape of your eyes and the depth of your breaths.

His big brown eyes, always looking at you with such a softness these days. Such a recognition.

It’s a really strange feeling, because when you look down at this little thing that you love so much — you see parts of him all over, and you know it’s the same for Bradley. To look back at him now and find those things, it’s like seeing them for the first time all over again.

You lean in close and kiss the bridge of his nose, then rest your forehead against his.

“You’re happy too?” Bradley asks, his thumbs stroking softly at your hips. You nod your head against his and hum a sound of agreement.

“Yeah. Are you?”

Bradley lifts his head a bit and lets his mouth cover yours. Warm and firm. An answer of sorts. Still, he nods anyway.

“Yeah.”

And then his mouth is on yours again, softer this time but faster. His kiss pushes a breath out of your nose, your hands linking behind his shoulders as you pull yourself closer.

Those dinosaurs and that droning voice fade into a blur and it’s just Bradley. He melts into you, groaning at the feeling of your fingers in his curls. Kissing, pulling, panting, lost in the sensation of your lips coming together. His hand comes up to cup the side of your jaw, guiding your mouth against his as his tongue caresses yours.

The hand that isn’t on your cheek skims briefly along your back, then grabs firmly at your hip. He drags you closer, the proximity making you shiver.

His eagerness thrums between you like energy, pulling you closer together, deepening your kisses until your head is spinning and you’re half sure that you’re soaking through the thin fabric of underwear that separates you.

For a second, you remember how you wound up here. Falling just as easily into Bradley Bradshaw’s bed, letting yourself get so captivated by his kisses. He feels you smile against his lips, and is the first to pull back.

His fingers dig softly into your hips.

“Are you thinking about the baseball?” He whispers, kissing you again. You grin against him, breaking into a soft giggle as you nod. The signed baseball bet, where you had offered to blow him. That thing is in a box now. He hums, “That was a really good blowjob.”

You frown and shove at his shoulders, “Don’t say that in front of—“

At once, you turn to check and find your son to be asleep on his back. All of that wriggling and kicking tired him out, one of his mitten covered hands resting against his cheek.

“Huh. He put himself to sleep.” Bradley comments, he looks back to you and finds your lips quirked. His brows start to knit together, wondering what you’re finding to smirk about at four-thirty in the morning.

Then, you lean in close and kiss his cheek softly, your lips grazing his ear. “Go put him in his bassinet.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Setting you on the ground beside him, he scoops up the baby and cradles him to his chest. You watch him kiss the top of Thomas’ head before they disappear down the hall together. He returns with a grin on his face.

”Yeah, yeah, take your pants off.” You tease him, pushing up onto your knees as he struts across the room with that cocky little smile on his face. He drops down onto the couch and sighs wistfully.

”Whoa — I’m not that kind of guy, you’ve gotta buy me dinner first.” He jokes back to you, leaning down and kissing your mouth softly. Your palm dips into the leg of his shorts, fingers wrapping loosely around his hardening cock. He chuckles breathily against your lips. “You’re right, I am that kind of guy.”

This makes you giggle, quietly of course, you’re mastering the art of not waking up Thomas by this point. Bradley sits back as your mouth presses softly to his chest. He watches silently as you kiss your way down his body, lifting his hips for you to tug his shorts down.

Then, finally, your lips are wrapped around him. His hand flinches, halfway between curling itself into your hair and staying put against the fabric of the couch. Your gaze flickers up to him, heavy with more than just the weight of the late night, your tongue flat against the underside of his cock.

You lace your fingers through his, squeeze his hand and guide it to the back of your own head. Bradley breathes out shakily. “Fuck, I love you.”

He does love you. He shows you every single day.

After sex, Bradley used to be the first to walk away. If he was in his own bed, he would be up at the crack of dawn to indicate that there was no intention of this being a long term thing. If he was in someone else’s he would be gone even sooner.

Tonight, when you’re grinning up at him as he tries to catch his breath, the first thing that crosses his mind is your bed. His and yours. Where he has held you every night for the past few months, where your son sleeps a few feet away.

Pulling his shorts up around his hips, Bradley leans forwards and pulls you to your feet, then hooks his hands under your thighs. You bury your gasp into the curve of his neck as he lifts you against him, guiding your legs around his waist.

”C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

He offered to reciprocate the favour. It’s getting difficult to say no, watching him stroll around the house in a pair of shorts, holding your baby in his arms. Even worse since he went back to work and the flight suit made its reappearance.

You’re only a week from getting the all-clear, and really, you’re half sure that six days wouldn’t make that much of a difference in your recovery journey. But that’s the old you thinking. Now that you’ve got a kid, you should be doing things more by the book.

So, six more days until you can let Maverick take the baby for a nice long walk, and have wild, protected sex, with Bradley. His arms wrap securely around your middle. He turns his face into the crook of your neck and kisses lazily at your skin, and promptly falls asleep.

It takes you a little longer, you weren’t up for as long as he was, but you know that you have to work fast while the two boys are asleep. Eyes closed, Bradley’s heartbeat is steady against your back and his snoring is muffled by your shoulder. If you listen out, you can hear Thomas’ deep little breaths from within his bassinet.

Slow, deep breaths in. Bradley’s weight pressing into your back. Long, calm breaths out. The dinosaurs on the television and the smile on Thomas’ face. The freckles on Bradley’s chest, the feeling of his arms wrapped around your middle.

You’re up before him the next morning. Tommy has little respect for the Saturday morning lazies, it would seem. You let Bradley sleep in for a bit, giving the baby his bottle and getting in a solid twenty minute tummy-time session before it dawns on you that the two of you had invited Maverick over.

“Come on in, Mav — Bradley’s sleeping.” You call to the door. Bradley still gets a little antsy when his uncle comes around, but he doesn’t mind so much as long as the conversation stays on Tommy.

Maverick has been over a couple of times since he was born and it’s like the two of them have some kind of unspoken connection. Pete’s old and childless, and kind of a bachelor, but something about him calms Tommy down every single time.

His spare key clicks in the lock and the door opens compliantly. After the last emergency, you figured it would be good for him to have one. At least for as long as he will be in Pensacola with you.

Dressed in his uniform of a white t-shirt and vintage jeans, Maverick walks towards you shaking his head. He isn’t fazed by the fact that you’re in your pyjamas. Carole stayed in hers until Bradley was almost eight months.

He exhales as he sits beside you. “I can’t believe how big he’s getting.”

“I know, right? — It’s going by so quickly.” You hum, grinning at the baby in an attempt to replicate last night’s moment of pure bliss. Maverick’s blue eyes flicker between the two of you, and he finds himself smiling too. “Here, make yourself useful, Gramps. I’ll get Bradley.”

He complies as easily as the door had, taking the baby as you pass him over, but his face falls. Gramps. That’s not his title, he hasn’t earned it. Looking down at the squirming little boy in his arms — god, he hopes he earns it.

You push up onto the edge of your bed, take two steps, and drop down on top of Bradley, waking him with a groan.

“Morning.” You grin at him as he frowns grumpily at you, blinking through the morning light. He reaches out blindly and cups the back of your neck, pulling you into him. You giggle as he kisses at your forehead, then puckers his lips expectantly for you to kiss his mouth.

You peck his lips softly.

He sighs softly. ”What time is it?”

You smooth your hands along his bare chest and tap at his navel. ”Eleven. Mav’s here, put some clothes on and entertain so that I can shower?”

“Uh-huh. Five more minutes.” He mumbles, turning his face into the pillow, almost knocking you off of him as he tries to roll onto his side. You shove at his shoulders and he groans again, more dramatically this time. “Fine, I’m up.”

You seem to have struck a decent balance. Maverick has stopped by every weekend since you got back from the hospital, more now that Bradley is back at work. He seems to have a little more freedom in the Navy than Bradley does, but Bradley says that’s not how it’s supposed to be.

Doesn’t matter to you either way, it gives you time on a Saturday morning to have a twenty minute shower, get dressed and still find time to put some makeup on afterwards. Even if Bradley does appear in the reflection behind you after exactly thirty-two minutes of independence.

“What’s that look on your face?” You wonder aloud, coating mascara through your lashes in the mirror. He presses his chest into you, snaking a hand around to your front and resting it against your stomach.

“Just… getting used to him not being in there anymore.”

“Tell me about it, I keep getting surprised when I see my toes.” You scoff in response, setting the applicator into the tube and twisting it shut, dropping it back into your makeup bag. Bradley leans forwards and kisses the side of your neck softly.

Then again. Then, he turns his head and looks at you through the mirror with a smile on his face.

“I can fix that, if it’s an issue for you.” You already know that he’s joking but the sentiment of being pregnant again so soon makes you screw your face up and push him off of you anyway.

“Five weeks postpartum and you’re already begging to knock me up again,” You hum, playing him right back at his own game as you pull a blush from the bag. “And to think, last time you just took it for granted.”

His palm smoothes over your stomach, using the leverage to drag you backwards into his chest. He turns his face and kisses your cheek tenderly.

“I’ll make it up to you next time.”

“Bradley, I love you,” You tell him carefully, squinting at him through the mirror, “but if you keep threatening to get me pregnant, I might have to take a vow of celibacy.”

He snorts. Threatening. His mouth stretches into a grin as his thumb trails across your navel, ending the conversation with a sweet shrug of his broad shoulders. Maybe there’s more to say on the topic, but you won’t know.

The sound of your phone ringing cuts between the two of you. Simultaneously, your eyes go wide. It’s going to make Thomas scream. That kid hates high-pitched noises, the two of you have been living with your phones on silent for weeks. You must have accidentally turned it off, either way, it’s loud and it’s shrill now — and Mav panics when Tommy starts screaming. Bradley leaves you with a quick squeeze of your hip, darting from the bathroom before you have even opened your mouth.

You hear him answer the phone with a quiet ‘hello?’ from the other room.

You slot the blush back into your makeup bag and dig around between plastic tubes and packages. Stupidly looking for whatever comes next in your routine, preparing yourself to do something minuscule like take a trip to the grocery store.

All too soon, Bradley appears in the mirror once again. He stands in the doorway of the bathroom, his face suddenly sullen, his eyes on you.

“Yeah. No, I get it. Call us back when you know.” He says quietly. The line clicks dead against his ear and he swallows thickly. Your smile falls as you turn to face him.

”What is it?”

Bradley lets his hand fall down to his side, pausing in thought for just a moment. He presses his lips together and gives a small, weak shake of his head.

”It’s your dad.”

Taglist: @chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend @nerdgirljen @marvelouslyme96

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #top gun smut #Bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley Bradshaw x you

396 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

Worried/gentle Pre relationship Sirius x reader who’s having a panic attack (his first time seeing her have one)

Thanks for requesting!

cw: panic attack

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Sirius is no amateur concert-goer. He knows how to hunt for the best tickets, how to smuggle in drinks, and how to get there early enough that he gets right up by the stage. Since it’s your first real concert (you argued that you’ve seen musicians play at restaurants and parks and the like, which Sirius informed you doesn’t count), he’s pulling out all the stops.

“Alright, doll, we’ve got one bottle of water and one of vodka. Newbie’s choice.”

“You can stop hammering in the newbie thing so hard, you know,” you say, reaching for the vodka. Your eyes flicker between the people starting to gather around you as they filter into the venue. “I don’t want to be ostracized by everyone here.”

Sirius grins. “I’ll vouch for you, don’t worry.”

You mirror his smile wryly, taking a covert swig from the bottle. “Won’t someone take this away from us?”

“No,” he says, “right now everyone who works here is too focused on getting people inside, and soon it’ll be too packed to see us anyway.”

You press your lips together as you nod, taking another hearty sip of the vodka.

As if he hasn’t already been doing it all week, Sirius launches into a biography of the band you’re seeing. How they’d gotten started, when they’d been discovered, how he’d first discovered them (the true beginning of their fame, really), etc, etc. At first, you’re smiling and chiming in as he talks, but gradually he notices you becoming less responsive. You seem distracted. Must be the atmosphere, he reasons. There’s an exhilarating buzz going through the crowd, which Sirius is pleased to note comprises a rather impressive turnout for a band that’s just getting their start. With the colored lights the venue’s management turned on after everyone had been let inside, it’s difficult to make out distinct faces in the sea of bobbing heads. Sirius would hardly know it was you next to him if you hadn’t linked your arm through his the first time someone had cut between you two, as though worried he’d get swept away if you didn’t hold on tight. He hardly minds; if things were different between you, he doubts you’d ever be able to extricate his hand from your back pocket.

“You with me, dollface?” he asks when you don’t seem to notice he’s asked you a question. He’d asked if you wanted to try to find an after-party, though he knows you well enough to suspect you’ll be ready to collapse into bed by the time the concert itself is finished.

“Hm?” You look at him, the sparkly eyeshadow you’d asked him to put on you glinting as you blink. Your pupils look huge. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

Sirius starts to nod, but then someone behind you shoulders you accidentally and you jolt like you’ve been shot.

He eyes you warily. “You sure? You look a bit warm.”

It’s an understatement. Your features gleam with sweat under the colored lights. The crowd does make it a bit balmy inside, but your face is as flushed as if you’ve run a mile.

“I’m okay,” you say, though you won’t look at him. You take a breath as if to steady yourself, untangling your arm from his to press a hand to your chest.

Sirius touches your shoulder tentatively. It’s hot and slick under his hand. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” he says, panic creeping up his throat. This is all a bit too familiar. “Do you need some air?”

You suck in a breath, the action sounding more effortful than it should. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you pant. “Yeah, I think—yeah.”

Sirius glances around, taking a millisecond to mourn your prime spot before plotting a course through the crowd. He makes you hold his hand as he shoulders his way through, keeping you close behind him. It’s frightening how he can hear the sound of your gasping breaths even over the eager ruckus of the crowd.

He gets you through as quickly as he can, beelining for the exit. “You’re alright,” he tells you as you both break out into the crisp night air. It takes all the self-control he has to keep his own anxiety from his voice, but he does his best to sound gentle and calm. “We’re going to find you a place to sit down.”

He guides you over to the side of the building, mostly out of sight of traffic going in and out the doors, and sits you down on some grass. You fold your knees into your chest instantly, the position obviously familiar, and press your forehead to your knees.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Sirius murmurs, crouching beside you and rubbing your back. Smooth, slow passes up and down your spine. “I’m not going to leave you. Just breathe, doll.”

You seem like you’re really trying, forcing slow if stilted breaths through your mouth. He gathers the hair off your nape, using a ponytail from his wrist to tie it loosely over your head. The cool air seems to be helping somewhat. Your ears and neck are less flushed, but you’re still shaking something terrible. He redoubles his efforts on your back, pushing his palm into your spine in a way he hopes is soothing.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp into the space between your knees and your abdomen.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, please,” Sirius begs you. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

You shake your head.

“Anything I can do?”

You blow out a breath. Shaky, but more substantial than the rest. “Can I have the water?”

“Yeah, of course.” Sirius’ own hands tremble slightly as he untwists the cap, passing it to you. You bring your head up to drink it, taking brief, measured sips. Your makeup is all smeared underneath your eyes.

“Thank you,” you manage once you’re done. Sirius gets the impression you mean for more than the water.

“Don’t mention it.” He takes the bottle from you, hand resuming its path on your spine. You tuck your head back into your legs. “Take your time, love, we’re not in any rush.”

Slowly, over the course of the next few minutes, your breathing evens out. Some of the tension leaves your body, your posture slumped and miserable as goosebumps appear along your arms. Sirius drapes his jacket over you, continuing to rub your back through the thick material.

Finally, you lift your head.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is tight, a tear slipping down your face. Sirius’ heart revolts, batting against his ribs like a frantic bird in a cage.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, doing his best to keep the desperation out of his voice as scoots closer to your side. He brushes the wetness away with his thumb. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetness.”

“No, I know crowds do this to me, and I didn’t even warn you, I just—” Your face scrunches, as if you’re endeavoring to keep some great pain at bay. “I wanted to do this for you.”

Suddenly he’s the one with no air. Guilt chokes him, hot and thick in his throat. “You didn’t have to do anything for me, dollface. I mean, I appreciate it,” he gives you one of his best smiles, rewarded when your eyes crinkle slightly in response, “but I never want you to put yourself through anything like this for me. I’m happy when you’re happy, understand?”

You nod, eyebrows stitched together remorsefully. Sirius wants to kiss between them, then all up and down your face until not a hint of melancholy remains, but in lieu of that he tucks a piece of hair that had escaped his earlier capture behind your ear, thumbing affectionately at your cheek.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say meekly.

“That’s okay,” he promises you. “My brother Reggie used to get panic attacks too, when he was younger. I have a bit of practice with them.”

Sirius doesn’t think it matters how much practice he gets; he’ll always be shit at comforting people, but at least he knows enough to guess what you’ll need now.

You look at him interestedly. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he says. “Are you tired? We can go back to my place and watch a film. Or if you just want to go to bed I can take you home.”

“Your place is good,” you say, letting him take your hand to help you up. Your legs wobble a bit underneath you, and Sirius wraps a hand around your waist, holding you to his side as you start back towards the sidewalk.

“This okay?” he asks, watching you carefully.

“Yeah,” you say softly. Your hand worms underneath his arm, sliding around his back in turn. “Yeah, this is good.”

489 notes · View notes