#ohhh... ohhh... my brain ... it's so full...

[geraldflamingo]

the sun won't come out tommorrow.

redraw from crowscare by @arcadekitten because i legitimately think about this game so often. it's so good, and this is one of my favourite cgs. play it

[dandp]

Most of my m&g was a fever dream that I can barely remember but I will randomly get very clear flashbacks to the moment right when I turned the corner and saw Dan right in front of me and honestly? Top 10 scariest moments of my life

[repressionmd]

please please please please please please please (I'm being very normal about this idea and I didn't even go ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ inside my head very loudly when I saw these tags (I'm very lying))

SHFJFKFH okay!!! on it boss!! o7 <- salute

[ratcandy]

hey why did nobody tell me about billie bust up

[seafoam-taide]

I love love love my dear Entropy I think about her all the time I love her <33 I have to write about her she is always in my thoughts. Don't click these tags open unless you really want to read them there is . There's lots. THERE WERE TOO MANY IT KILLED SOME OF THEM. WHY DIDN'T IT TELL ME TAG LIMIT I KEPT TYPUNG !!! That's so sad and I can't even put the rest that I typed up here bc I forgot it already because my brain fucking sucks. Whatever whatever whatever rahggg beams Entropy thoughts directly into your brain you know exactly what I mean now

[angelsforthenight]

arcane women nsfw headcanons

(vi, caitlyn, sevika, ambessa)

cw: 18+, overstimulation, brief mention of bdsm, choking, spit, i talk about both topping and bottoming with each characters.

vi:

when topping: eats it for her own pleasure: meaning she can have her face buried in between your thighs for hours and hours on end, pushing you back down onto the bed whenever you’d try lift yourself up and get away from the onslaught of overwhelming pleasure. service top when she’s in a good mood, sure — she’d be obsessed with your sounds, the way your walls would flutter around her. it would be making love rather than sex: sweet and tender. but when she isn’t in a good mood? she’d be selfish and greedy. more focused on her own pleasure than yours. her stroke game would be Crazy… ?!?? fast and rough as fuck. like let us breathe, damn!

when bottoming: a shameless MOANER!!! vocal as fuck obviously. she drools, whining in frustration when she doesn’t get what she wants. loves to arch her back. she’d have sensitive ass nipple piercings that would drive her insane if you touched them, crying out if you’d flick your tongue against them. pants like a bitch and breathlessly begs to cum hehehehe

caitlyn:

when topping: would treat you as if you were a fucking science experiment, meaning she’d explore what would stimulate you the most and push you to extreme lengths to see what would truly break you. murmuring ‘ah…’s and humming to herself in fascination when she clocks your reactions, what would make you squirm and twitch like crazy. she’d be pretty cruel, not giving a fuck if you’d start crying. a little ‘poor baby’ would suffice. a freakaleek…. bdsm would go WILDDDD with her, and you wouldn’t expect it too; the way she carries herself so humbly in public.

when bottoming: heavy breather until you’re, like, three rounds in… that’s when the whining and the drawled moans and whimpers start to come out full throttle. power bottom, would communicate if she wanted you to keep doing what you’re doing. “just like that, don’t stop…” would lace her fingers through your hair if you were eating her out, gripping it tightly if the pleasure was truly messing her uppppp! not only your hair, her hands would find purchase in anything to hold on to if you were fucking her good, good.

sevika:

when topping: ohhh this bitch likes to taunt… i mean, taunt taunt you. she’s so teasing, laughing at the helpless look on your face. she’d force you to look up at her, make eye contact as she’s fucking you senseless. would play coy when she’d stop just as you were on the brink of releasing, “oh? is something wrong?” would gently yet patronisingly shush you if you started to cry. oh my fucking god and the smearing??? she would spit on your already weeping pussy and spread it with her fingers, mixing it with your arousal. shit, she’d make you suck her fingers before smearing it all over your face, especially if your face was already wet with tears. she’d love squishing your face, giving it a playful shake whilst knowing you were on the brink of passing out. PET NAMES!!!! bunny, baby, princess, sweetheart would not fail to leave her lips. good at hiding how pathetic she really is, except when she’s eating the fuck out of your pussy, being so driven by your sounds and the way you taste that she’d cum without even being touched.

when bottoming: professional hip buckler. so fucking stupid. you’d see a completely different side to the sevika she usually presents herself as, being a needy and whining mess instead: eyes rolling to the back of her head. loves being overstimulated, babbling words like ‘yesyesyes’ that slur together. if you’d choke her, you’d be able to visibly see her brain kick down a few gears; the foggy eyes, arched eyebrows and slack jaw combo would be sososo cute :(( would nod along like a bobble-head to anything you’d tell or ask her to do, with her lil puppy eyes too. maybe a little bit of a masochist,,,,, shhhhhh

ambessa:

when topping: oh ambessa would know how to FUCK. it would be so easy for her to find your sweet spots, and she’d be vigilant like a hawk about it. she’d hit your g-spot consistently, her movements precise and efficient. she’d enjoy your shyness, your struggle with looking at her in the eye: finding it adorable. would talk you through your orgasm. sweet voice whispering praises in your ear as you teetered on the edge of a searing climax. your waist would be her favourite thing to hold on to, especially if she’s giving you back-shots. her lips would be rested in a satisfied smile throughout the entire thing.

when bottoming: hmmmmm i feel like bottoming would kind of be an extension to her topping, meaning she wouldn’t be a bottom 😭 ambessa is such a dominant, powerful character that it’s quite hard to imagine her as submissive. so she’d just let you pleasure her once in a while, praising you as you’d lap up her juices like a dog, fuelling you to do more. her moans would come from her throat, face falling a little if it felt a little too good.

a/n: fofmfhskejfnsjwjdnnwjw something small whilst i cook up a long abby fic. (i miss writing long story fics🙁) lmk ur nsfw headcanons ab these characters >3<

[aleksatia]

You went for a drive out of the city, and during a coffee stop, you decided to break the news in a creative way. You had "Best Dad Ever" written on his cup.

🧜‍♂️ Rafayel

The drive is calm. For once, Rafayel isn’t dramatically complaining about how boring the scenery is, nor is he blasting music at full volume just to mess with you. Instead, he’s relaxed, one hand draped over the wheel, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, humming lazily to himself.

You hand him his coffee.

“Mm, thanks, cutie,” he purrs, taking it without looking, already lifting it to his lips—

Sip.

Pause.

His fingers tighten slightly.

Then—

The car swerves.

"RAFAYEL!"

With zero hesitation, he veers off the road and slams the brakes, the car jerking to a sudden, dramatic stop.

"WHAT THE HELL—" you start, gripping the dashboard.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

Rafayel is staring at the cup like it just personally betrayed him. His eyes are huge, his fingers clamped so tightly around the cup that you’re genuinely worried it might crack.

He snatches off his sunglasses, turns to you, and—says nothing.

Just breathes heavily.

Like he’s witnessed something cosmic.

You raise an eyebrow. "Something wrong, babe?"

He flips the cup toward you, jabbing at the words printed on the side.

Best Dad Ever.

"Is this a joke?" His voice cracks. “IS THIS A JOKE?!”

You bite back a laugh. "Nope."

His entire body freezes. His brain disconnects from reality.

Then—

He LAUNCHES himself out of the car.

“RAFAYEL, OH MY GOD—”

He starts pacing.

Wildly.

Hand in his hair, fully spiraling.

"I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!" He throws his arms in the air. "MY GENES ARE TOO POWERFUL—THIS WAS INEVITABLE—"

You lean out the window, exasperated. "Can you—"

"I CAN’T BREATHE—"

"Then inhale through your nose, genius."

"I AM. IT'S NOT ENOUGH."

He stops abruptly. Whips back toward you. Marches over to the car like a man with a mission, plants his hands on the doorframe, and leans in—

"You’re serious?" His voice is deadly quiet now.

You hold his gaze. “I’m serious.”

For a second, he just stares at you.

Then, suddenly—

He laughs.

At first, just a short breath. Then—full giddy, unfiltered joy. He grabs your face, kisses you sloppy and hard, and laughs against your lips like he can’t believe it.

"I KNEW IT!" He pulls back just to yell into the sky. "I AM ABOUT TO CREATE THE MOST GORGEOUS CREATURE IN EXISTENCE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? THIS IS HISTORIC. THIS CHILD WILL BE A CULTURAL ICON—"

You groan. "Rafayel—"

“I HAVE TO DOCUMENT THIS MOMENT.”

"—No."

He’s already reaching for his phone.

"—RAFAYEL, NO—"

"WE NEED A PORTRAIT. A MONUMENT. A SERIES OF LIMITED-EDITION ART PRINTS."

You physically reach over and grab his wrist. "GET BACK IN THE DAMN CAR."

He gasps.

Dramatically.

Hand-on-heart levels of betrayal.

"You wouldn’t deprive me of this joy?"

"I will deprive you of seeing your child if you don’t start driving."

Instantly—he’s back in the car.

Straightens his jacket. Adjusts his hair. Puts on his sunglasses.

"Holy sharks," he breathes, gripping the wheel. "I'm gonna be a dad."

You sigh, finally relaxing. "Yeah, babe. You are."

He exhales slowly.

Then, softer this time, he reaches out, brushing his fingers over your stomach—reverent now.

"You just made me the happiest being alive," he murmurs. His smirk is still there, but his voice is completely serious.

You smile, resting your hand over his. “I know.”

The moment lingers—soft, intimate, perfect.

And then—

A wicked glint flashes in his eyes.

“Ohhh,” he grins, leaning back lazily. “This kid is gonna be a menace.”

You groan. "Rafayel—"

"THEY WILL BE CHAOS INCARNATE."

"Stop—"

"WE HAVE A DYNASTY TO BUILD."

And just like that—your entire future flashes before your eyes.

🖤🐦Sylus

It’s been a quiet drive, Sylus tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, humming along to the music. He’s in a good mood. Relaxed. Smug, as usual, but easygoing.

You hand him his coffee.

He takes it, sips, lets out a pleased little hum—

And then—

The car jerks.

You barely have time to register what happened before he slams on the brakes, throwing an arm across your waist to stop you from lurching forward.

“SYLUS—”

"EXCUSE ME?!"

The wheels screech to a stop on the side of the road. A cloud of dust kicks up behind the car, but Sylus doesn’t even look at it. No—his full, undivided attention is now locked onto the cup in his hand.

He turns it slowly, his crimson eyes glowing as he reads the words again. And again.

Best. Dad. Ever.

He blinks.

Then he grins.

Not just a smirk—a full, wicked, teeth-flashing, Sylus-style grin that immediately puts you on high alert.

“Kitten,” he purrs, tilting his head, voice dangerously low. “Is this what I think it is?”

You cross your arms. “If you think it means I’m pregnant, then yes.”

He lets out a low whistle, tapping the cup against the steering wheel like he cannot believe his luck.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he laughs, running a hand through his silver hair. “Oh, kitten.”

“…Why do you sound like you won something?” you ask, already regretting everything.

He takes another slow sip of coffee, relishing it, before placing the cup deliberately in the holder. Then he turns to you.

And just—stares.

His eyes gleam. His smirk deepens. And then—

“You belong to me now,” he murmurs, voice soaked in satisfaction.

Oh. Oh no.

“Don’t—”

“You were already mine,” he continues, ignoring your protest, fingers tracing slow circles on your knee. “But this? This makes it official.”

You squint. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, leaning in until his nose barely brushes yours. “You are so trapped.”

Your breath catches.

His lips brush your jaw. Soft. Slow. Dangerous.

“Our baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “My legacy.”

Okay, that makes you snort. “Legacy? Are you serious—”

His fingers tighten on your thigh.

“I never joke about ownership, kitten.”

Your stomach flips. “Sylus, I swear—”

“I am,” he continues, voice so dangerously pleased, “about to be the most unbearable man alive.”

“You already are.”

He chuckles, dark and smooth.

Then, with zero warning, he pulls your seat lever—fully reclines it—and cages you in with both arms.

“SYLUS—”

“You think I’m letting you out of this car without celebrating properly?” His knee presses between yours. His lips hover just over yours. “Oh, kitten.”

A smug, deadly whisper—

“You’re not going anywhere.”

And just like that—you are so. Completely. Screwed.

☃️ Zayne

The drive is quiet, smooth, the hum of the engine steady. Zayne is driving like he does everything else—efficiently, precisely, with absolute control. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, his posture effortlessly composed.

You hand him his coffee.

He takes it automatically, barely looking away from the road as he lifts it to his lips.

Then—

The cup stops midair.

His fingers tighten.

His eyes flick down.

The muscles in his jaw shift.

You can see the exact second his mind starts processing.

His lips part slightly. His brows furrow just a fraction.

His eyes scan the words again, like data he needs to verify.

Best Dad Ever.

And just like that—Zayne enters full diagnostic mode.

His pupils dilate. His breathing adjusts. His shoulders tense in micro-movements.

Then, before you can speak, he mutters—

“Seven weeks.”

You blink. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s already calculating. His eyes flick to the dashboard clock—counting back the exact number of days since your last cycle.

“No, wait,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, “six weeks, five days. That lines up better with—”

He cuts himself off, his grip on the wheel adjusting, his mind racing a mile a second.

Then he grabs his phone with one hand and immediately dials a number.

You stare at him. “Zayne, what are you—”

“It’s Doctor Zayne, I need a full prenatal assessment scheduled immediately.”

“What?!”

He ignores you, listening intently. His tone is calm, clipped, entirely professional, as if he’s in the middle of a patient consultation.

“Yes, priority level one.” His fingers tap against the wheel. “Standard screenings plus full genetic panel. I also want a full cardiovascular assessment given her recent—”

“ZAYNE.”

His jaw tightens. He barely spares you a glance, still listening to whoever’s on the other end.

“No, reschedule that for tomorrow, I’ll be overseeing this personally—”

You reach over and end the call.

Silence.

Zayne blinks once, slowly, as if rebooting.

Then he turns his head very carefully toward you.

“…Did you just—”

“Yes.”

His eyelid twitches.

“You,” he says, deadpan, “just ended an emergency medical consultation with one of the most sought-after specialists in the Linkon-city.”

“Yes.”

His lips press together tightly. His nostrils flare just a fraction.

Then—the cracks start showing.

His throat bobs. His fingers flex around the wheel. His chest rises with a sharp inhale—

And then, finally, he breaks.

His entire body sags forward as he presses his forehead to the steering wheel, exhaling shakily.

“…Oh, fuck,” he mutters, voice completely wrecked.

You blink.

He takes another sharp breath, his hands gripping the wheel like he’s stabilizing himself.

“…I was fine,” he says, more to himself than to you.

You stare at him. “No, you weren’t.”

“I was,” he insists, head still against the wheel. “I had a plan. I was handling it.”

You tilt your head. “Handling it like a patient case?”

His fingers flex again. “It’s not the same.”

“Zayne.”

He doesn’t move.

“Zay.”

Nothing.

So you reach out, fingers slipping into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp—

He lets out a breath that absolutely shatters you.

Like something inside him has finally collapsed.

Then—without warning—he turns and kisses you.

It’s not like before. Not calculated, not measured, not careful.

It’s desperate.

Like he needs to feel you, needs to know you’re here, with him, real.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

“I can’t…” He exhales slowly. “I can’t lose control of this.”

Your chest tightens. “You don’t have to control everything, Zayne.”

His hand slips down, pressing gently against your stomach. His fingers splay, warm and reverent.

“…You’re right.” His voice is quieter now.

Another pause.

Then—

A tiny, breathless laugh escapes him.

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

His eyes flick to yours, golden-green and impossibly soft.

“…I’m going to be a dad.”

You smile. “Yeah, you are.”

Another shaky exhale. Then, a full-blown smile—rare, genuine, warm.

“…Shit.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

You grin. “Should I be concerned that you can predict organ failure before it happens, but not this?”

His hand tightens just slightly over your stomach. His smirk is smaller now, more sincere.

“No,” he murmurs. “Because this—”

He leans in, lips brushing just over your temple.

“This is the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

🍎 Caleb

It’s a perfect drive—at least, for now. The sun is low, stretching golden light across the road, and Caleb is relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily resting on the armrest. He’s humming to himself, terribly off-key, completely endearing, and utterly oblivious to the bomb you’re about to drop on him.

You hand him his coffee.

“Thanks, pip-squeak,” he murmurs, taking it automatically, his eyes still on the road.

He takes a sip.

Then—

He stops.

His hand tightens around the cup.

His posture locks up.

And just like that, you realize you’ve made a terrible mistake.

The car swerves.

“CALEB!”

With military precision, he pulls over so hard the tires skid, shifts into park, and slams the brakes.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t breathe.

You barely have time to process before he whirls toward you, holding up the cup like it’s an explosive device.

“WHAT. IS. THIS?!”

You blink. “Uh. Coffee?”

His eye twitches. His chest rises in one sharp inhale.

Then—his voice drops to a whisper.

“…Are you messing with me right now?”

Your lips twitch. “Nope.”

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Then—

His entire soul leaves his body.

He throws the door open, jumps out of the car, and immediately crouches down with his hands on his knees.

You watch in real time as a fully grown man has a complete emotional crisis on the side of the road.

"OH FUCK. OH FUCK. OH FUCK."

“CALEB, GET BACK IN THE CAR.”

"I NEED A SECOND."

“You’re going to get hit by—”

"I NEED A FUCKING SECOND."

You drop your head into your hands as he rakes his fingers through his hair, muttering to himself like he’s trying to process the meaning of life.

Then—abruptly—he stops.

Stands up straight. Spins to face you.

“…How long?”

You hesitate. “Caleb—”

“HOW LONG?!”

You sigh. “A few weeks.”

His jaw clenches. His eyes dart down, scanning you, like he’s only just now realizing that oh shit, you’re actually pregnant.

Then—he yanks open the car door, sits back down, and buckles his seatbelt like it personally wronged him.

You blink. “…Are you okay?”

“No,” he admits immediately.

He exhales sharply, presses his hands to his face, and just—

Whimpers.

Not dramatically. Not in distress. Just the most overwhelmed, overjoyed, short-circuited noise you’ve ever heard come out of him.

Then, suddenly—he laughs.

Not just any laugh—a helpless, breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, fuck.” He drags a hand down his face, his grin growing. “Oh, fuck. We’re having a baby.”

You grin back. “Yeah, we are.”

He turns to you, and something changes.

The panic is still there—but beneath it? Something warm. Something so impossibly, devastatingly soft.

Then—he moves.

His hand presses to your stomach.

Just rests there.

Like he’s afraid to push too hard, afraid to shatter this moment.

His throat bobs. His fingers spread slightly.

And then, his voice—softer than you’ve ever heard it—

“…That’s our baby.”

You nod.

His eyes flicker. His entire body tenses.

Then, without warning—

You are no longer sitting.

You yelp as he hauls you into his lap, wrapping both arms around you and crushing you against his chest.

“CALEB—”

“NOPE.” His voice is muffled into your shoulder. “I NEED THIS. GIVE ME THIS. RIGHT NOW.”

You laugh. “You’re squishing me—”

"YOU’RE PREGNANT WITH MY BABY AND I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS EMOTIONALLY, THANK YOU."

You let him have it.

For a long moment, he just holds you. His breath is shaky, his grip tight, like he’s trying to memorize every second of this before it slips away.

Then—he shifts slightly.

A deep breath. A pause.

Then, suddenly—

His grip tightens, and he leans back just enough to look at you dead in the eyes.

“…Okay but—what about me?”

You blink. “What?”

His ears start going red.

“I mean,” he clears his throat, gaze darting anywhere but your face now, “what about… you know.”

You smirk. “I don’t know. Clarify.”

He groans, tilting his head back against the seat. “Pip-squeak, come on.”

You hum, trailing your fingers over his shoulders, down his chest. “Ohh. You mean—”

"YES." His grip tightens on your hips. "What happens now? Do I just—" He gestures vaguely between you. "Forget about it? Nine months of nothing?"

You shrug innocently. “Well. There are other ways…”

He freezes.

His eyes darken. His jaw clenches. His fingers twitch.

“…Other ways.”

You nod. “Mhm.”

He stares. Processing.

Then, suddenly—

He grabs the steering wheel with both hands, stares straight ahead, and shifts into drive.

“Okay.”

You snort. “That’s it?”

“I have to drive us home. Immediately.” His voice is far too serious. “This is now a time-sensitive situation.”

You laugh. “Caleb, you are so—”

He shoots you a warning look, eyes still burning. “Do not finish that sentence unless you want me to pull over again.”

You grin wickedly. “And then what?”

His grip tightens on the wheel.

Then, low and dark—

“…Don’t test me, pip-squeak.”

And just like that—

You have created a monster.

☀️ Xavier

The drive is smooth, effortless. Xavier handles the car the way he handles everything else—calmly, efficiently, like he’s already three steps ahead of reality. The road stretches endlessly ahead, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence between you.

You hand him his coffee.

“Thank you, love,” he murmurs, taking it without looking, perfectly composed, as always.

He lifts it to his lips, takes a sip—

Then stops.

His fingers tighten slightly around the cup.

You watch as his eyes flick down to the message.

Best Dad Ever.

For a moment, he doesn’t react. Doesn’t tense, doesn’t flinch. Just…observes.

Then, with deliberate ease, he tilts his head slightly in your direction.

“…Very funny.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He gestures toward the cup, lips twitching in amusement. “You can’t fool me, princess. I know you too well.”

He takes another slow sip, entirely unbothered.

“This is a joke,” he continues, matter-of-factly. “You wanted to see if I’d panic. Clever, but predictable.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?”

His smirk grows. “Because if it were real, you’d be significantly worse at hiding your anticipation.”

You tilt your head. “Mm. Maybe.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he shifts his focus back to the road. “You’ll have to do better than this next time.”

You shrug, lifting your own coffee to your lips.

He barely glances at it.

Then—he does a double take.

His brows furrow. His body stiffens slightly.

You see it—the moment the wheels in his head start turning. The moment his brain connects the dots.

Best Mom Ever.

Of twins.

There is a pause. A deep, soul-crushing pause.

Then, slowly, very slowly, he takes one more sip of coffee.

And immediately chokes on it.

He coughs once, hard, sharp. His grip on the wheel tightens so fast his knuckles go white.

And then—he does the single most terrifying thing he has ever done in his entire existence.

He slowly eases his foot off the gas pedal.

Not jerking the car. Not slamming the brakes. Just gradually reducing speed with surgical precision.

His eyes are locked straight ahead, unblinking.

The car glides toward the shoulder of the road in complete, deafening silence.

Then, in eerie, methodical movements,

He puts the car in park.

Takes off his seatbelt.

Reaches over.

And plucks your coffee out of your hands.

You blink. “Xavier?”

He says nothing.

Instead, he places both cups onto the dashboard.

Adjusts them. Lines them up perfectly so that the words are directly facing him.

Then—

He stares.

At the cups.

At the words.

At his entire future.

Silence.

Then, very quietly—

“…Twins.”

His throat bobs.

His hand comes up and presses against his temple.

Another beat of pure silence.

Then—

He laughs.

A single breathless, helpless laugh.

Then another.

And another.

Until suddenly—

He dissolves into a full-blown existential breakdown.

His entire body tips forward, forehead pressing against the steering wheel.

“Twins.” His voice is muffled, bordering on delirious. “I—twins. Two. There are two.”

You bite your lip. “There will be, yeah.”

He lets out a sound that is neither human nor machine.

Then, slowly—he lifts his head again.

His eyes are unfocused, like he’s calculating probabilities of survival in real-time.

Then—

His head turns toward you.

And you swear you see actual panic.

“How,” he exhales, voice quiet, shaky, “do we own two of something when we never needed to own one?”

You blink. “Xav, what—?”

He gestures vaguely at the cups.

“How do we prepare for twins if we were never prepared for a singular baby?”

You open your mouth—

"WE DON'T EVEN HAVE TWO OF THE SAME PILLOW."

You freeze. “What.”

He gestures more aggressively now, looking absolutely unhinged.

“OUR BED.” He waves toward the back seat. “THE PILLOWS. THEY’RE DIFFERENT. HOW DID WE GET TWO DIFFERENT PILLOWS? HOW DID I LET THIS HAPPEN?”

You stare at him.

“You’re spiraling.”

“I AM LOGICALLY PROCESSING THE GRAVITY OF OUR SITUATION.”

“Xavier.”

He inhales. Exhales.

Then, softer now, more real, more raw—

“…We’re going to have twins.”

You nod.

His shoulders drop. His eyes soften.

Then—before you can react, he reaches out, pulls you into his lap, and buries his face into your neck.

For a long moment, he just holds you.

No overthinking. No calculations.

Just you.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, warm, unshaken.

“…I am never going to recover from this information.”

You laugh softly. “You will.”

He leans back just enough to meet your eyes. And finally—finally—his lips curve into a small, exhausted smile.

“…They’re going to be terrifyingly intelligent.”

You snicker. “Oh, for sure.”

“And devastatingly attractive.”

“Obviously.”

He hums. “I will be insufferable.”

“You already are.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips brushing your forehead.

“…I’m going to be a father of twins.”

“You are.”

“…That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin. “You’ll be fine.”

Another pause.

Then—

A mischievous glint sparks in his eyes.

“…Twins, you said?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes?”

His smirk returns, sharper this time.

“So.” He tilts his head. “Shall we test for a third?”

You shove him so hard the car rocks slightly. ****** More stories here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleksa_Tia

[lustlvii]

Ateez members when you squirt. Ft maknae line

Including: San, Mingi, Wooyoung, Jongho x fem!reader (all separate!)

Warnings: porn no plot, Squirting, nasty nasty nasty, degradation, dirty talk, use of names (slut), mention of passing out but you don't (San) cocky!wooyoung, size kink (mingi), oral (f, mingi and wooyoung), like one pussy slap (wooyoung), daddy kink (mingi and wooyoung), this is just messy and nasty I didn't proofread so lmk if I missed anything!

Authors note: English isn't my first language. I think I went overboard . . . Especially with mingis 😔😔🥴🥴

San.

“Again,” he growls, breath hot against your shoulder as he slams his hips into yours with bruising force. “Fucking again, baby—don’t stop now.”

You can’t. You’re sobbing, face twisted in pure overstimulated bliss, thighs twitching, soaked and ruined and trembling as another gush of wetness sprays out from between your legs.

“Ohhh fuck—there it is,” San groans, head thrown back, hips grinding through it like he’s ossessed. “That’s it, baby. Made a fuckin’ mess for me, huh?”

You try to answer, but you can’t form a single coherent thought. Your eyes roll. Your fingers claw uselessly at the sheets beneath you.

San just laughs. It’s feral—guttural.

“Dumb little thing,” he snarls, reaching down to slap your twitching clit, watching your whole body spasm from it. “You like being fucked stupid, don’t you?”

You nod. Barely. More of a shake. Your lips part to speak—nothing comes out but a whimper.

“I said don’t stop.”

He flips you onto your back, grabs both your ankles and spreads you wide, cock already rock-hard again despite the fact he just emptied himself inside you not even two minutes ago.

“You thought I was done? You thought one little squirt show was gonna be enough?”

He lines up again, sinks in without warning. No mercy. You scream.

“Fucking tight,” he hisses. “You’re still squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go.”

Your entire body jerks. Nails digging into the mattress.

He leans down until he’s nose-to-nose with you. Grabs your jaw hard enough to ache. Forces you to look at him.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see how dumb you look when you come.”

Your lashes flutter. Your lip quivers. He starts pounding into you like he wants to break the bed—slamming his hips, skin clapping against yours, sweat dripping from his forehead to your chest.

“San—Sannie please—I-I can’t—!”

“You can.”

He presses his hand to your lower tummy, feels how swollen and full you are.

“Feel that?” he grunts. “That’s me. Right there. So deep inside I’m practically part of you.”

He fucks deeper. Harder. Faster.

“You’re gonna squirt again. You’re gonna cover my cock, the sheets, everything. Make a mess like the filthy little slut you are.”

You’re wailing now, words melting into cries and breathless mewls. He snakes a hand up to your throat, squeezes just enough to make the edge of panic blur with the pleasure.

And then—

“Fuck—yes,” he growls. “There it is. Pretty little pussy fuckin’ exploding for me—holy shit—look at that.”

You squirt so hard it splashes against his thighs. He doesn’t even stop. He shoves your knees to your chest and keeps fucking through it, watching your face twist, your mouth open wide in a soundless scream.

“Again,” he spits. “Fucking again.”

You can’t even fight it. Your body obeys him before your brain can catch up. Another wave crashes over you—wet, hot, helpless.

He moans loud, cock throbbing deep inside you. “You’re mine. You get that?”

You whimper. “Y-Yes—San—fuck—yours—”

He bites your neck. Hard. “Say it.”

“Yours! I’m yours—I’m only yours—”

He kisses you like he’s trying to consume you.

Then he pulls out, drags you to your knees by your hair, and shoves his cock back into your ruined cunt from behind—still gushing, still twitching.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls. “Now keep squirting until you pass out.”

Mingi.

He’d been down there for a while.

Palms spreading your thighs wide, tongue lazily lapping at your clit like it was breakfast, chin shiny and eyes half-lidded in pure obsession. You’d lost count of how many times your hips bucked or how many times his tongue teased your folds before dipping in—deeper, deeper, until your whole body was convulsing.

“Mingi, wait—fuck, I—something’s—”

That’s all it takes. The tremble in your thighs, the way your belly tightens…

And then it happens.

Your body arches, the pressure snaps, and a sudden wet gush bursts from you—hot and clear and everywhere.

“Oh…” Mingi stops, stunned for a second. His mouth parts, brows lifting slightly as he pulls back to look. Your thighs are soaked. His face is drenched.

Then:

“…Holy shit.”

He grins. Wildly. Tongue darts out to taste you again—licking his cheeks where the mess landed.

“Baby…” His voice drops lower, cock already rock hard against the bed. “You never told me you could do that.”

You whimper, dazed, humiliated, but so high on it you can barely think.

“I—Mingi, I didn’t—I’ve never—”

He growls. That’s the only word for it. Like you just unlocked a kink he didn’t even know he had.

“Fuck, you’re unreal.”

And then he’s on you.

Flicking your clit, tongue rolling filthy patterns over your overstimulated cunt, groaning against your skin like he’s starving. His big hands are clutching your hips down so hard it stings.

You squirt again. And again. It’s automatic now—he demands it.

“Mmhmm, that’s it… so fuckin’ wet for me.”

You’re barely breathing when he finally lifts his head, face dripping, lips swollen and red, pupils blown. He’s panting.

“You’re a goddamn fountain.”

He strokes his cock, lets it slap against your slit. “Wanna see if this pretty pussy squirts like that with my cock too.”

You moan. Shake your head. “Mingi, you’re too big, I can’t—”

“Oh baby.” He leans down, voice a whisper, thick tip teasing your entrance. “You’re gonna take it.”

He starts slow. Just the tip. Then another inch. And another. You’re already clawing at his arms, panting, your eyes rolling.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “So tight. I can feel your heartbeat in this cunt.”

He bottoms out with a brutal thrust. Your body jerks. And he laughs.

“You’re so full, huh?”

You sob. “C-Can’t—Mingi—too much—too deep—”

He cups your cheek. Kisses you softly. Then ruins you again.

His hips slam into yours at a vicious rhythm, skin slapping, the sound of wet squelching echoing off the walls. He’s obsessed—watching your pussy swallow every inch of his thick cock, watching how each thrust pushes more slick out of you.

“You gonna squirt on my dick, baby?” he groans. “Gonna soak me like you did my fuckin’ face?”

You do. Screaming his name, gushing hard enough to leave his lower abs dripping.

He doesn’t stop. Won’t let you come down.

“Shiiit, you’re fuckin’ gushing,” he moans. “Look at this mess. Look what you did.”

You cry out. Your body convulses. Another orgasm barrels through you like a freight train.

He pulls you up by your waist, fucks you like a ragdoll, moaning into your neck, whispering filth between praises.

“Dirty little thing… makin’ a mess all over daddy’s cock like you need to be ruined.”

You’re babbling now—nothing makes sense. “Mhm—Mingiii—ah—f’so good—feels—ah—f-fuck!”

He bites your shoulder. “You love it.”

You nod wildly.

He grabs your face again, eyes dark. “Then squirt for me again, baby. Right now.”

Wooyoung.

“Already?” He says it with a cocky laugh, like watching you tremble under his mouth is funny to him. Your thighs are clenching around his head, stomach twitching, and you can’t breathe through the sounds you’re making.

“Mmh—fuck, Woo—ah, I—!”

He pulls back with a string of spit clinging to his lips, face glossy, tongue dragging over the corner of his mouth like he’s still hungry.

“God, listen to yourself. You’re gasping like you just ran a mile.” He rolls his eyes, leans down, slaps your pussy lightly with two fingers. You jolt.

“This got you that fucked up? From just my tongue?” He smirks, tapping your clit with lazy precision. “What’s gonna happen when I put my cock in, huh?”

“D-Don’t say shit like that—”

“Why not?” He spits directly on your folds, lets it drip down before rubbing it in with his thumb. “Gonna make you squirt, pretty girl. Wanna see how fucking messy I can get you.”

And then he’s diving back in.

Tongue rapid, focused, filthy—like he knows exactly what your body needs before you do. He groans deep against your cunt like it’s his favorite meal, and your hips jerk off the bed.

You feel it coil in your stomach again, tight and terrifying.

“W-Woo, wait, I think I—”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t care. He wraps an arm around your thighs to lock you down and moans loud into your clit. That’s what pushes it over.

You squirt. Hard.

Gushing up into his mouth, thighs convulsing, head tossing back into the pillows as you scream. He keeps going. Licks it up, grinds his chin into your pussy, rubs you through it like he’s got something to prove.

“Fucking knew it,” he pants, chin soaked, fingers already replacing his mouth. “That’s it, messy girl. Drip for me.”

You try to close your legs, overwhelmed. He slaps your inner thigh.

“Keep ‘em open. Don’t be shy now.”

And then? Then he fucks you with his fingers until you squirt again.

You’re crying. Moaning slurred nonsense into your forearm as your thighs tremble.

“Oh, poor baby…” he coos, fake pout on his lips. “Too much for your dumb little pussy?”

Your only reply is a hiccuped whine.

“Yeah, I thought so.” He sits up, starts unbuckling his belt. “And now…”

He slaps his fat cock against your overstimulated slit, groaning when it twitches from the contact.

“Now I fuck you stupid.”

You scream his name. Again and again. You lose track of time, lose count of how many times he makes you squirt, how many times he moans right in your face, laughing when you can’t form full sentences.

“W-Woo… ngh, c-can’t—d-daddy please—!”

“Shhh, you’re fine. Just a dumb little slut with a squirty little pussy, huh?”

He grabs your face, shoves two fingers in your mouth and spits on your tongue.

“Now take it.”

Jongho.

“You didn’t tell me you could do that,” Jongho mutters, voice low—dangerous—as he stares down at your soaked thighs.

Your chest is heaving, whole body trembling. You’re still recovering from it—your orgasm, your release—your squirt.

It had surprised even you.

One moment his thick fingers were pumping slow and steady into your cunt—pressing right there, right there—and the next? You were shaking, crying, spraying his hand, his wrist, the sheets under you, everything.

And Jongho hasn’t said much since. Just breathing. Watching. Processing.

Then he wipes his soaked fingers on your inner thigh.

“You’re going to do that again,” he says flatly. Not a suggestion. Not a request. A command.

You whimper. “I… I don’t think—”

His hand snaps around your jaw.

“I didn’t ask you what you think.”

He grabs you by the waist, flips you like you’re weightless. You gasp. He pulls you into his lap—his cock already achingly hard, thick against your soaked folds.

Then, with terrifying calm, he slides in.

You scream.

Not loud. But wrecked. Like your body can’t decide whether to panic or worship him.

Jongho groans low in his throat. Hands gripping your hips so tight it hurts.

“You squirted all over my fingers. Let’s see if I can make you do it on my cock.”

He doesn’t move at first—just sinks in deeper. Slow. Unbearable. Stretching you open inch by inch until your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

Then he grinds.

Your body jerks.

“Ohhh—Jongho, I—”

“Eyes on me.”

His hand fists your hair, pulls your head back until you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“No hiding,” he whispers. “You’re going to look me in the eyes while I ruin you.”

Then—he fucks you.

Hard. Precise. Deliberate. Each thrust perfectly angled to bully your sweet spot, to force a reaction out of you.

You’re gasping, sobbing—fingers gripping his arms like a lifeline.

Jongho’s not sweating. Not moaning. Just breathing. Focused. Like he’s studying you.

“You’re going to do it again,” he murmurs. “I can feel it. You’re pulsing.”

You cry out. Your legs are shaking.

“Say thank you.”

“W-What—?”

Smack. His hand lands on your ass—hard.

“Say thank you for your cock.”

“Th-thank you! Ohmygod, thank you—!”

Then—you snap. Again.

A burst of slick soaks his thighs, your body twitching uncontrollably.

And Jongho smiles.

Dark. Satisfied.

“I knew you could.”

He pulls out—just to slam back in. You wail.

“N-Not again, I can’t—!”

“You can. You will.”

And he keeps fucking you. Pushing. Over and over.

Until your voice breaks. Until your body stops responding.

And when you finally pass out in his arms, he kisses your forehead.

“Next time, I want three.”

Writing by @lustlvii please do not translate or publish anywhere

[rbfclassy]

QUICKIE! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...toji just can’t keep his hands to himself after not fucking you for a week...which results in a quickie

INFO...toji x fem!reader, reader and toji have kids, toji calls reader mama, doggy, groping, spanking, missionary (?), praise, cream pie, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

“Hey do you have anything to wash?” You walked up to Toji holding the laundry basket in your hands as he played with your two kids.

He looked up at you from the floor. “Nah, I’m all set, mama.” He smiled, handing your son his favorite toy. With a nod, you walked away with the full basket, heading towards the laundry room. You sighed at the clean pile of clothes that you had to fold, rolling your eyes in annoyance.

You threw the dirty clothes in the wash before grabbing the detergent. You let out a small squeak at the feeling of your husbands hands snaking around your waist. “You scared me,” you chuckled.

“Sorry,” he responded, pulling you against his chest, sinking his head into the crook of your neck. He placed a small kiss on your skin, hands rubbing up and down your waist. “Should’ve asked me for help.”

You closed the detergent, placing it back on the shelf as you started the washer. “It’s fine, I got it,” you replied. Toji hummed in response, his hands moving lower and lower down your body. “Toji, what are you doing?” You giggled.

You tried to turn and face him but he kept you from doing so. “Uh uh, stay just like this for me,” he whispered. He pushed his hips against your ass, his cock semi-hard. “We haven’t been able to do anything for the past week. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little pent up, and you walking around with these shorts and tank top isn’t helping one bit.” He smacked your ass before giving it a harsh squeeze.

You bit down on your bottom lip, feel him grow more hard as you moved your against him. It was true, you and Toji haven’t had sex in the last week or so. Both of you so tired from work and the kids, running errands, it always got in the way of your sex life. You hadn’t really thought about it much before, but now that Toji brought it up, you were feeling quite pent up too. “So, what’re you gonna do about it, hm?” You asked, teasingly.

A low chuckle left his lips, his fingers grazing over your skin, making their way under the fabric of your clothes. His hands came up to your chest, cupping your tits and squeezing them, groping them. Your skin started to heat up and arousal pooled in your panties. Just his touch alone was enough to get you all hot and bothered. “We gotta be quick.” He hurriedly bent you over the washer, a swift hand pulling your shorts and underwear down. “I’ll never get tired of seeing this ass…fuck,” he groaned. He palmed himself through his sweats, admiring the view of your dripping cunt.

Toji wasted no time in pulling his sweats and boxers down, cock springing free and leaking pre cum. He let out a shaky breath, rubbing his tip up and down your slit, mixing his arousal with yours. He could already feel how warm and wet you were, cock throbbing at the thought, anticipating how you feel around him. Slowly, his head pushed past your entrance, your lips wrapping around him, sucking him in. “Ohhh fuck, baby—mmm shit,” he breathed. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you back on him, going deeper to reach your sweet spot.

“Ah, oh my god.” The stretch was so deliciously intoxicating, sending your brain into a spiral and he’s barely moved yet. “Baby, we gotta be quick, please,” you begged, afraid that one of the kids might knock on the door and interrupt. You felt him thrust slowly, letting you get used to the feel of his cock before going any faster.

“Shhh, it’s fine. They’re watching a movie.” He began pulling you back against his hips so you met his thrusts, your walls clenching around him each time he threatened to pull out. “This pussy is so wet for me, goddamn,” he grunted, moving faster.

“F-fuck!” You stammered, feeling how hard and fast he was going. “Feels so fucking good!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, hands gripping onto the edges of the washing machine as you tried to hold yourself stable. “Nnngh! You’re so deep! Oh my god!” You squealed.

Toji pulled you up, your back pressed against his chest as he continued to pound into you. “Shh, mama. I know it feels good, but you gotta keep quiet for me, okay?” He placed his hand over your mouth, his arm wrapped around your waist to hold you steady. Your eyes fluttered shut, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Ohh fuck yes. Shit, this pussy feels so fucking good.”

Your muffled moans fell upon deaf ears, your legs felt like they were jelly. Pleasure clouded your mind, all you could think about was him fucking you until you came over and over again. Suddenly, he stopped. He grabbed your hips, turning you around and lifting you on top of the washing machine. He pulled you close to the edge, your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. Both watched as he slowly slid back inside, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he felt you wrap around him again. “Look at me, don’t take your eyes off me,” he demanded.

You stared back at him with lustful eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fought so hard to hold back your moans and whimpers. Your brows furrowed in pleasure, feeling how close you were to cumming. Your jaw dropped, head falling back as he grazed over your g-spot. “Oh fuck you’re gonna make me cum!” You cried, gasping for air. “Fuck! Fuck! Baby!” You whimpered.

“I know, mama. Let it all out for me. Cum on this dick.” He kept his pace the same, feeling you clench around him, a sign you were close. His hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, tongues messily moving against each other as he swallowed your moans. Finally, the coil snapped. You pulled away from the kiss, eyes rolling back, body quivering as you came. Toji covered your mouth again, muffling your curses and moans. “There you go, that’s my good fucking girl.”

He pulled his hand away, staring back at you with half lidded eyes, loving the cum drunk look written all over your face. “Cum in me,” you spoke.

“But, your not on—”

“I don’t care, cum in me,” you said with desperation.

“I fucking love you,” he chuckled with a smile, his thrusts growing sloppier. He was fixated the way his cock disappeared in you, each time he pulled back out he could see your cum at the base. It only drove him more crazier. “Nnngh, ah! Oh, baby I’m gonna cum!” His hips stuttered against yours before he buried himself deep inside of you, feeling him coat your walls with his sticky cum. “Fuck!” He grunted. “Ah, yes!” He breathlessly chuckled.

“I think we both needed that,” you laughed.

“I agree.” He smiled, pulling you closer to place his lips on yours. He slowly pulled out, his cum slowly dripping out of you. “We made quite a mess.” He looked down between your legs and then back up at you.

“We’ll clean it up—”

A knock on the door startled both on you, thankfully Toji had locked the door. “Mommy, daddy, the movie is over! We wanna watch another!”

“It’s your bedtime, sweetheart! Maybe tomorrow!” Toji shouted back. Both of you looked at each other, sharing a few seconds of silence before laughing. “I think we might have to start doing quickies more often, yeah?” He whispered.

“Once you put the kids to sleep, meet me in the shower.” You kissed his lips, entangling your fingers in his hair.

“I just can’t get enough of you, mama.”

[aly4khq]

dragon sylus who tries to train you with his two dicks! (help me, dragon sylus is making me go feral)

You're crying, gasping out for air whilst your hands try to stabilise your body to sit up. The dragon like man above you smiling down at you with smugness but also concern. His first dick deep inside of your pussy, twitching slightly whilst his second one resting on your folds.

"Wait...i can't...!" your voice was fragile, same with your body but sylus knew better. He's once fucked you with his dick and another dildo, and you eased into them pretty quick. So he wondered why you were struggling so badly, "You can. You need to relax, darling."

His voice was trying to be reassuring but his hips wasn't that nice. You tried to protest, his dick pressing into you. Gasping, you pushed on his chest, "O-oh shit please, i might just break." your head lowered to watch his second dick appear just at your other hole. He chuckled, his claws going to your chin and lifting your head up. "Focus here,"

You tried but you were scared, and he noted that nearly instantly, "Don't worry, i'm right here. if you want to stop we can." With a smile, you lifted your head properly and shook your head no, "N-no i can do it—"

"Good."

He plundered his second cock into you as you yelled out, covering your mother instantly. "Oh gosh— I'm gonna die- I'm gonna dieee!"

"Hm?" he rose an eyebrow at you, continuing to roll his hips at a hypnotic pace. Your eyes rolled back into your head, your hands grabbing onto his meaty arm. "I'm going die, I think my heart just stopped."

"Stop being dramatic." He sassily remarked, rubbing your hip with his tail. You sent him a glare, a glare that said 'The fuck are you talking about?'

"You try and— take a huge dick up ur arse and your puss! It's a lot!—ohhh Sylus..." Your eyes closed, that angry dementor only lasted seconds due to his finger rubbing gentle and slow circles on your clit.

"Alright alright...how about, we try one round and then we leave it for the night, hm? Is that okay?" Sylus softened, stilling his hips to wait for an answer. Your eyes opened, full of trust and adoration. "Okay.."

"On the count of 3," You furrowed your eyebrows but went with it, bracing yourself for him to take you downtown—

"3." He reentered both of your holes and you moaned loudly, "Sylus!"

"What?" He thrusted deep into your body, sounds of skin slapping filling the room. "I said on the count of 3, doesn't mean I go 1 2 3. I went 3 2 1. Always be on guard, you never know when I'll strike—"

"Shut the fuck up!" You spoke through gritted teeth, trying to endure his dicks. Grabbing a pillow, your teeth latched onto it, but it didn't do much as you let go and moaned into it. He chuckled before hissing himself, reminding his brain under his breath.

"Just one round...one Sylus."

[enhaflixer]

omg you’ve been pumping out so much enha hard hours lately (which i love but) i think i need some fluff with a bit of angst to cleanse my soul a little :’) can i please request a ni-ki fluff/angst (happy ending) fic/drabble? 🙏🏻

youre so lucky cuz i alr had one written!!!!!

Mad bf! riki x f!reader - figure it out

-

Riki is on the couch, arms crossed, one leg bouncing, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually break a tooth.

And he won’t even look at you.

You stand near him, arms folded, trying to control your own irritation as you watch him glare at the TV without actually watching it. His fingers tap against his arm, his entire vibe screaming judgment and pettiness.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask hesitantly.

No response.

Just a sharp inhale through his nose, a slow blink, and the bounce of his knee picking up speed like he’s calculating how much he wants to ruin your day.

“Riki.” You step closer, tone softer. “Talk to me.”

Nothing.

Not even a glance in your direction.

Your patience starts disintegrating at an alarming rate.

“Riki, seriously, what did I do?”

That’s when he finally moves, head tilting, gaze dragging over you so slow and disapproving you almost feel shamed.

“You don’t know?” he says, voice flat, unimpressed, full of condescending disbelief.

Your stomach drops.

Oh, he’s so mad.

“I” You pause, brain scrambling. “I swear, I don’t. Just tell me,”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you,” he cuts in, shifting on the couch, throwing his arm over the back like some sort of self-righteous villain. His brows lift, his lips curl slightly. “You should already know.”

You exhale sharply, frustration bubbling up like lava. “You expect me to just guess?”

Riki scoffs, shaking his head like you’re the dumbest person on Earth.

“I expect you to use your fucking brain for two seconds and figure it out,” he deadpans, leaning back like he’s above this conversation.

You stare at him. “You are literally insufferable.”

“And you are literally the worst,” he fires back, arms tightening over his chest, voice dripping with exaggerated disappointment.

Your jaw drops. “EXCUSE me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters, tilting his head dramatically, like he’s exhausted just having to interact with you.

You blink, fully processing. “You’re being so fucking dramatic right now.”

Riki lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Ohhh, I’m dramatic?” He presses a hand to his chest like you just personally attacked his character. “Says the person who, oh wait, I forgot, you don’t even know what you fucking did.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Riki, I swear, if you don’t just--”

“You ate my leftovers.”

You stop. Blink.

Process.

Slowly, incredulously, you look at him.

“…What?”

Riki tilts his head. “You. Ate. My. Leftovers.”

Your right eye twitches.

“I—” You shake your head. “Wait. You’re mad because I ate your leftovers?”

His arms cross even tighter, his jaw clenching, lips pressing into a pout. “I was looking forward to that meal.”

You let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, throwing your hands up. “You’ve been ignoring me, judging me, for hours over fucking takeout?”

Riki lifts his chin slightly, narrowing his eyes like you just disrespected his ancestors.

“Not just takeout. My takeout.”

“Oh my fucking God.” You drag a hand over your face, palms pressing into your eyes to physically contain your rage.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Wow. The guilt isn’t even hitting you. You really don’t give a fuck.”

You drop your hands, jaw tightening. “It’s food, Riki.”

“It’s betrayal is what it is,” he mutters, tilting his head dramatically, looking away like he can’t even stand to be in the same room as you.

“You’re acting like I cheated on you.”

“Honestly? It’s worse.” He lifts a brow. “At least if you cheated, I wouldn’t have to see the empty fucking container in the trash.”

You actually gasp, hands flying to your chest. “You’re INSANE!”

“And you’re inconsiderate!”

You stare at him, baffled, barely suppressing the urge to swing. “You have GOT to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.” He huffs, shaking his head, throwing a dramatic arm over the couch again.

You exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Riki. I will literally buy you another meal if you stop acting like I committed a federal crime.”

His eyes flicker back to yours, narrowing slightly, considering.

“With extra sauce?”

“Yes, with extra sauce.”

“And a drink?”

“Oh my GOD, yes you bitch, and a drink.”

Riki clicks his tongue, shaking his head, arms unfolding.

“You got lucky this time,” he mutters, standing up, grabbing his keys.

You glare at him, jaw tightening. “No, you got lucky that I didn’t lose my mind and start throwing hands.”

Riki grins, smug, stepping past you.

“Figure it out.”

[sturnlsstuff]

GENTLEMAN | matt sturniolo

loser!matt x partygirl!reader

matt gets dragged to a party, when he meets the "party queen" who definitely doesn't find him terribly boring like he thought she would, which she makes sure he understands.

requested by @mattsobvimyfav . divider credits. @anitalenia

— warnings; smutty smut, sub!matt, soft!dom!reader, making out, blowjob, riding, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, whiny matt (hot alert), pet names (pretty/good boy, baby, sweetheart...) cursing, praise kink lowkey, mentions of weed, cigs and alcohol, — english isn't my first language.

women like you were out of the league for guys like matt. you were a typical popular girl, partying every week and not like normal people did. you were the queen of the dance floor. party queen, that's how people called you. everyone with eyes and a brain admired the graceful way you carried yourself around. never missing parties, always staying until the very end, usually your friends had to carry you out of the building due to the excess alcohol in your blood and inability to stand on your own feet. when you were telling a joke, everyone laughed. when you were taking shots, so did others, that's how convincing you were.

you could have any guy you wanted, but no one was perfect for your standards. you were admired by girls who wanted to be like you and guys who wanted you.

matt was one of those people. he admired you.

he didn't know you well as a person who kept away from people. he was an observer type, only talked to his closest friends, of whom he had few. maybe even a little shy, that's what people called him, but really when he felt comfortable? he could be so interesting.

he had never talked to you before, only ever heard about you or knew what he had noticed. matt wasn't the party type, usually was practically dragged out of the comfort of his room. he didn't like looking for adventures. and today? some girl that his brothers were friends with, and that matt knew by sight, had a birthday and of course chris and nick once again dragged him out of the house for the party, ignoring his complaints. so that's how he found himself in this house full of rich, drunk kids, loud music blasting in his ears, every now and then someone would trip over his legs, causing him to roll his eyes. he sat half the party on the couch in the corner of the main room, arms crossed and beer in hand. he really wanted to go home, but his brothers would kill him if he didn't last until midnight. half an hour left.

unable to bear it any longer, he finally goes outside where the music was a little muffled, giving him the feeling of getting to breathe again. maybe that was the case. being surrounded by so many people was overwhelming. he lights a cigarette, which was his little addiction but helped him relax, and leans against the wall, praying that the minutes go by faster.

he started getting more and more relaxed, finally at peace, tilting his head back and blowing out clouds of smoke until he heard giggles. his eyes immediately opening, noticing you and your two friends coming out from behind the building and walking crookedly towards him, you searching for something in your purse. he would recognize the party queen everywhere.

"... i can't find it!! i swear i had it!!" you laugh, giving up with whatever you wanted to find, your purse slips off your shoulder just by the front door of the house, right next to where matt was standing. he automatically bends down and hands it to you, drawing the attention of you and your friends to him, which makes his heart beat faster. "oh helloooo, thank you," a smile appears on your face, that brings a slight warmth to his cheeks.

"yeah, no problem," he tries to keep it cool, scratching the back of his neck nervously. you look at your friends, gasping playfully, "ohhh, maybe this gentleman will have a lighter—" your gaze goes back to his blue eyes that were now wide. "do you have a lighter??? i think i lost mine!"

"a what— oh—" he snaps out of his trance, staring too hard at you which makes him blush even more. you were so beautiful. he clears his throat, "yeah, uh, i have one..." he hands it to you, your friends giggling at his nervousness, while you thought he's being really cute. "here you go."

"you're a life saveeeerrrrr," you're about to start searching for the cigarettes but he's quick to pass his own pack to you. "oh god, you're like an angel," your grin widens as you take a cigarette from him, putting it between your lips and lighting it up.

"girlll, my song is playing! can you hurry up?" your friend complains, causing you to roll your eyes.

"just go, i'll come in a minute."

"you sure?"

"yeah, go," you repeat yourself and stand next to matt who was leaning against the wall against, his heart pounding in his chest. he could feel your perfume mixed with... weed, perhaps? you give him the lighter and cigarettes back with a simple 'thank you'.

you both stand next to each other in silence that was starting to weigh on him, but he wasn't able to speak first. you both smoke your cigarettes when you finally look at him again. dressed all in black, a beer in one hand, on which you notice tattoos. oh, he's handsome as fuck.

"so" you speak up, getting his attention. "does this gentleman have a name?"

he smiles shyly, overwhelmed by your beauty. "i'm matt."

"matt," you repeat, tasting his name on your tongue. "i like it. suits you."

the way you repeat his name makes him feel both uncomfortable and strangely excited at the same time. he rubs the back of his neck nervously again, blowing out the smoke, just as you say your name too. he gives you a glance, "i know."

"oh, do you?" a smirk appears on your lips as you take another drag. he replies hesitantly, "well, i mean... who doesn't?"

you nod confidently, "right." your eyes travel to his tattooed arm again, feeling your stomach twisting in knots at the sight. he catches it and looks down at his arm as well. "i like them. make you look hotter," you confess.

he blinks, caught of guard by your words. he wasn't really used to people, especially not girls like you, saying things like that to him. mostly because he barely was leaving his house. he feels his heart race, a warmth spreading through his chest. "thanks."

"of course," you respond casually, checking him out once again before looking away with a small smile and taking another drag of the cigarette. you were slightly high, not really that drunk yet and you knew what you were doing. his awkwardness was so cute, there was no way you'd let this man go so quickly tonight. you actually felt like you need to have him.

matt finishes his beer in one swing, putting the empty bottle aside, causing your attention to get back to him.

the more you looked at him, the more he reminded you of someone, but there was no way you talked or even seen matt before. though, you decide to ask, "wait, don't i know you already?"

he raises his eyebrow, locking eyes with you. "me? i don't think so." i would definitely want you to, he thinks.

"oh, 'cause i feel like i do. or maybe you just remind me of someone—"

"i'm a triplet. you probably know my brothers."

"ohhh, wait—" you snap your fingers, trying to remember. "yeah, chris and— and nick? oh, now i know. never seen you before though. lowkey thought they're bullshitting about being triplets."

matt smiles amused, taking one last drag and throwing the butt of the cigarette on the ground, trampling it with his shoe. "yeah, m'not really out going."

"i see," you nod, smiling back. "i'd definitely remember you."

he chuckles softly, feeling his face warm at your words again. damn, get your shit together matthew. "really, huh?"

"yeah. with this looks and that—?" you point at his tattoos. "i promise, i would remember."

you didn't feel like beating around the bush, you liked him. he was extremely handsome, his hair looked so soft you wanted to run your hand through it, his eyes made you weak in your knees and his lips begged to be kissed. not to mention the aura he had around him, he intrigued you. matt was different than the rest of those assholes you met at parties.

he looks away shyly, the smile on his face makes your heart flutter. literal butterflies — something you've never had before.

you finish the cigarette in a comfortable silence, getting slightly overwhelmed after the weed you smoked before. leaning against the wall, your shoulder brushes against his, drawing his attention back to you.

"you good?"

"mhm, it's that cigarette, give me a second."

he nods, watching as you throw the rest of it aside. "okay. jus' don't go passing out on me."

"hey, i'm not that drunk i can even stand on my hands if you want. look—" you're literally bending over in front of him, hands on the ground, and you're ready to do it, but he quickly grabs your waist, forcing you to straighten up. matt tried his hardest not to look at your ass and the way your short dress rode up. his pants suddenly start to grow tighter but he ignores it.

"you better not—"

with a giggle, you turn around to face him, the feelings of his hands sends a shiver down your spine. "i could easily do that."

"sure," he raises his eyebrow, the blush on his cheeks only growing because of the closeness. "i don't think i'd know what to do with a drunk and unconscious party queen on my hands, if you did that."

"right, okay." you bite down on your bottom plump lip, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. "but what would you do with a slighty tipsy and definitely conscious party queen on your hands, hm?"

his eyes sparkle with amusement, heart rate subtly increasing at your promixity. "well, that's a pretty open-ended question," he replies, his voice low and gentle. "depends on the party queen personality and how she's feeling."

oh, he's funny.

"and if the party queen is feeling perfectly fine and have the best personality ever?"

the air between you two suddenly feeling charged with an unexpected, but pleasant tension. matt could feel himself getting more and more worked up. he tried to be the gentleman that handed you the purse a few minutes ago, or gave you a cigarette and a lighter, but it was getting hard. especially now, when he realizes his hands are still on your waist and you don't seem to mind at all.

"oh, in that case i'd probably just try to keep up 'n hope her great personality doesn't find me too terribly boring."

"nah, i think she finds you pretty intriguing actually." you tilt your head to the side, eyes dropping to his lips before moving back up. oh, those lips.... "and if she wanted to show you just how bad?"

he swallows hard, "you mean, hypothetically... if she wanted to show me she's interested?"

"mhm, yeah. exactly what i mean," you lean in, giving him time to push you away, but he doesn't. oh, he would never. he wanted you so bad, knowing he's just one of hundreds of your simps, but it was the last thing on his mind right now. all he wanted is to feel your lips on his.

and he finally did.

closing the gap between you two, you kiss him softly, what he does too after a moment. his initial hesitation melting into reciprocation as your lips move against his. his hands, unsure at first, eventually move down to your hips, pulling you gently closer. your fingers tangling into his messy, soft hair, pushing him slightly against the wall, getting a hum in approval. matt starts relaxing against you, letting you set the pace and tone for your interaction. as you take your time, he finds himself growing more comfortable and excited. he would never think it would happen. with you out of all people.

the kiss starts getting more and more heated, you grow slightly impatient, feeling the ache between your legs starting to grow. you press your body closer to him, hand traveling up and down his chest, your tongues dancing together. once he feels how gently you bite his lip, a small whine leaves him, your mind spins and definitely not because of the amount of alcohol or weed you've consumed.

you break the kiss, both of you panting as you mutter against his lips, "come with me, yeah?" getting a weak nod in response, you're fast to make your way back into the crowded house, dragging matt behind you by his wrist.

his palms start to sweat as you take him upstairs and reach some empty room, pushing him inside. the noise of the party fading behind you two once you kick the door shut and attack his lips again.

matt is overwhelmed but in the best way possible. his senses are filled with your sweet scent, the tension growing in his pants with each second. his eagerness showing in his tentative exploration, but offset by an earnest enthusiasm. he lets out a soft sigh into the kiss, surrendering to your lead. he hits the bed and falls onto the mattress, you climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. he gasps softly as your weight presses down on him in the most distracting and exhilarating way. his hands instinctively find their way to your hips again, gripping slightly as he tries to adjust to this new position.

breaking the kiss, you start trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, his head tilts back unconsciously, giving you better access to his skin. his whole body shivers at the delicate touches of your lips, a soft moan escaping him as you hit a particularly sensitive spot, sucking on it to intentionally mark him.

his reaction brings a smile to your face and you look up to see him in such a cute state. messy hair, cheeks reddish, his pink lips swollen from the make out as he lets out heavy breaths.

"look at you, pretty boy."

his eyelids flutter open, revealing pupils dilated with desire. matt touches the mark on his neck lightly, fingers tracing where you'd sucked. "that's..." he clears his throat, feeling his face flush even more. the way you look at him is both intimidating and incredibly hot.

"hm? you like it?"

"y-yeah, that's really... good," he admits.

you just couldn't help yourself, he was so majestic, really. the way he was clearly trying not to rush or throw himself at you, makes you want to give him all the pleasure in the world so he wouldn't be able to forget about this evening, no matter how hard he'd try.

"want more?"

his eyes darken slightly, voice hoarse with lust, "that wouldn't be really... gentleman of me, hm?"

you smile, finding him amusing. "oh, but i'm proposing this to you, not the other way around. so...?" you whisper against his lips, "how it's gonna be, baby?"

this time he captures your lips in a kiss, wanting to show you how much he wants— no, craves you, hoping this is enough of a response.

a wave of heat washes over you, hands traveling under his shirt which steals another whine from matt. you had never been so turned on before in such a short amount of time, automatically starting to move your hips and grind down against him, feeling how hard he was beneath you. pride overwhelms you at the feeling of how much he's affected by you, the want for him even bigger than before.

his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. he can feel you moving on his lap, the friction driving him crazy. your tongue explores his mouth, lips clicking against his. his hands shaky on your body from the desire he felt. "you can touch me, matt..." you pant against his plump lips, pressing your clothed, soaked core against his dick harder.

"y'feel so good..." his eyes are glassy with lust as he looks up at you. his chest is heaving, and he bites his lip, trying to compose himself when he finally allows his hands to explore your body.

"mhm, i can feel how bad you want me," you keep grinding against him, the friction causing you both to whimper. "is really cute.... and hot— you know?"

"please—" his eyes flutter shut from pleasure, your hands teasing him just above the waistband of his jeans. "what is it, baby?" you bite back a smile at his desperate expression.

"just... i need you please— can you..." his breath is coming in ragged gasps now, and he feels both embarrassed and completely exhilarated. his hips rise slightly to meet yours, a natural response to the overwhelming sensation. his body aches for more contact, more friction, more of you.

"can i what? c'mon, you gotta ask nicely if you want something." you're teasing, torturing him purposely, enjoying how adorable he gets when his shyness takes over. "look at me, matt."

blushing intensely, he opens his eyes and stammers out, "can you... i mean, would you... with your mouth?" he immediately looks mortified at his own boldness, his cheeks flaming red as he quickly adds, "sorry, i didn't mean to presume—"

"i think you did mean it though," you smile softly, licking your lips. his words and the image that just popped up in your head makes your pussy pulse. "how can i say no when you're being such a good boy for me?" you press kisses to his neck just as he whines again, your hands already working on his belt. his eyes watching as his jeans and boxers get pushed down his legs. he gasps as the cool air hits his exposed lower half, his body trembling slightly. his dick twitches as you kneel on the mattress between his legs, looking at him in awe. "just relax."

he nods quickly, trying to calm himself. his chest is rising and falling rapidly, hands fumble anxiously with the hem of his shirt unsure what to do with them. is not like he was inexperienced, he was in a relationship before, but having you, the popular party girl that everyone wanted, between his legs was definitely making him more nervous than he would usually be.

you put your hair up into a messy ponytail, his body immediately tensing up. he can feel the blood rushing to his cock, making it throb with anticipation. he tries to relax his legs, spreading them wider to give you better access. you stop just above his tip, looking up at him with a smile at the messy state he was already in, even if you didn't start yet. "gonna say a magic word?"

he swallows hard, his blush deepens, "please."

his eyes dart between your face and his hard, leaking with precum dick, hardly believing this is really happening. but it feels real, when you give him a kitty lick before starting to suck on his tip. a strangled moan escapes matt's lips, his hips involuntarily twitching upwards. the sensation is electric, his hands fist in the sheets beneath him, grasping desperately for some form of anchor. "o-oh, fuck—"

your tongue is swirling around his tip teasingly, before you take him deeper, his eyes roll back in his head, breath catching in his throat. he can feel every ridge and curve of your mouth, the wet heat almost more than he can bear. a shaky whimper escapes him, hands slide up to tangle in your hair, gripping tightly as he fights the urge to buck his hips forward.

he was so big, the choking sounds echoing in the room, saliva dripping down your chin. hollowing your cheeks, you start bobbing your head up and down, nose brushing against his pelvis. "s-shit.... feels so good— mmmm, fu—ckkk--" his entire body shudders, he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, completely captivated by the sight. the sounds alone are enough to make him dizzy with desire. his breathing becomes more ragged, mingling with the wet sounds of your mouth. "oh god..." he whimpers. you're breathing through your nose, focusing on his tip again, your hand working on the rest of him. the sensation combined with your mouth is incredible, almost too much to process. matt bites his lip hard, suppressing a loud moan, but it still escapes as more of a choked groan. "fuck, please—"

he was completely out of it, a big whining mess, his hips uncontrollably lifting upwards, his tip hitting the back of your throat. his toes curl as he feels the mounting pressure, his entire body tingling with exquisite tension while you suck on his dick like on a lollipop, being all messy with it, gagging every now and then. panting heavily, he tugs gently at your hair, "w-wait, m'gonna.... m'so close, wait—" you hum in approval, wanting to taste him on your tongue. it sends vibrations through him, another whimper escaping him. you speed up your movements, matt automatically starts thrusting up into your mouth as his orgasm approaches, "f-fuck, sorry, i.... i can't— shittt, gonna cum— can i... oh—"

he's lost at this point, his head threw back, a loud, unrestrained moan ripping from his throat as you resume your actions. his hips lift off the bed, pressing himself deeper into your mouth, getting another moan from you. the sight was hypnotizing, his flushed features, the way he tried to muffle his moans by chewing on his bottom lip. you were dripping, clenching around nothing just from watching him.

with a choked cry, his entire body convulses as he finds his release, pulse after pulse of ecstasy flooding through him. his fingers fist so tightly in your hair that he's vaguely aware it might hurt, but he can't seem to loosen his grip. you whimper around him, tasting him on your tongue and swallowing everything. your tongue swirl around his sensitive tip one more time before pulling out with a wet pop. his vision blurs, heart pounding in his chest. he lets go off your hair, your eyes meeting his, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. damn.

his face flushed with heat as he smiles, "holy fuck."

"holy fuck indeed," you lick your lips, the sight so intimate and erotic for him that he feels his spent dick twitch in response. "that was, like, amazing—" he mutters, still struggling to find his voice.

you chuckle, moving so now you were on top of him again, hands on each side of his head. "what a shame that we met so late," you say, running your hand through his hair, a shiver going down his spine.

"i was supposed to leave at midnight," he admits. your eyebrow raises, "oh really?" he nods, "yeah, not a fan of parties."

"well... i'm glad you didn't have the chance to leave then."

"me too." he pulls you into another desperate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, getting a hum in surprise. he was clearly eager for more. your fast to roll your dress up around your waist, grabbing his hand and directing it between your legs. when he feels how soaked your panties were, he can't help but whimper again. "feel it, baby?" you break the kiss, looking at him, his eyes darken with lust. "that's allll because of you."

his gaze travels over your body, taking in the curves he's only ever imagined. he swallows hard, his voice hoarse with need. "please, i need you..."

"you're so cute when you beg," you smile biting down on your plump lip. removing your underwear, you position yourself just above his tip, letting him feel the wet warmth, teasing him mercilessly. matt whines softly, his body tensing with the need to thrust into you and finally feel you. "what was that, hm? tell me what you want, matt."

"need you... to ride me— please—"

"need me, hm? and how bad?"

he whines again, louder this time, his hips bucking slightly in an attempt to get him inside you. "so bad," he pants, his voice barely recognizable in his desperation. "please, please, please..." he chants, his voice cracking with need.

"gooood boy," you praise, his words getting you even wetter. wrapping your hand around his cock, you give him a few strokes before slowly sinking down on him. "begging so pretty— f-fuck...." the sudden feeling of your warm, tight pussy enveloping his aching dick is almost too much for matt to handle. he throws his head back, a loud, wordless whimper tearing from his throat as he's sheathed inside you, a moan leaving your lips as well at his reaction. "shit, you're so big—" you stay still to adjust, lifting your dress higher to be more comfortable. you feel his dick twitching inside you after your words. amused written all over your face when you look at him, "you like it, hm? who would've know you're so naughty...."

matt's hands tremble as they grip your hips, trying desperately to hold back the urge to grind into you. his breath comes in short, sharp bursts as he savors the exquisite tightness gripping him.

"feels good?" you slowly start moving, he nods his head weakly, words caught in his throat as he tries to speak around the lump formed by his swallowed moan. "mmm, holy shit, matt—" his cock is buried so deeply inside you that it makes you see stars for a moment. you crave more of him, so you start speeding up the pace.

"so... good..." he manages to rasp out, his eyes rolling back briefly before snapping forward to lock onto yours again. "you're...too much..."

"yeah? want me to stop?" you mock him a little bit, knowing that's the last thing he wants.

he shakes his head frantically, a sheepish grin spreading across his flushed face. "no, no...don't stop. i meant...fuck, you're just so tight— fuckkk, feels incredible." he bucks his hips slightly, emphasizing his enthusiasm, his nails dig into your hips, his body tensing as he tries to pull you down further onto him.

"you're doing perfect for me, baby—" you moan out, putting one hand on his chest as you start moving your hips harder, your attention drawn to his tattoos. the sight of his arm causes you to painfully clench around him, your pussy gripping him like a vice. he hisses at the feeling, it drives him wild. "shit, just like that—"

you both aren't able to hold back your moans, letting them spill out one after another. each thrust pushes you both into ecstasy, your hand on his chest the only thing anchoring him to reality. matt's hands slide up your sides, then down to your thighs, marveling the soft skin beneath his fingers.

matt notices the way your eyes are locked onto his tattoos and it makes his dick throb even harder inside you. "god, matt— mmhpp, oh my...." you lean forward, needing some balance as your legs start growing tired, your hands on each side of his head. he reaches up to your waist, guiding your movements as he lifts his hips to meet each thrust. "f-fuck— you're so beautiful..."

your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel it as well, which pushes him over the edge too. "gonna cum for me, pretty boy?" you choke out, looking down at him through half-open eyes.

"mhmm, fuck—" he pants, his own face contorted with pleasure. he sees the concentration on your face, the beads of sweat forming on your collarbone. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto him even harder. "s-so close... shiiit—"

"me too," you whine into his ear. "fuck..." his grip tightens on your waist as his release builds. his movements become more urgent, more desperate. "tell me... mm— tell me how you want it, sweetheart—" he knows he won't last much longer, not with how perfectly you're stretching around him.

"inside me—"

"y-yeah?" his voice breaking as he feels you clench around him again. "you want me to fill you up?"

"mhmmm—" you moan just as he whimpers again, what pushes you into a state of bliss, euphoria consumes you as your orgasm crashes down over you, your hips stuttering.

once he feels you creaming around him, and the pretty — mesmerizing moans, oh he's too far gone. matt's control snaps, he buries himself as deep as possible inside you, his hips jerking as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep within your spasming pussy. one last moan leaves him, his vision blurring as his release seems to go on forever. "fuckkkk—"

after you both ride out your orgasms, your hips come to a stop, his hands splaying out against your lower back as he pulls you flush against him. matt can feel his release slowly leaking out of you and dripping down his thighs. your breath against his neck tickles his skin.

"oh my god," he breathes out, making you chuckle and you lift up your head, seeing his flushed face. so cute. "made me see fuckin' stars, holy shit."

you laugh again, getting off to lay down beside him, head on matt's shoulder, his heart skips a beat at that. "you're funny," you say.

he wraps his hand around your waist again, not really ready to let go yet. "m'serious."

"okay, mr serious," you roll your eyes. "doesn't mean you aren't funny. and still a gentleman."

"getting into your pants before first date isn't really gentleman of me," he smiles shyly as you look up at him.

"i got into your pants," you correct him. "you gonna get into mine after that first date."

"there's gonna be one?"

"oh, definitely."

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs

[auggieblogs]

Juno ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ | MV1

Max Verstappen x fem! reader

Author’s note: HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL BABIESSS!!! I am back after a really long time and apologies for doing so. Turns out university really does suck the living life out of you lmfao. Anyways currently absolutely obsessed with Sabrina Carpenter, I LOVE HER SO MUCH. I read a fic inspired by her segment during the “Juno” song and decided to write a Max version of it (obviously). Hope you all like it:) Apologies in advance if it doesn’t live up to the other works, I am a little crusty and with my writing right now:/

Happy reading, my lovies💗⭐️

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

Every crowd had its own magic, but this one? This was personal. Standing in the front row, dressed in his casual white button-up that hugged his shoulders just right, paired with tailored light pants that made him look effortlessly put-together, was Max Verstappen—F1’s reigning World Champion and, most importantly, your boyfriend.

You pressed a hand to your forehead as if scanning the crowd, your sparkling skirt shimmering under the stage lights.

“Do you guys ever feel like you’re in a room full of people who are just so good-looking that it’s borderline unfair?” you asked, pacing the stage. The crowd screamed in agreement, feeding off your energy.

Well, tonight, my loves, it’s me. I’m overwhelmed. Truly. I mean, look at you guys!” You gestured to the crowd with a wink. “But… but… wait a second.” You squinted out into the sea of faces. “Hold on. Girls, come here. Come here.” You waved your dancers over, whispering conspiratorially into the mic. “Do you see what I’m seeing?”

The spotlight found Max, and the arena absolutely erupted. On the big screen, his expression shifted from mildly amused to completely flustered, a deep blush creeping up his neck as he shook his head, laughing.

“Oh no, no, no, this won’t do,” you continued, pacing dramatically as your dancers gasped and giggled beside you. “Sir,” you said, turning back to the mic, “what’s your name?”

Max cupped his hands around his mouth, his voice booming over the crowd. “Max!”

You grinned but pretended not to hear him. “Sorry, what was that? Did you say… snack?”

The crowd went wild, and Max’s hand flew to his face, shaking his head in disbelief as he laughed.

“Ohhh, Max,” you said finally, smirking as you leaned toward the audience. “Well, Max, I hate to break it to you, but you’re in big trouble tonight.”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as if to say, What now?

“You, sir, are officially under arrest for being way too hot.” Sirens blared dramatically over the speakers, red and blue lights flashing across the stage. You fanned yourself with one hand, swaying your hips to the beat as the crowd screamed louder than ever.

You turned to your dancers, leaning dramatically against one of their shoulders. “Girls, do you ever see someone so attractive that your brain just… stops working?” Your dancers nodded dramatically, fanning themselves as you added, “You’re standing there, clothes falling off, knees weak, heart doing backflips—like, how am I supposed to survive this, huh?”

With that, you reached for the clasp on your glittering long skirt, letting it drop to the floor in one smooth motion. The crowd went wild.

“And now I’m out here practically undressed because of you,” you teased, pointing at Max as the audience screamed. “So I’m thinking… maybe you deserve these.” You held up the handcuffs and knelt down, extending them toward him.

The audience gasped and cheered as you knelt at the edge of the stage, holding out a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs toward Max. “Max, will you take these from me?”

He hesitated, playing along perfectly as the cameras zoomed in on his flustered yet amused expression. Finally, he reached out with one hand, curling his fingers in a “gimme” motion that had the crowd in stitches.

As he held the cuffs, he tilted his head, examining them with a small smirk before looking back up at you. On the big screen, his smirk turned into a full grin as you pointed at him and announced, “We’re gonna sing this one for you, Max.”

The intro to Juno began, and you performed the entire song with him as your obvious muse, throwing playful winks and cheeky moves in his direction that left him shaking his head with laughter.

By the time the song ended, you turned back to him, breathing heavily into the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Max Verstappen!”

[horny-marbles]

I would love to see your headcanons for who's the most to least likely to sub for their partner! Whatever characters of your choice <3

hii!! this was honestly so fun to write :P these lowkey are kind of like a scenario split into hcs, idk why but that's just how my brain decided to go about it lol.

they're in order from most to least likely to sub :P also the prompt i worked with as a base for these is basically the reader bringing it up to them while in a relationship. i found it worked better than just writing who would do it voluntarily (because they wouldn't i'm afraid 💀). also also, gn partner!

enjoy!! <3

Creepypasta Submissive Headcanons (NSFW)

CW: dom/sub dynamics, a bit of brat taming?, degradation, a bit of bondage, spit, orgasm control/edging, dubcon at the end, oral (giving and receiving for both the characters and the reader), slight mention of trauma but nothing explicit

BEN Drowned

모 sex with him is generally you centric because he's always geeked off that grass and uses that as an excuse to be lazy and lay back while you ride his face and use his dick—he gets off anyway, so might as well let you do the work under the pretense of "Yeah babe you can use me, empowerment or whatever."

모 so when you bring up domming him, he doesn't even think twice about it. goes into it thinking it's just regular sex but on steroids. not because he's blind to what it means—he's been inside the internet, he's seen shit—but because it's you. and what will you do.

모 there would be a tiny brat-dom dynamic by default because, yeah he's down for whatever you bring up, but he cannot take it fully seriously. kind of difficult to do that when you're baked like a pastry.

모 you want him to address you with a superior nickname? "yes ma'am/sir/master" but he's rolling his eyes and sporting a shit eating grin the entire time because he thinks it's comical.

모 you demand that he doesn't jerk off unless you tell him to? definitely does it when he's nose deep between your legs just to see what you do about it. "What?? It's muscle memory babe, don't pretend it's not hot."

모 genuinely huffing and puffing if you tied his hands behind his back and edged him as punishment. talking shit up until the point he's twitching and rutting in the air when you stop touching him. then it's:

"Holy shit, OKAY I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry, just— babe-master, I'm getting dick cramps, come on,"

모 refuses to beg for about 10 seconds total. the moment you tease him again, "Ohhh my fucking god, please fuck me, please, I can't take this anymore, PLEASE make me cum".

모 balls deep inside you and choking on mindless thanks, making these broken, indignant whines if you told him to slow down.

모 all in all, however, he would be into it more than he expected. it doesn't become default freaky time because he does not have that kind of energy, but when it happens again, he'd lay off the brattiness.

모 aftercare is basically non-existent. he doesn't need it, he would just spark up again and hop on the game, but if you felt like you needed it, it would be more quality time than cuddles.

Toby Rodgers

𓌏 he's lowkey a closeted switch disguised as a feral fuck machine so when you bring it up he gets lowkey defensive, he feels CLOCKED.

𓌏 "What, s-so I don't fuh-fuck you good? That it?" "Is this a con-control thing? You want a-an excuse t-to bully me?" full 7 stages of grief like huh?

𓌏 eventually agrees grudgingly which, in other words, means he was fiending for this shit forever but he never surpassed preteen emotional maturity. so, coming to terms with being bossed around was a project in erosion (thanks Slender).

𓌏 he's acting like a stray dog at first, defenses up so high that you have to break character and remind him it's still just you and if he doesn't like something he can just tell you. didn't even establish a safe word because you thought this was going to fail from the start.

𓌏 it takes approximately 5 minutes of you easing him into it with gentle authority assertion until he melts and starts begging, just like that. you're half-way into calling him a good boy for making eye contact when you asked, and he's already whining.

𓌏 you specifically avoid degradation because you don't wanna push it. however, "Are you gonna be a good boy and stay still while I suck you off?" is exactly the moment where the puzzle pieces fall into place for him.

𓌏 "Yes, I'll— f-fuck I'll be the b-best fucking slut f-for you, please," oh okay. i thought we were— alright??

𓌏 barely a decent slut for you, canNOT stay still, but he tries. kind of. hips thrusting up too excitedly, cockhead ramming so hard in the back of your throat that you basically feel the bruise forming in real time. "S-shit, fuck, I'm sorry— I-I'm sorry, it's a t-tic, please d-don't stop." lies.

𓌏 quickly discovers he likes begging with his mouth full. your fingers, your underwear, you, anything. choking on messy “pl-please, c’n I cum, I’ll be g-good, I swear", so needy you would confuse his pleas for the begging of his victims.

𓌏 hot take or not, slight mommy/daddy kink. obvious reasons.

𓌏 so obnoxiously loud when you start degrading him. "You're that much of a worthless mutt? You can't even take what I give you and you're expecting me to let you cum?" groaning, whining, eyes glassy and mouth snarling like he's in pain, voice cracking when you have a hand around his throat, or a foot on his chest.

𓌏 when you finally let him cum, he sobs actual tears. voice breaking and wheezing from how begging in guttural groans scratched his throat the entire time. spit dripping down his neck from the gash in his cheek. whole body convulsing and tics flaring up like crazy. you can barely even hear the thanks he whispers breathlessly.

𓌏 so quick to clean his cum out of you if you asked.

𓌏 aftercare consists of him completely limp on top of you while you detangle his sweaty hair, muttering little praises in his ear, which he petulantly grunts away like you didn't just reduce him to whimpering mush.

Eyeless Jack

⚉ he's a predator by nature, so subbing isn't exactly something that's ever crossed his mind. but the thing with Jack is, he doesn't just do relationships. if you're partners, you're really fucking special to him, and by proxy he would jump into it just because he's devoted. so, your answer would be a short, certain "...Alright."

⚉ he's surprisingly a very good sport about it. the second you put your hand on his chest and push him down, he goes easy. obedient. no passive aggressiveness, no brattiness, no "I could flip this on you so quick". he just watches you from where he's propped up on his elbows with this unreadable expression like he's waiting for you to take him apart and it doesn’t even bruise his pride.

⚉ doesn’t beg, doesn’t whimper, doesn’t plead. but the second you tell him to stay still and open his mouth, he does. you’ll straddle his chest and he just tilts his head back, mouth parting obediently, waiting for your fingers, your taste, anything.

⚉ he'll sit and take whatever you give him, answers everything with short, respectful answers like it's something sacred. "You like being used, big boy?" "Yes, ma'am/sir." the only sign he’s into it is how fucking hard he gets from just serving you.

⚉ at one point you slap his hand away when he tries to jerk off without permission and he just freezes. like a dog being told to stay. stares at you with wide sockets and says, “...Apologies.” voice low, like it’s actually sincere.

⚉ takes edging mostly unphased, only grunting when you stop to watch his leaking cock twitch helplessly on his stomach. the restraint is borderline terrifying. HOWEVER, by the 5th, 6th time, he's panting, thighs shaking, hips thrusting in the air purely out of instinct.

⚉ you tie his wrists behind his back just for fun, and the moment you straddle him, his whole body tenses like a loaded weapon. he doesn't dare move until you tell him to. when you finally lean back and put your hands on his knees for leverage while riding him—bouncing, relentless—he jerks his hands against the ties, teeth bared in a hiss.

⚉ doesn't need praise, didn't react to it the entire time, but the moment you start huffing out little "so big, so obedient, such a good fucking toy for me" while he's balls deep inside you, his chest ruptures with a growl.

⚉ the only real, shaken reaction you'll get out of him is when you give him permission to cum. chokes on a growl, snarls "yes, fuck yes, yes—" through gritted teeth and starts pistoning into you from below.

⚉ doesn't need aftercare, but he just lays there with you like he’s resting after a blood ritual. no words. no movement. you curl into him and he shifts just enough to wrap an arm around your waist. breathes in slow, reverent, like he’d let you kill him if you wanted.

Brian Thomas

☹ bringing it up to him in a conversation would go south quickly. sex with him generally feels impersonal and more like a vessel for frustration, regardless of how long you have been together. letting his guard down is off the table.

☹ unless you manage to sneak it into the rare instance where he's allowing himself to relax just enough to soften a bit. where he kisses you slowly while stroking your back under the covers and his body succumbs to your gentleness, instead of crashing his mouth into yours with clenched teeth and shoving his hand in your underwear like fucking you as urgently as possible would take the weight off his shoulders.

☹ starting slow would be the best course of action. gently guiding his face to the side to drag your lips down his neck, feeling him through his shirt while whispering into his skin. "Relax, let me take care of you", "Let me take these off, baby", "Lift your hips for me."

☹ looks at you with these wary eyes and parted lips like he's so torn. but he lets you. lets you undress him, lets you get on top of him to kiss down his chest, down his stomach. lets you lick up his shaft instead of grabbing your hair and guiding you to take him in your mouth right off the bat. even fights himself to keep still and not rush you when you start teasing him.

☹ "So good for me, baby" while stroking from the base up and licking around his tip? he whimpers. genuine, meek, like that's enough to crack him open.

☹ hands will eventually fly to your hair on instinct. you'll grab his wrists and set them down back at his sides, not forcing them down but just holding your hands over them to remind. he wouldn't squirm, but he would tense. and "be a good boy for me and i'll give you what you want, okay?" is enough to get him biting his lip and breathe harder.

☹ the more you give, the more he gives back like it's natural. you take him deeper, relax your throat and let his cock slide down slowly, he groans so deep you can barely hear the "fffuck yes, thank you," but it's there. small and new and unsure, but coming out without resistance.

☹ praise, for anything and everything, and he melts into a puddle of breathy moans and shaking thighs. "Look at you, you look so fucking good on your knees for me" and his eyes would roll back in a muffled whine.

☹ surprisingly self controlled when you tell him just how to fuck you, but he's panting in your ear like it's painful not to pound into you when you keep him moving slowly. "F-fuck, you're so tight, please, just a bit... just— let me fuck you proper, please."

☹ does NOT take edging easily. crumbling by the second time he starts getting close, bucking up into your hand and sweating bullets.

☹ looks damaged when you let him cum. eyes wide, brows pinched together tightly, mouth wide open and slack and nothing coming out, like you punched the air out of his lungs.

☹ aftercare is silent and sticky with tight hugs and noses buried in each other's shoulders. won't say it out loud in a million years, but it felt cathartic.

Tim Wright

⦻ takes a LOT of convincing, a lot of reasoning, you even almost resort to making a google slideshow for him. however, it's clear from the get go he's not fully opposed to it with the way he's smirking every time you start your "hear me out" rant. he just wants to watch you reason with him just to fuck with you a little. mind games™

⦻ agrees EVENTUALLY. and he's deceptively composed when he gets on his knees for you. deceptive little grin when you spread your legs and pull him in. something's wrong.

⦻ "Tim." "What?? I'm on my knees, no? Ain't you supposed to call me a good boy?" before he dives in with his entire mouth right away. latches on and sucks like he's trying to prove something.

⦻ "Hm? Easier? Should've specified." "Maybe you should get rougher with me so I listen. C'mon, you wanted this, do I have to teach you?"

⦻ you do get rougher. yank him off you by the hair, hold him there and jerk his head while you scold him. he just looks up at you with low eyes and a sharp, toothy grin, like he's completely unphased by the sting but loving you getting riled up.

⦻ makes a show of jacking off after you specifically demanded that he doesn't, moaning a little extra when you slap his hand off his dick. "Shit, yeah, punish me baby, I've been sooo bad. Maybe you should tie me up too."

⦻ ends up cuffed for maybe 5 minutes while you alternate between fisting his cock and slapping it, before he somehow he ends up out of the restraint—maybe he slipped his hands out because you didn't want to be cruel by tying them too tight and giving him rope burn on his wrists, maybe he just undid the knot while you were focused on keeping him on the edge. either way, you end up yanked on top of him mid "petulant fucking manwhore".

⦻ "Come on, is that it? You're giving up that easy?" gives you no chance whatsoever to stop him from shoving inside you from below. it quickly morphs into thrashing for who fucks who, half him sloppily thrusting into you, half you wrapping both hands around his neck and bouncing on his dick while snarling.

⦻ a mess of spit. yours in his mouth, his on your chest, wetting the sheets, somehow in your hair. he looks like he's thriving while you're genuinely frustrated that he flipped it on you.

⦻ "Tim, come on—!" "Come on? Oh, you want me to cum on you? Fuck, ain't you gonna make me beg for it first?" mockery on 100% even though his voice is shaking by the unforgiving way he just slams into you, just challenging you to keep talking, keep trying, keep failing.

⦻ ruined orgasm. you haul yourself up right when he's starting to grunt low and breathless in his throat, over and over like he does when he's close. actually gasps when he starts pulsating and throbbing angry spurts on his own stomach, cock spasming frustrated and his expression so shocked, like you were the traitor.

⦻ no aftercare, only because he's moping that it felt like shit. you're so proud, and underneath all that huffing and puffing, he is too. silently.

Jeff the Killer

꒷꒦ ...right.

꒷꒦ so, you bring it up to him one night, soft and careful and fully aware of how stupid of an idea this is. hands cold, eyes on the floor, voice so meek and shaky he actually goes "HUH?" 3 times before you actually spit it out.

"Have you, um... thought about, like... letting me be the one in charge...? Like, when we fuck?" instant regret.

꒷꒦ he barks at you. genuinely cackling, eyes bugging a little extra, like that was just so hilarious. you're already backpedaling because you know you should've just kept this in the vault and jerked off to it in private instead.

"You wanna dom me? Hilarious babe, fucking hysterical."

꒷꒦ flips it so fucking fast, you don't even have time to open your mouth before he's on you. hand on your throat so tight you can feel your pulse in your temples, eyes sharp and manic and pinning you down. "You wanna sit on my dick and boss me around? Are you out of your fucking mind, bitch?"

꒷꒦ shoves you down at his feet so you fall face down next to his shoes. yanks you up by the hair and slams his crotch into your face, keeping you there until you're clawing at his legs for air. fucks your throat raw like he's trying to shut you up forever, pinches your nose when you start choking as if to punish you for even conjuring up the thought of flipping the dynamic. "Dominant little whore can't take a fucking blowjob?"

꒷꒦ fucks you like he's correcting you, no prep, no lube (unless you count the spit from your mouth already on his dick). ass up, face pushed in the pillows by his foot on the back of your head.

꒷꒦ "You need to have the stupid fucked outta you? Huh? Say you're stupid. Say 'that was the stupidest shit I done ever said in my life'." "I'm— I'm sorry, I—" "Say it or I'll fucking beat it out of you."

꒷꒦ you do not bring it up again. or maybe you do.

[littlemelaninfics]

Just One More

WARNING: Overstimulation, crying reader, language, fingering

“No, no, no, no!”

There you are, 4 orgasms in and writhing wildly in Bucky’s arms as he continues to rub circles around your clit. You're trembling with tears streaming down your face while you desperately try to get away from the torturous manipulation of his hands. All he could do was smile as he keeps the cold, heavy metal of his left arm tight around you middle.

He kept pulling you back into his chest when you couldn't help but buck your hips and gasps for breath, “Bucky… please… no more, I can’t-”. He puts two fingers in your abused opening,

“Yes, you can,” he says sternly, mouth pressed to your ear. The bass in his voice vibrates the wires in your brain. He's all you crave.

He lets out a deep breath when he slides a third finger into your hole. You were helpless and at his mercy. Your hands are trapped behind your back, between your torsos with a red Christmas ribbon he found. Your legs were trapped between his so when you tried to close them, he just had to spread his wider. There was absolutely nothing you could do to stop him from playing with your sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh, I’m not done yet, Baby. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out and went back to the same speed on your clit.

“Oh my god, Sir… fuck, please, don’t stop,” you moan loudly, trashing in his grip when the tight coil in your abdomen comes undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you. You're full on sobbing in blissful agony before going tractable in his arms. All your body could do was tremble from head to toe when he pressed his nose into your slick neck and finally slips his fingers out of you. He loosens his hold on your torso, allowing your legs to close a bit to give you a well deserved moment. You go to close them more when he cups his hand possessively around your pussy. He’s still not done.

You start to cry again; the combination of the tears and your whining making you sound so pathetic and helpless. He just eats it up.

“Noooo… Bucky, please, no more… stop, I- I can’t… please, no…”

“Shhh. You're doing so well for me,” he says, pressing his lips against your temple. "What do you say to get me to stop?"

He laid a light tap to your swollen petals, "tell, y/n. Stay with me."

"Brooklyn," you said in the faintest whisper.

"Why?"

"It's where we met...FUCK!"

He doesn’t wait another moment before slipping two fingers back inside your sopping pussy, making you cry out when they graze your ultra sensitive walls.

“James-FUCKKK!,” You drag out as you sit your head up to watch his attack on you,

"You want me to stop? Say it and I'll stop." He knew you wouldn't and he reveled at the fact that he had complete control over you. The fact that he didn't reprimand you for using his legal name meant that he was having way too much fun in this torture session to even care.

“No! Please don't stop…” His fingers reached the spot that undoes it all and your eyes roll back as you place your head back on him, completely quiet.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Bucky watches, mesmerized that it's him who's making you cum like this.

You whimper in his arms, gulping in large breaths that pass right by his ear from where my head is resting on his shoulder. Your entire body is trembling. Your sweaty skin sliding along his own when you try to wiggle away from his touch.

You stay like that for a moment before he presses another kiss to your temple. By this time, your eyes are closed and you're starting to come down. Your breathing stables until you feel a heavy, icy sensation start to travel back to your overused cunt.

"You've been such a good girl for me. I know you can give me another, Baby.”

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 1 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you're an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them. Originally posted to AO3

Chapter Summary: Your new(ish) co-worker has a special talent: getting on your nerves.

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Swearing (if that even counts).

You’re ending the first half of your 24-hour shift the same way you always do—dinner with the team. Well, at least that’s how you try to end the first half of your shift. Of course, that’s also assuming that both the fire and medical teams are actually at the station and not on a call.

All things considered, this probably only happens once a week, if that.

When it works out, though, it’s a good time. You already spend a lot of time in the rig with Hen and Chim, being an advanced paramedic and all. When it comes to the firefighters, though, you aren’t as well-versed, so it’s nice to have a weekly ‘getting to know you’ session. It seems like these days, it’s a 50/50 shot if they’ll make it to next week's dinner.

The firefighting crew at the 118 is a revolving door of macho men. When you first started, it was Chim, Tommy, and Sal. Chim became a paramedic, so he didn’t exactly ‘leave.’ Sal got relieved of duty, so he didn’t really have a choice. Tommy left, but for something better. Maybe it isn’t so much the job that makes people leave; maybe being a firefighter at the 118 is a stepping stone for bigger and better things.

There is one firefighter that, if he left, you wouldn’t be heartbroken. In fact, it would probably make your shifts a whole lot better.

Evan Buckley, aka ‘Buck.’ God, even thinking his name makes you want to gag a little.

He’s a decent kid, but he’s just that: a kid. He’s a Probie; he’s only been on the job for about 4 months, and no one would assume otherwise. His heart is in the right place, but his brain hasn’t caught up yet. You’re starting to fear it never will.

“I know exactly what that polite, distant smile means: she’s bored,” Chim says as he leans over the counter, pulling you right out of your thoughts and back into reality. “This woman is so far out of my league, but she’s once-in-a-lifetime… I can’t let her go.”

“Lots of fish in the sea,” Bobby, your captain, chimes in. He leans over to pull something out of the oven.

“Not with the bait he’s using,” Hen remarks as she walks by. Her arms are full of dishes to set the table with.

“Amen, sister,” you agree, hot on her heels. She gives you a small smile and hands you the plates, which you accept with a smile of your own.

“Cruel, but true,” Chim sighs. “I met her on this new dating site, just for cops and firefighters, RomancingTheUniform.com. She’s an adrenaline junkie, so foreplay is me telling her stories about running into burning buildings and jumping into icy lakes and…”

“I’m sorry, wait,” Hen interrupts, “remind me: when was the last time you ran into or jumped over anything?”

“...I embellish a little.”

“Oh, noted.”

“So is she a cop or a firefighter?” You ask.

Chim gives you a look. “Why would she be?”

“Well, you said the website is for cops and firefighters,” you repeat. “Doesn’t that make her a cop or a firefighter?”

“Okay, it’s not just cops and firefighters,” Chim cedes, “it’s also for people that want to date cops and firefighters.”

“Ohhh,” you smile, “so cops, firefighters, and badge bunnies. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m telling you, the uniform is a major aphrodisiac,” Chim continues as he brings a salad to the table.

“Yeah, hence the term ‘badge bunny,’” you remark.

The conversation is interrupted by one of the engines backing into the station. You probably should have noticed it was gone, but frankly, as long as your rig is in the bay safe and sound, you don’t care what the meatheads are up to.

Speaking of meatheads…

“Oh good, PB is back,” you remark sarcastically.

‘PB’, aka ‘pretty boy,’ aka Buck. You started calling him Pretty Boy his first day, and over the months, you shortened it. He jogs his way up the stairs and dips a finger in the communal spaghetti bowl. You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee.

“Wash your hands!” Hen scolds as she pulls the bowl out of his reach.

“What if there’d been a call?” Bobby asks as he brings the last dishes to the table.

“I was in the neighborhood!” Buck defends himself. He takes one of the plates from Bobby’s grasp, but instead of passing it around like a normal person, he starts eating the food off the plate with his dirty hands. Sometimes, you wondered if he was raised by a pack of stray dogs.

Bobby starts lecturing Buck, and you smirk with a little satisfaction. Bobby’s going to write him up, and truthfully? It’s a long time coming.

“First infraction, two more, and you’re out,” Bobby says as he steals back the plate. “Wash your hands.”

“You know, you're not helping him by going easy on him,” Chim says once Buck is out of earshot.

“He just needs a little direction,” Bobby replies.

“I’ll remind you of that when he gets us killed,” you mumble.

The alarm bells start to sound through the station. Everyone groans, including yourself. So much for dinner.

Chim decided to catch a ride with the boys in the truck, so that leaves you and Hen in the rig.

“I’m sorry, dispatch,” you say into the radio, “118 RA responding: did you say the baby is in the wall?”

“10-4, 118,” the dispatcher responds. “Caller reports hearing a baby crying in his walls.”

“Copy that, 118 RA clear,” you say before hanging the radio back up. “Well, this will be fun.”

“You think you can play nice with Buck?” Hen asks, a smirk on her face.

“Hey, I’m always nice,” you reply.

“Not to him!” She laughs. “Don’t think I didn’t see you roll your eyes the second he got back to the station.”

“I can play nice and still think he’s a raging idiot,” you defend. “Besides, since when are you his biggest fan?”

“Trust me, I’m not,” Hen chuckles. “And I love you, but you don’t know how to play nice.”

“Why be the bigger person when you can be the bigger problem?”

That remark gets a full belly laugh out of Hen. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

Hen parks the rig behind the engine in front. The boys come pouring out immediately, grabbing various tools and equipment. You make your way to the back of the ambulance, tossing Hen her med bag before picking up your own.

You follow the rest of the crew upstairs, and before you know it, the five of you are standing in some random guy’s apartment, listening for something that probably isn’t real.

“Look, I'm telling you, I heard a baby crying,” the man says. “Someone flushed a baby down the toilet.”

Hen picks up a bong off the counter and gives the man a look.

“I’m not high.”

You both raise your eyebrows.

“Okay, I’m pretty high, but it’s Sativa,” he says. “It makes you happy. It doesn’t make you hallucinate.”

“It could’ve been a rat,” Chim shrugs. “Sometimes rats get stuck in the walls.”

You frown. At the end of his sentence, you swore you heard a cooing sound.

“Shh,” you say to everyone, walking over to the bathroom. “Did you guys hear that?”

They're hot on your heels, watching as you take your stethoscope from around your neck and put it into your ears. You place the bell on the wall and wait. When you hear nothing, you begin rapping your knuckles on the tile until you do. Once again, it’s a faint cooing sound, not unlike a baby.

You then knock your knuckles on the wall until you hear a hollow sound. You take a marker from your pants pocket and mark an ‘x’ over it, knowing the space behind it is hollow. You take the stethoscope out from your ears.

“We need to open up this wall,” you say, pointing to the ‘x.’

“No, we’re being punked,” Chim disagrees. “It’s a tape recorder or something.”

“Maybe not,” Hen says, stepping forward. “Maybe a mother gives birth on the toilet and flushes it.”

“Okay, first of all, that's awful,” Chim says. “Second, do you know how pipes work?”

“If the baby is premature, its bones can bend and compress like sponges,” Bobby mentions. “We need to get in there.”

“Stand back, I got this!” Buck says, swinging his fire axe over his shoulder.

He runs up towards the wall with full intentions of swinging. Hen and Chim move out of the way and shout while Bobby tries to grab him. Ultimately, you’re the one to stop him, and you do it by placing both hands on the axe.

“Hey! Did you even stop to consider that you might hit a baby?!” You shout, adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream.

Buck just stares at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” you spat, pushing the axe out of the way.

“Buck, go get the saw,” Bobby directs.

“Try to find some common sense while you’re down there,” you call after Buck as he walks out.

“Nice catch,” Bobby says, looking at you.

“How nice of me to save the baby from one of the LAFD’s finest first responders,” you reply bitterly.

You can’t help but look at Hen, who quickly looks away. Her avoidance gives you a small sense of victory because this? This shit right here? This is why you can’t play nice with Buck. His head is screwed on backward, and it can get people killed. Playing nice isn’t going to fix that.

Thankfully, Bobby takes the saw from Buck once he brings it up. He makes a few small cuts in the wall before he and the other boys are pulling at the drywall. They quickly expose a massive pipe running behind the toilet.

“That thing is huge,” you remark to Hen.

“It probably connects a bunch of the toilets in the units above this one,” Hen returned.

“So… even with the water turned off…” you start, a sense of dread filling your stomach.

“If someone above us flushes the toilet, it could drown the baby,” Hen finishes. Almost before she finishes the sentence, she’s running into the hall, yelling for people not to flush their toilets. The boys make a few cuts into the pipe, and in no time, they’re taking it to the floor.

“Guys, I can see the head,” you say, joining them on the floor.

They make a few more cuts until the pipe is one straight segment.

“Get the head out,” Chim instructs.

“Yeah, you gotta push from below,” Buck chimes in.

You try that, but the baby isn’t moving. You look to the corner, then at Buck.

“Bring me the defibrillator,” you instruct clearly.

Buck scrambles over, picking up the case.

“Just the lube, Buck,” you rephrase, but he’s already coming back with the whole thing.

“Take it, take it,” Buck says, passing it off to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before grabbing the lube out and tossing the rest of it to the side. You pour some lube on the baby’s head, then down by its feet.

“Work that in,” you tell Chim.

You move your index finger around the circumference of the pipe, brushing the baby’s legs with lubricant as you do so. Then, you gently apply pressure to its feet, and slowly, you can feel it move forward.

“This is gonna be a scoop and run,” you mumble.

“Hen, get the ambulance ready,” Bobby tells her. You’re not sure when she got back, but when you look up again, she’s gone again.

Slowly, the baby’s head emerges from the pipe, and the rest of her body follows.

“She’s not breathing,” you quickly note, “starting CPR.”

You place your index and middle finger in the center of the baby’s chest and press down fast and hard. “Looks like her airway’s obstructed.”

“Buck, get the bulb syringe,” Chim demands. A few seconds pass. “Buck, come on!”

“I’m coming!” Buck barks back, clearly in a panic.

“Come on, pretty girl,” you say quietly as you continue compressions. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Buck returns with the bulb syringe and uses it, but it doesn’t help.

“Dammit,” you curse. “You’ll have to try a blind finger sweep.”

Buck looks at you, then Chimney, then the baby, then back at you. “Me?”

“You gotta learn somehow,” you remark. “It’s easy: just turn her head to the side, curl your pinkie, and see if you can scoop anything out.”

Buck is hesitant initially, but he eventually does as you tell him. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to clear the obstruction, and the baby begins crying. Everyone laughs with relief.

“Let’s get her wrapped up,” you say, reaching for a towel.

The four of you rush down the hall, you with the baby in your arms. The pit in your stomach returns.

“No one held the elevator?!” you yell.

“Dammit,” Chim curses.

“Give her to me,” Buck says, nodding to the stairs.

You stare at him.

“Come on, I’m twice as fast,” Buck pleads.

“Screw this up, and I’ll kill you,” you threaten before carefully handing her over.

Buck takes off down the stairs, but you follow after. There’s only so much that can happen in a few flights of stairs, but you aren’t willing to risk it.

“I got you,” Buck says to the baby, “you’ll be okay.”

A faint smile crosses your face. Maybe Buck isn’t so terrible after all.

“Come on, move it!” Buck shouts as you both make it out of the lobby and out to the rig.

You climb into the ambulance with him, but before either of you can even sit down, you hear someone yelling to wait. It’s not just anyone: it’s LAPD Sergeant Grant, or as you’ve heard Hen calls her, Athena.

“Wait, is that the mother?” Buck says, looking at the young woman with blood-stained pants in someone’s arms. “Yo, screw her! Look what she did!”

Never mind. Buck is still terrible.

“Sit down and shut up!” You yell at Buck. “This is not your call! She is a child, and she’s bleeding out!”

“Look what she did!” Buck repeated.

“Come on, let’s get her up here,” you say to Athena and the man carrying the young girl, disregarding Buck’s protests.

Bobby and Chim made it down, so they help haul the young girl up into the rig. Chim stays at the head while Bobby sits next to Buck, the spot you were about to sit in mere moments ago.

“If this baby dies, it’s on you,” Buck says, staring at Athena.

“Stop talking, Evan,” you snap as someone closes the ambulance doors.

Using his actual name seems to shut him up.

“What’s your name, honey?” You ask the baby’s mother as you cut away her shirt to place EKG leads.

“Marika,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know you’re scared, Marika, but you just have to keep breathing for me, okay?” you say. “My friend Howie is going to start an IV so we can give you fluids and medication. You’re bleeding a lot, so I have to do what’s called a fundal exam, okay? I have to press on your stomach to make sure your uterus is contracting back down normally.”

She stares at you, eyes filled with tears, before eventually nodding.

Using one hand to stabilize over the pubis, you begin pressing down the other into Marika’s stomach, a few fingerbreadths below her belly button. She lets out a few whimpers. You don’t feel the fundus, or the top of the uterus, like you should.

“Marika, you’re bleeding a lot because your uterus isn’t contracting. I have to make it contract by doing a fundal massage. It won’t feel that good, but it could save your life.”

Once again, Marika looks at you before nodding. This time, she closes her eyes.

Using firm and consistent pressure, you push one hand down where the fundus should be and make small circles. Marika lets out a few more cries of pain. You notice that, after a few minutes, the bleeding starts to slow, and her uterus firms up beneath your hands.

“Hospital ETA 5 minutes, hang in,” Hen chimes in from the ambulance's cab.

“Something’s wrong,” Buck says, staring at the baby in his arms.

You quickly move over to him. “Put her in your lap so I can see.”

Buck listens, moving away the towel so you can look at the baby. She’s cyanosed around the lips. You flip open a compartment and pull out the neonatal ambu bag. You hand it to Bobby, and you don’t even have to tell him to start bagging.

“I’m so sorry,” Marika says. “Is she gonna be okay?”

Bobby squeezes the bag every other second, delivering a breath to the baby. Her color is starting to look better, but she isn’t very responsive.

“Here, let me try something,” you say.

You gently pick up the baby and set it on Marika’s bare chest. After a few moments, the baby begins to move and cry out.

“Oh my god, why did that work?” Marika asks, wrapping her hands around her baby.

“Skin-to-skin can help babies regulate bodily functions, like temperature and breathing,” you reply as you place a towel over them.

You look over to the men sitting next to you. Bobby gives you a nod, and Buck avoids eye contact, but you can tell that he’s pissed. Fuck him, he doesn’t know his head from his ass anyways.

Once the rig pulls into the ambulance bay, you and Chim help the ER staff get the gurney out of the ambulance. Bobby and Buck follow suit, only Buck tries to follow them into the hospital. Bobby stops him before he does.

Bobby gives Buck some lecture about how we did our jobs, and now it’s their turn; it’s the speech every overly excited first responder gets at least once at the start of their career.

A cop car pulls up, and Athena comes out. She clearly found the person she was looking for, because she starts yelling at Buck.

“You do not get to choose who lives and who dies,” she lectures.

“Really? Because I was under the impression that kind of was my job,” Buck retorts.

You could seriously slap him.

“That mother was no less of a child than her baby,” Athena continues yelling, pointing a finger at the hospital. “You’re gonna get someone killed.”

“Well, maybe, but not today,” Buck says with a cocky head tilt.

You laugh humorlessly. “You know what, Pretty Boy?” you say, turning to Buck.

Fuck it. Bobby won’t put him in his place, and Athena isn’t allowed to, so you take matters into your own hands, literally.

Before you even fully comprehend what you’re doing, you’re wrapping a hand around Buck’s throat and pushing him against the ambulance. You aren’t choking him, but you don’t move your hand because keeping it there is your only leverage.

“I’m getting real tired of this tough guy bullshit,” you growl, your face only an inch from his. He’s quite a bit taller than you, but when you bounced him off the rig, his footing faltered, so he’s crouched at your eye level. “You wanna get real, Evan? You didn’t do a goddamn thing today except get in the way. While we were busy saving lives, you were shitting your pants and dropping the ball, not exactly what a tough guy is supposed to do.”

“Okay, enough,” Bobby says, trying to break it up. You’re far from finished, though.

You move your hand from his neck, but only so you can point it in his face. “You aren’t a god — you don’t decide who lives! You didn’t even save a life today: we did, because you kept fucking up. And if you keep fucking up like you did today, you definitely will kill someone, and your little jokes and midday booty calls and your shitty little grin won’t change that!”

Bobby ends up physically pulling you away while Athena makes some room between the two of you.

“Aren’t you going to arrest her or something?” Buck says, rubbing his neck. “She assaulted me!”

“She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Athena counters. “I promise you, Buckley, the next time you screw up? It’ll be your last.”

Athena casts Bobby a glance before she walks away.

“You,” Bobby says, looking at Buck, “in the truck. Now.”

You start to walk over to the passenger’s side of the cab when Bobby calls after you.

“I want you in my office the second we get back,” He orders.

You clench your jaw. “Yes Captain.”

Ch 2