#undertone is an understatement

[hoshinasblade]

im going to need you all to send me happy thoughts please because i am having a very bad week and it's only monday lol anyway here's some angst. i know i have written a lot of stuff here already but so far this one is my favorite (despite me literally drafting this in my phone so expect some grammar errors or spelling mistakes), so if you can, let me know what you folks think. likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated but i will bonk you in the head if you repost or copy any of my writings. THANK YOU ANON FOR THIS ASK!

you could bring a numbered kaiju into submission but it seems that your heart is an entirely different monster.

you should have known better than to fall in love with a colleague, and you should have known better than to fall in love with the third division's vice-captain. your own commander, gen narumi, threw you a dirty look when he found out about your intimate relationship with the bowl cut bastard, and as much as you want to come up with a good enough excuse, the best thing you were able to give is a cliched the heart wants what the heart wants. narumi scoffed at you upon hearing it, following it up with a personal vow to never be romantically involved with anyone in the force.

it didn't have to be said but hoshina still did the honors - there's not a lot of ground rules in your relationship but the first one is this: you and he are soldiers first, lovers second. you pondered if it was supposed to hurt you, and you asked yourself what the hell is wrong with you to say yes to such a set-up: all those love advice by your family and friends about how you should not settle with the bare minimum flew out the window. "i have a responsibility to my division. but i also know i love you," was what hoshina told you. in hindsight maybe you did not care about anything else he said except the part where he confessed he loves you.

you convinced yourself that nothing is more important than being loved by hoshina soshiro. and you persuaded yourself that if he could place you second in his priorities, you would be able to do so too. "i mean, i was a defense officer before i became your girlfriend," you agreed with him.

but there's no worse lie than the one we tell ourselves, you realised too late.

hoshina soshiro took you to dates almost every weekend although he is also almost always late. but you guess being one of the highest-ranking official in an anti-kaiju division burdens him with a heavier obligation than the rest of the officers so you did what a good girlfriend would do: you tried to understand his situation and offered him comfort whenever you catch him overly stressed or fatigued in his tasks. "i'll make it up to you," he would promise, and you would kiss him on the lips.

but after a while he stopped asking you out entirely, blaming it to his busy schedule - and yours - and a month after that, you would see hoshina soshiro only when there are inter-division conferences. narumi gives you his ugliest frowns everytime he spots the vice-captain walking towards you. "get a room," the first division commander rolled his eyes at you and your boyfriend one time.

to be fair, hoshina is good at making you disregard his misgivings. may it be with his tongue or his fingers, even for just a fraction of an hour, you cannot deny that hoshina makes you feel loved and taken care of. hoshina would tell you he loves you and nothing else matters again in your world but those three little words.

you could have perfectly proceeded in your charade of being fine if hoshina only remembered your anniversary. the straw that broke the camel's back, disappointment and frustration and heart wrenching pain consumed you when it came clear to you that hoshina was not planning for some surprise for you after not giving you a single greeting throughout the day - he simply forgot.

"so it skipped you that today's supposed to be our day, but you had time to go to lunch with okonogi," you accused him, feeling a bit guilty that you are involving another person in the argument. the trip to tachikawa base was not short, and your muscles are already killing you, but you made the effort to see hoshina in hopes you can salvage the occasion. the guilt died down after several seconds when hoshina replied.

"how is okonogi-chan a part of this?" he defended her. it did not escape you how he seemed to not be answering you at all.

"okonogi-chan?" you mocked hoshina. "jesus, i am so tired of this!" you did not recognise the sound of your voice when you shouted. "i - i know what i signed up for when i compromised with you, soshiro. you said duties first, i just did not expect i would be at the bottom of the things you care about. that's if i was even in that list at all."

"that's not fair -"

"what's not fair," you gritted your teeth, "is that you keep treating me like shit." you held back your tears; you refused to cry in front of hoshina - you had already given him the power to hurt you, it would have been to much handing him the knowledge that what is happening is effectively breaking you from you within. softly, you determined to get the bottom of things - fuck your dignity, the most you can get from this scenario is hoshina's honesty. "do you still love me?"

"you know i do," he declared too quickly. hoshina strode towards you, crossing the three, four feet distance to reach you. grabbing your cold hands and attempting to cradle it with his own warm ones, hoshina looked sincere and sorry, and you regret that you cannot for the life of you remember the last time he was this tender with you.

"actually i don't." you did not know how you're supposed to bridge the sea between you and hoshina as you withdrew your clammy hands from his touch. you chose to ignore the sudden sadness that crossed his face when you stepped away from him.

the loud ring of the alarm announcing a kaiju attack echoed in your ears. "i have to go, we'll talk more later," hoshina offered, his stare at you was surely meant to glue you in your spot but you did not let it so. "i love you."

"no, wait." you are a defense officer, and a good one at that, and you thankfully did not have to remind the third division vice-captain of that. "i'm going with you." even on the verge of heartbreak, your response is to stand beside hoshina. you almost winced at the implication.

you did not wait for his approval. narumi will be pissed, he joked after seeing you in a battle suit, helping you out a bit as you pick your weapon of choice. "hey." his grip on your elbow distracted you. "be careful out there," he whispered.

bodies break in the strangest of ways, you found out while fighting a considerable strong honju alone in the sector where you were assigned. you weren't officially in the area to be on duty, and protocol says you cannot be under hoshina's command so you had to be borrowed as a back-up to another platoon. your tenure and experience could easily place you as a team leader, that is why you were confident to face a number of those monstrous creatures at once. that is until the suit you were wearing - just a spare one that hasn't been used yet by a recruit - overheated.

"retreat to somewhere safe," you heard hoshina in your in-ear comms, out of breath. "that's an order." you wanted to assert that he isn't really your commanding officer, that he is not upon him to command you in any way but air feels like liquid in your lungs, the exhaustion catching up to you. in a minute or two the suit will lose its integrity after overheating, and you will be vulnerable to attacks of even the smallest yojus. "stay there and i'll send someone -"

you hoped you were not making a habit of interrupting hoshina as you mustered your strength to speak in a firm sentence - "the mission, is to neutralise the kaiju, sir." you screwed your eyes shut, ignoring the searing sensation of the wound in your shoulder.

throwing caution in the wind, hoshina did not relent. "i will come get you."

"soldiers first, soshiro." the static in your in-ear comms was deafening after you had called the vice-captain by his given name, and knowing that whatever you say will be broadcasted to the other officers, you continued. "to hell with what happens to us, right?"

you couldn't say you recall what happened next. dizzying darkness claimed you as your suit gave out, your combat release putting your body to too much pressure. when you came to consciousness, it was at a hospital - in a white room too big to cater to only one patient. tubes were attached to you, needles poking at the delicate vein in your wrist. it hurts to move, it hurts to discover you woke up alone.

the hours passed, each tick of the hands of the clock racing against your own thoughts. a nurse found you awake while in a roaming duty, and alerted the doctor. it was not after that when you saw hoshina again.

"how are you feeling?" you could sense his awkwardness from across the room. you saw his hesitation to come close to you; you cannot decided whether to feel satisfied that he seems to be in pain seeing you like this.

"i can't do this anymore, soshiro." your throat was dry from not speaking in ages, and your words sounded hoarse, as if you had to scrape yourself for them. "i almost died, and i can't do this anymore."

a piece of you wanted for him to tell you to shut up.

"i could have died, and you weren't there. and my god, this entire time i had to assess if i am just selfish, or greedy, and i know there are people to save, but soshiro, it's tiring to be the one who loves the other more," you exclaimed. "maybe it's my mistake that i am in a relationship with the third division's vice-captain but i fell in love with hoshina soshiro."

"i'm sorry." you didn't miss the slight tremble in hoshina's voice, and your chest tightened because after everything, he couldn't say you what you needed to hear.

"i would have died trying to save you, you know," you added weakly.

"i'm sorry," he repeated like a chant, like some mantra that would cure everything damaged for you and for him.

"me too," you replied, because there was nothing else left to say.

[lazaruspiss]

fellas is it incestuous to uh. (nyssa and ra's al ghul, in death and the maidens)

[undasura]

i love getting hate asks that are phrased in disappointment claiming i have good art (very funny they cant deny that) but they dont like my art still because it (quote from one i got just now btw) has "Coomer Undertones" UNDERTONES.... is an understatement go to my bsky i draw cumshots backshots etc there. like its not undertones. im literally a porn artist. the project im working is literally inherently pornographic

[littlelovelunette]

Can you do ambessa x reader x sevika?

Why You So Obsessed With Me?

Obsession was an understatement to describe the way the two women with VERY different morals felt about you. They simply couldn't get enough of you, that's how you found yourself, arms bound behind your back with red ribbons as if you were a present. You were naked, breathing heavily as you felt Sevika work her magic from behind. Her flesh hand on your right breast, and mechanical arm on your left— she was determined to break you. Make you beg.

Ambessa watched with amusement as she took her time, rolling her muscular broad shoulders back as she got ready to devour you. Sevika's flesh fingers rolled your sensitive nipples between the rough, calloused fingers with practised ease, "Say, doll, you want me to touch you, don't you?"

"Yes," you mumbled in a breathy tone, causing Ambessa to cock a brow.

"Filthy little one," you could hear Ambessa mutter under her breath but you couldn't even respond— words cut off by the moan that tore through your mouth. Sevika's forefinger rubbed over the nub, teeth sinking down against the side of your neck. Sharp canines tracing the sensitive skin of your neck.

"I bet if I checked your panties right now, they'll be soaked through and through," Sevika's mechanical fingers dug into the fleshy mound before soothingly rubbing it.

"Please, please," you pleaded making Ambessa chuckle softly. Even though your eyes were closed, you could feel Ambessa getting close due to the heat radiating off her muscular body.

"Please, what?" Ambessa asked, hand hooking in the waist of your panties and with a swift motion she ripped it right off your body. A slow smirk spread over Sevika's lips which were latched on the side of your neck, she pulled your nipple earning a gasp and a low mewl of pleasure.

"Please, fuck me," you managed, a shy undertone to your begging.

"We can't understand," Ambessa's hand slowly grabbed your jaw, thumb soothing the skin as if providing silent comfort, "You have to be more specific than that," she was taking way too much pleasure from making you beg.

"Please, Ambessa," you whispered, "Finger me," you turned your head a little to meet Sevika's eyes, eyelids fluttering open momentarily, "Kiss me, fondle me, play with me. Please, Sevika..."

"There's a good girl," Ambessa patted your head, stroking a loose hair strand back behind your ear, "Come on, then," she said vaguely to Sevika.

"Mhm," Sevika hummed in response, her flesh hand moved down and squeezed your ass cheek, delivering a small slap to it right after making you yelp.

"Now, now, be quiet," Ambessa said affectionately and traced the folds of your cunt before two thick fingers slipped inside easily due to your wetness acting as a lube. You whined out feeling her twist and curl her fingers inside, rubbing the walls of your sensitive pussy.

It had been a while since Ambessa had touched you so this time, her fingers felt so much bigger. You felt almost drunken due to the amount of pleasure clouding your brain. "Focus, little one," Ambessa said, her deep voice working as a grounding to reality for you, you ndoded.

"Yes," you whispered, voice breathy and a small moan escaped your lips, "It feels so good, your b-big fingers..."

Ambessa gave Sevika a nod, you couldn't really make out what Sevika was about to do because she was behind you. But then you felt her flesh fingers rubbing against the rim of your asshole, using your wetness as a makeshift lube to shove her digits in your ass.

"Sev..." you mumbled, feeling small under the ministrations of both women. A small choked moan issued from you once Sevika's fingers were settled in your rectum, "T-too much, please, my butt can't take anym—"

You were cut out when Ambessa pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, saliva running down your chin from both the pleasure and the messy kiss.

Ambessa's fingers started moving again, rubbing against your clit and delving deeper into your eager hole, "You like it like that, don't you?" Sevika mocked as her fingers scissored in your ass.

You moaned in the kiss feeling both women speed up their pace, bringing you closer and closer to coming undone. Eventually you came, body shuddering in the pressure of your pleasure but Sevika's mechanical hand on your waist kept you in a steady position on your knees.

"Did so well for us," Ambessa was the first one to praise as she gave you one last brief kiss before pulling her hand away from your cunt.

"Such a good girl," Sevika chimed in, untying your hands and bringing you in for a kiss too.

[kawacake]

OFFSIDE CRUSH | “HOW DID I BECOME A PR MANAGER?!”

Masterlist , Next

yourinstagram

Liked by, Dailysoccer, BlueLockOfficial, Clutchyoichi, and 1,325,975 others

yourinstagram I just got here… WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO FIX 100+ INTERNET PROBLEMS BECAUSE OF THESE BOYS! HOW DID I BECOME A PR MANAGER?!

View all 71,225 comments

Dailysoccer You’re going to bring an even brighter future for these boys even though you’re behind the camera most of the time Good Luck

yourinstagram THANK YOU SO MUCH😚

megumonster Were apologizing in advance

yourinstagram WHO EVEN GAVE YOU YOUR PHONE??

sleepyseishiro are we not supposed to have our phones…

yourinstagram HOW DID YOU GET MY INSTA?!.

reoofficial Idk man I think we stressing her out a tad bit idk tho🤷🏻

clutchyoichi tad bit is an understatement

yourinstagram yes indeed, tad bit is an understatement..

-

Ego greeted you at the entrance with his assistant by his side, “Follow me.” He said as you nodded your head and followed him and the lady that stood beside him, the three of you made your way down an empty hallway. 

Your mind raced, you were happy this was like your second real job as a PR Manager but this time the pay was really good and he said you just had to keep a few boys in line and if you could do that then you’d fit perfectly for the job, it didn’t seem tooo hard it’s just a couple of boys that play soccer what’s the worst that could happen? 

“So this will be your room, it has its own kitchen and shower, it has plenty of space.” He said opening a door revealing the room you were supposed to be staying in. “I originally was looking for a man to take this job so there aren’t really any feminine hygiene products here but if you’re in need of any just let me know and I’ll let my assistant know and she’ll just run and get you anything that you need.” Ego explained as you just nodded your head at him only catching a few things he said due to how fast he was speaking.

“With that I’ll have the rest of your suitcases dropped off at your room in a few so you can unpack but in the meantime I’d recommend you go talk to the boys, Anri Take her to The Boys chamber.” He basically commanded the woman as she nodded and motioned for you to follow her. 

“I have a question.” You say cracking your knuckles, “hm?” “How many of them do I have to keep up with because he said boys but he never said how many.” You said, but the woman only stayed quiet, only irritating you because you hate being ignored especially when you want to know something, but soon you arrived at an area that read something like ‘common room’.

The doors slid open revealing a bunch of boys sitting around on their phones, watching tv, or just chatting with one another. “THAT'S A LOT OF PEOPLE.!” You thought while walking where all of them could see you. 

“This is Y/n L/n she will be the PR Manager for the majority of the men here till we find more people that are willing to take the job so she won’t have to do much work.” Anri explained as the boy’s eyes looked over at you who stood right beside Anri. “After I take my leave, which will be now, you'll have time to bond and get to know each other.” She says as she waved everyone goodbye as the automatic doors opened then closed as she exited the room.

“Well..I’m Y/n like she just said what do you wanna know about me.” You said struggling to figure out what to say. “How old are you?” A guy with orange hair asked, “I’m 19 years old.” You say taking a seat in one of the empty chairs. “Just tell us random stuff about you so we don’t have to just ask random stupid questions off the top of our heads.” Some dude with long under lashes said with a sassy undertone. 

“Sorry princess,” you scoffed out rolling your eyes as he just scowled at you “But I’m not from Japan I went to both high school and college in America then I moved to Japan because I finished college early because I went to a high school that provided college classes and stuff blah blah blah now I’m here.” You say refraining from talking about your past too much as the boys just stared at you with a blank expression. 

“Okay y'all go I literally don’t know any of you guys names.” “OKAY SO I'M BACHIRA…”.

After his introduction everyone else gave their names and something about them and soon the boring atmosphere that was once there when you first got there was gone and replaced with a fun exciting one where everyone, well almost everyone had started giggling making jokes and even getting each other’s numbers. You had gotten very fond of a few of them.

They even told you the crazy scandals they had going on and how they needed a PR Manager because without one they’d be so fucked because none of them has a filter.

But the fun had gotten cut short by Ego popping up on the tv telling them they had to practice and you had to unpack but that didn’t stop you from making a small plan with the few people you grew fond of. 

“Okay so after practice we always get our phones back I’ll text you then you give us the okay if we could come to your room or not.” Bachira explained as you nodded your head but Isagi, and Reo looked a little concerned but Nagi on the other hand looked as if he didn’t even know what was going on.

“And what if we get caught?” Reo asked “NO ‘WHAT IF’ we’re not going to get caught.” You say now standing up shoving your phone in your back pocket “Jesus.” Reo also says standing up along with the others “Welp see you guys later.” You wave at the group heading for the exit as all of them said bye as you walked out.

-

BlueLockOfficial

Liked by, yourinstagram , ShadeRoom, reoofficial, and 3,157,315 others

BlueLockOfficial Bringing light to one of our new staff members Y/n L/n Blue Locks New PR Manager she has been a great person to be around today as she met the boys and other staff members. Even though her job is mainly to work behind the scenes she’ll likely also be in front of the camera! Treat her with kindness and respect and let’s all appreciate her for the work she’s going to put through as the PR Manager❤️.

View all 1,632,368 comments

yourinstagram Ego couldn’t have Wrote this…

shidousins be grateful we didn’t even get a post like this and we’re literally the main attraction 💔

megumonster yawl I think I like this PR Manager

yourinstagram don’t let ego see this he like seeing yall miserable 🥀

yourinstagram WAIT. WHO TOOK THAT SECOND PICTURE 💔

sleepyseishiro Me. You fell asleep while unboxing all of your belongings

yourinstagram I feel…betrayed…

User975368 Who even is this girl

sleepyseishiro if you took the time and read the caption you’d know…

reoofficial ⏰☕️

yourinstagram so sassy with it

Fun Fact:

1. They made a sticker of y/n sleeping on her countertop and she still doesn’t know about it.

2. Bachira made a shirt with the picture of y/n sleeping.

3. Rin pretends as if he hated being called princess by y/n but he lowk thought it was cool.

Taglist 🏷️: @inojinieeee

[heartz4levi]

please more luka

this is for you, anon <3

☆ thinking about putting a collar & leash on

luka . . .

☆ luka (alnst) ,, gn reader . . sub luka ,, dom reader ,, collaring (duh) ,, mentions of luka being a pillow prince ,, manhandling ,, implied momentary choking (??) ,, mentions of luka getting dicked down idfk ,, no dialogue.

luka is not a predictable man.

when on stage, there is a princely charm to him, one that conceals the manipulative undertones his personality holds. behind closed doors, however, befitting of his princely charm, luka does tend to be a pillow prince at times.

one who will allow you to do whatever you want with and to his body. even securing a pretty collar around his neck, then attaching a leash to it!

as if manhandling him isn't already easy enough, now it's even easier. with each tug on the leash, luka's breath hitches as the collar momentarily constricts his breathing. regardless of wether or not it's a harsh tug, a whiny moan will always escape him.

luka won't even try to run away. so long as that collar remains wrapped around his neck, he'll be as obedient as a dog. boss him around, tug on the leash while you're at it and he will be at your every beck and call, eyes glimmering with pure want.

the restrictive aspect of the leash and collar gives luka a huge adrenaline rush. it's easy to send his senses into overdrive — slam into his bent over form again and again at a pace that borders on being inhumane and that alone will send his mind reeling. but harshly yanking the piece of material in your hand closer in the midst of it? luka melts.

melts is an understatement. his moans, already slutty enough, will noticeably increase in both pitch and frequency as milky strings of his own cum spurt onto the sheets below. the same sheets that his hands are clawing at.

overall, a leash paired with a collar is just another source of stimulation for luka. pull on it all you want, pull him around however you want, so long as you'll gently soothe his reddened skin when you're done.

put him on a leash and luka becomes your bitch.

[plushieni]

teach me s. gojo

cw smut mdni, oral f!receiving, slight swearing, use of pet names

you and gojo were an... intriguing pair. your relationship, once strictly teacher and student, had recently undergone a subtle, yet palpable, shift. his teasing, now with a charged intensity, going beyond the boundaries of mere playful banter. making you question if this had a deeper, more unspoken meaning.

the obscurity of his intentions left you adrift in a sea of uncertainty. you hesitated to make assumptions, fearing the awkwardness that would inevitably follow a misinterpretation. yet, the nature of your thoughts, while not illegal—you were 18, after all— still felt inherently transgressive. as if you weren’t the only one feeling this way.

you thought long and hard at the possibility of self-deception, wondering if you were merely projecting your desires onto his actions. he was your teacher, a figure of authority, and the mere thought of a romantic entanglement felt reckless, even shameful. however, the lingering gazes, the unspoken pleas in his eyes, the fleeting, almost accidental touches, whispered of a connection that surpassed the boundaries of your professional relationship.

your suspicions intensified after overhearing nobara and yuji's casual conversation about your encounter at the cafe. "yeah, she said she found this super cute guy. i wonder if she's gonna go for it..."

gojo, who happened to be within earshot, grew uncharacteristically quiet, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a brooding silence.

weeks dissolved into a haze of confusion. you resolved to dismiss your suspicions, attributing them to an overactive imagination. but then, late one night, he called you to his office, a request that piqued your curiosity.

"gojo? am i too late?" you asked, pushing open the heavy door. it creaked, a somber sound in the quiet space.

"hey, you," he smirked, leaning against his desk, a pose that exuded a casual arrogance. "i wanted to see you."

"is something wrong?" a knot of worry tightened in your stomach.

"i... no, not at all," he chuckled, a low, resonant sound. "sorry if i'm making you nervous. i wanted to speak with you, privately."

you nodded, stepping further into the dimly lit room, oblivious to the emotional tempest brewing.

“so, you and the cafe guy huh? you seeing him often?” his voice was a low growl, laced with a possessive undertone, bordering on raw, untamed anger.

“not really, why?” you asked, perplexed. why did he exhibit such concern?

“you know why.” he muttered, closing the distance between you, his hand gently cradling your cheek. “i know you know what i’m getting at, pretty girl. you felt it too, right? the change, between us.”

to say you were behind shocked would be an understatement. “i- we can’t... it’s...” you stammered, the realization dawning that your suspicions were not unfounded. yet, the inherent impropriety of the situation weighed heavily.

“can’t what, princess? i know you need me as much as i need you, and if you really don’t want me, then stop me.” he leaned down, his lips crashing against yours with a fervent desperation, as if he'd been starved of this very moment.

“you taste s' good” he mumbled against your lips.

he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist, deepening the kiss. you whimpered, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

“gojo...” you breathed, the name a desperate plea. the act felt both forbidden and intoxicating.

“please, let me have you,” he murmured, his lips tracing a fiery path down your neck. “anything you want, just need you.”

seeing him so raw, so vulnerable, ignited a forbidden desire within you. “n-need you too,” you confessed, the words a hushed admission.

he growled against your skin, a low, guttural sound. he lifted you, your thighs securing him, and kissed you with a ferocious intensity. his tongue, a hot, demanding entity, explored the depths of your mouth.

he pushed you onto the desk, his lips searing a trail down your neck, culminating at your core. his eyes, dark and predatory, held yours, a silent, primal demand.

you nodded, a small, breathless affirmation. with that consent, he touched you, lightly at first, then delving deeper, his fingers parting the drenched parts of your femininity. a gasp escaped your lips as he explored your sensitive flesh.

his mouth was on you, swirling, licking, teasing. you writhed beneath him, your nails digging into his back, his hair tangled in your desperate grip.

he didn’t relent. you shattered, a needy cry ripped from your throat, raw and unrestrained. you craved the continuation of his touch.

he lifted his head, eyes dark and heavy, lips swollen and glistening. "perfect," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “s’ sweet.” he growled against your core.

“gojo i- fuck..“ you began, but words failed you, lost in the aftershocks.

“come for me, pretty girl, let go,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

a moan escaped your lips, a raw, primal sound that echoed in the quiet room. your body convulsed, a wave of pleasure washing over you, shattering you into a thousand fragments. you cried out his name, a desperate, pleading surrender.

he held you close, his arms a comforting embrace as the tremors subsided. he kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours, a silent acknowledgment of the shared intimacy. "beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction.

the afterglow settled, a warm, relaxed feeling that conquered your being. you sat there, breathless and boneless, your heart a frantic drumbeat in your chest. the room was silent, save for the sound of your ragged breathing.

he shifted, kissing your forehead and bringing you nestled against his chest. his hand stroked your hair, a gentle, soothing motion. "you're mine," he murmured, his voice possessive, a low growl in his chest. "all mine."

[cillivnz]

a good host [k. heisenberg]

PAIRING — KARL HEISENBERG x DIMITRESCU!READER

TROPE — DBF! [here, mother’s friend, no really close relation] WORD COUNT — 2469

WARNINGS — NSFW. 18+. fem!reader. f!masturbation, usage of sex toys, virgin!reader, voyeurism, hefty age-gap (reader is in early 20s, Karl is in his 50s), vaginal fingering, innocence/corruption kink, cursing, pet-names (bunny, little girl, etc.), slight degradation (he calls you a whore), slightly mean!Karl, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, squirting, overstimulation, clit-play.

A/N — i just think heisenberg would be a good fuck, that’s it— that’s what motivated this. i’m slowly rising like a phoenix out of the fires of writer’s block, so, slowly but surely i’m trying to get back on track with my requests and works. though, a full comeback might take a few months. no mention of Alcides [ gender-bent Lady Dimitrescu ], didn’t want to jinx the two verses, so Alcina is Alcina.

more from my ‘resident evil: village’ world.

“FUCK,” YOU GROAN as you shut the door to your chambers behind you.

you’d excused yourself for the umpteenth time, now inconsiderate of how rude you would seem to the man you’ve been leaving all alone in the cold and empty dining room of your manor.

well, your mother’s.

and a friend, too.

well, not a friend.

Karl Heisenberg and Alcina Dimitrescu would prefer the term, “(unfortunate) associates”, but manners run well in a noble’s blood so it’s natural for the two to try and be cordial.

and it’s the same manners, the same etiquettes instilled in you that have put you in this state.

flushed, embarrassed, and wet.

you couldn’t bare to look Heisenberg in the eye while he made small talk with you in your home.

his round, black glasses were perched on the tip of his strong nose, his hat, like a loyal companion, sat next to him on a wooden chair, his greyed hair, out and frisky. his overcoat had been long abandoned, perhaps, at the very entrance to the castle, so his beige undershirt, clasped around his big broad muscles and softer belly didn’t go unnoticed by you.

fuck, the more you took in his appearance, the hotter became the air in the room, your ability to breathe and the more frantically you’d rub some friction between your thighs.

YOU’VE FOUND KARL HEISENBERG INSATIABLE since you were a little girl, which you still were in his eyes, as he painfully reminded you every time by referring to you by that and nothing else. as of lately, your urges around him have worsened.

since your eighteenth birthday, Heisenberg’s began to look at you a little differently.

he listens carefully to the squeaky little bunny that’s lately got the balls to interrupt her own mother and company, correct them in political matters. yeah, Heisenberg’s began to notice you. earlier, your greetings would be dismissed with a nonchalant wave in the air, but now? heisenberg could hear you talk for hours, so desperately wanting to hear the sultry tone of your voice that he’d ask to hear the same story about your earliest memory hunting, over and over again.

so, to say he felt appalled by your frequent exits from your evening together— an evening he had committed to your mother, had Alcina been home— was an understatement.

after the third time you had left him alone, his impatience and ego got the best of him, though there was an undertone of curiosity there, too. so, he, sly as a fox, followed you to your room.

your back was pressed against the door, muffling your cries while you rubbed your clit down with a toy. you were in a trance, mind fogged with painful lust that drove your legs on its own fervour. you sink into your bed, ripping your dress off of yourself in a swift motion, and hiding your bare skin with a poor excuse of a duvet.

your toy was swimming in your slick with every rub against your cunt.

“fucking hell,” you moaned when the tip of the toy nudged your slit, massaging your hole, easing in only to pull out immediately.

while you edged yourself, thoughts of Karl crawled in, like their usual tendency. you fantasised about his big hands, how they were resting on your knee for a brief second, before continued sipping on his earl grey tea.

you sighed when his name escaped your parted lips. you wanted nothing more than to be split open on his cock, at his mercy. your mother would be so ashamed if she ever finds out one of her most disliked friends is the prime source of your infatuation.

you think about his lips on yours, your breasts, his fingers inside you, on your clit— you whined, “this so wrong, but fuck me,”

AND KARL HEISENBERG COULDN’T AGREE MORE.

admiring you from afar, he couldn’t help but feel a twitch of arousal in his pants. he is no damn saint, but he knew it was wrong of him to enter your room without permission. not his fault, your moans sounded like cries, so you worried him, he just wanted to make sure you’re okay. and his reason for staying to watch the show? well, like i said, he’s no goddamn saint. he just wants to make sure you’re really okay.

“so this is what you keep hopping off to do, little bunny.” his thunderous voice roared in the quiet of your room, the transatlantic accent deeper once laced with lust and mischief.

you jolted upright, “L-Lord Heisenberg!” you clutched the duvet to your chest, failing to cover a breast, still, and his eyes were quick to catch your mistake.

“please, call me Karl.”

“you seemed to have no problem in moaning it.”

you froze, clenching involuntarily around the the length of your penetrating toy.

“i—”

“shh, it’s okay.” your stammering was interrupted by a single step taken by Karl closer to you.

“i don’t mind, bunny.” he cooed, softly.

he took this moment to admire you.

you looked like a deer caught in headlights. your doe eyes, furrowed brows, plump, parted lips, the subtle perspiration settled on your collarbone, the duvet clinging to your cleavage and your pebble-like nipples peaking through it.

“i’m just mad you had to hide the show from me.” by the time those words leave his mouth, he’s on the foot of your bed. “thought Mama Dimitrescu would’ve taught you better, sweet girl.” he ‘tsk’ed.

“A GOOD HOST ISN’T SELFISH, HM?”

“A GOOD HOST LETS THE GUEST JOIN IN ON THE FUN,” he says; nods convincingly. a gentle hand inching towards your blanketed body, ready to peel the duvet off and expose you in all vulnerability.

he eyes you for a moment, face searching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort, but was pleased to see you rip all coverings off yourself on your own, grabbing Karl by the hand and pulling him towards you.

his face was so close to yours, you felt heat emitting from your body onto his.

“now, little bunny, are you sure yo—”

you cut him off by placing a kiss of fervency on his lips, giving Heisenberg the answer to questions he was yet to ask.

he let you enjoy the lead for a brief moment more, before taking control. laying you down, Karl was quick to climb on top of you, his hands not wasting a minute to feel your body beneath him.

“i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want this, too, little bunny.” you gasped at the confession, Karl using your parted lips as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

you were kissing your mother’s friend, holy fuck.

“tell me, baby,” he pulled away, eliciting a whine from you. he now laid besides you, relishing the warmth of your bare body.

“‘you ever put a real cock in there?” his hand grabbed a hold of the toy, easing in the tip into your slick folds.

your mind went blank, grinding your hips slowly into the sudden intrusion. “when i ask you a question, little girl, you answer it.” Heisenberg’s voice deepened in dominance. “n-no, sir.” you shook your head.

Karl groaned in arousal.

the thought of stripping away your innocence was so intoxicating.

“of course not. that brute dame knows better than to let you out of this shithole.” he scoffs, evidently insulting your mother, for reasons he named himself, “the minute you ought to step out, men would be pouncing on you like rabid dogs.”

he didn’t stop pumping the toy inside you, agonisingly slow, leaving you whining and begging for more.

“you want more, huh, bun?” he spoke so gently. you nodded, unable to form words because of the aching sensation between your legs.

“okay, i’ll give you more.” he lifted you up like you weighed a feather, placing you between his legs. his own were positioned between yours, so all it took for him to have you spread out was just a nudge of his knees.

“there we go, now spread that pretty pussy for me.” he rested his head on your shoulder, watching eagerly while you hesitated a little to comply.

he put his hands on yours,

and they fit like pieces of an intricate puzzle.

enveloping your smaller ones completely, his hands guided yours to spread your pussy open. the cold air of your room hit your leaking slit, causing you to shudder in his arms.

“look at you glistening, baby.”

“my god,” he groaned, rubbing your hand (and his atop) into your slick.

you sighed into the feeling of your soft hands, mixed with his large, rough ones.

“show me how you please that little pussy.” he whispered in your ear, kissing your lobe.

you nodded, biting your lower lip at his vulgarity.

a lord, yet so crude.

you began toying with your clit, rubbing figure-eights on the swollen bud. Karl’s hands wasted no time in fondling your breasts— groping, squeezing, twisting your nipples, tugging at them— only adding more pleasure to the sensation.

“ease one in.”

you weren’t sure what he mumbled until he decided to take matters into his own hands (literally) and rubbed a finger against your slit.

you swore you forgot how to breath when the sharp sensation of the digit penetration was felt.

“Karl…” you moaned, relishing in the feel of being stretched open.

“what do you think about when you touch yourself?” he asked, velvety voice dripping honey on you.

simply answered, “you.”

he kissed your neck, “i know, bunny. but what in specific?”

“uh~”

“tell me.” he grunted, pushing another finger inside.

“y-your hands… i think about your fingers… inside me.”

you mewed hearing him groan in your ear, the subtle nuzzle of his head into your neck urged you to continue. “‘want nothing more than your cock pounding me— wanna be at your mercy, Karl!”

“fuck, baby,” Karl groaned at your vulgarity; even you were surprised at the profanities leaving your lips but the lust hazed cloud in your mind burst with rains of arousal.

“i’ll give what you want for being such a good girl.” he purred in your ear, discarding the drenched toy. your whine at the loss of contact turned into a gasp when he so carelessly threw away your toy to the corner of the room.

you looked up at him through your lashes, feigning faux offense at the abandonment of your favourite companion on a lonely night. “don’t worry,” assured Karl, grinning.

“you won’t be needin’ that no more.” he grinned, plunging two of his thick digits right into your core.

you were stretched like a spring at the hands of this rugged noble. he nuzzled his head into your collarbones, the rugged stubble adorning his handsome face prickling your soft flesh.

Karl bit, licked, sucked, and nibbled, while you writhed, moaned, shivered, and cried in ecstasy.

“such a naughty girl— ‘acting so noble and sophisticated all the time, but when Mama’s friend comes in sight, you start cussing like a sailor with the libido of a pervy sleazeball.” he chuckled at his own descriptions of you, while you hadn’t registered a word he said, simply clenching and unclenching around his experienced fingers, moaning his name with every haggard breath.

“c-close!” you hiccuped, tears staining your rosy face.

“god, you’re so beautiful.” Karl groaned, licking the shell of your ear. you shuddered, not knowing if it was at his lewd actions or the mere compliment.

Karl breathed in your scent, your sensual oud suppressed by the sweet fragrance of your arousal.

he pulled out his fingers.

you began crying.

“why…?” you sobbed, “because,” he explained.

“you’ve not been a very good host, baby girl— leaving your guest waiting like that. only fair you don’t get release this soon, hm?”

he cooed his justification and you weeped like you had committed the most heinous crime.

your hole fluttered around the damp, chill air of your room. gaping around the new nothingness that replaced the stuffed fulfilling treatment you were receiving prior.

“please, i’m sorry— i’m… i’ll do better next time—”

“next time?” Karl was quick to intervene.

“what makes you think there’ll be a ‘next time’?”

your glassy eyes widened, “please, Karl, i’m begging you.”

“hm…” he hunched over your shoulder, chin prodding into your shoulder blade while he looked over at you, nonchalantly. not even an ounce of remorse, amusement, if anything.

“okay. since Mommy taught you manners,”

he rammed his fingers back into your cunt, a look of devilish glee spread across his face.

in and out, in and out, in and curl.

you screamed when he hit that spongy spot inside of you, dead-on. Karl was quick to cover your mouth.

“now, now, we don’t want sweet ol’ Pasha hearing us, do we?” he slowed, referring to the chamberlain that’s often posted right outside your door. you shook your head, urging him to go faster like he was.

“good fucking girl,” he groaned, feeling you pulsate around his wrinkled fingers.

“give me a show, host. make it worth the hours you kept me waiting. ‘dry and hangin’.” he nudged your legs wider, further apart with his knees. the hand that covered your pretty lips now wrapped itself around your own hand.

a sweet moment that lasted mere seconds, he took your interlaced fingers and placed them on your clit, shaking your hand fervently.

your brows furrowed, vision blurred as you peaked. afraid you can’t let go, but he’ll make you.

he’ll make you lose control, just like he’s made you his.

with one last push, or shove of his fingers, he quickly pulled them out, and broke the dam of pleasure.

your slick gushed out of your drooling cunt, drenching everything, including the two of you, nearby.

Karl chuckled, triumphantly. still rubbing fervently at your overstimulated clit, urging more of your juices to squirt out.

“now, that’s a show, darling.” he chuckled, grabbing your flushed face by the chin and connecting your lips to a passionate, chaste kiss.

when you closed your legs, he slapped your thigh, causing you to wince and jerk them open.

“—the hell are you doing?” he asked, seemingly offeneded.

“are you kicking me out?” he raised a brow, a sarcastic smile threatening to break on his face.

“b-but i thought we were—”

“done? oh, no, baby. you left me alone in that dining room thrice this evening.”

“this was just the first of three.”

“now, ass up, face down.” he manhandled you in the blink of an eye.

“your guest’s gotta entertain himself.”

he chuckled, and you nearly choked when you felt something mean, and thick prodding at your abused folds.”

you were in for a long night with your guest.

pt. II. main masterlist. blog directory. COCKUETTE MASTERLIST.

[watercurtaincave]

This is my first time request!! Can you do Nezha dating headcanon please??

𖤓 !! — Invisible Red String Theory. Ne zha / reader

𖤓 !! — Ne Zha can sometimes be a difficult guy to get along with; for all he is, a protector and a guardian and a friend, and all he can be, it seems that relationships tend to be the hardest for him to upkeep. It's just tends to be his nature to follow orders from the Jade emperor, his nature to take any job he's assign too seriously, his nature to be stand off-ish and cold.

𖤓 !! — It's how he was raised to be, from when he was born as a mortal to when he was reborn from the roots of a lotus flower and became the 'Third Lotus Prince'. Ne Zha hadn't exactly known a kind life, and despite everything he's been through, his first true 'friends' happened to be a ragtag group of Wukong, his successor, and everyone else who fought against the Azure lion. Even then he didn't really know how to interact with them, and furthermore making friends on the brink of the world being destroyed (twice) isn't the greatest situation. It often leads to choice words being said and sarcastic and demeaning undertones in the heat of stress.

𖤓 !! — So Ne Zha was fully ready to be left alone, once again, after the whole drama died down. Yet, when he was invited back to Pigsy's after he didn't show up to the beach day, he was kind of shocked. He half believed it was some sort of joke on him, a 'prank', another teasing gesture from Wukong. But he decided to go anyways, seeing as it would be rude not to show up when it was requested of him.

𖤓 !! — To say that people actually wanted his company was shocking would be an understatement. He was oddly moved by the voiced shouting to greet him, the chaotic nature of the whole gathering, and having people to finally spend his days with. It oddly felt like some sort of clean start. He could just be Ne Zha. Not the Third Lotus Prince, not the Demon Child, not a murderer or a kidnapper, just... Ne Zha.

𖤓 !! — "Hey, what's your name?" Ne Zha would perk up upon hearing the question, not recognizing the voice from anyone he knew. His eyebrows narrowed a little, mostly upon instinct, when he saw a stranger in a party that was meant to be only for close friends. So, either you, a complete stranger to Ne Zha, had crashed the party or you were a friend one someone's. But who would that someone be? The most logical answer would be Mei or MK, they seem like they would have a bunch of friends, and you did seem right around their age. Yet, that seemed too easy of an answer and you could be friends with a complete wild card like Tang or Wukong. The answer kind of mattered, it would give Ne Zha a basis of how you would be like. "Ne Zha." But he would answer anyways despite the uncertainty.

𖤓 !! — Well, he wouldn't know that answer really wouldn't matter much in the long run.

𖤓 !! — Oddly enough, since that day, Ne Zha swears he's seen you more times than he should; Almost like you've always been a background character in his life that only just got brought to light. It was both odd and endearing in an off-put way. As such, he never realized how much you really did hang out with MK, Mei, and the others. Whenever he would come down to help out with small tasks, trying to keep himself busy, he would notice your presence almost instantly (where, beforehand, he was sure he completely ignored it). It was an oddly magnetic presence, of siren-like-quality that lured him in with a wonderful melody. Your soul was a wonderful melody, he could feel it anytime he passed. Yet he could never let himself get distracted by such meaningless things, not when he has bigger things to do.

𖤓 !! — Not when he was sure that relationships between mortals and immortals are forbidden; The Jade Emperor never liked it when immortals mingled with the mortals anyways, hence why he tried to strike down Sun Wukong so many times and banished Gauyin when she went to live amongst them. So he could not have any relationships with mortals either. Not in the way he's been dreaming about, so he must distance himself from your all too alluring personality and smile, your kind ways and how you always seem ready to lend a hand. Siren-like, that's what Ne Zha forced himself to think of you as. You were nothing but a Siren that was created to tempt his will and strength and we was not to loose-

𖤓 !! — "You know, you shouldn't let yourself be chained to old expectations anymore, Ne Zha." Your voice, as smooth as liquid gold and as sweet as cotton candy, flushed into his ears one night during a bomb fire with everyone. He had parted himself from the group to take a breather, seeing as Sun Wukong was simply trying to annoy Macaque and everyone was having their fits of laughter about it. He never expected you to notice he had left, nevertheless for you to follow him like you did. Siren, the thought rang in his head, Siren, siren, siren! But his words would fall short as you stood next to him and hummed a small tune, watching the orange-pink sunset with such a peaceful way. "What do you mean?" Ne Zha would respond to your statement, trying to seem a little off put by it. Maybe, secretly, he was and he was just denying it to himself. He wasn't tied down by chains, he was his own person. "It's why you fail to make relationships with everyone the way that you want to." You would continue, tracing a circle along the rim of your cup. That odd detail caught Ne Zha's attention, "You're afraid that you're going to get attached, that someone will tell the Jade Emperor about your affairs, that you will be stricken down like the rest. But you know you don't have to worry about such things, right?"

𖤓 !! — Who are you? Ne Zha would stare at you with the most bewildered look, mouth slight agape, as he wondered if he was simply too easy to read or if you were some sort of witch. Surely he couldn't be easy to read, and Wukong being able to read him at times didn't count because Wukong was just odd by himself. He's also known Wukong for many years, while he hasn't spoken to you for even .1% of the time he's known Wukong. Yet you were able to read his thoughts like he was some sort of open book. "Are you a witch?" His question came out before he could think upon it; Though, he hoped you didn't notice the way he slightly jerked back and bit his tongue when his mind caught up to his words. He would glance away from you and from the sunset, yet he could hear your finger constantly tracing that circle rimmed cup of yours.

𖤓 !! — He expected you to be offended, to hold some sort of grudge due to his words, yet you only would stifle a bit of laughter before giggling at his words. That caught him off guard, and he didn't realize how your laughter cleared the awkward air around you both, as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "No, Ne Zha, I just.. I've heard about you from MK and Wukong." You would explain, "And I then began to notice all the small things you do to keep a barrier between everyone and yourself. I asked Tang and Wukong about it, and they, well, gave me some sad answers. So I thought, oh I don't know, I could help you?" Ne Zha wasn't sure how to respond to your sentiment, though he could tell you were true about your word. It was by the way you had looked up at him, the way your eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the corner, and your tone of voice. Ne Zha has met many people and you, by far, are one of the most unique.

𖤓 !! — He, also, couldn't help but feel touched at your countless efforts to try and understand him despite all he's done to keep you, and everyone else, at arms length. What kind of person would do that just so they could reach out to someone like Ne Zha?

𖤓 !! — He didn't fully let his guard or his walls down with you that night, but he surely let you a little closer to his heart. A little step closer to being able to fully understand who Ne Zha was as a person. A tiny step closer to being able to call yourself his. And, most importantly, the itty bittiest step forward in helping Ne Zha realize he can make friends now. That he doesn't have to be anyone that he doesn't want to be, that he can choose for himself; That he can be himself. And out of everything you have achieved with the smallest step of reaching out, that was the greatest one of all.

𖤓 !! — Being lovers with Ne Zha would be hard, and it'll take a lot of time, but it's something that's so worth it in the end. For once you get close enough to Ne Zha, though he wouldn't realize it, you would become one of his top priorities. You can call him, even pray to him, at any time on any day and he'll answer, and he'll be there, quicker than he had chased Wukong down once he stole the map. He's there for you through the thick and the thin, and in turn you're there for him equally as much.

𖤓 !! — Being lovers with Ne Zha is like being able to see the moments where he falters his 'big guy' persona and you get to see the true Ne Zha. Him and his little curiosities. How he'll stop and stare at a butterfly on a tree you had missed during your walk. How he cares so much about his friends, deep down, that he constantly checks Mei's 'instagram' through your phone to make sure they're okay. How he will sit in front of the stove to ponder how yeast can make bread rise. How he's so scared of losing you that he'll cuddle you against his chest at night, not aware on how tightly his arms (wrapped around your waist and chest) are to make sure you're still there. To see all his childish curiosities he couldn't think when he was a kid due to his 'destiny'; To see the way his face lights up upon trying new food and experiences; To see, well, Ne Zha.

𖤓 !! — Being lovers with Ne Zha is to truly be loved both inside and out, and loving him back just the same. It's timeless and effortless and neither of you would have it any other way.

𖤓 !! — all writing in this page belongs to @watercurtaincaves, please do not repost on other sites, plagiarize, or steal. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[cherryredstars]

idc how good dom!miguel fics are, that man is a whole ass sub.

anyhooooooos, may i request rich sub!miguel wanting reader to step on him (literally) with the new red-bottoms he bought her before begging to munch on her. you can decide if reader grants him his request or not. maybe the heels weren’t enough of an apology for his workaholic self 👀

Pairing: Sub!Miguel x Femdom!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut with Some Plot, Degradation, Miguel Being Stepped On, Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (Fem. Receiving), Some Begging, Spit Play, Self-Edging, Face Sitting

Summary: Miguel is going to have to do more than give you gifts if he wants your forgiveness. 

A/N: The way I SCREAMED when I read this request :))

Word Count: 2.1K (Barley Edited)

They were pretty, sure.

Iconic shiny black heels with rich red bottoms. They definitely cost a pretty penny, which Miguel had plenty of. He constantly had expensive gifts to spoil you with. Designer purses and dresses and thousand dollar shoes that only ever got worn a handful of times. He even bought you the shiny new penthouse that you sit in now, just watching him.

You sat on your expensive leather couch, another gift from your lovely boyfriend, boredly sipping from your wine glass as Miguel rests on his knees before you. His hold on your legs is gentle as he slips the new shoes onto your feet. The look on his face is one of pure devotion and admiration as he looks up at you. He kisses your ankle each time he puts on a shoe, mumbling his love and apologizes against your skin. The sight is cute, if not entirely pathetic. 

He had come through your front door, a pretty bouquet of flowers in his hand with the recognizable Louboutin shopping bag clutched in the other. It was an apology for leaving your date early last week because he got called into HQ at the last minute. To say you were less than impressed was an understatement. Clearly the man didn’t know what a proper apology was. Good thing you’re always willing to teach him.

“Do you like them, mi vida?” Miguel mumbled against the skin of your calf. He peppered soft kisses to your skin, eyes practically looking up at you in a crave for approval. 

All you did was let out a dismissive hum around the rim of your glass, “I would hardly call it an apology.” 

The glass covered your pleased smirk as a look of desperation crossed Miguel’s face. He wanted to make it up to you, to make you happy. Happy with him. He needed you to be happy with him. His lips started to trail higher up your leg, hand coming up to push your silk slip higher up so he can kiss your thighs. He kissed and licked the skin, a pleading look in his eyes, “Please, please let me make it up to you.”

The words were a whisper and his position on your legs and his undertone wasn't lost on you. He said it in a tone he knew you liked. That pathetic whine that dripped with a crazed need. The voice you always cooed at and showered him in praise for. 

“And ruin my leather couch? No, thanks.” You scoffed, bending your leg and pushing your heel into Miguel’s chest. With just enough power, you pushed him away from you, causing him to fall on his elbows on the floor. 

You slowly got off the couch, standing over Miguel’s form as you downed the rest of your remaining wine. You lifted your foot again and placed it on his chest to keep him down. The heel dug into his chest and he grabbed your calf as you slightly grind your foot into it. Miguel looks up at you with dazed eyes, an expression of pure arousal flushing his face. You crouch down and your free hand clutches the hair at the back of his neck tightly. The tiniest whimper leaves Miguel’s mouth as you jerk his head forward so his ear is next to your mouth. 

“You should see yourself, a pathetic excuse of a man begging for forgiveness. The leader of an elite society of heroes turned into a beggar at my feet. What a joke.” The words were a sarcastic chuckle that made Miguel moan slightly. God it was so hot when you looked down at him like this. 

You let go of his hair, standing up again. You looked down at him for another minute before scoffing and turning away. Your quick dismissal of him makes Miguel gasp and scramble to get back onto his feet. He was a stumbling fool, trying to pick himself up off the ground in a hurry to follow after you like a puppy. “W-wait! Mi amor, wait!”

You ignore his protests as you set your empty glass on a nearby surface on your way to your bedroom. Miguel is right behind you, tripping over his feet as he chases you with stuttering words. When you reach your bedroom, you close the door right behind you, forcing Miguel to hold the door open so it doesn’t shut in his face. 

“Mi tesoro, please.” He grunts, pushing the door open to find you sitting on the edge of your bed with a bored expression waiting for him. He quickly makes his way over, spreading your legs so he can kneel in between them. “Let me show you I’m sorry. Please, perdóname.”

You let out a soft sigh as you tilt your head to the side and stare down at him. He holds onto your calf again, head resting on your thigh as he stares up at you. Your hand comes up, caressing the side of his face gently. Miguel practically purrs at the loving gesture before your hand moves to his chin and grips it tightly. 

You move his face off your thigh, holding it close to yours as you smile mockingly. “You’re so pathetic, Mig.”

“For you? Siempre.” Miguel responds automatically as he leans closer to mumble it against your lips. Your smile widens before you pull him into a kiss.

Miguel instantly moans and lets his hands travel up your legs to massage your thighs. He practically melts against you, basking in the taste of the sweet wine that remains on your lips. When you pull away, his eyes are glossy and sluggish. It’s as if he got drunk off your kiss and the aftertaste of wine. You stroke the side of his chin with your thumb in an attempt to pull him from his daze as you spread your thighs wider for him. 

“You better make it good, Miguel. Open.” The last word is commanding and Miguel doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth. You lean down and spit in his mouth, “Swallow it.”

He happily obliged, swallowing it with a happy hum. His eyes drift down from your eyes to your spread legs. The pretty lace of your panties is in clear view from where he kneels and he lets out a soft whine at the damp spot on them. He looks back up at you, a desperate, pleading expression morphing his features. When you give him a silent nod, his face flashes into a smile like a kid being told he can get whatever toy he wants at the store.

“Thank you. Thank you, mi cielo.” He mumbles as he slides his hands under your slip to grasp the sides of your lace. 

He pulls it down slowly from your legs, watching intently as it reveals your cunt. He bites his lip at the sight and lets out a shaky sigh as your panties are dropped down your legs. Once they’re off, you scoot up on the bed to lay on your back. Miguel instantly follows your body, leaning his elbows on the bed as he grabs your thighs to spread them open again. He doesn’t hesitate to bunch your nightgown up to your waist and bury his head in your glistening sweetness. 

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as your hands go to Miguel’s hair. His warm tongue licks you fervently, moaning into the skin as he drinks in your sweet juices. It’s sweeter than any bottle of wine money could possibly buy. His tongue circles your clit, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it to prod his tongue into your entrance. 

A soft sigh is his reward as you lift your legs to rest your heel-clad feet on his shoulders to give him a better angle. When the heel digs into his skin through his button-up, Miguel lets out a desperate whine that causes your thighs to flex. His eyes travel up your body until they meet your own. His brows are furrowed in concentration, but his red eyes are brightened with enjoyment. 

He’s a desperate man as he tightens his hold on your thighs and works his mouth against you. He moans at your moans, lets his tongue lick long strokes to gather as much of your arousal as possible. He’s enjoying this, finding an aching pleasure in the ability to feast on you. It’s too good, too heavenly. He lets out another whine as he closes his eyes and thrusts his cock into the bed with each lick he gives your pussy. 

You’re close, both you and Miguel can feel it. Miguel hurries his licks and sucks harsher, moving to focus on your clit. He’s so desperate for you to cum on his face, because he knows that when you do, it means you’ve forgiven him. That, and he is impatient to swallow it all. But you haven't forgiven him yet, so you tug on his hair once again and pull his face away. 

Miguel lets out a sound of protest, mumbling “No. No, no, no. Please.” while trying to fight your grip and bury his face back into your folds. He looks back up at you with sad eyes, small whines leaving his lips as if he were an injured dog. Meanwhile, you’re panting. You’re pussy throbbing at your own denial for release. You try to gain your breath before rasping out, “You haven’t earned my cum yet.”

Miguel lets out a desperate noise in response. He tries once again to suck your clit into his mouth, but your hold is unbreakable. You sit up then, legs now folded under you as you look down at his sticky face. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

Your instructions give him new life, knowing exactly where this is going. He quickly gets up and practically throws himself onto the bed. He lays patiently as you crawl over to him until you’re hovering above his face. His eyes fall to your pussy again and he groans in excitement. The tension grows as your thighs come to rest on either side of his head but make no move to lower yourself down. You’re hovering just high enough so Miguel can’t flick his tongue up to taste you. It makes Miguel squirm with impatience. 

Right when he opens his mouth to start begging you to sit down, you drop onto his face. His gasp is suffocated against your pussy as he grabs onto your thighs. He closes his eyes instantly as he begins moving his tongue into your cunt, moaning when he feels your walls swell. Hurriedly, you take his hands and bring them up to your waist so your slip isn’t covering his face before you grab onto the headboard. 

Miguel’s whine vibrates against your pussy lips and you begin bucking your hip into his mouth. His nose bumps against your swollen clit with every thrust, increasing your pleasure. Miguel finds his own pleasure in it, getting the ability to smell your honey-like slick. Miguel mumbles words against you, but the words are incoherent between your moans and him cutting himself off to lick and suck on you. When your peak builds again, you gasp and try to ride his face faster. One of your hands drop from the headboard to tangle in Miguel’s hair, causing him to moan in appreciation. 

With a few more strong licks from his tongue, paired with your consistent thrusts, you cum. Miguel greedily moans and laps it all up, holding you still on his face as he swallows mouthful after mouthful of release and slick. His tongue working to ease it all out of you. All you can do is try to catch your breath as you throw your head back and move your hips in lazy bucks before lifting yourself off his face. It gives Miguel time to catch his own breath as he looks up at you with a ruined mouth and dilated eyes. 

“What do you say Miguel?” You question as you remain hovered over him. 

Miguel is still trying to catch his breath, chest heaving. He lets out deep breaths before he can barely reply with, “Thank you for letting me taste your pretty pussy.”

You sigh before humming in approval, pushing your hair out of your face as you get up off the bed. When you look further down the bed and Miguel’s body, you see Miguel’s cock straining painfully through his dress pants. You let out a breathless chuckle as you press down on it with your hand. Miguel instantly moans and you feel him twitch in your hand.

“Take care of this by yourself, I’m going to take a bath.” You dismiss while rotating your hand over his bulge before taking your hand off him completely and disappearing into your personal bathroom.

You leave Miguel on your bed, a glistening mess dripping down his face and an aching cock in need of attention. He can’t stop the whine that morphs into a satisfied smile as he throws his arm over his eyes.

At least he’s forgiven.

I wrote this the same day that I got the request, but I didn’t want to mess up my posting schedule, so I’m sorry it’s been a few days!!

[cheriewoo]

Bathbombs & Little Deaths | Kim Hongjoong ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

☆ Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 02 : Praise, Body Worship

↬ [ Synopsis ] : What do bath bombs and little deaths (orgasms) have in common? When they burst, the aftermath is heavenly and ultra soothing. And HongJoong is here to give you both. Will you survive what Joongie has planned for you in the warmth of the bathtub, or experience a little death in the process?

Word Count : 2.4k Genre : Idol Au, Smut, Angst. Pairing : Boyfriend! HongJoong x F.Reader

WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), a bit of plot, oral (fem recieving), bathub intimacy, use of jewelery (rings), dom/ sub undertones, multiple orgasms, bodyworship, praise, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, angel ), mentions of alchol consumption, aftercare, nipple play.

Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list

☆☆☆ NOTE : Day 2 is here, ma chéries, and it’s a HongJoongie fic day! I’ve always wanted to write something involving a bathtub, so here I deliver. I may have gone a bit overboard with the word count, staying up late at night, so I hope you enjoy this pieceand shower it with alot of love.

Also, "Little Deaths" in French means "Orgasms." They’re called that because they’re so intense, it feels like you die and are reborn as a new person (a reference from Emily in Paris, S1).

Sorry for the long note, but here’s a glimpse of the bathroom (imagine it with more space for your hands) where our Y/N experiences her little deaths!

After the best album release and a power packed comeback..all Hongjoong wants is to relax in bath tub...with you of course.

Saying Hongjoong was on cloud nine would be an understatement. After pouring their blood, sweat, and tears into Ateez’s latest album, the concluding part of their The World series, the leader was incredibly happy and proud to see the album breaking records, winning numerous awards, and charting on global rankings. Most importantly, the Atiny were going loco for their title track "Crazy Form." The group had already celebrated officially with all the team members, but Hongjoong decided to throw a mini party just for the members, inviting their close friends to join in the celebration.

It was 2 in the morning, and finally, everyone had left after having a crazy yet cozy night. You and HongJoong had somehow managed to send San home since our little kitten had gone overboard and gotten a bit too drunk. It took Wooyoung and his girlfriend dragging him out while he babbled about protein, gym and working hard for atiny — our kitten was such a gym freak and fucking adobarble but extremely sincere idol that even in his drunken state, he couldn't stop declaring his love for atiny.

As you cleared the living room, making sure no one had left anything behind, you noticed Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen.You paused for a moment, listening to the quiet house, the faint sound of water running upstairs catching your attention. A small smile appeared on your face, already knowing where Hongjoong is, you made your way upstairs, to your shared bedroom. When you reached the bathroom door, you could see yellow glow of candles peaking through the door, you both loved scented candles and night baths, so having them in you bathroom was a must.

Hongjoong looked up as you entered, his sleeves rolled up while he dissolved your favorite vanilla lavender bath bomb. A soft smile spread across his lips. "I thought you might like a relaxing bath," he said, standing up and walking over to you. His hands slid around your waist, gently pulling you closer.

You felt the tension of the evening start to melt away just from his touch. “You read my mind,” you murmured, your hands resting on his chest.

“After tonight, I think we both deserve it.” he replied.

You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your fingertips, a calming rhythm that matched your own.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Come on,” he whispered , “let’s get you out of those clothes.”

You smiled, letting him help you undress. His fingers were gentle as he worked your clothes, guiding them down your legs. Once you were both undressed, Hongjoong stepped into the tub first, holding out a hand to help you in. The water was perfectly warm, enveloping you like a soft blanket.You settled between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as his arms wrapped snugly around you, pulling you even closer. The water rippled gently around your bodies, infused with the sweet scent of your favorite vanilla and lavender bath bomb, now fully dissolved, creating a soothing, fragrant haze in the tub.

You could feel his breath against your neck, his lips brushing your shoulder with a soft kiss. You sighed and leaned back into him. While his lips decorated your neck with butterfly kisses, his hands were busy massaging your breasts, occasionally pinching your nipples. His cold silver rings added another layer of stimulation, sending sparks throughout your body. Eventually, his tender lips made their way to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “Thanks for tonight, love. Without your help, this party wouldn’t have been possible,” he whispered, his mouth now kissing the most sensitive spot behind your ear, which instantly turned you on.

“I’d do anything to see you happy, Joong. But if you really want to thank me, I can think of a few ways we could make tonight even better…” Your head leaned back on his shoulder. You were extremely turned on at this point, and the ache between your legs was proof of it.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed, slightly biting the skin below your ear. You winced with equal parts pain and pleasure, eventually succumbing entirely to pleasure as Joong’s hand traveled down south while his other hand was busy playing with your left nipple. His rings left a trail of goosebumps whenever they came into contact with your skin.

“Have a few things planned for you, babygirl,” he whispered, his thumb now busy rubbing up and down your entrance, his platinum ring on his middle finger coming into contact with your pulsating core, collecting your slick to gently make circles on your clit. A tremble passed through your entire body. You never knew a few silver rings could stimulate this much. Each touch on the sensitive nub and the cold metal contact had you jolting a little, and you could feel your eyes begin to well up with tears because of the stimulation.

“Joong, please…” your bottom lip was between your teeth, fully flustered by the way his hands and lips were miraculously working on your body.

“Does that feel good baby ?” he asks.

You sigh “feels so good” that last part comes more like a whine.

“You wanna cum, honey?” he asks again, his digits moving faster now, rubbing your entrance, slick juices leaking onto his digits and coating his silver rings. You were extremely wet and desperate for a release, responding to him with a breathy moan. Suddenly, his movements stopped, all at once earning a whiny whimper from you. He quickly took a lick of his fingers, where your juices coated and glistened on his shiny rings.

You twist your body to face him. “Joong, I need yo—” he smashed his lips to yours, hands cupping your face as you melted into the kiss, tasting yourself mixed with his saliva. Your hand traveled to his neck, pulling him impossibly close as you deepened the kiss. Your body twisted fully toward him, never breaking the intense, firework-like kiss you two were sharing.

Breaking the kiss after who knows how long, he took a moment to admire your face. A red blush decorated your flushed cheeks, your puffy cherry-red lips looking more inviting with every passing microsecond, and an angelic glow coated your whole face, causing a volcanic eruption of emotion in Hongjoong’s chest.

The moment not only made Hongjoong’s cock twitch from desire, given how turned on he was at that very fucking moment, but his heart ached with so much love for you. The only way to put this feeling into words was to either write a whole freaking album about you or fuck you till eternity. Only one of these could satisfy the fire blazing through his entire body.

For now, Joong decided to go with the latter, letting his desire take the lead.

“Can you sit on the surface, baby?” he asked, helping you stand and eventually guiding you to lay on the island, your elbows propping up your body. Your legs remained in the water as Hongjoong settled comfortably between them. Gently opening your legs, his lips found their way to your smooth thighs. He had always admired your thighs for how soft they were, but right now, he was needed somewhere else—somewhere very urgent and aching for his tongue.

But Joong planned on savoring you little by little, and sleep was not on tonight’s schedule, so he was in no hurry. His mouth coated the inside of your thighs with gentle kisses, occasionally surprising you with playful bites, reminding you how much of a switch he could be. Sweet kisses trailed their way to your aching core, where you needed him the most. Your world was spinning, and all you could do was encourage him with your needy moans.

He took a micro moment to admire your glistening core, shining and waiting eagerly for him to devour. Wasting no time, he gave a gentle yet thorough lick of your core, just to taste and satisfy his anticipation. The taste short-circuited his brain, your sweet juices inviting him to feast.

He dove in deeper, his tongue exploring your glistening core, savoring the sweet juices that turned him on while his unattended cock hardened with desire. Each teasing flick sent shivers through your body, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Joong…ahh...oh my god, keep going, please,” you whimpered, urging him to go on. He responded by intensifying the swirling of his tongue over your most sensitive spots and switching to suck on your bud, driving you wild. The world around you faded; all that existed was him and the intoxicating pleasure he was giving you at that very moment.

“Almost there, baby; I can feel you coming,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your skin. “Give it to me, baby. I want to taste every bit of you.” With one final swirl and a harsh suck on your clit, the knot in your stomach snapped, and you cried out his name as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Your body arched, trembling under the force of your release.

He didn’t stop, eager to drink the last drops of you, his mouth still working its magic. “You taste divine, honey,” he grinned, pulling back to admire your blissful expression. “You’re absolutely perfect, and I can’t get enough of you.” The satisfaction was clear in his eyes as he enjoyed your pleasure drunk face.

Was he done with you tho, heck no…not so early.

While you recovered from the high, he swiftly got out of the tub, grabbing the towels from the shelves and laying them on the bath island for you to get comfortable. As you moved onto the fluffy towel, he made himself comfortable on top of you, not fully crushing you but putting just the right amount of weight to maintain that sensual feeling. Somewhat recovered from your high and realizing the position you both were in, you gently wrapped your legs around his waist. A swift pull brought his lower body entirely onto you, his cock settling perfectly on your core. Your toes curled at the sudden contact with his hardened dick.

He settled his face between your boobs, kissing the center, eventually taking your right boob in his mouth. His hands balanced his upper body while his dangerously skilled tongue swirled around your nipple, sucking and biting, erupting pleasure throughout your entire body.

With each suck on your nipple, soft gasps escaped your lips, your body arching into him as pleasure radiated from your chest. “Oh, Joong, that feels so good,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging at his roots and earning a groan from him. His mouth worked its magic, his warm tongue swirling around your sensitive yet now hard nipples, sending electric shivers through you.

He took his time, alternating between gentle nibbles and deep, hungry sucks, each sensation earning soft whimpers from you. “Mmm, just like that,” you encouraged, feeling the heat rise in your core with every tug of his lips. The way he lavished attention on your breasts ignited a fire deep within, leaving you breathless.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his tongue dancing playfully, devouring your soft breasts before pulling away just enough to tease. You felt a rush of heat as his eyes flicked up to meet yours, a mischievous gaze adorning his face.

The weight of his body pressed down on you, the heat radiating against yours driving you wild. “More, please,” you whisper begged, in a sultry tone.

“Want more, baby? Are you ready for me?” he teased while positioning himself at your entrance. “Hold on tight,” he murmured, giving you one last teasing kiss before shifting his weight, his hardened length pressing against your soft skin, ready to push inside you. The anticipation was mind-numbing, and you could hardly contain your excitement.

“Please, Joong,” you whimpered, feeling every inch of him as he hovered at your entrance, desire clouding your mind. “I need you.”

Wasting no time, he slowly began to push inside, stretching you deliciously. A gasp escaped your lips as he filled you, every inch sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You feel so good, baby” he breathed, sinking deeper and deeper; it was painfully pleasurable.

With a steady rhythm, he began to thrust, each movement earning soft moans from you. “Oh, Joong, yes!” you gasped, your fingers digging into his back, encouraging him to go faster. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, a sultry melody that resembled ATEEZ’s alluring and catchy beats.

He quickened his pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, guiding you to the edge. “You like that, baby?” he rasped, his voice low and filled with desire. You nodded, lost in the pleasure, the heat pooling in your core.

“I'm close, Joong” you breathed, your vision almost blurry, on the brink of seeing stars, both literally and figuratively. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the tension peaked.

“Cum for me, baby” he urged, his thrusts becoming merciless, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure washed over you as you cried out his name, your body trembling beneath him.

With a few more deep thrusts, his release came, a low “fuck” escaping his lips as he spilled inside you, pushing both of you over the edge. Those bath bombs and little deaths truly marked the end of you both, leaving you breathless and satisfied. Hearts racing, you lay together as the world around you faded, leaving only the sweet memory of the moment shared.

You checked the time on the wall clock; it was about 5:30 AM in the morning, the sun almost about to rise. After laying down together for a few more minutes, Hongjoong helped you clean up. The morning rays made their way into the bathroom from the large windows of your bedroom.

As you both stepped out of the bathroom, the morning sunrise greeted you both. Basking in the rays for a few seconds, Hongjoong said, “I love you, baby. I love you so much” as he looked at the sun outside, a warm feeling spreading throughout your body. “I love you too, Joong” you replied, a smile dancing across your lips as you reached to kiss his cheek. He smiled earnestly at you.

“And now we sleep, baby. I need my eight hours to handle Wooyoung’s tantrums in the office” he chuckled as he mentioned his teammate. A menance Wooyoung’s face crossed your mind. Closing the curtains, he dragged you onto the bed, and you both fell into a blissful sleep.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[nfwmlily]

If you still need fic ideas I'd be so down to read Hozier x virgin!reader 🙏

YUUUUUP YOU GOT IT ANON HERE'S A LITTLE DRABBLE THINGY FOR YOU TY FOR THE SUGGESTION

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), hozier and reader are both 18-19ish here so if that makes you feel weird don't read, p in v sex (protected. wrap it before you tap it), very slightly dom hozier undertones, young!hozier x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k

(yes the title is from a taylor swift song, SUE ME)

SMUT UNDER THE CUT

Don't Want You Like a Best Friend

Me and Andrew are close. We’ve always been close, how could we not have been? He was the boy next door, we waited at the same bus stop each morning before school, grew up attached at the hip. 

Close is a gross understatement on my part, he’s basically my best friend. But right now, best friend may even be an understatement, or even the wrong word entirely.

He’s on Christmas break from Trinity right now, so naturally, when I found out Andy had come home, I rolled up a couple joints and bought a 6-pack from the corner store.

Andrew, of course, was more than happy to receive me. He’d greeted me with a happy gasp of surprise, a “long time no see”, and a hug at around 6pm after dinner. We lit up one of the joints in his childhood bedroom, had two or three drinks each, leading me to my current situation.

The one that makes me think maybe even best friend isn’t an apt description. 

The situation being the fact that both our shirts are off, he’s laying on top of me on his bed kissing me harshly, and his hand is down my sweatpants, working my clit lightly.

Andrew who is, despite the fact we grew up together, completely oblivious of the fact I am a virgin. He’s a guy, and I just never felt it was the right thing to talk about my sex life (or lack thereof) with my only male friend growing up. Nevertheless, his hand found its way down my pants, and I enthusiastically allowed it. 

I moan out against his lips, his hips lazily rolling down against mine, a groan escaping him.

Andrew pulls away and presses his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. “You’re pretty. Fuck, not pretty,” he mumbles, looking down my body from above me. “Not the… Not a good word. You’re radiant. You’re… breathtaking. I should’ve said something years ago. Should’ve done something years ago. You’ve been gorgeous this whole time.” 

I laugh weakly just before he presses a little harder against my clit, sending sparks through my body.

We’ve been friends for so long. 14 years. It’s fitting that he’s the one who’s presumably going to take my virginity, but what I can’t seem to figure out is if he’s lost his own yet. He must’ve, right? His movements seem so natural and practiced, but the curiosity finds its way back to my head as pleasure ripples through me.

I gasp and bite my bottom lip for just a moment, my eyes fluttering shut then snapping back open. I look up at him and he looks so goddamn pleased with himself, a look I’ve seen many times.

“Andrew,” I breathe out, hearing the strained nature of my own voice immediately. “Have you… Fuck, this ‘s so embarrassing to ask, have you had sex?” I whisper, a redness creeping up my neck.

He laughs a little, the sound warm and familiar, and pulls his hand out of my pants. Both of his hands come to rest at either side of my head, and he presses himself up, hovering above me. His hair falls forward around his head like a canopy of vines or the branch of a tree, and I can’t help but admire it a little. 

“Yeah, ‘course I have. College is rife with, ehm, lovely ladies, and they seem to be a little… endeared by me? For reasons I can’t name, honestly, I don’t think I’d go after me if I was them…” he trails off and shrugs, and I groan and put my hands over my face.

When I pull them away, he’s giving me a confused look, his brows knitted together and his head tilted. “What, did I say something…?” he asks quietly, genuinely concerned.

I sigh and shake my head quickly. “Um, no, I just– I’m surprised. Not that you’re not an attractive man!” I quickly add on. “It’s just that, I… Didn’t realize…” I trail off, realizing I’ve dug myself a verifiable idiot hole.

He laughs and lays down beside me on his side, looking at me. “Wait, have you not had sex?” he asks.

I pause. 

How the fuck am I meant to tell my best friend, who is currently sporting a boner so visible his pants have formed a shape that is damn near pyramidal because of me, that he’s attempting to have sex with a virgin.

This was a line crossed as it was, we both knew that, and evidently made the choice to be okay with it. We’re tipsy and high, what does it matter? 

But the fact I’m a virgin…

“No, I haven’t.” I spit out. “I’m– I’m a virgin.”

Andrew raises his brows and props himself up on his elbow. “You are?” he asks.

I nod and bite my lip, heart pounding. “Um, yeah, that’s what I said…”

Andrew lets out a long breath, and then falls onto his back. “Shit, that’s… Fuck.”

I frown and gnaw on the inside of my lip, nervous that I’ve just ruined everything.

Then, he turns onto his side again and gives me a softer look. “You’re chill with this? With the– I mean, with the prospect of losing it to me?” he asks, incredulous.

I laugh softly and nod, and he smiles and lays down on his back, pulling me closer by the hips to lay on top of him. 

I squeak with surprise and giggle a little, my heart racing with anticipation and my legs falling to either side of his waist. “Andy, what on earth!” I breathe out, happy.

He shrugs beneath me and shifts a little. “Nothing much, I just thought I might enjoy having you like this. I was right, by the way.”

I smile down at him and kiss him softly, and his hands come up to rest on my shoulders, pulling me even closer and keeping me there. I let out a long breath and relax against him, the warmth of his body an immense comfort to me. 

He pushes up against me, his cock straining through his track pants. I feel it pressing firmly against my core through my own thin sweatpants, and I whimper quietly. I feel Andrew smile against my lips as he continues kissing me, and I can’t help but giggle a little at my own noises. 

His hands begin roaming all over me, up my back to unhook my bra, then back down to my hips, pressing me more firmly downwards. I gasp and pull away, and he looks at me a little guiltily. 

“Sorry, is that too much, or–” 

I shake my head quickly and reach underneath him, threading my fingers through his hair. “No, you’re fine. It’s all fine. Better than, actually…” I trail off, feeling extraordinarily awkward. “Um, no, I gasped ‘cause I–” 

I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence, because of course I can’t. I sigh and will myself to make the words form on my tongue, reciting an internal incantation to speak.

“Because I actually really enjoyed… feeling you?” I squeak out, feeling absolutely mortified for the millionth time tonight. “I dunno, okay?! It’s just a lot of new stuff, I don’t know, let me be!”

Andrew throws his head back, my fingertips pressing into the nape of his neck. He’s laughing. Andrew is… laughing. Perfect! Just great.

“Andy, don’t laugh at me!” I whine, a little pout on my face.

He takes a breath and looks up at me, smiling and flushed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… You’re just… Really cute.”

I huff and roll my eyes, but a smile cracks across my face anyways, and I lean down and start kissing him again.

Our lips are moving sloppily together, his tongue fumbling past my lips and into my mouth which I open quickly. He moves his arms to wrap over my waist as much as he can manage, given this position, and holds me against him from below. I feel myself relax a bit against him, because even though we’ve been teasing each other this entire time, even though I’m incredibly nervous, I’m safe with him. I’ve always felt safe with him, I always have been safe with Andrew.

Andrew flips the two of us over, and my heart lurches in my chest. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand gently slides up my waist, then back down the waistline of  my pants. I pull my lips away from his by just a couple centimeters, I suck in a breath, and then he’s on me again. 

His hand goes slightly lower than I’d been expecting, so I twitch and my back arches a little, pressing up against him.

Andrew groans a little and presses down against me, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against mine, breath coming out in strained puffs. “Can’t believe you’re a damn…” he was cut off by his own light laughter. “I can’t believe you’ve never done this before.” he whispers.

I tilt my head at him, my brow furrowed. “Huh? What d’you mean?” 

He shrugs and kisses me hard again, just for a few precious seconds, before he pulls away and both of his hands move down to my waistband.

“May I…?” he asks, trailing off. We both know what he’s implying. We both know why he’s being so careful to ask, to make sure he’s not going to do anything that’ll startle me. 

We both know that he’s going to pull my pants down, and my panties will go with them, and then we’ll both be bare soon enough, and I’m overwhelmed by it all. By the very thought. 

I take a deep breath or two, and I swallow hard, then look up at him intently. “Yes, that’s… Please. Feel free.” I whisper.

He nods and gives me a gentle smile as he kneels back on the bed, his knees in between my calves, and tugs my sweatpants and underwear down at once, and at the same time, I decide to shrug off the bra I’m in. 

Every movement of his fingers on my skin, every kiss he places on a newly exposed inch of flesh, starting at my hips, then my thighs, and my knees, and calves and ankles, it all sends ripples of tentative excitement through my body that make me squirm.

A moment later, I’m bare on his bed, and he’s taken my bra from me and thrown it somewhere in the room haphazardly along with the rest of my clothing. I bite my lip and cross my arms over my chest subconsciously, feeling an obligation to make sure I’m not indecent. Not that it matters by this point, but I feel like it’s a necessity.

Andrew whines a little and shakes his head, gently taking one wrist in each hand and moving them away from me. “C’mon, why cover yourself up? You cold? ‘Cause we can change that really fast…” he teases, a shit eating grin on his face.

I can’t help but laugh, because he knows me, and he knows how to make me laugh even if I do feel a little awkward. I shake my head and sigh. “No, Andy, I’m not cold, I’m just a little… I dunno, a little unused to this. You know I haven’t…”

His face dawns with understanding once more, and he nods. “Yeah, okay. I know. Here, I’ll even the scales.” he mutters, climbing off of the bed.

I’m just about to ask him what on earth he means by even the scales, but he starts to tug his tracksuit pants down, then his boxers, before he flops back down onto the bed beside me on his back. I raise my brows and huff out a surprised laugh.

“Huh. Wasn’t expecting that.” I mutter.

Andrew shrugs and smiles, leaning over to kiss me again. He pulls away again and keeps smiling at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen. “I want you so bad.” he whispers casually, and I choke on air.

“Andrew, you can’t just–”

“Can’t what? Say I want you?! My hands are coated in you right now, I think I’ve earned that right.”

I give him a pointed look before he laughs quietly and sighs. “I know I don’t have any obligatory rights to you, I already know what that look is for.”

I nod, and then reach over quietly, a gentle smile blooming on my face again. “Okay, okay. You’re pretty smart, Byrne.” I murmur, leaning closer. 

He quirks a brow and gives me a triumphant smile. “Yeah? I’m smart?” 

I nod, and his lips are suddenly kissing mine again. I’m almost a little curious: is this how sex always is? Are people always so touchy feely and so into kissing, or is this just… An ‘Andy’ thing? 

We’re both on our sides, and his arms come around my waist to pull me closer, and I whimper against his lips a little bit. I’m not entirely sure where the noise comes from, but something about it causes Andrew to push his knee in between mine, and the top of his thigh slots in between my legs. 

I gasp against him and thoughtlessly grind down against his quads, my hands moving up to grab the back of his neck. He lets out a noise akin to a growl against my lips, and his mouth moves down to my neck, kissing and nipping there.

“Jesus Christ, when you said you were a virgin, I knew–” he bends his knee to more easily lift his leg up and gain more leverage against my core, and I whine again, the friction driving me crazy. “I knew you’d be sensitive, but this?” he continues, breathless. The nips of his teeth against the delicate skin of my neck mix pain with a new type of pleasure, one inflicted upon me by another person for the first time, and I can’t bring myself to reply. 

“Fuck.” he breathes, one of his hands coming up to palm a tit again, and he pinches the nipple in between his pointer finger and thumb, making me stammer and throw my head back. 

“I– Andy, how’d you– Christ almighty–” I swear, and he pinches harder. 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to use the Lord’s name in vain?” he purrs into my ear, making me laugh a little after I yelp. Growing up, we’d always dryly make fun of the Catholic church, and organized religion in general.

Right as I think I’m gaining enough friction to make something remarkable happen, the mythical female orgasm, he straightens out his leg and pulls it from in between my own. I whine and look at him with confusion, shaking my head.

He’s breathless, flushed, hair a mess because I’ve been tugging at it this entire time. “Need you. The entire top of my thigh is slick because of you, I can’t– Can’t watch you go on like that any longer. If you don’t want to, we won’t, I know you haven’t–”

I shake my head and sit up, my chest heaving up and down quickly. “No, I get it. I mean, yeah. I– Fuck, how do I keep managing this?! I can barely speak!” I exclaim, taking his hands in my own as I breathe in. “I want you. I want this. I want you to be my first. Right here, right now. Okay?”

Andrew slumps forward with what I can only perceive as relief, and he nods, bringing my hands up to his to press a few gentle kisses to my knuckles. “Thank God,” he mutters, then reaches over me into his nightstand. 

He rummages around for a few moments before coming back triumphantly with a gold foil packet, a condom. Holding it up in between his fingers and presenting it to me with a shit eating grin on his face, he speaks. “Yet another win for me tonight. Wasn’t entirely convinced I still had one of these here.”

I laugh and roll my eyes, laying down again. He gets off of the bed and stands up as he rips open the condom, and I give him a curious look. 

He makes eye contact with me as he pulls it out of the packet, and gives me a confused look right back. “What’s up?” he asks, tossing the foil into the trash.

“Why’re you standing?”

He shrugs and looks down past his chest, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he rolls the condom on. “Just… Easier to do this standing up. Can make sure it’s on properly ‘n all that shit,” he chokes out.

I look down at his cock, and I see that it’s sticking straight out. Perpendicular to his body. And it’s incredibly proportional to his height. 

I choke for a moment, just as he had the moment before, and I nod. “Right, yeah…” I whisper, and he crawls back onto the bed, kneeling between my legs which I spread for him almost without a second thought despite my nerves.

Andrew reaches forward and cups my cheek with his hand, leaning forward to press his forehead against mine. “You still okay? You still wanna go through with this?” he whispers.

I nod and look at the junction between our bodies, barely meeting, only millimeters away. “Yes, I’m fine. I want this,” I murmur back.

He laughs a little and tilts my chin up. “Best not to look too hard at what’s happening there the first time. Learnt that the hard way.” 

I raise my brows and grimace a little. “Oh, god, I shouldn’t be expecting a blood bath, right?” I ask quietly. 

He shrugs and shakes his head. “I… No, I wouldn’t think so. Maybe a smattering. Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he whispers.

I nod again and let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Alright. I’m ready. I think. No, it’s fine, I’m ready.”

Andrew hums and kisses me gently from above, then reaches down between our bodies and slowly guides himself in. I gasp against his lips a little, my body stretching and attempting to adjust to this new intrusion.

I hear a strained noise come from him, and he huffs, then stops pressing into me after moving his hand up to above my shoulder to prop himself up. 

“You alright?” I hear him ask gruffly, muffled.

I nod and he grunts, moving his face down to the curve between my shoulder and my neck, his warm breath washing over that area. 

I shift a little underneath him, and arch my back a little without thinking too hard. In that movement, I accidentally force him further in, further than I realized was possible for the moment, and I gasp. My eyes snap shut, and I feel like I’m about to cry and lose my mind if I can’t have more at the same time.

Andrew groans against me and nips my skin before he moves away to ask if I’m alright. After a confirmation, he kneels back in between my legs, then grabs my hips and gently, ever so slowly, pulls me closer. 

“This is… You comfortable?” he whispers, holding my ankles and guiding them to either side of his hips, holding them against his skin. 

My chest heaves and I close my eyes for a moment as I try to reckon the fact that this is it, he’s effectively taken my virginity, and I wasn’t nearly as terrified as I thought I’d be. Somehow. 

I open them again and look up at him, and my breath catches in my throat.

He’s gorgeous. I don’t know how I never noticed before. Andrew’s so pretty. The bridge of his nose is straight, but it turns up just slightly at the end, and his hair frames his face well in this grown out haircut, with his dark brown curls. And his eyes. His eyes look like he’s constantly yearning, he always looks a little sad, they’re hazel, and he’s looking at me like I’m the most special thing in the entire universe right now. I could cry. He’s a tall man, and he’s a giant compared to me, but he’s so goddamn gentle anyway. 

Comfortable would be so, so inaccurate. 

“I’m… I’m perfect. You’re perfect.” I whisper back, hearing a hint of awe in my own voice. I smile at him and laugh a little, a giggle that I wasn’t expecting to come out of me, and I blush.

Andrew nods and laughs with me, reaching forward to cup my face again. He kisses me gently after managing to crane forward, and I let out a quiet moan against his lips, and slowly, he pulls out, then pushes back into me. 

I freeze up slightly, but I get used to the sensation as quickly as I can manage, and a shiver travels up my spine. Andrew rests his forehead on my shoulder again, reaching down to roll one of my nipples in between his fingers as he repeats the movement, slowly getting more and more confident with me. 

I whimper and close my eyes, shuddering. This isn’t bad, not at all. It’s not scary or painful or any of those things… God, I don’t know what was happening with the rest of my friends their first times, but the only things I can feel right now are a pleasant mixture of arousal, satisfaction, and shitty beer. 

I reach up to his head, threading my fingers through his hair, and I arch my back upwards, pressing into him. “Andy,” I breathe out, shuddering.

He pulls away, looking down at me with a hint of concern, his movements slowing. “Yeah? You alright?” 

I nod quickly and stutter, pulling him back to me by his head. “Mhm, I’m good. Just stay close. I like that you’re close.”

I hear a laugh rumble through his chest and he nods, wrapping his arms around me. “As you wish, darling.”

I close my eyes and allow everything to wash over me. I allow myself to categorize it all into the different areas of my brain, which demands organization to make sense of everything. 

Andrew, thrusting in and out of me. That’s new. It’s pleasant. I like how close we are.

The stretch I’m feeling, that’s good. It’s a useful type of discomfort. It mixes with the pleasure that sex involves, it grounds me. I still feel like I’m floating, but there’s a tether holding me back down to Earth, and it’s that.

Andy’s moans and whimpers and pillow talk. All of that is incredible.

I have to organize it all, to categorize it, I have since I was a child. This is no different, why would it be?

Andrew groans against my shoulder, bringing me out of my own head again, and his hand moves between us. I’m about to ask what he’s doing, but then I feel the calloused pad of his thumb on my clit again, rubbing in frantic circles. I gasp and cry out, my eyes flying open, my hands moving down to his shoulder blades.

My nails dig into the column of his spine on either side, moans falling from my mouth, like the poems I worked so hard to memorize at college. 

“Andrew, oh god, what’s that for,” I choke out, another strained cry escaping me.

He nips at my collarbone and shakes his head, and I feel his shaky breaths warming my skin. “‘M getting closer. Wanted you to be close too,” he mutters.

“Okay,” I croak weakly, and he nips at my skin again.

“Can I move– Can I please go faster? Are you okay?”

I huff and nod, whimpering a little in the process. Why am I this desperate? My body is craving more of something I’ve barely had. 

Andrew hums with satisfaction and begins to move more roughly in and out of me, pressing deeper and pulling out farther, his pace picking up.

Broken songs of pleasure bubble up from my throat, my lungs crying out for more air, every part of me feeling like a live wire. 

I can’t help but begin to move my hips in tandem with his, moving up when he pulls out, then back down when he pushes back in. As soon as I begin to do this, he nearly loses it. He damn near screams my name, and presses his face into a pillow just above my shoulder.

“What? Is that bad?” I whisper, my voice whiny.

“No! No. It’s just– I didn’t expect that. Oh, god, please don’t stop doing it, though. Please.”

I let out a breath of relief and can’t help but smile. I’ve done something right. I’ve done something he thoroughly fucking enjoyed.

His thumb applies more pressure, the texture of the callous on the tip of his finger rubbing against me, and I can’t help but gasp out, my nails digging back into his skin. 

“Fuck, I can’t– Andy, I’m gonna– I don’t even know what to call it, what the fuck–” I stammer, and he wraps one arm underneath me, kneels back entirely, basically keeping me on his lap. I groan at the new angle which forces him a million times deeper, and my head falls onto his shoulder.

He hisses and presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked, are you good? This is good?”

I can only whimper in reply, and he chuckles a little. “I’m gonna take that as a yes. Move your hips like you just were, babe,” he mutters into my ear, and I whine but begin moving anyways. 

I start to move on top of him, my legs wrapped around his waist. I find a quick, jerky rhythm that suits us both, and his finger finds the space in between us again, rubbing me to make me feel as much pleasure as possible.

I gasp again and cry out, my breath stuttering. He groans, and I feel myself become more tense, and he speeds up his movements.

“Fuck, you’re almost– I can feel you, you’re almost there,” he murmurs into my ear, and I nearly become a pile of molten lava on top of his lap. 

I whimper and make noises which I hope he pieces together to be confirmation, and he groans and holds me tighter, bouncing me up and down slightly with one arm, his head falling back. 

“Christ, I’m gonna…” he moans out, and I look at the column of his neck, exposed and a little shiny with sweat and fucking gorgeous. 

I whimper and my breath picks up, and I start to bounce myself the same way he’d been bouncing me just moments prior. “I know. I’m there, too. I am, I promise.” I whisper back.

I feel a hot, tight coiling in my stomach, and my legs quiver around his hips, and I gasp.

The entire world goes fuzzy, yet also comes into complete laser focus at once, and all I can hear is static. I don’t register that Andrew is moaning in my ear, coming completely undone at the same time as me, his nails dragging down my back. I don’t register that he’s kissing my neck, nipping and whispering how amazing I am. 

All that makes sense is the repeated waves of pleasure ripping through my body, and the soreness of my throat.

Eventually, though, I manage to come back down to earth. I’m breathless and spent and completely amazed that somehow, that just happened. With my best friend. 

I look at him and press my forehead against his, breath stuttering. He gives me a tilted smile and a kiss to the tip of my nose, and I slowly pull myself off of him and fall onto the bed once more.

Andrew, in turn, lays down next to me after peeling off and discarding the used condom. “So… You good?” he whispers, his fingertips tracing gentle circles on my ribcage.

I turn my head and make eye contact with him, and I just giggle and nod. “I’m divine, Andy.” 

[ellephlox]

Solidarity

Summary: Frank enlists your help on a dangerous mission. Matt’s not happy about it.

Pairings: Matt x f!reader, platonic Frank Castle & f!reader, platonic Matt & Frank

Warning: Strong profanity (looking at you, Frank). Canon-typical violence. There’s also dog abuse in this, so please proceed with caution!

“You will not believe how terrible my day was.” You were already complaining aloud as you started up the stairs to Matt’s apartment, perfectly aware that he’d be able to hear you. “My boss gave me triple the amount of work that’s humanly possible to complete within a month and somehow he expects me to do it within a week. And then he had the audacity to tell me that I shouldn’t wear my hair in a ponytail because it’s ‘too informal’ for the face of the company. I mean, what the hell does that even mean?”

One of Matt’s neighbors opened their apartment door as you marched up the steps, and you quickly lifted your phone to your ear as though you were talking to someone, lest they think you were just talking to yourself. “And then my coworker took my data — you know, all that stuff I had been inputting onto that Google Doc the other day? And he presented it as his own, no credit to me. I can’t even report him because he’s supposed to retire in a week so it’s pointless anyway.” 

You continued to gripe as you unlocked the door, chucking your keys down and tossing your shoes off so violently that they hit the wall. “Anyway, I’m in a bad mood now, so I have two propositions — well, demands, I guess — for you. One: We watch Jeopardy tonight. In pajamas. I will object if you’re still wearing a tie.” You unzipped your coat and tossed it haphazardly onto the coat rack. “Two: My friend asked if we’ve ever showered together before — you know, typical girl talk questions — and I told her we hadn’t, so I was thinking—” You stopped dead as you entered the living room, your stomach plummeting. Leaning on the wall by the window, arms crossed, was Matt, wearing his devil suit, complete with the helmet on and his billy clubs dangling in his hands. And across from him, standing with an actual gun in his hand, was Frank Castle. Mortification sent heat into your face, and for a moment you just stood there, at a loss for words. 

“We have company,” Matt said dryly, uncrossing his arms and standing up straight.

“I can see that,” you said finally. “You didn’t think to... I don’t know, shoot a text warning me?” Your cheeks were searing; had you seriously just proposed showering with Matt in front of the Punisher, of all people? 

“I was a bit preoccupied all day with making sure Trigger Happy over here didn’t shoot anyone,” Matt said, his jaw tense. 

Frank snorted. “Red, you’d be bleeding out in an alley if I hadn’t saved your ass. Get off your high horse.”

“Yeah. Okay. But you couldn’t have said something, anything at all, when I walked in?  Like, ‘Hey, honey, there’s a wanted fugitive standing in our living room, just so you know.’ Sorry, Mr. Castle,” you added in an undertone to him. “Um — I’m not trying to make you feel unwelcome or anything, I just feel a bit awkward about earlier, so—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Frank said shortly, his gaze still trained on Matt. “We gonna stand here with your girl watching us and argue all afternoon? Or are we going to get this done?”

“Get what done?” you asked.

It was Frank who answered, and from the way Matt was standing with his back straight as a ruler now, you had the sense he wasn’t pleased, for whatever reason. “There’s a shipment of heroin that’s supposed to arrive tonight. The dealers have been selling to kids on the street to make a quick buck.”

“It’s due to come in at midnight,” Matt said. “But the source I talked to last night doesn’t know which dock.”

You made of sound of sympathy. “I take it you’ll be having to sweep a lot of territory tonight, then?”

“That’s a damn understatement,” Frank said. “We’re not just talking about the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, ma’am. We’re talking all the way down to Chelsea, and the piers in Brooklyn Heights.”

“But that’s impossible to scope out,” you said slowly. “Even if Matt’s standing in the center of all the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, he couldn’t possibly hear all the way down to Chelsea, let alone Brooklyn.”

“Which is why we’re in for a rough night,” Matt said. “I called Jessica, Luke, and Danny. They’re all out of town.” He jutted his chin at Frank. “And that’s why we’re here together.”

“I ain’t happy about it either,” Frank added. “He’s already talking my ass off about moral obligation and shit. Feels like I’m in church.”

"Because you tried to stab the guy in the throat after he gave us information we needed.”

“If you could see, Red, then you’d know from the look in that guy’s eyes that he planned on murdering us the second that we turned our backs on him—”

“Which is why I tied him up and left him for Mahoney.”

“I have a better idea,” you said, cutting in before anything could escalate. “I can help.” 

Matt’s response was immediate and scathing. “No.”

"Oh, come on — I get it if you want to do your whole ‘Fly home, Buddy, I work alone’ thing, but you’re not working alone, you’re working with the Punish— I mean, Mr. Castle. I’ll be supremely insulted forever if you don’t let me help.”

“If you think that I’ll let those dealers anywhere near you—” Matt began, but you interrupted again.

“Look, I’ve always waited here patiently and uselessly while you do your deviling every night, but can’t you give me a chance? Maybe we’ll be a dream team. Terrific trio. Second Edition Avengers. The Scooby gang minus a talking dog.”

“She could help, Red,” Frank said, sending an unreadable look in your direction. “I say we do it. She can camp out at Brooklyn. I mean, the guy said that they could dock there, but they never have before. Odds are they’ll be in Chelsea or Hell’s Kitchen.”

“So, what? We throw her to the wolves in Brooklyn where we can’t get to her easily if things go south?” Matt looked as though he were about two seconds from socking Frank in the jaw. Or worse, two seconds from handcuffing you to the apartment so that you wouldn’t leave. 

“No,” you said firmly. “Things won’t go south. Matt, I’m not going to... I don’t know, engage in a fight with them. I’m not a vigilante. I’ll just hide and keep an eye on the docks, then if they show up, I’ll call you.”

“I’ll stay in Chelsea,” Frank said. “I know you get all weird about the Kitchen, Red, so it’s all yours.”

Matt was standing stock still, grinding his teeth. Finally he ground out, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So is driving a car. So is crossing the street. And yet I’ve done both many, many times,” you said. “I’ll be completely fine. Why would dealers have any reason to go after a random passerby, even if they did see me? Which they won’t,” you added hurriedly. “Because I’ll stay safely out of sight.”

“Perfect.” Frank checked his watch. “I ain’t staying here while we twiddle our thumbs and wait for midnight to roll around. Give Y/N my burner number, Red.”

“I’d never have thought you’d do this, Frank,” Matt said, his voice low. “I thought you at least were on my side when it came to keeping people safe who—”

“Who are what?” you said sharply. “I might not have... superpowers, or, I don’t know, a weird bloodthirstiness — sorry again, Mr. Castle — but I can still help.”

“Call me Frank.” Frank leveled his gaze at you. “And cut the apologizing shit.”

“Uh. Okay.” You had to bite your tongue to keep from apologizing again.

And, somehow, you actually ended up on the mission. You took the C train down to Brooklyn Heights after enduring a very long and very dry lecture from Matt on how you were to stay out of sight no matter what and to call him should any boat arrive with men wearing ski masks. 

And, in all honesty, you weren’t nervous. The likelihood of the dealers showing up at your assigned docks was slim. And even if they did, you’d just have to make a quick phone call to both of them, and then camp out. Easy-peasy. 

You settled in on a wooden bench overlooking the piers, wishing you had worn more than your jacket. The temperature had dropped more than expected when the sun had set, and now you shivered slightly, the cold metal of a knife against your thigh. Just in case. 

How exactly you were actually out here, on a real mission, with Matt willingly letting you out of his protection, you weren’t sure. It was exhilarating, though. The city was dark, yet not really; it was aglow with the street lamps and headlights and apartment windows whose blinds hadn’t been closed yet. You scrunched up your legs to conserve body heat and regretted not bringing a blanket, too. And a pillow. That would’ve made the bench slightly less rock hard against your bottom. 

Seriously, how did Matt do this kind of thing every night? Fifteen minutes in and you were already missing the warmth of home. 

You glanced at the skyline. Somewhere, on the other side of those skyscrapers, Matt was waiting as well. Probably he wasn’t curled up on a bench like you were, though. It was more likely that he’d be stalking the rooftops, or pacing in the shadows. 

And then movement caught your eye, at just after 12:30 in the morning. You scrambled to your feet, squinting in the dark. It was a boat, fast approaching the pier just next to you. 

No way. Yeah, you were on lookout, but somehow you’d convinced yourself that the dealers wouldn’t actually show up on your end. You waited to call Frank and Matt, though, because in case it was a different boat, you didn’t want to raise a false alarm. You moved away from your bench and began walking leisurely down the pier, as though you were going for a nighttime stroll. All you needed to do was get a good glimpse of them, then you’d head up the street where you could watch from a safer spot. 

“In, out! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” someone said, a bit loudly, from the deck of the ship. You swiveled your head to see him, and sure enough, he had a ski mask. Swiftly you pulled out your phone and fire off a quick text to both Matt and Frank. You were about to leave the pier altogether when a bark made you stop short. 

....A dog?

“Shut the bitch up!” one of the men snarled. “We get caught, then all the goods get seized.”

“She’s been fucking howling the whole way, what am I supposed to do?”

“Give her a piece of food.”

“What food? You ate the rest of it, man.”

“Can’t believe we’re bringing this dog anyway. Boss already has six bitches. Why does he need another?”

“She’s some special breed, or some shit, I don’t know. Sells for a thousand bucks a pop. Grab that box. Like I said — in, out. We’re already late.”

The dog kept barking, though, and you winced as the man kicked the poor thing in the ribs. Piece of shit. You wanted to go up there and throttle him yourself. If Matt or Frank would just get here already, then you’d be able to relax, but it would still be at least twenty minutes...

And what if the dealers got away in that time frame?

The dog started barking again, and suddenly, without any word of warning, one of the men picked the dog up like a sack of potatoes and threw her overboard. “To hell with the extra cash. That’s how you deal with security problems,” you heard him say as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Get moving, go, go, go! Unload this shit so we can get out of here!”

Below, the dog’s frantic head slipped below the surface.

Oh, hell no. 

Your feet were moving even before you could make an executive decision in your mind. The cold of the evening was forgotten, as were Matt’s strict words to not be seen, no matter what happens, and you dove into the water, where the dog had fell beneath the black waves beside the pier. 

Fortunately, it was summer, and as shockingly cold as the water was, it wasn’t anywhere near deathly cold. You couldn’t see anything, and desperately tried to listen for the dog, but you didn’t have Matt’s ears, and for a moment panic swelled inside you that this dog would drown, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing. 

And then you saw movement, out of the corner of your eye. The dog was struggling to stay afloat, her snout barely making it out of the water. You grabbed her around the middle and kicked with all your might, coughing on water and unable to see hardly anything except for the blurry outline of the pier. There had to be a ladder somewhere along there, and you groped blindly along the edge, seeking out a grip to pull yourself and the dog up. 

For a moment, you completely forgot about the dealers behind you. All you could think about was getting the dog safely onto land, and with a massive effort you lifted her up. Her paws scrambled against the edge of the pier, but with a good shove to her rump, she was able to get over the edge and dash away into the shadows. 

Good luck out there, doggie. You started to climb the ladder yourself, but froze when you heard the telltale click of a gun being cocked in front of you. Slowly you looked up, your blood running cold at the sight of a gun pointed straight at your forehead. The man holding it had his hair tied back in a bun, and there was a horrible expression on his face that told you he wouldn’t have any qualms about pulling the trigger. 

“Should I shoot, boss?” he asked, his eyes not moving from your face. “Stupid girl’s seen us. She’ll probably run her mouth and tell the cops.”

Your brain felt as though it were short-circuiting. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul. You have my word. Really, I’ll just leave here, and I promise—”

“Do it!” one of the men shouted from the boat. “Get it done so you can get your ass back up here to help. You know how many bodies there are in the Upper Bay? She’ll just be another.”

Your heart was punching the inside of your rib cage. You considered falling backwards to try to swim away, but what good would it do? There was no other way to get back onto land nearby except for this ladder, and you didn’t trust yourself to swim around the boat and across to the next pier without simply getting shot en route. Lunging up the rest of the ladder to fight him was an even worse option. Even if you could fight like Matt (which you could safely say was not the case), you were at a disadvantage; he had the high ground. 

But you didn’t have a choice. The man lunged down and grabbed you by the collar of your jacket, hoisting you up onto the pier. You shivered violently, unsure of whether it was from fear or cold. The man looked you over. “Could hold her for ransom, Tom. That’d bring in some extra cash.”

“No.” The man, who must’ve been Tom, shook his head. “That’s just a surefire way to get attention from the cops. Let’s take her in. We’ll kill her once we’re back on open water and dump her body in the Atlantic. Much cleaner that way.”

The man holding you grunted in agreement and shoved you forward up the ramp to the boat. You obeyed only because of the gun pressed against your temple, feeling like you might vomit any second. 

Where are Matt and Frank? The night was as still as a reflecting pool. It was as though the city itself had gone to sleep, abandoning you to these men, and you had to choke down the rising lump in your throat that was making you feel like you might cry any second or pass out. But tears wouldn’t come, as you were led into a cabin, your mouth promptly duct-taped closed. The sensation made you panic even more — a little air could get through to your nose, but not much, and the sudden feeling of being near to asphyxiation made you even more light-headed. 

The men, however, seemed to forget about you as soon as they tied you to the chair. That they hadn’t killed you immediately was the most relieving of mercies, and you struggled fruitlessly to escape your bonds, feeling supremely useless. Surely Matt would arrive any second; he would hear exactly where you were, you reasoned, and he’d make his way to you as soon as he could. Any minute you’d hear the sound of a baton ricocheting off some unfortunate skulls or the cracking as bones shattered under his fists. 

But instead, it was bullets you heard first. Frank. You gritted your teeth, hearing the shouts of men that were surely being killed without a second thought. Hopping with your feet, you were able to wiggle your chair forward slightly until you could see outside the cabin door. Frank’s silhouette was a menacing shape against the moonlight. 

Where is Matt?

One of the largest men — Tom, you recalled — suddenly came barreling into the room, a gun in his hand. He untied you violently, yanking the rope so roughly against your wrists that you gasped under the tape, and then dragged you forward, the gun against your head. Unceremoniously you were toppled from the chair, your knees slamming down onto hard wood. 

“Drop your gun!” Tom jabbed his gun against your forehead so hard that you saw stars. “Drop it now and put your hands behind your head, or I’ll blow her brains out!”

Through your fuzzy vision you saw Frank freeze. His gaze was cold; calculating, and for the first time you wondered what your value was in Frank’s mind, compared to the triumph of offing some criminals. Which was worth more to him? For a moment, you feared he would prioritize killing the smugglers. His fist clenched even tighter around the gun, and he drew in level breaths, without lowering his gaze for even a second. 

“I swear to God I’m pulling this trigger in ten seconds if you don’t drop it,” Tom said, and he dragged the tip of the gun so that it was placed precisely against your temple. Water was still dripping from your clothing and goosebumps were raised so violently on your skin that you felt like you had chicken pox, but that was nothing compared to the electric adrenaline shooting down your spine, as though your nervous system was screaming at you to do something, anything, but it was to no avail; all you could do was stay on your knees, as still as possible, and keep your head lowered. 

And then, as though he’d made a snap decision, Frank set the gun down.

“Kick it over here,” Tom ordered. 

Frank obeyed, slowly raising his hands to his head. “The gun’s down,” he said. “Now let her go.”

Tom’s grip on you tightened. “You’re a fool,” he said, and suddenly you knew what was about to happen, from the steadying of his hands and the firmer press of the gun against your temple. You wrenched yourself away from him, just as the bullet fired off, and the heat of it barely grazed your shoulder as you dove away. 

The victory was short-lived, though. Tom aimed again, and this time you were on the ground, with nowhere to go. You screwed your eyes shut, sending a silent apology to Matt, and...

The bullet never came. 

Gingerly you opened your eyes to see the devil punching Tom with all his wrath and fury. Frank had already picked up his gun again and was running towards the back of the boat, where you knew there were still a few more crew members. Quickly you crawled backwards to get out of the path of Matt and Tom, the latter of whom was being thrown against the cabin wall. 

That had been close. Way, way too close. You fumbled for the duct tape and ripped it off your mouth, lightheaded from breathing irregularly. Stars formed in front of your vision and you had to slow yourself down, drawing in air and then releasing it slowly. 

Matt was still slamming his fist into the face of Tom, and blood was spurting everywhere. You squinted at them, your heart dropping — far too much blood was spraying out, and Matt was showing no signs of slowing down —

“It’s okay. You’ve got him,” you whispered, the words coming out of your mouth in a rasp. “Matt.”

Matt dropped Tom, who slid to the ground, unconscious. Using the edge of the boat to support yourself, you stood up slowly, and limped over to Matt; your knees were still aching from earlier. Gently you reached towards his shoulders. “I can call 911.”

“He deserves to die.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” you said. Matt was in a dangerous anger, you could tell; one wrong move and he’d do something he’d regret for the rest of his life. Choosing the right words now was imperative. “A judge will decide that.”

“He tried to kill you,” Matt snapped, whirling around and knocking your arm off his shoulder. “If he had — if he’d succeeded—”

“But he didn’t.”

“Does that matter?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Frank got there first. “Cool down, Red,” he said, as nonchalantly as though you were all at dinner together. “Your girl’s safe. We got the drugs before they could get shipped.”

“Don’t talk to me like I need to be calmed down,” Matt said, his voice hardly more than a snarl. 

Frank stared at Matt for a few moments. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “To answer your question. It does matter that he tried killing her.” Then, without warning, he shot Tom, square in the forehead. You yelped, looking away from the bloody hole where his head was now caved in. His features were unrecognizable, and hollow in death, and yet you couldn’t help looking back at him, his eyes meeting yours as though he still were alive. 

“Get her out of here. Warm her up,” Frank said, nodding at you. “I’ve got other business to do this evening.”

“Other business?” you asked, but Matt was reaching for you, skating his hands over your body. 

“Sorry,” you said lamely, shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “I sort of disobeyed the only rule.”

“You could have died.”

“But there was a dog, and I had to save it — they tossed the poor thing overboard. I couldn’t just sit by.”

And, to your surprise, Matt’s lips cracked into a small smile. Though you couldn’t see his eyes under the mask, you could feel his warmth. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Frank was gone already. Together, you and Matt exited the boat, and it took all of your willpower to not look back at the corpse. 

“So,” you said, taking Matt’s hand as you walked down the dark street together. The feeling of the duct tape was lingering on your mouth, and the way that you had been tied up — the gun against your head — and it was making your heart race. Even though Matt would see right through you (hear right through you?), you adopted a casual tone. “How was my audition? Can I officially be the Assistant Daredevil?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting. I’m just wondering if I passed some sort of test, and if you’ll let me join you now—”

“Sweetheart.” Matt stopped short and pulled you into the shadows between buildings. “You’re not fooling me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Your mouth was dry. 

“That was intense. You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t. You could’ve died.” Matt’s voice shook a bit, and you were reminded that as terrifying as it was for you, it had probably been even worse for Matt. Because if you had died, and it was technically on his watch... yeah. That wouldn’t have gone over well. 

You cupped his face, and he leaned into it slightly. “Okay. I’m a bit freaked out. But I’m okay.”

“Who’s reassuring who, now?” he said after a moment, and that warm, small smile returned. He pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly enough that you had to draw in a short breath. 

“Maybe...” Your voice came out in a whisper. “Maybe we both need it tonight.” 

A/N: Sorry for the slightly rushed ending but this was beginning to expand a bit too much and I didn’t want it to feel like it should have multiple chapters. Honestly, I wasn’t happy with this piece so it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a year now, but it’s been awhile since I posted a one shot, so... here we are.

Hope you all had a great day, thanks so much for reading! 

-Elle

[wherenymphsroam]

“rough day?”

♱ it was a rough day. and you’re too pretty to resist.

♱ cw: afab reader but no gendered terms are used, degradation (he’s stressed n mean), boot humping, spit, D/S undertones

(can be seen as a bit dubcon but this was written with the implication of a pre existing free use dynamic in place.)

♱ a/n; need him to shake me around like a dumb puppy. maybe I wouldn’t be mentally ill anymore

The sound of the door slamming shut jolts you, heavy and resounding through the house. He doesn’t even bother to call out in greeting, the only form of signal you get that he’s coming towards you being the heavy footfalls of his boots against the hardwood floors. 

It was a bad day. 

The weight of his agitation dampened the air of the kitchen when he stopped in the doorway. You don’t have to turn away from where you’re wiping down the counter to know his typically bright blue eyes are hooded, clouded over with how intensely he was staring at you. 

“Leon…?”

You turn, all doe eyes and creased brows, questions on the tip of your tongue that you dare not let slip out. 

God, that pretty fucking face. Those sweet lips, the way your eyes brighten even under the shadow of the storm whirling through him. 

It made him want to ruin you. 

“Sweetheart… C’mere,” he murmurs, voice clipped with barely restrained agitation, white knuckled control. 

It wasn’t agitation at you, you knew that. Agitation was too often becoming a forefront mood for him lately, something you could only yearn to quell and quiet with each sharp, seemingly daily flare. 

Maybe that’s why you buckle so easily, feet carrying you over to stand before him before you can do much as blink. 

Because like this, if even just for a few minutes, an evening, you knew you quieted his mind, soothed his heart with the rush of hormones your body could coax out and flood him with.

“Rough day,” you murmur softly, gently. It’s a statement, the obvious dragged out in the open to settle thickly between you, like stretched taffy. 

He only nods. 

Nose flaring with the heavy exhale that leaves him, his thick lashes fluttering for a moment before he finally, finally dares to settle his clouded, unreadable eyes on you. 

“On your knees.” 

Realistically, it should be considered pathetic how quick you are to comply. How easily his words, his mere presence alone slips you out of that day to day awareness and high functioning state. Hell, it probably is pathetic, depending on who you ask. 

But could you really be blamed..? Leon was easily the most hardworking, selfless man you knew. God forbid you wanted to suck him off about it on a daily basis. 

Your knees settle on the cool tile of the kitchen, eyes obedient and bright, all but starry with anticipation when you gaze up at him. Hands laid flat on your thighs, your mouth already starting to salivate at the sight of his figure shadowing you… it would be an understatement to say that Leon’s self control was wearing thin. 

And quickly.

It was a tightrope between taking you right there on the floor like a damn rabid animal, and wanting to tear you apart piece by piece. He knew either option would make good on helping him to forget the horrors and stress of the past twelve hours, but as much as he was a man with needs, he was a patient one. And trying to balance the both of those facts, desperately and fruitlessly trying to get a read on him right now? It left you throwing arrows blindly against a dart board. 

Which is why it was a bit surprising when you found the hard toe of his boot sliding between your thighs, Leon’s idly hanging hands making no attempt to click his belt off making your breath hitch. 

“I don’t see why you even bother to wear these. The material is so thin,” he mutters, tilting his head in intrigue as he watches his boot settle against the clearly outlined shape of your cunt through the thin material of your shorts. The lounge shorts you insisted on parading around the house in, the ones that barely kept your ass contained.

“Can see your fucking pussy from here. Are you even wearing underwear?” 

The lilt of condescension in his voice directly betrays the look of faux boredom he was attempting to keep on his features. 

No. Ruined them by lunch thinking about you.

“T… They’re in the wash,” you meekly attempt to defend, swallowing thickly. Maybe like this you could act like you hadn’t become a depraved slut for him, you tell yourself.

His sharp eyes catch and follow the bob of your throat, the twitching of your fingers. 

Denying it even when you’re itching to touch me. Poor thing.

“Don’t bullshit me,” he scoffs, short and throaty, his lips briefly curling at one end. It was the closest to a smile you’d gotten out of him in a week. 

“Can feel you soaking through the damn things already. A shame your pussy’s more honest than you are,” he hums, crossing his arms. His toe rocks back and forth, short, concise motions that drag your clit with each sway, delicious and addicting. You’re far from reasonable right now, his words tearing through that flimsy wall of self respect. At least, your excuse for it, you supposed. 

Panting now, your neck gives way, leaving your forehead to fall and rest on his thigh. 

“Leon-” 

“Shut up and ride it,” he gruffly responds, dragging dirty fingers through your hair in a way that directly contradicts his harsh words. Even now, he was sweet in his caress. 

However, that sweet affection is quickly forgotten. All it takes is a meek nod of your head, a twitch of your thighs and a whimper escaping you to have his fingers tightening against your scalp, craning your neck back in a way that forces you to look up at him. 

“Open.”

Quickly obliging him, your lips part, tongue obediently flattening as soon as your jaw goes slack.

He’s typically one to dance around the obvious, to tease you a bit. Most often, his go to was to squish your cheeks, tell you how fucking adorable you look when you’re hungry for his spit. Maybe dragging the rough pad of his thumb along your lips, tracing the sweet shape delicately before he finally starts to gather your treat on his tongue.

But not tonight. 

Tonight, his thumb is hooking into the corner of your lips, muttering something about “we both know you can go wider” before he’s leaning down, spitting into the back of your throat. You damn near choke, sputtering for a moment before you recover. That is, just in time for him to pat your cheek once, twice — not enough to make it hot, but enough to sting, pleasantly so. 

His fingers tighten, digging roughly into your molars, using his grip on your jaw to shake you a bit like that of a dog with narrowed eyes, set lips. Pliant and empty headed, like that of a doll… he liked you best like this. Your attitude, your wit, your intelligence, sure, all that was great. But it was nights like this that reminded him of his handiwork. Of how far you’ve come in becoming his perfect slut.

“Keep it in your mouth. Don’t wanna hear a damn word. You swallow and you don’t come tonight.”

It was going to be a long night.  

[kk-iki]

took a long time, breaking muscle down.

synopsis: you get stranded in the middle of nowhere, with snow blanketing the ground as far as the eye can see. comms are down, and you have no way of knowing which way is which. even worse; you're stuck with the woman who can't stand you. . .and vice versa.

word count: 3.1k

tags: fem!simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader as helnik, sfw with suggestive undertones, simon uses she / her pronouns, reader is a lieutenant but not in 141, nonsexual nudity, cuddling for warmth but you hate each other, banter that toes the line between hate and amusement, only one bed, mostly simon's pov, enemies to. . .whatever this is.

notes: i have been thinking about helnik ( read: danical, but helnik drew me to them in the first place ) and i wanted to write something for simon because i love her almost as much as i love the grishaverse. i kind of hate this, but it's okay; i think i would've died if i kept it inside of me any longer.

as always, reblogs and comments are forever appreciated. i love hearing from all of you, and i always get so irrationally happy when i see reactions to my writing because i know that means it's touched you in some way. thank you for reading. i love you.

simon hates traveling anywhere by boat.

the way the floor rocks unsteadily over her feet, nausea curling in her stomach as she tries to tune out how insufferably loud the waves are. . .it's all something she'd rather avoid entirely.

she'd been headed on a mission to buttfuck, nowhere; the place, according to records, was a wasteland of ice and snow and mulch. there had been some signs of life there, once—and her task was to find out a) if it was real, and b) if it was of any use to anyone. far be it from her to complain (to her direct superiors, at least), but this felt so. . .beneath her.

even worse, she's stuck with you.

bright eyed and bushy tailed, a sweet-eyed face that she'd been seeing irritatingly more often around base; always cooing words of encouragement to your sergeants like you're their bloody mother. flouncing about without a care in the world, as if your job wasn't literally life or death.

one day, you’d come back from an op and had been all smiles, beaming like you’d just been awarded a victoria bloody cross. you’d tugged off your hood with a gleaming grin, the thick waves of your hair escaping your collar, and she’d had to excuse herself gracelessly before whatever was curdling in her stomach ended up regurgitating itself all over your shiny victory.

to say you piss simon off to no end would be the understatement of the fucking century.

now, the boat itself had barely been more than a creaking pile of wooden planks hastily cobbled together. the craftsmanship had left much to be desired, and it's for that reason that she's currently floating on one of them right now, half-conscious and practically frozen to the marrow of her bone. frigid water laps at her jaw as she heaves for air, each wave like a gash against her throat.

“—up, wake up, you dismal fucking woman–” you’re practically barking at her, your hands shaking her shoulders. you’re pressed flat on your stomach atop the same chunk of wood she’s currently limp against, and your hair clings to your face in wet clumps. “wake up, or i swear to god i’ll kill you–”

your fingers press to her neck, and somehow that’s what gets her to shudder awake with a violent cough, wheezing through the icy air for dear life. her balaclava’s been rucked up and over her nose, and she’s struck with the urge to tug it back down despite the fact it’d certainly be counterintuitive. she doesn’t really care about being intuitive when you’re kneeling right there, soaked to the bone and screaming in her face.

“there you are,” you breathe, nearly inaudible over the shrieking wind. “get up, i can’t swim us both to shore alone–”

“you fuckin’–” simon starts, hands scraping raw against wet wood to push away from you, and you splutter through a mouthful of sea water before seizing her by the shoulders.

“none of that, none of that,” you snap, and the hardness of your gaze does something to shut her up. “you’re going to help me, or we’re both going to die here. what’ll it be, ghost?”

no amount of bitter glaring can distract from the truth—no matter how much she wouldn’t really mind dying here, if it meant being away from you. but when she’s looking up at you like this, any traces of your usual animated personality dashed completely from your face, something shifts in her that effectively renders her protests mute.

with a defeated grunt, she shoves herself over to your side of the wooden plank and begins to kick ferociously.

somehow, even with lips bluer than the sky above, you manage to stretch your insufferable mouth into an even more insufferable grin. “there you are.”

it’s nightfall by the time you both manage to haul yourselves to shore.

you’re both thoroughly soaked and heaving for air, the layers of your tactical gear clinging to your shivering limbs. trudging further inland yields no results until you practically sob in relief and direct simon’s attention to a tiny lodging half a klick ahead.

you both stumble in with little fanfare, simon immediately beelining for the little firepit in the middle of…what can hardly be called a building, really. it’s more like a cabin cobbled together by a blind man, without a proper floor or anything to fill the gaps between the stacked wood walls but animal pelts dangling from brass hooks.

it’ll do.

simon’s the one to make sure no one’s in the room. once she’s done that, she takes to starting the fire. and once that’s crackling, she’s the one checking herself for her weapons—miraculously, she’d managed to keep her utility knife on her.

all the while, you remain silent…eerily so. normally, she’d be a little thankful that you finally shut the hell up, but you could stand to pull your weight, couldn’t you?

she looks up to snap at you for it and immediately goes bright red.

“put your clothes back on.”

you scoff from where you’re halfway out of your undershirt. the soft swells of your bare shoulders are, maddeningly, still lingering in her periphery. “your wet clothes will be the death of you.”

“i’m fine,” she mutters as she chases after the fleeting heat of the fire against her palms. she most decidedly is not fine; she feels like she’s forgetting what warmth even felt like.

you sniff and continue stripping off your clothes. “suit yourself.”

simon clicks her tongue, forcing herself to stare down at the fire as if that will make it burn hotter. you tug off one of your socks and tilt your head, staring at her from where you’ve perched on the edge of what’s presumably a bed. “are you always this prudish?”

she rolls her eyes so hard she fears they might get stuck in the back of her head. “are you always this eager t’ get naked?”

“i’m just trying to stay warm,” you reply, shoving all of your wet clothes and gear in a pile a little ways away. then, much to her horror, you lean back against the wall after sweeping up the wool blanket on the bed and smile at her. “you know, you should join me.”

simon puts a considerable amount of effort into seeming like she’s not choking on her own spit. “like hell.”

“i mean, it wouldn’t be out of the question if you really swam all that way just to die in this hut,” you click your tongue, hitching the blanket up over your shoulders. “or are you scared?”

“it’s a lodge,” she mutters. “and ’m not afraid o’ you.”

“never said that,” you roll your eyes, your smile twitching into an irritated curl of your lip. good. she tries not to think about how…something you look when you’re mad. “but you know you’re going to freeze to death like that, and i have the body heat to keep you warm.”

simon glares at you for all of five seconds before her head slumps forward in defeat. she shoves herself to her feet and begins to make her way over to you, but you sit up straight and stop her with a firm, “aht-aht, no.”

she only manages to give you a look of affronted confusion before you’re saying, “not in those wet clothes, you don’t.”

you pin her with a look of your own, firm and disapproving in a way that makes something at the base of her spine feel like she’s being tased.

“off. now.”

simon can only blame the flush of her cheeks on the cold as she grits out, “fine. but yer turnin’ around.”

your jaw tips open in mild, almost amused disbelief at her insistence on modesty when the both of you had nearly died half an hour ago. you scoff, and she feels just a bit petulant as she repeats, “turn.”

you roll your eyes but oblige, scooting to face the wall, and she begins shucking off her wet clothes and shoving them down her damp limbs. somehow, you find it in yourself to keep running your mouth as she does.

“i don’t get why you’re so nervous,” you laugh, even as the lingering chill sends shivers through your body and into your voice. “hate to break it to you, ghost, but there’s really nothing all that unique about girls like you.”

she doesn’t respond, and so you go on. “you act all big and bad and mean, but that doesn’t really do anything for anyone in the long run. it’s not something that makes you special. you’re just some person with an attitude problem, like everyone else.”

she’s mildly tempted to shove her fist in your mouth to shut you up—then the thought of your mouth around her fingers flickers traitorously through the forefront of her mind, and she has to bite down a scream of frustration as she pushes her drenched pants down her thighs.

once she’s nude, she practically stomps over to where you are and pushes at your shoulder, prompting you to hum and lay down. you press yourself against the wall, and she begrudgingly slides in next to you and shuffles under the blanket, making an effort to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

you blink, bewildered. “closer.”

she’s already tense enough as it is, her muscles taut—hearing you say that makes her exhale come out as a frustrated heave. you turn fully to face her, your brows knitted in equal irritation. “simon.”

fighting the urge to twist your neck like a towel, she shuffles an inch closer and immediately squirms away when she feels the ghost of your skin sending pinpricks over her arm.

you groan and gripe and do a sufficient amount of whining, as per usual. “would you stop wiggling arou– oh, god, you’re cold and clammy, it’s like lying next to a fucking squid–”

“you told me to get closer,” simon practically barks out.

you shift around and turn to face her, and she nearly stumbles off of the bed in her attempts to back away. your tits are cold and still slightly damp, and god– you’re somehow warm and freezing at the same time, and she swears you’re somehow regulating your temperature like this on purpose for the sole sake of driving her insane.

“what are you doing?” she snaps.

you make another noise of annoyance, shoving her shoulder in a way that would have irritated her if the press of your fingers wasn't so...jesus.

“god, relax. i’m not gonna jump your bones like this, but unless we get nice and close and share our body heat, chances are we’re not making it out of this hut. oh, sorry, this lodge.”

she turns to hit you with the full force of her glare. “i’m not cuddling you.”

you level her with an entirely unimpressed look. the color is returning to your lips—and she feels like she’s going to be sick when she realizes that she’d noticed that.

“it’s not cuddling. it’s basic survival.”

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t realize basic survival is you puttin’ your naked body all up on mine in th’ dark.”

she doesn’t have to look at you to see the palpable annoyance on your face. still, she does. “you’re literally trembling.”

“and you’re insufferable.”

your teeth are clenched as you burrow yourself deeper into the wool. good. that means she’s seeing less of you, and that means she can stop feeling…whatever the hell this is.

“fine, die of hypothermia. i’ll just explain to command that my partner froze to death because she was too spiteful to wrench her head out of her ass and at least try to survive.”

she glares down at you for two seconds that seem to stretch on forever before she finally, finally comes closer, a rush of irritation searing through her. you press against her arm, and god– even when you’re littered with goosebumps all over, you’re still so fucking soft.

your knee bumps against hers, and she tries her best to ignore it. even so, she doesn’t move away—so neither do you.

“you’re warmer than i expected,” you mutter.

“one more fuckin’ word and i’m smotherin’ you in your goddamn sleep.”

you laugh, low and amused despite yourself. “how romantic.”

“they should’ve briefed you on how t’ shut the hell up,” she grumbles. “bloody fucki– and quit shivering.”

“i would if you’d stop breathing on my neck like that,” you complain, squirming against her in a way that makes her head spin. “and if you try to cop a feel, i’m breaking your fingers.”

simon lets out half a laugh—whether at the incredulity of the idea of at your sheer audacity, she’s not sure. “right. ‘cos you caked in mud and half-drowned is so enticing.”

you smile, a curl of the lips that makes her heart thud dully. “now you’re getting it.”

she snorts and levels a flat look down at you, even as her cheeks burn and her lips twitch in a smile against her will. “i hate the way y’ talk.”

you laugh again, in that way that’s always infuriated her to no end—but somehow, this time, she doesn’t completely hate it. not with the way you tremble against her with the sound, your skin warming by the second. to simon, it feels like you’re burning her alive.

(she wants more of it. more. still. always.)

glancing up at her, your laugh fizzles out as you raise a slow brow. “stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?”

“like you’re thinking things.”

“‘m thinkin’ about the mission,” she replies curtly.

you smile, a little incredulous as you press closer. the soft curve of your belly against her side feels like she’s committing a grave sin. “liar.”

simon’s jaw clenches, and it takes a lot of restraint on her part not to grab you and…and do something. she doesn’t know what the hell she wants to do, she just knows that she’s never felt more fucking annoyed in all her life.

“go the hell to sleep,” she mutters eventually.

“you first.”

she can’t, and she knows it. you both do. why, though, she has no idea.

(oh, but she does. and it most likely has something to do with the way her skin hums where it touches yours—thighs, ribs, stomach. there’s no room for space now. she feels everything.)

“i hate you,” simon mutters to herself.

“doesn’t feel like it.”

simon knows it doesn’t. her heart is hammering; not from fear, but from the pressure. your body, the dark, the nearness. every point of contact feels like it might catch fire beneath her skin, charring her flesh to nothing. your hand is on her ribs now, palm flat, holding her still. or holding her close. she can’t tell the difference anymore, but more importantly—she doesn’t know why the hell she can’t bring herself to push you as far away from you as she can.

(survival, she tells herself. this is for survival.

your voice chimes in her head, sunny-sweet, liar.)

she bites down a sound she’d rather die than let you hear in full. you feel it, and she sees the way your expression curls with delight, like you’ve tasted blood. god help her.

“you’re warm.”

she swallows, the dip of her throat so unbecoming of her. “so are you.”

you laugh and let the silence linger before you’re adjusting yourself again.

“hey,” you whisper, leaning up. the blanket spills down your shoulder, the expanse of skin there like satin against hers. “you know how we could really keep warm?”

her mouth twitches as she glares down at you, full-force. “i’m not doin’ anything like that. ‘specially not with you.”

you lean your head towards hers, innocuous as ever. you’re pressing into her now—fully flushed, chest to chest, fingers lingering near her stomach like a loaded weapon. “i didn’t even say what i was gonna suggest. what were you thinking?”

she doesn’t respond, her eyes alight with what she wants to call fury. something in her tugs to keep prodding, to keep drawing these quick replies out of you—if only because something about the way you say these things makes her blood burn.

you have the audacity to fucking giggle at her.

“you know, ghost, i don’t think you hate me as much as you say you do,” you tell her matter-of-factly as you settle more comfortably in bed—or, as comfortably as you can manage. she can feel the shape of you everywhere; solid, wanting. it’s maddening. “call it intuition, but i actually think you like me a little bit.”

“y’ hit your head or something?” she scoffs.

“will that get you to admit it?”

she lets out a sigh, long-suffering and tinged with amusement she tries desperately to quash. “i like y’ when your mouth’s shut, how ‘bout that.”

“that’s progress,” you hum. your calf, round and soft, presses to hers. you hardly have what could be considered a military build, and she demands to call it curiosity when she doesn’t pull her leg away.

“you’re tryin’ t’ kill me,” she mutters, her eyes meeting yours.

“you’re not that easy to kill,” you hum.

“when’s that ever stopped you?”

you grin, maddeningly beautiful in the fullness of the stars. “fair point.”

she groans under her breath, shoving half of her face into her pillow. she hopes it comes off as annoyance and not…whatever she feels when she looks at you and your stupid fucking grin.

“i still hate you,” she informs you.

you make a contemplative noise under your breath, shifting around to tug your arm out and over the blanket. “i can work with that.”

“shut up ‘n get warm.”

you laugh, slow and brutal and mean, like you’re trying to make her regret it. all she can do is try not to get drunk on it. “sure.”

“fuck you, still.”

“you can try.”

she’s not sure which one of you falls asleep first. she’s also not sure how she wakes up with an arm around your waist, possessive and thoughtless.

before you can wake up, she pulls back and rolls away from you, getting out of bed and hurrying to tug her clothes back on before she has to try and deal with being naked around you for another second. try as it might, the cold morning does nothing to freeze the way her heart pitters in her chest like it’s trying to pry itself loose.

with luck, you’ll forget all about it. exfil will come to take you both home, you'll return to your usual crew while she goes back to 141, and you both can pretend like it never happened.

but she’ll know.

copr. 2025, kk-iki.

[multifandomwhore-003]

Forever —Drabble

Pairing: Lando Norris x female! reader

Summary: First time watching your boyfriend crash during a race? Rough.

Genre: angst, fluff.

Waring(s): Mentions of the Las Vegas crash.

Taglist: @ join taglist here

A/N: This is by far the most poetic work I've ever put out (I think), that being said. WHATEVER TF THIS IS, BLAME ON HIM, THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

Gif credits to whom it belongs

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK

Even through ringing ears and a dazy view, he could clearly hear you, wondering then how it was even possible, he heard beyond the arguments and strong footsteps; the flare of your nose, the shakiness in your breath, the hamering in your heart, he swore he could feel it. And with that in mind, he sighed in relived, he could feel something after all, the last thing he remembered, the last thing he perceived was dread, flashing through the last few hours of his life, could those be his last?

Shaking, on the verge of tears all he could do beyond gathering the last remnants of strength in him, was think of his family, you right beside his parents, you.

Minutes passed before he realized he blinked forcefully, perhaps one of these times he'd actually lose consciousness, or worse, be gone for good. His usual dramatics and the painkillers were dancing around his brain, making it their playground. Against all of this, he tried to organize the sound with letters, letters into words, and words into speech. Speech, Could he speak right now?

He prepared himself for the task by trying to stand on his elbows.

"Mr. Norris, please lie down," the nurse guided his head back into the pillow.

"My girlfriend," his throat was hoarse strangely enough.

"She's right outside," the nurse's undertone confirmed his bare train of thought.

"I have to see her," he grabbed the woman's arm, he was pleading.

She whispered something under her breath, clearly giving in to the situation, "I'll let her in," she grinned.

He could recognize something now, your stance, firm in shape, trembling with every motion, you stepped in asking, no, demanding the nurse to close the door behind her, avoiding her gaze in plain coldness. You said nothing for the first few seconds, breathing deeply.

"I'm okay," he let out.

"I know, they've already explained everything to me," you covered your mouth.

His fingers reached for yours, longed for them, interlacing with one another, perfectly, like every time before tonight.

He took some awareness of his surroundings, as much as he could without pushing to the edge, how horrible of a might he had over his head, effective, but far too harsh, far too overwhelming.

"We're going home in a couple of hours, they just wanna make sure, you're going to be fine," you knew you were failing at reassuring him, he didn't need it, but you did.

"I gathered that, otherwise you would still be outside yelling at everyone you could,"

You chuckled, not proud of your actions, but finding them rather hysterical at the moment, "I'm sorry you had to hear that,"

"It was music to my ears," he joked.

"Having my screams flood this place?"

"Having you care so much about me,"

"Always," was all you could answer biting down a sniffle.

It was not so long ago when you quietly promised yourself to give him your heart, the one thing you'd never thought you'd offer, let alone to the guy the Russells so kindly invited to a tennis event, to the guy who over a few drinks and laughs without a sense of shame in the world asked you to dance messily, making of those videos something for the internet to cut and explore. He was so much more than that now, and even to put it into those words was the understatement of a lifetime.

He could say the same thing about his side of the story, to explore a rather rushed friendship before diving, completely submerging, was something he'd labeled as a blessing. To fill his hours by your side in talking, and talking until you had everything to learn from one another laid out and displayed in string lights. Neither of you looked for this, flowing like every bottle of champagne you saw him pop, like every shot of Tequila you drank during Mario-kart nights, like every tear of Rosé you spilled all over your couch in the middle of the night.

And to think that both the most infamous people of their career found in themselves something far more valuable than money, fame, even transcending. Comprehending during the first years of your adulthood what it all meant to allow yourself to be completely consumed with love. So unexpectedly both your reputation and his infinite rumors could all be proven wrong. Through the worst of the trials and tribulations of being committed, you still survived.

His head rested in all the calmness you made by moving heaven and earth to have, in the crook of your neck, never letting go of the sensation of his breath, his life. How funny was it to trust someone enough to keep you alive, physically, mentally emotionally; how funny that none of them could think of how to prove something as mysterious as love to be true, in themselves, in one another, in other people past the centuries, yet they believed in, that's what they invested their faith in.

Admitting you were never fools, but only to each other, you could almost touch each other's soul, finding it far more familiar than your own.

"I'm okay," he'd been repeating the same words like a prayer since the night before.

"I know," you gulped, letting go of a choked exhale.

He read you, "Trust me?"

"Forever," you reminded your thoughts, clearing them out with just one.

—If you can't trust yourself, trust him, forever—

"I'm okay," he tested the words against your sleepless frame.

"I belive you," you finally admitted in peace before giving you lips to his.