#🌻 !! anon

[starfxkrinc]

accidentally calling pope daddy during sex and now he’s embarrassed because 1, he’s never cum so hard in his life… and 2, you still haven’t cum yet so now you’re riding his over sensitive cock while he’s trying to process what the hell just happened

- sunflower anon

pope never thought he’d be into that ever like he thought it was odd and degrading but so you never tell him youre into it but then it slips and he cums literally right then and there. hes tryna lift you up off but youre not done til you say youre done!

[fckmebarnes]

e i stg- gonna respond to both of ur responses to my asks (so two separate ones? ig)

so about nesting bucky:

i had two ideas. 1 stems from my own current mental wonky state of different levels of dysphoria and need for affection and can you just imagine taking a nap after letting out a good cry and rant with him? UGH

and then, should you want to not think, bucky will also lay there and finger you orgasm after orgasm, taking arguably a lot of fingers, until you’re fucked stupid and drooling? yes please. and THEN nap. can you tell i’m a tad sleepy rn?

-🌻

I LOVE CRYING THEN NAPPING. i also think he would give you a joint to smoke after the long rants about your day and crying, it helps you get sleepier faster and he loves seeing how cuddly you get

he would also have you vent through him fucking you, so you really can get your mind off of whatever was bothering you

“is that right, princess?” lazily thumbs your clit as he looks at you, leaning his head on his right palm.

“y-yeah and i just,” your brain stops for a second when he curls his fingers.

“you just what, baby?” he teases. he knows what he’s doing

[always-just-red]

Hi!

Can I request a fic where the reader starts realizing they have feelings for Sylus and gets so nervous around him that they can’t resonate anymore?

And Sylus thinks that the reader is scared/disgusted by him again so the reader is forced to confess their feelings to not create a bigger misunderstanding

Thanks!

- 🌻

The moment I got this request I was like HELLO— sunflower anon, you just get me 😌 Anyway! Am back from my break and I hope everyone’s ready for some Vulnerable Sylus™️, because I have got him hot to go!!!

A Gentle Touch

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You really can’t let Sylus into your head this time— he’s living there rent-free already.

Genre: Angst + Fluff (& some Luke and Kieran shenanigans because they were not feeling the angst)

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, injury detail, mentions of possible trauma, humour, some intimacy at the end 😘, Luke and Kieran are having the time of their lives

| Word count: 3.2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

If you asked, Sylus would tell you.

You catch glimpses: dark, sharp flickers of something monstrous, maybe even infernal. Blood, everywhere— thick in your mouth and your nose. All over your hands. You feel it, too: a yearning, so intense, and you couldn’t say whom it belongs to. Then there’s death. Searing white. Bottomless black. In the middle of all of it— crimson eyes like dying stars.

Every time you resonate, it envelops you, is laid out bare before you: a nightmare you’re caught in the centre of but forced to watch from outside. An other, a spectator. It’s a show, just for you, but it isn’t quite ready yet; someone’s still rehearsing their lines.

If you asked, Sylus would let you see it. It’s a power you have over him, a constant, self-sacrificial: you want it? It’s yours. So you don’t ask. You never ask. Like words mumbled in a haze of wine or sleep, you let him hold onto it. His hands are open, yes, but you don’t have to take.  

Besides, you have your own, world-changing little secret, and he’s going to see it too.

He’s slumped in front of you, blood sheeting down from two bullet wounds just below his shoulder. He catches his breath— one, two— before he peeks over this desk you’ve overturned for cover. You should be peeking over as well: should be counting your enemies, scouting your next move.

Instead, you’re looking at him and holding back. One minute ago you had no idea where he was, how he was, and it’d been eating away at you from the moment you got separated. Now he’s with you— he found you— and the relief is desperate, gushing; it has to escape somehow. It drips: forbidden daydreams, one after the other, like…

How you want to hold his face and urge him to speak so you can just hear his voice.

How you want to press a hand to his heart and feel the beat of it beneath your palm.

How you want to kiss him, want to taste the blood on his split lip, because this is your story, isn’t it? Messy. Violent. Defiant.

He looks at you, that same blood carving a thin line through the pale of his chin. It drops down onto his silk shirt. “What are you thinking about, kitten?” he grins. His best guess: “This is a fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, hmm?”

It’s a fine mess he got you into. “Yeah.” You make yourself look away from him, glancing over the desk to assess how much worse the situation is getting. The answer? Significantly. 

Sylus chuckles, drawing your eyes back as he reloads his gun. “Don’t say I never treat you to anything, sweetie.” He fires a few rounds towards the encroaching danger.

Voices go up across the room. Gunshots ring out, louder. Sylus slinks back down, wincing, holding his shoulder, and his fingers turn red. He deftly undoes the first few buttons on his shirt, peeling it back so he can examine his wounds. His jaw clenches; the punctures aren’t closing over fast enough. It’s too much blood, too quick, and he’ll—

He catches you staring. There’s a sheepish sincerity in the way he smiles, as honest and vulnerable as the holes in his shoulder. He holds out his hand. “Time for an energy storm, don’t you think?”

“No,” you snap. “Save your energy. We might need it later.”

“Oh?” An eyebrow perks up in interest, and it’s just like him to spot a double entendre in the midst of all this chaos.

But you’re staring at his chest through his open shirt and you’re such a hypocrite. “Things might get worse,” you explain.

“Worse?” he repeats as bullets fly over your heads, striking the wall across from you and scattering plaster over the floor. He watches it crumble. “Paint me a picture, kitten— what would worse look like?”

Even Rafayel might struggle with that particular creative prompt.

“Come on,” Sylus insists, using the excuse of your silence to push his hand closer to you. “Now’s not the time to play coy.”

“Sylus, I really don’t—”

He grasps your hand, his fingers locking with yours and squeezing tight. Your heart jumps at the touch. It strangles the protests in your throat and stays there, strung up by anticipation and dread.

You’re feeling so much that it takes you too long to realise nothing is happening.

Sylus’s eyes are fixed on your connected palms. He’s squinting, concentrating, and when that doesn’t work— when your hand is paling in the vice of his— he loosens his grip, his thumb feathering over yours as he mumbles a quick: “forgive me.”

He doesn’t let you go. You can still feel him, all of him, imploring to just let him in.

You don’t, and his eyes meet yours, for a moment— like another bullet has bitten through his flesh. Your mouth drops in fake surprise; you’re always so innocent when you pull a trigger on him.

This time, there’s no wound you can push your hands against in a guilty effort to staunch the bleeding. You have to apologise. Have to stitch it up with every word you’ve been guarding, saving, and it isn’t supposed to be like this. “Sylus, it’s not what you think. I—”

Something metal clatters across the floor behind you, bounces like a failing, stuttering heartbeat, then explodes.

…

“Good news, boss! We figured it out!”

Sylus groans, looking up from a report he’s not really been reading as two figures crash into his room. Not good, he thinks, as Kieran flings himself into the nearest armchair. Whatever this is, it’s not good. Luke settles on its arm.

With a sigh, Sylus removes his reading glasses. They stay, hooked on a finger, as he pushes his hair back like he can feel a headache coming on. His eyes flutter closed, and when they open, the twins are both leaning forward, bristling with excitement.

“Ask us,” Luke whispers in a way that makes Sylus think he might not realise he’s speaking out loud.

Another sigh. “What did you figure out?”

Kieran whips out a tired-looking notepad from behind his back. He clears his throat— “ahem!”— then starts to read: “Reasons why Miss Hunter was not able to resonate with you. Number one...”

“How did you find out about—”

“Sshhhh,” Kieran interrupts, putting a finger to where his lips should be. Sylus’s eyes widen in indignation, and Luke comes to his twin’s rescue, silently indicating Mephisto with a few tips of his head. The crow shrinks down on his perch.

“Number one,” Kieran repeats, matter-of-factly. “Your height.”

“My… height?”

Luke nods solemnly as Kieran continues: “humanityandconquer.com/power-dynamics describes tallness as a ‘natural advantage when trying to dominate a smaller individual.’ You are very tall. Try crouching when you speak to Miss Hunter.” He glances over the top of his notepad. “If you approach her at her level, she’ll know you mean no—”

“Nope. Next,” Sylus dismisses, waving his hand in a fast-forward motion. That headache is coming on.

“Reason two,” Kieran acquiesces, gaze falling, “your eyes.”

“Oh, for gods’ sake—”

“They’re red,” the twin pushes on, “and red means danger. In fiction, red eyes are symony—” he stops, spells it out— “synonymous with the supernatural. Vampires especially. Plus, lots of bad stuff is red.” He’s going off-script. “Blood. Fire. Sunburns.”

“Sunburns are pink,” Luke muses.

“No, like, bad sunburns, y’know?”

“Oh right, yeah.” There’s a shrug of agreement.

Sylus’s will to live is hanging by a thread, and they really don’t have a care in the world, do they? It must be nice. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “for your little investigation. If that’s all, I would—”

“Reason three!” Luke chirps, wiggling the same number of fingers, and Sylus’s head lolls back against the sofa.

“Miss Hunter is struggling to separate this version of you from your first impression,” Kieran says.

Sylus looks up. “What?”

Luke is rubbing his hands together eagerly, like they’ve finally gotten to the good stuff. “Well, you remember how you and Miss Hunter met,” his twin explains.

Words won’t do it justice, apparently, because the man begins to act it out. He reaches to grip Luke by the throat and Luke pretends to choke, fingers clawing at the grasp. Then Kieran stands up— throws Luke down into the chair and pins him there with his foot before snatching up his hand.

“See what I mean?” Kieran asks over his shoulder. “I mean, it must have been pretty traumatic. You kinda tore her away from everything she knew. Forced her to use her power, et cetera, et cetera.”

Sylus has gone quiet. He’s vaguely aware that the twins are moving, saying more, but he can’t hear it. He feels sick. Then he feels something different: someone poking at his arm. A hand is waved in front of his face, but he doesn’t react.

“Oh, we so got it,” Luke whispers conspiratorially behind him.

“Hell yeah we did!” Kieran whispers back.

There’s the sound of them high-fiving, and it spurs Sylus into action. He’s up out of his seat, out of their shadows, and then the door as well— long before they can stop him. He needs to breathe. He needs the cold night air and the quiet, and his strides drive him towards it, but not fast enough.

He’s about to use his Evol. To let himself evaporate so he can be whole again somewhere else, somewhere easier, but then he stops. He’s by an open door, glancing in at a decadent living room, where you’re sprawled over a black leather couch. This isn’t easier. This hurts, and it hurts more as he forces himself to close the distance between you.

You’re still asleep. You’ve been unconscious ever since that grenade went off, and it’s for the best, really; getting out of that place was… messy. Sylus’s shoulder still aches, the blood on his shirt now crusty and dark. Some of it’s his. Some of it’s yours.

He’s not sure why he’s still wearing it.

The twins did a pretty good job of patching you up, but— looking over you— he would have done better. It was his role, after all. His duty to you, or maybe just a reason to get close to you. He couldn’t do it today. Couldn’t touch you, no matter how noble the intention. And a little part of him was glad for the excuse; his hands always shake.

A blanket is half on your legs, half on the floor, and Sylus stoops to collect the edge of it. He draws it over your shoulder, adjusting it around your arms— at rest by your face. He’s close, now, and he…

He can’t help himself. When has he ever been able to help himself? He lifts his hand slowly; he wants to kiss you. Even though your blood is still drying on his shirt and it’s all his fault.

…

Someone’s hand is on your face.

The touch draws you back into consciousness, tender, careful, then suddenly sharp. “Ah,” you hiss. “Sylus?” Always first on your mind and your lips.

“Not even close,” quips the shadow above you.

“Kieran?”

“Bingo.”  

You use your hand to block some of the room’s light as you open your eyes— a birdlike silhouette taking shape through the gaps in your fingers. “Where’s Sylus?” you ask, teeth clenching as the twin applies a thin strip of surgical tape to a cut on your cheek. “Is he ok?”

“Sheesh, relax. He’s fine,” Kieran tuts, then seems to reconsider, “well…”

“He’s brooding,” chimes a voice from behind you. “Out on the balcony.” Luke.

You rub at your eyes, still drowsy with sleep. “Why’s he brooding? What did you do?”

“Told him he traumatised you,” they speak in unison.

“What?! Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true,” Kieran shrugs. “That’s why you and boss couldn’t, you know…” He twinkles his fingers.

Resonate? Ugh. You slide your feet onto the floor, sitting up straight for a solid second before you bury your face in your hands, omitting a few, pained whines. This is such a mess, and it only got worse while you were asleep. First that stupid grenade, now the twins.

A hand pats at your back. “There, there,” Luke soothes.

You turn to glare at him. His hand retreats.

Forget it; you have to find Sylus.

…

You step out onto the balcony, head full of apologies you’ve had all of a minute to prepare, and it isn’t enough. It felt fitting, in the middle of a shootout— everything was allowed to be frantic and from the heart. Here it’s calm, and if you ruin something— break anything— it’s going to be obvious. There’s no other violence to blame.

Sylus must hear you join him, but he doesn’t turn. He’s leant forwards against the rail, one arm folded upon it, the other outstretched: sporting a glass of liquor that hangs from the tips of his fingers and that he swirls gently, his gaze far away.

The twins really weren’t kidding.

“Hey,” you greet, and it’s sort of pathetic, but you don’t know what else to say.

“Hey,” Sylus returns, “are you—” he looks back at you over his shoulder— “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile warmly. “I mean, the twins are giving me a headache, but that’s, like, standard.”  

He smiles back: a courtesy. You’ve seen him grin through almost every type of pain imaginable, but this one is new. Think about what Luke and Kieran said. What he must be thinking. “Sylus, I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he stops you, turning his body towards you. “Honestly, I’d… rather you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he chuckles, masking a deeper hurt as he lifts his glass to his lips. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

You are; you hold his gaze as he takes a deliberately slow sip of his drink. He smirks, surrenders at once and admits: “I’m really not that strong, sweetie. That’s why.”

“What if I want to explain?”

The smirk falters, and his eyes make their own, sad, silent confession. If you want to explain? He’ll let you. He’ll stand here, listening patiently while you call him a thing of nightmares. While you break him, bit by tortuous bit, by reminding him just how frightening he is.

He turns back to the view, shrugs, but none of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Go on, then.”

“Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

“You don’t scare me, you know.”

His hand tightens around his glass. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Pity me,” he grimaces. “I don’t need it. I know what I am. I’d just… forgotten what I was to you.”

Your captor. Your monster. Except that was a lifetime ago and he’s been so many more things to you since then. Tell him. “Sylus…”

“I felt it,” he snaps, because your voice is still so reluctant, and he’s going to save you the trouble. “When we tried to resonate, I felt it— your fear— just as deep as it used to be. I heard that same voice in your head, the one saying you wouldn’t let me in, couldn’t let me in, so don’t tell me I don’t scare you, sweetie.” The term of endearment tastes sour, you can tell. “I know how you feel. I know—”

“I like you, Sylus.”

“…What?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. “I like you,” you say again, and your heart is beating too quickly for eloquence, so you just have simplicity. “You don’t scare me at all, Sy. I care about you. A lot.”

Sylus stares at you, his eyes wide. There’s no confidence. No smile or drawn-out breath of relief. He sets his glass aside on the railing, gaze leaving yours for a moment, and you get the feeling he needs that moment as much as he needed the drink itself.

Then he looks at you again. Asks in a way that makes you ache: “do you mean it?”

Look at him. Your throat stings. “Of course I mean it.”

“Say it again.”

“I mean it, Sylus. I care about—”

His lips are on yours and the rest of your words are lost in his mouth. You, you say with the way you kiss him back, soft and slow, like you’re relishing something that might slip away. You, you insist— your hand finding his face, his hair, as he kisses you deeper, and you, you, you, when he doesn’t stop.

“Is this alright?” he murmurs, his fingers around your chin and his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.

“Mmm,” you confirm, equally breathless.

He laughs as he withdraws a little, still caressing your face like you’re something of a dream. “You’re not making this easy, kitten.”

“Worried you might traumatise me again?”    

It's a low blow. He scoffs. “Luke and Kieran said—”

“Luke and Kieran once bought arts-and-crafts feathers for Mephisto because they thought the colours would make him, and I quote: more aerodynamic.” You pinch his ear playfully. “I can’t believe you let them get to you.”

“I know,” he groans, lifting your hand so he can press chaste kisses along the line of your knuckles. “Not my finest moment.” He guides your palm to his cheek— leans into it as he leans into an idea. “They said you hated my eyes,” he pouts.

You can’t help giggling. He frowns. “I mean— aww, no,” you scramble, but you’re still laughing. You can’t stop. “Your eyes are… yeah. So pretty.”

“You had to think about it?”

“There were just too many adjectives, y’know? I was struggling to—”

He kisses you again, saving you: crushing your laughter with his own, lightheaded smile. His hand finds yours as his lips move against you, your fingers interlocking as you resonate— chasing an instinct, a need to be impossibly closer— and you let him see everything. Feel everything.

It’s a mad tangle of opposites. Heaven. Hell. Life. Death. You don’t know what any of it means, but it’s yours and it’s his and it doesn’t scare you half as much as it should. Sylus breaks your kiss. He pushes his forehead against your own with a sigh of contentment, and it doesn’t scare him, either.  

Savour each second. Think of some better adjectives, while you still have the time.

He’s going to earn every single one.

…

✨Epilogue✨

Inside, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling windows that separate the room from the balcony, Luke and Kieran stand, looking awfully smug.   

“Mission accomplished,” Kieran nods, flipping closed his notepad, aptly titled: 101 Ways To Get Boss Laid! (There are only, currently, fifty-two.)

Luke’s arms are folded. “We’re like, the best wingmen ever.”

Kieran is silent. He repeats carefully: “Wingmen. Wingmen.”

The beaks of the crow masks gradually turn to face one-another. There’s a mutual epiphany, and both twins almost fall over laughing.

[bonbonly]

okay bon... it's time for some fratboy!franco thots... i know we all picture franco as a sub (and/or bottom) already.. but fratboy!franco is the biggest sub of them all. and he's such a good boy too! 😔 but finding this side of him is gonna take a few hook ups bc he's always cocky and wants to appear dominant... ya know... in typical fratboy fashion.

picture this.. you're hanging out with him after having hooked up before, maybe at a party or something? you ask him to fetch you a drink or sum, as soon as he's back you thank him and say something like "good boy". that makes him MELT. he can feel himself twitching in his pants- and you can see the way he's blushing but no one else notices... so like... you HAVE to try that out next time you're hooking up with him...

-🌻

bon's thoughts (18+)

hehehe typical fratboy behavior, wanting to be all cool and nonchalant but all it takes is one praise for them to be on their knees, looking at you with puppy eyes - and im speaking from experience because i remember this one fratboy in my oral comm class that was all tough but as soon as he was told he did a great job in his speech, he'd start blushing with these big wide eyes and fold his hands behind his back and say 'thank you' in this soft voice... crazy

fratboy!franco's EXACTLY that, and I'm pretty sure you're gonna take it slow with him, just to get him riled up. spend more time with his friends in the library or during group class presentations, you'll praise him. "you did such a good job," you'll whisper into his ear, and he has to stand behind the podium to hide his growing erection as he stares at you with big eyes, his face flushing red.

you'll ask him to get you something from the cafe and when he comes back, in front of his friends you'll say good boy just to watch his friends witness this man malfunction in front of their eyes. maybe if he's chatty and won't give you the attention he needs, youll yank the back of his shirt and drag him off to the side and then you see the way his pants are struggling to contain the bulge, the way his mouth goes dry, lips parted.

"querida, w-wha-" he can't even finish his sentence because he's about to sink onto his knees and he has no idea why. collar this hoe, he's definitely having a collar around his neck when you're at his place, making out with him on his couch. you'll tug on it harshly, dragging him off to the bedroom as he's whining and pleading with you to let him sink his cock in your wet pussy. of course, he won't get that privilege until he makes you cum on his tongue and the entire time, his eyes are transfixed on you. every time you praise him, "you're such a good boy, licking my pussy like that" "such a good pussy eater. say you're the best at it, go on."

slap his face gently if he stops because his knees hurt a bit since he's never actually been on his knees to eat out a girl - come on he's a fratboy, their asses have never truly brought a woman to her peak but they'll boast about it as if they did - and so if he gets sloppy with it, he'll have to learn his place, tsk tsk tsk.

tying him up to the bed and blindfold him, and kiss the tip of his throbbing cock that's aching for your cunt to slide onto him. now personally, id just leave attach a vibrator to him and leave and let him whine and beg the entire time. and it'll be funny because during the day, he's all macho and tryna be the coolest guy ever but you know the real fratboy!franco who's probably getting onto his knees as soon as he sees you, a soft smile on his lips when you call him a good boy.

[maybanksprincess]

I am sooo stressed out w/ the election and drama in my family and it has made Protective Boyfriend JJ a need. On that note, could I please request your head canons on an overly protective BF JJ? I just know that man would literally get thrown in jail to protect his girl and that’s just uuuugggh….

Of course if you would rather not since ppl are tryna bring this bs drama back to your blog that is obviously okay, love you and I hope this doesn’t get started back up❤️❤️

-🌻

im so sorry your going thru all that stress babe! i hope it gets better, sending kisses and hugs! 🫂💋

protective!bf!jj who always has a hand hooked around your waist in public, no matter where you two are. he occasionally squeezes you to remind himself your still there.

protective!bf!jj who never lets you go out alone, even to the store (especially if its late)

protective!bf!jj who almost never lets anyone else drive you anywhere. he doesn't trust anyone else and doesn't want you getting hurt or in an accident.

protective!bf!jj who always skips out on drinking alcohol at parties to make sure you don't do something stupid or throw up on yourself.

protective!bf!jj who is immediately at your doorstep when he hears your having a bad day.

protective!bf!jj who always is there to rub your back, and give you forehead kisses when you dont feel good, or had a shitty day.

im sorry its short, i hope you feel better. mwah! 💋💋💋

[five-bi-five-mind]

Hey hey, coming in with a Natasha request, one where they head on over to Nat’s fam for the weekend. As they’re having a nice time, ofc reader can’t resist & flaunt over her gf and they have a quickie in the bathroom, thanks ;) 💕 oh and I’m claiming this heh -> 🌻 anon

Meeting the Family

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Words: 4.8k+

Genre: Smut & Fluff

Summary: Nat can't resist how cute and nervous you are as you introduce to her to your parents and show her where you grew up. When you're finally alone, she just can't keep her hands off you anymore...

Warnings: fingering (r receiving); degradation kink; name calling; bathroom sex; top!Nat, bottom!r; finger sucking

A/N: Finally I do a Nat fic! And more fics are to come now that finals are over.

(gif not mine, credit to the creator mentioned above!)

It was finally happening. You and Natasha had been dating for over eight months now and it was finally the time. Your parents had heard everything about her over the phone and she had heard all about them. Of course, it was only natural for each of them to want to meet the other. So, when Nat had a long weekend available, she came up with the brilliant– or in your opinion, a somewhat terrifying idea to drive three hours so she can meet your family. And your parents, being the nosy and also hospitable parents that they were, eagerly agreed. 

The three hour drive felt like it went by way too fast for your liking. Usually, you hate the drive to visit your parents; never being one who enjoys long car rides. However, on this particular trip, you wanted time to slow down. You were so nervous for the three of them to meet. It wasn’t that you weren’t ready for it to happen– In a way you definitely were. You knew how serious your feelings for Nat were and how hers were mutual. It wasn’t that you felt rushed, it was just a first for you. Throughout highschool and college you successfully avoided bringing partners home for your parents to meet. To be fair, none of them were very serious until Nat, but even on the few occasions that your relationships lasted more than three or four months, you still refused to bring them around to meet your parents. 

Natasha was different though. You were very aware that this needed to happen at some point, especially when you and Nat already expressed how deeply in love you both were. She was pretty convinced you two would get married at some point in the near future. Perhaps that thought would’ve terrified you if it were anyone else, but when she said it, it just sounded right. So then naturally she needed to meet your parents before any of that could happen. Preferably before the inevitable day you two move in together and you’re wearing an engagement ring.

When you knew your parents’ house was a mere ten minutes away, you could feel your whole body jitter with nerves. It wasn’t that your parents were difficult or that you were worried about Nat’s behavior. It’s just that you didn’t know how to act in this situation. Plus, throughout the years, your parents could be a bit particular about certain things when it came to their children. 

Nat, on the other hand, was just exhibiting pure excitement. As she drove with the guidance of the GPS, she kept her eyes glued to the road with a soft smile on her face the whole time. When the two of you were approaching the house, her smile only grew as your nerves only worsened.

Her eyes took in every single sight as she drove through your hometown and all the way up to your family’s driveway. She looked at the house with appreciation, mentioning how she liked the colors and the nicely kept garden your parents had. You just kept replying with quiet mhms and nods as she kept talking. Her eyes flicked to you once and she knew you were internally freaking out. She could practically feel your anxiety radiate off of you throughout the whole car ride. 

It was very clear that you were in no hurry to leave the car when she finally parked right in front of your parents’ house. Natasha took initiative when she turned the car off and hopped out and over to your side to get the door for you. Ever the caring and considerate girlfriend that she was, she immediately offered you a hand and, even if you didn’t need help, she carefully helped you to your feet. 

Her arms remained around you as you took a few deep breaths. “We got this,” you breathed. “You have nothing to be worried about.”

“I’m not worried,” Natasha let out a soft laugh, her hand reaching up to press against your cheek. “You shouldn’t be so nervous either.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, taking a step back from Natasha’s touch. “It’s just that I’ve never taken anyone to meet my whole family before.”

“And what? You’re afraid they won’t like me?”

“No, no it’s not exactly that.” Your eyes fell to your feet, kicking at a little rock on the driveway as you tried to shove your nerves down. “They’re just protective and a little bit paranoid about things.”

“Paranoid?” Nat cocked her head and looked at you with genuine curiosity. 

“Yeah,” you gave Nat an apologetic smile. “You know, that anyone I date is just dating me for the wrong reasons. Kind of… I guess, old school.”

“But they’re okay that you’re bringing home another woman?” Nat crossed her arms over her chest and you could tell she was getting slightly defensive. “Oh gosh, it’s not that!” You immediately corrected.”They’re fine with that part.”

“So…” Nat was wracking her brain trying to figure out what you meant. “Are they worried I’ll… I don’t know– corrupt you?”

“Yes, yeah!” Even though that ship sailed a long time ago, especially with Nat, your parents really didn’t need to know that. You were fine with them being blissfully ignorant, thinking their little girl is still, well, their perfectly untouched little girl. 

“Don’t worry,” Nat smirked. “I can keep my hands to myself at the dinner table.” She gave you a wink and reached for you again. For a moment, she wrapped her arms around your whole body. Both hands landed right on your ass for a brief, tight squeeze before she stepped back, turned around, walked on ahead towards the door. You didn’t really love the way she emphasized at the dinner table but you were too distracted by the way your ass now stung from her hand.

“Nat!” You practically shrieked. She just laughed in response and you scurried along behind her. This was sure to be a long and nerve-wracking dinner. 

—-------------------

You were so incredibly wrong about the dinner. Your parents welcomed Nat with open arms. It was tense for about two minutes, but then she cracked the biggest dad joke and suddenly your own father was sold on her. Then when you watched as Nat bounced around the kitchen and dining room, helping your mother out with anything that needed to be taken care of to get ready for dinner, you realized she was sold too. Honestly, Nat did way more to help cook for dinner than you ever did when you lived at home. You weren’t one to cook, but Nat knew a thing or two and she wasn’t afraid to show it when your parents were putting the final touches on the meal.

When you all sat down for dinner, your anxiety was still running high, but everyone else seemed so relaxed. Both of your parents were impressed with Natasha and the stories she told. Although, you knew she was leaving out some major, violent details and also probably skipping over parts that she probably legally couldn’t share. Still, your parents were interested in every word. And of course, Nat being Nat, she had to poke around for embarrassing stories they could tell about your childhood. Unfortunately, they delivered. She laughed with them when they told about the time you got stuck in a tree and the month where you refused to wear anything other than a Princess Peach costume, even to school. When your face flushed, the three of them joined in with light teasing. You’d be a little angry if it wasn’t for Nat’s comforting hand squeezing your knee as she laughed or the bright smile she flashed at you when she learned more and more new little facts about you. Sure, you were a little embarrassed, but it just meant she owed you an awkward story or two for later. 

As dinner wrapped up, you began to clean up. It was always your thing when you lived with your parents. Since you couldn’t cook, you’d clean, but Nat was quick to swoop up the dishes in your hands and help. You didn’t miss the way your parents’ eyes shined with approval as they watched the care and kindness Natasha showed you and the gratitude she showed them for letting the both of you stay for the weekend. On multiple occasions during the dinner, Nat would complement their home and thank them for having the both of you. She remained incredibly respectful and relaxed at the same time. Nothing felt forced, nothing felt tense. It was as if they had known her for years. 

When you were both in the kitchen cleaning up, you finally realized most of your anxiety had dissipated. Natasha was by the sink, smiling to herself as she cleaned dishes and you were sharing that same smile as you dried and put away the things she handed to you. Both of your parents hovered around the kitchen; your mother constantly thanking Natasha and insisting she was the guest and it should just be you and your parents taking care of everything. Natasha would just chuckle and promise that she was more than happy to clean up. After all, it was her way of showing how much she appreciated the meal and the hospitality. 

After the dining room and kitchen were cleaned up, your parents insisted on you showing her the entire house. She had only seen a few rooms so far and didn’t even have much time to check out your childhood bedroom. That was partially on purpose on your part. You knew she’d see it soon, but you were nervous so you thought pushing that moment off would be better. In some ways it worked since you were no longer as anxious, but you still sat with some of that anxiety throughout dinner. 

Now, however, you were trying to be the best tour guide you could be as you took her all across the house. You even stepped out on the back porch with her to show her the rest of your parents’ garden. She wore this enchanting smile the whole time you showed her around. Her eyes would flick to certain things and she’d give you an “mhm” or an “oh really?” but for the most part, her attention was glued to you. As you stood outside and pointed out all the flowers that your family was growing, Nat was quick to come behind you and wrap her arms around your waist. 

When her lips pressed against your neck as you looked out over the small garden, you couldn’t help the small shiver that her action caused. You wondered if she noticed that reaction, but when you felt her arms tighten on your waist almost immediately, causing your body to press harder into hers, that was a clear enough indication that she had. But even if she did, she didn’t continue to kiss your neck, instead she rested her chin on your shoulder. With your cheek pressed against hers as she rested on you, you both let out a content sigh as you watched the sun go down over your family’s garden. It was a perfect moment. Even if you had the slightest suspicion Nat had things less innocent on her mind, she had proved you wrong by the calm and gentle moment you two were sharing. 

After a few moments of just appreciating each other’s presence, it was back to the house tour. This time, you were on to the second floor of the house and getting closer and closer to your bedroom. You figured you’d save that for last as you dragged Nat around, showing her your parents offices and explaining what they both did for work. Nat kept nodding along, pretending to look thoughtfully around the room before letting her eyes wander back to you. As you pulled her even closer to your room, you decided to stall just a little bit more. When she stepped in, you practically dragged her to the connected bathroom. Anything to postpone to the acknowledgement of your large teddy bear collection and the awkward highschool photos decorating the walls.

“And this…” You said as you pushed her further into the bathroom, “is my bathroom. So if you need anything, medicine, a shower, or whatever. At least we don’t have to share it with my parents.” 

“Mhm,” Nat looked around at the soft pink decor of your bathroom. Her eyebrow arching as she took in all the pastel colors. In your teens and all the way up to your very early 20s, you had an obsession with pastels. It definitely wasn’t Nat’s vibe. As she kept looking around the bathroom, you wondered how much she disliked it. You couldn’t imagine her reaction when she finally got a good look at your room and realized the pastel pinks, yellows, and blues didn’t just stop at the bathroom. 

“And your parents' room is all the way on the other side of the house?” She turned around and asked you. 

“Um, yeah. Well, on the same floor, but still the other side.” You were looking at her with curiosity now. She was starting to reach around you towards the door. Her body was fully pressed to yours as her hand made contact with the doorknob. 

“Good,” she mumbled more to herself than to you as you heard the door shut behind you. Nat’s other hand was around your waist now and you just kept searching her face for an indication of what she was planning. But the moment she leaned in for a kiss, things clicked. This was not like the innocent, quick kiss you shared on the porch a few minutes ago. It was slow, but there was heat behind it. Hunger even. 

For a second you gave in to the kiss. Your body melted into Nat’s as the hand she used to close the door came up to tangle in your hair. The way her tongue felt as it ran against your lips so gently was almost enough to make you lose yourself. But then, as your hand reached out to steady itself on the bathroom counter, you remembered where you were. 

“Nat,” you tried to pull away from the kiss. “We’re not going to fuck in my childhood bathroom.” Maybe that was a bit presumptuous, but you knew Nat and you could tell quite quickly what kind of mood she was in when she kissed you like that. Plus, her hand started wandering down towards your ass and that’s usually a pretty good hint at where she hoped things would head. 

“Why not?” You immediately saw the pout on Nat’s face. “We’re going to fuck in your childhood bedroom tonight, so what’s the difference?”

“Oh we are?” You pushed back from Nat slightly, enough to untangle yourself from her at least a little bit. Nat still was in your personal space though. 

Nat arched her eyebrow and gave you the look she often gave you when she was not buying the excuses you were saying. “Come on,” She chuckled. “We both know how you get.”

“How I get?” You huffed as you turned away from her. She had got your shirt all out of sorts just from being pressed against you. Your eyes were focused on fixing yourself so your parents had no suspicions that you were just making out with your girlfriend in your bathroom. Nat’s were focused on you too, but for entirely different reasons. 

“Mhm,” Nat smirked at you from behind. “How you get.” Her hands came to rest on either side of you, effectively pinning you to the counter. Her body pressed up against you, but still you tried to keep a poker face.

“And exactly how,” you kept your eyes glued to your own appearance in the mirror, trying your best to ignore Nat’s intense gaze, “do I get?” 

Her hand moved up your neck until it reached your chin. She cupped it in one hand and tugged your face until you were looking straight ahead to lock eyes with her in the mirror. “You become a needy little slut, begging for me to fuck you.” 

Your face instantly flushed and all words of protest you were thinking of throwing her way died at the tip of your tongue. You looked at her with wide eyes, as if you were a deer in headlights and she looked back at you with hooded eyes. She wasn’t wrong. She absolutely was not wrong. But who could blame you? Anytime Natasha slid into bed next to you, her strong arms pulling you into her, it just got you going… Just thinking about it made you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, you were already wet. Hopefully, Nat didn’t notice the slight movement.

But of course, she absolutely did. A crooked smirk spread across her face and her hand tightened its grip on your chin. “That’s what I thought.” Her voice was low as it whispered in your ear. “Now, are you going to let me fuck you like we both know you want?” 

You didn’t say anything. All you could do was bite your lip and nod shyly as Natasha’s other hand made its way up the front of your shirt. 

“That’s my good girl,” Nat purred in your ear as her hand made its way under your bra. She cupped your breast in her hand and gave a squeeze, causing you to instantly grip the bathroom counter. 

“I’ve barely touched you and you already look like you’re struggling,” she teased.  

“Shut up,” you shot back. You tried to make it sound demanding, but really it fell from your lips like a pathetic whine the minute you felt her roll your nipple between her fingers.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your guest,” her body pressed harder against yours as she spoke, “now is it?” Suddenly, you realized you were practically bent forward, trying your best to hold yourself up on the bathroom counter. 

Nat’s other hand was making its way down your body to the front of your jeans. When you heard your zipper being tugged down, you couldn’t help but gulp. How are you going to manage to be quiet when you were already so worked up just by the way she was handling you? You felt like you should be more concerned about that, especially with your parents downstairs. But as you felt Nat’s hand go straight into your panties, any concerns you had went right out the window. 

Her fingers brushed against your clit and you couldn’t help the full body shudder that she definitely noticed. A chuckle came from behind you and when your eyes flicked up to meet hers in the mirror you realized she was enjoying every single second of your internal struggle with control. The thing is, you already are too far gone to stop her from having her way with you and, honestly, you don’t really give a fuck. 

When her fingers began to move against your clit your eyes fluttered closed and you couldn’t help the slight twitch of your hips. As her fingers kept moving you couldn’t even stop the ever-so-slight rock of your body against her hand. You didn’t need to look back at her to know that her eyes were trained on your slightest reaction. Even if your eyes were now squeezed shut as she picked up the pace against your clit, you could feel her gaze locked on you. 

Your hands were grabbing harder at the bathroom counter now. Her body kept pressing harder and harder against you as her fingers circled your clit faster. At this point, you were biting at your lip pretty hard, trying to keep whatever sounds were threatening to come out at bay. It was a struggle though. Nat was now starting to tease you, moving her fingers from your clit to circle your entrance. You wanted nothing more to feel them fill you.

What you didn’t realize was, as you tried to move yourself lower to take in her fingers, you let out a pathetically loud whine. “Shh, shh, shh” she teased as her fingers kept moving away from where you wanted them most. “If you’re so worried about your parents finding out, you might not want to make so much noise.” 

She didn’t seem at all concerned about the sounds you could make and what your parents could hear as she kept teasing you. Her tone was way too teasing and sarcastic for your liking, yet it still turned you on even more. Your eyes opened again and you met her with a frustrated look. One of which, she just chuckled at again as her other hand went back to palming at your nipples. Finally, after one more satisfied look at the way your body was bent over the counter with hers pressed against your ass, she leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your neck before sliding two fingers in. 

With a low groan you took her fingers in, instantly feeling them hit the spot that she knew you loved. You took a deep breath as she pushed them up to her knuckles inside you, trying to adjust to the feeling of your pussy being filled before she began to move. Something told you she was going to make it as hard as possible for you to stay quiet, which meant she wasn’t going to be very gentle. Not that you didn’t love it. When she was rough it drove you wild. 

Her fingers slid out almost completely and there was a pause as her eyes flicked to your face. Your cheeks were flushed and your mouth was already slightly open, letting out small whines and sighs. Then, without warning, she pushed her fingers back in with so much force you were pushed even further over the bathroom counter. 

“Oh fuck!” You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out as she set a brutal pace, pumping her fingers in harder and harder. You felt her whole body rock against you from behind and your head was now falling forward as you did your best to brace yourself against the sink. 

Nat’s hand left from under your shirt and up to your lips. She pressed against them with slight pressure and you instantly knew what she wanted. Opening your mouth for them to slip in, she groaned as she felt your tongue run against them. “Suck,” she growled from behind as her fingers kept pumping into you. You instantly obeyed, moaning around the fingers now filling your mouth. 

“Look at you,” Natasha taunted. “Letting me fuck you like this while your family is just downstairs.” She gave a particular hard pump of her fingers.

“Mmphf!” You let out a muffled moan around the two fingers that remained in your mouth. 

“You’re such a dirty girl,” she said with a sadistic grin. “Letting me fill your mouth and your pussy. God, I love it.” 

Her fingers curled inside you and all you could do was tighten your grip on the counter and keep sucking on her fingers. The way she was fucking you and the words she was whispering in your ear from behind were getting to you. Your legs shook as she kept pumping into you.

Finally, she removed her fingers from your mouth and your head immediately fell. You were panting at this point as she fucked her fingers in and out of you with a strength that had you struggling to stay upright. 

The fingers that were once in your mouth moved under your chin and pushed your head to look back up. “Don’t look away,” Nat ordered. “I want you to watch yourself as I fuck you.” Your eyes moved to hers first and you realized they were glued to the way her fingers were currently pumping in and out of you. Then you took a peek at your own reflection and took in the sight before you. You looked utterly ruined by her. Your face was flushed, your lips were slightly swollen from the way she had kissed you, and your hair was badly disheveled now. On top of that, now that your pants and panties had fallen down to your ankles, when you looked back down at the way Nat’s fingers were fucking you, you could see the glisten of your own wetness on your thighs and even dripping down her wrist. Yeah, it was going to take a minute to get cleaned up from this. But when Natasha pushed in a third finger all worries about that left your mind and you were now just focused on staying quiet. You were failing miserably.

“Shhh,” Natash cooed. “You don’t want your family to find out what you’re doing, do you?” 

You shook your head, but your mouth hung open as you shook from the sheer pleasure of it all. Her fingers were stretching you deliciously and you were getting closer and closer to that edge. Being quiet was not an easy thing to do. 

Nat’s hand flew to your mouth when she knew it was getting too hard for you. Her hand muffled the pitiful moans that were now freely falling from your lips as you got closer and closer to an orgasm. Despite the fact that you probably weren’t being as quiet as you should be, she kept going, knowing by how tight you were around her fingers that it was any minute now. After just a few more seconds she finally felt you cum, making a mess of her hand.

Her hand finally left your mouth when she felt your whole body slump forward onto the sink. She pulled her fingers out of you as slowly and gently as possible and all you could do was shiver as you felt them pull away. You were panting and gasping, trying to catch your breath. Nat put a loving hand on your back, rubbing it gently as she too tried to take a few deep breaths. She could’ve kept going and the urge to was incredibly strong. Seeing you bent over against the sink, your ass pressed against her as she fucked you made her want to keep going until you couldn’t stand. The only thing stopping her was that she thought maybe this wasn’t the setting to completely ruin the daughter of her gracious hosts. 

Instead, she gently urged you to turn around, only to capture your lips in a slow, yet still deep kiss. Her tongue immediately sought out yours and you whimpered against her lips, still wishing to feel her inside you again. But you also thought that maybe this wasn’t the best time to keep begging for your girlfriend to fuck you senseless. Definitely not at your parents place. 

When she broke the kiss, her forehead pressed against yours and you both seemed to calm down just a little bit. Your body still felt worked up and Natasha still had the strong urge to keep making you make those sounds she loved so much, but you both resisted. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she whispered and you nodded in reply.

After a few minutes of more calming deep breathing and a few moments where you thought you might give in to the hungry looks Nat was still giving you, you both managed to get yourselves together. Your parents were probably curious to see how Nat was settling in and you definitely didn’t want them to suspect that your girlfriend just fucked you in the bathroom. 

One thing about this whole trip, you definitely won’t be looking at your childhood bathroom, or bedroom for what was to come later that night, the same way…

Taglist: @geekyandgay98 @desperate-gay @storiesofsvu @demonicbaby666 @high--power @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @natashamaximoff69 @natashasilverfox @lovelyy-moonlight @jareguiromanoff @dj-bynum3718 @noahrex @simpforlizzie @taivantaylor

Join the taglist here

[imyourbratzdoll]

oh… I’m begging you… just begging to please send this in as a request… I’m horny and now I wanna make it come to life😭🥺//

I knew you would like it 🤭

Can i request this fic?

"Okay so the reader wakes up cause there's a storm outside and she's scared of thunders, she goes downstairs and Steve and Bucky are watching a match while drinking their beers.

They start cuddling her a bit to let her fall asleep again but she's too scared so they think of a way to relax her

They bring her in her bedroom again and after pit her in the middle, they start sucking and licking her nipples while they play with her puffy clit and her wet hole

She's so relaxed after that she doesn't realize that they are using her to let some dtress out themself while she sleeps"

Of course they'll praise her a lot, cause she's their little obedient dumb baby🥹

-🌻

hey baby, I hope you like this.

connected to this fic - lavender dream

summary - you are scared of thunder and quickly find comfort in your stepfather and step-uncle's arms.

warning - smut, stepcest, fingering, nipple play, somnophilia, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn’t mine, divider by @newlips

You whimper when the sound of thunder can be heard from outside your window, cuddling your knees close to you as you cry. You were supposed to be sleeping, but the sound had woken you, and you could no longer get back to sleep, too scared. You quickly stumble out of your bed and outside your room, going downstairs and toward the loungeroom, where you can hear your stepfather and Bucky watching the game. You squeal when another rough sound of thunder rumbles through the house, quickening your pace. You hug your stuffed bunny close to your chest as you stand in the room's entryway, staring at the relaxed men with tears in your eyes. 

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Steve quickly diverts his attention to you, patting his thigh. “C’here, baby.” You stumble over to him, quickly jumping onto his lap and burying your face into his chest, squealing as you hear the thunder again, and that’s when Steve understands, and he rubs his hand up and down your back. “Oh, baby. Are you scared of the thunder?” You nod, clinging to him. “There’s nothing to be scared about, baby.” He looks over at his best friend. “Isn’t that right, Buck?” 

Bucky scoots closer, resting his hand on your lower back. “It’s true, doll.” He strokes your hair out of your face. “We’re here, doll. Why don’t you try and go back to sleep?” 

They pull you close, rubbing your body and whispering soothing words. You whine, wiggling against them. “Don’ wanna! Too scary.” 

Steve sighs slightly. “Okay, baby. Buck, can you…” He nods toward the tv, and Bucky nods back, pausing it as Steve stands with your legs wrapped around him and begins to walk out of the room and up the stairs. Bucky follows closely behind. “We’re going to relax you, baby. Make sure you won't be scared of the thunder anymore.” Steve and Bucky enter your room, and he places you down in the middle of your bed. Both men crawl on either side of you. “Close your eyes, baby. Bucky and I are here.” 

You whimper, “Okay, daddy…” You close your eyes and relax into your pillow, feeling goosebumps erupting on your body as they slide your nightie up, placing kisses along your flesh before making their way to your hardened nipples. You softly whine as they flick their tongues against them before gently wrapping their lips around them and sucking. You feel their hands moving between your legs and sigh and moan as they connect to your dripping hole. Bucky plays with your puffy clit while Steve pushes a finger into your sopping hole, curling them, growing hard as a soft whimper escapes your lips. 

You feel a fuzzy feeling take over you, listening to them as you are pulled deep into slumberland. 

“Such a good girl, baby.” 

“Doing so good for us, doll.” 

“Fuck you feel good, always a good little obedient dumb baby for us.”

They use you, playing with your puffy cunt, licking and sucking every part of you. Their hands are all over your body, focusing on you and ignoring their throbbing members. You are pulled into a deep sleep, finally relaxing against the bed as your juices flow out of you and cover your stepfather and step-uncle. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[spirit-lanterns]

Hiiii, it's me again!!

I really enjoyed and inspired your alpha!Topaz hcs, especially the one about showing motherly instincts towards Numby

Imagine Topaz, who can't find a partner because she has really high standards. The most important to her - her omega should get along with her animals. Numpy doesn't acknowledge anyone but Topaz.

When she is on a business trip to the other side of the galaxy and Numby suddenly gets sick, she is almost desperate - her personal vet can't get to her fast enough. She goes to the best veterinary clinic she can find nearby, comes to the appointment, looks at you - and her heart skips a beat.

You look breathtaking in a lab coat with a gentle smile on your lips - the most beautiful omega she has ever seen.

"Miss Topaz?" you ask, but she barely hears you. Numby gets off her hands and comes to you himself, allowing you to pet him and pick him up.

-🌻

CW: Semi-public masturbation, perverted Alpha! Topaz, breeding kink and mentions of pregnancy

Topaz getting smitten by the cute, omega vet that works at the local animal clinic 🥺

Your prescience alone automatically makes Numby leap out of her arms and scurry up to you. Topaz isn’t sure if it’s your scent or your overall demeanor that attracts him to you, but just from looking at you, she could tell that you were a very caring and loving individual. So much so, that she can’t help but daydream about how good of a mother you would be to pups if you decide to have any—

Wait, she shouldn’t be daydreaming about that so far ahead. She hasn’t even learned your name! I can see Alpha! Topaz getting stunned speechless every time you smile at her or greet her by the door. She knows you’re only here for Numby but just from looking at the way you care for him, smothering him in kisses and dressing him in cute clothes, Topaz can’t help but imagine a life with you where you treat your family like that…

P.S: While you are doing Numby’s checkup in your office, Topaz will oftentimes daydream lewd thoughts about you getting pregnant and will secretly rub one out right in the waiting room. She only does this when there are no other customers of course, but you can tell she’s done something naughty whenever you return to the waiting room and smell the muskiness of Topaz after she’s relieved herself 🤭

[princessbrunette]

hey princess! i was just thinking pope thots. pope n deer reader r so soo cute <3

but anyways, pope with deer reader who agrees with everything he says. like if he and jj were bickering about something, n jj was like trying to to get her to back him up, she'd just be like "but pope is right tho" with her eyebrows furrowed like he'd asked her the dumbest question ever (she has no clue what they're even arguing, she's preoccupied with pope's hands wrapped around her waist)

also, her sitting on pope's lap on the porch of the chateau while the pogues talk, and she's just like braiding his hair or sum and her only contributions to the convo are little yeah's and mhm's whenever pope talks

-🌻 (could i be this emoji anon pls princess?) luv ya! <3

dis is tooooo cute ♡ pope x deer!reader got sm love in my inbox i’m blown away !!

𐙚🦌⋆.˚❆

but yes, you’re there for pope and pope only, tbh.

jj is incredibly friendly with you because that’s just his nature, even though you’re shy and rather withdrawn he makes his best efforts to involve you in conversations because that’s just how he is, he doesn’t want anyone to feel pushed out.

he slings an arm around your shoulder, leaning down to your level a little as if he’s in cahoots with you, making your boyfriend roll his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, mostly unbothered. “okay, side with me here— tell your boyfriend to unclench a little. we can afford to be reckless because papa j right here is protected,” he pats the gun shape beneath his waistband. “nothin’ is gonna touch us.”

pope tsks, yanking you away and pointing a finger at you briefly. “you don’t have to answer to him, and you —” he whirls on jj, stressful as his friend chuckles. “leave her out of this, please?”

“just — just let her answer, dude.”

“i think we should do popes plan.” you smile happily, clinging to your boyfriends thick bicep and he nods, lips pressed to one another proudly.

“see? she’s good, and she listens. wish i could say the same for you, jj.”

“yeah yeah.” he waves him off before pointing to you playfully. “disappointed, but not surprised. i’ll get’ya on my side eventually kid.”

𐙚🦌⋆.˚❆

[failingvrath]

hellooo I’m having a real shitty time irl and I love your blog, so I’m here with headcanons.

first time with Scar, because I’m obsessed with him an unhealthy amount. I’m imagining him being sooo gentle and sweet with whoever it is (let’s just say Grian) at first, but once they both get comfortable and into it he starts going wild. its a tight fit for the first time with how big he is, Grian probably feels like he’s getting a factory reset. How’s he ever supposed to go back to being normal after being stuffed with that? The fact that it’s Scar makes it so much better, he almost comes as soon as Scar is finally all the way in. Scar probably goes slow at first because he knows he’s big, he’s not an idiot, and he doesn’t want to hurt him. Too bad Grian is in absolute bliss. Queue a 9 hour fuck session

Bonus points if being vex means Scar has a shorter refractory period, or none at all.

~ 🌻 (unless that’s taken)

oouuugggg anon... first of all, SUCKS that life is Attacking you like that, second of all I think you've given me wings. Yes I do believe Grian should get to be stuffed full of Scar, as a treat <3 SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! i got sooo carried away... this is just a snippet, lookout for the full fic on ao3 👀

> More below the cut ♡ [Trans FTM Grian]

Scar's just so considerate, so slow and gentle at first. He takes his time making sure Grian is ready and comfortable—and despite the nerves hammering at his ribcage, he makes sure to perform. When he slowly backs Grian up onto the bed, he's nothing but delicate and sensual, an adoring smile accompanying the hunger sneaking its way into his warm eyes.

He leans down to crowd around Grian, supporting himself with his elbows on either side of Grian's head and effectively caging in a bird of flight against soft bed sheets, though it does nothing to make Grian feel trapped. Scar presses his lips to his lover's collarbone, tentative kisses trailing down as he whispers, "is this alright?" 

At the quick nod he receives, he moves one arm down, tracing the soft 'V' shape where Grian's torso meets his pelvis. "You wanna go all the way?" 

The temperature in the room rises. Of course, he feels more than hears the shaky exhale that Grian offers him before a slight nod. He needs words- and he tells his lover as much.

In response, quiet and embarrassed but no less sure, "please. I—... need you..." 

And that's enough for Scar. He tugs Grian's trousers down, purposefully leaving his boxers up just to smile at the wet patch on the front, such clear evidence of the pure want radiating from Grian. He shifts down the length of the bed to mouth at the hard peak in Grian's boxers, warm breath ghosting over the wetness that continues to spread. After a few whines from Grian get the better of him (and his own arousal is straining against the fabric confining it), Scar sits up and brackets his lover’s legs with his knees, if only for better balance. Finally, he moves to tug Grian's boxers down. 

He wastes no time getting his mouth on Grian's dick, sucking in softly just to hear those pretty cries as Grian bucks his hips up against Scar's lips. Grian's already wet, so eager to take Scar in and they've barely even started.

Scar brings a resting hand to feel at the entrance of Grian's front sex, teasing him with just a finger running over his entrance, never fully dipping in- barely holding back from giving Grian exactly what he wanted. Scar just wants to make his lover feel good, after all.

"Scar, just—stop teasing!" Grian's impatient whine comes out not as strict as he wanted it to sound, more simply desperate. Scar can work with that. He shifts away a bit, moving up the bed to press open-mouthed kisses to just below Grian's jaw, one arm moving to support himself right above Grian's head, the other still guiding fingers across a wet cunt. 

Scar doesn’t warn him. His hands are gentle, though, when he pushes a single wet finger into Grian, drawing out a soft and embarrassingly high gasp. A sigh of Scar's name, and another joins it, stretching Grian out and massaging his walls. Scar isn't trying to make Grian cum right now, but God, he's so close already. He knows that two fingers are nothing compared to what's been promised for later this night, but he's already so close.

Scar spreads his fingers—knuckle deep—inside of Grian, smiling against his lover's warm neck as he feels the way Grian moans shamelessly at the feeling of being stretched. A third finger stuffs him full, and a fourth finger makes his wet cunt ache, and fuck, he can't wait to take Scar.

Four fingers rubbing against his sweetest spots and stuffing him so nice and full quickly lead him to throw his head back as his vision blurs, clenching helplessly around Scar's fingers. It takes less than a few minutes for Grian to come down from his high. He's so eager, after all.

When Grian opens his eyes again, unsure of when he had closed them, he's met with the hungry warmth of Scar's own. He nods nonsensically, murmuring out little please’s and Scar’s as he squirms impatiently atop the warm sheets. He can hear the ruffling of clothing, but he's not really paying attention to what he's seeing until he sees a large, scarred hand resting atop exactly what he needs inside of him, at this very moment.

The little moans that Scar lets out as he strokes himself with a hand covered in Grian's slick could be recorded and worshipped, Grian thinks. Grian also thinks, similarly, that he wouldn't mind getting on his knees to worship right now.

Scar's unfairly even voice (Scar really hopes his nerves aren't seeping through) snaps him out of that fantasy, however. Another time. "You all ready, Songbird?" A brief pause follows him.

Quiet, and still. For a moment, only their heavy breaths occupy the barely-there space between.

Then, "yes, please—Scar, I want you." He's almost surprised at how sure he sounds, but then again, he's always been sure of this want; this yearning and desire has always been fact.

He doesn't have control over the way his hips twitch upwards. Not when he feels the head of Scar's cock prodding at his cunt, spreading the wetness to his oversensitive clit and drawing a high whine from him. Scar leans down again to greet Grian's jaw with soft kisses before slowly easing the tip inside. 

And oh, God—Grian’s so gone already. Scar’s cock stretches him out so perfectly, fills him out in all the best ways with every inch that presses deeper inside. His eyes had shut some time ago and he can’t even bring himself to try and remember when, not when he feels this good. He knows Scar isn’t all the way in yet. Logically, he does know—but he also doesn’t quite process that. There’s so much of Scar inside of him that every slip further in just pulls Grian’s breath straight out, again and again, drawing him dizzy and dazed by the time their hips are flush.

Grian's head is thrown back against the pillow, mouth open in a long, now silent moan, and he revels in the feeling of being so full. He's never felt like this before, never felt so ultimately complete. Never until now, every shift against the bedsheets making Scar’s cock rub so deliciously against Grian's inner walls.

Even as still as they both are—Scar panting above him, giving him time to adjust—Grian can feel every vein along Scar's cock. He feels the way his lover fills in every crevice, the tip pushing against his cervix with an aching kind of pleasure that'll turn to bruises come the morning, far beneath where anyone will be able to see. 

Grian’s getting impatient now, with every moment that passes by while Scar's not fucking him into the mattress. He knows his lover is being nice and considerate, letting him adjust—but Scar's just so big. Grian's literally never going to get used to him, so there's no point in waiting. 

Plus, Grian wants to feel him.

It takes about a minute of his insistent whining and grinding his hips against Scar's for his lover to finally break and start to move. The slow drag of his cock pulling out to the tip drives Grian mad, even more so when he pushes in again, taking his sweet time to meet Grian's hips with his. Grian wants Scar to snap his hips hard and fast, make it ache. 

“Scar… Mmn, are you—are you that close to cumming already?” He's trying to get a rise out of his lover. Scar's not the reactive type, but Grian is just so desperate for it, he's not above being a brat.

[fckmebarnes]

ok so.

is bucky a tits, ass, or thighs guy? Does it differ on the different versions of him? I feel like he likes the way all three move and bounce and jiggle, and he probably loves all 3, but i’m curious what he loves most.

i mean, he probably spanks ass and thighs to see them move. tits too. and makes you ride him to watch your tits bounce. but at the end of the day, which of the three does this man fold for?

-🌻

honestly i don’t think it differs on the universe bucky is in — he appreciates all parts of his girl. but i feel like he likes them in different ways

like when you have your thighs wrapped around his head while he’s eating you out and he can feel you’ squeezing them

when you’re bending over to pick something up or when you start to do yoga (bless him) he loves watching the way your ass sits, like it’s on a shelf or something (don’t get him started how it ripples when he smacks it)

and your tits are always saved for special occasions when you’re coming down the staircase of your shared home and your cleavage is almost always spilling from the top (he usually has drool)

[distinctdesires]

scrolling your page again and rubbing my cunnie to your posts.. woke up soo wet this morning and my first thought was your blog..

how would you play with a 5’0 barely 18 virgin like me…

- 🌻

xoxo

Hi there 🌻 anon!

I love that my blog is your first place to visit when your cunnie gets throbby 🤭 I'm sure your little pussy looks delicious as you mindlessly rub away at it, your dainty fingers covered in your sticky wetness 🤭

Hehe such a tiny little unused toy hmm? So easy to pick up and pin down. I'd tease your entrance, rubbing my tip against your slick labia, mixing my precum with your grool. You'd be whining, begging for your little cunnie to be filled for the first time.

Looking up at me with your cute, needy eyes. They'd widen as my cock slips into your warm hole, your pussy gripping and squeezing around my swollen shaft. You'd beg for more as inch by inch, my throbbing cock fills your desperate virgin cunnie. I'd palm your cheeks, easing my thumb in your mouth as I use your tight little fuckhole for my pleasure. Each thrust making sloppier and sloppier noises as you coat my cock in your slimy wetness.

It wouldn't be long until your cunnie is to much for me to handle, I'd pull out and shoot ropes of hot thick cum all over your soft chest and your pretty face. I'd admire my work before leaning in to kiss you and tasting my load of your soft lips.

Thank you for your ask 🌻anon! <3

[matt-murdockk]

hi hi hi writing request if you're up for it: can i get a neal caffrey x reader where they're undercover posing as a couple and things get too real too quick? fluffy angsty whatever, full creative liberty. thank you x -🌻

anon i would love to

This ain't the Chelsea hotel

pairing: neal caffrey x fem!reader words: 4.3k song: I'm writing this inspired by ttpd as you can tell, specifically the lyric "At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger And put it on the one people put wedding rings on And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding" summary: an undercover mission brings up some unresolved feelings a/n: this is sorta inspired by johnny and dora from Brooklyn 99, and there's sort of an angst ending i am sorry but it will get better soon i promise

"Neal and (Y/n), you’re going in as a couple.”

Peter’s voice was calm, authoritative, as if he’d just assigned them to file paperwork instead of infiltrating a high-society gala crawling with millionaires, con artists, and, somewhere in the crowd, an international art thief.

(Y/n) froze, mid-sip of her coffee. “I'm sorry, what now?”

Neal, of course, leaned back in his chair, smirk firmly in place. “I mean, it makes sense. Look at us—irresistible charm, devastating good looks—who wouldn’t buy it?”

“You forgot insufferable ego,” she shot back, slamming her cup on the table. It was aggravating to be around Neal Caffrey, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love every second of it.

Peter held up a hand, cutting off the argument before it could spiral. “Enough. You’re the best fit for this assignment. The mark likes power couples, people who look like they’ve got secrets. Neal’s the smooth-talking art expert, and (Y/n)—you’ll play his fiancée, a curator from an old-money family.”

(Y/n) groaned, glaring at Peter. “You know this is going to go to his head.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter said dryly. “But you’ll manage. You always do.”

Neal turned to her, his smirk widening. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll go easy on you.”

"That's okay baby, I can handle you." No, she can't. This could end badly.

"Oooh, competition? you're gonna lose, you, know?"

"Hey, if I'm going down, I'm taking you down with me, Caffrey."

"Right, and one last thing. (Y/n), try not to fall in love with me."

"Won't be a problem."

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

"And you're promising, that this is strictly work?"

"I swear, Moz! It's not like that," Neal replied, pacing the length of his apartment, the small box in his hand feeling heavier than it had any right to.

"It's hard to believe that when you're holding a real diamond ring in your hand," Mozzie argued, incredulous about Neal's intentions in this case.

"It's for authenticity"

"Right, because the suspect would definitely notice if she wore a cheap American zirconia."

"Mozzie. It's not like that."

"I believe you"

"I don't think you do."

Mozzie didn’t respond, simply giving Neal a pointed look before taking a long sip of his wine.

Neal let out a sigh, his grip on the box tightening. He was done trying to convince Mozzie, who always had a knack for cutting to the heart of things Neal would rather not think about. Because as much as he repeated the words it was just for the case, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t.

His gaze dropped to the ring, the glint of the diamond catching the light. It was just for authenticity. No ulterior motives.

Right?

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

"Alright. The moment we enter that room we're on high alert. Peter and the team are in the surveillance van two blacks away to remain inconspicuous. He's usually after wealthy power couple types so we need to be really convincing. Got it?"

“Uh-huh. Yes,” Neal replied, nodding a little too quickly. His words were automatic, half-hearted at best, because his attention was decidedly elsewhere.

She looked stunning—more than stunning, really, though he would never admit it outright. The soft glint in her eyes caught the streetlights at just the right angle, making them sparkle for a fleeting moment before fading again. The dress she wore was elegant, understated, but perfectly fitted to the role they were about to play. Neal found himself momentarily mesmerized, the lines between the act and reality blurring just a bit more than they should have.

(Y/n) shot him a suspicious glance. “Neal. Focus.”

“Totally focused,” he said, his trademark grin sliding into place to cover the fact that he had absolutely not been paying attention to anything she’d just said.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but after a beat, she turned back toward the building looming ahead. “You’d better be. The second we step into that gala, we’re in character, and I’m not carrying this assignment on my own.”

“Of course not,” Neal quipped, following her lead, his voice taking on the smooth confidence he wore so well. “I’ll be the perfect fiancé. You’ll swoon. Just wait.”

She shook her head in surrender and walked towards the door before she felt a delicate hand pull at her wrist.

"Wait, I almost forgot," he said, taking out the velvet box that made his pocket weigh heavier than it should have.

"What?" she asked, completely oblivious.

"This," he said, flipping it open to reveal the princess-cut diamond ring inside. The sharp sparkle caught the light between them, but it was nothing compared to the flash of surprise in her eyes.

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

He swallowed, his heartbeat thrumming loudly in his ears as he took her left hand in his, the warmth of her skin making him falter for just a moment. His fingers brushed hers, gentle but deliberate, as he slid the ring onto her finger.

No break in eye contact.

Her gaze locked with his, questioning, searching, unsteady. The seconds stretched long, heavy with something unspoken, as his thumb brushed against the band, settling it into place.

Still no break.

The moment lingered, charged, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them under the streetlight. His breath hitched, his confidence—usually so bulletproof—wavering under the weight of how utterly real this felt.

Neal shifted, suddenly nervous, but he didn’t step back. His eyes flicked to her lips, then back up to meet hers again, the line between fiction and reality blurring with dizzying speed.

Finally, he broke the silence with a soft, almost uncertain laugh, a hint of tension bleeding into his words. “For authenticity, right?”

(Y/n) blinked, the spell broken. Her lips curved into a small smile, but her voice was quieter than usual when she replied. “Right. Authenticity.”

But neither of them moved for a moment longer, caught in the fallout of something they couldn’t quite name. If this was just pretend, why did it feel so real?

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

They entered the grand ballroom arm-in-arm, the weight of their roles pressing against them. Neal’s hand rested lightly at the small of (Y/n)’s back, his touch electric even through the layers of fabric.

“You’re tense,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She instinctively closed her eyes and let it linger before remembering she had to respond.

“You try wearing a dress and pretending to be in love with you all evening,” she shot back, her voice sweetened by a practiced smile for the benefit of their audience.

Neal leaned closer, the humor in his tone giving way to something deeper. “You’d be surprised how easy that could be.”

"The dress or-"

"The last part. Obviously the last part."

"Just making sure," she responded, stifling a laugh. Remembering why they were here in the first place, she quickly scanned the room, she found their mark in the middle of the dance floor.

"Neal, 2'o clock, dance floor."

"Yeah, I see him. You ready?"

"Do, I have an option?"

Neal extended his hand, a devilish glint in his eyes as he slipped seamlessly into his role. “In that case, (Y/n), may I have this dance?”

(Y/n) smirked just for a moment, his outstretched hand a reminder of the precarious game they were playing. She placed her hand in his, his fingers warm and steady as they led her toward the dance floor. “Let’s get ourselves a criminal,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

The music swelled, slow and haunting, wrapping around them as Neal’s hand slid to her waist. His fingers pressed against the fabric of her dress, firm but careful, like he was afraid to break something fragile. His other hand cradled hers, his thumb brushing the back of her hand with maddening lightness.

“You’re holding on a little tight there, don’t you think?” she teased softly, her voice catching when his eyes locked on hers, warm and unflinching.

“Just making sure you don’t get away,” he replied, his words playful, but his tone laced with something heavier.

They moved in sync, the world around them dimming until it felt like the music existed just for them. Each step brought her closer, the space between them dissolving until her chest almost brushed against his. His breath was warm against her temple, and her head tilted slightly, just enough for her to catch the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“It’s just part of the job,” she whispered back, though her words wavered under the intensity of his gaze.

“Right,” he said, his hand slipping a fraction lower on her waist. “Just the job.”

Her pulse quickened as his fingers tightened slightly, drawing her closer still. Their faces were mere inches apart now, his eyes flicking to her lips for the briefest of moments before returning to hers. The tension between them was almost unbearable, charged and unspoken.

(Y/n) swore he was about to say something—something real, something that would tip this balance they always stalled on—but his gaze shifted over her shoulder.

“(Y/n),” he said abruptly, his tone cooling as his eyes fixed on something behind her.

(Y/n) blinked, the spell breaking as she followed his line of sight. Their mark stood on the edge of the dance floor, watching them with quiet intensity.

“He’s noticed us,” Neal said, his hand loosening its hold on her waist.

“Good,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “That’s the idea.”

And just like that, they were back in the game, palpable tension vanishing into thin air.

As the song came to an end, the mark stepped toward them with his date, a woman dripping in diamonds and disdain.

“Charming performance,” the mark said smoothly, offering a practiced smile. “You two must be new faces around here.”

“Guilty as charged,” Neal said with a grin, slipping effortlessly into his persona. “We’ve just been admiring the company.”

“Why don’t you join us on the rooftop?” the mark offered, gesturing toward the glass doors that led to a private terrace. “It’s quieter. Easier to talk.”

Neal and (Y/n) exchanged a quick glance before following. On the way, Neal caught her glancing at her hand, her thumb brushing lightly over the diamond ring he had slipped on earlier.

“Admiring your fiancé’s taste, sweetheart?” he teased under his breath, his voice tinged with both humor and something sharper.

(Y/n) jerked her gaze away, her cheeks warming. “Just making sure it looks convincing,” she muttered, but the way her hand lingered over the ring betrayed her words.

Neal leaned closer, his smirk softening. “It looks perfect. You look perfect.”

The heat in her cheeks deepened, but before she could respond, the doors opened, and the crisp night air swept over them. They stepped onto the terrace, the stakes of their mission suddenly more palpable than ever.

The mark led them to a table on the edge of the terrace, a private spot where the city lights shimmered below. He took a seat, his date following suit, and Neal and (Y/n) joined them. The air was cool, and the tension in the space was almost tangible. The mark’s eyes flicked between them, his gaze assessing, calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth, “tell me, how did you two meet? I’m always curious about these stories."

Neal leaned back in his chair, putting on his best charming smile. “It was one of those chance encounters, really,” he began. “I was at an auction, looking at some early Renaissance pieces when she walked in—just like that.” He snapped his fingers, his eyes glinting. “She had this aura about her—class, confidence, and this fire in her eyes that made me want to get to know her. I knew the moment I saw her, I’d never let her slip through my fingers.

Y/n) raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback by how smooth he was. “Not exactly how I remember it,” she replied, her tone light but sharp. “He was chasing after a piece of art that had already been sold. I caught him, and after some back-and-forth, we ended up negotiating a deal. And well, the rest, as they say, is history.”

The mark chuckled, intrigued. “So, love at first sight then?”

Neal and (Y/n) exchanged a glance, both knowing that this was the moment they had to sell it. Neal leaned forward, his voice dropping a notch as he spoke to the mark.

“There’s something about her. Something that keeps me coming back, you know?” he said, his eyes never leaving (Y/n)'s face. “She’s strong, sharp—doesn’t take crap from anyone. And that’s something you don’t find every day.”

(Y/n) turned toward him, her heart beating a little faster at the raw honesty in his words. She wasn’t sure if it was part of the act or something real underneath it, but the heat between them flickered for a second.

“And what do you see in him?” the mark asked, his tone now laced with genuine curiosity.

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer without giving away too much of her own feelings, but when she looked into Neal’s eyes, something clicked. They were here together, playing a part in a dangerous game, but the way he was looking at her made her forget that for a second. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the vulnerability he was letting slip, just for her.

“I see someone who challenges me,” she replied, her voice softer than usual. “Someone who pushes me to be better. And, you know, someone who’s got this charm that… well, it works on me. I’m not proud of it.”

Neal’s grin spread, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “Works on me too,” he said, his voice lower now, as if the words were meant for her alone. “We balance each other out. When I'm with her, I feel complete, you know?”

The mark seemed satisfied with their answers, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You two really are a convincing pair. Almost makes me believe in the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing," he laughed. His date, lost in her phone, barely seemed to notice, leaving the moment to hang between them.

Neal glanced at (Y/n), an almost imperceptible shift in his expression as he studied her. There was something different in the way she held herself tonight. She was usually the composed one, but now… he couldn’t quite read the look in her eyes.

“So, what happens next?” the mark asked, his voice smooth, as he leaned back in his chair.

Neal tilted his head, his smile never faltering. “Now? Now we enjoy the view.” He gestured out toward the city lights that sparkled beneath them, a million possibilities flashing in the distance. “What’s a good evening without a little bit of beauty to go with it?”

(Y/n) nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of her wine glass absently. “And a little danger, I’d say,” she added, her voice laced with a quiet challenge.

The mark raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Danger, huh? What’s dangerous about a couple like you two?”

Neal chuckled, but it was a touch colder this time, more calculated. He turned his eyes on (Y/n), watching the way she tilted her head, as if she was on the edge of saying something important. Then, with a glance that felt almost too intimate, he spoke again. “We’ve got a history, you know? We don’t talk about it much, but we both know... some things you don’t just walk away from.”

(Y/n) blinked, her breath catching at his words. She hadn’t expected him to go that far with the act. The sincerity behind it—whether it was all for the mission or something more—hit her unexpectedly. But she kept her face neutral, answering with equal weight. “Yeah. Some things... they follow you.”

The air between them thickened, the words hanging heavy in the space. The mark watched them, an unreadable expression on his face as he exchanged glances with his date. It wasn’t quite suspicion, but something deeper. Curiosity, maybe. Or recognition. But before anything could be said, the mark stood, taking a step toward the edge of the terrace.

“You two are something else,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m going to grab another drink. You stay here.”

Neal and (Y/n) exchanged a glance, one that said everything without needing words. As soon as the mark and his date were distracted by the bar, they slipped away. It wasn’t much—just enough of a gap for them to make their move. They walked quickly, low and quiet, blending into the flow of people.

They passed a row of velvet curtains and slipped behind them, into a hallway that led to the back stairwell. The sound of voices echoed from the main room, but it was the sound of a briefcase being handed over that caught Neal’s attention.

There he was—the mark, shaking hands with someone in a dark suit. The transaction was swift, almost too clean. Neal’s eyes narrowed.

“Something’s off,” he whispered to (Y/n), barely audible.

But before they could pull back into the shadows, a shift in the mark’s posture had him looking their way. Neal froze, his gaze locking with the mark’s. There was a flicker of recognition in the man’s eyes, followed by a narrowing of his gaze.

In that moment, they both knew they had been spotted.

Neal didn’t hesitate. He grabbed (Y/n)’s wrist, pulling her in close. “Trust me on this,” he muttered, his breath warm against her ear.

Before she could even respond, his lips found hers in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was urgent—desperate, even, and as their bodies pressed closer, the danger of being caught only made it more intense. Their kiss was a cover, an act. But damn, it felt real. The mark was approaching them now, too close for comfort, but Neal barely registered the thought. He pushed her against the nearest wall and "got carried away" as he traveled towards her neck. Her hands found his hair, gently playing with them, for the act, of course.

(Y/n)’s heart raced as the world around them seemed to blur. They were acting, but in that moment, there was a sense of something more—something raw beneath the surface. He left her neck and locked her yes in a gaze, before returning back to her lips. Her pulse thudded in her ears, and when Neal pulled away, her lips felt like they were still burning from the kiss.

The mark was now standing just a few feet away, his brow furrowed in confusion but not yet suspicious enough to call them out. Neal, ever the charmer, quickly recovered, a half-smile spreading across his face.

“Sorry,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Got carried away. But you know how it is, right?” He gestured to (Y/n), his hand slipping possessively around her waist as he spoke directly to the mark, hoping his calm demeanor would sell the story.

The mark studied them for a beat, a silent assessment passing between them. Finally, he shook his head, smirking. “You two really are something else, huh.”

Neal’s grin stretched wider, eyes flicking to (Y/n) for just a moment, as if to say: We’re good.

They turned, following the mark back into the chaos of the night, but the weight of what just happened settled between them—unspoken, but palpable.

The sound of pounding footsteps echoed through the terrace as the FBI moved in, swarming around them with practiced efficiency. Neal felt the brief rush of adrenaline still pumping in his veins, but now it was mixed with something else. He and (Y/n) had done their job, the mark had fallen into their trap, and the briefcase—the one they’d been waiting for—was in his hands, a key piece of evidence that sealed the deal.

But then, there was that kiss.

It had been... unexpected. Real. No longer just an act.

The team moved quickly, surrounding the mark, taking him into custody. Peter gave Neal a brief, knowing nod before he led the mark away. He didn’t say anything; the job was done. The mission was complete. But Neal’s mind wasn’t on the bust. He was focused on (Y/n), the way her breath had caught when their lips met, the look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

Once the area had cleared and the sound of distant voices faded, he turned to her. (Y/n) was leaning against the railing, her arms crossed tightly as she stared out over the city, the glow of the streetlights flickering in the distance. There was a cold distance in her posture that wasn’t there before, a wall he hadn’t seen her put up.

Neal swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “(Y/n)...”

She didn’t look at him right away. When she did, her gaze was unreadable. “We did our job, Neal. That’s what matters.”

There was a tightness in her voice, the way she was shutting down again, retreating behind the walls she always kept so perfectly in place. It made his chest tighten.

“I know,” Neal replied, his voice softer. “But that kiss…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. He was a conman, a man who lived in deception. But that kiss—that had felt different.

(Y/n) sighed, pushing herself off the railing and turning to face him fully. “It’s part of the job, Neal. You know that. It’s always part of the job.”

Her words were clipped, but her eyes betrayed her. They were too wide, too vulnerable, like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was convincing him. Neal didn’t buy it. Not this time.

“Is it?” he asked quietly, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Because that didn’t feel like part of the job to me. It felt like—” He stopped himself, trying to find the right words. “Like something real.”

Her expression flickered, just for a moment, like she was considering telling him something—something more than what she was letting on. But she quickly masked it, her gaze hardening again.

“It wasn’t real, Neal,” she said, her voice sharp, like the edge of a blade. “It was a job. You know that.”

Neal’s breath hitched. “But what if it was? What if it wasn’t just the mission? What if we’re both—” He cut himself off, staring at her, his chest suddenly tight with a feeling he couldn’t quite shake. “Look, I don’t want to make this more complicated than it has to be. But I can’t just act like that kiss was nothing. I can’t pretend it didn’t mean something.”

(Y/n) took a step back, her jaw clenched, clearly struggling with something she wasn’t ready to face. “You’re just confused, Neal,” she said, her words laced with frustration. “We’re good at what we do. We can sell this. We can sell anything. But that kiss? It doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

Neal shook his head, his frustration matching hers. “Why do I feel like you’re trying so hard to convince me of that?”

She stepped forward, her eyes locking onto his. There was no hiding now. “Because I don’t need you to start thinking that this is something more than it is,” she said, her voice shaking just a little. “I don’t need to feel like I’m... I’m letting you in. I don’t want that. We can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Neal asked, his voice quieter now, softer. “Why can’t we have that?”

For a moment, (Y/n) didn’t say anything. She just looked at him, as if trying to find the words to explain something she couldn’t. She wanted to—he could see it in her eyes—but something held her back, something she was afraid to admit.

“Because I can’t,” she finally said, her voice trembling with something raw, something real. “Because I can’t let you in, Neal. I can’t let myself... care. I’ve spent too long keeping everything at arm's length. It’s easier that way. It’s safer that way.”

Neal felt his heart twist. He had no answers, no solutions. He couldn’t fix this. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

But as the silence stretched between them, he couldn’t just let it go. “So, what happens now?” he asked quietly. “Do we just go back to being... partners? Nothing more, nothing less?”

(Y/n) looked away, biting her lip as she thought it over. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I don’t know if we can just go back to what we were before. But we have to try.”

Neal didn’t argue. He couldn’t. There was too much at stake. Too much left unsaid.

“I don’t think either of us can walk away from this without something changing,” he said, the words coming out as more of a confession than a statement.

Her eyes flickered to his again, softer now. “Maybe that’s true,” she murmured. “But that doesn’t mean we can act on it.”

Neal took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I don’t know what’s happening between us, (Y/n). But I don’t think I can just pretend it’s nothing anymore.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting his eyes one last time. “Neither can I,” she said quietly, as she took off her ring and placed it in his hand.

And then, before either of them could say more, Peter’s voice echoed from behind them, sharp and thunder-like.

“Jesus Christ, what happened in this mission?” Peter inquired, leaning against the doorframe, clearly amused.

Neal shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. Peter was just being Peter. But as the moment lingered, both Neal and (Y/n) knew the truth. They had crossed a line. They’d let the job get too close. And now, whatever happened next… they couldn’t go back to pretending it was just a mission anymore.

a/n: I hope you liked it, this was my first request so I got carried away T_T, I'll make a part 2 for closure if this does well <3

[aromanticofficial]

hey dude kinda wanted to complain about stuff. I’m aroallo I don’t date or do partners and im a man and the only other kinda queer I am is a little bit gay cause men are pretty and well the not ace part and all that but I’m not like feminine and stuff so when queer people see me they kind of single me out as like not actually queer cause I just look like some guy and well I am some guy and I’m not gay in the way they consider actually gay because of the whole no partnering thing on top of that I don’t really like feminine men or non binary men I’ve got pretty specific preferences when it comes to alot of stuff so idk I kind of feel left out alot

I got kicked out of alot of groups and stuff especially growing up people would try to make me like “more queer” I guess insisting that I should like try dating men and involving myself with like fem men men with more complicated genders or men who didn’t have dicks and it wasn’t really my style alot of people saw me as like something to be fixed or kicked out and when I didn’t act or do what they wanted they lowkey booted me saying I was scaring the other people in the group and making people uncomfortable actually that happened way more then once.

I tried making myself try alot of things I didn’t want to do or be or be with because of it and it’s been years since all that but something recently brought it up again and even if it’s not as direct I still feel excluded usually so I just wanted to like whine about it a little in your inbox lol.

One thing was a while back I used to make pins and badges with flags for everyone cause I thought If I did people wouldn’t be as scared of me it didn’t work but years later I still do it just because and I ended up giving a couple out recently just cause and my friends now we’re really happy and they don’t treat me like some kind of threat and it’s real nice they even hugged me like alot and they still do it like randomly or whenever I lean in or ask for one! Just so casually it’s really nice I’ve never really gotten held or hugged like that before I got really shy at first actually lol my recent friends they don’t mind what I am they’re sweet I showed them the aroallo flag and they were so nice they were trying to guess what it was and I told them it was the most like casual chill reaction I’ve ever gotten explaining it to someone.

I’m still kind of processing the fact I like men and it’s hard cause I don’t know I’ve sort or been doing on my own cause I’ve gotten kicked from so many places and sure I’ve got friends now but I don’t feel like safe mentioning that part or admitting it’s something I still struggle with and havnt really come to terms with I’m realizing I never really let myself think about men in any kind of gay way and when I try I get mad and embarrassed disgusted and a whole mess of emotions and like being ignored and treated like a threat kind of messed me up and made it even hard r to admit and focus on what I want I guess I’ve been so focused on being palatable in queer spaces I couldn’t actually be queer in them.

last thing let me know if I worded something off I try to like explain preferences without saying something wrong or like exclusionist yknow but sometimes I get things mixed up and I don’t know like alot of titles and like ways to be so let me know if I worded something wrong

Anyway if you post this can you tag it with a sunflower emoji or yellow heart so I can find it later please. And if other Aro blogs want to like respond to or say something that’d be really nice thanks for reading all this I know it was a lot of text

anon you have so many of my condolences for your treatment by other members of the queer community. I hope you find the people who understand you in the future

[hmshermitcraft]

Gem wasn't expecting to turn into a siren this season, but it's great. She can breathe underwater, see in the dark, and not to mention her singing voice is great now.

Her one problem with her new origin is that she gains the features of whoever the person she's making eye contact with is in love with.

Talking to Etho, her hair will change from ginger to Bdubs' brown and white, and she starts sprouting little white feathers when with Impulse.

Strangely, when Pearl is nearby, she never seems to change, and it both concerns and confuses her. Is her power broken? Has her origin changed? And why does she feel weird every time the postmaster comes by?

Pearl must have something to do with this, she should probably look into it further...

-🌻

She feels like Pearl would tell her if she were aro, right? But, Gem isn't entitled to have Pearl come out like that. What if she's uncomfortable and Gem is going to force her into admitting it! Ugh, this is such a conundrum.

(Meanwhile, Pearl is busy deciding how to ask Gem out because she's sure the lack of appearance changing has given her crush away! She gives Gem far too much credit.)

[sonic-takeover]

Sooo you think things will finally calm down now that Jet has apologized? Cuz I think everybody in the big ass house needs a break now. So to start off this hopefully now moment of peace I've arrived with chocolate for everybody!

-🌻

*Sonic is standing in the bathroom, checking his lip wound in the mirror* Agh... Ow.. *Why did Jet have to keep his beak so damn sharp... Sonic jumps as Shadow knocks on the bathroom door*

Hey.

Oh- Hi beautiful.

Hm. *Shadow walks over and hugs him from behind* ..... Is it too soon to ask you on a date?

*Sonic stares at him in the mirror. Shadow is watching him from over his shoulder. Sonic grins, trying to ignore the pain* Hell no! Of course I wanna go on a date, you wanna go on a date with me??

You're my boyfriend. Of course I do. *Shadow kisses his shoulder* .... What do you say to dinner and a walk tonight?

No race?

How about a race to dinner?

Sounds perfect. *He narrows his eyes* .... You're planning something.

Am I? *He buries his face in Sonic's quills, sighing and closing his eyes* ..... Ce jour sur la lune me manque.

Huh..?

Nothing. Stop messing with your lip. You'll make it scar.

It'll probably scar anyway..

So don't make it worse. *He boops his cheek with his nose* See you tonight. I have to go check on Amy. *He walks out of the room, their hands clinging to each other until they're out of reach*

Mmkay. Love you, boo.

..... No. I love you too.