#But the only boxes I have are either massive or way too small

[chronomally]

Made matcha miso chocolate chip cookies to make up for previous cookie disappointments 👍

I was so excited to make these cookies and I don't. like them

[shotmrmiller]

Simon who works for UPS. He delivers packages as per usual and ends up at your house. He picks up the massive box with ease from the back of his work truck, barely a grunt in effort, and places it down at your front door.

He knocks because goddamn fucking company demanding signatures for packages people buy is just absurd.

Then you open the door.

Maybe it's just him, who's a burly man with shoulders that're too broad and height that in some entrances he has to duck lest he smacks his forehead on the door frame but you...

are small.

Soft looking thing, too. Hands look smooth and delicate; probably never lifted anything heavier than a grocery bag. Fragile, like the contents inside the box you've ordered.

"Sir?" your voice is soft, gentle; just like what you look like.

"Need your signature for this, apologies for the bother, ma'am."

The signature machine is already small on its own, but in his bear-like hand, it's dwarfed. It lets him hold it in its entirety, so that your fingers are forced to brush against his to sign.

Skin is like the finest silk, and so very warm against his leathery flesh.

Polar opposites.

He thickly swallows the pooling saliva in his mouth.

"It wouldn't be too much trouble to, uhm, help me bring that in, just right here by the couch."

A shame the living room is right by the entrance.

"I can do tha'."

He bends his strong legs, curling his fingers under the bottom of the box and lifts on an inhale.

Simon doesn't miss the way your pretty eyes widen a fraction at his strength, either.

As you take numerous strides, it takes only three of his to reach the couch and stand before it.

Bitty.

"Right here is perfect, thank you."

The box thuds on your white tile floor when he places it down, and quickly turns to leave, but bumps into you instead. You yelp and stumble backwards as if he'd pushed you back with two hands.

Puny.

"Apologies," he murmurs while steadying you by gripping your forearm firmly.

Apologies, because sorry implies regret, which he doesn't have. Certainly not when he's got a tiny feel of your soft body against his sturdy one.

He reluctantly lets go, and heads for the door, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable. (or scare you off so soon- he's only just laid eyes on you)

"Thank you for the help! Have a good day!"

Simon gives you a small wave and hops into the drivers seat.

His day is already that much better, especially since his sharp eyes noticed a lack of jewelry on your left hand.

He's already memorized your address, too.

Simon tells himself to wait at least a week before 'mistakenly' dropping off a package at your house.

[puppysuh]

POSITIONS 4 U .ᐟ ( nct 127 )

synopsis. different positions 127 guys would love to see you in. (featuring. johnny, yuta, jaehyun, mark, haechan)

rating. mature (minors + ageless blogs dni)

warnings. multiple positions, dirty talk (all), semi-choking (johnny), mentions of anal (haechan), religious imagery(?) (mark), oral sex, overstimulation (jaehyun), dubcon, rough sex (yuta)

author’s note. my first proper… thing (?) on tumblr. sorry if the formatting’s a little off, i’ve only ever been on freaky anime tumblr and they layouts are… very different. enjoy, and my ask box is always open if anyone wants to talk! also, thanks for the love on my first post 😓😓 that was my first time posting and i was #MegaNervous so i’m glad it was well liked! :)

ﾞ ʾ ╳ ˚ ˖ ࣪ JOHNNY ☆ #PRONEBONE

it just makes him feel so… powerful. he likes giving, so what better way to give to you than let you lay there on your tummy, completely helpless whilst he cages you in between his massive arms, keeping you trapped whilst he has his fun with your oh so needy pussy? 

“i know you like it, sweet girl,” he’d whisper in your ear, hips pistoning in and out of you at pace which can be described as nothing short of ruthless. “you like it when i rail you like this, princess?”

you can barely respond, not with the way his bicep is wrapped around your neck, cutting off your airflow and rendering you utterly helpless to him. “‘s good,” you gurgle, eyes flickering into the back of your head as you feel that all too familiar coil start to wind in your belly.

another thing johnny likes about this position is that he can feel all of you, including the way your gummy walls begin to spasm around his cock as you rapidly approach your orgasm. and because he’s the one in control, he won’t give it to you just yet, instead deciding to slow his harsh thrusts down into sensual grinds against the flesh of your ass. 

“not yet,” he whispers in your ear before leaving a fleeting kiss on the crown of your head. “‘m not done with this pussy just yet, princess.” 

ﾞ ʾ ╳ ˚ ˖ ࣪ YUTA ☆ #MATINGPRESS

yuta doesn’t have the highest sex drive. well, you don’t think he does; he rarely initiates, and whilst you don’t mind that, you just wished he’d be a little less reserved.

he has his moments, sure. a kiss that lingers a little too long, a hand creeping up your back whilst you’re pottering about in the kitchen, the sharp feeling of his chin on your shoulder and a warm kiss on your neck. it’s loving, but it’s not sexual, and you feel stuck. 

stuck, that is, until you change your approach. 

all yuta needed was a little push, a little bit of motivation to finally let his true feelings show. all you had to do was act like he didn’t exist, and suddenly, he’s all over you, trapping you so you can’t escape his undivided attention. 

“ignoring me was a bad idea.” his voice is level, but is actions are anything but. he has your ankles propped up onto his shoulders, arms braced on either side of your head as he ruthlessly thrusts into you. “is this what you wanted?”

you smile weakly, but as quickly as it appears, it’s immediately wiped off your face by yuta bending you even further. “‘m sorry, yuta-” 

“you’re not,” he grunts, eyes glued to the way your pussy swallows his agitated length. “you’re enjoying this.” 

you can’t reply to him, because the burn in your pelvis is damn near excruciating, and you can only whine out in jumbled pain and pleasure, your eyes crossing as you feel your brain begin to go fuzzy.

“yuta…” 

“don’t do it again.” you feel a small relief as he takes one ankle off of his shoulder and kisses it, a harsh juxtaposition to the way he relentlessly drills your pussy. “got it?” 

you sniff pathetically. “got it.”

ﾞ ʾ ╳ ˚ ˖ ࣪ JAEHYUN ☆ #69

jaehyun is the best eater he knows. his source? well, you of course. 

the man has nothing short of an oral fixation. you remember him telling you that he had a penchant for all things sweet, and whilst you thought he meant desserts, he was really talking about his sexual preferences. 

a good day for jaehyun is a day spent in between your legs, fingers and tongue glued to your pussy as they pull orgasm after orgasm out of you. it’s the epitome of everything he loves and believes in, and when you suggest a new way to rouse his oral fixation through a video you find on twitter one day, he’s totally down. 

he might not be able to breathe, but he likes it that way. the fact that you’re sucking him off at the same time makes it even better; every time his tip touches the back of your throat, he can feel you tighten up around his tongue, and it drives him crazy. 

“sit on me,” jaehyun groans, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as if they were his lifeline. “c’mon baby, do it.” 

jaehyun truly believes he could die right here, with your thighs cutting off his airflow whilst your tongue teases his cock, brain too muddled to focus on getting him off. it’s cute, honestly. 

it’s even cuter when he relentlessly forces your orgasm onto you, pulling your hips down harshly and sucking on your clit like a lollipop. you gag on his cock when you feel the orgasm crash onto you like a wave, and he’s painting your throat white, eyes flickering as your thighs squeeze his cheeks. 

jaehyun smiles to himself. he really is the best eater.

ﾞ ʾ ╳ ˚ ˖ ࣪ HAECHAN ☆ #DOGGYSTYLE

haechan is an ass man. it’s an indisputable fact; he’d rather you wear a pair of jeans or sports leggings than a skirt any day of the week. it’s not a style preference but more of an ass preference, because in sports leggings and jeans, he can walk behind you and abuse the blessing of sight all he god-damn wants. 

his alarming love of the plump flesh of your cheeks is what leads him to taking you from behind, on all fours, hands clasped around your hips as he pistons in and out of your cunt like a man on a mission. 

“fuck,” he groans, head tipping back and chocolate brown hair falling into his face as his hands slide down and grip the meat of your ass with a force rivaled by none. “fucking hell, baby. this ass is driving me crazy.” 

“why don’t you- hah- why don’t you fuck it then?” with what little strength you have, you turn your head to face him, drool pooling in your mouth as you take in the sight of your spent boyfriend, thrusting in and out of your heat like a man possessed. “‘s yours for the taking.” 

“ah- for real?” his mouth hangs open as he spreads your cheeks apart, eyes locking on the clenched ring of muscle winking back at him. “but we’ve never-” 

“i don’t care,” you whisper, groaning when one of his hands travels in between your legs to tease your clit. “don’t care when it’s you.”

ﾞ ʾ ╳ ˚ ˖ ࣪ MARK ☆ #COWGIRL

much like his best friend, mark just loves looking at you. unlike haechan, however, he tries his best not to look at you sexually; no, he looks at you purely because you’re beautiful. to him, it’s like your face was sculpted by the gods themselves, and he feels borderline blessed to have a girlfriend as pretty as you. 

so, when you suggest getting on top, mark can’t think of anything more perfect. 

sex is messy. it’s loud and vulgar, but when you’re riding him, mark thinks sex is the most angelic thing to have ever been created. you look almost ethereal as you grind your hips down onto his cock, hair in your face and a perky tits bouncing as you press your hands down onto his chest. 

“enjoying the view?” your chest heaves, breathless as you smile at your boyfriend, who seems to be cemented in a state of complete awe and bliss. 

“y-yeah,” he gasps, trembling hands resting on your thighs. “you look so pretty up there.” 

“thank you.” you smile down at him, and he swears he can feel the sun’s rays kiss his sweat cast skin. “you look so hot down there.” 

“m’not doin’ anything though.” 

“you don’t have to.” you grind your hips particularly harshly, and mark is as good as gone. “just sit there and let me make you feel good.” 

and he will. he’ll sit there as long as you damn well please, as long as you’re happy, and as long as he can keep watching your beautiful body use the living hell out of him.

© PUPPYSUH 2025 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[ellieslittleslutt]

Teacher!Ellie hcs :3

cw: none i don’t think…

an: guess whose finally back after a while. tbh i probably will disappear again if i can’t come up with anything but oh well!! also this is kinda long soooo

⋆˚꩜｡ teaches sciences but mainly physics, sometimes she will substitute for art if it’s open.

⋆˚꩜｡ always dresses like a little boy and jeans and some random shirt she had which leads her to get stopped in the halls by other teachers asking for her pass.

which leads to a whole explanation of how she actually works there and ends up pulling her id out.

⋆˚꩜｡ likes to keep her door open during lunch and after school incase some kids come stop by either to chat or just hang.

sometimes she’ll get extra excited when you’ll come in after schools over to sit and finish some work.

⋆˚꩜｡ likes to keep music playing in the back when you two are working so that the silence doesn’t make her antsy.

“ellie what the fuck is this?”

you ask putting your pencil down looking at her as some random ass song plays like Ayesha erotica starts.

“what it has catchy lyrics”

⋆˚꩜｡ cannot stand the lunches at the school so she always packs her own, most of the time they consist of a rushed sandwich and a juice box.

after coming into her room and seeing her atrocious lunch you developed a small routine of packing extra vegetables for her so she can get some nutritional value out of the meal.

“the juice box says probiotics in it which means it’s healthy!”

“ellie, sweetie, no.”

sliding a plastic baggie of carrots to her.

⋆˚꩜｡ her students KNOW she has a fat crush on you. once while she was teaching you came in to ask about a schedule and her cheeks got all pink at the way you kept your voice low and soft so you won’t disturb the kids.

after leaving one kid started ooing causing the rest too follow and she grumbled putting her fav in her hands “i’m failing you all”

⋆˚꩜｡ felt honored once when a kid came to her asking them to draw on their converse like how she did because they thought ellie was cool. would not shut up about that for days.

⋆˚꩜｡ keeps her carabiner on all the time with all her keys on it making it very obvious when she’s about to come into your room.

⋆˚꩜｡ on pajama day she brought in her massive bear form ikea and it never came back home, earning itself a place on her rug.

⋆˚꩜｡ once she came bursting into your room complaining about the kids but immediately shut up when she saw you giving her a soft smile, hair tied back messily, with reading glasses propped on your forehead and started to get all flustered.

⋆˚꩜｡ has a problem with accidentally swearing in classes. she would be demonstrating an experiment for the class but when it fails mumbles an “you’re fucking joking” and quickly looking back at the class who all started being over dramatic about it.

“my innocence is gone ms. williams!”

“oh shut it you never had it to begin with daniel”

⋆˚꩜｡ when you offered for her to come back to yours one night for “grading” let’s just say it ended with you two driving to work together, some students definitely asked her about it later causing her to push them out her class.

⋆˚꩜｡ when you two became an established relationship she would only refer to you as “my girlfriend” in classes because she knew her students wouldn’t get off her ass if they knew it was you.

⋆˚꩜｡ once a student came to her panicked about a massive spider in the room and she didn’t want to get it so had to have you pause your work and come in to get it for her.

“you owe me williams.”

you mumbled quietly so no one but her could hear placing a lingering hand on her hip while walking out with the spider in a beaker. stood there frozen for a solid minute already excited to get home to you that night.

⋆˚꩜｡ her white board is dedicated to drawings and doodles her students make her putting them up with magnets and letting them draw during breaks.

⋆˚꩜｡ on her desk she has a jar full of small plastic dinosaurs she’ll give out if the students were good and was once gifted a bag full of tiny babies on her birthday. definitely came to you sobbing about it slurring out some jumbled mess about how she loved her students.

⋆˚꩜｡ two days later she was sat on the couch in you classroom rocking while mumbling “i love my job i love my job i love my job” after a parent yelled at her for talking about the moon landing.

[navybrat817]

How does Bucky handle you being sick? 🥺

I may have gone overboard, nonnie. 😂

Sick Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you get a cold. He also takes care of the guy who may have given you a cold.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, reader has a cold, implied smut, interrogation, Bucky Barnes being a ridiculously wonderful boyfriend in love (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I don't know where this came from. Maybe a bit of inspiration from @inklore here. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you had a hard time getting out of bed this morning due to a cold you caught at work, you tried to brush it off. Bucky immediately called in to take a personal day and said he had to take care of you, which forced you to take a sick day as well. It was for the best. You had a tendency to push yourself past your limit some days and he kept you in check.

You snatched a tissue out of the box beside you just in time to sneeze into it. With a pained groan, you scrunched up your face and dropped the tissue into the small pile in your lap. It took you a moment to sip your water, followed by your herbal tea. Though your throat was sore, you had to stay hydrated. You also had to get some rest.

Bucky wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“I hate this,” you mumbled to yourself before your boyfriend rushed into the living room to check on you, his piercing eyes searching the room as if to assess a threat.

“I heard you talking, baby. You need to rest your voice,” he said, adjusting the humidifier he set on the coffee table before his concerned gaze snapped back to you. “Wait. Do you need something? Do you not have enough blankets? I can get you more tea. Or I can put something on TV. Shit, where’s the writing pad?”

You tried not to smile as the massive shirtless supersoldier bustled around the room. He hadn’t seen you under the weather since the two of you started dating and you should’ve known he’d make a big deal out of it. Whether it had to do with growing up with Steve who dealt with all sorts of ailments or simply because it was his girlfriend feeling less than stellar, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was endearing to see the former Winter Soldier worked up over you.

He had nothing to worry about though.

“I’m fine,” you croaked before you went into a coughing fit.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he crouched beside you and brought the water back to your lips once you had yourself under control. His brows furrowed when he checked your forehead with his right hand, which made you fall in love with him a little more. You tried to tell him earlier to keep his distance so he didn’t get sick before he gently reminded you that he wasn’t exactly prone to catching colds thanks to the serum.

A silver lining from the pain he had to go through.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Well, you’re still 'fine',” he smiled a little, making your heart swell. “I used that in the right context, didn’t I?”

You almost went into another coughing fit as you giggled, the sound huskier and deeper than normal. “Only you would think I’m fine when I’m like this,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his silky chestnut hair. He hadn’t brushed it today. Too busy taking care of you. “And I’m not ‘sick’ sick. it’s just a cold.”

“It isn’t just a cold. Not to me,” he said, his jaw clenching as his vibranium fingers curled.

“I’ll be better before you know it,” you assured him, raising an eyebrow as his cheek twitched. “What’s the matter?”

Why is he getting himself worked up?

“I just don’t like you feeling any kind of pain,” he said, leaning up so he could press his lips to your forehead. He huffed as they lingered there. “I wish I could take it away and I can’t.”

It was a sweet sentiment, especially after everything he went through.

“I know you would if you could and it’s okay that you can’t,” you said. You understood where he was coming from though because you didn’t like the idea of him in pain either. He had a heart almost as large as his body and you were lucky to get a single ounce of his love. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“You’re my girl and it's impossible not to worry,” he said, a touch of possession and tenderness seeping into his tone. Belonging to him was as natural as breathing. “But I'll try to relax a bit.”

“As long as you try,” you said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

Your head tingled from his lips before you frowned. This close, you could usually get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Your eyes welled up when you inhaled again and couldn’t smell him, doing your best to blink the tears away so he wouldn't catch them. It was silly that you suddenly missed the comfort of that smell because your nose was acting up.

He didn’t need your tears on top of that.

But, of course, he caught your sad sniffle, which sounded slightly different from your cold sniffle. His body stiffened, like a cobra ready to strike. “Tell me what’s wrong, even if I can’t physically fix it.”

God, I love this man.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really miss the smell of your cologne,” you told him, your gaze probably nothing short of pathetic as you tilted your head to see his handsome face.

Your breath caught when he looked back at you and brushed a tear away with his thumb. There was nothing but love and adoration in those brilliant eyes of his. It made you feel lighter.

“That’s far from ridiculous because I smell amazing,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours to bring a smile to your face. “How about I spray the blankets after you take a nap and I make you some soup? That way my scent will be there even if you can't smell it.”

Tears clogged your throat as you gave him a nod, committing the moment to memory. You were used to going it alone before he came into your life. He couldn’t take the pain away, but he could make you feel better in ways that mattered to you. That likely comforted him just as much as it soothed you.

“That would be great,” you said, yawning a bit. “Can we watch a movie after my nap?”

“We'll watch whatever you want.”

You pulled him close so he could join you on the couch, knowing that his muscular and warm frame against yours would feel just as comforting and safe as the blanket that covered you. And he relaxed and quickly accepted your wordless invitation to wrap his arms around you, keeping you in his loving embrace. It was home and always would be.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head against his bare chest. “I love you.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” he promised, his vibranium hand moving in slow circles along your back as you began to drift off. “I love you, too.”

You let out a happy moan before you said one more thing. “And hunt down the person who gave me this cold, okay?”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see the determination written all over his face. “You got it, baby.”

You were right as rain and back to work a couple of days later, thanks to Bucky caring for you and some much needed rest. Not even an hour into your shift though, Steve requested for you to meet him in the second lower level. You didn't hide your surprise as that was usually reserved for interrogations.

Which was exactly why he called you down there.

“What's going on?” You asked as you walked into the viewing room. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Tony all looked your way, but didn't give you any sort of response. “Seriously, what's up?”

“You don't know?” Natasha responded, nodding toward the glass.

You followed her gaze with a gasp as you saw Bucky tower over some blonde male agent in the cell. Your boyfriend was almost unrecognizable with his face devoid of any emotion, dominant and on the edge of terrifying. It was a far cry from the loving side you were privy to, yet you loved this side of him just the same.

“Buck dragged John down here a few minutes ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice as he punched the bridge of his nose. “Said something about him hurting you.”

You tilted your head as you looked at John, recognizing him after a second due to his punchable face. “Him? No. He didn't hurt me. He just bumped into me the other day in the break room,” you explained. Which wasn't that big of a deal to you, but probably offensive to Bucky. “But he didn't apologize.”

He also had a cold.

Oh, no.

“So, you had nothing to do with this?” Sam asked, chuckling as you lifted your chin.

“No, I didn't,” you replied as you bit your lip. “At least, I don't think I had anything to do with this.”

Your heart raced faster when Bucky pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and gripped John by the collar, the veins in his right arm popping out. You wished you could lick them. Maybe later.

“I know it was you, you piece of shit,” he said, roughly shoving the agent back into his chair. “You got my girl sick.”

Oh, Bucky.

You stared straight ahead as you felt the group collectively look your way, refusing to react under their stares. “Before any of you say another word, this is definitely not my fault,” you stated.

“Of course it isn't,” Natasha smirked. She knew Bucky loved to play the hero on your behalf even though you could take care of yourself. “Just enjoy the show.”

Your mouth fell open as your boyfriend slammed his left fist on the table, leaving a sizable dent as John nearly fell backwards in his chair. This guy was an agent? He was either new to interrogations or simply scared shitless of the former assassin.

Maybe both.

But you ignored him as you shifted your attention back to your beefy, perfect boyfriend.

When you had mumbled for him to find the person who gave you the cold, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. You weren’t sure how he narrowed down to John, but the former assassin was resourceful and you should've known he'd take you seriously. And, fuck, if it wasn’t slightly mortifying on your behalf and hot as hell watching him in action.

“That cold you gave her made her cry. You made my girl cry. Do you know what I do to guys like you who make my girl cry?” Bucky said through his teeth, bringing his fist down on the table again as John flinched and you smiled. With all the strength he possessed, you never had to worry that he'd hurt you. But you couldn't say the same for the frightened agent. “You're about to find out.”

You didn't think you could love Bucky more after he helped you get over your cold, but he proved you wrong.

And you could now add Bucky threatening people to your list of things that made you dreamily sigh and tingle between your thighs.

“Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry! All I did was bump into her. It was an accident!” John shouted, putting his hands up in surrender and trembling when Bucky stood to his full height and cracked his neck. Your boyfriend waited a beat before he grabbed one of his hands and began to twist, making the agent pale as you bit back a whimper. “Fuck, stop! I won’t even breathe around her again. I’ll hold my breath! Just let me go!”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Tony asked you, taking out his phone to type a quick message as you hummed. Maybe you were enjoying it. How many guys went out of their way to scare someone who possibly gave you a cold? “Does the Manchurian Candidate know how much I’ll have to pay to keep this guy from suing him?”

“We can tell him it was a prank?” Steve suggested, bringing another laugh out of Sam as Natasha shook her head.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he flung the hand away, his hair falling in his eyes as you held your breath. He looked like a wild animal, untamed and stunning. “I should choke you. Make you see how long you can really hold your breath before you pass out,” he snarled as John rubbed his sore skin.

Steve snuck a glance at you, his cheeks a little pink when you put a hand to your throat. “I don't want to overstep because you're my best friend's girl, but you do know you just moaned, right?” He whispered low enough for only you to hear.

Oops.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, putting your warm face in your hands to hide your embarrassment for a moment. “Is anyone going to stop him?!”

“Why haven’t you stopped him?” Natasha countered knowingly.

Because I’m too busy thinking of how I’m going to suck his dick so good later that I'll make him see God.

You took a breath as the ache between your legs got stronger and pressed the button beside the glass. “Bucky?”

He swung his head toward the glass and met your gaze even though he couldn’t see you. No matter what, he’d always be able to spot you. “Hey, baby. I found the prick who gave you a cold. Want me to beat the shit out of him?” he bragged as John paled.

“I love you,” you giggled from how sweet and ridiculous he was. “And no. I appreciate you defending me, but I think you can let him go.”

Tony playfully rolled his eyes when Bucky grinned. “Your crazy matches his crazy.”

True.

“Okay. I love you, too,” Bucky said in a light tone, his smile falling the second he looked back at John and smacked the table against the wall with a clang. The agent looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Next time you see my girl, apologize and walk away. And the next time you have a cold, stay the fuck home or you'll answer to me.”

Yeah. I’m going to suck the soul from his body to thank him for everything the moment we get home.

And maybe the two of you could take another sick day to spend the day in bed.

Totally normal boyfriend, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Hi, Tori (*^-^*)

I hope I'm not too late with requests, but I have a few ideas.

First, how about mistletoe kiss? A bit cheesy and cliché, but I think it would be great for holiday season rn.

Second, how about learning y/n to fly on the broom? Like we know that our boys are badasses and play quidditch really good. So maybe they want to show off their skills and teach the reader how to fly, or overcome the fear of heights, or just have a lovely moment with them under the stars, something like that.

Third, magical bond thing. Like a reader or one of our favorite boys open the box with some dark artifact and make them stuck together. It could be enemies to lovers to add some juices 🤭

I think that's all. Otherwise, I'd dash out a whole bunch of my ideas. As for who should it be with, I don't know. It's totally up to you. But I'm a huge simp for Mattheo *cough, cough*.

If you would like to write something based on any of these ideas, I'd be happy. If not, it's still cool. I will just wait for your other great writings from the other's asks.

Loves 💕

I kinda chose the second one. I hope this works for you.

Vows

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warnings: lots of cussing and some mentions of violence and hexing

Last thing you wanted to do was spend your time in detention with the boy who annoys you the most-Mattheo Riddle. You two hated each other, always bickered, always had competitions, always had nasty remarks to say to one another. Sure, you might find him handsome if it wasn't for his asshole personality. He has nice hair and a nice face and all, but, Merlin, every word out of his mouth wanted you to either jam knives in your ears or hex his mouth closed.

You don't even remember how this rivalry started. But it's been going on for as long as you've known him. Everyone knew that. Everyone either dreaded or loved having class with you two because of the fighting.

But maybe it went a little too far when you threw a hex his way that was supposed to swell his tongue to the point he couldn't talk properly. Unfortunately, he saw it and deflected it, only for it to hit poor Neville behind him.

So now the two of you were cleaning in the Room of Requirements. It was massive and was never going to get done, even if you spent a whole year cleaning it, but that wasn't the point. It was supposed to be a little lesson for you two, a punishment. So you got assigned a section and were supposed to clean together. ‘Figure out how to work together’ or something like that McGonagall told you two.

“This is entirely your fault.” Mattheo grumbled as soon as the Professor was gone.

“You wouldn't have been sent here with me if you just took the hex like a man instead of blocking it.” You retorted before looking around the section you were assigned, hands on your hips.

“I'm not that fucking dumb, sweetheart. I'm not letting you hex me. I think Longbottom is still in the hospital wing because of your nasty hex.” He complained, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, sit there and bitch all you want. I'm getting this done, with or without you.” You said, walking over towards one of the piles of random things and began cleaning and sorting it out.

“Then you can do it without me.” He huffed, walking away.

You just rolled your eyes, annoyed with his attitude. You could hear him going through stuff just out of sight from where you were. You could guess he was rummaging through the random things, opening up boxes and fiddling with stuff to figure out what it did.

It was only about ten minutes before you heard him yell. “Fuck! Son of a bitch!”

It sounded like he either got hurt or stuck on something and it made you snort. Serves him right.

He came around the corner, back over to you. “Help me get this off!”

“Why should I?” You turn to look at him and see something wrapped around his wrist. It looked metal and had some carvings on it.

“Just get this thing off of me! Please!” He nearly snapped, but you could hear the small bit of panic in his voice. It was a fair reaction. No one knew what any of this stuff was or what it could do.

“Fine. Only because you said ‘please’.” You said with a slight teasing tone in your voice.

He rolled his eyes but looked a little relieved.

You reached for the contraption around his wrist, going to tug on the material to test it. But as soon as you touched it, a chain materialized from it and wrapped around your wrist as well, replicating the metal bracelet around Mattheos's wrist with the same carvings.

“What the fuck?” You used your other hand to tug at the new restraint around your wrist. It wouldn't even budge.

“Well, that didn't work.” Was all Mattheo had to say.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” You yelled, trying to fight at the metal.

“I didn't do anything!” He yelled back.

“Why did you have to go through shit instead of helping me?”

“You said you would do it with or without me!”

“And look where we are now!” You both continued yelling, just angry at each other. You sighed, bringing your free hand to your face, rubbing it in annoyance. “Okay, just-we're not getting anywhere.” 

“I thought you were smart! Get us out!”

“I'm thinking!” You inspected the cuffs, looking at the carvings. They were words. “Fides, amor, matrimonium.” You muttered aloud. “Ah, fuck. You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

“Fides, amor, matrimonium? What the fuck? Is that talking about marriage and love?” Mattheo started yelling again. The chain connecting the two cuffs started disappearing after he repeated the words that were carved into the cuffs. The metal parts around your wrists were still there.

“You fucking idiot! Do you have any idea what you just did?” You shouted at him, shoving him backwards.

“Obviously not!” He shouted back, catching himself on a random box and straightening back up.

“Those were marital vow chains!” You said like it was obvious and that's when Mattheo's face went pale. You'd heard of them, most people had, they were a very ancient tradition. The people getting married would wear them and repeat the words carved into the cuffs, just like you and Mattheo did, vowing your love and loyalty to one another. If the vow is broken, both people die. They were outlawed a long time ago to prevent any more deaths.

“Oh, fuck.” Mattheo muttered, obviously panicking again but for a whole different reason this time.

“I swear to fuck, Mattheo-if we die because of this, I'm gonna kill you!”

“I didn't mean to fucking marry you!”

“Well, you did! And you can't take it back! We'll both die!”

“Ah, fuck.”

“‘Ah, fuck.’ Indeed. Now what?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I-I-I don't-I don't-I don't know.” He stuttered, utterly in shock.

“This was just supposed to be a normal fucking detention!” You started pacing, so mad and upset that you couldn't even sit still.

“I'm sorry!”

“That doesn't fix this!”

“Fucking shit. We're married.”

“Yeah!”

“Holy fuck!”

“This is your fault, Mattheo!”

“Shit!” By now, he was pacing just as bad as you.

“I'm gonna fucking kill you. You just ruined our lives.”

“It was an accident!”

You finally stopped pacing and faced him and he mimicked you, stopping and facing you too. “You're gonna have to be the best husband in the world or I'm taking us both out. Do you understand me, Mattheo?”

“Yes.” He said and his face looked just like a kid caught doing something he shouldn't have.

“I-” You started but stopped just as fast. “Un-fucking-believable.” You turned around, trying to stop yourself from hitting him.

“You know, though…” Mattheo started stepping towards you slowly. “Since we're married, maybe we should kiss. Like an actual wedding. Since I'm your husband now.”

“Mattheo?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up and walk away before I punch you in the face.” You said, not even turning around to face him.

“Got it. Too soon.” He said before you could hear his footsteps retreating.

Fuck, what were you going to tell your parents?

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff @leandre2006

@yours-truly-5 @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

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@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3 @kurumbukaari @whydoireadanymore @sweet-afternoon

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@hereticdance @cindyss @saint-marvel

@simpforromance @yours-truly-5 @kenjikishimotoswifey @fallingblackveils @simpforromance

@strxwberri-s @nickirae @esmerai-artemis @blu3b3rrymuff1ns @yootvi

@roseofsharron438 @abeoavita @rafesba @ter-luer @cminoko

[dungeoncrawlingwithoutprotection]

A Minotaur for Christmas

(Part 1- Prep Problems)

Humming as you set out small ornaments, you couldn't help the slightly difficult and complicated swill of emotions, knowing that you didn't actually have solid plans. This would be your first Christmas all alone as your family lived too far away to be able to visit either way, and the best anyone could promise was a video call. It left a hollow weight in your chest.

And yet you still adored decorating for the holidays, grateful that your neighbors were so friendly and helpful. The orc couple a couple miles down the road helped you with a fresh pine tree, the werewolf family that mostly lived in the forest traded you a large amount of venison for a couple boxes of the cute little ornaments you made around this time of year. From what you understood, they wanted to decorate their cave and immediate area with the wooden carvings.

Even the naga across the field behind your place stopped by to help you set up lights and yard decorations, given you helped her set up things in her yard. Which you were more than happy to do, though she was setting up outdoor heaters to be able to enjoy the season without worry. The only neighbor you hadn't heard from was the minotaur next door.

Though you didn't linger on that fact very long, expecting him to go visit his folks as he'd done for previous holidays. Instead focusing on where you were going to put the small village pieces on top of your mantle.

Knock Knock Knock

Pausing with a ceramic bank in one hand and a couple fake trees in the other, opening the door and revealing your minotaur neighbor; standing in the middle of your porch awkwardly and rubbing his arm.

"Good afternoon Gabe." You smiled up at him, "What brings you around?"

"I uh..." He kept fidgeting, "I have a... strange favor to ask."

Tilting your head in the growing silence as he was clearly uncomfortable, but didn't have anywhere to hide.

"I... I might have lied to my parents and uh..." His eyes shifted guiltily, "Well, ya see, they've been trying to push me to start dating someone and I... I uh... I told them that I did have a girlfriend already, thinking I'd have had better luck in finding someone by now..."

"And you're coming to me because...?" You waved your hand gently to hopefully get him to get to his point.

Standing up straighter, horns nearly scraping the ceiling of your porch, "I... I uh... I was hoping you'd help me out."

Shifting your eyes with a deeply confused look, you looked at Gabe for more answers.

"Uh... Could... Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a week while my folks stay with me?" He finally blurted, "I... I can handle the explanations and difficult questions. I just... I really want to avoid the dating pressure and can pay you for it. Uh... anything really, like repairs around your house or I dunno. Please? I'm desperate."

Blinking slowly, "So... you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend for the holidays?" You said slowly, gesturing at yourself, "And to trade this week long favor for other favors?"

Gabe stooped a little as he nodded, his nerves on full display as you stood their silently. It was so bizarre to think that anyone would come to you for something like this, even weirder just how nervous Gabe was about this. But you wrote that off as him being nervous and guilty about having to ask someone to pretend in general.

"I... I need to think about it." You scratched at the back of your head with the palm of your hand, "Can I get back to you in a day?"

"Y-yeah!" He seemed... relieved? "I uh... sorry for bothering you with such an awkward question but when you decide, you uh... you know where to find me."

"Yeah, I'll let you know by tomorrow."

You closed the door as Gabe walked off. Despite your non-answer, he seemed much happier than when you'd opened the door. There was quite a bit for you to chew over. Not only a massive invitation to join someone's Christmas, but being low-key asked out by someone you thought you'd have to bury your feelings for.

Pretending wouldn't be that hard for you, but keeping yourself from jumping after a couple rounds of eggnog...

That would be damned near impossible.

[myysweetpea]

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"Oh he's a lot shorter than I expected...."

summary - having a awkward ass conversation with blue beetle as a grocery store cashier.

notes - female reader (but can also be interpreted as gn) / reader doesn't know jaime's blue beetle / fluff / sfw

an - I'm back after like a huge hiatus, srry!! This kinda sucks but remember I'm a 14 yr old so I have the writing skills of a cat 🥀

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You weren't even supposed to be here. Helping out a friend with her part time job wasn't really the best weekend plan you had in mind but that's just the way things go. There you were, standing without a uniform, behind a counter scanning away at overpriced groceries. Beep. Beep. Beep. You fumble for the plastic bags tangled in a rack nearby, trying to make it look like you knew what you were doing. "these shitty ass bags..." You were simply clueless.

After a brief moment of untangling the bags and bagging up five boxes of cereal, a small orange juice, and a box of eggs, you turn back to the cash register. "That'll be 37 dollars and 46 cents." You say, trying to act as cool as possible as if you hadn't cussed out a rack of plastic bags two moments ago. "Cash or card sir?"

The man looks at you, unimpressed, as he digs out his wallet and mumbles bitterly, "Yeah, clearly card.... Who even asks that anymore...."

Literally he can't be talking when he's wearing blue pants and a tight orange shirt, this guy has never heard of color theory.

"uh sorry." You mummer back, tapping your foot against the dusty floor as the guy lazily drags his card against the machine. You've only been here for two hours but it felt like the outside world had gone years without you. The shady windows didn't help either.

After his card finally goes through, he yanks the bags from the rack and staggers away, mumbling something under his breath. Now you're all alone at the register, with pure annoyance practically radiating off of you.

The store was nearly empty, with only a few elder people scattered around wandering away from their children. Or the local rowdy male teenagers.

Occasionally you would see the usual crackhead smoking near the produce section but he was actually chill. Every now and then you gave a brief wave to him, just to acknowledge him. He'd wave back, after taking a long drag of his vape.

Such a boring day. After taking a long sigh and glancing around to make sure there are no more customers you slip your airpods into your ear. If you were going to die of boredom your favorite song should at least be playing.

Of course, the world hates you! Well not really- there was that time you snagged the last bag of rainbow airheads but that barely counts. Not even halfway through the chorus of the song, frantic scrambling and a loud thud can be heard.

Slowly you take out your airpods, gently placing them back in their case. Leaning over slightly, you try to get a better view of the sudden commotion that's happening in the medicine aisle. You're careful not to lean too much in or else with your luck you'd be smack down on the floor.

You take a quick glance up at the ceiling before taking a sharp breath, trying to confirm if what you're seeing is true. A massive pothole size hole was jutting out in middle of the ceiling. The smell of debris and broken ibuprofen bottles, even a flew shelves knocked down. Man what the fuck even happens in El Paso??

You blurt out, "oh my god." Taking in the whole scenery. You never even thought of something like this happening. Sure, El Paso wasn't known for villain attacks like Gotham was but it was still a possibility. You were purely starstruck. Awkwardly you start to wave your hands, trying to get all the customers attention. No way are you leaving the comfort and safety of the cash register.

Gesturing toward the crowd, you yell out, "HEY, GUYS? CAN WE MOVE AWAY....?" Leaning forward a little more, trying to get a better view of the scene, you see your local superhero Blue Beetle. He's scrambling to get on his feet while trying to awkwardly speak over the people.

God, you hate El Paso.

Standing behind the counter awkwardly, you fidget with your fingers, wanting no part in this hot mess. After a few minutes of people fangirling and yelling another employee breaks up the scene, advising people to shop in literally anywhere but this aisle.

Being the noisy person you are, you try to eavesdrop the conversation between the employee and Blue Beetle but the crowd is way too loud and excited for you to catch anything. All that you can hear is the local superhero apologizing every two seconds about the mess and the employee explaining it was, it's literally his job. Clearly this dude was new at the whole superhero gig.

A good three minutes pass and everyone goes back to pretending to be normal, trying hard to not to make it look obvious like they're still staring at him. Well.... you were also part of the problem too. You couldn't stop staring at - No not the employee because he probably wanted you dead after you dropped a box of chocolate puffs, but that damn superhero. It was so awkward seeing a hero in real time.

You didn't feel too bad staring at him since everyone else was doing it in their own way. You could practically see him speed walking in each aisle, tossing things in a basket.

"No way he shops here...." You mutter to yourself, keeping your eyes on him as he wanders around. It was hard fighting the urge to take a photo, then again you really didn't wanna get called out. After all, this wasn't even YOUR job.

Clearly, he must've noticed you staring at him like a dog without a leash, because he just made direct eye contact with you. Well- what looks like direct eye contact, kinda hard to tell if he's looking at you when his mask makes his eyes white. Awkward.

You immediately look down at the floor - or the cash register - or your hands - literally ANYWHERE but him.

Oh my god is he walking over?

Please someone help.

You could see him from the corner of your eye, quicky rushing over to your register. Within thirty seconds of spacing out he was by your register.

you look up at him. He looks up at you. You didn't have an issue with heros, it was just a surreal experience meeting one. This was like meeting Megan Fox. Of course you'd flip out.

You glance at him awkwardly and subconsciously take a small step back, "uh-"

Well, at least you also weren't awkward. He was just standing there too, mumbling under his breath, "hi, ummm, how are you..?"

You just blank out at him, trying to think of what you could possibly say, blurting out stupidly, "I'm fine. What about you?" I mean, sure, it was weird but you still had manners. Even if this conversation was extremely forced.

Quickly he hands you his items. He responds in a more calm tone, still standing like a schoolboy, "I'm fine. I just need some stuff."

You start scanning away at the items, regular grocery store stuff. He was still staring at you, you were still sneaking glances at him each time you grabbed an item. He literally seemed so familiar, but that would be such a weird thing to say. The more you glanced at him the more his mannerisms seemed like one of your friends...

After you scan the last item you bag it up, handing it to him. You tried to seem as poise as possible, but it was kinda hard when he was also looking at you like someone he knew.

"You new here...?" He gestures to your outfit. You sure as hell didn't look like you worked here. He briefly clears his throat and adds with a light chuckle, "NOT in a bad way, I just usually know the people here."

Well you didn't really work here.... If anything you just wanted to go home. "It's a volunteer thing...." You respond back.

"oh. ok."

More awkward eye contact. Pleaseeee, why can't this guy just let you clock out.

"Yeah... Thanks..." He says, checking the bags for a bit. He starts to turn around, before he quickly turns back, adding, "By the way, the road left of here is closed so you'll need to take, uh, the other one."

Dude. What the fuck. You just stare back at him blankly, not even knowing what to say. How did he even know you took that road. Nodding slightly, you just sigh out, "i- thanks...?" And with that he just walked out of the door. At least he didn't break another hole in the ceiling.

You quickly pull out your phone as soon as you see he's out of your view and scroll through your contacts. Calling your friends after meeting a hero is a must, duh. Might as well call Jaime, your little hero obsessed friend to tell him what just happened.

[ribbonsncherries]

The Contract

Warnings: Lots of smut, P in V, Oral (both m and f receiving), BDSM!, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Angst, Alcohol mentions, Dominant and submissive plot, Drug Mentions, Virgin user, mentions of drugs.

Chapter 3

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x inexperienced! User

Summary: When her roommate and work partner gets sick, she is in charge of interviewing famous billionaire businessman Dean Winchester for his new bar's grand opening which leads to a passionate and tumultuous affair where she discovers his dark sexual desires, marked by control and dominance. The one catch? He doesn't do romance.

Based on the trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey.

(4500 words)

Divider credits: @dollywons, @anitalenia, @selysie

The next morning, (y/n) woke up to the sun brushing through the curtains. The sounds of the city burst through the walls. She groaned in pain from the massive hangover that she was stuck with. She turned around in bed to see herself in a hotel room. She doesn’t know where she is, which immediately makes her panic. She sat up and brushed her hair away. She looked on the bedside table to see some Tylenol and orange juice waiting for her with the notes beside them that said “Eat me” and “Drink me.” She took the pill and began chugging the orange juice from wanting something more than alcohol in her system. While chugging the juice, she heard a keypad sound from a short distance, almost as if someone was trying to get in. She got up from the bed and grabbed a vase. Lo and behold, Dean Winchester shows up with takeout boxes in his hand in a casual black tee and jeans. “Good morning (y/n).” He said casually. “It’s you? she asked, still holding the vase. He approached her slowly, “Surprised?” he said with a smirk, “How are you feeling?” He asked, his hand wrapped around her wrist. He brought down the arm that had the expensive vase. “What..?” she responded, still confused and intimidated by how close he was to her. She had to look up at him from how tall he was, his broad shoulders seemed to look down upon her. 

“I asked how you’re feelin’ sweetheart,” he asked once more. (y/n) nodded, “A lot better thanks…” She carefully snuck past him and sat down on the bed; she realized her clothes were much different, Her clothes she was wearing yesterday were carefully folded on a chair. She looked down again and saw she was wearing a regular white shirt that was a little too big for her, and when she realized she had no pants, she immediately covered herself with the sheets. “Did you put me in here?” she asked, looking around towards him. She saw him with the takeout box and fork; he started chewing on some bacon and eggs. “Mm-hmm.” he hummed. Dean sat down on a small sofa next to the bed, he began taking a clean fork and put down some toast and eggs on a new plate. “And you undressed me?” she asked confused.

Dean looked up at her while still chewing, “Didn’t have much of a choice, darlin’ it was either that or puke-stained jeans and shirt.” he said. (y/n) immediately had her hands over her mouth in shock. “Oh my god…” she mumbled to herself. Dean then got up from the sofa and carried a plate to her; he placed it on her covered lap, along with a fork and napkins. He sat down on the sofa and continued eating like nothing. (y/n) looked around the hotel room and saw she was in the only bed, and the sofa he was on was way too small to fit anyone. “Where did you sleep?” she asked. Dean gestured his hand next to her; she saw a messy side next to her with the blankets messed up. “Oh god did we…?” she trailed along. Dean immediately shook his head, 

“No, Necrophillia's not my thing,” he said immediately. (y/n) took a deep breath, “So we just slept…got it.”  (y/n) awkwardly saw the plate of toast and eggs on her lap and picked up the toast Dean got up and went to a different room, he came back a few seconds later with a fresh clean folded clothes, “I asked Benny to bring you some new clothes,” he stated putting them next to her on the bed. “Thank you, you didn’t really have to do that,” she said quietly. She continued eating her toast slowly with a slight hesitation. “I did, you shouldn’t have drank like that in the first place,” he grumbled. Dean began drinking his cup of orange juice when some had spilled onto his shirt. “Shit,” he mumbled, he took off his black shirt leaving (y/n) a whole view of his chiseled toned chest with a unique tattoo. “W-well, I like to test my limits when it comes to alcohol,” she said chewing on her toast. 

His eyes roamed at her with a grumble, “Test your limits…you put yourself at risk last night.” He said. He began to place his hands on the bed and began slowly making his way toward her, almost like a lion reaching for a lamb. “I know…” (y/n) said softly, mesmerized by Dean, she couldn’t move or get away, it was like she was trapped. Softly in a low tone, he said, “If you were mine, you would be able to move from the bed, let alone walk…” he got closer and closer to her. “Huh?” she said quietly, not knowing what to say. Dean leaned lower to her hand and bit the rest of the toast off, he looked up at her and held her hand, then began sucking the powder off her fingers slowly. Her breath hitched, and she immediately tried hiding the fact her thighs were clenched together.

He looked down at her with his piercing green eyes. “I’m gonna go take a nice shower, don’t wait up,” he said before getting up from the bed and gathering his clothes. (y/n) let out a long breath before turning her head towards him. “Dean, why did you bring me here?” she asked. He came out of the other room and looked at her, “You’re here because I’m incapable of leaving you alone.” she looked up at him up and down, “Then don’t…you didn’t want me with you anyways, why did you send me that album and shawl anyways? Pity or something?” she asked. Dean came closer to her “I thought because of the way I acted towards you I owed you an apology.” 

“For what,” she stated. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. “For letting you believe that…” he took a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t do romance, I don’t do the hand holding, movies, dinner.” “Why?” she questioned. “My tastes are very particular; you wouldn’t understand if I told you,” he said. “Try me. Enlighten me for all I care,” was all she could say. Dean brushed his rough hand on her cheek and then to her lips. Her eyes try to mimic the stare he gives him. 

After a few hours, Dean had already showered and was in fresh, new, casual clothes. (y/n) came out of the bathroom in the clothing that Benny had picked out. “Tell your friend he’s got good taste,” she said. She looked forward to seeing Dean writing some stuff down in his notebook. (y/n) gathered her clothes while Dean stood up and leaned on the desk. “What are you doing later, darlin’?” he asked. “Well, I have to go to my job till either 8 or 9, but besides that, nothing. Why?” she asked. Dean could only look her up and down. “I’ll have Benny pick you up,” he said. He came a little closer to her and softly touched her hair down to her lips. “The way I kill a million monsters to be able to kiss those lips,” he said. (y/n) looked up and stood still “I think I would like that too.” she said softly. Dean backed his hand away “I’m not going to touch you…at least not until I have your written consent.” he said. She tilted her head (y/n). “Written?” she asked, confused. “I’ll explain later, cmon let's get you home,” he said to her. 

As they both got on the elevator, (y/n) backed up to the back of the elevator while Dean stood beside her, “fuck the contract.” he said before immediately beginning to roughly kiss (y/n). Her hands were on his shoulders, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her while his other hand was down to her waist. Just as (y/n) was about to softly release a moan, the ting of the elevator alerted them. They both got away from each other and acted like nothing happened. (y/n) released a few short breaths and calmly combed her hair with her fingers before the door opened to businessmen. Dean looked down at her and smirked. 

When (y/n) and Dean got to her apartment, (y/n) heard music coming from inside. As she opened the door, they both widened their eyes to see Sam and Jessica halfway naked on the couch. Sam and Jessica immediately looked up from the couch. (y/n) turned her head to look away. “Samuel you dog, he had a good time last night. Clearly.” Dean said to (y/n), who was still looking away. “Dean shut it,” Sam said, picking up his pants. Jessica laughed as she looked at the situation. “Hey, you must be (y/n),” Sam said, holding his hand for (y/n) to shake. She awkwardly shook it “Nice to meet you.” she said. “Yeah, sorry for meeting me like this. I got a little sidetracked,” he said looking over at Jessica. (y/n) smiled “Oh no, it’s ok.” 

“Sammy, find your shoes, and let's get goin'.” Sam and Jessica had one more goodbye kiss before telling her, “Later, darlin’.” Sam then walked away from her to leave the apartment. “I’ll make sure to email you if anything comes up. You can also email me whenever you want to. I’ll see you tonight,” Dean said. (y/n) took a deep breath “My computer is acting weird; I can’t use it.” she said. “Alright, you have my number. Call me whenever you can. Later, darlin’,” he said, mimicking Sam, he then left the apartment and closed the door. “So Sam seems like a nice guy.” (y/n) giggled. 

“Nooo, don’t even start with that. If you’re seeing him again that means something must’ve happened.” Jessica teased. (y/n) could only sigh and walk slowly to her room tossing her house keys to the small bowl where Jessica’s were. “(y/n) you have to tell me what happened!” She squealed. “We have to get ready for work Jess!” she ignored the questions and kept going. “No, no, no, (y/n), I’m your best friend even if it’s TMI, just spill.” she encouraged. (y/n) smiled “You really wanna know?” Jessica nodded excitedly expecting (y/n) to say they had sex when in reality she said “We just kissed.” She nodded expecting more to come out of her. “Uh huh and then.”

“And then what? That was it,” she said. “That’s it?! Only once?! That's super weird.” (y/n) could only hum a yes. She began walking down the small hallway, “And I can tell that’s a new shirt, You never dress in those colors.” she said. 

(y/n) was typing away once again, focusing sternly on her computer, Jenna her secretary came in with a smile. “Hey (y/n), I made some lunch for myself last night and accidentally made too much. Thought you might want some, it’s your favorite.” she smiled. (y/n) took the container from her hands. “Thanks, Jen.” Before Jenna was about to leave she remembered something, “Oh I almost forgot your mom sent messages.” Jenna began going through the small sheets of paper. “She said ‘(y/n) I hope you’re doing well, Richard and I miss you and we came to tell you that Flora is graduating middle school in June and we would like you to come to the graduation party. Hugs and Kisses Mom and Richard.” (y/n)’s face scrunched, “As much as I love Flora’m not sure how to feel about the step monster” she giggled.

Jenna looked at her with her eyebrow up. “(y/n) I’m saying this as a friend, man up, I get it Richard kicked you out and your mom never defended you but your sister is 13, she needs her older sister, especially at that age, facetime, and text messaging isn’t enough. Besides you’re a badass editor and journalist for the biggest fashion magazine in the nation.” (y/n) smirked and nodded, “You’re right, I just hated that guy with every bone in my body since I was 16.” she said. “Any other messages Jen?” she asked. “Yes, another from Mr. Winchester.” (y/n)’s eyes widened as she got up, closed the door to her office, and dragged Jenna to her desk to sit down. “What did he say?” she asked. Jenna still a little surprised gave (y/n) the paper to which he wrote down the message. 

Hello, Ms. (l/n). I wanted to follow up regarding the agenda we discussed during our last meeting. As we agreed, it’s crucial to ensure we stay on track with the upcoming deliverables. I’ve attached the updated project plan, which includes all the necessary timelines and responsibilities.

Let me know if there’s anything else you need from my side before we proceed.

Best regards, Dean Winchester.

“Everything ok (y/n)?” asked Jenna. “Me? Oh yeah yeah, I’m fine. Is that all the messages?” she asked. Jenna nodded rapidly and got up from the chair to the door, “Thanks for lunch by the way.” (y/n) said. “Anytime.” (y/n) looked at the small sheet of paper and smiled. 

When she got out of work, Benny was standing next to a black car with tinted windows. (y/n) smiled and walked up to him, “Hi, Benny. Where’s Dean?” she asked. “He will be meeting us at your destination,” he said as he opened the car door. She climbed inside before saying thank you. As they made their way to a corporate office building Benny helped her out as he led her to an elevator. (y/n) ran her fingers through her hair in nervousness. As they reached the top her eyes widened when she saw a helicopter but no Dean. “I thought he was meeting us at our destination.” asked (y/n). As they began walking towards the helicopter Benny leaned a little to her ear and whispered “Don’t tell him I said this but Mr. Winchester is a bit of a wimp when it comes to flying.” He said. (y/n) looked up to him and smirked. “Do you know where I’m going?” she asked him. “You’ll see.” he sighed. (y/n) was being helped by the pilot to buckle in and adjust the headset on her head.

As they flew she was amazed by the sights of the city. The beautiful lights and buildings that look like they are coming up at her. When they landed there he was, Dean, was wearing a casual-looking tux with a white dress shirt with a regular black blazer. When the Helicopter had stopped the engine Dean went up to the doors and saw (y/n) coming down the helicopter, he took her hand as he led her downstairs. 

She walked down a dim hallway into a penthouse. Her steps are the only sound echoing along the room. Dean separated from her and went to a wine cellar only a few meters away. (y/n) curiously let herself wander around. She saw rows of guitars, some electric, and lots of acoustic. She ran her fingers softly along the strings. “You play a lot?” she asked turning towards him, he had wine glasses and a bottle of a newly unopened wine. “Yes, I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember,” he said. He placed the two wine glasses down on a glass table. But when she saw him opening and pouring the wine, there were sheets of paper gathered in a single spot on the table, curiosity took over and she came up to him slowly. “What’s this?” she asked. “It’s a nondisclosure agreement,” he said as he finished pouring the wine and sat down next to her at the head of the table. “To summarize it that means you can’t tell anyone anything about us. To anyone.” (y/n) looked up at him as she clicked the pen. “I don’t say anything other than ‘he was alright.” Her eyes looked into his for a quick moment before the sounds of the pen scratching the paper were lilting to their ears. She set the pen down and looked at him “What now..?” she asked softly.

She was still nervous, afraid to say something wrong that might upset him and kick her out. He leaned forward towards her and told her “Two things, I don’t make love…second I make pleasure, I fuck hard and rough to a point you won’t know your name and can only scream out mine.” she swallowed and let out a soft breath, all she could do was nod and look at him. He got up from the seat and offered his hand for her to take. “I’ll show you,” he said. (y/n) looked at his hand for a quick moment before taking it. He led her down the long hallway before stopping at a door. He looks at her and says “It’s important to know you can leave at any time and the both of will never talk of this again.” He said. (y/n) was confused for a moment, “What’s in there?” she asked. “I said I control people, I like it when people do my bidding, what's beyond here, lies upon that statement. Just know the helicopter is on standby to take you whenever you want to go.” 

“I can handle it, Dean open the door,” she said sternly. Dean looked into her eyes for a quick moment making sure she was serious, he took a deep breath before inserting a key into the door and turning it for the door to unlock. When he opened the door and stepped inside she was surrounded by darkness before he turned on the lights. The room was red and dim like his bars but inside lay toys..sex toys. “Oh my god,” she said under her breath. There wasn’t your typical dildo or vibrator. More like whips, buckles, and handcuffs, As she began walking around her eyes ran along the red room, or ‘playroom’ as Dean likes to call it. “Please, say something,” Dean said. She stopped at a row of whips lined along the wall. “Do women do this to you or-”

“No, I do this to women,” he said in a low tone voice, “with women, women who want me to.” he clarified. She started making her way around as he followed right behind her. “So what are you?” she asked turning to him curiously. “I’m a dominant,” he said. “What does that even mean?” she asked.

“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, and follow everything I say, to please me,” he said. (y/n) scoffed in shock, “To please you? Are there rules for this or something?” she said sarcastically, her smile dropped when she saw Dean’s seriousness on his face. “There are rules. If you follow them I’ll reward you, if you don’t you get punished. Simple as that sweetheart.” he said. “So, you’ll punish me, with these?” she asked. Dean simply nodded “Yes.’’

She looked around for one more moment, “So what’s in it for me?” she asked. Dean smiled at her with a grin. “Me,” he said in a low rumble tone. As they got out of the room (y/n) was still concerned yet somehow excited. Dean took her hand as he led her to the back of the hallway he opened another door to a room with a queen-sized bed, a vanity, and a huge window. But she stopped at the record player sitting on the bedside table, it resembled the one her mother broke on purpose since it used to be her dad’s. “Now, if we were to do this…this would be your room, you can decorate it however you like.” She crossed her arms and looked at him “So..you want me to move in with you?” she asked.

Dean shook his head “No, not full-time, only Friday through Sunday. We can negotiate the particulars. You know I don’t sleep with anyone, So I won’t sleep with you, I’ll only be down the hall.” he said. He took her hand in his once more and led her downstairs back to the living room where they sat on a couch. “So what if I decide to back out?” she asked. “I would understand it completely, but as I said, we will never speak of this to anyone ever.” (y/n) looked at him and observed his face before looking back to his eyes, “And…we won’t talk to each other again?” she asked. “No, I don’t do relationships, I told you…It’s just the way I am,” he said. Dean sighed as he looked back at her “I have a contract prepared, it’s all in there, you would review it and we negotiate from there.” he said. 

“Well, what if I’m not sure what to pick?” 

“Well, was there a time you had sex with someone and there was anything that you didn’t like doing?” he asked. She could only clear her throat and looked away. “We have to be honest princess for this to work,” he said. For years (y/n) was a bit embarrassing for her to say she was a virgin. She's done stuff to herself and masturbated a few times but that was it. She's never had time for love and relationship until now. “Well, it’s a bit complicated cause…I” Dean tilted his head in curiosity. “Cause what?” She looked at him once more and said “I haven’t done..it.” she mumbled. Dean was taken aback, “You’re still a virgin?” I just showed you-” 

“I know. I just, I’ve..done some stuff just not that,” she said. Dean leaned in closer to her and took her cheek with his hand. “Men must throw themselves at you, sweetheart,” he said roughly. She looked into his eyes and all she could see was lust. “No one caught my eye,” she responded. Dean leaned forward and kissed her. She had no hesitation to kiss back, Before she knew it Dean helped her up and walked her to his room, “Where are we going?” she asked. 

“We are going to fix this problem.” 

“I’m a problem?” 

He led her to a dark room, it was a regular bedroom, and no sign of the toys in sight. Dean’s hands slowly caressed her body, the lower she went the more he started bending down. His fingers unraveled the buttons on her jeans and brought them down slowly to show her lace panties. He kissed her thighs one at a time, the more he kissed her the closer he got to her wet core. He stood up and slowly lowered her down to sit on the edge of the bed. (y/n) looked up at him as he was doing the work, His fingers looped around the seam of her shirt pulling it up to take it off. As they kissed once more Dean moved his fingers to her back to unclasp her bra that was trapping her breasts underneath the white lace. He pulled the bra forward to take it off her, with her, her breasts now spilled out for him to see. He growled under his breath when he saw them, He leaned into the crook of her neck kissing and nipping at her neck, and (y/n) moved her head away for more access to skin. She moaned at the sensation of him kissing her sweet spot. He backed away and slowly pushed her down to the bed. She lay on the bed as Dean kissed her inner thigh and kissed her cloth-covered puss, his hands running up and down her thighs.

She moaned out his name softly and tilted her head back as she closed her eyes. Dean stood up and removed his shirt showing her once more his chest. He took off his pants and boxers and climbed onto the bed on top of her. He kissed her once more as his hands traced down to the valley of her breasts, to her stomach, then to the edge of her panties. He slowly took them off her and threw them to the floor where their clothes were lying. His hand went up her waist and cupped her breast slowly teasing her nipple. He leaned closer to her, trapping her against him and the mattress, his cock was running along her wet folds and finally, he pushed himself inside her. He let out a sharp gasp from the pain of his thick cock stretching her out. But she couldn’t help herself, she wanted more. Her hands went to his shoulders but he quickly took them off and pinned her hands above her. The sounds of sex were filling the room, “C’mon sweetheart you can take it.” he groaned out. Her back arched in pleasure and the new sensation she was so desperate for. Dean began sliding in and out of her pussy filling the room with squelching sounds from her pussy making contact with him balls deep. “So fucking good f’me.” His hands began tightening around her wrists which were still above her. He began going a little faster which made her tits bounce and her moaning rapidly.

His tip was hitting her g-spot just right she felt a knot in her stomach wanting to unravel. She could feel his cock twitching inside her as he felt her walls tighten. As her orgasm finally let go, liquid came out of her like a faucet. He let go of her wrists before pulling out to spill his cum all over her stomach. His neck leaned back in pleasure before looking down at (y/n) who was panting. He leaned down once more and kissed her softly. “You ok sweetheart?” he asked. She looked at him and nodded. He quickly got up and grabbed a wet towel, cleaning her stomach and her thighs. Quickly she fell asleep. 

She was awoken by the strumming of a guitar. (y/n) looked to her side to see no one but unraveled blankets and sheets. She grabbed a blanket and covered herself before heading outside to see where the music was coming from. She took a peek and saw Dean who was only in sweats strumming a guitar in the middle of the night. (y/n) came up behind him and kissed his neck slowly before going up to his jaw. Dean smirked putting down the guitar and taking off the blanket. He led her to his lap where his hands went up and down her body, he kissed her roughly before picking her up and fucking her once more. The sounds of moans and yelling out his name were all they heard for the next hour before they both fell asleep. 

Taglist: @applelovesposts @ladykitana90 @cevansbaby-dove

A/N: @steviespookie here damn don't chop chop me. (Im jk ilysm!) ok for once I focused on my school work instead of writing this so that's why it came out a little late today. But yay it's done, I'm already starting for the next chapters ahead so I can just post and write. The comments thoughhh omg yall are so sweet you're making me kick my legs. Hope you guys are staying safe and thank you for the notes and reblogs, and to more followers hello your first a/n on my blog! also if you have some advice on how to spice up my smut scenes PLZZZ LET ME KNOW. other than that thanks for reading and I'll see you guys next week!

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

agere bakugou katsuki headcanons !!

— requested by @v4mpiirew1tch —

— cw: trauma and swearing —

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

💥 - usually regresses to be about four years old since that’s when his quirk came in, but katsuki has a massive range of ages that he fluctuates between with a lot of overlap in behaviors. like sometimes he’ll be in an older headspace but still need a pacifier to self-sooth or he’ll be in a younger headspace and still wanting to engage with his older interests (I also love the headcanon people have where he pretends to be older than he is!! Chefs kiss to whoever came up with that one). if we’re being honest, he’s likely on the scale of being a perma-regressor but he can barely handle the fact that he regresses at all so no one really brings that up.

💥 - very prone to tantrums and meltdowns. his nervous system is chronically dysregulated and he really struggles getting a handle on his emotions. he’s either feeling things too strongly or not strongly enough and the former usually occurs in tandem with his rocky headspace. he tries really hard to be good but he just struggles when he’s on his own and it’s really helpful to have a caregiver sitting with him and helping him regulate. more often than not, it helps for him to physically move (running, breaking things, ect) so sometimes his caregivers just send him off to break down boxes or run around a training field or whatever other busy work they can give him that gets out his energy. when he’s alone and upset, however, he just shuts himself away in his room and rocks back and forth in the dark until all the bad feelings go away (autistic bakugou my beloved <3).

💥 - he likes learning when he’s small!! his favorite activity is any kind of early language assignment meant for young kids because it helps him feel young while also being productive use of his time. he gets antsy if he’s too bored, though, so he has to constantly be switching what types of work sheets he’s doing or even what subject it is. he also likes those educational kids cartoons but he’s banned from watching any that ask the audience for answers (think like dora the explorer) because he’d get too rowdy with it. there is only so many times you can hear a toddler yelling “FUCK YEAH” from the living room because they knew the answer to a basic math question.

💥 - he hates wearing his hearing aids when he’s small because it can be overwhelming and overstimulating (whereas he refuses not to wear them when he’s feeling older because he hates feeling different or like he’s missing something). when he’s especially young, he’ll do baby babble in sign language which sometimes turns to babble signing basic words for what he wants and you just have to hope you understand him. if you don’t, he WILL cry about it.

💥 - aizawa has a sticker chart for his behavior, particularly in the classroom, where he gets to pick the stickers when he’s good and aizawa picks the stickers when he’s misbehaving. it sounds low stakes but aizawa has ZERO sympathy for little boys that break the rules and consistently uses terrible bootleg all might stickers that irritate katsuki in how ugly and inaccurate they are. katsuki is extremely competitive and there is nothing he won’t do to win against aizawa and have a chart full of REAL and AUTHENTIC all might stickers. he’d rather riot against the school than allow for such a travesty. in general, katsuki makes it his life’s mission to make aizawa’s life hell (but in the most baby-fied way possible) and aizawa matches that energy every single time. everyone finds aizawa’s beef with a baby very funny and aizawa mostly puts up with it because he likes knowing that katsuki trusts him enough to misbehave like an actual child after years of perfectionism and volatility.

💥 - he really likes bears and tigers. that’s it. that’s the tweet. he has teddy bears and tiger plushies and he loves when you point out that his black and orange color scheme is similar to a tiger’s. he WILL get pissed if someone says that lions are the king of the jungle because it’s actually the tiger. he isn’t big on pet names but he doesn’t mind being called cub or bear specifically because of how much he likes tigers and bears. except koala bears— he hates those.

💥 - a lot of his regression is trauma related and he usually slides down to his younger ages when he’s triggered. he has a lot of nightmares too so he often wakes up crying and feeling really small. there’s an open door policy for any of his caregivers (I usually imagine aizawa, midoriya, or kirishima) that lets him waddle into any of their rooms to snuggle up with them if he’s having a particularly bad night. in general, he has a couple code words that he can text people (assuming he isn’t actively melting down) for when he’s regressing and needs help.

[imagionationstation]

Whats your opinion of the Rise community’s impression of 2012 splinter? For me I think he’s a very nice guy just unprepared like bro just got shoved four children

Uh this was random

I just want to make a note of something:

I’ve spent so long trying to come up with a response to this because I can think of some people who are pretty deep in the RISE fandom who are like “2012Splints ain’t that bad tho”. So addressing the entire fandom is actually more difficult than it sounds concerning Splinter.

So instead of addressing the entire community, which would put many people in boxes that they don’t fit in, I’m going to use this Ask to make a statement about the whole Rise VS 2012 debate.

So my firm opinion that I will give is this:

You cannot forgive Rise Splinter without forgiving 2012 Splinter.

And for the 2012 Fandom:

You cannot understand 2012 Splinter without understanding Rise.

You cannot say that you honestly grasp the extent of one trauma/depression without acknowledging the existence of the other. Both Splinters have similar building blocks of trauma (forcefully separated from someone who they love dearly, forced to fight for their lives for who knows how many weeks/months, forced to live/adapt to a body that’s not their own, and forced care for helpless mutant children on top of it all) but their ways of dealing with it are different ONLY because of their different upbringings.

Their traumas are the same but their history is different. (No, you can’t use the ‘well one is a struggling immigrant and the other isn’t’, because Yoshi literally grew up in Japan. He only moved to New York because that’s what Shen wanted. So he has more connection to his origins than Lou has. But that really is beside the point.)

Anyone can have the argument that they feel that one Splinter is the ‘lesser evil’ in this scenario. There are some pretty good debates for both sides, but you cannot claim to have any sort of proof that one Splinter loves his sons more than the other.

You can’t. It’s ignorant and untrue. And I stand by that.

After all, they both kept and raised four mutant children.

And I know that’s a pretty obvious piece of lore, but I don’t think most people truly realize just how monumental that is.

It’s hard enough to raise one child, and harder still two, but four mutant infants? All on your own while trying to manage a new body with no outside help of any kind- and dealing with the fact that their entire infant hood would be a guessing game of do I have any idea if this would hurt/kill the turtle side of them? Not to mention the patience it would take raising children with super strength and amazing abilities that most parents don’t have to deal with?

Four children- all with different mental capacities, all with the different dreams and desires, all the different wants and hates, all the different fears and struggles and tantrums, and you have to learn how to understand and raise all of those personalities (because toddlers absolutely have MASSIVE personalities) all at once.

All of the variables that came into raising them, all those reasons that would make life beyond difficult, all the temptation not to, and these men pilled with trauma and grief still looked at the tiny freaks of nature and went: Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be their dad.

Just like there are many different love languages, there are also many different ways of showing your love. RISE Splinter did it in the big ways while often neglecting the small, and 2012 Splinter did it in the small ways well often neglecting the big.

One man does not have worse trauma than the other.

One man does not have more love for his children.

You will never be able to convince me that you truly understand what 2012 has gone through but still hate him, if you cannot acknowledge that there might be a reason for you to hate Rise too.

If you cannot comprehend understanding/forgiving 2012 then I really don’t think you truly understand/forgive Rise either.

So, yeah. That’s my hot take, ig.

[rottingcorps3s]

god i’m obsessed with men eating box. sue me.

konig is ravenous for some putang. little bit of mean!konig, but not too bad. overstim. mention of bruises. siiiizzeee kink bby.

this was not proofread. who has the time? ENJOY!

-

i see konig as someone who isn’t fully aware of how strong he actually is to a normal person. like yeah, he obviously knows he’s big and strong, but thats when he’s being compared to other military personnel. it becomes evident once you enter the picture. he doesn’t mean for it to happen. you’re just so fragile and…sensitive in so many ways.

once you guys were ‘official’ is when it started. konig had always been respectful of your space and your body. having never gone out of his way to seek physical contact unless you initiated it first. it was like a light switch had been turned on, day to night within weeks.

his hands were constantly on you in one way or another. first off, his hands are MASSIVE. no matter who you are or what size you may be, his hands will always dwarf your own. he was rough, unintentionally…mostly. the finger print bruises on your hips, your ankles, your ass; the hickeys that littered just below the neck of the shirt you wore. juuuussstttt barely out of sight.

it had started in a play fight, one you had initiated and frankly, weren’t prepared for. konig had just come back from the gym, adrenaline and testosterone still coursing through his veins. he just looked sooooooo good…irresistible, really. sweaty and slightly out of breath from his run back. he b-lined straight for you, like he always did when he arrived home. he yearned for his ‘welcome home’ kiss.

his arms encircled around your waist, his neck craning down to collect what was rightfully his. his eyes flashed with disappointment when his lips made contact with something other than your lips. he thought maybe he had accidentally missed your lips, but when he tried again and was met with your forehead, he pulled back. a shit-eating grin spread across your face.

“fucking kiss me.” he’d demand, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. you had yet to say anything, only offering a quick ‘no’, smile still on your lips. before he had a chance to retaliate, you were gone. running down the hall and disappearing.

he was on you within seconds, he was a professional after all. you had just made it thru the doorway of your shared room, konig grabbed you by your arm, his leg kicking the door closed behind him. he spun you around to face him. his hands now holding both of your biceps, his fingers digging into your soft skin. definitely leaving behind a trail of bruises.

you squealed in pain from his tight grip, “ow! konig you’re hurting me!” you whined, a small pout on your soft lips. his eyes held a dark stare, your small protest not affecting him in the slightest. you’d played the same card in the past, faking being hurt to get him to knock his guard down before you’d strike. he had you this time.

“ooooohhh, schatz…” he said in a fake tone, almost as if he were mocking you, “i’m sooooo sorry…” he apologized, his grip on you loosening slightly, but not all the way. he could see the excitement in your eyes, thinking you had him wrapped around your finger again. “let me make it up to you…” he said, a wicked smile threatening to appear. you only nodded, smiling sweetly at him.

you know what they say about men with big hands…

big tongues 0_0

anyway…

just the thought of the big…hot…wet appendage toying with your clit for hours…oh brother. and it would be hooooouuuurrrrsssszzz (yes with a z).

he’d pull you by your ankles to the edge of the bed. completely towering over you as he worked on getting your shorts off. which was easy enough considering he was able to maneuver your body in ways no one ever had. your thighs would sit comfortably on either side of his shoulders, his arms wrapped around the backs of your legs, holding them tightly in place as his tongue made its first assault.

your thighs would tremble from the sudden stimulation. broken curses falling from your lips as his tongue would flick your clit back and forth, unrelenting. tears would prick your eyes as your first orgasm approached at the speed of light.

“ko-n-ig,” you pleaded desperately, your fingernails digging into his scalp to try and push him back to relieve some of the pressure. he was as still as a statue and as strong as a bull. his grip around your thighs only tightened.

the pleasure was overwhelming, washing over you like a giant wave, boarding on painful as his pace didn’t falter. tears had now begun streaming down your cheeks. so soft and sweet…one of konig’s favorite spots to kiss…

he didn’t stop, no matter how much you tried to beg and plead your case…i mean he did warn you that he was going to make it up to you…you just never asked how.

only after you had your third orgasm did he stop, his grip on you finally relaxing, his face pulling away from your wet cunt. his face dripped with saliva and cum. his breathing was labored. similar to how he walked into the house earlier, the only difference being his pupils that was blown out to the size of saucers.

oh and the cum on his face.

-

Oh my gawd i had to force myself to stop writing 😔 would’ve been here for hours.

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter FOUR.

nba!gojo x manager!reader || directory. || prev. || next.

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, minor injury, anger/threats of violence. || sfw. 3.1k words.

YOU HAVEN’T BEEN in New York in a long while, it feels like, and walking through the busy streets you think you might’ve missed it. It reeks of weed and you’re met at every corner by someone trying to sell you hop-on hop-off bus tickets, but you welcome the familiarity of the big city chaos.

You’re not the only one, either.

“New Yoooork,” Gojo sings, flinging his arms out dramatically. “Concrete jungle wet dream tomaaaaatooo!” A few stares are tossed in his direction, but he’s also not the weirdest thing on the streets of New York. Across the way, there’s a man meditating on Razor scooter next to someone dressed as Spider-Man.

Megumi stares at Gojo, unimpressed. “Those aren’t the words.”

Gojo stops and spins to look at Megumi with his mouth agape. “You listen to Rihanna? I knew it!”

Two minutes later, Yuji has joined in, and it’s clear that they not only don’t know the real lyrics to the song, but they only know this one part. It’s going to haunt you at two in the morning when you’re trying to sleep. Nobara is recording them and as soon as Gojo notices, he somehow becomes ten times more obnoxious.

You’ve already settled in at the hotel, and now at Gojo’s insistence you’re out with half the team, searching for dinner.

“Jet lag is a state of mind!” he protested when Kusakabe said he was staying behind to sleep.

“It’s not jet lag, it’s indifference,” Kusakabe intoned in that dry, unaffected way of his, and then left Gojo complaining in the lobby.

You wind up at a pizza joint and get it to go, because even if New York is crawling with celebrities to start with, a bunch of NBA players during playoffs season is a little too much unwanted attention.

It’s cool for April in New York, and your long-sleeve black shirt is perfect as the skyscrapers and massive shopping centers block whatever breeze might be coming in from the ports. You told Ieiri you’d bring back food for her, and you’ve fallen back to walk with Nobara as the team paves the way through the Manhattan streets.

Nobara is awestruck by the city, has been since you could see it out the window of the jet, and you can’t help but smile as she looks around and takes photos of everything in sight.

“First time in New York?” you ask, and she nods eagerly.

“I’ve always wanted to come. I’m from kind of a small town, but I think I was meant to live somewhere like this.” You believe it—she seems so alive here, the electronic billboards and flashing lights gleaming in her eyes like sun rays on open water.

“Oh, wait ‘til you have actual New York pizza.” You nod toward the team up ahead, because you made them carry all the boxes. They eat like horses. Or pigs, or whatever animal consumes entire pizzas in a single sitting. Nobara grins. She reminds you a lot of yourself, in your first year, so enamored with the novelty of the NBA and the travel and the pace of life.

It’s exhausting, but you still love it.

You love it as Yuta holds the door for the whole team and then you and Nobara and then gets stuck holding it open for another crowd of people coming in behind. You love it as Ieiri grabs a box of pizza from Kento and proclaims she almost died of starvation. You love it as the whole team, coaches and all, crowds the floor’s common space and demolishes every pizza in the span of half an hour, and you love it as you’re sandwiched between Ieiri and Nobara with the guys sprawled on every surface they shouldn’t sit on.

At some point, Toge silently pulls your laptop and clipboard away and sets them pointedly on a table across the room. You protest, but he silences you with a look. Hard to argue with someone who won’t argue back. You suppose you can take a few hours off.

By ten, the guys have started throwing greasy napkin balls back and forth. “Can none of you go five seconds without playing basketball?” you ask, and in response Gojo lobs a napkin at you.

You catch it, and he yells, “That’s our star player! D1, baby!” The other guys whoop as you hurl the ball back at Gojo and hit him square in the face.

There’s a chorus of ooh and she got you and you gonna let that slide, Gojo? And then the room devolves into a full on war of paper napkins. Yaga grabs the pizza boxes before they can be weaponized and leaves the room, mumbling something about plausible deniability and damage charges that you should probably take to heart but don’t.

You’re ducked behind the couch, gathering napkin balls for ammo and lobbing them at whoever’s nearest, Ieiri and Nobara on either side of you. The guys have turned on one another, Gojo making a point to hit Megumi as many times as he can and Yuji heroically throwing himself in front to save him.

You feel a napkin hit you in the side of the head, and you gape as Ieiri grins at you with another napkin loaded in her hand.

“Betrayal,” you gasp, and stand up, pointing to Ieiri. “Betrayal from the inside!” Yuta obligingly starts pelting Ieiri with napkins. Junpei, the sweet thing, is underneath the pool table creating new ammo from a pile of unused napkins.

You’ll have to shut it down at some point, avoid the noise complaints and make the guys clean the space up and hit the sheets. You imagine explaining a loss to the Phantoms because of an all-night paper napkin war bender. But for now, you just let yourself go, and you don’t think about the paperwork or the phone calls or the tournament or the paycheck.

And you love it. You do.

—

It's always strange, playing in other stadiums, but really you’ve only just begun to think of Jujutsu Arena as home. Manhattan's stadium is around the same size, but its massive, curving architecture gives it an entirely different energy. The real truth of “home court advantage” is, you know, the fans.

The stands are flooded with blue and red, signs for players you don’t know. You feel a little out of your element in this new conference. A good number of tourists and dedicated Sorcerers fans have shown up as well, but they’re nowhere near the majority.

No matter. You’re confident in your team.

They start off strong, Ino in his element, nailing shots left and right and center. Kento’s going crazy on assists and Gojo and Megumi seem to be even more in sync than usual. Yuji, per usual, is having the time of his life.

Hakari and Toge sub in after first quarter, and Yuta and Junpei get their time too. Really, the Sorcerers are just toying with the Phantoms, who never stood a chance in the first place.

The only real issue is that the same player who had it out for Megumi in the last game is even more confident on his home court, and it’s making you nervous. His fouls are becoming more and more flagrant, and the ref’s not even calling him. Some prick named Hanami, with a massive stature and unnerving face tattoos.

You’re about to mention something to Ieiri when the man absolutely barrels into Megumi, and whether it was malicious or he simply lost control of his momentum doesn’t matter, because he hits the ground hard.

Your heart lurches in your chest. The stadium goes quiet, or as quiet as it ever is, the anxious murmurs of thousands of fans overlapping with the shouts of anxious teammates and the squeak of Ieiri’s shoes as she runs out onto the court.

It’s not like players never get knocked down. Sometimes they’ll even stay down for attention or to encourage the foul. But Megumi hates attention, and he hasn’t gotten back up.

He’s still on the floor, shaky hand gripping his head, and Yuji is there on his knees in an instant. Ieiri squats in front of him, talking low and urgent.

You yank off the headset as the Manhattan commentators start speculating—you don’t want to hear it. Megumi pushes himself up on an elbow, trying to wave Ieiri off, until Yuji says something that makes him listen to her.

But suddenly, that’s not where anyone’s attention is.

Gojo’s got Hanami’s jersey in his fist, and he’s up close and personal, yelling at him with a lethal grit in his tone. You feel the color drain from your face. Something in him has entirely shifted. There’s no trace of the silly, fun-loving Satoru Gojo now. He’s angry, and you’ve never seen his bright eyes so dark.

Whatever he’s saying to Hanami has started to sound almost manic, like there’s nothing Hanami would be able to say to talk Gojo down—not that he’d even be willing to try.

Should you do something? He can’t get kicked out now—if you lose both him and Fushiguro, you’re really not so sure about a sweep.

And Hanami isn’t having any of it, either. His massive hand is wrapped around Gojo’s forearm, and you can’t quite make out his words, but they certainly aren’t an invitation to dinner.

Suddenly Kento’s yanking Gojo back by the elbow and shoving him toward the sideline, saying something sharp and angry under his breath. Gojo doesn’t look at anyone as he stalks off the court with fists clenched, and Yaga is on him in a half-second.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing out there?” he barks. “You get your temper in check or you won’t see the court for the rest of the series. Take a walk, Gojo.”

You don’t need to look at the ref to know Gojo’s earned himself an ejection. He may not have thrown a punch, but one more second and he would have. The NBA is strict when it comes to violence. At least Hanami was fouled, though you doubt Megumi will be taking the free throw anytime soon.

Ieiri and Yuji get him on his feet and the crowd cheers, and you wish you could just tell them all to shut up. He clearly has a concussion, and the loud noise won’t help. But Megumi waves them off as Ieiri leads him back out of the gym to the training room for evaluation.

After review, Hanami isn’t ejected, and your fingernails dig into your palm hard enough to leave marks. There was no reason for him to go at Megumi that hard.

Gojo doesn’t come back. Yuji’s wringing his hands in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety, and the remainder of the quarter is played in a tense, unrelenting swarm of dunks and slightly-too-aggressive blocks. The Phantoms coach pulls Hanami shortly after the foul.

Christ.

You leave the gym before the half, making your way to a quiet back room to make a series of calls. You’re already getting swarmed on your work phone with questions about Fushiguro’s wellbeing, and soon Nobara’s joined you in the back room, undoubtedly experiencing the same thing.

After a few too many inquiries, you toss your phone on a table and head to check in with Ieiri. You can’t very well reply to questions you don’t know the answer to.

You catch her at the tail end of her standard concussion evaluation, and she has to argue with Megumi to keep him from going back out to the court. The only thing that gets through to him is her threatening to get Gojo. Not that Ieiri knows where Gojo even went, but the idea of it is enough to get Megumi to lie back down, grumbling.

She meets you just outside the door, looking exasperated. “That was fucking uncalled for. Ridiculous. Tell me he got fouled.” You nod, and she lets out a long breath. “Gojo?”

“Ejected. Probably in the locker room.” She sinks down the wall and groans dramatically, and you follow. “I get the feeling.” She yawns, and it makes you yawn too. “How bad?”

“Just grade one. He’ll be fine,” Ieiri says, and you feel the tension bleed from you in relief. “As long as he actually fucking rests. He’s so stubborn, it’s like Gojo.”

You snort. “He’ll listen to Yuji, at least.”

Ieiri eyes you for a moment. “Are they…?”

You shrug. “Hell if I know.”

Nobara appears a few minutes later, dropping your phone into your lap. “I should head back out,” she sighs. “Maybe if we flood all the social channels with three-pointers they’ll forget it ever happened.” You all know that’s not how it’s going to work, but it’s nice to imagine. “He’s okay?” Nobara asks. Ieiri briefs her on the concussion and Nobara sighs and nods before striding back in the direction of the gym.

You and Ieiri sit in a silent hallway for what feels like a long time. You track the score on your phone, and it’s not even close. According to Nobara, the rest of the team is taking this personally. No more playing around. They’re beating Manhattan into the floor, and Hanami hasn’t come back on.

“I’m gonna go find the problem child,” you say, and Ieiri cocks a brow at you. She knows who you mean.

“And you’re the best person for that?”

You shrug. “I’ve never seen him that… angry before,” you admit. “He looked like he could’ve killed that guy.”

Ieiri sighs. “Well, he did fuck with Fushiguro. And that’s the one thing you don’t do.”

You consider asking her what the hell that’s supposed to mean. And then you decide you’ll just make Gojo tell you.

You find him in the visitors’ locker room. You probably shouldn’t be in here, but the game is going on; nobody’s going to walk in until halftime.

He’s raking a hand through his hair, tense, stressed. Angry.

Worried.

His head snaps toward you in the doorway, and he immediately looks away, everything in him wired and on edge.

“He’s fine,” you promise. “It’s just a grade one. He’ll be good in a few days.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead he’s pacing, looking like he’s two seconds away from pounding a fist into the wall.

“Gojo.”

“Tell me he got ejected.”

You sigh, which is answer enough.

“Fuck!” He kicks the air, at a loss.

“Gojo.”

“What?” he snaps, and then he freezes. “Shit. Sorry, I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you say, and you’re moving forward without really thinking. “Hanami’s a dick and he’s awful and he should’ve been suspended. I get it. But shit’s not fair. Just win the next game and you don’t have to see him again.”

Gojo sinks down onto an empty bench, groaning. “He can’t just get away with that, did you see how hard Gu—Fushiguro went down?”

“Ieiri’s got him, Gojo, he’s okay.”

He shoots to his feet again, unable to sit still.

“I’ve never seen you this… mad,” you admit. He sighs deeply and crosses the room to you.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this. I just—god, I lost it, didn’t I?” His laugh is self-deprecating, void of any real humor. “He’s had it out for Megumi this whole series. I don’t know what the fuck his deal is.”

“His deal is Megumi is a better athlete than he’ll ever be, and he thinks he can compensate with dirty play.” You hesitate momentarily, but the curiosity wins out. “You’re protective of him. Like, very protective.” You clear your throat, stalling. “I know he’s your teammate, your friend, but that was…”

How do you say this? How do you ask what they are to each other? “He told me you knew each other before he was drafted. But you didn’t play in college together, right?” You know for a fact they didn’t. You know all of your players’ college records like the back of your hand.

“I—”

The buzzer blares through the locker room speakers, but you’d probably have heard it even without them—that and the resulting roar of sound from the gym down the hall.

“Shit,” you hiss, and retreat toward the door. He was going to tell you. You were so close. You slip out the door with the intent of checking in on Megumi. You can hear Gojo exiting the locker room behind you, probably waiting for Yaga to walk in and start yelling at him for his behavior.

When you look up at him, the tension hasn’t left his shoulders and his gaze is still far away, anxious and unfocused. You reach up and tug the headband down over his eyes again. He huffs a laugh before peeking out under it, holding it away from his eyes with one hand.

“Thanks, Alley.”

You smile, and he smiles back.

Only seconds later, Yuji comes skidding down the hallway and overshoots the door to the training room, catching himself on the doorframe just in time. “Megs?”

“Itadori, get your ass to the locker room!” Yaga shouts after him, but he’s already disappeared into the training room. Ieiri walks out shortly after, immediately clocking you and Gojo. And then the team filing into the locker room, and Kusakabe approaching Gojo with a scowl that you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of.

Gojo glances toward the training room.

“Yuji’s got him,” Ieiri promises.

Kusakabe grabs Gojo by the back of his jersey and drags him into the locker room, already chewing him out for losing his temper. You sigh and let your head fall onto Ieiri’s shoulder.

Less than fifteen minutes and you’ll be back out on the court. You wonder if they’ll put Hanami back in. You hope they do, just so you can watch the team kick his ass.

Yuji slinks out of the training room a minute later, looking at you sheepishly before darting into the locker room. You hear Yaga shout something along the lines of about fucking time, Itadori and leave the team to their strategizing.

Hanami doesn’t come back on, and the rest of the game is a blur for you. It’s weird, watching the team play without Gojo, not even on the sidelines being obnoxious and making weird hand signals at his teammates. You’re back in the team area halfway through third quarter, taking more calls with Nobara, but you’re back in the gym in time to watch the Sorcerers finalize a 144-103 score.

You smile, but you don’t feel that thrum under your skin, the infectious enthusiasm. You have too many questions.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

for @ra1denov1tch raphtav knotting, afab tiefling tav using they/them (first time writing knotting can you tell 🫣)

Read on AO3

-

“Such a wonderful, devoted little mouse,” Raphael purred. Smoothed his palms over their back, touching the bumps and ridges of their stunted infernal heritage. The spots of bunched skin that once might have been wings were especially sensitive, but Raphael did not linger there. He lightly dragged his claws down their spine, snatching their tail in a big paw. It had been swaying to-and-fro, a signal of their arousal and excitement. The devil didn’t let them wrap it around his wrist; instead he rubbed the fragile skin of the tail’s underside with intent.

“Nngh,” groaned Tav, fingers clenching the red silk sheets. Bubbly pleasure sparked from their tail’s base to the tips of their horns, coiling in their belly. Raphael chuckled.

“Does that feel nice, my sweet pet?” He spoke patronisingly, as though Tav were a puppy receiving a treat.

“Yes,” the tiefling breathed, gasping when Raphael’s grip tightened. “Ah! Yes, master…”

“That’s better,” the master rumbled, “after all, it wouldn’t do for you to forget your place, would it?”

As if they could. On all fours, baring themselves to their devil on his own bed. He loomed over them in his massive cambion form, devouring them in his mighty shadow, his presence. There was no doubt who belonged where. Tav wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Never,” they swore.

“Good,” said Raphael, approval and dark amusement in his tone. “Good pet.”

Tav couldn’t help the way they shuddered, a desperate, yawning ache in their cunt for him, for his cock, the only thing that satisfied them. Raphael laughed at them, a little cruel and a little pleased. He stroked their tail once more, its full length this time. Then the mattress dipped with his weight as he settled behind them. The heat his naked body gave off was intense. He surrounded Tav, but he didn’t mount them yet. He cupped their backside, spread their cheeks so he could hungrily stare at their sex, slick and flushed. Tav hung their head, fighting not to squirm, to just let him look.

“Sublime,” he said, swirling two fingertips between Tav’s hot velvety folds, deliberately ignoring their clit, and they knew better than to chase his touch. Push too much and he would pull away, laughing as he did so. “Wet and ready for me at a moment’s notice…I’m tempted to ask if you’re embarrassed, but we both know you don’t have any shame. I enjoy that about you, you know. Your sin is delicious. Just like your pretty quim.” He punctuated his words by sucking his fingers clean. Hummed when Tav’s taste hit. A sharp thrill of desire had Tav gripping the sheets again. They were going to rip them at this rate.

“Raphael,” they whined, “please…”

“Oh, yes,” growled the devil, “beg me. Beg me for salvation from your delightful suffering. Salvation only I can offer.”

He grabbed Tav’s hips, squeezing hard. When he pressed himself closer, Tav felt his leaking erection rub against their ass, the small of their back. His thick, ribbed thighs boxed them in. His serpentine tail encircled their calf, coaxing their legs to spread wider. The places where their bodies touched grew damp with sweat.

“Please. Please, Raphael,” begged Tav.

“Please what?” Raphael’s long forked tongue licked up a salty drop on the back of Tav’s neck before it could drip down or disappear into their hair. “Mmm…almost as sweet as your tears.”

“Please…” Tav knew what he wanted to hear. The devil was right; they had no shame. They rolled their hips, rutting against him. It was easier when they couldn’t see the smug satisfaction on his face. “Take me, fuck me, use me…anything.”

“Ah…how could I refuse you, when you’re so desperate?” Though he was amused, there was a tightness in Raphael’s voice that suggested he wasn’t unaffected, either. His claws dug welts into Tav’s flesh from the strength of his grip. They’d have bruises tomorrow. Bruises they would relish. “As you wish, little mouse.”

The blunt, flared tip of his cock, its tiny slit oozing precum, nudged through their slippery mons, bumped their clit, before snagging on their weeping entrance. Raphael pushed inside them slow, steady, both to tease them and to savour the first breach of their tight, hot cunt; held Tav still when they pushed back, tried to hasten him. He was in control. Tav could only bury their face in the sheets and gasp as their devil leisurely filled them with his thick hellish length, relishing every tug of soft fleshy barbs and ridges. That gasp became a muffled squeal when Raphael abruptly snapped his hips, his cockhead kissing the opening of their cervix as he sheathed himself to his infernal hilt. He grabbed one of their horns and yanked their head up, making Tav cry out.

“Let me hear you,” he commanded. “Every scream, every whimper. You will not deny me.”

He gave them little time to adjust, fisting their hair, his rhythm indulgent and brutal and selfish. When he was balls-deep, Tav’s cunt clenching and milking his hard cock for everything it was worth, was when Raphael’s true fiendish nature often came out to play. His voice got deeper, raspier, a little less human as his fastidious facade crumbled, as he surrendered to his baser instincts. He was vicious, unforgiving, ravenous and focused in his sexual appetite. These were the moments Tav lived for. Tieflings could experience fractions of this fucking frenzy, but cambions, being so much closer to full devils, were on a different level. Since they’d first taken Raphael’s cock, been split open and unapologetically fucked raw by him, nothing else could ever scratch the itch for Tav again, and of course, the devil knew it. Took advantage of it. Revelled in it. He squashed their bodies together, hunched completely over Tav, so that he could bite their pointed ears and snarl filth into them. His other hand moved from their hip to their abdomen, flattening and pressing the tender yielding flesh. He wanted to feel himself fucking into them. Ruining them.

“You are mine,” he hissed, barely audible over the obscene sounds of sweat-slick skin and cum-slick sexes slapping together, Tav’s mewls and squeaks and sighs, and Raphael’s own grunts and harsh, ragged breathing. “No one can satisfy you the way I can. No one feeds your twisted lust the way I do. No other cock feels as good inside you as mine. Does it?”

“N-no, oh fuck,” Tav choked. Wracked with a violent, all-consuming, shuddering orgasm that thrashed the tail, bared the teeth and curled the toes and fingers. Those sheets were absolutely shredded. “Fuck, Raphael!”

“So tight,” snarled the devil as he began to unravel, his thrusts fast and sloppy, ignorant and uncaring that Tav was coming, that they were overstimulated, that they wept and writhed and cried out to him. He feasted on their pleasure and their suffering in equal measure. His wings spread, surrounding them. Everything was Raphael. Raphael, whose balls were swollen and yearning to empty, his leaking cock stiffening further inside Tav, and…

Something else nudged their entrance. Fat, firm, about the size of a fist – his fist, not theirs. Working its way up the devil’s prick. Tav’s breath hitched, their thoughts blanking. They knew what it was. His knot. Another special little gift of his biology. One that only showed itself if he was especially worked up.

“Oh, Gods,” Tav whimpered. They were already so full, so sensitive. “It won’t fit, I…I can’t take it…”

“Yes you can,” uttered Raphael, merciless, and that was that.

A low, indulgent groan that became a deep sigh and the devil reached his peak, his knot squeezing itself into Tav’s cunt with a squelching pop. It hurt, but only for a moment. The stretching agony melted into ecstasy and Tav trembled as they came for the second time, stuffed with the devil’s thick squishy knot as his potent release – so damn hot, like liquid fire that somehow didn’t burn – spurted inside them over and over. They knew they’d be staying that way for quite some time, plugged up and full of cum, their devil purring monstrously on top of them. And that was alright.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

jb x reader putting up the tree and julien can't quite reach

Christmas Tree Farm

Julien Baker x Reader

Summary: Julien might’ve hated Christmas, but if there was one thing she didn’t mind to splurge on… it was the tree. Not one of those artificial ones either- a real one. The only problem was is that a lot of times the more majestic looking trees were double both of your sizes.

Contains: Engaged/old married couple banter and teasing, subtle fluff and subtle discussions of mascxfemme relationship dynamics!!

I know Julien not being able to reach is a very small part but I hope you enjoy regardless! 💚❤️

How many lesbians did it take to lug a 8” Christmas tree back towards the car? The answer was clearly more than two. Every single muscle and tendon and bone in my body seemed to burn as I shoved the wheelbarrow back in the direction of Julien’s red truck with a groan. “Julien, I think you’re taking this whole Sisyphus obsession too far!” I huffed.

“We can transfer this to actually be uphill if you’d like.” She shot back with a glare of her own. “It’s not even that far.”

“You push it then!”

“I’m pulling… which is arguably harder.” She spoke.

In true fashion I knew I was probably being a brat, in all honesty I almost admired her determination of actually getting a real tree this year. Even though part of me believed she was doing it in some act of protest in order to convince me that setting up a tree was hardly worth it. Something I would never do.

“If you’re trying to prove your masculinity it worked.” I sighed, crashing onto the excess inches of snow like it was some fluffy bed the moment we made it back to the truck. And compared to the work we had just done… it definitely felt like it.

“I don’t think I needed to prove anything, you clearly weren’t going to help chop that thing down.” She replied with a nonchalant shrug as she sauntered over towards me with a tiny smirk.

“Julien… do you want sex this month or not?” I nearly growled causing her eyes to fly open in shock.

“Good God, woman! A whole month?! That’s harsh!”

I knew what it sounded like, and if it was anybody else people probably would’ve thought the dynamic of said relationship was a little fishy. But in all honesty I couldn’t even remember my life before Julien, we had spent so much of it together. Your stereotypical childhood best friends to lovers to her getting down on one knee on my birthday to ask the age old question. It was just how we were. We bantered and ranted and laughed at each other and grew to exponential levels of annoyance at each other’s stubbornness. One of those things of course being the time of Christmas.

I had to admit I was surprised whenever she sprung up the idea of getting a real tree this year. Until the evening progressed and it started to feel more and more like an act of ‘I’ll show you!’ Either way though I’d be lying if I said the sight of her swinging that axe didn’t do something to me.

“Careful! Those are breakable!” I scolded the moment I heard her dashing down the stairs once we had settled in and got everything set up at home. A miracle in all honesty.

“Well there’s 5 thousand layers of ribbons and bows in here so they should be fine.” Julien said with a roll of her eyes as she sat the box piled high with various Christmas decorations in front of the massive tree.

“You know, the tree isn’t going anywhere. I don’t really know why we’re rushing.” I began with a clear of my throat as I shoved my aching body up to my feet.

“Most people get their tree up in one day though.” Julien stated, eyes following my hands as I plucked a piece of ribbon from the box and proceeded to throw it around her body like she was a Christmas present. “Y/n, baby, what are you doing? We have a lot to do.”

“Put the box down.” I practically whined as I pulled myself in closer to her and only proceeded to press against the box instead of her. “We have all day. I never thought you would be the eager one.”

“Well, I just wanted you to actually have a good Christmas since we were, kind of, really busy last year.” Her cheeks went pink as she finally let the box plunk on the floor. Giving into the ribbon she slid her arms around my waist, bodies finally pressed together as our lips met. A hint of nicotine mixed with apple cider still lingering on her breath and I caught myself wanting to lap every bit of it up.

“Well, I mean I could’ve done without the physical labor but it has been a pretty sweet holiday so far.” I shrugged once the two of us reluctantly parted and I knelt down to scoop up a shining green ornament.

“Aren’t you the one always bitching to me about this being an ‘equal partnership’ whenever we start branching too much into the whole ‘masc and femme’ roles?” She teased with a use of quotation marks.

“Physical labor has nothing to do with masc and femme roles, Julien, some of the most masc people I know would never think of getting a massive real life Christmas tree twice the size of them.” I scoffed with a roll of my eyes as I placed the Christmas bauble on one of the already fluffed branches.

“Well, I’m not most masc people… I wouldn’t mind being a lumberjack.”

“Oh if only you were born with the same height of your personality, you’d give all those basketball girls a run for their money.” I giggled a bit to myself, just in time to see my five foot nothing fiancée acting like she was doing just that. Or trying to audition for a ballet either one. “Julien! Get a fucking step stool for christ’s sake!”

I nearly flew behind her to catch her whenever she inevitably fell as she launched herself right off the floor to haphazardly more or less throw the ornament onto one of the taller branches. “It got up there just fine.” She said with a huff as she blew a loose strand of hair out of her face, bent over with her hands on her knees.

“You’re getting much to old to do that, you know?” I spoke with widened eyes as I stared down at her. “Now, since I have no interest in playing ballerina, I’m going to go grab a step stool that you’re welcome to use.”

“I might take you up on that offer.” She replied, body finally flopping on the couch behind her. So now she was finally tired.

Credits: Divider by @mikeykuns 💚

[phightingheadcanons]

Headcannons about how each phighter (and maybe some npcs) do or dont show affection. (i am very ready to be home from college-)

A lot of people think Katana doesnt show any affection. However he does. he just is more of an actions-speak-louder-than-words type affection giver. think gift-giving and small things here and there type affection. You wake up on just a regular morning and theres a plate of still-warm pancakes and cold orange juice on the bedside table.

Rocket is kind of similar to Katana, but for very different reasons (playground trauma yaaaaay /sar). He does a lot of gift giving and small things too, but is also probably a massive cuddlebug behind closed doors. you will only see him willingly give hugs if there is absolutely no other living souls around. there cannot be a single witness.

Scythe and The Broker are likely just pretty touchy regularly (like arm around shoulder and hand on arm kind of touchy) but are a completely different kind of touchy when its affection and like care. Like, normally their both probably pretty careless with how often they put their hands or arms around other ppl, but when they both are trying ot be like affectionate and careful its alot softer and just like. softer. idk

Slingshot gives baked treats. so, so many treats. you wake up to either him standing there with a box of treats or a box of treats left on your doorstep. he might even get Shuriken or Vinestaff to bring the treats for him if he cant. so many fucking baked treats omg.

Speaking of, Vinestaff and Shuriken have very similar ways of giving and showing affection. Shuriken is a lot more hug-y and touch affectionate than Vinestaff, and Vinestaff is a lot more small but meaningful things than Shuriken, but they both will drop anything and everything if any partner of theirs needs it. You're feeling a little under the weather when you wake up? BOOM they are at your door in 1/10000000 of a second. also, Vinestaff will buy seeds for and grow whatever flower is the favorite of her partner just for a little gift because why not.

Boombox can and WILL make a(or rathe rmultiple) songs for and onyl for any partner he has. that is his love language. music. music and quiet movie nights probably. eithe rmovie night or picnic night under the stars.

Banhammer, Medkit, Subspace, Biograft and Hyperlaser dont really... show affection. like. at all. If anyone were to ask why they dont or if they do, they would either ignore the person completely (hyper, med, ban) or like attack them or something (sub, bio(bc of sub)).

Coil doesnt really know how to show affection other than teasing and borderline bullying. soo.... prepare to be constantly and forever teased (he will stop if asked to, hes not that much of an ass)

Skateboard would probably buy a bunch of little gifts and take you out to like dinner atleast like 2 or 3 times a week. its never really like a fancy or high-end place, but its not run down and shitty either. like a comfy, cozy, home-y diner type place. (said place may or may not be slingshots cafe but thats besides the point)

Sword would go all out in everything. Lots of huhgs, lots of gifts, lots of little things, lots of food dates and movie cuddle nights. 12 out of 9 yards given. He may be a little really fucking stupid sometimes, but goddammit hes stupid in the most annoyingly lovable way possible.

i cant think of any more-

-🌌✨ anon (first year of college (nearly) completed. yayyyyy /sar)

im super late to this but YAHOO GOOD LUCK WITH COLLEGE