#Content on an assembly line

[saturnz-skiez]

When you have prime potential for beating the shit out of people so they give you literally one limb to stop that from happening.

[witchywithwhiskey]

assembling legos in avengers tower

pairing: captain america!steve rogers x shield agent!female reader

summary: you want to spend a night assembling legos with steve rogers, but when he proves to be too good at it, you have to get creative.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established relationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, teasing, begging, dirty talk, praise kink, captain kink, pet names (buttercup, daisy, sunflower, honeysuckle), lots of kissing, lots of fluff and silliness, avengers tower shenanigans

word count: 4.9k

a/n: this fic is entirely inspired by a conversation i had with my therapist last week where she was helping me think of things to do to disconnect from social media and give myself a break from the world. i mentioned i had a box of lego daffodils i hadn't put together and she encouraged me to do that. however, i finished those in like a couple hours and now i need more... anyway, i hope y'all enjoy this bit of fluff/smut and i hope it's a nice distraction from the world!! ♡

“A daisy for my pretty girl.”

You were focused on assembling a plastic version of a queen anne’s lace when a pretty pink Lego gerbera daisy appeared in your eye line. Steve Rogers’ comfortingly deep voice and the flower he offered dragged your attention from what you’d been doing and you looked up for the first time in half an hour. 

You were curled up on the couch in Steve’s suite, assembling Legos in Avengers Tower on the rare night off he had from his duties as Captain America. He’d been sitting beside you, working away at his own flowers on the coffee table, but had clearly decided to get your attention with the pink daisy he’d finished. 

For a moment after you looked up from your own Lego flower, you were distracted by just how good Steve looked in a simple white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He always looked good, of course, but there was something especially delightful and attractive about seeing him in casual, cozy clothes. 

It almost made you want to abandon the Lego wildflower bouquet you were assembling together and slide into his lap. Suddenly, all you could think about was burying your fingers in his soft blond hair and having his sparkling blue eyes focused entirely on you for the rest of the night. But instead, you blinked and refocused on the moment. 

“Aw, thank you, captain,” you murmured, a smile curving your lips as you took the plastic flower from Steve and gave it a pretend sniff while batting your lashes at him. “My favorite.” Your words were little more than a purr, and you couldn’t help the way your smile widened when a pink flush dotted Steve’s cheeks.

It was on the tip of your tongue to suggest that you and Steve leave the rest of the Lego bouquet to be assembled another time, but then your gaze fell on the nine already-finished flowers that were neatly lined up on the table in front of the couch. Your smile fell.

Steve had already put together more than half of the flowers that had come in the box, and you still hadn’t finished a single one. Briefly, you were confused about how he’d put them together so fast—until you remembered something that often slipped peoples’ minds when it came to Captain America.

Everyone knew that Steve Rogers’ strength and stamina were enhanced when he’d been given the super-soldier serum in the 1940s, but most folks forgot that his intellect had been heightened as well. It was why he was the trusted leader of the Avengers—Steve had a knack for strategizing in the midst of battle. 

It also made him a wiz at puzzles. 

You should’ve known that Steve would easily zip through his half of the Lego bouquet while you toiled over a single flower. You knew he was smarter than the world—and even some of the other Avengers—gave him credit for, and you were disappointed in yourself for not thinking through the idea of assembling Legos together.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), Steve was also much more perceptive than most gave him credit for, and he noticed your change in mood immediately.

“What’s wrong, daisy?” Steve asked, cupping your cheek in his large palm and turning your face gently to look at him. 

His brows were drawn together, and you knew instantly that he’d caught the slightly crestfallen look on your face. Before you could muster a smile and assure him everything was fine, Steve went on, his thumbs brushing your cheeks in a gesture so achingly soft, a lump of emotion formed in your throat. 

“Did I do something?”

“No, no, no, it’s nothing—really,” you said in a rush, trying to shake your head and show him that you were being silly. But your reaction only had Steve frowning even more.

Gently, he scooped you up off the couch and deposited you on his lap, arranging your body so you sat across his thighs, your legs curled up while he wrapped one arm around your back. Once you were settled, he cupped your chin in his other hand and tilted your face up so he could look into your eyes.

“Tell me, sunflower, please,” Steve rumbled, his final word a rasping plea that tugged so effectively at your heart, you couldn’t help but do as he so sweetly asked. 

“I just thought we’d spend a little more time working on these together, that’s all,” you mumbled, dropping your gaze to the corner of Steve’s mouth, which was turned down in a slight frown. You wanted to reach up and smooth away that unhappy curve with your fingers, but you knew it wouldn’t work. Steve could be stubborn when he wanted. 

“I’m sorry, buttercup,” Steve said in a hushed, regretful voice, ducking his head and pressing an apologetic kiss to your forehead.

You let out a soft, happy sigh as your eyes fluttered closed and you sank into the warmth of Steve’s body, snuggling deeper into his chest. You were wearing one of Steve’s sweatshirts and a pair of leggings, so you weren’t necessarily cold, but you enjoyed the heat that emanated from him all the same.

“It’s ok, Steve, really,” you whispered, meaning the reassuring words more than you had a moment ago. Your thoughts were already straying to what you and Steve could do with the rest of the night alone in his suite…

You tipped your face up toward his, pouting your lips in a wordless plea for a kiss.

A chuckle rumbled deep in Steve’s chest moments before his lips brushed against yours. You could feel the smile in the gentle press of his lips, and your mouth curved in an answering smile, a giggle building in your chest at how silly the two of you must’ve looked—smiling at each other with your lips pressed together. 

But then Steve’s mouth pressed more firmly to yours, kissing you a little harder and a little longer, and the smile slipped off your face, your fingers curling into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You tugged him closer as he deepened the kiss, his lips sliding slowly against yours like he had all the time in the world and didn’t want to do anything other than kiss you.

The two of you sank deeper into the kiss together, your bodies growing heated and your hands beginning to wander. A hard bulge nudged against your thigh and Steve groaned into your mouth, and you suddenly had an idea.

Pulling away from Steve, you ended the kiss abruptly, a grin spreading across your face as you watched the big, blond man blink his way back into the present. He looked so cute all dazed out from kissing you that you took a moment to appreciate it before voicing your idea.

“I know how to make it more difficult for you to put Legos together so fast,” you said, your voice slightly wheezing as you worked to catch your breath. “We just need some more Lego flowers.”

Steve’s kiss-swollen lips curved into a smile of his own. “I think we can manage that, honeysuckle,” he murmured, his expression filled with affection as he took in the excitement on your face. “Just one more kiss first.” 

He reeled you in for another slow, drugging kiss, his mouth stealing the smile from your lips, though you were happy to give it to him if he kept kissing you like it was all he wanted to do.

A little later in the evening, Steve’s suite in Avengers Tower was piled high with dozens and dozens of boxes filled with Lego botanicals of all sorts. There were boxes for sunflowers and daffodils, two types of flower bouquets, and even a whole heaping pile of cacti and succulents. 

It was more than you’d ever know what to do with, but Steve looked so pleased with himself, all you could do was smile. If he wanted to spend the rest of his nights off with you, assembling Lego flowers, who were you to complain? It sounded like a dream come true.

“Bought out everything from the Botanical Collection at the Lego store over on fifth,” Steve was saying proudly as he opened a couple daffodil sets, pouring out the plastic packages onto the coffee table while you watched him with amusement. Steve cut his eyes to you and smirked as he said, “I put it all on Tony’s card—d’you think he’ll notice, buttercup?”

You couldn’t help yourself, you tossed your head back and cackled at that. You knew, as a member of the Avengers’ SHIELD support team, that Tony Stark had given all the members of the team access to his credit cards “for emergencies only,” and you were frankly surprised no one else had thought to use it to prank him before. 

When you finally got yourself under control and looked back at the mischievous Captain America, you shook your head at him. Your heart gave a little extra thump of delight when you saw the way Steve was looking at you, with so much happiness and affection, it made emotion clog your throat. It took you a full minute to gather your thoughts enough to answer his question. 

“Nah, there’s no way,” you scoffed, but then you tilted your head to the side and really thought about it. Your eyes trailed over the boxes. There were just so many. 

You figured Tony would leave something boring like financial statements to Pepper Potts, but there might be another way for Steve’s late-night Lego shopping spree to be used as a way to prank the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…

“Y’know, he might notice something when Lego flowers start popping up all around the tower,” you said slowly, cutting your eyes to Steve and offering him your own impish smirk. “Do you wanna see how many we can put in his lab before he says something?”

Steve’s head tipped back and he gave a great, booming laugh that filled all the corners of his suite. When he looked back at you, his blue eyes were sparkling with playfulness and his mouth was spread in a wide grin. 

“You’re diabolical, daisy,” he rumbled, pulling you closer on the couch so he could catch your lips in a kiss. 

It didn’t last long, both of you were too busy laughing to deepen it, but you did throw a leg over Steve’s thighs so you could sit in his lap. When you finally pulled away, you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You up for the top secret mission, Cap?” you asked in a deceptively serious tone, the corners of your mouth flickering as you tried to hold back your grin. “You gonna help me prank Tony Stark?”

“Gladly,” Steve declared, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. 

All the evil plans that had been brewing in your mind disappeared when your heated core settled against the thick bulge in Steve’s sweatpants, a delighted gasp tumbling from your lips. Your gaze found Steve’s and a thrum of desire pulsed between your thighs when you saw how much his eyes had darkened.

“But first,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your back beneath the sweatshirt you wore, making you tremble deliciously in his lap. “I’d like to hear more about how you’re planning to make it more difficult for me to assemble all these Lego flowers.”

Steve’s mouth captured yours in a searing kiss and it would be another long few minutes before you were able to actually tell him what you had planned for him.

“Hah! Another daisy done,” you crowed, bouncing a little on Steve’s lap and dragging a deep groan from the man beneath you.

The movement of your body had shifted his cock inside you, his thick, sensitive length dragging against your warm, inner walls, which were hugging him tightly while you exulted in your accomplishment. You’d managed to finish seven flowers since you’d put your plan into action, and you had no idea what kind of progress he’d made.

You did, however, know he was enjoying himself, if his deep moans and muffled groans were anything to go by. There was also the way his cock throbbed inside you every so often, like his body was encouraging yours to move, even though the point of your plan had been to sit still on his lap.

It had come to you earlier in the evening when you’d felt his hard bulge against your thigh—the only way to slow down Captain America’s super-soldier-enhanced intellect was to distract him. And you’d come up with the perfect way of distracting him.

Once you’d explained your plan to Steve, he’d been all too eager to enact it, sitting on the floor in front of the couch and pushing down the hem of his sweatpants so his cock had bobbed free. You’d discarded your leggings and panties before lowering yourself down on his lap, taking his thick, hard length deep into your pussy while you straddled his legs.

For the next half hour or so, you’d been assembling Lego wildflowers on the couch cushions behind Steve’s shoulders and he’d been working away at his own box of daffodils on the coffee table—all while trying not to get distracted by the way your pussy was dripping all over his thick cock.

Leaning back so you could catch Steve’s eye, you grinned at the pinkness in his cheeks and the slightly hazy look in his blue eyes. 

“You doing alright, captain?” you asked teasingly, your fingers trailing along Steve’s sharply cut jaw to turn his head so he’d look at you. His blue eyes were dark with lust as he blinked them into focus, a snarl of barely held restraint in the twist of his soft mouth. “It’s been a little while since you gave me any sort of update on how your flowers are coming along.”

You clenched your inner walls around Steve’s cock on the word ‘coming’ as a way to taunt the large blond man, and were satisfied by the way he grunted in pleasure, his eyes sliding closed. Plastic clattered on the coffee table when his hands abandoned the daffodil he’d been assembling to grab your hips, like he couldn’t stop himself from touching you any longer.

Steve huffed a laugh as he opened his eyes again, catching your gaze and groping your soft flesh a little roughly. He smirked when your mouth fell open and your eyes went heavy-lidded, his strong fingers working their way down to your ass as he kneaded your curves the way you liked—possessively.

“When you said you had an idea to make things more difficult for me, I thought you meant a blindfold, or hiding the directions,” Steve rumbled, his smirk turning playful and mischievous. 

His expression was your only warning, but you didn’t have a chance to prepare yourself. 

“Not this.” He thrust up from beneath you, slamming deep into your dripping pussy.

A moan wrenched free from your lips, pleasure bursting through your body at the friction of his cock dragging against your inner walls, the tip bullying against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars. You collapsed against Steve’s broad chest, gasping for air as you recovered from the single, brutal thrust.

It had been difficult to ignore the constant, throbbing perfection of Steve being inside you while you were cockwarming Captain America, but you’d done your best so that you could make headway in assembling your Lego wildflowers.

And, of course, it had become a stubborn stand-off between the two of you, where you both were holding out on giving in to your bodies’ desires. 

That hadn’t stopped you from taunting Steve, though, and you’d told him there was only one thing he could do that would make you forget about the Lego flowers entirely. He just hadn’t been willing to do it—but you smirked into his neck as you caught your breath, thinking he was finally ready to be done with the stand-off.

“If you want to fuck me, captain, you know what you have to do,” you purred in his ear, pulling away and nipping at his jaw, wringing another tortured groan from the super-soldier. “You just have to admit I’m the best Lego flower assembler in the tower.”

Steve had initially chuckled at your silly demand, playfully telling you he’d only admit such a thing when you assembled as many flowers as him. 

But the way his cock throbbed inside you when you called him ‘captain’ and the way his hands were desperately groping your hips, ass and thighs—any soft part of you he could reach beneath your sweatshirt—told you he had reached his limit. So, his next words didn’t come as much of a surprise.

“You are, honeysuckle, you’re the best Lego flower assembler in the whole fucking tower,” Steve rasped, his hips rocking slightly, like he simply couldn’t stop himself from fucking you even a little bit. His fingers were digging deep into the soft flesh of your body, moving you back and forth to grind on his cock. “You’re the best in the whole city—please, just let me fuck you, sunflower.”

Your breaths were catching in your throat as helpless whimpers and moans tumbled from your lips. The way Steve was jerking your body on his cock, like you were little more than a fuck toy for him to play with, was making your mind melt as heat cascaded through your body, settling heavily between your thighs.

It felt so good—Steve’s cock grinding deep in your cunt, your wetness dripping down his hard length to soak his balls, your clit rubbing against the base of him—that it took your mouth a moment to remember how to form more than unintelligible sounds of pleasure. 

“Yes,” you gasped finally, dragging the word from the depths of your desire-drenched mind. And once you started, you couldn’t seem to stop, your hips rocking into Steve’s, meeting his grinding thrusts as you clung to his shoulders, your fingers buried in his soft hair. “Please, captain—please fuck me.”

“Thank fuck,” Steve growled, wrapping you up tightly in his arms and pounding into you from below. He held you pinned to his broad chest and buried his face against you, his lips mouthing at the soft mounds of your tits through your sweatshirt. “You feel so fucking good, buttercup, so warm and soft and fucking perfect wrapped around my cock.”

“Oh god, oh fuck, Steve,” you babbled, spreading your thighs wider and splaying them further open so that Steve could slam deeper and deeper into your pussy, making your head spin with how good it felt, how wildly perfect it felt to be fucked by him. “You fuck me so good, captain—please, ‘m already so close, Steve—please.” 

Your last word was a desperate, begging cry as your body trembled so violently in Steve’s arms that he had to hold you tighter to keep you right where he wanted you. Pleasure was coiled tightly in your core, and you knew you were seconds away from cumming. It was all you could do to gasp for air as you prepared to tip over the edge.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” Steve rumbled, lifting his head from your tits to drag his mouth along the line of your jaw until he found your lips. His kiss was so all-consuming, you almost missed the way he tilted your hips so your clit was grinding ruthlessly against his pelvic bone while he rocked up into you. “Cum on your captain’s cock like the good girl I know you are.”

His command was rumbled against your lips before his mouth pressed back against you, his tongue plunging into you and swallowing your sounds of ecstasy as you shattered apart. You were undone by his words and the deliciously perfect way he worked your body.

The sheer force of your orgasm stole the breath from your lungs and you screamed, the sound muffled by Steve’s lips as he eagerly drank down the sound like it was his favorite thing in the world. Wave after wave of heated pleasure washed over your body and you moaned helplessly as your pussy clenched hard around Steve’s cock.

A groan ripped free from the depths of his chest and poured between your parted lips as he followed you over the edge, his hips rutting into you with hard thrusts that had you bouncing wildly on his cock. 

If it wasn’t for Steve’s arms still holding you firmly against his chest, you were sure you would’ve lost your balance, but he kept you right where you were meant to be—on his cock while he emptied his balls into your cunt.

As Steve spilled himself inside you, your hands slid from his hair to hold his jaw in your palms. You kissed him through his release, licking his sounds of pleasure off his tongue and groaning at the delicious warmth that filled your body from head to toe. 

Once Steve’s cock had been milked dry of all his cum, he rumbled a satisfied sound and finally loosened his hold on you. His big hands stroked up your spine and back down again, soothing your body as you relaxed against his chest, your mouths still moving together in an endless kiss. 

Eventually, you pulled away from his mouth and let your head fall to his shoulder as your eyes slipped closed. A happy, contented sigh puffed from your lips and gusted against Steve’s neck, making him tremble slightly.

“So,” you started when you’d finally caught your breath, your heart rate back to normal and matching the steady pounding in Steve’s chest where you were pressed together. “How many flowers did you put together after I started cockwarming you, captain?”

Steve was quiet for so long, you half thought he’d fallen asleep against the couch, but then his hand squeezed your hip and he huffed an exasperated laugh. 

“Three.”

Your cackling laugh was so loud, it filled every corner of Steve’s suite, and a moment later, Captain America’s booming chuckle joined the din to make a wonderful cacophony of joy in your little corner of Avengers Tower. 

It seemed you had, in fact, figured out a way to make assembling legos with Captain America much more fair—and much more fun. 

A week later, Tony Stark stormed into the Avengers Tower conference room where he’d gathered all the superheroes and their SHIELD support team for what he’d deemed an “urgent” meeting. 

You sat next to Steve, his hand on your thigh and his fingers twisted with yours as you tried not to look at each other. Both of you suspected you knew what the meeting was about, and you knew you’d both break if you made eye contact.

It didn’t help matters when Tony slammed a small, potted Lego succulent on the glass table of the conference room, hard enough for the whole thing to tremble. A hush fell over the room as everyone stared at the irate Iron Man.

“Where the hell are all these Legos coming from?!” he demanded, his seething gaze roving the room, making eye contact with every single person who sat around the table. When no one spoke, he went on. “They keep popping up in my lab—and they’re starting to crowd my workstation. So who is it?”

You couldn’t help yourself, you cut a sideways glance at Captain America, and had to press your lips even more tightly together to hold back a laugh. 

Steve’s gaze was filled with so much mischievous amusement, you could feel a laugh clawing up your throat. As you looked at him, Steve let the corner of his mouth flicker in a smirk, and it was nearly your undoing. You looked away before you could snort and give yourself away.

Thankfully, Clint Barton piped up, telling the room he’d assumed Tony had been the one assembling the Lego flowers that had been showing up all over the tower. He noted he’d found them in the kitchen, the gym, both locker rooms, and plenty of other places.

Bruce Banner agreed with Clint, asking Tony if he hadn’t picked up the hobby during one of his latest bouts of insomnia. It would make sense, Bruce reasoned, since most of the Legos seemed to be cropping up in Tony’s lab.

Meanwhile, Thor had plucked the Lego succulent from Tony and was playing with the pieces, pulling them apart and putting them back together. He lifted his head with a goofy grin and nudged Phil Coulson, murmuring something about the tiny building toy being quite fun actually.

At the opposite end of the table, Nick Fury and Maria Hill shared an exasperated look, then began having a hushed conversation among themselves. You caught snippets of intel about the next mission the Avengers were set to go on, but that was less interesting to you than the reason for Tony’s “urgent” meeting so your gaze slide away to see how everyone else was reacting.

Across from you, Natasha Romanoff caught your eye. She flicked something tiny and pink across the glass surface of the conference table, so discretely, no one else noticed except Steve. He caught the pink thing in his hand as it tumbled over the edge toward your lap.

When the two of you glanced down at his open palm, you discovered the tiny pink thing was a Lego cherry blossom from one of the sets you’d assembled and left in the kitchen. 

Looking back at Natasha, she was smirking, and there was an unmistakeable knowing glint in her eyes.

As you watched, though, she pinched two fingers together and twisted them near the corner of her mouth, like she was turning a key in a lock. Her message was clear: Nat knew the Legos were coming from you and Steve, but she wasn’t going to say anything.  

Both you and Steve let out silent sighs of relief. 

The meeting went on for a little longer after that, though it didn’t go anywhere. No one admitted to planting the Lego flowers around the tower, and Tony was still furious that he didn’t know who was behind it. 

Fury finally had to call an end to things when it looked like Tony and Thor were about to come to blows, the former convinced Thor was playing dumb about not knowing anything about Legos while the latter was grinning and egging him on.

Another week passed of Lego flowers and succulents appearing around the tower. Nat had taken to helping you and Steve, sneaking into Tony’s lab while the two of you kept him distracted with speculation about who it could be. Clint caught you leaving a Lego cactus on Bruce’s desk, but he promised to keep your secret and even joined in on the fun just like Nat had.

It wasn’t until the end of the month when Tony called another “urgent” meeting that your prank was finally unmasked. 

Tony had a sheaf of papers in one hand and a video disc in the other, claiming that Pepper had discovered the charges made to one of his cards at the Lego store over on fifth. Apparently, he’d talked the manager into giving him a copy of the security tapes from the night when they’d been purchased, so he was about to uncover the culprit.

Once he’d announced all of this, Tony paused for dramatic effect, giving everyone in the room one last chance to come clean.

That time, when Steve cut his eyes to you, his mouth flickering with a smile, you couldn’t keep it together. Steve and you both lost it, laughing so hard, tears began streaming down your faces while Nat and Clint shared a private, knowing chuckle.

Steve came clean about the prank and admitted it had been you and him the whole time. He even explained how you’d roped Clint and Nat into helping once they’d discovered you—and both of them nodded to confirm Steve was telling the truth, grinning unrepentantly.

Tony took it all in stride, seemingly relieved to finally know the source of all the Legos. He did ask how Steve managed to spend so much money at the Lego store though. By his calculations, not even half of the Lego flowers Steve had purchased had popped up around the tower.

At that question, Steve’s cheeks pinkened a little and he admitted there was still a hefty pile of Lego boxes in his suite. You and him had spent plenty of nights assembling Legos—even when you weren’t getting distracted by cockwarming Captain America—but there were still a lot left. 

Squeezing his hand in your lap, you spoke up with a suggestion for a Lego night, where everyone could get together and assemble some Legos. It could be a fun opportunity of team bonding, you said.

Fury liked the idea so much, he approved it immediately, then wasted no time in calling an end to the “urgent” meeting.

And that was how you ended up spending a night assembling Legos in Avengers Tower with Steve Rogers and the rest of team, laughing and talking and taking a much-needed break from the stresses of the world. It was the first of many wonderful nights.

[endofthelinegang]

corner pieces

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  bob reynolds x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  based on the prompt “I swear it was an accident.”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  bob acts like a real person, Crippling pining, sensory indulgence, suggestive warmth, puzzle trauma

The room smells like bergamot and old books. It’s a warm scent, not overbearing—just enough to blend into the low hum of static between the two of you. The kind of scent that clings to sweaters and pillows. Lived-in. Safe. A comfort that doesn’t pester those who seek it. The single lamp in the corner casts a buttery glow across the floorboards, catching dust motes midair like stars hung in syrup. Outside the window, the city breathes in long neon signs, white and red streaks sliding across the wall through the half-open blinds. It feels like a scene out of a dream you forgot to wake up from.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the middle of Bob’s room. The floor beneath you is warm from hours spent shifting in place. The puzzle box sits open between you both, its contents already claiming the entire space like spilled thoughts—disorganized, half-assembled, begging for attention. The picture on the box is a lakeside cabin in autumn. Orange trees. A little dock. Water is like glass. A peace neither of you have ever really known, but like to pretend exists in some corner of the world. 

You’re wearing his shirt.

It hadn’t been planned that way. It was just… there. Folded at the bottom of your drawer from the last time you borrowed it and forgot to return it. Or maybe you’d chosen not to return it. Maybe you like the way it feels—how soft the cotton is from wear, how it still holds the memory of him. It’s too big on you, dipping off one shoulder, swallowing your arms whole. But that’s half the point. It feels like being wrapped in something safe. 

And maybe he notices.

Maybe that’s why he’s been stealing glances at you all night—some subtle, some not. You catch the way his eyes linger, heavy and hesitant, every time your shoulder shifts and more of your skin is revealed. Or the way your squint at the puzzle pieces trying to figure out where any of them might fit because trying to build water was not a good time. 

He’s cross-legged, too—one knee bent up, the other stretched out lazily in front of him. His hoodie shrugged off his shoulders, sleeves pooled around his elbows. The t-shirt beneath is worn and soft-looking, hanging loose over the thick lines of his frame. His hair is slightly mussed, the result of both puzzle frustration and your fingers ghosting through it earlier when he realized this was going to be an entire night and made drinks for both of you. 

And now, he’s frowning at a puzzle piece. Specifically, a crooked little piece in his hand that looks like a misshapen bean. He had kept turning it in a circle between his fingers trying to understand how something shaped so strangely would go anywhere on this perfectly square shaped board.

“I’m telling you,” he says, eyebrows furrowed like he still was not entirely sure but had made up his mind just a little bit more than before,  “this is the corner piece.” 

You look at what he is showing you, the two of you had gone back and forth on issues similar to this all evening long. At one point you had been sitting side by side almost in each other's lap but then it got serious and you decided to tackle the issue as a two against one. The edges curve slightly, unmistakably. There’s even a puff of cloud on one end. You raise an unimpressed brow. “That piece is a cloud.”

He blinks at you, then looks down at it again like it betrayed him, he did not even think to look at the colors or he supposed the lack thereof.  “It has… a kind of corner energy.”

You snort looking back down at the piles of pieces you had sorted out. “You mean it doesn’t fit anywhere and you’ve given up.”

A beat. A stare at you. Then, grudgingly: “I’m a man of conviction.”

You reach out, the sleeve of his shirt falling farther down your arm as you gently pluck the offending piece from his hand. The tips of your fingers brush his in the process—warm, roughened by training, slow to pull back—and the contact sends a flicker up your arm like static electricity, subtle and impossible to ignore.

You study the piece like it’s under a microscope. “This does not have corner energy. This has lost-in-the-middle-of-the-sky energy.”

You drop it back in the box with a quiet plastic tap, and when you look back up, he’s already watching you. Head tilted. Eyes soft but unreadable. The kind of gaze that feels like it knows things. The kind that strips you bare without asking permission. His stare lingers too long on your mouth. He swallows once, slow.

“You always wear my stuff when you come in here?” he asks, voice dipped lower now—hoarse from a day of not talking much, maybe even rougher from whatever this moment is turning into. One of the reasons this had been taking so long was because this is what he had been really doing. Staring you down piece by piece. Your limbs, your face, your hair, your neckline, your accessories, and now your clothes. 

You glance down at yourself like you forgot what you were wearing only to see your favorite shirt in your drawer attached around your body.. “Only when I forget how cold it is in this place.”

You try to make it sound casual. But your voice wavers at the end. And he hears it. His eyes track the way your hand tugs the sleeve over your fingers again, a small, nervous movement. The silence stretches a little too long, and neither of you looks back at the puzzle. You try to pivot—reaching for another piece, something neutral, something to focus on—but your fingers find him again as you go for the same blue and white pile.

This time, neither of you moves right away. The contact is fleeting. Barely a second. But it lands with a weight that feels like gravity leaning closer. He shifts then, almost imperceptibly. His leg stretches out and nudges into yours—just barely—but it stays there. Pressed. Solid. The fabric of his joggers brushing the soft cotton of your pajama shorts. The warmth of his skin bleeding through.

You glance down, try to hide the way your breath catches. He then decides that this is not all that comfy and rather takes back to the position you had been in earlier, but this time he was the one initiating it. He was now sitting right beside you, his entire side touching yours. If you were to turn to your left your face would touch his. 

“You’re crowding me,” you say quietly, not looking at him but you nudge him jokingly with your arm as you continue to pretend to work on the puzzle.

His voice is a rumble against your ear. “I’m spatially efficient.”

You risk a glance. His lips are curved in a faint smile, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes because his eyes are too busy staring at you like he’s memorizing the way you sit, the way you breathe. You reach again—for something to break the tension—but your foot clips the edge of the puzzle board. And then everything topples.

The half-assembled top section buckles like a failed rooftop, scattering sky across the floor in a quiet chaos. Pieces slide under the bed, some bounce against the dresser, and one singular blue-and-white fragment drops directly into Bob’s untouched mug of cocoa.

You gasp, hands frozen midair. “Shit—”

Bob stares in stunned silence.

Then—he laughs.

It bursts out of him all at once, unfiltered and honest, chest shaking with it. The kind of laugh that makes his eyes crinkle, that shakes the hair from his forehead. The kind you never get to hear. Not really. Not like this. He puts his head on your shoulder as he does so.

You press your hand to your mouth, laughing helplessly along with him. “I murdered the sky.”

He wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “You drowned it with the marshmallows.”

Your laughter fades into soft giggles as you both begin scooping pieces back toward the board, his hand brushing yours again and again—this time not pulling away. But as you reach too far, your knee slips, throwing off your balance. Your hand skids across the floor and you tip forward. And Bob catches you letting several pieces in his hand fall back to the floor.

One strong hand loops instinctively around your waist, the other steadying your wrist. You land half against his chest, your laugh dying out instantly as you realize the closeness of it all. His breath is warm against your temple. His heart is pounding. You can feel it, real and loud, against your side. And then… nothing. Stillness. His hand doesn’t move, just holds. Gentle. Like you’re something precious.

You wrestle in his grip a bit to face him, to look up at him, and the world slows. His pupils are wide. His jaw tense. His gaze drops to your lips and lingers, breath hitching like he’s waiting for permission. Waiting for a signal.

“I don’t want to go,” you whisper, the words slipping out like a secret. You had swore you were going to bed after puzzle time was done but you did not specify whose bed. Usually when the two of you did an activity you would leave and go to your room and stay up all night thinking about how much fun you had. You would get out your phone and type texts into your notes that you would never send him. But tonight you didn’t want that. 

His brow softens—just a little. His thumb drags slowly, deliberately, across the back of your hand.

“Then don’t,” he murmurs.

His voice isn’t desperate. It’s steady. Soft. Certain. It’s not a line. It’s a promise. He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a kiss so light it barely registers—except it does, and it sinks deep, curling behind your ribs like warmth in winter.

Your breath catches. “I don’t think the puzzle will ever forgive me,” you say, too quietly. You do not break eye contact but you are thinking about the piece that is probably disgusting and falling apart in his drink. 

Bob’s smile grows, crooked and slow, like sunlight easing through blinds. “You still owe me a new sky,” he says.

And you stay there in the quiet—one heartbeat away from spending the night.

[foldingfittedsheets]

My friend @supernovasolace has been sharing some stories from their partner G’s eating habits and each one is funnier than the last so I finally begged permission to write about it and they both agreed. His actual permission was: “I want you to make whatever art your heart desires. Get as weird with it as you want, give me a fever dream.” This man is so much funnier than I could ever be.

The first story shared with me was fairly innocuous. The couple likes to split up who gets the last crumblies in bags of treats. If they polish off a thing of chocolates one of them gets to tip the bag back and inhale the ghostly whispers of flavor left in the container.

But the item in question was one of those tubs of chocolate salted caramels from Costco.

“Can I finish this?” He asked.

“Go nuts,” they said.

It’s worth noting that N knew this was a terrible idea but it didn’t occur to them to warn him. They simply accepted that their partner wanted to take a face full of sea salt.

He threw back the container and was immediately assaulted get it with the massive granules of salt instead of the chocolate dust he’d been hoping for.

He coughed and choked while N started laughing hysterically and realized a moment too late that he didn’t think about the contents before tossing it back.

But today they shared another story. They were settled up in bed. He was making eye contact with N when he popped a catnip Greenie treat into his mouth. The horror, they informed me, was instantaneous.

“Worse than the caramel salt?” I asked.

“So much worse. Because he did this in a bizarre power play and committed way too hard to the bit.”

When I asked his motivation the sum of it was that he’d been compelled by forces outside his control. He simply obeyed the exhortations of his soul. As a result he stared into his partners soul as tears and regret filled his eyes with each crunch.

The best thing though was that apparently one day N came home to find G in the workshop. He was crouched over an array of M&M’s like a mad scientist, X-acto knife in hand. But he only had green and yellow on his operating table. He was carefully cutting each color in half and sticking yellow to green in a freakish Frankenstein of green and yellow candy coating.

According to N it was a not insignificant number of candies that had been surgically spliced together, an assembly line of confectionary madness.

When they asked what he was doing he informed them he was, “Making Sprite flavor.”

[ha-rinrin]

A Chance at Something Better

summary: Jinx's brings a little girl to your home, hoping to give her something better than what she had.

Pairing; Jinx x fem!reader ( they're married)

wordcount: 3.1k

Authors note: I saw on TikTok this one video saying that Jinx adopted a child, soo thats what I tried to do even if I have zero knowledge of whaat going on🤞🏻. If you want more married content just tell me and I'll do it, I kinda liked the idea of you and Jinx adopting a kid so, tell me if you want more of it.

masterlist

You’re in the dim glow of Jinx’s hideout, the familiar hum of metal and machinery filling the air. Her workbench is littered with tools, scraps, and half-assembled parts, each piece part of a weapon you’re carefully crafting for her—a small, sleek pistol that packs a powerful punch. The faint scent of gunpowder lingers in the room, and you can hear the quiet drip of water echoing from somewhere deep within the cavernous walls.

The two long braids and her purple eyes come into view before she does, Jinx’s shadow moving just a second ahead of her as she slips into the room. She grins, her smile sharp yet playful, watching you like she’s seen her favorite person in the world—because you know, deep down, that’s exactly what you are.

The moment Jinx steps into the room, a prickle of awareness slides down your spine. You sense another presence. Instinct kicks in before reason, and in one swift motion, you reach for a pistol on the workbench and whip around, aiming it directly at the darkened corner just beyond Jinx.

Jinx’s eyes widen as she realizes where your attention has landed, her mouth parting in surprise. “Whoa, whoa! Easy there, sharpshooter,” she says, her tone a mix of amusement and shock. She holds up her hands. “Drop the gun, okay? There’s… no need for that.”

You keep your stance firm, the pistol steady in your hand. “Why is it here?” you ask, eyes narrowed, keeping your gaze locked on the shadows in the corner.

From the darkness steps a small, timid figure, her steps cautious but curious. She’s barely up to Jinx’s hip, with wild blue hair that nearly mirrors the shade Jinx once had. The girl peers up at you, big eyes full of a mixture of awe and trepidation.

Jinx glances at her, then back at you, her expression shifting to one of guilty excitement. “She’s here,” Jinx corrects, her voice softening as she looks at the girl. “I know I was gonna… ease you into this, but, well…” She shrugs, her mischievous smile returning. “Surprise?”

You keep your gaze steady, the girl’s shy eyes darting between you and Jinx. The situation feels surreal, and though you’ve lowered the gun, the tension is far from gone.

“Jinx,” you say, voice firm, “can we talk… in private?” You emphasize the last word, giving her a look that says you’re serious.

Jinx’s grin wavers, a flash of nervousness crossing her face. She glances down at the girl, patting her shoulder gently. “Isha, stay here, alright? Just for a second.” Her voice is soothing, trying to keep the girl at ease as she leads you further back, just out of earshot.

Once you’re out of Isha’s line of sight, you cross your arms, keeping your voice low. “Jinx, we agreed… if anything this big was gonna happen, we’d talk about it first.”

Her fingers fidget with the edge of her sleeve, and she bites her lip, a little sheepish. “I know, I know. I just… I couldn’t leave her there. She looked so scared, y/n. Like she’d seen the worst of the Lanes in one day. I tried to picture leaving her, but… it felt too close to everything I went through.”

You sigh, the frustration melting into something softer as you watch her, seeing the hint of vulnerability she rarely lets anyone glimpse. “I understand that, Jinx. But bringing someone into our lives like this—it’s… it’s not just about a good heart, you know?”

She runs a hand through her braids, glancing down, trying to meet your eyes without completely meeting them. “Look, I know I rushed it. But she’s got nobody else. No one who understands. And if I’m honest… I thought maybe, with us, she could have a chance.” She glances up at you with a hopeful, almost pleading look

You let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you glance back toward Isha, then back at Jinx. “We make weapons, Jinx. Bombs. There’s nothing about our lives that screams ‘safe’ or ‘stable’ for a kid. Adding her into this… it’s not exactly ideal, you know?”

Jinx bites her lip, visibly torn but resolute. “I know what we do isn’t exactly kid-friendly, but it’s not like we’re blowing things up every single day. We’ll be careful. And… maybe she doesn’t have to see all that. We could keep that part separate. We’d figure out a way.”

You shake your head, though a small part of you understands where she’s coming from. “It’s not just about keeping her out of the crossfire. You know as well as I do that our lives are unpredictable. We’re not exactly… parental role models.”

Jinx crosses her arms, her brows drawn as she stares at the ground. “Maybe. But I think we could be. I mean, we’re not the monsters the world sees us as.” Her voice softens, barely above a whisper, “Isha deserves better than what I had. She deserves a chance. And we’ve got each other, y/n. Doesn’t that count for something?”

You let her words sink in, feeling the weight of her solve. The idea still feels overwhelming—foreign, even—but the determination in her eyes, that unbreakable hope, reminds you why you love her.

You take a deep breath, glancing from Jinx to the tools and parts scattered across the room. “Look, Jinx, we’re married, and yeah, we’ve talked about a family someday. But this?” You gesture around the hideout, with weapons and half-finished bombs lying out in the open. “This isn’t exactly what I’d call a safe space for a kid. It’s dangerous—everything about what we do is dangerous.”

Jinx’s gaze doesn’t waver, her fingers laced in yours. “I know it’s risky. But I also know we’re more than the things we make here. We’ve made a life together, y/n. Maybe it’s not perfect or normal, but it’s ours. And Isha… she could be part of that.”

You sigh, feeling her conviction but unable to shake your hesitation. “Jinx, we can’t just decide this overnight. It’s not just about us anymore.”

Her grip tightens slightly, her eyes softening. “She needs us, y/n. We can give her a place where she’s not alone, where she doesn’t have to be scared all the time. We’ve got each other… isn’t that enough to try?”

You look down at your wedding ring, feeling its weight more than usual. The decision ahead is heavy, and Jinx’s fingers tracing the edge of the ring only intensifies that feeling. She meets your gaze, her voice soft. “I know we didn’t plan this, but when I saw her, I couldn’t walk away. She’s like me… like us. And she needs someone.”

You exhale, still unsure. “I know, but we’re not exactly the perfect environment for a kid. We’re surrounded by weapons and bombs, Jinx. This life... it’s dangerous.”

Her touch lingers on your wedding ring as she looks up at you, her expression sincere. “I get that. But when I was a kid, I had Silco… and he was all I had, even if it wasn’t perfect. I thought maybe we could give her something real—something better than what I had.”

You rub your forehead, feeling the weight of it all. “It’s not just about helping her. It’s about how much it’ll change our lives. Are we ready for that?”

Jinx squeezes your hand, her voice steady. “I don’t know, but I want to try. I want to give her a chance.”

You watch as Jinx’s eyes glisten, the faint shimmer of tears threatening to fall. Her usual bravado is gone, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. You can see the weight of her words sinking in deeper than she lets on, the fear of repeating the past, of making the wrong choice.

Without thinking, you reach out and gently cup her face in your hands, your thumb brushing away the tear that escapes the corner of her eye. The action is tender, your touch grounding both of you in the midst of the storm.

"Hey," you say softly, your voice low but firm. "We don’t have to do this perfectly. But we need to know what we’re getting into, Jinx. It’s not just about the heart—it’s about everything that comes with it. The good, the bad… and the ugly."

Jinx sniffles, nodding as she leans into your touch. “I know. I just… I don’t want her to end up like me. Like I did back then.” She swallows, her voice trembling. “I just want to give her a shot at something better.”

You hold her gaze, your hands steady as you keep her close. “You’re not alone in this,” you say again, the words sounding stronger this time. “You won’t be doing it alone. And neither will she. We’ll figure it out together. No matter what.”

Jinx’s lip quivers, but she manages to hold your gaze. “I never thought I’d have a family. Hell, I didn’t even think I could be a part of one.” Her voice cracks, but she presses on. “But when I saw her, I saw that little version of me—someone who’s been left behind, someone who just needs a place to feel safe.”

You can’t help the tightness that forms in your chest as you listen. You know she’s right. It’s like a mirror to her past, the girl standing there alone, hoping for someone to care. You pull her into you, your embrace warm and solid. “We’ll make sure she has that. Safety. Love. A chance to be something more than what this place wants her to be.”

Jinx clings to you, a quiet sob escaping her. You can feel the depth of her emotions, the mixture of fear and hope swirling within her. She’s vulnerable right now, in a way you’ve rarely seen, and it makes everything feel more real.

"I don’t know if I can do this, but I’ll try," she murmurs against your chest, her voice muffled but full of determination. "I need you by my side. I need you to help me figure this out."

You hold her tighter, pressing a kiss to her hair. "We’ll figure it out, Jinx. Together. I’m not going anywhere."

You hold her close, letting the silence wrap around you both, the weight of the conversation settling between your hearts. Jinx’s breaths come a little easier now, though you can still feel the trembling in her body. Her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, grounding herself in the safety of your presence.

After a moment, she pulls back slightly, enough to look up at you with those wide, purple eyes. “You really mean it, don’t you?” she asks, her voice a mixture of wonder and vulnerability. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

You gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I mean it. I’m not going anywhere, Jinx. We’ll do this together. We’ve always figured things out, even when it’s been tough.”

She nods, her lips quivering into a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "I don’t want to fail her. I don’t want to mess this up." Her voice drops lower, almost a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how to be a mom."

You lean in, brushing your forehead against hers, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both. "And you don’t have to know how to be one right now," you reassure her. "But you’ve got a lot of love to give. You’ve got that. And that’s a hell of a start."

She lets out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "I guess we’ll learn as we go, huh?" There’s a trace of her old mischief in her voice, a glimmer of that familiar spark.

"Yeah," you say, your hand gently cupping her face again, “we’ll learn. And we’ll do it together. One step at a time.”

Jinx leans into your touch, her eyes closing briefly. “I never thought this could be my life... but maybe... maybe it could be.” She looks up at you, a new kind of determination in her eyes. "I want to make sure she has a chance to be better than I was. We can give her that.”

You nod, the weight of the decision no longer feeling quite so heavy. "We will."

And for the first time, there’s a real sense of hope, something unfamiliar yet comforting, settling between you both. You kiss her forehead softly, reassuring her once more that you’re in this together—no matter what comes next.

You both stand in the silence, the hum of the hideout settling around you. The girl, Isha, is still standing a few feet away, her eyes fixed on you both, her small frame tense but not entirely withdrawn. She’s looking at Jinx one moment, then at you, almost like she’s waiting to see how you’ll react, unsure of how this new chapter will begin.

You take a cautious step toward her, the floor creaking lightly beneath your feet. Isha doesn’t move, her posture defensive, but there’s a hint of curiosity in the way her blue hair flutters slightly with every slight movement you make.

You crouch in front of her, your knees sinking just enough to meet her gaze without overwhelming her. “Hey there,” you say softly, trying to keep the tone light. “I’m not going to bite, promise.”

Isha’s eyes flicker to your face, her lips parting slightly as if weighing whether to trust you. It’s quiet for a moment, and then, after a long stretch of silence, she hesitantly reaches out, her small fingers brushing against yours.

You give her a small, encouraging smile and gently take her hand, your grip light, offering her the space she needs to pull away if she wants to. You feel the chill of her hand against your skin, the coldness of someone who’s been through too much too soon.

“You’re safe here,” you say, voice low and reassuring. “You don’t have to be scared.”

Behind you, Jinx shifts, her usual chaotic energy subdued for once, her gaze trained on the interaction. There’s a look in her eyes—part gratitude, part uncertainty—that makes you pause for a moment. She’s watching, almost as if she’s holding her breath, waiting for something.

She takes a small step closer, her voice quieter than usual. “Thanks,” she says, the words tumbling out before she can stop them, more to herself than to you. “For not running off.”

You glance over your shoulder at her, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes. “I told you I’m not going anywhere, Jinx.” Your voice is firm, steady, grounding. “We’ll figure this out. All three of us.”

Isha’s small hand tightens in yours, a soft, tentative pressure that feels like the first sign of trust she’s given. You smile, a little more genuine this time, and shift to stand beside her, giving Jinx a glance that holds a promise.

Jinx looks back at you, her expression softening, and for the first time, you see something almost like hope flicker in her eyes. She steps up beside you, her presence a quiet reassurance to Isha.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jinx echoes, her voice quieter now. She glances at Isha, her fingers nervously twitching but keeping steady. “We’ll make sure she has a chance.”

Isha, though still cautious, seems to soften just a little in response. Her gaze shifts from you to Jinx and back again, like she’s beginning to believe that maybe—just maybe—she’s found something worth trusting.

Jinx’s eyes flicker toward the workbench, her gaze catching the sleek pistol you’d been carefully crafting. The change in her demeanor is almost immediate, the air around her crackling with a familiar energy. Her lips curl into a mischievous grin, the kind that only she could pull off. The uncertainty from moments ago seems to evaporate, replaced by a spark of excitement.

“Well, well…” she mutters, stepping over to the workbench and running her fingers along the edges of the half-assembled weapon. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”

You watch her, her movements quick and sure as she inspects the weapon. “I was making it for you,” you say, your voice holding a touch of amusement. “Had to give it some personal touches.”

Her grin widens, and she picks up the gun with a careful but almost possessive gesture, weighing it in her hands. “I know, I know… You always make the best toys.” Her voice drops a little lower, a mischievous twinkle in her purple eyes. “But I could use something like this, especially if I’m gonna be a good role model.”

You raise an eyebrow, your hands resting on your hips. “Role model? Are you sure you know what that means?”

Jinx gives a playful shrug, flipping the gun in her hands and inspecting it. “Hey, maybe I don’t know everything about being a ‘good’ role model… but I’m pretty damn good at keeping people entertained.” She gives you a sly wink, her usual wild energy creeping back into her voice.

For a brief moment, the weight of the situation seems to lift as Jinx takes a shot at her old self. The chaos, the thrill—it’s all there, in her eyes, in her grin. But beneath it, there’s something different. A protective edge. She’s not just planning her next move—she’s trying to figure out how to be something else, something more.

You sigh, crossing your arms, and take in the sight of her, the wild spark still there but now tempered with something else. “Just don’t get too carried away, alright?”

Her eyes narrow in playful challenge. “Who, me? Never.”

You shake your head, but the corners of your mouth lift slightly, the tension between you easing as you watch Jinx’s usual self return, in all her unpredictable, fiery glory.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” you mutter, though it’s more affectionate than anything.

Jinx’s grin softens a bit as she looks over at you, the weapon still in hand, but her attention fully on you now. “Hey, thanks for sticking with me,” she says quietly, her voice softer than before, but the familiar edge is still there. “I know this... this is a lot. But I’ll do everything I can to make it work.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the moment, of the decision ahead. “I know you will, Jinx. Just don’t let this turn into another one of your schemes, alright?”

Jinx’s eyes sparkle as she steps closer, her lips curling into another grin. “No promises,” she teases, then lowers her voice to something more sincere. “But I’ll try.”

[cedar-scented-soap]

Tada! This is my piece for @impulsesvzine !!!!! It's such an amazing project, released just yesterday, Go take a look! Close ups of the panels w/o text under the cut <3

Speech Bubble transcript:

Title: Soup-Group Assemble! Content Generator: Remove King Claim Narration: Later... Location- Top Secret Skulk Laboratory Impulse: Look, I've got a heavy task ahead, and I don't think I can do it alone Impulse: King Ren's taken our shops, our diamonds. He's going to keept doing stuff we don't like, so I say, we take care of it. Gem: Impulse, you're crazy! De-throning a king? I'm in!

All lines were interpreted from Impulse's Season 9 Episode 33! I also used Pearl's S9 Episode 14 for reference for the background :)

[nezuswritingdesk]

sylus parenting au

A/N: sigh, here we go! Girl dad sylus!!! Will try to put the headcanons in chronological order. ALSO WTF DO YOU MEAN TUMBLR POSTED MY DRAFT?!

content warning: pregnancy? family stuff? babies? might cause possible baby fever (KIDS ARE EXPENSIVE. BE RESPONSIBLE.)

Inspired by : @tbaluver @starmocha and every sylus girl dad thing I've seen since (will update here still)

wc: 1.0k

I believe that we all agreed as a fandom that Sylus is a girl dad, I firmly believe that it is in his DNA to be a girl dad to the two most well-loved, spoiled, and protected girls of the N109. He is a happy father of two identical twin girls 🥰🥰 ( their temporary names are Nyx and Asteria)

Sylus had loved these girls since the start of their little lives. He was there for every appointment, every shopping trip when you wanted to buy things for the babies, he helped assemble their cribs, prepared the nursery, etc

The twin girls were born before dawn (aka the usual sleeping time of sylus. He didn't sleep because he stayed up all night to keep you company as the twins arrived). Nyx was born first, and minutes later, Asteria came along.

Absolute sylus clones. Tiny little ladies that look exactly like Sylus.

He cried when he held his daughters for the first time— how can a man like him , a man known for his strength and cruelty, the damn leader of Onychinus, with so much blood in his hands, hold such innocent little lives?

You assured him that the girls don't see him like that. He was their father and he means the world to their small little minds.

Once everything has calmed down, the first thing all four of you did was sleep until noon or the early afternoon. The twin girls called you and their father's chests home.

The twins sleep like otters, always holding hands to never separate.

They are nocturnal creatures like their father dear! When you were recovering and the twins were being fussy at ungodly hours, Sylus would take care of the girls (plus you, ofc you're just as important).

Sylus likes to have skin-to-skin contact with the babies and in turn, the babies like sleeping on his chest throughout

Most days were really spent sleeping. They're sweet little competitive babies, they like their playtime and would do things together. Nyx waits for Asteria and Asteria waits for Nyx.

Please don't separate the twins ever, they will cry. Nyx will fuss if her baby sister isn't in her line of bad baby vision and Asteria will scream if she can't see Nyx.

He can distinguish which twin is which. Nyx has his prominent nose while Asteria has bigger cheeks but to mess around with you , he likes to swap the babies.

Nyx acts like Sylus. Asteria acts like you.

The twins have a favorite uncle individually. They will fight or pout at the other twin when they're spending too much time with their favorite uncle. Asteria likes uncle Keiran and Nyx likes uncle Luke. The uncles enables the girls to let chaos reign.

Mephisto is the baby monitor. No need to expand on this.

Sylus has been making them their own little mephisto's since you both found about that you were pregnant. The birds are based on orioles and we're gifts to the twins on their first birthday. They loved the birds since.

Sylus knows how to dress his daughters! And he dresses them good! He likes giving Nyx the crow onesie (because it matched her grumpy little pouty face) and Asteria gets the smiley dino onesie (because it matches her big baby cheeks and her smile) and sometimes he'd match their clothes or complement theirs

Sylus has nibbled their cheeks multiple times , they girls would giggle and cup his face in their tiny hands

Sylus sings and reads poetry to them to help them sleep or calm down. (He has been doing this since you got pregnant)

Their first word is papa! (It happened when Sylus got home from another business trip and the twins were eager to reunite with him so they immediately walked up to him and began to call him papa.) Sylus broke down crying even more.

Nyx calls Asteria "Ria" and Asteria calls Nyx "Nixie"

They'd always drag someone in the base to play with and have tea time where they act like sylus during his business deals. (the unwilling willing participants: sylus, the twins, mephisto, their orioles, mama reader (but mama reader is willing)

There was one time that tea time was just them two, their orioles, and Mephisto , they even dressed them up.

Very much spoiled girls by you both. They can be picking out dresses or things they like and sylus will be like, "Just one, sweetheart? You can get a second or a third, it'll be fine baby." They definitely swapped and stole each other's clothes

I firmly believe that Sylus is the one that really indulges their requests. He's financially stable, has a good job, and finally has people who'd love and appreciate him. While you're the one trying to remind him not to spoil them too much or they'll end up as brats

Nyx and Asteria are little songbirds — they sing very nicely and like to duet together but they don't have the heart to tell their beloved daddy that he cant sing (lol jk asteria is like daddy you can't sing don't do it and nyx is like daddy my ears hurt from your singing 🥺)

Sylus? do you mean their jungle gym?

as the girls got older, they become more independent and sylus and you teach them necessary life skills

their evols (if they have one) complement each other and was made to protect the other

sylus taught them martial art skills and boxing when the girls were much older to protect themselves besides the use of evols and weapons

their baby brother was born when the twins were around 7 or 8. this little boy is very well loved and protected by his sisters like their lives dependent on it. he looks like you with a small sprinkle of sylus here and there

they have family pictures every year since you and sylus got married — first it was just you two, then a bump carrying the twins, then the twin girls as babies, as toddlers and little kids, you carrying your third child, and now, the three lovely children

at the end of the day, all of the children are well-loved and adored by sylus and you. they are the reason why you two kept going in life, why it was kinder and much softer and thought it wasn't perfect, everything is enough.

a/n : wtf tumblr posted this without me knowing :( I didn't even know it was posted 😭😭 anyways I hope you enjoy this! hope to get the Caleb and zayne papa aus soon! reblogs and everything is appreciated by me thank you 💖💖

[almostfoxglove]

ONE NIGHT EARLY

a secret santa surprise for @talaok ! ✨ as part of @pedrostories' #pedrostoriesgift24 event ✨

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Joel Miller x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 2.2k | CW: Established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, brief reference to canon-typical violence / danger / the end of the world, but you're safe.

SUMMARY: You vow to find out where Joel hides his Christmas gifts while he's away on patrol.

read on ao3 | main masterlist | get notifs

It has to be here somewhere.

In the three years since you moved in with Joel—hell, even in the two years before that—you have never found your Christmas present before the day. The man’s determined, sworn to his secrecy. Takes great pride in catching you snooping around, digging, scurryin’, as he once muttered under his breath, shaking his head with that charm and smirk you can’t help but fall for. Every year, you swear you’ll find it, and Joel just crosses his arms with a shrug, cheek dimpled and eyes dark with affection, and tells you good luck, darlin’, confident you won’t.

This year, though. This year will be different because for the whole week leading up to Christmas, Joel is away with Tommy on patrol and you have the house to yourself. Seven days of freedom to pry and stick your nose where it probably doesn’t belong.

It takes you two days to tear the house apart. Every dish yanked from his cupboard, every shirt and worn pair of jeans thrown from the closet, every pocket turned out—you flip the mattress and unbundle his socks and rip the covers off all the couch cushions and find fuck all. One old, oxidized penny. Dust bunnies, dryer lint, wood shavings. Spent matches, a bullet case. A fossilized receipt robbed of its printed contents.

You spend two more going through everything again. The place is a dump; when Ellie swings by to borrow his guitar she lifts one eyebrow at you from the doorway, weary of the tornado you’ve left scattered across the first floor. Says, “Good to know four days is all it takes for you to lose your shit.”

“I’m not losing my shit,” you say, one hand waving dismissively as you climb the stairs. 

Quick on your heels she mutters, “Whatever you say, grandma,” just loud enough for you to hear. 

When she’s gone, you take a deep breath. The living room is a slaughter, more disastrous than the aftermath of any raiders or weather event. Couch cushions stand mountainous and stripped naked, the carpet’s rolled up against one wall, all the charcoal and half-spent logs have been scraped from the fireplace onto the floor. You’ll admit that might not have been strictly necessary, but you’ve looked everywhere, checked everything, and uncovered zilch. No gifts. And at the very least, Joel has—with his handsome, freckled, silvered face proud and smiling—conceded that his hiding spot is in the house. Doesn’t stash nothing at Tommy’s or in Ellie’s garage. It’s here. Somewhere. Driving you up the goddamn wall.

It’s not like you even know what you’re looking for, but you’ll know when you see it—of this you are sure.

Room by room, you reassemble the house, shuffling all the knick-knacks you’ve each cautiously assembled in this bizarre second chance at a life into their proper positions. His carvings are your favorites, and you rehome them on their shelves with care. You slide the few photographs each of you has into line on the mantle, behind the string lights. It ain’t the same as the world that for nearly thirty years has been dead and gone, but now and then you get flickers of that long-absent comfort. The day the Christmas lights go up in Jackson. The snowmen built by your neighbor’s kids in the street. Jars of homemade strawberry jam. 

Ellie and Joel playing guitar, his deep timbre humming along to her clumsy chords. 

The tight squeeze of your chest when his boots croak the porch and you know he’s finally home. 

The softness of his face first thing in the morning, scarred and weathered, kind. All the long tresses of his graying hair slumped out of place.

As you restore the house’s comfort and clutter over the shrinking days of his absence, you recheck and recheck and recheck and continue to come up empty. At night in the black veil of your shared bedroom, you sleep on his side of the bed with your face crushed in his pillow, breathing him in. 

On the 24th, you wake prepared to wave the white flag when he returns in the evening. You’re going to pout about it, but you’ll give in. Surrender to the superiority of his stupid, squirrelling mind, and admit once and for all that he’s bested you. You have no fucking clue where he hides his gifts. He wins. But you sulk as the day bleeds by, and more than once catch yourself affixed with a frown as you trudge through the crunch of Jackson’s snow-packed streets. As you groom the horses due for the next patrol shift and eat your dinner in the mess hall across from folks you’re only half listening to as they regale you with tales of their day, too distracted by the scrape of spoons against bowls and the emptiness of your hands.

Greedy, that’s what you’re being. Wanting all of him for yourself. You just miss him. You hate when patrol stretches this long, leaving you alone with your cloying worry.

After the sun has set and bowls have emptied, Jackson goes blue. All the snow piled to frame the gravel roads glitters with fresh frost and ice. On your way back to the house, you watch your shadow slide and flicker as you pass beneath the warmth of streetlamps. Someone down the road has a window open, letting the notes of their piano ribbon through the air. 

Even with all the lights and the chatter that tonight could bring fresh snow to the valley, you can’t help but feel a hollowness that you’ve only managed to shake when Joel’s around and the two of you are alone. It’s not all the time, but it happens—a magic you’d believed impossible before you stumbled across this Eden half-dead and were brought inside. Impossible until you met him, and everything latched into place. 

You’ve loved before. Almost got married once, in the world that’s gone. But there’s no comparing how it felt to fall slowly, clumsily into Joel. 

You’re not sure when he’s due to return tonight. Hopefully soon.

Shedding layers as you tread into the hollow house, you light a weakling’s fire in the hearth you know he’ll tease you for, then ascend to your bedroom to change, flicking the light on upstairs so he knows, whenever he gets back, that you’re home. Waiting for him, empty-handed but no less relieved. But as you cross the gold-lit bedroom, a floorboard near the foot of the bed wheezes strangely. This whole house croaks and groans just like everything in Jackson—that sure ain’t new—but this sound is different. You’re not sure you’ve heard it before. Not sure you’ve ever stepped in this exact place.

A grin slips sharp across your face at the smell of victory. You kick back the corner of the rug to bring your heel down hard against the board beneath it, and pop. Up comes the plank, perfect as a seesaw, revealing the black cavern beneath. 

In the shadowed hideaway, a small box lies in the dark beneath the floor.

There it is.

But all the world beyond this room, this box, disappears the moment you set it in your palm.

You don’t hear the porch steps’ announcement, nor the turn of the latch. You don’t hear the squealing door or how the heavy footsteps soften as he removes his boots to leave outside. Not even your name, often intoxicating on his tongue, reaches you in the bedroom—nor when he repeats it on the stairs. 

You’re too busy staring at what you’ve found after all you’re searching.

Then Joel’s in the doorway behind you, and you wake from what you’ve just now begun to believe must be some strange dream.

“Stubborn,” comes his voice, and at the sound you smack the box against your chest to hide it as you whirl around, still on your knees. Stupid you know. Useless. He can see the rug peeled back and the hole cut out of the floor, slender as a piano key. He knows you’ve won.

Broad in the door’s wooden frame, pink-cheeked and snug in his leather coat, Joel stands with the frosting of fresh snow clinging to his hair. He’s been growing it out, to your great pleasure, letting all his silver and curls go free. “I didn’t—” you start to say, but the words thin out and crumble. Your head’s not on quite straight, your heart not yet settled. Eyes still nickel round with shock.

You hadn’t considered how he might react if you succeeded. Maybe he’ll be mad. Take it back. 

But as you stare up at him, all bambi, Joel shakes his head and one snow-dotted curl slips out from the shell of his ear. As he rights it, his scarred hand rising, you see the dirt under his nails in the warm light. The stain on the knee of his jeans. You see too his lips, plush and touched by winter’s aridity, as they twitch in one corner, curling into his cheek. Curling up. Smiling as his eyes hold yours, not mad. Not shy. He’s been inside long enough now that there’s a fifty-fifty chance that the color in his cheeks might even be a blush. 

“Are you mad?” you ask, your voice soft enough to call a whisper.

He shakes his head again, steps over the threshold, and amber light from the lamp falls over him like Midas, turning him from man to gold. One step more and his mouth pulls wider, cuts that wink in his cheek you can’t help but stare at. “Course not,” he says gently. “Knew you were lookin’. Y’can have it one night early.”

It probably doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re surprised to discover you’re hoping as you swallow hard, blinking some of the shock from your eyes. He’s here; you ought to get up and hug him—welcome him home, your person here, safe and whole—but you’re too scared to move. Terrified that any flinch will make the box and its contents disappear. 

“Is this for me?”

Wry, he rolls his eyes. “Think you know it is.”

“I feel bad,” you say. “I got you a shirt.”

He’s generous enough to chuckle, and the low, earthy sound of it strikes flames along the column of your neck. “Could use a new shirt,” he says, smirking a little. “This one needs a wash.”

“Shut up,” you chide, but the words come out weak. He’s not allowed to joke right now because if you laugh, you might start to cry.

“Darlin’,” he says too softly. That’s the tone that makes honey of your insides, cruel in the gentle way it asks you to let him in.

Though your vision starts to puddle, you wrestle the feeling back. “S’pretty.”

The slightest nod. Then he unzips his coat to lay over the armchair in the corner of the room and you watch him, pinned to the floor despite the ache in your knees. “Was hopin’ you’d think so,” he admits with his back to you, the blades and muscles in his shoulders and back sliding gracefully beneath his flannel like waves on a lake. Antithetical to the thunder of your heart, Joel moves with a patience you can’t quite believe. In no rush at all, like you’re not holding what you’re holding in your shaking hands. Like some little band of metal doesn’t mean what it did before the world bit the dust and fell away.

The question sits like an icicle on your tongue, slowly melting, pooling behind your teeth. 

Joel lumbers back, the soreness of his body just barely visible in his bow-legged stride, to sit on the edge of the bed just behind you. The mattress squeaks. One hand cards through his hair. Slow is his next breath. Steady. But on the exhale, you swear you hear the tiniest shake, a tiny tremble. 

Realization strikes down at you like lightning: electric and tingling, zipping skull to spine to fingertips, blinding and white. He’s nervous. 

Which means the ring in your hand isn’t just a ring.

Lamblike, you force yourself to your feet and the mattress mouses as you sink against his side. Igneous is his body against yours—such a familiar warmth. Rigid and walled to all but a few. Open to you, in moments like these, when he lets you glimpse the whole of him in his eyes and you swear you might be capable of reading the thoughts straight from his mind. Joel nudges his arm harder to yours, and you see the question coming before it slips from his tongue. You see it brewing in the gilt of his eyes just as clearly as you hear your own answer ricochet in your head. 

You don’t cut him off, jump to yes. Instead you lower your hands from their hold against your chest at last, letting the box sit in your lap, open to his regard. Evening lamplight makes ice of the clear stone set squarely on its ring, and the heat of his breath kisses your cheek as he leans in to mumble,

“Y’gonna make me get down on one knee?”

dividers by @saradika-graphics!

NOTE: I am officially moving away from tag lists as they've gotten lengthy (thank you for that <3) so please follow @foxglovenotifs and turn on notifications to get alerts for future updates!

[kurooh]

LIGHTS, CAMERAS, ACTION.

🎬 includes: aged up! midoriya izuku, bakugō katsuki, todoroki shōtō, & kaminark denki; + kirishima eijirō cameo!

🎬 warnings: 18+ content, fem! reader, pornstar & quirkless au, oral [m&f giving/receiving], vibrators, lots of fucking, threesome, orgasm torture but gentle, lingerie, shower sex, slight name calling (“slut”). not proofread so some parts may sound as though they were written by a degenerate

🎬 notes: here is THEE fabled pornstar au. hero names -> pornstar names. i had so much fun writing this — it may be the new crowning jewel of my blog.. after hours of writing, i hope you all enjoy! <3

DEKU.

☆ known as UA studios’ sweetheart, he has a wild side that viewers go crazy for! his most successful videos involve pussy eating, anal sex, food play, and ads for sex toys/clothing.

“alright,” the director, iida, says to you, “have you reviewed the script? do you understand our requirements?” a friendly makeup artist dusts a hint of blush across your cheeks, and smiles at her work. the makeup look is balanced between noticeable and natural — meant to compliment the lingerie adorning your body beneath your short dress.

“yes, i’ve reviewed it. no fake moans, of course.”

“that’s right. everything must be completely natural. we’re trying to sell pleasure, good sex, and lingerie.”

iida smiles at you, and looks around at the staff waiting for his order. “everyone, please get into position! deku, y/n, remember, you can say cut at any time.”

the cameramen assemble behind their equipment, and iida sits in his chair, script packet in hand. you and deku walk towards the bedroom setup, standing behind the door, preparing to walk on set. “action!”

deku pulls you into his arms, kissing you hard while one of his hands yanks at the door handle. he rams into it with his shoulder, and the both of you are suddenly beneath the warm set lights looking down into the cozy bedroom. you moan, tipping your head back slightly to suck on one of his soft lips, earning a desperate groan from him. when he pushes his hips against yours, your breath catches in your throat when his clothed cock presses against your thinly covered pelvis. part of you didn’t expect him to be this aroused, considering the amount of women he’s been with. you pull back gently, lines from the script flashing in your mind. “i need you so badly, deku.”

deku knows it’s a script, but goddamn do you sound convincing — like you truly want him more than anything. he kisses at your neck, arms wrapped around you, and tugs you with him down onto the bed. now you’re on top of him, in your see-through dress, grinding down on his pelvis and cock desperately. groaning, he flips the two of you over and cages you beneath him with his arms and chest. according to the script, one of his hands should be wandering under your dress and caressing whatever he can touch, but he stares at you instead, enamored with how beautiful you look. he kisses you one last time, and slips off your dress, his eyes going wide at the lacy lingerie adorning your body.

squirming under his gaze, you let your legs fall open, and he leans forward to kiss down your body, starting at your collarbone. he yanks at your bra straps, struggling to get the damn thing off you.

“sit up for me, baby.” deku murmurs, undoing the clasps on your back swiftly and laying you back down on the duvet once the bra’s off. going off script again, he squeezes your tits and sucks a nipple into his mouth. “oh, you’re so fucking beautiful.” your face warms and your back arches off the bed, pressing your tits into his face. his large, scarred hands grasp your tits eagerly, and more wetness pools in the underwear you’re supposed to be selling.

your hips jerk and twist beneath and against his own, and he moans loudly, desperately. deku finally pulls away from your tits, and focuses his attention on your clothed pussy. you’ve completely wet the lacy underwear through and through, causing it to become skin tight against your pussy; your wet folds are now extra defined.

“what a pretty pussy,” deku gasps, slipping his fingers into the crotch part of the underwear and yanking it to the side, exposing your fluttering cunt. with the script and its lines completely abandoned, you and deku make your own ad — “please, deku, wanna cum for you.”

breathlessly, he grabs your hips and tugs your pussy into his face, your clit bumping against his nose. now propped up against the pillows and fully naked, you watch the way he jerks his hips into the bed through lidded eyes. the sight of his desperation adds to your arousal, and you let out a whimper when he easily slips two fingers into you. deku begins a fast, rough pace with his fingers, pumping them in and out of you mercilessly. he takes your clit between his lips and sucks, switching between sucking and licking. you’re blissed out, eyes rolled back and body trembling — all you can hear are deku’s moans and the squelches your pussy makes from his fingers.

“oh, deku,” the thought that your throat will be sore from how loud you are tomorrow flashes through your mind briefly, “please don’t stop!”

he grips you tighter, pushes his face into your pussy more, trying to get impossibly closer to you. his hips quicken against the bed, his pants slipping off him. wait, when had he undone them?

you muffle a scream by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth when he starts to curl his fingers inside you, his large fingers hitting the right spots deep inside you and stretching you out. “pleasepleaseplease,” you don’t even know what you’re begging for, you’re so far gone. “deku, don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

suddenly, your hips buck into his face and there are hot sparks inside of your body, all over you. something in your pussy snaps, and you squirt all over him helplessly. the duvet is splashed, and you even get some on your belly and pelvis. deku takes most of your cum right in the face, his eyes closed and his mouth wide open.

shaking, you use your fingers to collect some of the liquid on your pelvis, and then press them into his open mouth. he moans, sucking on your fingers, his own body shaking. you lean forward slightly, eyes widening when you see a very noticeable wet spot on the front of his boxers, and some dampness on the duvet beneath him. his face is completely wet with your slick and squirt, and you cup his cheeks in your hands and kiss him, moaning when you taste yourself.

you both sit like that in silence, panting and coming down from your highs. until you both turn to iida and the cameramen, who look very surprised. he clears his throat. “we said cut a while ago.”

DYNAMIGHT.

☆ notorious for his rough demeanor and handling of co-stars, UA studios’ dynamight is popular internationally. his close friendship with fellow star red riot is revered; very occasionally, they collaborate together.

“okay, is everyone situated?” the director, iida asks, taking a step back to look over the setup. a stage crew member adds a pillow behind red riot, and smooths out the crimson couch cushion.

“hurry up and start fuckin’ filming.” dynamight holds the base of his cock tightly, trying to not lose his erection. you’re positioned between him and red riot, tits out, legs spread and sitting lazily. red riot sits behind you, a ring around the base of his cock, squeezing hard enough for a bit of precum to sit atop the head of his cock.

“bakugo!” he hisses, “no need to be so rude to them. i’m sorry for him, everyone.” typically, the rule is to only call co-stars by their porn names, to protect each other’s identities, but the three of you are friends outside of the industry, so none of you follow that rule with each other.

“thank you, kirishima.” iida glances at bakugo pointedly, then turns to sit in his director’s chair. he holds the script packet in his hand, and the clapperboard in the other. “action!” the cameras begin rolling at the clap.

immediately, bakugo grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss, nipping at your lips while kirishima takes one of your nipples into his mouth and starts to suck. you moan against bakugo’s lips, your left hand sliding from your side up and into kirishima’s soft red hair, and you push his head into your chest further. at your right thigh, you feel bakugo’s cock hardening, ready for your attention. your hand wraps around it, thumb rubbing at the sensitive spot below his tip, and he groans, glaring at how kirishima’s taking up most of your focus. he leans over, and threads his fingers through his hair and tugs him right off your chest.

“oi! d’you want her pussy or her mouth?” kirishima’s face flushes, and he glances towards your pelvis silently.

“get on your hands and knees.” bakugo’s command leaves no room for hesitation, and you do exactly what he tells you. kirishima positions himself on his stomach, and places each of his hands on your ass cheeks. while bakugo gestures for you to open your mouth, kirishima presses his face into your pussy, his tongue dragging up and down your slit and collecting all your wetness. his fingers slip inside you, and your eyes fall shut for a moment when he matches bakugo’s pace.

you moan loudly, wiggling your ass back onto kirishima’s face, your mouth opening for bakugo’s large cock. “take it, princess.” he says, using a rare nickname. he exhales shakily once his tip passes between your lips, and pushes all the way in, smirking when you choke loudly.

slowly, he pistons his cock in and out of your mouth, speeding up when he hears you moan. you gasp around his cock when kirishima laps at your clit, his tongue silky soft against you. “red—! don’t stop.” your plea is muffled on bakugo’s cock, and he snaps his hips into your mouth faster when he hears you. bakugo groans loudly when he looks over your body, making eye contact with kirishima.

kirishima’s hands move from your ass cheeks to your hips, and he tugs you closer to him, licking your clit harder. “…taste so sweet,” he moans softly, and you clench on his fingers, jerking your hips back. the faster you cum, the faster he gets to have his way with you when he fucks you. gasping, your eyes travel from bakugo’s pelvis, up his sculpted body, to his face; his brows are knitted in concentration to not cum, and his jaw is slack from the pleasure.

“gonna cum,” you whine, your voice likely unheard over the sounds of bakugo’s groans and your throat being fucked. kirishima hears you, however, and licks your clit through your orgasm. he rises to his knees, uses his hands to spread your ass cheeks, and while you’re still twitching from cumming, he pushes his tip into you. then he snaps his hips forward, his cock sliding all the way inside you and bottoming out.

you gasp loudly, tears forming in your eyes and you stare into bakugo’s eyes. however, he and kirishima exchange a glance, and kirishima starts to fuck you hard and deep, and bakugo matches his pace. choking, you let out a sob at the way you’re being absolutely pounded from both ends. kirishima slaps your ass hard, and tosses his head back in bliss.

“fuck, i needed this. dynamight, should we cover her in cum or fill her up?”

“fill her up, red,” bakugo groans, desperately fighting off his orgasm, “and fuck her harder, for god’s sake.”

one of kirishima’s hands wanders to the small of your back, and he presses down slightly, keeping the both of you steady. the other hand snakes beneath your belly, and presses hard on your lower stomach, right above your pelvis. then, he slams his hips into you with much more gusto, his sounds reverberating throughout the studio. spit drips from your lips and down your chin, and tears flow freely down your face. kirishima’s thick cock is so deep inside you, and you’re so full of pressure you feel like you might explode. and bakugo — god, his cock’s stuffing your throat to its limit, and all you can think about is how much you need their cum.

you pull back off bakugo’s cock and bury your face in the couch cushions below you, sobbing as you throw your ass back onto kirishima. when you come back up, gasping, you say to both of them, begging, “fill me up and make me yours.” then you put all of your weight on your knees, and lift your arms to wrap them around bakugo’s waist, tugging him and his sexy adonis belt into your face. your mouth opens, welcoming his cock again, and with the change of position, he’s able to pound your mouth deeply enough for your nose to hit his pelvis.

with kirishima’s balls smacking into your clit and his cock pounding you so well, plus the added pressure on your lower belly, you find yourself cumming a second time, bakugo’s cock absorbing your loud, whiny moans. that one orgasm causes some sort of chain reaction — as kirishima fucks you through it, you feel another building, then crescendoing just as quickly as it came. but this one is different than the orgasms that preceded it; it feels so much stronger, and your pussy sounds really wet.

bakugo’s cock tightens and you know he can’t hold it back anymore. “shit, i’m so close.”

kirishima is the loudest of the three of you, his voice shaking and wavering as he registers that the three of you are all about to cum at the same time. “fuckfuckfuck, cumming, cum—”

“‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna—”

bakugo cups the back of your head harshly, pushing you into his pelvis as he fills up your mouth with an uncharacteristic whimper that he could care less about quieting. your pussy clenches like a vice, and you squirt, spraying kirishima’s abs and pelvis with your cum. the redhead pushes as deep as he can inside you when he fills you up, and whines as he fucks you through it, his cock screaming with overstimulation. bakugo does the same, overstimulating himself too, and they both collapse towards each other, the three of you knocked out in a pile.

“cut!” iida shouts, and the crew rushes to grab cleanup supplies.

SHŌTŌ.

☆ one of UA studios’ most popular stars, shōtō is the audience’s dream fuck. men and women alike go wild over his simple yet sinful roleplay videos, moans, physique, and gentle yet firm treatment of his co-stars.

“now, we’ve already taken most of the footage for the rest of the film, so the shower scene will wrap this up.” director iida eyes both you and shoto earnestly, then adjusts his glasses. “i’d prefer to shoot this in one take, since it’s the end of the day and i’m sure everyone is raring to clock out.”

“of course, i understand,” you nod, and shoto says, “that’s right.”

“great! you’ve read over the script well, yes?”

the two of you nod silently; director iida quickly rushes over to his chair and snatches the clapperboard from his assistant with a whispered thank you. shoto steps out of the bathroom set, and walks into the living room area. you shed your robe and place it on a hanger, then step into the shower, drawing the curtain closed behind you. then, you turn on the water and wait.

“action!”

having already shot the rest of the footage prior to the shower scene, there’s no need to waste any time. squeezing a bit of softly scented body wash onto your hands, you lather it up until it becomes bubbly, then you rub it all over your torso, making sure to get plenty of suds onto your tits. scanning the shower for your face wash, you groan audibly when you realize it was misplaced elsewhere in your shared apartment.

“sho!” you call loudly, your heart fluttering at the thought of what’s coming next. “could you get my face wash, please?”

you continue washing your body, bubbles sliding from your skin to the floor. you hear faint footsteps in the hallway, then the door opens and shoto says from behind the curtain, “here’s your face wash, it was in the kitchen, by the sink.”

“thank you!” he’s been watching your silhouette move on the other side of the flowery curtain, face visibly warming at the thought of you being completely naked, this close to him. he’s still holding onto the face wash, now looking at your used panties and shorts on the counter. his eyes are honing in on the damp spot in the middle of your panties, the way it looks just a bit too sticky to be regular discharge — you were horny today, weren’t you?

fuck, all he can think about is stealing your panties… wrapping them around his cock and using them to help him jerk off to you. the camera zooms in on his hands when he allows himself to pick up your panties, then on his mouth when he brings them to his lips and licks away your slick.

“sho, my face wash?” you ask, sounding confused. your (fake) roommate tosses the panties down, his cock now rock hard in his sweats.

“right, i’m so sorry.” not thinking straight, he snatches the fabric of the shower curtain and its lining and yanks it to the side, exposing you. you, his pretty little roommate, with suds all over her tits, tiny bubbles caught in the fine hairs at your pelvis (yes, he looked. and for a rather long time). you’re surprised, shock and shyness and embarrassment written all over your face, but you don’t dare to close the shower curtain and kick him out of the bathroom.

after all, you’d hoped something like this would happen.

following the script, he’s the first to look away as he hands you the face wash. the curtain falls from his grasp; you notice the outline of his cock in his sweats, and he acts as though he’s about to walk away, off to jerk his cock somewhere in his room.

“sho,” your tone is flirtatious, yet oh so needy as you set the face wash down and open the curtain further. “if you don’t get the hell in here and fuck me right now, i swear i’ll—”

before you know it, his clothes are in a messy pile on the floor, and his cock is bobbing as he gets into the shower with you. your back hits cool tiles and yet all you feel is warmth when shoto kisses you, your heart starting to race as his pelvis meets yours. shoto pulls you off the tiles and closer into his chest, groaning quietly at your soapy tits and hard nipples.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve needed this,” he chokes out, squeezing your tits in his hand. “how i’ve always been waiting for this.”

so far, the script is halfway through. “oh yeah?” you reply breathlessly, “you’re talkin’ like i haven’t been waiting either.”

“waiting for you to—ah!—fill me up and fuck me u-until i can’t stand.” your body and voice shake as his fingers slip between your thighs, the pads of his fingertips grazing your clit and dipping into your soaked slit.

“you’re ready, aren’t you, babygirl?” the nickname rolls off his tongue easily, “prepped yourself before this shower, yes?”

“yes, shoto.”

“what a slut.”

your face burns when you moan involuntarily, hips twisting as he pulls away his fingers. he licks away your wetness, slaps your ass, and whispers heavily, “bend over for me.”

and you do, suds washing off your back since you’re in the stream of the water, both hands planted firmly against the wall. as shoto positions himself behind you, he takes off the shower head; the camera zooms in on your sticky folds, your cunt fluttering at what’s to come. you’d heard privately from some of shoto’s last co-stars, and rumors from all around the studio — his cock was big, and he knew how to use it to make whoever he was with scream. additionally you’d seen the videos online, clips of him stretching out so many women, their screams of pleasure heard in each.

“fuck!” a shockwave of pleasure rushes through you and you register that shoto’s got the shower head aimed at your clit, and the settings are up high. he slaps your ass hard, and your legs spread slightly. grabbing the base of his cock firmly, he guides his tip between your folds, and pushes in gently. you moan, pushing your ass towards him, desperately wanting his full length. “so fucking eager, huh?” he teases, using his free hand to grip your hip firmly; he draws his hips back, then slams all the way inside you, his cock stretching you close to your limits.

you moan sharply, tears burning in your eyes almost immediately. “g-god, you’re perfect,” he hisses, pressing the shower head closer to you, already pounding you hard.

“isn’t this better than taking my panties?” you ask boldly, breathlessly.

“isn’t this better than jerking off in your room, listening to me and my hookups fuck?” he questions you smoothly, and your attitude falls away when the head of his cock slams right into your g-spot.

“oh! r-right there, sho, please.”

“i want to hear you,” he insists, “i want to hear you begging f’me.”

“fuck me hard,” you gasp, tears flowing down your cheeks just as the suds on your tits do. “fuck me, and cum inside me, and u-use me how you want to!”

the script is halfway through, as is the scene, but you don’t want him to stop. the camera zooms in on where you’re connected to him, his cock wet with your stringy slick as he snaps himself in and out of your creamy pussy.

“i will, i will,” he soothes you, his hand slipping and pressing the shower head flush again your clit. with the settings as high as they are, the water proves to be too much, and you find yourself letting out a scream.

“sho—oh! shoto, i’m cumming—”

he fucks you through your orgasm, his head lolling back as he gasps, beginning to struggle to hold his own back. your body shakes as he continues with his ruthless pounding; you feel dizzy when his cock hits the deepest spots inside of you. the shower head is still at your clit, overstimulating you, and even though your pussy is screaming, you don’t remove it.

“fill me up, pleasepleaseplease— i need your cum more than anything else!”

only one orgasm and you’re already feeling dumb on his cock, pussy clenching with desperation as his cock twitches inside you.

shoto pictures the panties outside of the shower that he’d had on his face, taking in your scent and taste. he remembers the times he’d heard you indulging in your own pleasure, messing around with your fingers, hoping that you’d one day be full of cock. his cock. your roommate used to toss and turn in his bed before he’d get out the lotion and open your instagram.

(clips will be edited into the current scene by director iida and the rest of the crew.)

“oh god, fuck— i’m gonna fill you up, and i-i don’t want you to wash it out. i want you to be dripping when you come back and i fuck you again.”

his part of the script is over, and it’s now your turn to nod desperately, then beg him for his cum like a good slut, for the sake of the film— but you’re not acting like he is.

with a deep, gasping groan, shoto unloads inside of you, his cock twitching as he fills you to the brim, some cum leaking out of the sides of your pussy. he collects it on his fingers, and puts the shower head away, then pushes his fingers into your mouth.

“cut! that was excellent, the two of you! we won’t be needing to do another take.” director iida rushes up to you with praises, and shoto fucks into you shallowly, causing you to gasp.

“let’s meet in my office sometime later,” shoto offers with a smile, “to review the footage.”

CHARGEBOLT.

☆ sponsored by many sex toy companies, large and small, UA studios’ chargebolt is recognized by the way he wields his large collection of vibrators! the audience never knows what to expect from him, besides overstimulation of either himself, or his co-star.

after hours, chargebolt—denki, your best friend from UA studios— relaxes with you in your shared apartment and watches movies with you on the couch. occasionally, he’ll start his camboy streams in his bedroom, but he’s usually by himself, until tonight.

as he empties a box of vibrators beside his clothed lap, his phone buzzes as more of his fans join his livestream and leave comments. “guys, slow down,” he whines, struggling to read all the comments; his face changes when he reads a certain comment. “WHAT!? WHO JUST TOLD ME TO BEND OVER AND GET OILED UP??” after a pause, he huffs, “guys, i’m so close to making you all pay to join these lives.”

before denki can start talking to his audience again, the door opens rather loudly and he startles, his body jerking.

“what are you doing?” you ask, eyes moving from his phone and then to his own slowly. your hand finds its place on your hip, and you lean against the door frame, an eyebrow raised.

denki warms, his mouth suddenly dry. “oh.. i’m on a live stream.”

“so you’re a pornstar in the day, and a camboy in the night?” you chuckle ruefully, pushing off the door frame and walking towards him.

“well, yeah,” he forces himself to look away from his phone, and keep himself focused on you, standing over him.

chargeboltsballs — he has a gf ??

therockst4r — YOOO WHO IS SHE

sumumiya — istg if he doesnt fuck her

tipsnwhips — OMG SHE SOUNDS HOT ASF

BBYGIRLLL DONATED $20 AND SAID “invite her on”

“aren’t they curious?” you ask with a giggle, reading some of the comments.

he looks up at you, his face bright red. he can’t believe he’s introducing his camboy audience to his best friend with benefits, that he secretly has a crush on. at this point, you might as well be his girlfriend. “uh,” denki struggles to get over the embarrassment and shyness, “would you mind joining the stream with me?”

“sure,” you sit down cross legged beside him, wearing only a thin pajama top and short shorts. “i’ve actually never been on a stream before, what do we do?”

“we can answer and ask questions, or we can see what people ask of us. i typically do what people ask for donations, or if everyone is in favor of an idea. and there are rules that everyone must follow in here, so nothing bad will be suggested.”

you read a comment, laughing lightly. “no, i’m not his girlfriend. we’re best friends.”

denki notices how easily you laugh it off, and wishes he could find a way to tell you how he really feels. luckily, a commenter comes to the rescue.

Y/NSTITTY DONATED $25 AND SAID “wtf are y’all waiting for?? show us what being fwbs is like! :)”

you and denki scoot away from the camera, and closer to each other — you cup his jaw in your hand and pull him into a smoldering kiss, and he moans desperately, pressing himself closer to you. his hand lands on your back, fingers tugging at the hem of your thin pajama top. meanwhile, your hands insistently yank at the elastic waistband of his sweats.

with half lidded eyes, your lips part, still connected by a thin string of your shared saliva. now on your knees, you quickly rid yourself of your pajama top, and then drag his sweatpants down his legs. you remain in your underwear and shorts; he still has his shirt and boxers.

face hot and chest heaving, you glance towards the phone, which is exploding with comments that are moving far too quickly to read. “what next?” you both ask at the same time, his eyes on your tits.

unanimously, the comments are all asking for him to use his vibrators on you. some request that he tortures you with orgasms, others mention that you should be edged. in your UA studios videos, edging is one of your specialties.

hungrily, you fling yourself into his chest, biting and sucking at his neck. your hands pull his cock free from his boxers, which are wet with precum — he moans against your skin, shaking with need. “gonna torture me, hmm?” sloppily, you rub at his cock, thumb circling the wet head deliciously.

“lay back, babe,” denki finds himself saying, his confident persona back again. “gonna set you up here.”

the comments explode with celebration, excited for what’ll come next. you lay back onto the generous amount of towels he has set up, tugging off your shorts and underwear, ass looking soft and oh so delectable.

denki spreads your legs and spins you from your vertical position to a horizontal one, showing off your wet pussy. with some silky restraints, he secures a wand to your left thigh, the head of the vibrator nudging your clit. he repeats the same with your right thigh, your clit now trapped between two vibrators. in all your time being friends with benefits, he’s never used two vibrators on you at once.

“get on your knees,” he says, his cock bobbing as he stands. with greed that unmatches your excitement in your films or clips, you take his cock into your throat, hands rising to his hips to pull him towards your face. immediately, denki finds himself moaning, one hand tangling in your hair and pushing your head down further; his other hand grasps a small black remote that blinks with light.

chargeboltsballs — damn i’ve never seen her suck dick like that

coconutsss — they have chemistry fr.

“fuck, you f-feel so good,” denki tosses his head back, turning on both vibrators. your hips jerk as he adjusts them to a low-medium setting, the vibrations hitting your clit and flowing through your body like waves.

he tugs you in, your nose pressing into the finely groomed blonde hairs of his pelvis. you moan loudly, your eyes closing as you lean into the sensations of the vibrators. when they open, denki’s looking down at you with a flushed face and eyes full of desire.

you slurp down his cock, developing a fast rhythm so good he bites his cheeks and prays for the strength to hold back his load. he turns up the vibrators, easily switching them to the maximum strength.

you choke on his length, eyes watering as you stare into his own, your hips jerking into thin air. still, you don’t let this newfound pleasure interfere with your cock sucking — you feel his cock tighten a few times, then realize he’s holding himself back.

“let me fuck your throat,” he murmurs, gently pushing you back so you’ll rest on your knees, soaking in more of the sensation from the vibrators. you moan loudly, “c-chargebolt!” even though you really mean to say his name.

smiling faintly, he presses his cock into your open mouth and cups the back of your head roughly. in and out, he fucks into your mouth, his head falling back every time his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag, tightening around him. between your legs, both vibrators are covered in your slick, dripping onto the floor. your back stiffens when the head of his cock hits a spot that’s extra deep in your throat, and then you can’t take the vibrators any more.

with a desperate whine, you cum hard, your pussy spasming and dripping with more of your juices. tears roll down your cheeks when he keeps fucking your mouth, his pace slowing with a few gasps. the vibrators continue, pushing you through your sensitivity, and you quickly orgasm again, nearly falling onto your back.

denki pulls his cock from your mouth, and instructs you to position yourself in front of the phone. “get on your forearms and knees. i want your face down and your ass up, babe.”

“y-yes!” you agree, reading some of the comments in hopes that they’ll help you ignore the vibrators.

juicybaby6 — he’s so lucky tf!!

grndmsters — wonder how many times she’ll cum… betting 6 times

CHARGEISMYMAN DONATED $10 AND SAID “fuck her brains out bro 🫡”

denki laughs, “will do!” and pushes into your vibrating pussy, groaning loudly at the feeling. you’re so tight around him, so wet and hot — and you’re also vibrating, which feels extra nice on his cock.

“oh, fuck!” you press your face into a towel, nearly squealing when he develops a decent pace, feeling overwhelmed. “i—i’m so sensitive, i don’t think i can take it.”

“don’t worry, babe,” denki coos affectionately, “you’ll be perfectly fine.” after the words leave him, he immediately starts to pound you, hand landing sharply against your ass.

you gasp, pushing your ass closer to his cock, body shaking with effort as you hold yourself up. “i—i’m gonna cum again, please—” you want to beg him to turn off the vibrators, but you feel too fucking good to stop. with a cry, you cum again, statin to sob when the vibrations continue.

denki fucks your puffy pussy mercilessly, groaning loudly. “babe,” he gasps, “i’m gonna —fuck!—cum soon, p-please cum with me!”

just the sounds of his moans have you cumming for a third time. feeling dizzy, you muster out an “mhm, mhm, i’ll try” as the vibrations begin to feel both pleasureful and painful.

crying, you stare right into the phone at your best friend behind you, at how he’s completely unraveling. comments flood in, thirsting over the both of you and how fucked out you look. denki whines loudly, “oh, i’m cumming— with me, cum with me baby!”

a scream rips from your throat as he cums inside you, filling you up to the brim and then some. your fourth orgasm of the night hits you like a train, and all you cry out, “denki!” as your pussy spasms on his cock, feeling a little raw from the vibrators but oh so satisfied. without wasting time, denki rips the tied vibrators from you; they hit the floor loudly, absolutely soaked.

he pulls out for a second and then flips you over and lays you down, pushes back in, and he fucks you until his cum spills out of you, one of his favorite sights. the comments explode with questions and surprise, some pointing out your accidental reveal of denki’s true name during your orgasm.

he slumps on top of you, face buried in your neck, pecking at your sweaty skin gently. “thank you for joining the stream tonight.. i really had a lot of fun.”

“i can only hope i’ll be invited to join more,” you laugh, brushing his hair away from his face.

“are you kidding me? of course!” denki exclaims, nuzzling into your neck now.

the reveal of denki’s name spreads like wildfire online, and you both wake up cuddling to find that you’ve both received angry texts from your managers.

[sovamurka]

my brain goes brrrrrrrr after so few hours of sleep BUT you won't believe how much timebomb content I just got

Fractured Jinx voice lines?

CRAZY. all three versions of Jinx talk to him differently and yet all three share one trait - they care. A LOT. she cares and has certain feelings towards him that she can't really put into words that well. she's not at all antagonistic towards him, even when she taunts him.

These ones break my heart honestly because they're not said mockingly. There is no malice, or joke. They're said with exasperation and sadness. She especially can't bear the way he looks at her (you should hear it yourself honestly).

Jinx ruins fixes everything?

THEY SHOWED US THE FIRELIGHT TREE. It seems like it happened a little bit after they sincerely talked with each other. Ekko showed her his little paradise and it's the first time we see so much light in this game. The entire place is so warm even Jinx herself warms up, she's is both calm and excited, she's... hopeful, actually. Ekko, what did you tell her? How did you console her? What kind of hug technique did you use to make her so hopeful?

Jinx assembled her final weapon (and named it Rhino) in Ekko's engineering room after exploring the room for spare details. She also finds a photo of Ekko and Benzo.

And when we explore the entire hideout... We encounter their circle bike that they build and upgraded together (yes, the one we saw when we explored Benzo's shop in Wild Rift, yes, the one that only he and Powder could use because Ekko did not allow anyone else to use it).

And oh... Did you know that she still can't forget the way he looked at her on the bridge? And that she never will?

This one obliterated me, actually.

[boyfriendify]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ㅤan innocent nerd.

–ㅤnerdy high school student who would talk to you about his favorite subject, advanced calculus, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he explains the concepts, making him feel like he's teaching you something new.

–ㅤnerdy high school student who would show you his latest robotics project, his hands moving deftly as he assembles the parts, making you feel like you're witnessing a work of art. he looks up and catches you staring, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, but he can't hide the excitement in his eyes.

–ㅤnerdy high school student who would take you to the school's astronomy club, the night sky twinkling above as he points out constellations, making you feel like you're exploring the universe together. as you sit together on a blanket, your leg brushes against his, sending a spark of electricity through his body, making you feel like you're the only one who can make him feel alive.

–ㅤnerdy high school student who would confess his crush on you, his hands shaking as he hands you a handmade coupon book, each page filled with promises of study sessions and gaming marathons, making you feel like you're the only one he's ever wanted. as he looks up at you with adoring eyes, you can see the innocence and vulnerability there, making you feel like you're the only one who can corrupt him.

–ㅤnerdy high school student who would invite you to his bedroom, the walls lined with posters of his favorite sci-fi shows, his hands trembling as he undresses you. as he touches you for the first time, his fingers tracing the contours of your body, he gasps in wonder, making you feel like you're introducing him to a whole new world of pleasure.

–ㅤnerdy high school student who would write you a love letter, his words pouring out his heart, making you feel like you're the only one who can understand him. as he declares his love, his voice filled with emotion, he reveals his deepest desires, including his desire to only belong to you, making you feel like you're the only one who can make him whole.

–ㅤnerdy high school student who would spend the rest of his life making you happy, his love and devotion overflowing as he grows into a brilliant and handsome young man. as he looks up at you with adoring eyes, you can see the promise of a lifetime of love and passion.

–ㅤnerdy high school student who pushes you down onto the bed, his body hovering above yours. he enters you slowly, his cock filling you up as he kisses you possessively. he starts to move, his hips thrusting back and forth as he moaned loudly in your ear while he thrusted harder, hitting your prostate and running the tip of his thumb along the slit in your cock.

©ㅤ-ㅤboyfriendify, 2025. original content, all rights reserved. permission and credit required for sharing or use.

[dooberific]

Damn that angst Harumasa oneshot was smth else 😭

Could you perhaps write an alternative happy ending? 💔

❝ 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 ➸ 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: hurt w comfort, fluff, you lived bitch 😎

summary: it was supposed to be a routine mission, it's a good thing you are there to help pickup the pieces

wc: 3.2k

this is a hybrid work, the start of new content will be marked with colored text!

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

He hoped you were the sentimental kind, your voice warbled over the line from the outpost in his ear as he smiled. “I’m just saying to be careful is all.” He asserted, fingers running aimlessly over the silver band resting in his palm. Your initials and his were cut into the inside. 

It was supposed to be your day off, the first you had taken in several months, but when H.A.N.D phoned you that they needed your section of the HSO to assemble for a rescue mission after a Defense Force team had vanished inside of Hollow Zero, well….you didn’t get the luxury of saying no, even if you were the Chief. 

“When am I not careful? Remember which one of us you’re talking to here, Haru.” You chided, the smile on your face so present he could hear it change the lilt of your voice. 

“Right, right, I’m talking to my beautiful, kind, intelligent and all around perfect girlfriend~” Though he hoped that title would be changing very soon, as he held the ring up to the light, the sun filtering through the window of your shared apartment dancing enticingly over its surface. 

You giggled in his ear, the sound warming him to the soul. He could practically see the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled in delight.  “That’s much better.”

The interference in the background of the call amplified, faint callings of your name cutting through the static. You sounded disappointed. “Sorry Haru, I gotta go.”

“It’s okay baby, duty calls. Just try to be home for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t miss a date night for the world, you better not peek in the closet while I’m gone! I want that dress to be a pleasant surprise later.” 

You fell quiet again as you pulled the receiver away from your mouth, yelling a response into the background. “They’re about to have an aneurysm over here,” you huffed. 

“I love you, Haru~”

“I love you too, (y/n)~”

That was a little after noon. It was now nearing midnight and the outpost was crawling with H.A.N.D uniforms and HSO stragglers. Countless outpost scientists shouldered through the crowd, chiming off readings and acting as if they just had a some great scientific breakthrough.

But you were still inside of Hollow Zero.

And H.A.N.D was beginning to withdraw. 

Even flashing his Section 6 badge failed to get him answers despite his insistence, earning little more than the shake of a head and a “this is above your paygrade, kid.”

They threatened to court martial  him if he kept accosting them. But they didn’t have you inside the Hollow like he did. The epitome of his happiness, the one he swore hung the moon and stars, his most constant companion, and the only one he could imagine waking up beside of until the day he expired. 

They didn’t have you, but they had the version of you that made their actions palatable. The “good soldier” and “valiant leader”. The slave to a public that didn’t care to know your name even as you shouldered their burdens as ceaselessly as atlas held the heavens. The one who signed up for a death job.

A chorus of shouts erupted, the flash of the medical units blazing to life under the white spotlights. 

Survivors.

He shouldered his way through the swell of the crowd with little regard for those he pushed aside. In a perfect world he would break from the crowd and see you standing there, a little worse for wear but alive and smiling like you just cheated the world. You would push past the medic teams as they chased you down to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips as you gloated playfully.

“See? What’d I tell you? Safe and sound.” 

But you weren’t there. A cluster of five soldiers stumbled through the outer bounds of the Hollow—no, those weren’t soldiers, they were members of your faction carrying the torn uniforms of Defense Force operatives. They dripped with blood and grime, corruption marring their skin as they limped out, half-dragging others.

“Hey!” He yelled over the roar of the crowd as he grabbed one of them by the shoulder. His name badge shined under the lights. Kimura.

 “Where’s your chief?”

The man shoved his hand away, “Get off me man!”

He didn’t know where he got the strength as he grappled with Kimura before taking two fistfuls of his collar. “Where’s your fucking Chief? Where’s (y/n)?!” 

Multiple pairs of hands tore at his uniform from behind as they hauled him off, legs kicking as he wrestled against their pull.

“Where is she?”

“She’s stayed behind!” 

Kimura’s face was blank, his eyes distant and foggy as he stared at the ground. There were tears streaming down his face as he drew a ragged breath. “I’ve never seen so many ethereals, we were overran so quickly…Chief (l/n) and Deputy Chief Kato created a diversion to draw them away so we could get out.”

Kimura looked up with red rimmed eyes.

“I am so sorry.”

Hollow Zero had mutated. Or that was the story they were telling everyone now. The sensors at the outpost had registered a dramatic spike in etheric energy about 30 minutes after Section 2 had infiltrated, and by the next 20 the bangboo that accompanied you had stumbled out with fried circuits, the carrot it followed now expired as the interior of the hollow rearranged. 

It was supposed to be a standard recovery operation. You had done them hundreds of times in the past.

“I’m sorry, Asaba. My hands are tied.” The officer said with a shake of his head. “No one’s allowed in unless they are operating with their faction. You’re the only one from Section 6 here.”

He gripped his bow tighter. “Then I suggest you turn around and pretend you didn’t see me.” 

~

It felt like an electric current thrummed under his skin as he breached the Hollow. He didn’t bother to call the proxy or wait for the association to form a new carrot. There was no point, even as desperately as he clung to the idea of you being unharmed, alive, there was still a rotten crawl of doubt in the back of his mind that made the thought of wandering forever as an ethereal within Hollow Zero a more palatable choice than leaving here without you. 

He didn’t know how long he had wandered through the hollow, hair matted to his forehead from sweat as he cleared another broken wall, trying to survey as much of the warped landscape as he could. He doubled over, hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He had overextended himself already, his chest constricted tightly as his breathing became shallow, a sharp ringing in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on getting his lungs back under control.

In and out.

In and out.

There was a distant cry that met his ears with the sharp and hollow sound of clashing metal, one that twisted his gut in an iron grip as his head shot up.

You.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find when he fumbled over the rubble in your direction. Finding you was the sole focus of his mind for the past few hours, the rush of adrenaline carrying his mind past rational thought.

You. You. You.

It urged his tired legs forward, kept him standing as he rounded the corner and saw the torn back of your uniform jacket fluttering in the etheric breeze. 

You, despite all odds, were still alive.

A Hati screamed as your blade plunged between its armored plating, the etheric shell shattered at your feet as the creature collapsed alongside it, your body pivoting with deadly precision to bring your blade down upon the blazecrawler that leapt into your blindspot before an electrified arrow whistled past your face and knocked it from the sky, it’s body disintegrating before it even hit the ground.

“Haru?”

You looked utterly exhausted, your face smeared with grime and hair matted with sweat, but you’d never looked more alive and perfect than when the veins of acute ether corruption made the healthy pink of your cheeks and lips glow. 

“Haru, what are you doing here?” Your voice cracked, tongue fuzzy in your mouth from dehydration as you limped in his direction, tired eyes blazing with anger. “The ether is too strong, you shouldn’t be--,”

Any ounce of wrath or concern at his lack of prudence died on the tip of your tongue when he swept you up in his arms, face burrowed firmly into the column of your throat. His body trembled unnaturally against you, skin feverish. He clung to you like you were his lifeline, hands fisted into your torn jacket and hair as if he were afraid you would vanish at any moment if he loosened his hold even a fraction. 

His shoulders heaved once, twice before he pushed his face from your neck, hands cupping your dirty cheeks with his own dirt-caked nails. From this close you could see the ether burning under his skin, the fogginess that dimmed his brilliant golden eyes a matte honey as turquoise veins burst within the sclera and seeped into the pupil. His lashes were wet and caked together, face twisted in some hybrid of pain, anguish and relief as he kissed you like you put the very breath in his lungs to do so. Hungry and sloppy, more teeth and whispers of affection burning in millimeters of space seasoned with sweat, tears, and the sharp iron flavor of your split lip nipped and tugged with a tenderness that boiled in the depths of your belly as you cradled his own face in the state of desperation he rendered you in. 

A sharp stink pricked the skin just above his choker, his head snapping back with a hiss as the syringe in your hand clicked with completion. 

“Anti-ether serum,” You reassured, throwing the empty syringe off into the rubble before slipping another from your belt bag and sticking your forearm, lip pinched between your teeth. “Got lucky and found an old H.A.N.D cargo container. It’s old, but it works.”

You tossed it aside, offering him your hand with a smile.

“Let’s get outta here, Haru.”

~

It was a pure stroke of luck that you made it out of the hollow. No bangboo, no carrot, only the whim of walking in one direction and hoping the fissure you happened upon was the way out. The last recovery party stared at you like you had grown a spare head when you came stumbling over the rubble together, your face drawn tight with strain as you muscled the weight of Harumasa, the ether finally having worked him over to the point that his knees gave out and he couldn’t see, his consciousness spotty. How your own body had yet to give in was some blessing of genetics, the roots of corruption seeding deep and black as it began to pierce out through your skin. 

The wet kiss of the morning dew and the blazing of the rising sun warmed your skin despite the electrocharged sensation that left your hands trembling. You watched helplessly as the medical team swept him away from your side, your own strength finally giving out as you crumpled on the concrete before a flurry of hands hoisted you up and onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask forced over your nose. You watched as they shut the door of the ambulance across the way, a flash of dirty orange sneaker soles vanishing behind a thick metal plated door. 

You grabbed the medic nearest your side, his uniform collar bunching at his throat as you pointed and hissed.

“Make sure I’m there with him.”

~

If it was your own physical and mental exhaustion or a pharmacologically induced sleep, you weren’t sure, but the sterile ceiling of a hospital room expanded before your weary eyes like a blanket of snow, the rhythmic beeping of some monitor just out of sight keeping tune with your heartbeat. Your entire body felt stiff and tight, muscles screaming as your fingers twitched into a fist. You rolled your head to the side, staring at the empty bed a few feet away.

The nurses had to restrain you from how wildly you fought, ripping lines from your arms as you pushed yourself upright despite the lancing pain that seemed to ignite every nerve in your body, grappling with them as you demanded to know where he was, how he was, if he was even still alive as hot, angry tears stung at your dry eyes.

You didn’t stop fighting until the bed at your side was filled by a familiar body, albeit worse for wear. You were quite the pair, both looking like absolute shit as tired eyes and pained smiles passed between you. He had about ten more monitors and drips running than you did, his pale face gaunt and covered in a sheen of sweat. But his eyes were clear and dripping with adoration every time he woke up and saw your own scuffed face grinning back at him as if flaunting how you had cheated the world once more with a simple, “Good morning, sleeping beauty” easing past your lips. 

When he weakly reached his hand out to you, you weren’t about to refuse his invitation as you swung your legs out of bed and shuffled like your body had aged 80 years across the few feet that stood between your bed and his. You clasped his chilled fingers, pushing some of the many lines and wires that ran from his body to the side as you readjusted his arm, sliding up in the bed as you cuddled up against him. 

You felt his body relax, hand skimming your back through the thin gown you wore as you pressed your cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was strong under your ear, his lungs expanding and collapsing with a steady rhythm under your splayed fingers. 

“Haru? I don’t want you to dive into a hollow like that after me ever again.” you asserted.

“And I don’t want you going into hollows ever again, period.” Came his cool response, fingers drawing little circles along the curve of your spine. You felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head. “But we don’t always get what we want, so we’ll just have to trust each other to make the best decision, whether the other agrees with it or not.”

You didn’t want to admit that he was right, fearful still of his weakened constitution and the report you received on his care. 

He’s lucky to be alive.

It made you cling to him a little tighter, nestling closer to his side as your eyes screwed shut and you willed yourself to focus on the living, breathing and warm Harumasa and not the weak, confused and fearful one that gripped you with such ferocity even as his senses fled him in the bowels of Hollow Zero.

He played with your fingers for a moment before pressing something warm and circular against the meat of your palm, folding your fingers over it. Your eyes peeked open curiously, head lifting off his chest. 

“What’s this, Haru?” The question tumbled from your lips before you unfurled your fingers, staring at the item nestled in your palm before a harsh breath sucked past your lips.

It was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

“I had planned to give it to you somewhere a little more…sentimental than a hospital room, but I’m tired of waiting.” He cupped the back of your opened hand, thumb brushing against your knuckles. 

“I shouldn’t have waited in the first place.” He said with a rueful laugh. “You’re my person after all. Always giving the world your best, always thoughtful and selfless and so, so strong. You’ve never ran from your responsibilities, from yourself, toughing it out all on your own even when you had to shoulder my problems too.”

His thumb pressed over your pulse, his lungs stuttering for a moment as he caught his breath. “You’re everything I’m not. Every strength to my immeasurable weakness. My perfect reminder that the world is worth fighting to be in even when my body begs to give it up. It’s not much, but consider this me begging you to keep being the best half of my existence.”

You rolled the ring between your fingers, tracing the initials carved inside the band before peering up at him from under your lashes.

“In sickness and in health?”

He smiled feebly, his lips chapped and rough against the tender skin of your forehead where he pressed them, a promise whispered quietly into your flesh willed to be shared intimately and only with you.

“In sickness and in health.”

.

.

.

Your favorite coffee cup sat beside the pot in the kitchen, the rim stained pink from your choice lipstick. Your toothbrush sat in the cup beside his, your shampoo in the shower, your shoes by the door. Your picture was perched on the bedside table, your face radiant as your hand rested against his chest, his arm around your waist in front of the New Eridu Janus Quarter courthouse. 

Any more perfect and he would begin to question if soul mates were really determined at birth, given names that matched together like the pieces of a puzzle as beautifully as yours did when you assumed his surname and the title of the only family he ever truly had.

You still glowed, hair tousled and cheeks creased from sleep under the golden light of another morning. You sought out his warmth under the covers, flopping unceremoniously into his chest, your forehead pressed against his sternum as your weight relaxed into his body, sleepy murmurs of “good morning” tickling his skin. 

“What happened to, “good morning my handsome, perfect husband” hmm?” He mused as he threaded his fingers through your own, admiring the matched silver bands snuggly around your ring fingers. 

“ ‘S a mouthful,” You whined, lifting your head as you leaned in and nipped at his lower lip with a lazy, lopsided grin. 

Your eyes blew wide as he flipped you onto your back, trapping you beneath him on the mattress as he straddled your lap. “Well then my beautiful, perfect wife, we’ll just have to work something out then.”

There was a ring cut to your size, and it felt like a perfect adornment on your skin as he drew your hand up and pressed his lips against it with a grin. 

Rey 2025

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

I've Got to Let You Know (Need You Tonight) | Joaquín Torres x Reader | Oneshot - 3.3k words

There's a guy hanging out at the bar, the most handsome man you've ever seen...and he's watching you back.

Warnings: 18+ for language and adult content, drinking, smoking, almost public/car location, oral (m&f receiving), pet names 'baby', no concept of stranger danger, swapping kisses before swapping names, suggestion of restraint, p in v, discussion around protection...unprotected, creampie & a hint of cumplay. It's embarrassing how bad they want each other. S for smutty

A/N: listend to INXS, had Joaquin thots, bon appatit.

Divider by @saradika-graphics For @avengers-assemble-bingo "oral"

Masterlist | Joaquín Torres | Kink Bingo

He was back.

You'd seen him the last few nights as well, he always ordered a single beer and nursed it for hours which drove your fellow bartender, Louisa, insane.

But then he always left a twenty in the tip jar, so you didn't care.

Tonight he took a seat to the side, near enough to the window to see out but close enough for you to enjoy his side profile while he sipped his beer. He tipped the bottle up high, lengthening his neck, and you caught the glimpse of healed scars between his collar and his ear.

God, even his ears were cute, dark curls bobbing around them. He'd pulled his hair back tonight, into a messy little bun, his aviator glasses perched on top of his head despite the fact it was almost dark. He was wearing a dark green vest under an unbuttoned light linen shirt, light in the hot night air, but paired with a pair of jeans that looked painted onto his thighs. His forearms were bare apart from his watch and, though you hated to admit you'd sunk this far in your fantasies, as sexy as the rest of him.

He leaned back and pulled a tin from his pocket, rolling paper, a packet of tobacco, or maybe weed, you couldn't tell. He sprinkled a little on the paper before angling his head slightly and catching your eye. His calm expression lit up, a twinkle in his eye as he poked his tongue out, licking the paper slowly. He didn't look away as he finished rolling his cigarette, placing it in the corner of his mouth. He lit a match on the rough wooden edge of the table, cupping his hand around his mouth before lighting the end.

Smirk still firmly plastered on his face he inhaled and then exhaled, a perfect smoke ring encircling his beer bottle.

He winked and heat flooded you.

You looked away, embarrassment hot on the back of your neck, it was already sweltering but you were trapped under his gaze.

"You okay?" Louisa gave you a concerned once over.

"Yeah, just hot, that's all." You excused yourself quickly, hoping something needed changing in the cellar so you could cool down.

"Hey, baby."

The man's voice took you by surprise, but you knew who it was even in the darkness, even if you'd only ever heard him order a beer.

You'd managed to survived your shift only to stumble upon the man again in the parking lot. His cigarette was out now, but you could smell the tang of beer as he strolled closer, confident, as if this was his bar and nothing would stop him from talking to you now.

You stepped closer too, allowing your eyes to drag up and down his body. He smirked and raised his eyebrows in return.

Chest to chest you still couldn't find the words, nerves, embarrassment and need had taken over until you could barely think.

But you didn't have to.

Warm hands cupped your face as your back hit the car door and you expected his lips to follow, slightly parted as they were, so you closed your eyes, drinking in the feel of him. But instead his breath ghosted your cheek, his nose tracing the a delicate line around the shell of your ear.

"You want to tell me to stop, baby, just say the word." He whispered, his lips leaving a lingering kiss behind your ear before moving slowly down the column of your neck. You tipped your head back, body on fire at just these simple touches.

"Please - please don't stop," you begged and your voice was far more pathetic than you'd anticipated when you'd aimed for sexy and sultry.

He chuckled, resting his forehead on your shoulder, lips touching the bare skin of your neck. His hands moved from the arguably chaste position over your jacket on your hips, to underneath your shirt and you gasped at the new sensation, body arching into him and mouth opening. He took the opportunity and kissed you, sliding his tongue past your lips and tasting you for the first time.

With a moan that reverberated through his chest he pulled back, "thank fuck for that, been wanting to kiss you for days."

So he really had been watching you back, you weren't imagining those beautiful dark brown eyes following you around the bar.

You slid your hands into his hair mussing up the sweaty curls beneath your fingers, freeing it from the tangle of his hair tie and tugging when he sucked on your bottom lip.

"Fuck - do that again," he groaned, scooping you up into his arms and pressing you more firmly against the side of your truck.

"Let me just —" you fumbled for your keys before he took them and opened the car door, lips still firmly locked together.

You were grateful for the wide bench seat now, although you were usually cursing the beat up truck, now the words fell from your lips in pleasure.

He climbed in after you, shutting the door behind him and settling carefully on top of you. He leaned over, cupping your cheek to hold you steady while you kissed heatedly, angling your chin to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against yours.

"Been watching you too, so glad you came to find me." You moaned, grasping at his open shirt and shoving it down over his shoulders. Beneath the patterned fabric his arms were strong, the biceps flexing when he moved and you had the urge to put your mouth on them.

He let the shirt drop to the floor and bent his head to kiss you again, but you had your mouth on his neck, kissing down his shoulder, unable to resist you let your teeth dig into the meat of his shoulder, nipping and biting lower until you could sink your teeth into his bicep, soothing the indents of your teeth with a long lick.

"Fuck, that's hot." He groaned, holding the back of your head as you kissed back up to his lips.

Your skin prickled with electricity at the knowledge you'd given in to such a base thought, you felt your temperature rise again, embarrassment still simmering beneath the surface at the way this man made you feel.

"Sorry —"

"No, shit that's really hot — God — you're really hot." He held your face again and kissed you, tongue dancing over your own, he tasted of beer, a hint of the lime wedge you'd pushed into the lip of the bottle.

Hands slid against each other, sweat slick and eager, before you nudged at the growing hardness between his legs.

"Yeah — yeah—" he panted into your mouth, fingers fumbling with the button and zip of his jeans, "if you wanna —"

"Yes, yes I want to — " Your hand found its way inside, grasping at the heavy warmth of his cock. You'd thought about this moment, of course you had, alone in your bedroom with your hand under the waistband of your panties. But you hadn't really expected it to happen. Now this gorgeous man was leaking pre-cum into your palm while he awkwardly shoved his jeans down to his knees.

His cock stood proud against a dark thatch of hair, the tip rubbing onto his green vest and twitching when you ran your finger from base to tip.

You shuffled down the bench until you were level with his hips and licked a slow stripe up and down the length of him.

"Like that, baby—" he pushed forwards and the head of his cock slid along your tongue, leaving the salty taste of him in its wake. You sucked hard, bobbing your head and trying to pull him down until he took over.

Everything he did was firm and purposeful, from the first kiss against your car door to the way he thrust into your mouth, eyes locked with yours, panting hard. You could've stayed like this all night, would've let him fuck you for hours if you got to get your hands and mouth on his delicious cock. But he had other ideas.

With a tug he had you spread beneath him and he set to work kissing down your neck and the swell of your breasts where they peaked over your bra cups. He rucked up your shirt to squeeze your sides, his hands hot against your skin, finger tips a little calloused. You liked that, he must work with his hands.

They left your sides to stroke the bare skin of your thighs, higher and higher towards the edge of your shorts.

You popped the button open quickly, hoping to wriggle out of them, but he stilled your hands.

"Let me enjoy it, baby," he slowly inched his fingers up the leg of your shorts until just the rough fingertips were touching the wet fabric of your panties. "God — you're so fucking wet."

"Don't tease me," you covered your face with your hands, it was too embarrassing how much you wanted him.

"Why would I do that," you felt his lips graze over your belly button, ghosting lower and lower. "Your little pussy so wet from me fucking your face? Baby, that's hot too, pretty sure everything about you is hot — fuck — you're gonna set me on fire." He buried his face between your legs, breath hot where your skin was bared and nose pushing against the thick denim seam of your shorts right against your clit.

Suddenly the pressure was gone and your shorts were round your knees, trapping you awkwardly with your legs together, that didn't seem to deter him though. He sat up, lifting your denim bound legs over one shoulder and then bending down to taste you again.

Trapped as you were, the most handsome man you'd ever met driving you wild with his tongue, it was hard to think about how insane it was to be having sex in your car. You prayed the cameras wouldn't catch you in this quiet corner while at the same time your body was revelling in the feeling of doing something so wildly out of character.

"Fuck, you taste good, baby." He hummed, the vibrations pressing against your swollen clit.

"I'm gonna cum, ohh, goddd — please don't stop, please please please please."

You reached down to his hair again, the curls barely brushing your fingers. He reached up to meet you, squeezing your palm and pressing it back down against the truck seat. It wasn't quite a restraint, but given the position you were in you were helpless to do anything but cum on his tongue, clenching his hand in yours to help expel the overwhelming rush of pleasure.

Your whole body was on fire, hot and sweating, sticking to the leather seat and pulsing with need. He carefully set your legs down and you made quick work of kicking your shorts off.

He looked as lust drunk as you, hair messy and neat facial hair wet with your slick.

"Do you have a condom?" You gasped against his mouth, desperate for another kiss and tasting yourself on his lips.

"Yeah — yeah — let me —" He pulled his wallet out and retrieved a battered looking packet.

You sat back, "how long's that been in there?"

His ears went a little pink, "not long — what do you mean?"

"I didn't mean — god — I just — you shouldn't keep it in there."

Breathless you both looked at each other, half naked, clothes rumpled, and then at the condom packet.

"Sorry —" he mumbled, "is there a machine in the toilets I can go back in." He thumbed at the now empty and locked up bar behind him.

You hesitated, "don't make me fucking regret this okay, I'm on birth control and I'm clean so you'd better be clean too."

He looked confused for a moment, but then you were in his lap, straddling his thighs and he was kissing you back.

You could feel him between your legs, still hard and leaking, a warm, heavy weight when you ground down.

"Fuck me. Please." You could barely tear yourself from him enough to talk, but he nodded anyway.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes — fuck — yes, just please."

He smiled, genuinely happy, almost rakish, and slipped a hand between you both, rubbing your arousal over his length and then pressing the head of his cock between your folds.

With a groan you sank down, he'd been hot and thick in your mouth and he felt just as solid and satisfying stretching you open. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, his throat bobbing as you both adjusted to the sensation.

You took the opportunity to really look at him again, the strength in his shoulders, the bulge of his arms and the toned plane of his stomach. Even in the darkness of the truck you could still make out the deep grooves of his abs when his vest moved up, undulating as he tipped his hips up to press himself deeper.

In response you rolled your own hips, starting a languid, liquid, rhythm that matched the slow kiss he placed on your lips. You clit brushed against him as you moved, building a slow burning fire deep inside of you. It started between your thighs, rippling out until your body was taut, your orgasm taking you almost by surprise in its intensity.

He didn't let up, hands bracing your hips to move you up and down his cock despite the high whine of your moans. The slow pace was a wonderful torture, dragging out your release and rolling it into the next until you were babbling into his ear, lips dragging against his neck, nipping and sucking, anything to help you through the pleasure and pain of your extended orgasm.

"You feel so fucking good like this, baby, s'like you're fucking milking me —" he slurred, his forehead against your shoulder, "I wanna cum so badly but you feel so —" he made a rough noise and tried to pull his hips away, raising you up in an effort to pull out, but the slide and grip of your lips against the pulsing vein on the side of his cock was too much. With a strangled moan he slipped his hands down to cup your ass, hauling you up away from his cock, his hips mindlessly searching for you again, but it was too late.

"Oh god — yes yes — cum in me — give it to me — give it me —" you chanted, pushing back against his grip and grinding your still sensitive clit into his lap.

He bit down on your shoulder and you felt the moment he gave into his pleasure, fucking up into you in two jagged thrusts, his cum deep inside of you.

"Oh shit —" he opened his eyes, shame marring the gorgeous shine you'd come to love. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's okay, it's fine." You murmured kissing his cheek, "your cum feels so perfect in me." You ground against him again, feeling your combined releases running down over his cock.

"Baby, where did you come from — fuck." Then he was kissing you again, messy and hot, manhandling you back onto the bench seat. "You're so dirty, I love it." He grinned, shoving your shirt up over your chest and tangling your arms together, he gripped the fabric and held it high over your head, your breasts pushed together and he kissed them with the same ferocity.

"Never actually done this before, in the car, in public, but you're so hot I couldn't help myself." You admitted, oddly embarrassed even though you could feel his cock getting hard again where it was trapped between you.

"Yeah?" He gave you a cocky smile, eyes shining.

"Yeah." You were breathy in your post orgasmic haze, sensitive and a little scared by how well you both fit together.

He slipped himself between your messy folds, with one hand still keeping you down on the seats he used the others to rub the head of his cock in your escaped arousal before teasing your entrance. You could feel yourself clench, and given the feral look on his face, he'd seen it too.

"You want more?" He teased, nudging himself in and out, barely the tip, barely a centimetre, but enough for you to give a desperate cry.

"Yes, yes, yes."

"I was talking to her," he looked up only briefly and then cupped you gently, massaging your clit with the heel of his palm, you felt yourself flutter again and he pulled away to watch you clench and open at his command. "That's so sexy you have no idea." He said matter of factly, and sheathed himself inside you again with a moan.

You were so sensitive you could barely respond to him anymore, one leg hitched up and squashed between his sweating torso and the sticky leather seat, the other dangling into the footwell. Yet, you could have stayed there forever, pinned beneath him, surrounding him, taking everything he had —

"Wait —" you gasped, and he immediately sat back, kneeling awkwardly.

"Sorry, baby, are you okay?" His eyes filled with concern.

"Yeah, yeah —" you made grabby hands at him, tugging him closer again with your fingers clenched in his shirt. "I just," you giggled, "I don't even know your name."

"Oh, yeah," he laughed too, his eyes lit with mischief, "I guess you don't. Let's finish what we started and I can tell you my full government name over a coffee or something, m'kay." He kissed you quiet, slipping inside you again and you let him, keeping your hand fisted in his shirt.

As wrapped up in each other as you were, you didn't notice the flash of headlights entering the car park and the beep of a horn. A door slammed and you paused, ankle pressing into the small of his back to keep him still.

"Someone's out there," you whispered, hoping no one would see you in the gloom of the truck.

"Joaquín !" A voice shouted.

"Shit." He pulled back, untangling himself. "Shit, shit, shit."

"You know that guy?" You gasped, feeling suddenly empty and vulnerable while he fastened his jeans.

"Yeah, uhm —" he ran a cum slick hand through his hair and then winced, "I'm Joaquín ."

"So that's your name, it's nice, Joaquín ." You rolled the name round and smiled. "I guess you've got to go, huh?"

"Torres, get your ass outta that truck, we've gotta go!" The man outside shouted again and he met your eyes again apologetically.

"I'm so sorry baby," he pressed a kiss to your lips, "I really did have a great time."

You found your shorts and sat up, shimmying them back on before he opened the door.

"There you are, kid, been lookin' everywhere, we've gotta go, we — what were you doing?"

There was a pause where Torres said nothing and you saw the other man get into a black truck. You were sure you recognised him from somewhere.

"Hey, I didn't tell you my name." You called and Joaquín turned to you again, smiling.

"Tell me over coffee," he bent into the cab of the truck and stuck a napkin with a phone number on the dashboard before kissing you one last time.

Torres shut the door with a final slam and made his way over to the other car, the cab lit up and you finally got a good look at the man inside. He looked a lot like the new Captain America, Wilson, that was it, Sam Wilson.

The napkin fluttered in the air as the breeze picked up again, you grabbed it before it blew out of the window. There was his number in neat writing, it was a napkin from the bar with a bottle mark on, and there underneath was a little drawing of a bird. You turned it round, a bird of prey maybe.

"Oh my god."

If that was Sam Wilson, and the man in the truck was Torres.

"Oh my god, I fucked the Falcon."

[sxfterhearts]

tainted

DAY 3: phonesex/sexting/foreplay/dystopia with choi jiung

🕸 genre/pairings: dystopia!au - lower working class, dom!jiung x upper class, sub!reader

🕸 warnings: smut nsfw (mdni) | phone sex, mutual guided masturbation, slight degradation and corruption kink (consensual), name calling, praise, forbidden relationship

🕸 word count: 2,567 words

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ☠︎︎ ༻⋆。 °⛧

“This is gonna be the last time, I swear.”

“You said that the last time we did this.” 

“Well… I just can’t help myself, especially not when you look like that. C’mon, take it off for me, sweetheart.” Jiung coaxed in a seductively low register, a smirk working its way onto his pretty face. His greedy eyes were glued to his phone screen, following your every move from behind his wispy black bangs. 

What can he say? He really couldn’t help himself. Phone in one hand, the other inching towards his crotch, the urge to rub himself in search of sweet, sweet relief was too strong to fight off. So he didn’t – Jiung simply gave in to the temptation, diving head first into his desire for you.

The past hour had been pure torture. Not only was he absolutely swamped at work with unrealistic deadlines, but he also had to force himself to stay awake for the weekly government broadcast at the assembly hall. Jiung didn’t understand why they made it compulsory viewing every Friday – the content was repeated every week: stay within your factions, don’t interact with outsiders and abide by the curfew. For all he cared, the drawling voice could’ve been speaking in an entirely different language and he wouldn’t even have noticed. 

Not when you were the sole centre of his attention; the only thought that preoccupied his mind.

It was forbidden – whatever this thing you had going on between the two of you, anyway. Neither of you had a clue what this was. Being from different factions meant the odds were never in your favour. From birth, no, from the moment you were conceived in your mothers’ wombs, you and Jiung lived completely different lives. You were from the upper class, and he was from the working class – the lowest rung of society’s ladder; the scum of the earth. You had all the riches and gold, and always dressed in pristine whites. You were the epitome of poise and purity. Jiung was always tainted in shades of dirt, murky browns and dusty greens. Everywhere he went, he carried the earthy stench of the forest, a byproduct of spending endless days chopping wood and farming land for the government – the very government your family helped to form.

He was beneath you, metaphorically and physically. Right now, you locked yourself in an abandoned bedroom, one of the many in your father’s mansion, far away from prying eyes and curious ears. Being the daughter of a high-ranking government official came in handy, especially for raunchy phone sex escapades with the most irresistible boy you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

The first time you made eye contact with Jiung was when he came to deliver wood for the fireplace in your father’s study. You felt an electric spark then – both of you did. The air was thick and heavy with tension. And let’s just say you definitely felt an unmistakable wetness pool at your nether regions from watching him lift and chop big chunks of wood like they were weightless. It made you wonder how he would manhandle you in bed too…

You threw the phone onto the four poster bed before launching yourself at the mattress, obscuring the phone camera with a view of your chest that had Jiung salivating from the other end of the line. “Do you think they’ll know?” You mused, spreading yourself out and getting comfortable.

Jiung scoffed. Of course you were stalling – you were an upper class girl with all the time in the world to enjoy life’s simplest pleasures. Him, a humble forest boy, did not have the same privileges. As they always say, time is money. And right now, while he’d love to entertain your musings, he really had to get back to work soon. The forest had to be cleared and the trees were not going to chop themselves.

Plus, he was starting to get impatient. That’s what spending one whole hour eye fucking each other across the hall did to him, he supposed – him, a mere nobody amongst the crowd, and you, standing on the assembly stage, looking down at the commoners like the charming, law-abiding bureaucrat you were raised to be. Oh, if only people knew what went on behind the (smoke)screens. “I doubt it. These phones are ancient, none of the current systems will know how to break the encryption. But we’ll never know for sure – they’re always watching, Y/N.”

You hummed in response, lips curling into a devious smile. You liked that thought. “Then let’s give them a show.”

“That’s what we always do, baby. Now hurry, I’ve waited long enough.”

“What’s the magic word, Jiung?”

Blood rushed towards his cock at the way your saccharine voice wrapped around the syllables of his name. He imagined the same lips, oh so pink and kissable, wrapping around something else of his instead. “Quick, we don’t have time! You always do this, I need to go soon.”

“Always so impatient.” You tsked in feigned disapproval, but deep down, you liked it. You liked how Jiung couldn’t get enough of you, how he needed you so desperately, like a burning desire within him that could never be satiated. Even after ending every video call with a promise to never watch each other cum ever again, he always came running back to you, begging to watch you touch yourself. To him, nothing could beat watching you get off on him and his voice.

“Your shirt, Y/N.” Jiung insisted, voice firm and hard. Almost as firm and hard as his thick cock, straining against the confines of his dirt-stained work pants. 

Your pussy pulsed in response, leaking helplessly at his harsh command. After all, as the darling daughter of the most respected upper class family, you were raised to obey orders. You were always a good girl, and always eager to please. You propped the phone up against the pillow and got on your knees for Jiung, ensuring that your upper half was within the frame. With a sultry grin, you dragged your hands up your body, shivering when your fingers came into contact with your stiff nipples.

“Y/N,” He warned dangerously, but you liked playing games. His words fell on deaf ears as you kept playing with yourself, maintaining the slow pace. “Why would you even forget your bra? You like that everyone can see your nipples, huh? Is that it? Slut.”

“Yes, Jiung. I’m your slut.” You moaned, fingers pinching your buds through the thin fabric of your collared button-down. You were a good girl, but you loved bending the rules every now and then, with and for Jiung. And Jiung loved that he tainted you, the girl who embodied innocence and purity. He loved that he stained your whiteness with his dirtiness, like how he dreamed of painting your soft, supple skin with his hot cum.

Jiung cursed under his breath, and you heard him fumbling on the other end of the line. He scrambled to get his bottoms off and sighed in relief when his heavy cock was released. “Go on, what are you waiting for? Touch yourself for me.”

A dark, twisted part of you loved being spoken to in that way. The tension that built up from having to stand still in front of everyone while Jiung undressed you with his eyes got you all worked up. Now, it already felt like a release to take off your clothes and shed the persona you were forced to put on for the rest of the world. Because you knew when Jiung called you like this, you were reduced to nothing more than his girl; his slut. 

So you did as you were told and spread your legs on either side of the phone. You wore a maxi skirt that went all the way to your ankles to remain modest, but you couldn’t imagine what others would say if they saw you exposing your skin, let alone flashing your wet panties to Jiung, of all people, on the other side of the call. 

“Shit, you’re soaking, Y/N. So wet and we haven’t even got started…” Jiung mumbled, head spinning at the wet spot on your lacy white panties. His finger thumbed over an identical stain on his boxers, teasing himself as he spread the precum around his tip.

“It’s because you always look at me like that…” You whined, hands itching to touch your centre. But you knew better than that; you knew to wait for his instructions.

“Like what?” He smirked cockily. 

“Like you want to eat me up.”

“So what if I do? Hmm?” He hummed in response. “You know I’d do anything to eat your sweet pussy, my love.”

You moaned desperately, body heating up at his choice of words. “Jiung…”

“My sweet girl… Go ahead, touch yourself over your panties.”

You obeyed, lips parting in a sigh as your fingers came in contact with your centre. You placed pressure against your hole and felt yourself clench around nothing. Oh, you would give anything and everything to have his calloused fingers inside your gummy walls instead. But alas, it would never happen.

So you settled with this instead. Having his addictive voice guide you to completion over the phone was better than not having him at all. “Push your panties aside for me, yes, that’s it. Put a finger in.” Jiung instructed. He released a breathy moan when his fingers wrapped around his length and began stroking himself.

Your middle finger slipped inside your entrance easily given how soaked you were. It was a relief – small, but a relief nonetheless. You pumped your fingers in and out, maintaining a steady pace. From the corner of your eye, you could make out Jiung’s handsome face contorting in pleasure as he stroked his cock, matching your pace.

“How does it feel? Tell me, baby.” He breathes out, always a sucker for your strained voice and soft whispers.

“Good…” You trailed off, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. “Ah, but I wish it was your fingers inside…” You whined.

Jiung grunted in reply to your whiny cries, increasing his pace. “So do I, baby. Been thinking about stuffing your tight pussy with my fingers all day. I’d get you all stretched and ready for my cock. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” You cried desperately.

“I know you would, my little slut. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but look at you now. What do you think they’d say? Put another finger in for me, go on.”

You obliged willingly, breath hitching at the feeling of being stretched further. Jiung was hypnotised, his eager eyes glued to the phone screen to watch your walls stretch and accommodate an additional finger. He couldn’t help but imagine replacing your fingers with his throbbing length and thrusting deep inside, over and over and over again until you both reached your climaxes. He loved tainting you; loved ruining the perfect image that the world sees of you.

“Jiung…” Your soft voice pulled him out of his trance. “Wanna see you, please…”

He knew exactly what you were asking for. He lifted up his shirt and angled the phone upwards, giving you the most delectable view of his thick girth and the numerous tattoos littered on his skin. You watched, transfixed, core pulsating as he stroked his cock hurriedly, harsh pants leaving his parted lips.

“How’s the view?” Jiung questioned with a handsome smirk on his face. 

You hummed in approval. “You’re so hot, Jiung.” 

“Right back at you, sweetheart. One more finger, c’mon. You know you can do it.”

Your lips fell apart in choked moans when you added the third finger. It could barely fit. You felt so full.

“God, you’re taking them so well. Doing so good, baby. Are you close?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed at the wet sounds your cunt made as you pumped your fingers in and out. 

“Me too. Rub your clit, yes… Good girl, just like that.”

“Jiung! Jiung, I’m close, Jiung…” Your mind was flooded with thoughts of Jiung and Jiung only, as you chanted his name repeatedly like a sacred prayer. You were so close, rubbing quickly to chase your release. 

“Yes, Y/N, so good, you’re doing so well for me.” Jiung moaned, mirroring your actions. He was running his mouth and babbling at this point. “Want to cum in your tight pussy and fill you up. I’ll stuff you full of my cum, put your panties back on and make you keep it inside… The world needs to know who you belong to.”

“You, Jiung! I belong to you, only you!”

“Fuck!” He swore, not expecting you to say something like this. It was so intimate – you took him completely by surprise. It was like a switch flipped inside him. The next thing he knew, his orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks and he was cumming messily all over himself. 

Watching his cum leak out in hot spurts made your walls clench tightly on your fingers. The image of him reaching his climax threw you over the edge, pleasure coursing deliciously through your veins as you reached your sweet release. 

It was intense this time, more intense than any of the previous calls. Even though you weren’t in the same room, you could feel the air had shifted. 

You both took a moment to compose yourself, to steady your breaths and heartbeats. But just as you were about to break the silence, you heard footsteps approaching the room.

“Damn it, I have to go.” You stared at him, panicked, yet your expression was uncertain and conflicted, like you were experiencing a whole range of emotions in a matter of seconds. 

Jiung was staring so intently at you, waiting for you to say goodbye and end the call. But why did he feel so reluctant this time? 

“I –” He started.

But you cut him off. “Sorry. See you, Jiung.”

You ended the call. For a few seconds, you just stared at the black screen, selfishly allowing yourself to imagine what life would be like if you could be with him in person, and not just through a phone screen. 

And then you realised that today was Friday, and the maids were out looking for you to get you ready and all dolled up for dinner at the government house. Instead of returning the phone to its usual resting place under the pillow, you pocketed it for a change. You weren’t too sure why, but your gut was telling you it was the right thing to do.

You ended the call. For a long time, Jiung just stared at the black screen, selfishly allowing himself to imagine what life would be like if he could call you his, and not just through a phone screen. His lower body and tattoos were still covered in cum, and he curses into the darkness when he realises…

“I think I’m in love with you.” He whispered, his words drifting off into the endless void between the two of you.

[7:49pm] jiung: sent a photo.

[7:51pm] jiung: can’t stop thinking about you

[7:51pm] jiung: i need you so bad, please y/n…

[7:51pm] y/n: me too, i want you inside me

[7:51pm] y/n: you can use the maid’s entrance. i’ll sneak out of this dinner, meet me in 20

[bcksbarnes]

🔞- suggestive content only (i do not write explicit smut)

TIME'S NEVER BEEN ON OUR SIDE 🔞 bucky barnes x reader

you and bucky happen to meet by chance one night, and it feels like there is a spark between the two of you - but he has to leave. was this destiny? or cruel fate? chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six (coming soon)

BETWEEN A DREAM tws!bucky barnes x reader

bucky barnes has just found out his entire life has been a lie. that his life as the winter solider has been nothing but mind control. instead of running off after his fight with steve, he returns to the avengers tower where he trusts no one. everyone takes turn on watch, and this time it’s yours. chapter one | chapter two | chapter three (final)

TRACES OF A LONELY WORLD 🔞 bucky barnes x reader

bucky's job takes him away from you more that he cares to admit. most of the times you can understand, but there are some nights it tears you apart. chapter one | chapter two (final)

SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED bucky barnes x reader

you move into a new apartment and need bucky to help build a piece of furniture

SNIPPED bucky barnes x reader

bucky is feeling plagued by his past so he asks you to cut his hair

THE SUN WILL SET FOR YOU bucky barnes x reader

bucky barnes is wrapped up in your arms, wanting you to be his

SILVER LINING bucky barnes x reader

for someone who was once frozen in time, bucky barnes never had to worry about aging, until he finds his first gray hair.

SHELTER FROM THE STORM buck barnes x reader

an incident has left you scarred, rattled and some nights unable to sleep. your boyfriend, bucky, knows how to calm you down in those moments.

THE FASTER WE'RE FALLING 🔞 bucky barnes x reader

bucky is, unfortunately, dragged to a busy club on a saturday night. he hates the loud music and strobe lights and just wants to leave, until you catch his eye.

HAVE I FOUND YOU? bucky barnes x reader

you and bucky are in the beginning stages of your relationship and get caught in a rainstorm

HEARTS ON FIRE au!bucky barnes x avenger!reader

in an alternate universe, bucky never falls to his death and instead is with steve rogers when the plane crashes to destroy hydra's base. decades later they are found and bucky is an original member of the avengers. his only problem besides adjusting to the new century? he can't help but mercilessly flirt with his teammate.

FLOWERS IN HAND 🔞 bucky barnes x reader

unfortunately for bucky barnes, he is head over heels in love with you, and when you want something, it doesn't take much convincing.

WATCH IT BURN 🔞 target!bucky barnes x assassin!reader

you were given a mission: eliminate your target quickly. what you weren't told? your target is the very elusive, highly trained winter solider. that makes things a little bit harder. now you've found yourself back against the wall with his knife pressed to your throat, but there's a look in both of your eyes, one that says this won't end the way either of you planned.

COLD WIND BLOWS bucky barnes x reader

bucky hates the cold, you show him how enjoyable it is to warm up

ONE AND ONLY husband!bucky barnes x reader

you and bucky decide to take the next step, afterwards you both reflect on your choices, and your love.

RAMBLINGS

PROMPTS

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Eleven - Picture Perfect

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You and Jessie are settling into your new home as the arrival of your little one nears. However, Jessie wants to capture this moment in time before it passes.

Warnings: G!P content. Sexy photoshoot. Masturbation (reader), cunnilingus, penetrative sex, preg/breeding kink, language.

A/N: I couldn’t go another chapter without Jessie worshipping Reader’s body through photos. And if it led to smut…so be it. Also, a brief throwback/love letter to my Handy series.

Jessie wore a gentle frown as she held two wooden bars together and eyed them up to make sure they were aligned. When she was satisfied, she retrieved a screw she held poised between her lips and starting assembling the two pieces together.

When done, she examined the manual and began lining up her next items. She looked up at you from her spot on the floor, a soft smile crossing her face. You were in the new glider chair that'd been delivered and had your laptop teetering on the edge of your lap as you typed away on something for work. Your arms were bent awkwardly around your protruding bump and your expression betrayed some of the effort you had to exert to just do this simple task.

"You know, I built you a desk," Jessie said with a smirk.

You exhaled and gave her a pointed stare, pausing mid-keystroke.

"And what a lovely desk it is. But that's in the office. You are here - in the nursery, building our daughter's crib, and I would like to be a part that. You refuse to let me help you, so I'll merely be an observer," you explained evenly.

Jessie bit back an amused laugh and simply raised her eyebrows with an accepting nod.

"Okay. Heard. And I'm sorry - I just like building things on my own," she said as she continued to piece the crib together.

"You can just say I get in the way," you said with a knowing smirk over your laptop screen.

"I would never," she said facetiously as she held your gaze with a grin. You went to protest and she nodded to the freshly painted walls. "You've done a ton already. You painted far more than I wanted you to yesterday. And you've done a bunch of arranging in here already today. You've been on your feet too much." She chided before frowning further and getting up from her spot on the floor to push the chair's accompanying foot rest in front of you. "Put your feet up. It'll help with the swelling."

"Ugh," you complained with an empty glare though you complied with her request. You continued typing as Jessie returned to her previous spot and you went on. "This whole sexy pregnancy thing is past its prime. It's not so fun sometimes."

"I'm sorry," Jessie said as she looked up at you again.

"Don't be sorry," you told her mildly as you looked at her. "I'm just not feeling so hot anymore."

"'Hot' as in sexy or 'hot' as in good?" Jessie inquired.

"Both," you said flatly, and she gave you an empathetic smile.

"Well, if it means anything, I think you're incredibly sexy," she told you before rushing on in case it upset you, "I know it's a pain for you, but I wish you knew how attractive you are like this."

"Well, I consider myself lucky that you think so," you responded dully.

"I'm so serious," she emphasized. She paused momentarily, a lingering, persistent thought pushing itself to the forefront again and begging to be shared. You noted her hesitation and frowned skeptically.

"What is it?" You asked.

"Nothing." Jessie smiled. "I just think you're really beautiful," she said before she ducked her head to keep assembling the crib.

The room was quiet for a few seconds and Jessie could feel your eyes on her. If you were going to probe, you chose not to and she heard you start typing again.

You both worked quietly in tandem with one another and eventually Jessie stood back, hands on her hips as she surveyed her work. She gave a single nod of approval, a proud smile on her face as she examined the finished crib.

"What do you think?" She asked as she looked over her shoulder at you. You looked up and over, a smile immediately on your face and you closed your laptop. You went to stand, rocking yourself to get enough momentum to get out of the chair, but Jessie trotted over and gave you a hand.

"You love this," you said with a mixture of accusation and gratitude as you narrowed your eyes at her. She gave you an innocent smile.

"Taking care of you? Sure," she said, undeterred.

You both walked over to the crib and rest your hands on the rail and peered in.

Jessie's imagination was rampant with visions of your daughter sleeping in this crib, of her rocking your daughter to sleep in the middle of the night, of her cooing and fussing and slowly growing up in this room you and Jessie had put together with love.

"I can't wait until she's here," you said softly, drawing Jessie out of her reverie. She smiled at you and kissed your shoulder.

“Me neither. I can’t believe it’s getting so close,” she said.

“I know. It seems like just a few weeks ago we were looking at the test. And now…,” you trailed off as you rubbed your stomach. Jessie frowned as she caught you faintly wince.

“Are you okay? Braxton Hicks?” She asked as she placed her hand next to yours on the underside of your bump. You exhaled through your wince and nodded.

“Yeah.”

Jessie gave you another empathetic look and rubbed your stomach for you. She remembered how panicked she was the first time you experienced one, despite reading up on them and hearing about them in an earlier birthing class.

“They’re becoming more frequent, hey?” She asked. They used to be every few days and now it was daily.

“Mmhmm,” you voiced. “A nice prelude to what’s in store in a few weeks,” you deadpanned as you side eyed her. “Which, by the way, you better not be missing next week’s class. It’s the big one.”

Jessie pulled you sideways into her and kissed your head. "Of course I’ll be there. The team already knows I’m missing training that afternoon.”

“Good,” you said sternly before relenting some. “Thank you.”

"Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. And hey, how about I run you a bath," she suggested.

You contemplated it, stubbornly almost, until finally accepting. “I suppose that would be nice. Between the Braxton Hicks and my back…it wouldn’t hurt.”

Jessie led you to the bathroom and soon she tenderly underdressed you as the tub filled. She held out her hand for you to step in, knowing balance was a bit of a challenge given your changing center of gravity.

"Babe," you complained, drawing out the pet name as Jessie helped you sink into the water. "It's cold."

"It's warm," Jessie corrected. "You can't have a hot bath - you know that." You rolled your eyes and continued to pout. Jessie gave you a withering look, but turned on the hot water for a few seconds.

"That's all you're getting," she told you, but you now smiled at her.

"Thanks, baby."

"You can have all the hot baths you want after the baby is born. I'll watch her and take care of her and you can sit in here, water as hot as you like and get all pruney," she finished with a smirk.

"I will," you said facetiously defiant.

Jessie sat on the edge of the tub and watched you quietly as you settled in, eyes closing as you relaxed into the water.

You'd been in the new house only a couple of weeks, but - with some help - you'd gotten the place more or less settled. It felt like each day the next piece of your lives was becoming crisper and clearer. It excited Jessie and she could hardly believe it.

She nearly had to laugh. A few years ago, she'd been sitting there, palms sweating and mouth dry as she wracked her brain over and over again with what to text you as she tried to charm you and wished against all odds that you'd like her as much as she liked you. Now, here you were, her ring on your finger and round with her baby, weeks away from giving birth. Your family of two about to become a family of three.

The thought that nagged her earlier came back. She watched you lovingly and just said it.

"I want to take pictures of you."

You opened your eyes and cocked your head slightly in question.

"I want to take pictures of you," Jessie repeated. "Like this." You frowned and she stammered slightly. "Well - maybe not exactly like that. Well? Actually, maybe." She shook out her head and went on assuredly. "You are glowing. And gorgeous. And so incredibly beautiful. And I want to capture this for us."

"For us or for you," you asked casually as your eyes drifted down her body teasingly. She blushed.

"Maybe both," she admitted haughtily. "And it doesn't have to be today. But soon."

"Is that why you built your dark room?" You teased. Jessie splashed you playfully and you squealed.

"This would just happen to be a nice perk," she refuted, a grin still on her face. She grew earnest once more. "I know your body is going through a lot and you don't feel great. But you really are the most stunning woman to me. I hope you know that."

You seemed to begrudgingly contemplate her words. Eventually, you sighed. "You need to be in some of the photos, too."

That wasn't what she was picturing, but she'd have to cope. She smiled.

"Okay. Deal."

"Now, if I ask you something - will you say 'yes'?" You asked. Jessie frowned.

"Maybe? What is it?"

"If I wanted you to go to the store and get me, say, some ice cream. Would you?" You asked as you looked at her expectantly. She rolled her eyes and groaned.

"You don't have to," you offered mildly, but Jessie was already standing up.

"Come on," she said dryly. "Let's get you out of there and into bed. And, yes, I'll go." You nearly snickered and she ground out with a lingering grin, "You have me wrapped around your little finger and you know it." She nodded to your bump with a shake of her head. "And she will, too."

"Mhmm," you merely nodded with a self-satisfied smile. "Who are you kidding?" You said patiently. "She already does."

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

“You look beautiful,” Jessie told you as she crouched and held the viewfinder of her camera up to her eye. The camera clicked as she pressed the shutter.

“Well, it is your doing,” you joked with a teasing glance as you readjusted the flowing fabric of your dress. “So you’re really just admiring your own work.”

Jessie smiled, fighting off a blush as she moved around you and took pictures of you from different angles.

You rubbed your stomach before pulling your hand back. “Oh, sorry.”

“No, no, that’s perfect,” she told you as she encouraged you to do it again. She put her hand on your stomach as well and leaned back to take a picture of her hand and yours.

Jessie had you pose in various ways, all the while making sure you felt comfortable and at ease. She really meant it when she said you were glowing. You already were the most gorgeous girl to her, but like this, she couldn’t help but worship you.

When she was satisfied, she stood up straight and looked to you in question.

“Now,” she went on, clearing her throat as she looked at you. “How do you feel about…taking some clothes off.” She went on in a rush, one hand up in defense already. “It’ll be tasteful. I promise.”

You smirked at her. “I trust you.”

You started bundling up the fabric of your dress and Jessie helped you take off the garment. She couldn’t help it if her hands lingered on your hips, on your bump, on your swollen breasts. She cleared her throat once more as she forced herself to refocus.

“You’re gorgeous,” she told you as you held your breasts in your hands or covered them with your arm for modesty as Jessie photographed your otherwise naked body.

“Here, give me that,” you said gently after some time as you held out your hand for the camera. Jessie handed it over wordlessly with a frown. After some encouragement, she complied and you started taking pictures of her with your bump.

She took the camera after a few shots and set it up on a tripod to capture a few photos of the two of you together.

It was a challenge for Jessie to control herself as she kissed and caressed your bump. Some of her kisses and touches turned sensual. She kept an eye on you and fought back a satisfied grin as you began to fidget under her touch.

“Babe,” you drew out the name, half complaining, half whining.

“Yeah babe?” She asked through a smile as she continued to kiss your taut stomach.

“You know what,” you pouted.

“‘Mmkay, that’s enough,” Jessie said as she stood up and took the camera back. “This was supposed to be photos of you after all,” she said with a lingering look. She stood back and took a few more pictures, noting how flushed you looked.

“Why don’t you we get some of you sitting down,” Jessie said as she coaxed you over to the bed. You sat down heavily and gave her an accusatory look.

“God, now you have me all worked up,” you complained leaning back on your hands.

Jessie hummed as she wound the film. “Well, feel free to do something about it,” she offered nonchalantly. You shot her a look. She smirked at you. “They can be for my even more private collection.”

You studied her for several seconds and she could feel you were on the precipice.

“It’s obviously up to you, but I would adore some photographs of my gorgeous wife-to-be relieving some tension as she’s round and full of the baby that I pumped into her.”

“Christ Jess,” you huffed as you rolled your eyes in frustration.

“Her body blossoming in the most incredible, raw way possible. Her breasts gorgeous and full. Her hips softer and curvier to accommodate the life we created. God, you turn me on so much,” Jessie finished, her camera poised and ready, and also unable to ignore the tightening sensation forming in her pants.

She caught the way your eyes drifted to her bulge and you bit your lip. She snapped a photo.

"God you're beautiful."

You didn't say anything, you just lifted your gaze to look at her through the camera and leaned back further before reaching down with a hand to begin stroking through your folds.

"Oh yes," Jessie said with a broad smile as she knelt down to get a better angle. From here, not only did she get a clearer view of your swollen and slick pussy lips, but you looked incredible from this angle - leaned back, your prominent bump on full display, your breasts spilling out around it, further highlighted by how your chest moved up and down with each breath, never mind the profile of your face with your head thrown back.

Jessie bit the inside of her cheek as she felt herself straining further against the fabric of her pants as she watched you begin to rub your clit, soft mewls starting to escape you.

"You always sound so amazing," Jessie told you as she took another picture.

You simply moaned and began rubbing yourself with greater fervour.

"Help me, Jess," you said, eyes still closed as you gently rocked into your hand. She didn't need to be told twice.

She set the camera down quickly and shifted over between your legs and gently pushed your legs apart just enough to make room for her. She felt a pulse go through her at the low moan you made.

Wasting no more time, she dipped her head in and began licking you as you continued to play with your clit.

"Oh God," you breathed, your chest falling as pleasure coursed through you.

She pulled your lips into her mouth, teasing and licking them before dipping her tongue inside your entrance then returning to trace between your folds.

Between her attention and yours, it wasn't long until your hips began to buck into her face and your hand. Her face was coated in juices before you even started cumming, only to have your arousal dripping down her chin as you came.

When she eventually pulled back, she lifted the collar of her shirt to wipe her mouth on the inside of it.

"God, baby. You were always wet, but you're so wet these days and I love it even more," she praised.

By now you had laid back on the bed to recover. You were only there for maybe 30 seconds before you shifted on your side.

"Ugh, that's too much," you said of the weight on you.

Jessie climbed onto the bed and kissed your bump and then your arm.

The room was quiet as you rested and Jessie simply watched you. She ignored the way her pants were pulled tight against her erection and the feeling of frustration it created.

Eventually, you peeked over. "What are we going to do about you?"

"We don't need to do anything," she told you and she meant it.

"Mmm, I know we don't have to, but what if I want to," you said.

Jessie gave you a scrutinizing look and you shrugged a shoulder.

"I love cumming on your tongue, but cumming on your cock is a whole other experience."

"Jesus," Jessie breathed as she looked up at the ceiling for a second before returning to meet your gaze with a smirk. She shook her head. "You know what you do to me."

"I can see it," you said with a teasing nod towards her very obvious bulge.

"How do you want to do it?" Jessie asked. In the state you were in, sex required a bit more forethought and consideration these days. It took away a touch of the primal need and 'in the moment' spontaneity, but it was far more important to her that you felt comfortable.

You hoisted yourself up into a sitting position and looked around the bed.

"I want to ride you," you said. "I might get tired quick though."

"That's okay. I can support you and we can flip over when you do get tired," she said.

With a nod of approval from you, Jessie began to undress and then maneuvered herself over to the head of the bed. She reached for your hands to help you, gently helping you straddle her and balance before guiding herself to your entrance.

"Are you okay?" She asked, only to be answered by you sinking down onto her waiting cock. Her jaw set and she dug her head backwards into the pillow as your warmth engulfed her. "Shit." She cursed and you merely smirked at her.

"Still good?" You asked with a glint in your eye.

"Fuck, you know how good you feel," she said as she held your hips and rolled herself up into you.

Jessie had her feet planted on the bed, knees raised so you could lean back against her thighs. This also let her better use her hips to help you move up and down. What good was working out if it didn't help her fuck you?

Again, the view was absolutely stunning from where Jessie was. She could adore you in all your glory as you were backlit on top of her. The days of fast and furious fuckings were on a bit of a hiatus, but it didn't bother Jessie in the least. The intimacy of these recent sessions put them in their own category and she adored it.

She held one hand under your thigh to continue supporting you, but her other hand came to your round belly and she caressed it as you two made love. Your hand came to hers.

"What are you going to do when I'm no longer swollen and heavy with your baby," you said with a lilt in your voice. Jessie grinned as she locked eyes with you.

"Put another one in you," she said without missing a beat.

You chuckled. "I know we make decent money, but we're going to have to be careful to not get too out of control. Two tops."

"Three?" Jessie asked as she continued to rock into you.

"I'm going to say 'two' knowing we'll end up at three. If I say 'three', we'll wind up with four and that's just too much."

"Fine," Jessie said facetiously as she gripped your hips again and picked up her pace just a touch. You moaned and gripped her forearms for support.

She wished she could kiss you, but she couldn't in this position. After would just have to do. She continued and soon she could feel your walls starting to tighten and clench around her.

"Fuck," you whimpered. "Rub my clit," you told her urgently.

It wasn't easy, given your bump, but Jessie did so and you quickly came undone on her fingers and cock. Her muscles flexed as she held you up as your body melted into hers.

You relaxed on top of her, leaning back against her thighs and nudged her for help to disentangle yourself from her. She chuckled and did so, unable to hide that she was still very much aroused.

You knelt onto your hands and knees, your stomach brushing against the sheets below. You looked over your shoulder at her.

"I want you to finish inside me," you said.

Jessie didn’t argue. She shifted behind you and held herself to your sopping entrance to push inside. Again, her eyes fell shut at the incredible feeling of your soft heat wrapping tightly around her.

“Fuck, babe,” she said, on one knee, the other foot planted next to you as she rocked her hips into you. She leaned back and watched how your lips wrapped around her cock and she kneaded your ass as she bit her lip.

“Oh God,” you said as she shifted to lean over you, one hand bracing herself on the mattress and the other on the side of your bump. With this angle she was hitting your g-spot directly and your legs began to quiver.

Wet sounds filled the air as she began to pump into you a touch faster, a tightness starting to build within her as you continued to envelope her, your tunnel repeatedly massaging the sensitive head of her cock and her length as she thrust into you with firm, measured strokes.

She could tell you were close again so she grit her teeth and held back a while longer. She reached down with one hand and began playing with your clit again. Your legs shook further and she leaned back to hold your hips to support you.

You came with a cry and Jessie finally released herself inside of you with a low moan, holding her hips flush against you as she pulsed and twitched inside your heat.

“Ah, fuck,” she hissed in pleasure as she took a slow stroke back before pushing in to the hilt a couple more times as she drained herself into your waiting pussy.

She exhaled slowly, her mouth in a tight ‘O’ as she withdraw altogether to see just a hint of her cum pooled inside of you, most of it too deep to be seen.

“Fuck, baby,” she said as she admired you and the state you were in. She leaned forward and kissed your back before you settled onto your side with a contented sigh.

You sighed further, catching your breath as Jessie snuggled in behind you to spoon you. She wrapped her arm around your waist, her fingertips barely reaching your bellybutton.

“Are you okay?” She asked as she thumbed the taut skin of your middle.

“Completely. Other than tired.” She could hear the smile in your voice. “And more Braxton Hicks,” you added flatly. “I guess multiple orgasms will do that to a girl.”

Jessie propped herself up on her elbow to look at you. You glanced up at her briefly, but soon nestled your head back into the bed and closed your eyes.

“Should we be concerned?” She asked.

“No. The midwife said that’s normal,” you replied. “If I end up past-due though, I’ll be tasking you with fucking me into labour though,” you said with a smirk.

You exhaled again before tilting your head slightly to look back at her. “How do you think the photos will turn out?”

Jessie beamed and kissed your shoulder. “They’re going to be beautiful.”