#I’m just something and I can’t figure it out

[lizardho]

Being at BYU after my mission was weird. Like. Bad weird. Everybody was still acting like missionaries but they had nobody to teach so it all turned into the holier-than-thou bs that missions always degenerate into over time. Just the forced establishment of some weird social hierarchy where value is based on how devout you are, with people digging and scratching and clawing their way around humanity in order to become even more devout.

And this bullshit was actively killing me. The attempts to stay Good Enough were scraping the remnants of my humanity out of my husk like a spoon scraping the last bits of watermelon from a rind - I was doing what I had always done, be Mormon, do what Mormons do, be as good a Mormon as I could be, only it was breaking me. Instead of healing me, making me whole, taking away my burdens, it was pulling the life out of me in exchange for nothing. I was just being squeezed dry of everything I had to offer and being given back shame and isolation and rejection because I didn’t do it first, or fast enough, or with a willing enough heart, or whatever the hell they could come up with.

But despite myself, because most people smarter than me AND dumber than me would have left already, I found myself trying over and over and over again to make it work with no success.

One day, I snap. I’ve had enough. I need answers. I’ve looked everywhere and done everything I could by myself, and nothing had come of it, so I went to talk to a faculty member. A teacher at the school. He taught religion classes and his lessons were powerfully and inspiringly honest, earnest, and filled with raw humanity. I figured if I could get a straight (ha) answer from anyone, it would be that guy. He wasn’t involved in the Mormon rat race. He wasn’t playing the stupid “I’m Worthier Than You” games that were so pernicious on campus. He was being real and open and vulnerable and I needed that from someone.

So I go into his office and I lay my cards on the table. I figure if I’m gonna get helped, I need to be honest. I share with him my weird feelings about dad leaving the church on my mission. About my siblings leaving the church. About my own doubts and hurts. I tell him about how hard it is to be in limbo like this without knowing what to do or where to turn. I tell him I need answers.

And he listens. And then he starts with the usual Mormon apologetics bullshit. And I say “no” because I’m done with that. That doesn’t fly with me anymore. And he sees and hears me say no and he puts a hand on mine, makes direct eye contact, and says,

“You know, you don’t have to go to church, right?”

I, being a person who was hurting, interpreted that as “if you have questions that I can’t answer you should fuck off.” I got defensive immediately and he again listened, put his hand on mine, and said,

“Not what I meant. You can stay if you want, but I want you to know you can leave too. Take a break. Give yourself time to heal. This isn’t supposed to hurt this much, and if it hurts you can take a break and come back when it feels good.”

I’m actually getting choked up just writing that out. Nobody had ever said that to me before. When I talked about my dysphoria to my parents, they said teenagers are supposed to feel like that a little bit. When I talked to people about my difficulties at church they had always told me that it was a sign that church was working. That I was doing it right. That growth was supposed to hurt, that excising the Natural Man from me was supposed to be difficult, that I was supposed to be feeling this anxious and sad and scared. I had never ever ever been told that pain and suffering were signs things were going wrong. I had actually explicitly been told by many many many many many many many many people that it was good, that the hurt and the heartache and the constant feeling of never being good enough and never being able to fit into my own skin or love myself in any meaningful way was desirable. That it was something they envied.

It’s not supposed to hurt. Some things can, and should. My parents were right that some body concerns were normal (although we later found out my specific concerns were more abnormal lmao, I got that tgirl swag). My family and friends were right that challenging myself with difficult assignments and ambitious goals was supposed to feel uncomfortable.

And at the same time, THIS was not supposed to hurt. I was not meant to have this gaping throbbing aching hole in my Me that never let up. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HURT.

I don’t know when exactly I started crying, but I was crying the whole rest of the day. It was the first time in a while I had to actually take a Valium to clam down. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

He also told me that if it ever stopped hurting I could always come back.

I think that was the day I really left. Others might say otherwise, I still tried to make it work for a few more months after that, but the idea that it wasn’t supposed to hurt really changed me.

If any of you are reading this - there are things that are supposed to be difficult. Things that are supposed to hurt. But if your faith or your beliefs about the world or yourself leave you feeling like you’ve been hollowed out at a minor mistake or setback, if your failures and setbacks leave you feeling raw and numb frequently, if the company you keep or the places you stay leave you feeling constantly inadequate with out hope or help, then I’ll tell you the same thing that professor told me:

You can go somewhere else. You can do something else. And you can always come back when you want.

But it’s not supposed to hurt.

[chobunz]

── midnight snack. ( psh ) ּ 𓂅 ⋆ 🥣

๑ When your boyfriend wakes up to the sound of rustling in the kitchen and an empty bed, he goes downstairs to investigate…

pair: bf!sunghoon ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: pure fluff, lots and lots of fluff, touchy touchyy, back hugging, yn trying to be sneaky (spoiler: it doesn’t work), teasing, act of persuasion, hoon’s everlasting love for you <3, slightly suggestive towards the end (maybe ??) | words: 672

a/n. these pics of hoon were too cutesy not to use so i had to make a little smth for him >.<

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

10 minutes ago, you woke up in the middle of the night with a paining feeling in your stomach. it was more like a ‘please give me food or i’ll eat your insides’ kind of pain.

you found yourself downstairs, wrapped up in a cozy bathrobe rummaging through the pantry, fridge, and anything else you knew contained food. you were hungry.

your boyfriend on the other hand, found himself not so far away from your figure. he’d woken up to the sound of something dropping.. okay, maybe a ton of stuff dropping, and once he felt the empty space beside him, he’d already caught on to where you’d gone off to.

“you can’t be clumsy and trying to be sneaky.” he shoots as he takes his last step on the staircase. evolving in laughter once catching sight of your spooked character.

“not funny ! you scared the shit out of me..” you took a spoonful of cold cereal to your mouth. a pout lacing your lips as you chewed the crunchy bits.

“poptarts, cereal, and i’m guessing it’s pizza i’m smelling from the oven ?..” he caged you in from behind; eyes trailing your variety of foods. “odd mix.” he chuckled, pressing kisses on your shoulder.

“odd, and none of your business.” you add bringing the bowl up to your mouth to drink the leftover milk.

“anything that happens in this house is my business. go to yours and we can find out otherwise.” he watched your figure turn around to face him, a smile breaking into him once his eyes met yours.

he absolutely loved your eyes, he would say they were your charming point, that other than your pretty lips. the lips he found himself kissing once your face met his.

“is this you kicking me out ?” you raised your brows.

“it was simply a suggestion.” he smothered kisses along your jaw through his words.

“and if i took your suggestion ?”

“i’d cry,” the male laughed against your skin, you do so the same.

you’d both been in the kitchen for a while, waiting on your pizza to get nice and melty. sunghoon’s constant whining about how the both of you should just go to sleep stopped when he realized something.

“baby,” he yawned. “were you even gonna wake me up to get any of this..” he span around in the high chair he found himself sitting in once his legs started paining.

“of course..” you awkwardly laughed, taking peeks at him.

“doesn’t sound like it, why’d your voice sound so high just now ?” before you knew it he found himself dragging you towards him.

“you weren’t gonna give me any ?” he cocked his head at you once you shook your head at him trying to hold in your throat full of laughter. “really ?! you were just gonna leave me all by myself in bed and enjoy yourself ?”

“that was the point of sneaking ! i didn’t wanna wake you up..” you caressed his arms seeing his pouted lips.

“you’re a meanie.” he scolded you.

“i love you,” scattered kisses made it’s way onto his cheeks.

“even more than your smelly food ?”

“uhmm , definitely not silly.” you nonchalantly spat.

“what !” he whined, smacking his teeth. “you’re really something.” he pushed your figure away slightly, diverting his gaze to the floor.

“i was just kidding, hoon.” you giggled at his sulking persona.

“yeah ? stop laughing.” he pulled you back towards him puckering at your lips. “also, why couldn’t we just microwave the pizza ..?”

“pizza is better when it’s melty, and it should be done by now !”

you danced your way to the oven, your affectionate lover trailing behind you, handing you your oven mittens.

“thank you, assistant.” you joked, making him roll his eyes. “it’s all done !” you exclaimed, placing the hot pan on the stove.

sunghoon would love to eat the oily treat ahead of him, even devour it, it looked more than good. but as of now, he had other plans.

“looks yummy..”

“i’m not so sure i want pizza anymore though..”

(〃ﾉωﾉ)ﾟ+°

i js wanted to post a cute fluffy fic for a change lol, after this i will post my longer heeseung fic next ! :3

question: should i write/post more stuff like this tho ?? i’m js seeing if anyone’s interested in these types of drabbles instead of what i usually write all the time, so i’d rlly appreciate anyone’s input as well <3

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Making Me Crazy

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, the tiniest amount of fluff, just pure, raw smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, overstimulation, thigh riding)

Title from Cola by Lana Del Ray.

Summary/Warnings: Request from @little-wicked10! Ben overhears you doubting his generosity in bed, and immediately sets out to prove you wrong.

Author's Note: Top ten horniest things I've ever written. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.5k

Supes should be required to announce their presence whenever they walk within earshot of other people. If they were, you wouldn’t have snapped at Butcher that, for the last time, you were not sleeping with Ben. You wouldn’t have scowled and hissed that maybe you made come fuck me raw eyes at him, and maybe you liked him as more than a semi-reformed—you’ll call it about 70%, which was a passing grade—supe teammate, but you weren’t going to fuck him, because he was probably selfish in bed, and your lack of self-worth did not extend to falling to your knees only to get nothing in return.

But Ben hadn’t shouted a warning that he could hear you, and now you were gaping at him—standing at the foot of your bed with a cocky smirk—and trying to find a way out of this. Figure out whatever lie you could tell him that would make him just shrug off what he’d heard and walk away.

You weren’t really confident you’d find one. 

“We’ve, ah, we’ve been over this, Ben. I’m not having sex with you-“

“Not now.” He waves you off with firm words that shouldn’t be settling that deep in your core. “But you will.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re awfully confident given I just said no-“

“But you’re going to say yes,” Ben drawls your name, lowering himself down to hold your gaze. “Because I am not a fucking pussy who can’t get a woman off. And I’m going to get you off, over and over until you’re fucking screaming for more, until you’re so fucking cockdrunk you only know my name.”

“Ben-“

He smirks. “Good, you’re already starting-“

“Shut up.” You snap, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I’m not fucking you just because you say you’ll get me off, or so you can proved some sort of point-“

“I don’t have fucking shit to prove.” He shrugs. “And I would get you off, baby. Christ, I’m doing you a damn favor-“

That makes you laugh. “It is not a favor to have sex with me. I could go downstairs, flash my tits at Butcher, and even his ass would jump on me-“

“Butcher couldn’t handle you.” Ben snaps, and you’re suddenly very away of how he’s towering over you, how he’s broad and muscular, how big his hands are, how soft his hair looks, how there’s a bulge in his pants that has to be padded to look bigger-

You swallow, forcing your eyes to his focused, darkened, almost dizzyingly lustful ones. “Ben-“

“I could handle you.” He smirks at you, leaning down until his nose bumps yours, and you can smell his cologne and the whiskey on his breath and something heavier that’s musky and heady and might just be him. “I could fucking ruin you, doll. Make you never want another cock again.”

“Oh.” He must have slipped you something earlier, or there must be a gas leak, because there’s no other explanation for why you nod, lean forward a little further, a little cautiously, and whisper an agreement against his lips. “Okay.”

Then Ben crashes into you, tangling broad fingers in your hair and kissing you with a bruising force that makes your head spin, and you know exactly why you agreed. For this. For Ben, and a chance to taste if he was really that good.

And goddamn him, he was. He was better than good. He was a demanding tongue down your throat and firm hands pulling and rubbing at this skin of your hips and waist. He was a massive, warm body lowering over yours and forcing you to crawl backwards on the mattress. 

He was a fucking sex god, and you feel like you’d just committed the worst sin of all. You’d doubted him. And—as his knee shoves between your thighs and you start to see spots when his kiss only deepens—you know you’re about to repent. 

And when Ben rips off your shirt and bra in one brutal movement, kisses a sloppy line over your jaw, down your neck, and right to your breasts—kneading with one hand as he pulls your nipple into his mouth—you decide that whatever he demands, you’ll offer. This is already mind-numbing pleasure, and if the only relief he’s offered you is grinding against him and his mouth swallowing every whining moan, you’ll take it.

Then he moves his leg away, chuckles at your needy sound from the loss, and you know he’s onto you. That he’s got you bent to his will. 

“Don’t lose your mind yet,” he mutters against your skin, nipping at your breast. “We’ve got a damn long way to go before you can afford that.”

“I’m not, fuck-“

You cut yourself off with a gasp as Ben tears off your pants, teases two fingers over the wet spot on your panties, and shoves them aside to expose your bare pussy to the air. 

“You’re fucking wet, doll.” He rises back to your face, kissing and sucking all over your face but your lips, where you’re gaping and gasping his name. “All of this for me?”

“It’s- Ben-“

Your voice turns to a squeak as he spanks your cunt once, running three fingers over your folds as the sting fades to pleasure.

“And don’t fucking think about lying.” He hisses in your ear. “I’ll know.”

You swallow, your voice soft and hoarse. “It’s for you.”

“You think I’m fucking hot?” Ben shoves one finger into your pussy, grunting as you squeeze around him. “Fuck, baby, you want me to make you feel good? Want me to prove to you how fucking wrong you were?”

“God, yes.” You squeeze your eyes shut, arching your back as Ben adds a second finger and begins to pump. “Ben, fuck me, please-“

“Tell me what you want, doll.” He picks up his pace, scissoring and crooking his fingers deep inside you until you’re writhing below him. “Say it, say you want my cock-“

Ben rubs right against that spongey place inside you, dangling over the edge of what you need—what you might die without—and you moan. “Fuck, I want your cock, Ben, I want it so bad-“

“Good girl.” He mutters against your skin, his teeth grazing right at a sensitive spot behind your ear. “But you’re still going to need to fucking earn it.”

You have a brief moment of lucidity where you realize what he’s said, and your eyes fly open. “What the fuck do you mean, I have to- Ben!”

He starts to fingerfuck you at a rapid, almost frantic speed that’s made of lewd sounds, desperate, breathy pleas escaping your lips, and a quickly growing bomb of fire in your gut that’s set to burst so soon-

“Cum of my fingers, doll, fucking soak my hand-“

You scream as the bomb goes off, and you’re overwhelmed with your orgasm. It floods your body and launches you into space, higher, higher, and when you fall easily back down to earth you realize Ben hasn’t stopped. His pace has increased to furious, and you’re already on the edge again. You’d be embarrassed by how quickly you came apart for him—how wrong you were—if Ben was slowing down.

But he’s not. He’s dragging you closer and closer to vaulting back into blinding release, and it’s right on the edge of pain and pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough, and God, you just want him to fuck you-

“Ben,” you gasp, grabbing pointlessly at his wrist. “Fuck, I need you, need you so bad-“

He pulls your lower lip between his teeth, his fingers bending and pressing right against that spongy spot inside of you, and this orgasm is only more powerful. You can barely hear his low, growled promise right in your ear.

“Fucking earn it.”

When you regain your head, your pussy is clenching and fluttering against nothing and strong hands are gripping your waist, maneuvering you with no effort at all. And when your vision returns from a hazy blur, Ben’s below you. Holding you on his lap, your legs tight around his thigh.

You stare at him with wide eyes, and he chuckles, rolling your hips with a firm grip as he starts to bite and suck along your collarbone.

“Fuck yourself on my thigh, baby.” He growls, licking right up your throat like a fucking animal, drawing a high whimper from your lips. “Make yourself cum like the dirty little cockslut you are-“

You start to grind on him like he’s flipped a switch in your body. You’re overwhelmed with orgasms, and your cunt is sensitive and raw, but fuck that’s nothing compared to the sheer want for Ben in your body.

So you throw your all into it. Soaking his jeans with your needy cunt, grabbing at his shirt until he tears it off for you to scratch uselessly at his chest. Fuck, you even put on a show for him. Wiggling and rolling your body in his hold, watching him through lidded eyes, diving to kiss at his neck and drifting a hand down to touch that huge cock, straining in his pants-

“Fuck-“ Ben yanks your hand away, his voice stern and low, and you whine. “I’m not fucking done with you, doll, you need to fucking control yourself-“

You just moan, tugging at his hair in a silent please, and his face falls into one that might be—if you didn’t know better—awe.

“Christ,” he mutters your name, running a rough hand up your back to grip at your throat. “You need to my permission to cum, babydoll?”

Babydoll. That does things to you that you’re past trying to hide.

You’re past trying to hide most everything.

You nod, making a choked plea that’s meant to be Ben, but comes out high and feral, and Ben smirks, gripping your hips until you’re sure he’ll leave a mark.

But his words are low on your skin, and his dick is pressed right on your clit, and God, you hope he marks you. Maybe then you’ll feel like this forever.

“Cum,” Ben growls your name in your ear, and there it is. You scream as you reach another, higher state of euphoria, and you’re so close to just exploding when Ben hauls you up his chest and tosses you down onto your back, rising onto his knees and lowering his face between your thighs.

You don’t get warning when he shoves his face right into your cunt and starts to eat you out like he’s never eaten anything before. Like you’re the sweetest fruit or candy, or saltiest and most carefully crafted meal, or just straight fucking heroin into his bloodstream. He goes down on your with his whole fucking face, pulling your raw, swollen clit between his lips before flicking it with his tongue until you’re a whining frenzy, keeping your thighs split open with his hands and barely flinching as you start to buck and fly off the bed, the orgasms falling through you like rain. One hand even sneaks between your legs, and Ben focuses his sinful mouth on your over-attended clit as his fingers plunge back into your cunt, and you destroy yourself on his everything.

You must have squirted somewhere in there, because when Ben finally rises up his beard is shining with your arousal. 

But it might also just be that. This might just be so fucking good, Ben might be so good, that you could flood a desert with how much you need him inside you right now. Really, properly inside you-

Ben must read your mind, because he smirks at you, prowls over your loose and fucked-out body, and drags you into a long, slow, shockingly soft kiss that makes you sigh into his throat, his hand rubbing a comfortingly patten on your waist.

“You’re being such a good girl,” He says your name against your lips, and you think that alone sends another small, shuddering orgasm through your body. “Good girls deserve some cock.”

You make the most needy, lustful noise you’ve ever made in your life, gasp slightly as Ben rises over your body, and scream when his cock slams into your dripping, aching cunt without warning.

“God-“

“I’m not God, babydoll.” Ben’s words are spoken against your lips with a smug satisfaction, and you almost blackout as he rolls his hips. “I’m fucking better. Hold on.”

You obey blindly—spun out and faded on how he’s splitting you open, filling you up more than you’ve ever been filled—and wrap your arms around his neck as he starts to fuck you. 

This is heaven. God, you hate how right he was, but you might be ascending. You were already ruined from his hands and mouth, and this is being razed. Fucking decimated. This is Ben’s cock hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t know existed, and his hands grabbing and pulling at your tits, his balls slapping against your skin and his mouth leaving little marks wherever he can reach skin, his fucking fingers rolling your nipples and his thumb rubbing on your raw clit until your mouth falls open, and you cum without sound.

He doesn’t stop. You’re drooling, making high, gasping moans of his name, and completely wrecked under him, but Ben doesn’t slow down. He’s grunting and groaning in your ear, chasing his own release deep into your pussy, and you want him to have it.

He’s really fucking earned it. Especially as his thrusts start to stutter and the bed starts to shake in a way that makes you think it might break, and the low, primal noises that leave him as he comes inside you drag one last, smaller orgasm from deep in your core.

He’s going to brag. When Ben pulls out, you’re sure he’s about to mock and taunt you about being right, but he just sets you down carefully between the sheets, walks into the bathroom, and returns with a damp, warm cloth to clean up the mess he left between your thighs. 

Then he looks up at you, and now he’s going to grow cruel. To keep dirty talking or fucking you until you’re in a daze you don’t know how to return from, when you just want to rest. Or maybe he’ll just leave you to deal with the soreness of your pussy and throbbing on your skin from all his biting and sucking, and you’ll never speak of this again.

But he doesn’t do either of those things. Ben’s eyes meet yours, still guarded but not hardened, where you can see deeper into him, and he’s a little more human in there. Like you’d worshipped and repented, and now you get your true reward.

And this is it. Green eyes meet yours, he blinks at you with a frown—like he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at—and then crawls back over you. Ben settles at your side, and your body against his own warm, solid, one. He doesn’t speak, but he touches you carefully, like you might break, and it’s louder.

And you might have had a few other things about him wrong as well.

Because Ben doesn’t move through the night, and you wake up still in his arms.

End Note: Found a way to make it emotional too. Am I even me if I don't?

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@ackles010378

[jov1ii]

Mine, All Mine

♡⃕.pairing: Husband!Salesman x Wife!Reader ♡⃕.synopsis: life with your husband. ♡⃕.word count: 1.4k+ ♡⃕.content warning: a little suggestive if you squint, arranged marriage.

The corner of his lips twitched as a hint of a smirk danced upon his lips. He had been watching you since the onset of morning. There was just something so…so captivating about the way you moved, the subtle grace of your mannerisms.

He supposed, it was the simple things that enticed him the most.

Tearing his gaze away, he rose and crossed the room to the mahogany desk; a silent cue for you to do the same.

"I suppose we shall get to know each other better?" You propose.

He watched silently as you stood and approached the desk. This arrangement, it was strange, unconventional. And yet, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to abhor the idea of spending every day, every hour in your company.

"Oh yeah? Is that what you want?" He was somewhat bemused by your suggestion.

You were hardly the type inclined toward the idea of matrimony, and neither was he. But here you were, his wife. His wife—the term sounded foreign upon his tongue.

He regarded you with a stoic eye, head canted slightly to the side. He was trying to figure you out, to understand the machinations of your mind. Such a task was seemingly monumental, no doubt, by the way of your closed off demeanor, a quiet, stoic disposition. But that was all the more reason he wished to figure you out.

You were... intriguing.

Days had come and gone since their first conversation.

He had, for the most part, settled into this married life quite well.

There was something soothing, peaceful, about the quiet domesticity of it all. Both you and him became acutely aware of each other's presence.

They say familiarity bred contempt, but for you and him, it bred something much different.

Every now and then, he would recall the subtle slope of your nose, the elegant dip of your shoulders, the way the sunlight pooled upon your skin… It took every bit of self-restraint he possessed not to ravish you there and then.

He had always thought of himself as an individual who could not possess emotions such but it wasn’t just carnal desire that he felt, rather, there was a certain depth to this feeling. A feeling he wasn’t quite able to place.

He tried to push away those thoughts as best as he could, but in the hours at night when he laid in bed, with you so close, it became harder to shut you out.

He laid awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep and plagued with the memory of your smile, the way you laughed, the scent of your hair- Wait.

"Can't sleep?" You ask, looking back at him.

The abrupt voice broke him from his trance. And then he groaned for the second time that night. He remained motionless for a few moments and then he rolls over, only to find you staring back at him from the other side of the bed.

”Clearly, neither can you…” He said, raking a hand through his rumpled hair which earned a chuckle from you.

The corner of his lips quirked into a smirk as the sound of your laughter reached his ears. He propped himself up on one elbow, studying you in the dim light. There was something rather enthralling about seeing you like this, all relaxed and vulnerable in the quiet night.

“I’d ask why you can’t sleep, but I think I already know the answer,” He teased.

"Oh yeah? What do you think is the cause?" You ask, smiling softly.

“You don’t seem to have much trouble sleeping during the day, when the sun is out. But come night time, suddenly there’s a change." He responded without a bit of hesitation. He wasn’t one to sugarcoat after all.

“You’re nervous about this new... condition, and about the future, and, if I’m not mistaken…a little scared of me,” He said, glancing back at you.

His words earned a huff from you. "Scared of you?"

His smirk widens into a sly smile as he props himself up on an elbow. He meets your gaze, regarding you with a keen eye.

“You are,” He states bluntly, reaching out and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I can see that little shiver that goes through your spine every time I touch you. That little bit of hesitation in your movements whenever I’m around.”

Oh.

When he suggested leaving the house “to get some air” on a Friday evening, you didn’t think much of it.

After all, for the first few weeks after marriage, he had spent his days working and evenings on the armchair by the fire. However, the last thing you had expected was to be led out the door and into his black car.

A date—was, and is, the furthest thing you had expected from a reserved man like your husband.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was nervous. A man as stoic and reserved as he, nervous for a date? Who would’ve thought. He had never been the romantic sort, too occupied in work and realistic for the idea of romance.

You tried to catch a glimpse of his expression from the passenger seat, but he was avoiding your gaze at all costs. Not a word was spoken, only the steady hum of the engine was heard as the scenery passed by.

Eventually, he pulled into a secluded spot overlooking a shimmering lake. A modest family-run restaurant on the edge of town.

He gets out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you after. And as you get out of the car, you are quick to glance around and take in your surroundings. Expensive.

The restaurant looked modest and homey, quaint even. You watch as he speaks a word to the waiter who leads the two of you to a secluded table.

He gestures to the table and pulls out your chair for you.

A soft “thank you” escapes your lips in response as you sink into the seat, before he takes his own seat across from you. He reaches for the wine list, scanning it before ordering a bottle of red.

"Do you plan on staying this quiet, or...?" You ask, biting back a teasing smile.

So she hasn't quite lost her bite, then. He leans back in the chair and crosses one leg over the other, a sign of feigned aloofness. "Perhaps I'll save my tongue for our food." He said.

"Boring." You comment, watching as the waiter approached with a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses.

You took the glass, now filled with wine and brought it towards your lips, glancing at him.

"Boring, eh?" He asks. "Maybe I should order a second round of drinks just to shut you up," he retorts with a smirk.

"You look a tad too cocky for my liking."

....

It did not take long before the drinks started to get you. You were laughing louder, talking more freely, and your cheeks had taken on a rosy flush. It would almost be cute, were it not so annoying- or so he liked to believe.

He sets the glass down on the table and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Perhaps one drink too many.

He watched you from across the table, the smile never leaving your lips, the glint in your eyes all the more noticeable when your guard was down like this.

"Don't look at me like that." You whispered, swirling the liquid in the glass, your voice slurred.

"And how exactly am I looking at you?" He asked in a low voice, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"Like you want to rip my dress right here, right now." You said, smirking.

He blinked, that little remark sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. He tried his damned best not to react, but the words had an immediate effect on him.

"Don’t be ridiculous." He mumbled. But your words were doing all kinds of things him, in all the right places.

And he could only take so much.

And just like that, one last drink, a ride home, a few fumbled steps in the doorway and a heated night later, when you woke up the next morning, you think all of it had been a dream- the dinner date, the alcohol, the lust-filled return home... But the sight of a slender arm curled around your hip said otherwise.

You can't help it, a smile starts to form on your own face. If this was how married life was supposed to be, then you were more than ready to welcome it with open arms.

[eternalguk]

Checked Out | jjk. (M) — teaser

Your touch blurred my vision, it’s your world and I’m just in it

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : When your best friend asks you to cover her shift at the campus library, you reluctantly agree, figuring it’ll be a quiet night of reshelving books and dodging overdue fees. What you don’t expect is Jeon Jungkook, the star of your shared lectures and the subject of your most distracted daydreams, walking in with a cocky smile and a book to return. Flirty banter turns into suggestive glances, and when Jungkook offers to help you “restock” in the back storeroom, the air grows thick with more than just dust. Alone, pressed between shelves of forgotten novels, you realise some things are worth being overdue for. After all, who needs silence in the library when the tension is this loud?

↠ Genre : pwp, university au, fluff, smut, mutuals (?) to lovers

↠ Word count : tbc.

↠ Warnings : explicit sexual content (more detail will be provided when the fic is released!)

↠ A/n : Hi there ; as promised, here’s a little oneshot featuring the man who drives me absolutely insane (and I know I’m not alone in that)! I promised an anon I’d share this before dropping chapter two of my new series, so here’s a teaser to tide you over! Expect plenty of tension, stolen glances, and maybe a little trouble in the backroom. The full story will be out next weekend, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged - I’d love to hear what you think 🦢!

“I was just thinking…” Jungkook leans against the counter again, his eyes never leaving yours. “You might need some help after all.” His voice is a low, but the hint of amusement cannot be hidden. “Can’t leave you stuck here all night, can I?”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat when he steps closer, the heat of Jungkook’s body radiating through the air between you.

���I-”you begin, but your voice falters as he reached across the counter, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. Jungkook’s touch is featherlight, but it is strong enough t send a ripple of warmth down your spine. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping,” he says simply, his voice dropping yet another octave. There was no mistaking the intention in his eyes now, the way they darkened with something more primal, more intense. “I’m good at helping. You should know that by now.”

Your heart pounds as Jungkook’s fingers slide along the edge of the desk, closer to where you are standing. His body is a mere inch away, and you can feel the pulse of his presence, his scent mixing with the dusty air.

You are acutely aware of the space between you shrinking, the tension building with each step the handsome man takes.

“You should really get back to work,” you mutter, but it is more out of instinct than actual desire to stop him.

Jungkook’s proximity is suffocating in the best way, and all the rational thoughts in your mind are crumbling under the weight of how badly you want him.

How badly you need him.

Jungkook chuckles, a soft sound that makes something in your chest tighten. “You’re still pretending this is about work?”

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, his thumb stroking gently over the sensitive skin there.

You inhale sharply, your pulse racing.

“No, I’m-” The words are lost as Jungkook leans in, lips brushing against your ear.

“Good,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “Because I’ve been thinking about you ever since I saw you across the lecture theatre.”

Your breath hitches, and you turned your head just enough for your lips to brush his jaw.

The heat between you is electric, palpable. It is more than just words or flirty exchanges now - it is the space you’d been unwilling to acknowledge. The space that is now pulling you in with irresistible force.

Here it is! Do let me know if you want to be tagged :)

[mapis-putellas]

𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐/𝑨.𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

Okay, so I’m quite proud of how this came out, so I hope you guys enjoy it<3

The idea for the music video had been sitting in the back of your mind for weeks, growing more insistent each time you replayed your latest single in the studio.

It wasn’t about revealing your relationship outright. You weren’t ready for that yet, not completely anyway. It was about showing the pieces of your lives that made both of you who you were. You knew Alexia would hesitate. She was a private person, always careful about what parts of herself she shared to the world. But this wasn’t just about her, or you. It was about showing the world just how beautifully your words collided together.

When you finally brought it up to her, you were at her apartment, curled up on her couch with her arm draped lazily over your shoulder. You were curled up against her side, legs thrown over your lap as you absentmindedly played with a loose strand of her hair that hung past her shoulder. Her cheek rested atop of your head, eyes closed in content. This was your favourite version of Alexia. Relaxed. At ease. The walls she held up around everyone else completely gone.

“I’ve got an idea for the music video.” You began, tilting your head back to look at her.

“Sí?” Her voice was warm as she looked down at you, but there was a hint of curiosity as her fingers paused their tracing. “Qué idea?”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay, so, it’s for the new song, yeah? The vibe of it is perfect for something high energy. I was thinking clips of me on tour, you know, performing, sound check, hanging with the crew and stuff. And then…clips of you. From your games?”

Her brows furrowed slightly as she pulled you closer against her side. “¿Yo?”

“Yeah.” You nod, lacing your fingers with hers. You can’t help but smile at the way her thumb instinctively grazes over the back of your hand. “You. Watching you play is one of my favourite things, and it’ll fit the vibe I’m imagining perfectly.”

Her expression softened as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head, but there was still a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “And the people? Fans? They will know about us?”

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Not directly. It’ll be subtle. If they figure it out, then fine. But if they don’t, that’s fine too. It’ll be just us, doing what be both love.”

Alexia chewed on her bottom lip for a second, clearly weighing the idea. Then, finally, she nodded, a tentative smile appearing on her lips. “Okay. Lo hacemos. Por ti.”

“Yeah?” You shift a little against her so that you were on your knees, Alexia’s arm falling from your shoulders to the small of your back, just above your ass. She nodded again, and you can’t help but squeal slightly as you yank her into a hug.

Her arms secure themselves around your waist as you fall sideways onto her lap, your face buried in the crook of your neck, and you hear her laugh softly as she squeezes you tight.

“Te amo, mi amor.”

“I love you too. So much.” You murmur.

*

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of planning. You worked closely with your director to compile the footage you needed. Scenes from your last tour. Moments with your crew backstage. Rehearsing in empty arenas. Signing autographs for fans. For Alexia, your team has reached out to Barcelona for access to recent match footage, focusing mainly on her goals and assists. You also made sure there were shots of her teammates too, some of girls you’d grown quite close to these past few months.

When you had shown her some of the early clips, she sat next to you on the editing suite, eyes wide as she watched herself on screen.

“No me gusta verme,” she murmured as she leant into your side, her voice low. “It is weird.”

You grinned softly as you wrapped an around her waist, giving her a squeeze as you rested your head against her shoulder. “I know, baby. But you look incredible.”

She glanced at you, lips curving up into a small smile. “¿Seguro?”

“Completely.” You assured, wrapping your other arm around her so your hands met against her hip. You tilted your head upwards and puckered your lips, and Alexia laughed softly as she gently cupped your face kissed you.

The most special part of it all was filming the scenes in the stands. It was a recreation of something that had happened countless times before, where you’d sat front and centre cheering her on. The camera caught you wearing her jersey, your eyes glued to the pitch as she ‘played’. You’d insisted on keeping the scene as natural as possible, and Alexia had almost lost it when she saw just how into it you got, as if the game was happening in real time.

When the video was finally pieced together, you couldn’t wait to show her. You brought her into the studio late one evening, just the two of you and the editor who had helped you bring your vision to life. Alexia sat beside you as the video played on the large screen, her hand resting on your thigh as she watched. You tangled your fingers with her own, trailing your thumb over the side of her hand.

The music video opened with an aerial short of a tour bus rolling down the highway at sunrise, light spilling over the mountains in the distance. The camera then cut to the inside of the bus, where you sat in the corner of a leather seat, a notebook in your lap scribbling down lyrics, your guitar placed on the floor nearby. Quick cuts showed the lively chaos of your crew in the background, bandmates tuning guitars, someone passing out coffee.

As the temp pics up, the video transitioned to a concert venue, the stage still bare. You stood centre stage, holding a microphone as you discussed the set up with your team. The camera panned over the empty seats, a stark contrast to the amount of people that would soon fill the space.

Suddenly, the stage lights flashed, illuminating you as you stepped out in front of a massive crowd. The camera captured the grin on your face, the way you somehow managed to own every inch of the stage. Each cut was quick. Your hand gripping the mic stand, your foot tapping in time with the drums, the sweat glistening on your brow.

As the song reached its bridge, the tone shifted. You were shown walking offstage after your performance, the applause still echoing in the distance. Your shoulders were slumped as you navigated the maze of hallways backstage, wiping off your face with a towel and nodding politely to staff members who congratulated you.

The camera then cut to a completely different setting. A crowded football stadium. This was the first time Alexia entered the video, and it was done in a subtle, almost understated way just like both of you wanted. There was never any clear clips of her face. Or close up shots that told you who it was. But if you knew enough about football, you’d know who it was.

The camera then pans to you in the stands, and fleeting glimpses of Alexia were thrown in as you clapped and cheered with everyone else. The camera then slowly zoomed in on your face as you cheered her name.

It was subtle, but for anyone paying attention, the connection was clear. The video ended with a shot of the two of you walking in opposite directions. Her towards the locker room, and you back to your car where your driver opens the door, letting you inside.

When the screen went dark, Alexia turned to you. “Es…hermoso.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper as her hands tightened around your own. “Gracias.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to hers for a short moment before placing a tender kiss to her cheek. “It’s us, baby.” You murmured, lips brushing her skin as you pulled away.

The video premiered a week later, and as expected, the fans went wild. The comments flooded in, with people dissecting every frame for clues about your relationship. The shots of Alexia on the field, paired with your reactions in the stands, left little doubt for those who had been following the speculation. But there was still enough ambiguity to keep people guessing.

For the two of you, that was enough. You didn’t need to spell it out. The people who understood would see it for what it was. As you sat together that evening, scrolling through the reactions online, Alexia sat behind you on the couch with her arms wrapped her arms around you, her chin hooked over your shoulder.

“Lo hicimos,” she murmured, her voice warm with affection.

You smiled as you craned your head back, gently nudging her chin to turn her face towards you. She raised an eyebrow, and you smile as you press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Yeah, baby. We did.”

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[missarchive]

Pls I’m such a sucker for virgin Spence… could you write one where they’ve been dating for a while but haven’t actually fucked and they’re like making out on the couch and reader can’t help but tease him (basically a lot of foreplay and a ma’am kink?)

when will it be my turn with him

cw; +18 minors dni, sub!spencer, whiny spencer, praise, use of "ma'am", handjob, fade to black smut

The soft hum of the TV in the background was the only sound breaking the comfortable silence in the room. Spencer sat beside you on the couch, his body leaning toward yours with a mix of excitement and apprehension. You both knew what had been building between you for weeks—months, really—and tonight felt different. The air between you crackled with anticipation, the tension palpable as your eyes met, searching each other’s faces for signs of what might come next.

His lips brushed against yours in a gentle kiss, barely a whisper of contact at first. You could feel the hesitance in his movements—his hands, uncharacteristically stiff, rested on the couch beside him, unsure of where to place them. You could tell he wanted more, needed more, but Spencer was always careful, always calculating, even when it came to matters of intimacy.

You shifted closer, your hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him into a deeper kiss. He sighed into your mouth, finally relaxing into the connection, his lips parting just slightly. You took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tracing the outline of his lips with your tongue, testing his response. He moaned softly, his hands instinctively sliding up your side to rest on your waist.

“God, Spencer,” you murmured against his lips, the words barely a breath. "You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting this." Your voice was low, sultry, as you pulled back just enough to look at him, studying the way his pupils dilated and his breath hitched. The flush of pink across his cheeks only made you want to tease him more.

“I—I want this too,” he stammered, his voice shaking just slightly. It made your stomach tighten with desire. Spencer, so brilliant and in control in so many ways, but completely out of his element with you like this. It was a contrast you both enjoyed, a space where you could push him to his limits and beyond, testing his boundaries in a way that felt as exhilarating as it was intimate.

You couldn’t resist teasing him. Slowly, you trailed your fingers down his arm, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hand landed on his thigh, fingers curling just enough to make him flinch, the heat of his body already seeping through the fabric of his jeans. "You’re so nervous," you purred, your voice deliberately soft, a challenge. "Are you afraid, Spencer?"

He swallowed, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. "No… just… I’m not sure what you want from me," he confessed, his voice quieter now, his breathing shallow.

You smirked, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time you teased him—pulling away just before he could fully respond, making him chase after you, his lips pressing against the empty space where yours had been. "That’s part of it," you whispered, your voice silky and dark. “You don’t need to know what I want yet, Spencer. Not until you’ve earned it.”

His hands twitched at his sides, the tension in him almost unbearable as he tried to figure out what to do. It was a mixture of desire and hesitation, a dance you knew well.

You leaned back against the couch, your fingers tracing circles on his chest. "But you know what I do want, don’t you?" you continued, your voice dropping lower, becoming more commanding. “I want you to listen to me. I want you to let go. Trust me. Let me show you what it means to be with me.”

Spencer nodded, though the uncertainty remained in his eyes. "I do trust you," he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice making something inside you tighten with an unfamiliar urgency.

You smiled, your hand sliding to his jaw, tilting his head just slightly so you could kiss him again. This time, the kiss was slower, deliberate, and you took your time with him. You could feel the way his body reacted to each subtle shift—his chest rising and falling faster, his hands finally moving, tentatively, to your hips, as though testing the waters. His fingers brushed lightly over your skin, hesitant but undeniably curious.

“You like that?” you asked, your breath hot against his mouth. “Do you like it when I’m in control?”

He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Yes… ma’am," he said, his voice faltering slightly as if the word was new on his tongue, unfamiliar and powerful.

Your breath caught at the sound of it—his hesitation made it all the sweeter. There was something about the way he said it, the way he allowed himself to be vulnerable, that made your pulse race.

You chuckled softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, down to his throat. “That’s right,” you murmured. “Just like that. I like it when you call me ma’am. Makes me feel… powerful. Do you like that, Spencer?”

His eyes flickered with something darker, something you were only just beginning to uncover in him. "I do," he whispered, his voice growing more confident, though his hands still remained tentative on your body.

You could feel the tension rising between you, the way his breath hitched as your hand slid down, teasing the waistband of his jeans. You didn’t touch him anywhere more intimate—not yet—but you could tell he was struggling with the overwhelming desire to take things further. And you loved it. Loved making him wait.

"Patience is a virtue," you murmured, a teasing smile on your lips as you gently pulled away, leaving him breathless and wanting more. “I’m going to make you work for it.”

Spencer groaned softly, the sound a mix of frustration and longing. “I’ll do anything,” he whispered, his voice raw, desperate. "Just tell me what you want me to do."

Your smile widened, knowing exactly where this would go. "Good boy," you whispered, your fingers tracing a slow line along his jaw once more, "just relax and let me take care of everything." You could feel his body tense at your words, but he was trusting, and that was what you loved about him. He’d trust you to take care of him, to bring him pleasure, even as he learned what it meant to submit to you.

You stood, holding out your hand to help him up from the couch. Spencer hesitated a moment before taking your hand, letting you lead him across the room to the bedroom. The soft glow of the lamp beside the bed was the only light, illuminating the darkening room just enough that you could see the nervousness in his eyes, the anticipation of not knowing what would come next.

You stopped just at the edge of the bed, pulling his body flush with yours. “Take off your shirt,” you murmured, your mouth brushing against his ear, sending a shiver down his body. His hands moved quickly, the fabric disappearing over his head in a matter of seconds. He stood before you, bare chested and nervous, waiting for whatever came next.

Your hands slid to his shoulders, gently pushing him down on the bed, so that he sat perched on the edge. “And your shoes," you added, your smile teasing, taunting. Spencer complied without hesitation, his movements almost jerky in their haste. His jeans were still tight around his hips, but you didn’t comment on them yet.

You climbed onto the bed behind him, straddling his thighs so you could lean over and kiss the back of his neck. His entire body shuddered at the contact, his breathing quickening with every second. You could feel how tense he was, how eager, and you loved it.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, your hands moving to his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles there. “So tense. Are you worried?” you teased, your fingers sliding along his neck to cup his jaw, tilting him just enough that you could press a kiss to his cheek.

He nodded slowly, though it was clear he didn’t want to admit to it. “I just… don’t know what to do,” he confessed, his voice still hesitant. "I want to please you but I don’t know how."

You smiled against his neck, your fingers still massaging his shoulders in slow circles. “I promise, Spencer,” you whispered. “This time, you’ll do just fine. And I’ll show you what to do next time.” You felt him shiver beneath you at that, as though the promise alone was enough to send him over the edge.

Your hand slipped down his chest, pausing for a moment on the curve of his abs, feeling him tremble beneath your fingertips. Slowly, you continued your exploration, feeling for the hardness hidden behind the fabric of his jeans, the first hint of his arousal.

Spencer gasped at the contact, the sound soft and needy. “God, y/n,” he breathed, his body arching into your touch.

Your fingers teased the button of his jeans, lingering at the zipper, and the sound of denim sliding down his thighs was the only warning he received before you pushed his pants down, baring him to the cool air of the room. His underwear followed quickly, leaving him completely exposed in a way that made him shudder with nervousness.

He sat there, leaning back against your body, his chest still bare, and now his lower half exposed to you. He was hard, his cock flushed pink as it rested against his thigh. You couldn’t resist running your hand over him, feeling the softness of his skin against your palm.

Spencer moaned into your kiss as you traced your hand up and down his length, stroking him in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. Your other hand found its way to his chest, teasing at his nipple, pinching lightly, eliciting another needy sound from his throat.

You kissed along his shoulder, down to the curve of his neck, as your hand continued to stroke him, slowly building up his arousal. Spencer was so responsive, his body shuddering in your embrace as he struggled to hold back, to keep from giving in to the pleasure you offered.

You loved seeing him like this, so out of control, so completely at your mercy. His breaths came in short gasps against your lips, his skin flushed with excitement, and you could feel the moment his body gave way, as he began to tremble with the force of his own pleasure.

“Can I…” Spencer gasped, his words breaking off in a soft moan as your hand stroked him harder, faster now. “Can I touch you?” he asked, his voice low, pleading. “I need to touch you, please.”

The way he asked permission sent a thrill through your stomach. “Anything you want,” you whispered back, your lips pressing against his ear. “You can touch me, Spencer, I want that. Anything you want, just tell me.”

His body trembled again as he reached out, his hands finding your waist, his fingers splaying over your stomach. He pressed kisses to your jaw, his teeth sinking into your skin just slightly as he struggled to keep his movements in check.

Your hand still stroked his cock in a steady rhythm, building up the pressure with each movement. He felt so good in your hand—warm, so hot—and you could feel him begin to tense, his body trembling on the edge, so close to giving in.

"Please," he breathed, the word soft and broken. "Ma’am, please, I need…"

His words trailed off, and you knew exactly what he wanted. “Not yet,” you whispered, your lips moving to his ear once more. “I want to hear you beg for it. Say it for me, Spencer. You’re so close, baby, but I need you to say it.”

You could feel him tremble at the command, his breaths coming in quick gasps as your hand worked him over. It didn’t take long before he gave in to your request.

“Please,” he whispered again, the word shaky, desperate. “Please, ma’am, I—please can I cum? Please let me cum. Please, just—please. I’ll do anything, please.”

You laughed softly against his neck, the sound dark and triumphant. “That’s all I needed,” you whispered, leaning over to kiss his jaw, your hand moving faster now. Spencer cried out against your skin, his body bucking in your arms as he came, the sound of your name on his lips a broken sob of release.

He leaned into you as he came down from his orgasm, his body limp and exhausted, his breathing still uneven. His head fell back to rest on your shoulder, and you held him there, cradling him in your arms, soothing him with soft touches on his skin.

“I love you,” Spencer murmured against your neck, the words soft and sweet. “Thank you.” It was enough to make your heart skip a beat, the sentiment so honest, so real, that it left you breathless.

You held him like that for a while, letting him rest against you. And then, when you could feel his body relax, his muscles loosen just slightly, you pulled back, a smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss him again.

“My good boy,” you whispered against his lips. “Did so well for me, angel.”

And then you kissed him again, slow and deliberate, his eyes fluttering closed, sighing softly into your mouth, the sound already full of surrender, the knowledge that he was yours, completely at your mercy.

You smiled again, feeling that familiar dark thrill in your stomach, knowing exactly where things would go from here. You’d waited long enough; it was time to show Spencer what it meant to be yours. He’d give you everything, and you’d give him every pleasure he desired.

[cybrasigilism]

Hi!! I’ve been reading a few of your works and I love your writing sm!! I’ve never done a request to a writer before, so I hope I’m not too vague or ambiguous (but I’m thinking what I’m about to ask could be TOO specific 💀), but I wanted to request an NSFW writing of Choi Su-Bong (Thanos) as a sub (and if you can, could you add a thing or two about edging him and/or overstimming him?). Personally, I’d preferably have them written as headcanons BUT whatever works best for you is most important, so I won’t mind whatever you decide to do :)

And if you’re uncomfortable with the request, ofc feel free to ignore! I appreciate it in advance if you do decide to write it, and I do hope you have a lovely day ❤️❤️

you won’t ever catch me turning down a thanos request, not while i live and breathe 😈🙏

TYSM FOR YOUR KIND WORDS BTW!! hopefully i did your vision justice :>

Submissive Headcanons! (Thanos/Choi Su-Bong/Player 230)

warning: smut and all things of the like (if you’re not used to seeing this warning on my page idk what to tell you) | not proofread | lowercase intended | sub!thanos | overstimulation | edging | begging | mommy kink if you squint | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: we as a squid game society need more sub!thanos content, i’m happy to contribute my fair share. idk if this is ooc or not, because honestly i can see this guy being a total switch, but do with that what you will! enjoy :3 (lowkey running out of gifs for these stinkabutts) PS this may not be a read for you if mommy kink stuff makes you uncomfortable! i have many other thanos works that don’t contain that bc i know its not everyone’s cup of tea, i just thought it fit for these specific headcanons

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, readers discretion is advised

  ———‿‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿‿———

➤ thanos did not strike you as the submissive type, the absolute 180 that his personality made from the public eye to the bedroom was so drastic you could have gotten whiplash

➤ he will for sure be on his knees for you, both literally and figuratively. this man will do anything you ask of him, just as long as it means he gets to please you.

➤ he’s definitely the type to beg. he’ll give you the puppy dog eyes and go the whole nine yards if you agree to let him between your legs

➤ makes the most whorish sounds when you fuck him, especially when you praise him, even if its the smallest thing. even if you say something as simple as “right there, fuck yeah” he’ll be all over that shit, thanking you for letting him please you like that

➤ speaking of his moans, he gets quite high pitched when you guys get into it. i’m not talking anything crazy, just a lot higher than what you could have been expecting.

➤ some of the things you may expect thanos to say while you guys fuck can include:

“oh god, please keep fucking my cock, just like that”

“am i making you feel good, mommy? yeah?”

will straight up just call you mommy through his whimpers and whines if he’s too far gone

➤ goes crazy when you give him hickeys or bite his neck at any point that you can, whether it be before you guys have even stripped, as your jerking him off or while your actively grinding on his dick, he can’t get enough of it

➤ cries during rough sex, no further questions

➤ needs you to be touching him at all points of the sexual journey, loves when you rest your hands on his shoulders/chest as you ride him

➤ likes getting whipped THAT DAMN WIND AGAIN—

➤ goes ballistic when you pull his hair, the slutty sounds really show up then

➤ acts like he doesn’t like being edged, but he’s a sucker for it.

“fuck please…mommy just let me cum, oh fuck”

“i’ll do anything, i just need it so bad, i wan’ it p-lease”

➤ loves when you restrain him, it can be with anything. handcuffs, rope, your own two hands, ANYTHING

➤ choke him when he’s close, better yet, choke him while you edge him.

➤ he will cry when being overstimulated (trust you guys have a safeword set in place for overstimulating, as can be said for any other experimenting)

➤ loves physical touch during aftercare, it doesn’t have to be straight up cuddling, but just you touching/caressing him in any way at all

———‿‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿‿———

thanks so much for reading! as per usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested!

have a fantastic night/day lovelies 💌

tags: @gongyoosgf @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga

[greengoblinswifey]

Teacher’s Pet—Professor!Nicholas Chavez x Student!Reader

summary— Teasing your professor finally reaches a breaking point after you wear a short skirt showing a skimpy thong and a butt plug. Based on this request.

warnings— teacher/student relations, cunnilingus, face fucking, degradation, praise kink, nipple play, anal with butt plug, sir/professor kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— this was in my drafts for so long, finally had the motivation to finish <3

It was a typical day in Professor Chavez's class, or so you thought. You'd always had a flirty back-and-forth with him, teasing him during lectures, your flirtatious banter leaving the rest of the class in the dark. But today, you had a plan.

You wore a black skirt, one just a bit shorter than usual, the fabric clinging to your hips and drawing attention to your figure. And something you knew he wouldn’t expect—a cute little butt plug paired with a black thong that hugged your ass. As you entered the lecture hall, you caught his eyes briefly flicker to your legs before quickly returning to the board. But you saw it. The subtle shift in his posture, the slight tightness in his jaw. You knew exactly what you were doing.

Throughout the lecture, you couldn’t resist. You purposely opened your legs in your seat, letting the fabric of your skirt ride up a little more than usual, your eyes occasionally meeting his over the top of your textbook. The sexual chemistry was palpable, but neither of you acknowledged it openly—at least, not yet.

Then came your favorite part. You feigned dropping your pen. You let it fall from your desk, watching it roll across the floor, all while you locked eyes with Nicholas. Slowly, you bent over, positioning yourself just so, giving him an unintentional—and very intentional—view of your ass. Only he saw what you wanted him to, the sexy thong, the butt plug, daring him to take it out and replace it with his cock.

You felt the eyes of the entire room on you, but it was his gaze that held your attention. The way his pupils dilated, the slight flush of his neck, the tightening of his shirt sleeves, he was trying to keep his composure, but you could tell he was fighting it.

When you sat back up, you could feel the electricity between you, a buzz in the air that made your heart race and your stomach flutter. You didn’t need to say a word. You knew he could feel it too.

Later that afternoon, as class was dismissed, he wasted no time in walking toward you. His steps were deliberate, his usual professional demeanor replaced with something else.

“You’ve been trouble today,” he muttered, his voice low and husky. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell he was trying to hide a grin.

You tilted your head, playing innocent. “I don’t know what you mean, Professor.”

He stepped closer, his breath barely a whisper against your ear. “Don’t act coy with me. I saw what you were doing.” His hand brushed against the small of your back as he guided you out of the lecture hall. “You’ve got my full attention now.”

His words were a promise, a challenge, and a reminder of the playful tension you’d been building all semester. You placed your hand on his biceps, looking up at his large frame with big doe eyes, “Is that so, professor?”

He chuckled darkly, his tongue darting out to lick your lips, “It is. And we’re going to take care of you somewhere more—private.”

You reached his car after trailing behind him as to not raise suspicion, the air clouded with anticipation. “You can’t just tease me in class and expect to leave it at that,” he said, almost amused.

You smirked. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re playing with fire, and I’m not the type to let things slide.”

The drive to his apartment felt like it took forever. Inside, Nicholas closed the door behind you with a soft click. The playful glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something darker—something just for you.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, he didn't waste a second. He was on you, pushing you up against the door with a fierce urgency, his lips crashing against yours. It was a kiss full of hunger, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel you. His hands roamed over you with possessive intent, tracing the curves of your body, his fingers skimming along your plump ass.

You responded with your hands gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back, equally fervent. There was a certain roughness to it, as if every moment of restraint had been building up to this. The heat between you was undeniable, and you couldn't get enough of him. His hands slid down to your hips, feeling the curve of your ass through the fabric of your skirt, pulling you flush against him.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Nicholas breathed against your lips, his voice low and full of desire. His hands moved over your body with a possessiveness that made your breath catch. “You think I didn’t notice you teasing me all day. You fucking knew what you were doing.”

You couldn’t find words, only the frantic movement of your lips against his as you pressed yourself into him, feeling his hard cock against you. He moaned, clearly not able to hold back anymore.

He dragged you toward the couch, his grip firm on your wrist, pulling you down with him. You landed on the plush cushions, breathless, and before you could even adjust, he was on top of you, his mouth on your neck, trailing fiery kisses down your skin.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He moved with an intensity that matched the heat of the moment, every touch making you feel more and more like you were losing control.

You nodded, barely able to form coherent words, your hands gripping his shirt, tugging it off as you kissed him desperately. “I do, sir,” you managed to whisper. “I want this.”

His eyes darkened, a satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Good,” he said, voice almost a growl as he kissed you again, his hands moving down your body with purpose. The moment felt like it had been a long time coming, and there was no holding back now.

He pulled away, his hands moving to your skirt as he slid it off, revealing the subtle hint of your undergarments underneath. His gaze darkened even further, the sight of the buttplug in your ass and the thong making his breath catch. He took a moment to steady himself, clearly fighting the urge to devour you whole.

“God, you’re a perfect little slut,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your body, pausing just above the waistband of your thong. “I’ve been imagining this all day, you knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t respond, only feeling the heat rising between you both. Nicholas gave a low, approving hum before he leaned down, his lips brushing against your skin in gentle kisses before pulling back just slightly. His hands roamed over you with admiration and intensity, as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The world outside of this room, the teasing, the class, everything else faded away as he focused solely on you, making you feel desired and wanted in ways you hadn’t imagined.

“Dropping that pen just to make sure I saw you—such a desperate little whore.”

You squirmed under his gaze, your cheeks heating. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He cut you off, his hands gripping your thighs firmly. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Well, now you’ve got it. Let’s see if you can handle it.”

Before you could respond, Nicholas hooked his fingers under your skirt, tugging it off, baring the soft skin of your thighs. His breath was hot against your skin as he pressed a line of kisses along the inside of your legs, moving closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re going to sit there and take this,” he growled, his hands spreading your legs further apart. “No more teasing, no more games. Let me hear you.”

You gasped as he kissed higher, his lips brushing over the thin material of your thong. He grinned at your reaction, pulling the fabric down with excruciating slowness. “So needy. Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Nicholas smirked, lowering his head. “Good. Then let me give you what you’ve been begging for.”

His mouth moved against your wet pussy, the sensation drawing out a strangled gasp as your hands gripped the edge of the couch. His tongue traced slow, deliberate patterns, and you could feel him smirking against you when your hips bucked in response.

“Stay still,” he commanded, his tone sharp but teasing. “You don’t move unless I tell you to.”

You whimpered, nodding, and he chuckled darkly. “That’s a good girl. Let me hear how much you need this.”

“Fuck, sir, need it so much,” you mewled.

His tongue continued its assault, your legs trembling and your heart thumping in your chest. A loud gasp erupted from your lips as you felt his tongue swipe over your other hole and the butt plug in your ass before he moved back up to your pussy.

Every movement of his tongue felt like a slow unraveling, and you couldn’t hold back the moans that spilled from your lips. He looked up at you, his dark eyes filled with a dangerous kind of satisfaction. As his tongue sucked on your clit, he gripped the butt plug, fucking your ass with it before pushing it all the way in once more. “Cum for your professor. Show me how much you wanted this.”

Your body reacted, hands gripping the fabric of the couch, your body trembling under his touch. Nicholas didn’t stop until he was satisfied, pulling back just enough to smirk at your flushed, dazed expression as you finished squirting on his tongue.

“You belong to me,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your thigh before pulling you into his lap. “Don’t forget that.”

Your trembling body slid off his lap and onto your knees with purpose. You threw off the crop top you had on, revealing your bare chest, nipples hard in anticipation. Determined to show him just how much of a slut you were, you began unbuckling his pants, pulling it down along with his boxers in one swift motion.

“Fucking hell. C’mon, choke on my dick,” he urged. With your gaze locked on his, you spat on his cock before taking him down your throat. You bobbed your head steadily then went all the way down, settling the tip of his cock in your throat as he clutched a cushion for support. You hummed in content at his reaction, bobbing your head faster but using even more tongue. Saliva and pre cum dripped down your chin, staining your tits and your hands went to them, groping as you sucked his dick using no hands.

“You’re such a fucking whore. You should see yourself, filthy fucking girl,” he rasped.

You stared up at him, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, head tipping back the deeper you went and his hand clutching the cushion. You were having a bit too much control and you reveled in it before he his fingers tangled in your curls. He bucked his hips in your mouth before he started thrusting, the sounds of your gagging willing him on.

“Yeah. That’s it baby, fucking choke on it,” he groaned.

You dragged your tongue and your lips across his shaft as your mascara ran down your cheeks and you stared up at him looking like a shell of your former self. Your fingers reached down, fucking your ass with the butt plug as you got even wetter from him fucking your throat.

“You look so fucking hot baby, now get ready. Swallow my cum like the obedient student you are.” Opening up your throat and sticking your tongue out, you swallowed his cum as it spurted down your throat. You relished in its salty like taste, bobbing your head slowly.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, letting go of your hair and using his thumb to smear your mascara all over your face. “You look so pretty like this.”

He gave you no time to savor the compliment, instead, he dragged you by your curls, shoving you onto the couch. “I’m gonna fuck you the way you deserve. In the way you so desperately crave.” The stretch was burning as he positioned himself in front of you, thick cock invading your walls. You cried out at the intrusion as he began to move with a purpose. The couch shook each time he pounded into you, and all you could do was moan, your ability to form coherent words leaving you.

He filled you to the brim, cock stretching you more than anyone else ever had. By the time he was finished with you, your pussy would be stretched to accommodate the sheer size of him—if that was even possible.

“Fuck. After every class, I’m taking you back here or I’m fucking you wherever I see fit. This pussy was made to take my cock,” he groaned. He thrusted into you faster now, and as you looked down, you could see the outline of his cock moving in your lower abdomen and it sent you over the edge.

“Oh God, professor,” you cried, a stream of liquid exerting from your body and soaking him and the couch below. He continued fucked you through your orgasm, drawing every single cry and drop of cum from out of you.

“I’m not done with my pussy yet,” he growled. You squealed as he held under your thighs, lifting you up and impaling you right back on his cock. His lips captured yours in a ferocious kiss, teeth clashing, tongues battling and your hands running through his hair.

He brought you into his bedroom, gliding over to a large glass window. He opened the curtains, turned you around and shoved you against it, his cock finding its place back inside you. You could see your breath against the window as you moaned, his cock repeatedly slamming against your g spot.

“Taking it like such a dirty fucking girl. You know anyone that passes by or looks out their window will see me fucking you right? Is that what you want?”

Your pussy throbbed against him and you reached down to rub your clit as he continued relentless. “Y-yes professor,” you rasped, “that’s what I want.”

“That’s a good whore.” His hand snaked around your neck, pounding into you from behind and your legs wobbled, feeling another impending orgasm.

“You’re not gonna cum without my permission this time. Fucking beg me,” he growled in your ear.

He didn’t need to tell you twice. “Please professor, please let me cum. I wanna cum for you, please sir,” you mewled.

He littered kisses on your cheek, his thrusts angling deeper. “Of course baby, cum on your professor’s cock. Show me how much of a good slut you are.” Your body shivered and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you would’ve toppled over as your release came crashing down.

He didn’t give you time to rest, instead, he lifted you up again and threw you onto his plush bed.

“Put your legs over my shoulder,” he said, tone leaving no room for defiance.

As soon as your legs flung over his shoulders, he was plunging into you deep. Your fingers gripped the thin sheets below as he you felt him brush against your cervix with each thrust. It was almost too much. His hands found your nipples, pinching and pulling them as he pounded into you, sending even more ripples of pleasure through you.

“You feel me deep in your guts baby? You fucking belong to me now. Every single part of you. No one else could fuck you this good. This deep” Each word was emphasized by a deep stroke, and you felt as though he would tear you apart.

“I need you to cum with me, baby. Cum for your professor while he cums inside your tight fucking pussy.” Your back arched from the bed and Nicholas bellowed a guttural moan as his cum spilled inside you. It triggered your own climax and you squirted all over his cock and his sheets, your ragged pants filling the room.

You moaned as he pulled out of you, feeling his cum ooze from your pussy. He collapsed beside you, pulling you on top of him as he kissed your forehead and wiped your tears.

“You did so well baby. I’m so proud of you.” You were too fucked out, having no energy to respond so you just snuggled into him. “I meant what I said. You’re mine and I’ll be fucking you after every class.”

You loved the sound of that.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @rain-likes-purple

[plaidcowboy]

છ don’t you think rafe is scary?

── ✦ .ᐟ reader seeing rafe threaten someone

maybe you shouldn’t have followed rafe. he did tell you to stay put. that he was going to handle something. but you got bored. and wanted to see what rafe handling something looked like. well now you know.

your eyes widened as rafe pulled the firearm from his back pocket, slightly tapping it against his thigh, almost letting the guy in front of him become aware that he has it. not that he was going to use it.

the guy glanced at it, taking a step back, and raising his hands. you saw rafe tilt his head, and the guy went, scurrying away from the house.

you didn’t expect rafe to quickly turn around, halting when he spotted you through the glass. you straightened, glancing to the side, failing at pretending you weren’t looking. because really, you didn’t see anything. the interaction didn’t get violent. you knew rafe kept one on him sometimes. you weren’t shocked.

rafe walked in, speed walking towards you. he grabbed you, hands running over your body and head. “hey kid, what are you doing out of bed? i told you to stay”

you bit your lip, looking hesitantly up at rafe. “i.. got bored of being in there without you..”

you glanced out the window to where rafe and the guy stood just minutes before.

he followed your gaze, sighing. “how much of that did you see?” he slightly bent to your height, fiddling with his shirt you were wearing. you shrugged.

“not much.. just the..” you mimicked the tap rafe gave to his thigh. he smiled softly.

“i didn’t.. scare you or anything with that.. did i?” rafe’s intense gaze showed that he was nervous for your answer. if you were actually scared of him, he wouldn’t know what to do. the last thing he wanted was for you to worry in fear about him. he only wanted you to feel safe with him.

you shook your head rapidly. “mm mm.”

rafe immediately shook his head. “words, baby. did what i just did out there scare you a little? you can be honest, i won’t get upset..” only with himself.

“no, rafe..” you giggled. “i mean.. did he deserve it? was he not nice to you?” a pout started to form at the idea of the guy being mean to rafe.

rafe rose an eyebrow, softly nodding at you. “he did.. i only do that with people who cause a problem..but i understand if you didn’t like watching it”

you tilted your head, grabbing rafe’s. “i’m not scared of you, rafe”

he exhaled a small breath. “don’t say what you think i want you to..”

you shook your head again. “no, i like your.. protectiveness. that’s all it is. it’s very admirable” you nodded definitely.

rafe gazed at you “you’re the only person who truly knows me” he spoke softly.

you smiled at him. “of course. but you..” you tapped his nose. “..you should’ve known i wasn’t scared. there’s nothing you could do or say to draw me away..” you leaned closer.

“..kinda stuck with me” you frowned sarcastically.

rafe rose to his full height, pulling you into his chest. “i like it like that. you’re not getting away”

you smiled at him, wiggling in his arms.

“oh..rafe i can’t..” you slightly wiggled again.

“hm?” he replied, seemingly oblivious, grip getting tighter.

you sighed, accepting he wasn’t letting go. literally or figuratively.

[lacydollette]

HIS FAVORITE PERSON ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: bsf!rafe x fem!reader

warnings: angst, rafe having a breakdown, mentions of a dead body, trauma, ward, comfort, slight fluff, kissing, cuddling, inspired by season 2 ep 2 of obx

Rafe’s room was a storm of chaos, just like his mind. His chest heaved as he sat on the floor, back pressed against his bed frame, fingers tugging at his hair like he could somehow yank the thoughts out of his head. His palms were clammy, his heart slamming against his ribs. The body, the ocean, his dad’s cold commands—the images were crushing him. He could still hear the splash, still feel the sick churn in his stomach as they drove away from the scene like nothing had happened. Like it was normal.

But it wasn’t.

“Fuck,” he hissed, slamming a fist into the floor. The pain grounded him for half a second before the panic resurfaced again, boiling over. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t be alone in this house with its suffocating walls and memories of what he’d just done. He couldn’t stay under one roof with Ward right now.

Without thinking, Rafe grabbed his car keys and stumbled out the door, the night swallowing him whole. The only place he could go was yours. You were the only one who could calm the chaos, the only one who made him feel like he wasn’t falling apart.

You were deep in your slumber when you were jolted awake by a loud knock at the door. Tired, you checked the time—2:37 a.m. You frowned, your sleep deprived brain struggling to process who would show up at this hour. Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled to the door, your favorite oversized t-shirt, one that you stole from Rafe, hanging loosely around your figure. And when you opened the front door, your confusion turned to worry. “Rafe?”

He stood there, his shoulders hunched, his hair a complete mess, and his blue eyes wild with something dark and unhinged. He was pacing on your porch, his breathing uneven, and his hands were shaking. “y/n,” he said, his voice strained, barely above a whisper. “Sorry for bugging you this late, I just—I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Rafe, what’s wrong?” You asked, stepping forward. He looked up at you, his expression haunted. “I did something. Something bad. Really bad.” Your heart sank, eyebrows furrowing, “You’re scaring me.” Rafe was always intense—impulsive, reckless—but this was different. He looked broken, like he was barely holding himself together. You reached out, grabbing his arm to steady him.

“Come inside,” you urged, but he shook his head violently. “No. I can’t—I can’t breathe in there. I can’t breathe anywhere.” His voice cracked, and he backed away, running a hand through his hair as he began muttering. “He’s insane, y/n. My dad is insane, and now I’m—I’m just like him. I helped him. I didn’t want to, but I did, and now—”

“Rafe, slow down,” you said firmly, not understanding a single thing before stepping in front of him. “You’re not making any sense. Just talk to me. What happened?” He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto yours. “A body,” he said, his voice barely audible. “We got rid of a body.” Your blood ran cold. “What?”

He let out a hollow laugh, his hands trembling as he pressed them to his temples. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. I did it. I helped him dump it into the ocean like it was nothing. Like it was trash.” His voice grew louder, more frantic. “And now I can’t stop hearing it. I can’t stop seeing it. It’s everywhere.” You stood there, stunned, mind racing to catch up. Rafe was unraveling in front of you, and you had no idea how to help him. “Rafe—”

“I’m a monster,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “I’m just like him. I didn’t even hesitate, y/n. What kind of person does that? What kind of person—”

“Rafe, stop!” You snapped, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you. His breathing hitched, his wild eyes meeting your comforting ones. “You are not a monster. You’re—” you faltered, unsure what to say. “You’re you. And whatever this is, whatever happened, we’ll deal with it.“ You nodded, saying it more to yourself than him.

Rafe shook his head, his voice breaking. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what I’ve done.” His whole body was trembling. “Then tell me,” you said, your voice softer now. “Tell me everything.” He stared at you, torn between fear and desperation. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t lose you too.”

Your heart twisted painfully. You’d never seen Rafe like this, so vulnerable and raw. And yet, there was something else—a connection that had always been there, just right beneath the surface of your friendship. You’ve been best friends since forever, sure, but you weren’t just friends. Not with the way you looked at each other, the way you touched and held each other like it was normal.

Without thinking, you closed the gap between you two and kissed him. You’d kissed before—dozens of times, maybe more. It had always been casual, something you would do to calm each other down or just because it felt natural. It was soft and deliberate, a reminder that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere.

When you pulled back, Rafe’s breathing slowed, his hands coming up to rest on your waist like he was grounding himself in you. He leaned forward, stealing another kiss, then another, his lips brushing yours with a quiet desperation while tears fled the corner of his eyes. Trying to shut up the voices in his head, and you didn’t mind. You never did. That’s just how things between you were and neither of you had questioned it before.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.“You don’t need to thank me, Rafe.” you whispered back. “Now come inside.”

In your room, you pulled Rafe onto your bed, wrapping the blankets around the both of you as you settled in. He curled into you, his head resting against your chest, as you tried to give him as much comfort as possible, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back.

You held him close, your arms wrapped tightly around his body as his breathing finally began to even out. The storm of his panic had calmed, but his weight against you felt heavier than ever, like he was carrying something too big for either of you to handle. You didn’t know what to say—what could you say? His words kept ringing in your ears. A body. Dumped it in the ocean. You shivered, though the room wasn’t cold.

Rafe’s head was tucked under your chin, his breath warm against your collarbone. He was silent now, but his body still trembled faintly. You tightened your hold on him, resting your cheek against the top of his head. You’d always thought of yourself as his anchor, the person who could pull him back when he started spinning out. But tonight felt different. Tonight, it felt like you were trying to piece together an already broken vase.

Your fingers absentmindedly combed through his messy blonde hair. You’d been best friends since kindergarden, your lives so deeply intertwined it was hard to tell where one of you ended and the other began. But your friendship wasn’t normal, and you began to acknowledge that as time passed. Friends didn’t kiss to calm each other down. Friends didn’t fall asleep in each other’s arms, your touches lingering in a way that always felt like it meant more.

You weren’t just friends, you thought, the truth settling heavily in your chest. But whatever you were, figuring it out had to wait. Rafe needed you now, more than ever, and you couldn’t let him down.

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, the faint scent of saltwater and his cologne clinging to him. “You’re going to be okay,” you whispered, trying to convince both of you. You wanted to believe it, but the fear in his eyes earlier had shaken you to your core.

He didn't say anything, but his arms tightened around you, his head pressing harder against your chest. You didn't push him to speak. You just stayed there, holding him, trying to give him the comfort he so clearly needed. But the storm in his head wouldn't stop. He needed more—needed to feel you, to ground himself in you, to find something real in his world that suddenly felt like it was falling apart.

Without thinking, Rafe shifted, pulling you down to him. Before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours again, and for a moment, he could escape reality. At first, you thought it would be like the kisses you’d shared earlier—soft and grounding, something to pull him out of his head and bring him back to you.

So you started to respond instinctively, heart beating a little faster. But it wasn't enough for Rafe. The panic clawed at his chest, and his kiss grew desperate, frantic, as if he could pour everything he couldn't say into you. Rafe thought maybe this was what he needed. Maybe you were what he needed. Because it had always been you. The only person who saw him, who really knew him.

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't deny what it did to you—the way your stomach flipped, the way your hands instinctively gripped his arms as his lips moved against yours. You couldn't ignore how your feelings for Rafe had grown into something far more complicated than friendship. But this wasn't right. Not now. Not when he was like this.

"Rafe," you murmured against his lips, hands coming up to his shoulders to gently push him back. He resisted for a moment, his desperation endless, but then he pulled away, his eyes wide and glassy as they searched yours.

"y/n," he whispered, his voice cracking. For a moment, Rafe just stared at you, your hesitation hitting him like a punch to the gut. You weren’t rejecting him, not really. He could see the worry in your eyes, the care. You were right, but it still shattered something inside him. This wasn't what he needed right now. And it wasn't what you deserved, either.

"You need to rest," you said softly, stroking his cheek with your thumb. "You're not doing fine right now, and that's okay. But this—it's not right like that."

He stared at you, his expression crumbling as the reality of your words sank in. He'd come here hoping to escape the weight of what he'd done, hoping that you could fix him the way you always had. But nothing could fix this. His chest heaved, and then, all at once, he broke.

A raw, heart-wrenching sob tore from his throat, and he dropped his head into his hands, his entire body shaking. Your heart ached at the sound of his sobs, and you reached for him immediately, pulling him into your arms again. He clung to you, burying his face in your shoulder as his cries wracked his body.

“I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice muffled and strained as his chest felt heavy. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have-"

"Stop," you interrupted gently, your hand threading through his dirty blond hair. "Don't apologize. You're allowed to feel, Rafe. I'm here." Rafe tried to believe you, tried to hold onto your words, but the guilt was suffocating. “I shouldn't drag you into this," he said, his voice breaking. "I shouldn't have put this on you.”

"Shh," you whispered, holding him tighter. "You just need to breathe, okay?” Rafe let out a shaky breath, his tears soaking into your shirt as his sobs began to calm.

You kept holding him, your heart breaking for the boy who had always seemed so untouchable, so invincible. You could feel all his shame, his guilt, his fear, and you wished you could take it away, even just for a little while.

Rafe shifted slightly, his arm wrapping around your waist like he was afraid you might disappear. “Don’t leave me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, stroking his back in slow, soothing motions. “I’m scared, y/n,” he admitted finally, sobbing into your chest, “Of what I’ve done. Of what I’ll become. That I’ll be like him.” You shook your head, “You’re not your dad,” you said firmly, your arms tightening around him.

He’s not like Ward. He can’t be. You didn’t care what Rafe had done or how messy his world had become. He wasn’t a monster. He couldn’t be—not the boy who used to sneak you ice cream when you were sad, who called you every time he was having a bad day because he trusted you more than anyone else in the world.

But as much as you wanted to save him, a small, nagging voice in the back of your mind whispered that this might be bigger than both of you, but pushed the thought away, pulling him closer. “We’ll figure this out,” you whispered. “Together.” Rafe didn’t respond, but his grip on you tightened slightly, his breathing slowing as he finally started to relax. He didn't deserve you—your loyalty, your care, your softness. But for now he let himself trust you.

You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing even as your body stayed still. You didn’t know what you were to each other, didn’t know what might happen after this night or what was up with Ward, and maybe you never would. But right now, Rafe was yours to protect, and that was the most important thing.

tags: @gibson-g1rl @beausling @rafesheaven @rafescokewhore @rafespreciosa @rafeysbunny @rafey-baby @rafesangelita @drewspinkbunny @whinyangel @nativegirltapes @cherrygirlfriend @moremaybank @littlelamy @rafesweetie @deansbeer

[toyourheartandback]

THOUGHT OF YOU (18+)

luke castellan x reader

even after everything he has done and everything he will be doing you can’t say no to luke

word count: 2.13k

MDNI! warnings: smut, foreplay, p in a v, sweet loving sex (because i’m a romantic sorry), reader has a female anatomy and bad english as always

a/n: don’t judge pls, it took me months to write this between exams and life being shitty. i just hope you like it and i apologize for not being able to be active :(

exam season was finally over. you were just returning home after going out with your classmates, celebrating before everyone separated for the summer. exhausted and slightly tipsy, you fumbled in the dim hallway, desperately searching your apartment keys. as you reached to unlock the door, your halfblood’s instincts flared to warn you that something was wrong. someone had picked the lock of your house.

your heart raced as you slipped the knife hidden from your boot and pushed the door open, stepping inside. the living room was dimly lit, but you knew what to expect. luke castellan was there, leaning casually against the back of your sofa, as though he belonged. without hesitation, you pressed the blade to his neck. he still smelled like woodsmoke and peanut butter, a scent that once smelled like home. "i should kill you right now," he didn’t flinch, instead he chuckled at your words, the low vibration making his skin graze the edge of your weapon.

"i'm going to lay this on the couch" he smirked as you let him slowly unclasp viper from his belt and set it down as promised, his dark brown eyes never leaving yours. they had always been so beautiful, but they didn't even look like luke's anymore. your bodies were as close as they could get without touching and you could feel the cold radiating from his, so unusual for the boy you once used to snuggle with on chilly nights at camp. "It's just me, toots" his words weren't making sense to you.

he resembled the son of hermes you loved with those dark messy curls and tanned skin, but at the same time he looked nothing like him. luke castellan wasn't the sweet boy who helped you bake cookies for young campers anymore, but a traitor to the gods and to camp halfblood. he should have been that to you too, after everything you knew he had done to annabeth, chris, and everyone you loved. "how do I know he isn't also here?", because there was no way those things were actually done by your tender and perfect luke. it must have been the lord of the titans. your luke would never leave you.

his hands moved slowly, wrapping around yours to gently pry the knife from your grasp and setting it down beside viper on the sofa. "not tonight" luke murmured, his voice softer now. he pulled you closer, trailing every inch of your figure with his cold touch until he reached your waist, sending a shiver through you. your arms instinctively went to his shoulders, an old habit you couldn't seem to break. his nose brushed yours, his breath warm against your lips, his dark eyes locked on you like he was starving.

you knew you should end this. you should take advantage of his vulnerability, strike him down and put an end to the war. but you also longed for the way luke tasted of butter chapstick. you fingers curled into his t-shirt and before you could stop yourself your lips met his. he tangled his hand in your hair, making you moan as he deepened the kiss exactly the same way he knew you liked. "oh, i missed this so much," he murmured softly against your mouth, his mouth breaking slightly, before connecting with you again. he tapped gently on your thigh, a silent request, and you gave in, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried to your bedroom. the way he moved and the way your body fit against his was muscle memory. almost a year had passed since the last time he had been here, but it felt like no time at all.

the moment your back hit the mattress, luke's hands slid under your dress as he hovered over you. "are you sure?" he asked, toying with the strings of your panties, pulling back from your lips just enough to talk as his eyes were searching for any hesitation. your mind was foggy and the guilt buried too deep to surface, so you answered yes. you mostly plead him to touch you. that was all he needed. he tugged your underwear down and kissed his way along your neck, his lips exploring every inch of your skin. his mouth was frantic and desperate like he was trying to memorize you.

luke knelt over the edge of the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders as his lips trailed up your inner thighs. his hands pinned you down while his mouth inched closer to your core, your breathing growing heavier with anticipation. "castellan, you better fucking stop being a tease" you squirmed beneath him, your voice thick with need, as he smirked at your words and dragged his tongue along your folds. the boy was taking his sweet time with you, savoring every part of you, knowing full well you would have kicked him out long ago if you didn't want this as much as he did. you groaned and pulled him closer by his soft hair.

he pressed his mouth against your clit, his tongue twisting circles over it that sent waves of pleasure trough you. a loud sigh left your lips and your head fell back against the mattress. your fingers tangled in his messy curls as you gripped tightly as you were pleading him for more. his playful dark eyes met yours as his chin glistened already with your arousal. “what do you want from me, toots?” his voice low and mischievous, while his thumb was playing with you bundle of nerves. he was never going to stop being a fucking tease. “i want you” you whimpered, trying to desperately pull him closer for a kiss as you cupped his flushed cheeks. he obliged with a brief provoking peck before pulling back with a grin on his face. “how?” he asked amused. “inside of me” you breathed, almost a whisper. “please”

you gasped sharply, your breath hitching as you suddenly felt two of his finger slide inside you. “fuck,” you exclaimed when luke started to pump them, hitting the spot that makes you feel your stomach twist. “you know that’s not what i wanted” you managed to protest between breathy moans, your words faltering under the sweet assault of his lips on your neck. he only chuckled softly between kisses, his warm breath fanning against your skin. his free hand roamed over your chest, fingers teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress. “patience” he murmured as he tugged down the straps with ease to expose your breasts to the cool air. “i told you,” his lips found one of your nipples and without hesitation he sucked gently, drawing a gasp from you. “we have the whole night for ourselves.”

this time you let his head dip between your legs without protesting. his tongue and fingers were working perfectly together, drawing you closer and closer to your edge. his strong grip was pinning you down on the bed by your stomach as your mind started to feel hazy and your core seemed to be twisting and unraveling at once. by the time you voice was reduced to broken gasps and choked breaths and your hands were grabbing the fresh sheets beneath you to anchor yourself, you let your orgasm hit tearing through you like a storm. luke didn’t seem to be fully satisfied as he continued at his relentless pace, making you come a second time with a choked cry and a guttural, uncontrollable scream.

luke finally let you go, sweeping with his tongue your pleasure off his fingers and face to savor every trace of you. you were still trembling, struggling to steady yourself, when his low laugh broke the silence. “i missed your taste so fucking much” he murmured, his words full with adoration as his gaze locked onto yours. his eyes were so deep and tender, that for a fleeting moment it reminded you of the boy you fell in love back at camp. without thinking, you let yourself collapse into his lap, your knees pressing into cold and hard floor beneath the both of you, holding the sweet head counselor of the hermes’ cabin into your arms. your palm found his cheek as your finger traced his beautiful scar. “i miss you” you breathed, the confession slipping past your lips before you could stop it. the truth that you were trying to hide from everyone, even yourself, for so long made you feel both terrified and liberated.

luke’s brows furrowed in a mix of awe and longing, and his stare deepened, darkened, as though he was memorizing every inch of you. then, without hesitation, he closed the space between you in a raw, desperate and messy kiss. his mouth moved against yours with an open and unrestrained hunger as if he was trying to pour all of his emotions into this very moment. he separated from you not to hesitate, but only to get rid of your annoying dress and you mirrored his urgency to strip him of his equally irritating clothes. you were already out of breath again as his strong hands gripped your hips and pulled you against him, making you gasp at the feeling of his erection humping your core. “luke,” you whispered, your mouth trembling between kisses. “i need you” he didn’t waste a second to reach the condom in your second drawer from the top near your bed that he knew all too well of and roll it on himself without his gaze ever leaving yours.

you steadied yourself with an hand on his shoulders as he gently guided you down and you slowly took every inch of him. a gasp escaped your lips at the feeling of luke filling you completely, as perfect as he always fit like you two were made to be united by the gods themselves. he cupped your face, tangling his fingers into your hair, and pulled your foreheads together. “you mean everything to me” he murmured before kissing you. your chest tightened, for this night you let yourself believe his words, and started to roll your hips against his in search of the perfect rhythm.

each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing trough you, leaving you panting. your knees were bruising and scraping against the floor of your room. luke carefully moved your legs around him and lifted both of you on the bed behind you, pounding into you before your back could even meet the mattress. his soft moans and kind touch were the only thing keeping you grounded to the moment even as your mind was threatening to drift away under the overwhelming gratification of your bodies entwined. a whimper of his name escaped you like a prayer as your nails dug into the firm muscles of his back. his thrust grew faster, more urgent, as he approached his peak and with a groan he buried his head into the curve of your shoulder, his strong arms gripping your waist as if to anchor himself to you.

his hand found yours, fingers intertwining as he held on tightly, grounding himself as he reached his climax. his pushes were becoming sloppier, but were enough to get you through your edge following him as luke tenderly kissed every inch of your skin he could reach. “i love you” he whispered breathless into your lips. “i love you too” your voice was thick with emotions, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. if only he loved you more than his vengeance against the gods.

you gasped softly when he pulled away, leaving behind an hallow ache that mirrored the emptiness you had felt every day since he abandoned you. he discharged the condom carelessly on the floor before collapsing on the bed beside you, pulling you closer against his chest. luke’s warmth was both comforting and cruel. “can you stay until i fall asleep?” you asked, barely above a whisper as though your voice might shatter the fragile moment. your fingers traced aimless patterns on his skin in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself. you were trying to keep yourself together, knowing that if you let yourself dwell on why he was here the tears would spill over. “like i always do” he promised, tugging the covers over your bodies, and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, pulling you closer as though he could keep the two of you together only with his bare hands.

but luke already had his mother’s blessing and the only thing left was your goodbye.

[prettynpinkputhy]

Comforting the leader of Onychinus

“AHHHHH!” You shriek—walking into your apartment bathroom to see a gigantic dark haired man standing at the sink. Blotches of inky liquid are splattered on the floor and mirror. you run at the stranger swinging your fist. His back tenses and a chuckle reverberates in his chest.

“Kittens got her claws out.” he catches both your wrists in one hand, suspending them above your head. Ruby eyes flit down to your confused expression.

“Sylus?” You pant heavily, brows bunched.

“The one and only, sweetie.” That smug smirk confirmes his identity regardless of his new features.

“what happened to you?” He lowers your arms to card through his hair self consciously.

“You don’t like it?” His usual deep confident tone is replaced with a more timid side of him you didn’t see often. Was the leader of onychinus shy?

“No it isn’t that. It’s just different. What made you do this?” You hop on your tiptoes to rub his dark slick new hair-do. A faint blush tints his ear. He nuzzles into your warm opened palm, his crimson eyes closing.

“K-pop.” He says. You stand holding his cheek for a while waiting for him to continue…he doesn’t. You burst out laughing.

“What?” Tears of laughter prick your eyes. His face turns tomato red and he pulls away from your touch to turn his back. He folds his arms.

“Aww don’t pout come on Sy, explain… please?” you poke his side. He grumbles something you can’t make out. “Huh?” You pry.

“I heard you telling your friends about your favorite K-pop idol. I searched him up and I know I’m not the best singer or dancer so-“ he shifts on his feet, his muscular forearms tightening with discomfort.

“So you dyed your hair to match my favorite idol? Oh my god Sylus, look at me.” He turns to face you again, a tiny pout pulled to his usually smug expression. You cup his cheek.

Your eyes soften with sincerity. “You’re perfect. No idol could ever compare.”

“You mean it?” He asks breathily.

“Of course I do. Now let’s…figure out how to wash this out.” You look around at the mess of hair dye all over your bathroom. “Why didn’t you do this at your own house?”

“Yours is smaller so I figured it be easier clean up.” His eyes crinkle at the corners with pride.

[sugarwarachan]

i overheard you - ft. shoto todoroki

synopsis: your best friend hears you masturbating. what's a pro hero to do?

cws: timeskip!shoto, virgin!shoto, soft!sex, like the softest I’ve ever written, honestly sub!shoto, experienced!reader, fem!reader, pet names like sweetheart and angel

A knock sounds at the door. You nearly drop your vibrator in shock, fumbling with the button to shut it off, the noise deafening in the dark of your room.

“y/n?”

Shoto.

Fuck.

“Yeah?” your voice is hoarse. How on earth are you supposed to talk to him when a minute ago you’d been actively picturing his mouth on your pussy?

“Can I come in?”

Heart hammering, you stash the vibrator under the covers, shuck your pajama bottoms back up, and run a hand through your hair. “Sure!”

His two-toned head peeks into the room. “Lights on or off?”

Your whole face is on fire. “Off, if you don’t mind.

He dips his head. Fuck, is he blushing, too?

You wrap your arms around your legs while he pads across the room. He’s not wearing a shirt. The distracting amount of skin on display is messing with your ability to think. A simple pair of boxer briefs sits low on his hips; a trail of hair leads down to an impressive package that makes your mouth dry up at the sight.

You cannot fuck your best friend you cannot fuck your best friend –

The bed dips with his weight. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, staring down at the carpet like he can drill a hole into it.

“Sho?”

His head whips up.

“Sorry,” he says in a brief burst of laughter. “I thought I had an idea of what to say when I came in here and now that I am” - he gestures at the bed – “I have no idea how to say it.”

“It’s just me,” you say, brushing his shoulder with your hand.

“That’s exactly it. It’s you.” Frustration colors his tone and a light bulb goes off in your head. You don’t know what to say to that, but you have a sneaking suspicion where his head is.  

“Did you hear me?” 

Shoto blushes so furiously you can feel the heat pouring off the left side of his body. He nods.

“Did you come in here to do something about it?” 

His mouth falls open before he turns his expression into something closer to determination. It makes you want to kiss him so badly your teeth hurt.  

“That was my original plan, yes.”

Your skin tingles. You drop your arms from your knees and angle yourself closer to him.

“What did you want to say when you first came in here?” 

There’s the softest touch of his finger against your pinky before his hand covers your own. 

“I wanted to ask you if I could help. If you’d let me watch.”

Your heart roars in your chest. You’re surprised Shoto can’t hear it.

“You want to help make me come?”

Shoto swallows, and answers in that level deep voice of his, “Yes.”

“Okay then.”

You pull the vibrator out from beneath the covers, trying not to laugh at Shoto’s obvious expression of dismay.

“Come lay down next to me,” you say, patting the space next to you. He lays down next to you but he’s hovering, holding himself back, so you grab his hand and drape it on your hip. His breath hitches, calloused fingertips brushing against the band of your sleep shorts as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Will you help me take these off?” you whisper into his ear.

Hair brushes your cheek as he nods. His thumb hooks under your shorts and tugs them down your legs quickly. His breath is already shaky.

“What’s your comfort level here? Do you want me to tell you what I’m doing? What I like?

You figure that taking the lead is in the best of both of your interests, and honestly, the idea of telling a pro hero what to do is sending a bolt of arousal through your gut. How much would he like being ordered around?

“Please,” he says, and fuck, you’ve never heard this man so undone. Breathy and tense, Shoto’s eyes drink in your skin like he’s discovering the ocean.  

“I only have the rabbit with me, so I’m going to use the ears on my clit while you watch, okay?”

Another fervent nod, like he doesn’t dare look away. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” he says, a divot appearing in between his brows. “It already feels so good just lying next to you.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to crack in your chest. 

“Try not to think too much about it too much,” you say, placing a hand on his chest and scooting closer to him. “It feels good for me, too, just being here with you.”

You press a kiss into the hollow of his throat and turn the vibrator on, holding it to your clit. He can feel your breath catch on his skin. His hand grips down on your hip, hard, his own rutting against your side.

“Talk to me. Tell me what you like to see.”

“Fuck, okay.” He expels a breath, and it’s already hotter than anything that’s ever happened to you because it’s Shoto swearing in your ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m a little overwhelmed. You look… I can’t even describe how beautiful you look.”

“That’s all right.” His words wash over you, turning your insides to jelly. You turn the vibrator’s intensity up one. “You’re already on the right track.”

“I am?” 

“Mm-hmm. You’re already making me feel good, Sho. Believe in that. Talk to me.”

The combination of praise and command seems to jolt him into action. 

“I like seeing you like this,” he starts, voice a little shy. He kisses your forehead, moves his hands along the soft skin of your hips. “I like hearing the noises you make, the soft little gasps when you touch yourself.”

It was tame for dirty talk, but you feel each word like a thunderbolt. 

“What else, baby?”

His breath hitches again.

Oh, he likes that. 

“I want to be the reason you’re making those sounds. I want my fingers inside you when you come.”

You shudder, the vibration against your clit drawing you closer to that dark, deep kind of orgasm you only have when you’re turned on beyond reason. You guide his hand to the inside of your thigh, the slight friction of his callused skin on yours making you whine.

He props himself up on one elbow and peers down at you. His brow is furrowed, concentration set clearly on his face. You cup his cheek and kiss him before you think to stop yourself. Here his confidence kicks up, even when the kiss gets messy, your tongue against his teeth.

His thumb sweeps over your clit. You jump at the sensation and also at the strength of your reaction. You were already keyed up from earlier and having Shoto next to you has only amplified how fucking horny you are. He’s watching you with such intensity, such obvious need. 

A finger nudges your entrance. 

“I can touch you here?”

You can barely nod.

“Thank fuck,” he says, and rearranges you both so he’s kneeling in front of you, spreading your knees open and sliding two fingers inside of you.

“Sorry. I wanted to look.”

It’s so Shoto, and it’s so hot that you whimper and buck your hips up to meet him.

“Looking is a critical part of learning.” Is that your voice? You sound like you just finished a marathon. 

Shoto huffs a soft laugh, eyes trained on your pussy. When your eyes meet, he leans down to press his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft here, sweetheart,” he says, fingers moving in and out. The pet name feels so warm on your skin you almost want to cry. 

“More, Sho, please.” 

He adds a third finger, the stretch making you moan.

“Are you this wet for me?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, his thumb circling and pressing down on your clit over and over. “I can feel you around my fingers, angel. You’re squeezing me so tight.” His voice breaks. You’re spinning inside of yourself, everything narrowing to the thrum of your clit, that burst of sensation every time Shoto’s thumb rubs against you.

“Yes yes, exactly like that, please don’t stop touching me,” you chant, hardly recognizing your voice.

“Do you want the vibrator back? Is this—will this be enough?”

It normally wouldn’t be, but you’re literally fighting to keep yourself from coming as it is.

“Will you lay down, Sho?”

Uncertainty crosses his face briefly but he complies, lying down next to you like he had at the start. You hardly give him time to settle before you’re straddling him, pressing your soaking wet pussy against his cock. Shoto chokes on a whimper, hand pressed against his mouth.

“Don’t you dare not make noise for me,” you hear yourself say. All you can think about is the ridge of his dick in between the folds of your pussy, how much you can’t wait to have all of that inside of you. “I want us to come apart together, okay?” 

His hands are tight on your hips, grinding you down. 

“Fuck, you feel too good,” he pants. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m gonna fucking come, I don’t know much longer I can last.”

Your pussy makes obscene squelching noises as you slide, up and down, over and over, on his dick.  “Stay with me, just a few more seconds. Come on, fall apart with me. Fucking fall apart with me like a good boy, okay?”

You’re right—the pet name seems to detonate Shoto’s last shred of control. He growls against your throat, thrusting up into you, the ridge of his cock rocking perfectly against your clit until you’re falling, flying over the edge. Shoto’s name falls from your lips in a chant; your own name echoing in the space between you as he comes in his briefs.

In the afterglow of your orgasm, you lay on top of him listening to the thunderous beat of his heart. Touching him feels sacred, divine. Is this what people feel when they love someone? 

“y/n?” Shoto’s voice is breathless. He sounds awestruck. 

“Yeah?” You prop up on his chest to look at him. His eyes are closed, a smile creasing the corners. The need to kiss him is like a physical tug in your stomach. 

“That was amazing.” He opens his eyes and smiles widely. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re amazing.”

“You were pretty good yourself, you know.”

(watch me fuck around and write a part two)

[aspenmissing]

ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ

3311 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ/ᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ

JAYCE

The workshop hummed with the sound of gears turning and tools clattering, the faint scent of oil and metal hanging in the air. Jayce was in his element, bent over the prototype for a new hextech device, his muscles flexing as he tightened a bolt with a wrench. Y/N leaned against his desk, watching him work, a teasing smile playing on their lips.

“Y’know,” Y/N quipped, “for a guy who’s built like a brick wall, you still manage to look like a puppy concentrating on its first puzzle.”

Jayce shot them a mock glare but couldn’t hide the small chuckle. “A puppy that’s about to change the world,” he countered, brushing grease off his hands. “Don’t distract me.”

The moment of levity was interrupted by a sharp, high-pitched chittering sound. Both their heads snapped toward the corner of the workshop, where a blur of skittering legs darted across the floor.

“Oh, no.” Jayce froze, his confident demeanor crumbling as the creature came into view—a massive, hairy spider the size of a dinner plate. “Nope. Nope. That thing is not staying in here.”

Y/N blinked, stunned. “Wait, that’s what you’re freaking out about? Jayce, you’ve literally fought off Piltovan thugs with nothing but your fists. This is just a spider.”

Jayce was already halfway behind Y/N, his large hands gripping their shoulders. “I can punch a thug. I can’t punch that. What if it crawls up my arm? What if it—oh, gods, what if it jumps?”

“Jayce Talis,” Y/N said with mock exasperation, glancing over their shoulder at the towering man, “you’re six feet of pure muscle and you’re hiding behind me? This is embarrassing for both of us.”

The spider, seemingly emboldened by Jayce’s retreat, scurried closer. Jayce flinched, his grip tightening on Y/N. “Okay, okay, just kill it or throw something! Please!”

Rolling their eyes, Y/N grabbed the nearest object—a rolled-up schematic—and approached the spider with exaggerated caution, partly to mess with Jayce. “Relax, hero. I’ll save you from the big, bad bug.”

With a swift motion, Y/N swatted the spider, sending it tumbling toward an open window. The creature landed on the sill, paused for dramatic effect, and finally disappeared into the city beyond.

Y/N turned back, arms spread in triumph. “There. The beast is vanquished. You may now return to your work, my fair knight.”

Jayce let out a long breath, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Y/N grinned, poking his chest. “You’re lucky I’m here to protect you, big guy.��

Jayce groaned but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. He pulled Y/N into a quick hug, muttering, “My hero,” before returning to his work, albeit with a wary glance toward the window every so often.

VIKTOR

The dim light of Piltover’s laboratory district cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Y/N was on their way to deliver Viktor a stack of documents he'd requested, braving the late hour at his insistence that their findings were urgent. The streets were quieter than usual, save for the occasional hum of distant machinery or the clatter of boots on stone.

As Y/N approached the entrance to the lab, a low voice echoed from the shadows behind them.

“Well, well. Out a bit late, aren’t you?”

Turning sharply, Y/N spotted a man emerging from the alley, his face partially obscured but his posture unmistakably menacing. Another figure stepped out to his left, smirking as he cracked his knuckles.

“Not the best place for a stroll,” the second one said, his voice dripping with malice.

Y/N’s breath hitched, their grip tightening on the documents. They took a step back, heart pounding, and glanced toward the lab. A warm glow spilled from the windows—a beacon of safety if they could just get inside.

“Don’t even think about running,” the first man growled, stepping closer.

“Get away from them!”

The sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade. Viktor stepped into view, his cane tapping rhythmically against the ground. Despite his limp, he moved with purpose, golden eyes blazing with determination.

The thugs faltered for a moment, clearly surprised.

“And who’re you supposed to be? Their bodyguard?” one sneered, though his tone betrayed unease.

Viktor’s grip tightened on his cane, his expression hardening. “You will leave them alone,” he said, his voice low and unwavering. “Now.”

The first man snorted, lunging toward Viktor. But Viktor was quicker than they expected. He swung his cane with surprising force, striking the thug’s leg and sending him staggering.

“Stay behind me, Y/N,” Viktor said firmly, positioning himself between them and the attackers.

The second thug charged, but Viktor was ready. With a calculated step, he sidestepped the attack, using his cane to unbalance the man and send him crashing to the ground.

The first thug scrambled to his feet, glaring at Viktor. “You’ll regret this,” he spat before grabbing his companion and retreating into the shadows.

For a moment, the street was silent except for Y/N’s quickened breathing. Viktor turned to them, his stern expression softening.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Y/N nodded, their hands trembling slightly. “I… I think so. Thank you, Viktor. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

Viktor’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile as he reached out, his slender fingers gently wrapping around her trembling hands. The warmth of his touch steadied her, grounding her in the moment. “I am just glad I was nearby. Piltover may shine bright, but even its shadows can be dangerous.” He paused, studying them. “You should not have come alone. Next time, send for me.”

Y/N nodded, warmth blooming in their chest despite the lingering fear. Viktor’s protective nature was always understated, but in this moment, it felt like a shield, steadfast and unyielding.

“Let’s get inside,” Viktor said gently, gesturing toward the lab. “You can explain what was so urgent once you’ve had a chance to breathe.”

As they stepped into the light, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a new sense of safety, knowing Viktor would always be there to protect them.

JAYVIK

The lab buzzed with quiet activity, the hum of Hextech crystals resonating in the air. Y/N worked at the center station, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she adjusted the array of lenses for their latest experiment. Viktor stood beside her, leaning on his cane, a rare smile tugging at his lips as he offered suggestions.

“This alignment should amplify the crystal’s energy tenfold,” Viktor said, his golden gaze gleaming with anticipation.

Y/N nodded, sharing his enthusiasm. “Exactly. If we time it just right, we’ll create a stable energy flow. It could change everything.”

Jayce, watching from across the room, frowned. “Are you two sure about this? That crystal looks ready to blow at the slightest mistake.”

“It will be fine, Jayce,” Viktor replied, waving him off. “We have accounted for every variable.”

“And this setup is flawless,” Y/N added confidently. “Just watch.”

But the warning signs were subtle—too subtle to catch in time. A spark jumped from the crystal, striking the array. The lenses shattered, and the lab was bathed in an ominous blue glow. The surge of energy crackled, fast and unforgiving, surging toward Y/N and Viktor.

“Y/N! Viktor!”

Jayce moved in an instant. Vaulting over the workbench, he shoved them both out of harm’s way. Viktor stumbled, catching himself on his cane, while Y/N landed heavily against a shelf. Jayce turned to shield them both as the crystal exploded with a deafening crack.

The blast wasn’t as violent as feared, but the force knocked Jayce to the ground. The aftermath left a haze of smoke and the acrid scent of scorched metal hanging in the air.

“Jayce!” Y/N scrambled to his side, her hands trembling as she checked him for injuries. “Are you okay?”

Jayce groaned, pushing himself up on one elbow. “I’m fine. Just… next time, maybe listen when I say it looks dangerous?”

Viktor limped over, coughing slightly but otherwise unharmed. “That was reckless, Jayce. You could have been seriously injured.” His voice held a mix of frustration and gratitude.

“Someone had to step in,” Jayce replied, flashing a tired smile.

Y/N exhaled shakily, helping him to his feet. “Thank you, Jayce. You saved us.”

Jayce rested a hand on her shoulder, his expression softening. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“And next time,” Viktor added, glancing between them, “we’ll ensure no one needs to play the hero. Safety measures first.”

“Agreed,” Y/N said, her voice firm, though the gratitude in her eyes lingered as she met Jayce’s gaze.

Jayce smirked, his hand lingering over hers. “Fine. But don’t think I won’t keep an eye on you two.”

Between Jayce’s protectiveness and Viktor’s careful planning, Y/N felt a rare and cherished sense of safety—one she would never take for granted.

VANDER

The Last Drop was bustling as always, voices rising in a chaotic medley of laughter, arguments, and the clinking of glasses. Vander moved with practiced ease, the hulking man weaving through the crowd to check on patrons, break up the occasional spat, and lend a hand wherever needed.

You were behind the counter, sleeves rolled up as you juggled pouring drinks and taking orders. The lively atmosphere didn’t bother you much—it was part of the charm of the Undercity, and working alongside Vander always made the chaos worthwhile.

“Y/N!” Vander called, his gravelly voice cutting through the noise. You glanced up to see him gesturing toward the back. “Can you grab some more glasses and the case of rum from the pantry? We’re runnin’ low.”

“On it!” you replied, setting down your rag and slipping past him. As you brushed by, his hand briefly rested on your shoulder, a quiet but affectionate acknowledgment.

The pantry was tucked in the back, shelves packed with various supplies. It wasn’t the most organized space, but you’d managed to navigate it before. You stepped inside and began grabbing what was needed: the case of rum, a few boxes of cocktail ingredients, and a stack of clean glasses.

The rustling as you reached for one of the higher shelves echoed through the pantry. You stretched further, trying to grab a box teetering at the very top. As you pulled it down, something shifted above.

A faint creak and scrape caught your attention, but before you could look up, the weight of a heavy wooden crate loomed. It tipped forward, hurtling straight down.

“Y/N!”

Vander’s voice was the first thing you registered before his broad form appeared at the doorway, moving faster than you thought someone of his size could. In one fluid motion, he threw his arm over your head, catching the brunt of the falling crate. His other hand knocked it aside, sending it crashing harmlessly to the floor with a loud thud.

You stumbled back, eyes wide as the shock of what just happened sank in. Vander remained where he was, arm still braced protectively above you. His chest heaved with a sharp intake of breath as he glanced down at you, concern etched into his rugged features.

“You alright?” he asked, his deep voice softer than usual.

You nodded, swallowing hard as your heart raced. “Y-Yeah, thanks to you.”

He lowered his arm and let out a relieved sigh, his tense posture easing. “Damn supplier, I told them to make sure the crates were put properly on the shelf” he muttered, casting a glare at the offending object. His eyes flicked back to you, scanning you over as if to double-check for injuries. “You gotta be more careful back here, love. Could’ve been bad.”

“I didn’t realize it was so unstable,” you admitted, shaking your head. “I should’ve paid more attention.”

“Nah,” Vander said, stepping closer and cupping your face with a calloused hand. “Ain’t your fault. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.” His thumb brushed gently against your cheek. “Lucky I caught it in time.”

The closeness of him, the way his voice softened just for you, made your cheeks flush. Despite the scare, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Guess I owe you one,” you said, placing a hand over his where it rested on your face.

Vander chuckled, the sound low and reassuring. “You already do enough around here. Just promise me you’ll holler next time you need somethin’ from the top shelf, yeah?”

“Promise,” you replied, your grin widening.

He gave you one last look, his expression a mixture of affection and lingering worry, before pulling you into a brief but warm embrace. “C’mon,” he murmured against your hair. “Let’s get back before they burn the place down without us.”

With Vander’s arm slung protectively over your shoulders, the two of you left the pantry together. And though the Last Drop’s chaos hadn’t abated, you felt a little more grounded knowing he’d always be there to catch you when it mattered most.

SILCO

The Undercity always carried the stench of betrayal, but tonight, it was worse. Silco stood by the window of his office, his mismatched eyes scanning the chaos outside. The shimmer of neon lights reflected off the glass as shouts and gunfire echoed in the distance. The deal with the Chem-Barons had gone sideways, and now retaliation was inevitable.

Y/N stepped into the room, her boots clinking against the floor as she approached him. “They’re moving faster than we thought. Enforcers, thugs—it’s a mess out there,” she said, gripping the hilt of the dagger at her side.

Silco turned, his face a calm mask despite the storm brewing outside. “They’ll come for me first. They always do.”

“Then they’ll find me standing in their way,” Y/N replied, her voice steady and sure.

A rare flicker of something softened Silco’s sharp gaze. “You don’t owe me this.”

Y/N smirked, leaning against the desk. “Maybe not. But you’ve saved me more times than I can count. Besides, I’m not about to let you handle this alone.”

The first explosion rattled the walls, shaking dust from the rafters. Silco grabbed his revolver, tucking it into his coat. “Then let’s make sure they regret their decision.”

=

The fight erupted in the darkened corridors of the Last Drop. Smoke filled the air as bullets whizzed past. Y/N was a force of nature, darting between attackers with her blade, her movements fluid and deliberate. When one thug lunged at Silco, she was there, her dagger plunging into his side before he could strike.

“Focus!” she shouted over the chaos, her eyes meeting Silco’s for a brief moment.

Silco, despite his usual distaste for direct combat, held his own. He aimed with precision, each shot taking down a would-be assailant. When Y/N found herself cornered by two brutes, he stepped forward, firing a round into one and cracking the other over the head with the butt of his gun.

“You’re reckless,” he hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her back into cover.

“Look who’s talking,” she retorted, her breath coming in sharp gasps.

The two shared a fleeting grin before a new wave of enemies surged forward.

=

When the dust finally settled, the air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and sweat. The last of their attackers lay motionless, and the bar was in shambles. Silco slumped against the wall, his hand pressed to a gash on his shoulder. Y/N knelt beside him, tearing a strip of fabric from her sleeve to bandage the wound.

“You’re lucky they didn’t aim better,” she muttered, tying the makeshift bandage tight.

Silco chuckled dryly. “And you’re lucky I was watching your back.”

Y/N met his gaze, her expression softening. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the Undercity’s darkness lifted. They had survived another night together, their loyalty to each other unshaken.

“Come on,” Y/N said, helping him to his feet. “We’ve got a mess to clean up.”

Silco leaned on her slightly as they walked. “It’s always a mess in Zaun. But with you, I can handle it.”

And in the shadows of the Undercity, they stood as each other’s shields—unbreakable, unyielding, and fiercely protective.

POWDER/JINX

The sound of crackling glass and twisted metal echoed through the ruined streets of Zaun. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, and the dim flicker of streetlights barely lit the chaos around them. Jinx was pacing back and forth, her wild eyes scanning the area, her fingers twitching nervously as if she were on the edge of something.

“Y/N, this place is so fun,” Jinx giggled, her voice echoing with manic energy. “It's a playground for all of us!”

But you could sense something was off. The usual playful madness in her voice was clouded by something deeper, more dangerous. You knew Jinx all too well—when the chaos and explosions weren’t enough to keep her occupied, it meant something far worse was brewing inside her.

"Stay close, Jinx," you said, your voice low and firm, as you stepped closer to her. The familiar weight of the dagger hidden at your side reassured you, but it wasn't just the weapon that kept you calm—it was the responsibility you felt for her. She was more than just an explosive whirlwind to you. She was the girl you protected, the one you'd do anything to keep safe.

Her eyes darted to you, still wild, but there was a flicker of vulnerability beneath the madness. “Don’t worry about me, Y/N! I’m fine! No one can stop me!”

But before you could respond, a group of enforcers emerged from the shadows. They moved swiftly, surrounding you and Jinx. They were not just any enforcers, either. These were the ones who'd been hunting her for months—the ones who saw Jinx as a threat to their fragile order in the undercity. And now they had her in their sights.

"Move, Jinx!" you barked, pulling her back protectively. You placed yourself between her and the approaching soldiers, your stance firm and unyielding. "Not today."

One of the enforcers sneered, raising his weapon. "Step aside. You know we can’t let her go free."

You felt your heart racing, but you didn’t hesitate. Your hand hovered over the hilt of your dagger, ready to defend her with everything you had. Jinx, seeing the confrontation, froze, her usual chaotic energy replaced with a strange sense of attachment to you.

“Y/N…?” Her voice was quieter now, almost unsure.

“No one is touching you, Jinx,” you whispered, your tone soft yet unyielding. “Not on my watch.”

Before the enforcers could make another move, you lunged forward, your dagger flashing in the dim light. The first enforcer’s weapon was knocked from his hands, and you quickly incapacitated him with a well-placed strike. The others hesitated, unsure of whether to engage or retreat. You could see the fear in their eyes, but you weren’t about to give them the chance.

With a quick glance to Jinx, you noticed the faintest glimmer of relief in her eyes. She stepped forward, her usual mania gone for a moment, replaced by a deep trust. She didn't need to be told what to do. She picked up a nearby bomb and threw it with a wild grin, her laughter ringing out as the explosion sent the remaining enforcers scattering.

“Nice job, Jinx,” you said, giving her a small, approving nod. She beamed at you, her previous anxiety melting away as she clung to your side.

“You’re the best, Y/N,” she said, her voice laced with genuine gratitude. Her chaotic persona might’ve been what others saw, but you saw the frightened girl behind it, the one who trusted you more than anyone else in this world.

You gave her a smile, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “And I’ll always protect you, no matter what.”

[warlocksoup]

── .✦ FULL: IWAIZUMI HAJIME ── .✦

CHAPTER FIVE: changes

Iwaizumi constantly feels like the rug is about to be pulled out from underneath him. 

She’s sitting cross-legged under the sun that pours in from her window, and she looks beautiful. Iwaizumi can’t stop looking at her, and thinking about whether or not she’s going to leave him. It taints the way a light summer breeze flows in through her window, how the cicadas chirp, and the way her skin looks under the sunlight, but he can’t help himself. She’s been gone before, he figures, she could be gone again. 

Half-full boxes are littered about her room, filled with old childhood books and mismatched socks and bottles of cheap perfume. Iwaizumi wraps one of them closed with packing tape. 

Her and Akaashi had talked, a lengthy conversation that Iwaizumi was not a part of, and decided it would be better if she moved out, lived with Yukie for a bit, got away from him. They don’t know if they’re going to stay friends. Iwaizumi can’t decide how he feels about this, if her eagerness to step away from him is a good sign, or if her inability to be near Akaashi is something that should make him worried. 

He decides not to think about it too much. 

“Thanks for helping me move,” she says to him, breaking the soft silence that settled between them. She stacks a few hardcover books into a box, and Iwaizumi knows he’ll end up carrying it. “I really appreciate it.” 

“”S no problem,” Iwaizumi replies, his eyes watching her hands. “Oikawa’s been wanting to go furniture shopping, so it’s a good excuse to say no. And, y’know, I just wanna help you.” 

She smiles, eyes briefly flashing up to him. “Yeah, I know you do.” 

He was needy, for a while. It was probably too much for her to put up with, but she put up with it. The texts he sent late at night, asking if she was sure about him. The cloying way he would grab at her, holding her close to his side like someone was coming to take her away from him. Constantly asking her to repeat herself, to tell him she loves him, and really, truly means it. 

But she put up with it. She watched the way insecurity would wash over him, tensing him, making him recoil, and she would take his hand, rubbing circles into his palm until he eased. She returned every text, fell into every embrace, told him repeatedly and eagerly that yes, she does love him, and yes, she means it. 

And even still, he doubts her.

She stands, and she interlocks her fingers above her head and leans back to stretch. Iwaizumi watches as the bottom of her shirt lifts to reveal her midriff. “I’m gonna go bring some of these out to the car. I need to stretch my legs.” 

“Save the heavy boxes for me,” Iwaizumi remarks, and she bends down to pick up one, filled with posters and picture frames. 

She smiles. “You know I will,” she tells him, and takes carefully placed steps out of her bedroom, heading for his car that’s parked on the street. 

And then Iwaizumi’s there, alone, sitting on the floor of her bedroom. He looks around. It’s bare now, free of photos of her and her friends, free of posters of bands she likes and shows she’s been too, free of her. It was like this the first time Iwaizumi was there, too. 

She had just moved in, when Iwaizumi first met her, and hadn’t left her mark on the walls yet. When he had kissed her then, for the first time, he thought he had never tasted anything like her. Maybe it was then, that first night, when Iwaizumi knew she was it for him. 

Iwaizumi stands. The wooden floorboards creak when he moves. Iwaizumi loves her, he’s always loved her, and he starts to wonder, surrounded by her packed up belongings, when it will be enough for him. 

It wasn’t enough to spend almost every weekend taking up space in her bed, leaving trails of kisses down her neck. It wasn’t enough to be the one that she called when she needed someone. It wasn’t enough to have her stay with him. And it’s not enough now, even with her constant proclamations of love, to ease the ache in his chest, to quell his desire for more.

He looks down at the boxes beneath him. Things are changing for her, now. And now that his thoughts are in a downwards spiral, he asks himself if they’re going to change with him, too. If it won’t be enough for her, if things will have to change, if she’ll disappear again. There’s this knot of dread that settles in the bottom of his stomach, and he thinks about it again. Her leaving him, what it would look like, how it would break him.

“Haji.” 

He turns. He sees her standing in the doorway for just a second before she approaches him, taking long strides until her arms are around his waist and her head is resting on his shoulder. His arms go around her automatically, hand splaying across the center of her back. 

She’s warm in his arms, and it makes his heartbeat slow down, feel at ease. “I love you,” she says into his chest, unprompted, just because she wanted to. 

His thumb draws circles on top of her back, and Iwaizumi figures that it’s enough. Whatever they have, it’s enough for now. 

an: special thank you to @nekozaki this is 100% dedicated to u ellie because when i say you inspired me and motivated me to actually finish this fic i mean it and i already rambled to you about it i just feel the need to say thank you again and ily <3

also i’m lowkey pretty sad to be finishing full but like i said it’s time for yn and iwa to rest and i had so much fun writing this series :,) thank you all for reading

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