#[I want to come back but i have to get my shit together and frankly im getting there. we're working on it. this job is a big pay raise and

[probablynotsamantha]

Dammit heart why are you like this ik she's like the exact damn girl you would've thought up to be as attractive and friend as humanly possible to me but you still don't have to be this whiny about it.

[godblooded]

guys wish me luck i start day 1 / 3 for training as a registered autism behavioral tech in 10.

[wandussyfantasy]

You Suck, Let's Fuck

Request from anon: g!p reader x Wanda pairing. background: reader and pietro are best friends and have been since childhood. reader and wanda never got along but secretly have crushes on each other. wanda is jealous because reader is a player and has hooked up with all of wanda’s friends, and reader just uses those girls to distract from not being able to have wanda because they don’t want to ruin their friendship with pietro. it all comes to a head when reader saves wanda from a handsy at a house party and the tension between them is too much and they confess their feelings and have sex.

Summary: Y/n is frustrated when Wanda's friends form a pact to not sleep with her anymore.

Pairings: Wanda x NB!AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,596

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!! smut, gn!reader amab, powerbottom!wanda, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, masturbation, sex toys, public touching, fantasies, and teasing.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

“Pietro! Y/n! You're both dead!” Wanda screeches from the top of the stairs of the basement. You and Pietro look at each other and laugh. You hand him the joint that the two of you are passing back and forth. Wanda stomps her way down the stairs and neither of you move from your seats. You're on a bean bag chair and Pietro is sitting on an expensive gaming chair. The pair of you are playing a zombie game together. “You idiots think you're so fuckin funny don't you?” She points to her face with sharpie dicks drawn around it. “This isn't funny, I have to go to work unlike you bums!”

“Hey, we work,” you say defensively. Then a mischievous smirk pulls on your lips. “As a matter of fact, we're working right now,” you point to the camera that is pointed at you and Pietro, “say hi to our audience!”

Wanda’s eyes nearly pop out of her head as she sees herself on the computer screen monitoring the live stream. “Ugh! I hate you!” She runs up the stairs feeling completely humiliated. You and Pietro break out laughing. You can't help but check out her ass as she storms off.

“Woah! Hey! What are you doing?” Pietro shouts because your character in the game is being attacked by a hoard of zombies.

“Shit!” You say as you quickly get back into the game. There are crude comments on the stream being left about Wanda and some comments of how they caught you checking her out. You don't notice them as you continue playing the game with Pietro.

••••

“Wanda! Hurry up! We don't have all night!” You shout down the hall. The house you lived in with the twins had four bedrooms and two bathrooms on the main level. It was a small off campus house. There used to be a fourth roommate. She's still Wanda’s best friend but she moved out. You couldn't remember why. Wanda runs out of the bathroom in a little black dress with her hair and makeup done. She usually didn't do this much when going out and her look made you do a double take. This was not the Wanda you grew up with. And you couldn't tell if you liked it or not.

“Alright, let's go,” she says as she walks past you.

“Woah, you're going out like that? Where are you going to put your wallet or your phone? You can't leave like that,” you say as you catch up to her.

Wanda shrugs with a sultry smile, “Do you have a problem with the way I look?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you state. “I think you're setting women back a hundred years and quite frankly, I find it offensive.”

Wanda makes a “really” face and scoffs. “Ah so you're a feminist today?” She shakes her head as she opens the front door. “You're such a hey mama sometimes.”

You roll your eyes, you hate being called that. “Why did anyone ever think there needed to be a lesbian version of fuckboi?” You groan as you follow her out the door.

“Will you ladies hurry! I'm not trying to get my rating down because you two take ages to get ready!” Pietro grouches from the backseat of the Uber. He hands the driver a hundred dollar bill to avoid a rating lower than five stars. You lock the front door before you climb into the car with the twins. “You're going out like that?” Pietro asks his sister. “You never go out like that.”

“That's what I'm saying!” You throw your hands up.

“Good for you sis,” Pietro holds his fist of for Wanda to bump. She does so with a laugh. “I hope you feel comfortable and confident because you look great.”

You make noises to express your shock with your mouth open. Wanda smiles at you and puts her fingers under your chin. “Close your mouth, don't want to catch any bugs.”

You clamp your mouth shut and narrow your eyes at her. “I'm not paying for your drinks.”

Wanda shrugs and slips her hand away from you. “I never asked you to.”

“Will you two stop bickering? We're supposed to have fun tonight. So let's just have fun,” Pietro says.

“P, we have been friends since we were five years old. Wanda and I have been enemies for the same length of time. You're still not used to this? It's the dynamic,” you defend yourself. Wanda agrees with you. “See?”

Pietro shakes his head. “It's gotten old. I thought that living together the two of you would at least try to get along.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he grows upset. “But no, all you two ever want to do is fight. It's exhausting living with you.”

“Ooh, I think he's really mad,” Wanda mutters as she looks between you and her brother. Neither of you take him serious and the both of you bust out laughing

Pietro glares at the both of you. “Excuse me, Happy? Do you mind pulling over just up ahead?” The Uber driver pulls over and stalls the car. “Both of you, out,” Pietro says with a fed up tone. You look at him like he's crazy but he doesn't let it go. You and Wanda start to apologize but in doing so, you two start arguing over whose fault it is. So you both exit the car and he takes the Uber the rest of the way to the party.

“Unbelievable,” you mumble as you shake your head. “You couldn't have just not been so irritating for once?” You gesture, frustrated with her and with the situation.

“Me?” Wanda is offended by the accusation and lack of accountability. “You're the one who wouldn't shut up about my outfit. Which by the way, I don't understand why it bothers you so damn much. It's not any different from what the girls who catch your eye wear!”

“Is that what you're trying to do, Wanda?” You ask, annoyed with the implication that you are as simple minded as any guy. If only she knew how you really felt about her. But you couldn't do that to your best friend. You wouldn't.

“Gross, don't think so highly of yourself,” her face is convincingly disgusted but deep down the answer is yes. “I'm just tired of being overlooked! I'm hot dammit and tonight, I'm finally going to get laid!” Wanda starts walking in the direction of the fraternity where the party was being hosted.

You jog to catch up with her, “Wanda, you can't be serious. You’re not that type of girl.”

“What makes you so sure that I'm not? I can be any type of girl I want to be,” she fires back stubbornly. “Tonight, I'm going to be like you.”

“Fine, whatever,” you say, annoyed that she'd use your actions against you. “Just be careful. There are a lot of guys who won't think twice about taking advantage of you.”

“Oh, is that what you do to the girls that dress like this?” She retorts.

You shake your head, hurt by the accusation. “That’s low, even for you. Look, all I was trying to do was prepare you. But you don't want my help. Fine.” You walk a bit faster than her to create a distance between the two of you. Wanda feels stupid for the comment but she doesn't apologize. She just keeps the distance between the two of you as you guys walk to the party.

��•••

You are talking with Natasha, Wanda’s best friend, with a flirtatious smirk. She looked like she was on a mission to get someone's attention and though you doubt it was yours, she had it. “Hey, why did you move out? We could have had so much fun together,” you say as you play with her hair.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “We had our fun and then you proceeded to treat me like I never existed to you. Yeah, no thank you.”

You pout, “Oh come on, are you still upset about that? I'm not the commiting type. You know that.” You put your hand on the wall above her head, somewhat trapping her between you and the wall. Your bicep flexes and you catch her ogling you. That gives you the upper hand and you smirk. “If I remember correctly, that's all you wanted because you were trying to get over that Maria chick.” You lean in close and whisper, “I believe I cleared your mind of her for hours that night.”

Natasha shivers at the memory and almost kisses you. But she clears her throat and steps away from you. “No one likes being treated like they're invisible. No matter what the circumstances are,” she says before she walks away.

You frown and shake your head. You look around the room and find Wanda chatting with her friend Carol. You smirk as you recall being able to convince her to join you for a sleepover more than once. You walk over to them with intentions to get Carol to walk away with you. “Hey,” you start as you approach.

“Nope,” Carol walks away from you and Wanda and you frown.

“Damn, two strikes in less than ten minutes. What's wrong with my game?” You ask yourself out loud then you take a sip from your cup.

“They made a pact against you,” Wanda says over the loud music. You make a face, thrown off by the news. “You can't keep sleeping with my friends. They're done with you and your hey mama ways.”

You groan at the term. “Will you stop calling me that?”

“Sure,” Wanda says simply. “Just stop being one,” she walks away before you can start an argument. You start to look around the party to find someone you haven't slept with that you think you have a shot with. But it was slim pickings. You sighed as you feared that it would just be you and your fleshlight tonight.

••••

As you make your way through the house, you hear some commotion. Instead of ignoring it, you search for the source. “Stop,” Wanda says as a guy pulls her onto his lap. She swats at his hands as he tries to slip them up her dress.

“Come on baby,” the guy says, “you know you want this.” He doesn't let up and puts his hands on her breasts.

You burst through the room and pull Wanda off of him. “Get away from her!”

“Woah chill,” the guy holds his hands up. “We were just having some fun.”

You raise your fist In disgust and Wanda catches you. “Y/n! Cut it out!” You turn around, astonished that even when you defend her she's annoyed with you. “He wasn't doing anything I didn't want,” she says.

You scowl, “Don't defend him! I heard you tell him to stop!”

“He was tickling me, you know how much I hate that,” she raises her voice to match your level.

“I'm just going to go,” the guy says awkwardly.

“You stay,” she points to the guy. “You go,” she points at you.

“No, I'm not leaving you with this guy,” you state stubbornly.

“Get out!” She says as she tries to push you away. “Why do you have to ruin everything for me?”

You don't know what comes over you when you pull her in and plant your lips against yours. She breaks away from your kiss and smacks you across the face. You both stare at each other in shock then she grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you in for another kiss. This one is a lot more aggressive than the previous.

“Now is the time for me to go,” the guy says as he slips out of the room, shutting the door behind him. You and Wanda are too lost in each other to care.

She starts to unbutton your shirt and you're surprised that she is being so assertive. You walk backwards until you fall onto the couch with your lips still attached to hers. She straddles your hips while kissing you. Her teeth clamp down on your bottom lip and you groan in pleasure. You put your hands on her ass and boldly give her right cheek a light smack. She yelps, “No, don't do that.”

“Okay,” you say just before kissing her again. For years you've refrained from doing this. Every time you had the urge, you redirected your attention to one of her friends. Each of them had a few traits that reminded you of Wanda. It felt like since you couldn't have the real her, you could settle for pieces that reminded you of her. Now that you have her, you don't think you could ever go back to before this.

“Do you have a condom on you?” Wanda asks as she rolls her hips on your bulging member.

“Yeah,” you say as if the answer was obvious. You pull out your wallet from your pocket and fish out the prophylactic. Wanda dips her hand between her legs and you thought she was adjusting her underwear but instead she was unzipping your fly. You jump a little when she slips her hand through your boxers and pulls your cock through the hole. You moan as you finally feel her stroke you after years of fantasizing about the day her hand would touch your cock for the first time. You almost cum right then and there.

“Let me see that,” Wanda says as she takes the package from your hand. She tears it open and delicately pulls the condom onto your hard cock.

You slip your fingers up before dress and lick your lips in anticipation to find out what kind of underwear she has on. But as you do, you graze her in a way that makes her squirm. “Stop, I said I don't like tickling,” she scolds.

“I wasn't trying to tickle you. I was trying to pull your panties down,” you state.

Wanda smirks and leans in close to whisper in your ear, “I haven't worn any all night.” Your hips jerk up in response and it makes her giggle. You pull her into another passionate kiss. Hoping to convey everything you feel towards her in the kiss without having to talk about it.

As she kisses you back, she hovers her pussy over your cock and passes the tip of your penis through her folds as she blindly aligns you with her entrance. The feeling of her warm pussy lips against your sensitive tip has your hips rolling instinctively. And you enter her. “Oh fuck! Geez you're so impatient,” Wanda snaps at you.

You chuckle as you start nibbling on her ear lobe. “I can take it slow but,” you push your cock further into her and grunt from the pleasure. “We don't have too long here. You want slow,” you lift her up by her ass to give you room to thrust into her. “Sneak into my room one of these nights. I'll show you a good time for a long time.”

Wanda moans as you thrust your thick dick into her. “Mmm, should I take that as an invitation? Or are you just,” her mouth opens in a gasp as you start to rub her cliterous. Your lips move about the sweaty skin of her exposed chest. Her taste has you feeling more intoxicated than any drop of alcohol ever has.

“It's an invitation,” you whisper against her neck. “You just have to keep quiet.”

“Oh sure you tell me to be quiet but when it comes to every other girl,” Wanda gripes, recalling past arguments of asking you to keep things quiet at night whenever you had a girl in your room. Especially when it was one of her close friends.

“They're not, mph, my best friend's sister,” you moan as Wanda's walls squeeze your dick. “Unless you want Pietro to hear,” Wanda covers your mouth with her hand making you laugh. She joins you in laughing and you stop moving, she sits on your lap with your dick inside of her while the two of you laugh. Wanda removes her hand from your mouth and gazes into your eyes for a moment. She knows that slow isn't the pace you go. She knows that this could be the only time she has your attention. She is grateful for this moment because she can believe that you love her. She can tell herself that this is more than what it is, even though she won't believe it tomorrow.

You get lost in her eyes and in the heat of the moment. You almost confess everything you've been dying to tell her for years. You can feel it on the tip of your tongue as you gaze into her hazel eyes. You don't say anything and hope that your actions speak for themselves. You pull out of her and sit her next to you on the couch. You don't have much time because you don't know what Pietro is up to and the chances of him walking into this room are too high. You do want to have a chance to take your time with her. You have to give her a reason to come to your room.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks as she watches you pull the condom off and put your erection back into your pants. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shake your head. “Since when have you cared if you’ve done something wrong?” You ask as you get on your knees in front of her. Her curious eyes follow your hands as they force her dress up, causing the tight fabric tear in order to get it over her ass. You pull her closer to you by her thighs. “You didn't do anything wrong, but I need to get you finished off so we can get out of here before we're missed.” You explain as you trail kisses along her thighs.

“Oh,” she gasps out, “Wha-wha-what about yyou?” She stutters as you begin to lick her sensitive pussy.

You smirk and lean back slightly to look up at her, “You've never worried about me before. Don't start now,” you wink at her before you return your focus to devouring her. She tangles her fingers in your hair to keep you close as your tongue enters her. You eat her out like she's the last meal you'll have on earth. If she was, you wouldn't mind one bit. Her hips gyrate as she starts to ride your face. She moans as you expertly move your tongue around, humming a song to make your tongue vibrate.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Wanda cries out as you please her in ways she didn't know possible. You're not the first person to go down on her. But you are the first person to make it enjoyable. So much so that when she reaches her climax, her whole body is shaking for a few minutes. Her pussy twitches as you lick up as much of her juices as you can. You pull away from her and smile at her with your face glistening from her arousal. She giggles as she pulls you up and licks her juices from your face. You groan from how much the action has turned you on. Then she kisses your lips.

“Now it's your turn,” she tries to pull you closer with her hand on your crotch without breaking from the kiss too much.

You smile as you pull away completely, “You'll have to thank me later.” You straighten yourself out and help her fix herself up a bit. She laughs at the red lipstick stains that she left behind on your face and chest.

“You might want to sneak into a bathroom,” she suggests with a smile.

“Good idea,” you nod at her. “I guess I'll see you at home then,” you say as you walk out of the room.

••••

You are sleeping when Wanda slips into your room. You don't sleep in pajamas and this is how she finds out. You're naked when she lifts the covers. She quickly drops the blanket. Startled by the sight at first. She shakes her head, embarrassed by her own reaction. You were inside of her a few hours ago and she slipped into the room with the intention of pleasuring your body. But it's different. She hadn't seen your body until now. Other than flashes from the years she's known you.

She takes a deep breath and lifts the blanket again. Her eyes widen at your size and she's surprised you fit inside of her. You weren't even hard yet. You twitch in your sleep and that causes something next to your leg to fall. She catches it before it hits the floor because she doesn't want you to wake up yet. She looks at it and realizes that it's a fake pussy.

She had no idea that you owned a flashlight. Your cum leaks out of it and she feels herself grow aroused by the idea of being pumped full of your cum. She gulps, surprised by herself. She has never wanted to be someone’s cum dump before but the idea of being yours has her growing hot and bothered.

She keeps the toy in her hand and climbs on the bed. She straddles your legs and starts by licking the length of your cock. It starts to come to life while you continue to sleep. She wonders what you could be dreaming about while she wraps her lips around the head of your penis. She licks and sucks on the sensitive area, trying to wake you up at this point. You thrust your hips up, pushing more of your cock into her mouth but you don't open your eyes or show any other sign of consciousness.

She had no idea that you were such a heavy sleeper. Wanda starts to bob her head up and down on your cock, getting you to stiffen up more. She couldn't believe how much this scandalous act was turning her on. She stops sucking on your cock and shoves it inside of the fleshlight.

Wanda uses the toy to jerk you off. “Fuck, Wanda,” you mutter in your sleep. She is flattered that you're dreaming about her. But she doesn't get too caught up in an idea that it might mean anything other than just sexual attraction.

Wanda giggles as she gets an idea. She crawls up to your ear as she continues to use the toy on you. “Mmm, Y/n,” she moans into your ear. Instead, you smile with your eyes closed. “You're so big. You're bigger than anyone I've ever had. Oh yeah, oh yeah,” she pants and squeaks as much as she can in order to get you to wake up. It isn't until she starts kissing your neck that you startle awake.

“Woah!” You shoot up in the bed and look down to see Wanda’s hand wrapped around the chunky base of your fleshlight. “Woah,” you repeat in a calmer tone as you look over at Wanda. She is blushing. You lay back down with your arms behind your head with your head turned to her. Watching her as she continues to pump your dick. “I'm surprised to see you here.”

Wanda shrugs as if it's suddenly not a big deal. “Eh, I owed you one. I figured that the faster I repay you, the better.”

You chuckle softly. “You do realize that I wouldn't have ever asked you to return the favor?”

“No,” Wanda answers shyly. She stops moving her hand. “Are you saying I should stop?”

You put your hand over hers and start moving the toy again as you maintain eye contact. “Now why would I ever say that?” You lean in and kiss her lips. The kiss is aggressive as you hold her hand still and start thrusting into the toy. Fucking it as hard as you want to be fucking her. “I'm surprised you went with the toy,” you say when you break the kiss.

“I wasn't sure where you kept your condoms and,” she looks over at your bedroom door nervously. “And I don't want to risk Pietro finding out just how loud I can get when the sex is good.”

You chuckle, taking her caution as a compliment. “My condoms are in the drawer by the bed. But you were smart not to look for them because, mmph, you were quite a screamer earlier.”

“Shut up,” she says as she starts to move the pocket pussy faster. She wants to make you cum so badly at this point. “Damn, do you always last this long?” She complains as her hand starts to get tired. She moves back to her position of straddling your lap so that she can use both hands.

“You say that as if it's a bad thing,” you snort as you watch her struggle.

“It is when I have work in the morning,” she complains again. “I should have known your dick would be as annoying as you are.”

“Is it my dick or is it because I'm picturing your grandma that one summer that she wore that one bathing suit-”

“Gross! You're thinking about that?” She makes a face and you laugh.

“It's an old trick, otherwise I'd cum before anyone I ever slept with.”

“Well, can you stop thinking about her and just focus on me?”

You smirk as you sit up. You lift Wanda slightly by her ass so that her chest is in your face. “May I?” You ask, pointing at her chest. She nods her head as she watches you.

You pull her oversized sleep shirt over your head. You kiss up her stomach until you reach her breasts. With your eyes closed your body can't tell the difference between the toy and a real pussy. Especially when you have Wanda's real breast in your mouth. With a couple of rigid thrusts you cum inside of the toy and groan against Wanda’s chest.

You give her breasts each a soft kiss before removing your head from under her shirt.

“Happy now?” You ask as you lay breathlessly against your mattress.

“No,” she groans uncomfortably. “Now I'm too turned on.” You shake your head and roll your eyes.

You climb out of your bed and pull the toy off of your softening dick. You go into your closet and pull out the promotional box that Adam & Eve sent you so that you could endorse their brand and their products. You pull out one of the many new vibrators. It's still in its packaging. “Here,” you say as you hand her the box. “Take this and get out. I'm tired and I don't want your brother to hear you.”

“He's here?”

“Yeah, I helped him get into his bed. So just take this and go.”

“Thanks I guess,” Wanda laughs to herself. “Geez I didn't realize your room was a sex shop.”

“The beauty of influencing. You get free shit and all you have to do is look pretty online,” you hop back into your bed.

“Thank you for this, um goodnight,” she kisses you on the lips one more time before crawling out of your bed and leaving your room.

You sigh happily as you go to sleep, excited for what this might open up for your future relationship with Wanda.

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[natalievoncatte]

The heat was getting to be a problem.

The power had been out in National City for three days, and those three days were expected to be among the hottest of the year. Lena was, frankly, desperate.

You might think that she’d have it easy, but anyone who would think that a penthouse in a skyscraper would be easy to cool would quickly be disabused of that notion. The windows mostly didn’t open and having the balcony doors spread wide did next to nothing when the breeze felt like opening an oven, even up here.

It had been Alex’s suggestion, sent by text.

Why don’t you go to Kara’s? The loft is pretty breezy.

She was right, of course. When Lena arrived, Kara had every one of her huge loft windows open, allowing the breeze to flow freely through the open, airy space.

There was another problem, though.

When Kara opened the door, Lena nearly keeled over. Kara was wearing a sports bra and shorts so short they barely deserved the name, exposing a vast amount of golden, sun-kissed skin. Worse, her gloriously muscled stomach and shoulders glistened with sweat.

Lena was surprised to see that the heat bothered her, but it clearly did. Kara had forgone her glasses, too, and after she opened the door, she swept the back of her hand across her forehead and sighed.

“Hi,” Lena squeaked.

“Hi yourself. Hot out there?”

“It’s hot in here.”

“Come in, come in,” said Kara.

Lena stepped inside, forcing herself not to stare at Kara’s thick thighs and the swell of her chest under straining fabric. Was that zipper some advanced Kryptonian technology?

“Want something to drink?”

“Isn’t your fridge dead, too?”

“Yeah, but I cheat. Watch.”

Kara slipped a bottle of water out of a pack on her counter and breathed on it. Ice crystals formed on the surface and the water visibly chilled. It shocked Lena when she accepted it and the cold water on her lips was bliss. Lena let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of cold spreading through her chest, cooling her body.

When she opened her eyes, Kara was the one staring. Lena had thrown on a short, a-frame sun dress that bared her back, for no other reason than making sure that her skin could have as much surface exposed to the air to evaporate and cool her down as possible.

“So what are you up to?” Lena asked.

Kara gestured to the notebook and stacks of papers on the table.

“Old-fashioned journalism, I guess. My laptop battery died yesterday.”

“I thought you’d be out there trying to fix the power.”

Kara shrugged. “With what, my super-electrician powers?”

Lena shot her a look, raising her brow.

Kara turned away, heading for the windows.

Oh, Jesus, Lena thought.

It wasn’t as if Lena hadn’t… noticed Kara’s physique. She wasn’t blind, after all. They’d taken spin class together, and Kara liked to wear leggings on the weekends.

But holy shit, those shorts made her ass look… Super.

Lena was still fumbling over a buns of steel pun in her head when Kara turned back.

“Hey, you okay? Your heart raced for a second there.”

“F-fine,” said Lena.

“Alex and the others are coming over tonight for an emergency game night,” said Kara. “I better get ready.”

For the next couple of hours, Lena helped Kara neaten up her apartment and prepare non-perishable snacks and a cooler full of beer and wine coolers, chilled care of Kara. Alex and Kelly were the first to show up, with Alex giving Lena a cheeky look as she walked into the apartment.

“Hey, you two,” she said. “Been having a hot time?”

There was something brittle in Kara’s laugh that set Lena a little on edge, and the Danvers sisters shared one of those looks they shared that made Lena wonder if they could communicate telepathically. Whatever the message was, it made Kara look away first, distracting with an offered beer that Alex gladly accepted.

Lena took a wine cooler, wishing it were wine.

Nia and Brainy showed up next, followed by J’onn, who was the only one fully dressed in a button-down shirt and khakis, while everyone else was dressed for the beach or a track meet.

Lena sat on the floor, because the hardwood was cool under her butt, and leaned back against Kara’s couch. Kara sat beside her and Lena’s heart definitely sped up.

Looking over, it was hard to tear her eyes away. Kara made a magnificent display- the blocky weight of her shoulders, full biceps and strong arms and bulky, sculpted forearms. Lena’s eyes followed the vein on the back of Kara’s arm down the back of her strong hand and the elegant lengths of her fingers.

Kara kept her nails neatly trimmed like that because of Supergirl duties, right?

Right?

“Hey Luthor? You having a heat stroke?” said Alex. “You look spaced out over there.”

Alex had a playful grin plastered on her face, though she too was sweating profusely. A cooler breeze rolled in through the big windows and everyone sighed in delight.

Except J’onn. “What shall we play first?” she said.

“Clue!” Nia chirped.

“Brainy always kicks our ass at Clue,” said Alex, “and I am not playing Monopoly with a literal billionaire again.”

“Perhaps we should play Risk,” said J’onn, rifling through the game shelf.

“We could try Twisted,” Kara suggested in a deadpan voice.

Lena swallowed hard, thinking of herself tangled up on the mat with Kara, clothes glued to their skin by sweat, salty skin sliding against salty skin, the scent of her…

“Earth to Lena,” said Alex. “Got any ideas?”

“Exploding Kittens,” said Lena. “We haven’t done that one in a while.”

“Kara, chill us some cold ones, will you?” said Nia.

Once everyone had a rapidly warming drink, Brainy dealt the cards and the game began. Alex called Kara out for peeking several times, with that loaded Danvers Sisters Look and an almost predatory smirk.

She wasn’t the only one peeking.

Lena participate in the game but her mind was elsewhere, specifically the valley of Kara’s broad back, where sweat gathered between her muscles and rain down in heavy beads, or the sweat gathering along her collarbone or sparking along the lush inner curves of her tightly contained breasts.

“Hey,” said Kara. “It’s your turn, Lena.”

Then she reached over and brushed damp lock of inky hair out of Lena’s eyes.

She could have melted. She swallowed hard, brushed the sweat from her brow, and made a hasty and wasteful play that would probably cost her any chance of winning, but she didn’t care. The game seemed at most a distant concern.

Kara’s tongue glazing along her soft pink lips was much more interesting. They’d pretty much all given up on makeup but Kara was still positively radiant, soft and inviting and homey in a way that made Lena ache in her chest.

And, uh, other places.

It was full dark now, so they finished the game and Kara and Alex got up to light a few candles.

“This is like camping,” said Nia.

“We should have thought to procure ‘marshmallows’, said Brainy. “Kara could toast them with her heat vision.”

“We hardly need more heat. I’m boiling,” said Lena.

J’onn let out a soft grunt. “It’s my turn to go on patrol. I think I’ll be the first to head out.

Everyone gave their goodbyes as he headed out the window. The others huddled closer around the table, lit by the candle sitting in the middle.

“We should tell scary stories,” said Alex. “Like around a campfire.”

“Since it was your idea, you go first,” said Kelly.

Alex leaned into it with abandon, leaning in over the table as she started spinning a campfire yarn that Lena quickly recognized as The Hook.

Kara edged closer, until her bare thigh pressed against Lena. She leaned in close, and it wouldn’t have taken much for Lena to… rest her head on Kara’s shoulder. It just kind of happened, Kara’s scent filling her nostrils as she turned into Kara.

Lena flinched as Kara shot her a concerned look.

She can hear my heartbeat.

Kara must have thought Lena was scared, because she casually slipped an arm around her.

Lena’s breath caught. Kara’s powerful arm rested lazily around her hip and her relaxed hand rested on Lena’s thigh, fingers placed lightly on bare skin.

It was a powerfully possessive gesture, not just protective but… more. Lena shifted a little and let herself completely fall against Kara.

Alex kept on telling the story, her gaze pausing heavily on the two of them as she scanned the room. Brainy looked bored but Nia looked genuinely petrified and Kelly was looking at her wife with the kind of adoring reference that was currently plastered on Lena’s face as she looked up at Kara.

Alex reached the crescendo of the story and Lena let out a little gasp, turning her face into Kara’s neck, more for the sake of it than out of fear. Kara’s hand stroked lazily up and down her back.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone get you,” Kara whispered.

“You two okay over there?” said Alex.

“Fine,” said Kara.

“There are two actual couples here and you two are the ones doing the heavy petting.”

They weren’t heavy petting. Okay sure, Lena had her fingers curled around Kara’s hip and Kara’s hand was staring to pass the platonic zone when stroking her back but…

Oh.

“It’s getting late,” said Kelly. “Maybe we should head home.”

“Agreed,” said Nia. “Come on, Brainy.”

Lena and Kara didn’t get up.

The others did, piling out of the apartment. Alex went last, shooting Kara another of those damned looks, smiling like a self-satisfied cat after a big stretch.

The door closed and Kara yawned.

“Mind if I stay?” Lena said, quickly. “My place is just too hot to sleep.”

“Of course,” Kara said softly.

Lena didn’t move. They were alone now, the apartment dark except for candles that threw flickering shadows and made Kara even more ethereal. Lena could barely believe someone so gorgeous could be real.

“Lena,” Kara said quietly. “Have you ever thought about…” she trailed off.

“About what?”

“Us. What we are to each other.”

“Yes,” said Lena.

“Me too.”

“What are you thinking?” Lena asked.

“You’re my best friend. You mean more to me than basically anyone else, and the thought of you has kept me going through some really dark times.”

When Kara smiled for her, her eyes lit up, sparkling in the candlelight, like moonlight dancing on nighttime waves. She was entrancing.

“I…” Lena began. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as just a friend. There’s more on the table if you want it.”

“More like… kissing?”

“Yes, exactly.”

This was actually happening. It was real, not a daydream or a fantasy. Kara moved with agonizing slowness, full of a gentle, kind intensity as she leaned down and lightly brushed her lips across Lena’s.

It was like being tossed in a tub of ice water… in a good way. Lena shivered as Kara cupped her jaw and went for another kiss, more forcefully this time, more insistent. The breathed as one.

“Kara,” Lena whispered.

She couldn’t help it. Lena dragged her tongue over Kara’s skin, tasting the sweat pooled at the base of her neck. Kara let out a low moan followed by a deep basso rumble in her chest, pulsating in time with her breathing.

“Did you just lick my sweat?”

“Are you purring?!”

Kara giggled. “I can do lots of things.”

Lena looked up at her with lidded eyes. “Oh yeah? Show me what you got.”

She squeaked as Kara picked her up in a single smooth motion, and with a self-satisfied smirk, carried her towards the bed.

Later, as they lay in a tangle of perspiring limbs atop sweat-soaked sheets, the power thumped back on and the air conditioning began to blow over them, chilling Lena’s skin.

She barely noticed.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: Through Feyre's eyes

This absolutely follows my favorite fic plotline where Feyre and Y/N are childhood best friends and when Nesta and Elain are taken, Y/N is taken as well and Cauldron Made. 

This is Feyre, watching her best friend fall for her brother in law 💙

I def recommend reading The Night Court’s Justice and The Beginning of Your Life with Azriel. I’m pulling stuff from both those fics.  

Feyre truly didn’t know how Y/N would react to this world. 

Y/N hated change, she hated socializing unless she had her emotional support extrovert with her (Feyre or Elain), but, at the same time she loved adventure. 

And this was possibly a bigger adventure than even her favorite books were about. 

According to Rhys’ messages while Feyre was at the Spring Court, Y/N was taking a while to warm up to them. Shorter than it took Feyre (which was surprising) to warm up, but Y/N even left her room after a few hours being cooped up. 

She had helped nurse Cassian and Azriel back to health with Madja, quickly finding her footing even though Y/N absolutely hated medical things. 

When Feyre came back from the Spring Court, Y/N nearly took her out with her new strength. 

“Sorry, I'm still getting used to it. I broke a mug this morning.” She said into Feyre’s hair. Then pulled away from her, “Actually I’m not sorry, you left! Again!” She scolded Feyre, and Feyre had never been happier to be scolded. 

Feyre grabbed the necklace she always wore, the one she had matching with Y/N. “I had you with me.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed her own necklace out of her shirt. “Bitch.” 

“Loser.” And you two clinked your necklaces together.

And that was that. 

The first dinner that night, Feyre introduced you to Lucien. She saw the blush on your cheeks and knew you thought he was handsome, Feyre herself thought he was. 

Eventually, everyone had sat at the table, you were in between Cassian and Azriel, almost like you had every dinner since she was gone. 

“Your friend is a horrid nurse.” Cassian wrinkled his nose. 

“Okay listen, I’m not used to this shit.” You said, passing the beets to Azriel. Who graciously accepted it, a light blush dusting his cheeks that told Feyre everything she needed to know. 

She glanced at Rhys who widened his eyes slightly and said in her mind “He’s been pining since she told him to ‘sit the fuck down’ when he tried to get up too early.” Rhys had a hearty chuckle, “Meanwhile I decided I wanted her around.” Feyre let out a small smile. 

“You should not gag when seeing a tendon in your patient's wing!” Cassian declared. 

Y/N gagged at the reminder. 

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

Watching her best friend fall in love brought Feyre an incredible amount of joy. She was a natural meddler and nosey in general. 

She watched as Azriel and you became inseparable. Although she had her mate to thank for that, after all you became the Night Court’s Justice and then you and Azriel began a professional partnership. 

It stressed her out, you being away. You were her emotional support person, even before her husband and mate. But you two would have mental conversations every day if you could. Unless you and Az were deep undercover. 

The secret smiles, the inside jokes, the memories that you and Az shared. She loved witnessing them.

Then, your accident happened. 

She hadn’t felt terror like that since Rhys ‘died’. When Rhys had informed her that you were on your deathbed, and that he had instructed a carriage to come and retrieve you and Azriel, she thought she was going to throw up. 

She insisted on being in the carriage, which then prompted Rhys to insist she take Nesta with her as Nesta had all the training of an Illyrian and could, frankly, kill someone with a single swipe of her hand. 

That worked out just fine for her, as Nesta and you were close as well. Her and her sister were repairing their relationship. What’s a 12 hour jaunt through the forest to retrieve their near-dead friend? 

A lot. That’s what it was. 

They argued, they threatened. But it all came from a place of worry as those arguments would end with hugs and comfort that they both needed. 

They didn’t rest either, not until they saw you. About four hours in, Rhys had reached out and alerted Feyre that you had awoken, you were eating and giving Azriel shit. 

She was so relieved she wept, and when she shared the news with Nesta, she swept too. 

When they arrived at the Inn, and alerted the Innkeeper Esther greeted them and let them know you had just woken up and Azriel would bring you out shortly. She made her husband bring out your belongings. 

He brought out a bag and she could smell your blood on the clothes in them. It made her nearly sick. She knew Nesta felt the same way. They wouldn’t ease until they saw you. 

But they didn’t wait long, once they got your bags put away in the carriage, Azriel was coming outside with you in a bridal carry.

And the best part? You were smiling. 

She let out a breath of relief that Nesta echoed. Then the smell hit them. “Their mating bond has snapped.” Feyre whispered to Nesta. 

Nesta gave her a shit-eating, conspiratorial grin. “Oh, the boys will have fun teasing him.” 

And they did when you all got back and they watched him bridal carry you into your room at the townhouse. They then watched him nurse you back to health, like you did for him many moons ago. 

If she could’ve designed the perfect male for her best friend, it would’ve been Azriel. She had never seen him smitten because she had obviously just entered his life, but she’d say he was smitten for you.

You never lifted a finger. He’d get your doors, push in your chairs, he treated you like a princess. And he was your prince because you gave that energy right back to him. 

You had a habit of rambling. In the past, she watched as your partners would ignore you and the light dimmed from your eyes when you realized they weren’t listening. Azriel however, not only clearly listening, he smiled while you talked as if just your voice brought him joy. He would respond with questions and let you go into another rambling as you explained the answer. 

She watched you become a shell of yourself with your old partners. You blossomed with Azriel. 

You two always had some point of contact with each other. Not in the gross PDA way, but like your thighs touching sitting next to each other. Your foot on his leg. A hand hold. Hand in arm. Anything. 

She was happy to see the changes in him as well. Rhysand felt the same way. He was outwardly smiling and laughing. More affectionate with his friends. Hell, he was more confident in his hands, he allowed others to touch them and even wore rings now that he loved. 

Rhysand had told Feyre “He’s always wanted to wear jewelry but was worried his hands would look bad with them. I will forever be grateful to Y/N for making him more confident and comfortable.”

His shadows even buzzed about more. You giggled because they loved your hair. 

The honeymoon phase wasn't a ‘stage’ for you two. It was the whole relationship. Of course, you two had your arguments, every partnership did. And she definitely heard about them. But you always came back together in the end, you always knew you would. It made her so incredibly happy you had that security and safety with him. No matter what argument, you knew in your soul and bones, he would never cheat, never leave. 

She felt content knowing her best friend was taken care of. She also looked forward to a lifetime of double dates.

[4st4rion]

some close proximity

ao3 link

just over 1k; astarion is in a bad mood, u make him feel better, kissing ensues. second person pov (astarion x you) and fully gender neutral. mild act 3 spoilers!

Astarion has been in a bad mood all day, and, frankly, you're fucking sick of it.

You don't confront him in front of everyone, because you're not an asshole, but you wait until it's just the two of you left in your rooms at the Elfsong, everyone else gone to have dinner and drink downstairs.

He's about to leave, too, but you stop him with a hand on his arm.

"Astarion," you say, hoping it comes off as gently as possible.

He whips around, brows furrowed together in an angry expression.

"What?"

You raise your eyebrows at him. He's really in a bad mood if he's being this short with his own lover.

"Astarion," you repeat, firmly this time. "What's going on with you today?"

A hundred emotions war over his face — first it's the anger at being called out, then denial that anything is wrong, then guilt and regret for snapping at you, and his eyes avoid your own as he heaves a dramatic sigh.

"Nothing," he lies, in that near-hysterical pitch he has when he's worked up. "We're only lingering in my ex-master's hunting grounds, staying at the tavern I used to hunt," he says. "How could I possibly be anything but ecstatic to hang around?"

You frown.

"Is that what it is?" you ask, ignoring the part of you that wants to get defensive about his tone with you. "Astarion, you're safe with us," you remind him, taking his hand and holding it intently. "None of us would let any harm come to you."

He flinches like he's going to pull his hand away, but decides not to.

"How do you know?" he mutters, still not looking at you. "Cazador himself could come find us any night."

"He'd be a fool to," you hum. "You're surrounded by allies, and you're no longer under his control."

You squeeze his hand.

"Cazador is probably cowering right now, afraid of his own death, knowing we're in the city," you say, and that almost gets Astarion to smirk.

"I'm sure he's shitting himself," Astarion says sarcastically, but you roll with it.

"And pissing, too," you add. "He's running out of pants from how often he's shitting and pissing himself."

That, stupid as it is, makes Astarion laugh.

He glances at you, then scoffs, still smiling.

"I hate that you make me feel better," he admits, winding his fingers around yours. "Little shit."

You smile back.

"I'm your little shit, though," you say, before you can consider whether you should or not, and he goes still.

"Are you?" he asks, softly. Cautiously.

"A little shit?" you ask, giving you both the chance to escape this conversation, but he only laughs one amused huff.

"No," he says. "Are you? Mine?"

The look in his eyes is dangerous; you want to pull him into a kiss and never stop, give him anything and everything, let the world melt around you in favor of giving yourself to him, body and mind and soul.

"Maybe," you say, trying to sound coy but sounding nervous, instead.

The hand that isn't in yours comes to up pet you, his thumb running over your cheekbone and your lower lip before he leans in to kiss you. It's as intoxicating as ever, and you let yourself relax as the two of you kiss over and over in your shared room.

Your free hand holds him at his hip, first, then at his waist, pulling him in until the two of you are flush together. He won't stop kissing you, stealing your breath away and swallowing anything you may have to say about the situation.

"Are you mine?" he asks again, once you're flustered and weak in the knees.

You swallow thickly.

"Might be," you admit, but it's not what he wants to hear — his hands leave you to guide you by your hips, back until your legs meet your comfortable daybed and you tumble down onto the mattress.

He climbs on top of you, and you'd compare him to a predator if he wasn't giggling quietly to himself as he bullies between your legs. You can't help but laugh, too, because it's a little ridiculous, isn't it? You've been together, been something, since you helped the tieflings at Emerald Grove, fighting side by side and barely ever apart — it should be easy enough to admit that you're his.

He pulls your shirt off of you and sets to laying kisses down your neck and chest, paying extra attention just under your ear until you know there's going to be a lovebite worried into your skin.

"Bastard," you mutter, but he only laughs again.

"Everyone already knows we're together," he reasons. "I might as well mark you."

His words send something hot creeping under your skin. You'd like that, you think — being marked as belonging to someone. How different is a lovebite from a wedding ring, when you think about it? Or a collar, or a scar? It's a symbol of ownership, isn't it?

"Don't tempt me to do the same," you threaten, even though that thought sends something even hotter through you. He'd look good with a ring of bruises bitten around his neck, outlines of your teeth indented in his skin.

He bites at your neck, not drawing blood but not gently, and it startles a quiet noise out of you.

"Tell me you are mine," he says this time, and you can't deny it any longer.

"I'm yours," you sigh, as his teeth make themselves at home in your neck.

"Only mine," he growls, and you laugh. You've certainly been getting hit on a lot lately, yeah; between the Emperor shooting his shot and having to stop Halsin from confessing his feelings, it's no surprise he's feeling possessive.

"Only yours," you purr. You drape your arms over his shoulders and pull him closer, arching against him to press your body up to his and baring your neck for him. "I haven't thought of anyone but you since we met," you admit, your voice as low and sultry as you can manage.

He whines against you and takes your offering, biting into your neck with his fangs and drawing blood. It doesn't happen every time you have sex, and it doesn't always lead to sex, but sex and feeding are entwined enough that one tends to tangle into the other. Not that you mind, far from it — his bite becomes pleasantly numb as he drinks from you and the mild lightheadedness only adds to how dreamy it is every time you get intimate with him.

"You mean everything to me," you say, slow and sleepy-sounding, everything getting further and further away as he drinks. "You are everything to me."

He makes another desperate noise into your veins and pulls up, away. His mouth seals over the same spot to suck the last trickles of blood that ooze up and he licks to help the wound begin to heal, his tongue especially familiar here.

As soon as he trusts your skin not to split back open, he's moving up to kiss you again. You'd be more disturbed by the taste of your own blood on his tongue if you weren't used to it by now.

"You are mine," he shudders between kisses. "Just as I am yours," he adds, his voice full of fake confidence.

"You are," you immediately affirm, wanting him to know it's true and it's mutual.

"Not like I was his," he hisses. “In a different way."

You nod against him.

"A better way," you agree, and he nods, too, kissing you even harder.

You stay that way for a good, long while, tangled together on the bed. Time and place melt away; the only things that exist or have ever existed are the two of you, here, now, together, and the quiet sounds of love between your mouths.

It's good.

It's perfect.

[flickering-chandelier]

Second Chance

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Summary: Reader and Cassian have been friends for centuries, but nobody knows that she’s in love with him. Eventually she meets her mate in the market, but when he breaks her heart, Cassian is there to pick up the pieces, and offer her a second chance at love.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

Cassian snickered as he landed on top of you, effectively pinning you beneath him. 

You grunted, “Okay, you win. Get off.”

He cocked his head, grinning. “I don’t know, this is pretty comfy.”

“You’ve proven your point,” you groaned, your head throbbing from hitting it on the ground of the training ring on top of the House. You tried to wiggle out from under him, but it was no use. He was massive, and your body was rendered utterly immobile. 

After another torturous moment, Cassian stood up, offering you his hand. He hoisted you up to your feet and you groaned again. 

“What were you saying about being able to beat me one-on-one?” he smirked. 

You just scowled at him and his smile spread further. He clapped you on the back. You winced at the impact. “Go get some water.”

Normally you would say something snarky about following orders, but your head was still spinning a bit, so you did as you were told without argument. 

You must have looked pretty awful because after a few minutes, Cassian knelt in front of where you sat on the bench, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?”

Nodding as you gulped down more water, you mumbled, “Mmhmm.”

His brow furrowed as he gently felt the back of your head, feeling the growing bump there. “Shit,” he said. “I didn't mean to pin you down that hard. Sorry.”

You shrugged, smiling faintly at your friend. “I knew I couldn’t beat you. It’s my own fault.”

He lightly brushed the hair that had come out of your braid off your face. You pushed down the swell in your chest, as you always did. “I think it’s time for the cool down,” he said, his eyes raking your sweaty, tired body. 

Your eyes widened. “You, the legendary commander of the Illyrian armies, are going to cut training short because you knocked me on my ass?” 

“Only for you,” he winked, offering you his hand again. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You took it, and followed Cassian as he guided you through the stretches. 

This had been your routine for a while. You had been in Rhysand’s inner circle for the last few centuries, and had found your home and family with them. Pretty quickly, you knew you wanted to be useful for more than just your mind, so you had asked Cassian to train you. You had started out at the Illyrian camps, but the way the males there treated you was…unsettling, to say the least. And it made Cassian angrier than you had ever seen him. So now you trained on the top of the House, sometimes accompanied by others, but often it was just the two of you. 

Training with him nearly every day for centuries had brought the two of you very close together. He was definitely the best friend you had ever had. He was your favorite person in the world. The two of you talked about everything.

Well, almost everything.

Even after all this time, butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you watched him, how his muscles stretched and bulged, his brow furrowed in concentration, his tanned skin gleaming with sweat in the morning sun. 

You had been in love with him for a very, very long time.

Frankly, it sucked being in love with your best friend. Your best friend, who flirted shamelessly with nearly everybody, who had a body even the gods were surely jealous of. Who was so kind and good and brave that nobody could ever compare. 

Especially not you.

That was the main problem, really. Why you had never said anything. You knew you could never deserve him, no matter how long you lived. He was legendary. Literally. He was strong, fearless, and so, so kind. And not to harp on this too much but, that body. Compared to him, you were entirely insignificant and you always would be.

So, you suffered in silence. Loved him from afar. And waited for the Mother or the Cauldron or whoever it was that was in charge of your fate and your mate to get their act together.

“What’s running through that pretty head of yours?” Cassian said, glancing over at you.

You reigned in your scowl. Centuries of friendship made it extremely easy for him to read you like a book. “I’m debating whether I hate you for pinning me to the ground like it was nothing, or if I love you for cutting training short,” you said, breathless as you continued to follow him through the stretches. 

He smirked. “Oh, please. You know you love me.”

Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly you grumbled, “Yeah, I know.”

If only he knew. 

---

Inner circle meetings these days were about twenty percent important business, and eighty percent goofing off. 

You loved it.

Seated between Azriel and Amren, with Cassian across from you, you grinned as the warrior picked a fight with Amren.

Azriel and you exchanged amused glances, both knowing that Cassian had never won against Amren, and he certainly wouldn’t start today. 

After they had been squabbling for quite some time about something that you honestly weren’t paying super close attention to, Amren turned to you, snarling, “Can you please tell him he’s a fool?”

Cassian sat back in his chair, clutching his chest, making a great show of being offended.

“Why me?” you asked. 

“He actually listens to you,” Amren said, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

You snorted. “He does not.”

Azriel cut in, smiling faintly. “He does. More than the rest of us, anyway.”

You glanced at Cassian, who just smirked back at you. “What can I say? She’s obviously the smartest one here.”

This, of course, started a whole new round of insults from Amren that left Cassian chuckling to himself, his eyes sparkling as he gazed at you through the entire barrage of Amren’s insults.

Later, you and Cassian were lounging in the sitting room at the House of Wind, after everyone else had wandered off home or gone to bed. 

You were laying down on the couch, reading a book. Cassian was sitting at the far end of said couch, your feet in his lap while he read up on war strategies. 

It was only a matter of time before the romance novel that you were reading got… steamy. 

Cassian immediately noticed the shift in your scent and threw his head back laughing. “Why do you read smut in front of people?”

You kicked his chest lightly, which only made him laugh more. “It’s not like I know when the smutty scenes are going to happen!”

“This one really got to you, huh?” he said, noticing the blush that had risen to your cheeks.

Before you could stop him, he lunged for you, grabbing your book and wrenching it from your hands.

“Noo!” you shrieked, and covered your face in embarrassment as he read aloud.

“His weight on top of me was nearly enough for me to come undone,” he said in a deep, sultry voice. “I couldn’t focus on anything but the power and command in his movements as he grasped both my wrists in one hand and pinned them to the bed above my head.”

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You grabbed for the book, but he was faster and caught you as you moved toward him. His arm wrapped around your waist and he spun you, pinning you to the couch, his weight holding you down for the second time that day.

But, this time was… different. Your bodies were completely flush together, every inch of you touching him. His hair tickled your neck as he looked down at you, your faces a fraction away from each other. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard. You could smell it on him too now, the lust. In this moment, he wanted you. You knew he did. Heat went through you in a wave.

And he knew it. 

“This is what you’re into, huh?” he said huskily.

You glared at him, but you knew the lust was still shining in your eyes. 

He smirked. “Is that why you baited me during training today? You wanted to feel me on top of you?”

Yes. “No!” You scowled, pushing his shoulders, but he didn’t move. “I baited you because I wanted to see how long I would last.”

Cassian’s smirk turned positively wolfish, his eyes gleaming in a way you’d never seen before.

You groaned, realizing what you just said. “Not like that.” You pushed against him again. “Get off of me, Cassian!”

He dipped his head lower, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Are you sure you want me to?” he said, his voice low, sultry. You could hardly breathe.

No, of course I don’t want you to. I want to stay here forever and ever.

“Yes,” you ground out. 

His lips darted to your lips for the briefest moment before he pushed off of you, sitting on his knees. After a moment, he handed the book to you. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled.

He smirked. “No, you don’t.”

You couldn’t stop your small smile. “No, I don’t.”

---

For days, you felt rattled by what happened that night. Cassian, of course, seemed relaxed as ever, but you felt yourself blush every time you were around him.

You were in the market, your thoughts lost in Cassian as usual, when someone across the street caught your eye.

He was beautiful. The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. You felt drawn to him in a way you had never felt before, not even with Cassian.

You stopped in your tracks, unable to take your eyes off him.

After a few moments, he looked up and your eyes met.

And you felt it.

The mating bond that snapped into place. That tethered you permanently to this stranger.

And judging from the look in his eyes, he felt it too.

The stranger made his way over to you, his eyes not wavering from yours.

“Hi,” he said when he was in front of you, like he was in a daze.

“Hi,” you said. “You… felt that too, right?”

He nodded. “I never knew what they meant… what it was supposed to feel like…” he trailed off, just staring at you. “I'm Adonis.”

You introduced yourself and didn't know what to do next. For centuries, you had dreamed of the day that you'd meet your mate. But secretly, you had been waiting for the bond to snap into place with Cassian. You hadn't thought about what you would do if it turned out to be a random stranger.

“Do you… want to go for a walk?” Adonis said, clearly equally unsure of what one was supposed to do upon meeting their mate.

You agreed. And just like that, you were getting to know your mate.

---

You found Rhys, Feyre, and Cassian all in Rhysand's study at the river house. They looked at you questioningly as you walked in.

“Are you okay?” Cassian asked, his voice soft, the way it always was when he was worried about you. “You look… weird.”

“I met my mate today,” you said quietly.

Feyre and Rhysand looked ecstatic. Cassian, though, went perfectly still, his skin turning slightly pale.

“What happened? Who is he?” Feyre asked, her eyes wide in excitement.

You shrugged, briefly explaining how you and Adonis met.

“What's he like?” Rhys asked. “Do you like him?”

“I think so?” You said, noticing how Cassian was still as a statue. “I don't know, it's weird. I feel this tug towards him but I don't know anything about him! I mean, he seems… nice.”

Cassian finally unfroze, to look incredulously at you. “Nice?” He repeated. “That's it? Your mate is nice?”

“We went on a walk and yes, he seems nice,” you blanched, feeling like you should defend your mate but not sure how.

Your friends just stared at you, clearly underwhelmed by your declaration.

“What do I do now?” You asked nobody in particular.

“You keep getting to know him,” Rhys said, lovingly wrapping an arm around Feyre. 

You glanced at Cassian, who suddenly seemed very interested in the carpet.

“Okay,” you said. 

Really, what else could you do?

---

Your relationship with Cassian had felt off ever since you and Adonis had started to get to know each other better.

He still trained you every day, but where he used to be bantering and joking around with you, he was now all business, keeping his physical distance from you. 

It was confusing, having to grapple with your ancient feelings for him and these new blooming ones for your mate. 

After a few weeks of weirdness, you finally snapped. “Did I do something to upset you?” You asked as both of you stretched after a particularly grueling workout.

“No,” he grunted. “Why?”

“You've been acting weird for weeks.”

He glanced at you, his eyes guarded. “No, I haven't.”

“Yes you have, Cass. You've barely talked to me,” you tried to hide the pain in your voice. You didn't want him to know how deeply this ran.

Cassian sighed, pausing his stretching to face you, look you in the eye. “You’re right, I'm sorry. I just… I'm sad, I guess. I've been your number one for centuries and now…” he pushed his hair out of his face. “Things are different now.”

You took a step toward him, your heart cracking. “Is that what you think? Cassian, no matter who my mate is, you'll always be my best friend. And… I could really use my best friend right now.”

Guilt clouded his expression. “I'm sorry. I've been a shitty friend,” he said quietly, moving forward and wrapping you in a tight bear hug. “Are you okay?”

Sighing with relief, leaning into his touch, you said, “I don't know. I'm really excited, obviously, that I finally found him. And I do like him. But I'm also… scared.”

He pulled back to look you in the eye. “Scared? Why?”

“What if he doesn't like me?” You asked quietly. You hadn't been able to voice your fears to anybody else. 

Cassian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you even think that? Who wouldn't like you?”

I can think of at least one person, you thought, but shoved it down.

You shrugged, not sure what to say.

He murmured your name, moving to gently hold your face in his hands. “He'd be insane to not like you. I mean it.”

Warmth spread through you at his touch, the softness in his voice. “Thanks, Cassian,” you murmured.

Cassian kissed your forehead, then pulled you back into a crushing hug. “Anytime.”

---

Your gut was a bundle of nerves as you met with Adonis again. The two of you had been getting to know each other for the last few weeks, and while you didn't yet feel an electric shock, you were thrilled to have found your mate.

When Adonis showed up though, your nerves only got worse. The look on his face could only mean that he was about to deliver bad news.

The two of you made your way through awkward small talk until he braced his forearms on the table in front of him, and you knew he was about to get down to business.

“So, look. I know we're mates, and I do feel that bond between us, but I can't help but think that maybe the Cauldron was wrong,” he said casually, as if he were telling you it was going to rain later.

Your heart completely plummeted. You tried to maintain your breathing, keep your voice even. “Why do you think that?”

“The attraction’s just not there,” he said matter of factly.

Mind spinning, you repeated, “the… attraction?”

He nodded, like it was obvious.

“You're saying, you think the Cauldron was wrong… because you're not attracted to me.”

“Yes! I'm so glad you get it,” he smiled.

You just looked at him incredulously. “You're serious?”

“Yes?” He raised his eyebrow in question.

“So, you're… you're rejecting the bond?”

“I think that would be best. Don't you?”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep your rising fury locked down. “With the way you're acting right now? Actually, yes, I do think it would be best. You're a terrible person,” you stated, determined to keep your tears from falling until you could make it home.

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you.

And right then, you felt it. Despite your anger, it was still painful to have the bond rejected. It felt like you were being torn apart from the inside out, ripping your very being to shreds.

You gripped the table, centuries of training your body and your mind was the only thing that kept you from crying out as the bond broke.

Adonis felt it too, you knew, because he had gone pale as a ghost, his body trembling slightly. 

When the pain had subsided enough, you pushed away from the table, walking home without a backwards glance.

---

You were supposed to meet Cassian for dinner at the House, but you couldn't bear it. You went to your own apartment instead, laying in your bed in the fetal position for what was probably hours, tears streaming down your cheeks until your head was pounding and your eyes were burning.

It was awful, this feeling. How could he be your mate? How could someone like that be who the Mother wanted you with?

Would you never be good enough for anyone? 

And now your hopes of finding a mate were gone forever. Everyone knew that you only got one chance, one mate.

Why did yours have to be so awful?

A knock on your door roused you from your spiraling thoughts.

You just groaned, knowing that Cassian could hear it.

The door opened and you heard his heavy footsteps as he found you in your bed.

He grimaced as soon as he saw the state of you, his eyes flooding with concern. Instantly he was by your side, kneeling in front of you, holding your hand. “What is it?” He asked, his voice soft despite the tautness of his body.

Your voice came out as barely more than a croak. “He rejected the bond.”

Cassian's rage was palpable, filling the room. “What?”

Ashamed, you hid your face in your pillows. You couldn't tell him why. Didn't have the words in you, and you didn't want him to know how much it hurt.

He swore under his breath, then crawled into bed with you, gingerly wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. You buried your face in his chest, breathed in the scent of him. It almost broke your heart even more, knowing he would never feel for you what you felt for him.

His fingers drew small, soothing circles on your back for a long moment until he broke the silence again. “What happened?” He said quietly.

It was a long time before you could answer. But you knew that if you could tell anyone in the world, it would be him. “He's not attracted to me,” you whispered.

Cassian's entire body tensed, his grip on you tightening. “He said that?” He said with lethal calm.

“He did,” you croaked as another tear slid down your cheek.

“I'm going to slaughter him,” he growled, his body trembling as he sat up, taking you with him. “I'm going to rip his skin off his bones--”

He had moved you so you were straddling him, your hands on his shoulders. “No, you won't,” you said gently.

“Why shouldn't I?” He spat, his eyes dark, his hands gripping your waist so hard, it would surely leave a bruise.

“It wouldn't solve anything,” you said sadly. 

Cassian buried his hand in the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to hold his gaze. “You listen to me. He is wrong. He is awful. You are so beautiful. You are so strong and kind and incredible. Do not let him get to you, okay? This is his loss, not yours,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, alight with so much emotion, your eyes welled with tears again.

He pursed his lips, his eyes softening as he pulled you into him again. You cried into his chest. “Why would the Mother do this to me? Why would she choose him?”

“I don't know,” he said sadly, running his hands through your hair gently. “I don't know. Maybe she made a mistake.”

You sniffed. “I don’t know what to do.” 

He kissed your head softly. “You lean on the people who love you. And then you try to move on.”

You cried even harder, and he held you and held you until your sobs diminished and you drifted off to sleep.

---

Cassian barely left your side in the following weeks, his hands always on you, comforting you. Even when he had to go to the Illyrian mountains, he brought you with him. 

It always did something to you, seeing him in command of all those soldiers. His face stern, his body rigid, barking orders at everyone. Despite all the awful things that had happened recently, it still made your toes curl in your boots. 

But even you could only brave the cold for so long to watch Cassian be in command, so you eventually wandered into Rhysand’s mother’s house, a roaring fire already ablaze when you arrived. 

You sat in front of it, warming your hands, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. 

Weeks after the disastrous meeting with your mate, you were finally starting to feel like yourself again, like other things in life mattered more than the jerk who hurt you.

It was mostly Cassian’s steady, comforting presence that had helped you return to yourself, his relentless insistence that you keep up with your training, that you don’t break your routine no matter how much your heart hurt. 

Cassian had been what was keeping you together for a long time, you realized. 

It was this thought that he interrupted, swinging the door open loudly, the snow billowing in behind him. After he had closed the door behind him, you heard his heavy footfalls stop dead in their tracks behind you.

You turned to look at him in confusion, and then you felt it. 

A bond snapped into place. 

A bond that somehow, after all this time, linked you to Cassian.

Your heart began pounding in your chest, your head spinning. “What--”

Before you could finish the thought, he was on top of you, pinning you to the ground, his lips on yours. You always forgot how quickly he could move, how he could be across the room in the blink of an eye with ease.

A moan sounded from you involuntarily as he cupped your cheek gently with his rough hand, his other on the floor next to your head, keeping some of his body weight off you so you wouldn’t be crushed. This seemed to spur him on even more, his tongue delving into your mouth immediately after you had opened your mouth to him. 

“I knew it,” he groaned, kissing your cheeks, your neck, “I knew it should’ve been me.” 

“Cassian,” you gasped, unable to process what was happening, what he just said--

He growled, kissing you again deeply, rocking his hips against yours.

You hated yourself for doing it, especially since you had been dreaming of this very moment for centuries, but you also needed a moment to think, to process. 

“Cassian, wait,” you said breathlessly, putting your hand on his chest. 

He halted immediately, pulling back to hover over you. “I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, smiling to reassure him. He was breathing hard, his eyes locked on yours, trying to decipher if he had done something wrong, you knew. “I mean -- we should definitely continue that later, I just… I don’t understand.”

Cassian rose from on top of you, sitting up. You followed, sitting up to face him. “We’re mates,” he said with a soft smile, his eyes shining. “You and me,” he shook his head in disbelief. 

“I thought you could only have one mate? I thought that was it…” you trailed off, unable to form the words.

He shrugged, grinning. “I guess the Mother decided to give you another chance.”

All you could do was stare at him in disbelief. 

Cassian was actually your mate. Cassian.

His brow furrowed, his expression flooding with fear. “Are you upset?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You gazed at him, at your beautiful, incredible mate. “Cassian, I’ve been in love with you for centuries. I’ve never been happier in my life.”

He made a choking sound. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You bit your lip, pondering how much to tell him. He took your hand in his, scooching closer, hanging on your answer. Finally you leveled your gaze with his. “I don’t deserve you.”

His face contorted in anger then, a look that had never been directed at you before. “Why would you ever think that?”

Incredulously, you gestured to him. “Are you kidding? Look at you! You’re the commander of the Illyrian armies, they’ve literally written about your war tactics in the history books, you’re one of six people in centuries to actually reach Ramiel, you’re so kind and good and--”

Cassian’s lips were on yours before you could continue. “I love you,” he murmured against your lips. “I love you so much.” 

Your heart melted at his words and at his touch. After a few moments, he pulled back to look at you again. “Never say that you’re not good enough ever again. You’ve been in Rhysand's inner circle for centuries for a reason. How do you not see how incredible you are?” 

All you could get out was, “You love me?”

He laughed, the deep sound practically bouncing off the walls, before his expression softened, gazing at you lovingly. “Of course I love you. I was acting so weird after you met Adonis because I had never been so fucking jealous in my life,” he said quietly, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve wished that you were mine for a long, long time.” 

You launched yourself at him and he was ready for you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you kissed him. He laughed against your mouth, holding your body against his. 

Soon, you were completely tangled together, losing yourselves in each other.

Hours later, you were laying on the floor in front of the fire, your legs entwined together, your head on Cassian's chest, his arms around you. 

“After all this time,” you murmured, lost in the memories of all your lonely nights, now knowing that Cassian had felt the same way you did.

He kissed the top of your head. “I'm just glad the Mother finally helped us get together,” he chuckled.

“Me too,” you agreed. “We owe her a lot.”

“We owe her everything,” he said quietly, leaning in to kiss you again. 

You snuggled closer into him, relishing the thought that you would never again be alone.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar

[angelicjackles]

— reckless heroine.

cw: fem!reader, best friend!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a smidge of fluff, injuries and blood descriptions — 2.2k a/n: this is the first time I've posted anything publicly in years so consider this a testing the waters fic, trying to find my groove and decide if i want to make this a regular thing.

summary: after a rough, but successful hunt, you and dean arrive back at the motel, only you were reckless and got injured, some duct tape patching up ensues from an angry dean.

The storm had arrived just as Dean and her pulled into the grimy parking lot of the Twin Pines Motel, how very Montana. The heavy raindrops pummeled against the windows like a stark warning. The sky rumbled with low growls, and flashes of jagged light illuminated the dim, rundown building. Inside their basic motel room, the air was thick with tension and the unmistakable smell of almost damp carpet—a cheerful welcome after a semi-successful hunt with a werewolf.

Dean slammed the creaky motel door shut behind them, the force alone almost enough to splinter the plaster around the hinges, his expression a maelstrom of anger and concern blended into one explosive temper as he flicked the lightswitch, the gross orange-ish glow of the overhead bulb highlighted the unsavoury nature of their accommodation. They’d come a long way from Kansas for this hunt.

Sam and Cas took off East together for a potential case, something something bizarre circumstances, frankly, there’d been little resistance offered when the duo took off to the east coast, leaving her and Dean to take Montana—although if they were real, they’d probably have taken anywhere over the east coast.

The door was barely closed for a moment before his gruff voice crackled through the air like a whip. “Did that brewing concussion knock all damn common sense out of your head?” Dean snapped angrily, his demandingly sharp voice rising above the impending storm. “You got a fucking death wish or something?”

She grimaced, carefully moving to sit on one of the twin beds, feeling the throbbing pain radiating from the gash on the back of her shoulder, the wound still steadily leaking blood, instinctively rubbing the spot on the back of your head that had collided with the concrete earlier in the night when he mentioned a concussion.

“Very funny,” she retorted in deadpan, infusing her tone with a touch of biting sarcasm that was quickly becoming a defence mechanism, and all but guaranteed to rile him up further. “The victim needed help, she was bleeding out and scared, and unlike you I actually gave a shit about more than ganking the mutt.” The implication that he didn’t care if the victim survived so long as they handled the werewolf wasn’t helping Dean’s mood, but the remorse she showed was negligible. “Besides, I handled it, didn’t I? And it worked—aren’t you always telling me ‘trust your instincts, your instincts are good’.” she added on before he had a chance to respond, putting an emphasis on the drawl of his voice. The mock only made that muscle in his jaw clench so hard it wouldn’t be a surprise if his teeth shattered. Heed the warning.

A growl bubbled in the back of his throat, but somehow he managed to keep it partially contained and tossed both his and her bags down onto the bed she hadn’t plopped down on. He may be pissed at her right now but that didn’t mean he was going to let his injured best friend carry her own bag. “Trust your instincts?” He gestured wildly with his hand, like that would somehow show just how worked up he was right now. She was getting to him, bad, and it was taking every ounce of willpower he was summoning from Chuck only knows where to stop from lashing out at her. “You were reckless and got yourself attacked in the process of playing heroine!” He rasped, his low voice reverberating off the thin motel walls with how loud his words escaped. 

Just for good measure he had to force his eyes elsewhere, just so he’d stop being faced with those claw marks on your shoulder, every glance at them made something in him coil and burn. Stomping towards the foot of the unoccupied bed, he aggressively unzipped his duffle bag and rummaged through it. Meanwhile she was busy shedding herself of the unnecessary clothing and gear, kicking her shoes off and abandoning them on the mysteriously patchy carpet next to the bed, unbuckling her belt and unlatching the clasp on the blade sheath on her hip, tossing both onto the lone chair off to the side of the beds.

Finally after a few long moments his fingers found the squished edges of the first-aid kit he’d grown used to keeping in there—the first-aid kit that only remained stocked up because she meticulously replenished what she, him and Sam went through after every hunt—Snagging it up, deft fingers were quick to unzip and flick through it haphazardly, plucking out several different medical supplies.

When he realised she hadn’t responded to his last few retorts, which was uncharacteristic for her, his eyes flickered back towards her, forest green eyes darkening at the blood leaking against her pale skin. “You put yourself in danger, again, and walked away with a souvenir I’m not too keen on.” He continued despite his better judgement, gesturing angrily at the deep werewolf claw marks on the back of your shoulder blade, having torn through her flannel and undershirt, soaking both in bright crimson and leaving her down to a base layer tank top.

The retort had her glancing over her shoulder, but able to see little more than the dark streaks of blood sticking to wet skin. The amount of blood she’d lost so far wasn’t enough to be life-threatening, but it was definitely a worrying situation that needed attention. God forbid the pair didn’t do their back-and-forth arguing before that though, not like she was bleeding out over here or anything. “You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.” He grumbled, not so hotly as before, the edges of concern leaking into his voice. “These are gonna scar ugly...” The last part was more of an afterthought.

“More to add to the collection,” she mused out far too casually for the situation. “What did you ju—” He interjected, a warning hiss in his voice, but she was quick to wave a dismissive hand over her shoulder at him. “Forget it.” She brushed off, cutting off his warning remark.

‘It’s like she’s trying to piss me off,’ Dean thought to himself, and hell maybe she was. “For once, couldn’t you have followed the game plan, sweetheart? Fuckin’ hell…” His tone was a mixture of worried fondness and scolding terseness. Either way, she was quick to turn her entire body around on the bed to glare at him, ignoring the searing pain from her wound with the quick movement.

“Oh? Am I supposed to bow down to Dean Winchester’s expert advice? Follow orders blindly?” She shot back at him, a chilling kind of coolness to her voice. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure that’s your speciality,” she added, venomously, the tension in her voice masking the discomfort that coiled within her body.

And she could have sworn she saw him flinch as soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, making a low simmering pit of guilt fester inside her, knowing she was out of line. Low blow. His gaze pained for a fleeting moment, pretty green eyes widening and mouth falling open the smallest amount like those words had quite literally taken the breath from his lungs; but it quickly hardened again as he stewed on those words, cracking open a bottle of antiseptic with more force than necessary. “Just— shut up, for once.” It was almost a plea, more of a pained demand, but she knew she’d hit a nerve. “Sit still and let me patch you up, okay? I may not be a doctor, but I can keep your ass from bleeding out.”

She rolled your eyes, watching as he pulled out a smorgasbord of supplies from the first-aid kit. “I’m perfectly capable of handling my own medical emergencies. This isn’t my first skirmish with fangs and claws, Dean. I don’t need your help,” her voice came out more snapped than intended.

Despite the fact they both knew the precocious positioning of this wound left her unable to attend to it herself, she’d have to be a pretty fine contortionist to deal with it without help. Dean opened his mouth to inform his best friend of just that but thought better of it in the final second, slowly his mouth slipped closed.

A frustrated grunt slipped past his lips and one hand racked impatiently through his short, messy locks. “Well, congratulations on surviving past encounters, but this looks like a crime scene,” he replied tersely before sighing in frustration, the adrenaline of the situation beginning to die. “—plus, you’re bleeding on my marginally clean bed,” he added on, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, which pulled a scoffed laugh from her mouth before it could be helped.

His tense shoulders dropped slightly in relief when she responded by gingerly peeling the fabric of her black tank top away from the wound, letting it slip down off her slender shoulder so he’d have access. 

The next fifteen minutes were deafeningly quiet, the only sounds were the soft pained noises that left her mouth, and the heavy breaths of concentration from Dean as he worked at disinfecting and patching up the wound on her shoulder as best as possible - Would this be easier to do in the bathroom instead of on the bed? Absolutely, but here they were.

Thankfully the wound didn’t need stitches, the claw marks the werewolf had left her with were nasty but not deep enough to be genuinely worrisome—not that it would stop Dean from worrying like a motherfucker. They’d leave some impressively disgusting scars, and hurt like a bitch for the next couple weeks as they healed, and as much as he was tempted to suggest going to the nearest a&e to get her properly seen to, just to be safe, he knew what her answer would be, so that wasn’t a battle he’d win. His basic hunter duct-taping would have to suffice.

The mood wasn’t great, both seething with worry and anger and pain that blended together into a chokingly intense thickness that lingered like smoke in the air, so it was in everyone’s best interests that they shut up.

“Done.”

Those words out of his mouth seemed to break the atmosphere and she slowly glanced back at him over her shoulder right in time for his thumbs to smooth out the medical tape that adhered the thick, white dressings to her pale skin, his touch extremely gentle despite everything, ensuring the tape wouldn’t come loose.

Turning on the bed so she was facing him as he remained stood up, her shoulders rolled back slowly, testing out the movement with the fresh patch up, it seemed to be healing. “How’s it looking, doc?” She quipped, her voice slightly lilted, making a weak attempt to lighten the mood up, too damn tired to argue further with him. His mouth quirked up in what could be described as a lazy grin. “Think you might just survive the night, thanks to the tireless effort of your handsome doctor.” He teased, only because he wanted to see her roll her eyes in that fondly affectionate way, and he got his wish.

The way she made a point to shake her head at him was all he needed to see to know that the sparky atmosphere had diminished; even though it was likely due to the adrenaline dying out and the pain kicking in.

His eyes followed her when she pushed herself to stand up, hands instinctively reaching out to steady her. “Mm, I don’t know, can’t say the bloody hands add to the sex appeal.” She hummed, eyes flicking down to his hands that were stained with her blood, hands that were now staining her arm in deep crimson too, her brows furrowing in distaste, but he didn’t seem in a rush to pull his hand back so she didn’t move to knock him off either. His gaze dropped to the offending hands in question, nose scrunching up at the sight of the blood as his thumb stroked against her elbow. “So… you’re saying I have sex appeal?” 

The tone of his voice in that moment was the most playful thing she’d heard from him in a long time. She couldn’t help but laugh, a real hearty ‘you’re such an idiot’ kind of laugh, the kind that had him grinning crookedly at her in return.

“Your ego needs no further stroking, I’m gonna plead the fifth on that one.” She held her hands up in mock surrender, which only rumbled an amused laugh from deep in his chest.

“That’s my girl.” Dean beamed, running his tongue over his teeth with a soft sigh. The adrenaline had long since faded and now he was left with that anxious worry and tired stress lingering in his body. “Fuck… C’mere, you,” he beckoned suddenly, barely giving her time to register his words before he was pulling her in against his chest, strong arms wrapping around her in such a delicate way, careful of her injuries while somehow managing to squish her into him. The height difference leaving the top of her head tucked perfectly underneath his chin as his fingers carted through her messy hair.

“Look... Call a truce, sweetheart?” The gruff hunter muttered into her hair, his arms cradling her close to his larger body. “Truce.” She conceded, placing a complacent kiss against his clothed shoulder, which earned a soft little rumbly hum from him.

The storm raged outside, but within the cramped motel room, a warmth had blossomed between the pair of them—a reminder that despite all the chaos of the job, it was them against the world and in this tempest, as the thunder rolled across the darkening horizon and the lightning split the sky, they both knew they’d face them together, side by side.

[fartcloudfartcloud]

What about Logan meeting a reader with more dominance than him? Like what would he do, what would he want to do to them?

*giggles and wrings hands together* You've found my achilles heel mr.69

i dont know if this is what you wanted but im using this as my excuse to write FREAKY SUBMISSIVE LOGAN PORN!!!

warnings: Edging, Logan being mean and then begging on his knees a second later, i do say reader is "5 foot whatever" but if that doesnt apply just ignore it lmao, I do describe him as almost crying every now and then so if that turns u off this might be a skip

This is short (1.5k) but I love submissive men so do NOT be afraid to lmk if you want more :)

Personally, I was raised by a woman way too strong headed to ever be the stereotype of submission, and I'm sure a lot of you share the same sentiment in some way or another. I was always told to never let a man tell me what to do, and I can picture a reader being the exact same way. 

Not mean, not bullheaded or rude, but strong. Tough. Logan had expected to blow through you like he had the rest of his team (or at least how he thought he did, though he was a lot tougher in his head than in action). But when he stood up to you, all 5 foot whatever of you, it felt like you were standing eye to eye.  

You did exactly as you were taught, chin up and shoulders back as you spoke with confidence, and it easily had you slipping into positions of power in the mansion with ease. He admired you from afar for a while, watched as you seamlessly commanded a room, effortlessly organizing missions and handling insubordinate children like it was nothing.  

Logan couldn't describe where the attraction came from. Originally, he thought it was his manly man urges to take a dominant woman and make her pine for him, but you and I both know that's not why you got him going. 

If you were to ask him right now in his current scenario, he wouldn't be able to tell you which was his favorite part. Not sure if it's you under him in between his knees, looking up and fluttering your pretty eyelashes at him like has something to behold; or if it's your firm grip around his cock, effortlessly bringing him so close to the edge before you manhandle him back down to earth. 

It had only been once so far, but you had gotten him bad. Your hands all sloppy and wet working up and down his length with vigor, your filthy loudmouth a never-ending record of come on baby, let me see it, let go for me. 

All that build up, just for you to -right as he whimpers out a breathless "going to fucking cum"- halt all action and grip your flingers tightly around his base. 

It ripped a deep growl from his chest, the feeling almost painful as his finish line is so rudely ripped from him.  

He should've known, he knows you too well too have assumed he could get you all pretty on your knees without some anterior motive.  

"You want something?" You ask him innocently, that stupid pretty smile still spread across your face. He grinds his teeth as the pressure in his stomach slowly simmers down, not enough air in his lungs to formulate a response.  

You slowly start stroking him again, an agonizing pace that has his cock flushed a deep red and practically throbbing in your hand. The sound is pornographic and it's all too much for him. 

He's whining now, head thrown back and noises getting increasingly high pitched as you keep his release just barely out of his reach. If he could focus enough to use his ears, he’d hear you laughing at him. 

He so rudely tries to interrupt you, tries to bring his own hands down to just get himself there, but you wouldn't allow it. You'd make him sit on his hands if you had to, and when you grabbed each wrist and planted them next to his thighs and told him to "stay," he knew better than to disobey. 

"Gotta ask for the things you want, Wolvie." You remind him. It's just basic manners, really, frankly he should be thanking you for still touching him after being so rude.  

"Don't gotta ask for shit," He spits out through clenched teeth. 

See, that was Logans problem. He had too much fucking pride, needed someone to teach him a lesson. Guess today he needs it to be you. 

"Mm you're right, Logan," you've got a smile on your face as you speak that Logan can't read. Either way, he's scared. 

None of it matters though as your hand picks up speed and pressure, resuming your prior ministrations as your fingers suddenly massage every spot with precision. His breath is gone as his head hangs limp on his shoulders, his fingers gripping the comforter like it would save him from your attack.  

"You don't gotta do shit," You're talking but he's not listening. It's all too good, he's being hurdled towards his orgasm faster than ever, he couldn't hear your jests even if he wanted to over the pressure in his ears. He’s gonna cum, he's so fucking close, and your hands feel so fucking good so perfect and it's all so much and- 

"But neither do I," and just like that you're off him. Not like before, this time you stand up and physically take a step back from him, watching his form head to toe as he's forced to cope with his second lost orgasm. 

The groan he lets out is primal, you expect to see him start ripping the pillows and sheets with how his writhing on your bed. He’s on his back twitching, practically crying from the ache pulsing through the center of his body. It hurts, he's so desperate it physically hurts, his hips rutting into the air in search of anything. 

He has no sense anymore, no control over any of his limbs as he falls to the floor and crawls to you, the only thing he can make out in his fogged-up mind is need.  

"Please baby," He begs mindlessly, "You're so fucking mean to me," He's kissing your thighs and pulling at your hands, buttering you up and wallowing in any contact you'll give him.  

Neither of you know how it happened, know at what point in the night he broke and became a whimpering messy puppy, but God did it feel good to watch, to see him yearn for you so desperately. 

His eyes are teary eyed and hazy as he speaks, "I'll do anything princess I'm sorry," He kisses you palm and knuckles and up your wrists, "Please baby I'm sorry I'm sorry just fucking-" His hips involuntarily grind down, his thighs twitching and his hard cock bobbing between his legs. "Please touch me baby I can't fucking take it,"  

He’s a mess, his cock is leaking all over his thighs and the floor, and his lips won't leave your body, lathing kisses anywhere he can, worshipping your body as you stand still and look down at him.  

"Why can't you just behave the first time?" You ask, wrapping your fingers in his hair and gently tugging his hair back, making him look at you as he speaks.  

"Was just playin baby," He kisses the wrist of the hand in his hair, "shouldn't have teased you baby I'm sorry, please baby please," his arms are wrapped around your thighs as he nuzzles into you. It's pathetic, and if anyone else ever saw him like this he's sure he could just explode on the spot.  

"Get back on the bed." You order, taking pleasure in the way he scrambles back to his spot, his legs spread for you and his hands pressed back into their spot next to his hips. He’s disheveled, his hair falling over his face and sticking to his forehead, a thin layer of sweat covering him head to toe. Youd keep him like this forever if you could. 

You decide to take mercy on him though, the sight of him on his knees begging like a dog more than enough to satisfy your cravings. Now, all you wanted was to do was so how pretty he looked once he actually finished for you. 

You find your spot between his legs again, looking up at him all pretty just like before. God you were going to ruin him. 

"Go on. Tell me what you want," you give him one last instruction before giving in. His breath is shaky, his words coming out in a whole different tone than before. He sounds small, on the brink of tears as he whimpers out one last desperate, "please," before you spit in your hand and wrap it back around his cock.  

Instantly he's gone. He doesn't even have the energy to moan or cry, he's just paralyzed. His eyes roll back and his hand clamps over his mouth, no air left in his lungs as the most mind-numbing wave of pleasure works up from his core. He wasn't even cumming yet and it already was making him shake. 

He should've just trusted you, should've known that you'd make him feel so fucking good if he just listened. Never again, he'll never say no to you ever again. 

By the time his orgasm actually hit him, he's laid out flat on his back on the mattress, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes squeezed shut. Both his hands are wrapped in the sheets, stuck in place by his claws that slowly inch out with every rope of cum that comes from him. There's no sound until it's all out of him, your hands not stopping till he's whining and pushing you away from him. 

You watch as he recovers, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he desperately tries to get air back into his lungs, aftershocks still tumbling through him. His eyes flutter back open, not enough energy to focus on anything else though as his claws start sheathing back into his knuckles.  

He sits up as you return from the bathroom with a washcloth, gently cleaning off his stomach and anything that was coated in a thin layer of his finish. He’s sensitive, hissing and gasping as you gently clean his slowly softening length and thighs.  

Once all evidence is taken care of, you look up at him with soft eyes. He looks so amazing like this, his eyes can't focus on anything while his lips slowly pull into a big dopey grin. You let him take you in for a moment, just staying like this with him till he has the strength to speak.  

"Jesus Christ," Is all he says before he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before falling back onto the bed.  

"Are you going to make it?" You tease, cuddling up under his arm where he lay and resting your head on his bicep.  

"I don't think so," He giggles, enough oxygen in his system now, enough strength in him to wrap himself around you and kiss your head. "You were a lot closer to killing me then you think,"  

You giggle and smack his chest, "keep being mean like that and next time I actually will," 

[bluegiragi]

I hate to ask this cause it feels stupid but I dont wanna do a bunch of research on whatever the recent cod mw fandom discourse is,

but I saw the reblog of someone accusing you of supporting people who write sexualized pedophilia and that really is personally my only """"moral"""" with nsfw shit, (I'm a patreon subscriber and ig I just wanna know where my money's going) is THAT true?

i used to follow an artist who, 5-6 months ago made racist art featuring gaz and soap in a slave context, which I didn't like, retweet or interact with in any way. they also made under-age art of ghost soap, which I also didn't interact with . people on twitter called me out yesterday, for retweeting (months before this incident) other art they'd made as evidence I stood by/encouraged/was an avid fan of all these tropes. The art I retweeted wasn't either of these previous examples of art, but one where ghost and soap were sleeping in a bed together, as adults, peacefully. I can't emphasise enough that I have not interacted with this artist at all, for over six months. The callout in question has framed me as a close friend of theirs when, in truth, our total timeline of interactions could probably be counted on one hand, and I haven't interacted with her in so long that I genuinely forgot I was still following her.

The crux of all is this is that I did not unfollow + block this artist earlier on when the racist art was posted months ago, and then I retweeted a fic tagged with "non-con" (ghost gets soap off in a context where he can't really properly consent, they're in front of a crowd of strangers and they have to fuck, but both parties are into each other) written by a friend as I wanted to support their writing.

The pedophile claims are because I retweeted a fandom bingo post that defended loli-con without reading all the squares properly, and then immediately un-retweeted it when I properly read it. All in all, the post was on my account for maybe a few minutes.

The zoophile claims are because people say i support someone who wrote zoophilic fic and called people slurs, and I genuinely don't know who they're talking about there.

The anti-asian racism claims come from the original accusers in the callout thread thinking that I made Horangi's eyes in the monster!AU sensitive as a way of making fun of Asian eyes. The real reason is because he's a cat hybrid in that AU and cats are sensitive to light.

I tried addressing all this in a casual way earlier on in a misguided attempt to sort things out more 'civilly', and responded to an ask talking about my "support" for the artist who drew the slave Gaz art by saying the fanart in question was tone deaf and in poor taste. It wasn't enough for some people, so I'm happy to say it clearly- yes, it was racist, and the reason why I didn't want to be more aggressive is because I didn't want to extend all this mess by throwing this artist directly to the wolves - I genuinely believed them at the time when they said that wasn't that their intention, and think they should've deleted the post at the time, but not unfollowing was a decision that I made. I know now upon reflection that it was naive of me, unwarranted and frankly irresponsible to take a stranger at face value and believe they had good intentions, when the act of not deleting the post in question was evidence of a lack in remorse. In the moment, I'd thought back to my own personal experience with a friend of mine who used an asian slur in my company, who later sincerely apologised and legitimately cleaned up his act after I gave him a second chance. It informed my choice to not unfollow at the time, but there's a difference between someone you know irl for months and a stranger on the internet you've interacted with a few times. I shouldn't have coddled them in my response, and I'm sorry for not treating it with the severity it deserved. It was callous, and stupid, and indicative of internal biases that I ever thought it was a light enough offence to "see through", and I deeply deeply apologise. I promise from the bottom of my heart to do better.

That's everything so far. I didn't unfollow an artist when I absolutely should've, which i'll always strongly regret. I also retweeted a properly-tagged fic on my clearly 18+ nsfw account. I've undone both of those actions now. I hope this can be the end of it.

[leahswife]

two things can be true at once

summary: the aftermath of your nights with jenni. part three of "where do we stand".

prequel, part one, part two, part three

you were speechless.

here she was, aitana, standing right in front of you, looking like she had rushed here first thing in the morning while a naked jenni was hiding in your closet.

"listen, i just want to talk, okay? i know you said i shouldn't approach you until i figured my shit out but i have. that's why i'm here." she looked slightly scared you might push her away but apart from how she looked every other time you were together, there seemed to be confidence bubbling within her now.

when you didn't answer because you were too lost in your thoughts and quite frankly, still very much in shock, she continued, "can i come in?" she asked. innocently. absolutely and irrefutably unaware of the vulgarity that had happened in that room the night before. there were still traces of it behind, jenni's clothes scattered on the floor and both of your underwear somewhere in the room.

you cleared your throat, heart pounding in your chest at the mess you found yourself in and you couldn't quite look aitana in the eye. "um, listen. my room is a mess right now, can we meet downstairs? i promise we'll talk." she gave you a smile, relieved you were open to hear her and nodded, "i'll be downstairs. at breakfast, sí?" 

you nodded in agreement and watched her walk towards the elevator before you closed the door and let out a deep breath.

fuck.

you looked over at the closet jenni was still in and walked over to it, opening it to see a naked jenni with crossed arms. 

"i don't appreciate you keeping me waiting."

"jenni, get dressed and leave."

"what? so all it takes is for aitana to show up and now you're throwing me away like garbage?" she got out of the closet, with a frown on her face directed at you.

"what? no." you fumbled with your words, "what are you talking about? i just– we're just gonna talk. and i didn't know you meant to stay?" you continued as she walked past you and started getting dressed in a haste.

she ignored you as she kept getting dressed, which just left you more confused and more nervous than you already were, "jennifer, can you answer me?" you begged. 

she finally looked up and walked over to you while putting her hair up in a bun, "you're right. i didn't. you were just a fuck." she said coldly, very different from the way she had treated you the day before. you don't know why but that felt like a stab in the stomach. "why are you talking like that?" you asked quietly, like a kid too afraid to leave their corner and face the inevitable consequences of their foolishness.

she chuckled with no emotion behind it, "that's what this was, right?" you felt yourself shrink under her fierce gaze. you thought that's what this was but after the two times you were together, you couldn't deny there was something more. 

–

the first time, although she claimed to have wanted to do bad things to you, she had been so gentle, always asking if it was okay to do something different, exploring your body, always listening to your sounds of approval and what you enjoyed better and what not, learning how to move with you before she got rougher.

the second time was more free, with laughter and banter in between kisses and gasps as she fucked you hard and mercilessly into the bed. and after she would lay kisses all over your body and clean you and get you water, making sure you were comfortable. you would just lay back with a smile and tease her about how you didn't know she was such a softie. 

"solo contigo." she would whisper before kissing you softly. soon, sighs and moans of pleasure would fill the room as you went back to touching each other, this time slowly and gently. 

the night ended with you both cuddling to each other for warmth, you tracing her tattoos and asking each other about past relationships. "so, is it really true you dated alexia?" you felt her chest bounce up and down with laughter and you couldn't help to let out a giggle yourself. "wow, you've been dying to ask that question, haven't you?" you looked up at her from the place you were laying on her chest and saw her amused smile, eyes glinting with something you couldn't quite decipher. 

you propped yourself on your elbow and looked at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. she squinted her eyes at you, "porque quieres saber?" you shrugged, "because i want to know if alexia really stooped that low." you laughed at her opening her mouth in fake shock, "i'm kidding, i'm kidding." you kissed her cheek when you felt her fingers prod at your sides, tickling you. "jenni, broma, broma!" you fell back onto the bed, trying to get her hands off of you. 

she finally backed off and stood on her elbow to look down at you, "did you ever date aitana?" you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, "no, why do you ask?"

she shrugged, "i just think there is something between you two."

"we are nothing." you claimed but jenni gave you a knowing look. you huffed in frustration and told her everything that had happened between you two.

"sounds messy. so if she had confessed to you that night, you never would've showed up at my door?"

"no, i wouldn't have." you answered simply and honestly.

she nodded and traced her finger around your stomach, "what if she confessed now?" she asked quietly, eyes meeting yours. again, your hearts starts beating unusually fast, something that shouldn't happen in any situation with jenni but lately it has. truth was, you didn't have an answer for her right now. you've wanted aitana for so long but with her indecisiveness and pulling away had thrown you off. plus jenni came into the scene and you started exploring something that was just supposed to be fun, but laying in this bed with her, having a serious conversation after having been touched with so much care didn't feel like just fun anymore. still, how could you entertain such a thought? jenni lived in mexico, you lived in barcelona. even at national camp, you wouldn't cross each other's paths. so how could you ever work?

you shrugged and stretched, trying to seem nonchalant, "i'd ask her for a threesome with you." you joked, not wanting to ruin the mood and grabbed her hand to intertwine your fingers. she chuckled, although it didn't quite reach her eyes. you noticed this little change and rolled over on top of her, locking her hands above her head, "can we not talk about aitana? you don't see me bringing up your situationships." "hm, cute you think i do those." you tilt your head at her in confusion. she didn't? then what were you? your thoughts are cut off as she sits up and kisses you softly. you immediately melt against her mouth and let go of her wrists to wrap your arms around her neck, kissing her back. 

–

"was that all i was to you?" your voice couldn't get any smaller if it tried to, disbelief and disappointment all over your face. jenni clenched her jaw and looked away. 

"don't take it personally, princesa." she said finally before walking past you and out the door, leaving you dumbfounded.

–

after having showered and getting ready, you tried your best to not fall apart at the emotions and anxiety going through you and went downstairs to the cafeteria where you saw aitana talking to keira and lucy. you walked up behind them and tugged on aitana's hair slightly, making her turn towards you.

"you wanted to talk?" 

her face lightened up at seeing you and she nodded, "sí."

"do you mind if we get a table here? i'm just really hungry and don't feel like really leaving the hotel today." you suggested quietly to her after she stood up. she looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, "pero estás bien?" you felt your throat start to close up so you just nodded and started your way to one of the free tables away from the other girls.

after you got breakfast, you sat down in front of aitana and silently slid her a plate of what you knew she liked first thing in the morning. even though she had already eaten, she thought the gesture was so sweet, she smiled and accepted the plate with a thank you.

after a few minutes of eating in silence she cleared her throat and you looked up at her, "i want to be straight with you." she started. you put down your fork and nodded at her to keep going, "i know how unfair i have been to you these last few months. how i didn't give you any certainty of what we were, of what i wanted, of how i have been pushing you away lately. i have been stupid." you chuckled at her choice of words which made her giggle a little before turning serious again.

"i thought– i didn't know how to describe what i was feeling. i only had felt this way towards boys when i was younger and even then, i wouldn't let it get as deep as it got with you. i just was always too focused on something else, studies, football, whatever. and i have been the busiest as i have ever been in my career and i thought that letting someone in that way would stray me away or distract me and–"

"aita, breathe."

"right, sorry. " she took a break to take a breath in and then continued, "and the truth is, i felt distracted. all i wanted was to be around you and have more of what you would give me and then i realized that i was excited for something else other than just football. and i got scared. i got scared i wouldn't perform as well because i didn't want to spend all of my evenings studying matches, or talk about it all the time. but then, when i didn't have any of you, it just made me miserable and that distracted me too and these weeks i've been sad and tired and playing has just got harder."

you took a good look at her and noticed the bags under her eyes that you had just assumed was because of her crazy schedule, "what i realized now is that you were a breath of fresh air, and i'm better when i am with you. you excite me and you make me want to know more about myself, and work on myself and be better and again, i was just stupid." she put both hands over her eyes and let out a sigh, "keira calls me a baby gay."

you almost choked on your juice for that, "tana, that's–" you let out a giggle, "yeah, that's about right."

"don't laugh!" she whined and you gave her a teasing smile, "let me finish." you put your hands in the air and nodded at her. "i have feelings for you and i'm not scared of them anymore." your breath hitched and your heart could really help you in this moment and beat normally for a second. this was all you wanted to hear in the last few months but now you felt trapped. how the tables have fucking turned. 

"aitana, you don't know how much i have wanted you to say that." you started and took a deep breath, "but i never knew if i would ever get that from you. and for months, i waited and waited, until i didn't anymore." you looked at her and saw her deflate in her seat, like a kicked puppy. "i'm not with anyone but it wouldn't be fair to you or me if i just ran into your arms." you said, soft and gentle.

she nodded, "i know you don't owe me anything. and of course you're free and i understand if someone has your attention too. but if you're ever ready, i'd like to.. eh.. what's the english word? court you?" she struggled and once again you couldn't help the giggle that came out of your mouth. "we're so formal now, miss bonmatí." she swatted at your shoulder as you giggled. "aita aita, i got it. i'm open to that but right now i think i just need some time for myself, okay?"

she nodded, "but can we be friends again please? because i really miss you and i promise you this time i won't kiss you unless you're ready or want to or-"

"aitanita, do you ever know how to speak in small sentences?" you teased, "but yes, we can be friends. i've missed you too." she beamed at that and scooched over the seats to hug you. you held her close and kissed the top of her head.

"but now i wanna hear all about how i was your gay awakening." you yelped as you felt her hand punch your side.

[444sluz]

Break Ups, and will y’all get back together??

Contains: Aizawa, Bakugou, Midoriya, Kiego

Bakugou:

He’ll definitely be the one to dump you, you’re in an argument and it’s getting heated of course he’ll never lay hands on you, but you’re both having a yelling match, and he’s not in the losing mood. He’s not even listening to what you said he’s just responding with “Shut the fuck up” “you always do this” and finally he snaps and pulls out the “I don’t even know why I’m with you anymore.” Card and obviously that hurts you, he knows it did. He knows that’ll shut you up so he feels like he won, obviously he has to always be the best right? Wrong. Because after realizing that you guys broke up he felt something jab him mentally, he felt differently, he felt like he lost. And that’s one of the worst feelings Bakugou had, he knew he won the match but frankly he lost the war. He thought he won that night with you, but this is the hardest loss he’s ever took

Will you get back together???

Yes. Now although it was hard you and Bakugou ended up talking things out and suggested therapy and with a lot of convincing he agreed, and that helped you guys relationship a lot as instead of him blurting shit out he just stepped out and when he was cooled down he’d talk it out with you.

Deku:

you dump him, he keeps putting himself into dangerous situations and getting himself hurt and it’s saddening to see the boy you love endanger himself. You know he wants to be a hero, you just couldn’t stand by and watch, and it’s not like you could help, you’re quirkless. Deku told you, you can be a hero countless times but you know he’s bluffing he didn’t stand a chance before All Might. “Izuku, I can’t just stand by and watch you hurt yourself!!” You said, and he just looked at you, “(name) what’re you talking about…?” He asked and you sighed “I can’t stand by and watch you injure yourself!! I just can’t! Either you drop the heroism or I’m leaving izuku.” You said, hoping he’ll choose you, “(Name) please… you know this is my dream to be a hero.. I’m living my dream! Saving lives with a smile!!” He said and you scoffed “Saving everyone but who’s saving you!! I can’t-! I can’t watch this. We’re done.” You said and you watched him tear up a bit.. After that night Izuku started to care less and less about himself taking more hours to distract himself. He was attached to you, and 2 years later he still wonders what would’ve happened if he chose you…

Will you get back together??

Yes, it took him to lose his quirk for you to eventually come back, sadly enough he went back to you. He needed comfort he needed YOUR comfort and that he received, just like before. One lose one gain

Hawks:

He cheats on you, you’re at a party one night and well you go home early something about that party made you feel odd, he was acting dry with you like he didn’t even know you, at times. You felt uncomfortable, people were looking at you funny and your bird brain of a boyfriend left you all by yourself, where was he going again? No clue. So you just left, he didn’t realize you were even gone… sat up all night waiting for him to drunkenly walk in that door, but it didn’t happen. You even had everything to take care of him at arms reach, Advil, water, etc. yet he didn’t come home, so you fell asleep on the couch. Hoping to see him when you arise, he wasn’t there. You open insta and figure out why he wasn’t home, he was with someone else. And that hurt. Bad. You dumped him over text and grabbed important stuff and left the house, once he came home and saw the text he was confused at first, until he looked in the mirror and saw hickeys on his neck, not from you?? He fell into a depression and started stress drinking although he’d js hook up randomly which was sucky because he’d always moan/groan ur name

Will u get back together??

No. He cheated on you, enough said.

Aizawa:

in a way he dumps you?? Well you see being a underground hero and a teacher is hard now being a boyfriend is also hard, you see one of the issues he had is he had to work a lot of overtime and you were just a headache at times for him, you always assumed he was lying about overtime due to cheating situations u had in the past (hawks) but trust and believe he can barely handle you why would he want another person nagging him. He cancelled a lot of date nights when he was free because he just wants to rest when he’s not working, he does a lot.

You weren’t happy by this outcome so just like Deku you wanted him to stop, but also like deku he was not planning too. And you kept nagging and pushing and he finally broke up with you, said you needed better, said he wasn’t providing enough which was true but you loved him… but he didn’t love you. LOLL

after he dumped you, he felt like a weight lifted his shoulders, and unlike the rest he was happier with this outcome he offered to remain friends but if you didn’t want that he couldn’t force it

Will you get back together??

Takes years but yeah, when he retires he’s ready to settle down thats when you guys talk it out and that’s when you guys get back together happily ever after

[fayes-fics]

Friends & Family

Friends + Masterpost

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Anthony has a very important question to ask, but the universe appears to be conspiring against him. Threequel. Set a year after the first fic in this series

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Public sexual acts, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, woman on top, back-to-back orgasm. Also, on a non-sexual front, all sorts of emotions and thwarted proposals.

Word Count: 5.4k

Authors Note: This is VERY, VERY belated request fill for the divine @colettebronte. She has had the patience of a saint as I have grappled with this request for many months. I hope this is worth the wait, but to be honest, after this delay, I'm not sure anything could be. Thank you to @sorryallonsy for betaing. Please enjoy <3

I

“Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, what is this??” 

There is an undignified yelp, and a spatula drops to the floor with a loud splat. Apparently, he didn't hear you come in.

“Bloody hell! You scared the shit out of me… And what is the full-name business all about?” he exclaims, spinning around, holding his hands aloft as if in a hostage situation. The sight is made even funnier by the fact he is wearing one of your novelty aprons, complete with floppy bunny ears.

You have walked in from afternoon coffee with old friends to find your kitchen in absolute disarray. Pots, pats on every surface, opened containers, the contents of your spice cupboard all pulled out and haphazardly dotted around. There is a large pile of reusable shopping bags with half-open veggies in and what looks like a sourdough loaf cut open and likely going stale next to the complete wrong knife for the job at hand. There is almost no worktop surface that is left unused or covered in some sticky-looking residue from god knows what. 

“I said yes to you making dinner while I was out; I did not say you could conduct some kind of controlled explosion in my kitchen,” holding your hands up in exasperated resignation. 

Frankly, it’s a mystery why he offered to make dinner in the first place; you have never seen the man so much as boil an egg in all the years you have known him. And certainly not in the twelve months you have loved him. His idea of cooking is usually stopping at Whole Foods to pick up a hot rotisserie chicken.

He walks towards you with that adorable puppy dog expression, his perennial get-out-of-jail-free card. You pick a fleck of what you think is broccoli from his hair as he reaches you.

“Points for effort?” he pouts, a tiny smile toying with the corners of his mouth, seeking forgiveness. You let him pull you into his arms and kiss your cheek. “Do you still love me?” he teases, pulling back to shoot you that perfect-toothed charming grin.

“I’ll love you even more if you tidy all this up,” you counter, raising an eyebrow as he chuckles. “Although I’m intrigued. You have never once made dinner since we’ve been dating; why now?”

“Well, I wanted to do something special…” he says pointedly, pulling away to switch off the hob when there is a slight burning smell in the air.

“What’s so special about today?” You frown.

“Really?” He spins around to look at you, a slight pout as you wrack your brains. “What happened on this date one year ago?”

Ohhh…

You feel bad you had completely not realised it. Exactly one year ago to this day, you got together after many years of combative flirting. Heart melting in your ribcage as you suddenly realise this is him attempting to cook an anniversary dinner for you. 

“You secret romantic, you,” you murmur, contrition and affection burning inside as you can't help but seek his touch.

“Don’t let anyone know,” he jests as he pulls you into his arms again and kisses your temple. “I have a reputation to uphold….”

“Of course…” you giggle, resting your head on his shoulders as you sway together in the bombsite that was your kitchen. “And here was me thinking you would do something far more risqué…”

“Such as..?” he prompts, intrigued by where your thoughts have gone.

“Oh, I don't know….” you run your fingers into his lush hair, pressing into him. “Maybe take me back to that same penthouse your friend owns. Maybe make it to that overpriced sofa this time…” his eyes flash dark and dangerous, licking his lips, and you feel compelled to continue, “Maybe even that enormous bed. And the balcony….”

He groans gently as his mind no doubt fills with the same images as yours. “Fuckkkkkkk….” he rues, “I should have done that. I’m definitely no Gordon Ramsey….”

You laugh and run your hands up his biceps. “Maybe not. But I do have a suggestion…” you offer, dropping your voice a little smokier.

“Tell me…” Anthony rumbles, nudging your cheek until your lips brush, fingers digging into your flesh where he holds you.

“Let's work up an appetite and then order from our usual. Tidying up can wait…” you whisper, mouth ghosting over his, fingers opening the top button of his shirt and toying with the patch of chest hair.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

You squeal gently as he picks you up and strides towards your bedroom. The little navy velvet box burning a hole in his suit jacket pocket can wait for another day. Perhaps.

—

II

During a boring editorial meeting the following morning, your phone buzzes in your lap.

AB: Can you be at mine at 7pm tonight?

Y/N: Yes… but why?

AB: All will be revealed 😉 

AB: Come hungry for delicious protein 

Y/N: Filthy. I like it. 😉😛

AB: OMG NO! Not THAT. Bloody hell…

Y/N: Shame…

AB: Well, okay, maybe a bit of that. Afterwards. 😉

Y/N: *victory dance* 💃 

AB: I love you, you filthy animal 😛😘

—

You walk into Anthony’s kitchen at precisely 7pm that evening to find some very posh-looking man in a bowtie pouring some wine into the good glasses. The ones you are too scared to use. 

“What is all this?” Your curiosity piqued.

“Cooking was a disaster, so this is recompense,” Anthony greets you with a hug and a brief kiss on the lips. 

He looks handsome in his usual crisp shirt, undone just enough at the chest to be distracting, and custom-tailored trousers that cling to him just right. It takes some effort to tear your eyes away from him, but when you do, you now see a smorgasbord of cheese on his expansive, pristine white marble kitchen island, with fruit, crackers and all manner of chutneys.

“Oooh, lovely. Fancy cheese and wine night?” you guess.

“Indeed,” he replies warmly. “Baxter here is a world-renowned expert on such things. He will be taking us on a cheese world tour paired with the very best wines.”

“Sounds lovely. Thank you,” you nod to the man, then crowd into Anthony again. “The anniversary of our first proper date?” you guess, kissing his jaw, enjoying the slight rasp of stubble there.

“The lady is learning…” he ribs genially, taking your hand and pulling you along to take a seat on one of the stools.

Baxter speaks engagingly and knowledgeable, and admittedly, every cheese and wine pairing is exquisite. Just a bite from each, but after 10 countries, you are a little tipsy, leaning into Anthony and shooting him goofy smiles, resting your chin on his shoulder, cheekily grabbing his thigh where the fabric pulls taut right over his quad muscle so temptingly. You want to climb into his lap and wrap around him.

After an hour, the man politely takes his leave, mentioning he has left some more “adventurous” choices in sealed boxes in the fridge. 

“What does adventurous cheese mean?” you tipsily ponder after the man has left. “Do you think it's abseiled down a mountain?”

Anthony laughs accommodatingly at your goofiness, taking your hand and leading you outside onto the balcony. “I assume strong-flavoured maybe. But I’m quite sure it's all bravado,” he assures.

You lean on the railing, looking down upon the Thames below, all of London seeming reflected in its inky depths, a thousand lights twinkling in its choppy waves, like a sea of stars beneath you.

“I could never tire of this view,” you declare wistfully, a warmth behind your ribs as he crowds into your back, placing a light blanket around your shoulders.

“It is yours to enjoy for as long as it is mine,” he breathes into your hair, kissing your temple and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sway together gently in the breeze, your hands over his, pushing back into his warm body.

“I love you,” you say quietly, turning to nuzzle his cheek.

“I love you too,” he responds immediately, “and I have for so long now; it feels wrong when you are not with me,” his tone ardent, gentle. “Wait here….” he whispers, a waver in his voice that makes you pause.

You wait patiently as he slips back inside, the breeze dancing through your hair as you inhale deeply and soak in the city. Although you are high above street level, the sounds are still there, like a background hum. It’s as energising as the country air at his rural ancestral home in Kent, just in a different way—so vibrant and teeming with life. 

Anthony seems to be gone for a while, so out of intrigue, you wander inside to the fridge, grab one of the containers Baxter left and take it back onto the balcony before he reappears. When you peel it open, you are taken aback by the smell. It's very pungent, even out in the open air. 

“There is an important question I wa…” Anthony freezes mid-sentence. “Dear god, what is that smell?” he exclaims, his face scrunching violently.

“Oh, I think it's the cheese Baxter left.” 

You swing the container around so it's right under his nose and watch him go white as a sheet and then double over to one side, dry heaving.

“That's disgusting!” He gags, quickly putting something small from his hand into his trouser pocket as he coughs roughly, almost bent double.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” you frown, bringing the container back to your own nose, closer than you had it before.

Then, a wave of nausea hits you, too. It smells of decay and bad feet and turns your stomach so violently that you have to grab the balcony railing to stop yourself from stumbling.

“Fuck that's terrible,” you stutter, trying hard to keep down the rich wines and cheeses you have already consumed.

“Throw it!” Anthony blurts, somewhat frantic.

“Where?” you panic, holding it away at arm's length, desperate to stay upwind of it.

“Off the fucking balcony! Fling it in the Thames! I can't even have that shit in my bins….” he yelps before another wretch doubles him over again.

Gripping the container, you fling the contents as hard as you can, watching the blob of cheese sail downwards in an arc for twelve storeys, hitting the river below with a distant but satisfying plop. You both stand there wheezing and gasping as you reseal the container immediately, fearful of any residual scent.

“Dear god, am I going to inadvertently ruin every one of these special evenings?” he grumbles under his breath, sounding more like a rhetorical question than anything.

You have no idea what he could mean, but you don’t have the capacity to ask - you have to run to the cloakroom as the mere olfactory flashback makes you nauseated.

When you reemerge ten minutes later, full of regret and needing toothpaste, you find him in his en suite bathroom in a similar fragile state. You both crawl into his bed feeling delicate, curling up foetal and holding hands across the expanse of the bed, him muttering apologies.

—

III

The following week, Anthony takes you back to the same restaurant where you had your second date, one year to the day later. Seeing the pattern in advance, you wear the beautiful little black dress he bought you recently. And you are pleased to make him temporarily tongue-tied when you slip off your coat to reveal it, whispering coquettishly in his ear that you are happy to skip dinner and return to his.

“Oh, we will,” he rumbles, a promissory note that lights a fire low in your belly.

After perusing the menu, you decide to order the same dish you had last time. You are certain everything is terrific, but you remember it being so delicious it had you making noises only Anthony usually can. Also, you are hoping for a complete repeat of the same night from a year ago. Memorably, it was the first time he managed to give you three orgasms in one night—you are very keen to repeat that. 

But rather strangely, Anthony’s energy seems slightly off, almost nervous. You can only assume it's apprehension that this night does not go as the previous two attempts at anniversary celebrations have. 

While you are sharing a delicious starter, a familiar face over the room at the bar catches your eye.

“Is that Benedict?” you frown, causing Anthony to twist in your booth and look.

“Probably,” he sighs.

You are nonplussed by his reaction, so you take it upon yourself to wave to him, to Anthony’s seeming chagrin.

When Benedict wanders over, you notice his shoulders are hunched, a shuffled gait. Not the usual mister sunshine he is.

“Hey Ben, everything okay?” you check as he pulls up nearby, hovering a little.

“I got dumped,” he exhales. “So I’m drowning my sorrows,” he explains, holding his whiskey tumbler aloft in a rueful toast.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you grimace, knowing he has been more unlucky in love than not, which seems a shame; he’s a sweet, good-looking man but often gets used, attracted to people who take advantage of his giving nature.

“Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt your dinner…” he placates modestly, glancing at his older brother, who seems to be brooding.

“Don't be silly, you can join us,” you beckon him into the booth.

“No, he can’t,” Anthony interjects.

You frown at him. “Why not? It’s just dinner,” you dispute.

“No, it’s not; it’s our anniversary,” Anthony argues before turning to Benedict. “Brother, I love you and all, but would you kindly fuck off?” Anthony grouses, gritting his teeth.

“Anthony!” You admonish. “Don’t be a dick!” You roll your eyes. “Ignore your grouchy brother, Ben; of course, you can join us,” you offer again, seeing the hesitancy but also the sadness tugging at the corner of his eyes that means you are worried about leaving him alone.

He acquiesces, and as he wanders across to the bar to grab his jacket and join you, you scowl at Anthony. “He’s just been dumped. You could be nicer,”

“I could… just not tonight,” he says, almost harangued.

You decide not to dwell on why he seems unduly hung up on this evening’s plans, being so particular, watching him seem to fiddle with an item in his jacket pocket, then look askance across the restaurant, defeated. 

“Anthony, are you okay?” You check quietly as Benedict walks back over.

“Yeah, I just….” He sighs and finally meets your eye squarely with a tinge of sadness. “I had other plans for us tonight. Not babysitting…”

At one point during the main course, Benedict excuses himself to the bathroom. Anthony has been mostly monosyllabic, almost sulking, and you feel guilty; perhaps he did indeed have other ideas for the evening.

You shuffle around to lean into him and grab his hand, placing it high on your thigh under the table, the message unmistakable.

“We can still have our plans for later…” you whisper hotly into his ear.

He seems to perk up immediately, his hand grasping your flesh in a way that catches your breath. “You always know what to say to make me feel better…” he murmurs, at once playful and reverent.

“Touch me…” you whisper, the need for him an instant, tart taste in your mouth.

“Here, in the restaurant? With my brother coming back to join us any moment?” His tone is incredulous but unmistakably aroused.

“Yes…” you hiss, pushing his hand up higher to the junction of your thighs where you burn molten for him always.

He growls when he realises you have made another style choice, this one scandalous—no underwear.

“I’ll do more than that, you wonderful minx,” he huffs, pulling your thigh over his lap under the tablecloth. He plunges two fingers into your aching pussy and presses his thumb over your clit. You gasp and grip the table hard, just as Benedict reappears.

It certainly does wonders for Anthony’s disposition, like he is a different man now. Chatting amiably to his brother as you subtly try not to look flustered, dripping silently into his palm as he holds still. 

“Whatever you did to put this one in a better mood, thank you,” Benedict jests at one point.

“I just had to give the old grouch a hug and his favourite toy to keep him entertained,” you joke back, him not realising exactly how true that is. Anthony’s fingers flex deep inside you at your cheeky riposte, and you can feel his smirk as you have to cough to hide your moan.

“Well, thank you,” Benedict smiles, “you bring things out in my brother I never thought I would see. So whatever magic trick you are pulling, keep doing it.”

Anthony’s fingers curl hard against your g spot, and you have to laugh loudly to not scream.

“She’s the very best brother,” Anthony replies, lips brushing your temple as he flicks his thumb teasingly over your clit. “I hope one day you find someone as special as she is,” he offers, his first sympathetic noise to his brother of the evening.

“I should be so lucky,” Benedict adds quietly, tone pensive, glancing at his phone as it lights up by his elbow.

Anthony withdraws from your pussy; you whimper mutely, feeling bereft but also relieved, not sure you can act any longer. You watch as he brings those fingers up to his mouth and sucks them decadently as Benedict is distracted by his phone.

“Thank you for dessert, my love,” he thrums into your ear, “and the show,” he adds cheekily, your clit and pussy clenching, denied, so very aroused.

“Take me home right now, Anthony!” Your order is through gritted teeth, quiet but brokering no argument. 

And he does.

—

IV

A tide of relief hits you as the door to his sleek penthouse clicks softly open; tossing aside your umbrella and slipping off your shoes in the fancy hallway. It's been a taxing work day; all you can think about is climbing into the shower, then curling up and watching something mindless until Anthony gets home.

“Y/n…” 

An enticing but distant call in that familiar voice.

“Anthony?” you respond, puzzled. “I thought you would be out late tonight?” you add, wandering forward, trying to find the source.

“Change of plan….” 

You cross the open-plan lounge area with its floor-to-ceiling view across the rooftops of London. It's been more than a year of dating, and still, you aren't entirely used to the sheer scale of his place compared to yours. It feels like it takes ages to get across just his living room.

“Where are you?” you frown, hands on hips. It sounds like he's likely in the bedroom.

“Follow the sound of my voice,” he entices, and yep, it's definitely from that direction.

However, when you wander in, the room is empty, the early evening sun blazing onto the soft, luxurious white duvet on his vast bed.

“Getting warmer,” he offers, quieter now, and you recognise his voice has an echo. He can only be in his en-suite bathroom.

You round the corner into that tastefully masculine room - all slate and birch - to be greeted by a sight that makes your lungs feel too tight.

There, in his sizeable sunken whirlpool tub, is one Anthony Bridgerton. Very naked and very wet. Standing so that the bubbling waterline hugs his hips—acres of toned torso, water droplets meandering down the washboard of his stomach and glistening in the thatch of hair across his chest. You bite your lips without even realising it, shifting your stance as you feel a ripple of excitement over your skin.

“Hello, Ms y/l/n,” he preens, knowing exactly how much the sight before you makes you tongue-tied and aroused.

“Hello…” you stutter back, eyes still feasting. “What is the CEO of Bridgerton Enterprises doing taking a bath at….” you glance down to check your watch, “... 5:25 pm on a Thursday?”

“It's a special occasion…” he smirks, wading towards the edge of the tub closest to you. “I thought a bath would be nice.” 

You can't seem to look away from the wake of waves cresting his Adonis belt as he does so. The sight of something delicious just below the surface is almost hypnotic. 

“My eyes are up here, you know,” he mocks gently, tongue literally in cheek, as you cut your gaze to his triumphant face.

“Wh… what special occasion?” you manage to stumble out.

“Surely you recall what happened on this night exactly twelve months ago?” 

When you look nonplussed - frankly, you can barely remember your own name right now - he mock sighs.

“I surprised you on my way back from the airport?” he prompts.

“Oh!” you suddenly cotton on, “it's been a year since we exchanged keys!”

He nods, and a fetching beam breaks out across his face. “Ahhh, the lady remembereth,” he winks.

“So this is how you’re celebrating?” your eyes again drag covetously down his body. 

“No, this is how WE are celebrating…” he corrects and gestures towards a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket at one corner of the tub, along with two long-stemmed flutes.

You can't help but match his grin now. “Well, I can’t find fault with that idea,” you admit, taking a step closer until you are at the edge of the tub surround.

“Hmm, I thought not,” he says silkily, closing the gap between you.

Grabbing the back of your neck with a firm hand, he draws you down into a deep, sensual kiss. His mouth claims yours. You shiver as warm water trickles down inside your top from the hand in your hair. He crowds into you, soaking your clothing with the press of his body as you kneel on the sunken tub surround.

“Oh no, this is all wet,” he feigns, tugging lightly at your sleeve, “you will just have to take it off.”

“Hmmm. I rather think that is your doing. How about you take it off?” you challenge, the banter between you never seeming to get old.

“Maybe I’ll just pull you into the water fully clothed?” he posits, raising an eyebrow.

You laugh and take a step back, revelling in his undivided attention as you strip for him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression hungry; the only sounds are his panted breath and the bubbles roiling in the tub. You are down to your underwear, a new matching lacy set, as if you knew, on some subconscious level, it was a special occasion, when he lunges forward and makes you squeal as he effortlessly picks you up and hauls you into the huge tub with him. The warm, effervescent water is a balm and tonic, making your skin tingle. 

“What is the point of celebrating anything if it’s not an excuse to get naked?” he offers silkily, cupping your jaw with both palms, his wet thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones, then his lips are back, plundering, seeking, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands roam your skin, arranging so you are straddling his lap, his cock a solid press against your inner thigh.

This is indeed how you always want to celebrate every milestone of your relationship—with wonderful, sensual intimacy. Anthony pulls back from the kiss, and you stare into his rich eyes, blissfully tracing the lines of his face with fingertips as he easily unhooks your bra and pulls it gently over the rounds of your shoulders. This close-up and soaked, his face is all sharp contours and smooth, lightly tanned skin.

“You are too handsome,” your internal monologue spilling out with a light mewl as his thumbs brush your nipples.

“I love you too,” he chuckles drolly to make a point. 

“Oh yes, that too,” you append with a playful pout. Then, a more sincere “I love you.”

“Wonderful to hear,” he rumbles into your ear as his hands slide underwater to tug down your underwear. 

He pulls you deeper into his lap, your thighs pushed wide around his slender hips. His rigid cock nudges your slit promisingly, and you wait with bated breath for his much-wanted invasion. But he pauses, and you feel the curl of his smile against your cheekbone.

“Champagne?” he teases, holding still.

“Now?!” you splutter. “How about you get inside me first?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” he answers, wry and laconic. 

Any witty riposte you may have dies on your lips as he surges into your body, knowing you need no warm-up, ready for him the minute you rounded the corner of the room. 

“Happy key day,” he murmurs as your eyes flutter closed and you moan loudly, him nudging that spot that makes you so addicted to him.

“Happy key day,” your response is a ragged exhale as you adjust to his deep invasion. 

Every time it still feels like the first, like it's just too good, and you just want to cling to him and be fucked into oblivion or fuck him into oblivion. A potent, heavy feeling inside that makes you crackle with energy and feel sated at the same time.

“Fuck me, Anthony,” you sigh into his wet hair, pushing closer into his embrace, voicing your exact desires.

“With pleasure.”

You squeak as his hands grasp tight around your waist and haul you up until just his tip is still inside you, then slams you back down, a curse falling from your lips as he does. His handling is slightly rough in a way that feels perfect, his teeth glancing your earlobe before he sucks it into his mouth and bites lightly.

Then it's a wondrous carnal dance, your joint noises echoing up the slate tiles as you fuck wantonly. Taking over at one point and gripping the edge of the oversized tub, you ride him for all your worth, chasing that feeling only he, his cock, has ever given you. So addictive ever since that very first night.

“I only ever want to fuck you, always…” the words tumbling from your lips unbidden, no filter between your thoughts and mouth as you spiral higher.

Even in the full throes of passion, his expression softens as you confess it. 

“Forever?” something vulnerable in his panted tone as you rise and fall upon him.

“Forever, Anthony Bridgerton,” you vow, sensing his need to hear it, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing all of your being into him, wanting your bodies to be forged together somehow.

His thumb slips between your legs, and you cry out as he snags your clit perfectly, eyes rolling, feeling like a live wire.

“I need to feel it; please give it to me,” he implores desperately, thumb flicking almost violently over your engorged pearl.

It doesn't take much more, and you are fracturing around him. Crying his name, fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his shoulders as you reach that high, unable to stop slamming upon him as you flutter, your whole body spasming in pleasure but unwilling to stop. Him roaring his approval as you squeeze his cock tight, rippling around him.

“Please don't come,” you plead to him, “I need more, Anthony, more,” a wrecked sob, wanting to orgasm again. He snarls, his teeth on your cheekbone, his grip tightening around your hips, staving off his orgasm as best he can.

You grab his face and babble nonsense, saying you need his cock forever, strung out on the edge, almost a mania in your being, needing everything he can give. He pants harshly into your open-mouthed, sloppy kisses as you keep riding wound so tight like a coiled spring, wanting to be speared open by him always.

“Marry me!” he cries as you both reach that peak together, an explosion in both of your beings, feeling him come inside you harsh and deep, moaning your name like a prayer.

You collapse upon him, the bubbles of the jetted tub tickle your skin as you heave breaths, wracked and sated to your very core. A high like you have never known.

“Did you just…. propose?” you stutter as your brain comes back online, his cock still buried inside you.

“Shit…” he laments. “That was NOT how it was supposed to go! I had it all planned out!” he decries, burying his face into your shoulder where you still sit upon him.

“Anthony….” there are no other words, shock tying your tongue. 

He pulls back and looks contrite. “Please allow me a do-over?” his face so beseeching.

Raw emotion and victory crest hard in your veins, and you can't help but banter with him - as you always have, as you always will, until death do you part now.

“No, Viscount Bridgerton,” you rag, holding his face, “No do-overs. You will just have to live with the fact you proposed to me as we came together….” 

His face is a jumble of warring emotions as you realise you have kept him on tenterhooks about your answer. 

“…And you will just have to accept that I said yes with you still inside me,” you add silkily.

A handsome grin claims his whole face, relief and devotion coursing through him. “We can’t tell anyone,” he whispers as you resurface from another kiss.

“Our little secret,” you smile back as he finally slips from your body.

—

“You know I might be the first-ever Viscountess with a garden flat in Zone 3,” you chuckle, sitting in matching fluffy robes on his balcony, the sky a riot of colour as the sun sets. 

A few minutes before, he had gotten down on one knee and produced a little velvet box. You squealed and said yes again, watching transfixed as he pushed a flawless, elegant three-carat diamond onto your finger.

Anthony frowns deeply. “Err, no. You are moving in here with me,” he asserts loftily.

“I’m not selling my place!” 

“You can rent it out!” he waves dismissively.

“Urgh, tenants. Hassle.” You roll your eyes.

“Okay, fine, then we can just use it to store all of my stuff you hate, alright?” he counters, catching your gaze with a fiery challenge. Your insides ablaze that your trademark flirtatious antagonism will always be there, even once you are married.

“Oh, Viscount Bridgerton, you have a deal…” you whisper coquettish and swing off of your lounger onto his, straddling him and sealing the pact with a kiss.

“I’m just so glad I could finally make it happen.” 

You flip around and settle between his legs, your spine on his chest, lacing your hands together over your robe. “What do you mean?”

He barks a laugh you feel echo into your back. “So this is not the first time I have tried to propose to you. Remember that disastrous cooking? Attempt 1. Cheese night when we almost died? Attempt 2. Benedict interruptus? Attempt 3.” He holds up a hand before you, counting each on his fingers. “I almost gave up.”

You laugh and realise with hindsight how he seemed off kilter on those occasions, a soft ache behind your ribs in empathy. “I’m so glad you didn’t. Give up, that is,” you murmur, running your fingers over his lovingly once he lowers his hand back to your belly.

“I jest; I would never give up trying to make you my wife,” he pledges solemnly into your hair, kissing the shell of your ear. “And I hope you will never give up on me, as terrible of a husband as I will likely be….” he demures.

“I can do that, old friend…” you tease, a callback to that first night you got together.

“Less of the old,” he chides, immediately picking up your invitation, an exact repeat of your words to each other that first night you got together, heart melting as you realise he remembers the conversation word for word, too.

“I've known you my whole life, Anthony,” you continue, that conversation etched into your brain, turning back over in his arms. “You can't lie to me…”

“I never will,” he goes offscript, and you exchange laden looks. Then, a dangerous smirk takes over his face as he leans closer. “But you can handcuff me to our bed anytime,” he adds, a nod to the joke you made that night.

“You wish, you lucky fuck,” you respond, aping his line. 

He grins widely and pulls back, handing you a champagne flute from the nearby lounger table.

“From old friends to new family…” he toasts, sincere and ardent, clinking his glass softly against yours.

“Friends and family…” you smile, your diamond ring afire in the setting sun, as you take a sip and pull him in for a blistering kiss.

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[disneyprincemuke]

i'm not pregnant

“wait,” you blink. “lando, what did you just say?”

lando stares at you, gaping wordlessly as he tries to find his words for a response. he presses his lips together into a thin line as he sighs. “you heard me. don’t make me say it again.”

you tilt your head and scrunch your nose. “okay… but why?”

surely lando isn’t the type of guy to say he loves you after spending a night together, right? a night in bed doing things that would ruin both of you if it ever got out. it would surely ruin your reputation, your relationship with your brother, and then lando’s friendship with said brother.

“um,” lando hums. he scrunches his nose and looks up at the ceiling. frankly, he’s got no idea where that came from either. “you know…”

“i actually don’t.”

you try and figure out where he’s coming from. prior to hooking up that night you spent in the club, you didn’t really talk much. it was all friendly, smiling at him when you would pass him, but never much actual conversation that would make you consider him a friend.

to you, he’s just your brother’s teammate.

and you know that he feels the same way. because the morning after you spent the night together, he woke up groggy and started rambling about how oscar should never find out about this.

despite being his older sister, oscar is oddly protective of you. perhaps it’s the close relationship you’ve got that made him feel like it’s his duty to make sure your life is never hard. and lando knows that the day would finally come that oscar flips shit if he ever finds out that he’d slept with his sister.

lando always thought you were cute, sure, but he was well aware of the fact that you’ll always be oscar’s older sister to him. the older sister that he desperately always wanted to be friends with but could never muster up the courage to hold a proper conversation with. but he doesn’t like you like that.

when he did eventually muster up the courage, it was only unfortunate that it happened when you were all in the club together. he had flown too close to the sun, unexpectedly dragging you into bed with him. that’s not what he had planned, for the record. he just wanted a kickstart to your friendship.

“i overheard you when you were on the phone the other day,” lando starts softly, swaying side to side as he sighs. “something about missing your period and throwing up this morning.”

your eyebrows remain furrowed, still in confusion with where he’s going at. “you were eavesdropping on my phone call?”

“no! absolutely not!” lando flails his arms in the air to clear your accusations. “no! i happened to be walking by oscar’s driver’s room at the time. and, well, i was just worried, you know? that is, assuming i’m the last guy you’ve been with in the past month.”

“so you’re saying that i sleep around?”

“no!” lando cries, hands going into his hair to tug at the roots. “that’s not what i meant at all! i-”

“then what do you mean?”

you almost want to laugh at the panic that’s taking over lando. and you would, if there isn’t some point of contention with the miscommunication you’re currently having. if you were more sure about the point he’s trying to get at, you’d be more receptive of the funniness of the situation.

lando looks at you, waiting for you to connect the dots yourself. he hums after a couple seconds of silence. “you could be pregnant?”

“oh!” you feel stupid for not noticing sooner. you throw your head back with a soft laugh and shake your head. “no. no, i’m not. i missed my period because i suddenly started exercising more, and i threw up because i was genuinely sick the other night.”

“oh,” lando sighs in relief, hunching over with a hand on his chest. “oh, thank god. really? you’re not pregnant?”

you nod as you feel a laugh bubbling from your stomach. you’ve finally caught up to lando’s agenda. “yes. i’m for sure not pregnant. is that– is that why you said what you said?”

he drops to his knees, nodding his head. “i didn’t know what to do. it just came out before i could ask you the question,” he laughs, shaking his head. “how chaotic would that have been, right? imagine if you really were?”

you put a hand on his shoulder. “let’s not dwell on things that shouldn’t happen.”

his panic is absolutely understandable, and saying that he loves you is mild compared to what else he could have done. and you’re glad. “you look kinda shaken up — do you wanna go and grab some coffee?”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @namgification @sakuramxchii @kissesandmartini

[a-killer-obsession]

I hope no one already sent this one in when you asked for it, but 2 X

You have freed me from my horny, horny curse, I am forever in your debt

Fresh Ripe Peach

Prompt: Writer's Choice

Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, incubus!killer, loss of virginity, monsterfucking, rough sex, biting, demon summoning, cum play, oral (receiving and giving), cumshot, fingering, bulging, deepthroating, praise kink, p in v sex, creampie, cockwarming, slave/master terms used

WC: 5k

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

It was frankly embarrassing how horny you were, and desperate times called for desperate measures, kneeling on the floor of your cabin, chalk in one hand, dodgy looking occult spell book in the other, tracing out the markings on the page as instructed. The book was probably all bullshit, and you were already mentally resigning yourself to another night of disappointing jerking off until your vibrator died, but it was at least worth a shot. Chalk replaced by a lighter, you put down the book momentarily to light the five candles that sat at each tip of the pentagram you'd drawn, adding to the ambient low light in your room given off by your bedside lamp.

You adjusted your provocative clothing, feeling a little ridiculous but hey, if it worked you were dressed to impress. Strappy leather harness forming an upside down pentagram on your chest, lacey black bra that lacked cups, framing your bare breasts. Matching panties with a triangular cutout over your bare-shaved mound, thigh garters adorned with small metal pentagram charms, the bands digging into your plush thighs and creating delicious indents. Your hair was fixed in a sleek high ponytail, eyes lined with heavy black liner, lips painted in dark, nearly black, smudge-proof purple lipstick. You hoped the spell would work, or this immaculate outfit would be quite a waste.

Satisfied your outfit was all as it should be, you picked the book up and began to chant. Did you understand the latin you were reading? Absolutely not a lick, but you hoped it translated to something along the lines of ‘excuse me demons, dinner is served, come get some pussy’. You finished reading the spell and let out a deflated sigh as nothing happened, seriously considering begging someone on the crew to fuck you, when suddenly the room went dark, the candles all blowing out at once and the bulb in your lamp failing. A few moments of pitch black darkness later and the lamp flickered back on, your heart racing as you heard heavy footsteps running up the hall outside your room. Oh shit, did it work?

The door flew open, a flurry of blond and blue flying in and immediately yelling, the door slamming shut and latching again, notably untouched. “A SUMMONING CIRCLE? REALLY [Y/N]? ARE YOU STUPID?” The bare foot of the first mate rubbed furiously at the chalk diagram on the floor, clearly fresh from his bed in only a pair of blue gingham pyjama pants and his mask, “get rid of this shit before some other asshole decides to answer, for Lucifer's sake.”

You were entirely speechless, suddenly remembering your physical state and crossing your arms over your chest to cover your bare tits. “KILLER! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” you shouted.

“Oh now you don't want me in here,” he tsk'd, “you summoned me, here I am! Chicken out already, girlie?”

“Summoned you?” You replied, so very confused, looking at your discarded spell book. Was there even a spell for summoning a first mate? That seemed oddly specific, and not at all occult. Superior summoning spell? Blonde asshole spell? Huh? “I- I didn't-”

“You summoned a companion demon, did you not?” he loomed over you with his hands on his hips, every rarely seen curve and divot of his muscular chest on display.

“I summoned an incub-”

“Do NOT use that word,” he cut you off, physically pinching your lips together. “It's derogatory, we prefer companion demon”

“Okay?” you relented as he let your lips go and crossed his arms over his chest, “I summoned a companion demon,” you repeated sarcastically, “so why are- wait, what do you mean ‘we’?”

“How do you think I knew what you were doing in here? You called, I answered,” he replied nonchalantly, “you're fucking lucky it was me, stupid girl.”

“But you're not-”

“-a demon?” He laughed. He removed his striped helmet and squatted in front of you, letting you see his unmasked face up close and personal. You'd always been told he didn't like his smile, but you could see now that was a blantant lie. There was a very obvious reason the Massacre Soldier covered his face. His eyes were icy blue, his pupils thin slits like a snake, his sclera entirely black, as though dipped in ink. When he opened his mouth you could see sharp extended canines and his tongue was longer and more pointed than a human's. “Like I said,” he continued as he stood, placing his mask on your dresser, “you called, I answered”

“Why- what the fuck is a inc- sorry, companion demon, doing on a pirate ship?” You asked, pulling a blanket from your bed and wrapping it around yourself, Killer rolling his eyes at the bashful motion.

“It's a long story,” he sighed, “Kid's mother was my master, she bound me to Kid as she was dying to protect him till he reached adulthood, but I grew fond of the little guy and had him bind me himself”

“So, wait, if Kid is your master, why are you here?” You queried.

“This is my territory,” he huffed, “you sent an open invite to every available asshole on the Grandline. Thanks for that, by the way. You're fucking lucky I was close enough to get here first or you'd already have some disrespectful dickhead balls deep in you. Do you have no regard for your own safety? What the fuck came over you to summon a demon?”

“I was horny… “ you mumbled under your breath.

“And you couldn't just go ask someone for a quickie?” He scorned, “Nobody on this crew is good enough for you?”

“It's not that…” you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, “they're just not… um… my type?”

“Really, nobody on this extremely diverse crew is your type?” He raised a brow.

“They're not uh… monsters?” You replied hesitantly.

“I think you'll find given our reputation that there are plenty of monsters on board,” he replied, before the penny in his brain dropped, “unless- oh you're really fucked up, huh?” He said with a shit eating smirk, “So that's it, you summoned a demon cos you want your brains fucked out by some beast? Is that it? Dirty girl~” he purred.

You were bright red with blush, slowly sinking under the top edge of the blanket. “Can you just go away please…” you mumbled, muffled by the fabric.

“Actually, I can't,” he huffed, “you made a contract when you summoned me. I'm here till sunrise. What, the scary eyes and fangs not enough for your needs?” You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, so unbelievably ashamed of yourself. “It's just as well this isn't my true form then,” he grinned toothily.

Your eyes widened as his skin began to shift hue, turning to an icy blue that matched his eyes, the colour darkening as it made swirling patterns on his arms, turning to a royal blue, then a deep, almost black, navy at the hands. His nails lengthened, forming sharp, dangerous looking claws. His ears elongated, turning to points. You let out an audible gasp as he dropped his pants and underwear, letting the fabric pool on the floor and revealing an absolutely monstrous cock that made your mouth water, a deep royal blue adorned with navy swirls, and a now freed tail flicked out to the side from his rear, the end capped with a sharp arrow tip as he let it slowly move. Two mostly straight, navy coloured horns sprouted from the top of his head, curving almost back into him, tipped in icy blue and lined with ridges. Most impressive of all though were the two grand bat wings that spread out from behind him, clawed at the top-most point, the structured areas navy while the membranes faded to royal blue, and the same icy blue as his skin at the centermost edges.

“Is this more to your liking, Master?” He stepped towards you, leaving his pants on the floor, entirely naked and proud in front of you. Even flaccid his cock was huge, directly at your eye level as you hid under your blankets, and you bit your lip as you shamelessly eyed him like a meal, scanning over his blue tinted body. He squatted in front of you, tilting your chin up with a hooked finger, his thumb pressed against your bottom lip, claw threatening to injure. “Don't even bother trying to lie to me, this is what I was made for. I can smell your arousal, I can hear your heart quicken”

“Fuck,” was all you managed to get out, letting the blanket fall to the floor around you, exposing yourself to him.

“There's a good girl,” he purred, “let me see that pretty body.”

You leaned back on the palms of your hands, letting your legs stretch out in front of you, forced to part slightly as they slid either side of him. He ran his eyes down your body, humming contently to himself, before his eyes ran back up and met yours. “This contract is an exchange,” he explained, crawling forward to loom over you, “I give you pleasure, and in exchange you allow me to feed off your sexual energy. It costs you nothing, you won't even notice it leaving you, save for being maybe a little tired tomorrow”

“Is this… what you usually do with Kid?” You stuttered as he placed a hand on your stomach, catching the waistband of your panties and playing with it as he used the cutout to hook his thumb through them.

“It is,” he smirked, “people don't summon demons like they used to, it's better to have a bound Master”

“Killer, how old are you?” You asked curiously, noting that the slits in his eyes were significantly more dilated now as he looked at your body.

“I resent that question,” he huffed.

“Oh come on, humour me,” he squinted at you in annoyance, “more than a hundred? More than five hundred?” He rolled his eyes. “More than a thousand?” He gave you a playful look that told you that you were close. “MORE THAN A THOUSAND?”

“Why, you wanna call me great-great-great-great-great grandaddy while I fuck you?” He smirked, unflinching as you smacked his chest in retaliation. “What do you want out of this anyway? I'm at your servitude, whatever you want, it's yours. No kink too fucked up.”

“I, uh… I don't know…” you mumbled, turning shy again.

“No? Nothing you particularly enjoy?” He asked. You looked at him shyly and he blinked in recognition. “I swear to Lucifer, [y/n] tell me you did not summon a demon to take your virginity!”

You gave him a forced apologetic smile and he groaned, “You are actually so fucking lucky that I answered your call, fucking hell. Actually, scratch that, maybe I'm the lucky one. Do you even know what a rarity you are to demons like me? You're a ripe peach, ready to sink teeth into. Fuck, your energy is going to be delicious.” You could see the way his pupils were pulsing and dilating as he looked at you, his sharp tongue running over his fangs, looking like he was ready to physically bite into you. You felt very much like prey pinned under a predator with Killer's large body looming over you, looking down at you with eyes nearly entirely black from lust, mere slivers of blue left in them, his tail flicking behind him like that of a cat enjoying playing with a mouse. “I'm going to have such fun with you, my peach”

You squeaked as Killer suddenly grabbed you and threw you on the bed unceremoniously, your body bouncing a little at the impact. You started to instinctively crawl backwards, away from the dangerous predator, but he grabbed your ankles and pulled you back towards him. “Ah, ah, where are you going, my peach? We have a deal. I'm gonna eat you right up,” he gave you a toothy grin before pulling your leg up and sinking his teeth into your plush thigh, right over a garter, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to make you yelp. He hooked the garter with his fangs as he drew back, pulling on it and letting it go to ping against your thigh, making you hiss. “Such a pretty outfit for me too,” he hummed, spreading a hand out over your mound, sharp claws pressing against your soft belly, before he suddenly made a fist, bunching the front of your panties in his hand and pulling hard, “it's too bad I have to ruin it,” he feigned a pout, before adding his other hand to the mix and tearing the panties from your body.

“Killer!” You shouted, trying to squish your legs shut, but he was far stronger than you and easily pried your thighs open, pinning them against your stomach.

“Come now, don't go getting shy on me now,” he purred, getting his first look at your bare pussy, “such a pretty, pink peach too, and so juicy,” he knelt down and flicked out his long, pointed tongue, swiping it over your cunt and collecting your slick on it as you whined, drawing it back into his mouth with a satisfied hum as he savoured the flavour, “so sweet too, I can't wait to devour you. You'll let me, won't you my peach?”

He looked at you expectantly, and you realised that despite his rough and threatening treatment thus far, he was asking for consent before going any further. Perhaps you were lucky it was him and not another, you got the sense that demons did not usually ask consent. You bit your lip and gave him a nod, your pussy aching for more after the one brief touch, and he gave you a toothy grin, his fangs glinting under the low light from your lamp. His face disappeared from your view again, unable to see him past your own legs, but fuck could you feel him. His tongue was sinfully skillful as it played with your clit, rolling and flicking it, running firm stripes over it, dipping down towards your entrance and teasing it with just the tip of his tongue as he gathered the honey that dripped from it. You moaned and writhed at every gesture, clawing at the blankets either side of you wishing you could pull on his hair or, fuck, maybe even his horns. Whether it be because he could read your mind, sense your need, or because he just wanted to look at you with that shit-eating grin, he let his hold on your legs loosen enough that you were able to let your knees fall outwards, revealing his face half covered by your pussy. His head now accessible, you were able to reach down and grab one of his horns, which he must have liked as he groaned against your cunt. Spurred on by your small spike of confidence, he let his tongue drag down to your entrance, looking up at you with those inky eyes and a sharp smile as he sunk his tongue inside you, enjoying the way your face contorted with pleasure as a deep moan fell from your lips.

He thrust his tongue in and out of you, curling its length occasionally to flick against your g-spot as he brought a hand to your mound, pressing against it while his thumb reached down to play with your clit. You pulled hard on his horn as your head lolled back, hips rolling in time with his shallow thrusts as he brought you to your peak, creamy ring forming around his tongue as he worked you through it.

“So sweet, my peach,” he purred as he kissed your thighs, wings stretching out behind him as he crawled up your body. “I ask again though, is there anything you want of me? Before I fuck the coherence out of you”

“Wanna- wanna taste you,” you mumbled, one hand draped over your face, the other still clutching his horn.

“So take it,” he purred. You stared at him through half-lidded eyes, before grabbing his other horn and pulling him down towards you, crashing your lips against his. He let you lead the kiss, flicking his tongue against yours, enjoying the feel of your curious muscle against his. Your hands left his horns to travel down his body, feeling and groping at his arms and pecks, rubbing your thumbs over his nipples and tracing your nails down his abdomen. You wrapped both hands around his thick cock, pumping it sloppily, your inexperienced determination making him smile against your mouth. He reached down and guided your pace, squeezing your hands to adjust your pressure and moving your hands in a way that indicated he preferred the focus on the base, letting your hands go once you got the hang of it. His hands wandered over your body, pinching and pulling at your nipples, one hand moving further to play with your cunt more, making lewd squelches that made you blush as he slipped two fingers inside you and matched his thrusts to the pace you were pumping him with. He swallowed your moans, your pure sexual energy making his whole body tingle delightfully as he consumed it, adding a third finger and working towards stretching you out enough to take his thick member.

You could feel his precum dripping down his shaft in generous streams, running over your fingers as you stroked him, lubricating your motions. You brought a hand to your mouth and he watched as you experimentally licked the precum from it. He brought his own fingers from your cunt to your mouth, and you opened your mouth for him, shivering at his toothy grin as you sucked your own arousal off his digits. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard on them, running your tongue around them and pressing it flat against the underside, and he swore under his breath.

“Such a pretty mouth, my peach, almost as pretty as that pussy,” he purred, “would you like to taste more? I'd love to see how those pretty pink lips look wrapped around my cock”

He pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop and you pushed towards him, his wings spreading behind him as he let you push him flat against the bed to straddle him. You kissed him hard before running your kisses to his jaw, breezing past his goatee to suck and nip at his neck. He whined as you made a particularly harsh bite, the sound making electricity go straight to your cunt, so you did it again. Over and over you bit down, sucking his flesh into your mouth and leaving dark bruises in your wake, running your tongue flat to soothe over them before continuing, leaving a trail of bites and bruises like step stones from his neck to his cock, each whine and groan making your pussy drip more. You enthusiastically took his cock in your hand as you reached it, running your tongue up the underside and collecting the precum beaded at the end, salty and hot on your tongue as you swirled it over the head. He was watching you carefully as you licked him, his head falling flat to the bed as you finally took him in your mouth, a string of curses falling from his mouth as you took as much as you could fit off him and serviced the rest with your two hands tight around his base. His cock stretched your lips to the limits, corners stinging from it, and you gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat, so much of him still outside your mouth. With each dip of your head you worked to take him deeper, gagging less intensely each time as you adjusted to the intrusion, breathing through your nose and relaxing your throat till you were able to take most of him, having to remove your hands from his base and instead groping at his thighs. His tail wrapped around your throat gently, using it to feel the way his cock made your throat bulge, one of his hands grabbing your ponytail and twisting it around his wrist to hold it like a leash.

“Fuck, good girl [y/n],” Killer groaned, “look at you, taking me like a natural, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Do you want my cum, sweet girl? Want me to cum down that tight throat of yours? Or maybe you want it on your face, paint you with my cum so you look like the sweet little monsterfucking slut you are, huh? Would you like that?”

You whined around him, vibrating his cock in your mouth before burying his cock right to the base, your nose against his blonde tuft of public hair as your eyes watered, eyeliner running down your face with it as your lipstick wore off and made a purple ring around his cock. “Ohhhhh fuck [y/n], just like that, just like that, fuck, gonna cum sweet girl, where do you want it baby?”

You pulled off his cock with a pop, making your choice clear. He held your ponytail tight, making you whine as he started furiously fisting himself with his other hand. “Show me your tongue sweetheart,” he groaned, and you lolled your tongue out for him, closing your eyes as you anticipated getting cum near them. Your hands kneaded his thighs as he threw back his head and groaned, ropes of cum splashing against your face and tongue, some of it overshooting and getting in your hair as he coated your face with dripping swathes of cum, making your pussy clench around nothing. Your pretty cupless bra and harness were entirely ruined by this seed, white puddles catching on the pieces as his cum dribbled down your neck and chest.

“Damn, look at you,” Killer purred as he loosened his hold on your hair and let his cock go, using his thumb to push more cum into your mouth, watching you swallow it as you sucked on his thumb and shivered at the dark look in his eyes. “Now you look like a needy little slut who would summon a demon, perfect little peach. C'mere”

He pulled you close and kissed you hard, and you shivered as he started running his long tongue across your skin, cleaning his cum off you, occasionally using his tongue to push more cum into your mouth which the two of you would then swap between your mouths and play with till you needed to swallow, Killer then returning to licking your face and repeating the cycle till his cum was entirely replaced with his saliva. His cock was still hard and you pulled yourself the rest of the way into his lap, grinding your cunt against his dick, making you both moan.

“Needy little slut,” he cooed, “you want my cock, my peach? Take it, it's yours.”

You ached with a desperate need to feel full, so you raised yourself on your knees eagerly, reaching down between your bodies to take him in your hand and align him with your entrance. He watched with pride as you sunk down on him, hand going to his shoulder once he was inside you enough, gripping him hard as he guided you with a hand on each side of your ass. The stretch stung but you were more than determined to get all of him inside you, and you let out a stuttered breath as you found yourself fully seated in his lap, entirely impaled on his thick cock. “Look at you!” He exclaimed proudly, “I didn't think you could do it, you take me so well, so tight and wet around me”

“Killl~” you whined, using his shoulders as anchor points to lift yourself before dropping back down, whining at the pull against your strained pussy. “Too- too big-” you whined.

“Nonsense, look at you, you took all of me first try,” he praised, “look at your lovely tummy bulging, what a pretty sight, my peach”

You looked down between your bodies and sure enough you could see the swelling of your abdomen where his cock was sheathed inside you, making you whine at how full you were. “You're doing so good,” he cooed, lifting you easily by your ass and lowering you again, making you moan, repeating the process over and over, each time lifting you further and faster, until you were bouncing on his cock and screaming his name, holding his horns for support and he brought his hips up at the same time, slamming into you each time he lowered your body. His eyes were rolling from the pungent sexual energy that was emanating from you, making his whole body shudder, the dense concentrated nature of your previously untapped energy making him moan and curse under his breath as he consumed it. There was a burst of energy that made his toes curl as you came hard, squirting on his cock and writhing against him, pulling so hard on his horns he wouldn't be surprised if you accidentally tore them clean off. You went entirely limp as your orgasm faded, still jolting occasionally from aftershocks as he continued at the same brutal pace, drunk on your sexual energy and craving more of it. No human food could ever compare to the pure satisfying flavour of a virgin's untouched energy, not even his favourite spaghetti dish, you were a rare delicacy he was thoroughly enjoying.

Unable to hold yourself up any longer, he let you fall to the bed, pulling out of you only for a moment to flip you to your front, pushing your thighs together and straddling them as he resheathed himself. He fucked you like a stag in rut, grunting with every hard thrust, wings flapping excitedly above you and tail shaking like a lion about to spray to mark his territory. He wanted to mark you, make you his possession, against his better thinking and his contract as your servant. Your energy was just so intoxicating that it was making him blind with lust, and he couldn't help but lean down and sink his teeth into your shoulder, holding you tight in his jaw as he felt your pussy clench around him again. You saw white and were sure you passed out for a moment from how hard you came, sparkles in your vision as everything went tight then slack, that last wave of energy and your pussy tight around his cock being all he needed to throw him over the edge. He groaned against your shoulder, biting down harder and drawing blood, his wings stretching out and shaking, tail going limp, cock throbbing as he unloaded inside you, his heavy load dripping from your overstuffed cunt as he stilled inside you.

His jaw finally released you, swiping his tongue over the tender mark in apology as he panted hard against your back, his wings falling slack and draping either side of you like curtains. In your haze you reached out and touched one, making him shiver as you ran soft fingers over the delicate membrane. “Don't pull out yet, please…” you whispered shyly. He kissed the centre of your back and wrapped his arms around you, rolling you to your side with him and draping his wing over both of you like a blanket. His tail wrapped around your thigh as pressed his legs against yours, his head coming to rest on the pillow behind you, his soft breath tickling the baby hairs on the small of your neck.

“Whatever you want, my peach,” he cooed, “I'm yours till sunrise”

“And… after sunrise?” You asked hesitantly.

“Enjoyed yourself, did we?” He chuffed, “promise me you won't summon anymore demons and I'll let you have me on your whim, when Kid doesn't want me. Perhaps you can have both of us, if it pleases you. But this has to be our secret, okay my peach? The demon stuff, not the fucking. The World Government does not take kindly to demons, hence why I don't reveal myself in battle, even if it would give me a significant advantage. Fairly sure the whole ship knows we fucked at this point though, given how loud you were, I wouldn't be surprised if you even woke Kid, screaming like a coyote in heat”

“Killlerrr,” you whined with a pout. He smacked your face playfully with his wing and you huffed indignantly.

“What, you summon a demon to fuck you and expect to stay dead silent the whole night?” He laughed, “sweetheart I've got a thousand years of experience making people cum, and I'm young for a demon. The sounds you made were absolutely delicious, music to my ears, you're lucky I'm even letting you rest right now. A sweet ripe peach like you, any other demon would still be fucking you, even if you passed out they wouldn't stop till sunrise. Don't think you're off the hook yet just because I allowed you some cuddles, I can't wait to get more of your delectable energy.” He punctuated his sentence with a quick thrust of his cock still inside you, making you squeal. You didn't understand how he could possibly still be hard but you could only assume it was a demon thing. “Are you well though, my peach? Didn't hurt you too much?”

“Mmm… just my shoulder,” you touched where he'd biten and winced, and he apologetically kissed the spot tenderly, “otherwise I feel good. Feels nice, havin’ you inside me”

“Ah, I got a little carried away with that bite,” he ran his tongue over it and you could feel the pain fade as it magically began to close, “my apologies, master. Perhaps I can make it up to you.”

His hips began rocking again, a devious grin on his face, making you moan unabashedly as he set off a new wave of merciless fucking, and you had a feeling it was going to be a long night.