#and oh god it was so fucking hard to read

[vaginalvr]

Okay okay so that vocal!reader request but one day reader decides to be a brat and just keeps quiet just to mess with him and Spencer narrows his eyes like "don't hide those noises from me" and reader is just clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head no like >:) nuh-uh >:) so Spencer's like "alright" and just does everything he can to get you to stop with the silent treatment - he eats you out with more intensity, he fingers you with more precision, he fucks you harder etc.

You can't tell me that the scientist in him loves the whole experimentation of sex - the whole cause and effect of it. Like your sounds alone can get him off, they're the empirical evidence of the effect (your pleasure) he causes.

a/n oh well good morning to you too. Enjoy!!

REQUESTS OPEN!

cw: Dom!Spencer, orgasm control, edging, restraint, overstimulation, smut-heavy, light bondage, bet, teasing, dirty talk, loss of control, smug Spencer.

It started with a stupid bet.

The kind that bloomed from too much comfort, too much time together, and the subtle kind of competition that always simmered beneath your banter with Spencer. It was playful—until it wasn’t.

You were curled up together on his couch, legs tangled, fingers idly brushing through his curls as he monologued about some new psychology journal. His words blurred, your attention more focused on the smirk he got whenever he thought he knew something you didn’t.

“…and most people make involuntary vocalizations during sex. Even trained meditators—”

“Spencer,” you interrupted with a small smirk, “you’re saying it’s impossible to stay silent during an orgasm?”

“Physiologically unlikely,” he corrected, smug.

You tilted your head. “So if I did, you’d be… impressed?”

He leaned in, eyes glinting. “I’d be shocked. Intrigued. And a little… challenged.”

You grinned, biting your lower lip. “Let’s make it interesting.”

His eyebrows rose.

“I bet I can stay completely silent—no moaning, no sounds, no words—while you try to make me come.”

He blinked once. “And what do I get when you fail?”

You grinned wider. “Whatever you want.”

His eyes darkened. “And when you lose, you’ll beg.”

You didn’t flinch. “Deal.”

You regretted it the moment he tied your wrists.

The soft silk of his tie wrapped snug around your wrists, tethered to the headboard. Not tight, but firm enough to send a jolt of submission through you. Spencer hadn’t stopped smiling since you issued the challenge.

“You know,” he said as he trailed his fingertips down your bare thighs, “I read somewhere that deprivation enhances arousal. Silence, restraints, denial—heightens the sensory experience.”

You arched a brow. “Quoting studies isn’t going to make me moan.”

“I’m just warming up.” He slid his hands up, thumbs grazing the crease where your thighs met your hips. “We’ll see how quiet you are when you’re begging me to let you come.”

You met his gaze head-on, eyes daring. Bring it.

He started with his mouth.

Not touching you where you wanted—God, never there. Just feather-light kisses along your ribcage, your hipbones, the inside of your thighs. You squirmed, frustrated, but stayed silent. Not even a sigh.

His smirk only grew.

“You’re holding out. Cute.” His breath brushed your inner thigh. “But I haven’t even started yet.”

And then his tongue met your clit.

You bit your lip hard, eyes fluttering. Spencer was slow. Purposeful. He alternated between flicking his tongue and sucking gently, using his fingers to spread you open. Every movement was measured, calculated.

You didn’t make a sound.

He looked up, lips glistening. “Still nothing? I’ll admit—I’m impressed.”

But he didn’t stop.

He edged you twice with just his mouth. Every time you got close, every time your hips twitched and your body tensed, he pulled back with maddening precision.

By the time he sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, you were panting. Silently, but visibly shaking with need.

“You’re wet enough to soak the sheets,” he murmured, trailing a finger through your slick folds. “But still quiet. Hm.”

His cock strained against his pants.

You lifted your chin defiantly.

He brought out the vibrator next.

You should’ve known he wouldn’t rely on just himself. Spencer never walked into anything without research. You were surprised he hadn’t drawn up a goddamn chart.

The toy was small and pink—deceptively innocent.

“Let’s try this,” he murmured, clicking it on.

When it touched your clit, you twitched.

He kept the setting low at first, watching your face, eyes devouring every twitch and tremble.

“Still not enough, huh?” he murmured, turning the intensity up one notch.

Then another.

Your thighs shook. You pulled at the restraints.

Still silent.

Spencer’s jaw clenched. “You are so fucking stubborn.”

He pressed the toy harder, leaned down, and slid two fingers inside you, curling them just so—

You arched. Your lips parted—

But no sound.

He growled, low and possessive, leaning down to kiss you. “I want to wreck you. You know that, right?”

You blinked at him innocently.

He finally undressed, letting you watch as he peeled off his shirt, revealing the lean, toned body you loved so much. His cock was flushed, thick, already leaking.

He crawled over you, eyes wild now.

“No more toys. No more teasing,” he whispered. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stay silent.”

He slid in with one deep, slow thrust.

Your breath caught. Your nails dug into the sheets. But still—no sound.

Spencer braced one hand beside your head, the other gripping your thigh as he began to thrust, slow at first, then harder. Deeper.

He cursed under his breath. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You clenched around him in response.

He leaned down, mouth at your ear. “I know you want to scream. I can feel it.”

You shook your head, smirking.

Challenge accepted.

He fucked you hard. Every thrust dragged a sharp gasp from your lungs that you barely managed to stifle. His hips slapped against yours, cock hitting deep, angles that had your legs trembling.

Still no moan.

He flipped you over.

“On your knees. Now.”

With your wrists still tied, you were at his mercy. He pulled your hips up and slammed back inside, one hand gripping your hair, the other pressing between your shoulders.

This time, he didn’t hold back.

“Fucking moan for me.”

You stayed quiet.

“You’re soaked. You’re dripping down my thighs, and you’re going to pretend you’re not losing your mind?”

Still nothing.

He reached around and rubbed your clit, fast, ruthless.

You bucked against him, mouth open in a silent scream, your body spasming.

Still.

Silent.

He froze. “You just came.”

You nodded smugly.

He groaned, collapsing over you for a moment. “Jesus Christ, you’re killing me.”

He pulled out suddenly.

Before you could process it, he flipped you again, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

“I want to see your face when you break.”

You met his gaze. Sweat clung to his chest. His pupils were blown wide.

He lined up again. “One more orgasm. You moan—I win.”

You lifted your chin. “Do your worst.”

That was a mistake.

He pushed in deep and stayed there, grinding against your g-spot.

He fucked you with furious intent, no rhythm, no restraint. His hands were everywhere—your breasts, your throat, your hips—guiding you, controlling you. The silk tie bit into your wrists.

He leaned close. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”

You whimpered—silently.

He growled.

Then he grabbed the vibrator again.

“Let’s really see how long you last.”

You were already sensitive. But with the toy on your clit and Spencer pounding into you mercilessly, your resolve cracked.

The orgasm hit you like lightning. Your body snapped taut.

A cry almost escaped.

You clenched your teeth.

Then—Spencer leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re mine, and you’re going to fucking scream my name.”

And that was it.

You screamed.

“Spencer!”

The moment you did, he pulled you down onto his cock, burying himself deep, and spilled inside you with a loud, guttural moan.

You trembled, shattered.

Your body collapsed into the sheets, boneless, your voice hoarse.

He untied your wrists slowly, kissing the red marks, brushing your sweaty hair from your face.

“You lost,” he whispered, triumphant.

You smiled weakly. “Was it… obvious?”

He chuckled, cupping your face. “You screamed like I murdered you.”

You both burst into laughter.

He brought you water. Cleaned you up with a warm cloth. Kissed every part of you like an apology.

As he settled beside you, pulling you into his arms, you rested your head on his chest.

“So,” you murmured, “what do you want now that you won?”

He kissed your temple. “Another round.”

You groaned.

“Starting now.”

[snail-day]

Respectfully, let me put a bun in that oven

Gojo x Reader

WC: 2.5k

TW: Pathetically in love Gojo, brief smut, no protection, MDNI

a/n: Based on the other "okay satoru" drabbles. I swear I will update my masterlists...soon...hopefully. <3

Okay. Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this.

It’s just a little card. Some flowers. Your wife's favorite drink. A cake. For no reason. Well, for a reason. A big reason. A terrifying, life-altering, universe-breaking reason.

Satoru stands at the edge of the bed with the tray in his hands and his heart somewhere lodged around his throat. The card’s bent at the corner from all the fidgeting when he was stuck in the aisle for a near hour reading them all. The frosting is smudged from nearly tripping when thinking about his words. He thinks the flowers might be a little wilted, even though he picked them up this morning.

His hands shake. He’s sweating. Oh god, he's sweating. He is, respectfully, freaking the fuck out.

You stir under the plush, warm blankets, lashes fluttering, your body warm and soft in the early light. You blink up at him, bleary and confused, and then smile.

God, that smile.

That soft, sleepy, loves-him-anyway smile that makes his knees wobble.

“What’s all this?” you rasp, voice thick and sweet from sleep.

Satoru nearly forgets how to function. Stares at you for a beat too long before he clears his throat, shifting his grip on the tray when it begins to shake. Moves to sit at the edge of the bed beside you.

“I was just thinking,” he starts, trying for casual. Failing spectacularly. “Like. Maybe. If you wanted… we could…”

His throat goes dry. He looks so stupid right now - bedhead-wrecked white hair, wearing one of the tourist-turned-sleep-shirt that says “Snuggle Bug” with two cartoon frogs cuddling on it, and eyes so wide and blue it’s like the whole sky’s been poured into them. His lashes flutter when he blinks. Trying to look anywhere but you. Why is confrontation so hard?

What if this is dumb? What if you’re not ready? What if he’s not ready?

Except… he kind of is. Has been.

That one extra room in the house, the one neither of you touches. Not a guest room. Not storage. Just… empty. Waiting.

And the way you always squeeze his arm a little tighter when you see a baby in a carrier. The way you murmur, “I wonder when that’ll be us,” like you’re dreaming it quietly to yourself but loud enough for him to catch it. Loud enough for him to start wanting it too.

So when his words start to spiral, when his mouth goes too fast and his thoughts can’t keep up, you stop him.

With a kiss.

Soft and warm. Gentle. You kiss him like you already know what he’s trying to say. And he melts.

The tray gets abandoned somewhere on the bed. A mess for later. His long arms wrap around you in a heartbeat, pulling you into his chest to capture you closer.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his jaw, voice soft and sure.

He nods. Tries to swallow the knot in his throat. Presses his forehead to yours, those messy strands of white hair falling down over his lashes as he whispers -

“I’d really love for you to be the mother of my kids,” his voice breaks just slightly. “If you’re willing.”

Please be willing.

You nod. Small. Sweet. Almost shy.

“Yes?” You respond, cautiously.

His whole face scrunches, lip wobbling slightly as he asks again, just to be sure. Like maybe he hallucinated it. Like maybe his brain just wants it that badly.

“Yes, Satoru.” You say again with a smile blooming on your face as his dazzling blue eyes widen once more.

Oh.

Oh no.

That’s it. That’s the end of him.

His grin bursts onto his face like sunlight cracking through the morning curtains, blinding and boyish and a little watery around the edges. He laughs, half-breathless, half-disbelieving, as he pulls you in.

You squeal a little, giggling into his neck, and he just keeps kissing you. Your cheeks. Your forehead. Your nose. Every little part of you he can reach, it’s precious.

“Okay. Okay,” he pants between kisses, voice breathy and light. “We’re gonna be so good at this. I’ll read the books. I’ll learn how to swaddle. I’ll install those stupid baby locks on the cabinets even though I’ll hate them. I’ll be so annoying, baby - I’ll cry at the ultrasound. I’m gonna cry at everything.”

You laugh again, fingers threading into his fluffy white hair, and he genuinely considers proposing again right then and there.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, his voice pitching higher. “Do you wanna start now? Or later? I mean, no pressure, we can just nap. Totally just nap. But if you wanna start now, like. I am very good at practicing. Extremely good. Ask anyone, wait no don’t ask anyone, but - ”

You cut him off with another kiss.

This one’s deeper. Wetter. Your mouth warm against his and a little smug, and all he can do is moan softly into it and melt.

He is so. Screwed.

As he curls around you under the blankets - your laugh still dancing in his ears, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your hip - Satoru falls in love with you all over again.

And all he can think is, I get to do this. With you. Forever.

You kiss him again. Moving to straddle on top of him.

Slower this time. A little deeper. One hand tangled in his soft, snowy hair, the other sliding down under his silly shirt to touch his bare chest, tracing the lean lines and dips, places you already know by heart. He groans against your mouth, and when he opens his eyes, those impossibly bright baby blues are already glazed with something warm and adoring.

“Wait,” he breathes, breath tickling your lips as he leans back just enough to look at you. “You’re not just saying yes so you can jump me, right?”

You blink up at him, thighs spread over the sharp V of his hips. Your fingertips rest just over the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “I mean,” you murmur, voice all teasing honey, “why can’t it be both?”

His whole face flushes. Pale skin blooming pink from his ears to his throat. His hands, big and warm, squeeze your hips like instinct, thumbs stroking the soft curve. Comforting.

“God,” he mumbles, a laugh caught in the back of his throat as you shift your hips and roll against the thick shape of him through his boxers. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You tug his shirt over his head, and the moment it’s off, he’s on you. Kissing you hungrily - wet and warm and open-mouthed as he lays you back into the mattress. His fingers skate beneath your shirt, lifting the fabric so he can mouth at your chest, dragging kisses across your skin like each one could spell out his devotion.

He doesn’t even let you undress yourself, won’t let you lift a finger. He needs to do it. Needs to watch every inch of skin reveal itself under his trembling hands like it’s the first time all over again. Your clothes are peeled away with care, your panties tossed somewhere behind him without a second thought. His fingers slip between your thighs, finding that sensitive little nub with a practiced, aching touch.

“Don’t hide from me,” he breathes, voice thick, forehead pressed to yours. “I love you. I love you so much. Let me see all of you.”

And when he finally pushes inside, slow and deep, thick cock stretching you open with a low moan whispered into your neck, he doesn’t move. Not right away. Just breathes. Just holds you.

“Feels too good,” he murmurs, voice trembling. “I - fuck, I love you so much.”

His body rocks against yours slowly, each thrust deeper than the last, his pelvis brushing yours just right as he holds you close. One hand cradles the back of your neck. The other… slides low.

Calloused fingertips splay across your lower belly, right where the bulge of him presses with each thrust.

“You’re gonna look so pretty all round and soft,” he whispers, kissing the shell of your ear. “Gonna look so fuckin’ good with my baby in you.”

Your breath stutters. His hand stays there, palm pressed flat to your stomach as he moves inside you, like he’s trying to imagine it, already seeing the future blooming beneath his touch.

“Gonna take care of you,” he murmurs between kisses to your jaw, your cheeks, the wet corners of your eyes. “You won’t have to lift a finger. I’ll do it all, baby. Just let me give this to you.”

You moan his name and he loses rhythm. hips stuttering, face buried in your shoulder as he whispers it again and again:

Please let it take. Please. Please.

Even after he cums, deep, slow, and unbearably warm, staying inside as if he can will the pregnancy into existence, he doesn’t stop touching your belly. Doesn’t stop kissing your cheeks. Doesn’t stop whispering promises into your skin.

You and me and a baby. Just us. Just ours. Please.

You can feel him still trembling, his arms wound around you like a vise, cheek smushed against your chest, the damp tips of his snowy hair sticking to your collarbones. Breath still shaky, puffing out against your skin as he presses another kiss just under your jaw, then one to your shoulder, then back to your collarbone. Like he can’t pick a favorite part of you. Like he needs to worship every inch of where he just poured himself.

You shift a little beneath him, sticky, flushed, a touch overheated, and he immediately lets out a soft, panicked sound.

“Nooo, wait,” he whines, arms tightening around your waist as his head lifts just enough for you to see the ridiculous, sleepy pout pulling at his pretty mouth. His lashes are fluttery and wet. His cheeks are pink. His eyes - still ocean-deep and dazed - search your face like you’ve just threatened to leave him forever.

“Satoru,” you breathe, voice fond and exasperated all at once. “I’m hot.”

“You’re always hot,” he mumbles into your throat, dead serious.

You try to wriggle again, and he just grabs your hand, gently, but fast, like you were about to disappear into the ether, and laces his fingers with yours, clutching it to his chest.

His heart is racing.

“Just a little longer,” he pleads, voice raw and boyish and thick with love. “Ten minutes. Five. Two. I just wanna stay like this…”

You sigh, but your hand squeezes his.

He beams. Full-blown sunshine. His legs tangle tighter with yours beneath the blanket as he shifts to kiss your wrist, then your knuckles, and then your shoulder again. He’s still inside you, still warm and soft, buried as deep as your heartbeat.

His voice is quieter now, breathless and thick with something aching.

“You’d be so beautiful pregnant,” he murmurs against your skin. “You already are. But like. More. Like glowing. Full. Happy. I’d kiss your belly every morning. Rub your feet. Tie your shoes for you. You wouldn’t have to do anything. Just sit there and look pretty and let me take care of you.”

You blink up at the ceiling, trying not to cry from how gently pathetic he sounds.

“I’ll wake up with you every night,” he continues softly. “Even if I’m on a mission, I’ll come back and rock the baby. I’ll be the one who changes the diapers. You can sleep in. I’ll do it all. Just - just let me have this, baby.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s already snuggling impossibly closer, wrapping his arms tighter around you and nosing at your jaw like a needy cat. The hold is warm. A little sweaty. Definitely clingy. But it’s Satoru. Your Satoru. So in love he can’t see straight. So scared you’ll vanish if he lets go. So sure that this is it. This is home.

He murmurs again, so quiet you almost miss it.

“Happy Mother's Day.”

[spookysanta]

Overflow. (A.P.)

Summary: So apparently... she's a squirter. Who knew.

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x reader

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT, porn without plot basically. Squirting, overstimulation, get into it. read at your own risk.

hell yeaaaaaah who's ready to get fucked up on a sunday?

from the drafts

MINORS DNI

It started with a promise.

“I want to see you fall apart,” he whispered, voice low and rough against her ear. “No holding back tonight. You hear me?”

She giggled, tried to be coy, lips brushing his jaw. “That so?”

He pulled back to look her in the eye. Steady. Dark. Unshakable.

“You trust me, baby?”

She nodded, already breathless. “Always.”

That was all he needed.

He laid her back like he was offering her to the heavens. His hands were firm but tender, calloused fingers trailing the edges of her skin as if to memorize the curves by touch alone. He kissed her slowly, deeply, with a hunger that simmered beneath control. Her breath hitched every time his lips dragged across new skin—her collarbone, her sternum, the rise of her ribs, the softness of her belly.

But when he knelt between her thighs, everything changed.

The reverence vanished. Replaced by something feral.

His tongue met her with purpose. He licked a slow line up her center, groaning as he tasted her. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and he smiled against her like he’d won something. At first, he was gentle. Teasing. Letting her feel every flick, every swirl. She gasped, fists curling in the sheets.

Then came his fingers. He slid two inside her without warning. Thick. Deep. Intentional.

She cried out. Her back arched.

His pace was slow, agonizing. And then he curled them. Right there. Against that spot that made her toes curl.

Her eyes flew open. “Aaron—”

He glanced up at her, voice calm. “Shh. Just feel it.” Then his mouth sealed around her clit. Wet. Hot. Devastating.

She jerked. Tried to shift away. Her thighs trembled.

He didn’t let her move an inch. One arm locked around her thigh, anchoring her to the mattress. The other kept working her from the inside, dragging against her sweetest spot over and over until her legs started to quake.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured into her, words vibrating against her. “That mean you’re close, sweetheart?”

She nodded, frantically, too far gone to speak.

“Use your words.”

“Yes. I—I’m close. Please.”

He moaned low, tongue flicking faster. Fingers curling harder. He could feel her start to clench. Her thighs squeezing. Her belly twitching. “Good.”

Then he sped up.

No mercy. No pauses. No room to breathe.

She sobbed his name. “I can’t. Aaron—I feel it in my stomach. Oh my god—I feel it so deep—”

“That’s what I want,” he said, voice gravel now. “Let it out. Don’t fight it.”

She tried. She really did. But her body was already unraveling. Her muscles locked. Her thighs tensed. Her vision blurred.

“Let it go, baby.”

She screamed. Her body jerked. Legs kicked. Her core clenched so tight it felt like something snapped inside her — and then it just.. gushed out of her.

Hard.

It rushed out in waves, soaking his mouth, her thighs, the sheets. Her breath stuttered. Her cries cracked.

And Aaron didn’t stop. His fingers kept moving, his tongue insistent. Her body convulsed again, another gush pouring out of her with a ragged moan.

She reached for his head, tried to push him away.

He grabbed her wrists. “No, baby. You can take it. You’re doing so good.” He pinned her hands to the bed, stared up at her with wild eyes and a soaked chin.

“You’re gonna give me everything. All of it.”

Another gush. Another scream. 

She broke. Shaking. Crying. Her voice barely a whisper. “Aaron—Aaron, please—”

Only then did he slow. Gently removed his fingers. Pressed soft kisses to the inside of her thighs while she trembled beneath him.

His face was drenched. Beard dripping.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned in to kiss her belly. Her hip. Her thigh again.

Then he crawled up her body, cupped her cheek, and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “You’re incredible,” he whispered. “You don’t even know what you just did.”

Her eyes were glassy. Lips parted. She couldn’t speak.

“You’re gonna do that for me again.”

Not a question.

A command.

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[delilahsturniolo]

— ♡ shut up . . . c.s

in which . . . chris just can’t stay quiet

warnings . . . sub!chris, handjob, blowjob, dirty talk, use of pet names, multiple orgasms, kissing.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

POSITIONS WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #1

you're in chris's bedroom, the two of you sitting on his bed together. you can hear his brothers moving around downstairs, and you know you need to be quiet. chris looks at you with lust-filled eyes, his hand slowly rubbing over the bulge in his pants. "i need you," he whispers, his voice low and rough. "please, baby. i'm so fucking hard for you."

you grin, sliding off the bed and onto your knees in front of him. you look up at him through your lashes as you reach for his zipper, slowly pulling it down. "shh," you murmur, your fingers brushing against his hardening cock through his boxers. "we have to be quiet. your brothers are right downstairs."

chris nods, biting his lip as you tug his boxers down, freeing his thick, hard shaft. "fuck," he gasps, his hips bucking slightly as the cool air hits his sensitive skin. you wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. chris lets out a low moan, his head falling back against the headboard. you squeeze tighter, pumping faster as you watch his face contort with pleasure.

"shhh," you remind him, leaning in to press a finger to his lips. "you have to be quiet, remember?" chris nods again, his eyes locked on yours as you continue to jerk him off. you can feel him twitching in your hand, his cock growing even harder as you stroke faster. "come on, baby," you whisper, my thumb rubbing over the sensitive head. "cum f’me. i want to feel you cum all over my hand."

chris's breath catches in his throat, his hips thrusting up to meet your strokes. you can tell he's getting close, his cock throbbing in your grip.

"fuck, mama…" he gasps, his voice strained with the effort of staying quiet. "i'm gonna cum—oh god, i'm gonna cum so hard..you lean in closer, pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss. you swallow his moans as you stroke faster, your hand a blur on his slick shaft. with a muffled cry into your mouth, chris cums hard, his cock pulsing as he spills over your fingers. you milk him for every last drop, stroking him through his intense orgasm.

finally, he slumps back against the bed, panting heavily as he comes down from his high. you grin up at him, bringing your sticky hand to your mouth and licking his cum from your fingers. "mmm," you murmur, savoring his taste. "you taste so good, baby."

chris reaches for you, pulling you up onto his lap and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. you can taste yourself on his tongue as he explores your mouth, his hands roaming over your curves possessively. chris groans asalready feeling himself hardening again at your touch. "fuck, baby," he growls. "you're going to be the death of me, y’know that?”

you laugh softly, pressing another kiss to his lips. "well then," you murmur against his mouth. "i guess we should keep goin’ then, right?” chris chuckles, his hands squeezing your ass. "oh, for sure.” he says, his voice filled with lust and promise. you smile wickedly, sliding off his lap and onto the floor between his legs. "then let’s not waste any time, yeah?” you purr, running your hands up his thighs.

chris's breath hitches as you take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock. "fuck," he gasps, his hand coming down to tangle in your hair. "your mouth feels so good, baby." you take him deeper, bobbing your head up and down as you suck him hard and fast. chris's hips thrust up to meet your mouth, his cock growing harder with each stroke of your tongue.

"oh god," he pants, his head falling back against the wall. "i'm not gonna last long if you keep that up." you pull off of him with a pop, grinning up at him wickedly. "that's the idea," you murmur, giving the tip of his cock a lick. “be quiet, baby..”

chris groans, his hips thrusting forward desperately. "please," he begs, his voice strained with need. "please make me cum.." you take him into your mouth again, sucking harder and faster as you stroke him with your hand. chris's grip on your hair tightens, his breathing growing heavier as he nears the edge. chris attempts to stifle his moans with his sleeve.

with a strangled moan, he cums hard, his cock pulsing as he shoots his load down your throat. you swallow every drop. you pull off of him with a satisfied sigh, licking your lips clean of his essence. "mmm," you purr, crawling back up onto the bed beside him. "you taste even better the second time around."

chris pulls you into his arms, crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. "you're incredible," he murmurs against your mouth. "i don't know what i did to deserve you." you smile, nuzzling into his neck. "you just exist," you whisper, pressing a kiss to his skin. "that's enough for me."

chris holds you close, his hands roaming over your curves as he lost himself in your touch. "i love you," he murmurs, his voice soft with emotion. "more than anything in this world." you tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes shining with love and desire. "i love you too," you whisper, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss.

chris grins, his hands sliding down to grab your ass possessively. "oh, baby," he growls. "i'm gonna make y’feel so good..” you shiver with anticipation, already aching for his touch. "promises, promises," you tease, reaching for him once more.

it seems like the both of you aren’t able to shut up.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: hey so this is literal ass but ermmm i promise tomorrow will be better 🙏

[elsroseytoy]

♡૮꒰⸝⸝ ⑅ ◞◟⸝⸝꒱ა make me juno 🎀🧁🤍

♡ pairing: blue!collar abby and housewife!reader

♡ synopsis: you and abby have been married for two years now, and you love your little domestic life in your cute house sitting on the countryside, waking up snuggled in your wife's huge arms, getting to bake her pretty scones in your frilly apron to spoil her with when she get's home, but lately something important been's gnawing at your senses and fogging your thoughts ….

♡ cw: housewife reader is very feminine, baby fevered reader, basically just these twos backstory to start them of right <3

an: wanted to make this one part but decided to release this to introduce these two sweethearts and there dynamic — smut in part two!!! if you enjoy this please lmk in my asks id love to know 🎀

You always imagined being a mom as a little girl, like many little girls - whether it was tucking your babydoll into bed or baby sitting the little baby next door, it came real naturally to you. And you liked knowing one day you'd be prepared. never leave a baby alone in a car. they can't sleep belly down. All the important basics. But you never pushed it onto yourself, not when deciding if there was a thing as too much blush (there defiantly isn't, right?) was hard enough in those days - just trying to survive as a girl was hard in itself! It was just a nice fantasy to cradle in the back of the head as you ventured through your party girl 20s. That is until the most attractive, buffest, hottest women strolled into your life. Well technically, you strolled into hers but who's counting! It was Abby for god's sake, your now wife, you liked to think it was destiny really.

The memory still replayed in your head.

It was one of those nights you see in movies - a group of sparkly, done-up girls sitting at the pub more to laugh and giggle then actually enjoy the fruity drinks they kept ordering more of, and you, fixing your gloss as your girlfriends chatted away. You got bits of pieces of the buzz "Oh my god guys what episode is everyone on in gossip girl's?" and "He went down on you right? he didn't, oh girl fuck no. He's always been a little boy what did I say-" Playing with your straw, Sure, you were listening, of course you were, it was just hard to even be heard above all the chatter, opening and closing your lips repeatably. You sighed and gave up, resorting to reading the array of cheesy bar quotes and license plates varying from all around the country. Your priscilla-lashed eyes scanned the dim room. An older, wallowing man sat at the bar, hunched over himself you almost felt bad for him but a group of sneering collage boys had you more disgusted than anything. Frowning to yourself you turned away, going back to fiddling with your pink-orangey drink and that's when your eyes landed on her - And you think the butterflies in your stomach hatched right then and there.

Oh. my. god.

She sat at the bar in front of you, a dirty blond braid reaching her lower back. you couldn't place what made her so- so hypnotizing. Maybe it was the way she leaned over with one arm thrown over the chair and the other nursing a dark drink of some sorts, like she was so nonchalant, so okay about looking like that. You'd been with buff women before - but they were all so overly arrogant, like they'd rather get off by looking at themselves in the mirror while you writhed cluelessly on top of them. Just real assholes. Of course she was probably proud of her physique, she had to be, but the way she held herself made your panties glossy to the touch, squeezing your thighs together coyly... God, you weren't even ovulating! you felt like a giddy fool blinking your sticky lashes at her, she was facing away from you, she couldn't see you, but you wish she could, even just for a second-

"wow, heyy, earth to you" Jumping you squeaked and tried to pull your thoughts together "uh- sorry! What were you saying-"

"girl" Everyone was looking at you. Please say they didn't see.

"M just tired-" It was really no use.

"If dream boat over there is making your tired we need to check your eyesight"

They definitely saw and suddenly it was girl world rampage. "Girl you need to go talk to her oh em gee!" "Babe she's hotttt-" "C'mon we all saw the way you were looking at her!" Please, nooo! But before you could yelp your protests your chair was pulled out from under you, somehow being pushed into scurry mode - even the frowny face you shot back at them did little to nothing "go!"

"M' going!" You pulled at your short skirt, played with the shiny highlighter layered on the edges of your eyes, fixed your heart necklace, anything to hide the fluttering of your heart. Were you really doing this?! yep, you really defiantly were, you felt like a school girl and maybe it was the alcohol but there you were, tapping shyly on her shoulder. Maybe you should just run, text your friends once you're a few mere miles away- "Oh hey, i know you?" This was happening, I want you to, is what you wanted to say - but your breath was knocked out of you and replaced by some other girl. Ms. panic mode. "Uh no- I don't think so, I just- well, your drink looked really good, I-um was wondering what you got-" She liked how your lips quivered between a smile, damn, you were cute, she thought - your eyes darting between her, smirking, and your group of not-so-coy eavesdropping friends. You on the other hand wanted to die right then and there. She couldn't help herself. "Fuck, y'know your right" Your brows furrowed together cutely, confused "About um- what?" Poking her cheek with her tongue she answered "I mean you're too pretty not to remember" With that your brain went into overdrive!

"Can I give you my number" You blurted out, it just came out, so fast the moment it left your mouth you wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself in it and then suddenly she looked at you like that- "Been waiting for you to ask" Your lifted you brows just the slightest "Fuck no I mean- that sounded arrogant I just meant I was gonna ask for your's it was bound to happen y'know" Now she was the one rambling on, she lifts her hands guiltily and you can't help but giggle - the sweetest sound she ever did hear. "Here's my phone you can just, well yeah" Your face heats up as your fingers graze hers just the tiniest bit. how did it feel so natural?

"Hello kitty?" Her eyes quip up at you. "Don't be like that!" You giggle again and yep, she's shaking her head and smiling to herself. She thinks she's done that more in those two minutes than ever before "Okay, okay- sorry. But you sure you don't still want my drink order pretty girl?" She cleared her throat because it sounded a lot better in her head - luckily you didn't catch on, not even to your girlfriends practically cheering from across the room "Mhm, maybe" She pulled out your stool and of course you sat your grinning bottom down on it, especially as she added "Let me make up the hello kitty comment yeah?"

Three years later and that was dreamy history. Stored away in your late night cuddle chats and sunny dinner convos. Though your emotions weren't too awfully different from that sparkly party girl a lifetime ago. Just like that evening in the pub, your life could take a turn because today was the day.

Pacing in the kitchen, the day you would finally ask her.

For Abby though this was any other normal workday. nothing out of the ordinary as she wiped the sweat from her forehead, thanks to the merciless sun she cursed under her breath. She loved the work, loved having things to haul - but the heat could fuck itself off. Okay, yeah, she was being dramatic, especially because she lounged in the air conditioned workroom. She threw her feet over a rugged coffee table tugging off her work books, the sun was starting to set of course she was just being dramatic about the days heat. Who could blame her, she liked complaining knowing she got to come home to your sweet kisses and pretty face. Fuck though every work day was the same, she wouldn't want it any other way. Not when you were the thing she did all this for - she needed to feel useful, especially when you gave her the love you did without a cost. This happiness that held no strings (she loved when you rolled your doe eyes every time she said such bullshit, of course you loved her with no end!)

"See ya' Anderson, say hi to the Ms. for me will ya?" He was a big fella, looked like he could kill you with a glance but he wasn't all the different from her - just trying to provide for his family, went through the day imagining the moment he got to see his wife at the end of the day. She liked him. An appreciative nod from her end and just like him, Ab's won't have to imagine much longer.

Home. God, she loved walking through the door. It never got old. Your two's little house sitting on a nice countryside, other families spread her and there - but this was your boths. Everything down to the pink roses you planted out front, to the big, drappy willow trees that were essentially the first thing that made you two fall in love with it. A warm, cinnamony scent wafted through the small space. Two dirty boot's thrown over the shoe rack you insisted on getting 'It's no different than the dirty rug you've been using...' 'she has a name baby- im just kidding! okay fine yeah you win!' She smiled every time she saw it - but right now something else distracted her. You. "Hey, sweetheart"

"Abs!"

Her heart did a little flip as you flipped around, with the prettiest smile she'd ever see - there was not an ounce of competition when it came to you. Nothing compared to seeing you in that creamy pink polka dot apron you loved so much, she loved so much. Her being the thing you scurried over to every day, socks sliding on the 50s style kitchen tile and throwing your arms around her. Fuck, yep nothing compared. Except maybe getting to melt into you, let the tension of the day fall off her shoulders as she breathed you in. Strawberries and something more, something she could never name. No name was good enough to place it, all she knew was it was something she wanted to hold forever. Protect with all she had. "Missed you so much ab's" you held her tighter than usual, like she would disappear into thin air if you didn't. She actually probably would. "I know baby, I know, missed you too." Tilting your chin up to rub your cheek with her thumb, she wanted to kiss away the crinkling of your brows, just the slightest tiniest crease had alarms going off in her head "damn this lipgloss. always getting in the way of me and my wife" She tried, of course you smiled, giggled a bit "It's real good for your lips Abby" had her smiling real big, but there was an shy glaze to your posture. Playing with your fingers something you only did so rarely. What was up with her girl? Nothing could help but try. She knew you.

"Everything all good? You seem anxious mama" Mama. Your already fluttery heart jumped in your chest, flew right into outer space - nothing was rare about her calling your mama, switching between that and her wife. But in that moment it had you skipping words, instead turning your back hurriedly as you finished up what you were doing. Of course she read you like a book! you cursed the unhelpful butterflies that seemed to transfer to your cheeks and eyes "M fine! Just- a bit tired. Went to the down town market today, got sum flour and brown sugar for cookies!" You feigned, tone oh-so-candy-sweet. Ab's did that thing she always did when she didn't quite believe you, a click of her tongue - just out of earshot, the littlest bullshit she mustered as she brushed it off, coming up behind you to help.

"I made your favorite Ab's... been working so much lately I wanted to do something for you" You meant it. There was just a little tiny hidden meaning behind all this. The thing that had you all nervous and foggy brained. But you needed to bring it up. If not now then when really. "Being my girl is more than enough"

A few repeating oven beeps and a shower later you two sat at your light wood dinner table, assorted with fresh rolls and Ab's favorite (don't be fooled she adored everything you cooked) sweet potato roast. And of course it wouldn't be dinner with Abbys repeated mhm's and fuck these are incredible's. And the smallest round table probably in the entire world, so small Abbys feet touched yours, her hand holding yours a habit she didn't even realize - you though lingered on every single detail, an add on of nervousness you wanted to throw out the window and stomp on. You took a shaky breath, still imagining tossing this nervousness into the pretty swaying willow trees…. your and Abby’s swaying trees. Something beautiful shared between the two of you. Loved by the two of you. The thought was like the warm spice moving through the kitchen, it folded itself over your worries, barring itself right there over them. It was just what you needed, Finally turning towards your wife.

"What is it baby?" Abbys face is nothing short of concern, squeezing your hand in hers. You gulp, eyes blinking but you know it’s time. “Abby I’ve been thinking— for a bit now, well ever since that baby shower in august really”

She squeezes your hand, urging you. “I want to have a baby” blurting out seemed to be the summary of big advances in your twos relationship n you think your heart stops for a moment when she says “a baby—”

to be continued …. 💗

[luvyeni]

whore in theory ๑. ( 스트레이키즈 )

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ─── skz thinking you’re innocent but what you’re saying is totally opposite…

( 対 ) ot8!skz + fem. reader wc. 1k genre smut · contains! mentions of sex , language , no actual sex mature content. / back to library

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 방찬 : bang chan﹚ .ᐟ

his ears are bright red; he laughing his ass off not to embarrass you , but he’s in such a state of shock. “ah you’re so cute.” he pulls you into his lap , kissing your cheek. “someone has been doing some reading.” whispering in your ear. “where did you learn this from princess?” yeah he’s turned on , but he also thinks it’s such a funny thing , hearing you speak so dirty even though you have no idea of what you’re talking about. rubbing your thighs. “you me to teach you how to do a few of those things hm?” his voice darker than before. “you gotta be a good girl though.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 리노 : lee know﹚ .ᐟ

he loves this shit bad , it turns him on — hearing the filthy shit you say throughout the day , it doesn’t phase him , he just smirks .. because he knows you have no idea what you’re talking about , he literally taught you everything you know. he’s gonna play with you , pinning you down to your bed as soon as you get home. “you’re so shocked.” he smirked. “wh-what are you doing?” he’s got you sweating and flustered. “remember everything you were saying earlier? you sounded like a whore.” he said. “i wanna see you do it.” you gulped. “come on show me.” slowly unbuckling your pants. “i want you to do everything you were talking about.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 창빈 : changbin﹚ .ᐟ

much like lino , he’ll let you keep going , the smuggest look on his face , arms folded — but when he gets you home alone , he’s quick to pin you down on the bed. “b-binnie.” you whimper. “isn’t this what you want?” his head tilting to the side in amusement. “for me to pin you down and use you? isn’t that what you said?” he said. “i’m only doing what you asked of me baby.” grinding his hips , you whimper. “what kind of man would i be if i don’t satisfy my woman? not a good one that’s what i know.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 현진 : hyunjin ﹚ .ᐟ

just a giggling mess , he can’t believe how dirty you’re talking right now. how did you even know what to say , he never even did anything that you’re saying… but now he wants to try. “you sound confident pretty.” he says. “do you know what you’re saying right now?” your words are finally catching up to you. “no-no.” the giggle he lets out makes your stomach drop. “but you were sure , you want to show me what you meant?” he said beckoning you over to sip on his lap. “you’re shaking like a leaf.” he said , rubbing your thighs. “let’s try a few of those naughty things you were so sure of a few minutes ago.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 한 : hanji﹚ .ᐟ

he’s turned on and shocked from the first comment that comes out of your mouth. “baby.” he’s scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “hmm.” you don’t even know what you’re doing to him , turning to him. “what’s wrong?” you said completely oblivious to what you were doing to him. “please stop talking like that.” he can’t take it. “you’re turning me on.” he said , cheeks flushed. “sorry.” you said , unclear of what to do. “do you need my help?” he nods. “fuck yes , yes i do.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 필릭스 : felix﹚ .ᐟ

he’s in shock; his sweet baby talking like this? much to his knowledge the only thing you knew how to do is lay back and be pretty while he eats you out — but the words you were saying; my god he was hard as hell now. “princess come here.” he watched you smile , as you plop down in his lap , eyes widening as you feel how hard he is. “fe-felix you’re– why?” he does a little smirk. “why? because all the shit you were saying earlier that’s why.” he said. “oh i didn’t know.” “of course you didn’t , but you’re gonna be a good girl and learn today okay.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 승민 : seungmin﹚ .ᐟ

another one like lino , he knows you’re lying , but hearing you say how much you want to ride him — it intrigues him , he wants to see you do it. so as soon as you get home he’s telling you to go to the room. “strip.” you’re confused because so far the only thing you’ve done is suck him off. “wh-why?” he scoffs. “didn’t you say how much you want to ride my cock?” he said. “what is it you said? i won’t be able to last long if you ride me.” he said , laying down , pulling his pants down enough to release his cock. “so come on, sit on my cock and ride me.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯.ㅤ 아이엔 : i.n﹚ .ᐟ

at first he’s flustered; why are you saying such things even though he knows that he basically has to explain everything to you when it comes to sexual stuff. after a while , he starts to get turned on , hearing you say all this stuff … so he wants you to repeat it , while he’s replicating exactly what you were telling him. “no , no don’t shy away now.” grabbing your cheeks forcing you to look up at him. “you said you wanted to choke on my cock right , make a mess right?” he said with that crazy smirk. “come on baby let me teach you , teach you how to do exactly what you said.”

©️LUVYENI

[h3catee]

A Moment of Peace

A Moment of Peace 

Paring: Robert Reynolds x Fem!Witch Reader! Past Avenger!  

Summary: After a few months of living with the New Avengers you have found solace in the quiet moments and Bob couldn’t agree more. 

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS* (Post Thunderbolts*), Fluff, talks of mental health and trauma, depression, anxiety, some language. Short talk of self harming/destructive tendencies (just fighting lol nothing crazy chat) 

Word count: 2.5k

AN: BOB! BOB! BOB! This is part 2 of my series and will definitely introduce the dynamic with Bob! Maybe some fluff. Maybe some confessions. Maybe some cuddling! :3 luv u (I didn’t have a beta for this part so pls pardon minor mistakes)

part one!

xoxo

Song for the chapter: https://open.spotify.com/track/77KnJc8o5G1eKVwX5ywMeZ?si=5616af3c21274b54 

⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆

*months after moving into New Avengers Tower* 

“Can you just pass me the remote y/n,” Walker argued. His brows furrowed in annoyance. 

“Suck my balls walker, I’m tired of watching your military propaganda movies,” You argued back, “Someone back me up here!” 

“I second that,” Ava said, tossing herself on the couch next to Yelena who just nodded to agree with you. 

“It’s not military propaganda. It’s just war movies from the American perspective.” 

“Gah! Let us watch this documentary about the Soviet-” 

“No,” Yelena cut her father off in a heartbeat. You couldn’t help but laugh, “Who picked last time?”

The group looked around. Bob was sat reading a book in his usual corner uninterested in the movie night taking place. “Bob hasn’t picked,” Walker said, noticing your gaze on him. You turned to walker and shook your head in a ‘why the fuck would you do that’ way. He just shrugged with a shitty smirk on his face. 

“N-no it’s okay guys,” Bob called, now looking over at where you all were sitting, “I don’t know any good movies, just let…” He seemed to think for a second, his eyes locking on yours before he quickly looked down at his hands, “Bucky pick.” 

“Oh god that's worse than Walker,” You groaned. Bucky threw a pillow at you while you weren’t looking, but quickly threw your hand up to use your magic to stop it, you threw it back at him, “I was joking..” You say throwing your hands up, “Walkers still worse.” Bob laughs from his corner. 

Walker scoffs and stands, “You think that’s so funny huh Bob?” 

“Oh god,” Yelena says. 

You turn and look at Bob with an amused smirk. He looks at you for a brief moment, a rare tight lipped smile brushes his face but it’s gone before you can even appreciate it. He immediately looks back down to his book with blush spreading down his face. You sigh, turning back towards the TV when you catch Bucky looking at you with a weird look, the smile falling from your face. ‘What?’ You ask him telepathically. He just shakes his head, grabbing the remote to put something on. 

That's how you all find yourselves an hour and a half into Silence of the Lambs. Alexie is snoring loudly. Walker left about 20 minutes into the movie and Yelena and Ava went to spare. Leaving you, Bucky and Bob in his corner. You sigh to yourself before standing. 

“Where are you going?” Your friend asks, his eyes still trained on the screen. 

“You aren’t my mother,” You say before grabbing your blanket and walk over to where Bob sits, still engrossed in his book from earlier. “Can I join you?” You see his shoulders tense, “Or not it’s okay I don't want to intrude,” You ramble. 

He looks up at you with sad eyes, “N-no you’re not intruding. I just..didn’t hear you come over,” He explains. 

You exhaled a quiet laugh through your nose, “That’s hard to believe coming from someone with superhuman everything,” 

He laughs and shakes his head,”Yea, sure if that’s what you want to call it,” he mutters, “W-what did you want anyways- I don’t mean that in a bad way that's- I didn’t mean for it-” 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” You wrap your blanket around yourself before sitting in front of the brunette, “Bob, don’t work yourself up okay,” You place a hand over his. His skin is boiling under your palm, you don’t mean to tense but the temperature difference is scalding, “I just wanted to see how you are?” 

“I’m okay other than the constant internal reminders of what I did a few months ago, I’m fine.” 

You look at him with raised brows, “Come on,” You stand back up removing your hand from on top of his. He just looks up at you timidly. 

“Where are we going?” He doesn’t make a move to get up, actually it looks like he’s melting into his chair even more than before you came over here, “Bucky doesn’t want me to go out.” 

You extend your hand for him to take, “Everyones gone to bed, let’s watch a movie.” 

“But I don’t really know of any good movies,” he reminds. 

“Please,” You drop your sarcastic and fun facade for a second, “I-I haven’t been sleeping well and this is the only time I can find peace out here.” Now you feel stupid. Why are you confiding in him anyways? No one cares about your lack of sleep, it’s not like it affects the way you fight.

“Don’t think like that,” He cuts in, sitting up. You return your hand back at your side before walking away completely with a sigh. He can hear your thoughts. “Wait y/n I’m sorry I didn’t mean to,” Bob mumbles something to himself before sinking back into his seat. 

“Drop it,” You say, snapping. How could you let your walls drop like that? Over something so stupid. You head to your room, using your magic to close the door behind you before tossing yourself face first into your bed with a groan. “God damnit,” You whisper to yourself. 

You aren’t sure when it happened but shortly after moving into the tower you found yourself trying to get Bob to open up to the group. Maybe it was the fact he reminds you of yourself when you first joined the team. You wouldn’t let anyone close to you besides Wanda and on rare occasions Bucky and look where that got you. Alone. Scars littering your body from throwing yourself into fights you should've won just to feel something. You didn’t want to see him fall down the same path so you tried and tried to invite him to cook meals, watch movies, workout in the training facility, all of which he turned down. Tonight felt like the nail in the coffin after months of trying you couldn’t get to him and you just let him in your head instead. The only person he seems to enjoy talking to is Yelena and she couldn’t explain a reason for why he was avoiding you. 

Three soft knocks on your door took you out of your own head. You sat up and stared at the door. But you crawled back on your bed and curled into a ball under your covers, having no intention of answering. You simply flicked your wrist and all of the lights dimmed. You closed your eyes trying to find sleep when it wasn’t going to come. 

“Y/n, please I’m so sorry,” It was Bob, “I’m so sorry,” His voice broke like he’d committed some heinous crime against you. He knocked twice more very softly. You sighed before you opened the door with your magic and let him in. You untangled yourself from your sheets and sat up against your head rest looking at him in the dimmed light. You could see lines of tears down his face. You closed the door behind him once he had fully entered your room. “I didn’t mean to read your thoughts, I want you to trust me.” Your heart cracks painfully in your chest hearing his voice. “I just, I don’t-” and he stops talking. You pat your bed in front of where your sitting ushering him to come over, “I can’t” 

“Why?” You whisper. 

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” He said. You just blinked at him, you couldn’t think of a single time Bob had ever hurt you, “When...he took over, your room, the way you were screaming,” He started to cry and your heart sank even more because you knew he couldn’t control it. Hell, he didn’t even remember what happened until you showed him, “I just can’t put you through that again.” 

“I-” you started, but words failed to amount up to what you needed to say to him so instead you would show him. Gently you placed your palms to cup his face. The pad of your thumb wiping away his tears, “It’s okay,” you whispered. His skin felt like fire under your hands and his cheeks were growing with blush as you continued to hold him. 

“It’s not though,” He said before pulling out of your grasp and turning away from you, “I really hurt you, the way you were screaming, I can’t do that to you, of all people, you,” He confessed. Your face grew hot. You crawled out from under the sheets and placed your palm on his cheek forcing him to look at you. Tears were pooled in his eyes, threatening to fall if you said the wrong thing and he refused to meet your gaze, “I want you to trust me.” 

“I do trust you, Bob. Probably more than anyone here,” You said admittedly, “If it were to be anyone that could get in my head I’m just glad it’s only you.” 

His eyes came up from the floor and locked with yours, “How can you trust me so fast? I ruin everything I come in contact with. I’m a walking disaster ready to happen.” 

“I don’t care, take me down with you,” You whispered. 

“Why? I’ll ruin you.” 

“I’m already ruined,” You confessed, “I have spent the last few years pushing everyone I know away until they’ve died and I can’t bring them back. Then I sit and think about every single word I’ve ever said to them and it haunts me. Every night.” 

“I’ll just make it worse by being around you. What happens if the void takes over and I can’t stop it. I can’t see you hurt like that again,” The confession of his feelings towards you were on the tip of his tongue. 

“I can handle myself,” You tease, “I can help you. Can I show you?” 

“W-what are you talking about?” 

You remove your palm softly from his cheek and he almost looks desperate for your touch again, you smile weakly at him, “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes,” He answers immediately. You nod at his answer. Slowly you place your hands in his hair, running your fingers gently through it until he shivers under your touch. Slowly you feel the energy coursing through your arms till it reaches where the tips of your fingers gently caress the back of his scalp. He hums and closes his eyes as the feeling of peace takes over him. When you first started working with the Avengers, some of their thoughts would keep you up from how loud they were. That's when you created a spell that works almost like a calming drought on whoever you would use it on. Did you have to have your hands on them, no. You just know how tormented the man in front of you is and you’d do anything to soothe that. “What did you do?” 

“It’s a spell I created that calms down your mind,” You carefully massaged his scalp while the spell set in, “It can last up to 8 hours, but that’s the most I could get.” 

He slowly opened his eyes, “How come you haven’t tried it on yourself? You mentioned that you haven’t been sleeping…I’m sorry for bringing it up.” 

You shook your head with a smile, “When I wrote the spell it was specifically one to use on other people, I’ve never been good with magic that would actually help myself. Not really my thing,” You laughed, trying to cope with your inadequacies. 

“Let me help you,” He said softly, “Please y/n you don’t know how much it would mean to me. You-” He cut himself off, closing his eyes once more. Almost so he didn’t have to see the look on your face, “I want to protect you, I’ve never wanted to do something so badly. But I am so terrified of messing up and hurting you.” You knew exactly what he was trying to say, “Let me keep you safe, please. I know I’m no use now but please.” 

Your fingers came to a halt as you felt the spell finally sink in, his body physically relaxed. Slowly you moved your grasp back to holding his face between your palms. “Okay,” You whispered, his eyes widened, “Only if you let me take care of you in return.” 

He nodded earnestly but he faltered, “If I ever hurt you though y/n you have to leave me.” 

“No,” You countered, “I’m with you no matter what, okay? I’m a big strong girl, I'll be fine.” He didn’t look too convinced, “Bob, I promise you will never hurt me, and if there ever comes a day where that could happen we’ll cross that road when we get there, okay?” 

“Okay,” You smiled and he smiled back, blush creeping its way back onto his face, “Do you want to try to sleep, it’s late,” He said looking at your clock on the dresser. 3:47am. 

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth and removed your palms from his face. His body leaned into where your touch had just been, “Can you stay?” You asked timidly. He looked taken back by your question. 

“Only if you want me to,” He said. You nodded in response, “You have to say it, please, for me.” 

You felt heat spread across your face, “Stay with me.” 

“Okay.” 

You two spent the next 10 minutes getting ready for bed together in a peaceful silence, exchanging small smiles that would ignite that butterfly feeling. Bob went and retrieved his toothbrush and a fresh set of pajamas before coming back to your room. The two of you carefully climbed into your bed together, you could feel him shaking softly next to you, “Are you nervous?” You teased. 

“Yes,” He laughed, “How can you tell?” He joked before crawling under your sheets with you. Carefully you scooted closer to him and placed your hand gently on his chest and he lifted up his arm for you to rest on. His heart was fluttering beneath your fingertips and his body radiated a comforting heat you had never felt before. 

“Thank you,” He said softly. 

You smiled against his chest, “Of course.” You felt your eyes grow tired and you quickly raised your hand to turn the lights off fully. You let your eye close and felt Bob wrap his arm tighter around your body. 

“Is this okay?” 

“Mhm,” You hummed. And for once the both of you drifted off into a dreamless sleep. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Look at how cute, they look like baby seals cuddling together,” Alexie said rather loudly. 

“Shut up,” Yelena whispered. 

Bucky hummed. The rest of the team stood crowding your doorway which they took upon themselves to open just a sliver. 

“Get out of my room,” You said in a sing song voice, before you closed to door. With your eyes still closed you pushed yourself deeper into Bobs grasp.

“Do you think they’ll be upset?” Bob asked, you could tell he was getting nervous. But with you carefully tucked in his embrace, he relaxed once again. 

“We aren’t!” Alexie shouted through your closed door. 

“Lovely.” 

[pollkien]

CURUFIN PROPAGANDA:

Sideeyeing Beleriand’s best boy

Called Orodreth stupid behind his back in the Lay of Leithian

#1 Eöl hater of all time

#1 Beren hater of all time also

Daddy’s most specialest boy. So special that both of his names are about his dad. This slut has absolutely no identity outside of his father and I think this is extremely appealing to some

“he alone showed in some degree the same temper and talents. He also resembled Fëanor very much in face.” I mean if you resemble the hottest elf ever you must also be hot.

Absolute cunt. Just a huge asshole. I love that for him

Actually in a draft, Fëanor called on Curufin and a few other of his most trusted servants to burn the ships at night <3

His only redeeming quality is when he told Eöl off that one time

Says the funniest line in all of Silm. “By the laws of the Eldar I may not slay you at this time” is incredible. He invented “Had It Not Been For the Laws of This Land”

Can usurp your heart ;)

Married! Canonically fucked! Unlike most other people here

This also means Curufin is a dilf.

Set evil in Celegorm’s heart <3

If his dad was so so hot Curufin must also be very hot

NOT racist! He was friends with Telchar and wrote much about the Dwarves and Khuzdul. #DiversityWin

Curufin the Crafty more like Curufin the Cunty

He schemes so hard. Do you like scheming boys? He is THE scheming boy for you.

Has a named weapon!

“Eöl, however, Curufin loved not at all. Curufin was aware of Eöl's resentment towards the Noldor, and that Eöl was using his friendship with the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains, which Curufin was jealous of, to stir up unfriendliness against them. Regardless, Eöl was still allowed to cross through East Beleriand, though a constant watch was placed on Nan Elmoth as they mistrusted his doings and goings.” No fucking way DUDE YOU ARE ALSO FRIENDS WITH THE DWARVES OF THE BLUE MOUNTAINS

“In The Earliest Annals of Valinor, the translation of Curufin's name in to Old English is given as Cyrefinn Facensearo and defined as "[Curufin the Crafty, O.E. cyre 'choice', facen 'deceit, guile, wickedness' (a word of wholly bad meaning); searu 'skill, cunning' (also with bad meaning, 'plot, snare, treachery'); facensearu 'treachery'.]"” someone fuck this whore right now

Sorry i am now just reading his TG page “In relation to Celegorm, Christopher Tolkien notes that Curufin is "the more longheaded schemer, standing behind his brother and prompting him - it is clear ... that Celegorm has some authority — or is felt by Curufin to have some authority — that Curufin lacks"[23]:247 and that Curufin was "the wickeder (as he was certainly also the cleverer) of the brothers".” Oh my god.

He has quite the long TG page. Not propaganda just very surprising. Did you know his name shows up 30 times in the published Silm, 34 if you include the name index

Oh he is also divorced.

BELEG PROPAGANDA:

First gay in Middle-earth

No literally. Wist no sire? Beleg the bowman was blowing gaily??

He’s just such a jolly fellow

Beleg <- that’s it that’s the propaganda

“He was great of growth and goodly-limbed, but lithe of girth, and lightly on the ground his footsteps fell”

Loyal as fuck

“Followed no man” and “could not be restrained”

His name means great or mighty. Penis metaphor.

Good sense of humour - for example he surprises Túrin’s outlaws by sneaking up on them with presents

Good with kids

Greatest woodsman of the first age

Truest of friends

With Halmir of Haladin, took an entire orc legion unaware and destroyed it.

Has a mighty bow of black yew wood and an arrow that never breaks (until it broke)

Cute fashion senses - wears grey and green and brown, very cute forestcore vibes

Also has a big white cloak

Cute red boots

Jirt even drew a picture of him clearly this is because he is sexy

Both a warrior and healer. Get you a man who can do it all.

Possibly one of the first elves to awake. Fuck that old man.

[rosenclaws]

omg i love you head cannons a lot!! im actually thinking about logan being a dad to ur child?? i mean what is he like about a toddler.. does he even play with them (like lifting them up or making their child be on a cardboard box while he pushes it like the speed of a car???) 😣

DAD LOGAN DAD LOGAN YES

Origins Logan -

Oh man he would be the cutest father. He loves coming home from work and seeing you and his kid waiting for him. You're outside reading while your kid plays in the yard and logan rolls up and he just smiles when his son runs up to him and starts blabbing about his day. Okay I am a girl dad Logan truth BUT for some reason I think origins Logan would have a son. Idk why. His kid would be a mini me, dressing like Logan and wanting to be just like his dad. It's soo freaking cute. Oo I can imagine that Logan brings your kid to work one day and Logan is a caring father and carries him around but he's still Logan so he's like yeah I'll give my kid an axe what could go wrong. Its just a lot of cuteness overload tbh.

Trilogy Logan -

He swears up and down he's not good with kids but he's really a natural. There's a reason he's one of the kids favorite professors. Now this Logan has a baby girl. He's still the big bad wolverine but now he's got his little red who has him wrapped around her little fingers. Like he's a tough "i don't fucking care" grader and lets the students do stupid shit in the danger room and then he sees his little girl and scoops her up in his arms and lets her watch. He'll point at like an injured student and ask her if she knows what an open wound is. Like Logan she's 5 chill out. She's like his little shadow. Its really cute but sometimes he does wanna smoke and he can't do that around her so he just picks her up and hands her to Aunt Ro for a second. He can have a temper but tries not to ever get mad at her. But she has seen him angry at someone else and one time she scowled and copied Logan while he was being snarky with Scott and oh my god her face scrunched up just like his and Logan forgot what he was even mad about in the first place as he coos at his baby girl.

DOFP Logan -

He's the best dad omg. He's teaching a history lesson when his little girl walks into the room, she's peaking her head into the door because she wants to watch her dad work. You're standing behind her and whispering for her to be quiet. Of course he notices, he heard you before you could even walk down the hall. He stops his lesson to bring his baby girl into the classroom and spends the rest his class with her on his hip teaching his class. The students loveeee her. She's basically their niece. Logan is hesitant to let them babysit or watch over her but he will let her sit in Jubilee's lap during class. He is the kind of dad to toss her up into the air super high to make her laugh and makes you incredibly nervous. He's the best damn dad and you'll see him grading papers with her asleep on his shoulder. It's just so fucking cute.

Old Man Logan -

He's pretty out of his depth here but he tries. I think he's not super affectionate at times because he's just so nervous. He's also a girl dad I don't make the rules. Like he loves her and will always take care of her but when she's crying he gets so worried that he lets you handle that. He's there but he's just so afraid. I think the breakthrough comes when you're out with Laura for a girls trip (you know making sure she knows you don't love her any less) and he's watching his girl when she just starts crying, like sobbing crying. She fell and hit her chin really hard and without thinking logan picks her up and hugs her tight, his big rough hands gently checking out her chin and making sure she's not seriously hurt. She just melts right into his embrace and seeks his comfort. She's not afraid of him. You come home to her curled up on his chest watching some disney movie. He cracks a smile and you feel your heart overflow with happiness. Laura sits next to him and you sit on the other side. Old Man Logan is kind of a hardass but he shows his love in other ways. Like your daughter will say she doesn't want to eat her veggies and logan just says tough shit but lets her leave after just eating one and he if she asks for a new stuffed animal Logan says no but comes home with a cute bear.

Worst Logan -

He's a natural and he doesn't even realize it. He has the same worries and doubts as Old man logan but he's more affectionate. Also a girl dad idc. He's constantly holding her low key or around her. He refuses to ever let Wade babysit. Fuck no. He covers her ears when Wade says something vulgar or swears and he threatens to turn him into a kabob. He is afraid of scaring her with his nightmares or just lashing out because and saying something horrible to her but his natural paternal instincts come out in full force. Oh loves putting her on his shoulders and pretending to drop her. She clings onto him like a koala. He's not great with the more emotional moments so he tends to leave those to you. But if he does know in the back of his mind that he has three claws ready for whatever poor soul decides to try and date his daughter. Part of his new life becoming a dad and he does everything he can do be good at it. He may falter in some places, arguments or being too protective but its all from a place of love and they always make up by the end of the day.

[bullet-prooflove]

Bourbon: Harry Wilson x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @buckysteveloki-me

Summary: The things you and Harry get up to with a 10k bottle of bourbon... it's sinful.

Companion piece to:

Sugar - You're Harry's first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

The things you do with bourbon, they’re sinful.

Filthy, debauched, ruinous.

Those are just some of the words that Harry would use to describe what the two of you have gotten up to tonight with that bottle of O.F.C 1993, a whiskey so rare he spent ten grand at the charity auction to obtain it.

When you’d first suggested a private tasting after the event, he’d had no idea of your intentions, not until you’d unfastened the buttons of his shirt and dripped a delicate trail all the way down his chest to his dick. You’d driven him to delirium sucking the bourbon off his cock, his hands tangling in your hair as he thrust up into your mouth, the warmth from the whiskey heightening the sensation.

“Save it for me, mon cœur.” You had drawled, pulling off his dick with a lewd pop as he reached the precipice. “When you come tonight its going to be with me.”

You’d sunk down onto his cock, whisky bottle still in your hand and Harry’s head had tipped back into the couch cushions because the way you feel wrapped around him, there ain’t nothing like it on this God given earth.

You sip from the bottle, holding the bourbon in your mouth before you grasp his jaw and kiss him. The whiskey pours down his throat, that familiar fever erupting  in his chest as he licks the sweet bite of dark cherry and smoked oak right out of you.

His grip on your waist tightens, holding you steady as you lean back and tip the amber liquid onto your chest. A river cascades down the slope of your breast, coating your nipple as Harry captures it in his mouth. His tongue savours the taste, tracing over the sensitive bud as his dick pumps into you, a hard, relentless fucking for being such a bad girl. Your breath hitches and he chases that high by dipping his fingers into bourbon, smearing the liquid across the tips. He reaches between the two of you, tracing circles on your clit, the rapture blossoming from the luxurious heat of the whisky.

You clench around him as his teeth graze your nipple, a delicious blush of agony amongst of the ecstasy that sends you teetering over the edge, your sweet honey coating his dick. He lasts two more thrusts before he’s coming with you, his release spilling inside that pussy, marking it as his own.

“Best ten k I’ve ever spent.” He whispers into your ear, taking care not to nudge your hearing aid as his palm comes to rest on the back of your neck, keeping you close.

“Oh mon cher.” You tut, your lips brushing his temple as you study the half-drunk vessel residing on the side table beside the lamp. “We’re not done until that bottle is.”

Love Harry? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[vaginalvr]

hii, i’ve been reading ur fics for a while now, and i totally love them <3

i have a humble request of my own: bau!reader who has a tramp stamp and a bellybutton piercing, and Spencer is absolutely totally obsessed with them. and then one night, the team gets called in, and reader appears in like a crop top and low-rise jeans (or idk something that reveals them), because she was at a friend’s party or something. and Spencer is trying so hard not to get visibly turned on, and keep it in his pants, cuz they’re at work. but he ultimately pulls her into a storage closet for a quickie or something, before they have to leave for the case.

you can just ignore this though, if this isn’t something you’d be interested in writing, of course :)) have a great day <3

oh how cutie i want a tramp stamp and a belly button piercing now

cw: established relationship, secret relationship, jet sex, bellybutton piercing, tramp stamp kink, low-rise jeans, crop top, desperation, slight dom!Spencer, barely contained lust, unprofessional behavior, fast & dirty smut

REQUESTS OPEN!

You were off-duty when the call came in.

Midway through a Friday night, drink in hand, laughing on a rooftop patio with some old college friends — your crop top riding up, your low-rise jeans barely holding on, and the metal gleam of your bellybutton piercing catching every bit of moonlight.

Your phone buzzed once. Then again. Hotch. Case. Jet in 45.

You groaned and grabbed your stuff, muttering apologies as you slipped out — no time to change. You figured it was fine. You had your go-bag on the plane. Worst case, you’d be underdressed until takeoff.

You did not expect Spencer Reid to completely malfunction when you walked into the hangar.

He was halfway through reciting some case file numbers when he turned and saw you.

The crop top sat like a second skin, hugging your chest, riding high enough to show a dangerous peek of underboob. Your low-rise jeans hugged your hips like a prayer, dipping just enough to reveal the dark ink of your tramp stamp — a design he’d only seen once, in low light, when you’d had too much wine and dared to pull your pants down just far enough to show him in the privacy of his apartment.

And that piercing — the one at your bellybutton, silver and glinting — flashed at him with every step you took.

He forgot how to breathe.

His mouth opened. Closed.

Hotch kept talking. Morgan glanced at Spencer, then at you — and smirked.

“Ohhh, hell,” Morgan muttered under his breath.

Spencer cleared his throat. “Y-you uh—you didn’t go home first?”

“No time,” you said breezily, shouldering your go-bag. “Hope no one minds if I flash some midriff. I’ll change on the jet.”

You winked at him.

He nearly dropped the case file.

You sat across from him on the plane. The table between you might as well have been made of glass. Spencer was twitchy — leg bouncing, lip caught between his teeth, eyes flickering from your waistline to your mouth and back down again.

You leaned back slowly in your seat and stretched your arms overhead.

The crop top lifted. The waistband dipped.

Spencer’s breath audibly caught in his throat.

Morgan made a noise from behind his file that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Emily muttered, “Oh my god, someone just fuck already.”

You turned your head, caught Spencer staring, and smiled slow.

“So, Doctor,” you murmured. “See something you like?”

He snapped the file shut.

“Bathroom. Now.”

The moment the door clicked shut, Spencer pounced.

His mouth was on yours, hot and needy, hands already dragging your top up to expose your tits — palms rough and shaking as he groaned into your neck.

“You can’t just show up like that,” he hissed, rocking his hips into yours. “Wearing that, with your fucking piercing showing, your tattoo right there—” He yanked your waistband down just enough to trace the tramp stamp with his fingers. “You knew what you were doing.”

You bit your lip. “I really didn’t—”

“Liar.”

His hand slid down, cupping your heat through your jeans, and you whimpered.

“You’ve been driving me crazy with this thing,” he muttered, brushing his thumb against your navel ring. “Since the first time I saw it, I can’t stop thinking about it. Wanting to taste it.”

You gasped as he popped the button on your jeans and shoved them halfway down your thighs.

“Spence—there’s no time—”

“There’s just enough.”

He pulled his cock out — hard and flushed and already leaking — then spun you to face the sink.

“Hands,” he ordered, voice hoarse. “Brace yourself.”

You obeyed instantly.

He yanked your panties aside, ran two fingers through your folds, and hissed.

“So fucking wet already,” he groaned. “You love riling me up, don’t you?”

Then he sank into you with one sharp thrust, and you cried out, biting your fist to muffle the sound.

The mirror fogged. The walls rocked. Spencer fucked you like the plane might disappear beneath you — hard, fast, hips slamming into yours while one hand gripped your hip and the other reached around to rub your clit.

“Gonna come,” you panted. “Spencer—”

“That’s it,” he murmured into your neck. “Be good for me. Come all over my cock.”

You did — gasping, legs trembling — and he followed with a stuttered moan, buried deep, hands gripping your waist so hard you knew you’d bruise.

You both stood there after, panting, flushed, clothes a mess.

He looked at you in the mirror.

“You’re still changing before the briefing,” he said, eyes flicking down to the piercing.

You smirked. “Why? Can’t focus?”

His mouth twitched. “Not unless you want me to drag you back in here mid-case.”

You leaned in close, lips to his ear.

“Maybe I do.”

[randominchident]

slim pickins! (part 2)

max verstappen x popstar!reader -> social media au

max has been a silent fan of popstar!reader for years, it's a running joke in the fandom at this point. a chance meeting changes everything and he doesn't intended to let her down like past guys have... it's time for y/n to come to a race. (part one)

-> fc: sabrina carpenter (other pinterest finds when necessary)

private message with max verstappen

redbullracing has made a post

liked by y/n.chronicles, 🎀user and more

Tom Holland. Neymar Jr. A last-minute chart-topping surprise. The only thing more packed than the grandstands is the garage guest list 👀🔥 #RedBullGarageThings #SilverstoneGP

comments

user7 Y/N IN MAX'S MERCH? OH WE'VE WON.

speedandceleb the VIP list was longer than the straight at Baku 😩

champagneandchoruses she’s writing “pole position” as we speak

↪ taylorinturn1 when he wins the race and she drops a love song next week? poetic cinema.

toomanyplaylists TRYING TO STAY CALM AND FAILING

↪ betterbest they really thought they could casually post y/n as if we haven't spent the past week freaking out over her and max

y/nuseryeah soft launch? hard laugh? IDK BUT IM AM LAUNCHING MYSELF INTO THE SUN IF WE DON'T GET A PHOTO OF THEM TOGETHER TODAY. 4K QUALITY. IN EACH OTHERS ARMS

↪ betterbest hey redbullracing admin this is our hour of need. you know what must be done.

newuser don’t play with me… is that Y/N?! AT SILVERSTONE?? speediest hard launch ever???

y/n.chronicles caught in 4K huh

↪ redbullracing our candid queen

comment liked by max.verstappen

↪ y/nfanatic OMG MAX LIKED

↪ deluluera SIR get off instagram and get into YOUR CAR.

↪ lunalove he's got his priorities straight. his girl > his car

comment liked by y/n.chronicles and max.verstappen

user5 the way the comments only care about y/n being there 😭✌️

charles.leclerc y/n.chronicles come visit ferrari next!

↪ max.verstappen she's fine here, thanks.

↪ y/nfanatic he really said "no❤️" 😭

max.verstappen has made a post

liked by y/n.chronicles, 🎀user and more

Simply lovely 👊 Great to get some points for the team and had some extra motivation this week to end up on top.

comments

user1 "extra motivation" man is whipped.

y/n.chronicles i was cheering the loudest. probably.

↪ max.verstappen confirmed. heard you over the engine. ❤️

↪ f1teaqueen oh we’re LOUD-launching now huh

↪ readingwriting yeah ok max you win. you always win but like YOU WIN

pensburner THE KISS.

↪ readingwriting wait WHAT KISS.

↪ pensburner he got out of the car and ran straight to her! jumped the fucking barricade and lifted her up! and KISSED. its all over tiktok rn

↪ pensburner completely ignored his team but i don't think they cared because they were the ones cheering and clapping the hardest at the kiss... like i think they've heard max talk about y/n for a while...

↪ redbullracing we have.

↪ readingwriting GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET FR OMG. I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS IS REAL.

↪ y/n.chronicles yeah honestly neither girl

↪ readingwriting 📸 Y/N. 📸

hotgirlupdates saw a tweet of someone who bumped into y/n in the paddock and got a photo, apparently she was wearing one of the max merch hats and laughed about max giving it to her so he's with her throughout the whole race GOD I'VE SEEN WHAT YOU'VE DONE FOR OTHERS.

y/n.chronicles has posted to her story

max.verstappen yours ❤️

↪ y/n.chronicles ☺️💋

max.verstappen has posted to his story

y/n.news has made a post

liked by f1fangirl, 🎀user and more

congrats to y/n's boyfriend (?) for driving fast! yay! (sorry guys I don't know anything about f1 I'm just trying to be supportive but I’m so lost!)

comments

y/nfansunite i just spat out my tea reading this 😭 the fucking photo choices 😭😭😭 not a single photo from the win

user31 so glad we are all collectively going insane this weekend cause that is the only explaination for this post

max.verstappen thanks

↪ y/n.news UM YOURE WELCOME???

user1 didn't realise liking someones music would lead me to having to learn how a car sport works. but here we are.

y/nstan two weeks ago we were clowning max for liking y/n's posts and never saying anything. now he's going home with her and commenting on her fan account posts. lets this be a lesson to never give up on your dreams ig

private message with max verstappen

y/n.chronicles has made a post

liked by max.verstappen, 🎀user and more

london you have my heart 💌 thanks for all the shared tears and all the love you gave me. sad to leave but excited for what's to come 💋

comments

lunalove GUYS THE PIANO. Y/N ONLY EVER POSTS WITH THE PIANO BEFORE NEW MUSIC COMES OUT. "excited for what's to come 💋" MAX ALBUM INCOMING!

comment liked by y/n.chronicles

hope you enjoyed <3 comments are loved <3

(ps. the story photo max posted is one y/n sent him pre show… it’s his lockscreen now)

[missust3l3vision]

I'm going to preface this by saying I am Canadian so I call it Soccer sometimes.

Smooth As Soccer

Description: George hits Y/n with a football and as he makes sure she's okay...he notices how pretty she is.

It wasn't everyday that Y/n had the chance to go to the park and read her book. Probably closer to every two weeks, but when she got the chance she took it.

Sitting under a particularly comfortable tree with her book in her lap she could breathe easier. The noises around her blending into white noise as she was fully immersed.

That was until a soccer ball hit her face.

Square in the nose, the pain came after the confusion. A pulsating sting surged through her face as her hands came up to her nose.

If she hadn't been so disoriented she would have noticed how quickly he got to her. Almost as if he had kicked it this direction and kept going.

"Oh my fucking god I am so sorry!" George ran to her, kneeling down to get a better look at the damage he had inflicted.

"Should I call an ambulance?" A voice from over his shoulder called, she was too focused on the pain to respond.

"I Don't think I broke anything he shouted back" his voice shaky

"Yeah no- I don't need one" you said, bringing your hands down seeing no blood. The man infront of you took your chin between his fingers and took a good look at you.

In any other scenario you'd be dying of embarrassment at the touch of a stranger, but again you were focused on other things.

"Its swelling a lot, I am so sorry" he said letting go of your chin "Is there anyway I can make it up to you? Like anything?"

His guilt was weighing on him like a tonne of bricks. Not only had he hurt you but he had done it in a way where you may seriously hate him.

Y/n shook her head, finally getting a good look of the man her cheeks became warm. His soft brown curls moved with him as he tilted his head

"No, no I'll be okay" she stood up reaching for her book "Uh yeah" George found her newfound awkwardness cute, standing up as well he was quite a bit taller catching them both off guard.

He noticed the book she dropped, it had been one of his favourites. Another reason to like her he thought. He wanted to tell her but knew it probably wasn't the best time. Instead he introduced himself.

"I'm George" he said his a hand going to the back of his neck.

"I'm Y/n" she heard more noises coming from behind him, glancing she saw more men all waiting for their friend to return with the ball. One of the guys waving when he saw her.

As she was looking past, George's heart began beating fast. She was really pretty up close. Her hair was styled perfectly for her face, and her eyes were so bright.

He felt creepy staring at her like this, but he couldn't help himself. When she did turn back she didn't catch him

"I don't want to keep you from your game" she said giving him a small smile. It was hard to not notice how handsome he was, but wow did her face hurt

"Well maybe I can see you again? As an apology I mean" he suggested shyly, pulling out his phone "or like just to hang out?" She giggled at his sudden insecurity

"I'd like that, here's my number" She took the outstretched phone and put in her information.

Now, a few weeks later Y/n stood in a line with her new boyfriend and all his friends. Playing soccer was something they all really enjoyed, and she had been roped into coming.

"George, you hit another girl while we're here you can walk home" you jokingly warn. Of course it later came out that he had purposefully hit you to try and get your attention, though he wasn't expecting to hit you so hard.

"Pssh, you say that like he hadn't tried to get your attention plenty of times before" Chris jokes being met with a pink George and a confused Y/n.

"Wait...had you tried to get my attention before?" George looked away, nudging the soccer ball with his foot "God you're not smooth"

"But look at us now! No need to dwell on the past" he said loudly, earning eye rolls from his friends "Y/n is on my team" he directed as the group split in half.

Y/n could see her favourite tree from where she stood on the field. A direct line of sight to it. If she had looked up even once from her book she would have seen him.

With that she let out a small laugh.

[zepskies]

God, I just love these chapter titles! So perfect for each one! 😆💛

Ben’s brow shot up, coughing out a cloud of smoke. “She’s in the furnace?” “Checking my work,” the engineer added with bitterness in his voice. Ben bit back a snort. “Why the fuck would you let her crawl in there?” “Sir, all due respect, but she ain’t listening to me, and I hate arguing with her,” Fred told him bluntly.

lmfao I already love this opening. She too smart to take one iota of shit from men, and it's a joy to watch 😂

For two weeks, Ben had taken you out now every night, playing tour guide around Philadelphia and showing you everything the city (and 1942) had to offer.

This is so cute!! That's the first thing I picture when I think of a 1940s "date." But reading about all of their other dates, big and small, was like getting a deep dive into '40s culture and Philadelphia history, complete with "jitterbugging." 💗

And seeing the progression of how her powers are slowly coming back on line is both so interesting and a great narrative element for the pacing of all this.

The click was your ability to fast forward, backward, pause and play. Like the movie with Adam Sandler! Get it?

Absolutely got this one! 😂 This aspect of her powers matches so well with her mischievous "Puck" nature lolll

(Though she strikes me as too classy for this^, you get my point lmao)

Anyway, you’d frozen Homelander long enough for Soldier Boy to charge up, your nose had started bleeding, your brain had almost exploded, you’d landed in a coma for three days afterward, and that was that. Never had tried doing it again since. That had been some scary shit.

Oooh shit, no wonder she lost her "click" for a while, poor thing. 😰 I wonder how worried Ben was during her coma, since he already remembered her and tried to get her out of the final showdown with Homelander. ❤️‍🩹

Thinking about them made you realize how much they would surely judge you for your actions here. Shit. Honestly, that only made you want to avoid home even more.

lmfaoo honestly so valid. They'd judge her sooooo hard 😅😅 (though I love Frenchie's imagined reaction the most LOL)

On the other hand, you missed parts of your old life – your friends, your own clothes, your own space. Worst of all, your memories of the future began to fade a little more each day.

This is such an interesting side effect of being so long in the past where she "isn't meant to be." I wonder if that resolves once she returns to the future and spends enough time there, or are those memories just gradually wiped like an Etch a Sketch? 🥲

Spread your wings, little butterfly, and cause a hurricane!

Ah yes, the Butterfly Effect! If only we had Jeff Goldblum to explain it to us 😂

JK, the reader needs no man to explain science to her. 😌

“Oh, big mistake, sweetheart.” With a mischievous grin, he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you flush against his strong and firm body, instantly conquering your mouth with a searing kiss. Ben always kissed you like there was no fucking tomorrow. No future, no past, no doubts, no regrets. Just you and him caught in a moment.

And this is right about where my brain fizzed out and melted 🫠🫠🫠

The way Ben kisses (aside from his other talents) is probably why he gets so many women hooked on his charms lol. I absolutely love how you wrote this first really romantic/smutty scene between them. 💛 My favorite smut is the teasing and the banter leading into the sensuous and sexy, which this absolutely nails (pardon the pun lmao) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

But this part right here is where I malfunctioned, of course on this beautifully poetic line:

You found the magic word, and two perfectly thick and long fingers breached your entrance just like that and delivered you from your misery but added to your sins. You sang his name in fucking relief.

Weren’t you conning him a little? He didn’t know who you were or where you came from despite trying to warn him as much as you could. You didn’t want anything from him – not his money, not his secrets, not his death. You didn’t even know why you were doing this – why the fuck you were still entertaining this charade! Your insides were full of butterflies and bees these days.

Goddamn it, why'd you have to remind me of this??! lmao

"Butterflies and bees" is such a subtle but brilliant way to describe it -- lovely butterflies, warm feelings of falling in love, but the sting of knowing you shouldn't. 😭

But Ben gave you a kind smile in return, his features softening with something deeper than the playful attitude. “That’s okay. There’s no rush, sweetheart. You’re worth waiting for.”

*cryingcryingcrying*

She's losing her memory and living a lie, but it's ok, she built him a projector and gave him his first genuine gift ever. It's ok. 🫠🩵🩵

Also, I really feel bad for Ben on this side of things. He's starting to get clues that there's something off with her, can't figure out why she still doesn't trust him entirely, even though he's giving all he has of his heart to her. ❤️‍🩹

And now with that ominous cliffhanger of the parents arriving, you really get the sense that this is the real point of no return...

Time After Time – Chapter 6

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language and smut, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, SB being a nice and kind human, FLUFF, a bit of an angsty cliffhanger

Word Count: 6.8k

Posted on Patreon April 4, 2025

A/N: And here comes the smut (at least the beginning stages of it). Ben might not know a lot about economics, but he clearly knows his way around the ladies 😜 ✨ Chapter title comes from The Maltese Falcon (1941)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 6: I Don't Mind a Reasonable Amount of Trouble

Ben checked the big clock on the wall of his office and sighed. Of course you were late again, probably lost somewhere between math equations and arguing with Fred.

He treaded down to the factory floor, finding Fred with his hands on his hips and a grim expression on his face, standing idly by the furnace they were currently upgrading. Ben’s brow knitted when he couldn’t find you anywhere near, however. He told Fred to fucking watch you. What was so hard about that?

“Where’s our little physicist?” Ben prompted, glaring the engineer down as he lit a cigarette.

Fred swallowed nervously and nodded toward the furnace. “In there, sir.”

Ben’s brow shot up, coughing out a cloud of smoke. “She’s in the furnace?”

“Checking my work,” the engineer added with bitterness in his voice.

Ben bit back a snort. “Why the fuck would you let her crawl in there?”

“Sir, all due respect, but she ain’t listening to me, and I hate arguing with her,” Fred told him bluntly.

Fair enough, Ben thought. He hated arguing with you, too. There was never any winning. He was still wondering how you fucking did that.

“I can hear you guys, by the way! This thing isn’t soundproof,” your amused voice echoed out of the furnace in sing-song.

“Sweetheart, you okay in there?” Ben checked, leaning a little closer to the opening to peek inside.

But you jumped out at that very same second, letting Ben help you out when he offered you his hand. You dusted off your clothes with a smile, your skin covered slightly with ash.

Ben eyed your outfit, tilting his head. “Why are you wearing overalls?”

“Oh, Fred lent them to me. Didn’t want Ms. Vivian to yell at me for getting my dress dirty,” you replied, giggling.

Ben chuckled and then gestured toward the furnace. “How’s it coming along?”

“Good! I think we can throw it on tomorrow and test it before we move onto the next one. Fred has done a great job these last two weeks,” you reported happily, and Ben could audibly hear the engineer pass a breath of relief upon your praise.

“Perfect!” Ben smiled warmly and tucked a strand of wild hair behind your ear. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, just let me change and wash up first,” you told him, returning his smile with blushing cheeks.

“Where are you taking her this evening, sir?” Fred asked curiously.

“Oh, he’s taking me to the pictures tonight.” You grinned excitedly.

For two weeks, Ben had taken you out now every night, playing tour guide around Philadelphia and showing you everything the city (and 1942) had to offer.

For your first date, he’d chosen an intimate and charming French restaurant, which had led you to chat with the waiters in French all night. Ben hadn’t minded as much since you’d been smiling brightly the whole time and everything you’d said had sounded incredibly sexy.

The next night, he’d taken you to the restaurant at the top of the Six Towers Building, offering the most stunning views of the city. When the two of you had watched the starry night sky, you’d told him all about planets and universal theories that he couldn’t possibly understand, either. But again, you’d been smiling all the way through, and so had he.

The following nights, the two of you then had explored Philadelphia’s vibrant nightlife, which definitely had been more Ben’s area of expertise. He’d taken you to two night clubs and two jazz clubs, enjoying live music the whole night before Ray had to pick the two of you up in the early morning hours.

Ben had also taught you how to swing dance and explained jitterbugging in great detail to you. As far as you’d understood it, it was the twerking of the 1940s.

Another night, he’d taken you to the Philadelphia Opera House for a musical (Gershwin’s Of Thee I Sing) before the two of you had gone ice-skating together.

Then there had been the daylight dates: He’d taken you to the Philadelphia zoo, to something called a soda fountain (and no, to your disappointment, there hadn’t been a giant fountain spewing soda), and to the Museum of Art.

Some days, you’d come to work with him and annoy Fred, while others you’d stay home and either tinker in the shed or play piano in the drawing room. You hadn’t played properly in ages and were getting really good. So far, you’d perfected Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Want to Have Fun to air out your frustrations about this period’s blatant sexism and some All Through the Night to calm yourself again.

Moreover, you did a little more than just tinkering in George’s shed and were trying to overcome your blockage and get your powers working again.

And you’d even made some progress. Eureka!

While the memory bank, which was what you called the weird part of your ability that let you see little glimpses throughout time, worked just fine (much to your dismay), you hadn’t been able to click since that night you all took down Homelander.

The click was your ability to fast forward, backward, pause and play. Like the movie with Adam Sandler! Get it?

Anyway, you’d frozen Homelander long enough for Soldier Boy to charge up, your nose had started bleeding, your brain had almost exploded, you’d landed in a coma for three days afterward, and that was that. Never had tried doing it again since. That had been some scary shit.

Yup, Homelander had fought tooth and nail against your little spell, and you still had no fucking clue how he’d done it. You’d easily done it to Be–

Soldier Boy! Fuck. You’d easily done it to Soldier Boy all the time till he had started watching clocks around you like an eagle and be pissed as fuck whenever he’d realize an hour had suddenly passed (and then you’d started to pause the clocks in whatever room he was in, too).

To be fair, most of those times had been due to the relentless begging of Butcher and Hughie.

Butcher with a “Oi, can you make the cunt shut up for a second? I’m trying to bloody think ‘ere.” And Hughie with a “Please, make him stop. I need-, like, I just need a ten minute break from this gross piece of shit.”

Thinking about them made you realize how much they would surely judge you for your actions here. Shit. Honestly, that only made you want to avoid home even more.

You hated facing consequences, which was a bummer with an ability like yours.

Butcher would probably tell you he was disappointed in you, mostly for not killing Ben in the most brutal and messiest way possible. Then, he’d tease you for the rest of his cancer-ridden life about you throwing out your morals for good cock (which you hadn’t even done!).

Both Hughie and MM would look at you full of disgust and confusion, repeatedly asking why. Frenchie would say something along the lines of: “Mon cœur, pourquoi n'as-tu pas dit que tu avais besoin d'une bite ? Je te l'aurais proposée. C'est ce que font les amis.”

Why didn’t you say you needed some dick? I would’ve offered. That’s what friends do.

Then there would’ve been the girls. Annie and Maeve would’ve questioned your sanity and, after more wine, asked you if it had been the huge cock that eventually convinced you, to which Kimiko would’ve leaned in and proceeded to gesture different length variations with her hands till you would’ve picked one.

And no, you hadn’t slept with Ben yet.

He kissed you and touched you and held your hand, but he never pressured you or pushed you to do more. It was all PG-13 and above the waist. Ben was the perfect gentleman.

Honestly, no one was more baffled by that than you.

The problem was, however, Ben could be the nicest, sweetest, and kindest person on the planet, more innocent than little Hughie, and you’d still have a hard time fully trusting him with your heart.

But you tried not to let it affect you, to judge him preemptively, although the nightmarish memories of his dirty deeds were still plaguing you every goddamn night. They never stopped, and you weren’t sure they ever could, considering the sheer body count Soldier Boy had left in his wake during his reign of terror.

On one hand, you loved your somewhat quiet time in Philadelphia. People were different and life was different. No one was stuck to their phone all day, no one really had a fear of missing out or cared about their social media following, no one was obsessed with binge-watching trashy reality TV shows, and the extensive consumerism took a backseat altogether.

Even with a war going on, life ran at a more peaceful, unhurried pace. You sort of even began to understand some of Soldier Boy’s grievances with the 21st century. You’d always thought he had exaggerated, but he really hadn’t.

On the other hand, you missed parts of your old life – your friends, your own clothes, your own space. Worst of all, your memories of the future began to fade a little more each day.

You couldn’t remember Annie’s birthday, Hughie’s last name, Butcher’s first name, Fenchie’s face… What the fuck does MM stand for? Kimiko was from… You wanna say Vietnam? Japan? No… Fuck!

This wasn’t good by any means. You should start writing down what you could remember to read it whenever you’d forget.

Your theory regarding this particular problem was that the timeline was starting to reshape and rewrite itself. The longer you stayed in the past, the bigger the changes in the future had to be.

Spread your wings, little butterfly, and cause a hurricane!

Your fading memories were the reason why you still were trying to get yourself fully powered up again. You at least needed a Plan B, an exit strategy, a goddamn insurance policy in case things went south.

So far, you could throw an object into the air and pause it and freeze staff members around the house, even two at a time.

The click was back.

It was your remote control, while the memory bank was your Google (although a lot more graphic – memory-searching someone’s birthday brought you right to a baby’s head crowning through a vagina).

But hey, everyone’s superpower had its downsides. At least you didn’t have to time travel butt-naked.

You had the memory bank, you had the click, and now all there was left for you to find were your ruby slippers.

While you didn’t necessarily hate your life here – far from it even – a part of you missed your independence and despised the societal norms of the time. Feminism was basically considered sailor talk.

But Ben tried to never make you feel like less, even when he’d slip from time to time. You couldn’t really fault him for that. He was just doing and saying what he was raised to do – what everyone around you was raised to do.

However, he slowly began to respect you and your opinions, taking your advice more often than not. He fucking tried, and you could tell, even when he never said too much. He also never missed a beat to back you up whenever Fred or anyone else dared to doubt you.

“Oh, how nice! What are you two going to watch?” Fred asked, and you knew he was only all too eager to get rid of you again. He probably cursed Ben in his sleep for ever bringing you to the mill.

“We’re doing a double feature at the Boyd,” Ben replied.

“Yes! We’re seeing The Lady Eve first and then The Maltese Falcon,” you added with a big grin. You’d really been looking forward to visiting an old school movie theater. Who wouldn’t be?

Ben chuckled warmly and rubbed your back. “And as you can see, she’s apparently very excited. It’s almost like she’s never been to a theater before.”

Recently, Ben had started to tease you whenever you got too exuberant about a 1940s thing (not that he was aware you called them that). But it was sometimes hard to fully hide your enthusiasm once your geek brain lit up like a Christmas tree.

1942 had its pros and cons, its ups and downs, but you tried to adjust as best as you could, getting used to the idea of staying here for good.

So did Ben.

After washing off the dirt and slipping back into your clothes – an emerald green silk dress with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves – you strolled cheerily into Ben’s office, where he was already waiting for you.

“Alright, I’m ready. We can leave,” you told him, the excitement swinging in both your voice and smile.

“You sure about that? Aren’t you missing something?” With an amused smile, Ben then held your pair of shoes into the air. “Found them in the furnace.”

“Oh, I didn’t even notice! However did they get there?” you feigned your innocence, shifting around on your bare feet.

Ben chuckled and sauntered over to you. “I’m sure you have not the faintest clue, sweetheart.”

“Well, cut me some slack, okay? Ms. Vivian isn’t making you wear pantyhose all day long,” you sassed, grimacing.

Ben only smirked. “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t wear them.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Oh, but I think I am.” Ben’s smirk rose higher with a devilish gleam in his green eyes.

“Fine,” you huffed playfully, accepting the challenge. “They’re coming off!”

Your fingers worked eagerly to unfasten the clips of your garter belt – and oh God, how much you hated that fucking thing – and then rolled each stocking down your legs, finally tossing them on the leather chair.

“Oh, big mistake, sweetheart.” With a mischievous grin, he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you flush against his strong and firm body, instantly conquering your mouth with a searing kiss.

Ben always kissed you like there was no fucking tomorrow.

No future, no past, no doubts, no regrets. Just you and him caught in a moment.

He twirled you once and spun you backwards into his embrace like he’d shown you during your dance lessons, causing an eruption of giggles to spill from your throat. His breath ghosted along your skin in the nape of your neck, his broad chest pressing against your back, strong arms around you, holding you tight. His mouth trailed wet kisses along the exposed parts of your shoulder. His hands smoothed up and down your curves.

And then, they became a little more daring, a little more adventurous.

His right hand palmed a gracious amount of your ass over your dress while his left hand lingered dangerously close below your breast on your ribcage.

“And what exactly is your plan here, huh?” you incited, causing him to chuckle against your throat. It wasn’t like he’d never tried to test the boundaries before with you.

“You know, I’ve been thinking–“

“Uh-oh, that can’t be a good sign,” you quipped with a bubble of giggles.

“Are you teasing me, hm?” Ben pinched your sides where you were ticklish, laughing puckishly when you squealed and squirmed in his hold.

Needless to say, Soldier Boy wouldn’t have reacted with a tickle attack upon that comment.

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” you swore between your infectious laughter till he stopped and welcomed you back into his arms. You let yourself fall back against him. “So, what were you thinking, huh?”

“Well, I know we’re not sleeping together yet–“

“Yet? Wow, that’s some confidence you got there,” you continued to tease him.

“Yes, and completely your loss, by the way,” he retorted, spreading kisses down your neck to prove his point.

“Obviously.” You laughed softly to indulge him, but you couldn’t deny or ignore the little electric shockwaves traveling to your throbbing core. You clenched slightly, pressing your thighs a little tighter together, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

But he did and smirked triumphantly against your skin.

“As I was saying,” he continued, still carrying a smirk, but his voice dropping seductively low as he nibbled a path down your throat. His hand slid from your ass to the front of your thigh – slow, deliberate, knowing – rising higher and higher with each sinful syllable that left his plump lips. “Just because we’re not doing that yet–,” you felt the sharp smugness against your pulse point, “–doesn’t mean there aren’t… other ways I can make you feel good if you want me to, sweetheart.”

You laughed it off – barely, weakly, unconvincingly. “Ben…”

But there was no ‘I can’t,’ no ‘please,’ no ‘stop.’

“Yeah?” Amused, he kissed each vertebra down your neck, your little shivers pleasing him, his knuckles dragging along your ribs over silky fabric. “Need me to convince you a little?”

His perfect fingers tiptoed up your inner thigh – a brush, soft and fleeting. You bit your lips hard, close to tasting iron. Then, those five little sins traced up under your skirt, tugged teasingly at your garter straps, and ghosted along the hem of your panties.

And you fucking whimpered.

He smiled against the back of your head. It was like an invitation. A celebration! He’d finally won an argument.

“Yeah? You want me to touch you… there, sweetheart?” he tantalized raspily into your ear, your lobe caught between sharp teeth. His fingers teased along the cotton material, never going beyond where you wanted them.

Needed them.

His other hand then slid up your ribs, up and up and up, till he palmed your tit with the same ferocious grip he’d shown your ass.

“Or here?” His knuckles only lightly rubbed over your nipple, but it peaked underneath the thin material of your dress.

“Ben…” you moaned softly, not noticing how you sunk into him more and more. You were lost.

Pleasure. Bliss. Euphoria.

“Here it is, then.” He chuckled, victorious.

Gently, slowly, tortuously, his fingers ran along the cap sleeve before letting it fall down your shoulder. And as soon as it did, his hand generously cupped your breast. Massaged, groped, and fucking squeezed.

But his thumb and forefinger did the worst damage, tweaking, rubbing, and twisting your pebble between them till you sighed his name.

“Ben…”

“Yeah?” he answered in that same smug tone, enjoying you fall apart at his every touch. “You want more?”

“Yes,” you sighed breathlessly, grinding against him, desperate to find friction goddamn anywhere.

“Beg.” His diabolical chuckle caused your whole body to vibrate and catch fire.

You felt the outlines of his hard cock press against your ass, slotting himself right between your luscious cheeks. Each roll of his hips was deliberate. Teasing. Always teasing.

Fucking bastard…

His teeth sunk into your shoulder. His hand slipped inside your panties, cupped your whole pussy before two fingers stretched out, middle and pointer, and dove between your wet folds. Dragged and rubbed over your fucking clit.

“Well, look at that,” he chuckled into your ear. He palmed your tit roughly, fingers sliding over that little bundle of screaming nerves down low in relentlessly slow and measured strokes, gathering your wetness like it were the last drops on Earth. “And here I thought I never have any effect on you…”

“Ben…”

“Ben, what?”

The heel of his palm pressed against your pelvic bone, pushing you more against the hardness straining his slacks. Each rock, each push, each roll of his against you aimed to make you feel each inch of solid, thick, long mass. Aimed to make you wonder what he’d feel like inside of you.

Aimed to make you crumble enough for him to catch you when you’d finally fall from grace.

“Ben, please…”

You found the magic word, and two perfectly thick and long fingers breached your entrance just like that and delivered you from your misery but added to your sins.

You sang his name in fucking relief.

He curled his fingers in your drenched heat, right against that deliciously throbbing spot, scratching and coaxing every drop of arousal out of you, letting it trickle into his palm as if he were fucking saving it to drink later.

“You know–,” he rasped, breath hot against your cheek, “–this is why Ms. Vivian tells you to wear a fucking bra, sweetheart.” He rolled your aching nipple between his fingertips. “So men like me don’t have easy access and take fucking advantage of it.”

You clenched around his fingers. He grinned against your jaw.

“Although, I wouldn’t have minded if you forwent the panties, sweetheart,” he continued, deep voice thick with filth. “Wouldn’t have minded at all for those guys down there to see you fucking drippin’ for me to touch you.”

A moan bled from your lips as he ploughed his fingers harder through your wrecked pussy with every letter.

He brushed your hair to one side, hand lazily moving from your breast to your throat to your jaw, lifting your gaze to find his lust-laden and filth-filled eyes.

“You’re goddamn perfect,” he murmured, smirk twitching in the corners of his lips, making you chase them but never giving in to your desire. You whimpered, and he chuckled. His thumb pressed against your clit, adding slow circles to his torturous pumps. “Can’t wait to own every little part of yours. Can’t wait to make you mine.”

In 2023, you would’ve wanted him to choke on the possessive vile spewing out of his mouth.

But here, in 1942, with his fingers deep inside you and his voice cursing your mind, you fucking shattered.

You squeezed his fingers hard with a moaning and shuddering fuck, the last part of your resolve focusing even harder on not goddamn breaking them.

Sometimes, you still forgot he wasn’t a supe yet, made out of the same steel that was created below you, and that you could actually hurt him.

With a strangled scream that drowned out the factory noise of hammering steel beams (and red fucking cheeks), you came undone and soaked his goddamn hand.

Your frame shook, muscles trembled, and knees gave in, only to be caught and saved by him.

And then, finally, when your breathless lungs had wrung for enough oxygen, when your wild heartbeats had steadied, he let you catch his lips, perfectly desperate and starved and needy.

Your hand reached to cup his face, pulling him closer, fingers tangling in his hair, tongue down his throat. Ben groaned into the kiss, wrecked and just as desperate as you.

You twisted in his embrace as his fingers dropped from your heat. You faced him, kissing him with the sole intent to rob him of air. Your lips trailed down his jaw, his throat, and the little bit of exposed skin on his chest that was visible through the first opened buttoned of his dress shirt.

He growled when your hand reached down and eagerly palmed his rock-hard cock through his pants. Your trembling fingers hurried to unbuckle his belt, wanting to return the favor, but his hands snapped to your wrists, holding them still before gently moving them away.

“Oh no, sweetheart. We’re gonna be late for the pictures.” He smirked that smug smile again and gave you a cheeky wink. Coolly and completely unbothered, he then stepped away from you and grabbed his coat, swinging it over his shoulders and closing the front to hide his massive boner. “C’mon, let’s go!”

With an amused grin, Ben lit a cigarette and waited patiently by the door for you to snap out of your stupor and take his hand.

The crisp February air hit your face, your breath coming out in little swirling clouds as you and Ben emerged from the warmth of the movie theater. The snow-covered streets of Philadelphia were hushed, the city falling asleep as the glow of streetlamps bathed the cobblestone sidewalk in amber hues.

You adjusted the collar of your coat against the chill, tucking your hands into the pockets. Ben, sensing the shiver that ran through you, pulled you a little closer, interlacing your fingers with his.

“How’d you like the movies?” he asked, smiling softly and giving a quick peck to your temple.

“I loved them! Can’t go wrong with Bogart and Fonda,” you replied with a smile that soon turned teasing. You playfully nudged his shoulder. “So, you scared yet I’m gonna pull a fast one on you like Barbara Stanwyck did to Henry Fonda?”

Ben laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “I don’t know. So far, you haven’t really been interested in my money, so I think I’m safe. ‘Sides, I’m not as easy as Fonda.”

“You sure about that? You do look a little naive and fresh-faced to me,” you quipped, grinning.

“Well, just so you know, if you’re really trying to con me… it’s working,” he joked and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling you into his arms with a fond smile and whispering a kiss onto your lips.

Your heart wildly fluttered for a beat but was swiftly slain by a sting in the same breath. Weren’t you conning him a little? He didn’t know who you were or where you came from despite trying to warn him as much as you could. You didn’t want anything from him – not his money, not his secrets, not his death. You didn’t even know why you were doing this – why the fuck you were still entertaining this charade!

Your insides were full of butterflies and bees these days.

“Oh, yeah? Guess I’m the one who’s in trouble then,” you replied with a soft smile as you got lost in the green galaxies of his eyes.

“I don’t think you have any idea how much you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger, sweetheart,” Ben said and lifted your chin softly to meet his lips in a sweet, tentative kiss. An affectionate smile grazed his face as his large palm warmed your cold cheek. “But I think I know something else, too.”

“And what’s that?” You bit your lower lip, leaning in closer, your hands sliding up his chest to drape around his neck.

“I think you’re falling for your mark, sweetheart,” he replied with a quiet smile, resting his forehead on yours.

Your heart stopped, his words stunning you into silence, tears beginning to brim in your eyes that you tried to swallow down. Was that what you were doing? What kept you tethered here? Were you falling in love with him?

“Maybe, I am,” you admitted softly, watching a hint of a smile flash alive before he pulled you to his lips in a searing, wanting, claiming kiss.

“You know, if you were the Maltese Falcon–,” he said, voice rough and low, thumb stroking up and down your cheekbone, “–I’d follow you across continents just to keep you safe.”

“Hmm, I can see you as Bogart. You like to brood in the shadows as well,” you teased him, feeling the vibrations of his chuckle against your body as his words sunk in.

Was he–… No. That’s ridiculous. 

“Well, I did always want to be an actor when I was younger,” he shared, laughing self-consciously.

“Really? I guess I can see that. You do have a very Hollywood look,” you entertained his idea with a warm smile. You figured it was best to breeze over his actual acting skills altogether. He had looked pretty on screen when Soldier Boy had forced his movies down your throat. “And what would you want in return for saving me, huh?”

“Well–,” he licked his lips, his hands slowly, deliberately, seductively opening your coat and slipping them inside around your waist, “–there’s still a few things I’d like to unravel about you.”

Your cheeks hurt with a smile. Oh, he was a charming devil. It was hard to deny.

“I’m not quite sure I’m ready to be unraveled yet,” you said with a coy giggle, fingers gently carding through the hair in the back of his neck like a nervous tick as your heart hammered in your ribcage.

But Ben gave you a kind smile in return, his features softening with something deeper than the playful attitude. “That’s okay. There’s no rush, sweetheart. You’re worth waiting for.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead as if he was making a vow at that moment. The night felt intimate, like it was just a world for the two of you.

And you realized then that you were truly falling head over heels in love with him, unaware that Ben was already miles ahead of you.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know that, much like the Maltese Falcon, you were only a fake – a mere illusion, too.

C.

“Lying in my bed, I hear–” You adjusted your fingers on the ivory keys.

Em.

“–the clock tick, and I think of you,” you sang softly, holding the note.

Am.

“Caught up in circles, confusion–”

F.

“–is nothing new...”

C.

“Flashback, warm nights. Almost–” your fingers switched back to E minor, “–left behind.” Am. “Suitcases of memories…” F. “Time after–”

You exhaled a soft sigh, your fingers sliding from the keys with a few random notes. How did the chorus go again?

Why were you forgetting the lyrics? You knew that song by heart. Earlier, you couldn’t play Sia’s Elastic Heart either.

C.

“If you’re lost, you can look, and you will find me–” Em. “–time after time.” Am. “If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting–” F. “–time after time…”

You expelled a breath of relief. The memory fog was getting worse every day. You wondered how long you still had before not being able to remember anything at all.

“Why are you stopping?”

With a small yelp of surprise, you startled and turned to Ben, leaning against the doorframe and watching you. You didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You hadn’t even heard him come home.

“Oh, uh, I can’t remember the rest of the song,” you replied, your cheeks blushing as you rose from the little stool to greet him, tiptoeing up to meet his lips for a sweet kiss. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

Ben chuckled. “Luckily. Otherwise, I might have missed your little performance.” He winked, caressing your cheek in his palm. “The only proof I had of you actually playing so far were the bedazzling whispers of the staff. Glad I finally got to catch it, too. You have a beautiful voice, sweetheart.”

Your brow quirked unnoticeably at his last sentence. Why the hell did that sound familiar to you? It felt like déjà-vu.

“Thank you.” Your cheeks turned pink under the soft light of the crystal chandelier in the drawing room.

“What song was that? I don’t know it. Did you write that?” Ben asked curiously.

You shook your head quickly, brushing it off. “Oh no, just something I heard once somewhere…”

“Huh. I like it,” he said, and you internally sighed in relief. He then hauled a full bouquet of sunflowers from behind his back, holding them out to you with a smile. “Got something for you.”

You took the bouquet gratefully, burying your nose in the beautiful smelling flowers. You’d told him not too long ago that they were your favorite.

“For me? Thank you, uhm… Where did you even get sunflowers in winter?” You shook your head then suddenly. “You know what? Don’t answer that. It’s probably a rich people trade secret,” you muttered, making Ben snort. “What exactly are those for?”

He offered you a warm smile. “We threw on the second furnace today. The two new ones now produce ten times as much as the others. We’re gonna get that government contract, all thanks to you.”

Should you be concerned you had a hand in helping rich people get even richer?

“I’m glad it worked out,” you said instead, smiling softly.

“Fred seemed a little nervous since you hadn’t checked his work on the second one,” Ben said jokingly.

“I’m sure it was fine.” You laughed with a playful eye roll. “Oh, uhm, I actually have something for you, too!”

You hurried back to the piano and laid the bouquet down on top of it, knowing Florence would pick them up in the next five minutes, already noticing her scurry down the hall upon hearing Benjamin’s voice. Then you walked over to a long, polished side table, gesturing Ben over to you.

His brow knitted a little more with each step he took, jade green eyes focusing on the somewhat big and clunky machine propped up on it. And then, finally, he looked at you, his expression somewhere between completely bewildered and bountifully confused.

“It’s a movie projector,” you told him while Ben kept silently staring at you like you were an alien. “Because you said you liked movies? Now you can watch them at home. You just have to steal a white bedsheet out of Florence’s linen closet. And of course, you’d have to get a movie from somewhere, but I’m sure that won’t be a big problem for you. You just need to make sure it’s 35mm.”

Ben’s eyes widened; lips curled. “Where-, uhm–” He scratched the back of his neck. “Where did you get it?”

“Oh, I built it,” you replied.

“‘Course you did…” Ben clicked his tongue.

“George had most of the materials in the shed, and he was nice enough to get the rest of them for me,” you added, barely hiding the excited grin. “Do you like it?”

Ben’s features softened, a smile curving his lips. “Yeah, I like it very much, sweetheart. Thank you.”

There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite place – like your gift was special, which confused you greatly. He could buy himself anything he ever wanted to, including a movie projector, and you were sure he had also received plenty of gifts throughout his life. You didn’t even really want to imagine what kind of spectacle his birthdays probably had been.

“You’re welcome,” you said, and Ben pulled you closer by your hand, kissing you.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked as he withdrew from your lips, your cheeks still safely in his warm palms.

Uh-oh.

Ben had gotten curiouser and curiouser about you the last couple of weeks. It was as if he expected you to open up more, the longer the two of you were going out, which would’ve been a pretty fair assumption to make in a regular relationship. But the problem was nothing was normal about this, and you couldn’t share more with him. Not more than you already had. You’d never be able to tell him the full truth.

“I guess?”

Ben chuckled lightly at your response, caressing your cheek as if to assure you. “Where did you learn how to do all of this? I mean, this seems to go a bit beyond… regular schooling. Not that I’d know for sure.”

Ben’s little self-deprecating laugh was supposed to calm your nerves, but your heart only pounded faster by the second.

Hesitantly, you pursed your lips and exhaled a long breath. “I suppose you have a point. I-, uhm, I learned it in college.”

And downloading instructions from the memory bank. 

“College?” Ben’s brow almost met his hairline, green eyes wide in surprise. “You went to college? Where?”

“I-, uhm, I studied physics at McGill. It’s a university in Montreal,” you told him the truth. Luckily, you remembered your college’s long history of co-educational programs, including the sciences.

“French…” was all Ben mumbled, nodding along as if puzzle pieces were falling into place. “Are you from Canada?”

You snorted a giggle, shaking your head. “No, I just studied there.”

“Physics?” Ben checked once more like he couldn’t believe it, his brow intensely furrowed. But it wasn’t doubt that caused the creases – only disbelief.

“Yes,” you confirmed slowly. “I have a… PhD.”

Ben’s brows raised a little higher. “You-, uh, you’re a doctor?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re actually… smart-smart,” Ben deduced, causing you to laugh slightly, visibly seeing the gears turning in his head.

“I guess you could say that,” you replied, worrying your lower lip as you watched his various expressions.

“Huh.” Ben hummed and smacked his lips. “Why wouldn’t you have told me that?”

He wasn’t offended but generally baffled why you’d hide an achievement this big, one you should be proud to show off.

Your lips hitched a smile of amusement. “I’m not a man, Ben. Not as easy for someone like me.”

“Right…” He nodded quietly, still thinking. Still considering you.

But he didn’t have more questions afterward. You couldn’t really read the look on his faintly freckled face, and before you could figure it out, he claimed your lips in a deep and long kiss that robbed you of your breath.

However, pulling back, his smile faltered at the corners, brows shaping back into the familiar creases. His gaze trailed down your throat, landing on a particular spot at the slope of your neck. His fingers reached out and tentatively traced along the curve.

“What?” you asked with a small giggle upon his questioning look and the ticklish touch, but your eyes were wary, your heart accelerating its beats again.

“Nothing.” He shook his head as if the thought that had crossed him was silly. An amused smile then curved his lips. “Did you know I’ve been trying to leave my mark on that little spot for weeks now? Doesn’t seem to take.”

Fuck! 

You hadn’t even thought about that. He was getting way too observant. How long could you possibly keep this up before he’d burn you on the stake?

“Oh, uh…” Self-consciously, your hand clasped that very spot on your neck, feeling your eyebrows shoot up before you tried to rein them in and keep your composure. “I don’t… bruise easily, you know? Kinda neat…”

Fortunately, Ben seemed to buy your lie, his smile widening in kind. You really had him wrapped around your little finger. And shit, did you feel guilty about it, but you were also fucking relieved.

How long would that last, though? This wouldn’t be the last time he’d ask you questions or take note of oddities.

“Yeah, guess you don’t.” The smile morphed to a smirk. “Guess I have to try harder then, huh?”

The challenge sparkled in the deep green of his eyes before he entangled you in another kiss, tongue breaching past your lips as the hands on your waist dragged you flush against him. His hands slid higher, his embrace tightening as he retreated a few inches from your lips, only to place a gentle kiss on your temple.

“You’re special, sweetheart,” he said against the top of your head as he held you, deep voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I promise I won’t ever forget that, okay? And I’ll make sure everyone else fucking sees it, too.”

Shit.

Your heart dropped. You fought against the flood of tears in your eyes and tried to keep your breathing steady. Don’t fucking cry, you reminded yourself.

No one had ever said something like that to you. How did he know? And why on Earth did it have to be him?

And you knew then why you were still here and hadn’t ended this madness yet – because Ben was the one, across the vastness of the universe and the infinity of time, that saw you in a way no one else ever had.

He was the only one.

“Ben, I–”

Before you could form the right words to say, both your heads snapped to the hallway upon hearing the heavy thud of the front door. Who was at the door? Did he finally decide to get Mrs. Helen for you, after all?

But the tension that crept into Ben’s broad shoulders and the deeply creasing brow told you he hadn’t expected the visit either, and your stomach sank as it dawned on you.

“Shit,” Ben muttered, telling you enough with that one little curse word.

“Your parents?” you asked quietly. Ben nodded, but his worried eyes were fixed on the hall that led to the foyer. “I thought they weren’t supposed to come for a few more days?”

Ben had never explicitly said it, but you knew he was nervous about you being here when his father eventually returned. A week ago, he’d subtly introduced the idea of getting an apartment for you in the city, so you’d known Florence’s suspicion had been right all along.

You were not welcome here and were only trouble for Ben.

“Yeah, uhm…” Distraught, he turned to you then, and you swore you could see his heart beating in his throat. “You think you could, uhm–”

You nodded without him needing to say more. “I’ll sneak up to my room through the servants’ quarters and lock myself in there, alright?” you said and quickly kissed his cheek in reassurance, Frances already knowingly holding the door open for you to follow her upstairs.

▶️ Chapter 7: Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

Poor girl never stood a chance with him 😅 How did you enjoy their dates (and their little office session)? Are you nervous or excited to get a glimpse of Ben's parents in the next part?

✨ TRIVIA FACTS: The title is a quote from The Maltese Falcon (1941) with Humphrey Bogart. The movie is about a group of people hunting a valuable artifact, the Maltese Falcon, before it is revealed at the end that it was only a fake. The second movie mentioned is The Lady Eve (1941), which is about a female con artist trying to scam a millionaire on a cruise ship before she falls for her mark. I found both of those very fitting for obvious reasons 🤓

Coming Up:

And then, his eyes landed on the bed – on your clothes spread out, half-packed. He froze, demeanor shifting immediately, color draining from his face. “What the hell is going on here? Are you fucking leaving me?” The baritone voice was suddenly sharp now, carrying an edge that cut through the haze of his drunkenness.

“I don’t wanna cause more trouble for you,” you confessed quietly, panic rising in your chest.

“So that’s it? Just like that? You’re just gonna fucking walk out on me?” His voice was jagged with emotion, gripping a handful of his hair in disbelief.

“No, but I-… I don’t belong here, okay?” you argued, your tone laced with desperation. What else could you say?

“Dammit, you think I don’t fucking know that?” His jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat, there was an unsettling silence between you two. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck Dottie told you, but this-… this isn’t some game to me. You think I do this with everyone? That I’m using you because I’m bored? That I’m just some spoiled rich kid who gets whatever I want?” He stared at you, disappointment, incredulity, and betrayal swimming in his eyes.

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt. 1:

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@supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @m0e0v0v @youroldfashioned

[fwaist]

JAW once said in an interview that “Carmy does not fuck” which is 1. hilarious and 2. in character and 3. intriguing, and I would love to hear your headcanons regarding this🙏🙏💕

of COURSE carmy doesn’t fuck. not because he couldn’t, but because he’s so emotionally repressed, chronically stressed, and buried under ten layers of guilt and self-loathing that sex would just be another thing he overthinks into oblivion. the man is hanging on by a thread and that thread is beef. so yeah. he doesn’t fuck—but if he ever did? it would be awkward and intense and kind of sweet in a “he’s trying so hard please someone give him a hug” way. and i have so, so many thoughts about that. okay—diving in.

Carmy’s not inexperienced, per se. He knows what sex is. He’s watched enough porn, read the occasional questionable Reddit thread, jerked off in rushed, guilt-tinged moments between 14-hour shifts and deep spirals of culinary self-loathing. But sex—actual sex, with a person who looks at him like you do? That’s a different kind of pressure. It’s a kind of heat he doesn’t know how to hold.

He prepped for this. Not like—intentionally, but… kind of. He showered longer than usual. Used the good soap. Trimmed everything down there as best he could and definitely nicked himself once or twice in the process—stood over the sink like it was a high-stakes mise en place, squinting into the mirror, muttering, “Okay, slow, slow, don’t fuck this up, chef…” The result is neat, if a little uneven. He smells like clean cotton and whatever expensive shampoo Sugar left in the apartment.

When it finally happens—when you tug him by the hand to the bed and he stammers something like, “We don’t have to, if you’re not—if this is too soon or whatever, I can wait, I’m chill,”—you kiss him quiet. He melts. Shoulders slumping. Lips soft and hungry. He kisses like he means it, like every second is precious, like he’s scared it’s going to be the last. And when your hand dips between his legs?

He gasps. Full-bodied, shaky. “Fucking Christ,” he chokes out, hips twitching. His cock’s already hard, hot against your palm. Not huge, not small—just right, pretty even. Cut, flushed pink at the tip, thick enough to make you feel it stretch you, but not enough to overwhelm. There’s a vein down the side that pulses when you stroke him, and he watches you like he’s watching God.

“Oh my god—yeah, okay, that’s—fuck, shit, sorry,” he mutters, hips jerking forward. “That—feels better than, like—anything. Ever. I don’t—am I supposed to do something with my hands or—?”

You laugh, and he blushes so hard his ears turn red. “You’re good, Carm. You’re doing fine. Let our bodies do the talking.”

He groans like that line alone nearly finishes him off. “Ohhh—fuck, no, don’t say shit like that—”

You guide him inside you, and for a second, everything stops. His breath catches. Eyes wide. Muscles tense like he’s bracing for something catastrophic, like maybe he’s about to cry or come or die. “Holy fuck,” he whispers. “Are you sure—are you okay—do I need to slow down?”

You just nod, and he lets out this broken little sound. Kind of a moan, kind of a whimper, and so sincere it nearly undoes you.

At first, he’s awkward. Bumping the wrong angle. Hips moving in tiny, unsure thrusts like he’s terrified to go too deep. Keeps checking your face like he’s looking for notes. “That—no, sorry—was that weird? I can stop. I’ll stop. Shit. I—uh—yeah.” You kiss him again, thread your fingers through his hair, and roll your hips until he’s buried deep and shaking.

When you get on top, his brain shorts out. Full-on blue screen. His hands fly to your waist like instinct, but his mouth is stuck on a loop. “Yeah. Fuck. Okay. Yeah. You’re so—holy shit, you’re—beautiful, baby, fuck, shit—” His voice goes high when you clench around him, like a whine caught in his throat. His hips twitch like they want to buck up but he’s scared to move, too scared to end it too soon.

And he does come too fast. Not in a tragic way—just in that achingly human, overwhelmed way that makes you want to kiss every inch of him. His hands tremble on your thighs, face slack with pleasure, mouth open as he gasps out, “I—I think I’m gonna—fuck—fuck, fuck, f—ohhh—shit—” and then he’s done, shaking under you, pressing his face into your neck like he’s trying to disappear.

“Sorry,” he whispers after. “I—I swear I can go again. Like. Soon. Just—holy shit.”

And he does go again. He’s hard again in less than ten minutes, and the second time’s better. He starts to find rhythm, his hands more confident, his mouth bolder. He talks more, too—low, raspy praise between panting breaths. “You’re so fucking soft, baby, you’re perfect, so wet, so good for me—” He latches onto your tits like he’s been dreaming about them for years. He sucks and mouths at them like a man starved, eyes glazed and reverent.

“I’ve got a thing,” he confesses, voice rough. “With—y’know. Tits. Just—fuck. They’re amazing. You’re amazing.”

You ride him through it. Take control. And he loves it. Because it lets him feel without the pressure to perform. He’s sensitive, vocal—little gasps and sighs spilling out with every grind of your hips. When you tell him not to talk, just to feel, he moans so sharply it echoes. His whole body tightens, stomach clenching, hands white-knuckling the sheets.

“Ohhh, fuck—don’t say that—fuck, I’m gonna—” he whines, high and airy, and then he’s coming again, teeth sunk into your shoulder to muffle it, cock pulsing deep inside you. His thighs twitch. You feel his whole body flutter under you, coming undone again.

After, he holds you. Silent. Breath slowing, chest rising against your back. Face nestled into your hair. And for once, there’s no chaos. No kitchen yelling. No fire alarms. Just the sound of your heartbeat under his cheek and the soft hum of the city outside his window.

You trace his jaw, and he mumbles, “I was so bad at that, huh.”

“You were perfect, Carm.”

He sighs, a sleepy little smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? Okay. Good. ‘Cause I—uh. Wanna do that again. With you. Like, a lot.”

And he means it. Every stammered word.

[cassyapper]

hi do u have any favourite fics to recommend?? I'm on the hunt for something good to read and I trust reccs more than anything 👀 👀

HI ANON I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME TEN BILLION YEARS TO ANSWER THIS BUT YES I HAVE RECS rubs my hands together. i assume this is for jjba specifically noritaro so i'm gonna focus on those but if u were thinking of smth else send a follow up ask!

0. he's bad news but i'm no better by simkjrs

putting this as "0" because it is incomplete (it is the only incomplete fic i'll put on this list) but it is. THE noritaro fic. you need to understand. it is SO FUCKING. good. as expected of the ceo of jotaro kujo simkjrs but holy fucking shit. jsut so good. i dont know if it will ever be finished but what we got? jsut gold. i tink it's absolutely worth a read take it from someone who normally doesnt pick at incomplete fics. jsut so good. fuck.

literally anything by ao3 user succubused

theyre so fucking wise they are THE noritaro understander. oh my god their fics are so good. i read their entire noritaro catalogue at the beginning of lockdown in 2020 and i actually lost my fucking mind i'm a different person now from it. holy shit actually life changing. just great stuff. they understand the characters so well. really intriguing interpretations and aus ugh. so fun

2. all deine wundun by ao3 user fivour

a short fic that goes into kakyoin's pov when he lsot his eyes in the n'doul fight with some jotaro there. rlly in character i think and jsut ugh. really good. technically it's for the ova but i can see it fitting any canon iteration of jotaro and kakyoin

3. you cannot see him for the storm by ao3 user deadofdecember

a fun exploration of jotaro and kakyoin's relationship and how it develops over the journey. it's so heartrending dude. the first noritaro fics i ever read #godbless

4. heartstopper. by razzmatazzz

REALLY FUNNY AND CUTE FIC where a non-enemy standuser accidentally turns kakyoin into a frog and yeah. princess and the frog stuff. it's so funny and cute they pass frog kakyoin around in a circle trying to see what will work ugh SO funny. so cute i lvoe it

5. habits by souriswriter

very cute and good fic of kakyoin being the observant young man he is regarding jotaro while hierophant is insufferable aobut his budding crush. i love sentient stands bro

6. anything by ao3 user queenieofaces

ANOTHER CERTIFIED NORITARO UNDERSTANDING oh my GOD their fics are so good. they get jotaro particularly well and jsut UGHGHG just so fucking good. i giggle i laugh i feel sick to my stomach. truly their fics have it all. they do a really great job of showing how close they got so fast and why it makes sense

7. anything by ao3 user skysquid22

i haven't read All of skysquid's noritaro catalogue yet but of the ones I Have read, oh my god. so fucking good. they really pick at their tragedy so well it makes me so sick oughh god. but other than that they have some lihter fics that are so funny. UGH. so good

8. off script by gandmvsm

*note that you need to be logged in to read this one* post part 3, kakyoin tries and fails to propose a handful of times before he finally gets it right at the perfect imperfect moment. soo fuckin cute and sweet

9. the stars under heaven by brightwing

EXACTLY THE KIND OF FIC I WAS LOOKING FOR AFTER I FINISHED EYES OF HEAVEN STORY MODE. so fucking good. there's more going on than jsut noritaro but my GOD it's jsut. so fucking good. they get jotaro so well im so sick. ughh so good

10. crazy little thing called love by nevermordor

CUUUUUUUTEST FIC EVER where jotaro is like it's not a date. wait is it. no it's not. im so fucking stressed out right now. fucking kakyoin IT'S SO FUCKING FUNNY AND CUTE i literally cannot read it in one sitting i have to get up and pace a bit like midway through cause it is so fucking cute. jotaro is so gone for kakyoin it's so fucking CUTE. and likewise kakyoin is trying so hard to impress jotaro and make sure he has a good night UGHHH. so good

11. creep by rigmaroler

very fucking cute and funny fic about kakyoin being weird as hell and jotaro's classmates not understanding not only how jotaor puts up with it but also how he in fact enjoys it. and just general post part 3 cuteness had kakyoin lived and gone to the same school. very sweet

12. lazarus by fivour

fivour again <3 this fic is like. au where kakyoin lives and it's in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. joseph heals him w hamon. kakyoin is disorientated and in pain and scared but jotaro is there and he keeps him grounded UGH

13. mahalo by platzchen

another proposal fic <3 this time jotaro is the one on the knee. so so cute

14. brighter than sunshine by undeadarchivist

ONE OF MY FAV NORITARO FICS FUCKING EVEERRRRRRRRR oh my god it's so fucking good and cute. it's a kakyoin lives au but it starts during part 3 then spans after it. jotaro is so in love with kakyoin it makes me so sick. he LOVES HIm! nad he in turn is so loved by kakyoin in this fic it has actually made me cry. i reread it so often. SO FUCKING GOOD fuck

15. let the good times roll by nevermordor

nevermodror again <3 this fic is so funny. alcoholic joseph, avpol, noritaro, stuck in a hotel while it rains (cause it is winter). just lots of fun and very cute, rlly nice to read this one to take the edge off of some of the more serious/angsty ones on this list

16. choked out by wlwchiaki

missing scene in the sun arc while they all settle into the reality they're in in that cave star platinum dug up. jotaro and kakyoin are so young here oughh it aches. FUCKK so good

umm yeah that's what i got for now. IF you want to see more, you can check out my bookmarks on ao3 <3