#but not right now I just want to kiss his stupid fucking flat face-

[reel-fear]

the fucking audacity of the batim team to forget the projectionist in an archive yet again when he feels like one of the most iconic monsters to come out of batim and also the hottes4kjghr43rkj4r34tgergijhg54t87h847h45tkjsh

[neo-nomatrix]

(My) Nuisance

Hobie brown x reader

word count: 964

find the rest of the mini series here

synopsis: You thought you hated Hobie, but for some reason you’re starting to like him just as much as you like Spiderman.

a/n: (maybe too much) british slang used

You hate your next door neighbor. No, no you loathe your next door neighbor. You think he is the worst person to possibly exist. His stupid flat decorations, his loud punk-rock music blasting at unruly hours, the way he would come back to his flat at 4 am stomping his boots yelling with his friends about their latest anarchist protest. But you hate nothing more than the way he looks at you.

Everytime you try yelling at him he opens his door with the cheekiest grin on his face. While you’re standing there fuming he’s leaning against the door panel looking you up and down. The worst part is how much he tries to smooth talk you.

“I already told you how annoying your music is, no one wants to hear that at 3 am alright? Some of us have work in the morning,” you complain, smoke practically coming out of your ears.

“Oh c’mon love it’s not that bad. Don’t have to be such a tosser ‘bout it. It messes up that pretty face of yours,” he says.

“Are you daft? You’re the one keeping everyone up at night with your dumb guitar,” you roll your eyes.

“It’s not that big a deal sweetheart. Y’know i'm starting to think you’re making up rubbish just so you can talk to me more. I’ll admit it’s pretty cute but you could just ask me out,” he leans closer to your flushed face.

“I don’t fancy you if that’s what you mean,” you scoff.

“Not saying that. I’m saying if you wanna snog me so bad you could just say so,” he shrugs.

You could burst out laughing. Kiss him? That’s fucking hilarious.

“You’re joking right? i’d rather die.”

“I don’t believe in comedy, love,” he says.

“Of course you don’t,” you mumble as you storm off back to your door.

You’ve decided he is the worst person ever. He doesn’t deserve your efforts and time.

You set your keys down and fall into bed as you hear amp feedback and the sounds of Hobie strumming his guitar. You can’t help but roll your eyes. How could someone be so incompetent?

You reach your hand over to where the bed and the wall meet to grab your Spiderman plush. You hate to admit it because it’s kind of dumb but you’ve always loved spiderman. Ever since you were a little kid you collected posters, figures, pins, and merchandise having to do with the superhero. Even now, your walls are decorated in spiderman posters, you own spiderman clothing, and even printed your keys to have a blue and red spider web on them.

There was something so nostalgic to the vigilante and his style that you had to adorn your room with touches of blue and red. You thought spiderman was the embodiment of “cool.” From his suit to the way he acted around criminals to the electric guitar on his back. Sure, a guitar was the main thing you hated about Hobie but Spiderman did it better. He made it work in the way Hobie dreams of.

You wake up to the loudest knock on your front door you’ve ever heard. You immediately know it’s him. You try to ignore the blaring pounding coming from your door but it keeps going. You force yourself to get up and answer the door. You hope you can open it, yell at him, then go back to bed.

To your dismay the second you open the door Hobie places his hand on the top of the wood, stopping you from moving it anywhere else.

“What do you want this early?” you groan.

“It’s like 9 am, love. But anyway-” He cuts himself off before finishing his sentence. You’re too groggy to notice that he’s staring inside of your flat. His eyes search the walls and decor in front of him.

“So, I take it you like Spiderman?” He laughs.

“That’s none of your business,” you sigh, crossing your arms.

He pushes his way inside of your flat, moving around like he’s looking for buried treasure. He picks up memorabilia and smiles at them. He holds up a Spider-Punk figurine and turns towards you.

“Spider-Punk huh?”

“Don’t touch my stuff! You know this is technically breaking and entering,” you scold him, taking the figure out of his hand.

He puts his hands in his pockets and just smirks at you. That stupid smirk, displaying half of his teeth and perfectly showing his lip ring.

“What do you want from me, Hobie?” you question after placing the figure back on its stand.

“Jus- Just wanted to apologize for last night,” he starts.

“You mean this morning? We talked at 1 am, remember?” You say, passive aggressively.

“Right, whatever. You’re… You’re right,” he exhaled, “I shouldn’t be blasting my music that early. It’s inconsiderate and rude to the people in my vicinity,” he breathes.

In the time you’ve known him you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say sorry. You’re taken aback, did he really apologize? And did he sound genuinely sorry?

“Oh, oh uhm thanks,” you sat, still skeptical a camera crew would come out laughing saying this whole thing was a prank.

“I wanted to see if you maybe wanted to come to my show tonight? We could get dinner after or whatever you want,” He scratches the back of his neck, he’s nervous.

“I’d like that, I guess,” you reluctantly say.

“Wicked. Uhm, i’ll be leaving then. Sorry again,” he says. Shooting finger guns at you and making his way out the door.

You smile, maybe, just maybe, Hobies getting to you. As he’s leaving you could swear you see some blue and red material with spikes on it slipping out of his pocket.

[minus-plus-zer0]

While You're Gone

♡ Genre: Fluff, not as sad as the title sounds ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up, established relationships, clingy/pining/dorky/needy/loser Bakugou (aka regular Bakugou)

You abandoned Bakugou at home to buy groceries alone, you traitor.

Bakugou couldn't forgive this. Currently, he laid flat on the couch, face down. Once you got back, he wouldn't let you rest your weary feet on such a comfy spot. You'd have to deal with him, whether you liked it or not.

He couldn't believe how truly callous you were on the inside. It went against everything he knew of you. Bakugou had dated you for a few years now, and had been in love with you even prior to that. He was dead set on marrying you at this point. And yet... you betrayed him.

He easily recalled the moment, like it was only five minutes ago (it was).

"It won't be long, Katsuki!" you said, while opening your apartment front door. "I promise I'll get you a nice, tasty snack!"

"I'm not a dog, I don't need treats." Bakugou's hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he approached you. "I need my fucking girlfriend. It's our day off!"

"You have your girlfriend every single night," you said, patting his cheek. "You live with your girlfriend every single day of your life. And you kiss your girlfriend every morning before work. You are too needy if you want more than that."

He scowled but did not fight back against your intrusive hand. "A girlfriend is supposed to love me, not leave. Why can't I just go with you?"

"Because if we go together, we'll get distracted again, or you might start another argument with an elderly shopper, or you might even prevent me from making bad purchases! That's why you can't go!"

"But that's--"

"Goodbye, Katsuki! I will see you in a few hours!"

You shut the door behind you. He still couldn't believe it, even now.

As you left, you wondered to yourself one question that had always been on your mind, "What does Bakugou do while you are gone?" If you had a pet camera installed, you would've seen the antics your boyfriend got up to in the following moments...

Time passed by while Bakugou held down the fort. Although Bakugou tried to continue defending the couch, his boredom overwhelmed his spitefulness towards you and it forced him to do something productive.

While you were gone, Bakugou entered argument after argument with anyone he could to blow off some steam. His texts were filled with jabs at Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and more. It wasn't long until they correctly guessed that Bakugou's bad mood was due to your absence. Bakugou swiftly blocked them.

When he couldn't complain to other people, Bakugou sometimes grumbled to himself, speaking to nobody as he vented about his day.

"Stupid couch..."

"Stupid food..."

"Stupid bills! Fuck you!"

Occasionally, Bakugou thought you came home early. He would then poke his head around the house, checking to see if you were home. But more often than not it was just the sound of his neighbors' doors opening and closing, and he grew even more irritated than before. You weren't answering your texts either.

What's worse, there were little reminders of you all around the house. It was only natural, seeing as how you two lived here together. Every time Bakugou started focusing on something negative, he'd be reminded of you and how you'd scold him for thinking that way. It felt like you were still scolding him, even now. He missed it already.

Without you around, Bakugou persisted in his negativity. He would walk down to the ground floor of the apartment complex you lived in to get mail and still managed to yell at a minimum of one person during the trip. Bakugou wouldn't stray far from home knowing that you could be back at any minute, and returned soon enough to double-check if you arrived while he wasn't looking. You didn't.

While cleaning up, Bakugou found some clothes that you stole from him in your dresser. He stole them right back and replaced them with other clothes he owned that he thought would look even better on you, hoping you would surprise him one day by wearing them. He thought of himself as quite clever for doing so, and couldn't wait to see when his masterful plots came to fruition.

After cleaning the house, prepping dinner, and fulfilling his daily quota of pissing off a certain number of innocent individuals, Bakugou was exhausted. He had nothing productive left to do. He couldn't get involved in his normal hobbies like working out or hiking because it would take too much time and the day was almost over. He needed you home.

Finally, you opened the door while lugging around heavy groceries. "Katsuki! I'm here!"

"Dammit, text first!" Bakugou rose from the couch to take a bag from your arms.

"Thank you," you said, as you both set the groceries down on the kitchen counter. You kissed him on the lips quickly, but he retaliated with a much stronger kiss that pushed you back a step.

"Your welcome," Bakugou said, teasingly. "Got so bored without ya here. There's only reminders of you around the house."

"Well, it's probably 'cause I live here." You laughed a little and hugged him. Obviously he hugged back. "You can think of me all the time all you want. I give you my full permission."

"So you're haunting my head now, are ya?" Bakugou kissed the top of your head.

"I've always haunted you!" You kissed his chin. "Even before we were together! And I'll haunt you long after I'm gone..."

"Don't say that. I don't want ya gone." He harshly kissed your sweet lips again to prove he was telling the truth. He held your precious face in his hands. "We'll always be together."

"Always. So, what did you do while I was gone?"

"Tch. Why don't you stay home next time? Then you'd know."

You really needed to install that pet camera one of these days...

(Inspired by videos of "what does your cat do while you're away?", only instead of a cat it's your boyfriend! I think the clingy separation anxiety of these cats left at home perfectly matches Bakugou 110%!)

[torakowalski]

(part one | part seven)

"Yes," says Eddie when Steve cups his face with one strong hand.

He says, "Yes," when Steve kisses him too. Says, "Yes," again, when Steve slides his free hand into Eddie's armpit and pulls him up onto the bed.

They land with a bounce, Eddie half under Steve. He looks at Steve, gorgeous and pink-cheeked, braced above him, lips still slightly parted, and says, "Wait."

Shit, he is not a fan of himself, right now.

Steve waits. He leans back a little, looking like he's bracing himself for whatever Eddie's about to say.

"What's happening?" Eddie asks. "Don't say kissing."

Steve pouts like Eddie is robbing him of all his simple pleasures. "I, uh, I mean I'm not totally sure." He bites his lip. "I wanted to kiss you, so I did."

Okay, Eddie is calm. Eddie is calm about Steve wanting to kiss him.

"Weird reaction to making the team?" he guesses.

Steve scrunches up his face, like he's thinking about it. "I don't think so. I wanted to kiss you before I made the team."

"You... did?"

Steve is still very much hovering above Eddie. It seems like he might not have noticed that he's basically doing a plank while having this conversation. Stupid swimmer's arms. His t-shirt is hanging down, away from his stomach, and Eddie desperately wants to touch his bare skin. He bets he's really, really warm there.

"How long before?" Eddie adds, without giving Steve time to answer the first question.

"Since you cheered for me," Steve says, which doesn't narrow it down at all, until it does. "I fucked up my first couple of races, but then I saw you yelling for me from the stands, and I thought I can't wait to kiss him for that, later. Took me an extra couple seconds to realise that we don't kiss, and then I couldn't think of a good reason why not."

That was maybe two hours ago, and that's only if Eddie is feeling generous with time.

"Steve, you can't just..."

"I know," Steve interrupts. "I know I'm supposed to take time to freak out and panic and think about what this _means_ and worry about all the things that Robin worries about, but I'm just... You know me, I do things, I don't think about them first. I really don't feel any need to think about this, either."

He looks down at Eddie with his big, dark eyes all genuine and sincere. And yup. Yup Eddie is going to get his heartbroken so very badly.

Eddie shakes his head at himself and his own stupid decision making. "A good person would say you need to take your time and not rush into this." Steve looks genuinely disappointed, which Eddie cannot stand. "I, however, am the son of Satan, remember?"

"Oh, shucks, I thought you were just a Satan worshipper," Steve says. "I didn't realise you were like, Hell Jesus. You should have said something."

Eddie snorts a laugh. It's kind of gross honestly, but Steve just smirks. Fucker.

"Put that face to better use and kiss me," Eddie orders. He's glad he sounds confident because he does not feel it.

Steve's smirk because a smile, all sunny and surprised. "Yeah?"

"Just until you come to your senses." Eddie reaches up, puts his hand on the back of Steve's neck. His hair is damp against Eddie's palm and his skin is smooth and hot.

"That's gonna be a while, I think," says Steve. He lowers himself down onto his elbows so their chests are barely a breath apart, presses a kiss to Eddie's mouth.

It's not Eddie's first kiss or anything, but it's definitely within his first... three kisses. He hopes like hell he's doing it right. At first, it's closed mouths, lips moving gently together but then Eddie feels a burst of total daring and parts his lips. Steve hums happily and dips the tip of his tongue into Eddie's mouth.

Fuck, holy fuck, this is really happening. Eddie can taste Steve's spit. That never happens in his dreams.

He hears himself make a noise and his hand clenches, squeezing the nape of Steve's neck. He squirms a little, gets his other arm around Steve's back, hand flat just above the waistband of his pants.

Steve makes a very happy hum, licks into Eddie's mouth, and then they're definitely not just kissing; this is definitely making out.

Eddie's hard in seconds, but this isn't the time, so he's gonna ignore that. It's more difficult to ignore how fast his nipples go tight, aching with it until all he can do is pull Steve down, press up into him, until they're chest to chest.

He wishes their shirts would melt away. He wants Steve's skin against his own. Preferably, he wants all of Steve's thick, ridiculous chest hair for this half-hour of madness, but he'll take the smooth, waxed version too.

"Ed," Steve says into his mouth. His fingers have knotted in Eddie's hair. "Eddie, can we lose our shirts?"

"Are you an actual mind reader?" asks Eddie, which just makes Steve laugh.

Steve sits up, grabs the back of his t-shirt, and is just above to pull it over his head when the room phone rings.

They both freeze.

"Fuck. Dinner," Steve says, eyes wide. Eddie hadn't realised he'd forgotten about it; that's pretty gratifying.

Eddie grabs the phone, since it seems the gentlemanly thing to do.

"Where are you?" Dustin whines. "We're starving."

"Eat bread sticks," Eddie tells him, watching sadly as Steve lets his t-shirt settle back down around his body.

"We've eaten them all," Dustin says. "What are you even doing? You've been ages."

Eddie flops backwards onto the bed. He knew making out with Steve wasn't going to last, but he thinks the universe could have let him have a little more time with it.

"Team USA here has to do his hair all pretty," he lies, sending Steve an apologetic look.

Steve rolls his eyes.

Judging by the noise Dustin makes, he does the same.

"Well, tell him to hurry up. Your uncle just called Ma 'ma'am,' and she giggled. I need back-up."

Huh. Go Uncle Wayne. "We're hurrying," he promises. "Order without us and we'll be there stat."

"I'm ordering the steak," Dustin says, like he thinks Eddie is the one paying and hangs up.

Steve has moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He gives Eddie a wonky smile. "We really should get ready to go."

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and doesn't let himself think about whether Steve sounds regretful. (He really does think Steve might sound regretful.)

"Yeah. Apparently my uncle is flirting with Mrs Henderson, and Dustin's at risk of both a stroke and starvation."

"God forbid he reacts to something calmly," Steve says, a smile still in his voice. "I'll go shower."

He stands up. Then he sits down again. He reaches out and curls his long fingers around Eddie's wrist. "I haven't come to my senses yet."

"Hm?" Eddie asks.

"You said, you said you'd kiss me until I came to my senses. I still feel totally senseless, so maybe we could kiss more after dinner?"

Fuck. How is Eddie supposed to eat now? Or hold a conversation like a normal person.

"Um," he says. "I, uh. I did say that, and I never go back on my word."

Steve squeezes Eddie's wrist then briefly tangles their fingers together. "Wanna shower together?"

He bounces his eyebrows, so Eddie doesn't think he's serious. It makes him want to say yes just to see what Steve would do. Except he knows what Steve would do, he'd go through with it, and neither of them are ready for that.

"Not on our first date," he says. "Hit me up when you've got a gold medal, and we'll see."

"Maybe I'll hold you to that," Steve says. He gets up and heads off to the shower, whistling as he goes.

(continued here)

[flxrartsstuff]

Not Good enough?

TojixfemReader!

Authors note: Toji comforting you after a long stressful week. Just a quick prompt which I needed to write down.

cw: Toji and Reader cursing a few times but all in all it contains no smut or nsfw, just fluff!

As you entered your home, you were suspiciously quiet. Instead of running over to him, throwing yourself in his lap while he was watching tv, you took off your shoes and jacket and went with a short greeting over to the bathroom. You needed to get rid of your clothes. All you wanted to do was to lay in bed and just forget about this awful stressful week. The weekend was finally here and you deserved it more than anyone. You cleaned your face from the Make-up, loosened your hair and took a quick shower before jumping into comfortable clothes. When you opened the door, you almost had a heart attack as you saw Toji standing in the corridor, a skeptical view on his face, rather thoughtful.

»Oh, hey. You want to use the bathroom?« you said and already wanted to step aside but he just grabbed you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

»Toji, I am really tired. Please-«

»The fuck was that a short greeting, doll?« he cut you off and buried his face in your neck, softly nibbling on your still warm skin from the shower. The smell of his favorite shampoo of yours filled his nostrils and made him inhale it deeply.

»Everything alright?« he whispered low, his hands rubbing comfortably over your back, squeezing here and there. He just knew that something was on your mind when you behaved like that, just knew you too well. Everything you needed was comfort and a couple moments of just letting go. And he would be here, catching you and just listen to you. For a while you two were still standing in the corridor, him holding you in his arms, giving you all the warmth that came from his body. His chest rose and fell with every breath he took, his heartbeat calm against your ear, brought you down with every second. You didn’t wanted to sound weak, especially in front of him. But as your arms grabbed around his body as well, holding for support, you couldn’t prevent yourself from sobbing softly against his chest.

First it was just a little muffled louds against his shirt, which turned into a fully sobbing as he lifted your face to look at him. There you were, tears ran your cheeks, your eyes got red, as he saw the pure exhaustion on your whole face. Your lips were shaking, you couldn’t spell out any word or any explanation. But without any word needed, he pressed you against him again, whispering calming words while brushing with one hand through your hair.

»Shhh,« his voice getting lower and rough. »That’s okay, baby. Let it all out. That’s my girl.«

You felt a warm shiver running down your spine as his warm words reached your ears. Everything was fine now. There was only you and him. Screw your work and deadlines, or stupid bosses and their expectations, even the traffic on your way home after a long day. All that mattered right now, was your own world with Toji, your flat, your little home. His hands grabbed you by your hips and lifted you with one swift motion, so he could carry you over to the couch. While he was doing that, you managed to cry a little less and grabbed after some tissues to dry your tears. But he wouldn’t let you do that. Before you could grab them, he already lifted your head and cupped your cheeks. His thumbs cared over your skin, brushing away the tears falling from your eyes like little pearls. The same sadness was written in his eyes as you looked at him. He felt bad for you and all he wanted was to care for you, to be there when you needed him. Even if he was bad in comforting, all he did - his little touches, his hugs and just his presence - meant so much for you. He leaned closer to you, placed a kiss on your forehead and pressed your body against his again, now much more comfortable on the couch than standing before. He held you like this till your sobbing became more and more less, till you breathed out long and relieved and just calmed down in his arms.

»Toji, am I doing a good job?« you asked out of the sudden and he was surprised to hear such a personal question out of you. You seemed so confident in your job and work, so passionate when you told him about it. Why the sudden downgrade? Why did you think, you weren’t good enough?

»Of course you do, hun.« he said with a soothing tone, one hand brushing gently through your hair, letting it glide through his fingers like silk.

»But why is it still not enough?« a bitter sound escaped your lips and you leaned back to look in his eyes, as if he got the answer for everything. His gaze locked on yours, as his green eyes widened in surprise. He rarely saw you like this and it immediately broke his heart. You were such a passionate, amazing, wonderful person. Why the hell would you every think about not being enough?

»What do you mean?« he asked carefully, putting a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear.

»I did so much. Keeping this fucking deadline, couldn’t sleep the whole week just to get dumped. They promised me I would get a raise. But why do I feel like shit now?« your throat was burning again, almost letting out another wave of sobbing and tears. But you gulped down hard, pressing everything down that wanted to come to the surface. As if Tojis heart wasn’t already broken by seeing you cry, the last pieces broke inside of him as he heard you talking like that. And it made him furious as well.

»How can you say that?« finally slipped out of his mouth. Gently pushing you a little from his tight embrace to look at you. A serous expression took place on his face. »You know what?«

»What?«

»Fuck them! Fuck all of them, you’re doing absolutely great! And if they don’t see that, they don’t deserve ya, baby.« He exclaimed, looking in your eyes and meaning every single word he said. No one should ever talk you down and especially you shouldn’t talk like that to yourself. He saw the most wonderful and generous person right in front of him sitting, crying over because of some assholes who didn’t deserve you. And even for the money, this wasn’t worth it.

»But I need that job…«

»And so what? Is it really worth it, to sacrifice your own health and well being for the sake of some stupid bosses who didn’t worship your work and effort? Absolutely no.« he cupped your cheeks, emphasized every single word he said as if his life depended on it. You were speechless for a moment, just staring at him with wide eyes, tears forming again in the corner of your eyes.

»I can‘t see you hurt like that for such a bullshit, Baby.« He whispered again and dragged your face closer to close your lips with his. You sighed relieved into the kiss, tired of crying and the long day. All you wanted was to rest. And Toji didn‘t need anything more to understand. Within minutes you two you found yourself in the middle of your bed, cuddling while his hand brushed gently over your skin. Your soft scent was all he needed to relax as well and to see how your body calmed down, finding comfort in his arms. Your Face was buried in the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses on his skin.

»Thank You, Toji.«

»Don’t mention it, Baby. No matter what you do, we will manage this together.« He said back, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your back, down below to your hips. He would do so much more for you, just everything you needed, he wouldn‘t need to be asked twice. Just to not see you cry and suffer from a job that was dragging you down. And he truly knew what he was talking about.

Your breathing was coming down to a slow and peacful state and as he looked down at you, he saw you were fallen asleep. A little smile spread out on his lips, moving his scar up, so he reached out with one arm to turn off that nightstand lamp. Pulling you much closer to his chest, he closed his eyes, too, to join you in your dreams.

»Love you, hun.«

© 2024 flxrartsstuff. All rights reserved. Do not modify, repost or claim as yours.

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x afab!reader. when blitzø sees you stressing over your workload for a certain demanding overlord, the imp decides to help you unwind by fucking the problems out of your "pretty little head".

for the incredibly patient 🎀 anon. 1.8k

featuring: unprotected sex, dom!blitzø, a totally sandwiched-in reference to hazbin hotel, and overstimulation because they're both petty as shit.

“I ever tell you how fucking boring your job is?” Blitzø asks as he flings himself down on the couch beside you, half-finished iced coffee in hand. He kicks his feet out over the arm of the couch, dropping his head onto the cushion beside your thigh. “Woulda thought you gettin’ a paycheck from the biggest pimp in Hell would be at least a little fuckin’ exciting.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you rescue one of your folders from under his shoulder. “For the hundredth time, B. I don’t work for Valentino. I work for Vox.”

“Riiiiight…” he nods mockingly. “And he’s….?”

“The Media Overlord.”

“The one with a flat screen for a head, right?”

You don’t bother looking up from your work as you sort through them in search of a memo you were sure you’d just had in your hand. Paper wasn’t as convenient as a tablet, but working old school meant there was no possibility of your boss taking control of it at any given moment because he couldn’t be bothered to email. “That’s the one.”

“Gross.” Blitzø comments idly, swirling his coffee above him so that he can watch the ice cubes rattle together. “D’ya think he has to Windex his face after eating pussy?”

“For the love of God, Blitz!” you complain, and he cackles beside you. You can’t help but snort a laugh after a moment, and his grin widens triumphantly.

Setting his coffee on the table – thankfully missing the pile of papers you have strewn across the surface – he sits up, planting a hand on your thigh and leaning towards you in a way you know he means to be seductive. “Speakin’ of pussy…”

You sigh again, rolling your eyes towards the ceiling for a moment before turning and pressing a quick kiss to his nose. He wrinkles it in response, leans in again in an attempt to catch your lips with his. He frowns when you lean back slightly. “Hey. Get your stupid ass face back over here.”

You smile apologetically. “Honey. As much as I love the ham-fisted attempts at turning me on, I’ve got a tonne of work to do. Vox just announced some bullshit anti-Angel tech we don’t have for the next extermination and now we’ve got to somehow invent it before everyone finds out he’s full of shit.”

Blitzø gives you an exaggerated, mocking pout in response, leaning closer to you once again and lowering his voice to a more intimate, husky cadence. “Want some help?”

You raise a brow, heat flushing your cheeks and blooming low in your stomach as he presses his lips teasingly against the side of your throat. “You got some insight on how to take out exorcists I should… know about?”

Blitzø grins against your throat, and you hiss an inhale as his fangs graze against your pulse point. His hand wanders up over your thigh, and you catch hold of it before he can dip it between your thighs. His palm is burningly warm through the thin fabric of your yoga pants. “Maybe. Wanna fuck me to find out?”

You scoff a laugh, cut off when Blitzø crushes his lips against yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, pushing you back against the arm of the couch. You find yourself kissing him back for a few moments before you pull away, pushing him back with a hand on his chest. “I’ve got work, Blitz.”

“And I’m gonna help,” he coos, his hand sliding up between your thighs again. You whine as his cups your cunt briefly through your clothes before tugging the drawstring undone.

“How exactly?”

“By fucking those thoughts right outta ya pretty little head,” Blitzø coos mockingly. “Now take your fuckin’ pants off.”

You cough out a laugh, the sound turning to a yelp of surprise as he rolls you onto your knees. He takes a firm, possessive hold of your hips and forces you up against the arm of the sofa. You brace yourself against it, thrilling when he presses his hips up against your ass. You can feel how hard he is, and he grinds his hips up against you and groans, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing.

“Blitz, I have to wo—”

“Shut the fuck up and just accept you’re gonna cum first,” he eye-rolls, and your retort comes as a soft, throaty moan as he slides his hand up between your thighs. He practically growls the next words, leaning over your back to press a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my good girl.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Blitzø corkscrews his hips into yours in a mockingly slow, even pace, groaning as he bottoms out inside you. His claws are digging possessively into your hips, his tail curled around your thigh. You reach back with one hand to cover one of his, your fingers digging into the back of his hand each time he thrusts into you.

“Blitz…” you moan, a crease between your brows. You can feel sweat against your brow, on the small of your back, your body, your nipples tingling now they’ve been bared to the room. You press your forehead against the arm of the couch, eyes screwed shut. “Fuck…”

“You know what ya gotta do, princess.” You can hear the smirk in Blitzø’s voice even as it breaks with his own need. He presses his forehead against your spine, cradling it between your shoulder blades, and you shiver as you feel the sharp points of his teeth graze against your back. He’s been fucking you like this – slow and deep – for too long; you need it harder. When you make move to touch your clit, he grabs hold of your hand, pinning it against your quivering thigh. “No way, bitch. Say it for me… fuck, you’re like a wet fuckin’ silk…”

His cock brushes up against that sensitive spot inside you and your eyes roll back, and when his hair winds through your hair to tug your head back, you keen. “Fu—please, Blitz, please…”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Blitzø sighs, snickering as he finally increases the rhythm of his hips. He fucks himself into you hard, the sound of flesh meeting flesh joining the breathless little ‘ahh’s’ you let out each time he fucks himself into you, He releases your hand and it immediately goes to your clit, and you shudder at the first touch. “Satan’s dick, you needy slut… fuuuck, you’re tight… so fuckin’ wet…”

“S-sit back,” you say, urging his hands away from your hips. Blitzø’s pace slows, and you raise your voice, swallowing back some of the breathlessness. “Sit back.”

You can’t help but whimper as Blitzø pulls out of you, jumping as the imp smacks your ass before he does as you ask. You’re straddling his lap as soon as he’s settled, and he smirks cockily up at you, his eyes rolling back slightly as you lower yourself back onto his cock.

Blitzø clutches at your hips as you bring your mouth to his, and he moans into it as you slip your tongue past his lips. The imp’s tail entangles with yours, claws digging deep into your tender flesh as you fuck yourself over his lap. Grinding with each drop of your hips, you whine against his lips as your clit grazes against the line of his hips.

“Ho-ly shit,” he grunts, pressing his hips up into yours with each rolling thrust. Your head tips back as he leaves biting, teasing kisses against your throat and chest. “Fuuuuck…”

Blitzø’s hands wander to your waist, then your ass, grasping so hard at the soft flesh that you’re certain he’s leaving marks. The idea thrills you, and you dig your nails into his shoulders until he hisses, dusting kisses over the top of his head and the base of his horns before bringing your mouth back down to his.

The two of you are playing at the edge of orgasm together, each desperate, claiming touch bringing the two of you closer to release, gasping and cursing. When you cum, it’s with his fingers quick against your clit and his cock buried deep inside your throbbing pussy. You shudder against him, pressing your body flush against his as you choke out his name. Blitzø uses the hand still clutching at your hip to urge you into continued movement, bouncing you on his cock despite the way your moans are becoming almost pained with the amount of stimulation coursing through you.

His fingers don’t ease up on your clit at all, and Blitzø groans strings of curse words as your cunt milks his cock. He buries his teeth in your shoulder as he cums too, and your breath catches in your throat as the pain sends you back over that edge. “Fuck, Blitz!”

You collapse against his chest, rolling your hips disjointedly over his as shivers rock through you. The imp groans behind gritted teeth, head falling back, as he struggles to steady himself. Your cunt tightening around him makes him whine, his exhale coming in a breathless, shaking laugh.

“Okay, okay… shit, I get it!” He finally stops teasing your clit, grabbing hold of your waist and forcing you to stop rocking over his lap. There are tears burning in your eyes, and you shudder into his chest as you try to catch your breath. “I get it, tits… Fuck, you keep goin’ and it’s gonna fall off.”

You giggle breathlessly into the side of his neck, and Blitzø drops a kiss to your temple. “Thank fuck.”

He snickers, cursing again as he lifts you off of his cock. “Feel better?”

You let yourself fall back so you’re stretched out on the cushions in front of him, knees bent as you push your thighs together. “Dunno. Still got a tonne of work to do.”

Blitzø huffs a dramatic sigh, making a show of rolling his eyes.

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, are ya?” He knocks your knees to the side with the back of his head, flopping down on top of you. You laugh painfully as it knocks the air out of you, and he grins almost fondly down at you, folding his arms over your chest and resting his chin on top of them. “Round two?”

You snort a laugh. “Oh, fuck you.”

He leans up to kiss you, letting it linger for a moment, his tail tapping against your ankle as it twitches back and forth. “That’s the idea, yeah.”

[luveline]

Hi Jadey!!! I was wondering if I could request Miguel and our spider girl saying I love you for the first time❤️

of course!! hope this is ok<3

You've asked Miguel if you can sit in his lap a hundred times when he's at the workbench, and every time he's said no. 

You decide you won't ask. 

Not bothering with hello, you wrap your arms around him from behind, tucking your face into the warm crook of his neck. He actually lets you, better, he covers your wrists with a hand where they cross on his chest. 

Encouraged, you ease around his chair to the side. Using his shoulder for solid leverage, you climb into his lap, his wide thighs like sturdy logs under your weight. 

Before he can say, Hey, do me a favour? Get the fuck off me, or even just lift you up and deposit you into your own chair, you nuzzle into his chest and stay there, uncharacteristically quiet. The hair at the back of his head tickles your fingers as you hug him loosely. 

"Is everything okay?" he asks. 

"Worried about me?" you tease. 

"Where do I start?" 

You laugh into his collar breathlessly. He's always been funny, even if he's a bitch about it. He's pedantic and childish at times. A chronic overreacter, but usually right, Miguel sets a new precedent on how stubborn human beings can be. And you love him. 

You're spoiled when he puts down his things and hugs you back. His embrace is relaxed for once, a docile quiet lingering between you as he starts to rub your back. It feels shamefully nice. You slouch into him like jello, totally boneless and uncaring about how you might appear to anyone else, eyes closed and face flat to his chest. 

You breathe in his smell. 

"I wanted to tell you something." 

He actually laughs like a normal person, without sarcastic derision, his sincerity like a kiss as he asks, "What sort of something?" 

"Something stupid, probably. I want to tell you, but I'm thinking it might gross you out."

You can practically hear his startled blink. "Really?"  

You hum. Miguel's hand slides down the side of you that isn't pressed against his ribs to your thighs where you've thrown them over his. 

"I'm sure it's not that gross," he mumbles, like he can't quite hide his own doubt. 

There, right there, you hear a hint of Miguel before. You can't know that, obviously, but his voice lacks even a hint of bitterness, the insecurity of a normal guy being presented with the unseen. It's sweet. He's reassuring you, though he probably thinks you're about to tell him you have a less than attractive ailment. 

You've tricked him in a way. Maybe he'll react better to your real confession now. 

"I love you, Miguel." Your hand toying with the soft neck of an old t-shirt, you murmur, "I know you know. I've been sweet on you since the first day I met you, everyone knows that, but I love you. You don't have to love me back or anything, but I wanted to say it."

"I do love you," Miguel says. He doesn't miss a beat. 

You breathe in huge and hard and he must feel it. He's charitable enough to ignore it. 

"Wait," he says, "was that the gross thing, or was that padding to make the gross thing less gross? Ay, coño, did you get fleas from Sandwich?"

"Peter's dog, Sandwich?" you ask. 

"I told that imbecile to stop bringing his dog to work." 

"I don't have fleas," you say, sitting back to give him a super judgemental look. "You love me and you think I have fleas?" 

"I'm kidding," he says, smiling at you, lips parted so you can see his teeth. He takes your face into his hand roughly but not without love, smoothing it over your ear. "I don't think you have fleas."

"You're ruining a nice moment. We were having a really nice heart to heart type moment and you ruined it with a joke about fleas. How could you?" 

"How could I?" he asks, voice softening to a murmur as he ducks in. "I don't know. Is it really ruined?" 

"What do you think?" you ask, lips an inch from his, your noses touching. 

He kisses you. It's almost like a bite. Quick and firm and pulling you forward as he retreats. "I think we'll recover." 

You laugh and tip your head back to allow him better access, your heart like a hummingbird in your chest. Miguel smiles into your lips, maybe the happiest smile he's ever given to you as he kisses you again.

[bunny-extract]

please can i request feral konig with a breeding kink

i've written and posted this before, but i'll have something new this weekend B^) feel free to throw more ideas in my inbox!

König x f!reader / 18+! MDNI / breeding, dirty talk, size kink.....filth.

You push the head down, lower and lower until it notches back into place, right inside of you. König’s eyes find yours, mutterings finally silenced.

“Again,” you tell him, but he’s searching, sure that he heard you wrong, even if his body understood. His heavy balls pat against your ass when he tries find sense in your demand. "But. But, what if--"

You push your arms over your head in a stretch, your breasts arching up to tease your nipples against the scruff on his chin. You want him to put his mouth back on you. He does too, but the hand that rubs the space below your navel makes his concern clear. You tilt your head at him. “But what? What if it takes?”

And just the words being out in the open has him reeling. His eyes snap back to yours, wide, caught. You meet him with a smile, pressing his hand down lower, firmer until it’s over the bump where his cock bulges from within you. “Isn’t that what you want?”

And it’s deserved, really, when König rips himself out of you just long enough to toss you onto your stomach, hips dug into the bed when he re-enters you in a swift, embarrassingly loud stroke. He pumps you twice before letting his weight sink him lower, deeper into you.

“You have no idea what I—want.” 

The moans that he punches out of you are obscene, and you’re thankful you can smother them in the mattress. König rarely takes you from behind, always wanting to look at you. Was obsessed with your expression, the bounce of your breast, the view of him bulging your stomach, but flat on your front like this his cock kisses the very end of your cunt and threatens to fuck you right to your womb. It’s the deepest he’s ever been, the tip of him feeling like it would reach your throat if he kept pushing it in. Every slap of his hips has your ass shaking in response, and all you can do is let him bludgeon your little cunt, head shaking as he grabbed your shoulder for better leverage. “I’ve worn the shape of my cock into you, Liebling. It feels so good. I can feel your guts when I’m this deep.”

He’s bent over you, one hand gripping the head board hard enough that his tanned knuckles blanch white, the other lifting your face from where you’d burrowed it. You’re drooling, eyes unfocused until you look up and, oh lovely. It’s his black-smudged eyes that meet you, upside down. His face splits in an almost frightening smile. Now he can fuck you stupid and watch.

König meets every moan from you with the slap of his heavy balls to your clit, his head coming down to rest against your shoulder. The briefest prickle of stubble when he leaves open-mouthed kisses across your neck. It has you tightening, fingers twisting around the hand he’s used to prop himself up on. You can feel him smile against your pulse, the only warning before he bites into it. 

When he pulls back you can feel his spit warm at your neck, the tender start of a bruise blooming beneath it. He’s snaked his arms around you in a gentle headlock, squeezing once just to laugh and let go. Another time, he promises. You’re buzzing, and that’s before his other hand takes one of yours, guiding it beneath your stomach to frame his cock. It’s hard to wrap your head around how big it is, how it disappears inside of you. 

“Play with yourself. I want to feel it,” he urges, puppeteering your fingers with his own to roll your clit. You take over, but his hand stays, ghosting along with you. 

“That’s it. I want to see you fat with my child, your little body taken with me. I’ll sow my seed until it’s deep, Liebling. Are you sure you want me to? Tell me that, please.”

You’re cock drunk, absolutely ruined off of this man. Not even sure what you’re sobbing out until it reaches your ears: desperate, pathetic little cries of fill me, fill me, fill me. 

His thrusts are sloppy but no less accurate, the head of his cock grinding too perfectly into your squishy g-spot and sending you halfway off the edge. You’re spasming around him, the wet clutch you have around his cock outright crude, and he laughs, muttering almost to himself, “Messy girl, you always make such a mess.”

He’s pulling apart your cheeks, getting his fill of the sight of you speared on his cock.

“How are you still hard,” you whine, aftershocks wracking you. He can feel them, you’re sure.

König slurs against your neck, almost laughing. His hips snap back down into you, and your pussy welcomes him home. 

It’s hours and hours later, when you’d been fucked half to sleep, sated and full with König resting inside of you. He’s spent, but the more come that leaks out, the more he has to put back in. When his hips shift, you don’t even stir. 

Quietly, he whispers into the outline of his teeth pressed to your shoulder. “Your little quim can take more, Liebling. I’ll fuck you until you are full with a whole litter.”

[munsster]

hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

[bigenergy777]

See You Later Daddy~Rafe Cameron

WARRING:Cussing,Daddy Kink,P-IN-V Sex, unprotected sex

(wrap it before you tap it😉)

Rafe’s getting ready to leave and go hang out with Topper and Kelce. I don’t want him to leave, and I know just the trick to get him to stay home.

 

“Do you have to go?" I whine, holding on to Rafe as he tries to get dressed.

 

"Yes, I do. Now let go so I can get ready.” Rafe chuckles, trying to get me off.

 

"Whatever,” I scoffed, walking away only to feel a harsh slap on my ass.

 

“Lose the attitude.” Rafe chuckled

 

I’m sitting on my phone scrolling through Instagram when Rafe walks out of the bathroom, all dressed, heading straight towards me.

 

"Alright, I’m leaving. I love you.” Rafe leans in, trying to get me a kiss, but I dodge him.

 

"Uh, uh, don’t do that. Give me a kiss.” Rafe leans in, but I keep dodging him, laughing.

 

“GIVE ME A KISS!” Rafe yelled, grabbing me.

 

“No.” I laughed, trying to escape him.

 

“Don’t be a brat.” Rafe chuckled, grabbing my face and placing a rough, wet kiss on my lips.

 

“I don’t want you to leave.” I pout, crossing my arms.

 

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He placed another kiss on my lips, softer this time.

 

I just sit back, watching Rafe walk towards the door, already knowing how I’m going to get him to stay.

 

"Alright, see you later, daddy.” I smiled watching him walk out. My smile turns into a smirk when I see the door open back up.

 

“What did you just say?” He asked, walking back in

 

"Nothing.” I smiled innocently, shrugging my shoulders.

 

"Okay, I love you.” He looked at me suspiciously as I walked out.

 

“I love you too, daddy.” I smirked at seeing him walk back in.

 

“You know exactly what you’ve doing.” Rafe smirked, closing the door behind him and locking it. “I’m not doing anything.” I shrugged.

 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?" I look at my phone, trying to ignore Rafe, who was walking towards me with the stupid, sexy smirk of his.

 

"Mmhh, what did you say?" He smirks, getting in my face.

 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Toppers probably wonder where you’re at.” I lean back so he isn’t in my face.

 

“I don’t give a fuck.” He shrugged, taking off his shirt.

 

"Bye, see you later.” I look back at my phone.

 

“You’re going to see me later when you turn back around.” Rafe smirked, unbuckling his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

 

“RAFE.” I squeal when Rafe grabs me by my ankle, dragging me to the end of the bed.

 

“You think I’m stupid; you know exactly what you were doing.” Rafe smirked, grabbing my phone out of my hand and tossing in at the top of the bed.

 

Threading your fingers through his soft blonde hair, your eyes fluttered closed as he stroked from your ankles with both his hands, up towards your knee and to your inner thighs.

Only before dragging them back down again. Rafe pressed a sweet kiss to the inside of your thighs, urging you to spread your legs a little farther before dragging his lips back down.

 

His lips press against your ankles and your knees. He's teasing you, and you know it.

 

“Please don’t tease me.” I begged

 

Rafe licked a flat stripe up your pussy before settling for kitten licks on your throbbing clit.

 

“Fuck,” I moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Rafe continued to lick at you. His tongue was swirling and sucking in all the right places, making the most obscene noises that were mixed with your whines and whimpers.

 

Rafe hummed against you, slipping two fingers into you, his eyes trained on your expression above him. Rafe was good at eating you out; he knew everything you liked and exactly how you liked it.

 

“You like that, baby?” Rafe asked, curling his fingers and instantly hitting that soft spot in you.

 

"Yes, god, yes, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I’m going to cum.” I moaned, warping my hands in his hair to push him back down.

 

“Yeah, you're going to cum, baby."

 

"Yes, Rafe, yes, don’t stop, don’t stop.” I moan, but right before I could, Rafe instantly stopped pumping his fingers, removing all contact from me.

 

"No, no, no, what the fuck, Rafe?" I was literally about to sob.

 

"Uh, uh, not yet.” Rafe chuckled, grabbing me and flipping me on my stomach.

 

”I told you you would be seeing me later when you turned back around. Rafe instantly propped me up on my knees, pushing me down in the middle of my back with my ass in the air.

 

"Rafe,” I moaned when he slid in, instantly thrusting slowly.

 

"Fuck, you're dripping," he groaned, chuckling as he toyed with you.

 

"Please, Rafe, stop teasing me.” I whined

 

“That’s not my name." Rafe smacks my ass, speeding up a little.

 

“What’s my name, baby?” Rafe wraps his arms around my throat, pulling me onto my knees as my back collides with his chest.

 

“Please don’t tease me, Daddy.” I whimpered.

 

“Oh god, Daddy, faster.” I moan when his pace speeds up.

 

Pushing myself backwards, I met his rhythm as he drilled into me, his balls slapping against my skin as he buried his cock into me as deep as he could go with every aggressive thrust.

 

I could feel the head kissing against the sweet spot in the back of my walls, my trembling pussy sucking him in and hugging around him as he groaned.

 

"So hot and tight." Rafe groaned, yanking me back into every hard thrust of his hips. His cock was so hard and deep. I could barely think or breathe.

 

mouth begging for relief, but your body demanded more. "I can feel how close you are." His words had my inner walls clenching and my eyes squeezing shut as pleasure pulsed through me. My hips lift on their own, aching for him to reach deeper.

 

Rafe’s hand dips between my thighs to press on my clit, and a choked sound leaves me as my body shakes.

 

“Come on, baby, I know you’re close. I can feel you squeezing me.” Rafe groaned, pushing me flat on my stomach.

 

“Oh god, Rafe, oh God.”

 

I cum hard, my body jerking beneath his as I bite my own arm to keep from screaming. A deep, sexy moan echos in my ear as he finishes inside me, fucking me slow and deep until we're both spent and fighting to catch our breath.

 

We’re both quiet, trying to catch our breaths, when Rafe’s phone starts ringing.

 

“It’s Topper.”

[mykoreanlove]

dummy, dummy, I love your tummy

„Binnie, let me go. I need to get ready!“, you whined for the tenth time in a row. Changbin had to attend his company’s Christmas dinner and had asked you to accompany him. This was actually a great deal to you, since the two of you hadn’t been dating for long.

His hands roamed your backside and hugged you tighter, pressing you onto him.

„But I wanna stay like this, with my baby girl on top of me.“ God, he was stubborn sometimes. Luckily, you knew how to play him.

„Binnie, listen. If you let me go now I’ll wear that red dress that you bought me.“

His eyes perked up, he was all ears now. „The red one that exposes your whole back or the other red one that accentuates your tits perfectly?“

Changbin loved gifting you presents, he was obsessed with spoiling you.

You chuckled and placed a quick kiss on his lips before getting up.

„The second one.“

You took your time and placed special effort into your look. You wanted him to be proud of you, you needed him to show you off.

„Baby girl, we’re going to be late. Hurry up please?“

He was shouting from the corridor, already waiting for you. You took a last glance in the mirror and evaluated your look. „Hmmm, something is missing.“ Quickly, you put on the last piece and went out.

The moment Changbin saw you, he was starstruck. Eyes wide open, jaw on the floor, drool coming out of his mouth - he was whipped.

„Fuck, you look gorgeous baby girl“, he stuttered. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. „You kinda look like Jessica Rabbit.“

Laughter filled the apartment as you grabbed your coat.

„Wait“, you felt his hands on your body. He was looking at you intensely as his fingers explored every inch of your clothed corpse.

„Something’s not right“, he mumbled to himself.

„What do you mean?“, you asked in confusion.

Changbin grabbed the hem of the shapewear you were wearing. He eyed you cautiously. „Baby, are you wearing spanx?“

Your cheeks reddened and you looked down immediately. Your stomach had always been your insecurity, so naturally you hid it as best as you could. You grabbed his hands and pushed them off you, smiling sadly.

„Yeah, the dress looks better that way. Come on, we‘re already late.“

You proceeded to the door but your boyfriend grabbed your wrist and yanked you right back to him.

„We’re not going anywhere as long as you haven’t explained yourself. Why are you wearing this? Isn’t this uncomfortable? Can you even breathe properly?“

He was seriously concerned for you.

„It is tight yes and breathing is a bit harder now, yeah. But I have to wear it, Bin. Otherwise I look like a fat whale.“

Your words stung, you saw it in his flinch. „You think you look like a fat whale?“

Shit, how did this turn into a story about your insecurities? You couldn’t talk about it so you just nodded your head. Changbin let out a deep sigh and got on his knees.

„What are you doing?“

He pushed your dress up and stripped you out of your spanx. „I am taking this off.“

„What? No!“ Panic shot through you as you pushed his hands away. „I need them. My stomach is fat as fuck and everybody will see. I really need it.“

Tears streamed down your face. Changbin looked up at you, defeated and heartbroken.

„Why do you hate yourself so much?“

His question caught you off guard.

„I don’t hate myself“, you sniffed in response. „Yeah right“, he snarked. Now, you got angry. Who was he to judge you like that? You turned around and walked into the bedroom. „You know what? I think it’s better if you go on your own.“

For a brief moment you had hope that he would come in and get you but he didn’t. You heard the door lock and broke down on the bed.

Changbin was right - you hated yourself. And now you despised yourself even more for ruining this special night. You cried mercilessly as you sat on the bed thinking about your misery. If only your stupid pouch wasn’t there, if only you had a flat stomach like all the other girls - then you‘d be good. Then you’d be happy.

About an hour later you heard the door open again. Changbin barged in holding another pair of spanx in his hands.

„Let’s go“, he ushered you.

You looked at him confused. „What?“

„I said let’s go. I went out and got myself a pair of spanx, too. If you wanna hate yourself then fine, I’m with you on this one. Let’s wear this shit together.“

Was he kidding?

Changbin stripped down his pants and got into the shapewear, trying his best to hide the discomfort he felt. He grabbed your hand, wiped away the remaining tears and kissed you on your lips. „Let’s go, y/n.“

The Christmas party was lovely but you could hardly concentrate on anything. Your eyes wandered back to your boyfriend, especially to his waist to be precise. He looked uncomfortable and had trouble breathing but he still flashed you his brightest smile. He barely ate anything, he was feeling too nauseous for that. He didn’t say a word and suffered through it but you knew how it felt to wear the spanx.

He was a real soldier, that one. You chatted with his colleagues and his boss, received a lot of compliments for your dress and played some games before you called it a night. Changbin was too busy to properly talk to you, yet his eyes never left you.

As the two of you made it back home he sighed in relief, ripping the spanx off him. „Fuck, let me get rid of this shit. I feel like my organs shrank.“

His actions really made you think. You undressed yourself and looked at your body in the mirror, freeing yourself of everything, too. The spanx left red marks on your body, further proof of your self hatred.

Changbin hugged you from behind, his sad eyes had returned. You grabbed his arms and squeezed his biceps, a ritual you had invented for when you felt overwhelmed.

„Why do you hate your stomach so much?“ He calmly spoke to you through the mirror.

„Because it’s fat. It’s too thick. I want to be skinny like other girls. I want to have abs. But it stays like this no matter what I do.“

It took courage to confess but you were glad you did.

„Do you like my body, baby?“

You laughed. „Of course I do, look at you. You’re like a sexy beast.“

Changbin chuckled. „Well, I hated my body for a long time, baby. All the other guys were slender and skinny but I couldn’t be. I starved myself and tried to lose weight but my body refused. Until one day I finally understood that I don’t have to look like that. I don’t have to look like someone else. I have to look like me baby, and that’s more than enough.“

Tears started flowing again as you felt for him, too.

„You don’t have to look like other girls. And you don’t have to have their abs. Baby girl, all you gotta do is look like you. And you are so beautiful, can’t you really not see?“

Changbin placed his big hands on your stomach, softly, and held you for a while.

„I love your curves. I love your tummy the way it is. I think you are the most beautiful girl on the planet. I don’t want you to change. At all. I wanna buy you sexy clothes and dress you in them. I wanna parade you around and show everybody how fucking gorgeous you are.“

He got on his knees again and turned you around. Changbin left sweet kisses all over your stomach, each one accentuating his honest words. „You may not believe me now but someday you wil, y/n.“

[magpiepills]

Make Me

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Lucien Flores x f reader

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Lucien shows up uninvited to your party

Warnings: SMUT, PWP, oral- f receiving, spitting, masturbation, degradation, toys, cum play, infidelity, etc., etc., so on and so forth. Unedited, unbetad, unplanned. Ignore the mistakes. Many thanks and lots of love to anyone who reads!

A word from the author:

Just cause @youandmeand5bucks told me to do it based on this post- https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkoneinthenight/708428300619513857/cum-on-her-favorite-dildo-and-make-her-fuck

My masterlist

Stupid heels. You never wear this pair. They’re tall, strappy, absolutely gorgeous and they hurt like hell. “bedroom heels” is what your husband calls them. But they looked so good with your dress, they matched the shade of red perfectly, and you wanted to look good at this party. It was the first one in your new house, the biggest you’ve ever thrown, your husband's new colleagues, some of the new neighbors, old friends from college. You really needed it to go off without a hitch.

You made it a solid 90 minutes in the heels. Rather than hobble around in pain, you left the party and slipped up the stairs to your bedroom to change. Flats would work just fine. You’re feeling a floaty tequila buzz anyway.

You could hear the din of music and laughter and voices and glasses clinking from upstairs. It was a good party. In your rush to get back to the crowd, you didn’t notice the dim light seeping under the door.

Pushing it open, you gasped. You didn’t recognize the tall figure standing by your bed, silhouetted in lamplight. He turned at the sound, and you stared into his eyes, unable to speak.

It’s been two years, since you saw him, now your ex, Lucien, is standing in your bedroom, uninvited.

“Lucien? Why are you here? Why are you in my bedroom?” Your voice raised with each confused question.

He looked at you, eyes licking you head to toe.

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d say hello to an old friend.” His eyes shone even in the low light.

“You can’t be here, Lucien. My husband’s downstairs. You shouldn’t be in here. Please.”

Lucien nodded, he scoffed and dropped his head. It was that moment when you saw what he held in his hand. The familiar purple silicone, the smooth shape of your vibrator.

He was smirking when your eyes snapped up to his.

“You still keep it in the same place. Right where you can reach it. Are you using it a lot?”

You stammered, your face hot at the sight of him holding your toy. You hated him. His face, his audacity, his entitlement, the gin on his breath and the tingle in your belly you felt at the presumptuousness of his questions. He still held your vibrator.

“Put that down. Really, Lucien. You can’t do this. You can’t show up here.” You begged him.

“Why?” He took a step closer to you. “You don’t like it?”

You shook your head, well aware of the peril you were in. Lucien was an addiction. You kicked him. You beat him. You moved on with your life until he showed up to give you another slow drag of him.

“I think you like it a lot. I think you’re already wet. Let me see if I’m right.” Another step closer, and you closed your eyes.

“Please.” It was no use to plead. He came closer, until he could run his fingertip from your bottom lip down your chest, between your breasts, down your belly, slowly, slowly pressing in when he got to your pussy, pushing the fabric in to trace his finger between your thighs. He continued down to the hem of your dress, then back up, underneath the fabric this time, up, up your thighs, slowing to a maddening drag until he reached the apex of your thighs again.

There, he cupped your cunt, finding it bare under your dress. A choice you either regretted or were glad of, you weren't certain.

“Like a waterfall.” He grinned.

His kiss was greedy, entitled, and deep. His tongue slid against yours and his rough hand found your clit, circling it, stroking it firmly until you were rocking your hips. He humiliated you with your neediness, how easily you fell. How easily you spread out on the bed while he locked the door.

Lucien ate you messily. He buried his face in your cunt and slurped at you. His lips and tongue against your slick folds felt electric, and when he took them away you whined and reached for him. He was out of your reach and unbuttoning his pants, still holding your pink toy.

“Scoot up.” He motioned you further up the bed and followed you, kneeling between your spread eagle legs. He took his cock in his hand, and with the other he clicked your vibrator on. He slipped it against your glistening pussy before zeroing back in on your throbbing clit.

“Luc,” you cried “don’t tease.”

“I’m not going to fuck you. You’re married. Your husband’s downstairs. What kind of whore let’s her ex fuck her in her husband’s bed?”

He held the buzzing toy to your clit and stroked himself.

“Come here. Spit on it.” He pulled you up to him and you let your saliva drip onto his cock. It was so pretty. His foreskin, the veins, the blushing thick head, shiny with your spit. He stopped you with a fist in your hair before you could get your lips around his cock.

“No cocksucking either. Even though I know how much you love it. Lay down and squeeze your tits for me.”

When you were under his spell like this there was no argument. You laid back and licked the pads of your fingers before swirling them around your hardened nipples.

Your ex boyfriend loomed over you, playing with your pussy, stroking his cock, relishing in your obedience. He didn’t speak to you except to grunt “yeah, like that,” or “fuck, baby,” and finally a moan as he came, directing his seed to spill over the shaft of your vibrator, a few drops landing on your puffy, unsatisfied cunt.

As he caught his breath, Lucien admired his work. He turned the vibrator, letting cum drip down the length of it and around both sides, holding it up to show you, teasing the tip against your hungry lips but giving you barely a taste.

“Want to come?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Want you to make me come Lucien.” It came out whiny and impudent.

He hummed, rubbing his hand over your stomach and hips with his fingers spread wide. He took his time, in no hurry to give you your release. Happy to let you squirm a few moments before filling your cunt with the cum-coated toy in one sudden motion. He twisted it as he pulled it out and pushed it in, fucking his cum into you. He spread your lips with his thumb and index finger to watch how you took the fake dick.

“You going to come with all my cum inside you? Does it feel good?”

You moaned and rocked your hips, imagining it was his cock spearing you open. If it were bigger maybe you could be convinced. You remembered his weight in top of you, holding you down while he took what he wanted, fucking you hard and deep, leaving you sore.

With his thumb mercifully on your clit, you drew closer to release. He urged you on, telling you how bad you’re being, what a slut for him, always a slut. Nobody would ever keep your cunt from him, he promised you.

In the throes of your climax, body right and hot, he purrs. “What if you get pregnant?” He taunted, "Are you going to tell your husband it’s his?” It was an empty threat, you knew he got a vasectomy years ago.

He loved to torment you like this, to remind you you were his, that he had a proprietary claim on your body and mind. That no matter where you went he could find you and fuck you, that you’d always let him because he was the only one who could make you feel like this.

Lucien didn’t linger. He zipped up, kissed you once more, and slipped away quietly, leaving you alone with the discarded vibrator and his taste on your lips.

[moody-alcoholic]

Gala

Double upload since I have to focus on my main project now which mean's it's going to be at least a week till I can work on this again. It's a juicy one though please forgive me <3

MDNI 18+ content

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 3.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: MDNI 18+ content Smut, blowjob, fingering, alcohol, assault, assault with a deadly weapon (kinda), toxic family dynamic(not reader), hazing, mentions of vomit, hurt/comfort, angst. Little bit of everything here :p

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

“I don’t care who knows, besides it’s not a work event it’s just a stupid show off party.” Johnny said. 

“I care Johnny, I’m going with Price so it is a work event.” Simon replied as he came out the bathroom. “Look, I’ll compromise at telling Price but I don’t need the rest of the fucking world to know our business.” You hear the bedroom door slam muffling their voices. They’d been spatting for the good part of twenty minutes and it was the first time you felt like you were probably not meant to be there.

Instead you just pretended to pay attention to whatever was happening on the TV until you hear the door open and close again. You look over to check who it is then back at the TV. Johnny makes his way over to you flopping down on the sofa. You look over at him playing with his wedding ring.

“I can go home.” You say, he turns to look at you. 

“Don’t be silly c'mere.” He says reaching over and pulling you up against him. He kisses the top of your head stroking your back. A few minutes later you hear the door to the bedroom open. Simon walks through the flat in front of the TV to the balcony door, with a cigarette hanging out his mouth. It’s dark outside, he goes out the door closing it behind him, you see him light the cigarette. The pit forms in your stomach, you feel like you’re invading their privacy. They would ask you to leave if they wanted you too.

You sigh wrapping your arm round Johnny’s chest. He doesn't say anything, you watch out the window seeing the end of Simon’s cigarette light up now and then. Simon's had a long day, been doing paperwork now he’s being forced to go to this stupid event, and with only 24 hours notice. It is stupid, God it was pure unfortunate luck that you happened to be in the same shopping centre on the same day as Chloe. Maybe you could convince them not to go. No that wouldn’t work Simon was right it was a work engagement for him. You watch Simon stamp the cigarette out coming back through the door. He walks over to the sofa, you follow him till he disappears out your line of sight. You feel Johnny move, trying to keep as still as possible. You hear Simon kiss him, that makes you relax, at least they’re not mad at each other. A few seconds later Simon sits on the sofa he pulls you out of Johnny’s arms onto his chest, you feel Johnny scoot closer so he can reach Simon. 

“We really don’t have to go.” You say out loud. Simon kisses the top of your head. 

“If only it were that simple.” He replies sighing, you stroke his chest, he's so tense. You pretend to pay attention to what’s happening on the TV. Some game show, you move to look up at Simon, he looks back down at you smiling, he seems a little relaxed after his cigarette, you lean up and kiss him. You just wanted a quick kiss but he pulls your face up pushing his tongue in your mouth, he tastes of ash, you don’t care. You feel Johnny’s hand run up your back working it’s way round to cup your breast, it’s like they’ve already communicated with each other, working in sync to touch your body. You find your hand moving down Simon’s body as Johnny’s fingers brush over your nipple. You kiss Simon deeper, becoming more eager, your hand slips into his pants you feel how hard he is already. You pull away from the kiss.

“Let me make you feel good again?” You ask looking up at him. He nods, you move so you’re on your hands and knees your ass in Johnny’s face. He doesn't seem to mind pulling your PJ shorts and underwear down to your knees. Your hand frees Simon’s cock and you waste no time locking your lips around the red tip hearing him moan as his head falls back. Johnny’s fingers brush your clit sending sparks up your body. Johnny doesn’t stop pushing two fingers into you, you clench round him which only makes him push them in deeper hitting that sensitive spot while his other hand plays with your clit. You thrust your mouth up and down as Simon runs his fingers through your hair. 

“She can tell when you need to de-stress Simon.” Johnny says. 

“Doesn’t mean you can slack off.” Simon replies, that makes you smile as you feel him react to your change in speed. You would ride it out longer if you weren’t so distracted by Johnny’s fingers all over you, you’re struggling to focus, moaning around Simon’s hard cock, your mouth filling with saliva as he hits the back of your throat.

It’s sloppy, messy almost rough as you try to keep from clenching round him with your teeth, but it's just what he needs. His hips start thrusting into you making Johnny’s fingers move faster. You whimper as you get closer to the edge tears streaming down your face, you don’t stop it feels too good and you know if you make Simon feel good Johnny will make you feel good too.

Simon’s grip on your hair gets tighter and you feel him twitch in your mouth. Johnny’s rubbing, faster his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping cunt. Fuck, you’re going to cum if he keeps this up. You can feel Simon is close too. Maybe Johnny is trying to time it with him, it’s only when you feel yourself coming you realise Johnny and Simon are making out.

You don’t have time to think about it as Simon fills your mouth, you take him deep feeling each twitch as he pants in Johnny’s neck. You feel Johnny’s fingers pull out as you turn to lean up against the back of the couch, breaking Johnny and Simon apart. You want to feel bad but you’re too blissed out to care. Simon looks down at you leaning to kiss your forehead, your eyes switch to Johnny.

“Give me a second,” you say panting. 

“Don’t be silly lass, I’m more then fine.” He says getting off the couch before you can protest. You see him put his hand down his pants, and the stain soaked down his leg as he walks away. You could have sworn you felt both his hands on you. You sit up confused as he winks at you heading to the bathroom. You hear Simon chuckle behind you as he also gets up off the couch. You pull your bottoms back up trying to figure out what just happened.  

 —————————— 

“Uncomfortable fucking dress.” You say hitching it up as you walk along the gravel path to Chloe’s massive childhood house. 

“How many times have you been here?” Johnny asks his arm looped round yours. 

“Too many to count, before things went even more south with her family we used to spend a lot of time here.” You say. You were nervous and not just because this party was way out of your comfort zone or the fact that you were going to be surrounded by so many officials, it was that Johnny and Simon insisted on explaining the relationship situation to Price and now you were going to meet him for the first time.  

You walk up to the massive entrance butlers standing on the door, you take a champagne flute off the tray nodding at them. You sip it as you walk over to Chloe’s family greeting everyone in the entrance, you wait your turn to walk up to them.

“Very fancy.” Johnny leans in whispering, you smile sipping your champagne.

“Oh sergeant, so happy you could make it!” Chloe’s mother says as she kisses your cheek.

“It has been so long since we have seen you.” You smile accepting the hug. 

“I’ve been busy.” You say. 

“And who is this young man.” She asks looking him up and down.

“This is John-sergeant MacTavish, SAS.” You say hoping she would ignore the hiccup, you look over at Chloe who is sipping a glass of something as she taps her foot. 

“Another SAS soldier how lucky are we! Mark come over here say hello!” She waves Chloe’s brother over, he’s taller then you remember he walks over to Johnny putting his hand out Johnny shakes it. He introduces himself and talks about his unit you’re not listening, you’re trying to catch Chloe’s attention. 

“Well we’re so glad you can make it, there are more drinks out back.” Chloe’s mum says eagerly. You nod and head out to the garden, Chloe smiles at you on the way. 

“Know him?” You ask Johnny. 

“Fucking reserves.” He replies, you scoff finishing your empty glass and placing it on a butlers tray. You head to the bar and each pick up a drink then find a quiet corner of the party to people watch. Johnny doesn’t let go of your hand as you lean back on the fence. The garden is full, lots of people in formals, you're glad it's only officers needed to wear them, formals are definitely not the most comfortable.

“What you expected?” You ask him. He shakes his head sipping his drink. The atmosphere seems relaxed as your eyes move over to the live band.

“Different tax bracket.” He says, you chuckle. “How come Chloe’s so down to earth?” 

“She’s had it tough, she’s the youngest of 5, her parents would always pressure her into what they wanted her to do, which made her go harder in a different direction.” You sip your drink. “Moved out when she was 16 lived on her own without her parents support ever since, only ever comes back here for family events like tonight.” 

“This seems like more then a family event.” Johnny says. 

“You should see their Christmases and new years.” You say laughing. Johnny straightens up as you spot Simon in the crowd. He looks good in formals, almost too good. Johnny leaves you to walk up to him and bring Simon and an older gentleman towards you. 

“Price this is Ashe.” Johnny says, you put out your hand to shake his.

“It’s good to finally put a name to the face.” You say trying not to blush as Johnny’s hand finds it’s way to the small of your back.

“I read your file, army nurse?” He says. 

“Yes, sir,” You nod, you hear Simon chuckle. You look up at Johnny who nods. You’re about to open your mouth to speak when you hear the squeaking of a mic and the music slowly stop. Everyone turns to look at Chloe’s mum beginning to give a speech as the crowd moves forward, you can’t see Chloe though. You listen as she introduces herself and runs through that will happen and when the auction will start. Something catches the corner of your eye. You look over at the outhouse watching the door close. There is a pit of dread forming.

“You okay?” Johnny asks as you’re twisting your body. You look back up at him nodding. 

“I’m just going to use the bathroom.” You say, Johnny nods stepping up to join Price and Simon as you slip out towards the outhouse. You could have sworn you saw Chloe maybe she has a guy in here maybe they’re having sex. You hope it’s sex, because you haven’t seen her since you got here and she’s not on the stage with the rest of her family.      

“Chloe? You in there?” you ask as you push the door in. It’s unlocked, you pull your shawl tighter round you as you walk in, the lights are on. 

“I don’t care if you’re having sex, but you're missing your mums shit speech.” You say trying to squash your nerves. When you round the corner you see 4 boys looking at you one with their hands over Chloe’s mouth another with a pistol in his hand. 

“What the fuck is going on!?” You shout. 

“Come on it’s just a bit of fun.” One of the boys says with a beer in his hands he’s slurring his words. American.

“Yeah a bit of basic hazing.” The one with the gun says waving it around, you duck, holding your hand up. Please for the love of God be a fake gun.

“Hazing? This isn’t a fucking frat house! Put the fucking gun down before you shoot someone.” You say making your way over to Chloe who’s makeup is running down her face from tears.

“Jack said she needed it,” One says. You scoff, pulling the guys hand off her mouth. Of course it was fucking Jack behind this. 

“Hey, fuck you.” The guy behind you says as you wrap your shawl around Chloe. He pushes your shoulder. Fuck you’re too tipsy for this, at least the adrenaline hasn’t let you down yet. You turn to look at him and before you can stop yourself punch him in the face. It’s not hard and you almost miss but it’s enough to make him back off. Then you feel the butt of the pistol hit the side of your face. Fuck that hurt. But you’re still on your feet you turn to look, the guy looks freaked out.

“Put it down before you shoot someone!” You say again steadying yourself and then wrapping your arm round Chloe. You just need to get her out of here. She leans into you as you start to walk to the exit. There’s no way they’ll shoot you it’s just boys being stupid. When you’re outside you welcome the cool air, and the cover of darkeness as you walk to the kitchen backdoor away from the party, still gathered on the back lawn. There are waitstaff mulling around but they pay no mind to you, you take her through to the dining room leaving the door open so you don’t have to turn the light on. 

“Stay here I’ll be back in a sec.” You go into the kitchen to get a glass of water and pick up a glass of champagne for yourself. 

“Here,” you pass her the water and she sips it shaking. “Do you want me to get your mum-maybe not her-your dad?” Chloe shakes her head. 

“You’re going to bruise.” She slurs pointing at where the gun hit your head. You reach your fingers up it hurts to touch. 

“Yeah I’ll just say I got it having really good sex.” You try to lighten the mood. That makes her smile as she sips the water. 

“You want to come and stay at my place?” You ask. She nods. 

“Okay let me go find Johnny and we’ll get out of here, stay here okay.” She nods putting the glass on the table. You down the glass of champagne, now the adrenaline was wearing off and you’re remembering how tipsy you were. You make your way back out looking for Johnny or Simon in the sea of bodies, you spot Johnny from a mile away even with his back turned. You grab his shoulder and he turns to you still mid conversation. You take one look at him and his face goes grim. You want to put your arms out to stop him but it’s too late he’s gripping your arm pulling your chin up so he can get a better look. 

“I’m fine,” you say trying to swat him away. You hear him calling Simon over, Christ, you don’t want to cause a scene. 

“Just come.” You say pulling his arm into the building.

“What happened?” He asks, you don’t want to say anything till you’re away from the party so you keep leading him through the kitchen to the dining room. Chloe is still sat at the table with your shawl round her. 

“Some cunt’s got a bit too excited, I just want to get her home can we leave?” He nods looking at Chloe. 

“You okay?” Johnny asks her, she nods. His face turns back to you touching the red mark on your face, you try not to wince but can't help pulling away from his touch. 

“Fuck, let me get Simon then we’ll leave.” He says going out the room, you pull a chair out next Chloe. 

“What you going to do?” You ask her. She looks at you for a second then at the floor. 

“What fight Jack on his own turf?” She chuckles. 

“I could press charges, assault with a deadly weapon.” You say, she shakes her head. 

“They were only joking, they’re kids, grass on them it’ll end their careers.” She says.

“Yeah, damn right it should, they attacked you, attacked me.” You were angry. “One of them is running around with a fucking gun.” 

“Leave it, you don’t have to fix everything, it’s just stupid kids being kids.” She says her voice laced with something, annoyance? sadness? You’re too drunk to tell, too worked up to care. Johnny and Simon walk into the room before you can respond. Simon doesn’t say a word just steps over to you pulling your chin up, you look in his eyes, they’re burning into you looking round your face. 

“I’m fine Simon.” You say he drops your chin turning to walk out the room. “Simon!” You get up out the chair going to the door.

“Who’s Simon?” Chloe asks, you turn back to look at her rubbing your head feeling the throbbing start, the adrenaline has definitely worn off now. You didn’t have the energy to explain all this to Chloe tonight, she’s probably too drunk to remember anyway. You grab Johnny’s arm pulling him round the other side of the door.

“She was attacked, by some American frat boys, trying to haze her or something, she doesn’t want to do anything about it.” You explain quietly.

“What about you?” Johnny asks.

“One of them pistol whipped me, I’m fine.” you say gripping his arm. 

“One of them has a gun!?” He says gritting his teeth trying not to talk too loud. You look past Johnny seeing Simon and Price in the kitchen doorway. 

“Johnny, I just want to get home.” You say, feeling drained. He sighs pulling you into his arms.

“We’re going home don’t worry.” You wrap your arms round him as he kisses your head. You close your eyes breathing him in, you feel a wave of emotions, you can’t cry now not here not in front of Johnny and Simon. Later. You promise yourself. You feel more hands on you, you’re too woozy to pay attention.

“I’ve got her, go get Chloe.” You feel yourself transferred into Simon’s arms. You lean into him as he walks you out to the front entrance. Price is already stood with a car door open Simon helps you in the back then gets into the front passenger seat. A few seconds later you feel Chloe and Johnny get in the car. 

“You’re cute.” You hear Chloe say. 

“She get’s flirty when she’s drunk.” You say resting your head on the window. 

“I can tell,” Johnny says as he struggles to try and attach her seat belt as she flirts with him. 

“Where to?” Price asks. 

“Our place.” Simon says. You can’t help but look into the rear view mirror Price’s eyes meet yours. You look a way, what an embarrassment you must look. Price starts to drive, you listen to Chloe flirt with Johnny the whole way. At one point she tried to climb in the front seat to flirt with Simon and Price. 

“Man why are all you military guys so fucking hot!” She slurs as Johnny pulls her back. 

“That’s one reason to join,” You whisper under your breath. When you get back to their flat you help Johnny get her out the car. Closing the door behind you Simon stays in the car for a little longer. You help Johnny get her to the front entrance man she’s drunk, she can barely walk. You hear a door close and feel Simon’s arms round your waist, as you all stumble in the lift. You lean into Simon’s touch enjoying his hands being on your body. 

“You bunk with her, we’ll take the spare room.” Simon says, as you get into the flat.

“No let me take the spare room with her.” You say breaking from Simon’s grip walking over to take her out of Johnny’s arms. She sounds disappointed as you walk her to the spare room. You go in throwing her on the bed you walk back out into the bathroom. 

“What about your head?” Johnny asks following you take the bucket out the cupboard. 

“I’m fine,” You lie your head has been pounding since you left the party. “Besides if you get into bed with her she might try and fuck you.” 

“You know where we are if you need us.” Simon says putting his arms round Johnny’s waist pulling him towards their room. You nod going into the bedroom putting the bucket on her side of the bed. You strip her down to her underwear and go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Simon and Johnny’s door is not fully closed. You pause for a second almost wanting to leave Chloe and just curl up into bed with them instead, you push the thought away going into the spare room putting the glass on her side.

She’s passed out already you tuck her body into the bed going back out into the bathroom. You look at your head in the mirror, yeah that’s going to leave a nice bruise you brush your teeth getting the taste of alcohol out your mouth. While you’re swilling your mouth out you hear her heaving in the bedroom, dropping the brush and running back to the room to make sure she’s getting it in the bucket and not all over the bed. You rub her back as she spills her guts. After the first round, she begins sobbing all you can do is rub her back and encourage her to take sips of water. You empty the bucket once, twice. Eventually she falls asleep again and you crawl into bed next to her, your head throbbing, a pit in your stomach. You knew this party was a terrible idea.

Next part

[renardiererin]

satoru gojo with his six-inch fingers stuffed deep inside of you, other hand shoving fingers down your throat while his mouth worked at your neck. suguru geto, on the other hand, had his mouth roughly attached to your plush thighs, working firm deep purple teeth marks up your body.

“look at our cute girl, satoru. she’s shaking so much for us already.”

“she’s just so good for us, suguru. think she can take some more?”

the two didn’t give you a chance to respond before both of them had shoved their respective middle and ring fingers into you, stretching you out nice and wide.

“please i can’t— i can’t fit— too big, too much”

“oh don’t be stupid, dollface, you can handle whatever we give you. i say, we work one more orgasm out of her like this and then we make her take our cocks. what d’ya think about that, satoru?”

“i think it may be the only good idea you’ve ever had.”

gojo slapped a cheshire cat grin on his face and pressed a light kiss to your clitoris, sucking and biting on the soft nub while his and his best friends fingers worked at all the right little spots and corners inside of you.

“feel good, baby?” he asked

“yes, ‘toru, yes it feels so good”

he elicited a small, deep chuckle against your bud, the slight vibration causing you to lose your restraint. back arching, hands gripping the sheets beside your hips so hard your knuckles turned white, whimpers, whines, and cries leaving your lips without any self control, seeing nothing but white and stars.

“what a good fucking girl she is, did you see that suguru?”

“i saw. i think she’s ready for more, don’t you?”

“nononono, please please i can’t— it hurts i can’t take it i can’t take more please”

“but don’t you want us to stuff you full? paint your pretty insides all white?” geto poured his eyes into yours, shimmering with lust and mischief.

“okay. i can handle it. i’ll make it work, fill me up, please.”

“oh now look at that, sugu, she’s so needy. i say we’ve prepped her enough, don’t you think?”

“oh absolutely. she doesn’t need anything more. she’s a big girl, after all. she can take it.”

their dicks lined up against one another, ramming into you almost immediately without easing in. screams and cries falling from your lips at the sudden stretch and piercing pain, but thrusting your hips to get them deeper nonetheless. all of it had you seeing entire galaxies in under five minutes: the pair stretching you out on their ridiculously huge dicks, satoru’s fingers working at your clit while suguru had one of your tits stuffing his mouth full and the other being fondled rather aggressively as he pulled and squeezed and pinched and prodded at your sensitive nipples. satoru’s mouth moving back to one side of your neck while suguru’s took the other side, suguru’s hands now cupping your ass as he squeezed and spread and manhandled the fat, satoru’s got one hand on your tits and one on your clit, suguru lifting your thigh up to spread you open even further, pressing the top of your thigh to your chest. it’s truly a perfect combination if you wanna get your brains fucked out and your guts rearranged.

“pretty, can you tell me the vertex coordinates of the parabola f(x)=6x^2-9x+7 with an axis of symmetry of -8?” suguru finally got out, bringing you back to the whole reason for all of this. the fucking study group.

“start her off easy, sugu, cmon. what’s the rush? baby, can you tell me which function system f(x)=x^2 even is?”

“q-uadr..atic” you stammered out through whines and ragged breaths.

“that’s right, baby. i guess maybe she is ready for your questions, sugu. i’ll let you handle the rest of the questions. i’ll just focus on her pretty little cunt right here. so messy.”

“okay princess. you wanna cum?” geto spoke while pulling out and flipping you over the table rather than on top of it how you had been, ass up, back arched, tits pressed flat against the wood of the table, bent over all pretty just for them.

“then how about you fill out that worksheet for us, yeah? cmon, doll. get through 3 problems and i’ll let you cum. 5 and we’ll cum inside just for you.”

and just like that, both their dicks were shoved balls deep in your tight little pussy all over again, brain trying to operate properly enough to graph those fucking quadratic formulas.

[activesplooger]

ouuu Adam x insecure chubby reader (fluff)? If not it’s okay <33

your favorite 🫐

as u wish!!

𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓶 𝔁 𝓘𝓷𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓮-𝓒𝓱𝓾𝓫𝓫𝔂!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 (𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯)

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼: SORRY THIS IS A MONTH LATE.... RIP TO THE OTHER ANON WHO HAD A REQUEST IM SO SORRY IM WORKING ON IT. ANYWAY I HOPE U LIKE IT 🫐

𝓒𝓦: Bad body image, poor diet habits, fluff, suggestive

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1,175

Your eyes stay fixed on the numbers beside your feet. Fuck. How were you not losing weight? You had tried every diet there was to offer - keto, Atkins, juice cleanses, etc - it just didn't seem to work. Stepping off the scale, you brace yourself to look in the mirror. Looking back at you is the familiar sight you hate to see. Pesky, loathsome thoughts flood your brain: Your stomach isn't flat enough. There's no space between your thighs. Your arms and wrists aren't small and petite like most girls.

All you can do is nitpick your reflection, wishing you were anyone but yourself. You slowly reach out, grabbing the fat of your stomach and pulling it slightly. This piece of flesh disgusted you. You grab the skin of your abdomen, stretching and pushing it back to see what it'd look like if your stomach was flatter.

'If I was skinny, I'd be happy.' was your go-to motivation for losing weight. Being skinny would solve all your problems, it wouldn't inconvenience you and you'd finally love yourself. Right? You certainly believed it would.

Booming footsteps draw closer to you as Adam walks by. He stops in front of you and groans, "Ugh, babe. Not this shit again. Get away from that stupid fucking scale, I told you it's bullshit.". You stayed still as he came in, eyes fixated on your reflection. Adam was about to walk away before seeing that you hadn't moved, "Uh, helloooo? Are you fuckin' deaf?". His request had fallen on deaf ears once again, causing his patience to wear thin. The angel's large hand roughly grips your shoulder and turns you to face him, "Excuse me? I said-".

His words were cut short once he saw your tear-filled eyes. The once frustrated expression turned into a soft and tender one. Large, calloused hands cup your face gently, lifting your chin to look up at him, "Baby, what's wrong? Don't cry, I'm sorry...". You shake your head out of his grip and turn to walk away, hands crossing over your body instinctively to cover yourself. You didn't want him to see you like this, you were ashamed of yourself, you just wanted to hide away forever so that no one could look at unsightly body.

"Hey, hey," Adam coos as he follows behind you, "Slow down, babe. Tell me what's wrong.". He stops you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. "Don't touch me..." you mutter as you attempt to wriggle yourself out of his grasp. However, your attempts are fruitless. Curse his strong, colossal stature.

In fact, his grip tightens as you protest and attempt to leave, his pride a little hurt at your rejection, "Talk to me, sugartits... Don't shut me out, you know I hate that shit.". The angel's grip loosens momentarily to spin you around, his hands now resting on your hips as he looks into your eyes. You don't make eye contact as he looks at you, too ashamed to look him in the eye, "I hate my body...". Adam's face morphs into one of disbelief. One of his hands leaves your hip and curves around his ear as if he's trying to hear something, "I'm sorry, what'd you say I didn't quite get that. Speak up.". A groan escapes your lips as you raise your voice, "I hate my body.".

"One more time, please?".

"I SAID I HATE MY BODY!" you yell. Adam puts his hand down and rolls his eyes, his arms now crossed over his chest as he huffs, "Oh, never mind, I suppose I heard you correctly the first time. I guess it was some stupid bullshit.". Exhaling roughly, you try to turn and leave the room, but the angel grabs your arm and pulls you flush against his chest, "Ah ah, where do you think your going, sugartits? Nope, we're talking about this. Now tell me why you hate your absolutely rockin' bod, babe?". Your stomach flutters slightly as he compliments your body, however, shame quickly sets in again as you speak, "I'm not losing weight... I've tried everything, babe! Keto, veganism, everything! I-I even tried not eating and nothing fucking works anymore!".

As you admit that last part, you collapse onto your knees in front of him and sob, "I-I hate myself... I just want to be beautiful...". You bury your head into your hands as you cry. Adam attempts to coax you into comfort. "Beautiful, huh," He kneels beside you and speaks softly, "you are the most beautiful thing to ever grace creation. If you're not beautiful, then shit, there's really no hope for the rest of us."

A soft chuckle escapes your lips. Does he really think you're beautiful? You lift your head out from your hands and look at him, a smile immediately crossing his features, "There's that beautiful girl.".

"I'm sorry..." you mutter.

"For?-"

"For letting my insecurities get the best of me."

The angel scoffs, waving a dismissive hand at your apology, "Don't apologize. Well, actually, if you're gonna apologize for anything, you should apologize for insulting your hot ass body.". You roll your eyes playfully and hit his arm, "Adam, I'm serious!". "I'm serious too, sugartits," he gestures to your curves, "you think I'd want to pass up those gorgeous curves of yours? Hell no, fuck that!".

"You saying you're only with me for my body?" you tease, putting up a faux-offended tone. Adam shrugs, "Maybe. That's why I'm always trying to jump your bones~". He's immediately met with a swift hit to the arm as you playfully scold him, "Pftt! Shut up!". Adam laughs with you and pulls you against him, bringing you onto his lap, and you continue to hit him, "Babe, your hits don't do anything. That shit feels like wind blowing against my bicep.". You stop your teasing hits and lean into his embrace.

His large hands reach up and gently stroke your hair as you bury your face into his chest, "But, seriously, you're drop-dead gorgeous. I love your body, no matter what you weigh, and I hope you learn to love it to - It's seriously sexy babe.".

A content sigh escapes your lips at his reassuring words, "Thanks, I'll work on it...". "Good" he replies, "now what was that about not eating?". "Ah shit.." you mutter. In a swift motion, he sits you both up and slings you over your shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp from you, "Adam?! What the fuck?!".

"I'm taking you out to dinner, babe. No more of this fuckin' starvation bullcrap. You don't deserve that, now shut the fuck up and let me take care of you.". You don't protest, in fact, you love that he cares enough for you to insist on feeding you.

Adam takes you out to your favorite fast food place and practically orders you the whole menu, making sure you eat until you are 100% full. He then adds onto your pleasure by eating you out in the car, saving the best meal for himself.

The end <3

-

this was fun! I HOPE U LIKE IT IM SORRY THIS REPLY LATE AS FUCKKKK... i may or may not have an announcement later so stay tuned for that!! (hint hint: 🎃😈)

so i like to do recommendations for fics when theres a request so i recommend tumblr user sniigura for adam fics they r fr so good its CRAZY JNFCOWJNFKW. check them out they write for adam very well!!

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about:

Biker!Bucky (who also happens to be your brother’s best friend) comforting you when you accidentally get way too high and think you’re going to die. 

TW: Recreational drug use (weed), talks of death (reader feels like they’re dying), virgin reader, suggestive

The illicit baked goods were handed over with very clear instructions, only eat HALF. But you were so hungry, and the brownie was surprisingly good, and what would really be the harm in eating a whole instead of a half? Death. Inevitable death would be the harm. 

There’d been a very pleasant twenty-five minutes where it felt as if you were dancing on air, now you could barely get any- breathing shallow, chest tight, head heavy. This was it. Goodbye, cruel world. You knew there was little to be done so you decided to embrace the inevitable, if you acted quickly maybe you could go in your sleep. So you filled your cats food bowl, pressed a quick kiss to her head, and crawled into your hammock to await the end- but wait, wait you couldn’t go with regrets, that was a sure fire way to come back as a ghost and you did not want to haunt your crappy walk up forever. No, no regrets. 

So you called James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, your brother’s Bucky. Bucky who lived only a few blocks away, Bucky who could send you off without regret. He picked up on the third ring, and didn’t get much in edgewise after a hesitant “Hello?” 

“Bucky! Bucky I’m dying and I need you to come over right now. The doors unlocked.” You’d hung up before he could ask any questions, best to save your breath, you reasoned. For his part Bucky had politely but firmly asked the girl currently occupying his bed to leave, and made for the door, tugging on gray sweats as he went. While he was positive your dumb ass wasn’t dying he wasn’t willing to leave you in a distressed state. 

When he kicked off his bike and made it inside he’d found you curled up in your hammock, clinging to your cat, eyes squeezed shut; he’d grabbed your attention with a gruff “Bug?” You’d shot up, furry feline friend taking off with a displeased hiss at the sudden rocking motion; “Thank God, Bucky! Get over here, I don’t have much time.” He’d crouched down next to your hammock, bringing his cool metal hand to your cheek, brushing away some stray hairs and taking note of your blown out pupils; “What the fuck are you on?”

“It- it was supposed to only be half the brownie, but I ate it all, I’m such an idiot and now-” He bit back a laugh realizing you were just stoned off your ass, not wanting to add insult to injury as your eyes welled with tears “-now I’m dying but I can’t go yet, Buck, I can’t, because if I die full of regrets I’ll have to haunt this stupid place forever.” 

“For Christ’ sake, Bug, you’re not dying, you’re just stoned.” 

With an adamant shake of your head you reached down and grabbed his flesh hand, pressing the palm of it flat to your chest as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over with a warbling hiccup; “I- I’m not, I am but I’m not- I know what death feels like.”

His mouth popped open in mock surprise; “Oh, you do? Because you’ve experienced it so many times?” 

Your bottom lip quivered as you glowered pathetically at him, “D-don’t be mean to me. Not right now.” Torn between pushing the issue and humoring you he chose to go with the latter. 

“Okay then, Bug, no regrets. How can I help?” 

With a small watery smile you turned in the hammock to fully face his kneeling form; “We’ve got to have sex-”

“Jesus fuck!” Your sincere expression, tear stained cheeks, and glassy eyes awakened something dark within him, pleasure spiking within his groin and pulling him to half mass even as he adamantly shook his head no. Seeing his refusal you began teetering on the brink of tears again; “Please Bucky, please, you have to fuck me, it has to be you. I don’t want to die a virgin and I love y-” 

Quicker than your sluggish brain could process the cool fingers of his left hand wrapped around your mouth, silencing you as his other hand smoothed across the top of your head and down to cup your cheek, thumb stroking it in small even passes. He took three steadying breaths, eyes clenched shut, before he met your gaze; “Shut up. We are not having this conversation right now.” You whined behind the gag of his hand, but he just shook his head firmly in return, so much for humoring you. “Bug, you are high as a fucking kite. So here’s what’s going to happen; I’m going to go get you a drink, and then you’re going to sleep. End of.”

He stood abruptly, moving towards the door of the bedroom as you pleaded with him to come back and take you, promising he could do whatever he wanted as long as he was inside you. You didn’t stop rambling until he stormed back in with a glass of water, towering over your prone form. “Listen to me,” he hissed “when I finally fuck you the only thing you’ll be high on is my cock, so do me a favor and shut the fuck up about it so I can take care of you until then.” 

AN: In hindsight I’ve taken some liberties with the use of the word “comforting.”