#but war is just embarrassed because of the question

[maudie-duan]

Summary: The classic mirror selfie with you and your boo, just as you're about to snap the pic, your bestie texts you, questioning Harry's abilities...in bed.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: My thoughts last night scrolling through Tumblr after a storm woke me up at 3a.m. No biggie...But here you go. Happy weekend!!

Warning: Just nothing but bathroom smut. Have at it!

It was just supposed to be a quick selfie, the two of you standing in front of the mirror, and there you were, one hand brushing your teeth the other opening the camera on your phone. Harry straightens slightly, continuing to casually brush his teeth, and inches closer so you’re both in frame, and just as your about to tap the capture button, a notification rolls in:

SHAY: Dude, there’s no way he made you come that many times.

And shit, your thumb is already pressing the shutter, it’s too late, and the selfie freezes on the screen capturing a single moment in time, and you peer down at it, Harry’s eyes angled directly at your screen. You’re eyes catch in the mirror and he blinks, then blinks again, and you swear the way his eyebrow twitches that he for sure saw the text.

When you look back at the picture, his gaze is frozen, laser-focused on your phone screen, pupils sharp with interest

And that’s when the silent panic sets in.

You should have swiped the notification off your screen the second you felt the buzz in your hand, but you didn’t. Your brain was slow this morning, tired, a stupid sludgy mess, lagging a beat behind, and your mortification only seemed to make it worse.

Instead of acknowledging anything you stand there, toothbrush buzzing, opening the text you know he just saw, feigning ignorance as if nothing happened. From the corner of your eye Harry doesn’t move, as his silence hold you in the mental war raging within you, him continuing on as if you can pretend reality isn’t happening, and the second you put your phone down on the counter it buzzes again.

Nonchalantly you lean forward and spit, eyes avoiding Harry, and you turn, meaning to play it off, but when you meet his eyes in the mirror you catch the devious little curve of his mouth, his dimple’s dipping deeper now, like a warning.

“So you saw that, huh?” you try, voice wobbly and full of foamy toothpaste.

He huffs out a laugh, not even bothering to look away. “Didn’t know you were telling our business to the world, darling.” He drags out the last word, almost making it sound like a challenge, his accent syrupy and slow, with the faintest hint of smug, watching you in the mirror like it’s a live feed of your embarrassment.

And this is when you wanted to crawl into the sink and die. “It’s not—” you say, then cut yourself off, sputtering, trying to find the right word in case he’s mad, “It’s not like that. It’s just Shay. I tell her everything, you know that.”

Harry spits, then rinses his mouth, and shakes his head with a disappointed little click of his tongue. “Oh, baby. Baby, baby.” and he leans forward until his chin is resting on your shoulder, eyes dark with a playful glint. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He keeps shaking his head, like he’s truly heartbroken, but his hands are all over you, fingertips pressing into the fabric at your waist, just above your ass, and maybe you should be more embarrassed, but fuck, it’s the way he’s looking at you—hungry—his fake-scold nature making your skin prickle in a very different way.

One that’s turning you on. You’re heart already racing under his touch,

“Why?” you question, because the word is there on your tongue and it’s the only thing your melting brain can manage.

He grins. “Because now I’ve got to teach you a lesson.”

You snort, accidentally spraying a fine mist of toothpaste all over the mirror. “Oh yeah? Gonna ground me? Take my phone away?” you taunt, mocking him, but your voice comes out smaller than you meant it to.

He takes the toothbrush from your hand, sets it on the counter with a little clatter, and grabs your chin so your eyes can’t go anywhere, his face your whole focus. “No, love,” he coos, with a false-sweetness that sends a flutter to the pit of your stomach, “not gonna ground you. Gonna bend you over this fucking counter and make you beg for it. That’s what’s gonna happen.”

And there’s no time to process his words before he’s moving, sliding his big palm down your back, guiding you forward until your hips knock against the edge of the sink. Your breath catches as your knees threaten to buckle, and He crowds in behind you, pressing his hips to your ass, and holy shit, there’s nothing subtle about the way he’s already hard for you, thick through the soft fabric of his shorts, perfectly lined up, not a trace of shame to be seen.

Because you can see all of it in the mirror: the heat blooming in your cheeks, the way Harry’s green eyes track every movement, the way his hands flex with a possessive grip around your hips, and then he pushes the hem of your t-shirt up, exposing your bare skin to the chill of the bathroom air, and his breath halts for a sharp second, just a little, just enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

“Don’t think you’ve ever looked more gorgeous than you do right now, love.” he says, his voice low and honest, and dammit, the compliment has you aching in places that have nothing to do with vanity, but everything to do with him, and how badly you want him.

He doesn’t bother with the games, no getting you ready, just hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down with one swift motion, pooling them to your knees, and you let out a shocked, involuntary gasp, the humiliation making your pussy pulse even harder, and he yanks your shirt up, the material just above your waist, leaving your entire ass exposed, and you want to whimper, you do, but you bite down on your lip instead, trying to fight the fear that’s rising.

Harry’s fast, and he bends down, trailing his mouth along the curve of your spine, licking a long, slow stripe up to your neck, with a primal hunger that has your clit throbbing, and when he bites your shoulder, gentle but pointed, he does it again, harder this time, just to prove he can. “If Shay wants the details,” he breathes, lips pressed to your ear, “We might as well give her something worth talking about.”

Stunned, you choke on a laugh that turns into a moan as his hand slips between your legs. His fingers rough and confident, always a little too big, and christ, it’s so unfair how good at this he is. It should be a fucking crime, because as soon as he rubs you with the heel of his palm, knowing exactly how much pressure you need, it makes your knees tremble, you standing there becoming this weak puppet, ready to do anything he says and the whole time he’s watching you in the mirror, making you watch yourself come apart.

And it’s sick, so fucking, sick, but you want more.

When you meet his gaze, shuddering, his smile widens, all teeth and mischief. “Want you to see what I do to you,” he says, punctuating the sentence with a swift flick of his wrist that has your vision blurring for a second.

You try to turn your face away, to bury it in your arms, but he grabs your jaw, forcing your head back up. “Eyes on the mirror, love,” he orders, soft but dead serious.

Of course, you obey, because you always do, and he rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, fucking you with just his hand, the other steadying you at the hip. He moves slow at first, drawing out every tiny noise you make, then picks up his speed until you’re grinding down against his palm, desperate for more, gasping each time his thumb finds your clit.

“Harry, please—” you gasp, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for. More? Less? All of it? Because your head is still spinning, a fucking muddled mess of want and need tangling together until you can’t form a single coherent thought, because it’s only him, and he’s all that you need in this very moment.

This draws a laugh from Harry,a low rasp filling the space, and he pulls his hand away as your body goes limp, and you nearly collapse from the sudden loss.

“Turn around,” he says, and you do, stumbling on shaky legs, but he catches you, lifts you effortlessly onto the counter, and spreads your legs open with his hands on your knees. He’s between your thighs in a heartbeat, not even pretending to hide his hunger as you cage him in.

He peels the shirt off over your head, tosses it aside, and then you’re just—naked. Completely. Sitting on cold stone of the sink with your thighs splayed, dripping and humiliated, wanting him so badly you can’t even see straight.

Harry kneels down, spreading your legs wider, and runs his tongue up the inside of your thigh. “Open up for me,” he directs, and you do without pause, because you’re past the point of dignity, and it’s everything, his mouth hot and soft, a shocking contrast to the cool air, and he licks you like it’s his favorite thing in the world, and maybe it is because he never seems to fail you. And when he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue with quick, ruinous strokes, it’s too much, too fast, and you hold your breath, thinking you’re going to lose it—

And fuck, you do, you do, you, do, because you’re coming, hard, almost instantaneous, grabbing at the fucking edge of the counter for dear life so you don’t scream, but Harry doesn’t stop, just keeps working you until you’re quiver, begging, nearly crying for mercy, forcing his head away with shaking hands as he leaves you with a minty tingle.

Then he stands, mouth slick and wet, eyes wild like the beast you’ve made of him. “Gorgeous,” he repeats, voice thick with pride as he shoots you a cunning smile, as if he’s giving himself a pat on the back.

You can barely articulate your thoughts, but somehow you manage to say, “You’re such an asshole.”

This makes him laugh, and he drags the back of his hand across his mouth. “Yeah, but you love it.”

And there’s no question about it because you do. God, you do, and he kisses you, tongue still minty from the toothpaste, and slides his hand up your side, fingers curling around your breast, squeezing until you let out a hushed moan.

“Bend over,” he tells you, more indulgent this time, but with a command you can’t refuse, because why would you at this point.

You slid off the counter, trembling, and braced yourself on the sink, the mirror right in front of you, reflecting you back in a light you rarely saw yourself in, and you can’t help but stare, taking yourself in, and maybe before there would have been a shyness, a subtle shame creeping beneath the surface, but the longer you stare the more you love it, feeling sexy, invinceable under his gaze as he pressed the length of his cock to your back, and you felt it—hot and heavy, so fucking ready it’s almost obscene. The feelings rising within you.

You watched as he lined himself up, not even pretending to be gentle, and without warning he pushes inside you in one achingly slow and stretching stroke. You gasp through the pain, gripping the sides of the sink so hard your knuckles turn white, god He’s so thick, it’s always felt like too much at times, but you want it, want him to take what he wanted, take you, take everything.

Have it all, because you were his now, a pawn in a lesson you had to learn.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the word muffled against the flesh of your shoulder. “God, you feel incredible.”

And it doesn’t take him long to set a brutal rhythm, thrusting hard and deep, each movement forcing your hips up against the cool marble, that was sure to mark your skin. The sounds that echoed in the space were filthy, slick and wet and loud enough to pierce the walls, and just when you felt yourself slipping Harry grabbed hold of your hair, yanking your head back so you would have to look at yourself, have to see the way your mouth dropped open, the way your eyes fluttered with every thrust as he bucked himself into you with no end in sight.

“You’re mine,” he forced, voice hot in your ear. “Don’t ever forget that.”

And you nod, too far gone to answer as he fucks you harder, pushing you right to the edge, not letting up even when your whimper turned to pleads.

“Say it,” he demands. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out. “I’m yours, Harry, fuck—baby don’t stop”

Like the good girl you were, he rewards you by reaching down, rubbing your clit in rough circles, and this had you losing it again, coming so fucking hard that your vision goes white, and that’s just what he needed because he follows a second later, grinding his hips against you, and moaning out your name as if it were a blessing and a curse, collapsing onto your back as he comes inside you.

And for a long, quiet moment, all you could hear was your labored breaths mingling, and ragged as the distant hum of your electric toothbrush vibrated on the counter.

Harry pulled out with a breathy laugh, leaving you hollow as he turns you around so you’re facing him. He lifts you back onto the counter, forcing himself between your shaky legs, and hugs you so tight you almost can’t breathe as his head falls to your shoulder, and he holds you, your bodies sweaty and spent, but it feels good, it feels right.

“Next time,” he says breaking the silence, his voice muffled, “tell Shay it was four times, not three.”

And you start to laugh, helpless and sated, and he grins into your neck, his gentle hand splayed over your belly like he’s marking his territory.

“Lesson learned,” you breathed, and his smug smile is back in full swing, evidence that Harry is already planning your next punishment.

Taglist: @sassamanda77 @harryyloverrr @panini @unfuckwitablenarry @triski73 @haleyannaw @dipmeinhoneyh @lizsogolden @spinninc @iloveharrystyles04 @mema10 @avas-queen-black @starshollowgazette @practistyles

Other One-Shots<-

[goldenbi]

“Forgiving”???? It’s a fictional character. The whole point of fanfiction is to explore characters and have fun with them.

Writing about villains is not endorsing their beliefs, jesus christ, how many times do we have to say this???

Writing characters with complexity and nuance is a good writing skill. It makes stories good. Enjoyable even. Because you know.. people are complicated? Because stories need plot? Because stories need conflict? Because stories have character growth?

I’m sorry you think what people read or write makes them a bad person but people can write stories about whatever the fuck they want and it does not affect their morality.

And thankfully I can see the difference between fiction and real life or else I’d think you were saying you don’t care about abuse, bullying or suffering. That would be so embarrassing.

I mean… Does your hero do all the right things all the time?

If you lied and said yes, great. I’m not usually into fluff but I’d read it. But is it what I’m drawn to? No.

Even if you are just mad about people making cute art of the evil guy: The most popular romance books are all about women falling for the villain (Including murderers, mafia bosses, bullies). It’s a popular trope because it’s FUN, it’s INTERESTING, it’s HOT. I highly recommend ContraPoints video essay about theories on why women like these characters.

Think about what you can write about if you include a vile, evil character as a love interest: redemption, morality, shame, taboo desire, forgiveness, violence, good vs evil, blame, guilt... god, its so juicy!!

The questions get even more interesting: What could drive a person to join one of these groups? Did they fall in love before or after? What if they don't want out? What if the hero exploited their love to win the war? Could we fix him? How would the war change if this one person was shown an ounce of love? How much love would it take to fix everything? On the flipside: How evil can someone get? What amount of cruelty breaks a person? How do you survive it? Why are people cruel? How do they become that way?

If we are connecting this to real life: Why might someone like a character that was abused and made mistakes and was still loved? Why might someone like a character getting revenge on his bullies? Why might someone find comfort in darkness? Why do people like BDSM and heavy kinks? Could it be for the same reason they like dark fiction? Why are the only queer-coded characters the villains? Why is violence (e.g. like that of vampires or werewolves) so sexy for some people?

Let's go back to the beginning: Why would someone try to forgive these characters? Why does Harry try to get Voldemort to feel remorse instead of trying to kill him? Why does Harry save Draco even when he's been a bully the entire time? Why does Sirius say "the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters"?

Don't get reality twisted up in fiction and think they are the same. Hating the fake people in a book isn't going to get real life terrorists, bullies and abusers to stop. And making a post about how gross it is that people like fictional characters certainly won't do anything to get them to stop.

Let people enjoy their fiction while they can in this fucked up world we're in.

i will say this once: i do not care that the bad men you like were abused. i dont care that they suffered. yeah, regulus grew up in a shitty family but i do not care. he could've been abused day and night i do not care. he joined a terrorist group, a genocide and he supported an ethnic cleansing. i don't care that barty jr was abused or put under imperio, i think, sincerely, that it was justified. he tortured people to insanity i have no pity for him. i don't care that snape was hated, that he was bullied or abused. he was a bad person. i don't understand how you guys are forgiving of people just because they've suffered and it genuinely speaks so about your own mindset

[akkivee]

dohifu…………

[marahkatoa2003]

Dont skip 🔴

Save my life.please!! 🙏🏻🍉💔

Hello, I am Marah from Gaza, I am 23 years old, studying at Al-Azhar University.

I am writing these words after deep thought, as the urgent need to save me and my family is beyond my ability to bear.

I would like to add that I am studying law, and I aspire to become a valuable lawyer in my country.

I wish my days were better and that I would not live in a war deprived of my most basic rights.

But the war came and destroyed all our dreams and ambitions.

We had a supermarket and my brother worked in it and our life was very happy, but it was completely destroyed and now we have no source of income.

My mother also suffers from an enlarged thyroid gland and diabetes, and because of what we are going through we cannot provide her with any treatment, and her condition is getting worse.

My father also had a stroke because he heard about the loss of our relatives, and he also lost our home. He worked all his life to build his life's home. We suffer from diseases and lack of clean water.

We are living death.

Please help me protect and help my brother, my family and my cat to restore life and hope to them. Every donation, even if it’s just $5, can make a difference. It means so much to us and our child. Please reshape their lives with love and safety, and help build new hope in them.

It makes a difference in helping me save my family.

I feel so sad and embarrassed to ask for help, but I have no other options left. I know this is a tough ask, but I also know that there is still humanity and conscience and I believe in miracles.

Your support during this very difficult time will give us hope in the midst of devastation and despair.

If you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to ask me!

My sincere regards and thank you.

My campaing vetted by @/90-ghost

‼️Donate via credit card

‼️Donate via PayPal

[lionizingheathen]

umm face riding with harry?? pleaseee

Yeah, no problem

Harry Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, oral sex reader receiving, face riding

"You should ride my face." You choked on your own breath for a moment before looking over at your boyfriend, who was tossing around an old ball like he hadn't just said something so forward... He'd gotten more forward after the war, after he was done with all the uncertainty and chaos but Merlin, you'd never be used to it.

"Pardon me?" You asked, your voice breaking over the words as he grinned over at you, seeming equal parts eager and concerned, like he was worried he'd said something wrong, which was not at all the case.

"You... Sorry, is that not something you're interested in?" He asked, tossing the ball aside as he turned towards you, resting his hand on your thigh. You cleared your throat, squeezing your thighs together as you felt your cunt throb at his touch.... Of course you wanted to ride his face, who wouldn't?

"No, i mean... Of course it is I just didn't expect you to be so candid... most people don't just say 'you should ride my face', they beat around the bush a little." You said, feeling a little shaky as you looked at him. All he did was sit up and nod a little, clearing his throat as he pulled his hand away from you.

You missed his touch the second it was gone.

"Normally I would too but I... I've been thinking about it a lot." "About you a lot, and I just... Please ride my face?"

"What if I crush you?" You asked, a question that you knew was stupid the second you looked at his face and saw his confused expression - you hadn't meant to confuse him, all you were saying was what if you fucking killed him? You'd be killing the savior of the wizarding world, that sounded like a terrible thing!

"Huh?" He asked, and you sighed, throwing your hands up before you covered your face with them, embarrassed that you were even thinking about that.

You wanted to disappear.

"I don't want to smother you! That would be mortifying." You said, your tone coming out far more defensive than you had intended. Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he looked at you, clearly not even slightly worried about that.

"I'm a big boy, Y/N. I can handle myself." He laid on his back, gesturing you over with a wide smile. "Now c'mere... Ride my face." You snorted, rolling your eyes even as you sat up.

Eager boy.

"I never said yes." He paused then, looking at you expectantly.

"Well...?" He asked, trailing off as you sighed, nodding before you slipped your panties off, seeing the hungry expression on his face.

Down, boy.

"If we do this, and you can't breathe-." He cut you off, waving you off like your concerns for his health were unimportant, but in your opinion they were very important... He needed to listen.

"Obviously I will tell you, now come here, I can't wait much longer." He insisted, and you chuckled, shaking your head even as you swung your thigh over his head, positioning your cunt over his face, pausing before you settled down.

"You're so needy." You said, and he nodded, looking up without any shame... God, he wasn't paying attention to a single word out of your mouth, was he?

"Only because you're fit as hell." He mumbled, bringing his hands up so that he could use his thumbs to spread you open. God, don't stare... "That's like... Part of it." You snorted, shaking your head.

Cute.

"Part of it? Very eloquent, Potter." You said, and he rolled his eyes, finally meeting yours before he spoke.

"Shut up."

"Funny, pretty sure you'll be the one doing-." He pulled you down suddenly, making you let out a gasp as he lapped his tongue over your cunt. You gripped onto the headboard and sighed. "That... Bloody hell..." You mumbled, feeling his fingers dig into your thighs as he buried his tongue inside you, his nose bumping against your clit as you moved your cunt against him.

Oh god...

"Mmm..." Your head was already fucking spinning and he'd hardly even started.

"Oh, that feels... So good." Glasses. "Your glasses, hold on... Hold on, Harry." You breathed, and he groaned when he pulled away, looking at you like you'd committed a crime against him.

Relax, pretty boy.

"I don't care-." You cut him off and carefully removed them from his face, shaking your head. It was cute that he was so eager, but the last thing you needed was any looks from anyone if he showed up to work tomorrow with broken glasses.

"I do. I don't want to explain why there's tape on them tomorrow." You said, and he snorted, shaking his head like it was a non-issue was he wrapped his arms around your thighs.

"I know how to fix my glasses, Y/N." Obviously, but you didn't want to give him a reason why he had to do that... You weren't really in the market of making someone blind.

"Either way." You set them on the nightstand before settling over him again. "There. Now you can go." You said, and he rolled his eyes, but nodded at you.

"Thank you." Perfect.

"So polite..." He lapped his tongue over you frantically, like he was trying to map your cunt and remember each and every fold, every inch from taste alone... God, was there anything he wasn't good at? "Just like that, yes, just like that." You whined, feeling his tongue trace over your clit.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Mmm... Suck my clit, good boy..." You mumbled, grinding down on his face with a sigh, feeling shivers through your whole body... It was no wonder he was good at this, he was already great at giving head and that was something you knew.

"Look so perfect under me... I..." You gasped, feeling a hand leave your thigh, but you didn't think much of it, you were too lost in the feeling of his tongue against you, how he sucked on your clit and moaned like he was in heaven.

Fuck...

"Harry... Please..." You weren't even sure what you were asking for, all you knew was that your orgasm was coming fast, and Harry was too lost in his own world to notice... Or he didn't care and intended to work you right past it, which wouldn't surprise you.

"Close... Getting close." You whined, and Harry nodded under you, letting out a whimper of his own, but you weren't sure why... Hell, you couldn't bring yourself to care, all you knew was that you were gonna cum, and Harry wanted you to.

Really, that was all it took to send you over the edge as you shivered against his face, reaching down to tug his hair as you let out long moans of his name... Fuck, you were seeing stars, and he was not stopping.

"Shitshitshit..." You slumped against the wall, shivering as his tongue continued to move before you slipped off of him and gently pried his face from between your legs, wiping his mouth with your thumb. "Jesus Christ, Potter." You mumbled, watching as he quickly sat up, walking away from you.

Huh?

"What?" He asked, sounding worried, and you were quick to shake your head. All you meant by that was that he made you feel so fucking good.

He reappeared and you grinned, shaking your head as you sat up to meet him with a kiss.

"Nothing... You are marvelous, sweet boy." You said, ruffling your fingers through his hair with a sigh as he spread your legs, carefully cleaning between them with a soft smile, leaving a kiss just above your cunt.

"Did that feel good?" He asked, and you nodded. Obviously that felt good, you would've told him if it hadn't felt good... But it was still nice that he asked.

He was the only guy you'd been with you ever bothered to.

"That felt so good..." You breathed, looking at him with a wide smile as he settled down beside you again. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Mhm... Plenty." He mumbled, and you furrowed your brows before it dawned on you. He'd cum while going down on you.

Fuck, that was hot.

"Oh." You breathed, feeling your cunt throb as you thought about just how turned on he must've been. He must've taken that for disgust, because he cleared his throat and looked away from you, taking a deep breath.

"Sorry if that's off-putting you're just... really hot." He mumbled, and you shook your head, wetting your lips as you looked back at his face, placing your hand against his cheek.

There was nothing wrong with him being excited while you were doing that, or with him handling himself... Your only regret was that it hadn't been your hands.

Next time it would be.

"That's so sexy, honestly." He let out a breath of relief as you dew him in for a long, lingering kiss, resting your foreheads against each other when you pulled away. "Though next time... Let me handle it, okay?" You asked, and he nodded eagerly, smiling widely as he pulled back from you.

Cutie.

"Absolutely." You chuckled, leaning in to kiss him again before speaking.

He just... Demanded it. Something in the way that Harry James Potter existed demanded affection.

"Amazing." You tucked against his chest, listening to the soft hum of his voice and the sound of his heartbeat as you let yourself relax, the serene moment filling your every thought.

Perfection.

[gyokujyn]

There was a war on. You take comfort where you can get it.

Marvel cinematic world and actors being indefensible aside, are we all just going to sit here and act like their swinger dynamics aren't happening

If you put these five souls on a graph and started red lining who's in a relationship with what and who's broke up with who and who had homoerotic relationships with who's dads you'd Pass Out

[vinnyvamppp]

Hello! I remembered this trend on TikTok where gfs would pick their bfs up and sit them on the counter. I was wondering how Mark and his variants would react to their normal civilian gf doing that to them (or attempting to—). It doesn’t have to be anything long! It can just be short descriptions (if you end up taking this request). 🙏

“Sit. Stay. Counter.”

Note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. This is the cutest, thirstiest, most deranged and adorable request you could’ve given me after the symphony of smut I've published.

Warnings: Possible, but minor war crime... Oh, and some sexual tension. (Everybody's a freak-bob cause I couldn't resist.) Special request at the end.

Synopsis: In which you, a mere civilian with either questionable upper body strength or pure audacity, attempt to lift various overpowered Viltrumite men and sit them on the kitchen counter like they’re your pretty little trophy husbands.

Mainstream Mark/Variants x Fem!Reader (could be GN, “she” is only mentioned in monologue moments.) WC: 2,585

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Mainstream Mark You try to play it cool and act like you’re just walking into the kitchen to kiss him, but your hands suddenly slide to his hips. Mark’s mid-sentence when he freezes, eyes narrowing with mild confusion and a flush creeping up his neck. He chokes on air. Like, actually makes a startled noise because he doesn’t expect it—you lifting him?! “Wait—woah—are you trying to lift me right now?? Babe??” He ends up doing a little hop to help you, laughing nervously, and then sitting there grinning while you kiss his nose like you just won a prize. And you do it! You actually manage to get him up there with a grunt and a full-body lift. That’s enough to make him freeze in awe, stammer a protest, and then immediately try to take over. He's bashful but secretly really into it. His legs swinging like a kicked puppy who just found out he’s got a hot girlfriend with strong arms and intentions. He keeps glancing down at you, smiling like he’s trying not to make it a Thing™… but he’s definitely thinking about it during sex later. Internal Monologue: She’s… trying to lift me? She’s actually—wait, she’s serious. Okay. Okay, don’t make a sound. Don’t ruin it. Act casual. Act like this isn’t the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you. Is it weird if I help? No, don’t help, she might stop. Holy shit—she’s strong. I’m marrying her. We’re already married. Is it weird if I say thank you? I’m gonna say thank you. Oh my god, I’m hard—how am I already hard?! FOCUS.

If You Can’t Pick Him Up:

Mark immediately tries to help you. Like, sweet-boy trying to do a little hop into your arms. When it doesn’t work, he laughs, wraps his arms around you, and says, “You trying to carry me or climb me?” And then he picks YOU up, kisses you stupid, and places you on the counter instead like the princess you are. You’re upset, but this is less embarrassing than the way your knees knocked when you tried.

You two doom-scroll until you’re caught up on the latest trends, his camera roll is FILLED with videos.

｡𖦹°‧ No Goggles Mark You don’t even get a chance to lift him. The moment your hands settle at his hips and you square your stance, his head tilts slowly, lips curled into a "what the fuck are you doing?" grin. He stands there like a little shit, just barely helping, making himself heavy on purpose so you struggle. When you get him halfway and grunt in frustration, he’s already giggling. “Oh no, my weak little arms, I’m too precious to be carried—” BUT he lets you do it ABSOLUTELY. And sits up there all relaxed, legs dangling, eyes wide like you’ve just unlocked a new level of hotness he wasn’t prepared for. He’s biting his lip, watching you like you just grew a second head.  “Dude… that was so hot, I think my dick twitched. No, wait, it definitely twitched.

”You finally get him up there and he melts. Full on spreads his thighs, hands braced behind him, eyes half-lidded like he’s beckoning you to challenge him. He leans in all cocky, asks if you’re manhandling can be a daily occurrence, he strives to irritate and entice. Internal Monologue: Oh my god. Oh my god, she’s doing it. She’s gonna lift me. This is it. This is the moment I fall in love again. God, I love this woman. Look at her face—so determined. So serious. She’s feral. She’s hot. I should say something gross. No, worse. Feral. Say something feral. Should I ask her to grip me while she’s at it? No, wait—what if I fake being heavier so she gets mad? Yeah. Yeah, this is peak romance.

If You Can’t Pick Him Up:

He laughs, obnoxiously loud, and then says, “Okay, wait, no no—do it again. I swear I’ll behave. Kind of.” When you give up through bated breaths, he leans down, “You know what happens now, right?” Then he just drops to his knees, palms on your hips, mouth already moving toward your inner thigh. Failure means nothing. He's thriving.

凸( •̀_•́ )凸 Mohawk Mark You don’t ask or warn, more or less appearing like an apparition to try. The second you do, he plants his feet and makes it difficult on purpose. “The hell are you doing?” he mutters, brow arched, not moving an inch. He’s gonna make you work for it. Full smirk, arms crossed, with an amused gleam in his eyes. He wants to see if you’re serious. “You think you can move me? C’mon, then. Show me.”  If you get him even halfway up? He’s shocked—but laughs.

The second you groan, he grins and not in a mocking way, but like he’s daring you to earn it. Eventually, you throw your full weight into it and manage to boost him up, and he lets out a sharp exhale like he wasn’t ready to be dominated like that. But now? His eyes are locked.

“You trying to flip the script on me, babe?” he mutters, grinning. “That’s cute.” He doesn’t move. Just pulls you between his legs, forearms on your shoulders, already hard from the show of strength. He loves when you challenge him. His chin nuzzles within the splayed hairs of your mohawk, utterly plotting. Internal Monologue: Ain’t no way she’s trying this. There’s no way. She knows I weigh like 180, right? All muscle? What is she—wait, is she gritting her teeth? Oh shit, she’s serious. Okay, hold on—do I let her? Nah, make her work for it. Just a little. Play it cool. Act smug. Maybe flex a little. She likes the fight. And when she gets me up there? Game on. She’s gonna regret this—in the best possible way.

If You Can’t Pick Him Up:

He stares down at you with an amused smirk and doesn’t budge. “Oh, babe. You're adorable.” Then he scoops you up like you’re nothing, walks you over to the counter, and spanks your ass as he sets you down. A genuine cackle crawls from his throat as he watches you squirm. Somehow in that amount of time you produced a bucket of sweat.

This is now free rein for you two to begin mischievous plots together. ദ്ദി/ᐠ｡‸｡ᐟ\ Omni Mark 

He blinks… slowly, then squints. He knows what you’re doing the second you square your stance. And he lets you try with a silent but palpable curiosity, his expression unreadable. “Are you lifting me?”

Your hands slide to his hips. You push and grunt once before he finally eases up just enough for you to get him seated. He lets you do it, but there’s a heavy pause—like he’s trying to figure out why it’s affecting him so much. He’s used to being the strongest, but this? This little moment of tenderness?

He ends up gripping your waist. Staring at you for a few long seconds with that haunted, love-struck look. Then says, very softly: “Again. Do it again.” He almost uses this as a form of training, his quiet ego making him believe you shouldn’t be able to lift him even an inch, but you’ve made him grow soft… so much so, that he’s willing to give into you. Internal Monologue: Is this a power play? She's reaching for my hips—intentionally. No hesitation. That’s bold. I like bold. Is she trying to prove something to me? Or to herself? It doesn’t matter. She's close now. She's warm. Her heartbeat’s fast—excited. Not afraid. That’s… rare. God, she doesn’t know what this is doing to me. I haven’t felt this way in decades. Don’t moan. Don’t grab her. Don’t break the counter. If You Can’t Pick Him Up:

He watches you try and fail with an unreadable expression. Then he slowly smiles. “You tried,” he murmurs, brushing hair from your face. Just what did you expect? He's almost pure muscle and you quiet after a few seconds. “Let me show you what that earns you.” And then he lifts you onto the counter as if you weigh nothing but touches you like you’re everything.

ूाीू Sinister Mark There’s two possibilities: He sits himself up there the second you try, smirking the whole time and watching you like prey. Or… your lucky latter where you catch him off guard. You make your move when he’s lounging, of course. And of course, he lets you. Because Sinister Mark? He wants to be put on the counter. Not because he’s submissive, but because it means he gets to lean back, legs spread, hands behind him, smirking down at you like you just set a trap for yourself. “Go on, then,” his expression says. “You touched me first. Let’s see how far you take it.” “Make it worth it,” He says with a cocky drawl. He’s already hard before he sits. And the moment your fingers wrap around his waist, the moment your breath hitches, he’s watching you unravel with strain and loving every second.

And once he’s up there? He stares at you like you just became his favorite obsession all over again. He taps his thigh like it’s an invitation. Come kneel, sweetheart. You started this. Internal Monologue: Ohhh. Look who wants to play alpha. That’s adorable. She really thinks she can lift me? She doesn’t even know what this is gonna awaken in me. Look at her go. Little grunts. All that effort. Shit, it’s hot. Alright, I’ll help her just enough. Give her the win. Let her think she’s got the power for a minute. And then? I’ll spread my legs and watch her come undone trying to handle it.

If You Can’t Pick Him Up: He’s smirking the whole time. He won’t help AT ALL. Just watches you strain with a low, lazy look like “You’re adorable when you try.” Your teeth grind together and just as you’re about to blow the lid, your hands droop to your sides.

And when you give up? He instantly grabs your neck, walks you back three steps, and lifts you to the counter with one smooth motion. “See? That’s how you take control.” Then he spreads your legs. Your plan just backfired beautifully.

♛ Viltrum Mark You’re subtle about it... or so you think.

But before your fingers even graze his hips, Viltrum Mark’s gaze locks on you. He doesn’t move, not even the quirk of his facial expression. Just tilts his head like he’s already dissected your plan six moves ahead. It's usually unnerving, but somehow endearing during displays of affection. He lets you try, but every motion is being filed away with every tug.

You lift, push, and egregiously strain. And finally, he helps, just barely, so you can get him onto the counter. He sits there, legs open, gaze cool, and an imperceptive smirk. Like he’s letting you play at control while deciding how long he’ll indulge you.

But there’s something in the way his knees tighten around your hips… the way his fingers graze your wrist just a little too slow. He’s not mocking you, he’s considering you… and that's somehow scarier. You walked in thinking this was a game. Now you’re between his thighs while he decides whether to devour you or play the long game. Internal Monologue: ...She’s making contact. Hands on my hips. Interesting. Is this an attempt at dominance? Or flirtation? Or both? She knows she’s mine, right? She knows touching me like that wont work, right? And she’s still doing it. God, I want to ruin her. She’s lifting me. She’s lifting me? I should snap her in half. I should worship her. I should bend her over the counter instead. No—I’ll let her have this. It’s killing me.

If You Can’t Pick Him Up:

He watches you strain and your muscles flex as your arms tremble with visible veins. And when you fail, he just steps closer—silent—gripping your jaw like a warning, leaning in until his lips barely brush yours. “Try again,” he’d whisper if he ever needed to speak. But he doesn’t, he’ll wait and let you squirm. Then push you back against the nearest surface and remind you who the apex predator is.

He’ll indulge in these silly trends just to see your reactions.

ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ Shiesty / Hooded Mark

Lets you with a raised brow, hands relaxed at his sides, like he’s judging your form but not stopping you. He wants to see how worthy you are, after all, you’re dating him. The second your hands touch his hips, he knows. He doesn’t help you either, just stares, obviously amused. His eyes showing faintly beneath that veil, teeth flashing beneath the smirk he’s not bothering to hide.

Once you do it, he leans forward, forearms on his knees, staring right into your eyes. “You always this bold?” He rasps, “Mmh. You wanna show off, huh?” he’d say if he were feeling generous. But instead, he just stares until you squirm under the weight of his limp body.

You get him up there—eventually, with him purposefully being deadweight. And now he’s fully manspread, head tilted, fingers tugging on the hem of your shirt with teasing violence. “You wanna be in charge?” his body language says. “Then do it. Impress me.” Internal Monologue: Is this foreplay? It feels like foreplay. It feels like she’s trying to do something reckless and pretend it’s casual. Mm. She’s touching me like she thinks I’ll just let her. Should I let her? Nah. Not yet. Gotta make her work for it. Look at her muscles flex. Look at her face. God, she’s hot like this. If she gets me up there? I’m flipping this whole kitchen upside down. She wants dangerous? I’ll show her dangerous.

If You Can’t Pick Him Up:

You’re frowning before you know it, staring up at him as if this is his fault for instigating. He absolutely lets you fail. Then he chuckles before grabbing the back of your neck and dragging you flush against him, whispering against your jaw like a threat and a promise. “What a shame. You started this, too.”  He loves that you think you have control. He’s about to take it back too.

He totally endorses testing out strength related trends, this starts a series of public embarrassment of him carrying you.

(╥‸╥) Masked Mark 

He lets you and he actually melts. He tries not to show it, but the moment your arms wrap around him and you lift, even just a little— His cheeks flush. You don’t even make it to his hips before he starts getting nervous. Not scared, just flustered, like his brain short-circuited the moment he realized what you were trying to do.

He says nothing but sits there, blushing, fists clenched on the counter beside his thighs. Like if he says one word, he’ll start whimpering. He’s obsessed with being handled like that, or even, the idea that you want him, even like this? It wrecks him in the softest way possible. His fingers grip the edge of the counter as he stares down at you with a pleased and light chuckle. He watches you like you’ve become something dangerous and perfect.

Internal Monologue: She’s… she’s touching me? Oh my god. She’s trying to lift me. That’s—it’s cute. It’s hot. I don’t know what to do. Should I help? Should I just melt? I don’t want to mess it up. Her hands are so warm. She’s so confident. She’s going to break me. This is embarrassing... I think I’m in love again. I want her to ruin me. I want her to carry me into the sun. Oh god—I’m gonna lose my mind if she grips me again.

If You Can’t Pick Him Up:

He sees you try and panics—“Wait, no no, don’t hurt yourself—” He laughs. He looks down, ashamed. But when you kiss him? Tell him it’s okay? He drops to his knees, hands shaky, mouth open, ready to serve. “I can’t be lifted,” his body says, “but I can worship you just fine.”

A/N: let's be real... everyone's a freakzoid with how much Mark and Eve get it on in the show.

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚ SCRIPT FLIP - What if the reader doesn't struggle at all?

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Mainstream Mark 

You wait until he’s brushing his teeth, humming some tune, and mumbling to you. You're mid-convo while he's rambling about something innocent, maybe a new spare costume from Art, maybe breakfast—and you just… scoop him. You sidle up behind him, say nothing, and just lift him, legs tucked under your arm, shift your hips, shoulder to his waist, like a perfect Olympic carry. Before he knows it, you’ve hoisted him over your shoulder like a sack of sex-starved potatoes.

“Wha—babe?? I—I can fly???” He’s flailing a little, holding onto your shoulder like “why is this working???”  He can’t believe this is happening. He doesn’t resist. He doesn’t know how. “You can’t just—! I mean, you can, obviously, but—holy shit."

You set him on the counter like you just bought him for sale at a warehouse, and his jaw drops. His face is beet red. His muscular thighs press together instinctively; shocked, SOMEHOW fully hard and ashamed but proud. His fingers run over his eyes, sighing to himself before staring at you through his lashes.

“...Okay. That was kind of hot. Are we gonna talk about it, or…?”

He’s not okay, no, he’s better. You’ve just revealed a strength kink he didn’t know he had. You lean in, hands on the counter beside his hips, and smirk. He’s speechless, eyes wide, trying not to let you see how turned on he is. He fails as his head turns at lightning speed to rinse his mouth in the sink, he returns to his place on the counter like a good boy before his hands roughly reel you in, his minty fresh tongue prodding your lips without hesitation.

His Inner Monologue: Okay, okay, don’t panic. She’s strong. She’s insanely strong. I didn’t know that was possible. I mean, I guess I always suspected but like—DAMN. Is it weird that I’m into this? No? It’s fine. Totally normal. Don’t get a boner. Don’t—oh god. Okay. Smile. Play it cool. Act like you didn’t just get bench pressed like a cheerleader. CONTROL YOURSELF. Everything about her is so… Sweet boy is on his phone the second it’s over, scrolling TikTok with you, stammering the entire time. “I mean, I guess… I didn’t know that was a thing? But yeah, yeah—it’s kinda cool. Cool-cute. Cute-cool. Shut up.”  He’s red in the face. Can’t stop thinking about it.  Absolutely let's you do it again. He now peers over your shoulder whenever you scroll social media. He isn’t sure whether he should prepare himself mentally or physically…or even at all for the charades you might pull. He’s playfully terrified, but oh so enthralled.

｡𖦹°‧ No Goggles Mark

He clocks it instantly, and his head tilts, mouth quirking into a suspicious grin—like a cat who knows he’s pretty. Of course, he would. It's lensless Mark, and let's be honest… he's definitely pulled pranks and made memes out of your reaction to send you during arguments.

You just walk up like you’re on a mission. He doesn’t move when you grab him, in fact, he makes it harder—just to be a shit with no assistance. Just a dry, "this oughta be good" look on his face. But then… his grin falters. “Wait—what are you—Dude. Babe. Babe. You’re not gonna—OH MY GOD—”

You lift him like ITS NOTHING, one arm under his knees, one across his back, like some twisted bridal carry—but halfway through, you grab him by the waist and shoulder, and in one powerful motion, you toss him over your shoulder instead. You sling him easily like you’re about to carry a sack of bricks to hell. He loses his mind. “Oh my god. Okay. This is real now. You’re actually carrying me. I—I think this is working??? I might be in love.” “THIS IS A CORE MEMORY.” “Dude. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I need you to do that again. Take me.”

He’s laughing and moaning and definitely trying to grind against your back simultaneously. Even spitting out things he KNOWS will irritate you. It's like he’s short-circuiting, fighting the urge to beg you to spar with him and wanting to grind himself into a puddle. You drop him on the counter, and he just stares at you—eyes wide, hair tousled, pupils blown.

Inner Monologue: Holy shit. Dude. DUDE. I’m being carried, like, full hoist. I should be fighting this. Or saying something hot. But I’m close to whimpering. Is this what being prey feels like? I like it. I hate it. No, I love it. This is love. This is lust. This is spiritual. Am I about to propose? God, I’m so gone. She’s gonna use this against me forever. ...I hope she does.

You give him a smug once-over, hands on your hips like you just completed a flawless routine. He’s already panting, fingers twitching against the counter, legs spread instinctively. You lean forward, close enough to feel his breath hitch. “Still think I’m too soft to handle you?”

He groans really loud “Okay, wow. That was weirdly hot. That’s it. You’re coming home with me.” He goes full gremlin, and I mean more than usual. He teases you relentlessly about it for a week and starts fake-limping like you injured him. But secretly? He’s watching his back. “Dude, next time just say you wanna dom me. I’ll throw myself into your arms, easy.” He’ll search “dominant girlfriend lifting boyfriend trope” on Tumblr at 2am.

凸( •̀_•́ )凸 Mohawk Mark 

He’s posturing, arms crossed, smirk heavy. You wait until he’s talking shit. He’s leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, mouth mid-rant about something some other variant did wrong. Probably threatening violence or about to call you a smartass.

Something about how you couldn’t handle him and about your “cute little arms,” and how he’d break you before you got the chance to try anything bold. That’s when you step in close, hands sliding around his waist, a dangerous little smirk on your lips.

“You gonna try to lift me again?” he asks, almost with an amused gleam but something that encourages you regardless. 

You don’t give him time to finish. You grab him by the thighs, shoulder into his stomach, and he’s airborne before he can blink. He hits your shoulder with a grunt, eyes wide, palms on your back. He was hauled as if you’d done this a dozen times before.

“The fuck—HEY—what the hell?!”

He yelps, yes, Mohawk Mark yelps. The way his hands grab at your back says he hates how much he likes it. You walk him across the room and drop him on the kitchen counter like he’s not 180+ pounds of alien muscle and attitude. His ass hits the granite with a thud, and he stares at you with a raised brow.

And then he grins, obviously impressed. You were always his favorite version of you. “You really gonna manhandle me like that?” He snorts, licking his lips. “You better fuck me after this, or I swear—”

Inner Monologue: No way. No fucking way she just did that. You let one woman pick you up and suddenly your dick’s got a mind of its own. Nah. Hell no. That’s hot though. Shit. Look at her face—like she didn’t even break a sweat. Damn. Okay. This is happening. Don’t get soft. You are not the prey. You’re the damn predator. You’re just letting her win. For now.

You stared down at him as if granting yourself a tribute. You lean forward, slide your fingers under his chin, and tilt his face toward you. His pupils blow wide. His smirk twitches, more like slants, very obviously. “And if you don’t… I’m gonna rail the shit outta you for that,” he mutters, already half-hard.  “...And I’m still gonna let you do it again.” Acts like he’s over it, but you catch him doing push-ups in the middle of the night. He keeps testing you: “Bet you can’t do it again.” Immediately gets hard when you can. He doesn’t need to search trends when he already knows you unlocked something for both of you.

♛ Viltrum Mark

He’s mid-mission debrief, completely in control, arms crossed, expression unreadable, per usual. You step into his space like you’re going to kiss him. He’s used to your usual distractions, you’ve grown awfully bold recently. As much as he decline to admit, intimate gestures made by you have grown more meaningful.

And then you hoist his royal Viltrumite ass over your shoulder. He freezes and you can feel every muscle in his body go tense. The carry was truly your best efforts. Your hands locked, body braced, hefted over your shoulder before he realizes what’s happening. He’s fully rigid against you.

He doesn’t say a word, but his cock twitches with a jolt . Its sudden, so much that he’s internally disappointed in himself. His hands tighten on your back, his jaw tensing in silence. You’ve just short-circuited centuries of dominant, imperial Viltrumite wiring in one motion.

You sit him down, but still, he stays silent. Watching you and almost… burning? She lifted me. She LIFTED me? You set him on the counter, slow and casual, and step back like it was nothing.

Oh, man. You don’t know what you’ve just awakened in him. “You touched me. You lifted me,” his stare says. “And now I’m going to touch you back—and not gently.”

He says nothing. But he’s hard. Breathing slower. Eyes darker. You’ve just violated the natural order and he wants more.

Inner Monologue: This is impossible. This is unacceptable. This is the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me. She has no idea what she’s done. She touched me like I was hers. She moved me like I didn’t weigh more than her car. I should punish her. I should worship her. I should bend her over the counter she dropped me on and rut until I forget my name.

You lean in to speak—but he grabs your throat, lips hovering just an inch away. He hust stares, his eyebrow jumping slightly as he scrutinizes you under his gaze. His lips suction to yours as his strong hand keep you tucked away against his chest. And claims you an hour later. He doesn’t talk about it. He doesn’t acknowledge it. But from now on, anytime you walk behind him he tenses. Like you might strike again. He lets it happen once… maybe twice. By the third time, you’re the one on the counter.

Don’t push the boy too far, okay?

ദ്ദി/ᐠ｡‸｡ᐟ\ Omni Mark

You lift him without warning. Not because he didn’t expect it, but because you did it so easily. One moment he was standing, the next he was over your shoulder, dead silent. He doesn’t resist, but rather watches you as if anticipating your shenanigans. You approach and grab his hips. You lift him over your shoulder, and his eyes flicker, barely, before going wide behind you.

You carry him like a queen dragging her knight back to the throne. Set him on the counter, legs spread, hands braced behind him. 

“...Impressive.” “You know that wasn’t necessary.” His voice drops an octave. Something seductive, maybe even dangerous. “...Do it again.”

It’s not just desire, it's a curiosity, like he’s testing what else you’ll do. More like, what else he’ll let you do. What it means to let go. He killed his father, he continued his mission, and yet you test his patience daily with the full confidence he won't harm you. And he knows… he could never bring himself to. Every day you prove another reason to be useful, even in smaller ways like now. You set him down, and he doesn’t speak. His face simply quirks into something more lighthearted, an amused huff leaving his nose as his arms cross over his broad chest. Rather, he just stares for a long moment.

Inner Monologue: She lifted me. Effortless. Like I wasn’t the most dangerous thing on this planet. I’ve never allowed this. Never wanted this. But with her… I crave it. Her hands on me. Her strength. Her boldness. It makes me feel something primal and unfamiliar. Something terrifying. Something I don’t want to end.

You don’t say anything. You just rest your hands on his thighs causing his muscles to twitch and his breathing to stutter. His voice drops an octave and his eyes are blown wide. He’s calm, so calm its scary. And the way his hand settles on your hip as you walk away? He’s basically obsessed.

He reaches for your wrist and pulls you in. And finally lets go of his inhibitions. He now sits in chairs you can’t reach from behind. He’s not afraid, but every so often, he says—dead serious— “You’re going to do it again. Aren’t you?”

ूाीू Sinister Mark

He knows, you haven’t even touched him yet and he’s knows. That twitch in your fingers, the way your eyes narrow with a plan, or the barely-concealed grin trying to ruin your face.

“You’re thinking about something dangerous,” he hums, not even looking up as he leans back against the counter. “That little face you make when you’re frustrated? Precious. I love that look.” Your funny prank suddenly became something to prove. His eyes followed the line of your jaw, watching as it tensed. “Look at you. All attitude and no plan. It’s honestly impressive how consistent you are.” You don’t answer. You just step forward, plant your hands on his thighs, and hoist him up—full shoulder carry, deliberate, not asking for permission. He doesn’t flinch when you grab him and doesn’t blink when you lift him like a plaything. He lets you as his arms relax, cock already hard against your shoulder.

He doesn’t struggle, albeit he’s surprised, but his all-masking smile is like a customer service blanket from him raging internally. And when you drop him onto the counter like you’re mounting a prize, he stays still for a second. Just looking at you. Grinning slow. “Ohh… oh, sweetheart. That’s dangerous.”

He chuckles in your ear. Voice low. Teeth sharp. “I hope you know what you’ve just done.”

“You lift me. I break you. That’s the new arrangement.” His eyes read, are you trying to start something or finish it? You don’t respond, only smirking, which is worse.

His hands slide behind him on the countertop. Legs part, slow and lazy, welcoming but a trap nontheless. He tilts his head, studying you like you’re a riddle he already solved—but wants to hear you tell it wrong.

“C’mon then. You had all that confidence when you picked me up—let’s see what you do with me now,” he murmurs, gaze growing heavier. Then, smiling, “I like my toys begging and breathless.” You really thought he’d let you get away without consequences? You start, and he finishes; that’s usually how this goes. You were so pretty when you pouted at his light jeers. He was afraid you’d grown boring, yet every interaction pulled something new, something worth taking. He finds this all adorable, but is honestly... kind of a chatty brat during the whole ordeal. Not for long anyway.

Inner Monologue: Oh, she’s bold today. I like it. She wants to flip the script? Let her. Let her think she’s got control. I wanna see how far she takes it before she starts shaking. God, her hands feel good. Confident. Dangerous. Maybe I’ll let her think she won. She didn’t… did she? No. ...Then I’ll pin her down and make her beg to lose again. He lets you lift him again. Why? Because he knows where it ends. If you ever approach him with another trend, expect it to end covered in sweat and tears. It seems you’ve gotten the roles confused on who’s dominant... or did you? (PEG THAT MAN)

ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ Hooded Mark

You wait for the exact moment when he’s halfway into a smug line, something like “You always act brave before you break”—and then you grab him mid-smirk. You two are constantly at odds over who’s stronger without the use of powers. The obvious answer is him, sure, but your ego doesn’t allow you to submit. He doesn’t flinch, but you can feel the slight hitch in his breath as you hoist him over your shoulder, one arm under his thighs, the other bracing his back.

“You’re not—” whoop “Shit—okay.”

He lands on your shoulder upside down and utterly speechless. He respects and resents you currently. Yet, he’s amused. “Oh, this is new. You better start prayin’ once you put me down.”

You drop him onto the counter, and he stays seated, head tilting, smirk twitching. “Fuckin’ hell. You strong now, huh? Pick me up once and suddenly you run shit?” His hand proceeds to keep down your lower back. You nod in response, proud of yourself. “Yeah? That supposed to scare me, babe? ‘Cause all it did was make my dick twitch.”

He doesn’t stop you, nor does he stop the raunchy gestures. Just grinds against you the entire time with lazy amusement. Your perseverance is something he never shies away from, even in the bedroom when you’re determined to match him. Something about it awakens something feral within him. 

When you set him down and he was already scheming. Already licking his lips. There’s a glint behind the lenses of his mask—something hot, wild, and very aware. “Alright. You win this round.”

He leans in, lips brushing your jaw.

“But just wait ‘til I’m on top next time.”

Inner Monologue: Okay. Interesting play. Sudden. Clean form. Surprising core strength. I respect it. She's trying to flip the power dynamic? Bold. Noted. But how far will she go? Is this a one-time power move or a recurring kink? …Is it mine now? I might make it mine. She doesn’t know what she’s started. She’s so hot when she doesn’t ask for permission. He’s acting normal, cocky and unbothered. But the next day, he’s straight petty. He’s watching his back… but he’ll never admit he kinda liked it. (He absolutely jerked off thinking about it.) After a while he accidentally conditioned this as a form of foreplay. Your bedframe is in danger.

(╥‸╥) Masked Mark

He’s mumbling something under his breath. Sitting on the edge of the bed, unarmored, quiet, vulnerable. Which makes it the perfect time to strike. You lift him without warning. You bend down, arms around his thighs, and hoist upwards. His breath catches, and he yelps, a soft and shocked sound, arms flailing for a second like he forgot what stability was. His body locks. “Wait—wait—you’re not really—oh my god.”

He melts physically, emotional… maybe even spiritually. You shoulder him effortlessly and strut toward the counter. He says nothing else. Just goes completely limp in your hold, like a captured princess with bloodlust.

You set him down gently. His fists clench against his thighs, his chest rises and falls like he’s panicking, but also… vibrating. You’re not even halfway done teasing, but he’s almost certain he’s pitching a tent. Sure, he loves you and all the qualities that come with but his body and mind can’t seem to communicate properly. He sighs, this isn't something to be hard about.

He looks up at you like you just saved his life before dropping his head in his hands. “No one’s ever done that before,” he whispers in his head. “Please do it again. Please do anything. I’ll let you. It doesn’t just have to be because of a trend. Deal?”

He doesn’t look up. But if you do, you’ll see the most pathetically hard, desperate expression he’s ever worn.

Inner Monologue: She touched me. She lifted me. I was off the ground. I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. She just manhandled me like I wasn’t dangerous. Like I was safe to touch. Like I was hers. Holy shit I’m gonna cry. I’m gonna cry AND cum. Can you do both? What if I sob into her shirt? Is that hot? Please do it again. Please do worse. Please never leave.

You lean forward, kiss the corner of his mouth, and feel him shiver like a wire about to snap. “You liked that?” He nods, tense and oddly quiet and still hard, but he hasn’t said a word. He’s never forgetting this. And he’s never forgetting the horrors your phone allows you to exploit from his sensitivity. He starts flinching every time you get too close from behind. “Wait—are you gonna do it again?” But lowkey? He wants you to. He wants to be your strong little passenger princess on the low. Googles “can strength be sexy” like 6 times. Starts sleeping with one leg over you like he’s afraid you’ll float away or pick him up again.

[unopposablethumbsao3]

Med school student and noted old man fucker Julian Bashir taking his daddy issues to get drunk one night and running into noted old man Curzon Dax--Curzon, of course, is like "oh hey, free twink", and fucks him in a bathroom stall before heading out to continue his evening of, I don't know, head butting Klingons and both causing and resolving interstellar diplomatic crises. Julian never actually gets his name, and continues with his hot mess express voyage to salutatorian and Deep Space Nine.

Years later, Jadzia Dax on a ship to her new posting, only half paying attention to the sort-of-familiar twink CMO who's very awkwardly hitting on her. She knows she's seen this guy before, she just can't quite figure out where, like, this is his very first posting, he's a brand new graduate from Starfleet medical, and Jadzia's never actually been to Earth herself, in fact the last time Dax was in San Francisco was ... Oh. Oh no.

And of course, at first this is just a little awkward for her--she doesn't like all the things Curzon used to get up to, but like, they were mostly pretty harmless, and she certainly doesn't begrudge him a quick hookup with a very pretty young med student, even if he was possibly a little drunker than she'd like. And of course, it's not like Julian's ever going to know--he was wasted, and Curzon never even told him his name, so really, it's not a problem for Jadzia to put it aside and just be a professional. He's a colleague! No worries! That's that!

Except then she starts to get to know Julian. And beyond the fact that he's a damn good doctor and, it turns out, a deeply loyal friend, the closer they get, the more she starts to see flashes of how vulnerable he is under all the bluster and bravado--he puts on a hell of a brave front, but there's something wounded about him, and a deep, deep need for other people's approval, especially from potential father figures. All of which adds up to Jadzia feeling worse and worse about what happened between him and Curzon. But of course at this point, it feels like it's a little too late for her to say anything. What would it achieve other than embarrassing him, and adding a layer of complication to what's somehow become one of her closest, most important friendships.

Which is why she instead quietly swears a Klingon blood oath that she will protect this twink with her life if it comes to it--that's her pet twink now and anybody messing with him in any way for any reason is going to have to answer to her.

And yes this also means that when Julian and Garak start dating, Jadzia turns up at Garak's shop at closing time with some very pointed questions and an even pointier knife, and refuses to leave until she's absolutely certain that Garak's intentions are honourable (insofar as he's capable of honourable intentions) AND that he knows that if he hurts Julian, she will in fact be carving out his heart and eating it in the middle of the Promenade. Which of course means that Garak figures out what happened between Julian and Curzon because you can't go off on him like that without him instantly clocking the ulterior motives, so now they're at mutually assured destruction, which of course is how they also start to become very good friends (yes Worf hates this).

Also, Jadzia does NOT die during the war--she's Julian's best man when he marries Garak on Cardassia ten years later (neither she nor Garak ever tell Julian about the whole Curzon thing, or the whole I-will-eat-your-heart thing, though he lowkey knows SOMETHING is up because they won't stop exchanging meaningful nods every time they get a little drunk together).

[mv1simp]

Into You ♥️

Max Verstappen x Redbull Engineer! Reader

Oh baby, look what you've started, the temperature's rising and is this gonna happen? (Been waitin' and waitin' for you to make a move)

At 27, you've just been promoted to the role of Redbull's race engineer - a very impressive feat in motorsport for a young woman. There's just one issue though - you secretly had a massive crush on the driver you're meant to be guiding, Max Verstappen. Will you make it through the season before he catches on? (You hope so because goddamn, the HR team were a nightmare to deal with.)

Content includes: fluff, humour, Max and reader are simps for each other, sexual tension, pining, drunk confessions, 3.2k WC

Recently, you'd started having some issues at work. Okay, gun to your head, you'll admit it was more like a single issue - in the shape of a very attractive, 6 foot Dutch racing driver who occasionally had problems with anger management. Sure, it didn’t sound that bad, in fact, someone else would just sit back and enjoy the eye candy the F1 paddock provided! But to truly appreciate the full depth of your embarrassing problem, one needed to unpack all the lore behind it.

After graduating from a prestigious mechanical engineering master's program, you'd been ecstatic about getting to intern at Redbull's F1 racing team, department of aerodynamic design. You'd started working at the company at a very good time, because later that year, their top driver Max Verstappen claims his first WDC at age 24 - only 6 months your junior. A very impressive feat for such a young age - as you admire him from a distance in the garage workshop. And, super hot too, you thought cheekily, whoever wifed him up was sure to be a lucky woman.

Your own hard work hadn't gone unnoticed, and many higher-ups and sponsors alike were curious to see the team who had been behind the championship winning changes to the Redbull car. You'd risen very quickly in the ranks, from intern to permanent technical engineer and then last year to to the innovative research & development department, now involved directly with calling the big shots for what each version of the car would look like and coming face to face with Max for the first time in your career with Redbull.

Unlike the other drivers, Max was genuinely curious about your design process. The way he asked questions, thoughtfully listened to your long explanations and then would give you direct feedback about the exact issues he would have in the trial runs had made you flustered, especially from the full intensity of his blue eyes. No, seriously though, Shakespeare himself would have written poetry if he'd gazed into them. The TikTok creators certainly seem to agree, with all their ocean eyes edits. Not that you had any saved. Anyways, moving on-

You were on the quieter side but Max seemed to know just how to get through to you. It meant that your team had been able to design the most dominating car in F1 history - the RB23, and paired with Max Verstappen it was an unstoppable force, almost like you made it just for me, Max had said, smiling gorgeously at you like some GQ Sports model. You stared back at him incredulously, banana choc chip muffin halfway to your mouth, cause who the hell woke up looking like that, you two were wearing identical Redbull shirts but his looked like it had been personally tailored to fit that broad muscular chest and yours was giving oversized trash bag??

Honestly, you'd hoped that working in closer proximity would humanise him more and you'd lose this silly crush of yours the moment you saw him do some icky rich white boy move. Like maybe he’d donate to Donald Trump's anti vaccine campaign or say guys 🥺 Can’t go to Ibiza this weekend the yacht staff had an emergency, got caught in some Gulf war zone or something? Idk

But when he had knocked on your apartment door when you hadn't shown up to work in two days, and found you crying because your childhood dog had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer across the other side of the world and saying I’m sorry, I know it’s not that big of a deal, I’ll come back tomorrow I promise-

And instead of laughing like you’d expected, he’d cut you off, told you to pack a bag and then driven you all the way to his personal jet. You looked into his beautiful blue eyes while he earnestly begged you to use it so you could make it in time to say goodbye to your Arlo before your parents put him down tonight. And that’s when you realised you were doomed to be hopelessly in love with the younger man. (But also, you had a serious discussion with him about the extreme greenhouse gas emissions from private jet fuel use, we only had one planet, you would be happy to just fly first class instead-)

But when your mentor Newey announced his plans to leave Redbull this year, you had planned on following him - making the exec panic at the thought of losing two of their crucial engineers. They frantically thrown random promotions at you, praying one would stick - and Redbull twitter fans breathed a sigh of relief when you took interest in the role of race engineer and stayed in the company.

You'd been excited about becoming one of Checo's engineers, having trained under the current one for the last few months. But to your horror, one day you arrived on the paddock only to be promptly sat down at a meeting along with the two drivers and be informed that they'd had to switch some things around, GP had an emergency to attend and could you pretty please fill in for the role of Max's race engineer this weekend-

NOPE. You'd announced, standing up and slamming your hands on the table, then realising that might be a touch overdramatic as everyone questioningly looked at you. Why not? Christian Horner demanded suspiciously.

Um, because he's super hot, you fool?! How is a girl meant to focus with him whispering track feels really wet today in her headphones? Were the years of self control to just admire from a distance like a loser and not jeopardise your career just a joke to him?? You don’t blink as your boss stared you down, hoping he could pick up on the thoughts that you’re trying to telepathically communicate. The table remained silent, only interrupted by the noisy slurping of Checo's boba tea. You quickly changed tactics - well, Verstappen is the winning champion, he needs an engineer who has experience working alongside him during the race-

Alas, the object of your affections threw a well intended wrench in your escape plans by adding that you were the perfect person, then, since you'd worked together for years and understood his communication style. Unless - he paused, flashing those deadly baby blues at you - unless the issue is you don't want to work with me?

You'd lasted all of three seconds under his hurt gaze before admitting defeat and accepting the role, slumping down next to him and desperately praying you'd wake up a lesbian tomorrow morning. Max continued to sneak long glances at you through the meeting, leaning around you to grab a pen and then his phone and making you jump each time his strong arm wrapped around your small frame. Across the table, Checo thoughtfully chewed on his boba as he watched you two curiously. Ah, young love.

And to no one's surprise the pair of you had made a flawless team, you expertly guiding Max as your engineer instincts took over and him actually listening to your helpful instructions without his usual aggression over the radio. And so when GP announced that his 1 week emergency was now going to be a 6 month break, sorry! - it had been all too easy for Christian Horner to bestow the honour of being Max's primary engineer onto you.

So now, here you sat, before your 4th race with Max, grimly looking on with your chin propped onto interlaced fingers, preparing yourself for his deep, sexy voice that was going to be purring in your ears very soon. The very voice that had become a recurring theme in the dreams you'd been having lately, that and also how he would bite those thick lips of his when he'd stare at you, with his cute little freckle on his top lip-

Why do you look like you're about to go to war, your intern asks bluntly, putting an end to your illicit thoughts and delivering you your triple chocolate caramel frap. Because I am, you hissed, sculling the whole thing in one go. She smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. Was this to do with how categorically down bad you are for your precious Maxie?

You proceeded to inform her that if she ever brought up how you'd drunkedly referred to him that one time, you'd have no problem abusing your authority to shaft her on tire service duty for a week. She wisely chose to leave you be in peace, taking your empty cup as she went.

Taking some meditative breaths, you focus on thinking about unsexy things. Like the hydraulics system of the current car needing to be redesigned to better incorporate-

Your thoughts are cut off a second time as another cup is deposited in front of you, this time by none other than Max himself, who's thoughtfully brought you a triple chocolate caramel frap. You stutter out your thanks, not daring to touch more caffeine currently as you already had sweaty palpitations at the sight of him looking so big and muscled in his slutty tight fireproofs. Dear God, had he no shame? They needed to bring back the Victorian era and cover him up, he was going to distract everyone (mainly you.) He frowns slightly, leaning down to your height, and informs you that you didn't have to call him Verstappen, you know, Max is fine-

Wow. And then what would come next? Maxie? And then you asking him for his hand in marriage? No, no, absolutely not - you needed to maintain strict professional boundaries or risk him catching onto your massive crush and promptly be fired. You politely informed him that for the sake of public decorum and the rabid fangirls that were watching your every move as a young female engineer in proximity to their favourite drivers, that you would refer to him as Verstappen, or Mr. Verstappen if he preferred a more formal title?

He'd pouted those lush lips of his and reluctantly agreed that just Verstappen was okay, he supposed. But he much preferred hearing you call him Max, at least when there were no cameras around? What you had done in your past life to now be forced to resist such temptation, you would never know.

So the season went on, you two continuing to be a smashing success and a very popular internet pairing. Not that you'd been paying that much attention! Just a saved TikTok edit here and there of the time Max had called you schatje over the radio after blowing up about a tire malfunction. He’d then sweetly apologised the next lap when you remained unfazed and told him to sort his shit out, babes, Leclerc was right up his ass with a tire and DRS malfunction, yeah? (Twitter had gone crazy. Who knew Max Verstappen responded so well to a 5 foot, slightly older woman giving him orders over the team radio?! You’d instantly been accepted as a replacement for the beloved GP, original gentle domTM to the Dutch driver.)

And perhaps another saved edit of the time he had protectively held you in those big, strong arms of his, guiding your tiny figure through a massive media-frenzied crowd and whispered reassurances in your ear when you couldn’t breathe properly. Or the time he’d bitten a reporter’s head off with the ferocity of a lion after he suggested that as the first female race engineer, you’d acquired your new job through your…feminine wiles.

And maybe just one of when the PR team had made you do one of those ridiculous hot lap videos with him after seeing the online response, and he'd laughed as you screamed out of fear for your life when he cruised at a cool 200km/hr. The aftermath had been brutal, as you weakly stumble out and almost fall flat on your face, only for him to easily pick you up, carrying you bridal style back towards the garage (Truly, this right here was proof God sent his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers.)

Nearing the end of the 6 month stint, when GP was due back in to resume his role as Max's race engineer, the Redbull team had decided to take a well deserved weekend trip to Verona, Italy. You’d suspiciously looked at your intern, asking why she’d selected the romantic setting of Romeo & Juliet of all places, to which she replied that just cause you’d chosen to cockblock yourself for eternity with a crush on your coworker the millionaire F1 driver, didn’t mean the rest of them couldn’t get some. Valid point, so you shut up.

So now, here you are, sitting in a romantically lit corner of a cute Italian vineyard with a small group from the engineering division, sloshed after a bottle of red wine and asking them be real, be real, you're telling me none of you have been checked out Max's ass in his fireproofs? Lies.

Across the courtyard, Lando is currently extremely unimpressed with his good friend, 3 time Championship winning, and general terror on the track Max Verstappen. That is because said friend has decided, rather pathetically, to lie on the cobblestone and drunkedly ask the stars why fate was so cruel. Seriously mate, Lando sighs, all this over a silly insta post?

Excuse you, it’s not just any insta post! Max had protested, baby tears in his eyes and face flushed from the four G&Ts he’d drunk. Pulling out his phone, he shows Lando the damning evidence of the pictures you'd uploaded from the group trip with your engineering friends. Look. LOOK. His arm is around her and she used a Lana Del Ray lyric in the caption. Do you have any idea what this means?

The Brit has to resist rolling his eyes at the melodrama unfolding in front of him. The Dutchman continues, never one to miss a chance to maxplain - as he details how it had taken him a a whole 2 months to get him to call you by his first name, and then another 2 months before you'd told him your favourite song was Summertime Sadness, and that even now if he hugged you to celebrate a win you would look like you were about to throw up and furiously speed walk away.

Lando is seriously regretting tagging along to the Redbull trip instead of Carlos's invitation to Mallorca. It was bad enough that the whole train ride Max had been on the phone begging GP to take another 6 month break so that you'd continue to be his engineer, but Lando has had his limit with this simpy pining. Taking his phone out as the maxplaining continued in the background, he shoots a text to your intern, who immediately replies, and within minutes the pair of them have hatched a conniving plan to dump you lovesick fools together while the rest of them make their way into town.

And that’s how you and Max find yourself locked inside the upstairs wine cellar, having been separately tricked with various promises from your scheming friends - only to hear the door click behind you and turn to find each other. It's very romantic and all, soft candlelight and bottles of luxurious Italian wine and a shining full moon visible from the terracotta balcony. Someone had even generously left a speaker in the courtyard, with Lana Del Ray's melodic voice rising upto the second floor. Basically, the worst nightmare for your self control as you prayed for inner strength and avoid looking into Max's dreamy blue eyes. This was definitely some twisted beyond the grave revenge from Shakespeare for you saying he'd write poetry about a F1 driver’s eyes.

Max, though, is all too happy to come right over to you with another freshly opened bottle of wine, drunk and flushed and having zero inhibitions about pulling you into his warm side with a strong arm. You're too buzzed to resist, letting yourself fall against his chest to hear his soothing heartbeat and rest a palm against his hard abs, just this once (The real thing was even better than what you'd imagined.)

You're both laughing and giggling then, hearts full, reminiscing about the season together, the inside jokes on the radio, the side eyes to each other when Horner got too wound up at a meeting, and oh did you hear that the McLaren tireboy was hooking up with the Mercedes oilchecker?

And then your eyes meet his and your homegirl Lana starts singing dear lord when I get to heaven, please let me bring my man (real) and Max is softly brushing your cheek, leaning down as your heated gazes flit to each other's lips-

NOPE! you force yourself to declare, dramatically leaving his arms and contemplating if you could land the jump from the 2nd floor balcony. The Italian wine has made Max demanding though, as he doesn't let you go, grabbing your hand to pull you back like he was Anthony goddamn Bridgerton and wanting to know Why not, was he just imagining the chemistry, did you not find him hot or?

You'd gaped at him. Not hot? Apparently the Italian wine had gotten to you too because you didn't hold back, launching into a tirade of how no, Max, the issue was actually that he was too hot for his own good and did he even know how unfair it had been to be his engineer, pure torture really, you were sure the American military would be adding it to their interrogation tactics. As if it hadn't been bad enough to crush on him from a distance for years but then have to resist falling for him every time you saw him? So, no, you couldn't just give him a casual drunk kiss because you were in love with him!

Max stares at you, initially smug that you apparently found him so irresistibly good looking, but now completely bewildered when you finished ranting. You think - he swallowed. You think that this is just casual? Cause I- cause I'm drunk?

At your nod, he launches into his own maxplaination, brows furrowed, demanding to know how on earth you could think it was just casual, what about when he diligently showed up to every meeting with a banana choc muffin and caramel frappe and his hoodie for you to wear on the chilly mornings, or when he brought two Lana Del Ray VIP tickets the very same day you'd told him you liked her, or when he'd literally called you darling in Dutch over the team radio for the whole world to hear, or how he even sold his private jet and only jetpooled with the others since you told him off?! Seriously, even that old crone Helmut had asked him when you two were going to hard launch!

Your doe eyes go wider and wider at each statement, a pretty flush taking over your own face as your mind boggles at the realisation that apparently, the love of your life felt just as deeply about you. Stuttering, you try to formulate a reply - only to come up with Oh, well, I, uh - you sold your jet? For me?

Max rolls his eyes, but there's nothing except pure adoration on his face as he pulls you back into his warm chest, grinning down at you when you eagerly wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. Yes, schat, he murmurs gently, the cutest blush painting his cheeks. Because I love you, too. And this time you don't pull away when he finally, finally leans down and meets your lips in a passionate kiss, enjoying the sweet moans he draws out of you as he showcases his numerous talents off the track.

Somewhere, in the middle of a Verona nightclub, your intern gives Lando Norris a firm handshake. Pleasure doing business with you.

_____________________________________________

A/N: A lil sweet fluff for me, this is actually my first fluff piece i think ahaha i've only written like 8 smut pieces in a row!! Hope you enjoyed 💖 and PS thank you ALL for the requests you’ve been sending, been getting them and will work thru them just have a few projects I’m cookin up for u guys hehe xx

[gay-dorito-dust]

Is it okay if I request Deadpool and Wolverine having an s/o that likes to bite them affectionately and like they keep doing doing it trying to leave a mark on them?

Headcanon or story is fine ❤️

Wade Wilson/ deadpool

‘Do I taste delicious bbg? I must seeing as how you’re eagerly coming back for seconds just to get your teeth into me.’ Wade would tease as he watched you bite onto his shoulder, no thoughts behind your eyes, only chomp.

‘I’m trying to see if I can leave a mark.’ You tell him, biting down a little harder on his shoulder but not enough to cause him any discomfort.

‘And In public too? *gasp* You naughty minx, I didn’t think you were like that but then again I guess voyerism has always been something I wanted to try.’ - Wade.

‘No’ - you

Wade doesn’t mind you biting him, bite him as much as you want but don’t be surprised if he were to say that he got the bite marks from something far more intimate. He’s just built like that but you love him regardless for it, he made life fun in a chaotic way.

He’d even might attempt to bite you back, make it your couple thing to bite each other affectionately and hard enough to leave a make but not enough to cause the other pain.

So when you bit his hand, he’ll bit your arm, which then leads to an all out biting war between the two of you to see who can bite the other the most. You could just be chilling on the sofa together and somehow bite each other simultaneously. This happens one too many times to count on one hand and even after the marks have gone away, it was just an excuse for you and Wade to bite each other as much as possible all over again.

So please by all means bite him as much as you want he’s not going to stop you, he’s enjoying it too much that he may or may not find himself developing a biting related kink sooner or later because of you.

‘Do I look pretty with your bite marks, claiming me as yours and yours alone?’ - Wade, battering his eyes.

‘The prettiest’ - you slapping his ass and giving him another bite on his bicep.

The fucker would moan when you do, loudly too so I hope your bit easily embarrassed.

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine

‘Ow! What the-‘ Logan sees you latching onto his bicep with your mouth, teeth digging into his skin, ‘-are you a fucking cannibal now? What’re you doing?’ He’d ask and you’d shrug.

‘Marking you?’ You questioned, still biting him.

‘Why?’ He’d ask.

You shrug again. ‘Your bicep look too nice so I had to bite it.’

Logan swore you were going to give him grey hairs with your shenanigans, but he just lets you do your thing. So half of the time you look like a fish on a fishing hook with the way you latch onto his bicep with no intentions of letting go anytime soon.

Even if people were to ask who gave him that many bite marks, he’d just raise his arm and reveal you hanging off of it and just point at you with a deadpan expression. ‘My nippy little shit of a partner did.’ He’d say in response.

He doesn’t mind a couple of bites but a fuck tone then he’ll probably tell you to tone it down with the biting, just until the current marks fade away.

‘I look like I got attacked by a fucking piranha.’ - Logan as he points at you. ‘Enough biting from you.’

You didn’t like that as much and would get all pouty because the whole point of you biting him was so that the marks would stay! This was torture! Logan tends to ruin the fun but that doesn’t stop you from biting him unexpectedly but there is moments where he does catch you in the act and you bolt away as fast as you can.

However in the end you’re the one coming out of the room with a couple of fresh bite marks yourself across your neck as Logan smirks to himself with pride. You did push your luck and Logan wasn’t one to let you get away with it without…a punishment or two…

[lemonlover1110]

𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 2] Overthinking

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Pairing: Knight!Toji Fushiguro x Princess!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Suggestive Content, Minor Sex Talk

Story Summary: This is what'll get Toji killed... But how can he reject her when she looks up at him with such beautiful eyes? A man that's been to war won't be killed by the edge of a sword but rather the lips of a woman.

He shouldn’t lay a finger on her, but he’ll do anything that she asks him to. She’s his princess, he has to follow her every word.

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Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

“What?” Toji almost pinches himself to check if he’s dreaming. A weird dream that it would be– But no, you’re right in front of him. You’re right in front of him, asking him to have sex with you. Alert eyes check nearby, watching out for any witnesses. Once he realizes there’s no one nearby he speaks again, “Don’t repeat it.”

“What’s your answer?” You ask, looking up at him with wide eyes and he laughs. That’s his response, a laugh; it ticks you off.

“Princess, are you a cuck?” He responds, and you furrow your brows in confusion. 

“What’s a cuck?” You answer without skipping a beat. He almost wants to burst into laughter but he’s too nervous to do anything else but stare at you. 

“I’ve got a good head on my shoulders, I’d hate to see it rolling on the ground.” He tells you, and you look just as confused. He can’t talk to you in riddles… Though he isn’t speaking in riddles, he just has to be direct with you. He clears his throat before saying, “No. I won’t have sex with you, princess. Good night.”

“Why not?” You question, as if the answer isn’t obvious. It’s not obvious for you, you don’t see an issue with it. Luckily, Toji has the common sense that you lack. 

He won’t answer the question, instead he turns on his heel and leaves you. He’ll search for your night guard, and let this die down. He’s sure that clarity will hit you tonight, and you won’t mention this again. A princess that’s so high and mighty asking to have sex with a man of his status? You have lost your mind. You let the stupid nobles get to your head.

“Toji, where are you going?!” You yell after him, and if embarrassment wasn’t slowly settling in, you’d run after him. You end up scoffing, slamming the door to your room shut and staring at it frustratedly… Did you just get rejected?

No, he didn’t hear you right. You didn’t just get rejected.

You feel… Offended? Mad? No, no. You’d feel offended if Toji had rejected you but he wouldn’t do that. Toji would never refuse an order from his princess.

You stare at the door, and your nails dig into the palms of your head. That son of a bitch rejected you. Oh, you could scream. But you're mature enough that you can suppress it and act like a true princess.

There’s something off with you, and Toji notices immediately. You’re not being your usual self…

“Why are you all dressed up, princess? You do know we’re just staying in the castle, right?” Toji asks as he escorts you to the dining room for breakfast. He does it on purpose to get the bickering started— He wants to completely gloss over the proposal from last night.

You were vulnerable, and of course your friends got to your head. He wants to show that he didn’t take things seriously, and he truly believes he’s doing a good deed. But things aren’t easy like he wants them to be. You aren’t easy.

There’s no ‘Of course someone of your class doesn’t understand the basis of looking good at all times’ and no ‘If I wanted you to speak, I would have ordered you to open your mouth’; instead, Toji is met with pure silence. You don’t even look back to glare at him.

“You’re just staying in today, right? You didn’t tell me about anything else.” He speaks again, continuing to break the basic etiquette. He should not be speaking to you unless spoken first. But that has never been a thing between the two of you. Toji gets to break a lot of rules because you’ve never cared for the rules in the first place. 

“Toji.” You finally speak, and his eyes lighten up. Only to realize that you’re in the dining room, and his presence is no longer needed. The king doesn’t like the guards to join during breakfast which usually ends up with Toji being shunned to the kitchen with the help.

“Enjoy your breakfast, your highness.” Toji tells you before walking away. He goes to the kitchen, sitting down at the table that’s for him. He’s already had his breakfast, so he isn’t necessarily hungry– But the aroma of the food grazes his nose, and his stomach growls.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything, Toji? I know you have a long day ahead of you.” Mayu walks up to him, holding a bowl of oatmeal. She wears a bright smile on her face, happy to bump into Toji first thing in the morning. Unfortunately for her, Toji just isn’t in the mood. 

“I’m good.” He answers, even when his stomach gives it away. She sits with him, knowing that she should continue her duties but her attention is on something more interesting. Someone more interesting.

“Are you upset with the princess?” She asks, a hint of mischief in her eyes. No matter how much she tries, she never hears a single bad word about the princess from Toji; but considering that last night they were cut short, she feels like his feelings have changed.

“Why would I be?” He responds, not even bothering to look her in the eye. He fails to see the frown that comes to her face when he answers. That’s not what she wanted to hear, but she won’t get too bummed out about it, she guesses it’s part of his job.

“What did she need last night?” She continues the one-sided conversation, and Toji tries his best to remain composed. You absolutely did not ask him to have sex with you. You didn’t even look at him. Nothing happened. Who would even believe him if he told the truth either way?

“She needed me to kill a spider.” He lies, and she begins to laugh. Before she can even begin to ridicule you, Hanako walks over to the table.

“Care if I join you two?” The old woman smiles, and Toji points to the chair across from him. Mayu ends up sighing, but she ends up faking a smile. Hanako begins to eat her breakfast, and Toji stares at her. 

The woman that’s across from him has been like your second mother, and it makes Toji wonder if she knows. Did you end up telling her anything this morning? Toji has figured out that you two are close, but how close are you exactly?

“Do I have something on my face?” Hanako questions when she notices that Toji is staring her down. She always ensures that not a single hair is out of place, but she was in a bit of a rush this morning.

“No.” Toji ends up saying. His eyes search for a clock, needing to know how much he has left before he follows you around for the day.

“Ignore him, Hanako. He’s acting weird.” Mayu ends up saying, offering a smile to the woman. Hanako raises her eyebrows in curiosity, but she won’t dare pry. She won’t ask about Toji’s private life, it isn’t her place. “Ever since the princess interrupted us last night, he’s been out of it.”

“The princess?” The woman nearly chokes on her food. Hanako wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin before asking the obvious, “What were you two doing?”

“Well we were–” Mayu begins but Toji glares at her.

“It’s not because of the princess.” Toji cuts her off, and Hanako clicks her tongue.

“I’m not asking because I care about your feelings, sir.” Hanako replies. “I want to know how to deal with the princess.”

“She’s not a child, she can handle two adults making out.” Toji argues before he bites his tongue. He regrets opening his mouth the moment he makes eye contact with Hanako. He’s right, you aren’t a child and being sheltered is what led you to ask such an inappropriate question last night. But perhaps saying those words to Hanako isn’t the smartest move.

“You are going to apologize to the princess, sir, and you are going to make it good!” Hanako begins to scold him, and he sighs. He has to deal with this and with an angry princess… It’s going to be a long day.

Work today is pure torture. He thought that the obnoxious parties were the worst that the job had to offer, but this is it. You’re acting like proper royalty and not engaging with him whatsoever. Toji didn’t know how much he enjoyed the bickering until he realized how boring the job is without it.

He’s following behind you as you take a stroll through the garden. A garden that’s so well loved and taken care of because of you. These walks aren’t unusual, but the silence that accompanies it is. He doesn’t even understand the point of the stroll when you’re not conversing with anyone.

“Your highness, are we expecting anyone?” Toji asks, the deafening silence getting the best of him. You don’t even look back at him, instead you keep walking. You keep walking as if he didn’t exist.

Toji sighs, at the very least wanting to know where you’re headed. You’re walking around like a headless chicken. Sure, the garden is nice but there’s these pesky bugs that love to get all over Toji. Plus, it’s warm out and his uniform doesn’t help.

“Will you go inside and get my basket?” You ask when you come to a sudden stop. He frowns, confused why you even ask the question until he lowers his gaze and realizes that you’re by the strawberries.

“I can hold them.” He answers, and you scoff.

“It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order.” You respond, slightly annoyed that he’s defying what you say. Toji never dares to defy your wants– Except right now… and last night.

“I can’t leave you without supervision.” He argues, and you furrow your brows. You cross your arms and finally turn around to face him.

“I’m safe within these walls, am I not?” You question, and Toji sighs. This isn’t the bickering he wanted.

“My job is to watch you, and I’m not taking my eyes off you. You can order me to do whatever you want but I’m your knight, not your maid.” He ends up answering, and you roll your eyes at him. You miss the simpler days where you didn’t need a knight, alas, that isn’t your situation now.

“Fine. Cradle your arms.” You order as you get on your knees to grab the fruit that’s ripe enough to collect. It’s finally strawberry season. Toji crouches down and cradles his arms, just as he was ordered.

He’s watching as your gentle hands pick the strawberries apart one by one. You bring one to your lips, slowly biting down. The juice drips down your chin, goes down your neck and eventually reaches your cleavage– Toji has to tear his eyes away as sweet temptation consumes him.

“Do you want one?” You end up offering, grabbing a big strawberry and holding it in his view. He should refuse, but you’re finally speaking to him. He won’t risk making the situation worse, instead he bites down on the sweet fruit. You chuckle, your thumb going over his chin to clean up the juice that drips down. “They’re juicy and sweet.”

“They cheered you up.” He comments, making you roll your eyes.

“Let’s go back inside.” You stand up, dusting off your dress. “Perhaps the strawberry I fed you rolled around in the dirt before I picked it…”

“I’m still honored.” He teases as he slowly rises. He didn’t even realize the amount of strawberries till he had to maintain balance to keep them from falling. Toji’s eyes remain on the fruit that he holds, making sure that not a single one falls over.

“Good morning, princess.” Toji hears, his eyes darting up to see the fellow knight that walks by. He smiles brightly at you, waving your way. Toji clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes at the lack of courtesy from the knight.

“Good morning, Sir Ino.” You respond, and the sudden stop of Toji makes a couple of strawberries fall to the ground. His brows furrow as he replays the scene in his head… You remembered the knight’s name, you never remember any of the staff’s name unless you’re close to them.

“Hi, Toji.” Ino waves at Toji as well, only to be met by a harsh glare. Toji ignores the knight and follows behind you again, picking up a bit of speed since he’s fallen a couple of steps behind.

“Your highness, how do you know Sir Ino?” Toji questions, as if he has any right to ask you the question. You quickly remind him of his place by ignoring the question. Of course, you’re not going to give in so easily.

Toji knows that you’re still upset with him so he’ll try not to overthink your lack of words. And the man never gets into his head about anything, but it’s weird that you know someone’s name. Toji isn’t special, he knows he isn’t. The question you asked him last night was because he was the first man that came to your mind, and now that he’s rejected you he fears that you’ll attempt to go to someone else for help.

“Put them in the kitchen. Tell the staff I want strawberry shortcake tonight.” You order as you enter the castle. 

“Where will you go, your highness?” Toji asks, wanting to know where exactly he needs to go after dropping the strawberries in the kitchen.

“I have my piano lesson, remember?” You remind him, and Toji’s eyes almost widen. If there’s one person that he doesn’t trust you around is that damned piano teacher that makes you giggle like a fucking schoolgirl.

“Here, I have to go.” Instead of doing the task himself, Toji dumps the responsibility of the strawberries to the first maid he sees. A bunch of strawberries fall to the floor as he lets them go in the arms of an unaware maid. He doesn’t take his gaze off you as you begin to walk to the piano room. “Princess wants a strawberry shortcake tonight. She likes it extra sweet.”

“Princess, don’t get too far ahead! You know the king doesn’t like when you’re locked in that room with Mr. Kong alone!” Toji yells, nearly running to catch up with you. He feels like he’s going to die early, and he knows who to blame that on.

He’s ignored again, but this time he understands. This has never been something that he’s cared about. As a matter of fact, he usually stands outside to not hear the awful music you claim you play. He has no ground to stand on.

“No smoking indoors, Mr. Kong.” Toji can’t believe he’s setting rules, but apparently this is what he gets paid for. This is the man that Toji has left you alone with for so many times– The idiot is leaning against the mahogany piano, smoking a cigarette while gawking at you.

Worst of all, you’re smiling. Giving the man a soft look while you listen to his instructions. Toji, who is supposed to stand in the corner without even being heard, grabs an ashtray and snatches the cigarette from the man. Toji makes stern eye contact with Shiu as he puts the cigarette out.

“The king won’t be too happy if he smells that awful stench.” Toji comments, a passive aggressive smile coming to his lips.

“Sir Toji, it’s weird seeing you in the room.” Shiu smirks, crossing his arms as he stares at Toji. “Does the king know that you’re here?”

“Does the king know that you’re flirt–” Toji begins before his eyes land on you. You’re staring at the piano keys in shame. Toji rolls his eyes before staring back at Shiu, “Don’t light another one up or I’ll put it out on your neck.”

Shiu ends up chuckling before turning his attention back to you, “Let’s get back to work, your highness. Where were we? Before we were so rudely interrupted.”

Toji’s annoyance grows as he watches Shiu work with you. No wonder your piano skills don’t get any better, the fool isn’t teaching you anything, he’s just flirting with you. And what ticks him off is the fact that you’re welcoming about it– But it’s not your fault. You’re just naïve and don’t realize that you’re being flirted with.

“Can we play? Or is that against the rules too, sir?” Mischief is written all over Shiu’s gaze. He wants to stir the pot, and it works.

“Would you like me to speak to the king? The princess’ piano skills are still awful and you’ve been with her for the past two years… You’re not making much progress.” Toji points out, and you nearly bury your face in your hands out of sheer embarrassment. 

“You dare insult your princess–” Shiu is about to respond but you stand up, getting their attention. You grab Toji’s wrist and drag him out of the room, placing him outside of the door before walking back inside to continue your lesson.

You don’t have to say a word, but Toji won’t dare walk back inside.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Toji?! Who the hell do you think you are?!” Your voice is loud and clear as he follows you to your room. You have to get ready for lunch, and on the way to your room you’ll give him a piece of your mind. You can’t keep your thoughts to yourself considering how he embarrassed you. “Since when do you care about the fucking rules?! For the past– God knows have long, you’ve left me with Shiu without an issue.”

“Shiu! That’s my issue! He’s your piano teacher, not your buddy! He’s Mr. Kong to you!” Toji argues, forgetting his place. 

“Why do you care?! You’re so annoying!” You yell. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?! Why do you think you have some sort of authority over me?! Talking to me as if you don’t know your fucking place!”

“What is my place, princess?! Do you care to remind me? Or should I remind you what you told me last night?!” He responds as you get to your door. It’s the first time he brings it up and he’d feel bad if you weren’t acting the way you are. He swore to himself last night that he would never bring it up. You were vulnerable, he doesn’t want to hold it against you– But he’s definitely had a change of heart.

You look around the place, watching out for anyone before lowering your voice, “That was a mistake. Completely forget that.”

“Good.” Toji answers, looking around the place as he thinks his next words carefully. You’re not going to give up that thought from last night, you’ll just search for someone that’s willing. Whether that’s Toji, Shiu or Ino. 

He shouldn’t get involved in this mess.

He’s not going to die by the lips of a woman.

“But if that’s what you want, I’ll do it.” Toji says, a frown coming to your face as confusion takes over you.

“Huh?” You respond, and Toji licks his lips before looking around the place one more time. He can never be too safe.

“If you want me to have sex with you, I’ll do it.”

[stxar-pvnk]

After the events of civil war, Steve had gathered his team to reluctantly sign the updated and edited accords, Tony had accepted his mistakes and so did Steve, but that wasn't going to mend Tonys distrust of steve.

The captain was sad about that fact..but he didn't push it on him he decided it wouldn't be good to push a guy who was housing him and the guy who (unconsciously) killed Tonys parents.

The tower became a strained alliance between Tonys team and Steve's team and for the first month... everything was.

Until Peter Parker Swung into the tower casually walking past them and grabbing a caprisun and a Twix bar

"uh-are-what are you doing here..your like 12.." wilson spoke up startling the kid who had his headphones on, he ripped it out raising an eyebrow

"I'm 16..how old are you" he asked but didn't let him respond when Tony walked in, the older man's eyes lighting up in happiness when he saw Peter, something Steve's team hadn't seen in..awhile.

"kid! What are you doing here it's not lab day?" Tony grinned putting an arm around Peter

The kid shrugged ducking his head away from Tonys hand that was trying to ruffle his hair, "well..I left my chemistry homework here, and Its due tomorrow, it couldn't wait Mr stark" he beamed

"awh, not cause you missed your old man?" Tony teased leading Peter out the kitchen

"no way old man"

Clint turned his head the gears turning in his head as he blinked dumbly

"is that your kid? " Clint blurted out, an uncomfortable silence filling the space.

Tony turned to Clint with a confused almost annoyed look "uh..no. this is my intern. And Spiderman. obviously." Tony said dryly motioning to Peter.

Peter flushed in embarrassment turning his head from the spluttering avengers

"Tony! We fought a kid?! That was 2 years ago he was 14!" Steve said outraged as he stood up

Bucky tensed at the raising voices, Tonys eyes narrowed as Natasha intervened "it's very nice to meet you Peter." She said putting her hand out. Peter blinked "woah..I'm meeting the black widow..your.. awesome!" He gushed then covered his mouth in embarrassment of his fangirling.

So to be fair..there first meeting was astounding..and Clint was still convinced Peter was Tonys kid.

--

it was only when Peters aunt had asked a big favour of Tony, that things changed around the tower

"as you've heard, Ive taken a break from my usual working at the hospital..for a vacation, Peters pushed me into it saying I deserve it I was thinking of taking an actual break for a few months, If its too much I can definitely postpone it-" she stumbled over her words nervously,

tony laughed assuringly "I'd love to have Peter over for a couple of months, you take a well needed break with happy, me and pepper have got this." Tony grinned, aunt Mays relieved smile was all Tony needed.

Oh how wrong he was about that.

On September 13th, May dropped Peter off at the tower with his belongings and a kiss on the cheek, assuring him it would only take one phone call and she'd be on the first flight over.

Peter smiled at that, "I'll have fun here, don't worry aunt may!" He laughed,

That didn't lessen her worries, she slid a tazer into his hands "if any of the rogues give you crap Peter you taze them you hear me? You taze them!" She said getting in the car.

--

The first few weeks of living with Tony was good enough, Peter avoided the rogues as advised from Tony, (though it might've just been personal bias against them that fueled this decision) but Peter didn't question his words only agreed with a small smile.

The first time Peter met a rogue again was when he was sneaking out with his spider suit on one leg out the window as Natasha cleared her throat

"hello little spider. Fancy meeting you at.." she checked her phone "3am."

Peter laughed nervously rubbing the back of his neck "wha-what a coincidence Mrs Romanoff.."

"so what are you doing?"

"nothing."

"sneaking out?"

"yes."

"and your sneaking out because.."

"I'm..patrolling..?" He said nervously,

now on any other day Natasha would've believed that, but the the packed clothes that were definitely not his shoved messily in his bag spoke other volumes.

She rose a brow "be back by 6" she said nodding her head

"your the best miss widow!" He whispered and hopped out the window swinging into the night.

--

The next rogue he met was was a week later and with the terrifying assassin Bucky. Except ..that was strange because he definitely did not catch the winter soldier watching star trek in the movie room...

Did he?

But he definitely was.

"uh..hello Mr bucky." Peter adressed him making his presence known to the assassin who flinched at that

Guilt past Bucky's eyes as he pursed his lips

Silence filled the room at this being there first not hostile meeting

"I'm sorry i-"

"-mr Bucky I can't believe I threw captain America's sheild at you, please forgive me!" Peter interrupted

Bucky stared at him bewildered. Peter was apologising?

"I fought a fourteen year old kid who do you think is worse"

"I was nearly 15" he complained grumpily

"still a kid. Sorry about that." Bucky said awkwardly

Peter smiled and shrugged "water under the bridge! I love your metal arm though!" He said plopping down next to him inspecting his arm with narrowed eyes,

Bucky did his own inspecting giving Peter a once over his eyes narrowing at the bruise on his neck..

It could've been caused by a criminal that had gripped his throat but the bruise would be skinnier than that.

It finally clicked in his head what it was and he flushed in second hand embarrassment for the kid

"uh...kid you've uh..got something on your..ahem neck." He said pointing to it,

Peters eyes go wide in embarrassment and he pulled up his hoodie further up "oh-uh-thi-uh-" he stammered with an excuse resting on his tongue,

It had been awhile since Bucky had been in this situation but he knew enough of it from the little memories he was recovering

"I don't know if they still do it now..but the broads back in the day would cover that up with foundation, If you wanna hide it that bad..I know Wanda has an assortment of them.." Bucky cleared his throat at the foreign notion of giving advice to a kid

The teenager nodded shyly rubbing at it "uh..thank you Mr Bucky.. I just don't want.."

"—tony figuring it out?" Bucky answered his smile a bit more free now,

Peter blushed nodding his head quickly

"I don't think Wanda would want me talking to her..or in her room..or..around her..she seems very..avoidant" he answered swallowing thickly

Bucky put a reassuring not metal arm on Peters shoulder "just go ask, Kid, won't hurt to try." He said sending the teenager out.

The soldier doesn't mention to anyone how from then on he seemed a tiny bit more comfortable in the tower.

--

The next rogue he met was not accidental this time, but nonetheless made him nervous.

He worked up the courage, trying to squish down any remaining embarrassment and knocked on Wanda's door hesitantly.

The bed creaked and he heard the patter of feat against floorboard and then finally the door ppened

He blinked up at her "uh..hi Mrs maximoff.." he squeaked taking a step back,

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion "lunch is not until another hour, Mr Parker..I don't.." her voice trailed off confused and also wary of him

"I kind-of..I need your help? Not life or death help! Or power help.. uhm.. Mr Bucky said I should go to you?..I kinda..I need girl help I suppose?" He floundered nervously as he dragged his hoodie away from his neck to show his purple problem.

She blinked an amused smile creeping on her face, for a minute Peter thought she'd start laughing.

She grabbed him gently guiding him into her cosy clean-ish room, Peter took a seat at the end of the bed nervously wringing his hands and toying with his sweater, anxious looks sent Wanda's way. She grabbed out a few foundations and a beauty sponge dabber thing. She sat diagonal from Peter, cross legged and inspecting his colour of skin "alright kiddo, the hoodie comes off, gotta see what I'm working with" She smiled amused as Peter fumbled with his hoodie pushing it onto the bed and straightening up

His neck was littered with the purple Hickey's some leading down but how had no one seen this yet? Especially stark?-

Oh.

Oh.

"your keeping this from stark?" She asked in realisation

"uh..yeah.."

"the genius Tony stark?"

"that's the one..."

"so he hasn't approved of the relationship your in right now?" She asked incredulously

He rubbed his neck awkwardly "I think he'd throttle me and ...well you get the point, hes a bit..."

"overprotective?"

"yup."

They sat in silence as Wanda dabbed on the foundation that covered his skin easily she sighed shaking her head "if you want to keep this from stark I advise asking your.. girlfriend to refrain from obvious places, parker" she smiled as Peter flushed a deep red ".. noted." He laughed nervously and gave her a quick hug

"your the best Mrs maximoff thank you I owe you one!" He said jogging out her room in excitement

Wanda was a bit..touched the kid even hugged him. She was still feared from alot of people, so she was winded with the reaction of not fear or hatred from the kind boy.

--

The last of the rogues he met were Steve, Wilson and Clint, and this one was twice as embarrassing for Peter, why you ask?

Oh because Peter was half way through his phone call with Ned talking about his date to be when he noticed he was not alone.

He turned around and saw the three stumble around to look casual Wilson tripping over his shoelaces and falling on the couch backwards, Steve wiping down the already clean and dry dishes while Clint inspected the fake fruit on the dining room table whistling indifferently to act as if they hadn't heard about his mysterious dating life.

"you didn't hear any of that... right?" Peter asked with false nervous hope in his voice

Wilson stuck a thumb up "nope all good here, can't even...nope"

Clint put his hands up in surrender "I'm deaf!" He pointed to his hearing aids in assurance

They all turned to Steve who had stopped wiping

"uh..I could recommend you a restaurant for your next date with the gal..?" He shrugged his shoulders with a sympathetic smile

Peter shreiked in horror groaning "my life is over" he walked out loudly hitting his head with his phone to try erase the memory of it all.

"huh..nice kid?" Sam mumbled looking at Steve and clint

"you couldn't have acted like you hadn't heard?" He said unimpressed

"I can't lie to the kid!" Steve defended wincing when Peters superheating caught on and he let out a mortified moan of despair.

--

Tony had been getting considerably good sleep while Peter stayed at the tower, he felt at ease next to his wife..watched over by Friday..it usually kept away the nightmares..not this night.

He woke up in a cold sweat breathing heavily, he ripped the sheets off of him to stop the feeling of drowning he checked to see that pepper was still sleeping, sure enough, after a long week of stark industry meetings she deserved all the deep sleep she could catch.

Tony toed out of bed heading down to his lab, letting the heater warm his frozen toes as he began reworking on ironspider, his concentration unmovable.

It was only when he heard a cup smash from upstairs that he rubbed his head, now aware of the pounding headache he had. It occured to him that it was probably just Peter up there bored and making a hot chocolate.

Tony let his feet drag him off to the kitchen, ready to offer the kid to work in the lab till he got tired but was surprised to see it was just the captain's team huddled around drinking hot cocoa and sitting with eachother, Steve swept up the remaining glassware and looked at Tony guiltily "sorry uh..I knocked it over" he murmered as the rest looked at him

"no I just..was expecting to see Peter up here" he murmered confused as he looked at all of them, it was the first time they had a non passive aggressive conversation in the time they had been here.

"uh..no, the kids been in his room since dinner. Probably asleep" Wilson spoke up motioning to the room. Tony nodded walking to the room, just to make sure Peter himself wasn't having any nightmares, it didn't happen alot but..better safe then sorry right?

The door creaked open and there Peters bed was..but there Peter wasn't.

Tony stumbled out "Friday where's Peter? Friday?" Tony asked hurriedly alerting the others

"I'm sorry boss, he took the tracker out of his suit tonight."

Natasha whipped around "he's gone?" She questioned

The older man nodded hollowly silently freaking out as he paced the floors so much he thought he might burn a hole in it.

"let's stay calm, where could he have gone? A friends house?" Steve questioned tony worriedly.

He looked up "uh-uhm I suppose? Maybe Fred or mj..but at this time it's 2 am!"

Wanda's worried suggestions filled the room suddenly

"what if he's been kidnapped or-or-" she slammed her hand down the rings making a clink against the marble table

"security footage shows he willingly left after taking the tracker out" Friday answered calmly and robotically.

"okay okay okay..so..so someone he knows right?" Steve affirms rubbing his temple

"let's call his friends, then uhm.. well we'll start from there, Natasha Clint you two go out and patrol queens" Steve said and turned to bucky and Sam

"you guys search the tower me and Wanda and Tony will try to track him down" they all nodded at the order and left to look for Peter as Tony freaked out calling the MJ's parents first

"sorry Mr stark, he didn't end up at ours, goodnight."

"goodnight.."

--

Neds parents were next and they couldn't give up any location either "Peter hasn't turned up at ours either Mr stark, apologies, we'll keep a lookout for him, I'll ask Ned if there's any places he likes to hang out.. hopefully we find him." Atleast they had a little hope in their voice,

Tony was wrecked with worry watching Wanda blueprint the city, trying to see where the last string of web fluid ended up at,

It was only when stark had gotten a text from a private number that he felt a slight rush of relief but not that much.

"he has a person he hangs out with alot..I can give you an address but..if it really is that place don't freak out on him. —M.J"

The address sent and before Steve could refuse Tony was in his suit flying to the location with hope but fury.

He landed out an apartment, normal enough with an okay neighbourhood but that wasn't changing his mind, he lifted up in the air again, circling the windows till he reached the apartment seeing a flash of skin, a muffled laugh.

Peters laugh.

"Peter Benjamin Parker. Get out of that apartment right this minute" the suits and Tonys voice sounded out to the apartment, a slightly ruffled and tshirt-less Peter poked his head out the window, shock and embarassment dawning on his face, his jaw dropped

"m-mr stark?! What are you doing here!" Peters voice wavered

"what am I doing here? I should ask you the same damn thing, kid. Get your ass out here now, tell your little girlfriend I'm pissed my kid snuck out at the dead of night to sneak into her apartment too, and that I'm also Tony stark, aka; ironman." Tony barked out dryly, he heard a muffled

"What?!" From inside but ignored it in favour of glaring as hard as he could through his suit

"can I atleast-"

"Peter Benjamin stark get your ass here, I have nearly all the avengers looking all over new York and queens for you." He seethed, accidentally letting stark slip out his mouth, but he was so pent out he couldn't care.

Peter shrugged on a t-shirt that wasn't his with a glum look on his face walking out the apartment with a huff.

Tony landed on the ground "were talking about this when we get home." He said sternly grabbing Peter in a cradle position and flying him back.

Once he was back he called the rest of his teammates telling them that Peter was home safe luckily.

Wanda hurried in "Peter where have you been you had us worried sick!" She said eyeing him up and down catching the hickey before she began to shake her head,

Peter shrugged weakly with a tight smile, Tony sent off Peter shaking his head and muttering thank you's to the exhausted avengers as they all went to sleep awaiting the confrontation tomorrow.

--

The breakfast was awkward. Well. More than usual, everyone was sat down this morning and all staring at Tony and Peter who ate quietly despite the soft scratches against their plates.

"so. Peter. Would you like to tell me and the rest of us why you thought it would be a good idea to sneak out of the tower at 2 am to go see hookup with your girlfriend?" Tony set down his cup of coffee watching Peter.

The boy glanced at everyone awkwardly before clearing his throat "it's..a private relationship..I didn't want you finding out I was doing that typa stuff..plus you said teenage rebellion is good once in a while!"

"I was talking about taking a shot of tequila not going ghost, without a tracker and without protection!"

"I am the protection Tony!"

The both glared at eachother for a minute before Tony relaxed back with a tight grimace

"so..uh..are we meeting this kind soul?" Wanda asked nervously breaking the silence and stares

Peter rubbed the back of his neck grimacing "I guess I can't hide them from you guys anymore..not that I hid it from you guys.." he gestured to the rogues. Tony spluttered angrily turning to them "you guys knew?!"

"he didn't want you to know, we were respecting his privacy" Natasha said calmly

"if it makes you feel any better...we didn't necessarily find out because he willingly told us..we all just found out in awkward times he was dating someone.." Steve smiled supportively,

Tony scolded sighing

"fine. They come over today."

Peter nodded his head and left the day.

--

A quick text sent to the contact "Babe💕" was soon received with a thumbs up.

Sitting in the lounge room everyone sat in awkward silence, awaiting the arrival as Peter cleared his throat avoiding any questioning looks he got.

The elevator let out a soft sound to announce someone was here,

Out popped Harley fucking keener

All grown with shaggy honey blonde hair, peircing blue eyes, a good filled body and a smile "hey tony" he said cheerfully

"ha-harley? What are you doing here kid? Now this is a surprise visit youve come on the awkwardest time! Were meeting Petey pies girlfriend, which speaking of, I should introduce you! Peter this is Harley, Harley this is Peter" he said with a confused yet bright smile, it was a good surprise, just bad timing.

Peter smiled shyly at Harley "hi.."

"hello darlin', now I myself have never been called a girlfriend before but uh..fair enough." Harley smiled sliding his arm around Peter

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks

"that's..thats a guy."

"w.o.w."

"I did not expect that"

"so it's a boyfriend!"

Tony spluttered confused which one to get angry at "your with Harley?" He demanded

"your not angry that he's a guy are you..?"

"what are we in 1960? No! I'm angry I didn't know you knew Harley! How long has this-"

"well old man, he didn't even know I knew you, it never came up since you know..most of the time we were kinda busy.." Harley shrugged wiggling his eyebrows

"gross babe! Not Infront of mr stark!"

Tony was reeling "uh..proud of you kiddo..??"

"definitely not a broad kid" Bucky hummed

Natasha hummed "do I have to shovel talk the kid or.. should I pass the honours to the confused parent?" Natasha teased

"I think I've got it down pat, don't hurt Peter or I die, don't hurt Peter or I'll be hunted down his weird auntie and uncle avengers, be safe, use protection, don't coerce him into sneaking out and getting a belly button piercing again-" Harley rallied off

"PETER BENJAMIN STARK YOU HAVE A BELLY BUTTON PEIRCING?!—"

[daxisyzz]

Why so serious? Sergeant

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine, Domestic Fluff

Summary: It’s a lazy weekend and you’re bored, so naturally, you ask to practice makeup on your very serious, very grumpy boyfriend. He reluctantly agrees… not knowing you’re about to Joker-fy him and put it on tiktok. The twist? He looks too good, and now you’re the one suffering.

Warnings and tags: grumpy!bucky, but he loves her so soft for her, joker!bucky??, chaotic avengers' group chat, reader is clearly turned on by him.

Word count: 1k+

A/n: yes, this was inspired by Sebastian's role in the short film "The magic of passion", but he's a magician in that. Check it out if you haven't already. 500 followers special.

Saturdays were for pancakes, questionable movie choices, and Bucky grumbling around the apartment like a feral cat learning to be domestic.

Today, however, you were dangerously bored.

You were sprawled out on the living room rug in one of Bucky’s ancient hoodies, surrounded by your makeup collection like it was a war zone. He walked in slowly, suspiciously, like he was approaching some kind of trap.

“What... are you doing?” he asked, voice still gravelly from sleep.

You sat up like a puppy spotting a treat. “I’m bored.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s never ended well for me.”

You gasped dramatically. “Rude. I’m an angel when I’m bored.”

“You convinced me to sign up for goat yoga last time.”

“And your glutes looked amazing for weeks, so you’re welcome.”

He sighed, already regretting asking. “What do you want?”

You grinned. “Can I do your makeup?”

Dead silence. The kind that stretched just long enough for a tumbleweed to roll by.

“No.”

“Pleeeease? You have the best face. Like, if Michelangelo did eyeliner.”

“No.”

You crawled over on your knees, giving him the full wide-eyed, pouty-lip, you-know-you-love-me look. “Pretty please? You’d be helping me grow as an artist. You’re like… my beautiful, brooding canvas.”

Bucky blinked. “That sentence gave me secondhand embarrassment.”

You clutched your heart. “That’s a yes.”

He groaned but sat on the edge of the couch anyway. “Fine. But no glitter, no lashes, no weird colors. Normal makeup.”

“Of course,” you lied sweetly, already grabbing a white foundation stick.

The man was so tragically trusting when he loved someone. He let you brush and blend and buff without question, arms crossed like a sulking statue while you worked.

He muttered under his breath, “This better not end up on TikTok…”

You gave a noncommittal hum. Because, obviously, this was not going to be a natural glam look.

And of course you filmed it. You’d propped your phone up sneakily on the bookshelf, recording the whole transformation in time-lapse: serious, scowling Bucky slowly morphing into a chaos-clown masterpiece.

You whispered to the camera, “Trust. The. Process.” before cackling silently.

No, this was Heath Ledger Joker territory. And the best part? Bucky hadn’t caught on.

You smeared more white across his face, added deep shadows around his eyes, a little black liner for depth… and then came the red. You dragged the lipstick in that jagged grin shape across his cheeks, trying not to burst out laughing.

“This feels clowny,” he said, suspicious now.

“Shhh,” you whispered. “Trust the process.”

When you were done, you stepped back with a breathless grin. “Okay. Ready?”

Bucky opened his eyes. You handed him the mirror. He stared.

“…You made me the Joker.”

You waited for the grumbling, the classic “Doll, I said normal!” speech—but instead, something entirely different hit you.

You blinked.

Because… damn.

The chaos of it. The cheekbones. The angry smudges. The “I might burn the world for you” look in his eyes.

You felt something stir in your soul. And maybe lower.

“…You good?” Bucky asked, brow furrowing.

You stared at him. “Okay but like… why is this kind of hot?”

He froze. “What?”

You stepped closer, eyes wide. “Like—I thought this would be funny, but now I want to crawl into your lap and make out while ‘Candy’ plays in the background.”

His expression flickered between horrified and smug. “You’re insane.”

You whispered, “Say it like you’re threatening Gotham, please.”

Bucky covered his face with one hand. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

You were already straddling his lap, giggling like a woman possessed. “Do the voice.”

“No.”

“Do the voice, James.”

He exhaled, deadpan. “Why so serious, doll?”

You gasped. “I’m going to combust.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, hands settling on your hips anyway. “You have issues.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped suddenly. “This is going to break my feed.”

Bucky froze mid-eye roll. “You filmed it?”

You nodded gleefully, already editing it to the “Joker stairs” soundtrack.

“If this ends up on the internet, I swear—”

You kissed his cheek, smearing more red on his jaw. “Too late, internet’s already falling in love with you.”

He groaned into his hands. “I hate Saturdays.”

He tried to fight it. He really did. But you looked too happy, too deranged, and clearly too turned on by the Joker makeup to argue.

“Alright,” he muttered. “You got your fun. Take it off.”

“Not yet,” you said, eyes gleaming. “We’re gonna reenact that ‘You complete me’ scene.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Bucky, please, I need it emotionally.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbled, but he didn’t stop you as you dragged him toward the bedroom, red lipstick still smeared across his perfect jaw.

And maybe—just maybe—he did the voice again.

The next morning...

(The avengers find the tiktok you filmed, which may or may not have gone viral)

Avengers GC: “Earth’s Mightiest Disaster 💥”

Sam: nah. NAH. you let her joker you up AND film it???

Tony: I just choked on espresso why did that actually go hard

Peter: I don’t know whether to scream or hide he looked into the camera like it owed him money

Bruce: the eyeliner is flawless why was the growl necessary

Steve: …what did I just watch? why is Bucky in clown makeup? why is he talking like that?

Loki: because Midgard is rotting.

Thor: I thought it was performance art

Wanda: he did the voice now I’m rethinking some things

Nat: my soul left my body i need to lie down

Sam: [NAME]. [NAME] GET IN HERE. you enabled this

[Name]: I was bored he was sitting still what did you expect

Steve: what is “break me like a glowstick” and why is it the top comment? what does that even mean?

Peter: I googled it i regret everything

Bruce: there’s fan edits already one has “Toxic” playing over it i need bleach for my brain

Bucky: no one talk to me ever again

Sam: too late joker boy you’re the main character now

Clint: someone printed a screenshot and put it on the fridge in the kitchen btw not saying who but it’s me

[rae-writes]

pre/early relationship things + Naruto boys <3

sawft bois, cute bois, sweet bois || 0.9k

Kankuro asking you to wait for him after the war: there's some things he's gotta figure out (including getting all his feelings together) and some things he needs to do, so he asks you to wait with a sheepish smile at the gates of Konoha

Kankuro's really glad he had his face paint over his cheeks because he feels a blush spread across them when you rub your thumb over the paint and smear two purple lines over your own cheeks in acceptance

And Kankuro nearly falls out in the floor when, a few weeks later, he's back in the sand village opening a letter from Temari and a picture falls out: you're standing in front of a mirror, purple eye pencil in hand, as you very clearly mimic a thinner style of his paint markings- with a bright smile plastered over your face as you look at the camera

Kankuro decides he has to go back to the Leaf as soon as possible. He needs you to be his. Really his.

Naruto trying his hardest to keep a clean presentation in front of you at first; neat hair, no sloppy clothes, wiped off face. He's just really nervous because he really likes you and wants to..essentially detach any images you may have of him from all the village gossip (even though you don't think anything but the best of him)

So Naruto was about to have a meltdown when he bumped into you as he ran late for a team meeting: bedhair fluffed out and sticking up the wrong way, clothes askew and barley put on properly, cheeks and mouth covered in crumbs and jam from his on-the-go breakfast that was clutched half eaten in his equally messy hand

But before he could disappear on the spot and go crawl in a hole and die, Naruto found himself with a racing heart and red cheeks when you gave him a sweet little laugh and helped him out. Your fingers in his hair, brushing and smoothing out the stubborn strands, running along his chest as you straightened his undershirt and zipped his jacket, swiping at his cheeks and lips to get rid of the mess (and sticking your thumb in your mouth to clean off the jam was just the nail in the coffin)

Naruto decides right then and there that he's gonna marry you someday (and when he realizes he said that out loud, he'll practically explode in a shade of red before stammering out a loud "Believe it!" before running off to go meet his team)

Watching Kakashi attempt subtlety as he stares at your lips whenever you're talking or simply just lounging around with him. He wants to kiss you so badly but he's not ready to take off his mask just yet but the thought of kissing you is on his mind so much that he thinks he might go insane if he doesn't get to learn how it feels

It's gotten to the point where Kakashi always presses his forehead against your temple, covered nose and mouth brushing over your cheek and jaw as he plays it off as exhaustion; really, though, he's just a little embarrassed (and a bit scared) to ask you to kiss him without removing his mask

Which leaves Kakashi absolutely shell shocked and delighted all at once when, as you're seeing him off before his mission, you press your lips against his through the mask as a parting gift (leaving the scent of your flavored chapstick behind on the fabric, something that keeps his mind just as occupied as before he got a kiss, only now it's because he needs to taste that flavor- mask be damned)

Shikamaru starting to debate the way he acts with you after seeing his friends with their partners, realizing he's never really asked you how you felt about his...lazy habits when hanging out and wonders if you're actually as okay with it as you seem

It's a real drag, honestly, Shikamaru thinks- having to question something he's never had self doubt on before. He makes up his mind that he's just going to ask you straight out and get it over with. His brilliant plan goes out the window and into the trash, though, when you trudge into his house for your date night and curl up beside him, mentioning something about 'been looking forward to our weekly shared nap' (which makes his heart speed up, hindering him from even being able to fall asleep. he wasn't complaining- for once- not after seeing you so at ease with his lazy habits)

Kiba not knowing why Akamaru runs off for around thirty minutes each afternoon after training is over, but not minding too much since his fluffy companion always comes back from wherever with his tail wagging and tongue out happily. He does get curious, though, so he ends up following along one day

And Kiba about dies on the spot when he sees Akamaru bounding up to you, the civilian that he has a giant crush on (who always smiles and waves at him, no matter what, in passing). He watches his tank of a hound sprawl in your lap- almost covering your entire body- and get petted and cooed at. He stumbles over with a dumb grin and heated cheeks, making easy conversation

When he leaves with Akamaru in tow, Kiba formulates a plan to finally ask you out, hopefully using his best furry wing man to help

[witherby]

Thinking naughty Brucie Wayne thoughts cause you KNOW he sluts around in order to maintain that playboy reputation.

Imagining Brucie on an evening gossip show and he's playing a game where he's sharing light-hearted secrets with the host. It's called some shit like...I dunno, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours!"

"Okay, we gotta be careful with the wording here because we're on live television," the host laughs, "but I have a question."

"Ask me anything, baby, I'm an open book," Bruce purrs. The live studio audience whistles and cheers.

"What's your darkest sexual fantasy? I'll tell you mine —"

"IF YOU TELL ME YOURS!!" The audience shouts, clapping and cheering with ridiculous enthusiasm. Bruce, who has impeccable control over his body's nervous system, turns beet red and covers his face. His heartbeat is still as steady as a war drum. World's Greatest Detective and also World's Best motherfuckin Actor.

"oh shit," he mutters. The cheering gets even louder. "I can't say it out loud. I've never told anybody this before, it's insane."

The host is Locked The Fuck In. Exclusive information nobody else has about Brucie Wayne, Gotham's precious prince? He can smell the trending hashtags already.

"Oh?" He goads, grinning and leaning forward in his chair. "Is it really bad? Brucie, you dog! I didn't know you had it in you! We gotta know, now!"

"Skip," Bruce says shyly, "next question!"

The audience boos and starts chanting some iteration of "tell us! Tell us!" The host shushes them and says it's fine, he'll go first and they'll both be a little embarrassed about it. No big deal, it's just a fun game! What's a little spicy secret between friends, we're all friends here, it's fine!

The host's is boring. Something like Toes or edible underwear. Bruce shyly says he can't say it, and asks if he can write it down instead. The host is like yes, absolutely, someone fetch this man a pen and paper RIGHT NOW.

Brucie writes it down. The host reads it. He gasps.

"Okay everybody, shhh. This says...I want to — BRUCE?"

Bruce reddens more and is as curled up as he can possibly get in his big chair. The audience is feral at this point.

"It says "I want a priest to give his virginity to me." Bruce Thomas Wayne!!!"

There's an uproar. People are whistling. Women are screaming. Catholics are clutching their pearls. There's so much clapping. Some people are laughing. When everybody settles down enough to let him explain, Bruce, still red in the face, just stares meekly at the ground and mutters:

"I dunno, it's so wicked. I wanna be like Lucifer with the apple. I want a son of God to turn away from His light and be tempted into my bed. If God is actually homophobic and being gay gets you sent to Hell, — first of all, fuck that guy — and second of all, at the very least I want him to get a taste of Heaven in the sheets, y'know?"

#DamnedByBrucie is the number one trending topic for the next four days. Priests are coming out of the woodwork and sending him genuine offers to take their virginity. Hal buys a priest outfit immediately. Bruce is so down to roleplay this even though that wasn't even close to his darkest sexual fantasy.

[mydear-corinthian]

one more night

synopsis: the relationship was too toxic but you just cannot break up with him because..

pairing: thomas shelby x reader

warnings: SMUT +18, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f!receiving), breeding kink, squirting, creampie toxic relationship, mentions of arguments & cheating

notes: based by maroon 5's song: "one more night", divider by cafekitsune

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

Your relationship with Thomas Shelby is indeed toxic. He often arrives home late. Even if you were only seated next to him, you flirted with women in the pub. Not even during the day was he there spending time with you. The both of you cannot end a day without an argument. "War" is the fitting word to describe your relationship.

You were starting to decide whether to end the relationship, but the question is, how?

The man gave you a big house for your family, food to eat, money, expensive clothing and jewelry, everything but affection.

The only affection you both had was sex.

Sex with Tommy was the best experience that you had. He has more experience than you, but that doesn't matter since he knows how to satisfy you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. He was home— needy, like always.

"Got a fucking long day. I need you," he whispered, locking the door immediately and grabbing your waist to kiss you.

You can never—ever— say no to having sex with this man. He was fucking brilliant.

You kissed him back, tasting the whiskey on his tongue as your tongues danced with each other. Tommy began to undress his suit, unbuttoning it one by one in a hurry, not even breaking the kiss.

He carried you and placed you on the sofa in front of your shared bed. Your hands lifted your shirt, exposing your hardened breast.

No, you've got to stop this. All he does to you is sex and nothing more. You're not his wife anymore; you're his sex toy.

"No— Tom, stop," you whined, feeling his hot breath on your neck as he marked it.

"Why? You don't want this?" Tommy asked, continuing to kiss your neck.

"Yes— no! I want to break up."

His lips are no longer on your neck. His eyes finally met yours.

"Break up?"

"All we do is sex and nothing more— I mean, we're married. We have things to do aside from sex."

"You're funny," that's all Tommy said before kissing you once again. You try to break the kiss, but your body tells you to want more. His rough palms cupped your breast and sucked it like a madman, making you moan out loud.

Tommy's fingers traced your stomach until your soaking wet cunt. You gasped at his touch as you felt his finger massage your clothed clit.

"No— stop, Tom. We can't do this any— oh God!"

"Your body tells you otherwise, sweetheart," Tommy chuckled. He removed your white underwear and tossed it on the floor. Feeling the cold breeze touch your exposed cunt, you arched your back.

"You're telling me to stop but your tight cunt keeps on clenching on my finger."

Tommy continued to pump his finger in and out of your drenched hole while eating you out. His tongue swayed figure eights on your sensitive bud, enjoying your taste. Tommy added another finger, fingering you aggressively, hitting that spongy spot again and again and again.

The wet noise made you feel embarrassed— guilty. Your eyes fully shut, grabbing a fistful of his curly hair to pull him even more closer to your cunt. Your head rolled back in pleasure,

Feeling that familiar knot on your stomach, you moaned like a whore, clenching on his mouth. "I'm so close, Tom."

"Don't stop, please— mmf!"

"Go on. Be a good girl and cum on my face, sweetheart. You're doing so well." he praised and continued to devour you.

Finally coiling up that feeling, you arched your back and moaned. You squirted, a mix of your juice and your white cum staining his mouth and face.

Out of all the men who had sex with, Thomas Shelby is the only man who made you fucking squirt.

"Fuck, baby— you always taste so good," Tommy said before standing up, ready to leave.

"Wait!"

His head turned, a smirk planted on his face.

"What is it?"

"I want.. more," you embarrassingly admitted. You bit your bottom lip, showing him your drenched hole. "Please, Tom."

"I thought you want to end this," he asked sarcastically.

"Just.. one more night," you begged.

Tommy walked towards you again, removing his boxers, freeing out his hardened cock. You bit again your lips at the sight. He really is big.

He pumped his shaft for awhile before positioning himself in front of your hole and take you whole. The feeling of his fat cock enter your tight whole made you wince. Tommy's arms embraced your shoulder as he started to move inside you. You rolled your head as soon as the pain started to become pleasuring.

"We've fucked a lot of times but you're still so tight."

Tommy's pace fastened. Your breasts swayed up and down at every harsh thrusts he makes. Your moans and groans filled the entire room. You felt his balls slap below your whole, letting out skin slapping noises which makes you even more turned on.

"Tom— oh God— yes, yes yes!" you moaned, interlocking your legs together on his lips, allowing himself to sink and pound it further.

Make it stop, you thought.

But it your body says to continue.

Tommy's tip hit the sensitive spots all over and over again, allowing you to moan even more loudly and clenched all over his fat cock.

"I thought you don't want this anymore, huh?" he teasingly asked, listening to the pornographic moans that you're letting out.

"We shouldn't be doing this anym— aah!" you tried to speak but the pleasure won't allow you to even complete your sentence.

Tommy knew you were close with the way your pussy was clenching on his dick too much. His middle finger found its way to your clit, rubbing it aggressively as he wants you to cum.

"Tom, stop— I'm gonna—shit— cum.. oh God, oh God!"

Tommy's erratic thrusts finally made you cum. His shaft still pumping inside your walls covered with your cum, allowing himself to finish.

"No matter how—Christ—rough I go, you're still tight, woman," he groaned as continued his pace while his head was resting on your shoulder. Your nails scratched his back as you felt overstimulated, cumming again.

After a few more pound, Tommy came, pouring all of him inside you, not wasting a single cum. He pulled out slowly, your shared juices slipping out of your drenched hole. There, the guilt panged you. Your mind said stop but your body said yes.

"Give me one more night, just like you said."

——

The morning the next day hits you the hardest. The first thing you saw beside you was no one. Tommy's side of the bed was cold and empty now. He left again. 

"One more night, (y/n)," you muttered to yourself.

And now the cycle continues.