#dare devil x reader

[harleycao]

Thinking about a reader who finds out about Matt being Daredevil and doesn't question whether or not he's blind because "why would someone lie about that?"

In a world with people such as thor and iron man, it's really not that big of a leap that Daredevil could be blind and so for the first time in Matt's life, someone is able to accept him being Daredevil and still being blind without the immediate questions of "but, are you, really?"

[transboyswitchytales]

A Proposition

This is Part 2

Wanda Maximoff Professor X Student Reader

Part 1,3

After a night together, reader is suprised to go to class the next day to see a certain one night stand or rather her professor? Will she be just a one-night stand?

Now how will they move on from that?

( Mommy kink, 18+ Will block you if under 18)

My Masterlist

“You haven’t heard what I’m offering yet.” 

“Professor,” you say again, and the name falls flat, and it only amuses Wanda now. But she looks at you with a twinkle in her eyes. You are both walking and you turn to see if you will be overheard.

“Yes, Darling?”  She says, amused at your paranoia. 

“This is inappropriate.” You whisper loudly. 

“No, what’s inappropriate is if I fucked you on my desk really slow with the strap on from the other night. What would be really, really inappropriate is if I made the class watch. Especially that boy who stares at you all class long, Steve Rogers. That would be sweet revenge. Yeah, that, now that would be inappropriate. You and I met and were two consenting adults, and we still are.” She says with a shrug as if it’s nothing. Your eyes are fucking wide as she says such dirty things. You catch up to the last bit in shock.

“Still are?”

“I don’t know about you, though I have an inkling. But that was the best sex I’ve ever had. It’s also the most chemistry I’ve had, maybe ever. It was never gonna be a one-and-done. At least that wasn’t my plan. I knew at the bar I wanted more than one night with you.” She says, and the blush is now definitely all over your body. 

“Professor-“

“Wan-da.” She sounds out and stops to open a door that is her private office. Unlocking it with her keys. She opens the door and waves her hand for you to enter. You hesitate, and she lifts an eyebrow. You roll your eyes and walk in as she flips the light on. It’s a cute office, her blinds are drawn. But there are plants everywhere, a little mini fridge with stickers from national parks all over it, and it's wall-to-wall shelves that are covered in books. You can’t help yourself; you get distracted and walk over to trace your hands over the spines.

Wanda seems to like this as she shuts the door behind her and locks it. You don’t feel even a little worried, like you know you should. You bend down and pick up a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. Its leather spine draws you in, and you love the story so much. You open it and look for a publication date. 

“It’s about 80 years old,” Wanda says, pulling off her glasses and leaning against the desk. She threw her bag and keys onto it. Then she lets her hands hold her weight behind her. 

“Fuck.” You say, and suddenly feel bad about picking it up. Wanda seems to take that as you have been scolded by people too much before. But she saves that thought away. 

“You can touch it, honey. It’s ok.” She says, seeing your panic. You ignore her and put it back. Standing back up, you see Wanda looking at you like she was enjoying you on the floor. You chastise yourself to stop imagining her naked. 

“I-“

“I’d like to take you out tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, well, right now actually. No time like the present,” she says, smiling at you for the hundredth time today. She likes how much she smiles because of you, she hasn’t done that in a very long time. 

“Shouldn’t I play harder to get?” You tease at the lack of dating etiquette she’s showing. She shakes her head 

“Why would you do that? I’ve already tasted you and I want more, I don’t want to play games. And before you ask no I’ve never fucked a student before. I never planned on it before you.”

“But-“

“Our age gap isn’t that wide, Darling. Even if I make you call me Mommy. Don’t look so scandalized. We aren’t breaking any district or college rules. I like you a lot. And I’m not the kind of woman who likes things and then takes no for an answer.”

“You do this with all your one-night stands, then?” You say, and it’s meant to be funny, but it sounds desperate, and you hate it.

“You would be the first person I’ve ever taken home from a bar. I wasn’t going to say anything this soon, but I was married …to a man… for too long....”

“Oh.”

“It’s been a few years. I have tried to date but… no one’s caught my attention.”

“Until now?” You say, and you try not to sound hopeful.

“Until now.” She says more confident than you’d expect.

You turn and look at the books, and she watches you. 

“I think we have more in common than you realize.” She says slowly, and you snort at her. Looking over your shoulder, you are sarcastic to a fault.

“You mean besides the fetishes we share.” It’s not supposed to make you blush more, but you do at your own sentence. She thinks it’s cute and smiles. 

“It’s not just about sex.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.” It’s a bit of a lie, because you want it to be more. But you keep your eyes on the books. So she talks to your back, not seeming bothered by sharing your attention with her library.

“You are getting a BA in English with an emphasis on writing, so did I,” She says, and you look at her like ‘that’s obvious.’ 

“You like old books, and so do I. You are extremely smart. And way funnier than I am.” She says as if she’s already in love, and you aren’t sure how to respond. 

“I don’t know if I’m all that.” You say, and she disagrees with you. Her face shows instantly that she doesn’t like your answer. You turn to her now, fully taking her in. She’s so fucking gorgeous. Her professor's look is sharp as hell. You would happily go back to the floor for her right here, right now. She surprises you, though. 

“You have been hurt by people. That much is clear. So have I. I get that you don’t want to trust me. I’m scared too, but not scared enough to let you walk away without taking my chance.” She says, and her voice dips, and it does things to you. 

“You can tell all that, huh?” You sa,y looking down at your shoes. She walks over and lifts your chin so you are eye to eye. 

“I can see that and much more. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to be with you, will you let me?” 

You nod slowly, and she moves and kisses you. It’s a sweet kiss, it’s slow and tender. Not possessive and demanding like her kisses the other night. She pulls back and grabs her keys. 

“Come with me.” She holds out her hand, and you take it.

————

That’s how it starts. You go to a restaurant thinking it’ll be one and done. And you have an amazing time, and it’s not the last. Not even close. Wanda is on your ass like white on rice. She’s texting you, calling you, FaceTiming you all the time. You are inseparable. And you fucking love it. You won’t let yourself tell her you love her. Afraid of what that will mean. You are at her apartment all the time. She starts buying your coffee creamer and makes the popcorn brand you like for nights when you watch endless hours of sitcoms. It’s so fucking sappy and it’s getting extremely domestic on a Tuesday. 

You are both sitting on a dryer in a laundromat. You got a big gulp of a cherry slushy. You are waiting for your laundry to be done. She asked if she could come, and you laughed at her and told her it would be boring. Wanda said nothing with you could ever be boring. And here you were both laughing so hard your sides hurt. 

“What do you mean you’ve never had a slushie?” You say after you wipe your eyes from tears over laughing. She reaches over and brushes stray tears from your other cheek. 

“I’m from Socovia, baby. We didn’t have slushies.” Wanda reminds you and you hold the cup up like it’s amrosia from the gods and it’s being blessed.

“That simply won’t do.” 

She giggles at your display, and it’s the best sound. You hold it to her, moving the straw so it bends.

“Isn’t it like water and corn syrup?”

“Do not knock the cherry syrup like that.” You say in mock horror. She shakes her head at you. 

“You know, I keep Swedish fish at my place for you now. I read the back of it. That stuff is gonna kill you, devochka.”

You beam at her, knowing she’s calling you baby girl in her language, feels so sweet. So many partners called you baby. This felt so much better. 

“I’ll die happy.” You say not to defend the red food dye.

“Nu uh, no dying, how about that. You stay my girl and be healthy.” She says, and it feels good under your skin. Being her girl. 

“I can do that.” You whisper and kick your legs up against the machine. She seems to like you flushed and embarrassed, and she moves your jaw and kisses you. It’s long and slow, but unlike her offic,e it’s practiced now. Like two lovers who know how to slow dance with each others, understanding one another's body rhythms. You lean your forehead against hers and slowly open your eyes to see her staring at you with love laced in every single inch. 

“Be a good girlfriend and drink my toxic slush.” You whisper, and she laughs now. 

“I’m your girlfriend, huh?” She says, and you panic.

“I mean-“

“No, no, my love, no take backs. You taught me no take backs.” She reminds you, and you curse because you had taught her that. 

“Well…”

“I did want to ask…”

“Yeah?” You say and tuck a hair behind your ear. She watches it and seems in a trance, looking at you. You look at her with a questioning glance. You take a sip of your drink as she finishes. 

“Are we um… what’s the English word? Are we exclusive?” 

You snort the drink and cough, and she looks panicked as she rubs your back. You breathe again after a few seconds. 

“Um.. do you want to be?” You ask, catching your breath. 

“I was hoping we already were.” She says slowly, and you look confused. 

“Why did you think we weren't?”

“My friend Natasha told me it’s a conversation that people have to have?” She says and looks anxious now like she’s fucked up. 

“You told your friends about me?” It’s what you take from the sentence, and she looks slightly miffed that you haven’t answered her question only asked follow up questions. 

“Moya lyubov', you are killing me with the suspense. I’m a little scared now. Are you seeing someone else? Or sleeping with someone else?” Her eyebrows furrow, and you quickly grab her hands 

“Oh god, no, Wanda. I have no interest and no time. When would I have slept with someone else? I’m always either on the phone with you or at your place. You think I sneak off after your apartment and have a gangbang or something?” You say, and it’s meant to be funny, and her eyes bulged. 

“Gangbang? What is that? Do you get hurt with that?”

“Oh yeah, that’s an English word you might not have heard before. I’ll tell you later. The point is, I’m all yours, ok?” You say, and she instantly relaxes.

“Ok,” Wanda says, and she seems deep in thought again. Her nose scrunches, and you know she’s in the depths of it.

“So who’s Natasha?”

“Friend from college. You’ll like her, she mostly does S.H.I.E.L.D. agent retaining now.” She looks over and you and you nod, impressed. 

“So she’s like super hot and buff?”

“Hey, you are now in a committed relationship. Very taken and very off the market. There will be no hot buff girls in your future. Only this Socovian Professor who is totally going to spank you tonight for that.” She says and scoffs in outrage. 

“Yes professor.” You smirk and she mumbles in her native;’ you’re that she can’t believe you, and you are such a brat. ‘

“So will Natasha be coming by soon?” You say, and she turns bright red and looks at you. 

“No, actually, I’m not sure you are ever meeting her.”

“Is she straight?” You say not getting that you are making Wanda more jealous. 

“Why does this matter?” Her accent comes out and that’s when you realize she’s anxious. 

“Oh, baby, I’m not into your friend. I’m very taken as I just was told. I’m just curious who your friends are.” You say, and you look down at the time on the machine. But when you look back at her, she’s thinking again. 

“Well, there’s Natasha, Clint, who I’m not super close with. But he hangs around Natasha, so I put up with him. He’s gonna love you.”

“Wh,y because of my breasts?” You tease and you swear you see smoke come out of her ears. 

“Hey! I’m not gonna tell you any more about my friends. I’m going to fuck you in that bathroom instead.” She points to the grungy bathroom. 

“Not a bad time for me. But I’ll behave. Why would Clint like me? Would Natasha not like me?” 

“No, she’d like you too. She already does. She’s always telling me what I should do with us.”

“Good stuff?” You say feeling weird. 

“I’m not used to dating in the U.S I don’t know the customs of what’s too much too soon.”

You reach over and grab her hand.

“You don’t need advice. You can just talk to me. I’ll tell you.” You say, and Wanda rubs her thumb over your knuckles. She gulps and agrees.

“I know, but you scare easily sometimes, and I don’t want to ruin this or scare you away.” She says it, and it’s so vulnerable and rea,l and you know, just the feeling.

“Wanda Maximoff, you sweet charmer. You got me pretty wrapped up in you. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She meets your eyes and grins now. Her mega-watt smile, the one she only gives you. 

“So Clint.” You say, and she goes on.

“While he would love to see you naked, he’s never going to. Because your mine. He’s a jokester, and he will love laughing with you. Because he’s effortlessly funny.” 

“So are you.” You say taking a sip. She furrows her brows.

“I am so not funny.” She says, and you disagree. 

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“My brother was funny. He would have adored you.” She says, and it’s only the third time she’s brought him up. You cup her cheek and she lays her hand on top of yours. You know she’s got a lot of trauma. 

“You think so?”

“I know it.” 

“Ok, so your brother, Natasha and Clit like me. Who else is in your life that you are hiding from your girlfriend?” You say, and she chuckles. Her face hurts from smiling this much. Like it has a lot recently because of you. 

“Well, I used to hang out with this guy Stephen. He’s a doctor, well surgeon now, so he’s pretty busy, but we email a lot. Bruce is getting his PHD, so he’s slammed, but he texts me pretty regularly. He’s upset with his boyfriend a lot.”

“Wow, you have smart friends.” You say, and she arches an eyebrow,

“You won’t think that when you meet them. Beside,s I have a way smarter girlfriend.”

“Then a PHD student, a surgeon, and a S.h.i.e.l.d agent?”

“You are waaaay smarter.” She says, and you don’t believe her, but her face proves she believes it. Wanda doesn’t lie to you. Even when she wishes she could because it would be easier in some moment. 

The dryer dings and you hop down. Wanda looks anxious for a moment, not wanting this date to end. You don’t see her worry and you speak. 

“So I’m thinking we grab dinner and then you read my paper, professor.”

Wanda instantly feels relief that the night isn’t over. She hops down and takes your laundry out of the hamper you are putting it in, and starts folding. 

“What are you doing, Maximoff?” You sa,y and she looks momentarily taken aback at you using her last name.

“Folding?”

“I think we have to be married for you to fold my underwear. You can’t just do that, like we haven’t been dating only three months.”

She looks confused at you. She wants to talk more about marriage, but changes her mind. 

“Who do you think folds your laundry at my apartment?”

“Oh my god, you so do. You throw my clothes in with yours, too. Oh my god, you do my laundry.”

“Yeah, I’m also in a lesbian relationship, so I put your bra on the delicate cycle. Not just throwing it in with jeans like an ape.” She says, and your mouth opens. She looks proud as she folds one of your sweatshirts with more precision than you’ve ever folded. She doesn’t stop at your shocked expression, grabbing a pair of your sweats. 

“That…is really hot.”

Wanda throws her head back and her curls bounce as she laughs at you. 

“My love, you’ve never been taken care of, and it shows.” She say,s and it’s light coming from her, but you realize that it’s really true. 

“Maybe, or maybe you just take care of me really well. Like better than anyone ever has.” You say and shut the door. You turn to load another load into the washer and move the wet clothes to the dryer. You pull out quarters and miss Wanda looking at you. Because she has more love for you than she thought she could have for anyone. After breaking her marriage with Vision and the loss of her family, her brother. She felt so lost and alone. But here you were, like a bolt of lightning into her dead heart. And now she felt like she was living, for maybe the first time ever. 

“I’m thinking Thai. But I know you didn’t like the place on 3rd, even though you say you didn’t mind it. You barley ate your drunken noodles. And I know you were hungry cuz we went on that hike. So don’t even say “that place you like.’ Because I know my girlfriend way better than that.” You say, and it’s so easy, and you don’t even think about it. 

Wanda looks at you still. She felt such warmth in her chest. You were now throwing around her new title with ease. Like she’d always owned it. And she realized she’d wanted your lips to say wife. And then she felt herself growing hot. So she coughed, and you looked at her. 

“What? Did you find gum in my clothes? That’s happened here before, and it ruined an awesome sweater that had a Jane Austen quote. It wrecked me.” You say throwing a laundry pod in the wash and cranking it to start. 

“You take really good care of me…too, just so you know,” Wanda says and she stops folding but looks down at your black jeans with new interest. You walk behind her and snake your arms around her waist. 

“Wanda?”

“Hmm?”

“You think I take good care of you?”

“You make my to-go coffee in the morning better than I do now. You cook for me, and you make sure I take my meds at night. You always check in when you know I’m sad. Or reaching out when you know I’ve gone dark and gloomy, so I haven’t texted. You always lift my spirits and make me laugh…I…no one’s ever cared for me like you.” She says, and you kiss her neck. She leans back into you, and you repeat kisses over her shoulder and up her throat. 

“I don’t want anyone else to.”

“To what?”

“To take care of you. I want to do it.” You say, and she turns and wraps her arms around your neck. 

“No other college girls have applied, so you have job security.” She jokes, and you laugh sarcastically. 

“I thought you didn’t date college girls.”

She pretends to think about it and you pinch her ass and she laughs. 

“Only one college girl.”

“Aye, woman.”

“All women.” She says and leans in and kisses you sucking your bottom lip in. You moan, and she pulls bac,k putting her hand over your mouth.

“Those noises are for me, not the laundromat!” She hisses at you. You lightly bite her hand, and she pulls back.

“Oh, please, the only guy in here is drunk. It’s not like we are being live streamed on pornhub.”

“Ok, slow down, American girl. Livestream? Pornhub? Gangbang?”

“Sometimes the language barrier is really funny and other times it’s hilarious.” 

Wanda glares at you but grabs your ass and squeezes. Making it clear she’s won… again.

“Lifestream is when you are giving a live, real-time feed onto the internet.”

She nods, and you continue. That was probably the most innocent explanation and you figured you’d build into the other ones.  

“Pornhub is a website with pornography videos.”

Her eyes zero in on you. 

“Do you watch porn on Pornhub.”

“I have.” You answer, not about to deny it. 

“Do you still?”

You shrug as if it’s nothing. 

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to.” She answers plainly, but her eyes are squinting at you. Her nose scrunched, and you laughed. 

“Are you being a prude? Because you made me squirt before. Hell you’ve tied me up and fucked my mouth with a dildo. Plus, the names you like in bed or call me in bed. I don’t think you have a leg to stand on here.”

“No, I’m not a prude. And plenty of women like being called Mommy in bed. I have no shame for what we do. I just don’t want my girlfriend masturbating to someone else.” She said the last part at a high decibel in her voice, and you realize you’ve hit a new nerve for her. 

“So you are a prude.” You say, and she glares deeper now.

“I don’t think this is a hard ask. I don’t masturbate to porn.”

“Do you masturbate?” You ask genuinely curious now.

“Besides, when I’m on the phone with you, no.” She admits looking over at the man, clearly passed out in the corner. Before looking back at you. 

“Before me?”

“You know I own a vibrator and some dildos,” Wanda says as if this line of questioning makes no sense. 

“I know I just am curious what you cum to.”

“I used to use my imagination. Now I am having so much sex, I don’t have time or the desire to masturbate. Not when it’s so much better when I’m straddling your face. Why would I want to use my vibrator alone?” Wanda says, unsure of why this doesn’t make sense to you. Her arms stay around your neck. 

“Hmm..”

“What?” She says a little too sharply.

“I think we should go to a kink event.”

“What?” She looks shocked at your answer.

“You might like it. Plus it’s always interesting.”

“Will you be clothed?”

“Yes, baby, I won’t let anyone else touch me. But you are a bit of a dominatrix, I think you’d like to see it. And if you don’t like porn then it’s an intresting way to watch.”

“I’m not much of a voyeur.” She says having learned the word from you. 

“You like watching me. But that’s not the point. If you don’t wanna go, we don’t have to. No pressure whatsoever. But I do think it would be interesting. On the conversation of porn, I won’t watch it if it makes you uncomfortable. I haven’t really masturbated much since we started dating. Maybe twice in the shower on my own, but it was all to thoughts of you.”

This seems to make Wanda feel better. 

“Do you mind that I’m…”

“Possessive? Jealous?” You insert the thoughts. 

“Dominant?” Wanda says even though all of those thoughts crossed her mind as well. 

“I like it all. I like that you put your hand on my ass when someone is staring at me at Starbucks. I like that you make me beg and call you Mommy in bed. I like that you ask me what I’m reading because you like picking out books for me.” You say and Wanda’s hands travel to your ass again.

 She likes to touch you. She, for the first time, is allowed to do PDA. Vision didn’t even like holding hands, so it’s a big shift. Wanda craves being able to touch you. So she wouldn’t be able to stop in public if she tried. The hand on your lower back through a crowd gives her a shot of a power high. She knows you are gorgeous, and you chose her. So she doesn’t keep her hands to herself ever. 

“You said you liked my book recommendations.” 

“I do. I even lie and say I haven’t read it just so I can re-read it and talk to you about it.”

“You lie!” She yells now. 

“Only about books. Only because I like it when we talk about them.” You admit, and she softens her gaze on you. 

“You are getting punished for that later.”

“I’m game. After we get pad Thai, cuz your baby needs food.” You break the contact and throw one of your Lacey thongs like a slingshot, and it hits her face. 

“Nice shot, kid.” The drunk man in the corner says, and you smirk at Wanda’s shock. His eyes were closed.

“Thanks, Ernie.” You say, and Wanda looks at you in horror. 

[unholy-screeching9]

Can I offer you some Megdice in this trying time….. </3

I actually have a good chunk of works to share but I fear most of them are of Dice and my sona LMAOOO I’m trying to be better at sharing them because Meg is my baby

I swear once spring break comes too maybe I can make some more stuff that you guys would for wanna see LOL ur stuck with these goobers now though‼️‼️

ANYWAYS HI GUYS just had an exam today so I’m a bit dead but I hope you enjoy!

You can find my King Dice x Reader novel (future explicit content BE WARNED) here!

You can find my Discord server (adults only) here!

[librarygremin]

I either need someone to write this or tell me something like it’s been written but I have this idea of a Matt x reader fic:

Hear me out so the reader is catholic and she goes to the church on day or whatever and accidentally runs into Matt. For the next couple weeks she keeps running into him, and she thinks it’s so weird (he may or may not be doing it on purpose) and she eventually like gets saved by daredevil and she recognizes him, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Idk about the rest of the story but that’s just been sitting in my head, but I’m not good at story writing so it’s just been collecting dust.

[drakudoll]

URGGR SHOULD I WRITE FOR MATT MURDOCK.. TEMPTTAATIONNSSS...!2!&;

[redbird-tf]

A fathers scent

Matt murdock x (platonic) teen reader

Summary: matt wanted nothing more but to get to know you better but didnt know his scent could hurt you so badly

Notes; short read

Warning;

Matt had taken you in almost a year ago, how could he not, you had the same abilities as him and he knew what it was like to be alone or worse, with Stick, he couldn’t let that happen. Matt did his best. He taught you how to let things in and keep things out, trained you, and most of all, fathered you.

Matt still didn't know your full story regarding your family, he knew your mom had passed tragically and that your dad was gone but he didn't know the details. He only ever brought it up once and when you declined to answer becoming upset he didn't pry. Matt trusted one day you’d feel comfortable enough to tell him yourself and if not that was alright.

Matt returned home after a long day at Nelson and Murdock, he had scoured the city trying to get information to help his new clients. “Mm that smells good” he announced walking through the door, placing down his stick. “Is that stake im smelling?” he asked cocking his head. “Matt!” You shouted enthusiastically walking into his embrace. Something went wrong though.

You inhaled his scent before sharply pushing yourself back from him. Matt could hear the sudden acceleration of your heart rate, and feel the sweat collecting on your face. “Y/n” what's wrong,” he asked holding his arm out “Where have you been!?” You asked holding your nose, trying to drain out the stench. “All over town. why? What's wrong-“You cut him off again. “Who have you been talking to!?” You shouted louder than before. “A lot of people, what going on?” He asked stepping towards you, but you darted towards the bathroom.

A few seconds passed before he heard the sounds of you puking your guts out, he walked toward the door cracking it open. Your heart rate had slowed but you shivered from the cold sweat coating your body. “Y/n..” he whispered. “Please leave me alone” you begged weakly, Matt was terrified but not wanting to make the situation worse he obliged. He sat at the table, listening to the clock tick and an hour later you emerged from the bathroom dashing into your room.

Matt went through the rest of his night routine alone, not leaving the house in case you decided to appear, but you never did. Matt couldn’t go to bed not knowing if you were ok. After his shower, he threw on his jacket and sweatpants and walked to your room. “May i come in?” He asked with a light knock. no reply followed, he let himself in and made his way to the edge of your bed where he sat. your body curled up on the opposite side.

“Y/n…are you alright?” He asked softly “i don't want to talk about it” your raspy voice replied. “Y/n I'm sorry if i did something to hurt you” he stated more worry in his voice. “You didn't-“ you paused before exhaling deeply “you smelled like my dad” you stated. Matt didn’t know how to reply but you continued “The half-drunken, concrete, musty smell. You were around him i could tell” you explained with a shake at the end of your sentence. “Y/n, i had no idea, im sorry” he apologized. “He's around, he’s back, he was near you!” you bit your lip. Matt climbed into the bed and turned you towards him. “Hey, you are safe here. He will never come near you” he explained in a stern tone.

your eyes watered and he wasted no time pulling you into his chest. Your hands went around his back as he engulfed you and you were finally able to inhale Matt's scents, the one you loved so much.“You’re my real dad, Matt” “your my daughter, nothing will ever change that”

[m00nprincessai]

Lorenzo Moretti

Paradise is a hell-colored flame sky, is it nice to feel free and wild?

[ANY POV] - Mafia Kidnapper

Moretti Family - volume 3

Ruthless and blood thirsty, Lorenzo, Enzo, Moretti doesn't care about becoming his fathers heir like his brothers.

No, they could have their little blood feuds clamoring for daddy's praise, he was just fine with his role as an enforcer.

Because one thing never changed in the mob--- violence was always an acceptable answer.

So how did he get stuck acting as baby sitter to his own damn hostage?

This. Sucks.

TW: Kidnapping, violence, possible murder, drug use.

[antlersarchives]

𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

one-shot

bo chow x reader

summary - wandering on alone in the deep of the Mississippi Delta wasn't a favoured thing, but nor was it an uncommon one. some carefree few would end up along that track from time to time, and their consequence? the last path they'd find themselves walking down in the dead of night with enough living breath to carry them. those damn creatures of the night..

requested by: anonymous 💗

warnings; smut, 18+, vampirism, canon-typical violence, mild gore/violence, bloodplay, stalking, southern gothic erotica, biting, restraint, oral sex (r!receiving), pinv, worship kink, dirty talking, soulmates and soul tied, finding a mate, consensual, 1930s southern history, second person pov.

a/n: based on the song 'scared to live' by the weeknd because when I was thinking of this fic, this is what came up and I thought it was gorgeous,, also thank you to the many peeps who reached out and asked for this!! and yes I added the line between Stack and Mary because DAMN. i hope you enjoy, it might need some tweaks, but requests and comments are welcome and please let me know what you think!

w/c: 5.6k

It was unusual walking around this late at night. Especially alone; at least that’s what you’d been told.

Deep down in the heart and heat of the Mississippi Delta, right beside the marshes and desolate land, there was a calmness in the stillness of the earth, everything full of life and promise, only the devil creeping around the corner to take back what was his. And that’s what you clung to, no matter how much your mama would tell you otherwise, that the dangers out there are too much to cope with, or how the children back in your schoolhouse days would spread rumor; you always found yourself right back here. 

Alone.

The night was especially still tonight, the darkness closing in tighter than usual under a cloudless sky. The only light came from a couple of flickering lanterns outside a dim Juke Joint, guiding your path as you walked.

On the porch of the joint, two old-timey musicians sat pouring their hearts into the music they created, without a care in the world, frozen in time, they could forget the industrialisation of the world around them. One man played a harmonica, his weathered hands cradling it with care. The soulful, fuzzy notes wrapped around you, a comforting urge to keep moving forward despite the shadows surrounding you.

Your feet seemed to carry you effortlessly through the opening of the wood, drawing deeper in as you looked behind you one last time, swaying with each step as the music faded into the distance. Heading to the only home you knew without a destination - your own company.

A few twigs crunched beneath your feet as you walked, and the odd branch creeping up on you, the left of you the bayou laid still, untouched - and to your right, the final twinkle of streetlights, was the edge of town, just before they turned off completely. Now, you’d never seen anyone else cross this path; by this point you’d think you owned it simply because you seemed the only one daring or reckless enough to walk it on your own- and you had heard both from just about anyone.

But this time was different.

All kinds of things were catching your eyes, something not ordinary. Snakes, alligators, even the nearest flock of herons that waded over the water, standing as tall as a small child. But that wasn’t it, it wasn’t innocence that followed you, and there was enough life and nature around you to tell you that, whatever it was, it wasn’t living.

Your mind stopped wandering at rustling that came from a bush behind you and you turned on your heel, the soil beneath you shifting with a sigh, and the rustling stopped. You halted, squinting your eyes at all around you, from the floor to the tops of the trees - nothing. 

A pair of wings fluttered out before you could blink, hurtling toward you in one swift motion and you backed up into a tree beside you, gasping. You winced at the roughness, rubbing at the start of what would soon be a bruise. Taking a deep breath, you straightened yourself and kept on moving, cursing yourself for even being startled in the first place. It was nothing but a little house finch - your grandfathers old illustration books could have told you that, and you took your life studying this place, your home, this wasn’t anything to be worried about. 

However your gut told a different story. You slowed, taking note of a blossom tree, the shadows of purple flowers,  you traced the lines of the stems, putting your focus on that instead of-

“Shit-“ A voice rang out from the darkness ahead of you, out of sight, and you brushed the leaves out of your hand, swatting the branch away, crouching a little beside them. A figure stumbled out from the bushes, a man, dusting off his shoulders and catching his fall he stood up straight on the side of the path. He looked around for a moment mumbling something to himself, wiping something from around his mouth - you couldn’t quite make it out but whatever is was was dark, thick.

The breeze picked up and rustled the whole wood, and your eyes trailed him, not moving for a second. He was somewhat tall, with a dark head of hair - well kept and presentably dressed for this time of night. A pair of lined trousers and a white shirt, suspenders keeping his back straight is about what you could make out. A stranger, no doubt, but the voice.. the voice you recognised. His head snapped up and your stomach turned, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on where you’d heard it before.

The heat was unbearable. 

And that was saying something for someone who grew up around here. Your arms felt like they were about to give out from the weight of the grocery bags, and you could swear the soles of your feet were nearly burned away in those flimsy old shoes. The street buzzed with life, cars and people rushing in every direction, while music spilled out from corners on nearly every block, making your head spin. You could feel your body start to sag a bit under the strain, so you set one of the bags down on the ground. With all this running around and the pressure to get home quickly, you leaned against the wall to steady yourself.

The only thing that pulled you from your daze was an arm wrapping around you, gripping your waist like a cool washcloth— supporting you. You looked up to meet the gaze of one of the local shop owners. You scrunched your face, trying to see him more clearly, only to focus on his warm and friendly smile. 

“Hey, I had to catch you  before you fell there, darlin'. Is everything okay?”  He let out a nervous chuckle as he propped you up against the wall, gently taking the bag from your other hand and setting it down next to the first. Your ears were ringing, and dizziness washed over you,. You hadn’t realised how hard you’d been pushing yourself until it became almost impossible to move. His hand cupped your cheek, and he looked deeply into your eyes, as if he’d have been searching for signs of life. 

He nodded  to himself and looked up and down the street before standing upright.” How ’bout we go a little ways away down this street? I’ve got a store down there; I own it.”  Pointing in the direction you were already headed, he clicked his fingers at a worker loading up a truck and waved them over to pick up your bags. Gently grabbing your hands, he placed them around his neck. 

Bo paused for a moment, a smile spreading across his face as he watched you ready yourself. You twirled onto your side, and he slipped his arm back around your waist, guiding you a few steps and into the shop. He encouraged you the way there, playfully teasing you about being out in the heat and pushing yourself too hard. As you made your way into the store, he leaned you against the counter for support. Before you could voice any objections, his hands found the backs of your thighs, lifting you onto the counter with effortless ease and drawing his hands away.

 You settled back with a huff, grateful for the brief respite. And as you took in the store, he had disappeared, returning just as fast with a glass of water in hand.

“Something to take the edge off, huh?” He offered, his voice a soothing balm, as he extended his hand toward you. You weakly accepted it, your fingers enveloping the glass. “Thank you,” you croaked out, your voice hoarse like gravel. He looked astounded, his eyes widening as he shuffled away from where he stood, placing his hands at his sides.  

“Agh, she speaks; how are you feeling, Sweetpea?” The playful smirk on his face lingered as he watched your lips gently graze the rim of the glass. Your eyes fluttered closed in a moment of solace, and you raised your thumb in a silent saying of “okay,” feeling the chill of the cold water hit your mouth.

He slanted  his side against the counter, his hips swaying slightly as he observed you, watching how your brows knitted together in concentration as you drank, and you could feel his eyes on you.

At that moment, a sense of longing washed over him, his eye lingering on you in a way he hadn’t meant to. He found himself thinking all those things he shouldn’t—how your lips curved into that bright smile, the static shock as your fingers brushed against his, and how your skirt senselessly bunched around your knees. His breath caught in his throat, placing his empty hand on the counter beside you, enclosing you at a distance.

You lazily pulled your hand back and shifted in your seat, meeting his longing look. You noticed the sweat beading on his hairline, trickling down his cheek just etching at his lip and how his mouth parted as he licked his lips, almost panting from the outside , before setting the glass down. Tilting your head slightly, you tried to read the familiar face, hoping by some miracle you'd remember an answer, a name, anything - but you'd only seen him a couple of times, watching lowly from the street. And before you could ask,

 “It’s Bo, Bo Chow.” He paused for a moment, breathless. “But most folks around here just stick with Bo.” The smile he offered was like a daydream, a shared one, as he nodded his head, clasping his hands together.

It was him. 

You drew a breath sharply. The brush from the leaves threatening to whip you in the face with the wind as you remained at eye-level with it but your crouched feet failed you. What felt like a distant memory was only just a few weeks ago, and it flooded back fast, the soles of your feet still burned and they gave way, but the ground beneath you shifted, you pulled at the earth and when the roots from broke, you fell backward, leaving a snap at your wake. You gasped as the hard mud hit your back, bunching your hand to make a fist to push at it.

Footsteps approached hurriedly and a presence peered from over you, familiar hands reached out for you, leaving no distance in sight, the moonlight lit up part of his face giving all your questions the truth you needed.

“Bo..” You wheezed out loud, grabbing at his arm as he towed you forward, letting you sit up. You felt this before, his touch, but now there was a grip that felt unnatural, it burned with his touch, your limb could have practically gone limp, and yet he barely moved a muscle.

“Woah there, careful baby.” You stood up and he stepped back a bit giving you some space, laughing as you both realised one another, you sighed of relief of seeing his face, something so unlikely here, in the dead of night.

Now it threw you off no doubt, but it was Bo, the shopkeeper down the street who took his own time to help you, the one you looked out for every day, a couple run ins without an acquaintance could tell you he was a gentleman, and many knew that, even you.The store had been shut down for while and he practically had wiped off the face of the Earth. After the incident you heard about in the papers about the Juke Joint everyone kept their heads down, keeping to themselves, apart from those whispers. Like the ones you’d heard since you were young, but now they were prime, the riddle on everyones tongue like a sermon, like some part the new gospel.

However, after that one day, you couldn’t help but think of him, the way he stopped to help you, to pull you close, the way he eyed the structure of your body like it was the holy grail itself. Leaving you to question, what would have happened if you’d have stayed?  Maybe you hit your head that day, or perhaps it was the heat messing with you, but that didn’t change the heat you felt inside of you every time you thought about it, an aching, an uncontrolled urge with the way he rested against you, his hand near creeping up toward your thigh. And the way he looked at you now, breaking the silence, didn’t help your distress, 

“I dropped my lantern around here some place, give me a second sweetheart.”

He snickered, kicking the dirt around his feet to find the lamp,  and you stop there rocking on your heel unit he found it, picking it up and bringing it to the both of you. His eyes lulled at you, checking in as he pulled a matchbox from his pocket, reaching inside for one of them. He slid the box open and flicked one of the matches into his mouth, pausing to close the compartment. You could still make out the shading of his face, watching the way he moved, and the match in his mouth as he swiped it with his tongue, wrapping it tightly around so it wouldn’t fall. His gaze remained on you in the stillness, and as the tip guided along the top of his tongue, his eyes flashed starved with want. 

It created a glow, lighting the woods and your faces up orange, he crouched to pick up the lantern beside his feet, sealing the glow inside its glass case. 

“You could’a frightened me there.” You laughed off, trying to give some kind of lightness to what had just happened, spurring on conversation.

He held it close in his hands, enough to keep track of you and take a look around for any others, if there even was. “I didn’t mean to scare you darlin, probably shouldn’t have been wandering out here this late as it is myself, but thought I’d take a walk, it’s been one hell of a day.” You quirked an eyebrow now being able to focus on his face, eyes drawing to the corner of his dimples. His smile didn’t falter once, staying at the flat of his mouth, only gracing his face lightly, and beyond his surprise he seemed please. Pleased to see you. 

“Yeah I could have guessed.” You wiped your fingers at the corner of your mouth, gesturing to his own. He looked pretty beat up, just without the bruises, or without injury of any kind, but the thick strands of blood that pooled from his mouth proved otherwise.

His face contorted into some sort of shock at your look and he pinched at the drying substance, wiping it into his pants without as much as a look. The look he gave went blank for a moment, like he wanted to say something but refrained, like he was fighting something on the inside. 

“So why’re you out here this late?” He took a little step forward, stepping downward from the small, raised embankment he was on before, now at almost level with you, he hung the lantern in-between you both. You didn’t move, rather stilled in your step as he wandered over to you, his eyes squinting a little. “I usually come out here, on my own, it’s rare you see anyone down here past sundown.” You wondered why, why out here, and now. Everything seemed to go silent, enough to hear a pin drop, only that light breeze shaking up your skirts, and tousled his hair just enough to shag in his face, it was calm, gentle even, just like before - but Bo, he seemed out of place, shifting back and forth where he stood, yet confident still. More eager than before.

Like he was trying to make some sort of move. 

You continued to ramble and he smirked, “I haven’t seen you or the shop open around here in a while, are you sure you’re alright? There’s been a lot happening in town while you’ve been gone.”

“You noticed I been gone?” He shot back suddenly, the only thing registering, his lip curling a bit.

“Well, you guys own a much needed store in this town, it would be missed if it were to go untouched.” He took another step forward, watching you stumble over your words seemed rewarding. All this time he’d been around, seen you, wanting to do something, it’s not like he was scared to do it, and to tell the truth he didn’t really understand his infatuation at first. He’d seen you walk the streets, crossing by his shop window whenever you’d head into town, the times you’d visit and leave just as fast, cheeks blushing pink when you’d see him. And that’s what stayed with him. Things weren’t all that it seemed behind those four walls, his life felt withdrawn of colour, everything was weight.  But you, oh you were light, some beautiful sign, something he chased for, something he was determined to make his. And with his life now, he knew what that meant.

“You know what I mean. “ You feigned confidence in your words, now in reality that a truth, but in honesty, you knew it was more than that; much more.

He took another step forward, this time as you took one back, your heel clicked with the root of a tree, giving a thud as you braced both of your arms behind you, pushing you up as much as you could, feeling the rough bark at your finger tips. “You miss me?” His nature shifted, and his head tilted with it, swaying the lantern as he walked, a few steps distance between you both. The light flickered, so much so the shape of his face seemed to contort. 

And his eyes, they glossed over an iridescent white, glinting specks of red and orange, something that you hadn’t seen before. Something that wasn’t human. 

But you blinked and they were gone.

They were normal, a darker brown suited them, staring at you knowingly. “You could say that.” Your breath shook, but not out of fear, no, but instead the way he drew near, closer and closer. He flashed you a smile as you tried to think of the right words, but now his teeth.

Another blink.

And the once rounded molars were sharp and jagged, more like an animal, something made for tearing into flesh. And you felt your stomach drop and an ache that pooled downward, one you couldn’t control.

He staggered, dropping his head forward to look at the ground before looking up to you again. He rested his arm on the piece of tree behind your head, getting quieter, though his voice rang in your ears, ”Saw the way you looked at me back at the store, and I should have said somethin’.” 

“Bo, that was just-“ He took the final step between you, leaving the lantern at your feet, his finger came up to your mouth shushing you, knowing where you were going with what you said next, seemingly before you did. His eyes still had a distinct gentile in them, the same as the one you knew before, even beyond his new form. And no words had to be uttered to tell you what that was.

The truth you both knew. The limited glint from the light reflected from his eye to yours, and you could see your face in the shine. 

“You're telling me that was nothin’, that you didn’t think of about it,” A serious expression on his face, his brows furrowed, he brushed his fingers down against your side, drawing a line against the curve of your waist, “Not even once?”  His face flashed with a sense of pride, and the way his pupils dilated was proof of what knew to be true. Your hips jolted forward at the feather light touch and he brought his hand down to cup your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. 

“Bo..” Your face grew red, so red someone would think you’d be laying in that beating sun all day long.

“Y/N.. Tell me.” 

Inches away from your face he pressed against you, slanting closer, his voice a staggered whisper, and his lips damp.

 “Ever since you saw me last..”  You looked down at them, seeing drool at the edges of them and you chuckled a little. He sucked in a keen breath as you scraped yourself against the tree, gaining balance, bringing your finger up to wipe at it.

“Hey, you’re droolin’”

“You want some?” Your head shot up at his quip, bangs of his hair falling into your face, your noses touching. You smiled through your flushed expression, the wetness gathered on your finger and he leaned to kiss as it lightly, drawing his tongue at the remnants. Bo moved his face closer so that your hand laid on his cheek, nuzzling his nose up against your own, he pressed himself against you rocking his hips.

Without an answer, you tugged his face towards yours, closing the gap between you, gasping into his mouth at the friction he was causing. His tongue pushed into your mouth with passion, lips locking with yours as he slotted his knee between you, cupping your sex against his pants, leaving no resistance with the sensation, and you pushed down with a whine.

“God baby..” He licked at your mouth, biting at your top lip fiercely, and he dragged down kissing at your jaw, leaving soft chaste, open mouthed marks toward your neck. His lips felt familiar, so much so they tugged at you, on your heart, so much it almost hurt.

“Please..” You whimpered as Bo’s teeth bared at your neck, along your jugular long enough to feel your heart rumble beneath the canines, feel it even. He sucked in a breath, planting a hard, marking kiss before continuing down. His hands manoeuvred down your shirt, pushing through the soft fabric, bracing his fingers over your breasts and pulling away at the buttons, undoing them one by one by one. And he placed himself on the ground kneeling in front of you. 

The tangerine tones scattered across your body like a reckoning, and he grasped with the sight of it, not knowing whether to sit and study or ruin you completely. His head rested against your lower stomach, almost begging you, his hands teasing up the backs of your legs, gripping you where you stood. Your mouth hung open, shivering at his motions. You watched, entranced, as he effortlessly lifted the hem of your skirts, pushing the fabric higher until it rested above your hips. With deliberate slowness, he tugged at the corners of your panties, peeling them down around your ankles. The cool air exposed your cunt, sending another wave of shivers through you as he began tracing the length of your thigh up and down with his tongue.

Your hips jolted forward, and he wasted no time in aimlessly yanking at your hips, his hands scooping up at the flesh of your ass holding you up just enough to reach your centre. Bo grunted as his mouth reached you, pulling you back and forth onto his tongue as he sucked on your clit, the tips of his fingers digging in as you brought your hand to his hair.

The black strands now turning into a disheveled mess in your grasp, there being no reservations at all about his drool slicking down the sides of his mouth as he was moaning into your cunt, fucking  his tongue into you, fingers continuing to dig into your hips. He gets lost in the way your breath hitches, the way you say his name - over and over again without abandon, and oh how he’s been waiting, wanting to hear that.

“That’s it pretty girl, I’ve got you.” He groans as your taste coats his tongue, thick with your sweet slick, the height of his newfound senses alerting with each and every movement, and he swears that its the best thing he’s tasted, beyond the blood. He plunged deeper and you could do nothing but follow with a string of moans. You fell apart against him, arching your back into his face as you guided him impossibly close, your head falling back against the wood behind you. All of this time, imagining, yearning and here you were now without a care in the world hissing at every touch he gave, every ounce of pleasure he was willing to give. 

His motions didn’t relent, mouth warming against you as his he flicked his tongue in figures of eight, only pausing to suck harshly, and it was too much.

Over and.

Over.

You came undone, a white hot strike vibrating through you and your legs trembled, clenching around him with a cry, “Baby..”.

That was enough for him and he nudged upward, cupping your one leg up to his hip and you circled it around his middle shamelessly. 

The thick humidity enveloped you as you panted, heart racing, when he finally came face to face with you once more. A wicked grin spread across his lips, his fangs catching the dim light. You shuddered, but it wasn’t fear that coursed through you; it was the anticipation of what was about to happen. 

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, delicate kiss, and you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut. You were standing before a darkness, a malevolence you had been warned about for years—an evil you were all too familiar with, yet never imagined you could draw so close to but your whole being knew.

“I don’t know if I can stop myself.” He breathed out, all restraint he took against himself, resting his head falling against your shoulder, still kissing at the curve of your neck. But you already felt it, with your body pressed against his, you hissed at the motion of his dick pressing through his pants. You reached down to the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling as you pulled it up, revealing the taut muscles of his abdomen. The heat radiated from his skin, mingling with the dew around you, the atmosphere made your heart race.

 You could feel the tension building, the unspoken desires hanging in the air, thick and intoxicating you into a compulsion.

“I shouldn’t do this,” you whispered, though the conviction behind your words was faltering. Part of you wanted to push him away, to run from the danger he represented, yet another part—a part you couldn’t ignore—yearned to lean into the darkness he offered.

His lips ghosted over your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. “But you want to,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, those dark eyes glinting with mischief and hunger. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you darlin’? The pull between us?”

You inhaled sharply, the air thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and his intoxicating presence. 

“Yes,” you admitted, a soft breath escaping your lips. “But it’s reckless. You could hurt me.”

His grin widened, a blend of danger and allure. “And I could do much more than that.” With a swift, fluid motion, he captured your wrist and pulled you closer, bodies flush against each other, the space between you ablaze with possibility. "But what if I promised to keep you safe?"

You hesitated, heart racing as your mind raced with the implications. Could you trust him? Your instincts screamed caution, yet your body betrayed you, yearning for his touch, for the thrill of the unknown.

As he leaned in again, brushing his lips just above yours, the world around you faded into insignificance. In this moment, it was just the two of you, teetering on the edge of danger and desire “Then show me,” you dared. “Show me what you can do.”

He hesitated for just a moment, as if weighing the gravity of your words, before his eyes darkened with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck, sending a rush of excitement coursing through you.

The moment his fangs pierced your skin, a sharp gasp escaped your lips and he bucked his hips forward. It was a mixture of pain and a wave of pleasure that stole your breath away. You felt a jolt of energy surge through you as he fed, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, igniting a fire deep in your core - your leg tightened around him.

He caressed your thigh, keeping you pinned between him and the tree and the other grabbing at what he could of your waist as he drank from you, his mouth moving with a sensuous rhythm that sent a heat radiating through your body. Mindlessly your fingers wrapped around his buckle, undoing the chipped metal with a clink that hardly met either one of your ears but he felt it. Your head slacked against the top of his, grabbing at his hips he groaned, and your wetness covered a patch against his clothed cock. 

You could feel your heartbeat thrumming in your ears, each pulse syncing with the deep, primal need that blossomed between you, feeling the same dizziness you felt weeks before, this time only stronger. His hands, his mouth, while mostly solid, feel tingly, cold in a way that's akin to walking through fog. His breath is warm as it huffs against your neck, a delicious push and pull of sensation. 

With a low growl, he pulled back from your neck slightly, his eyes glinting crimson, a reflection of the warmth of your blood glistened on his lips, a stark reminder of the line you had crossed. “You’re somethin’ honey, let me take care of that for you,” he breathed, his voice low and husk.

The pulse in your neck rippling with every beat of your heart as he rested his forehead against your own, darting his tongue out to kiss you again, giving you the taste of your own blood, now yours, now his.

Bo leered at you and you all you could muster was a dumb smile back. He undid the rest of what you started, eyes watching you and you only as he pulled his dick from his pants. Long, and thick, and leaking, he cursed to himself at the aching and moaned, kissing your cheek. The stretch ignited an intense burn and your hands travelled down his back, tugging at the tight muscle, feeling the weight of everything he put against you. 

He leaned you all the way against him to where you were nearly laying as though on a bed yet still angled as though lounging on upright against the tree. The new angle pushed his cock to the sweetest pull, pushing against your plush walls and letting a gasp escape you in turn. Bo smoothed the sides of your body while your feet turned under you and you let your body rest on him. He ran over your breasts slowly through the opening of your lace shirt. Nipples long and pebbled, he squeezed the flesh and brought them up before releasing them again. Bo brought his head to rest beside yours as he thrusted into you once more, blood curdling at your cheek from his mouth.

The wound at your neck stung, with every delicious snap of his hips it jerked your bodies, a solidified reminder now every time he pounded into you. Each snap hitting perfectly deep as his hands cradled you and his words filled your mind with him. 

“You’re my girl.” He declared before you could even conjure up the thought. “Say it darlin’.” He continued guiding his hand at your leg, hoisting you as he brought is finger to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud, as his end neared.

“I’m yours.” You whined, bringing your finger to ghost atop his own as it circled your clit. The familiar heat in your core began to bubble like the markings of a burning fuse.  You turned your head to his and kissed him deeply at the thought, rubbing your clit furiously with the help of his hand and relishing the way his cock completed your body. 

“You’ll be mine.” Bo reaffirmed as his words caught every second his hips threatened to stutter at his release. “You’ll be mine forever ain’t that right.” 

You could have sworn you saw the waves of Heaven wash over you as the eruption of your orgasm shakes you to the core. The blinding shades of his orbs stuck on you leaving you heaving  for breath. Left thoughtless and wordless of promises that carry on with the shaking of your thighs and soft whispers of  an ‘always’ from his lips. Bo stilled as he released, head slacking and mouth hanging open he moaned, his hips stuttered into you and the threads of his cum began to leak beyond where he filled you. 

He released his hand from your own and rubbed your arms soothingly as you laid heavy against him, bracing you against the tree, his hand smoothing over your shoulders as to be careful. Sweat stuck to you as your hair frizzed out of place, the last droplets of blood dribbled out down your neck and he caught it with his finger. 

You let out a hiss at the sensation but pouted, he readjusted your skirts, letting his forehead rest against yours once more, closing his eyes as your head knocked into his own and he grinned lightly. And you regained what was left of your breath as your vision faltered, only able to see his face in the dim glow.

“Now you will be.” 

And a promise or a guarantee, who could know? But he intended to keep both.

[botanicsoul]

DARE

Bakugou Katsuki x (fem) Reader

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

The night had started harmless enough.

The girls were gathered in Mina’s room — junk food scattered everywhere, a stupid Truth or Dare game spiraling out of control. You should’ve known something was up when they all kept sneaking glances at you.

Especially Mina.

Mina leaned forward, mischievous glint in her eye. “Alright, Y/N, truth or dare?”

You hesitated. “…Dare?” you said cautiously.

Bad choice.

“I dare you to sneak into Bakugou’s room and put on his hero costume,” she said, grinning like the devil himself.

“You’re insane,” you said immediately, sitting up. “He’ll actually kill me. Like, dead-dead.”

“Come on! You know he’s soft for you,” Uraraka giggled behind her hand. “He won’t even be mad.”

“Yeah, he might even like it— we all know he wants you babe,” Mina wiggled her eyebrows. “Besides, if you do it… I’ll buy you those shoes you’ve been whining about for weeks.”

You froze.

Those perfect, gorgeous sneakers you couldn’t afford.

Damn her.

“…Fine,” you groaned. “But when he blows up the building, I’m blaming you.”

Mina and the girls erupted in quiet cheers, practically shoving you toward the boys’ dorm wing like you were being sent to your execution.

——

Moments later, you were standing inside Bakugou’s room, your heart thundering in your chest.

The room smelled like him — burnt caramel, gunpowder, and something warm underneath it all. His gear was scattered around; shirts tossed over a chair, gym bag half-zipped, boots by the door. Typical.

“Okay, just grab it and go,” you whispered.

You spotted his hero suit neatly folded on his desk chair — black, orange, and rugged as hell. You hesitated for half a second before snatching it up and shimmying into it.

“Whoever is up there please don’t let me die,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing it.

You started stripping from your clothes and wrestled into the top first — the fabric huge, sleeves dangling past your hands. You tucked it into the pants, which, unfortunately, fit suspiciously well around your hips.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You looked ridiculous.

“Oh my god, I look like a fan at a con,” you groaned, cheeks burning.

And then you spotted the gauntlets.

Those massive grenade-shaped wrist-cannons Bakugou wore like they weighed nothing.

You hesitated.

“How heavy can they be?” you muttered, reaching for one.

Answer: Fucking. HEAVY.

As soon as you tried to lift it, your wrist sank like a stone. You barely managed to drag it up to your elbow. You grunted, using both hands, nearly toppling over.

“Holy shit, what is this, like seventy pounds?!” you gasped, wobbling around like a baby deer.

You tried lifting both gauntlets — a mistake.

The second one yanked you down so hard you dropped onto your knees with a loud thud.

“KILL ME NOW,” you whispered dramatically, struggling to even stay upright.

You were panting, red-faced, arms trembling like a noodle trying to balance the absurd weight.

And that’s when you heard heavy footsteps outside the door.

You were mid-struggle — sweating, cursing under your breath — when you heard the faintest creak in the hallway.

Your blood ran cold.

Outside, Bakugou was stomping toward his room — still pissed off from a shitty sparring session. All he wanted was a shower and his bed.

But when he reached his door and noticed it slightly ajar, his instincts screamed at him.

Someone was inside.

Without hesitation, he kicked the door open, the wood slamming into the wall with a loud crack.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK” he started. Because there you were. Standing in his room. Wearing his goddamn hero suit.

Struggling to lift one of his heavy-ass grenade gauntlets while looking like you were about to cry.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

You blinked at him, caught like a deer in headlights. The sleeves hung off your arms, the fabric clinging to the curve of your waist and hips, the belt loose around you — and those gauntlets, way too big for you, dragging along the floor.

Bakugou’s red eyes darkened — not with anger, but something hotter. Something hungry.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled, low and rough.

Your face flushed deep red. “I-it’s not what it looks like…well I mean kinda but—”

“Looks like you’re trying real hard to make me lose my goddamn mind,” he cut you off, stepping inside, the door swinging shut behind him with a heavy click.

You stumbled back instinctively, bumping against the desk, heart hammering.

Bakugou stalked closer, the heat from his body practically rolling off him.

“You break into my room,” he muttered, voice dropping dangerously low, “Wearin’ my gear,” — he leaned in, caging you between his arms, his palms slamming flat against the desk on either side of you — “dress up like some fuckin’ fantasy — and think you’re just gonna walk away?”

You whined as one gauntlet slipped off your wrist, almost tipping you over. “I-it was a dare! Mina—”

Bakugou huffed a humorless laugh.

Without effort, he reached down and easily grabbed both massive gauntlets from you like they were pillows. You stared in shock as he tossed them aside with a heavy clang.

His turned back down at you with a smirk, almost cocky, predatory. “You look like shit,” he said bluntly. “But… you also look kinda fuckin’ hot wearin’ my colors.”

Your breath hitched.

He was so close now — you could see the golden flecks in his furious crimson eyes, the way his jaw clenched tightly, the tension practically crackling off him.

“It was a dare I swear…” you whispered weakly.

“Don’t care,” Bakugou muttered.

You swallowed hard, chest heaving.

His gaze dropped down your body, dragging slowly over every inch of you — the oversized top slipping off your shoulder, the snugness of the pants on your hips.

When his eyes flicked back up to yours, they were molten.

“Bet you’d look even better outta ’em,” he murmured, his voice like honey.

You whimpered — actually whimpered — and immediately cursed yourself for it.

Bakugou grinned — slow, wolfish — like he’d just found his favorite new toy.

Your knees wobbled. “Suki…i’m sor—” you whispered.

He didn’t give you a chance to finish.

Without warning, he grabbed you by the belt loops, yanked you against him, and crushed his mouth onto yours.

The kiss was hungry, punishing — all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration.

You gasped, clutching his shirt, letting him devour you, dizzy from the heat pouring off his body.

When he finally pulled back, he was panting, forehead pressed against yours.

“Mine,” he growled against your lips, nipping sharply at your lower lip, making you gasp again. “You got that, princess? You wanna wear my shit, fine — but you better fuckin’ know you belong to me.”

You nodded shakily, dazed, drunk off the taste of him. Bakugou pulled back slightly — just enough to glare at you, his hands still gripping your waist, thumbs sliding dangerously low toward the hem of the pants.

“Next time you wanna play dress-up,” he rasped, smirking wickedly, “ask me first and I’ll even help you out of em’.”

The look in his eyes promised a lot more than just help and you — flushed, panting, brain short-circuiting — could only whisper, “Okay…”

Bakugou chuckled darkly, pressing one more bruising kiss to your mouth before leaning back.

“Good,” he said, tugging the belt around your waist tight with a hard snap, making you squeak. “Now get ready, princess. You started this shit — you’re not walking outta here anytime soon.”

——

The next afternoon, you sat cross-legged on Mina’s bed, surrounded by the girls, trying very hard to act normal.

Your new sneakers — the ones Mina had bribed you with — sat unopened in the box on your lap.

“Come on, open it already!” Mina whined, bouncing beside you.

You shifted awkwardly, biting back a grimace. Your thighs ached. Your hips ached. Hell, even your neck was a little sore.

Turns out, Bakugou was very, very thorough about claiming what was “his” last night.

You coughed, sitting up straighter, ignoring the smug way Mina was side-eyeing you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered defensively, opening the box.

Inside were the sneakers you’d been dreaming about — sleek, perfect, untouched.

You gasped. “Holy shit… they’re even prettier in person!”

Mina clapped excitedly. “See? Totally worth it!”

You snorted. “Yeah, tell that to my back.”

Mina laughed. “You’re welcome. Besides, don’t pretend you didn’t have a good night.”

You flushed from head to toe. “Mina!” you hissed, smacking her with a pillow.

The other girls burst out laughing.

Before you could defend yourself, your phone buzzed in your lap.

——

Explosion boy <3 :

5:35pm - Come to my dorm later.

5:36pm - Or do you need help gettin’ here, princess?

5:36pm - Bet you’re fuckin’ sore.

5:37pm - Want me to come kiss it better?

——

You squeaked audibly and immediately dropped your phone like it burned you.

“Who’s that?” Mina teased, leaning over.

“N-Nobody!” you yelped, clutching the sneakers like they were a lifeline.

But your red face said it all.

Across the room, Mina smirked like she’d just won the lottery.

“Told you,” she whispered to Uraraka. “Soft spot. Huge.”

And maybe…

just maybe…

you weren’t totally mad about it.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

[yuujispinkhair]

Hockey player! Sukuna headcanons

Inspired by this lovely ask by @subarusuguru. You made my head spin with the idea of hockey player Sukuna!! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me! I had to write a little something 💗

Pairing: Hockey player!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 700 Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of injuries, but nothing bad. All characters are of age. Divider by @/benkeibear

Hockey player!Sukuna, who is a devil on the ice. The rival teams always know they will have several injured players after each match against Sukuna. He has a very aggressive playstyle, and his speed and strength, combined with his quick mind, make him unstoppable.

Hockey player!Sukuna, whose maroon eyes always find you when he enters the ice. He winks at you and makes a kissy face, laughing when you blow him a kiss back. The whole hockey arena can know that you are his, and he is yours. And anyone who dares make a rude comment about him being so soft for his girl will receive a brutal body check that sends them facefirst onto the ice or into the boards.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who has a mad glint in his eyes during the whole match. He is ambitious and confident, and he always plays to win. He loves being an asshole and taunt his opponents, laughing when he can get under their skin with his snide comments. But no matter how much Sukuna riles them up, they still aren't able to stop him because he always puts his whole anger and strength into his game.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who is a completely different man when he goes on the ice with his princess. Treating you with so much care and being such a gentleman. He holds your hand to make sure you don't fall when he teaches you how to ice skate. And once he can see you are ready for the next step, he lets go of you and tells you to skate toward him to get a kiss.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who has so much fun when showing you how to play hockey. Your time on the ice is filled with playful fights and good-natured teasing comments that are so flirty that you get butterflies the whole time. His laugh sounds different too, happy and free, and he only uses his strength to pick you up and pin you against the boards so he can kiss you until you are breathless.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who grins that charming grin when he lets you score and praises you for being such a natural talent, even though you know you suck. Of course, Sukuna also has to show off a little in front of his girl, and he steals the puck from you easily, making you gasp at his speed and watch with wide eyes and a smitten expression on your face as your boyfriend skates across the ice and shoots the puck into the goal with so much force it almost rips the net.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who feels a proud buzz running through his veins anytime he sees you in his jersey. Somehow it drives him crazy to see you walking around with his last name on your back. It spurs him on to play even better and show you that he is worthy to be your man. Maybe he should buy a ring and give you his last name on your ID too, and not just on a jersey.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who loves to fuck you in the locker room after every match when his teammates have left. A victory fuck to celebrate when he is still pumped full of adrenaline and euphoria, pulling you onto his lap and bouncing you on his thick cock while groaning in your ear and telling you that it is all thanks to your love and support that makes him play so damn good. Or an angry fuck after a loss to make him feel ok again, lifting you up and slamming you against the shower wall, snapping his hips fast, fucking you hard and deep, growling your name when he cums in you and finds sweet relief in your warm cunt.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who can't stop smiling when you dote on him when he is injured after a rough match. He has a high pain tolerance and doesn't really worry all that much about the injuries, but he loves it when you take care of him and look at him with so much worry in your eyes. It makes him feel so warm, and so he happily plays along and lets you change his bandages, pet his hair, and cuddle him.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who loves to win, but who thinks his biggest victory was winning your heart.

I am so in love with him!! Thank you so much for sending me that prompt!! I hope you liked my little headcanons ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Bed Hopper

Bsf!James Potter x Bsf!Reader

Summary: After creating a tradition of cuddling James before bed, you'd think you'd have the path down by now.

Wc: 1k

Cw: Nothing really, reader is asleep for most of this. Just fluff.

It was late, the boys' dorm. Peter’s soft snores filled the room and remained the only audible sound. James was half-asleep in his bed, waiting for you. He wouldn’t admit that was why he hadn’t fallen asleep yet- he’d convinced himself he was just restless- but the second he heard the soft creak of the dormitory door, his heart leapt like a Quidditch snitch.

You shuffled in, rubbing your eyes and muttering something incoherent about Marlene snoring too loud in your own dorm. Your steps were quiet, soft enough to wake none of the other boys. None except James, whose heart was thudding in anticipation.

But then, to his growing horror, he watched as you padded straight past his bed and crawled into Sirius’s.

His jaw dropped.

Sirius, who had been sprawled out half-asleep, cracked one eye open, taking a moment to register your form now curled up against his side. Then, with the unmistakable glint of mischief in his grey eyes, he smirked.

“Well, well, well,” Sirius whispered, just loud enough for James to hear. “Looks like I’ve been promoted to favorite pillow.”

James shot up, his duvet falling to his lap as he gawked at the scene. “What the-! Oi, what’re you doing?”

“Me?” Sirius replied innocently, though his smirk widened as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “I’m not doing anything, mate. She climbed in all on her own. Guess I’m just irresistibly comfortable.”

“Sirius,” James growled, shoving his glasses on his face and throwing back his blankets. He was out of bed in an instant, standing over Sirius with a look that would’ve been intimidating if not for the undeniable flush creeping up his neck. “You know that’s not- she’s just-”

“What? Sleeping? She looks bloody adorable, doesn’t she?” Sirius teased, lightly brushing a strand of hair from your face. Cooing sweetly when your nose briefly scrunched up at the contact. “Reckon I could get used to this.”

“Don’t you dare,” James hissed, his fists clenching at his sides.

Meanwhile, you, blissfully unaware of the brewing chaos, let out a soft sigh, burrowing further into Sirius’s chest. James’s glare darkened, and Sirius, the devil that he was, had to bite back a laugh.

“What’s the matter, Prongs?” Sirius drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Jealous?”

“No,” James lied immediately, his voice cracking just enough to betray him.

Sirius arched a brow, clearly enjoying himself. “Right, so you won’t mind if she stays here, then? I mean, I wouldn’t want to wake her up. Poor thing looks exhausted.”

James’s hazel eyes darted to you, still sound asleep, your fingers curled loosely against Sirius’s jumper. His stomach twisted at the sight, a wave of something hot and uncomfortable washing over him.

“Sirius,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Move.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said with a dramatic sigh, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “But don’t blame me when she wakes up and wonders why you’re the one who smells like me.”

James ignored him, carefully sliding his arms under you and lifting you effortlessly from Sirius’s bed. You stirred slightly, blinking up at him with sleepy confusion.

“James?” you mumbled, your voice thick with drowsiness.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he murmured, his voice soft as he carried you back to his own bed. “Go back to sleep, love.”

You hummed in response, your head lolling against his chest as you drifted off again. James settled you onto his bed, tucking the blankets around you before climbing in beside you, his heart still pounding in his ears- it was almost deafening.

“You alright there, Prongs?” Sirius called from his bed, his voice laced with amusement.

“Shut it, Pads,” James muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. His attention was already back on you, your face peaceful in sleep as you curled against him like you always did.

And just like that, the jealousy melted away, replaced with the familiar warmth that came with having you close. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his chest aching with something too big to name.

Sirius gave one last parting shot before settling down himself. “Merlin Prongs, you've got it bad.”

James barely heard Sirius’s last quip, his ears buzzing with the sound of your soft, even breaths. His glasses had slipped down his nose as he lay back, the dim light of the room casting a golden glow across your face. Every little detail of you- your slightly parted lips, the way your hair tickled his arm, the weight of you pressed against his side- flooded his senses, overwhelming him with a wave of tenderness so fierce it almost hurt.

He exhaled slowly, trying to steady the pounding in his chest. Merlin, Sirius was right. He did have it bad. But it wasn’t something new; James had felt it for what felt like forever, buried beneath layers of friendship and denial.

But now, as you nuzzled closer in your sleep, mumbling something incoherent against his chest, the feeling clawed its way to the surface. It wasn’t just affection; it was something bigger, something didn't want to name but had always known was there.

James swallowed hard, his arm tightening around you instinctively as if holding you any closer might somehow ease the ache in his chest. It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse. How could something so simple- so innocent- feel so utterly consuming?

He tried to remind himself that you were his friend, his best friend, and nothing more. That’s all it had ever been. That’s all it could be. But the thought felt hollow now, especially with you curled up against him like you belonged there.

“Prongs, you still with us over there?” Sirius’s voice broke through the haze, quieter this time but still teasing.

James didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Instead, he pressed his lips to the top of your head in a gesture so soft it felt almost ghosting. His heart gave a painful lurch as he pulled back, his hazel eyes lingering on your face.

“Yeah,” he finally murmured, more to himself than to Sirius. “I’m here.”

But as he lay there, watching over you with a look that could only be described as lovesick, he knew deep down that wasn’t entirely true. Because some part of him- some overwhelming, unrelenting part- was completely, hopelessly, irrevocably yours. And that part of him? That part wasn’t coming back.

[flowersforbucky]

devil's in the backseat

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

summary/prompt: a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected.

or getting fucked in front of a mirror

author's note: this is my first halloween fic!! this was so much fun to write. if you've read haunting adeline, then you know exactly what inspired the mirror maze scene! also disclaimer i have never been to coney island so if any of this is inaccurate then just pretend ok it's fiction :))

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only content, sex in a public setting, mirror sex, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, friends to lovers, romanogers makes an appearance! kind of grumpy!reader, protective bucky, random men being creepy, language, reader is afab, she/her pronouns, reader pov, no use of y/n, porn with a little plot, fluff

my masterlist

“I can't fucking believe I let you talk me into wearing this.”

You tug the tight, cherry red colored velvet fabric of the babydoll dress in place for the dozenth time since arriving at Coney Island.

“What? You look hot. Plus, our costumes go great together.”

Natasha's costume mirrors your own - except hers is a pearlescent white and instead of a pitchfork and horns, she dons angel wings and a halo.

“I don't feel hot. I feel cold. It's fifty degrees and the sun hasn't even set yet.” If it wasn't for the black thigh high boots that cover the majority of your legs, you'd be shivering in the chilly late October weather.

“It's not my fault that you put off getting a costume until the last minute and had to pick through what little was left at Spirit Halloween,” she mumbles, passing you one of the cups of apple cider that the cashier hands to her. You gladly accept, sucking down the hot liquid in hopes that it will warm you from the inside.

Her phone dings as the two of you walk towards the rides. “It's Steve,” she informs you as she reads the text message. “They just got here,” she looks back up at you with a smirk on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Bucky decided to come with them.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly hating your borderline provocative costume even more.

“I thought he was leaving for a job in Denver this evening?”

It's not that you didn't want to see Bucky. It's that you didn't want to see Bucky dressed like this. As if you don't already get flustered around him when you're dressed in normal, everyday clothing. The hem of your dress barely conceals the curve of your ass and your tits are practically spilling over the low neckline.

“Guess it's been postponed,” she shrugs, nudging you with her shoulder.

The two of you turn to look in the opposite direction when a familiar voice calls your names. You see Steve, Sam, and Bucky walking towards you. Steve is dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and all. Sam wears a cowboy costume with an oversized hat, concealing the upper half of his face entirely.

And Bucky? Bucky wears jeans and a navy blue Henley.

Yeah, you're regretting any of your life choices that lead up to this moment.

“Well, well, well,” Sam drawls as he tips his hat back enough to take in yours and Natasha’s outfits. “Look what we have here. An angel and a devil. Have you two already entered the costume contest for best duo or should I go add your names?”

“You wouldn't dare,” you scold him. Natasha just laughs, falling into Steve’s embrace as he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“We should, you know,” Natasha agrees. “I think we'd have a pretty good shot at winning.”

“Yeah, right,” you retort, looking around at some of the more elaborate, creative costumes that many of the strangers around you are sporting. You notice a man and woman dressed as Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz and know that you and Nat wouldn't stand a chance in a costume contest. “And what about you?” You acknowledge Bucky, your eyes skimming up and down his civilian clothes. “Didn't have time to pull together a costume?”

He smirks, his eyes trailing up your figure for a heated moment before he responds. “I'll have you know that I am in costume, actually.”

Steve and Sam both snort in laughter.

“Oh yeah? And what are you supposed to be, exactly?”

He tugs up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the shiny vibranium that is his left arm.

“I'm the Winter Soldier,” he says with a smug grin. “Obviously.”

“How creative,” you praise sarcastically.

“Cut me some slack,” he feigns insult. “I was supposed to be halfway to Colorado right now. I didn't have time to pull together anything too cute.” His eyes flicker to your dress and boots at the word cute. If anyone else notices, they say nothing.

“What are we doing just standing around here?” Natasha exclaims, tugging Steve in the direction of the rides and games. “I want to ride every ride and eat funnel cake.”

They race ahead of the rest of you, with Sam close behind, leaving you and Bucky to fall into step beside each other.

“So, why did your mission get postponed?” You ask casually, trying to fight down the nerves that threaten to bubble over every time you're alone with him.

“Beats me,” he shrugs. “Fury didn't give much of an explanation. I got the text as I was loading my bags into the car to head out.”

“That's annoying,” you mumble, swallowing the remnants of your hot apple cider. “I'm sorry,” you tell him with a glance in his direction. “I'm sure it was for a good reason.”

He shrugs. “I'm here, so I can't be too mad about it.”

Before you can overthink exactly what he means by that, you're both brought to a halt when a jolly looking man in a Ghostbusters costume steps directly in front of you, blocking your path.

“This little devil looks like she needs a giant sloth!” He exclaims, gesturing towards the prizes hanging above the balloon darts station next to you.

“Oh, no,” you start. “That’s okay–”

“Come on!” The red-faced vendor insists, looking at Bucky. “Don't you want to win your girl a giant sloth? Perhaps a giant giraffe? If she was mine, I'd be winning her any prize she wants. I'll give you five throws for ten doll–”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky relents, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. You notice a faint hint of pink blooms along the apples of his cheeks, but he doesn't correct the man when he calls you his girl. “You've worn me down,” he sighs as he shoves a crumpled ten dollar bill into the man's hand.

The man accepts the money with a satisfied, toothy grin and hands Bucky five darts.

“If you get three out of the five throws, you can choose a prize from here,” the man gestures towards a section of smaller prizes. “And if you get all five throws, you can choose–”

The man is cut off by the sharp popping sound of a balloon, and then a second, and a third, until all five darts have been impaled on the board in a consecutive line in a matter of seconds.

“She'll take the bunny,” Bucky tells him before he can erase the stunned look off of his face. He points to a large, flop-eared purple bunny hanging from the upper row of prizes.

Unlike the vendor, you aren't shocked by his perfect aim at all. Anyone who knows Bucky would have known that he wouldn't miss a single shot. You are shocked, however, that he chose the bunny without even asking which prize you want.

The man in the Ghostbusters costume grabs the bunny and hands it to you, surprise still etched on his face. He mumbles a quick goodnight before he's moving onto the next people approaching the stand.

“How did you know I'd want the bunny?” You ask Bucky, trying to juggle the stuffed animal, your empty cup of cider, and your pitchfork all in your arms.

“You like bunnies, right? It was an educated guess.” He shrugs, moving through a thick crowd of people away from the game stations. “Here, let me carry it for you,” he offers when he notices the large stuffed animal is obstructing your vision. You hand it over to him and he tucks it underneath his metal arm.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cheeks heating at the realization that he'd remembered such an inconsequential piece of information about you. You do like bunnies. The cold night air suddenly feels a lot more balmy.

“I'm - uh - I'm going to find a trash can real quick,” you say as you wiggle the empty cup in your hand. Truthfully, you just need a moment to collect yourself.

You begin walking in the opposite direction before he can reply, your eyes scanning the throng of people for a garbage can.

So what if he knows that you like bunnies? It's a pretty trivial fact that probably means nothing. You know that Natasha’s favorite animal is flamingos - because she's your friend. It's normal for friends to know things that their friends like.

Right? Right.

“I like that outfit a whole lot, baby. But I think you'd look even cuter in just the boots and those horns.”

You're so lost in your internal monologue that you don't even notice two men closing in on you as you toss the empty cup into a trash can. Unlike most of the people here tonight, neither of them are in costumes. They stand so close to you that you can smell booze on their breath.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan as you attempt to walk away, but they've effectively blocked you between their bodies and the large garbage can behind you. Wicked grins grow on their faces as you realize that you can't get by them.

“Look, I don’t have the patience for this tonight. Get out of my fucking way.”

“Or what?” One of them taunts. “You'll use that little pitchfork on us? Jokes on you, because we're into that.”

“What if I used it on you?” A familiar voice comes from behind them. “Would you still like that?”

Before they can even turn around to identify the voice, Bucky is pulling him back by the hood of his sweatshirt and throwing him on the ground with little to no effort. The other one attempts to stumble away as Bucky turns his attention to him.

He still has your bunny clutched in his flesh hand - despite the seriousness of the situation, you have to bite your lip to keep from smirking at the sight. You don't know of anyone who could be quite as intimidating while holding a stuffed purple bunny.

“What about you?” Bucky asks, towering over the guy by half a foot. “You got anything you wanna say?”

“I - no - we didn't know she was with someone,” he half slurs, half stutters out. His gaze flickers to Bucky's vibranium hand. The man on the ground manages to stand back up, following after his friend.

“Now you know,” Bucky calls after them as they quickly hobble away.

“I had that handled, you know,” you tell Bucky with a nod towards your pitchfork. “But thank you, anyway. Really.”

He places a gentle but firm grasp on the top of your arms and begins to tug you in the opposite direction, guiding you through the small crowd that had stopped to witness the altercation.

“I have no doubt about that,” he sighs, releasing his grip on you when the two of you are a reasonable distance away. “But I also don't doubt that you handling it would have drawn even more attention.”

He's right. If he hadn't stepped in, your method of handling it would have been even more dramatic.

“They would have deserved it,” you mumble. “I knew I shouldn't have worn this stupid costume.”

“They definitely would have deserved it,” he agrees. “And your costume isn't stupid. You should be able to wear any costume you like without getting harassed by drunk assholes.”

The two of you approach the ferris wheel as it comes to a slow stop, a couple getting out of one of the cars. You and Bucky flash your wristbands to the operator, who offers to hold your pitchfork for you while you’re on the ride.

“Besides,” he continues as you sit down next to each other in the car, the operator locking the gate in place. “I happen to like your costume. A lot.” He turns his head to you, his gaze trailing from the tops of your thigh high boots and up to the felt horns that adorn your head.

There's a shift in energy as the ferris wheel suddenly comes to life, sending you sliding across the limited space of the metal bench seat and right up against him.

“Oh, yeah?” You tease with your face a few inches from his. Close enough to see your reflection in his irises. “Is that why two different people have implied that I'm yours tonight and you haven't corrected either of them?”

“Your costume had nothing to do with that. I wouldn't have corrected them even if you were dressed as a giant banana,” he says, his tone and face both serious. “Does it bother you that I didn't correct them?”

“No,” you answer automatically - eagerly. You should feel embarrassed, but with the way he's looking at you, and how good it feels to be pressed so snug against him, you can't find it within yourself to care. “I didn't correct them either,” you point out.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop to let new people get on when your cart reaches the peak.

“And why is that?” he asks lowly. If you weren't sitting so close to him, you wouldn't have been able to hear him over the obnoxiously loud carnival music that pours from speakers in between the ferris wheel's carts.

He wraps his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into him.

“Because I liked the sound of it,” you answer honestly. Your voice quivers - from nerves, or from a gust of wind that sways the pod still perching at the top of the wheel.

“Is that right?” he murmurs. He places his flesh hand on the exposed skin of your thigh - just above the top of your boot and just under the hem of your dress. His fingertips rest near the crack between your thighs. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart - not much, but enough for him to smirk at your body's automatic response to his touch.

“You like the sound of being my girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I do. Is that okay with you?”

He chuckles, his fingers inching further up your thigh. You spread your legs open further, giving him the go ahead to go as high as he wants. He stops when he reaches the apex of your thighs, just an inch away from the cloth of your panties. He applies pressure with his fingertips, his short nails digging into the sensitive flesh and making you clench your legs around his hand.

“That depends,” he contemplates. “Are you my girl?”

You open your mouth to answer when the sensation of his index finger grazing the fabric that covers your cunt makes you forget how to speak. You sit there with your mouth agape as he hooks a finger into the cotton panties.

He eases a finger through your folds, lubricating it in your slick before adding a second finger and massaging the pads of them over your sensitive clit.

“Feels like you're my girl.”

You become vaguely aware of the fact that the ride is now in motion once more, heading back down to the ground, when Bucky places the stuffed bunny on your lap in an effort to conceal what is happening in the cart that you and him share.

He alternates between slow, languid circles and quick strokes against your clit as the ferris wheel makes its way down and then back up again. You can feel yourself soaking your underwear as the world dizzies around you. You hide your face in Bucky's neck to conceal the pleasure written across your face.

You're seconds away from coming against his fingers, the pressure in your belly building to a climax, when he pulls away and tugs your dress into place. Your gaze snaps up to his, shooting daggers, as the ride comes to a slow stop. He looks back at you with an amused smirk as the operator approaches the cart to unlock the gate.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he tells you in a strained voice as he snatches the bunny back from you. “After you,” he motions with his head as the operator holds the gate open for you.

Stunned and speechless at what just happened, you stumble out of the cart and down the stairs to the ride's exit with Bucky behind you - both of you completely forgetting about your pitchfork. You can't help but snort a laugh at the position of the large stuffed animal - directly over Bucky’s crotch.

“Real discreet,” you tell him, glancing down at the bunny and then back up to the semi-pained expression on his face.

“I have to admit, right now this thing is worth every penny that I spent on it,” he sighs, and then removes one hand from the bunny to place it on your lower back. “Follow me,” he instructs with a smirk.

He guides you through the crowd and you follow him without question, just trying to ignore the wet ache between your legs.

You shoot him a quizzical look when you arrive at the house of mirrors. You haven't been in a mirror maze since you'd gotten lost in one at ten years old.

There's an attendant sitting in a chair outside of the entrance who unenthusiastically greets the two of you. Bucky reaches into his pocket, digging out his wallet for the second time that evening. He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and flashes it at the elderly man smoking a Pall Mall.

“Take this and don't let anyone else in until we come out,” Bucky tells him before dragging you into the attraction. You and the gray haired man both go wide eyed.

“What was that?” you cackle as the door slams to a close behind you. Bucky doesn't answer, just grabs one of your hands in his and begins guiding you through the maze of mirrors as if he's been here a hundred times.

The entire place is lit by bright, neon red lights that only aid in further confusing your sense of direction. Bucky doesn’t seem phased in the slightest, finally coming to a stop after a few minutes of maneuvering through the endless mirrors.

“You never answered me, you know,” he says as he drops your bunny to the floor. “When I asked if you're my girl.” He smirks at you, stepping closer to you and backing you against the mirror behind you.

“You just paid that man a hundred dollars to get me alone,” you jab as you pull him to you by the front of his Henley. “I think it's safe to say that I am.”

He smiles as you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his. His hands trail down your back until they land where your thighs meet the curve of your ass cheeks. You release months worth of tension into the kiss, sweeping your tongue along the swell of his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth the second that he parts his lips for you. He groans into the kiss, kneading the globes of your ass with his fingers. You can feel a prominent bulge through his jeans against your stomach.

Adrenaline begins to kick in when he pulls away, looking down at you with lust blown pupils. He sinks to the floor below you, kneeling in front of your cunt as he raises your dress around your waist and tugs your panties down your legs and over your boots. He slips them into his back pocket before hiking one of your legs across his shoulder.

You can already feel your juices leaking down your inner thighs before his mouth makes contact with you. When he does, you lean your head back against the glass behind you in pleasure.

He sucks your clit between his kiss-swollen lips with an obscene pop before running his tongue down your folds. He plunges his tongue inside you and you grind yourself against his face, chasing the release that you were seconds away from on the ferris wheel.

He moans at the taste of you and the vibration has your walls clenching around his tongue. You ride out your orgasm on his face, the neon red lights blurring and spinning around you.

Despite the fact that your legs feel like jelly, you pull him up to you as soon as you're able to form a coherent thought. You clumsily paw at the button of his pants and his zipper, and he shoves both his jeans and boxers down over his ass, just far enough to free his cock.

He places both of his hands just under your armpits and lifts you as you instinctively lock your legs around his hips.

The head of his cock nudges your wet folds, your juices coating his length before he nudges it inside you.

You feel full before he's even halfway in you. Your walls constrict around him and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he adjusts to the sensation of you.

“Fuck, that's tight. You're perfect,” he grunts as he sheaths the rest of his length into you. You let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.

He has total control as he cradles you between his body and the cold, hard mirror behind you. He sets a harsh pace, his head ramming against your cervix at the sweetest angle from his position beneath you.

He manages to support you with the strength of only his vibranium arm as he brings his flesh hand between your bodies, once again massaging your clit in rapid circles as he fucks up into you.

You cum around his length in a shockingly short amount of time, digging your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he follows after you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum.

You stay in the same position after you've both reached your climax, panting against one another in the claustrophobic feeling space.

“We should probably go find our friends,” you say breathlessly with a kiss to the side of his face. “Sam's probably getting sick of being a third wheel.”

He pulls out of you, his cum running down your thighs and ass cheeks. He gently lowers you back down to the ground as he begins to tuck himself back into his pants.

He laughs, cupping your face in his hands as he pulls your lips to his once again.

“If he hates being a third wheel, just imagine how much he's going to hate being a fifth wheel.”

[ozzgin]

I just watched The First Omen at the cinema and you may go ahead and cuff me for blasphemy, but…

Devil x Reader

You have been chosen by the Cult as the one to carry their ungodly plan after many failed attempts. This time it was a success, yet not for the reasons they might expect. The Devil has his eyes on you.

Content: female reader, mentions of pregnancy, religious themes, blasphemy, violence, horror, a non-consent scene!, based on The First Omen (2024); image from the promotional poster

Why you, of all people? You're not particularly devoted to religion, nor do you stand out in terms of virtuousness. Or lack of, for that matter. Alas, their reasons remain unknown.

What's certain is that you woke up one day and found yourself strapped to a foreign bed, staring into a ceiling you didn't recognize. You weren't alone. Around your helpless form stood men and women, dressed in black and wearing a solemn smile. Your forehead received a gentle, encouraging stroke from the hand of the priest. The scent of chrism invaded your nostrils.

You begged them to release you. The older man spoke softly in your ear. "You are serving a greater purpose. It is all in the name of God." God? Purpose? You rolled your eyes back and gazed upon the large painting hanging behind you. Virgin Mary and her blissful smile and stretched out hands felt like a mockery.

The holy image vanished as a black cloth was nonchalantly draped over your face. You felt the rope tighten around your neck and begun gasping for the scarce air barely making it through the thick canvas. A crescendo of muffled chants, and the room went abruptly quiet. Had everyone left?

Then you heard it. That profane growl, causing the entirety of your body to shiver in repugnance and terror. You trashed, and pulled, and screamed, to no avail. A clawed hand rested on your bare stomach, then a second one traced the rest of your body. You laid limp, vision blurred as the room swayed in tandem with the sacrilegious act.

You'd been defiled by a Beast. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your bed. Your hopes of it being a mere nightmare were shattered the moment you lifted your gown and noticed the deep scratches, the monstrous prints left on your skin, and the hollow sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your body had been tampered with, and something was growing out of your misfortune. A vile blight, throbbing with life within the comfort of your flesh.

You spent the months haunted by voices and visions. The grotesque, horned Creature would frequently reappear in your mind, exhausting all other thoughts. Such a heavy, imposing presence. It wouldn't let you forget, not even for a second: you belonged to Him, and He would soon return to retrieve you. The mother of His child, the object of His adoration. Was such a thing even conceivable?

You prayed to be left alone, yet the Cult naturally longed for its promised gift, bound to come back eventually. And so, once more, you were facing the people who caused your despair. "We've come for the child", the priest explained, glancing at your obvious, bulging belly. The clawed hand framing it was still a fresh wound that never healed, almost as an ominous warning: this body was owned by a jealous God.

Your trembling hands revealed a pocketknife. This time, you were prepared. The group took a moment to observe your daring gesture, then proceeded to approach you with calculated steps, with newfound resolve. Would you be able to keep them away? Their intentions were clear: you were in possession of the Antichrist, and they needed to secure this immense power.

The ground shook, and everyone froze. You glanced at the altar painting, the same one that witnessed your corruption. Virgin Mary remained with an unfaltering smile. From behind the ornate frame, large, horrid hands creeped out. A travesty of everything Holy. The priest gasped and quickly threw his hands in prayer. This was not part of the plan. This was not meant to happen.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis-" he began, but his voice was cut short. His face turned pale, and he clutched his chest with a terrible grimace. The nun next to him let out a scream before she was pushed away by an invisible force. Her body hit the wall with a loud, wet sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. You stared at the massacre unfolding before you, devoid of any fear. Somehow, in the depths of your soul, you knew you'd be safe.

An enormous shadow emerged from behind the painting, twisting, bending, stalking towards you. Your nose scrunched at the stench of blood. You were the last one standing among corpses. To your surprise, you exhaled deeply, shoulders drooping in comfort. A silent voice murmured in your ear, telling you not to fear. That Father was finally home for you.

Foolish, ridiculous humans. He'd been willing to entertain their petty plans of grandeur, until he met you: your tender, frail body, your innocent soul. How exalting it was to have his way with you. You were meant to be the one. To carry His offspring into the damned world. But not for some trifling reason of a Cult desperate to crawl their way back into control. Their greatest mistake - which led to their demise - was to assume the Devil himself can be controlled, ordered around. He has allowed you the greatest honor of joining him, out of your free will, to sow the seeds of chaos as his beloved mortal.

Thus, he couldn't have possibly allowed anyone to interfere. What you saw that day, in that old, musty underground cavern, was an omen: a bloodbath awaits the one who dares to approach his human.

You look up into the demonic orbs: trenches of madness, obsession, vulgarity, burning holes into you, slurping your very existence with hunger and lust. You are his.

[librarygremin]

I need a Dex x reader x Matt fic because they’re so hot and so am I and it would be hot idk

[invincibledc]

Tiny request for twin reader with damian mabye they were seperated at birth aka talia gave bruce twin reader and kept damian but win reader has some kind of disability like walking with crutches and as soon as damian moves in he goes into protective brother mode and always tries to help twin reader

“I’m your protector.”

Damian Al ghul-Wayne x Disabled! Twinreader

Summary: separated from birth, Damian finds out you are disabled from walking. Knowing that you are his blood sibling, he can’t help but be protective over you

After Talia revealed to Damian he had a twin (brother/sister) that she gave away to his father all because you were disabled. He felt anger towards his mother and a little bit of betrayal.

How could she keep such a secret from him and the fact she just gave you away made him feel…protective.

He wants to know you are okay. He wants to make sure you are okay. So when he moved into his new room, he got a knock on his door. He opens it to see, you. You had crutches, smiling as your hand grip the crutches handle. “Brother! Oh my, we do look the same!” You were excited, happy. Damian immediately observed you, he sees you are pure of light. He was right to feel protective when you don’t know much of the words he is saying with his high vocabulary.

He draws and colors on your crutches, he likes to see the light in your eyes when he draws what you like on your crutches.

You both may be different, but his brotherly love is not. He’s always sitting by you, dinner, breakfast, lunch out of the manor, events, galas. He’s always there. Sure Bruce would try and tell Damian that you can protect yourself, maybe even that you can do things without his help. But you’re ten, just like him. So what did he do? Not listen to his father like he always do.

He’s happy to know you never wanted or tried to be Robin. His heart would break knowing that his precious half would try and fight. But that also meant you never learned how to protect yourself and fight mostly, making it worse for Damian to grasp.

Damian tried not to baby you much, but he couldn’t help but feel anxious at those random thoughts in the back of his head. “They’re gonna fall one day, what if no one is there to pick him up.” He would sometimes just sleep on a chair in your room incase you fall off your bed.

Damian would train Titus for whenever you fall and you can’t reach your crutches. He would have Titus use his body and guide you somewhere so you can get up.

“I’m your protector.” He would say when he sees you trying to get up and grab your crutches. But titus and him are already up and helping you. You laugh thinking he’s joking, but he’s not.

If you’re sick? Protectiveness levels are off the charts when he sees you cough and shake. Yeah he’s not going to school until you’re better. No way he’s leaving his sibling at home!

Would call pennyworth off his phone if you are homeschooled. Always checking up on you no matter what, it doesn’t matter if Alfred says you are okay. He wants to hear you say it.

If someone dared to make fun of you, he’s after them like the devil himself. If they dared to try and take your crutches, it’s gonna get wicked. Even god himself won’t be able to take Damian off the assailant.

Say you were also on the artistic route, he would absolutely treasure your art work. “It’s bad..” you said once, and Damian straight up lectured you about how art takes time and how beautiful your art work is to him no matter what.

I can see Jason saying it’s true the artwork looked terrible, and Damian just straight up chased him around angrily while you try to tell Damian it’s okay.

Titus adores you, and you adore Titus which makes Damian feel even better that Titus likes you. I mean who wouldn’t when literally you are the sunshine of the family.

Damian definitely have written letters to you when he was on “punishment” is what he called it when he had to go work with the titans. So when you visit him at the titans tower, he made sure most things were safe proof for you. Kory already knew you because of Dick. Kory tries to reason to Damian as he literally rips something apart because he deemed it as “unsafe.” But did he listen? No.

When beast boy playfully was play fighting with you, Damian was ready to cut Garfield’s head off. Only for you to wipe the floor of the green shapeshifter by using your crutch as a bat. Damian hid his sword with a smirk, maybe he doesn’t need to protect you much.

[redbird-tf]

Silent refuge

Matt Murdock x (platonic) teen reader

Summary: Matt comes home to find you plagued by your abilities, and when the world becomes overwhelming he is there to give refuge.

Word count: 308

Notes: narrated in matts pov reader has same abilities as matt

Inspired by ^

i came in through the window, tonight's patrol was quiet but I'm not going to complain about the city being safe. I take my helmet and suit off sliding into something comfier and finally take a breath, letting the peace in. I break from my trance hearing the disheveling of fabric coming from down the hall. I cock my head and made my way in front of y/ns door silently standing outside listening. I could hear panting, you tossing and turning, your heart fast.

I opened the door and slowly walked over to the side of your bed taking a seat, you didn't even notice i was there. You were too overstimulated to process anything, your hands cuffing against your ears trying to muffle the sounds of the world, you tossed, turned, and kicked trying to fight the invisible sound.

I've been there. When footsteps were as loud as gunshots or hearing everyone in 20 miles conversations at once. it was terrifying, but unlike me, you're not alone. I remove your hands from your ears and hold them firm to your chest and whisper “Breathe y/n” “Block it out, focus on my voice” “I'm right here y/n” and slowly you descend back into your body. Your heart slows, and you can catch your breath.

I let go and sat upright. You begin to weep coming down from the adrenaline. You quickly push yourself into my side, hiding under my arm, curled into a ball, and holding onto the back of my arm, and i let you.

I let you because it's what i needed then and it's what you need now. I let you because you deserve it. I let you because you are my daughter, No matter the blood. So i shield you from God's judgment and So i hide you from the heavens. Because i love you.

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