#don’t get me wrong they go hard but my MAN

[markrosewater]

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

[yuujiologyy]

thinking about collecting debt from gi-hun another way.

the mans hair was a mused sweaty mess with some stray pieces sticking to his forehead. gi-huns chest heaved, hungry for air hoping to clear his mind. it felt his senses went haywire, he was feeling all the wrong emotions!

and unmistakably there’s a tent in his pants, he’s hard.

“masochist bitch gi-hun likes it rough, huh?” you crowded cover him in the small bathroom. gi-hun attempted to scoot away but his back hit the wall with a thud.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about…” he looked away not daring to look in your eyes, he could practically see the lust spilling from them.

the air was thick around the both of you, making his head feel stuffed with cotton. that had to be why gi-hun didn’t feel scared, he felt aroused.

“then whats this guy doing awake, hmm?” you leaned into his personal space, giving his cock a hard squeeze. eliciting the most delectable mewl to slip from his lips.

“look at you… all hot n' bothered from getting a little roughed up. is this what you wanted gi-hun? to be put in your place like this?”

he whimpered and shook his head pathetically yet he couldn’t muster the words to deny your claims.

"it's alright, i know just what to do with sluts like you.”

---

"mmph-, you can't suddenly go that deep, sir, you’ll ruin me–!”

gi-huns face contorted into bliss as he came for the umpteenth time adding to the mess of bodily fluids coating both your bodies. your pace on his hole was unrelenting, obvious that you we're using him to chase your own release.

"y'know, the term 'punishment' isn't supposed to mean you enjoy it.' you sighed, rubbing a hand over your head. "what to do with a slut like you.."

"m' s-sorry, sorry sir!" gi-huns nails dug into your biceps, the only thing anchoring him from falling into a subspace even though it was probably too late to worry about that. from their perch on your shoulders, gi-huns legs shook vehemently.

you placed a hand on gi-huns stomach, almost cumming from the feeling of your cock bulging his stomach. "fuck baby, with such a slutty body like this you could make back the money you owe me in a few days."

"but do i really want to share you?" you faked contemplation before grabbing gi-huns face in your hand. his cheeks squished together, pursing his lips. "tell me gi-hun," you leaned in, barely an inch away from his lips. "do you want to be everyones slut?"

he made a broken gurgle sound in his throat in reply, eyes glazed over and unfocused. he was too fucked out to reply. how adorable.

"well good thing you have me to make the choice for you." you bit down on the junction between his neck and shoulder as a way to stake your claim on the man. "from this day onward, you're my bitch till you pay off what you owe me. it's a pleasure to be working with you, gi-hun."

-

[yujisdreamgirl]

Love and Lies

satoru gojo x reader

cw: drunk confessions, angst(?)

“how many times are you gonna do this, hm?” gojo grunts, carrying dragging a drunk you back to your place.

you mutter something inaudibly, gojo paying no mind to it as he focuses on getting you safely home.

“no.”

“no?” he turns to you confused.

“i dun wann go home..too lonely.”

gojo’s gaze softens, although his playful smirk still appears.

“pffft, you just wanna be in my sheets.”

he winces as you hit his head hard, “ow! i didn’t mean it like that, baby! i know you love my soft, $700 king sized bed.”

“you’re stupid..”

“i’m already helping your drunk ass yet you still bully me? ugh, you wound me.” gojo chuckles, putting his hand on his heart as he gasps dramatically.

after an uncomfortable length of silence and carrying you home, you spoke up.

“‘m sorry..”

gojo raises his eyebrow, “i know you are. you don’t think straight when you’re drunk, it’s okay.”

“i just.. haven’t been feeling well lately”

“…so you think drowning yourself in alcohol would make things better?” he sighs. “you’re lucky i’m here to take care of ya.”

you sigh guiltily, knowing he’s right. “yeah..”

when you get to his apartment, you immediately flop onto his bed—no hesitation, no questions asked.

gojo smiles as he gazes at you softly.

“alright, pretty girl. let’s get you comfy.”

he sits you up under the blanket, taking note of you tear stained cheeks.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he says as he wipes your tears away.

“i just- i don’t know what to do, satoru..” you sniffle.

“what do you mean you don’t know what to do?” he asks with a gentle tone, “you could start by taking more care of yourself. you don’t need to drink away your problems. not when i’m here at least.”

you wipe your tears aggressively, words caught up in your throat. “how can i do that when all my problems root from the people i can talk to?”

he pauses. his eyebrows furrow with concern, gently rubbing your arms as comfort.

“you’re.. afraid to talk about how you feel, huh?” you nod. he knows that feeling all too well. he’s given his all to protect you, that he forgot about this aspect of your well-being.

“hey, it’s okay!” he desperately tries to sound optimistic. “you don’t have to feel pressured, but you know you can always talk to me, right?”

a frown casts upon your face, “not when it’s about you.”

what?

panic stirs within gojo. what had he done for you to resort to alcohol? did he do something to greatly offend you? he knows he annoys you too much, but that’s just because you’re his best friend!

“what.. did i do something?”

when you don’t reply, your eyes half lidded and posture hunched over, gojo thinks he’s done the unspeakable. the kind of action that could make you write a whole book about it.

“..i like you.” your face lights up with sadness, a look clinging onto a thread of desperation.

a shiver ran down gojo’s soul. how could this happen? not even his six eyes could predict this.

you take gojo’s silence as an unspoken rejection, the disbelief in his eyes saying everything. “i’m sorry,”

gojo’s expression softens, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and slightly pulling his comforting hands away from your arms.

“hey, don’t apologise. there’s nothing to be sorry about, you just.. took me by surprise, that’s all.”

you look up at him, eyes glistening with tears.

“you.. what do you feel?”

he sighs, a mixture of longing and contemplation cast upon his face.

“i don’t know. i care about you, a lot more than i care to admit.” he chuckles, “you’re my best friend but i.. i haven’t really allowed myself to consider anything more than that.”

oh.

that was the cherry on top.

he panics, scrambling to find the words to ensure things don’t stay awkward between you two.

“look, it’s not that i haven’t thought about it before. you know, the possibility of us being more than friends” he gulps. “i just don’t want to ruin everything we have and what we’ve been through together.”

your heart aches, you can’t help but look away from the man you love.

“but you won’t.. how would you?”

“I don’t know,” he admits honestly. “i guess.. i’m just afraid that if things go wrong between us, it would change what we have now. i don’t want to risk losing our friendship if things don’t work out romantically.”

he has a point, but what good does it cause you? pining over your best friend, only to hear that he feels the same way but also doesn’t because he’s too stuck over your friendship? it’s all too complicated for your intoxicated mind.

“but… i also can’t ignore what you just said,” he says, looking into your eyes. “you said you like me, i.. i can’t just disregard that. it’s just a lot to process, especially in your current state. i want to be sure you really mean what you said.”

you choke on your silent sobs, muttering out a soft “i do mean it..”

“i believe you..” he says, his voice filled with a touch of vulnerability. “but… let’s talk about this more when you’re sober, okay? i don’t want us making any rash decisions and conversations right now, not when we’re both this emotional and vulnerable.”

you nod apprehensively, allowing yourself to sink into the comfy bed sheets.

“we’ll talk more in the morning, okay? i’ll be here when you wake up.”

and just like that, the door closes and all that fills the air is tension and unspoken truths.

mixed signals go crazy🫨🫨

[rosenclaws]

Do Mutants Dream of Two-Headed Sheep? Prologue || Logan x Cyborg!Reader

Warnings: Body horror, experimentation, reader is in a lot of pain, violence, angst.

a/n: This is the rescue! A preview to the first chapter which should be out sometime next week <3 Short but I hope you enjoy

Series Masterlist

Hurts. Hurts so bad. 

Everything hurts. You can’t feel your hands, your legs. You can’t move. Strapped down with cold leather straps. You try to move but you can’t. There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t stop. It’s loud. So loud. You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out. Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind screams a million things at once. 

Where am I? Get out Get out Get out. I can't move. Help someone help. Who am I? GET OUT!

It takes everything inside of you to open your eyes. Every ounce of willpower is dedicated to what was once a simple task. A bright white light shines in your eyes. You wince as your eyes squint. Your vision is blurry as you try to look around.

As the room comes into focus, so does your hearing. The ringing in your ears quiets as the sounds of destruction and screams fill the void. An alarm is blaring loudly throughout wherever you are. You see steel tables, medical equipment, scans. Fuck where were you.

Why can't you remember anything? Your brain goes fuzzy as you try and recall anything from a few minutes ago. The last memory is pain. So much pain. You start to hear the screaming get closer. 

“Help…” Your voice is raspy as you try to call for anyone. Your throat burns as you speak. Footsteps get closer and closer.

“Please, Help me.” You cry a little louder.

Pain shoots through your body as you try to move your arms. You want to cry, but no tears come. You don’t understand. Suddenly you hear a loud bang. The steel doors bend under the pressure as the banging continues. You cry out in relief as the doors burst open. You see a strange man enter the room.

“Over here!” He calls, his voice sounds so far away. 

Snikt

In your hazy vision you see blades come out of the mans hand. Suddenly the leather straps were gone, cut away. Fear shoots through your heart at the sight of his claws.

No no no, he's going to hurt you. The people with knives, they hurt you.

"Please no don't." You whimper as he comes closer.

“Hey there kid I'm not gonna hurt you okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” He says.

You groan as he picks you up. You move your left hand, cupping his face. Trying to see who this was, what was going on. And then you move your right hand. Only something feels very wrong. The pain still echoes through your body but only on one side.

“Wait.” You mumble. Pushing yourself out of the man's grip.

He grunts as you push hard with your right hand, sending him stumbling back much to his surprise. You fall from his grasp. A loud clang echoes when you hit the ground. You hear more footsteps, more people, more talking.

“Oh my god.” You hear a voice say in a terrified whisper.

“Kid, you need help.” The man from before says, bending down to whisper in your ear.

You ignore him. Crawling towards a steel pan on the ground. Shakily you lift your right hand. To your horror there is no longer the familiar sight of a human hand.

It’s solid white. Plates of metal make up what was once your skin. Wires connect like veins. You close your fist and open it again. Your eyes trail up your arm. The whole thing is just like your hand. Shiny white metal instead of what was once your soft skin.

You grab the steel pan and hold it up to your face. The image is distorted but you can see yourself clear as day. Half your face is turned into something so, unhuman. Robotic and unnatural.

You lift your other hand, your human hand to your face. You flinch as you touch the cold metal of your cheek. A tear slips down one of your cheeks while your other eye just stares back, cold and empty. You drop the pan in horror. Your mind goes numb as you feel a hand on your shoulder. Someone speaks but you can’t hear them.

They wrap a blanket around you, and lead you outside. They speak to you slowly and carefully, like you’re a wounded animal. They stare at you like you’re a freak. A failed experiment that has stripped you of everything. You are a freak, you are an abomination of bones and metal.

You don’t look at them. Don’t acknowledge a single thing as you stare at the floor. Slowly you lift your head, the man who cut you free sits across from you. Staring at you with hostile eyes. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the warped metal above him.

The blanket falls open, you get a look at your whole body. Half human, half machine. Expect your chest, where your ribs, your heart should be. Is a big gaping hole. Just tubes and wires and metal. 

What have they done to you? 

[justatypicalwizard]

Meta-isekai | K. Bakugo ✧ Act I Scene I

-`♡´- In which Bakugo gets isekaied into a shoyo romance. -`♡´-

Peak stupidity ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Act I 𓆩⚝𓆪

Scene I: What the fucking fuck?

𖹭 Katsuki woke up but not in his dorm room, rather in something that resembled his bedroom at home.

𖹭 What the fuck? He thought as he threw his legs over the bedsheets and stood up. Something was off. Was he stuck in a quirk?

𖹭 On his desk sat a fat black cat. Katsuki didn’t own a can so the sight of the animal caught him off guard.

𖹭 ‘’What the fuck?” He said out loud.

‘’Why are you cursing at me first thing in the morning?” The cat answered.

Katsuki’s hand shot in the air, straight into the cat's fluffy face. He gathered his strength and… nothing happened. Not even a spark from his palm.

‘’You’re acting weird.” The cat hummed and started licking its butt.

With eyes wide open Katsuki headed back towards the bed, hopped inside and curled under the sheets trying to cope with what was happening. This must be some kind of a quirk and he’s in danger now. The fight is happening around him but he doesn’t hear or feel anything because he’s under some sort of illusion. How can he get out?

‘’Going back to bed is not like you. Come on, we have stuff to do.” The cat persisted as it jumped on the bed sheets. ‘’Wait.’’ It zeroed in on Katsuki’s face, nearing him gently, paw after paw. ‘’You’re not my Katsuki.”

𖹭 Katsuki wanted to grab the cat to pin it in place but it slipped out of his fingers leaving only a few black hairs in the place he the blonde tried to grab him. Katsuki started to shout and jumped out of the bed trying to get close to the poor animal. This evoked a deafening hiss as the cat started to flee.

𖹭 The door slammed open and his angry mum entered the room. ‘’What the heck are you doing? Get ready for school, brat.” She shouted even louder than the cat and slammed the door back closed hard enough to make the walls shake.

𖹭 But Katsuki didn’t live with his mother anymore.

𖹭 ‘’Can you please stop trying to kill me? I see that something is wrong and I’m trying to work it out too!” The cat hid on the wardrobe. ‘’I told you, you’re not my Katsuki, what have you done with him?”

‘’How the hell am I not that Katsuki? There’s only one Katsuki and It’s me!”

‘’Nuh-uh.” The cat, very slowly, neared the crease of the wardrobe and jumped down. It sniffed the air next to where Katsuki was standing all the while observing the man. ‘’You’re from a different world.” It stated matter-of-factly. 

Katsuki wanted to start chasing the creature again for making him an idiot but the can was smarter this time.

‘’I know it sounds stupid but look around you! Is this your room?” This made his stop. ‘’Do you have a talking cat in your universe? And why are you trying to intimidate me with your open palm? Stop sticking it my way!” Shit, Katsuki’s done it instinctively.

‘’Listen, something is off and you are not the right Katsuki, not my Katsuki. You’re Not-Katsuki. I don’t know why this happened, I’ll try to find out though. Still you’re stuck with me here for a while so I night as well tell you my name.”

The cat hopped back on the desk, back bathing in the morning sun that made its fur shine in a weird pinkish manner.

‘’My name’s Black Cat and I’m your magical companion.” It bowed its head. ‘’My mission is, and has been for some time now, to help you achieve friendship and love. I’m like your Fairy Godmother. For the last year and a half I have been trying to help you and well it went…” Suddenly the cat went silent. 

‘’It went what?”

‘’Let’s just say I had more diligent love-students under my paws for the last eternity or so.” To which Katsuki could only blink a few times because he never thought he would hear such a sentence in his life. ‘’Whatever place you came from, good news is, I can send you back.”

‘’Thank god, do it now.”

“The problem is-” The blonde groaned and the cat hissed. “Listen to me brat! The problem is making you travel to a parallel dimension will cost an immense amount of power, and I don’t have such a reserve right now!”

‘’Then focus or some shit.”

“It’s not like that. My power comes from you, you and your friendships and loves.”

“What do you want me to do!” Katsuki’s voice was getting alarmingly loud again.

‘’Shut it unless you want your mum to come in again and see you talking to an empty desk. Only you can see me, dummy.” The cat stuck out its small tongue. “What you have to do is find friendship and love big enough to gather tons of energy for me.”

“I’m not buying that shit.”

“Just, listen to me please. I want my Katsuki back. Besides you don’t know whether my Katsuki isn’t in your place now. What world do you come from?”

𖹭 Suddenly, Katsuki imagined a random guy, version of himself or whatever, with not idea what a quirk is, standing in his shoes. This could cost him all the hard work he’d put in over the years to become a hero. Heck, that guy could kill someone by accident if he never used his quirk.

𖹭 “I need to go back. Me, I mean him, everyone else, fuck it this is a piece of shit situation.”

Katsuki started to pace the room with the cat observing him carefully.

‘’What? My Katsuki is going to kill someone in your world?”

‘’I have a quirk - a superpower where I can create explosions out of my hands. It took me years to get rid of the reflex of exploding something anytime I got irritated. How do you think a version of me that never experienced this quirk will react?”

“Oh shit. We need to get you back quickly.”

“Mhm.” Katsuki nodded.

“Okay, listen. I know how we can pool enough energy for me to send you back.”

“I’m listening.”

The cat straightened and crossed his hands as if he was a human.

“For the last year and a half I’ve been trying to help my Katsuki by creating some meaningful friendships and confessing love to his crush. It did go somewhere, at least on the friends part, but not enough for me to ascend (so essentially leave him). If you could, in a short period of time, achieve what he couldn’t in over a year, we might be able to gather a lot of power that would not run away if you’re quick.”

“So, make friends and get a girl.”

“Essentially.”

“You’re lucky I’m good at winning.” Katsuki smirked.

“Well, it would be a win-win-win honestly. You’d go back to your world. My Katsuki would come back here straight into his dream-come-true and I could finally leave him.”

“You don’t seem to like him/me.”

“I’m more on the lazy side while my Katsuki was a handful.” The cat lied down showing its belly. “But there’s one thing I must warn you about. I am tied to my Katsuki, not you. As my Katsuki is somewhere in your hand-explosion world he can no longer make wishes and dreams about this reality. What this means is that if you fail to make his highschool dreams come true you’ll most probably be stuck in this world forever. Stuck with me at that because I can only leave you if you’re happy enough or dead. You have only one shot at this. Also, if it’ll take you too long to make all the wishes come true I won’t be able to gather enough power at one time to blast you back home.

Are you still in?”

Katsuki neared the desk which made the cat stumble onto its side. The morning sun made the blonde’s eyes glint with irritation but a smirk was plastered on his face. Crossing his arms on his chest he looked down on the cat.

“I already told you I always fucking win.”

“Please never tell me about your homeworld. I don’t want to know what mended you into this shape.”

[everdeensworld]

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN TEN DAYS | chapter one

summary: for an assignment you are tasked to lose a guy in ten days, the guy happening to be the one and only finnick odair.

pairings: finnick odair x journalist!reader

authors note: this has been sitting its ass in my drafts for the past few days but i finally got around to writing it, my brain was full of ideas and i couldn’t choose

parts: chapter one, other chapters coming soon.

journalism had been your dream since you had been able to read and write, you used to steal your mothers newspaper just to study the way people wrote, the beauty in reading how other people shared their thoughts, their opinions on things.

an outlet.

though of-course you hadn’t expected it to be so hard to achieve, so controlling, that you’d practically be unable to write what you want to but what you have to.

“you want me to what?” your jaw dropped, the woman, your boss, who stood before you, a clear grin in her face. “well, ever since katniss and peeta won the games, love is in! it’s all the rage here in the capitol.”

you wanted to roll your eyes. “love is a trend? i don’t see how that’s—”

“nevermind the logistics of it.” your boss waves you off. “you are a desirable woman, i want you to write a piece on what not to do, dating wise, i want you to find a guy, a cute one, date him for ten days, and drive him away, write about it so our love obsessed citizens know what not to do.”

“isn’t that a little cruel?”

she scoffs. “choose someone who won’t care then, like..” she trails off, eyes glancing the room of the capitol victors party, katniss and peeta’s party, “what about gloss, he’s a good looking guy, a victor too.”

you glance over the boy, he was handsome, he was charming, and he had asked you out multiple times before, he was pushy, you gave your boss a apprehensive look, hoping this was just a time and you could forget about this whole ordeal and pass the assignment on to a apprentice.

“if you do this, i will give you your own column, to write about whatever you want.” she bribed, a wolfish grin on her face.

that caught your attention, you did desperately want to be able to have free reign over your work, your writing, to be able to express yourself through your work, and this might be your opportunity.

but to mess with someone’s emotions like that to get what you want, it was wrong.

“oh come on!” your boss scoffed. “i promise it won’t be personal, besides, you’re going to drive him away! he’s not going to care, he’ll be fed up with you by the end, you’re the only one of my employees that i trust is a good enough writer to write this!”

you bite your lip and sigh. “fine! but i get not a column, but a whole page, and i get to choose the guy!”

your boss mulls the idea over before sighing, a fed up sigh, punching her nose. “fine! if you must, a whole page just for you, now trot on— go find yourself a suitor.”

a glass of the capitols finest alcohol was in the capitols finest glass, in his hand. he had finally managed to fend off everyone asking for his autograph, questions about his game and lots of other pointless things too.

his game was almost ten years ago, you would think they’d be bored of him by now, with the way trends change here in the capitol, yet they haven’t.

gloss laughs at his exhausted look. “wow man, you look beat.”

“i am beat, i wish they’d all just leave me alone sometimes, all the time.” he corrects himself, sipping on the alcoholic beverage, the drink is sour, and stings as it goes down but once its in his system he can’t help but enjoy the buzz the drink gives him.

“get yourself a girl, distract yourself.” goss tells him patting his shoulder, finnick scoffed. “from the capitol no way.”

gloss shrugged, “i don’t know man, not all the chicks here are that bad.” he slurred.

“i’ll tell you what, let’s make a bet, see that girl over there.” gloss grabs him, spinning finnick around to face you, finnick noticed you right away, you were speaking to a very pink looking woman, her skin was dyed pink, and she wore pink from head to toe.

your clothes were more cooler tones, you still had a capitol look to you, clean, and it was quite clear you weren’t poor. you looked shy, like you wanted to be anywhere else but here, you didn’t fit in with the rest of the people that were in the room.

you intrigued him.

“she is extremely wanted round’ here.” he says with a grin. “i’ve tried it before, she will not let up, all the men here want her because she’s so untouchable, i will give you anything you want if you can make her fall in love with you, literally anything.”

finnick thought for a moment, there was really nothing he needed, but he was intrigued by you, and it couldn’t hurt, besides, gloss said he could have anything, and finnick had a couple of things in mind.

[seitmai]

Ahh so many thoughts

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering emotional, mess.

I hope hehas left as quivering, emotional mess too 🤭

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out. 

Good for her!

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

Yeah let's woman up 💪🏻

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left.

As he should 😌🤭

He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage. “Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

Literally me every time I send a message that stresses me out for various reasons haha (most of the time it's just my anxiety lol)

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?” You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness. “Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

👀

“You can have whatever you want...”  A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission. “You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly.  “I trust you.” 

They're jumping straight in

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.  And he made you feral.

Valid 🤷🏻‍♀️

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp. “You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

Hahaha ballsy coming from a woman that just almost drooled over a corduroy suit 😂

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

Let them be! They are in love🥰

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs. In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers. 

Yeah and making fun of others being in love just a few minutes before 🤭

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…” Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

Haha love that she interrogates Nico and Steve is just sitting there watching her like 🥰😍

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….” “Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…” 

Hahahha 😂

“Beautiful,” you murmured. And then you noticed that he was looking at you.

I'm swooning 🥰

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

It's in the details 🤭

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent. When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…” His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.” Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled. “We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Yeah let's just put a pin into it 🤭

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered.  “You do that to me, Peach.” “Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself. “You have no idea how much power you have, do you?” 

I'm swooning

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.” Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. Not at all. 

Yeah, absolutely not because of any tears 🤭

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

🤭🤭🤭

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.”

Is that a promise? 😉🤭

 Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

🥵🥵🥵

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?” “Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….” 

That's not no 👀

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair. “I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.” “I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

Ahh finally, them are making so much progress 🥰

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.” Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

Huh? 👀

"You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

Yeah, a joke, right👀

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?” Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

Omg

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.” “True. But when you know, you know.” Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating. “Would it make us look crazy…?” You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark. “…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Omg this conversation between them is everything! They so are gonna get hitched right away!! And everyone will think it's crazy, except for them because they think it's beautiful 🥰😌 and you know who else is gonna find it beautiful? A certain cousin and best friend, because this is gonna be the last push for Bucky to get down on one knee too 🤭

“If you ask me, I’m ready…” The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

I have a feeling that he is on one knee or getting dressed speeding to his penthouse to geta certain thing 🤭😍

Peach VI

Peach V | Peach VII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering emotional, mess.

He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.

Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.

A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out. 

He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.

What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.

Right?

You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.

After that, you had your one on one with Steve.

Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.

You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.

You were so into Steve Rogers.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.

—--

Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.

He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.

“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”

Steve cut Bucky off.

“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”

—-

That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.

Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.

You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you. 

You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You were used to feening for someone.

You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.

You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.

Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.

—

Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.

His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.

He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest. 

Sorry, wrong thread.

The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?

——-

In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”

Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.

“It was a mistake.”

“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”

You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.

You sensed his mood.

“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”

You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.

If he would give you what you needed.

“What would you do?” 

Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.

“What?” 

You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.

“What would you do if you were here?”

“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.

Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.

“And?” 

There was an edge to the question. 

“And… My lips. All over you.” 

Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.

“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.

“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.” 

You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.

“Want you in my throat.” 

Steve had to concentrate to stay hard. 

“Oh? What if I want more than that?” 

“You can have whatever you want...” 

A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.

“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly. 

“I trust you.” 

Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him?  He cleared his throat.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered.

“Okay.” 

You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.

Your clit was so hard as you circled it.

“Are you wet, Sweetheart?” 

You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.

“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him. 

Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.

“Such a good little slut.” 

“Fuck…” 

You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.

“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”

Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too. 

“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”

“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined. 

Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.

“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.

Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.

He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.

Hot sex was happening.

Electronically.

As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.

“Steve, “m so close…” 

“Of course you are.” 

Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more. 

“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?” 

A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.

“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”

Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit. 

“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.” 

You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.

Your mouth hinged open as you came. 

“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well. 

Suddenly, he missed you.

“You good, Peach?”

You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.

“Yeah.”

Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.

“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”

“Night Steve.”

—---

You needed a distraction.

Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him. 

Holy shit.

This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.  

And he made you feral.

You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.

You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you. 

As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.

This feeling was so heady.

When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

“Fucking-A.” 

Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You couldn’t front anymore.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.

You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.

You were his favorite thing to study!

You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.

The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.

His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.

In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers. 

Holy hell.

His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.

“I’m anxious to get started.”

Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.

Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.

Could you love him, too?

He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”

You smiled up at him and took his hand.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

—--

The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well. 

You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.

“So… Nico…” 

Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos. 

“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”

Nico stole a look at you and smiled.

“Yes ma’am. All the time.”

“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”

Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.

“Peach…”

You shushed Steve.

“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”

Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.

—-

Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.

For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.

You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.

“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”

“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…” 

Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.

The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.

“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”

Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him. 

There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve. 

You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe. 

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

And then you noticed that he was looking at you. 

“Yes…”

You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“It’s like a completely different world in here.”

“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”

He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.

You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.

Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it. 

As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space. 

When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.

"Please, sit." 

His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.

You hesitated. 

"Why?"

"So I can sketch you."

Your stomach did an odd little flip. 

"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."

You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?

Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimate of that look.

“Too late for that.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.

“Do you not trust me?”

You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.

“I do Steve. I trust you.”

It was true.

Steve smiled. 

“Then please, sit down.”

You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench. 

"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."

Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook. 

"I make no promises."

You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper. 

His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…

For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper. 

You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.

After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.

“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Nothing.” 

He didn’t look up. But he spoke.

“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”

You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems. 

"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”

"Like what?" 

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.

You fidgeted again.

"You know…"

Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.

"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”

You scowled at him and he laughed.

“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form." 

His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.

You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.

"You're insufferable, Steven."

“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”

You cocked your head in that adorable way.

“What details do you need?”

“I need…” 

Steve looked at you like he needed all of you. 

And he did. 

“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”

You unclenched your hands and sat back.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.

"The fact that I make you nervous."

The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both. 

Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.

You stiffened.

"Hold still," he murmured. 

His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.

Your breath hitched.

Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.

“You always do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“React like this when someone touches you.”

You pursed your lips together and shook your head. 

Just you.

"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.

"What, Mr. Rogers?"

You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.

"Fighting it."

"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.

"Don’t hide from me, Peach." 

Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.

"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?" 

Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.

"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.

His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.

“Breathe.”

He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch. 

Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient. 

He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened. 

"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.

Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper. 

"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.

You gasped as you looked at the page. 

The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers. 

The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.

“This is… how can I thank you?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.

"Steve…"

His eyes went to your mouth.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.

"No? Too shy now?"

His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.

You let out a shaky breath. 

"Steve."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.

“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”

His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.

He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.

Your whimper told him so much. 

"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."

You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.

“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”

His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist. 

“What does that mean, Peach?”

He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.

“Oh…my….Steve!”

You squirmed in his grip.

“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”

“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”

You were the queen of changing the subject.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.

You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.

“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atalanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.

When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.

“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”

His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”

He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise. 

“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”

This was the important question.

“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.” 

"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured. 

His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.

"You call this behaving?"

You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more." 

You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.

“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”

Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.

“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”

Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building. 

“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”

You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.

“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”

—--

You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.

You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.

“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered. 

“You do that to me, Peach.” 

“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.

“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?” 

“Me?” you asked in a small voice. 

Steve nodded.

“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” 

It was confession time.

“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.” 

You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes. 

“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.” 

Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra and he pulled you near him to get his mouth on your tits.

“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”

 “Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?” 

Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants. 

“Like you wouldn't believe.” 

Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.

“Look at me, Peach.”

You looked into his eyes.

“I’m In love with you.”

His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you. 

“You're mine, Peach You always have been.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.

“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”

Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. 

Not at all. 

He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.

The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.

“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth. 

Steve smiled against your lips.

“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”

Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.

You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry. 

Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear. 

You gaped at him. 

Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.

His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.

His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.

For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him

“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence. 

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.” 

He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation. 

Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and  paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.

The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.

He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue. 

Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.” 

You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.

“Love when you call my name, Peach.”

He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light. 

You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much. 

Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip. 

Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.

When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in our eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.

“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”

You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness. 

“Perfect,” Steve rasped.

“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”

He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point. 

“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”

“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together. 

You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and your scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly. 

As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest. 

“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”

Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.

He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke. 

You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.

He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.

“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”

“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….” 

You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.

“Paint my walls, Steve...”

Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking. 

You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you. 

“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach. 

“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!” 

You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.

“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!” 

He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming. 

You were eautiful.

You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms. 

“Are you mine?” 

“Yes,” you whimpered out. 

“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.

“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”

“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”

—

You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.

You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?”

It had been nagging at you for a while.

His sleepy voice answered you.

“Shoot.”

You chuckled.

“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”

Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.

“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”

Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“What?”

You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.

“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”

You were silent for a good while.

“Oh.”

Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.

“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”

Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.

You laughed.

“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”

“True. But when you know, you know.”

Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.

“Would it make us look crazy…?”

You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.

“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.

Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again. 

He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.

“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.

——

I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!

[bettystonewell]

So I woke up to 100 followers this morning, and I was really surprised.

THANK YOU!

I’m still learning my way here, but hopefully I’m getting better.

I know people on all different platforms do celebrations like writing prompts and stuff, but a) I’m a slow writer and b) I’m lazy. So I thought, now might be a good time to release this:

TO YOU I BELONG

SNEAK PEAK

Chapter 1 coming 21/02 🇦🇺⏱️

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

From Chapter 7: Honeydaying

Sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over, arms leaning on his thighs, Dean twisted the small pill bottle in his hands, listening as each tablet fell to the bottom. There weren’t many, six at most, and they rattled around in there, waiting for him to open the lid and take one out.

Or man up and throw them in the trash like he’d planned.

The problem was, he knew how his body would react to not taking the daily suppressant. He’d experienced it before. And if his inner alpha was overprotective of you now, it was about to turn into a possessive dick the second the drug’s effects wore off in T minus twenty-four hours, if he…

No.

Not if.

He was doing this. He was gonna claim you and make you his.

Which is why even though the trashcan was only three feet in front of him, he still sat there unmoving from the memory-foam cushioning his ass…

Fuck. Why was this so hard?

He put the pills down on his bedside table and leant back into the mattress, fishing his phone out from his jean pocket. The denim hugging his hips was too tight, and he had to lift himself up a few inches to yank the device free, unlocking it with a couple of taps and a swipe up.

His fingers continued to work the touch screen, locating contacts, flicking down to the letter J, and hitting the green call button. At least there was one thing he wasn’t hesitating over.

He heard the click and a familiar voice fondly speak his name before he’d even brought it up to his ear.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Hey, Jody. How’s it going?” Dean stood up off the bed and moved to the closet.

“Good. Although I’m a little surprised to hear you ask me that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The door creaked in protest, as did his back, though it cracked more than creaked when he arched over to reach his green duffle he’d thrown on the floor after the hunt in Iowa. The couple of weapons he hadn’t bothered to put away hit against each other as the bag swayed and gravity played with their weight.

“Just that you don’t call me unless you need something or someone’s dead. Oh god. Is Sam okay? What have you boys gotten into now?”

“Alright, first off, that’s insulting.” He emptied the contents onto the bed, pulling out a shirt that had wound its way around his shotgun. “And second.” He brought the fabric up to his nose for a sniff test. It needed washing, or burning with added salt. The remnants of nameless monster guts clung to the collar, and he didn’t hesitate to throw it out. Those pills though... “Everything’s fine. Sammy’s alive last time I checked.

“I wanted to know how you were. What’s wrong with that?” He caught the phone between his neck and shoulder, freeing his hands up to open the chamber of his prized weapon. The racking was rather loud when he closed it back again, and he grimaced. Jody was going to notice that.

“Nothing,” she said. “But that’s not why you’re calling.”

Why did he attract people who could see right through him? “Well, ah, to be honest, I need a favour.” He took a long breath in, preparing himself to deliver his news. “I met my soulmate and—”

“What?” Her high-pitched squeal had him dropping his shoulder and her. “Are you sure?”

Seriously! It’s like she was trying to cut him deep. “What do you mean, am I sure? I know my own damn initials,” he shouted down at his phone. Luckily, it had only landed on the bed. He did not have the patience or time to get a new one.

He ditched the shotgun and picked up Jody, bringing her back to his ear.

“So you’re no longer running solo, huh? Finally claimed someone! What are they? An omega, a beta? Or another alpha like you?” She chuckled. “I’d love to see that.”

‘Bitch.’

‘Dude. This is Jody.’

‘She’s insulting our mate.’

‘No, she’s insulting you, you dick.’

“Ah, an omega, and I haven’t claimed her yet,” Dean said, cringing when his inner alpha interrupted him again. His eyes searched for the pill bottle and gave it a once over. No, no. This was gonna be hell, but he’d grin and bear it. “That’s why I was calling—”

Main Masterlist

—————————————————————

DEAN TAGLIST:

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007

If you’d like to be added to a Taglist for this series or for any of my other Dean works, please lmk or add yourself HERE

[berryeemmy]

hello!! can you make a fic for overwhelmedreader! at a party with Rafe? where she's anxious and Rafe reassures that he'll her home while Kelce and Topper tease him. But he still soothes her and takes her home even though she feels guilty!!

you can do whatever this is just a small idea, thank you❤️❤️ i love your blog!

Oh my goodness yes!! I am so happy your like my first real ask!!! I hope you like it! Thank you so much love💕

The music was too loud, the air was too thick with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Bodies of people you didn’t even know were pushing and shoving you by accident. All the colors from the lights along with the shouting was just too much for you to handle.

The only reason you even came to this stupid party was because Rafe asked you too. No begged you too. Or maybe it was because, for once, you wanted to fit into his world of adventure and wild parties. But now, standing in the corner with your arms wrapped around yourself tightly while Rafe went to go get a drink with Top and Kelce, you felt like you were suffocating.

Rafe and the guys had been walking back to you from getting another beer in the kitchen, when Rafe saw the familiar look on your face. The look you got when you were overwhelmed. Originally he was laughing with Topper about something funny he said, but once he saw that look. It all came to a halt.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice cut through the noise, distracting you for a moment. He put his hands on your waist, his touch comforting.

“You okay?” He asks so only you could hear.

You shake your head biting down on your lip softly.

“Baby what’s wrong. You gotta tell me what’s wrong.” He says, his voice softer then ever before.

You swallowed hard, “j-just wanna go h-home..” you whisper on the verge of tears.

Rafe’s expression quickly changed to one of worry.

“Hey hey hey, there’s no need to cry baby its okay, i’ll take you home. My girl just feeling overwhelmed yeah?” He says quickly. He didn’t wanna question it. That was for later.

You nod quickly as a tear falls down you cheek, mascara running along with it.

And that’s when Topper and Kelce decided they want to make their appearance known again.

“Dude, you’re leaving already?” Kelce scoffed.

Topper rolled his eyes and slightly nudged Rafe on the shoulder. “Man you’re pussy whipped.”

Rafe scoffed, just like Kelce. “Leave me alone. My girl tells me she wants to go home we’re going home okay?” He says his voice sharp like a knife. And with that, Rafe’s already guiding you out of the house and into the front yard, where he had parked his truck earlier.

As he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat, a wave of guilt hits you.

Rafe gets into the driver side, when he notices more tears falling down your face.

“Baby why you still crying huh? Its okay, your safe in the car now.” He says while leaning over to cup your cheek softly.

“I feel bad, you were obviously having a good time a-and i just ruined it.” You sniffle.

“Pretty girl, you didn’t ruin anything. I don’t care about Topper and Kelce, or having fun. I care about you. My baby. Not anything else, mkay?” He says firmly but still somehow gentle.

You couldn’t help but feel relief, like a weight had been taken off your shoulders as he said those words. So you nodded “okay..” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby, now lets go home.” He muttered giving you a quick kiss.

[ironinc]

Desire in the Web.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Spider-man x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ As a villain, you've been causing trouble for Spider-Man, but lately, things have taken a turn. There's a growing tension and attraction between you two. Spider-Man is torn between his heroic duties and the desire that's building inside him. You decide to use this to your advantage, taunting and toying with him as you plot your possible escape.

⤷ Oneshot, smut, oral sex, very detailed so here’s the warning!

⤷ A/N: I saw that y’all liked my Peter Parker/Spiderman story so I wanted to make another one! I also want to do something different. And he’s aged up to 20! This is for my bestie Mia-Mia as well!! I know you're gonna love this one.

⤷ Word count: 2,795

⤷ Special song to add spice: Harleys In Hawaii by Katty Perry

⏦ﾟ♡︎

You’re trapped. His webs cling to your arms, and your legs, pinning you against the cold brick wall of the alleyway. The rain is coming down in sheets, soaking through your suit, and you can smell the metallic tang of the city mingling with the earthy dampness around you. 

Spider-Man. Of course, it’s him. Always him. He lands in front of you with that infuriatingly confident stance, his mask hiding everything but the tension in his jaw. You know that tension isn’t just about stopping you. It’s different tonight. Deeper.

"Well," you drawl, your voice dripping with mockery, "looks like the neighborhood hero finally caught me. What’s the plan, Spider? Take me in? Lecture me about how I’m on the wrong path?"

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he steps closer. His red and blue suit glistened under the dim streetlight. His gloved fingers twitch slightly, and you can feel the heat of his body even through the rain. 

He’s hesitating. You’ve seen this before, the way he lingers just a little too long, the way his eyes—those damn eyes—seem to linger on you even when he’s trying to focus on the mission.

"You’re not getting away this time," he finally says, his voice low and strained. It’s not just determination in his tone. There’s something else. Something you’ve been intentionally stoking for weeks now.

"Oh, I’m not?" You tilt your head, your lips curling into a smirk. "You sure about that, Spider? Because you’ve had me in this position before, and yet… here I am again. Funny how that works."

He growls a sound that’s more frustration than anger and takes another step forward. The rain is plastering his mask to his face, and you can see the outline of his lips, the way they’re pressed into a tight line. Perfect.

"You’re playing a dangerous game," he warns, his voice dropping even lower.

"Dangerous?" You laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of the alley. 

"This isn’t dangerous, Spider. This is… fun. And I think you’re starting to enjoy it too."

His hands clench into fists, but he doesn’t move. You’re close enough now that if you leaned forward, you could kiss him. Not that you would. Not yet. 

You’re savoring this, the push and pull, the way he’s fighting himself more than he’s fighting you.

"You think I don’t see what you’re doing?" he snaps, finally breaking the silence. "You’re trying to mess with my head. It’s not going to work."

"Is that what I’m doing?" You feign innocence, batting your lashes. 

"Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re the one who can’t keep his eyes off me. Or is that just the hero complex talking?"

He exhales sharply, a sound that’s almost a growl, and then before you can react, his hand is on your throat. Not hard, but firm enough to make your breath catch. Finally.

"You’re pushing me," he warns, his voice almost a whisper.

"Or maybe," you purr, your voice trembling slightly but still laced with defiance, "you’re just tired of pretending you don’t want this."

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the rain and the ragged rhythm of your breathing. Suddenly he pulls his mask halfway up. Only exposing his lips. Then, his lips crash into yours, rough and desperate, and you can feel the heat of him through the suit. His other hand is on your waist, pulling you closer, regardless of you being trapped in his webs. You can feel the hardness of him pressing against you.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s raw, animalistic, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless and aching. His tongue invades your mouth, and you bite down hard, drawing a low groan from him. He pulls back, his chest heaving, and for a moment, you think he’s going to stop, to walk away. But then his hands are on your hips, lifting you effortlessly, and your back is hitting the wall again, the cold brick a sharp contrast to the heat of his body.

"Spider," you gasp, your voice trembling, "you’re going to regret this."

"I already do," he growls, and then his mouth is on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his hands work to free you from the webs. They’ll take a while to dissolve, but he doesn’t seem to care, his hands slipping under your clothes, his fingers rough and demanding.

"You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow," you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Maybe," he says, his breath hot against your ear, "but right now, I don’t give a damn."

His hands are on your ass now, lifting you higher, and you wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against him. The friction is electric, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding back, barely.

You were getting wetter by the second.

"Fuck me," you demand, your voice low and throaty. "Right here. Right now."

He growls a sound that sends shivers down your spine, and then his fingers are working at the bottom of your suit. Pullingthem down just enough to expose you. He’s fumbling with his suit, his movements hurried and clumsy, and then he’s inside you, filling you in one rough thrust. 

You cry out, the sound swallowed by the rain, and your nails dig into his back. He’s not gentle, not this time, his thrusts are hard and unrelenting, each one driving you closer to the edge. You can feel the tension building in your body, the heat coiling in your core, and you know he’s feeling it too, the way his breath is coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Look at you," you whisper, your voice trembling, "the great Spider-Man, fucking the villain he’s supposed to stop. What would your fans think?"

He growls, his hips slamming into yours with even more force, and you can feel the sting of the brick wall against your back, the ache in your legs as you cling to him. But you don’t care. You don’t care about the pain, the rain, the danger. All you care about is the man in front of you, the way he’s losing control, the way he’s giving in to the desire he’s been fighting for so long.

"Harder," you demand, your voice breaking, and he obliges, his thrusts becoming even more brutal, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

His moans were like a drug, and the feel of his hands on you was intoxicating. His possessive and affectionate touch was both thrilling and comforting.

You can feel it building, the tension in your body, the heat in your core, and then it’s too much, too overwhelming, and you’re coming, your body shuddering against his.

He follows you over the edge, his body tensing, his thrusts becoming erratic, and then he’s collapsing against you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the rain and the pounding of your heart.

And then he pulls back, his mask still plastered to his face, his eyes dark and unreadable. "This doesn’t change anything," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, Spider," you whisper, your lips curling into a smirk, "I think it changes everything."

── .✦

The rain had stopped, leaving the streets glistening under the dim glow of streetlights. Spider-Man stood there, his suit still clinging to his skin, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. You, the villain, leaned against the damp brick wall, your smirk never wavering. The air between you was thick with tension, a dangerous cocktail of desire and rivalry.

"You’re always so predictable, Spider," you purred, your voice low and sultry. "Always chasing after little old me. But tell me…" You stepped closer, your hips swaying with every step, the sound of your heels clicking against the wet pavement echoing in the alley. "What would you do if I stopped running?"

His eyes narrowed under the mask, but you could see the flicker of curiosity—and something darker—behind them. "What are you getting at?" he asked, his voice steady but with a hint of intrigue.

You reached out, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit, feeling the heat radiating from his body. "Come with me," you whispered, leaning in so close that your breath ghosted over the edge of his mask. "Just for tonight. Let me show you what it feels like to let go."

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he weighed his options. You could see the conflict in him, the struggle between his duty and the pull of whatever this was between you. Then, finally, he nodded. "Lead the way."

Your smirk widened as you turned, walking confidently down the alley, knowing he would follow. The city buzzed around you, but it felt distant and irrelevant. All that mattered was the game you were playing, the one you were determined to win.

Your lair was hidden in plain sight, an unassuming building in the heart of the city. Inside, it was a different story—a sleek, modern space filled with cutting-edge technology and decadent touches. You led him through the dimly lit rooms, the air thick with the scent of leather and something faintly floral. Finally, you stopped in a room dominated by a large, circular bed, the walls made entirely of glass, overlooking the city skyline.

"Impressive," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with caution. "But this doesn’t mean I trust you."

You laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Oh, Spider, you don’t have to trust me. You justhave to let go."

You moved closer, your body brushing against his as you reached up to trace the edge of his mask. "Take it off," you murmured, your voice dripping with temptation. "Let me see you."

He hesitated again, his breathing growing shallow. Then, slowly, he peeled the mask off, revealing Peter Parker’s face—youthful, vulnerable, and undeniably handsome. You stared at him for a moment, savoring the way his eyes flickered with uncertainty and desire.

"Beautiful," you whispered, though you knew better than to let him hear it. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing against his in a searing kiss. He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer.

The kiss was fierce, and desperate, a battle for dominance that neither of you was willing to lose. Your hands slid under his suit, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the way his muscles tensed under your touch. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he stared at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

"Tell me what you want," he growled, his voice rough with need.

You smirked, your hands trailing down his chest to the waistband of his suit. "I want to see you beg," you whispered, your voice a low, dangerous purr.

He let out a choked laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You’re playing with fire."

"And yet," you murmured, your fingers toying with the edge of his suit, "you’re the one who’s burning."

Before he could respond, you pushed him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him with a predatory grace. You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. "Let me show you what it feels like to lose control."

And then you kissed him again, harder this time, your hips grinding against his, feeling the way he hardened beneath you. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer, his body arching against yours.

This is it, you thought, your mind hazy with desire. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

You pulled back, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "Take off the suit," you commanded, your voice firm and unyielding.

He hesitated for only a moment before obeying, stripping off the suit and tossing it aside, leaving him bare before you. You took in the sight of him—his lean, muscular frame, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his cock stood hard and ready against his stomach.

"Perfect," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. Then you leaned down, your hands sliding up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch. "Now, let’s see how long you can last."

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitched and his hips bucked into your touch. His hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he tried to hold back, to keep control.

"Don’t fight it," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. "Let go."

And then you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down the length of him. He moaned, his hips jerking upward as you took him deeper, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He was thick, his cock filling your mouth as you worked him, every stroke driving him closer to the edge.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands perfectly grabbing your braids as he tried to hold you still, but you pulled back, teasing him with the tip before plunging down again. He cried out, his body tensing as he tried to control himself, but you were relentless, your mouth and hand working in perfect sync.

"You’re so close," you murmured, pulling back to look at him, your lips swollen and glistening. "But I’m not done with you yet."

You climbed off him, ignoring his protest as you turned around, straddling his chest. You leaned down, your breasts brushing against his face as you whispered, "Your turn."

He didn’t need any more encouragement, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you down onto his face, his tongue delving into you with a hunger that matched your own. You moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as he licked and sucked, his tongue driving you wild.

"Don’t stop," you gasped, your hips grinding against his face as his tongue worked its magic. You could feel the heat building in your core, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

I’m so close, you thought, your mind hazy with pleasure. Just a little more…

And then he slid a finger inside you, curling it just right, and you were coming, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers continuing to work you through your orgasm until you were a trembling, gasping mess.

You rolled off him, your body still trembling as you caught your breath. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark with hunger. 

"You’re insatiable," he muttered, his voice rough with need.

You smirked, your hand trailing down his chest to his cock, feeling the way it twitched under your touch. "And you’re far from done," you murmured, your voice a low, dangerous purr. "Now, let’s see how much you can take."

You climbed on top of him, guiding him into you, your breath hitching as he filled you completely. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as you moved, your bodies sliding together in perfect sync. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans and his choked gasps.

"Fuck," he muttered, his hands sliding up your body to grip your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "You’re… unbelievable."

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. "And you’re mine," you whispered, your voice a low, dangerous purr. "Even if it’s just for tonight."

He groaned, his hips bucking upward as you moved, your bodies sliding together in a perfect rhythm. The sound of skin against skin filled the room still. Mingling with your breathy moans and his choked gasps. You could feel the tension building inside you again, your body coiling tighter and tighter as he thrust into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you.

“Surrender to me,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust harder, deeper. "Let go."

And then you were coming again, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. He followed you over the edge, his body tensing as he spilled inside you, his grip on your hips almost painful as he held you still.

You collapsed on top of him, your bodies still trembling as you caught your breath. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing and the steady thrum of your hearts.

And then he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "This doesn’t change anything."

You smirked, your lips brushing against his ear. "Oh, Spider," you whispered, your voice dripping with amusement. "I told you—it changes everything."

HAHAHHSHDDHSHDHUWDHU. IM BITING MY LAPTOP RN- THIS IS SO GOOD. I hope you all AGREE!!!

(Credits: Aylaksu141 on TikTok)

See you later ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

[yannasuniverse]

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮? | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Dominique Darius x Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Domi have been rivals since y’all have entered college, You didn’t like her and she didn’t like you plain simply but what happens after you and her have a altercation on the court leading you and her become close with one and other and soon realizing all that hatred was love all along.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: There will be cussing, smut, arguing.

𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This is a slow burn so if you don’t like that this is not for you if you wanted to be added to the taglist dm me or comment.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚: This is my first time writing for Domi and I need her so BAD # NEED THAT BAD

“You know your going to lose again for a third time again right?” Dominique taunted in your ear looking at you with that smug smirk that you hated. Rolling your eyes at her words beginning to walk away.

“Have nothing to say? Why because you know it’s true?” She says taunting you even further as she followed you. Turning around pushing Dominique hard on the floor with a angry look on your face.

She sat there confused for a sec before getting up shoving you back “What the fuck is your problem!” Dominique said making you getting up immediately hit her back.

Next thing you know your being drag away by your teammate Aubrey with blood dripping down your nose while Dominique had blood running down her lip.

“Stupid bitch! Fuck you!” You yelled struggle to get out of Aubrey’s grasp.

“Fuck you too!” Dominique yelled as one of her teammates lead her into the tunnel.

Once she was out of site Aubrey finally sat you down on a chair while medic immediately rush to you trying to stop the bleeding. You sat their getting medical attention as Geno yelled in your ear.

“What is wrong with you?! Your one of my best players I can’t have you acting like this!” “Yeah but she literally!-” you tried to protest but only to be cut off “That’s no excuse! You have to ignore stuff like that!”.

Putting your head down as he continued to yell at you, tear’s welling in your eyes. “Do you understand?!”

Nodding your head “Yes sir..” you mange to mumbled out “good now go in the back and get cleaned up” He said dismissing you, patting your back as you stood up walking to the back.

Walking into the locker room going to your locker. Sitting down burying your head in your hands, frustration and anger filled you as you let Geno’s words sink in.

Grabbing your clothes, changing out of your jersey. Walking into the bathroom, whining as you saw your nose bruising purple.

“Just fuck my life” you said walking out to the locker room, reaching the court seeing the fourth quarter was about to end.

Walking over to the bench sitting next Azzi “Are you ok?” Azzi said looking at you in concern as she examined your face.

Giving her a nod and a small smile “Yeah am fine, just you know a little mad at myself that’s it” You say try to shrug off your real feelings.

She gave to a look not believing that your a little mad at yourself “Don’t lie too me, don’t beat yourself up it’s not your fault” she said rubbing your back before giving you a side hug.

The buzzer went off, the game ending with USC winning by 2.

Feeling eyes on you, looking around seeing The Dominique Darius staring right at you man spreading with her curls falling over her face perfectly and her busted lip you have gave her. Damn did she look good.

Y’all kept eye contact not nether of y’all Break it, You can feel your heart speed up a bit but dismissing it quickly breaking eye contact, following your teammates to shake hands.

Mumbling a small good game as you made your down the line. You had made it to the end of the line which of course she was at the end. Rolling your eyes as you got to her

Y’all stared at each other eyes never leaving each other’s. “Nice bruse” Domi said grinning ear to ear looking at your nose proud at what she did. Your eyes narrowed a bit getting annoyed again.

“Yeah I could say the same thing about you” You said with nothing but venom in your tone.

“It’s ok pretty don’t beat yourself up, am sure you beat me someday” She said walking past you to her team. Leaving you alone in your thoughts.

God did you hate Dominique Darius with every will in your body.

©𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[ladykailitha]

Share with Me One Love, One Lifetime Part 4

Yay!! We are about half way there. Because yes, this story will end at eight chapters and I'm so happy to see it end. It's been a long hard road for this series and I'm grateful for all the friends I made since starting out on this journey.

But I'm not the same person who started writing a story to fill a void in the fandom to someone who has written almost a million words in the Stranger Things fandom.

So thank you!

In this chapter we have all the fun Lovers' Lake stuff and a little breakdown from Steve as a treat.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Cal,” Wayne snapped. “There was no way in hell that Eddie levitated Patrick ten feet in the air, snapped his bones and then did nothing to other two? If my boy could do magic, there are more than a few people in this town who would be dead by now and not three kids he didn’t have any connection to.”

“Wayne...” Powell huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Think of what is at stake here! All those young lives snuffed out. Someone has to be punished for it.”

“And you’re not railroading Eddie to do it,” Wayne said gruffly. “Just because he’s a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks doesn’t make him responsible for their deaths!”

“And you’re saying that Victor Creel is?” Powell said slamming his hands on the table. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“It’s either him or his dead kid,” he said. “Which one do you think is crazier?”

Powell let out a long sigh. “Let’s say we entertained a connection between the two cases. Then it is way more likely to be a copy cat then Victor or Henry Creel.”

“If you’re saying Eddie is practicing evil magic based on a table top game,” he said with a sneer, sitting back in his chair, “then you’ll have to arrest Jacob Matthews, Kenny Martin, and Lonnie Byers because they all played Tactics growing up.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Powell said crossly, “as this Dungeons and Dragons the kids are playing now days.”

“One is playing with armies in fictional battles,” Wayne said, “and the other is playing a small band of heroes to battle evil in fictional setting. I really don’t see the difference. Jake liked being Germany, and I’d say that if far more egregious then playing a thief or rogue whatever they call it.”

Powell licked his lips slowly. “I’m not going to convince you to help us bring Eddie in am I?”

“No,” Wayne said, raising to his feet. “And you try to pin this on him, then you’re more than a coward then I thought you were. There is something evil and rotten in this town, no doubt about it. Hop knew and it’s time you got on board while you can still protect this town.”

Then he strolled out the door.

~

“I concur,” Eddie said leaping from the top of Skull Rock, deftly in front of everyone, “Dustin Henderson, that you are a total butthead!”

“Eddie!” Dustin cried and ran over to hug him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said as he gave hugs to Steve and Wayne, too. “This old man has taught more than a thing or two on how to survive in the wild. I was able to swim back to the house and change my clothes and grab my bag.”

Wayne nodded. “Damn right I did,” he groused. “It’s a good thing too, because when I saw you pinwheel head first into the water, I thought I’d lost ya for good.” He hugged Eddie, too.

Steve hung back, breathing heavily, trying to look everywhere but where Eddie was receiving the worried assurances from Dustin and Wayne.

Eddie leaned his head down to get a better look at his boyfriend. “Hey, Stevie...I’m okay. See?” He held out his arms and turned around, showing that he wasn’t hurt in any way. “I’m okay, baby.”

Suddenly he had an armful of Steve Harrington. A sobbing Steve Harrington, who gripped the back of his jacket in a white knuckle grip.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured gently. “I’m okay.”

“I should have moved you to my place,” Steve whispered harshly. “You would have been safe. You would have been safe!”

Eddie rubbed Steve’s back and made soothing noises. “You don’t know that for sure. But I’m safe now. Okay? Why don’t you guys tell me everything you learned at the Creel House?”

Steve nodded and moved to take a step back, but Eddie held on tight. “I didn’t say you had to let go, Stevie.”

Steve slumped against his boyfriend and they both settled against the base of Skull Rock.

“You say all the light bulbs in your flashlights exploded?” Eddie muttered darkly. “Do you know when that was?”

Nancy and Robin looked at each other. “There was a huge grandfather clock that was somehow still working, so yeah we’ve got a pretty good idea when it was,” Nancy said.

Eddie worked his watch off his wrist and tossed it at her. “That stopped when I hit the water, shortly after Patrick died.”

Nancy looked down at the watch again and her eyes widened.

“It’s the same time, isn’t it?” Dustin asked. “The surge of power we felt in the house was the same power that killed Patrick.”

“Wait, wait hold up!” Lucas said waving his hands. “Dustin’s compass wasn’t wrong. It was acting up.”

Dustin stared over at him in shock. “Oh. Fuck.” He turned back to Eddie and Wayne. “The only reason compasses act up like that is in the presence of a Gate to the Upside Down.”

“You have got to be shittin’ me,” Wayne growled. “You think there is one of these holes in the universe nearby?”

Lucas nodded. Wayne threw his arms in the air and proceeded to let loose a slew of curse words that left Dustin mildly impressed.

“Well what are we standing around gawking for?” he growled and whirled Dustin the direction the compass had tried to direct them on their way here.

Steve and Eddie leapt to their feet and quickly gathered all of Eddie’s stuff, to follow close behind. They took each other’s hands and held on as they marched deeper and deeper into the woods.

~

“Dustin, Dustin!” Eddie shouted as Dustin rushed ahead from the group.

He barely made it in time to pull him back from face plant into the lake. “Shit, dude! Not every edge of the water has a shore line. Jesus Christ!”

“Whoa!” Dustin said. He pointed out to the water. “It’s got to be out there in the lake.”

“Shit that’s where Patrick was killed,” Eddie whispered back. “Look around for the boat, it should be around here somewhere.”

They finally found it and dragged it up to the shore. Dustin stepped up to the boat but Wayne put his hand on his chest.

“No kids,” he growled. “I should say no one under eighteen, but I have feeling the ladies are just goin’ to ignore me if I try to stop them from going.”

Robin and Nancy shared a glance and then they both shrugged. He wasn’t wrong.

“Someone should stay here and watch the littles,” Wayne continued. “I volunteer. Just don’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

Eddie grinned at him. “I can’t promise nothing. Especially with this lot.”

Wayne huffed out a chuckle and then waved them off. “Dustin, give Nancy the compass so that can find this hellgate.”

Dustin very unwillingly and loudly complaining handed over the compass.

The four teenagers got into the boat and Eddie looked back at the shore as the Party shrank the further they got from them. He had this uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that it would be some time before he saw them again.

~

Steve started untying his shoelaces and working off his socks.

“What are you doing?” Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was going to go. I’m a strong swimmer.”

Steve looked up from where he was shoving his socks into his sneakers. “Well unless you can beat co-captain of the swim team and a lifeguard for three years straight, it’s going to be me.”

Eddie let out a sigh. “He’s the best swimmer here, hands down. Plus, if something comes out of the Gate, he’ll be better able to fight it off.” Nancy rolled her eyes. “Because unless you have some magic power I haven’t been told about, Steve’s our heavy hitter.”

Nancy threw her arms in the air and turned away as Steve pulled off his sweater and tossed it to Eddie with a smile and a wink. Eddie pulled out a cigarette after that view, because, damn. His boyfriend was hot. But before he could even pull out his lighter, Robin snatched it from his lips.

“Gross!” Robin hissed dramatically, throwing the cigarette into the water.

Eddie wrapped the flashlight in the plastic bag and then handed it to Steve.

“Thanks,” Steve said with a smile, taking the flashlight from him.

“Good luck, babe,” Eddie murmured.

Steve nodded and dove right into the water. He felt that rush that he always did when hit the water. It silenced the roar of his thoughts and narrowed his focus. He was more at home here then on land. With Eddie’s flashlight in hand he moved toward the glowing light.

He got as close as he dared to that thing. It was red and pulsating. Angry. Angry in a way that only the Upside Down could be. He swam backwards to try to get distance from it, but his foot must have brushed something as he swam to the surface, because as he was in the middle of explaining to the others that it was definitely a gate, something grabbed grabbed a hold of his ankle and dragged him back down.

He struggled and fought but it was no use, whatever had a hold on him was not going to let go. With that strange swoop that occurred when you moved from one dimension to the next, suddenly he was in the Upside Down. All alone. Barefoot and shirtless in a world designed to kill you as fast as possible. Yeah he was fucked.

~

Suddenly Steve was fighting for his life, but he wasn’t alone. Somehow all three of them had dived right in after him and were attacking the monsters with boat oars. Eddie was swinging his oar around with deadly accuracy. Even breaking the oar in two on the second to the last bat.

God, Eddie was hot when he was angry.

Wait.

He needed to focus so he didn’t die. He bit the tail of the demobat that had wrapped its tail around his neck, causing the beast to let go fast. But Steve was faster. He grabbed the tail and began bashing in whatever the thing had for brains and then stomped on it, ripping it in two.

He panted, spitting out the brackish goo that made up their blood, trying to get out as much as he could. It tasted vile. Even more so than his own. He looked up at the blood red sky dancing with lightning and his eyes fluttered closed.

“Eddie meet the Upside Down,” he breathed, “Upside Down has already met Eddie.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh and then was suddenly giggling. Then they all were.

“I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to Jeff’s humor,” Eddie said once he could breath again.

“Let’s get under cover,” Nancy said with a sneer. “Because I really don’t think we’re going to like what happens if more of them show up.”

Steve pointed to the ‘shore’ line where the trees loomed in front of them. “That’s as good a place as any. We know what a demogorgon and the Mind Flayer sound like and can avoid them as much as possible.”

Nancy led the way to the treeline with everyone else following behind.

“I hate that’s a thing we know,” Robin groused as she fell in step with Steve.

Eddie brought up the rear. He kept looking behind them as though he could feel something out there watching them. Or rather watching him.

~

Once they were safely out of the watchful ‘eyes’ of the demobats, Eddie relaxed his shoulders. But the downside to relaxing after an ordeal like that one is that the adrenaline wears off.

“Fuck!” Steve hissed putting a hand on his side and it coming back covered in blood.

“Shit, baby!” Eddie said, moving him to sit on a nearby rock. “That looks bad.”

“What if you get rabies?” Robin asked panicked. “Do Upside Down creatures have rabies?”

“Shut up, Robin,” Steve asked, leaning his head back and gripping his hair to fight back on the pain, “or I swear to god I will hit you!”

Robin hiccuped and then smiled. “At least your humor is intact.”

“Move,” Nancy said, the pieces of the bottom of her shirt in her hands. “We need to wrap that up so it doesn’t get infected.”

Eddie snorted. “Do you know first aid, Nance?”

“Well...” she muttered, chewing on the bottom on her lip. “I mean a little.”

“Well I know a lot,” Eddie said, yanking the strips from her. “Wayne was an army medic and I got into a shit ton of scrapes the first year I was living with him. So if anyone is going to treat Steve it’s going to be a Munson and as Wayne ain’t here, it’s gonna be me.”

Nancy stepped back to stand with Robin, her arms crossed over her chest.

Eddie looked up at Steve and gave his hand a squeeze. “This is gonna hurt a lot, but this is just to stop the bleeding until we can get you somewhere where we can do a proper job of it, okay?”

Steve nodded. “Just do it. I trust you.”

Eddie gave his hand another squeeze and started to wrap the wounds around Steve’s stomach and sides, neatly tucking the ends under the bandage to keep it in place.

“We need to get up high to see where we are so we can get out of this hell hole,” he said with a grimace as he got to his feet.

He looked around him and found a suitable tree and began climbing.

“Just don’t step on the vines,” Nancy warned. “They’re connected to Vecna.”

Eddie turned around to see that the tree was covered in them and he had somehow missed them on his way up. “Shit.”

“Remember when I said the demodogs where connected to a hive mind?” Steve asked as Eddie tried to figure out a way to get down. “Apparently all things in the Upside Down are connected to the rat bastard.”

“Great,” Eddie growled. “Just fucking great.”

“We need to get to my house,” Nancy said, “I have two guns in my bedroom, and I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Eddie hopped down. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?”

“I know, right?” Robin said gleefully, “She such a badass.”

“I have two,” Nancy said with smile. “I have a Russian pistol and an old revolver.”

Steve scoffed and grinned. “You almost shot me with that one.”

Nancy grinned back. “And you almost deserved it.”

THWUMP!

“For your modesty, Stevie,” Eddie growled, with a glare.

Steve realized that he was now holding the battle vest in his arms. He smiled up at Eddie. “Thanks, love.”

Just then an earthquake hit, throwing Nancy into Steve’s arms and Robin and Eddie to the ground. Once it stopped, Steve made sure Nancy was steady enough and then he began to walk in the direction he was sure Nancy’s house was.

Eddie expression softened as Steve happily put on the vest and then yes, he admired his boyfriend’s ass. Sue him, he loved that ass. He hopped to his feet and dutifully followed Steve out of the forest.

Nancy pursed her lips together and bit her tongue. Ducking her head to hide her smile, she fell in step with Robin.

~

Tag List: EIGHT SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @beelze-the-bubkiss @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @themoonagainstmers

9- @steddieislife @chaotic-waffle

[bullet-prooflove]

Request for Wes Mitchell please ❤️

"Still, I don't let go And fields of flowers grow"

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @district447 @witchygagirl @cosmosnkaz

Prequel piece to:

One Night - Wes asks if he can stay the night while he finds a place in Budapest.

Think About It - Wes asks you to think about his offer.

Push - Wes realises he's pushed you too hard.

Broken - Wes doesn't think you're broken.

Demons - Wes has his own demons.

Night Calls - Wes always calls you at night.

It’s been a couple of years since the night you and Wes spent the night together. Wes, he’s had plenty of great sex before but he’s never made love, not until you. It’s all he can think about as he sits in the back row at the LA Law Enforcement Conference and watches you up on that stage, discussing International Policing Tactics and the role of Fly Teams throughout Europe. It’s interesting stuff but his focus isn’t on your words, it’s on whether he’s just caught a glimpse of silver on that wedding finger.

By the end of the session he still can’t tell, it’s the bane of sitting in the nosebleeds, he doesn’t get to see everything he wants to. It shouldn’t matter, he tells himself, after all he’s still with Ella but the thought of you married to another guy, it twists him up inside.

He thinks about approaching you at the drinks reception but his phone has been vibrating up a storm in his pocket, Ella is on a tirade because she found the conference leaflet on his nightstand and she knows you’re one of the speakers.

He’s been difference since that night, he knows it and so does she. Right now he’s just going through the motions, maintaining the status quo even though he knows this thing between the two of them hasn’t been good in a while. The fighting is getting worse, there’s mistrust on both sides. He can’t forgive her, she can’t forgive him.

What is this all for? He questions himself on a regular basis.

Deep down he knows the answer. Wes, he’s terrified of something real because if it goes bad that’s something he will never recover from. It’s a Catch 22 because he craves it so viscerally, it makes his chest physically hurt everytime he lays eyes on you.

His phone buzzes in his jacket, drawing his attention away as some silver fox hands you a drink. He focuses on the way the other man touches you, a light palm on your lower back as he whispers in your ear. It feels like a gut punch, like everything is wrong and he can’t seem to figure out how to fix it.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter…

But it does, it really fucking does.

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

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[11queensupreme11]

(don’t know if I already sent this ask 😭😭 I’m sorry)

if you know about EPIC the musical, there’s a song called ‘Love in Paradise’ that reminded me of Percy and the yans in that AU where she has all the children

Old friend

Maybe Grover by his empathy link??

It's been ten years since I last saw you

Remember me!

I am the infamous Odysseus!

👆 just Percy cause she’s really infamous lmao

Anyways, I've got all you could want here

All you could need here

Just you and me, my dear, my love for life

Soon, into bed we'll climb and spend our time

The yans. Literally. 😭😭 Especially with climbing into bed with her

I'm not your man

I'm what you want here

I'm what you need here

Just you and me, my love in paradise

Now 'til the end of time

From here on out, you're mine, all mine

Again. The yans. Even more with ‘till the end of time’ cause they’re gods 😔

Hell no, I could kill you where you stand

I'm no pet, I'm a married man

Oh handsome, you may try

But last I checked, goddesses can't die

Goddess?

You're adorable

Bow down now to the immortal Calypso, here to entertain

But fear not, I bring no pain

'Cause we've got

All we could want here

All we could need here

Under my spell, we're stuck in paradise

No one can come nor go, my island stays unknown

practically Percy’s helplessness against the gods — and the fact this isn’t her universe so she can’t go

No, no

I don't belong here

There's something wrong here

I won't be drawn to love in paradise

Not 'til the end of time, there is no way

You're mine, all mine

again, she can’t escape because this isn’t her universe and there’s no way back

Seven years, she's kept you trapped, out of your control

Time can take a heavy toll

this is more of a head canon for the au — like a Percy that lost all hope now??

Odysseus?

All I hear are screams

Ody, get away from the ledge

You don't know what I've gone through

You don't know what I've sacrificed

Every comrade I long knew

Every friend, I saw them die

And all I hear are screams

this could be her friends in the war (or all her dead friends, honestly) or even the loved ones she has back in the PJO! Universe. And the ‘get away from the ledge’ reminds me of the whole suicidal thoughts she has

It will be fine, dear

Come back inside, dear

Love of my life, come back to paradise

Let me close my eyes

I know your life's been hard

I'll stay inside your heart

All I hear are screams

I love you, my dear

I love our time here

Life would be so much worse

Just let me close my eyes

If you had died

Please stay from away from harm

Stay in my open arms

The whole ‘stay in my open arms’ reminds me of the yans so much — like, ‘you’ll be fine as long as you stay — why would you want to go back to that shitty life back in your universe??’ (At least those who know like beel or Loki)

and that’s all (am I onto something or am I on something??🧐🧐)

no this fits PERFECTLY

but technically a good portion of the EPIC the musical songs would fit her life well, especially since she canonically speed-runs odysseus' entire 10 year journey into like... a week or two in the sea of monsters 😭😭😭😭

[satansleftnutcheek]

The agony of watching/reading Trigun is not knowing if they’re all gay as hell or if that’s just how Nightow/the team decided to pose them

Yes I’m looking directly at Vash