#half of my efforts were spent on the hair.... the other half was on the clothes

[getaapologist]

A follow-up to my betrothed!reader blurb. Made just for me, a slightly early birthday present. Hope you get some enjoyment out of it too.

[ Prior betrothed!reader blurb here, has some important context ]

“Not there, Geta, they’ll see it!” you hiss, pulling the small blade away from his palm.

He’s just looking down at you, grinning, not a care in the world. As if you were his greatest treasure. Because you are.

“Do what you must,” he sighs, golden laurels glinting in the light. He brings his hand down to you, offering you the blade. As if he trusts you. Because he does. “But maybe wait until after?” He settles down over you, not worried about the knife you hold. His nose nudges your jaw as he settles on top of you, lips finding your throat. You quickly drop the blade on the floor.

His touch is overwhelming. His affections were never half-effort. 

For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why he desired you so strongly. The first time someone referred to you as a witch, you were concerned. When that very same title came tumbling from Geta’s lips as he held you in his lap, sweat sliding down his temple, breathy moans following it, you found you quite liked it. 

“My Empress,” he breathes, holding himself up with a forearm, his big brown doe eyes fixed on you, “you are radiant.”

His words fill you with pure love and adoration. If anyone knew the depth of his love for you, they would surely exploit it. You made a game of it, appearing sometimes disinterested and bored at gatherings, almost contemptuous, but you stole your moments of affection behind hedges and in darkened rooms when the need was too great. 

Much like now, you made your Emperor sweat, every bit of his energy spent driving into you, considering your pleasure as much as his own. After a month, you knew each other’s bodies quite well. It did not take him much to cause you to cry out, squeezing his shoulder tightly as you tremble, vision going spotty.

Geta, for all his bluster, was quite sweet. But only for you, he assured you. He even insisted that he would be the one to journey to your chambers for those secret moments of melding in the night, so you would not have to walk back after. 

And now, now that you would not have to be so secretive? Well, it just meant more. More time spent together. More time to work at this next task. 

An heir. 

And as he moans into your skin, his mouth finding yours, you dig your heels in, keeping him sheathed deep. Tearing away the laurel crown and abandoning it somewhere on the floor, you ran your fingers through his hair to soothe him as he buried his face into your neck, recovering.

“Wife,” he whispered. 

“Husband,” you countered.

“Get the blade.”

It wasn’t a command. He didn’t command you. It was a request. 

So as he sits up on his knees, you lean down to collect the blade, offering it to him hilt-first.

He shakes his head, a soft, lazy smile on his face. “You. Here.” He presses a ringed finger to the inside of his thigh, skin pale, untouched by the sun. Soft.

You hesitate. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He shakes his head, gripping your wrist. He holds himself out of the way to avoid any incidental nicks, and waits, watching you. 

He gasps as the sharp blade splits a small bit of his skin and vibrant red blood drips down his leg, staining the marital bed, as promised.

You get up, finding some bits of cloth that get torn into strips, and you create a band of linen around his thigh, patting his leg once you’re finished.

“Was it worth it?” you ask, a grin already spreading across your lips. 

“My Empress, why do you ask a question you already know the answer to?”

[turoce]

thank you women

(i dont think the shitty doodle communicates the joke well tbh so to explain: Kenji's idea of ''asking out'' is a date to the movies or something romantic. Kasey O's idea of "asking out" is. i 'unno. go outside and do stuff what romance haha)

[emmyc0z]

Can you write something for Sephiroth(pre-nibelheim) or Astarion? Your work is absolutely fantastic btw I’m in love with it ❤️❤️❤️

Not So Subtle

pairing : sephiroth x female!reader

summary : you have a teenage girl level crush on him, that you and zack talk (very loudly) about when you think no one can hear. but he does.

a/n : this takes place pre-nibelheim so everyone is happy and well! in honour of ff7 rebirth :)

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” You snap your jaw shut, eyes moving to glare at the young, dark haired boy who has decided to break your daydream. 

“It wasn’t even open.” He plops down beside you, shoulder touching yours. 

“Mhm.. and you weren’t drooling over our superior.” 

“Your superior,” you correct, eyebrow lifted with pointed sarcasm. If you could stick your tongue out at him, without it seeming childish to everyone around you, you would.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a first class soldier either,” He points out, amused. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and his hand reaches to cover the area as he laughs.

Zack was younger than you, though he certainly never acted like there was an age gap. In his mind, you were the same age as him in some way or another. You had always trained together so you felt much closer in age even though you were at least 3 years older than him. At times, he felt like a younger brother to you.

Even more so when he found out you had a crush on the man he spent everyday training beside. Constant teasing, constant threats to spill your secrets, constant blackmail. You couldn’t even count the amount of times he had used your crush to his advantage on one hand. 

There was a time you had to put your foot down and tell him no more, cause it was wrong of course. But also mostly cause you were running out of money to buy his silence.

“Yeah but I'm older, closer to his age. So I don't have to talk to him like I'm below him, unlike some people.” 

“Can you even talk to him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why are you sitting here staring..?” 

“He’s training..” 

“Mhm.” The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. Right now, it was the truth, Sephiroth was swinging his sword in the domed combat simulator, glass walls clear enough for you to see through. So the excuse of not being able to talk to him, out of fear of being sliced in half by his giant sword, was plausible. 

But any other time that you had sat staring at him, making no effort to speak to him, rendered that excuse inapplicable. 

“Shut it..” You push his shoulder with your elbow once more, and he snorts out a laugh. 

“I don’t get why you can’t just talk to him..” 

“Of course you don’t.. because you're obviously blind. Or you’ve been hit in the head one too many times in combat training.” You turn your gaze away from Zack to look back through the glass enclosing Sephiroth. 

His hair is tied up, hanging loosely against his back. It’s a rare sight, so you indulge yourself and stare a second longer than you should. It’s so relaxed, you think, compared to the seriousness of always having it pristinely down. There are stray hairs, flyaways, falling from the hair tie and hanging against his face. It’s unkempt, a nice contrast to his seemingly perfect lifestyle.

He swings his sword with calculated grace, a grace that you (or Zack for that matter) had yet to achieve. The control he held over his blade was impeccable, it never slipped or moved from his hold even when his hands were moving faster than his body could keep up with. Just another thing that had to be perfect in his life.

“How could I ever speak to him and not make a fool out of myself? For one, he’s first class, I'd totally ruin my chances of making first class if I said something totally outrageous. And knowing me, my mind would be so jumbled, I wouldn't even realize the words had left my mouth before he put me on some kind of ‘do not promote’ list.” 

“Oh so.. the only reason you won’t talk to him is because you're worried about making first class? Not.. I don’t know, maybe, the 12-year-old-girl-level crush you have on him.” Your hand slaps over his lips, eyes scanning around you. For the most part, no one looks at the two of you, and you figure the ones that are looking are doing so because of your hand covering Zacks blabbermouth. 

“Would you shut it?” Even with your hand covering his mouth, he manages to laugh at your widened eyes. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are a dead giveaway of his amusement. You remove your hand with a pointed look, one that says ‘keep it down’ in a far more subtle way than a hand over his face. 

“You’re so lucky you’re younger than me.” 

“More like so lucky you don’t want to make your boyfriend angry. Besides, you know I’m stronger than you.” 

“Mhm..” You roll your eyes, and with a sigh, you turn back to face Sephiroth. He stands still now and you realize all of the practice dummies have been broken. From your position, he doesn't even seem to have broken a sweat, even though he’s been in there for over an hour. His sword lies on the ground, thrown without care. 

Even with Zack beside you, and the silent teasing that exudes from his body, your eyes remain trained on Sephiroth. You realize it’s childish, to stare and never approach, but the idea of even standing next to him is enough to intimidate you. 

He runs his hand over his back, pulling the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall against his shoulders once more. He turns, presumably to leave the combat simulated, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You knew your staring wasn’t subtle, it had never been before, but you had never expected to get caught. You had never been caught. 

You turn your head away so fast that Zack almost flinches, probably thinking you were going to hit him again. 

“Jesus,” he looks at you with confusion, “What’s the problem?” 

“He saw me.” 

“What?” 

“He saw me! Through the glass! He totally caught me staring at him..” You stare at Zack with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, before you head falls into your lap in shame.

“Would you relax? I guarantee he doesn’t care or he didn’t even see you. Maybe he was just looking at his reflection.”

You look back towards Sephiroth to see him leaving through the doors of the dome, and then you turn back to Zack with a pitiful whine. 

“This is so pathetic…” 

“I agree,” he smiles when you shoot him a glare, “Just talk to him.” 

“Talk to who?” A deep voice sounds from beside you, higher up than where you sit. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, and Zack's expression is enough to confirm your suspicion about who stands next to you. 

You turn your head to face Sephiroth, and he stares at you expectantly. You think you catch the slightest smirk building on the corner of his lips, but you also think you might just be trying to make yourself feel better. Standing, nowhere close to his height, you hold your hands up. Zack takes this as his sign to stand too. 

“Nobody! Angeal!” You fumble out words, trying to throw out a name before he grows suspicious. 

“Well which is it, nobody? or Angeal?” 

“Angeal. Yeah! Angeal, so.. um.. I should probably go find him.” 

“It just so happens that I have to find Angeal too, allow me to join you.” 

You want to throw the nearest chair at Zack, curse him for speaking so loudly. And you curse yourself for not thinking of an excuse in a reasonable time frame, so you just nod, and excuse yourself from Zack. 

He gives you a pitiful smile, and when you turn to look behind you for support one last time as you walk away he gives you a thumbs up. His face contradicts his hands, and he seems like he’s in a far less teasing mood. 

“Whatever you have to say to him, it must be important.” 

“Hm?” You tilt your head up and to the side to look at Sephiroth, you’ve been walking together for a few minutes now, mostly silently. 

“You're walking fast.” You shrug your shoulders and continue walking. 

At least until your steps are interrupted by him stepping in front of you. 

“Is there a problem?”

“What? Of course not!” He practically glares down at you, arms crossed over his muscular chest. You can see the outline of his defined chest muscles through the straps of his top. And you realize you're practically drooling over him, right in front of him so you force your eyes to meet his once more. But his glare is replaced by a smirk, and amusement in his eyes. 

“I see now..” 

“See what?” 

“Really? Do you think you’re subtle?” Your face flushes and once again you want the floor to open up and consume you whole, but you're stuck here. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Step back, you scream at yourself, but he moves closer and it’s impossible to move your feet. They feel like lead underneath you, not even giving way to a small shuffle backwards.

“No?” His hand reaches up to rest on your cheek, it's gentle, far gentler than you would’ve expected. But the way his fingers tense against your skin has you feeling fuzzy, “You think I don’t notice the way you stare? Hm?” 

He stares at you, thumb moving to the other side of your chin, holding your face in his hand. He maneuvers your face, moving it however he likes. You realize he’s examining the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part like you want to say something. His tongue gives a humiliating click when your lips close, and the words are lost. 

“I hear you, when you talk to Zack,” he stops his movement, stilling your face to look directly at him, “You’ve never been a quiet girl. Why are you so quiet now?” 

When you don’t respond his eyebrows scrunch, its subtle and almost missable because it’s gone in seconds. He’s not satisfied by your silence.

Sephiroth bends his shoulders, moving closer to your face, “Although, I suppose you’ve never been very talkative around me.” He moves closer still, swerving his nose to the side of your face until he’s able to speak in your ear, “That’s not very nice. You might hurt my feelings if you keep ignoring me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out meekly, you're honestly not even sure it’s audible at first but he laughs quietly, breath fanning on your ear. His other hand, the one that doesn’t hold your face, reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he pulls away. The breath that leaves your body is almost embarrassing. 

“What’re you sorry for, hm?” He stares expectantly down at you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“F…for ignoring you.”

“So you ignore me?” 

“No!”

“So you’re lying?” You shake your head as much as you can within the hold of his fingers, “Then what are you sorry for?” 

“For not talking to you.” 

“And why don’t you talk to me, I'm sure you know it’s rude to stare and never speak to someone.”

“Because..” His grip loosens, hand moving back to your cheek, thumb resting on your cheek bone. 

“Because why? Cmon use your voice, the one you use to talk about me with Zack.” 

You stare up at him pitifully, and the way words fumble from your mouth has you wanting to throw up, “Because I have this stupid crush on you, and I can't talk to you without getting nervous. I know it’s stupid and I should have told you sooner so you could reject me and I could move on and I never meant to offend you or-”

You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close until his nose touches yours, top lip brushing against yours as he tips your chin up towards him. Your words fall flat on your tongue when you meet his eyes, or rather when you see his eyes that are focused on your lips. 

“Offend me.. that’s sweet..” He’s so close to you, that every word has his lips brushing against your own again and again. 

“Sephiroth..?” You suppress the urge to move the tiniest bit forward so your lips can fully meet his. And you're sure your face is impossibly red. 

“You should’ve told me about this ‘stupid’ crush sooner, such a foolish girl. May I?” You're confused, what is he asking for? His eyes flicker up to yours before moving back to your lips. When you realize what he means you nod your head perhaps too eagerly. 

Slowly, to tease, his lips press against yours, palm pressing into the skin of yours to keep you in place. Eyes fluttering closed, your hands find his chest, silently screaming about the position you’ve found yourself in.

His lips overpower yours in every regard, moving languidly against you. His other hand reaches up to the free side of your face, fingers tickling the skin on your neck and thumb resting on your jaw. 

When he pulls away you can only look at him with half lidded eyes, dazed. 

Al he does is chuckle, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and patting your head. One hand holds the back of your head, leaning down to kiss your temple, before stepping behind you, “Don’t be so shy from now on. Maybe we’ll end up here again.”

His steps echo through the empty hall as he walks away.

“Wait… wait.. I thought you had to go see Angeal?” You turn, taking one step in his direction, then stopping yourself in your tracks hesitantly. 

“I didn’t. And I know you didn’t either.” He only turns his cheek towards you to speak and then continues on down the hallway, tall and brooding.

[pandoraspurgatory]

seeing your hc of katsuki being into vanilla homemade porn has me dazy eyed 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫….. i’m so curious now if there were any specific porn creators you thought of when envisioning what he liked? or any who you think would fuck like katsuki? goodness… 😵‍💫

Turbulent

Truthfully I am not a porn watcher as I am a porn reader, so that question is far beyond my knowledge lol. Though I’ve written an in depth version of Katsuki watching porn, hope you enjoy<3

Katsuki Bakugo can’t get off on mainstream porn, though something changes when he finds a couples homemade video

Katsuki Bakugo likes vanilla porn, masturbation, cum, pretty vanilla here, mentions of facefucking + cuckholding, Denki and Mineta are bitchless

Katsuki never cared enough nor paid much attention to porn, stroking himself in his bedroom wasn’t worth the effort when he could spend his time training and honing his skills as a 3rd year student close to graduating.

Either it was that, or the fact that he just couldn’t cum from it.

He first gave it watching porn a go when Denki and Mineta spent the afternoon yapping about different genres of porn. He wasn’t an eavesdropper, though he listened in on the conversation, taking notes for a later date.

Bakugo only ever found himself rubbing one out when he woke up with a painful hard on, or got so worked up over some fantasy that he couldn’t get his dick back down.

That same night Katsuki sat infront of his laptop, legs open and pants discarded on the carpeted floor, a bottle of lotion splayed out on the bed next to him. He opened up the first website that appeared after typing ‘porn’ in his browser, incognito mode on of course, he had double checked. Hastily typing what he had overheard in the orange and black search bar.

‘Face fucking’

He grimaced as he clicked on the first video of some Internet whore with a fat cock stuffed down her throat. Mascara running down her face as she started her assault of sucking on the comically large dick. He could somewhat imagine himself doing it, though the drool and mess was a massive turnoff that made him feel sticky just watching it. Next

‘Cuckholding’

The moment it appeared on his screen after searching a lot made sense regarding Denki and Mineta. Of course they were into this shit, why the fuck did he even decide to listen on to those morons conversation. He was confident he could never be into this. Next

The next hour was filled off him stroking his half erect cock to mediocre videos with no luck. He’d even watched the top most recommended on the site, the drum beat before each video posing as a reminder that this wasn’t working. At this point it wasn’t even to get himself off, but rather to prove to himself he could find a video to do it for him.

None of this shit on his laptop could even remotely turn him on, there was no love or intimacy, just videos of devoid eyes and lacklustre movements that screamed ‘I want to get home and get my paycheck!’.

He hated to admit it, though he couldn’t ever imagine himself having a one night stand or watching these emotionless videos again. Despite his rough and calloused nature, he craved intimacy just as much as he craved to be the best in his class. Katsukis cock lay limp in his hand as he scrolls through the videos, more and more loading after each roll of the laptop mouse.

That was until a certain video caught his eye.

‘Our first video - couple homemade’ 12 views, posted 2 hours ago

He clicked on it, something felt different about this one. The thumbnail displaying what seemed to be a couple in their mid twenties, kissing in the frame of the video. The women had long black hair and sexy curves that made Katsukis dick twitch. The man she was with cupping her face gently with deep admiration for her in his eyes.

As the video slowly played out on his screen, he paid no mind to the humming background noise of their bedroom fan and the shitty resolution. What struck him was the way they kindly talked to each other, pressing small yet passionate kisses on each others faces, how their soft hands rubbed and stroked at one another with care and love.

Katsukis hand roughly gripped around his dick before he could even think to do it. Feeling himself desperately stroke faster each time the couple said sentences of care and sweet nothings to each other. Low moans he didn’t anticipate escaping his mouth as the man slowly inserted himself into the curvy brunette. He wasn’t even attracted to the couple in the video, though he couldn’t help but feel the coil in his stomach build as the intimacy of their love making displayed itself before him.

He wanted to be the one to do it, to bury his cock into his hypothetical girlfriend and dick her down with all the love in his heart. Apart of him felt weird for not being turned on by the professionally made studio porn instead of the homemade couple video with a total of 500 pixels. He tried not to think about it too hard, and focus on how hard his shaft throbbed in his hands.

He felt blissed out as he slowly edged himself, determined to cum at the same time as the couple, a desperately attempt at feeling included. Squeezing his tip harder every time pretty moans escaped their mouths, fuck he wanted to be in their position so badly.

“F-fuck babe… mmmnggg… gonna cum”

“That’s it, come for me pretty girl”

“Cum with me! I wanna feel you cum inside me”

Katsukis stomach felt hot, he was so turned on by the way they spoke to each other, the way they both quickened their movements desperate to make each other cum.

The moment the couple on the screen cried out in pleasure, Katsuki gave a few quick tugs, finishing himself off.

He gave out an embarrassingly loud groan as he released himself, ropes of his cum shooting onto his laptop screen. Panting as he laid back on his bed, he needs someone to do this with as soon as fucking possible

[27spoons]

Dizzy on the Comedown | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: Denial is a river in Egypt.

pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

based on: pretty girls - reneé rapp

warnings: smut (afab!reader), internalized homophobia (nat), period typical homophobia (if you squint), ambiguously queer!reader, angst in my pants, I know nothing about soccer

a/n: technically you can read this part without reading part one but you should read part one anyway <3

wc: 5540

part one / ao3

The chair next to you is empty. 

Again.

It's been empty all week, and despite your best efforts at convincing yourself that it's fine, you can't stop the void from weighing on your conscience. Sure, missing one day was fine. Normal, even. It isn't Natalie if she doesn't miss at least one class a week. 

But there's something about how she's been dodging your calls, the fact that this is the second day in a row she's conveniently missed the one class you two share, and the nagging pit in your stomach that says this absence feels different. 

You try to focus on the lecture—something about the economic structures of ancient civilizations—but the professor’s voice fades into the background.

You knew this would happen. You knew it would end up hurting one or both of you. For once, you're grateful your seat is in the back of the lecture hall because it lets you close your eyes and press your head into your palms in frustration.

The remainder of the lecture is spent in thought, wondering how the hell you're supposed to repair a relationship when the other person doesn't even talk to you.

Ugh.

By the time the lecture ends, your head is far too busy, wondering why the hell she's avoiding you instead of just talking about whatever—

Nope. Actually, that's perfectly in character, now that you think about it. Why talk about things when you could just wall yourself off and refuse to converse over what you deem problematic?

With a roll of your eyes, you stand up from your seat and throw on your backpack, making record time back to your dorm. 

Your first order of business? The soccer schedule Nat gave you at the start of the season.

She has a game tonight. 

Perfect.

If she won't talk like adults, you'll ambush her after her soccer game ends. Either way, you two will talk about this, whether she likes it or not.

You glance down at your watch as you arrive at the soccer field.

4:50, the analog clock flashes back at you—ten minutes to match start.

Truthfully, you've never been that big of a soccer fan. Despite attending most of Nat's soccer games since high school, you don't understand the game. You just know she kicks a ball around a field over the course of an hour and a half. Should you have learned a thing or two by now? Probably. Oh, well. That's a thought for another night. You don't need to understand the game's dynamics to understand that more goals equals win, and winning is good.

Rather than sitting in your usual spot, right behind Nat's bench, you sit in the middle of the bleachers, right in a mess of people, out of view unless you're actively searching the stands for someone. 

When the teams come out onto the field, your eyes find Nat immediately jogging out behind some girl with black hair and tan skin. Instinctively, you shrink further into the crowd as if she would even end up looking your way—because why would she? You know the areas that her friends usually sit in—and you're far from any of them. Regardless, you tug your hood up all the same and hunch over slightly in your seat. 

Right after halftime passes, you make the mistake of stretching your arms above your head in an attempt to relieve the tension that's started building in your back since you began hunching your back. And, of course, that just so happens to be the exact point of time Natalie looks up into the stands as she sets her water bottle down.

Good going. Your one goal was to be stealthy.

You tense slightly, and you honestly don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't her just… glancing away and heading back out to the field. Or… maybe you should have expected it. She has a game to win, after all. What was she supposed to do? Ditch the game and start talking to you?

Either way, you notice she doesn't play nearly as well as she did in the first half. A part of you wonders if you're partially at fault for that.

By the time the game ends, the team manages to come out on top, one to nothing. You're not that big of an asshole that you'd interrupt a post-game celebration, but the second you see the team part and head to the changing rooms, you try and make a beeline for the familiar mop of bleach blonde hair mingling in the mess of soccer players. Yet, she's gone before you can grab her shoulder and talk.

Goddammit.

You suppose she doesn't play soccer because she's slow. 

But you'll be damned if she manages to slip past you again tonight.

You spend a good thirty minutes pacing outside one of the entrances to the locker rooms, already knowing that you could have very well missed her by now if she slipped out the opposite exit, but that's a chance you're willing to take.

She usually takes a shower after a game, anyway. It's not odd for her to spend a little longer in the showers, but thirty minutes is a little excessive. 

Still, in all your wisdom, you decide you'll wait an hour at the most. Not like you have anything better to do tonight, anyway.

By the forty-five-minute mark, you start debating your sanity.

By the fifty-minute mark, you start debating leaving—

The door opens. "Natalie!" You say immediately, pushing off the wall and walking in quick strides towards her, "Nat! Hold on!"

The girl scoffs and keeps walking away, shaking her head in annoyance. "Oh my God. I knew you were gonna try something when I saw you in the stands today."

"You've been avoiding me!" You yell back, "What the fuck was I supposed to do? You haven't been showing up to class, you've been avoiding my calls… I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" She calls back, not bothering to stop and look at you, "I think that maybe you should have waited until I came to you!"

"We both know you wouldn't have, Natalie! You would—" You quicken your stride again, "Fuck! Would you slow down for two seconds?! Or at least look at me when I'm talking to you?"

"If you can't say what you need to say while I'm walking, then it probably isn't even worth saying!" She responds with a humourless chuckle, "Not like I'm running away! Just walking!"

You huff at that, forcing out air through your nose. "Natalie." She keeps walking, "Natalie!" You finally snap, reaching out to grab at her wrist, "Stop fucking walking for a minute!" A beat, "Please." The last comment comes out slightly more desperate than you intend it to, but you don't know what you'll do if she doesn't talk about this with you, "Please, Nat." You breathe out, fully leaning into the desperation at this point, "Fuck, I… I can't lose you over something like this."

That makes her pause despite her initial struggle when you grabbed her wrist. She still doesn't face you, but she does stop walking. 

"You…" You can see the way her face contorts in an expression similar to pain, "You aren't gonna lose me over this."

"Then just…" A shaky sigh, "God, Nat. Just talk to me. Please. Stop… running—literally—just… just talk to me." You release her wrist after a moment longer, drawing your hand back to your side. 

"I can't." She whispers, "God… I just… I can't, okay?"

"Why not, Natalie?!" You can't help how your voice breaks on her name, "Why not?? We used to tell each other everything! When did that change?"

"It hasn't, okay?!" Nat snaps, turning around to look at you. "It hasn't changed! I'm just not ready to talk about this right now! Why can't you accept that?!"

"Because I know you! And I know that you'll just keep fucking avoiding this until it kills us!"

"Oh, wow." She scoffs, immediately throwing up those barriers you've become so accustomed to. "Y'sure think real highly of yourself, huh? That us not talking would kill me? Wow."

"You know that's not what I meant!" You hiss out as you take a step forward, "You know damn well I meant "killing our relationship," not… literally killing us!" You throw your hands up in equal parts frustration and confusion as to why she's acting like this, "Natalie, you have to know I'm not about to force you into a role or something—"

She slaps a hand over your mouth, "Would you lower your voice?!" She hisses at you, glancing around the area to see if anyone overheard, "Fuck! And, no, you aren't forcing me into a "role" because I'm straight!"

You yank her hand off of your mouth, "Natalie, you—!" You two enter a whisper-yelling competition, "Natalie. In case you fucking forgot, you were—" You glance around the area briefly, still focusing on watching your voice, "—tongue-fucking-deep in my fucking vagina the other night!"

Nat blushes furiously at the comment, jaw-dropping, and her entire body freezes. 

But, hey, you're already on a roll. "And, as far as I'm fucking concerned, straight chicks don't spend hours fucking her "best friend"—who is a woman—and fucking enjoy it!"

Her jaw remains on the floor as you finish speaking, and you really don't know what to do from here, but you really don't want her to walk off yet, so you do the reasonable thing.

You grab her face and draw her in for a kiss.

The kiss lasts about five seconds, in which she doesn't kiss you back at all, so you release her face and take a step back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "I—"

Her hand connects with your face with a loud THWACK, causing your head to flick to the side in shock, despite it not being that hard or hurtful.

Your hand moves to the cheek she hit, and it's your turn to drop your jaw. "Did you just… hit me?" You ask in equal parts, shock and reluctant arousal. 

Nat's mouth opens and closes a few times—as if she can't believe what she did either. "I… yes?"

A beat, an exasperated huff, "You don't even know if you hit me??"

"No! I mean… I know I hit you! I just…" She presses a hand to her head, just as confused as you are, apparently. "I didn't expect to hit you!"

"Well… you did??" You blink a few times as you try to recollect yourself, "Why??"

"I don't know?!" She yells back, "I don't know, okay?! I just—!" She groans in frustration, throwing her hands in the air. "Fuck, you piss me off!" And you think that she's about to storm off or hit you again, but she does something very unexpected and very appreciated— 

She grabs your face and kisses you. Properly this time. You hesitate only a moment before you return the kiss, hands immediately wrapping around her waist to draw her closer to your body.

The kiss is short-lived but intense, tongues pressing against each other in a flurry of want, Nat pressing up onto her toes to deepen it further, body pressing flush to yours as her arms wrap themself around your neck in a tight hold.

When the kiss breaks, her face remains close to yours. "Take me back to your dorm." She murmurs against your lips, warm breath fanning over your face. 

You hesitate for a moment, shaking your head minutely. "Nat, we… we need to talk about this—"

"Later." She cuts you off, "Please, later. I promise I'll talk about it with you." A beat, and she looks up at you with wide eyes, "You know I'm good on my word."

And, for all Nat is, she is good on her word. If she says she'll do something, she'll do it.

Another moment of hesitation, a quiet breath leaving your lips, "Y-yeah. Yes. Rachel is always at her boyfriend's place, anyway. We'll have the place to ourselves."

A small grin quirks on Natalie's lips, "Oh, boy. A twin-sized bed in a dorm with walls thinner than paper, all to ourselves. I can't wait."

You scoff and roll your eyes, detaching yourself from her hold, "You're the one that suggested my dorm room, asshole. We could have gone to yours."

She gives an exasperated pout, "But my dormmate is always home. And she snores."

You nudge your head in the general direction of your dorm, "Whatever. C'mon, before I change my mind."

"We both know you won't do that, though." She hums alongside you.

The second you two are in your dorm room, your backpacks are on the floor, and clothes are being quickly discarded.

"For the record," Nat murmurs as she throws her shirt off over her head, "I'm not—"

"Nope!" You cut her off as your hands move to your belt, "Don't wanna hear you say some shit like "I'm not gay" again after the conversation we just had."

The blonde scoffs and rolls her eyes, "I wasn't gonna say that." She falls back onto your bed and wiggles out of her pants, "I was gonna say "I'm not sure how much fun doing this in a twin-size is gonna be" if you would have let me finish."

A grin crosses your face, "Oh, trust me. I fully plan on having you finish multiple times tonight." You shoot her an overexaggerated wink, which earns you a (barely restrained) giggle and eye roll, with her pants being thrown at you. "Hey!" You catch her pants as they hit your chest, "You walked into that one. Only person you can blame is yourself."

"You talk so much, you know that?" She props herself up on her elbows and looks over you, "And you still have far too many clothes on. That needs to change."

"Yeah, I would have been more naked if someone hadn't thrown her pants at me." To tease her a little more, you spend your time folding her pants and delicately placing them on a chair, then do the same with her shirt that was discarded on the floor.

"Dude." Nat groans, "Seriously?" You see her kick her leg out at you through the corner of your eye, and a smirk twitches its way onto your lips as you continue the methodical process of folding clothes. And, much to the dismay of the half-naked girl on your bed, when you start stripping, you give your clothes the same treatment.

"You're fucking with me." She deadpans, eyes narrowed. "You have to be." 

You hum, "I'm just ensuring our clothes don't get wrinkled." 

Nat looks at the unfolded, clean laundry sitting in a heap at the foot of your bed, then back to you. "You have to be fucking with me."

"What can I say? I've decided I should start changing my habits. Starting now."

You get the sense she wants to give you a smart comment but then decides that if she did that, it would likely result in more of your teasing, so she opts for a frustrated huff instead. "Asshole." She grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms petulantly as she collapses back onto the mattress.

You grin as you pad back over to the bed, now in nothing but your underwear, "Yeah. But you knew that before you came back with me." You clamber onto the bed so that you're hovering over her, caging her to the bed. "So, once again, only yourself to blame."

"Yeah, I know." She murmurs, reaching up to wrap her arms loosely around your shoulders, "I seem to be making a lot of interesting choices lately."

"Interesting, but not bad?" You begin to press kisses to the side of her neck, slow and exploratory. 

"Mmm…" She moves her hands, one tangling in your hair, the other coming to rest on your shoulder, "No. Not bad. I make a lot of bad choices, but…" She hesitates, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she bares her neck for you. "No. I don't think this is one of them."

The grin that crosses your face is inevitable, and you pause your actions briefly as you reflect on the comment. "Good." After a long moment, you whisper against her skin, "That's…" You smile wider, pressing your forehead to her shoulder. "Good. That's good. I'm happy you think that."

"You're so cheesy." She pushes your shoulder back slightly so she can see your face, and a smirk appears when she sees your soft, warm smile. "And you're grinning like a dork."

"Can I be happy for thirty seconds? Is that allowed?" You run your hands up and down her sides, which immediately turns into her giggling and trying to get away from you, swatting at your hands. "Oh? Ticklish, Scatorccio?" 

"Asshole!" She laughs, trying to grab your hands. "S-stop! You know I'm ticklish!"

You shake your head, the grin now becoming more unhinged, "Nope! This is what you get for not letting me have a moment! I was trying to be cute!"

"N-no!" She laughs louder, eyes squeezing shut as her attempts remain futile. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I t-take it back!"

You laugh at that, enjoying the way she's squirming under you. And… it's nice. It's really nice, actually. Because this feels more like how a situation with your best friend should be, not… whatever happened at that party.

In your slight haze of thought, you pause long enough for Nat to shove you off of her, pinning you down instead. "Yes!" She laughs triumphantly, grabbing your wrists and holding them to the bed as she straddles your waist, "My turn!"

"Not ticklish, Scatorccio!" You laugh, shifting your hips up under her, both trying to get her off of you and trying to grind yourself against her. "But you're welcome to try!"

"Everyone is ticklish!" She lets go of one of your wrists, moving her hand to your waist and beginning her assault, "I'll prove it!" She laughs, warm and happy.

Admittedly, it's a sound you've missed. You've missed hearing her laugh.

But you still aren't ticklish.

You lay there and let her try, to no avail. "You're so fucking boring." Nat murmurs once she realises she won't be getting you to crack, and she collapses back onto the bed beside you. 

You turn to face her, propping yourself up on an elbow, your free hand trailing to rest on her stomach, "No, I'm just not ticklish. Hell, I touch you the wrong way right now, and you're gonna be giggling." You almost prove your point, but Nat glares at you and grabs the hand you have on her stomach, her expression telling you No.

"Mmmmm… but I'm feeling nice right now. So I won't. Because I'm nice." You grin down at her, and she rolls her eyes and releases her hold.

"Good. Because I'll kick your ass, I still have my cleats in my bag, don't make me use them." A quick glance at her soccer bag, and you briefly consider how long it would take Nat to push you off of her and grab her cleats, holding up her end of the promise.

Until she grabs your face with one of her hands, making you face her. "I'm joking." She murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheekbones. "Didn't I say you think too much?" And she pulls you in for a kiss, far more tender than you would have imagined it to be. 

"Also said I talk too much—" You mumble against her lips, which earns you a harsh pinch on your hip, a clear sign to shut up and kiss me, if you've ever seen one. 

So, you do. What can you say? You're a people pleaser at heart. 

Her lips part to make way for your tongue, and the kiss quickly escalates from there.

Natalie’s hands slide from your shoulders to your back, pulling you closer to her as her lips move against yours with increasing urgency. Her nails dig lightly into your shoulder blades, seeking a path downwards to the clasp of your bra. The second she gets it off, her hands shift to your front, squeezing your breasts greedily.

You smirk into her lips as your tongue presses against hers, saliva mixing together as your right hand flattens against the smooth expanse of her stomach, index gently tracing a small scar just below her rib cage.

She tenses slightly when you brush against the scar and immediately grabs your wrist and guides it lower, down to the waistband of her panties. You hesitate somewhat, but when she squeezes your wrist, you take that as encouragement and dip your fingers below the waistband, fingers quickly beginning to circle the area around her clit, but not quite touching it.

Blunt nails dig into your wrist, but she never breaks the kiss, despite the apparent frustration with your teasing in the way she grabs at you. A smirk makes its way onto your face as you detach your lips from her mouth, attaching them to her jaw, then slowly trailing them down her neck, savouring how she tilts her head to give you better access.

The second you bite down on her neck, attempting to suck a mark into the pale skin, you feel her tug your head back, "N-no. No marks." Nat mutters breathlessly, "Please. Just… nowhere visible." 

"Nowhere visible?" You parrot, considering that for a moment, "I can work with that." Continuing to press kisses to her neck, you agree to her terms and don't leave any marks, but you can't find it in yourself to remove your lips from the smooth expanse.

She seems pleased with the fact you're being so agreeable about that and lets out a quiet sigh, "Good. Now stop teasing."

A laugh is pulled from your throat, "Remember what I said last time? Gotta build that tension. Makes the release ten times as good." But, once again, you are a people pleaser. Specifically, a Natalie pleaser, and you let your fingers brush against her clit once, twice, then you start properly playing with the bundle of nerves.

Nat lets out a hum of appreciation as her fingers come to tangle in your hair, encouraging the way you press your face into the side of her neck as your fingers move, attempting to find a suitable rhythm. Once you do, you let out an appreciative groan at the way her hips grind down into your hand, trying to chase whatever you can give her. 

"Fuck," You murmur against the side of her neck, "God, you're so fucking wet." A shiver makes its way down your spine at the wet sounds you're pulling from the region, coupled with the short, sharp breaths Nat is taking. 

The breathless moan that parts from Nat's lips has you closing your eyes and focusing on your movements, brows furrowing in concentration. Your fingers leave her clit, sliding down through her wetness, then you're sliding two fingers into the warm opening, "Oh, God." You breathe out as your fingers sink down to the knuckle, "You feel so good."

"Not so bad yourself." Nat tries to quip back, but it comes out far too breathless to land the way she intends it to. "You're, ah, good at this." She murmurs out, almost like an afterthought, and you scoff and roll your eyes at the comment.

"Thanks." You mumble back, "I aim to please." 

And, well, you sure as hell aim for that goal.

Two fingers turn into three, Nat's breathless gasps and small whimpers pull from her throat at an increased rate, and it's not long until her nails are digging into your wrist hard enough to sting. 

You get the message pretty quickly. 

"Yeah—" You exhale, mouth trailing back up to her lips, "Wanna feel you come on my fingers." A kiss to the corner of her lips, "Wanna fucking feel you come on my fingers."

A small whimper leaves her lips, and her back arches, "F-fuck, keep doing that, and I will—"

You press your lips against hers, all teeth and tongue and oh god she's whimpering against your lips and—

You feel the way she clenches around your fingers in pulsations, the way her entire body tenses, then slowly relaxes as the pulses subside.

Before you can stop yourself, you retract your fingers from her and immediately press them into your own mouth, making a show of cleaning off the digits, pulling them back with a thin string of saliva connecting them to your lips.

Natalie, for the record, seems to find this very attractive. If the way her jaw goes slack and her eyes darken in hunger is any indication, "Jesus Christ." She stares at you, chest heaving with exertion (despite not doing anything other than lying there), and she's dragging your head back down to lock your lips together, desperate and eager. 

One of her hands curls around the nape of your neck, fingers tugging gently on the strands of hair at the base of your head. Her tongue presses itself past your lips, seeking yours, tasting the remnants of her release on your tongue. A gentle groan parts from her, and after a moment, she draws your tongue into her mouth, sucking on it, and whether she's chasing the taste on your tongue or just doing it because she can, you really don't care. It's hot.

She moves to turn onto her side, facing you, and one of her hands moves to rest on your hip, the other remaining at the base of your skull. Nat slowly rocks her hips into yours, "My turn." She breathes out against your lips, the hand on your hip beginning to trace itself lower with clear intent. 

The blonde hesitates slightly when she pulls back, eyes wide and pale cheeks flushed a shade of red. Her tongue peaks out to lick at her lower lip before she speaks, "I… I want you so bad…"

That comment makes you hesitate momentarily; even Natalie senses it wasn't entirely her to drop something like that. You give her a slight look of confusion at her attempt at being sultry but choose not to comment on the out-of-character line.

"Yeah," You breathe out after a moment, deciding just to move on, "Yeah." And you're kissing her again.

Nat moves her fingers under the waistband of your underwear, moving with purpose to find your warm heat, only slowing for half a second when she feels the wetness at the tips of her fingers. She hums into your mouth, seemingly in approval of her findings.

Unlike you, Natalie doesn't tease. Maybe it's because she already knows you're worked up from getting her off, or perhaps she just prefers getting right into the action, but either way? You're not complaining.

No, it's hard to complain when her fingers play with your clit like it's the most fascinating thing in the world to her, flicking the bud and rolling it between her pointer and middle finger with a satisfied grin on her face.

You push at her shoulder when you feel the grin against your lips, "Stop acting all smug." Comes out in a petulant huff, earning you a small giggle and a few quick circles of your clit.

"What? Am I not allowed to be happy I'm making you feel good?" She teases, voice laced with faux sadness.

"You just started, ass." Your hand moves from her shoulder to the back of her neck, "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Hardly ahead of myself," she muses, fingers starting to move in smaller, controlled circles. "Just remembering what you did last time we did this. You seemed…" She hums to herself, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, "pretty into it."

A scoff, followed by a squeeze of her nape, "Yeah, hard not to be into it when you have a hot chick's hand between your thighs."

That earns you another giggle, and Nat lets her fingers leave your clit in favour of seeking your entrance. "And, for the record?" She moves her lips to your ear, "It's gonna be a long night."

"That a promise?" You gasp as one of her fingers begins to tease, slowly sliding down, "Or just… a thinly veiled threat?" "Oh, baby." Nat purrs, finger sinking into its destination, "It's a guarantee."

And it sure as hell was.

It's well past noon when you wake up if the light streaming through your curtains is proof enough.

Most notably, there's a warm weight on your chest, and that weight you quickly realise belongs to none other than Natalie Scatorccio.

One hand draped over your waist, head resting on right above your heart. Bleach blonde hair is splayed out across your chest, and a soft smile makes its way onto your face at the sight.

She stayed the night.

The sense of relief that immediately crashes over you is palpable, and you let out a breath that you feel like you've been holding since that night at the party.

You aren't quite sure how long you lay there before you realise she's wearing your shirt like it's the most casual thing in the world, and, specifically, it's the shirt you wore last night. Usually, you're not one for cheesy romantic moments, but that? Oh, that makes you feel real good about yourself. Sure, it could have just been a "this is available" type of thing, but you like to imagine it's something a little deeper than that, even if you are being a little delusional. 

Like all good things, the moment of peace and reflection in the afternoon light comes to an end when Natalie begins to stir on your chest, slowly opening her eyes and coming alive to the world.

"Hey." You murmur out, one of your hands coming up to start playing with her hair, "Good sleep?"

She grunts at that, closing her eyes again and pressing her face back into your chest, "'m still sleepy." 

A warm laugh leaves your chest, and you can see Nat's small smile at your reaction to her mumbled comment, and it makes that fuzzy feeling in your chest return at full force. "Doesn't answer my question, though. Was it a good sleep?"

"Mm." She hums, the hand around your waist tightening slightly. "Yeah, actually. It was." The words come out in a sleepy mumble, and you can't help but feel… content, at least for right now. 

And, honestly? You'd be comfortable letting the silence fester. This is a good silence, not the type of silence that has you begging for an out.

Natalie, however, stirs after a few minutes in silence, giving your waist a soft squeeze. "I…" She sighs, opening her eyes and looking up at you from where her head is perched on your chest,  "Look. I'm gonna be honest with you. I don't…" She removes her hand from your hip and gestures to nothing, "I don't know what I am, alright? I mean…" A humourless chuckle, "I get that I'm not straight. Yeah, I've put the pieces together, but I don't, like, know what I am."

You shake your head, shifting slightly to look at her better, "Hey," you shake your head a few times, "that's okay. You don't need to know right now. It's not like I'm about to make you take a pop quiz on what your assumed sexuality is." The words are light, attempting to convey a joke, but there's also this underlying concern buried underneath. "I'm not about to… force you to label yourself, or anything." A sigh, "I mean… it's… complicated. I dunno. Figuring out who you are." Your fingers continue to run through her hair in a soothing motion, "I'm hardly someone who can, like, guide you down a path of self-discovery, but I'll be here if you need someone to talk to, Nat."

Some of the tension leaves Nat's shoulders at your words, but it's obviously still weighing heavily on her mind. Regardless, she gives you a slight nod and rests her head back on your chest, "Can we just… figure it out later?"

"Yeah." You reply softly, "We can figure it out later, Nat. No rush."

"No rush." She parrots, curling into your side again.

a/n: crush act 2 chapter 1 next trust

You snore when you sleep, by the way." Nat comments after a long few moments in silence.

"What??" You sit up, glancing down at her, "No, I do not." 

She gives you an exasperated huff when you sit up, therefore moving her from her (very comfortable) position on your chest. "Yeah, you do. Now lay back down, asshole. I was enjoying that."

"Not a single person has ever complained about my snoring before."

Nat shrugs, "Then they must not have been paying attention. Because you do." A beat, "And it's loud."

Your jaw drops in shock, and you can hardly believe what she's saying, "I genuinely cannot tell if you're fucking with me or not."

The blonde just shrugs as you lay back down, "Guess you'll have to wait and see, huh?"

"You're an asshole, Natalie Scatorccio."

"And here we are, anyways." She hums, "Here we are."

[x-press-it]

Should the Need Arise

Just a casual thing... untils it’s not.🎞️❤️‍🔥🖤🌹✅

Roommate!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You spent the night on your phone and Bucky, your roommate and best friend, provides you with a nice distraction. But there will be consequences.

Content Warnings: Smut 18+ | Explicit scenes (Handjob - M & F receiving, Oral sex - F receiving, unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms - Kitchen sex) - Pet Names (Sweetheart, no Doll) - Fluff and Emotional Vulnerability: Deep feelings, mutual pining - Angst (if you squint) - Reader Notes: No Y/N, no physical description of the reader, no mention of powers - Trope: And they were roommates.

Tell me if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: I'm one of those people who start reading stuff on their phone around mindnight and before they know it, it's morning. My husband's tactic to stop me scrolling is to ask for a hug, which distracts me and make me fall asleep. That sparked this little idea which has been sitting on a sticky note for months. I'm still stuck on chapter 8 of DevDes and the start of this year has been really taxing, so I'm in total lockdown mode. But I had a few hours and needed a distraction, so here you go! ^^

Word Count: 5.3K

MINORS DNI

"And then, below the cover of darkness, her hand curled around the hard evidence of his desire." ——— Thanks for reading, lovelies. Don’t forget to like, comment and reblog! Edit! >>Click here for part 2<<

You’re sprawled on your stomach, the unfolded couch now a makeshift bed for your typical Friday night tradition—movies with your roommate. The TV is off, long forgotten, leaving only the faint glow of your phone screen to cut through the darkness. The soft hum of the fridge coming from the kitchen and his relaxed breath are the only sounds filling your ears.

Your finger taps the screen, finding the link to Part 2 of the spicy story you’ve been reading. Your eyes are half-lidded, exhaustion tugging at your mind, but you refuse to give in. The distant chirp of birds signals the rise of the sun, yet you remain tethered to the words on your phone. Your gaze flickers across the sentences, hypnotized by the story that’s got you in its grasp. Heat stirs low in your belly, and your breath hitches as the intoxicating words pull you deeper into their world, your body aching for something you crave but don’t dare to name.

Once again, what was meant to be a late-night escape has turned into a sunrise affair. You blink lazily, trying to shake off the haze clouding your thoughts. A yawn creeps up on you, but you swallow it down, unwilling to let the allure of the story fade.

It’s only then that you feel the warmth pressing gently against your side—too familiar to be anything other than him. A sleepy voice rumbles near your ear, husky and thick with sleep.

“You should get some rest, sweetheart.” His breath stirs against your hair. “Need a hug or something to get you away from that phone?”

His voice rumbles against your scalp, sending a slow shiver down your spine. The warmth at your side shifts, his solid chest pressing more firmly against you, the heat of his breath tickling your temple.

You blink blearily at the screen, trying to refocus, but your grip on your phone falters for a second. Damn him and his sleep-heavy voice.

"I'm fine," you murmur, though the words come out softer than intended, laced with drowsiness.

Bucky makes a noise—something between a hum and a quiet huff—but he doesn't pull away. If anything, he settles in further, one heavy arm draping loosely over your back where your shirt has slightly rolled up, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin. His nose brushes your ear, and you feel him inhale deeply, like he's grounding himself in your scent.

"Later," you add, shifting slightly but making no real effort to move him off. "Just let me finish this chapter."

"Mm," Bucky acknowledges, but his arm tightens, his body molding against yours as if he's not quite ready to let go. The weight of him is solid, reassuring.

Another minute passes. Then two. Your scrolling slows, words blurring together as your body betrays you, sinking into the comforting heat of his embrace.

You barely realize when your fingers go slack, your phone slipping from your grip onto the mattress. A quiet sigh escapes your lips, and Bucky shifts again, pressing even closer.

"You’re still awake," he murmurs, his voice quieter this time, like he's almost back to sleep.

You swallow. "So are you."

A pause. Then, in a voice rough with something you can’t quite place, he admits, "Had a nightmare."

Your heart squeezes a little at that. Of course he did. You should have known—the way he clings, the way his breathing is a little too measured, like he's trying to calm himself down.

Without thinking, you reach up, your fingers brushing against his arm. A soothing motion. A small comfort.

"Do you need a hug?" you whisper.

For a second, he doesn’t answer. Then, finally, he exhales against your skin.

"Yeah," he says, barely above a breath.

And that’s all it takes.

You turn, pressing your face into the solid warmth of his chest, wrapping an arm around his back as he pulls you in with one slow, deliberate motion. He’s warm—so warm—and the way he holds you feels different this time. Tighter. Closer. Less like a friendly gesture and more like need.

And then—then you feel it.

The realization hits slow, creeping up the back of your neck, settling like a weight in your stomach. Because Bucky—your best friend, your roommate—is holding you too close. His breathing is uneven. And pressed against your thigh is the unmistakable hardness of something definitely not platonic.

Silence.

You don't move.

Neither does he.

The air between you thickens, heavy with something raw and unspoken. The world holds its breath. Until—

A sound. A quiet, almost reluctant groan that escapes from deep in his chest as your body shifts ever so slightly against him.

That’s when it happens.

That’s when you realize—you’re just as affected as he is.

Heat pools low in your stomach, spreading like a slow, consuming fire. You were already wound up from the smut you’d been reading, already feeling that restless ache thrumming beneath your skin—but now?

Now, every inch of you is hyperaware of him.

The solid weight of his body, the heat seeping from his bare skin, the way his fingers tense against your hip, like he’s trying to stop himself from gripping. The air is thick, electric, humming with something you’ve both been too blind—or too stubborn—to acknowledge until now.

And then it happens again.

A barely-there shift, just enough to press you against the unmistakable hardness straining under his sweatpants.

Your breath hitches.

Bucky stills.

Another realization crashes over you both at the exact same time, flooding every nerve ending like a shock to the system.

You’re needy.

He’s needy.

But neither of you wants to move away.

His fingers tighten on your hip. The warmth of his breath fans across your face, heavy and uneven. You don’t know who’s trembling—you or him—but the weight of the moment is crushing, suffocating in the best, most dangerous way.

The silence stretches, thick with tension, begging to be broken.

So you do.

"Need help with that?" Your voice is light—too light, too teasing for the way your pulse pounds in your throat.

Bucky makes a sound, something between a groan and a curse, low and rough, barely restrained. His grip flexes, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, his fingers press harder, his body coiling tight with something desperate, something aching.

"You sure?" His voice is wrecked, gravel against silk, the weight of his need unmistakable.

Your body throbs at the sound of it.

And yet, you force yourself to smirk, masking the sheer want clawing up your spine with something playful. Safer.

"Just like we share everything else," you murmur, tilting your chin up just slightly, lips brushing against the scruff of his jaw. "Why not this?"

He exhales sharply through his nose, his whole body going rigid. You swear you can feel the exact moment his restraint snaps.

Bucky doesn’t give you time to second-guess it. Doesn’t leave space for hesitation.

One second, he’s hovering there, like he’s still teetering on the edge of a decision. The next, his mouth is crushing against yours, devouring, famished.

It’s not careful. It’s not soft. It’s not the kind of first kiss that belongs to roommates, to friends.

It’s months of unspoken tension igniting all at once.

His hands find your waist, pressing you against him like he can’t bear a second of space between you. The heat of him, the solid muscle beneath your palms, the sheer force of his need—it makes your head spin.

You gasp into his mouth, and he takes advantage, slipping his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss, making your toes curl. Your fingers travel below the hem of his shirt, sinking into the bare skin of his back, nails digging in, pulling him closer, and fuck, the groan that rumbles from his chest makes something inside you clench.

He shifts again, pressing even more into you, against you, and you don’t know who’s chasing who anymore—all you know is that you need.

And he's right there with you.

The next few minutes blur into feverish hands and frantic fumbling—pushing, pulling, eager to rid yourselves of the barriers between you. There’s no finesse, no slow unraveling of tension, no teasing build-up. Just raw, aching need.

Because if either of you stops to think—if you pause, even for a second—it’ll mean facing something bigger, something heavier.

That this isn’t just some casual release.

That it isn’t about a moment of fleeting desperation.

It’s about him. About you. About the way you’ve been craving each other so much for so long it’s almost unbearable.

Bucky doesn’t give you time to process it. Doesn’t give himself time either.

Because that can’t be what this is about.

It can only be about getting off. About helping each other. About making use of what’s already here, right within reach.

And fuck, does Bucky reach.

He takes.

And you let him.

Your breath hitches as his fingers yank at the waistband of your panties, dragging them down in a single, impatient motion. There’s no hesitation, no teasing. You barely have time to kick them off before his flesh hand finds the warmth between your thighs, his fingers dipping past your soaked folds, sliding against your slick entrance.

A sharp gasp shudders from your lips.

Then—his thumb.

A slow, deliberate circle over your clit.

Your hips jolt, a whimper spilling into the space between you, and Bucky grunts—low, guttural, like the sound coming from you alone has his cock twitching against his stomach.

But you’re not just going to let him do all the work.

Your fingers curl around the hard, pulsing weight of him, wrapping around the evidence of his need, and fuck, the way he groans, the way his forehead drops to your shoulder, his entire body tensing at the first stroke—

It’s everything.

There’s nothing practiced about this. No perfect rhythm, no choreographed movements. It’s frantic, messy, like two people making up for lost time. Like a pent-up first time, all rushed hands and ragged breathing and the unmistakable sound of slick heat and aching friction.

It’s clumsy.

It’s reckless.

It’s so fucking good.

Your fingers work him in a tight, steady rhythm, coaxing more wrecked sounds from his throat. His metal arm is braced above your head, elbow digging into the cushion as his flesh hand thrusts against you—two fingers slipping inside, stretching you, filling you in a way that has your whole body tightening around the intrusion.

He groans against your skin, breath hot and heavy.

"So fuckin’ good," he mutters, voice thick with arousal, strained like he’s barely holding himself together.

His admission is ruinous. It crashes over you, sends you spiraling, because you can hear it in his voice—the raw need, the way he’s coming apart just as much as you are.

"Don’t stop," you whisper, rolling your hips into his touch, stroking him just a little tighter, just a little faster, reveling in the way his whole body shudders in response.

His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that has you gasping, thighs squeezing around his hand, and—

Oh, fuck.

You’re so close.

And so is he.

"Bucky—"

His name barely escapes your lips before his fingers curl just right—deep, precise, pressing into that perfect spot inside you, and you snap.

A ragged cry spills from your throat, your body locking up as pleasure rips through you, white-hot and relentless. Your thighs tremble, hips jerking against his hand, riding out every pulse of ecstasy as Bucky works you through it, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you.

"Fuck!" he grits out, voice wrecked, strained.

Your grip tightens around him, your strokes turning messy, desperate, driven by instinct and the lazy aftershocks still rolling through your limbs.

He shudders.

"Shit, sweetheart—gonna—"

His words dissolve into a groan, his forehead pressing to your shoulder as his whole body tenses—then jerks as he spills over your hand, thick, hot pulses coating your fingers. His breath stutters against your skin, his hips twitching into your touch, every ragged exhale laced with the kind of relief that has you smirking despite your own lingering haze.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The only sound in the room is your mingled, uneven breathing—the heavy silence of two people still caught in the aftershocks, still tangled together, still feeling each other even as the intensity fades.

The stillness stretches. Then, Bucky huffs out a breathless laugh, the weight of his forehead still resting against your shoulder.

"Well," Bucky murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion, amusement curling at the edges. "That’s one way to get you to put your damn phone down."

You huff a breathless laugh, still trying to get your heart rate under control. "Yeah? Gonna start using that tactic every time I get too into a story?"

He smirks, finally lifting his head, eyes still dark with the remnants of pleasure. "If it works, sweetheart, I just might."

Rolling your eyes, you reach for the tissue box on the coffee table, grabbing a few before passing him some. As you clean up, you glance at him, voice turning teasing, but softer. "Did it help?"

His brows furrow slightly. "What?"

You tilt your head, gaze knowing. "The nightmare."

For a second, something flickers in his expression. Surprise. Maybe even a little…fondness. But then, his lips twist into a crooked smile, the moment slipping away before it can settle too deep.

"Yeah," he admits, voice a little hoarse. "Didn’t even remember it ‘til you brought it up, so… guess that’s a win."

You nod, satisfied, and toss your tissues into the wastebasket nearby before tugging your underwear and pants back into place. He follows suit, the two of you moving in sync—like this is normal, like this isn’t the first time you’ve crossed this particular line.

"So," you say, stretching your arms above your head with a lazy grin. "We’re both single, right?"

Bucky raises a brow as he pushes the hem of his shirt back. "Pretty sure."

"Good. Means we can be single together… Should the need arise."

He snorts, shaking his head as he settles back onto the couch. "That’s the dumbest way to say ‘roommates with benefits’ I’ve ever heard."

"Yeah, well," you chuckle, flopping down beside him. "Not my fault you never had the nerve to ask me out."

His hand rests over his chest, eyes flicking to yours, something unreadable flashing there before he huffs a laugh. "Too late now, huh?"

You smirk, nudging his side. "Guess you’ll just have to settle for this instead."

He snorts, shifting lower against the cushions, his body still warm beside yours. "Tragic."

The sleep creeps back into your bones, heavy and insistent, and as your eyes flutter shut, you feel Bucky’s fingers brush absently against your arm—nothing deliberate, just a mindless touch, lingering.

Neither of you moves away.

And in the quiet, just before sleep pulls you under, you hear him murmur—so soft you almost miss it...

"Could be worse."

For days after, everything shifts.

Not in some obvious, earth-shattering way. No; that would be too easy. Instead, it’s in the small things. The lingering touches, the glances that last too long, the air between you oppressive with something unsaid—something you both refuse to acknowledge.

It’s in the hesitation when Bucky sits beside you now, his thigh just barely pressing against yours instead of sprawling out like he used to. In the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach out but doesn’t. In the split-second glance at your lips when you talk, so fast you almost miss it. Almost.

It’s in the way you catch yourself staring when he’s fresh out of the shower, towel slung around his neck, damp strands of hair curling at the ends. How your breath catches when he stretches, when his shirt rides up, when he runs a hand through his hair with that sleepy, careless ease.

It’s in the moments where you brush past each other in the kitchen, the heat of his body too noticeable. When you hand him a mug, and your fingers touch, and neither of you pulls away immediatly. When you shift to get comfortable on the couch, and instead of scooting over, his arm drapes over the back like it belongs there.

It’s in the loaded silences, the way your conversations don’t flow as effortlessly as before—like you’re both tiptoeing around something huge, something fragile.

But above all, it’s in the restraint. The careful distance. The way you both pull back at the last second, pretending this is still normal. That it’s just what it was before.

Because if either of you acknowledges it, if either of you dares to name it, it’ll be real. And real means risk. It means change. It means no going back.

So you don’t.

Instead, you let your fingers skim his when you pass him the remote. You let his knee press against yours and pretend you don’t feel the heat of it seep into your skin, pooling low in your stomach. You bite your tongue when you see him clench his jaw, his grip tightening on whatever he’s holding, like he’s fighting something off.

And when you catch him watching you—when your eyes meet in a moment that stretches too long—you do the only thing you can do.

You look away.

Because if you don’t…

You’re not sure you’ll be able to stop yourself next time.

It happens on a day when you need him.

Not in the way you’ve both been avoiding. Not in the way that comes with tangled sheets and breathless gasps. You just… need him. The way you used to. The steady warmth, the easy comfort, the feeling of knowing there’s someone who has your back no matter what.

So you find him. Seek him out like muscle memory, like instinct, letting your body pull you toward the one place that has always been safe.

And when you reach for him, when your fingers brush against his sleeve, expecting him to fold you into his arms the way he always has...

He flinches.

It’s small. Barely there. Just a fraction of a movement, the slightest pull-back, but you feel it. The space he puts between you, deliberate, careful. Like a closed door.

It stings.

No, it burns.

Like an open wound, like something torn deep inside your chest. You retract your hand like he’s struck you, fingers curling into a fist at your side, something ugly twisting in your stomach.

"You’ve changed." The words are sharp, cutting through the thick, heavy air between you. Frustration bubbles up, mixing with the ache in your ribs, spilling over before you can stop it. "Since when do we not—" You swallow, searching for the right words, something that won’t make this worse. "Since when did we stop reaching out to each other?"

Bucky’s expression tightens, his fingers twitching like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you. "I haven’t changed." His voice is a little louder than it should be, a little too defensive, his jaw clenching as he shakes his head. "Everything’s still the same!"

You snicker. Bitter. Unamused.

Because it’s a lie.

Because you both know everything is different. Nothing has been the same since that night.

The words slip past your lips before you can think better of them. "I wish nothing had happened!"

The moment they’re out, you regret them.

The silence that follows is thick, suffocating. His stomach plummets. Your heart aches, raw and exposed. Because it’s not really a lie, is it? It’s an admission disguised as a negation. You don’t wish nothing had happened. You just wish it hadn’t changed everything.

His eyes darken, something dangerous flickering behind them as he takes a step closer. "And I just wish it would happen again!"

Your breath catches.

Neither of you moves at first. Stunned by his confession, by the weight of the truth hanging between you.

Until—

The tension snaps.

You crash into each other.

It’s hungry, voracious, a collision of frustration and longing, hands grasping, mouths claiming. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. No pretending.

Because you both know now—this was never just casual.

It never could be.

Once again, it starts with hands.

Grasping. Pulling. Needing.

You collide in a mess of mouths and limbs, desperation threading through every movement. Clothes are in the way, frustrating, barriers you can’t rip off fast enough.

The kitchen counter is suddenly at your back, hard and unyielding, but you don’t care. Not when he’s right there, caging you in, his body a wall of heat and need. His lips are insistent, greedy, dragging over yours before tracing down the column of your throat, teeth scraping as he works his way lower, lower—

By the time he reaches your waistband, his breath is ragged.

And when he does… he grips.

Fingers digging into fabric, ripping at it, dragging your pants and underwear down in one sharp tug. The cold air barely has a chance to hit your skin before his palms are on your thighs, prying them open, his breath hot against sensitive flesh.

"Bucky—"

The sound of his name, breathy, needy, from your lips, has something snapping in him.

He groans, hands tightening, before his mouth descends.

Teeth graze over the soft skin of your inner thigh, nipping, teasing, torturing—

You gasp, hips jerking forward, trying to push him where you need him, but he holds you there, spreading you wider, his fingers pressing into your flesh, his lips moving painfully slow.

"You always taste this sweet, sweetheart?" His voice is wicked, lips brushing over where you’re burning for him, but not quite giving in yet.

You whine.

You fucking whine.

And that does it.

He groans, deep and ravenous.

Before you know it, his tongue lashes against you, hot and wet and precise.

The cry that rips from your throat is immediate. Loud. Unfiltered.

And he doesn’t stop.

He buries himself between your thighs like a man who’s been starving for this—licking, sucking, devouring—his tongue flicking over that sensitive bundle of nerves before circling back, just to make you squirm.

One of your hands flies to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, tugging, pulling. He groans at that, like he likes it, and the vibration sends a shock wave of pleasure straight through you.

You can’t think.

Can’t breathe.

Your thighs shake, heels digging into his back, hips rocking against his mouth. Chasing the friction, chasing release.

"Bucky—fuck—"

He growls against you, hands tightening, dragging you even closer, like he wants you to fall apart for him, like he won’t let you go until you do.

So he seals his lips around your clit and sucks.

And the pressure breaks you.

Rapture crashes through you in a white-hot wave, ripping you apart at the seams, your body tensing before shattering, a strangled, shameless cry tearing from your lips as you come undone.

But he doesn’t stop.

He licks you through it, savoring, groaning against your soaked skin like he’s getting drunk off you, only pulling back when your tremors start to ease.

When he finally lifts his head, his lips are shiny with you, his pupils blown black, chest heaving.

"Fuckin’ gorgeous," he rasps, hands still holding your thighs open, like he’s not done yet.

And from the way he’s looking at you?

You knows he isn’t.

His mouth doesn’t leave you.

Even as you shudder beneath him, body still trembling from the force of your release, he devours you—kissing his way up your stomach, dragging his lips over the flushed skin of your chest, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the curve of your breasts where they spill over your bra.

He savors.

Teeth grazing over your collarbone, tongue flicking against your pulse, feeling it race beneath his lips as he works his way higher.

Until his mouth crashes against yours.

You taste yourself on his tongue, heady and intoxicating, but it isn’t enough. The ache inside you is still there, deep and insistent, clawing at your insides, demanding more.

Your fingers fumble at the waistband of his pants, rapacious, needing to feel him, to have him closer. He groans into your mouth, a deep, desperate sound, before tearing the offending layers away—kicking off his pants, his boxers, until nothing is between you anymore.

Suddenly he’s there, thick and hard against your soaked heat, and—

"Please," you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist, your hands pulling at his back, urging him closer, needing him to just—

He grits his teeth, chest heaving, his control thin, so razor-thin—

In one swift motion, he sinks in.

A deep, guttural moan rips from his throat as he buries himself inside you, stretching you so exquisitely that your breath catches, your nails digging into his skin.

"Jesus—fuck—" His head drops against your shoulder, jaw clenched, body trembling as he stills, giving you time to adjust, to take all of him, because fuck, you feel like heaven, like you were made for him, for this.

It’s overwhelming.

The warmth of you wrapped so tight around him, the way your body clenches in need, the way you shifts, hips rolling impatiently against his—

"Move," you whine, breath hot against his ear, you voice wrecked, needy.

He swears, low and gravelly, his resolve snapping.

And without any warning, he moves.

The first thrust is slow, purposeful, pushing deep before dragging back out, his breath catching at the way you whimpers, at the way your fingers scramble at his back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Faster.

Each movement deeper, more greedy, his mouth dragging over your jaw, your throat, your shoulder, worshiping every inch of you like you’re the only thing that’s real.

"Fuck—Buck—"

Your voice is wrecked, breathless, and the way you respond to him, the way you move with him, meeting each thrust like you need it as much as he does—

He can’t keep it in.

"Dreamt of this," he rasps against your throat, his hips rolling, his movements turning more urgent, more hungry. "For so fucking long."

Your breath catches, your nails dig deeper, dragging down his spine, and he groans, gripping your hips tighter, grinding into you just right—

"It’s everything," he pants, lips brushing your ear, the words tumbling out unrestrained, raw. "Everything I wanted—everything I needed—and more…"

His rhythm stutters for a beat, his body pressing closer, his forehead dropping against yours as the confession spills from his lips before he can stop it—

"Fuck! I love you."

Silence.

You gasp, a soft, startled sound, your eyes flying open to meet his—

But he doesn’t stop.

"I love you," he breathes again, hips still rocking into you, deep and intentional, his hand cupping the side of your face. "God, I love you so much—"

Something inside you breaks.

Because you feel it—

Every single word, every touch, every movement.

He means it.

Before you can realize it, your lips crash into his.

It’s not just ardent. It’s everything.

The tension snaps again, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, in perfect sync, like he was always meant to fit inside you like this.

Like he was always meant to be yours.

Your lips crush against his once more, a messy, heated clash of tongues and teeth, your hands gripping at his shoulders, clawing at his back, pulling him deeper, closer, like you want to consume him whole.

And fuck, he lets you.

Because he’s gone—utterly wrecked, completely undone by you, unraveling in the best way by how you move against him, by how your body clings to his like you never want to let go.

"Say it again," you gasp against his lips, your nails digging into his scalp, your hips arching to meet his every thrust.

His breath catches, his rhythm faltering just slightly as his hand cradles your jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek before tilting your chin up—forcing you to look at him.

He swallows hard, his breath coming in ragged pulls before the words slip from his lips.

"I love you."

The words fall from his mouth like a vow, raw and unshakable, and the way you shudder against him, the way your thighs tighten around his waist—fuck, he swears he almost loses it right then and there.

But it isn’t enough.

He needs you to know.

He presses his forehead to yours, voice rough and gravelly, each thrust deliberate, deep, meant to brand his confession into your very bones.

"I love you."

"I fucking love you."

"Always have—"

Your breath stutters, your body trembling, breaking apart against him, and the second he feels you start to tighten, that perfect, fluttering squeeze around him—

He loses it.

His rhythm turns desperate, his jaw going slack, moans pouring freely from his lips as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release as you fall apart against him, his name tumbling from your lips like it’s the only thing you know how to say.

And when you clench around him, when your body pulls him in so perfectly—he follows.

The pleasure slams into him hard, ripping through his limbs like a live wire, his movements stuttering as he buries himself deep, his head dropping to your shoulder once again as he spills into you with a ragged, shuddering groan.

Neither of you move for a long moment.

Just the sound of your heavy breaths, your heartbeats pounding wildly against each other covering the hum of the fridge, his arms trembling where he braces against the countertop, barely keeping himself upright.

Your fingers—soft, slow, tender—trace up his back, slipping into his hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp. A shiver racks through him, his body melting into yours.

He groans, shifting slightly, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder, his breath still ragged, uneven.

"You okay?" he rasps, voice wrecked, rough.

A soft, breathy laugh.

"I think you just made me forget how to breathe," you murmur, fingers still playing lazily with his hair.

That makes him smirk, pulling back just enough to look at you, to drink you in—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair a mess from his hands.

And fuck, you’re gorgeous, breathtaking, an absolute vision.

His heart clenches.

"Good," he murmurs, tilting his head, brushing his nose against yours, his voice softer now. "Because you just made me forget how to do anything but love you."

And the look in your eyes—

That wrecks him more than anything ever could.

For a moment, the world feels suspended.

Just the sound of your breaths, still ragged and uneven, your bodies tangled together, your heartbeats still thudding, frantic and wild.

His arms are trembling, barely keeping himself upright as he stays buried deep inside you, forehead pressed against yours, lips hovering just above your own.

And fuck, he should move—should say something, anything, but he can’t, because you’re looking at him—

Like he’s something precious.

Something you can’t bear to lose.

You take a shaky breath, your hands smoothing down his back, holding him close.

"I love you too, Bucky."

It’s soft, barely above a whisper, but it wrecks him—

Shatters him, undoes him, because—

Fuck.

You mean it.

He can see it, feel it, in the way your fingers brush through his hair, in the way your hands run down his spine, keeping him pressed against you, in the way your lips part, like you wants to say more—

But he doesn’t let you.

Because he’s kissing you before you can even take another breath—deep and slow and reverent, like he’s trying to memorize you, like he’s trying to make up for all the times he wanted to do this and held back.

Like he never wants to stop.

And maybe—

Maybe he never will.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don’t forget to comment and spread the love 😊 More on the way!

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[alotofpockets]

Yours to keep | Lia Wälti x Reader

5k celebration prompt: “Keep it, it looks better on you anyways.”

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.3k

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The final whistle blew, signalling the end of the match. You looked up at the sky, trying to keep your tears in. The defeat of the match hung heavy on your shoulders. You had two good chances late in the second half, but you managed to fumble both.

The frustrations had built up ever since you had gotten behind, but those two chances cut deep. The game could have been yours again if only you hadn’t messed them up.

The moment of that last shot kept playing in your head on a loop. You could have tied the game. The ball at your feet, the perfect opening, and the shot that sailed just wide. 

Your chest felt tight thinking back on your mistake. It wasn’t just yourself that you had disappointed, you could still hear the way the crowd reacted to the missed opportunity. The collective noise of disappointment from the crowd made you sick to your stomach. You wanted to make them proud, but instead you fucked up.

After the game, a few of your teammates came over giving you a quick pat on the back, most of them moving on to the next player and not noticing, but not Lia. Lia noticed right away, she wrapped her arms around you, and held you close for a moment.

The two of you had been dating for a couple of months now, but with years of friendship under your belts, she knew exactly what you were doing to yourself right now.

“It’s okay.” She whispered into your ear. In her arms, you could no longer keep the tears at bay. “It’s my fault we lost.” You said between soft sobs. “That’s not true. We win as a team and we lose as a team. In my eyes you were the one working the hardest to get us back.”

You wiped away your tears and took a deep breath before walking with Lia. It took a moment to compose yourself, but once you did, you joined the rest of the team in thanking the fans.

Once you got back into the dressing rooms, you dropped your facade again. You had put one on for the fans, even when you knew they had most likely seen you crying, but with your teammates you knew you didn’t even need to hide it, they were each feeling the loss in their own ways.

Lia sat down next to you and gently nudged her leg against yours, “Wanna come over?” You nodded, agreeing without saying a word. She drove the both of you over to her place, both immediately settling on the couch. She pulled you into her side, “If you want to talk about it, I am here.”

You shook your head, “I’d really rather not think about it right now.” Lia placed a kiss onto your forehead. “That’s okay too. How about a movie?” She turned on the tv when you nodded. 

She scrolled through a few movies, asking if you wanted to watch the ones she suggested, but you really didn’t mind. Any distraction from your current thoughts was welcomed, so you let her choose.

Lia started the movie, and you cuddled up into her side. Laying in Lia’s comfort helped a lot with your mood. One of her arms around you to hold you close, and the other drawing soft patterns on your arm.

When the movie was done, Lia ordered some food. Once it arrived you started another movie. Not needing to talk or focus on anything besides the movie while laying in Lia’s arms. The comfortable silence was exactly what you needed.

Then when the second movie was finished, you took a look at the clock. “Oh it’s getting late. I should head home.” You said, but not yet making an effort to actually get up.

Lia moved a strand of hair out of your face, “You could stay.”

Her suggestion took you off guard, and you tested slightly as your brain immediately jumped to conclusions. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to stay over, but you and Lia hadn’t spent the night together yet. Was it too soon? Would Lia expect that spending the night would include sleeping together?

But then her hand found yours, grounding you. “Hey,” She said softly as she squeezed your hand. “No expectations. I just don’t want you going home alone when you’re already feeling like this.” And just like that, the tension in your shoulders eased.

You thought for a moment, she sounded genuine, and you would really rather not leave the comfort of her presence. “Okay,” You let your shoulders fully relax, “I’ll stay.”

Since staying over wasn’t planned, Lia handed you a pair of her shorts and her hoodie for you to wear, along with whatever toiletries you needed. You got ready and changed while Lia cleaned up the room.

When you got back into the living room, now wearing Lia’s clothes that were slightly too big for you, you felt her eyes on you. “What?” You said nervously. “Nothing, I just like the way you look in my clothes.” She smiled and stepped towards you. With a peck to your lips, she went to get ready herself.

The night was exactly what you needed, soft moments with Lia, lots of cuddles, and the quiet reassurance that you weren’t alone. You had fallen asleep in her arms, but when you woke up she was no longer there. It took a moment for you to recall your evening, but then you remembered that Lia had an early online class.

You softly made your way over to her, careful not to interrupt her studies. When she noticed you she looked up with a warm smile. “Morning love, I’m almost done. There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

After grabbing a mug, you settled on the couch. You watched Lia study while sipping your drink. Lia didn’t even notice you were watching her, she was fully in her element. She was writing down notes while the class continued. 

You were glad you stayed the night. Not just because of the comfort it has brought you, but also taking small steps forward in your relationship. Watching her focus on her studies as well as she was, was something you deeply admired about her. Managing that besides football was no small task.

Then she closed her laptop, signalling that her class was over, and locked her eyes with your instantly. Her smile grew as she watched you watch her behind the coffee mug. She stood up and quickly made her way over to you.

“Sorry we couldn’t cuddle in bed this morning, but I hope some cuddles now can make up for it?” She let herself fall into you after taking your mug and placing it on the table. You wrap your arms around her and pull her in closer. “Hm, maybe you need to add a few kisses for it to even out with morning cuddles.” Lia chuckled lightly, but obliged and gave you pecks all over your face. “Better?” 

“Better.” You said between giggles, as she continued to press kisses all over your face.

The two of you continued to cuddle on the couch until it was time for you to head home. After stretching, you realised you were still wearing Lia’s clothes. “I should probably change before I go.” You said looking down at her clothes.

Lia grabbed your hand before you could walk away, “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” Her face lights up when she looks at you. Your cheeks flush lightly, as you lean down to kiss her. “You just like seeing me in your clothes.” Lia’s smile grew, “Yeah I do.”

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Cater Diamond: Woke Up Lookin’ Like This

The way that goofy diamond mascot follows Cater into his various outfits 💀

dbsjgejeje Can’t believe he’s being an beauty guru/influencer showing off makeup products and shooting a GRWM vid in his groovy… OTL

Rise and Shine!

Looking like you have it together is far different than actually having it together.

Some days—like today—Cater had trouble getting himself out of bed. He always did in the end, but with great effort, like lugging a sack of potatoes to the washroom. A splash of ice-cold water often did the trick, rousing him awake and adding a faint flush or pink to his face.

But color is a flaw. Imperfect. No pure diamond has splotches of another color tainting it.

He’d paint over his half-dead canvas with cleanser, toner, serum, and moisturizer. Skincare was less routine and more ritual for him. A special magic charm, complete with an incantation muttered to himself.

Smile already. You’re never fully dressed without it.

By the time he patted himself dry, his face managed to settle into its usual arrangement. The upward curve of his lips, a friendly sparkle set in his eyes, tangerine waves pushed back by a headband to show off the mask he wore. This was “himself”—the thinnest sliver of Cater he showed the world.

He plopped down on at the foot his bed. His phone was mounted on a tripod, and just out of camerashot were various pieces of equipment. Extra lights, reflectors—tricks to flatter him. To distract, deceive. Even the placement of the plushies on his bed had been arranged for maximum visual appeal in the eye of the camera.

Aaand… action.

The recording started.

Cater flashed a huge grin and waved to his phone. “Gooood morning, Magicam fam! How’re you doing today?”

His spectators were, of course, no one. Not now, at least. He’d have to edit this footage later, tweak and fine tune it to achieve perfection before releasing it to the public. Then he would lap up that sweet, addictive validation.

And so he donned that mask once more, playing to his imaginary audience.

“Hahah, you guys are so silly.” He playfully tossed a few of his locks. “Did you think Cay-kun woke up like this? It takes effort to look this good!”

Cater winked, pointing at his imagined audience members. “You can do it too! I’ll walk you through my base makeup routine 🎵”

He held up a slim grey tube, his palm acting as its backstop to keep the camera focused on it. Other products were neatly lined up before him like a procession of card soldiers.

“Lately, I’ve been really gravitating to this beand new UV primer! Have you heard of it? It literally just came out this month. I got my hands on it as soon as I could and I’ve been wearing it every day since!”

Cater rattled off the benefits and uses of the primer: UV protection, dewy—not greasy (this difference was important) finish, great coverage, evening skin tone. “You can put powder on top or dab it on with a tissue over a full face of makeup and it still looks good! This is sure to go viral ⭐️”

He was in the middle of a demonstration when the knocking came. Cater startled, smearing a blob of product across one cheek.

“Aaah, shoot…!”

He scrambled for his phone, cutting off the recording. Then Cater shot up, rushing to his door while rubbing the primer into his skin.

"Coming...! Wait just a sec!" he called.

An aside, to consult his reflection in the mirror and ensure that every last bit of product had been pressed in. His skin was left supple and glowing, giving the impression of a guy that hadn't spent the last hour before drifting off doomscrolling and commenting on shallow posts. A guy that had it all together.

Cater slicked back a stray strand of hair and braced himself for his next act. The door swung open, revealing you and your school bag.

“Mornin’~! You’re up bright and early!” he chirped, casually leaning against the doorframe. “Wasn’t expecting you to be over so soon.”

“Oh—well, I wanted to see if I could catch you without your full face on.” You squinted at him. “Wow, did you really wake up looking like this?"

Cater gave a laugh that was light and effortless. "What do you think?" he asked teasingly. An expert dodging of the question--not the truth, but not quite a lie either.

You bit your lower lip, considering it. "Come on. Nobody's that perfect. Even Vil-senpai has to work hard to be the way he is."

You took a step toward him, and he backed up. One foot rested on that line dividing his room from the rest of Heartslabyul. You teetered there, as if on a tightrope. One more step, and you'd breach into his territory--his room, his most intimate place.

"... What's your secret?"

My secret?

He had many. Too many. They writhed like worms inside of him, those ugly pieces that shrank from the sunshine.

Cater turned away, plucking up another tube of product. He squeezed a dollop onto his index finger. "What's the fun in giving it away? I think..."

His arm shot out, poking you in the chin.

"... It's more fun to give chase! If you spot a white rabbit hopping around, you'd be curious about where it's going, right?"

Your reached for where he had marked you. Your fingers came away moist with a thick cream. With a sigh, you rubbed at it, the cream vanishing into your skin.

"You're impossible."

Cater smiled--perhaps for the first real time since he had woken up. "That's one impossibility! Come up with five more before breakfast and maybe I'll be nice enough to give you a hint~"

[croworro]

Making out with Charlie in the kitchen of a friends house at a costume party with music in the background….

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader drabble: Costume Party

OH MY GOODDDD. No because the way I was just thinking about this because I saw the photo of Charlie as beast boy again!!!

I only briefly proofread this before posting so oops

Warning: making out at parties, alcohol, suggestive content

Ted had been asking you to go to this party for weeks

“You need to get out more!” He said dramatically during one of your FaceTimes

You guffawed at him, but eventually gave in once he virtually pinky promised to keep you company all night and drive you to the party

He had the biggest shit eating grin when you finally agreed

“Don’t make me regret this!” You scolded him and he held his hands up in surrender

You honestly didn’t put much thought into your costume, you had a raven costume from a Halloween in previous years that had been a hit hanging in your closet

It was the perfect mix of hot, recognizable and low effort

You paired it with dark makeup and some knee high black books, and damn diva you ate

True to his word, Ted picked you up and drove you both to the party

When you finally made it to the party it was overwhelming

The house was huge

Every inch of it was covered in Halloween decorations that honestly all together probably costed more than your rent

The house just screamed YouTuber money

As soon as you entered the house Ted disappeared, “I’ll find you later!! Byeeee!! Have fun!! Mingle!” He yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd of people

You spent about half an hour dodging over enthusiastic partygoers, sipping on some sort of alcoholic seltzer, and attempting to make small talk over the music

You managed to make a bit of small talk with others but it was impossible to hear with the bass of the music that shook the entire house

You were starting to wonder why you let Ted drag you to this

Sure you recognized most of the people here but you weren’t particularly close to any of them

You found refuge in the empty kitchen, the only spot in the house that the bass didn’t seem to reach

You sipped on your drink and leaned against the counter

The idea of just calling an uber was becoming more and more appealing by the minute

As soon as you pulled out your phone, the kitchen door swung open

In walked Charlie, calling over his shoulder to someone in the other room as he entered the kitchen

His eyes immediately landed on you and his expression shifted to pure delight

He was dressed as beast boy, his green face paint was slightly smudged and his hair was extra messy from the green hairspray

He strode across the kitchen and stood right in front of you

“Oh my god hey! What are you doing here?” He said with a large grin, his voice a familiar mix of teasing and surprise

He didnt even notice your costume at first and was just solely zoned in on you

Because damn you looked hot

Then he realized

“OH MY GOD! You’re raven!”

He took a step back to really take in your costume

“You had to know I was gonna be beast boy!” He exclaimed and accusingly pointed a finger your way

“ totally, I hacked into your brain and planned this months ago” you replied dryly

He just laughed, the sound just so warm and effortless

“I mean I don’t blame you, I would wanna match with me too” he teased while leaning against the counter next to you

The two of you easily slip back into your familiar banter

Ted had introduced you two a while back and you had hit it off right away

Charlie was handsome, funny, and charming but at the time you had been introduced he had been in a relationship

Now that he was single, you dynamic changed

And it was especially different tonight

Might have been the costumes, maybe it was the energy of the party, or maybe it was just him

So many accidental subtle touches

Brief moments where your hands touch that makes your stomach flip

“You really pull off the whole raven vibe” he complimented during a lull of silence in the conversation

his tone was playful but his gaze lingered a moment too long causing your face to flush

A couple of people wander into the kitchen and compliment you on how great you guys look together

before you can protest Charlie pulls you closer to him by your waist and thanks them

Someone snaps a cute photo of the two of you in your pose

Once the others in the kitchen leave the atmosphere in the kitchen shifts

Charlie’s hand is still rested on your waist

He leans in a little closer to you, his voice soft

“You know, I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. But I’m glad you came.”

Instead of responding, you leaned in

It was a short hesitant kiss, you pulled away quickly

But before you can say anything, Charlie responds quickly

He pulls you closer with both hands on your waist kisses you, this time deepening the kiss

You pressed yourself closer to him

His hand on your waist tightened slightly and the other ghosted up to your cheek, his thumb resting gently on your skin

The kiss is a bit clumsy but overwhelming earnest, like he can’t believe this is happening

And honestly neither of you can believe that this is actually happening

Charlie turns you so your back is to the counter

The counter digs into your back as Charlie moves forward, leaving no space between your bodies

His fingers slide from your cheek to your hair, tangling in it lightly as he tilts his head for a better angle

His breath hitches slightly when your hands find their way to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer

The kiss becomes more feverish

This is the moment you both have been waiting for

His lips move against yours as if he can’t decide whether to speed up or slow down

Eventually you both break apart for air, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to catch your breath

Your hands stay firmly placed on one another

“Wow” his voice dazed and low “that was -uh- wow”

You both laugh softly

Charlie’s eyes never leave yours, he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world

Just as Charlie leaned in for another kiss, the sound of the kitchen door creaking open startled both of you.

You pulled back slightly "I knew it!" Ted's voice cut through the moment

"Charlie, you look like you were just attacked at a goth makeup counter”

Ted then turns and looks at you “ and you look like you’re auditioning for shrek 5”

You instinctively reach up to touch your face, realizing your fingers came away faintly green.

Your face burns with embarrassment

Charlie just shrugs and replies “what can I say Ted we just got really into character”

Ted just cringes and says something along the lines of “gross” underneath his breath before retreating from the kitchen

As soon as Ted leaves you both melt into laughter

“Well that was mortifying” you comment as you use a napkin to try and wipe the green face paint off your cheek

“Could have been worse.” Charlie said while chuckling, gently taking the napkin from your hand and wiping your cheek himself

He finishes wiping your face (not that it helped much)

“So where did we leave off?” He says lowly as he leans in closely to your ear

You shiver as you feel his breath against your ear

“How about we go somewhere where we won’t have to worry about getting caught again?” You suggest

Safe to say charlies never bought and uber quicker

I’m actually obsessed with Charlie as beast boy was so fucking cute, I wanna makeout with his stupid green face 😭

[j-k-writes]

The Lion of the Trident

Summary - After Rhaegar's defeat on The Trident, Robert and Ned must deal with the Prince's surviving forces, including Y/N Lannister.

Warnings - age gaps (Y/N is about 16/17 while Ned and Robert are 19/20), canon character death, general GOT warnings, ableist language (toward Tyrion), mentions of violence, sexual content

Y/N was awoken to the feel of frigid water pouring down on him. 

He shot up, gasping and shivering. He pushed himself further into the makeshift outdoor prison cell, covering himself further in mud. He shook his hair out as the chilled water settled deep into his bones, glaring up at the men responsible. 

“I know I stink, but that’s not quite the bath I had in mind.” Y/N’s words didn’t quite land the way he’d hoped with the shivers racking him visible to the men standing over him. 

“King Robert wishes to speak with you.” 

Y/N laughed, “King? I wasn’t aware Aerys had died?” 

The two men didn’t grant the Lannister heir with a response, grabbing his arms and dragging him to his feet. He attempted to jerk his arms free from the men’s grasp, but the days spent chained to a pole with little food and water had weakened him enough that the two men had no trouble dragging him to Robert’s tent. 

Realizing he had no choice but to let this farce take place, Y/N steeled himself holding his head high as they walked through the camp. He smiled at the jeers thrown his way, finding himself laughing at quite a few. The days of abuse, physical and verbal, he’d suffered at the hands of the usurpers were nothing compared to the years living in his father’s tight grasp. Perhaps if they set Lord Tywin in front of the young knight he’d have been more forthcoming with his information. 

Robert Baratheon looked exactly how Y/N remembered him, towering over every lord in his tent. Y/N’s eyes trailed down the Baratheon’s body, gaze settling on a fresh bandage applied around his torso. 

“Sit him down.” Ned Stark spoke, drawing Y/N’s attention away from the Stormlander. Y/N grunted as he was forced into a chair, wincing as the rough wood of the seat made contact with the bruises no doubt littering his body. The two men were dismissed, and Robert and Ned turned their full attention to Y/N. 

“While I admire the efforts, you will be getting no valuable information from me.” Y/N spoke, taking in the different reactions from the two men. Ned winced at the reminder of the Lannister’s treatment in the camp, while Robert simply frowned, scowl deepening. 

“Has Tywin Lannister declared for the Targaryens?” Robert asked, and Y/N laughed, wincing half a second later at the pain it caused him. Tywin Lannister was still holed up at Casterly Rock with Cersei and Tyrion, leaving Jamie and Y/N to fight their own battles. 

“Did you see the Lannister forces at The Trident, Robert?” 

“I saw you.” 

Y/N smiled, “And you caught me.” 

“Are you saying you were with Rhaegar’s forces against your Lord father’s wishes?” Ned asked. 

“Which answer would make you less inclined to kick me in the ribs?” Y/N asked, if the two men brought him here for information they might as well get on with it. Y/N wishes to return to bed, finding small comforts in his sleep, as fitful as it was. 

Once again, Y/N’s words made the Stark flinch. “I apologize for your treatment, it was not our intention-” 

“Save it, Ned.” Y/N spat. “I am not a boy, I know how war works. I chose the losing side, and now my fate lies in your hands. If you’re going to have me killed as a traitor I’d rather you just get on with it, perhaps the afterlife will have less mud.” 

Robert barked out a laugh, “Alright.” 

“Robert-” 

“You heard the man, Ned.” Robert said. “He is of no use to us.” 

“If he speaks true,” Robert made to interrupt, but Ned continued on ignoring his friend. “If he speaks true, Lord Tywin has not yet declared for a side. If we have his son, his heir, he may be more sympathetic to our cause.” 

Y/N scoffed, “My father has two other sons.” 

“The kingsguard and the imp?” Robert raised an eyebrow and Y/N frowned. Tyrion was a child of the House Lannister, and even that it seemed would not save him from the realms scorns. Robert was right in his statement, however, Jamie was a sworn knight of the kingsguard, and his father could not even look at his youngest son let alone declare him heir. 

“I am not just some whore who’s body you can sell.” Y/N spat. 

“The whispers I hear would say differently.” 

“What the fuck are you implying.” Y/N sneered at the same time Ned let out a choked ‘Robert’. 

Robert held his hands up in mock surrender, dropping the topic. Ned sighed, turning to Y/N, “I know we are not friends Ser Y/N, but you are a fine knight, and with you and your house’s support behind us in this war we can win.” 

“You’re already winning.” Y/N deflated, it was true. Rhaegar was dead, and from Jamie’s reports Aerys was madder than ever. The war was practically over, and Y/N Lannister had chosen the wrong side. “You do not need the support of my father or me.” 

“Would you rather die?” Robert asked, his eyes scanning the knight in a way that made him squirm in his seat. 

“If I must.” 

“You do not have to, Y/N.” Ned sighed, “Work with us to secure your father’s support and we will let you live.” 

Y/N bit his lip, sinking in on himself. He knew he had no real choice, they would not kill him no matter what he said, they wanted his father’s army too badly. He could either let himself be a prisoner or he could be an equal with the two men. 

“Fine, tell me what to do.”

Jamie had killed Aerys, Tywin had sacked the city, and now the throne was Roberts. Y/N however, instead of celebrating the victory with his father and brother, was in the chambers of Ned Stark, drunk, half naked, and pressed into the mattress. 

“Don’t you have a wife?” Y/N gasped as Ned roughly tugged at the laces of his trousers. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Ned asked, although his smile as he finally managed to undo the laces undercut any bite put into his words. 

Y/N laughed as Ned tugged his trouser down his legs, tossing them to the side. Ned looked up at the man, smiling, and Y/N took the opportunity to wrap his legs around Ned’s waist and flip them over. Ned gasped as his back hit the bed, and Y/N smiled down at him. He leaned down close to his ear, whispering, “No.” 

Ned grabbed the back of his head, roughly smashing their lips together. Y/N immediately relaxed into the Lord’s hold, allowing Ned to trace his mouth down his jaw. Y/N gasped as Ned pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, before biting down roughly. Y/N ground his hips down roughly into Ned’s and the Stark’s grip in Y/N’s hair tightened as a low groan escaped his throat. 

“Have you ever shared a bed with a man before, Ned?” Ned paused, giving Y/N all the answers he needed. Y/N hummed, pushing Ned down into the bed. Ned stared up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, and skin flushed a red that was sure to be unusual for a Northerner. “Let me teach you then, Lord Stark.” 

Before Y/N could move however the door to the chambers burst open and the men jumped apart. Ned, still half dressed, threw a blanket to Y/N who quickly grabbed it to cover himself. The men both looked to the door, where Robert, now King Robert, was standing, a jug of wine in hand. Robert did not seem shocked at the sight, an amused smile plastered on his face. 

“What do we have here?” Robert said, still smiling. He closed the door behind him with his foot, placing the jug of wine on the table near the door. He took a seat, “Well, don’t stop for me.” 

“Robert-” Robert held a hand up, and Ned closed his mouth. 

“Are you just going to watch us, Robert?” Y/N said, trying to keep his usual confidence, although he could feel his face burning. Ned made a noise at Y/N’s question, but Robert smiled. Y/N looked to Ned, who’s flush had deepened significantly, before turning back to Robert. “Because the Keep’s beds seem big enough to fit three.” 

Robert’s smile widened, and Ned made a noise that sounded like he was dying. On many drunken nights throughout their journey to Kingslanding Ned had confided in Y/N about he and Robert’s youth-fueled escapades, although they had never gone past sloppy kisses Ned had always wondered what it would have been like to cross the line. 

“What did you say to him to get him into your bed?” Robert said to Y/N. 

“He has gotten me into his bed.” Y/N said. “Although it took him more cups of wine than you to do so, my king.” 

Ned looked between the two men, opening his mouth, probably to ask about Y/N’s words, but Y/N stood dropping the blanket and all words died on Ned’s lips. Robert smirked, standing and stripping his extensive layers. Ned stood silently, looking between Y/N and Robert, and Y/N just placed his hand on Ned’s bare chest. 

“Get onto the bed,” He whispered to Ned, chuckling when the man stripped himself of his remaining clothing and laid down into the bed. Robert came to stand behind Y/N, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Would you like to teach him or should I?” 

“You.” Robert released the man, walking toward the head of the bed. He crawled onto the bed, coming up behind Ned. He grabbed Ned’s jaw, forcing him to look at Y/N as he approached the bed. 

“Watch and learn, Ned.”

[luckypunklemonade]

Nothing to Lose

| Did you ever realize how far apart you and Stiles grew, even as you spent hours together?

[smut MDNI 18+ established relationship; oral (fem receiving)] Classic overworked loser boyfriend! (canon) Stiles Stilinski

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

You’ve always trusted Stiles to know his limits. Never badgered him if he wanted to stay up into the early morning hours researching niche supernatural events or when he’d say he survived off of microwave dinners and PB&J's and hasn’t drank water in a few days. Of course, he loved it when you sternly told him that wasn’t healthy, that he should get more sleep or get up to get him a cup of water. He loved that about you. Seeing you cared when it mattered.

It started when you took his hand in yours and brought it up to your mouth. Pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles, punctuating words he wasn’t listening to. “Stiles?” You frowned, giving up on the conversation.

“Hm?” He’d blink as if his eyelids were sticking together; slow, fazed and distracted.

“You’re not listening,” you’d said, kissing his fingertips.

“M’listening. I was…” he tested bending his fingers, smiling when your lips followed. “I was…”

You could hear the thought die in his throat, the remnants leaving in the form of a small moan as you take his ring finger between your lips.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Then he was resting his cheek against your inner thigh, eyes already glazing over and eyebrows knitted dramatically. An overwhelmed and weak expression. When you had told him you liked it when he looked like that, you suspected he started looking at you with those half-lidded eyes and slightly-parted mouth more often. Whatever makes you happy.

When he spoke in a needy whisper, his voice took on a gravelly static. His ‘M’s and ‘S’s slurring and spilling over into the next word after it. He lost the sense to enunciate words or put much work into the praises and instead focused his efforts into watching your face and sliding his fingers between your legs and letting out a deep exhale, something about how wet you are leaving with it.

It’s been a while for sure. Since you’ve had time for each other. Since you got time alone, really. Consumed by school, work, and helping the pack. You’d joked that the pack couldn’t survive without two humans, he laughed, and you both went back to work. It was comfortable. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed to just be with him until he’d coincidentally sat next to you in the bed for a small break. Reading through the notes you’d both taken, switching the notebook between backpacks every research session, you leaned into him.

Now, he was looking up at you from between your legs, almost cross-eyed at the slick covering his thumb. And when his head dipped down, ready to coat his mouth in you, he knew your mouth would fall open. He knew it did something to you, the boldness of his eye contact while he did something like this, lapping at you, hands holding your thighs down, and humming into you every so often as if he wanted this as much as you did. As your head lolled back, he smiled against you and reached up to hold your hand. He gently guided your hand to the top of his head, his moan vibrating against you as your nails scratch softly at his scalp. He lifts his head and gives you a crooked grin. His lips are wet and his eyes almost sparkle as his voice comes out cracking in need. “M’listening now, sweetheart.”

Before you could answer, his head dipped back down, sucking softly as your hands tighten in his hair. Stiles was indulgent. In his research, mostly, losing track of time and awareness of his own needs. He was often dehydrated, tired, and hungry, making you out to be his guardian angel every time you came over to remind him. He said his ADHD gave him an addictive personality, or his father’s genes. At the very least, he was obsessive. It was useful in research, but you never imagined how advantageous it’d be if he set his sights on you.

He grinned against you and pulled away again, impatient to get his words out. Your eyes fluttered seeing him lick his lips and the words that come out are barely heard, “Missed you.”

The sight makes your heart flutter. His awkward smile because he’d stopped to tell you. His chin was still shiny, and he licked his lips again, enunciating for the first time since you’d kissed his neck,

“I missed you, honey. Am I makin’ it up to you?”

[aciddrattboyy]

Rҽԃ Fʅαɠʂ αɳԃ Lσɳɠ Nιɠԋƚʂ

┆ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ - "your feelings for megumi were very much real but it was pretty apparent only saw you as a fuck buddy- but who were you to pass up any opportunity to be with him"

ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛꜱ: ★ Starring: Megumi F. x F! Reader ★ Run Time: 1.7k ★ Genre/Warnings: [Rated R: Adult Film/Drama] smut, angst, spit, oral/fingering(f!receiving), penetrative sex (characters are aged up)

▶▶

the knock on your door sent a mix of dread and anticipation through your body. for a moment you considered not even opening it. you knew it was megumi from the countless times he’d come to your apartment before. late night, unannounced, needing something. needing you. you had tried to rationalize it before; friends with benefits wasnt such a bad thing. a lot of people had that very arrangement. but when you really thought about it, you couldn’t confidently call megumi a friend. 

you stood in your kitchen, the light from the open freezer illuminating the area. and with a sigh, you shut the freezer and made your way to the door. twisting the knob, you half heartedly hoped that he had left by now. but there he was. 

megumi looked tired as usual, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes only half opened as he waited for you to let him in. a lump formed in your throat as you closed the door behind him. whether from the excitement or nerves, you weren't able to discern the difference between the two anymore. you watched as he took off his shoes and placed them neatly on the rack, your heartbeat growing faster with every passing second. 

a rush of adrenaline shot through you when you felt megumis hands land on your hips, bringing you closer to him and backing you against the wall. he wasted no time, lips latching onto your exposed neck as he pressed against you. a small whimper left your lips as a hand traveled south, grabbing the back of your thigh and lifting your leg to rest against his hip. 

“not here,” you breathed out as his other hand groped at your chest, your body growing hot as you felt how hard he was under his sweatpants. “my room,” he reluctantly let up after a few moments. your face grew hot; despite how dark it was in the entrance way, you could feel how intensely he was staring at you. with only a short nod, megumi trailed behind as you led him to your bed. 

he closed the door of your bedroom behind him, watching you intently as you turned to face him. you offered him a small smile, one he couldnt seem to give back before pressing his lips against yours. you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. your breath hitched as megumi lifted you into his arms with seemingly minimal effort. the kiss grew messy, only stopping as he laid you on your bed. he stood over you, stripping down to his underwear. the low light of your lamp showering his toned body in a warm yellow glow. he didnt allow you to stare for long, getting onto the bed and trapping you under him. he looked at you below him, dick pressing against his boxers as he took in the sight. with a shuddered breath, he grabbed the hem of your shirt and slowly took it off of you. hands smoothing over your stomach and traveling up to your now bare chest. 

you knew from the time you spent with him that megumi wasnt one to show his emotions on the outside. this was the only time he let some of it slip through the cracks and you wanted to make the most of it. sitting up on your elbows, you tangled your hands into his hair, pushing him down to meet your lips. 

megumi was quick to oblige, slotting his tongue between your lips as he grinded against you. a small whine left both of you at his movements, your hips bucking to meet his. your head felt hazy as megumis hands worked skillfully to discard of shorts and panties, doing so without interrupting your messy make out session. he nudged your legs open with his knee, your thighs resting on top of his as he now directly humped your bare cunt. he could feel how wet you were through his boxers, leaving a damp patch against his covered dick.  your whines were muffled by his lips as he continued to press himself against you. with one last lingering kiss, megumi let up. hands planted on either side of your head as he looked down at you.

“can i,” his voice was almost hoarse as he spoke, eyes never leaving yours as he waited for the go-ahead. too embarrassed and wound up to answer back with words, you nodded your head, heart racing as he moved down your body until he was face level in front of your sopping pussy. 

he licked a stripe over your slit, eliciting a gasp from you. your head lolled to the side as you slot a hand in his hair, biting your lip as spread your thighs further open. he kissed your inner thigh, resting his head on the other as he pushed two fingers inside of you. he started off slow, pumping his fingers in at a steady place as he licked at your clit. 

your eyes were screwed shut as he hit that spot inside of you, shallow breaths leaving your lips as made an attempt at not making too much noise. his free hand held onto your thigh tightly as he picked up his speed, fucking you with his fingers as his mouth latched onto your clit.

“hah- megumi-,” your voice was shaky as your thighs began to tremble with your oncoming orgasm. megumi got the message, adding a third finger as he set a brutal pace. a low groan left his throat as he felt your walls flutter and clench around him as the knot in your stomach only grew. you werent able to hold back a string of moans as you came, your whole body twitched as you came undone around his fingers. those moans quickly turned into a whimper as he kept going, working you through your orgasm and teetering on the edge of overstimulation. your hips moved jaggedly, trying to escape the onslaught of pain and pleasure before megumi slowed down to a stop. pulling out his fingers and dragging them between your folds, spreading you open for him. 

with one last strangely intimate kiss to your clit, megumi sat up, taking off his boxers and discarded them somewhere on the floor. repositioning himself between your legs, his eyes never left you. his heavy gaze sent heat straight to your cunt, making your hole twitch in anticipation of what was to come. 

you watched as megumi tilt his head down, a string of spit falling down onto his cock. his wrist moved languidly over it as he took in your state; hot and flushed as your chest rose and fell shakily. he grit his teeth, jaw clenched as he pressed his dick against your cunt, feeling how wet you were from your orgasm moments before. he was insatiable, you knew that. it was why he kept coming back. you constantly told yourself it wasnt the only reason. but you werent fooling anyone but yourself. 

you felt his tip prod against you, pushing in slowly. a low hiss left him, growing drunk on the way you felt around him. leaning over you, he buried his head into the crook of your neck, kissing the skin messily as he pushed himself in until his pelvis met yours. you mewled at the feeling.

your hands clawed at his back as he began to move, setting a fast pace that continuously knocked the air out of you. the sound of his hips snapping against yours rang through the room, almost drowning out your moans and whines. a hand snaking down your body to rub at your abused clit as he continued to pound into you.

the bed creaked as megumi moved both of your bodies with the push of his hips, pace growing unsteady as he grew closer to his own orgasm. the feeling was becoming too much for you as the knot in your stomach threatened to snap for the second time. your legs were beginning to ache as you neared your release. not able to conjure up the words, all megumi had to go by was the rise in tone of your whines. his thumb circled your clit roughly, egging your orgasm on as you twitched under him, blabbering his name and whimpering. 

megumi unexpectedly sat up, pulling out and still attacking your clit as he fisted his cock to release. with a guttural moan he came over your stomach, both of you panting heavily as you came down from your highs. 

you laid there, body feeling like mush while megumi got up, redressing quietly. you watched as he walked into your bathroom, not bothering to turn the light on before grabbing a towel and coming back to clean you up. this wasn’t uncommon for him to, he may be standoffish but he wasnt a jerk. despite not saying it, youd like to think he cared for you and showed it through his actions. you sat up, thanking him sheepishly as he handed you your earlier discarded shirt. 

“are you leaving now,” you asked after glancing at your clock and pulling your shirt on. it was almost 2 am and you’d use any excuse to be with him longer. megumi looked at you, mouth opening as he got ready to answer but was interrupted by the loud buzz of his phone. you watched as he pulled it out of his pocket, the light from the screen making it easy to see how his expression changed to something more serious before looking back at you and shaking his head.

“i cant” he said softly, you thought you heard a twinge of pain in his voice but chalked it up to your imagination. “try to get some sleep,” with an awkward nod of his head he walked out, softly closing your door behind him. you waited to hear your front door open and close before flopping back down on your bed with a loud exaggerated groan. you knew you wouldnt be able to keep on like this. you didnt want to just be his fuck buddy. you wanted a relationship with him, a life with him. 

megumi has almost  all his walls up and you were completely open for him. 

getting under your blankets, you thought about the next time youd see him. thought about how maybe youd grow the balls to confront him. this was just turning into one tiring, messy cycle.

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3 ʟᴏʙʙʏ ﹕ꜰɪʟᴍᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I don't know if you'd be comfortable writing this and if you aren't feel free to disregard this request lol but I was wondering if you could write a sirius black x plus sized reader hurt/comfort? Like maybe she's comparing herself to the people he's usually seen with and thinks he'd never be interested in her only for him to confront her after a bit of avoidance on her part and tell her that he doesn't think that way at all and that she's perfect and beautiful and he wants to be with her

Again if this is uncomfy or weird it's okay to ignore me- I've just been in a bad place recently and figured I'd try my luck haha

thank you for taking the time to read this! I adore your work ( ´∀｀)

Thank you so much for the request! I really hope I did it justice. I'm sorry that you're in a bad place and I hope it passes quickly ❤︎ I didn't go as deep into negative self talk as I could've - I know how mean we can be to ourselves.

Sending my love ❤︎

Boys like Sirius

Sirius Black x Plus size reader

2k words

cw: hurt/comfort, body issues, Happy Ending

It started in third year. Professor Slughorn grew tired of the Marauders interrupting every single lesson so he assigned them seats with different partners on different sides of the room. Remus in the back, Peter in the front, James on the left and Sirius on the right. It only sort of helped. Some days, it made the chaos that followed those boys fill the entire classroom, rather than their two stations. Other days, it meant that the boys talked to and worked with students they otherwise would’ve ignored. In Sirius’ case, that was you. 

The two of you ran in completely different circles. You had never been partnered together before and when given the choice, Sirius always sat with another member of the Marauders. The first few lessons sat next to each other were filled with plenty of awkward silences, mostly because Sirius was grumpy that he was separated from his best friends during a subject he didn’t particularly care for. But slowly, he opened up and once he actually talked to you, he found that he was enjoying Potions, if not looking forward to it. You were also enjoying Potions, because who wouldn’t want the gorgeous and charming Sirius Black as their partner? 

Your new friendship with Sirius spilled out of the Potions classroom. He’d wave to you in the corridor and talk to you in between classes. You were invited to study and go to Hogsmeade with all of his other friends. There were times when you felt out of place with his friends but Sirius made an effort to make sure you were included and listened to when you talked. In the end, you usually said yes to any invite because you got to spend more time with him.

The more time you spent with Sirius and the older you got, the bigger your crush on him got. You tried to play it cool. You tried to pretend that you weren’t absolutely head-over-heels in love with him, just like half of the girls at Hogwarts. Every time he flashed his trademark grin your way, you believed you had a chance with him, that maybe the stars were aligning and you’d get your guy. Every time he gave you a cheeky compliment or let his hand linger longer than a moment on yours, your heart would flutter with hope. Every invite was accompanied with hopeful eyes and excited chatter when you accepted. How could you not read into it? 

However, with half the girls at Hogwarts in love with him, you knew your chances with Sirius were slim. It was painfully obvious in your sixth year. Girls got more brazen with their flirting. He was single and they wanted to change that. It seemed like in between every lesson and at every meal, there was a different girl twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at Sirius. And to make it all worse, it felt like every girl was skinnier than you. 

These were the thinnest girls with teeny tiny waists. Sirius could have easily lifted any of them up without struggle. And, well, putting it lightly, you had curves. You had thighs, a stomach, a butt, arms, breasts, a body. Someone once said you just had big bones, like that actually meant something. 

Every time Sirius flirted back with one of those girls who looked like the opposite of you, you felt a knife twist in your chest. It was hard to watch the boy you love flirt endlessly with those girls. It was a cruel reminder that boys like Sirius didn’t love girls like you. You felt doomed to a life without love. At least, without his love.

To lessen your pain, you began to distance yourself from Sirius. He had continued to partner with you in Potions every since third year. You talked less during Potions, knowing you couldn’t switch partners. You still waved back to Sirius when you passed in the corridors, but only if he waved first, and if he stopped to try to talk to you, you made an excuse to keep walking. You stopped finding him in the library to study with him and his friends, you stopped going to Hogsmeade with them. If you were barely friends with him, surely it would hurt less when the girls swarmed him. 

It didn’t. 

If anything, it made it hurt more. 

Those girls had it all, and they got his attention. They got his love. 

---

After a particularly quiet Potions lesson, Sirius couldn’t take the silent treatment anymore.

“Oi, lovely, what’s happened?”

You froze as you were putting your things away. You cleared your throat as his words sunk in.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Sirius,” you said slowly. You hoped to Merlin that you sounded confused and not guilty. 

“Feels like you’ve been avoiding me,” he clarified. “Only ever see you in this class… and even then, you’re… you’re not you. You’re quiet. You won’t even look at me.”

You pursed your lips together. So, he noticed. 

“I’m just paying attention, that’s all,” you lied. 

He scoffed. “Paying attention so much you won’t study with me, ahem, us anymore? You won’t come to Hogsmeade?”

You felt the insecurities rising in you like bile in your throat. You didn’t want to talk about this. You knew it would only lead to you admitting your crush on him and his inevitable rejection of you. You could practically hear him saying already ‘I don’t feel the same about you… maybe it’s better you’ve been avoiding me if that’s how you feel.’ Boys like Sirius don’t fall for girls that look like you, you reminded yourself. 

You don’t look at Sirius. Instead, you quickly finished putting your things away.

“I need to get to my next class,” you muttered before disappearing out of the classroom.

Sirius watched you go. He ran his hand down his face. He missed you, your presence, your smile and laugh, everything. And here he was, wondering what he had done to make you avoid him so desperately. 

He found you after classes were over for the day; he knew he had to minimize your available excuses. He was going to talk to you. Sirius would be damned if he had to go another day without knowing you were acting this way. 

“Hey! Love, can we talk?” he said, grabbing your wrist gently.

“Sirius, I have to-”

“Please, I need to know what I did,” he said, beautiful grey eyes filled with worry.

“What you did?” you repeated. 

Your hesitation, although it was only a slight pause, was enough to allow Sirius to pull you down the hall and into an empty classroom. He closed the door behind you. 

“Yes, what I did. What did I do to make you avoid me? I thought we had a good thing going, you know?” 

You looked anywhere but at him. Even without seeing him, you felt yourself getting choked up. You could see his worried eyes in your mind and it was paired with the butterflies you got from him holding onto your wrist. 

“You didn’t do anything,” you managed to say, although your voice is tight, the obvious sound of someone about to cry. 

He walked toward you, putting his things down on the desk behind you and then taking your things out of your arms to put next to his. Then he held the sides of your arms. You had no choice but to look at him.

“Then why? Why have I lost you?” 

Why have I lost you? You wanted to scoff at him. You wanted to laugh dryly. Like you were ever his to lose. Could you tell him that you were just making space for all the girls that fawned over him? Could you tell him that it hurt too much to be that close to him and knowing he’d never look at you like you look at him?

“I-I… I’m protecting myself,” you decided on saying. “At least, I'm trying to.”

“Protecting yourself from what?” he asked earnestly. He paused as he looked into your eyes which were getting glassier by the second. “You know the boys would never prank you, right? I’d never let them.”

“No, not that.” You shrugged off his hands so you could turn away from him. You couldn’t bear to see him when he rejected you for what you looked like. “From… I’m protecting myself from heartbreak.”

“Heart… break…” There was a moment of silence. Then you felt his hand on your arm again. “Love, please explain what you mean.”

His voice made your heart break more than it already was. He was going to make you spell it out for him. He was going to make you say how much you loved him and that you knew he would never reciprocate it. It made your next words come out more angry than you had ever spoken to him before.

“I thought that if I put space between us, that I could stop loving you and it would hurt less to see every girl flirt with you, to see you flirt with every girl who… who doesn’t look like… like me.” Your words came out scathing like fire. It didn’t help that you could feel the hot tears streaming down your face. 

His hand dropped from your arm and you felt your stomach drop. Here it came. Here came the rejection.

“You think I’m flirting with them?” 

His voice was soft. It sounded almost insulted? It was followed by a soft disbelieving chuckle.

“Love, I may have… partaken in banter, but if I flirted, I never meant to.” His hand found your shoulder and turned you back toward him. “The only girl I’ve flirted with is in front of me.”

His other hand raised to wipe the tears from your face.

“I suppose my intentions could have been more clear, if you’re feeling this way. You should know I don’t invite just anyone to Hogsmeade.” 

You couldn’t find the words to respond. His words didn’t feel real. It felt like the world’s cruelest prank. Your uncertainty must’ve been written on your face because Sirius kept talking.

“Love, I’m gone for you. You’re the most perfect person I have ever seen and had the pleasure of knowing and spending time with. Slughorn pairing us together in third year? The biggest blessing, even if I didn’t know it at first.” 

He gave you a moment to process what he was saying, seeing if you had a response yet. You opened your mouth to try to say something but all that came out was a squeak.

“Let me be clear, I really, really, really like you. I want to take you on dates and spoil you like you deserve. I want to spend more time with you. I want to go to Hogsmeade with you and just you. I want to study with you, even if it ends up with you actually studying and me watching you… which is what usually happens when I’ve invited you in the past, in case you never noticed.”

You were beginning to smile, so he continued. 

“I want to hear you laugh. I want to talk to you in the corridors. I want to sit next to you during meals and be with you in the common room. I want to kiss you. I want to snuggle with you and hug you and hold you. I really mean it when I say you’re perfect. You’re so bloody gorgeous and if I have to blatantly flirt with you every day so that you believe it, I will. You just have to say the word.”

“Okay,” you said quietly in a shaky breath.

“Can… can I kiss you?”

You nodded and Sirius took a confident step toward you. He held your face with both of his hands before bringing your face to his. All of your insecurities don’t disappear in that moment like you’d want them to, but you felt more confident than you had in a while. You felt like you were on top of the world though. The boy you love likes you back; and you know this because you can’t fake a kiss like this.

[writemekpop]

Stolen Kisses | Lee Taeyong

Summary:  Sneaking off to have sex is tough with a kid in the house.

Genre: Husband!Taeyong, domestic AU, fluff

Word Count: 0.7k

“Yeah, baby, just like that.” 

Taeyong’s breaths were hot against your ear.

With a pre-schooler in the house, you didn’t have a lot of time to be intimate. Whenever you had the chance, you were on each other like teenagers.

He was lying on top of you, arms either side of your head, biceps bulging with the effort. 

You were lying beneath him, stark naked. Only a thin sheet covered you both. 

You secretly loved sneaking around with Taeyong. It made you feel alive. 

His hips were rocking against yours at a sinful pace. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. 

It was crazy to have sex at 5pm, when your daughter was down for her nap – but after Taeyong spent the whole of lunch with his eyes gazing suggestively into yours, winking whenever your daughter wasn’t looking, you couldn’t resist.

Taeyong looked at you like he was a starving man, and your body was the only food.

You turned your head to the side. That’s when you noticed two wide brown eyes staring at you from the dark. 

You yelped. 

Taeyong’s body stiffened. He lifted his head and followed your gaze. When he saw what you were looking at, he swore. 

It was Yumi, your four-year-old daughter. Her purple tie dye pyjamas were crumpled, her face was puffy with sleep, and her black hair was a bird’s nest. 

“Mommy, daddy, what are you doing?” 

You froze. This was your worst nightmare - worse than when you walked out with your school skirt tucked into your panties, with the entire high school sniggering at your exposed butt. 

Taeyong smoothly got up from the bed and wrapped the sheet around his lower half. He pulled the duvet over your naked chest. 

Normally, you were calm in a crisis, and Taeyong was the flustered one, but today, it seemed you had switched. 

Taeyong smiled in a way a schoolteacher might. “Daddy and mummy are having some grown up time. Go to your room sweetie, we’ll be there in a minute.”

The little girl looked at Taeyong, and then at you. Then, she shrugged her shoulders, said “okay”, and padded away. 

You didn’t realise that you’d been holding your breath this entire time. 

You exhaled, feeling dizzy. “Holy shit. Do you think she… saw anything?” 

Taeyong smiled softly. “She’s four. Even if she saw something, she’s not going to know what it means.”

You watched him as he put on his grey sweatpants. You admired his lean yet muscular form, and the many small tattoos that graced his skin. You thought about how much you wanted to kiss them, but then your daughter’s face flashed into your mind’s eye, and you grimaced. 

“How are you so calm about this?” 

Taeyong smiled wistfully, eyes staring off into the distance. “This happened to me once before.” 

You frowned. “When?” 

Taeyong pulled his hand through his silky hair. “Um… my ex’s kid once walked in on us, you know… doing it… on the couch. So I know exactly what to say – it’s a grown-up hug, privacy is important, it’s not your fault, blah blah blah.”

You scowled. You knew Taeyong had had lovers before you, but you didn’t like to be reminded of it.  

Taeyong grinned and stroked your arm reassuringly. It was like he could read your mind. He always knew when you were jealous. 

“Come on, momma.” He purred. “Let’s go and reassure our girl, then we can finish what we started.” 

You bit your lip. Taeyong was a hard man to resist.

--- 

After twenty minutes of comforting your daughter, she finally went to sleep. 

You and Taeyong went back to your bedroom, hand in hand.  

You groaned and leaned your head against his sculpted shoulder. “That was so embarrassing. We are never having sex again, like ever.” 

Taeyong chuckled, deep and manly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and placed long, opened mouthed kisses on your skin that made your entire body buzz. 

“I’m sure I can convince you.” 

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[earlgreydream]

kinktober 🖤🩶🧡🤍 | SUBMISSIVE

agatha harkness x reader

don’t worry - no spoilers for AAA

warmth spilled out from the hearth’s fire, casting a golden glow and sending shadows dancing around agatha’s ornate living room. the wordless snap of agatha’s fingers reminded you to sit up straighter, earning a hum of approval. she brushed away a stray hair with her fingertips, demanding perfection — nothing out of place.

it had taken some time getting used to agatha’s strict expectations, adjusting to fit her perfect westview fantasy. other familiars had gone to the care of much laxer witches, while you had been bound to agatha, a name that sent whispers of fear through your peers.

you’d found that her reputation preceded her — she didn’t accept anything short of perfection, though, it was worth the rewards of pleasing her.

"you'll be good when my friends are here," agatha demanded, holding your jaw as she spoke.

"yes, miss harkness," you blinked up at her dark glare.

she swatted your ass as she walked past you to get food from the kitchen. your breath hitched, struggling to get used to being agatha's familiar, hers in every way, to do with whatever she pleased.

you lingered in the kitchen doorframe as her guests arrived, growing shy of the unfamiliar women. you were wearing only the thin mesh teddy that agatha had dressed you up in, the same dark purple she adorned, an effort to further expose you and show you off to her friends.

the gorgeous, wealthy women of westview chattered, filling in the living room, gushing over agatha's home. her dark eyes searched the room, her shoulders relaxing when she spotted you peering out from behind the archway.

"come here, pet."

you stepped out into the room, briefly freezing as multiple sets of eyes fell on you. agatha cleared her throat, snapping you back into focus. you went to her side, settling as her fingers brushed over your cheek.

"she's pretty," wanda maximoff spoke as if you weren't there as agatha pulled you down to sit on her lap.

her nails lightly traced up and down your thigh, eventually pushing the mesh lace of the teddy up around your hips. you shifted as agatha exposed more of your body for the women to admire, loving the way you curled into her.

"she's well-behaved too," agatha mused, her nose bumping at the tender skin beneath your ear. you hummed softly, preening at the first bit of praise you got from your witch.

the women fawned over you, a few dropping suggestions to agatha that she should share, a jest that made agatha tense beneath you.

"you'll have to get your own, i'm afraid," she said tersely, suddenly pulling your hair.

you suppressed a startled yelp as she roughly kissed you, her mouth hot and wet, tongue parting your lips. she was jealous by the comments, displaying her possessiveness, a smile tugging at her mouth as you moaned, unable to keep it in. the sound was filthy, turning agatha on, her hands getting rougher, her touch needier.

agatha continued to host her soiree, extremely pleased with herself, asserting her dominance over you to her friends, instead of privately as she'd been for the last few weeks. you spent the rest of the evening blushing furiously, settled between agatha's legs, only half-listening to the housewives' conversations.

.

you sat on the couch as she said goodbye to the last of her guests, locking the door behind them. you watched her hang her coat in the entry, rolling up the white sleeves of her button-up as she crossed the hall, returning to where you were perched. you were mesmerized watching her smooth, graceful movements, lusting after her in a way that left your entire being throbbing.

"i've wanted to ravish you all evening."

you exhaled softly at her words, a shiver of anticipation running down your spine. agatha led you down the hall to her bedroom, commanding you to kneel at the foot of the bed while she took long strides to the closet.

you lowered to your knees, resting back on your heels. dark purple magic sparked around you, the thin mesh you were wearing disappearing in an instant. agatha was suddenly once again at your side, her hand resting on the crown of your head, petting you tenderly.

"you were so good for me tonight," she praised, fingernails scratching lightly through your hair.

her hands moved down, nails dragging lightly over your collarbones before her delicate fingers cupped your breasts and tugged lightly at your nipples. she smiled as they hardened beneath her fingertips, her breath hot against your cheek as she knelt behind you.

“please,” you whined for her, letting your head drop backwards onto her shoulder. you’d obediently kept your hands on your thighs, just as she’d taught you, noticing the desperate clench of your abdomen.

agatha said nothing, one hand abandoning your chest to grab your jaw. you parted your lips as she kissed you roughly, her mouth heavy on yours. in the privacy of your bedroom without her spectating friends, you allowed yourself to moan loudly, rocking your hips forward on nothing. the witch was an incredible tease, willing to draw out your edging until your mind was fuzzy, and all you could do was beg to come.

“earn it,” agatha hissed against your lips, pulling away to stand.

you crawled to agatha’s feet as she leaned back against the wall, parting her legs for you to kneel between. she reveled in the noise you made as you tasted her, the salty, tangy flavor of the witch flooding your tongue.

agatha ran her fingers through your hair as you lapped at her cunt, hand on her thigh for balance. your tongue dutifully circled her clit, pulling an “oh, god, fuck,” from her full lips. she nearly came just at the sight of your face buried between her legs, a starved glaze over your eyes as two of your fingers pushed inside her and curled forward. the light sting of her pulling your hair only encouraged you, whimpering against her to watch her body tremble at the vibrations, wordlessly begging for the witch to come.

[wolverigrl]

Request for Hugh story.

The reader gets a little jealous when Hugh has to spend some time with his ex wife and kids, so to show his girlfriend just how much he loves her. Hugh makes her romantic dinner just for them.

Jelousy

Hugh Jackman x reader

!A/N! I hope you like this requested story! <3

Warnings: jealousy, cheesy, nothing more!

Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------

It had been a year and a half since Hugh and I had started dating. The first year had been incredible - dream-like, really. But things had changed. It started slowly, creeping in like an unwanted shadow. His work, the endless promotion for his new movie, had taken over our lives. We barely saw each other anymore. And when he wasn’t jetting across the globe for press junkets, he was here in New York - spending time with his ex-wife and their kids.

I knew it was important for him to be there for them, to maintain that family bond. And I understood that. I tried to understand it. But lately, it felt like I was always waiting. Waiting for him to come home. Waiting for some kind of sign that I still mattered.

And today? Today was the final straw.

I had seen the photos online—Hugh and Deborra-Lee with their kids, laughing, looking so perfect together. Like nothing had ever changed between them. It wasn’t rational, I knew that. He had been married to her for years, and they shared a lot of history. But no matter how hard I tried to suppress it, the jealousy kept bubbling up inside me, threatening to spill over.

So when Hugh finally walked through the door that evening, his face lit up with a tired but warm smile, I couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Had a good day?" I asked, my tone far too sharp for what was supposed to be a casual question.

He dropped his keys on the counter and looked at me, confused by the edge in my voice. "Yeah... spent the day with the kids. It was nice. What about you?"

"Great." I replied, unable to mask the bitterness. "Saw the pictures. You all looked... happy."

Hugh's brows furrowed. "What do you mean? Of course, we were happy. I was spending time with the kids- "

"And your ex-wife." I cut him off, my arms crossing defensively. "You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, haven’t you?"

He stared at me, his confusion deepening. "Y/n, she's the mother of my kids. We’re not together, you know that. You have nothing to worry about."

"I don’t?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "Because it feels like I’m the last thing on your mind these days. I’m starting to forget what it’s like to even have you around."

Hugh stepped toward me, his voice soft but firm. "That’s not fair, y/n. You know how crazy things have been with the movie, and I’m trying to be there for the kids. It’s complicated."

"Yeah, it is complicated!" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. I could feel the words tumbling out of me, unstoppable now. "I would never ask you to choose between me and them, Hugh, but I’m not asking for much. I just want to feel like I matter too."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated but trying to stay calm. "You do matter. You know you do."

"Do I?" I shot back, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to stay composed. "Because lately, it feels like I’m just here. Waiting for you to remember I exist!"

Hugh’s expression softened, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "Love, come on... it’s not like that."

But I couldn’t listen anymore. The flood of emotions was too much, and I needed space. "I need to get out of here." I muttered, grabbing my coat and heading for the door.

"Y/n, wait!" Hugh called after me, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I just needed air, space - anything to clear my head. The door clicked shut behind me, and I found myself walking aimlessly through the streets of New York, my emotions swirling in my chest like a storm.

The crisp night air hit my face as I wandered through the city. My mind raced as I replayed the argument over and over. Why had I let it get this far? Why hadn’t I talked to him sooner, before it all exploded like this? I knew he wasn’t intentionally pushing me away, but lately, it felt like I was invisible.

After an hour of walking and stewing in my own thoughts, I realized I needed to head back. I couldn’t avoid this forever. We needed to talk - really talk. And maybe I needed to apologize for being... well, dramatic. I sighed, turning back toward the apartment, my steps slower, more thoughtful.

When I finally reached the door, I took a deep breath, expecting tension. But as I stepped inside, I was met with something completely unexpected.

The lights were dim, and there was soft music playing in the background. I slipped off my shoes and walked towards the kitchen. The smell of something delicious - my favorite dish - wafted through the air. Candles flickered gently on the dining table, which had been set for two. The entire room felt warm and inviting, a strong contrast to the storm that had been brewing between us earlier.

I stood frozen in the corridor, blinking in disbelief. Hugh emerged from the kitchen, his eyes soft and apologetic as he wiped his hands on a towel.

"Hey." he said gently, his voice carrying a tenderness that tugged at my heart. "I, uh... I made dinner. I figured we could use some time, just the two of us."

I stared at him, the earlier frustration slowly melting away. "Hugh... you didn’t have to do all this."

"Yes, I did." he said, stepping closer. His eyes searched mine, and the sincerity in them made my chest tighten. "I’ve been so caught up in everything - work, the kids - that I forgot to make time for us. And that’s not okay. You’re right."

I bit my lip, guilt washing over me. "I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I just... I was feeling- "

"I know." he interrupted softly, his hands reaching out to gently hold mine. "And I get it. I should’ve been more present with you. I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t matter because you do, more than anything."

I swallowed hard, my heart swelling as I looked up at him. The anger, the jealousy - it all felt so small now. He had always been the man who showed up, who cared, even when life got overwhelming. And right now, he was standing here, showing me exactly how much I meant to him.

"I’m sorry." I whispered, my voice trembling as I squeezed his hands.

Hugh shook his head, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles gently. "I’m sorry too. I love you, y/n. I never want you to feel like you’re anything less than my priority."

The weight of his words settled over me, soothing the ache I’d been carrying for days. I let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension between us dissolve. "I love you too." I said softly, my heart swelling with the truth of it.

He smiled, that familiar, warm smile that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. "So... how about we start over? No more fighting. Just... dinner."

I nodded, smiling despite myself. "Yeah. I’d like that."

We sat down at the table, and the moment was so simple, so intimate. Hugh had made my favorite dish - pasta with that special sauce he always made when we had date nights at home. The food was incredible, but what made it even better was the way we kept stealing glances at each other, the quiet joy in the air as we ate.

By the time we were done, my heart felt lighter. We moved to the couch, and I leaned into him as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I could feel the warmth of his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

"I missed this." I whispered, resting my head against him.

Hugh pressed a kiss to the top of my head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "I missed you. I hate that I made you feel like I wasn’t here. I’ll do better, I promise."

I tilted my head up to look at him, my eyes meeting his. The tenderness in his gaze made my heart skip a beat. "You always show up when it matters, Hugh. I just... I need to know you’ll keep doing that."

"I will," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. "You’re not an afterthought, Y/N. You’re my home."

Those words wrapped around me, filling the cracks that had formed over the past few weeks. I reached up, cupping his face as I kissed him softly, pouring every bit of love and gratitude I felt into that kiss.

When we pulled away, I couldn’t help but smile. "You really went all out, huh? Cooking, candles... the whole deal."

Hugh grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Well, I figured you deserved a little romance after putting up with me."

I laughed softly, leaning in closer. "I think we both deserved it."

He tilted his head down, kissing the top of mine softly. "I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I love you. I know I’ve been distracted, but I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere."

My heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around me like a promise. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I know." I whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. "And I love you. I just... needed to hear it."

He smiled, a lazy, boyish grin that made my stomach flutter. "Then I’ll make sure you hear it more often."

He leaned down, brushing his lips against mine, slow and sweet, like he had all the time in the world just to kiss me. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was full of everything - love, reassurance, and that deep, quiet connection we shared. When we finally pulled away, our foreheads rested against each other, and I could feel his breath against my lips.

We stayed wrapped up together on the couch, the warmth of his body melting away any lingering tension. His arm was draped protectively around my shoulders, pulling me close, while I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was comforting, grounding. Every time I shifted, he pulled me in just a little tighter, like he couldn’t stand the thought of even an inch between us.

"You know." he murmured, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my arm, "I’ve missed this. Just being here with you. No noise, no schedules. Just... us."

I smiled into his chest, feeling the softness of his words settle over me like a warm blanket. "I’ve missed it too. More than I realized."

We sat there for a while longer, the quiet of the apartment settling around us. Hugh shifted slightly, pulling a blanket over us and tucking it in around my shoulders. He kissed my forehead again, lingering as though he couldn’t help himself.

"And you know." he whispered softly, his voice like velvet against the night air, "you’re my favorite part of everything. Of coming home, of my whole day. You’re it."

My heart melted. I snuggled deeper into his embrace, closing my eyes as I felt the warmth of his love surround me. "You’re my favorite too." I whispered back, feeling safe, cherished, and so completely loved.

We stayed that way, wrapped up in each other, letting the world fade away. No more jealousy, no more distance. Just us, together. And in that moment, everything felt perfect - like this was exactly where we were supposed to be.

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xoxo