#i could give you a tag of you are okay with that

[brazenautomaton]

you kind of left out an extremely important step there. like the entire step where the thing you decry happened.

it's 2009 to 2015 and the social justice is all over but it's not, no, it's just being a decent person, you can't give it a name, and everyone has triggers and racism is a trigger and swearing is a trigger and men are a trigger the steven universes are a trigger and having opinions I don't like is a trigger and shipping characters I don't like is a trigger and the triggers are everywhere and tag your triggers tag them why won't you tag your triggers who do you hate people traumatized you should kill yourself because telling people to kill themselves is the only thing that isn't a trigger and don't you know it's okay for me to do it because they didn't tag their triggers and okay I don't know anyone with any of these triggers but everyone has them and I was so triggered by not tagging them I couldn't control myself. I was triggered, I was so triggered, how dare you how dare you how dare you you have to apologize you have to make it right but you can never make it right my trauma is eternal it's okay for me to lie about you because you triggered me it's okay for me to get you fired because you triggered me it's okay for me to stalk you because you triggered me.

then when all the guys who keep getting lied about get sick of it and they go "oh no are you triggered lib are you triggered lib are you gonna piss and shit yourself all over because you're so triggered" and how dare they don't they know how serious triggers are triggers are like the guys who did my lai and shit how could they ever be so cavalier about it not like us not like the social justice which is very real and important but also isn't real and is just being a decent person. we care so much about people and we're so nice that we stalk them and harass them and get them fired but that's not real it never happened and if you don't shut up it will happen to you.

War man goes to vietnam and kills innocent women and children it harms his psyche and the level of adrenaline in his nervous system causes improperly weighted bayesian updating in the neural inhibitory response he comes home and yells and hoots and hollars at the restaurant embarasses his wife when the server comes and he says youll never take me alive viet cong and runs out the door. They divorce he lives on the street psychologist says you have ptsd we used to call it shell sock. Pyschologist says your flashbacks are triggered by people saying hi and shit. Young woman comes to the psychologist shes bullied and shit the other girls tied her up in the basement and called her ugly. pyschologist in 1980 says your like that soldier guy becase your nervious system. And your triggered by women that you think are attracytive. Pych says take these pills its the internet year two thousand and they say im gay I was shoved in the lockered and the bullies called me a fag the other website man says your triggered like a vietnam war big time killer. Fuck man im trigger by them calling me a faggot on the web but its the water I swim in. its 2010 and theres femininsm in the video games and some young women on the new twitter say it can trigger people to call them a gay fag all day. but some young men don't like feminsm in their video games it makes them upset in themselves and all frustrated so they say your triggered, are you triggered lib your a triggered lib. Well some clever guy one of the cleverest ever to live says more like your a triggered conservative lol your a triggered trumpter. Well now your calling them triggered and there calling you triggered and now its 2025 and im watching a video about small apartmerts in japan and the guy says "wow a lot of people in the comments are triggered by small apartments apparently" their triggered like a major vietnam killer. their triggered like the guys who did my lai and shit.

[wholoveseggs]

Hey lovely, re-reading through your works on my commute. :) I got another idea to put on your ever-growing pile of requests: reader and Elijah are having an affair. Sex is amazing (duh!), but reader is bothered that Elijah never climaxes. He always stops right after she had her pleasure, insisting he prefers to stay in control the entire time and that he doesn't like to be overwhelmed by any kind of strong emotion. Naturally, reader sets out to change that.

Dissolve

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} Elijah always puts your pleasure first, never letting himself fully let go. Until you push him over the edge and he falls completely.

♡♡ Ugh @originals23 what a delicious idea, he deserves to receive the same amount of affection he gives out~ ♡♡

4.6k words - Warnings: smuttt, lots of teasing, oral (m + f receiving), light restraint (wrist pinning), some steamy shower fun, riding, reader worshipping her man, Elijah struggling to be vulnerable, some vampire face, biting, blood-sharing, soft dom!Elijah vs. your mission to break him && the only Mozart song I know the name of...

Being in Elijah Mikaelson's bed was nothing new to you. You had been in it enough times to know exactly how soft his sheets were, the exact way his pillows smelled, the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, how his lips tasted when he kissed you.

It was all a routine. You would show up at his place after work. He would lead you to his room. The door would shut, and for the rest of the night he would make sure you thought only of him.

Tonight was no different. He invited you over. You had a few glasses of wine. Then his lips were on yours. He carried you to his bed. Clothes were shed. Your back pressed into the mattress as his mouth traveled down your neck. His kisses were always so slow. So methodical. Each one deliberate, with the intent to leave a mark.

You had noticed that this was his favorite part. The foreplay. Taking his time to drive you insane. He enjoyed watching your reactions. The way your eyes fluttered closed when he kissed your stomach, or the soft whimpers you would make when he ran his hands up your thighs.

And of course, he loved the sounds you made when his tongue explored your most intimate places. Your hand was in his hair, urging him closer, trying to get him deeper. He hummed against you, knowing it would send you over the edge.

"Elijah..."

Oh, how you said his name. No symphony could compare. He looked up at you with those eyes, so dark and hungry. They were telling you not to look away. He wanted to watch the pleasure roll through you, he wanted to feel the way your body tensed, he wanted to hear his name leave your lips over and over again as he made you come.

As your breathing calmed, he kissed his way back up your body, lingering on the places that made you whimper the most.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered in your ear, making your cheeks flush and your heart pound. He could do that to you. Turn you into a giddy teenager with just one compliment.

"Hush," you said softly, trying to hide your grin.

He didn't say anything else. He just pressed his lips to yours, his hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. He was gentle and sweet, which was the perfect segway into the second round.

You tried to push him onto his back, to get him under you. He wouldn't budge. He knew what you wanted, but he would never let you do that to him.

"Let me," you said, running your hand down his chest.

He smiled and shook his head, his hands moving up your thighs, spreading them as he pulled you under him. His lips captured yours again, his hands pinning your wrists next to your head. You didn't fight it. Not tonight.

He needed to feel in control. That's how it had always been with him. Maybe he was scared of losing it. Of becoming too vulnerable. Maybe he just liked the thrill of power. Or maybe he was trying to protect himself. From what... you couldn't tell.

"Are you okay?"

You looked up at him, realizing you had been spacing out.

"Yes," you smiled, reaching up and pulling his lips back to yours.

He released your wrists and let his hands wander to your waist, his erection pressing against your stomach. He continued to kiss you, not wishing to rush things. But your hands were impatient. They moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer, trying to make him understand that you needed more.

Your impatience made him smile. You could feel his lips curling up against yours, he was enjoying your desperation.

"Do you want me?" He said, his words teasing.

He always had to ask, no matter how obvious the answer was. He liked hearing you say it. He liked the way your voice got needy and breathless.

"Yes," you said, kissing him again.

He eased inside you without breaking the kiss, and you let out a soft sigh. He enjoyed the feeling of you around him. The way you pulled him in. It was heaven.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him deeper, making him groan against your mouth. He started slow, making love to you the way he knew you liked. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing yours between moans.

It wasn't enough for you, though. You wanted to see him lose control.

"Harder," you whispered, hoping that it would spark something.

You reached down, grabbing his ass, pulling him closer, trying to coax him into taking you harder. It worked. For a second. Then his pace slowed, his hands moved from your hair to your hips, holding them down.

He changed the angle, lifting your thighs to his sides. The new position made your toes curl, and you gripped the sheets.

"Fuck," you said, your eyes closing.

"Look at me."

The words were gentle, but commanding. He wanted you to look at him, and not stop looking.

You did as he asked. His gaze was intense, and it made your whole body flush. He smiled, leaning down and kissing you as one of his hands moved to where you were joined. His thumb circled your clit, and you whimpered.

You tried to break the kiss. He wouldn't let you. He held the back of your head, his mouth swallowing the moans he was eliciting.

His thumb was relentless, his hips moving faster, his thrusts growing sloppier. His breathing was getting ragged, and he groaned against your mouth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him, wanting to finally feel him come undone. He kissed you deeper, his tongue dancing with yours.

You were already sensitive from your first orgasm. Your nails digging into his skin as you tried to hold yourself together, but you were falling apart. You wanted to hold off, to have him go over the edge with you.

It was too late, he was too good at this, the coil inside you snapped. Your muscles tightened around him, a wave of pleasure washing over you, making you moan his name. He smiled against your lips continuing to move his hips, not wanting the moment to end.

But then he did what he always did.

Once you came down from your high, he pulled out, kissing you one more time before getting out of bed. You watched as he went to the bathroom, and heard him start the shower.

This is the part you hated. The part where you were left alone, feeling confused and empty. It happened every time. He would take you to his bed, fuck you senseless, then leave you with your thoughts. You didn't understand why he was the way he was.

You laid there, staring at the ceiling, wondering why he was so distant. Why he never let himself fall over the edge. Was it you? Did he not trust you?

You couldn't help but wonder, and you had been wondering for months. You knew Elijah was complicated, he had experienced many losses and he liked to keep his feelings private. Only letting certain people get close enough to see the real him.

You were in love with him. He was everything you wanted. And maybe he loved you too. But he wouldn't say it. He had never said it. Not even during the throes of passion. The words never passed his lips, but he showed you in everything else he did.

That's why you didn't understand him pulling away. Why didn't he allow himself to be vulnerable? You sat up and threw the covers off, heading into the bathroom, not caring about the cold air against your skin.

He was already in the shower. You opened the glass door, taking a moment to admire him. The muscles in his back were defined and tense. Water was streaming down his hair and the curve of his neck.

He turned, surprised to see you there. His eyes raked over your naked body, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"I thought you had fallen asleep,"

"I would rather be in here," you said, stepping into the steamy air.

"You should rest," he said, running his hands through your hair.

"I will, after I finish what we started."

"As I recall we did finish. Based on the sounds you were making and the way you were squeezing me," he teased, a hint of cockiness in his tone.

His hands went to your waist, slowly turning you around, switching places with you, letting you get warm under the water. You couldn't keep your hands to yourself. You pressed against his chest, kissing his lips. He smiled, his hand resting on the small of your back, keeping you close.

"I want to please you too," you said, trailing kisses down his neck.

"You do please me." He ran his hand up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair, gently tugging.

"You know what I mean."

He didn't respond. His grip on your hair tightened as he tilted your head back, forcing you to look at him.

"Not tonight," he said, his tone soft.

"Why not?"

"I just wanted to enjoy you. No distractions. Nothing to worry about, just make you feel good."

He sounded genuine. You could hear the sincerity in his voice. But it wasn't enough. You were tired of being the only one who got off.

"What if I want to give you that same feeling?"

He didn't have an answer. Instead he picked you up and pressed you into the cold tile, his lips claiming yours. He wasn't going to give you an answer, instead he was going to try and distract you.

And by the time he carried you back to his bed, it had worked.

But tomorrow would be a different story.

The next day you had a lot on your mind. Elijah was always distant, but he seemed especially detached today.

It didn't matter that you were having mind-blowing sex nearly every night. There was still a wall between you. Elijah was always trying to make you feel good, but he would never let you do the same for him.

And you were going to figure out why.

You were working late that night, and when your phone rang and you saw Elijah's name on the screen, a smile crossed your lips.

"Hello."

"Hello."

Just one word and his voice could make you blush. You missed him already, and you had seen him a few hours ago.

"Can I come over?"

"Of course," he said, his voice warm and gentle.

"Good. I'll be there soon."

When you arrived, his place was dark. There was music coming from somewhere upstairs. It was soft and melodic. A violin maybe.

"Elijah?"

"In here."

You followed his voice into his bedroom. He had a vinyl record playing, and he was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, a glass of bourbon in his hand.

He looked gorgeous. Dark blue button down, sleeves rolled up. His hair was perfect, and his gaze on you was so soft.

"Hello," he said, his eyes traveling up your body.

"Hi."

"How was your day?"

"Tiring. Yours?"

"Quite uneventful."

"Oh really?"

He smiled and put his glass down, standing and walking towards you. He put his hands on your waist, and pulled you closer.

"This is nice, what composer is this?" You asked, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Mozart."

"Oh, I know him," you chuckled, "What is the song called?"

"Lacrimosa,"

"Hmm. Pretty."

"Very."

He was looking at you with a small smile, his eyes filled with lust and adoration. His fingers hooked into your belt loops, and he led you to his bed, sitting down and pulling you into his lap.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

"Only a hundred times."

"Well, it's worth saying a hundred more."

"Sweet talker," you said, leaning in and capturing his lips.

"You like it."

"Maybe a little," you grinned, kissing him again.

His hands moved down to squeeze your ass, making you giggle. You unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, letting your eyes travel down his toned chest.

"I have a question," you said, running your hands up his torso.

"What is it?" He asked, kissing your neck.

"Why are you always so focused on my pleasure and not yours?"

"I get pleasure from pleasing you."

"You know what I'm asking."

"It's a complicated thing," he said, his voice muffled against your neck.

"I want to understand. Tell me," you said, running a hand through his hair, tugging gently, making him look at you.

He studied you for a moment. The expression on his face was hard to read. He was deep in thought, thinking of the right thing to say.

"I'm afraid," he said, his eyes locked on yours.

"Of what?" You asked, your voice soft, not wanting to push him too far.

"I... it's difficult." He swallowed hard, his gaze falling.

"You can tell me." You took his face in your hands, tilting his head up, forcing him to look at you again.

"If I lose control, if I let myself go, I'm worried I'll hurt you," he said, his tone quiet and almost ashamed. "I've hurt many, and I do not wish to do it again."

His dark eyes became glassy, and the words caught in his throat. You knew he had a lot of guilt over the things he had done, and the pain he had caused. You had known him long enough to know he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"'lijah," you said softly, bringing his lips to yours, kissing him slow and tender.

You felt him relax under you. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, gripping them tight.

"You won't hurt me," you whispered, your breath hot against his lips.

"You don't know that." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed.

"Trust yourself," you said, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

"You have no idea the kind of monster I can become," his words were a whisper, his hands trembling.

"I know the man I'm in love with, and I trust him." You kissed him again, trying to show him that he could be vulnerable, that it was okay.

He didn't say anything. He kissed you back, his hands moving to the small of your back, holding you close. You could tell he needed a moment. This was a big step for him.

So you just kissed him.

His lips were gentle and slow. His hands moved from your back, to the hem of your shirt, and he lifted it over your head, tossing it aside.

He was quiet. So you took his face in your hands, pulling him closer, not wanting to break the kiss. You could feel the tension in his jaw, the slight shake in his hands, the way his breathing hitched.

"Hey," you said softly, leaning back.

He looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours. You could see the worry behind them. He was afraid. He was afraid that if he gave in, if he let himself lose control, something bad would happen.

You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, and his eyes fluttered shut. He looked so afraid. So unsure.

"Let me take care of you," you said, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

He let out a soft sigh and nodded, his eyes still closed. You smiled, trailing kisses down his jaw and to his neck, his skin warm and soft against your lips.

You slowly climbed off his lap, kneeling on the floor, between his legs. Your hands traveled up his thighs, and you unbuckled his belt, taking it off and tossing it to the side.

He opened his eyes, looking down at you. You bit your lip, smiling up at him as you unbuttoned his pants. His breathing hitched as you dragged the zipper down.

You pulled his pants off, leaving him only in his boxers, his erection straining against the fabric. You leaned in, kissing his length through the thin layer of material, and he groaned.

"Please," he said, his voice raspy.

You grinned, hooking your fingers into the waistband, and dragging them down, freeing his erection. You took him in your hand, stroking him slowly, enjoying the way his head fell back and his hips lifted.

"Fuck."

You loved it when he cursed. It was rare, and it always sent a rush through you. The way it rolled off his tongue, the way his accent thickened, and the way his voice dropped an octave.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes," he hissed, his jaw clenched.

You moved your hand a little faster, loving the way his muscles tensed, and the way his breathing changed. He looked so sexy. His hair a mess, his skin flushed.

You lowered your head, taking him into your mouth, making him groan. You looked up at him through your lashes, and his eyes were shut, his head back. You could tell he was still trying to hold back, trying to keep control.

You swirled your tongue around his tip, making him curse again, slowly taking him deeper and deeper. You moaned and his eyes snapped open, looking down at you, watching his length disappear past your lovely lips.

His hands were in your hair, pushing it out of your face so he could watch. You felt his grip tighten as you relaxed your throat, taking all of him.

"Darling, if you keep doing that..."

You hummed, looking up at him. His eyes were blown wide, his breathing ragged. His hands were tugging and guiding, as his hips began to lift, thrusting up, pushing himself deeper. You tried not to gag, the sounds lewd, but the look on Elijah's face made it worth it.

He was falling apart, his self-control slipping away. Eyebrows arched, his muscles flexing, his lips parted in a silent moan. It was the most erotic thing you had ever seen.

You kept going, not wanting the moment to end. His grip on your hair was borderline painful. You moaned around his length, the vibration causing his hips to jerk.

"Shit," he growled, his hands tightening.

His jaw was clenched, his hips rocking, his eyes turned black, his vampire nature peeking through. Veins dancing under his eyes, his fangs extending, and a low growl rumbling through his chest.

You kept your eyes locked with his as you took him all the way, pressing your face into his pelvis, swallowing around him. The sound he made was feral and carnal, his hips lifting on their own, chasing the pleasure.

He was close, you could feel it. His movements were getting sloppier, his grip on your hair tighter, his breathing more labored. You hummed around him, sending a shockwave through his body.

"Y/n, please, fuck, I can't-"

His words came out broken and rushed. Then he came, a string of curses leaving his lips, his hands gripping your hair so tight you thought he might rip it out.

You kept your lips wrapped around him, swallowing everything he gave you, his cock pulsing against your tongue. He was panting, his chest heaving, his eyes squeezed shut, still holding on to your hair.

You hummed once more, making his hips twitch, his hands finally releasing your hair. You pulled away, letting his length slip from your mouth, before sitting back and looking up at him.

He was a mess. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were still pitch black, his fangs visible as his breathing evened out. He was a sight to behold. You had never seen him this unraveled.

You took advantage of his dazed state, and stood up, pulling your pants down and climbing into his lap, straddling him. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, his hands moving to your waist, gripping it tightly.

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Not even a little, in fact, I rather enjoyed it," you grinned, running your hands through his hair.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh," you hummed, leaning in and capturing his lips.

He kissed you back, his hands traveling to your hips, holding them, his tongue sliding against yours. You could feel him starting to get hard again, and you pulled away, smirking.

You reached down and slowly took him in your hand, pumping him, loving the way his breathing changed. He was still sensitive and the sounds he was making were driving you wild.

"Elijah," you said, biting your lip.

"Hmm," he hummed, his eyes shut, his hands on your waist, squeezing, his hips lifting slightly.

"I love you," you whispered, leaning in and kissing him.

His hands moved from your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. You could tell the words were affecting him. He didn't need to say it, you could tell by the look in his eyes, and the way his heart raced under your hands.

You lined yourself up and slowly sank onto him, taking him all the way. He groaned against your lips, his nails digging into your skin.

"I love you too," he whispered, his lips brushing yours.

His words made you melt. Hearing it for the first time, made your chest tighten. You kissed him again, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

You started moving, your pace slow, taking your time. You wanted him to enjoy it. To make him feel everything. To remind him that he had nothing to worry about, and that giving himself completely was okay.

He broke the kiss, his head falling back, his eyes closing. You took the opportunity to quicken your pace, bouncing in his lap, making him groan.

You steadied yourself against his shoulders, rising from your knees on the bed to your feet, fully in control now. The new angle let you dictate the pace, lifting yourself almost completely off him before slamming back down, making him groan beneath you. Skin met skin in an intoxicating rhythm, the sound nearly as filthy as the way he gasped your name.

His eyes opened and he watched, his breathing uneven. The sight of you was incredible. You were flushed, your lips parted, breasts bouncing, and when he looked down at where your bodies met, it was almost enough to push him over the edge.

"Fuck," he rasped, his hips jerking.

Your thighs were beginning to burn, and you were getting tired, but you didn't stop, couldn't stop. The look on Elijah's face, plus the pressure building deep inside kept you going.

His hands guided you, his grip on your hips impossibly tight. His eyes were watching, his breathing growing ragged. You knew he was getting close, and by the way you felt your own orgasm beginning to crest, so were you.

"'lijah," you whimpered, moving as fast as your body allowed, chasing that sweet, sweet release.

He could hear it in the way your voice wavered, and the way your muscles tensed. And then he let himself feel it too, giving himself permission to let go, he held you tighter, your name falling from his lips.

The coil snapped, and pleasure washed over you. You moaned, and he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you to him.

He suddenly flipped you over, laying you on your back, keeping your bodies connected. He thrusted hard, making your eyes roll back. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him, encouraging him.

He gripped your thighs tightly, his pace rough and sloppy, his head falling onto your shoulder. You could feel his fangs scraping against your neck, and you tilted your head, giving him better access.

He could sense it, the way your heart was racing, and the anticipation of what was about to happen.

He thrusted into you hard and then bit down, sinking his fangs into your neck. It was euphoric. His entire body was pressed against yours, his hands holding your thighs, his mouth sucking and drinking, his hips slamming into you. The combination of sensations was too much, and another orgasm crashed into you. You moaned his name, your nails dragging down his back, making him growl against your skin.

And just like that, he was falling.

His thrusts became erratic, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed himself deep inside, emptying himself. You could feel the heat, the way his body shook, the way he clung to you as if you were the only thing grounding him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, your bodies entwined, his weight warm and solid against you. He lingered there, and he slowly pulled his fangs out, reluctant to move, reluctant to let go of this fragile moment.

His grip on you loosened, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ghosting over your lips. His hand came up, brushing his fingers over the bite mark on your neck, his expression shifting.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice quiet, hesitant.

"Yes," you smiled, brushing his hair out of his face.

He frowned slightly, his thumb tracing over the bite. "I... didn't mean to lose myself like that."

You caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. "I liked it," you whispered.

"Oh, did you?" he murmured, his lips curling into a soft smile.

"Uh-huh," you hummed, kissing him again, your lips moving slow and tender. "You are so fucking hot when you lose control."

His dimples showed, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. You couldn't help but smile back. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do," you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

He chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, his lips finding the mark he left behind. He bit his own lip and you felt the sting fade, his blood healing the wound. His touch was reverent as if sealing something between you.

When he pulled away, there was something different in his expression. His dark eyes shone, his smile softer, more open. He had never looked at you quite like this before. Like he had let down some invisible barrier, like he had finally let himself dissolve into the feeling, let himself believe.

You leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He sighed, his hands tangling in your hair, holding you there, savoring the closeness.

"Will you stay?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course."

"Good," he murmured, his hands settling on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.

You hummed and kissed him again. Your lips moved slowly, enjoying the feel of his mouth against yours. The two of you slowly fell asleep, tangled together, warm and content.

And in the morning, he would still be there. He would kiss you awake, make you breakfast, and show you. Through touch, through words, through the way he looked at you. That you had changed something in him.

Because the night before had been different.

You had given him a piece of yourself, and in turn, he had given a piece of himself to you. And in a thousand years, that was a rarity.

In a thousand years, no one had ever loved him like this. And for the first time, he let himself believe he deserved it.

[yelenasdiary]

Little reader au! Reader is 11 and is being bullied at school because she has two moms. One of the kids calls her mom's a slur and she punches them. The school tries to suspend her and mama bears Nat and Wanda come to the rescue defending reader. Maybe ends with an ice cream reward??

Message Sent

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Daughter! Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Daughter! Reader

Summary: You got in trouble at school for standing up for yourself, 

Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Homophobic slur (Fag), Mentions of homophobia, Mentions of Blood | 1.1K

AC: Thank you for sending this, I hope you enjoy! x

A Widow’s Sunshine Masterlist

The playground was buzzing with chatter, laughter and the occasional shout of excitement as you ran around playing ‘tag your it’ with your friends. You raced around the playground just like your late uncle, Pietro, would’ve, you were always the hardest one for your friends to tag. But the laughter and big smile soon turned to fear as you saw the schoolyard bullies approaching. 

“Look!” One shouted, pointing at you. “it’s the girl with two moms!” Snickered Bailey, a boy from your class. He was only a few inches taller than you but somehow it always felt like he towered over you. His friends, Drew and Blake, laughed as they stood behind him, pointing at you. Your cheeks flushed with humiliation; the entire playground was now looking at you. 

Feeling confident within himself, Bailey took a few steps closer to you with a teasing grin on his smug face. “Are you going to grow up and be a fag like them?” He teased once more. The feeling of humiliation quickly turned to a surge of anger that you couldn’t contain and in a moment of raw emotion, you stepped forward closer to Bailey and, with a quick motion, your hand in a strong fist, you punched the boy right in the face. 

The playground fell silent as Bailey tumbled back, landing on his backside. Laughter was replaced with gasps of shock, Bailey began to wail when he noticed the blood streaming from his nose. Your heart was pounding as you towered over the school yard bully, the playground around you turned to a blur as you death stared the boy.

“Y/n Romanoff!” A stern voice called, snapping you back to reality. You turned to see your teacher, Miss Smith, with her arms crossed over her chest. “Principal’s office, now!” She added. You sighed heavily knowing just how much trouble you were in as you began to make your way to the large building. “Bailey, come with me, we’ll get you cleaned up and you can tell me what happened” you heard your teacher’s voice behind you.

Lunch time was over, and you were still sitting outside the principal’s office. Miss Smith had not long taken Bailey in to discuss what had happened. Your heart felt heavy as you thought about how much trouble you were in, what would your moms think? 

Before your mind could begin to go deeper into thought, Mr Thompson opened his door. Miss Smith and Bailey walked out without saying a word, Bailey holding a tissue to his nose as he walked by you, sending you a glare. “Y/n, come in” Mr Tompson said in a rather disappointed tone. You pushed yourself up off the chair and walked into his office. Mr Thompson closed the door behind him before taking a seat behind his desk. 

“Y/n, Miss Smith and Bailey told me what happened today during lunch time” he started in a serious tone. “You know that we do not tolerate bullying in this school” he added.

“But…he was bullying me!” You corrected, trying to defend yourself. “He came up to me and made fun of me for having two moms and called them a slur!” You added. Before Mr Thompson could reply, his door swung open and in walked your moms.

“Honey, are you okay?” Nat said in a worry, giving your face a check over, “Mr Thompson said you got into a fight” she added. 

“I’m fine mom, I promise” you said, looking up at her. 

Your mother frowned in confusion, “what happened?” She asked. 

Wanda, gently placing a hand on your shoulder for comfort.

“It was Bailey again” you sighed, “I was just playing with my friends and he came up to me and made fun of me for having two moms and then he asked me if I was going to grow up and be a –“ you paused, not wanting to say the slur that was wrong at you so you looked up at Wanda, letting her read your mind. Wanda turned to Natasha and quietly whispered the slur so you wouldn’t have to say it. 

“So I punched him” you added. 

Your mother, Natasha, turned to Mr Thompson, crossing her arms across her chest, “let’s be clear here. Y/n isn’t the problem. She stood up for herself while this kid has been continuously bullying her!” She said sternly. 

Mr Thompson adjusted his glasses, “I understand your concerns Miss Romanoff, but we do not condone violence in this school. I’m sorry but I have no choice but to suspend Y/n” 

“But you condone homophobia?” Wanda looked at him. 

“Of course, not” he replied, looking up at your mother who stood protectively behind you. “Bullying of any kind is not tolerated here” he added. 

“So, let me get this straight” Natasha cleared her throat, “you’re going to suspend our daughter because she stood up for herself when she was the target of a homophobic slur? But because she hit somebody, this kid gets what? Nothing? A few moments of attention because he got some sense knocked into him?” 

Mr Thompson, taken back by Natasha’s words, “I was not aware of the nature of the situation until Y/n came in here. I was simply told that she had been given Bailey a hard time recently and today when Bailey asked her kindly to stop, she hit him” 

“That’s a lie!” You inserted yourself, “he is always making fun of me! He is always making others laugh at me, it’s not fair!” You snapped, holding bad your tears of frustration.

“If you’re going to suspend her for this, I will make sure everybody knows this school likes to give a pass for homophobic behaviour. Do I make myself clear?” Natasha said in a serious tone. Defeated, Mr Thompson finally relented. “Alright, I won’t suspend her, but I will speak to Bailey and his family. I do apologise for all of this. Y/n, you may go back to class” 

“Actually, we’re going to take her home” Wanda replied, sending a proud glance to Natasha. Your moms always taught you to stand up for yourself, others and what you believed in and today proves that you were taught well. 

As you and your mothers left school, Nat took your hand, “you did the right thing today sweetheart, I’m so proud of you” she smiled softly. 

“But you always said violence was bad” you replied. 

“It is, but, in this case, you used it to send a message and it was big one” your mother explained. 

Wanda smiled softly at you, “how about we go get some ice cream? I think you deserve it” 

Your eyes lit up, “yes please!” You beamed, “can I please get two scoops?” You asked, making your mothers chuckle. 

“I’m sure two scoops is perfect for our brave girl!” Wanda replied. 

“You may have as may scoops as you like, my love” Nat said, taking your backpack from you as you all reached the car. 

“You guys are the best!” You beamed, jumping into the car.

Your mothers smiled at one another, “we love you, darling” Wanda said, before helping you buckle your seatbelt. 

“I love you too!” You replied, sweetly.

Taglist: @koinsss | @liloandstitchstan | @marcia-maximoff | @skittlebum | @katethewritersblog | @taliiiaasteria | @nova-kyle | @daddipantherr | @riyaexee | @sgm616 | @elle161989 | @alphalesbianwolffoxdragontribrid | @mathxa | @sxlfishbrokenheart | @noturlondonboy | @lovelyy-moonlight | @ghxst-guts | @ashensmokescreen | 

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's linked at the top of this post.

[hivemuthur]

Tightrope - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!, frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU. This is part of a request for @pxszels

Ch.1. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,4K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: okay, things escalate, all I'm gonna say :v Very dubious science warning and thank you @rennethen for beta reading!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A lot of intrusive thoughts clatter through your mind as you glare pure death at Viktor, sitting two chairs away from you. Jayce—a buffer that protects the both of you from yourselves.

Strangulation is the first, most obvious one, but it dangerously quickly turns into something borderline erotic when you watch Viktor’s neck. And you really stare at it—the sharp angle of his jaw turning into the smooth column, porcelain skin interrupted with freckles, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he speaks out his infuriating truths. Ugh, since when is this happening?

The second, also obvious, is electrocuting him—just successfully this time. But then again, an unbidden image breaks into your mind’s eye: Viktor’s startled expression, his hand clutched to his heaving chest, hair tousled from the electric current, cheeks a bit flushed under your palms cradling them.

The heat on your own face almost betrays you, but fortunately, the picture of Viktor’s mouth saying I could make you gag gives you a comfortable explanation for the roses blooming across your cheeks—you are just really, really pissed.

You’ve been at each other’s throats for over a week now, and each encounter has been a small battle to win. So far, as expected, it’s a tie, but you are determined to stomp his head into the ground, his ear in your teeth.

You’ve just sat through Viktor’s answer to Heimerdinger’s conundrum:

"Given the choice between a platinum-based catalyst and an experimental cobalt-nickel alloy for an industrial hydrogenation reaction, which would be the superior option in terms of efficiency and long-term viability?"

"If the goal is efficiency, the answer is already clear," Viktor says in a flat tone, and you almost break your pencil. You parrot his voice in your head, your face doing a tiny, mocking expression—one that Jayce immediately counters with puppy eyes.

"Platinum’s catalytic activity remains stable across multiple reaction cycles, and its surface energy allows for consistent molecular interactions," Viktor continues, his posture so unbothered it’s as if he’s already won. "Even if alternative materials show potential, they introduce variables that compromise long-term reliability."

"You're focusing on controlled lab conditions, but industrial applications aren’t perfect systems," you mutter, leaning over your desk and addressing the entire thing to Heimerdinger. "In real-world settings, we need materials that are adaptable, not just reliable in a vacuum."

Your tone becomes more passionate, encouraged by Heimerdinger’s eager nodding. "The alloy has a wider range of operating conditions and costs significantly less—why cling to a metal that’s prohibitively expensive when there’s a viable alternative?"

"You're assuming ‘viable’ just because it works in some conditions," Viktor counters, his voice clipped, clearly irritated. "There’s a difference between potential and actual applicability. Platinum has proven efficiency—your alloy is a gamble."

You huff, leaning forward and turning to face Viktor this time, as Jayce slowly sinks into his chair. "And you're assuming ‘superior’ just because something is well-documented? Science doesn’t advance by relying on what’s already been done. You can’t just dismiss an emerging material because it makes you uncomfortable."

Viktor’s lips curl slightly in that way that always makes you want to throw something at him. "Uncomfortable? No, I simply prefer optimised methods over—what was it—guesswork?"

Your jaw tenses. "Right, because clinging to the safe choice is the height of scientific innovation."

"Optimisation and recklessness are not the same thing," Viktor snaps.

"No, but stagnation and cowardice are pretty damn close."

That’s probably what prompts Heimerdinger to finally step in.

"As fascinating as it is to observe your ongoing academic duel, might I remind you that this is a classroom, not a battleground?"

The words should sting, should make you shrink into your seat, but the bemused glint in his eyes softens the blow. Viktor, ever the picture of self-restraint, merely tips his head, as if the interruption is a minor inconvenience. You, on the other hand, can’t quite suppress the triumphant curve of your lips as you lower yourself back to your seat.

Heimerdinger sighs. "If either of you would like to continue this discussion, I suggest you do so after my lecture."

You don’t quip a single sound throughout the rest of the class, and Viktor doesn’t either. You can feel his eyes on you periodically—or rather, you can see them in the corner of your eye when you try to make it look like all your focus is directed at Heimerdinger’s blackboard.

By the time you get to worrying about how your afternoon project session with Viktor is going to go this time, the class ends, and Joe picks you up for breakfast. A brief reprieve is interrupted by Viktor’s dry, “Don’t be late this time.” But before you can poke his eye out with a pencil, he passes right by you without even sparing a glance.

All that tension dissolves into laughter when Joe makes fun of your miserable crossword choices.

“Aren’t you supposed to be ridiculously smart?” he teases, tapping his finger against the newspaper. “Why the hell did you put 'Beethoven' for ‘Famous deaf baseball player’?”

You groan, snatching the booklet back. “I was in a rush!”

Joe smirks. “The answer is Dummy Hoy, by the way. Actual deaf baseball legend. Try to keep up.”

“Well, excuse me, smartass!” you say, flashing a ludicrous grin as you hurriedly scribble over the letters. “Huh, okay, it does fit. Words are not my strength, what can I say.”

Joe hums, watching you with an easy smirk as he takes a ridiculously large bite of his apple. “What are your strengths, then?” he asks, chewing thoughtfully.

You tap the end of your pencil against your chin. “Huh. Engineering, I suppose. And I’m a pretty okay friend, I’d like to think.”

Joe raises a brow, amused. “A pretty okay friend? I’m not sure I can resist such attractive advertising.”

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff, nudging his arm. “I’ve had some bumps in my record recently.”

Joe’s smirk softens into something more genuine. “As I said—I probably won’t resist.” He leans back, tossing his apple core into a nearby bin with practiced ease. “And speaking of being good friends, since I do aim to become one, I should probably drop you off at the lab?”

Your stomach drops. “Oh, shit, yes. If we want me to live, definitely yes.”

You shove a chocolate bun and all your other things back into your bag and urge Joe to move faster, which prompts him to pry whether the skinny guy glaring daggers at you in front of the classroom can really do any significant damage. He demonstrates a few rugby pacifying moves, which you try to take with a straight face—but you burst out laughing when, just as you reach the lab’s door, he tells you, “Remember the dump tackle.”

And you have no idea where the urge to hold your breath as you enter comes from but releasing it upon seeing that your two favourite buffers—Jayce and Sky—are there to ease any blow coming your way makes you feel somewhat lighter. They sit hunched over their notes, so you only wave hello and approach Viktor, who is leaning over the intricate layout of books and papers splayed across the workbench.

"Glad to see you on time for once," he mutters, not even bothering to spare you a look.

"I tried very hard," you sigh, dropping your heavy bag onto the floor. "For you."

He smiles. Odd. The smile vanishes as quickly as it appears, and Viktor is back to his stuck-up self when he turns and says, in a tone seeping with boredom, "Alright. I rewired the band properly while you were gone. It's time to discuss the possible power supplies."

Properly, huh. "What do you have in mind?"

Viktor straightens, gesturing vaguely to the mess of notes sprawled across the workbench. "A micro thermoelectric generator would be the most efficient choice. Converts body heat into electrical energy—self-sustaining, minimal maintenance, and no reliance on external charging."

You arch a brow. "Efficient, sure. If you ignore the fact that it's highly dependent on temperature gradients. The output fluctuates, and if the user isn't generating enough heat, the power supply suffers. You'd be relying on biological inconsistency."

He hums, noncommittal. "There are ways to stabilise it. A supplementary capacitor—"

"Which introduces another point of failure," you cut in smoothly. "Supercapacitors have high charge cycles, but they degrade. If we're adding redundancy, why not go with something that guarantees a steady output?"

Viktor glances at you, unimpressed. "And what would you propose?"

"A miniaturised kinetic energy harvester." You lean forward, tapping a finger on the notes in front of him. "Energy is gathered through natural movement—walking, gesturing, any kind of physical motion. The output is consistent and doesn’t rely on external conditions."

"Consistent, yes, but also inefficient in comparison." He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "Kinetic harvesters require constant motion for optimal performance. What happens when the user is sedentary? The energy reservoir drains, and there is no backup supply."

You purse your lips. "Then integrate both. A hybrid system—kinetic as primary, thermoelectric as auxiliary. Movement generates most of the power, and any residual body heat supplements it. Redundancy without overcomplication."

For a moment, Viktor is quiet, his fingers idly tapping against the workbench. Then, almost reluctantly, he gives a small nod. "A reasonable compromise."

You blink. "Did you just agree with me?" Unthinkable. But you do have witnesses.

He exhales sharply, picking up a pencil. "Do not make me regret it."

Before you can fire back, Jayce, having had enough, loudly shuts his notebook and stretches. "Alright, I am starving," he announces, shooting a meaningful glance at Sky. "Lunch?"

Sky, who has been keeping her head down and very obviously pretending not to listen, perks up immediately. "Oh, yeah. Definitely."

Neither of them waits for an answer before standing. Jayce claps you on the shoulder as he passes, his voice overly casual. "Try not to kill each other before we get back."

"Can’t promise anything," you mutter.

Sky just snorts as she follows Jayce out, leaving you alone with Viktor, making the forced civility even a bigger challenge. He writes down your ideas on the board, when a loud growl of your stomach makes him pause.

“Haven’t your himbo—erm, sorry, Joe—fed you properly?”

“Get lost,” you counter stupidly, rummaging through your bag for your safety bun. You tear off a piece with exaggerated nonchalance, throwing Viktor a shit-eating smirk. “He fed my soul.”

Viktor rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Good for you,” he grumbles, turning back toward the board, but you catch the briefest flicker of something—mild annoyance, maybe—as he refocuses on his work.

Viktor taps his fingers against the edge of the workbench, gaze fixed on the equations scrawled across the board. “The issue with the stability of the connection isn’t the materials themselves,” he says, his tone clipped with focus. “It’s the uneven current distribution. If we integrate a secondary regulator—” He gestures to a hastily drawn diagram, circling a particular point with the chalk. “—we can stabilise the output without overhauling the entire circuit.”

You exhale sharply, arms crossed. “That’s just putting a bandage on it.”

“It’s refining, not patching,” Viktor corrects, finally glancing at you. “A full redesign would be unnecessary, and we don’t have the time for it,” he mumbles, less sure of himself and you take a note of his brows furrowing.

You linger on the rebuttal, but ultimately, you step forward, coming to stand beside him. Your eyes scan the board, taking in the schematics, the modifications—annoyingly, frustratingly sound. You rub at your temple and sigh.

“Okay. Okay,” you state firmly, staring at the board. “I will admit the superiority of your idea over mine, because I am decent.”

You turn to Viktor, for once glad to admit defeat with such grace—only to catch him outright staring at you, his eyes almost absent. It usually doesn’t take him that long to formulate a comeback that is supposed to land like a slap but of course bounces off and figuratively flares up on his cheek instead.

No slapping this time, though.

“What are you looking at?”

“You have a—” he says quietly, pointing at the corner of your lip.

Your hand flies to your mouth, wondering how long you’ve been walking around with a chocolate moustache before he noticed. You nag at the spot with your fingers, but Viktor scrunches his eyebrows, looking almost pained when he whines, “God, not here.”

“Well, you showed me there!” It’s ridiculous, but you actually laugh, still trying to blindly locate whatever food dirt clings to your mouth after eating that cursed bun.

“Ah, damn, not here—here!” Obviously, you’re doing a poor job because Viktor huffs, half-annoyed, his lips turning into a pitying smile. “Ah, just—” He sighs, exasperated, then finally—oh.

He licks his thumb, stills you with a hand on your shoulder, and leans in. “Let me,” he murmurs, swiping his wet thumb over your skin.

“Oh.”

Viktor does such a great job of not looking at you while performing his little mercy that this gesture—almost sweet, if you two weren’t dangling from that tightrope right now—might have had a chance of passing as friendly. Maybe—if his touch resembled that of a mother cleaning dirt off a child’s face. Maybe—if his thumb weren’t caressing your lip with lingering tenderness, as if trying to memorise the order in which your mouth would wrinkle were it to come to kiss his.

He’s possibly, most likely done at some point, and you should be all cleaned up. But he doesn’t stop. He takes in your face—chin tilted up, leaning into his touch. Eyes hooded, defenceless. Such a gentle, fragile picture before him, so different to the way your mouth twists into a groan when you see him or the way you smirk when your insult lands on a fertile ground.

A calloused, trembling thing keeps swiping over your lips, and you inhale sharply. His hand shifts from your shoulder to your neck, and your eyes fall closed.

And then, oh, he still doesn’t stop.

His hand is shaking, breath held tight in his chest. Quivering fingers—index and middle—ghost over your upper lip, and for the love of everything sacred, you have no idea what overcomes you. When you part your mouth.

Viktor has a faint idea of what possesses him when he accepts the invitation and slides his fingers inside. It’s that nagging, ever-present thought—or wonder, rather—of what this mouth feels like from the inside. He’s thought about shutting your yapping mouth many times before. He just didn’t know his fingers would do as good a job as his tongue.

For a moment, it’s so insanely erotic that your brows scrunch. He pushes in and out, glides over your teeth and tongue. It’s all quiet, just the soft clicks of your make, until—

“Oh, fuck,” Viktor exhales, his thumb swiping beneath your jaw.

You hold him firmly between your lips and, at one point, even hum softly as his fingers part and graze the inside of your cheek. With a sharp exhale, he retreats, dragging your spit over your skin before cupping your face.

Your eyes open, and he’s so close you can taste his breath. An impossible moment.

You don’t think. You just do.

You let your face be pulled closer and closer until you think his mouth almost brushes yours—when your eyes meet. And then Viktor looks to the door.

His expression changes. A spatter of darkened gold flicks between the entrance to the lab and you, back and forth, before suddenly—he withdraws. His hands leave you in an instant. He rushes away, drops onto a stool, grabs a notebook, and starts scribbling as though nothing happened.

And you barely manage to take a ragged breath before the door swings open, laughter spilling inside—Jayce’s, loud as ever, followed by Sky’s.

Jayce looks around, eyebrows raised. “Huh. Nothing’s on fire for once.”

He passes you, and you can only bulge your eyes out to yourself, the only silent embodiment of the shock coursing through your veins. And goddamn it—Sky fucking catches it.

“Are you okay?” she asks, stopping in her tracks, eyeing you from head to toe.

First, you nod. Many times. Smiling like an idiot, completely fake. “Yes.”

“What was that then?” She mimics your expression, and it looks so fucking stupid you almost snort—but unfortunately for you, Jayce sees what Sky is trying to express, and now his attention is on you.

Quickly, you turn back to your previous position, lean on one leg, drill your eyes into the board, and a half-smile onto your face.

“I’m just… thinking. With my face. About this,” you gesture vaguely to whatever Viktor managed to cross out and write over in your split second of focus.

“Just some internal monologuing. In fact,” you say, slapping your thighs. “I need to… excuse me for a second—” is the only thing you manage before turning on your heel and rushing out.

Jayce immediately turns to Viktor. “What did you do?”

But you don’t hear the answer. You let your face twist and turn as you walk fast through the corridors, bumping from door to door, praying that one of them will be unlocked—some classroom or a janitor’s closet good enough for you to hide and slam your fists against a wall.

Finally, you find one—a small storage room stocked with backup sanitary items for disinfection. You barge in, leave the door ajar, and begin your dance.

You fall into a crouch and contemplate whether you could scream. You probably can’t, so you just hide your face between your knees, bury your hands in your hair, and mouth, What the fuck?

You take a couple of breaths. Stand up, take a few steps. A thousand expressions fly across your face as your mouth falls open and closed between cut whispers, crumbs of your thoughts. No and what and oh, God fall out, barely audible, as you gesture wildly with your hands and walk around in a tiny circle.

You try to jump it out, kick something that’s not there, before muttering, fuck. What the fuck. Then, a long exhale, and your hands just fall to your sides.

Fuck, again.

You press your lips into a thin line and breathe heavily through your nose, eyebrows all scrunched.

“Are you alright?” Viktor’s voice startles you.

He is standing in the doorway—for God knows how long—and you just clutch a fist to your chest, still unable to speak.

He stares at you, half-smiling at this display of internal conflict. He looks like he wants to say something. Or like he wants you to say something. You have no idea.

The longer you don’t speak, the more worried his face becomes. You take two steps toward him—then turn again, leaning over a small table. Then straighten back up, mouth something at him, but it’s impossible to say what. Chew on your cheek to the point of drawing blood.

As you get closer and closer, something breaks within you. Your hands reach for him—then retreat again. One more step, and one more.

And Viktor is stuck in place in the doorframe, having not even the faintest idea what to do.

Finally, you’re so close you could touch him. And you nod, as if to yourself, as if admitting some kind of defeat—when your hands cup his face, and you close the distance between his mouth and yours.

Just one kiss. Deep but fleeting, no tongue.

When you break away, you lick your lips and look at his nose. You make a tired, strangled sound, but Viktor doesn’t let you back away further.

He hooks his cane over his forearm, hands come to grab your waist and your neck, and he kisses you back—this time with tongue. Walks you inside, breathes through his mouth into this kiss that is neither fierce nor gentle. It’s just… so wanting, his moans are almost cries.

And you, too, want him to the point of crying out, when your hands don’t calm down with his touch—simultaneously mussing his hair and tugging at the collar of his shirt, signalling you want it off, you want to feel more of him. You slide your fingers underneath, nails scratching his collarbone, and he releases a low growl into your mouth.

It must look absolutely idiotic, when you bend backwards and pull him with you, making him hunch to not lose your lips, and Viktor stumbles, almost knocks you over before using your body for balance. You wrap your arms around his neck so tight his head almost snaps off and he responds with an equal strength of his palms crushing your ribs.

Hoarse breathing and little needy cries fill the tiny space, and you almost rip the shirt off his back, until—

The sound of your name echoing down the corridor startles you.

And then—

“Viktor!” Jayce calls. Behind him, Sky calls yours.

You detach from each other, panting, pure peril oozing between you.

“I’ve messed you up,” Viktor says quickly, adjusting your shirt back into your skirt. You could smile at the sweetness of the gesture, but—

The voices—closer, and closer, and closer.

“God, your hair,” you whisper, hands flying up to smooth down the strands you’ve mussed with panicked fingers.

Viktor’s hands drop from you. He lets you fuss over him but the more you touch him the more distant his expression grows. You almost deem your work decent, when he leans back in and shoveshis tongue into your throat again, as if he can’t stay away.

“Viktor, no, they will—”

You get cut off by a firm push to the table. He steps between your legs, yanks the door closed with his cane, and clasps a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he pants. “They won’t.” And then he licks your neck, and your legs kick around him, thudding against the table leg.

“Shh, quiet,” he whispers between breaths. Bastard drags his tongue up your neck again, his free hand coming to pin your wrists together on your stomach. A kiss under your ear, a gentle suck of his lips gets your thighs clenching, trapping him between your legs and he has the audacity to smirk against your skin.

The sweet torture continues, when, feeling your fidgety hands grow pliant he releases you, only to use the newly gained freedom of his arm to slide a flat palm up your back, between your shoulder blades, all the way up so his fingers brush under your hairline before grabbing a fistful at the base of your skull. Have you known any better, you would bite the silencing hand, but you moan into it instead.

The moan dies into a whine, when Viktor’s tongue abandons your neck, and he comes back to look you in the eye all serious, then kisses the knuckles of his own palm as if they were your lips. “I meant it when I said I could gag you,” he hums and either he is not ready to see your eyes rolling to admire the insides of your eyeballs or the mere thought gets him to turned on his lids shut involuntarily.

And when Jayce and Sky clearly trot right next to the door that is now holding a secret dearest to your heart, you both freeze and keep your eyes shut, following the moronic rule of if you can’t see them they can’t see you either.

“All right, I’m ready to give up,” Jayce says, and Sky responds with nothing, but you can see her nodding in your mind’s eye. “Let’s just hope there aren’t any bodies lying around come morning.” That, Sky dignifies with a chuckle.

You both listen to the sound of their chatter and steps descending down the corridor in complete stillness, and when he is absolutely certain you are now truly alone, Viktor releases your mouth, its tender flesh pulled with his retreating hand, a quiet sticky sound follows.

He bites on his lower lip and stares at the glistening inner side of his palm for a moment and you wonder if he contemplates whether to lick it or wipe it into his pants. Then, he looks back at you, unsure and searching and you take one more step toward utter insanity, wrapping your legs around his and fisting his crumpled shirt.

“Is that a yes?” he asks against your mouth, cane comes to rest by the table and needy hands accept the invitation before his brain does as they cup your ass, pressing you against him. The feeling of his cock, hard between your legs and straining in his pants sends a cramp all the way to your core.

“A yes to what?” you bounce the question off as your tongue darts to lick his upper lip.

“To gagging,” Viktor still tries, but the chuckle gives him away.

“You’re disgusting,” you snort, nearly into his mouth. He swallows it in another kiss, prettier than the last one, gentler. Deeper as well, when he cups your face and licks into you through pleased hums, his eyelashes brush underneath yours and you can smell chalk and paper on him.

Of all people, Viktor giving you kiss so full of emotion, is not a thing you would bet on. But you accept it, messing his hair back into the state from before you licked it down with your palms, soft strands fill the gaps between your fingers as you flex them to tug, pull, and scratch your nails on his scalp and as you crack your eyes open, goosebumps rises and falls in waves down the taunt skin of his cheeks.

“For fucks sake touch me,” he rasps, showing you his underbelly. “Please.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say this word to me,” you tease him, licking into his mouth and shifting your hips so that your clothed cunt would press on his crotch. He groans your name out in a warning and doesn’t let you win this one, biting your neck, almost unhinging his jaw in the process.

You don’t retaliate either. Shaky fingers come to undo the first few buttons of his shirt, and you caress his collar bones before placing a soft kiss in the pool where they meet. Viktor’s head lulls back on his shoulders, hips roll into yours and mouth moans out the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Ah, fuck,” you hiss against his skin despite yourself. Very reluctant to let him know how hot you find him right now, you drag your tongue up his neck to shut yourself up. Viktor, obviously at the edge of his patience, grabs the back of your neck and collides your mouths back into another greedy kiss, making you almost, well, gag, on his tongue.

“Yes to gagging, then,” he says triumphantly. Tired with waiting for your hands to touch him where he wants it the most, he slides one palm under your skirt, pressing on a thin, wet barrier of your knickers and hums, pleased that he is not alone in his overwhelming want.

“Ah!” A gasp escapes you when you feel how desperate his touch is. “So, there is, fuck—” you stutter at the feeling his fingers sliding the material to the side and finding your clit. “Kindness in your touch after all.” Your hands already fumble at his belt and Viktor smirks at the stark contrast between the overall cockiness of your message and a very poor delivery not backing it up.

“Only kindness,” he whispers and there is honesty within him you’ve never seen before. He sinks two fingers inside you, thumb fixed where you throb and pulse, and you almost lose his cock from your hand at the stumbling realisation of how good he is with his hands. You brace yourself with a firm grip on his shoulder, your free hand spreads the beads of precum over his head and Viktor exhales a shuddery breath. You give him a couple of experimental pumps and decide to push him further, retreating your touch only to present him with your palm open, waiting below his chin when you say, “Spit.”

“Who’s disgusting now,” he chuckles but obeys. Soon a warm wet splash lands on your hand, and you cannot take your eyes off his lips when his cheeks hollow out and tongue rolls to gather his spit for you. You’ve never seen him doing it either. The movement of his fingers doesn’t waver for a moment, and you have to use all of your massive brain power to not get distracted between your own pleasure and his cock.

You grasp him at the base and spread the slick all the way to the top, rolling your fingers on the sensitive spot under his head, to which Viktor replies with a firmer rub against your clit. The more you edge him, the more he coms forth, curling his fingers inside you, making you scowl and lose your rhythm on his cock and he’s willing to make this little sacrifice only so see how lovely your face contorts the closer you are to falling apart.

He defeats you almost entirely when a third finger gets introduced to your hole and all you can do is just hold him in your palm, your other hand slides back up his hair and you tug him close to taste his lips again and send your groan into his throat. Finally, you come in a couple of clenched out spasms, losing control of your mouth as you press yourself into him and Viktor gulps down your moans, humming and smiling with something clean and genuine.

Your legs go limp on his sides, forehead comes to rest on his shoulder, and you allow yourself a couple of shuddery breaths before moving your hand again. You lift your head to look at him, face all pink and covered with a sheen of sweat and his lips part sweetly when you resume languid rolls of your wrist.

Viktor braces himself on the edge of the table, hands come to grip on each side of your hips, his knuckles pale, and he leans in, holding your gaze. Utters a quiet fuck when you smile at him, all blissfully complete and you suddenly find yourself wanting to make him feel just as good. So you pump his cock faster, taking cues from the way his cheeks flare up, eyes flutter and breath hitches. He grunts and moans and pants and you record each and every one of those sounds in the grooves of your brain.

When’s he’s becoming unbearably hot and twitching in your palm, his hands crawl back to cup your face, and he kisses you deeply, soft tongue invading your mouth again and you know he is almost there, so you pull your skirt up and make him paint your inner thighs with cum. Heat spreads across your skin when Viktor shakes out the last spasms of his orgasm, your lips still glued together.

“Who knew you are such a sweet creature,” he mumbles hotly between kisses, his softening cock rolling in his own cum on your thigh.

“It’s a secret, don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, reaching blindly to the shelf above your head to grab a roll of paper towels. You hand it to Viktor, and he tears off a piece and sets the roll outside of your reach. With a protest already dangling off your tongue, you let it crawl back into your throat when Viktor wipes himself off your thigh with tenderness and care that gets you borderline embarrassed.

Then, he cleans himself up and you watch him with wide eyes as he tucks everything back into his pants, throws the cum-stained paper into the bin and leans back to kiss you, as if something just got established.

“A compromise agrees with you,” he says, resting his forehead against yours. “You too,” you reply stupidly, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. And you wonder—how long is the fall off this tightrope going to be? When will you crash into the ground and break your neck?

[chrrific]

[ 奇麗 ] GIRLS JUST WANNA DANCE

— 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒; 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌.

&&엔하이픈 ✦ bf! enhypen x 𝑓. reader ─── est. relationships fluff ♡ l’avis . . . kissing wc1000

✉️ 注記 — oh my, active mick ?? >< this one’s for @bywonyo aka my princessss (ilysm ai)

the masterlist reblogs & likes are appreciated !!

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes off you the whole night. i mean, how could he, when you were wearing that purple dress that he picked out for you? the music set list was on fire; charlie xcx, olivia rodrigo, troye sivan, kendrick lamar — it was the setlist. and who made it? heeseung.

PARK JONGSEONG

the drink in his hand had lost his attention, all of it now on you. the way you were laughing with your friends, the way you did your hair that night; it was almost about to break his self control.

he so badly wanted to kiss you senseless in front of everyone here, show them that this is what they missed out on, but he knew you’d give him the silent treatment after (from past experiences.)

SIM JAEYUN

your eyeshadow was glimmering under the disco ball placed on your ceiling fan, a light sheen of sweat coating your face from the singing and dancing with your friends.

you walked over to him, who was sat on the counter, and picked up a tissue, dabbing your skin with it. and for some reason, it looked kinda… hot to him. well, he thought you were hot in general, so that’s a different matter in its own.

PARK SUNGHOON

his eyes were only for you as you stepped up and picked up the mic, pink ‘birthday princess’ sash shining in the iridescent light of the disco ball.

“thank you for coming tonight, everyone! we have the dinner buffet out now, so let’s all go eat some good food!”

he smiled as he heard your voice, waiting near to take your hand and bring you with him to eat.

KIM SUNOO

his smile was irreplaceable as he watched you and your best friends take selfies together, your birthday tiara placed elegantly on your head. your lips were put in a selfie pout, and so he wanted to just pull you away and never let you go.

he didn’t even notice he was staring until heeseung came over and gave him a little nudge. “man, you’re really down bad, aren’t you?”

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon’s fingers drummed against the counter, the song — your favourite song — playing in the background enveloping his ears. a small smile tugged at his lips, and it got even wider and he saw you walk towards him.

“hey won, is my lip gloss okay?” you asked, and he was so grateful for the excuse to stare at your lips. he nodded, shooting you a mischievous grin, before pulling you closer and kissing your cheek. you tried to look annoyed, but the smile on your face was a huge giveaway.

NISHIMURA RIKI

he was busy staring at you(r lips), until he got an idea.

he got off the barstool, making his way over to where you and your friends were dancing. his fingers wrapped around your wrist, making you turn around in confusion.

“may i have this dance, princess?”

PERMANENT TAGLIST —

𐔌 ﹒ @liya07v @strvvy-anniee @flufflights @eunandonly @hannamoon143 @irasvr @ateez-atiny380 @amoressb @ikeulove @gudkc @mrsjohnnysuh @sol3chu @nerdywitchcrown @sol3chu @puma-riki @xeee334 @suhiiiies-blog @haerinheartss @layzfy @manaah02 @ijustwannareadstuff20

( bold — could not be tagged )

[slater-baby]

Tags: free use, degradation, slight piss kink (but no actual piss), dubious consent, perverted Simon

Notes: Dedicated to that one anon in my inbox who keeps asking for piss content!! I'm sorry to say I probably won't write your request, but hopefully this small blurb makes up for it ❤️

Simon had never been a patient man. He wasn't patient at work. Wasn't patient at home. And most of all, he definitely wasn't patient when he was inside of you.

Every time he crawled into bed, pinning you down with his meaty hands, biting at your throat nearly hard enough to draw blood, all the while bullying his red, leaking cock into your pussy.

Since the beginning, there was no point in fighting back. A man like him—with all his viciousness and strength—wouldn't be deterred by a thing like you. It was a point only made more embarrassing by the way he held you down and fucked you hard, muttering that demeaning nickname in your ear.

"Shut up," he'd snarl, balls slapping against your ass, "I'll fill you up 'n then I'll go—and you better not test me, little girl. Not right now. Not fuckin' today."

Most of the time, you couldn't do more than spread your legs for him and let him take what he wanted, whining every time he bent your body into a new position.

However, just because he was a brute didn't mean he was brainless. He was your brute after all. And, if you were good enough, he'd give you a bit of leeway.

Today, you bit the bullet.

God, Simon must have had you pinned down for hours, the bed sheets soaked through with sweat underneath your naked body. He was still dressed, but you were bare and raw, his handprints marked into your body from nearly head to toe.

You were so broken and bent you could barely breathe, legs pushed so far back your knees were resting on the pillow beside your head while Simon slammed his swollen cock into your pussy again and again.

"Ngh—“ you wince, scrunching your brow.

Another thrust, another unwitting moan. Fuck, he was ruthless. Every swing of his hips, every slap of his skin—god, he puts his entire weight behind it, the head of his dick pushing into your cervix regardless of how he'd gentle he said he’d be with you tonight.

But, with every thrust, he pushes into more than just your cervix. After so long playing his personal fleshlight, the uncomfortable feeling was beginning to distract you.

"Simon—Simon, wait. Stop," you shove at his shoulder blades, wriggling your hips.

At the tiny taps, he stops, still buried inside of you.

"You good?" he drawls, panting like some looming beast.

"Yeah, it's just..." you look away from him with a flush, slowly easing off of his cock, "I need the bathroom."

He cocks a brow, but otherwise lets you go. However, he certainly makes no effort to pull himself out of the warmth of your pussy, instead watching on with a straight face while you wiggle yourself out from under him.

Prick, you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

"You just went," he huffs as you close the door behind you, "Your bladder can't be that fuckin' small."

"Simon," he hears you sigh on the other side of the door, "Look, it's just...when you're inside of me, sometimes you put a little more pressure on my bladder, okay? S'not my fault..."

Is that a whine he hears?

It's definitely a whine, his brain tells him.

Again, he rolls his eyes, irritation building. While you do your business, he looks down at himself, still poised in the position you'd left him. Idly, his leaking cock twitches between his heavy legs, and he scowls, watching as bubbly strings of your slick drip off of the tip and onto the bed. He scoffs as he wraps a hand around it.

"So?" he huffs, fucking into his fist.

"So," you pout, "Maybe you should be a bit more gentle..."

"Yeah, right," he chuckles, pounding his hips into his hand a few times, "Cause you'd still moan just as loud if I was soft 'n sweet wi' you."

There's no answer from beyond the door. Irritation creeps up on him quickly. Impatiently, he stands from the mattress, walking over towards the door. The hinges creak when he leans his weight on it.

"Hurry up," he demands, blood pumping.

"I am hurrying!!" you whine. Again. Like always.

"Fuck."

The vitriol is almost as loud as his libido, blood rushing south. Fondness transforms into want, transforms into sheer need quicker than he can reel himself in. And before he knows it, he's barging through the door. You gasp, having barely stood up from the stool.

"What are you—“ you begin, but you don't get the chance to finish. He merely wraps his ruthless hands around your hips, wrestling you into submission against his stronger body.

"Turn around," he seethes over the sound of your whines, "Bend over. Ass up. I need you."

"B-but, I—“ you mewl like a cat in heat when he swipes his cock between your legs; you're wetter than you've ever felt before, "Simon, I—I still need to go—“

"No, you don't," he grits, grabbing your hair to yank your head up when he slides home. Your entire body trembles against his, legs shaking so hard you stumble forward where you stand, forced to spread your legs over the bowl of the toilet.

You can only gasp in shock as he starts right back up fucking you again, ramming his hips into you hard enough to make you brace your hands against the white porcelain back.

"You don't need a piss, you need to cum," he tells you, as if it were a fact, "If you were smart, you'd be able to tell the difference between the two, love."

"Simon, not—not there—“ you gasp, that uncomfortable urge reeling through your nerves once again, amplified by the way he wraps his arm around your stomach to hold you in place. Shakily, you push a hand behind yourself to shove at his thrusting hips. If anything, it only makes him fuck into your harder.

"Hush," he seethes, thrusting hard to shove you forward. Tears begin dripping down the side of your cheek as that feeling of desperation floods your body, demanding that you cross your legs and hide yourself from him. But Simon won't have it.

No, he only bends you to his will, plastering his sweaty cheek against yours when he begins to speak.

"You need to go, huh? That it, baby?" he mocks, rocking into you slowly—almost as if he cared about your whining moans.

"I—I don't know," you moan, beyond decency now, "Please, just pull out and let me see if I—“

"If you need to go, then go. Right here. Right now," he teases, "Nothing's stoppin' you, baby. Y'won't make a mess or nothin'. Y'just gotta stop whingin' and go."

"Simon—I can't do it—“ you cry, cunt fluttering around him as you halfheartedly try and follow his directions.

"You sure?" he shoves his cock home once more, reaching around to fondle your clit; you flinch against him, "'Cause you feel pretty wet down here to me, baby..."

"That's not—" you try to protest, but find yourself leaning into the feeling, discomfort transforming into pleasure alarmingly quick.

"You clenchin' around me 'cause you're desperate or because you're close? Which one is it, girl? C'mon," he punctuates the words with a slap to your ass, "I don't got all day."

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you try in vain to decipher the feeling inside of you. Yet, the more he pushes into you, body strong and warm against your back, the more confused you become. The flush on your face is so severe you can hardly contain your embarrassed tears when you answer him.

"I—I don't know..." you practically sob, listless now. His faithful arms wrap around you, amplifying the emotion coursing through you.

"Aww, that's alright, baby," he coos, smiling wolfishly as he thrusts home once again, "I've got you."

His hot tongue skirts around your neck, laving into a slow, wet kiss beneath your jaw.

"S'okay," his chest expands on a teasing laugh, "Guess we're 'bout to find out which one it is anyway."

At his words, your eyes go wide and you can't stop the gasp that leaves you. However, when he grabs your trembling hands and shoves them up against the wall, perfectly positioning your pussy over the toilet bowl, you whine uselessly at him once more.

"Simon—please—“

"Did someone tell you to talk?" he bites back, wrenching your hair in his hand while he picks up his pace, "No? Then shut up and let me fuck you."

[prythiansprincess]

best friend's brother! tom finally gets you alone

NAVIGATION // home. tag. moodboard. more.

author's note: the demons...they're getting loud again. i'm actually so feral for possessive and obsessive tom. I fear I might make this my whole personality now.

obsession. 

tom riddle was, in every sense of the word, obsessive. the fixation and compulsion he poured into the things he loved had always been a marker of his character. tom was not the type of person to casually partake in something; for the eldest riddle brother, the best things in life were worth being consumed by. 

and he was. 

utterly and irrevocably consumed by you. 

y/n, mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend. the one whose pretty eyes and lovely smile haunted his every waking moment. the one whose honeyed voice played in his head like a melody and enticed him like a siren’s song. the one whose gentle touch sent his heart racing until he felt as though the damned thing was going to burst out of his bloody chest. 

you had no idea what you did to him, but you would soon enough because tom had a plan. for weeks, he had been plotting and scheming. trying to find the right time to finally get you all to himself. 

fortunately for him, the opportunity arose one fateful evening when mattheo left his phone unattended in the living room. it was so easy, almost too easy, to guess his brother’s password and open up his most recent text thread with you. 

mattheo: come over tonight? 

tom watched as three dots appeared on the screen, indicating that you were currently typing a response. 

y/n: will tom be there?

now that was interesting. perhaps you were asking because you wanted him to be there. wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

mattheo: yes. why do you ask?

y/n: I just don't want to be a bother. I know tom likes to study on tuesdays and me coming over would probably disrupt that.

tom couldn’t help but smile. such a thoughtful, caring girl. he couldn’t wait to ruin you. 

mattheo: tom will be fine. so, are you in or not?  i'll grab your favorite snacks. 

y/n: you had me at snacks.

half an hour later, you were standing in the doorway of the riddle home, dressed in one of those pretty little dresses that tom had imagined ripping off of your body a million times. as the door swung open, those innocent eyes widened at the sight of him. you flushed when tom met your gaze, a light pink hue dusting your cheeks. 

"oh. hi, tom. um, is mattheo here? he asked me to come over." 

tom casually leaned against the frame, giving you a once over that only deepened your flush. "my brother just stepped out, but he should be back soon." 

"o—okay. he's probably out getting snacks." 

tom watched as you lingered in the doorway, anxiously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. he thought it was adorable that you were still nervous around him after all this time. biting back a smile, tom opened the door to his home a little wider. 

"are you coming in?" 

“hm?” you asked absentmindedly. “oh. yeah. yes, i’m coming. not like that. I mean, obviously. shit. ignore me please.” 

tom raised a brow, but said nothing as he barely gave you enough of a gap to squeeze through the door. he smirked to himself as you maneuvered your way inside, perky breasts brushing against his solid chest. tom could smell the sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo as you passed through. he wanted to drown himself in it. you timidly avoided his gaze, choosing instead to follow him into the kitchen in silence.

“would you like something to drink?” 

you nodded. “yes, please, i’ll take a —”

before you could finish your sentence, tom handed you a cold can of vanilla cherry soda. your favorite. you thanked him with a shy smile before following him upstairs. instinctively, you turned in the direction of mattheo’s room, but tom gripped your wrist and kept you in place. 

“you can wait in my room if you’d like. mattheo might be a while. he reeked of weed when he left."

you chuckled. “it does take matty forever to pick out snacks when he’s high.” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other before glancing up at tom through your lashes. “are you sure you don’t mind? I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“i’m sure,” tom confirmed. “I could use the company.” 

with that, you followed tom into his room. unlike mattheo’s, tom’s room was neat and organized. everything was perfect and pristine, much like the man standing before you. tom busied himself by putting away the books and notes on his desk while you fiddled with your fingers, not quite knowing what to do with yourself. 

“sit on the bed,” tom commanded. “make yourself comfortable.” 

“okay.” you replied in a small, breathy voice. 

carefully, you settled at the edge of his bed and crossed your legs. you drummed your fingers against your thigh, pondering how strange this situation was. in all your years of knowing tom, you had never once set foot in his room. at most, you caught glimpses of it when you passed by on your way to mattheo’s room. 

everything was so foreign and interesting. that was the desk where tom does all his studying. that was the closet where he keeps all of his clothes. that was the night stand where he places his glasses on before he goes to sleep. 

that was the bed that he laid in every night. your mind started to wander through all the things that tom had done in this bed. maybe by himself. maybe with someone else. the intrusive thoughts fired off one by one, leaving you flustered. does he soak the sheets when he gets himself off? does he tie his partners to the bed post when he eats them out? does he push their faces into the pillows as he rails them from behind? 

you were so engrossed in your dirty and filthy fantasies that you nearly jumped out of your skin when tom rested a hand on your thigh. 

“hm,” tom hummed. “you’re so jumpy, love.” 

you held your breath as he leaned closer, his face mere inches away from yours. the tension between you ebbed before he carefully took the soda can in your hand and placed it neatly on his nightstand. tom smirked when he noticed the hitch in your breath at his close proximity.

“do I make you nervous, doll?” 

“yes,” you answered truthfully. there was no point in lying. it was written all over your face. “you’re just so…intimidating.” 

“am I?” tom drawled as he slid in beside you, scooting in closer until his thigh was pressed against yours. even through his neatly pressed trousers, you could still feel the heat of his skin on yours. “maybe we just need to get to know each other better.” 

you bit your lip. “i’d like that, tom.” 

“good,” tom drawled. “let’s start with why you think you’d be a bother to me. mattheo told me you were hesitant to come over earlier.” 

you flushed as you stared at your shoes, the curtain of your hair shielding you from tom’s intense gaze. “I know you like your peace and quiet, which mattheo and I probably constantly interrupt. i’m sorry if we’re ever being annoying.” 

“you don’t have to worry about that. you could never bother me,” tom stated in a silky, flirty voice. “the only thing I find annoying is that you’re always with my brother. I just can’t seem to get you alone, can I?” 

you shivered as tom’s gaze flickered down to your lips. “well, we’re alone now.” 

“indeed we are.” you held your breath as tom leaned in closer, the bed dipping under his weight. “you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this. just you and me, without my brother to interrupt. I think about it all the time.” 

tom watched your pupils dilate, reacting to his admission. “what do you think about?” 

“I think about all the things I’d do to you. I think about the way you’d feel, the way you’d sound. if you’d scream or moan or whimper for me.” you shuddered at the sinful confession, rubbing your thighs together as heat rushed to your core. tom’s green gaze felt like a brand against your skin as a predatory look flashed through his handsome face. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” 

before you could react, tom’s mouth was on yours. the kiss was neither soft nor gentle, but instead hungry and possessive. the magnitude of his desire took you by surprise. you had always thought that tom viewed you as nothing more than mattheo’s pesky friend, the one that came over unannounced and wreaked havoc in his life, but apparently you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

tom kissed you like a man starved. he poured all of himself into the action, tangling his fingers through your hair, yanking your head backwards so he could kiss you deeper. you could barely keep up with the way he was devouring you, his tongue dominating yours while you moaned softly into his mouth. 

a gasp escaped your lips as tom picked you up and placed you on his lap. you were dizzy with desire as you straddled him, whimpering when tom bucked his hips against yours which caused his erection to rub against your soaked core. never in a million years would you have imagined tom to be this dirty and filthy as he grabbed and groped and gorged himself on you. 

your breathy moans filled the room as tom slid his right hand underneath your dress and squeezed your thigh before palming you through your panties. you melted into his touch, moaning his name softly while he growled in response. as he slid the lace aside, tom kissed your neck and teased your slit with his fingers. 

“you’re soaked, doll.” tom said with a dark chuckle. “do I make you wet, hm?” 

“yes,” you breathed, eyes rolling back as tom spread your slick ever so slowly. 

he seemed to take this as encouragement, taking his time teasing you, rubbing your clit and spreading your folds until you were reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess. 

“tom, please…”

“so needy,” tom murmured. “what is it that you want, love?” 

“I want…” you bit your lip as tom stroked your pussy. “I want your fingers. I want them inside of me. please, tom.” 

“aw, doll, you sound so pretty when you beg,” tom cooed. “don’t worry, I couldn't resist you even if I tried.” 

without warning, tom plunged his fingers into your pussy. you groaned at the stretch, face heating from how vulgar the scene unfolding before you truly was. tom watched with rapt attention as you squirmed and panted, drinking in every little moan and whimper like a fine wine. his fingers felt like magic as they curled and scissored and flicked inside your walls. the other hand that wasn’t playing with your pussy rested on your hip, gripping tightly as you grinded against tom. 

“that’s it, doll. ride my fingers just like that.” 

tom was mesmerized at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend was no longer sweet and innocent as tom fingered and ruined you like the perfect little slut that you were. his perfect little slut.

“are you going to be a good girl and cum for me?” 

tears streamed down your cheeks as you rode tom’s fingers like your life depended on it. your mascara and lipstick were both smeared, but you didn’t care as you chased after your orgasm. you gave tom a weak nod, half out of your mind with pleasure. 

tom gripped your chin and forced you to look at him. “answer me, doll.” 

“y — yes. i’m going to…oh god, tom!” you writhed as tom rubbed your clit with the heel of his palm, pushing you over the edge. 

the glimmer in your eyes right before you came unleashed something within tom. the flushed cheeks and fluttering lashes; the parted lips and strained scream, it was enough to drive him insane. he wanted to see you make that face over and over again. 

“you look so pretty when you cum, doll.” tom murmured as he bit down on your neck, staking his claim on your skin. “you’re fucking exquisite.” 

amusement danced in his gaze as you shied away from the attention, cheeks flushed from the praise. tom locked eyes with you before sticking his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean in the most obscene and erotic way you had ever witnessed. 

“don’t get all shy now, love. it’s your cum i’m licking off my fingers and i’ll be damned if you ever feel nervous around me again.” 

you chuckled in disbelief. the tom riddle in your head was supposed to be prim and proper, but the real tom was salacious and vulgar; a version of him that was better than what you could have ever imagined. still, despite the heated exchange, tom was surprisingly tender as he helped clean you up. you blushed furiously as he pulled your dress down and kissed your cheek. 

the timing couldn’t have been more perfect because soon after you were situated, the two of you heard footsteps in the hall. you barely had time to compose yourself before mattheo came barging into the room. 

“tom, have you seen my phone?” mattheo paused in surprise when he found you staring back at him. “oh, hi y/n. what are you doing here?” 

“you asked me to come over and hang out, remember?” 

“did I?” mattheo wondered aloud. “I was pretty baked earlier. guess I must have texted you then. well, i’m free now if you want to watch a movie.” 

tom smirked as you shot a bewildered glance at him. “oh, yeah sure.” 

“by the way, what are you doing in tom’s room? is he boring you to death about his coin collection again?” 

you blushed furiously. “no, uh, we were just…tom and I were…” 

“we were discussing the finer points of human anatomy,” tom lied smoothly. his smirk was still perfectly in place as he glanced over at you. “it was a rather…stimulating conversation. was it not, doll?” 

the tips of your ears were bright red as you nodded in place of a response, because you couldn’t trust yourself to speak at the moment.

mattheo rolled his eyes. “well, if you’re done being a weirdo, y/n and I will be in the basement.” 

you fiddled with the hem of your dress, not quite able to meet tom’s eyes. “um, well, I guess I’ll see you later?” 

tom winked behind his brother’s back. “you know where to find me, doll.” 

[nemisuki]

New Colors 

Synopsis || A grumpy 5 yr old wanting his classmates' attention!

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, short oneshot, bkg pov, kid bkg & reader, jealous bkg, deku mentioned, both in preschool, open ending, he’s just a lil guy, 488 word count

He couldn't believe what he was hearing! 

An extra actually managed to take her attention away from him?! Ridiculous!

And out of all people... of course it had to be the nerd.

The blonde frowns from across the classroom – practically burning holes through poor izuku's skull – his displeasure evident in the way he furiously fills his page with crayon.

For a five year old, the teachers noted that the boy had quite a temper, so they didn't think much of it when he stomped out of his seat a few minutes later.

Assuming he's simply having one of his infamous tantrums.

Instead, he marches towards her direction – right after izuku retreated to his seat – feeling like a small fireball, destined to explode but holding back his fury for her sake.

The exchange between y/n and izuku bothered him more than he liked to admit.

Her innocent gaze meets his and before she could get a word out, his hand reaches down to grab her coloring book, the other pulling her hand to follow.

Hmph, as if he'll let Izuku snag her away.

She's beyond speechless. Stumbling a bit but soon pauses as he drops her hand, watching as he places her book at the table next to his.

"Sit."

He doesn't wait for a response as he plops down in his own chair, going back to filling his All Might coloring sheet like nothing.

Though his pink cheeks are clearly noticeable to anyone who'd look his way.

"o-oh but my crayons-"

He nudges his own box of crayolas towards her, not making eye contact as he focuses on coloring inside the lines.

The boy can hear her sit down beside him, a small sound of awe escaping her lips as she takes a crayon for herself.

"thank you kacchan! you always got the best colors!"

A cheerful smile immediately forms on her face, her mood brightening up instantly – legs happily kicking back and forth under the table – another testimony to her increasing joy.

"hmph of course i do! the best for the best!"

The feeling of triumph fills his veins but the cocky smirk wavers from his face as he looks at you. A fluttering feeling in his chest as she giggles to his words.

He averts his gaze as his blush deepens.

"...you can borrow them too but only if you sit next to me from now on."

"ah- really?! okay i promise!"

"just don't give them to anyone else...... especially him."

He mumbles the last part to himself, waving off her oblivious expression as she asks him what he said.

Bakugo Katsuki does not share – whether it's his lunch, school supplies or toys – steal one of his valuables and it's absolute mayhem.

But to the stunned teachers who saw it all, and the shocked kids when he actually offered stuff to someone, it seemed he added another treasure to his list... you.

Poor innocent you.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| idk where this idea came from but here u goooo! it's rlly short bc ngl i got superrrr lazy today so enjoy this little drabble! bring back innocent fluff i say... lowkey wanna make a story of them as babies bc thats so funny to me for some reason lololol. OMG ALSO DOES ANYONE REMEMBER THE 64 PACK OF CRAYONS THAT HAD A SHARPENER INCLUDED IN THE BOX?! BRING THAT BACK!!! tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement - Chapter Four

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Things are growing tense between the you and Dean, buried feelings seemed to be bursting at the seems. How long until they finally burst? Is the real question.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: Angst, the usual pinning idiots, fluff.

AN: Okay this chapter became way too long so I had to split it 😅 call it the first half to chapter 5, where we will continue on. As always I hope you enjoy! ☺️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist < Catch up here

After your steamy shower escapades, you’d both decided to part ways for the night. As much as you wanted to bask in the aftermath, sleeping together—actually sleeping—felt like crossing an invisible line you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

Luckily, you had an easy excuse. You had work in the morning, and Dean had an even earlier start for his long drive out to Stanford. And after a day filled with very thorough extracurricular activities, the moment your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

By the time you woke up, Dean was already gone. A small part of you felt miffed that you hadn’t gotten to see him off—not just because of whatever this thing was between you, but because, at the end of the day, he was still your best friend. And you missed him when he wasn’t around.

That little pang of disappointment eased when you spotted the note on the coffee machine, still warm from where he must have made a fresh pot before leaving.

You weren’t prepared for the wave of emotions that crashed into you at the sight of his familiar scrawl. Why did he have to be so…Dean?

Letting out a long sigh, you lightly slapped your own cheek. Snap out of it. It’s nothing new.

Dean had always been like this. A natural caretaker. Your friend. That was all.

You shoved those unwelcome feelings down, drowning them in bites of warm, buttery pancakes and strong coffee. The food did wonders for distracting your heart.

By noon, you were about ready to throw in the towel. Your caseload was piling higher by the minute, the endless spreadsheets and budget reports turning into a blur of numbers. 

As the company’s-chartered accountant, you were used to the pressure—but Roman’s impulsive decision to buy into the Biggerson’s fast food chain had sent your workload into overdrive. You were now up to your eyeballs in audits and projections, making sure the company wasn’t about to haemorrhage money on a half-baked business venture.

A familiar teasing voice broke through your frazzled thoughts.

“Damn, I don’t know whether you need a drink or a cigarette.”

Spinning your chair around, you found yourself face-to-face with your favourite redhead, her signature smirk firmly in place.

“Can I have both?” you deadpanned, rubbing a hand over your already mussed-up hair. “Seriously, why couldn’t he wait until after the holidays for this manic decision? And why the hell Biggerson’s?”

Charlie plopped down onto your desk, crossing her legs as she shrugged. “Yeah, no clue. Although… Frank—”

You arched a brow. “Conspiracy-theory Frank?”

“The very one.”

Of course.

Charlie leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s convinced the company heads are actually cannibals, and this whole buyout is part of some elaborate scheme to fatten up Americans before they, and I quote, ‘chow down.’”

You burst out laughing, the stress momentarily melting away. “Wow. That’s a new one.”

“Right?” Charlie grinned before giving your arm a pat. “C’mon, let’s get some lunch. And then you can tell me why Gary looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon all morning.”

A few blocks away, you and Charlie found yourselves at Rufus’ Deli, home to some of Kansas’ finest sandwiches. Rufus himself was a legend—gruff, no-nonsense, and about as approachable as a guard dog, but no one could deny the man’s skills. His sandwiches were that good, drawing lines down the block every day.

Luckily, you and Charlie had managed to worm your way into his good graces over time. Whether it was your shared appreciation for his craftsmanship or the fact that you never tried to chat his ear off like other customers, he had developed a soft spot for you both. And that meant one very important perk—you got to skip the line.

So, when the lunch rush was in full swing and Rufus spotted you, a warm smile replacing his usual gruffness, jerking his head toward the counter. “What’ll it be today, ladies?”

You gave him your order with a grateful smile, and within minutes, you and Charlie were seated at your usual spot, tearing into your sandwiches.

“So,” Charlie mumbled around a bite of her chicken club, “wanna fill me in on the Gary sitch?”

You sighed, setting your sandwich down and swallowing before launching into the whole story. You kept the details light—omitting the drinking with Jo and the deeper parts of your frustration—but you didn’t hold back on the bare minimum effort Gary had put into your so-called relationship.

Charlie listened intently, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to full-on irritation. When you finished, she scoffed. “Damn. What a prick.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms before her lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “You know… you just gave me the incentive I needed to fill that douchebag’s computer with enough viruses to make it cry.”

You nearly choked on your drink, barely managing to cover your mouth as you laughed.

Charlie worked in the tech department and she was the company’s most valuable asset. The only one who came close to her level of expertise was Frank, and even he admitted she was the best. You’d met her in your second month on the job when she’d swooped in to fix a software issue you’d been struggling with. Not only had she solved it in minutes, but she’d also taken the time to teach you a few tricks that you still used to this day.

The two of you had hit it off immediately. She was a giant nerd at heart—quirky, sarcastic, and fiercely loyal. You’d bonded over your shared love of Harry Potter, both agreeing that Hermione was the real reason Harry even survived half his adventures.

“You know…” you smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “I wouldn’t hate to see that.”

Charlie grinned, wiggling her fingers as if casting a spell. “Then consider it done.”

The two of you burst into laughter, the weight of your morning stress lifting—at least for now.

After lunch, you and Charlie made your way back to the office, the brisk winter air nipping at your cheeks and turning the tip of your nose red. The cold was sharp, but in a way, it was refreshing—like it was clearing out the mental fog that had settled in after your morning of spreadsheets and stress.

As you neared the building, Charlie shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “You coming to the company Christmas party tomorrow night?”

You blinked, nearly having forgotten about the annual bash Roman Enterprises threw right before everyone was released for their so-called ‘Christmas break.’

“Shit, I completely forgot about that,” you admitted, your breath visible in the air. Your mind had been preoccupied with... well, other things.

“Well, I’m only going if you are. I can only tolerate these people when I’m getting paid for it.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head. “I mean, I guess it’d be the decent thing to show our faces, right?” You shrugged, considering it. “And I do have to admit—Dick throws a damn good party.”

“Right? And there’s always a chocolate fountain,” Charlie said, eyes lighting up.

You hummed in agreement. “Fuck it. Let’s go. I can grab a new dress on my way home later.”

Charlie grinned, clearly pleased. “Oh! You should invite Dean. It’s been a while since I saw that knucklehead.”

That made you hesitate.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to invite Dean, but an office Christmas party wasn’t exactly a casual setting. And inviting him made it feel a little too much like... a date.

But then again, Charlie would be there. It wasn’t like it would just be the two of you. Three friends hanging out. Totally normal.

“Sure,” you said after a beat, forcing nonchalance into your voice. “I’ll ask him. Though he’s not a suit-and-tie kinda guy.” You chuckled, already picturing his disgruntled expression. Getting Dean to wear anything remotely formal had always been a battle.

Charlie smirked. “Tell him there’s an open bar. I’m sure he’ll be persuaded.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head as you pulled open the office door. “Yeah... you might be onto something there.”

By the time you left the office, the sky had deepened into rich blues and purples, the last traces of daylight fading behind the city skyline. You made your way down to 9th Street, stopping in a few stores to find something to wear for the company Christmas party. Dick Roman always hosted black-tie events, and currently, your wardrobe leaned more toward casual attire, jeans, hoodies, sweatpants—not exactly gala material.

Luckily, it didn’t take long to find the dress. A deep red gown with delicate lace accents, an open back that dipped daringly low, and just enough side-boob to make going braless the only option. It was definitely more revealing than what you’d normally go for, but for some reason the thought of Dean seeing you in it, gave you enough incentive to buy it.

Once you got home, you decided it was finally time you got stuck into the gift wrapping. You slipped into your loungewear and set up in the living room, surrounded by wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows. 

Wrapping gifts had always been something you enjoyed—it wasn’t a chore but a ritual. You loved making each present look as perfect as possible, picturing the happiness on your loved ones' faces when they unwrapped them.

Dean’s gift was the last one left of the night, and it was by far the most meaningful.

You had managed to track down an original pressing of Led Zeppelin II—the very album he’d lost as a kid in the house fire. It had been bad, nearly costing Mary her life, the electrical damage so severe that renovations had taken years. They had lost so much—family photos, keepsakes, and among them, the vinyl his dad had given him on his 10th birthday. 

You could still remember the hours you spent in his room, the two of you lying on his bed, singing along to Ramble On, always a little off-key but never caring. Finding another copy had been next to impossible, but last month, Charlie had tracked one down in a tiny record store just outside of town. You had almost kissed her for it.

Now, as you carefully folded the wrapping paper around the record and tied a bow on top, you smiled to yourself. You hoped he liked it.

Just as you finished up, your phone buzzed. Dean. You ignored the flutter in your chest at the sight of his name and flipped open the screen.

“’Sup?”

“Why did I agree to this again?” Came Dean’s gruff voice.

“Because you’re a massive pushover?” you deadpanned.

“Do you know I’m currently parked out on a dirt road? No motels. Havin’ to rough it tonight.”

You bit your lip, picturing him scowling at his surroundings.

“I still don’t feel sorry for you.” You chuckled, and he let out a dramatic sigh.

“’Course you wouldn’t.”

You smiled into the receiver, adjusting the phone against your ear as you stacked the last wrapped gift onto the pile.

“You do realise Sam has a license and could’ve driven himself home, right?”

Dean groaned. “Yeah, but I kinda only got him some shaving foam and a razor for Christmas.”

Your mouth dropped. “WHAT?! That’s all you got him?” You screeched into the receiver. “No wonder you took, like, five minutes to shop. I thought they were your toiletries, not presents!”

“Yeah, well, now he’s got a road trip with his big bro to add to it.”

“You’re a nightmare,” you scoffed, shaking your head with an amused twitch of your lips despite yourself.

The line fell silent for a beat, the comfortable kind, before you remembered your conversation with Charlie.

“I, uh, had lunch with Charlie today,” you said.

“Yeah? How is the nerd?” he teased, though there was clear fondness in his tone.

“She’s good. She’s also plotting to destroy Gary’s computer with viruses.”

Dean let out a bark of laughter. “Brilliant.”

“She also reminded me about the company Christmas party tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah? You goin’?”

You hesitated, trying to sound casual. “We agreed to go if the other did… but she also asked if you wanted to come.”

There was a pause. “Really?” Dean hummed. “Do you want me to go?”

Your heart thudded in your chest.

“I mean, I know they’re not really your thing. It’s a black-tie event, super formal,” you said quickly, then mentally facepalmed. Were you trying to talk him out of it?

“Sounds pretty terrible,” he agreed, and you panicked.

“There’s an open bar, though.”

Silence. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Hmm. Now that does change things,” he mused. “I can come if you want me to?”

Your face flushed at the unintentional pun—although, knowing Dean, it was probably very intentional.

“More the merrier, right?” You shrugged it off, with a lame chuckle, wanting to smack yourself in the head.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Another comfortable pause settled between you.

“I’ll, uh, let you get some rest,” you said, softer this time. “Don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.”

“Yeah, probably best.” He sighed, and you could almost picture him, all scrunched up in the backseat.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“’Night, sweetheart.”

The next day, you busied yourself tidying up around the apartment. You didn’t want Dean thinking you were completely incapable of living alone, so you straightened up, wiped down the counters, and even tested out a few cake recipes for Christmas. 

After a few failed attempts, you finally landed on a winner—a pecan upside-down cake. It was soft, sweet, and had just the right crunch from the pecans. For a first try, it wasn’t bad. And that was exactly what Dean walked into a few hours later, when he finally arrived.

“Whoa. What the hell smells so good?”

You turned at the sound of his voice, smiling, and for a second, Dean forgot how to breathe. It had only been a little over twenty-four hours since he’d last seen you, and somehow, he’d missed you way more than he was willing to admit.

“Hey. I was just trying out some recipes for Christmas. Think I found a winner.” You cut a slice of cake and slid it onto a plate before handing it to him.

He eyed it suspiciously, glancing between you and the dessert. “You made this?”

You scoffed, your hands settling on your hips in a defensive stance. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Dean smirked at your reaction. He lived to rile you up. Still, he picked up the slice and took a big bite. The second the flavours hit his tongue, his eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a deep, satisfied moan.

“Shit, that’s good.”

You swallowed hard.

“Really?” you asked, voice a little breathier than you intended.

His eyes snapped open. “You kiddin’ me? I think I just found my new favourite dessert.”

Your face warmed. That was high praise coming from him. Dessert was practically Dean’s second language—specifically, the pie dialect—so for him to say that about your cake. That was a damn honour.

“Well, that’s that then. Dessert is sorted.” You dog-eared the page in the recipe book you’d picked up while dress shopping, mentally noting to make this again for Christmas.

Dean took a seat at the island as he finished his slice of cake, the two of you making idle chit chat about his trip, and how much LA traffic sucked, when you got onto the topic of Sam and his new lady friend. 

“So, Is he punching?” You asked rather bluntly, a teasing smirk on your lips as you gathered everything coated in cake batter and dumped it into the sink.

“Oh, massively. She’s way out of my brother’s league.” Dean laughed, the sound rich and amused, and you raised a brow.

“Sounds like you’re just as smitten,” you mused, a little sharper than you’d intended. What the hell is wrong with you?

You turned your back to him to cover your idiocy, arms buried in warm, soapy water as you busied yourself scrubbing utensils clean.

It was just an innocent comment. It wasn’t like you cared if Dean thought some girl was attractive. You weren’t overthinking, not at all. Not about how easy it would be for him to fall for someone else, someone uncomplicated, someone not you.

Jesus, girl!

You were broken from your spiralling thoughts when you felt him behind you. His presence was unmistakable heat radiating off of him in waves, his scent a lingering mix of soap, leather, and the faded remnants of his cologne. It made your head swim.

A dish clinked gently as he slipped his plate into the water beside you.

“Do I detect some jealousy in that tone of yours?” His voice was low, teasing, the warmth of it curling down your spine.

“Pfft, you’re joking, right?” You scoffed, but the slight crack in your voice gave you away.

Dean heard it too. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking. The self-satisfaction practically rolled off him.

You placed the last item on the drying rack and turned, only to find him closer than expected. Your breath hitched.

“No. I’m deadly serious.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as his eyes locked onto yours, heavy-lidded and unreadable. The space between you shrank, an invisible force pulling you toward him. Like gravity, like inevitability.

Dean leaned in; his breath warm as it fanned across your lips. His hands braced against the counter on either side of you, caging you in. The heat between you was palpable, something crackling in the air, something that made your knees weak and your thoughts scatter.

Then—

His ringtone shattered the moment.

You jolted slightly, the haze lifting as quickly as it had settled. Dean sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he pulled his phone from his pocket. One glance at the screen and his expression soured.

“What?” he answered gruffly.

You took that as your cue to leave, slipping away down the hall and into your bedroom, pressing the door shut behind you.

You needed a breather. Badly.

What the hell was that?

He can’t be home for more than five minutes before you want to jump his bones.

And, seriously, “Sounds like you’re smitten?” What were you thinking?

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face before shaking yourself out of your stupor. A shower. A cold one, preferably. Then you could focus on getting ready for tonight—because the last thing you needed was to be a flustered mess at a party where you were supposed to look put together.

The irony.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, steam curling into the air, Dean had left again. Apparently, Sam had forgotten one of Jess’s bags, the one containing all of her clothes for the next couple of days, in Dean’s trunk, so he had to drive back to his parents’ house to drop It off.

That allowed you to take your time getting ready, without being rushed for ‘hogging’ the bathroom.

You pampered yourself—lotions, perfumes, careful grooming (not at all for a certain green-eyed man). You took your time with your hair and makeup, allowing the slow, methodical routine to settle your nerves.

You’d just finished curling your hair when Dean returned.

Still in your robe, you stepped out of your room to grab a drink, only to nearly collide with him in the hallway.

“Oof.”

Dean caught you, steadying you before you could fully crash into him. Your hands landed briefly against his chest, warm and firm beneath your palms.

He chuckled, the sound low and easy, but then his gaze flickered over you, taking in your appearance.

A slow smirk spread across his lips. “You know, when you said black tie, I didn’t realise you meant the robe kind.”

You glanced down at yourself—silk black robe, tied securely at the waist—and realised what he meant.

Unimpressed, you looked back up at him. “Wow. You’re freakin’ hilarious.”

Dean barked out a full-bodied laugh, clearly pleased with himself as you brushed past him toward the fridge, shaking your head. You twisted off the cap of a beer and took a sip.

“Any more jokes like that out of you tonight, and you can stay home,” you warned, levelling him with a serious stare.

Dean only grinned wider but raised a hand in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’ll be well-behaved.”

But the dark glint in his eye told a different story.

He left you there and headed for the shower, while you worked to calm the nerves still rattling in your chest.

Tonight was going to be… complicated.

Questions would be asked.

Is Dean your date? Are you two together?

And you’d have to say no.

Which meant leaving him wide open for the kill.

The women in HR were like sharks in bloodied water—desperate, predatory, and not the least bit subtle. They’d be all over him tonight. And you weren’t sure if you were equipped to handle seeing it. Because those were exactly the kind of women Dean would bed. And you were basically serving him up on a silver platter.

Lord, give me strength.

By the time the clock neared 7 p.m., you were dressed and ready.

You stood in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection. You had to admit—you looked good. Hot, even.

The dress hugged every curves perfectly, the wide-open back revealing the delicate slope of your spine before stopping just above the curve of your ass. A bold red lip completed the look, matching the rich fabric of your gown. Your hair was swept up in a loose bun, soft curls framing your face.

Satisfied, you stepped out into the living room—only to stop short at the sight of Dean.

He was already dressed, waiting, phone in hand.

And he looked—

God.

A black suit, fitted just right, a crisp white dress shirt beneath. The same suit he’d worn for his parents’ anniversary dinner last year. It had looked good on him then. It looked even better now.

The broad set of his shoulders, the slim taper of his waist—it was unfair how well he filled it out. His hair was neatly gelled, but not too much. Just enough to keep that natural, tousled look in place. And he smelled… incredible.

He must’ve sensed your presence, because he looked up from his phone, and had to do a double take.

Holy. Mother of God.

Dean couldn’t breathe. It was as if you’d knocked the wind right out of his lungs just by existing in that dress.

You were stunning.

And that word didn’t even come close to doing you justice.

His gaze dragged over you, drinking in every detail. The way the dress clung to you, the deep red fabric a striking contrast against your skin. The soft glow of the light catching on the shade of your eyes, making them look brighter somehow. The way your lips—painted that same rich shade of red—parted slightly as you waited for him to say something.

Jesus.

He wanted to say something smooth, something that would make you smile, make you roll your eyes at him the way you always did when he teased you. But his mouth had gone dry, and his brain wasn’t quite catching up.

Dean cleared his throat, forcing his voice to work.

“You…” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, his lips twitching up at the corners. “Damn.”

Your brows lifted in amusement. “That bad, huh?”

Dean huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not even close.” His eyes met yours, more serious now. “You look incredible.”

Your breath hitched. He meant it—there was no teasing lilt in his voice, no smug grin. Just honesty, plain and simple.

You swallowed, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks. “Thanks,” you murmured. “You clean up pretty good yourself.”

Dean smirked, but it softened almost immediately. His gaze lingered, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The air between you felt different—thicker, heavier. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you, in the way his fingers twitched at his side like he was stopping himself from reaching out.

For a brief second, you let yourself sink into it. Let yourself feel the weight of his attention, the warmth in his eyes.

But then, just as quickly, you snapped yourself out of it.

“Alright,” you said, exhaling sharply and breaking eye contact. “We should get going before we’re late.”

Dean blinked, like he was shaking off a daze. “Right.” He cleared his throat and followed you to the door, as you grabbed your coat.

Dean opened the door for you, placing a hand at the small of your back as he guided you out. The heat of his touch lingering long after.

AN: I just want to bang their heads together! but at the same time, where would be the fun in that!? 😂 I hope you noticed I gave y'all a little break from all the spice in this chapter, but fear not, these too can never stay separated long 👀

(Also, if anyone reading this works in HR, it was just an idea I went with, I don't mean to offend or think HR is like that 😅)

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell @nancymcl @happyfxckinghorrors @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @fangirlingfromdownunder @cevansbaby-dove @star-yawnznn @piptoost @shadysoulangel @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @waynes-multiverse @jaredpadonlyyyy @impala67stellawinchester @bonbonnie88 @youroldfashioned

Next Time...

Your fingers tightened around your glass as you watched her laugh at something he said—too exaggerated, in your opinion. He wasn’t that funny. And then, as if things couldn’t get worse, her manicured hand squeezed his bicep. That was the last straw. Charlie had abandoned you to use the restroom, leaving you with no distractions other than to sit and watch Dean practically fall in love with another woman right in front of you. Okay, maybe you were being dramatic. But he looked interested, smitten even, and it made your stomach churn. Deciding you’d tortured yourself enough, you pushed to your feet and manoeuvred through the crowd toward the bar. More alcohol seemed like the only logical solution. Except, before you got there, you walked straight into someone solid.

[quokkaholic]

Babysitting skz hyung line

Warnings/ tags: headcannons/drabbles, pure fluff, babies, toddlers. Not edited

Synopsis: You are an uncle/aunt and the members of skz accompany you babysitting. Some are babysitting a 10-12 month old boy and the others, a 2-3 year old girl (indicated in the subheaders by b or g). Most of the hyung line are written babysitting the niece. 

y/a,u/n= your aunt/uncle name

y/n/n= your niece’s or nephew’s name

A.n: I don’t think any member of skz has an aversion towards kids, but I think some like kids more than others and are therefore more accustomed to caring for them. 

.•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•.

Bang Chan (g)

There is no escaping Chan’s fatherly nature; he would be so unbelievably good at babysitting. You’d try to take the lead when watching your niece and shoulder all the hard parts, but his caring soul and love for you (and her) would override his desire to relax. 

Nap time is always the hardest time of day, even harder than actual bed time. Tears start streaming down your niece's face as soon as you turn the light to her room off; she knows what's coming. Her cries quickly become sobs as you ask her to pick out a book for you to read to her. You instructed Chan to wait in the living room, as you knew this wouldn't be particularly pleasant. Your niece has unmatched fomo causing her to bawl everyday at nap time no matter how much you reassure her that it is okay to rest, that you will be there when she wakes, but the added excitement of having her favorite uncle there makes her even more reluctant to lay down. If only you could just get her to calm down; you know as soon as her little head hit the pillow, she would be out like a light. Her chest heaving as she shouts out shaky wails. No matter how often you watch her, it never gets easier for either of you.

Starting to feel overwhelmed, you take a break from trying to coax her into bed with stories and back rubs, you even tried her favorite music box. Head falling into your hands, you rest your elbows on your knees. You try to calm your own mind, but it's near impossible with her repetitive screams. At the sound of the door opening, your gaze flies to the exit. If she leaves the room, you’ll never get her down. Instead of seeing her small hands grasping at the knob, your misty eyes lock with the concerned face of Chan. Your niece’s screams only get louder, now incorporating her nickname for Chan between sobs. He slowly walks in and takes a seat next to you before tightly wrapping his arms around your shoulders and giving a squeeze as he gives a comforting, prolonged kiss to your temple. Upon letting go of you he opens his arms in invitation to the little one, she immediately obliges, waddling into his chest, letting out shaking breaths as her crying begins to cease. His ability to console is truly other worldly as he coos at her,

“Hey it's okay. We will miss you while you nap, but we are here to hangout with you all day okay? How about we have your y/a,u/n hold you while I sing to you, yeah? That sounds nice, right? They seem sad too. Will you help me make them feel better?” he persuades her while passing her small frame into your lap. At his request, her tiny arms reach up to wrap around your neck, smooshing her damp cheek to yours. She doesn’t even make it through the first song before her soft snores are mixing with Chan’s sweet lullaby. You are able to give him a grateful look before you to partake in a blissful nap. 

Lee know (g)

I don’t see Lee know as being super interested in just any kid, especially before they can talk, but once he gets to know them, he would cherish the time he got to spend with them. He especially likes playing pretend with your niece and attempting to teach her different skills.

Lee know is surprisingly good with your niece, so good in fact, you worry that she likes him more than you despite only seeing him less than a handful of times a year. She always clings to him so tightly, wanting every ounce of his attention. You can’t fault her; you feel the same way. When you walk through the front door, her face alights and she runs to cling onto his legs. Lee know will act like he doesn't like the attention, like her affection for him doesn’t melt his heart, but it so obviously does. A sweet grin pinching at his cheeks as he drags her back to her bedroom to play. 

You take time to say bye to your sibling before heading to the bedroom to join them, but as you approach, you hear bickering. Pulling the door open, you see Lee know on his knees beside your niece at her play kitchen, a tiny spoon in one hand stirring a pot “cooking” on the stove and blocking the opening of the pot with the other, rejecting the plastic ingredients your niece is attempting to throw in.

“I'm making soup, y/n/n! You don't put grapes in soup!” He gripes at her, matching her childish energy.

“Stop,” she whines drawing out the vowel,

“It’s good! It goes in it!” She is starting to get flustered, but Lee know won’t relent on his teaching, attempting to instill his chef skills as well as some emotional regulation in her.

“You don’t put fruit in kimchi jjigae, that would be crazy! Are you crazy?” He finally moves his hand from covering the pot to tickle her sides, defusing her oncoming tantrum without folding to her silly request. You can foresee the argument continuing when she regains her wits after her giggle fit ends, as her stubbornness can only be rivaled by his, so you suggest an alternative,

“How about we have Minho cook us some lunch, and we can help with the kiddy knife set he bought you?” Both of their faces light up at the idea. 

Changbin (b)

I think Changbin would be absolutely giddy around your baby nephew, thinking everything he did was hilarious. I think Bin would be obsessed with making him laugh just so he could laugh too.

You buckled your nephew into his highchair as Changbin warmed up the leftover spaghetti you guys were instructed to feed him; when you heard the choice in food, you thought it was a joke, but your sibling assured you that it was, in fact, not. Having half a mind that they left you such a messy meal on purpose, you preemptively removed your nephew’s clothes, as you knew the boys were about to make a disaster. Changbin offered to be the one to feed him. He could’ve been being considerate of you, but it's more likely that he just wanted to spend more time with the little one. 

He places the bowl in front of your nephew, theatrically moving the loaded spoon around chuckling as the boy’s eyes follow it through the air. The boys pass laughs back and forth as Binnie puts on a show for him and he squeals in delight, slapping the table. One slap goes a bit awry and hits the edge of the bowl sending pasta all over the highchair tray and into your nephew's lap, causing the room to burst into a giggle fest. You guys opt for allowing him to practice feeding himself with the spilled noodles, making an even bigger mess of his face and torso, as you and Changbin clean up the floor and nearby wall. 

You ask Bin to give your nephew a quick bath before his nap while you did some dishes and started preparing lunch for you two. He seemed a bit nervous at first, but after some encouraging words and a kiss from you, he was instilled with confidence. You don’t get far in cooking before their mixed laughter draws you from the kitchen to the doorway of the bathroom to find Binnie playing peekaboo with the washcloth and ringing a few drops of water on the baby's head after each surprise. You decided that lunch could wait; watching this was way more important.

Hyunjin (g)

I think Hyunjin would’ve been very worried about watching your niece for the first time, worried that he’d say or do something wrong or that would upset her. But, the moment they met, they became sassy best friends. 

The three of you sat at your niece's play table. The height and size of the chair causing both yours and Hyunjin’s knees to almost be tucked to your chests as you colored and drew using her vast array of art supplies. You’ve been working on sharing with her, but she only sees it as people should share with her and not the other way around. Hyunjin gives in to her every request, handing every crayon, marker, and pencil over to her greedy little hands even though she really only wants them because he is using them. You tried to stop him, but he’s too soft, especially when it comes to her, and she knows exactly how to flash the sweet eyes and melt his already squishy heart.

After finishing your drawing, you scan over the works of the other two artists. Hyunjin’s flowers are unsurprisingly stunning. You shower him with praise, commenting on how it looks cohesive despite only being able to use each color once, causing him to chuckle. Your niece joins in on the compliments copying some of your words, but for own work. Hyunjin hypes up her art heavily despite it just being an abstract jumble of scribbles, trying to be supportive. You decide to add,

“Wow y/n/n, so pretty! Is that a flower like Hyune drew?” you ask, trying to encourage her creativity. She only shoots you a judging, sideward glance that looks all too familiar, before responding with a flippant refusal of your guess. Hyunjin chimes in with a click of his tongue before mocking you in voice dripping in playful condescension,

“It's obviously a surrealist landscape,” dramatically rolling his eyes before continuing to add finishing touches to his piece.

“Obviously, y/a,u/n,” your niece parrots back to you, mimicking Hyunjin’s brazen tone perfectly without even looking up from her paper. 

“Babe, you are such a bad influence,” you reprimand him trying to hold in your laughter as to not encourage her insolent behavior. 

.•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°°•.

maknae line coming soon

A.n pt.2: thanks for reading :) Sorry Chan's doesn't have a representative photo. I didn't want a photo of a random crying child. Didn't fit vibe

Pic creds: x x x

-mo💜

Masterlist

[ordinary-barbie]

Rafe watches your favorite show without you.

Rafe x fem!reader

summary: When Rafe watches a new episode without you, he faces your wrath—or does he?

tags: fem!reader, pet names (babe, baby), some kissing, mention of Severance but no spoilers I promise

a little something I decided to whip up, heh. Idk if this is even that good but f it we ball

You loved Rafe deeply, but right now, he was enemy #1.

One of your favorite things to do with your boyfriend was watch shows together. The two of you had recently gotten hooked on Severance, tearing through the first season in a single weekend. Now season 2 was in full swing, and you were excited to catch the latest episode—after you came back from your old college roommate's bachelorette party weekend, of course.

Rafe had groaned when you'd reminded him that you were going to be in Charleston for the weekend. He was (mostly) okay with you leaving him for a few days, but what really sucked was not having your weekly Severance date.

You'd returned from your trip feeling exhausted yet happy after a weekend of partying with your girls. All you'd wanted to do was cuddle up with your man and catch up on your show. When you'd played the episode on your laptop, you noticed that Rafe wasn't reacting to certain story developments like you were—almost as if he had already seen them unfold...

You paused the episode and turned to Rafe, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Rafe Cameron, did you watch the new Severance without me?"

Rafe smiled bashfully, knowing he was caught. "Babe I tried to wait, I really did. But I was so bored last night and I couldn't resist..."

You tsked at Rafe. "Wow, you just broke a cardinal rule. Don't watch a show without your partner!"

"I should've been patient and waited for you. I'm sorry, baby," Rafe replied, genuinely sounding contrite.

You thought about playing up your disappointment more—making him sweat a little—but Rafe was looking at you with puppy dog eyes that you simply couldn't resist.

"I guess it's okay," you said, flashing your boyfriend a smile. "But you're gonna have to make it up to me..."

Rafe pulled you into his lap, kissing that special spot behind your ear. You moaned, leaning into him as he moved to your neck, lavishing it with kisses. "What'd you have in mind, princess?"

"Um..." You'd had an idea brewing, but Rafe's kisses had your brain scrambled in the best possible way. He chuckled at you, giving you a peck on your nose.

"How about after dinner, I'll watch that Summer House show you like?" Rafe offered.

This was huge. Rafe hated reality TV and always popped his earbuds in whenever you'd turn Bravo on.

"Wow, you really are sorry, huh?" you teased, laying your head on Rafe's shoulder.

A lazy grin tugged at Rafe’s lips. “I'll make sacrifices for the woman I love.”

“I appreciate it, babe. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you warned him with a mock sternness.

Rafe smirked. “Yes, ma’am. I love it when you get bossy.”

You rolled your eyes, though your eyes sparkled with amusement for your silly boyfriend. You closed your laptop—you could always catch up with Severance tomorrow. Right now, cuddling with your boyfriend and taking a nap sounded pretty appealing.

[bealidiscope]

💿 • 𝓱𝓾𝓰𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮

𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻

☆ chan x idol au f!reader fluff

☆ established relationship

☆ y/n is worried that when she helps chan produce she keeps messing up

☆ TW : hugging, kissing, flirting, self doubt , pet names , angst, crying , y/n breaks down

chan and you loom over his laptop ,it’s 3 am, this is the 3rd time this week u have been up this long with chan. do you mind? not a single bit, in fact you cherish every moment seeing your amazingly talented boy friend perfecting the songs for skz’s newest release. even if you don’t say this to a single soul, you have got to admit chan in his cozy hoody, beanie, perfect chocolate brown curls slipping out of it and his bare face, is just perfect to you, hot even.

he passes you your signature light pink gel pen as he asks, “y/n baby, can you see if you can help me write this verse? i just can’t seem to get it right.” “of course channie” you answered back reassuring him you will make the perfect verse, you stare at the paper, reading over chan’s lyrics. you grab your note book writing down multiple ideas then stare at it further more, again re writing your ideas, an extra word maybe, a ryhme or maybe even a completely different line, you think to yourself, intill you give up. you scribble it out ,causing the paper to tear. chan hears the massively loud rip of paper, he immediately spins his chair to face more in your direction.

“baby are you okay?” he inquired full of care as well as plenty of worry, “yeah yeah, im fine. my finger slipped and i accidentally ripped the page sorry my love” your voice full of doubt and anger, anger at yourself for not being able to write a song, who even were you if you couldn’t write a song? did chan deserve someone as truly utterly talentless as you? thoughts raced through your head, your eyes slowly welling up. until you broke, sat there next to your boy friend, wondering if your even good enough to be his girlfriend, or as he always swore his future wife.

he immediately grasped you in his arms, his heat pulling you back to reality. “y/n? i know your aren’t ok please just tell me what’s wrong?” he asked trying to stay calm and composed. he hated seeing you like this. you didn’t say a single thing, not even a single shake of the head, you just further nuzzled you head into his chest,still sobbing. chan grabs the notepad discreetly while he still holds you close. he reads between the scribbles as well as he can.

“y/n angel, this all can’t be about your writing, right? your song writings amazing and perfect just like you, please just look at me baby” he whispers whilst he besties a sweet gentle kiss on your temple. you finally look up, when he gives u get another kiss, further snaking one arm around your waist, the other around your shoulder.

“im sorry baby… im sorry that i just can’t write anymore, you don’t deserve this im sor-“ you remark, only to be shushed by chan like always .”no no y/n, do you know how much i love you, how special you are to simply put it, your irreplaceable. i’ve never loved another the way i loved you baby. please never say that, your perfect, talented, beautiful and so sweet, please never forget that!” he insisted, deeply saddened by the thought of you thinking so low of yourself, lifting your face up slightly. “i literally adore you, your my forever and always my love. im so so lucky to have you, you could of picked anyone else, but you picked me and that just makes me the luckiest and happiest boy ever, babe” he mentioned affectionately.

you two should there for a minute, blushing, yet still intertwined.

when finally he sat you down on his chair, crouched down, whispering in your ear, “i love you y/n please don’t forget that”. you immediately cocooned him in a hug constantly showering his face with kisses, intill you were out of breath. “i love you too chan, i love you more than you will ever, ever know”

🤍

ー　by 　bealidoscope 🌱

comment below to join tag list!!

💿 @hyuneskkami

[okkinannah]

peace - satoru gojo

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings/tags: angst, hurt/comfort, gojo snaps, okay ending

written with my friend @h0rr0rmlm in mind, happy late birthday :)!! (yes he has two more fics coming, shut up, I love him)

You heard the door open before you saw him. Finally. Finally, he was home. The sound of the door creaking echoed, and your heart stuttered. You rounded the corner, your pulse quickening in the same rhythm of relief, only to freeze when you saw him.

He was wrecked. A ghost of the man you knew. His hair—wild, untamed—fell in a disheveled mess around his face. His eyes, usually burning with that fierce intensity, were dim, hollowed out, weighted with exhaustion. There were bags under his eyes that you’d never seen before. Not like this. His posture slumped, shoulders heavy in a way you were far too familiar with. And you—you—didn’t know how to breathe again until you were standing before him.

Without thinking, you reached out, hands trembling slightly, cupping his face. Your thumbs brushed his cheeks, desperate to feel his warmth, but also hoping—praying—that you could do something to take that burden from him.

“Oh, ‘Toru,” you whispered, barely audible. A gasp, really, of relief and concern, one that trembled with so much love and ache. “What happened?” Your voice cracked at the end, betraying the knot that had formed in your chest.

He shrugged you off. The action was absent, automatic, like he hadn’t even noticed it. His eyes refused to meet yours, staring off into the space between you two instead. "It’s nothing, really," he muttered, but the lack of conviction in his voice was deafening. A lie. And he knew you knew it.

Still, you didn’t push. Not yet. You could see the walls rising between you again, that invisible fortress of isolation he built around himself every time he got too close to feeling vulnerable. And that hurt more than anything. The faintest flicker of disappointment burned in your chest, but you masked it with a forced calm. With a softness that was beginning to feel like a weight.

“I made some mochi, if you want some,” you offered, your voice gentle, a small, simple act of kindness.

He shook his head, eyes still distant.

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered. His voice was flat, tired, as if even speaking required more energy than he could give.

Your frown deepened. "Satoru…" You tried again, but he was already moving past you, climbing the stairs without another word. A quiet frustration stirred inside you, but you swallowed it. No use pushing him now.

Still, you followed. The familiar tread of your footsteps on the stairs felt out of place, like a reminder of how far apart you two were despite being so close.

You reached the bathroom door and stopped short, your breath catching in your throat when you saw it. The gash. The wound. Raw and red, long and ugly, bleeding freely onto his skin, the dark stain spreading over his shirt like a warning.

His breath caught as you took a step closer, and you saw him flinch, his hand attempting to hide the injury, as if covering it up would somehow make it go away. You saw the tremor in his fingers, the slight break in his calm, the first crack in his mask.

“Satoru,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. The word itself felt too soft, too fragile to hold the weight of the fear and concern surging through you. Your boyfriend—your strong boyfriend—who never seemed like anything less than invincible, was standing here before you, broken in a way you couldn’t fix.

You didn’t wait for him to protest. You moved, slow but steady, pulling out the first aid kit, your fingers working automatically as his protests started.

You dabbed the antiseptic over the gash, and he winced, his breath sharp in the air between you. The sight of him, of this, cut deeper than you could explain.

“You’re not invincible, Satoru,” you whispered, as much to yourself as to him. “You should’ve let Shoko take a look. This—this is not nothing.”

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as though it didn’t matter. “Aren’t I?” His voice was rough, edged with something dark. “Besides, she’s busy. I didn’t need to bother her.”

And that was it. That was where it broke. The soft words you tried to offer, the helplessness that echoed through your every action—it all spilled over, out of your control.

"I just—I don’t understand," you began, your words shaky, your hands suddenly trembling with the weight of everything unspoken. "Why didn’t you tell me? You think I wouldn’t have wanted to help?"

“It’s different,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch.

And there it was—the real reason for all of this. The real fight. It wasn’t just about a wound. It was about the distance he always put between you, the armor he wore so tightly that you couldn’t break it no matter how hard you tried.

More words tumbled out—louder, sharper, more frantic as the frustration in you mounted. “I tell you when I’m injured, don’t I? Why do you have to be so… so fucking stubborn?” The words were bitter, burning with a desperation you weren’t ready to face. You couldn’t stop the anger from rushing out, but there was so much fear buried beneath it, buried under the surface where it stung and rattled.

For a moment, everything went still. And then, the dam broke.

His jaw clenched, his eyes hardening in a way you’d never seen before. And suddenly, the weight of the world was on him, pulling at his chest. You watched as everything he’d kept buried surfaced—anger, fear, frustration—and all of it was too raw, too real.

“I didn’t want you to worry!” He shouted. His voice cracked as the anger bled into something else—something desperate. “I didn’t want you to look at me like I’m weak. Like I’m just some fucking broken thing that needs fixing. I don’t need your pity, okay?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the words landing like a punch. You stood there, stunned, trying to grasp the enormity of what he had just admitted. But that didn’t stop you. It didn’t stop the surge of emotion, the need to push past all the layers he built between you.

“You think I don’t care?” The words exploded from you, trembling with raw emotion, shaking like a fever pitch. “If something happens to you, I—” You couldn’t finish the sentence. Because you couldn’t face the truth. You couldn’t tell him how much losing him would destroy you.

There was silence.

And then, he softened, just barely, his gaze falling. His eyes—those eyes—drained of the storm that had just passed. He exhaled, the breath heavy, like he was giving up something he couldn’t hold anymore. And then, with a quiet murmur, he spoke.

“Come here.”

You didn’t hesitate, moving into his arms as he pulled you close. His grip was tight—too tight—but it was the kind of tightness that begged for comfort, that reached for something he couldn’t put into words. His body trembled slightly, and you felt the strain of everything he’d been carrying—everything he had refused to show you until now.

He didn’t say sorry. Not yet. But that wasn’t what you needed. Not tonight.

Tonight, you held him. 

graphics: @//saradika-graphics

[air--so--sweet]

Waaaaaiiit...presuming Tim isn't being misleading on purpose I've thought of something that could be fun while also pulling on the heartstrings a bit.

So my first thought was Buck being somewhat reckless in trying to get the animals out of the burning rescue centre but Oliver Stark called the story cute and, even if it's with animals, Buck endangering himself isn't very cute. What would be cute though is if Buck decides to rescue a dog, but not for himself, but for Chris.

What if Chris always wanted a dog, but Eddie's work schedule meant they couldn't have one. But Buck either makes the point to Eddie that Chris is old enough now he can look after the dog by himself while Eddie is working or the dog is going to live with Chris at Eddie's parents house which again means Eddie's schedule isn't an issue as his parents can help look after the dog.

Considering we've been told Buck will be spiralling and his abandonment issues are worse by the end of episode 9 I think this would make a lot of sense. Because he wants to prove that he's okay with Eddie leaving (even though he really isn't) and providing him with something his kid will love and which will hopefully help them reconnect is a way for him to do that. Also it would give us the opportunity for to see Buck's feelings about Christopher leaving which further plays into his abandonment issues.

Okay calling it now, Buck gets Chris a dog.

(Tagging you @hellomagicalsouls because we've talked about the possibility of Buck getting a dog and also you guessed pet before we even knew about the animal shelter call)

Dog confirmed!!! And Buck and Eddie focus outside of Maddie 👀

[charlieg1rl]

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝟐𝟖. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐰𝐜: 𝟎.𝟑𝐤

y/n never imagined herself as the marrying type.

commitment wasn’t the issue—she loved felix, and she knew that wasn’t going to change.

but the wedding? the proposal? the whole event?

it sounded exhausting.

and yet, here she was, staring at a very nervous felix, who was currently holding a ring and looking like he might pass out.

—

felix had been acting weird all week.

not just his usual secretive planning weird—but actually nervous weird.

fidgety, distracted, stammering over his words more than usual.

y/n had a feeling something was up.

but she didn’t expect this.

didn’t expect to come home to candles, a homemade dinner, and felix, standing in the middle of their apartment, looking terrified.

“lix,” she blinked. “what is this?”

felix swallowed. “uh. a date?”

y/n narrowed her eyes. “you’re acting really weird.”

felix exhaled. “okay. right. uh—give me a second.”

then, before she could react, he dropped to one knee.

y/n’s brain short-circuited.

felix took a deep breath, eyes shining as he held up the ring.

“i know you don’t care about big romantic stuff, and i know the idea of marriage kind of stresses you out,” he started, voice shaking slightly. “but i love you. and i want to spend the rest of my life annoying you.”

y/n froze.

felix smiled softly. “you don’t have to say yes right now. you don’t even have to say yes at all. but if you do want this—if you want me—i’m here.”

silence.

then—

“…you’re an idiot,” y/n muttered.

felix blinked. “uh—”

“i hate how much i love you,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “and i hate that i actually want this.”

felix’s eyes widened. “wait—”

y/n exhaled. then, she reached out, plucked the ring from his hand, and slipped it onto her own finger.

felix gasped. “y/n—”

she rolled her eyes. “yeah, yeah. now get off the floor.”

felix shot up, tackling her in a hug so tight she nearly lost her balance.

“we’re getting married!” he shouted, voice filled with pure joy.

y/n groaned. “don’t make me regret this.”

felix just laughed, spinning her around.

too late.

she was stuck with him now.

forever.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

tags: @jeonginsleftcheek @my-neurodivergent-world @akindaflora @urlocalmultigroupfan @leeknowinggg @bookswillfindyouaway @hyunnjynn @rhonnie23 @velvetmoonlght

[raven-dor]

tell me you love me

in which bucky barnes is told some startling news on the phone…

PAIRING: bucky barnes x reader, bucky barnes x avenger!reader

WARNINGS: miscommunication, nosy roommates, sass, sam wilson teasing peter parker, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

🎶 : two hands - tate mcrae

AN: literally one of my favorite fics i've ever written!! also, this is a Avengers live in the tower AU, no civil war ever occurred, so yay!! ALSO - let me know if you want to be on my taglist!! i'd love to have you!!

It had been out of nowhere. You hadn’t even realized the gravity of the situation until you were met with silence from the other line. 

“What’s for dinner?” His gruff voice had shivers running down your spine.

“I don’t know.” You hummed, the phone tucked between your shoulder and ear as you walked down the grocery store aisles. “What are you craving?” 

“Burgers?” It was more of a question, he was waiting for you to confirm you were also craving said meal. He always did this, waiting for you to decide before he made his decision. It was not missed by you that earlier that week, you’d talked about how badly you craved a classic cheeseburger.

You laughed, the others in the aisle giving you annoyed looks, not that you minded. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Barnes.” 

“Oh?” You could tell he was holding back laughter. “You would think after all that time in HYRDA...” 

“Bucky!” You yelled, this time noticing the looks your fellow shoppers gave you. Whispering, you chuckled to yourself. “Don’t joke about that.” 

“Why not?” He was most certainly frowning. 

“If that’s how you want to cope…” You trailed off, looking at the price tag on the buns, eyes widening at the amount and quickly setting them back down. “You sleep well?” 

“Next to you? Always.” He sounded spirited, much more spirited than he’d been when you left him to go shopping. Good, you told yourself, he was too often found brooding alone, it was nice to hear him so… so mischievous. “You know I do, Doll.” 

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, biting your bottom lip to keep from grinning too widely. “I know. Just wanted to hear you say it.” 

Grabbing the meat from the deli counter, you walked toward the checkout, frowning when you saw that the self-checkout kiosks were out of order. “Babe?” 

He hummed. 

“I’m gonna have to let you go, okay? The kiosks are out of order.” 

He groaned. “Again?”

You nodded as if he could see you. “Unfortunately.” 

“I’ll see you soon, then.” 

“See you soon. I love you.” The peace before the realization had been fleeting, reality hitting you like a truck. Almost instantly, your heart flipped, and your eyes widened.

Bucky had been dead silent, and you secretly hoped your voice had cut out, that the service had saved you, and he hadn’t heard it. 

Not that you didn’t mean it. You’d loved him for longer than you cared to admit, but with his past, you hadn’t wanted to rush anything. You didn’t want him to feel forced. Like right now.

“Buck?” You whispered, eyes welling at his lack of response. “Are you there?” Again, no response. You pushed the red button, hands shaking as the call disconnected.

Shit. 

Which led you to now, racing home without the food you’d promised. When the team had decided to all live in the tower together, they made a pact. If you asked anyone else, it had been more of a forced pact, thanks to Steve. 

Each Avenger would make dinner, alternating every night. Today had been your day, and now not only were you coming home empty-handed, but you were also planning to drop off the face of the Earth, which completely defeated the purpose of your job and its responsibilities. 

It was a wonder, you told yourself as you waited for the elevator doors to open, that Bucky hadn’t been there to meet you in the lobby, waiting for an explanation. Or worse, disgust on his perfect face. 

You kept your head down as you landed on the top floor, all but running to your room. Slamming the door behind you, you ordered Friday to bar everyone from entering.

The computer system spoke back, voice as posh as ever. “Does that include Mr. Barnes?” 

“Yes.” You huffed, heart thumping. “Especially Mr. Barnes.” 

“Has something happened?”

“You could say that.” Checking under your bed, the balcony, the closet, and the bathroom, a sigh of relief left you knowing that Bucky wasn’t already there, hiding.

Everything had been perfect, up until your slip. He asked to take it slow, mainly due to ‘not wanting to disrupt the team dynamic.’ You’d understood, and you’d also understood that he had another reason, one that he wouldn’t speak aloud, but that you both knew. 

He wanted to take it slow and slow did not contain saying ‘I love you’ four months after you started dating. 

A knock rang through your room, breaking you from your thoughts. Looking at the door with fear pumping through your veins, you waited for him to speak. 

“Y/N?” 

You’d almost sighed with relief. Almost. “Yeah?” 

“What’d you end up getting for dinner?” Nat called out. “Wilson’s asking.” 

“I-” Grabbing your wallet, you slid your credit card under the door. “Order whatever you want.” 

“Okay.” Nat sounded curious. “So, what happened?” 

“Why- why would you ask that?” 

“Other than the fact you won’t show your face, and Friday is barricading me from entering?” The super-spy sounded fed up. “What did he do?” 

“He?” Your voice was a mere squeak. 

“Yes, he. Everyone knows you two are dating, don’t act so surprised. It’s my job to know these sorts of things.” 

You glared at the door. “That’s not at all your job, Natasha.” 

“What’s going on?” 

You groaned, shoving your face into your pillow. At this point, the whole team would know your business by dinner. “Go away, Wanda.” 

“What’s happened?” The Sokovian whispered.

“Barnes did something,” Nat muttered. “Won’t say what exactly, but-” 

“Nat!” You yelled, lifting your head. “I can hear you, you know.” 

“Let us in, Y/N.” Wanda sounded as if she was frowning. “What did he do that was so bad-” 

“It wasn’t him.” You sighed. “It- it was me.” 

“What happened?” Wanda’s voice was gentle. “You can tell us.” 

“I really can’t.” You whined. “One second.” Grabbing a piece of paper from your desk, you scribbled down the infamous three words, slipping it under the door. “Shit, Y/L/N. Isn’t that a little soon?” 

Your eyes widened. “What the hell, you two? Why is Sam there?” 

Wanda sounded deeply apologetic. “It’s not just Sam.” 

“I’m here too.” Peter squeaked. 

“Me too.” Tony’s voice sounded much too entertained, and you glared at the door.

“Yeah!” Clint sounded suspiciously high like he was in the vents again. You reminded yourself to reprimand him when the dust cleared. 

“Y/N! Why are you hiding in your room?” Thor’s thunderous voice rang clear over the rest of the supposed crowd that had formed. 

“Thor.” Bruce sounded extremely annoyed. “We’re inside, you don’t need to shout.” 

“Yeah, what the green guy said.” Rhodey’s voice echoed. 

“Go away!” You yelled, sitting against the door. “I-” 

“What’s going on here?” Steve’s voice sounded distant, like he was walking down the hall. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for him to do what everyone else had done. 

But it never came. 

“Have any of you seen Buck? Last time I saw him, he was on the phone. Haven’t seen him since.” 

You were certain Nat and Tony were smirking. “Why don’t you ask Y/N.” 

“Why? Are they together?” 

Tony sounded like he was holding back tears, not from sadness, but from laughter. “After this? Questionable.” 

“Tony!” You yelled, smacking the door. “Shut up!” 

“Give me that.” Getting off the floor, you looked through the peephole, watching in horror as he read the paper. “Break it up, all of you.” Protests broke out, all of them yelling at Steve. “We’re not talking about this any longer. It’s not our business.” 

“C’mon-” 

Steve glared at the billionaire, and he instantly shut up. “Tony.” 

He raised his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. What’s for dinner then?” 

“Whatever you want.” You yelled out. “Just use my card.”

Tony shook his head. “After the day you’ve had, it’s my treat.” 

You nodded, a faint smile gracing your lips. “Just leave the food at my door when it gets here.” 

“No.” Steve’s hands were on his hips, and you could see Peter and Wanda holding back laughter. He looked like a concerned father. “You will leave your room and have dinner with the rest of us.” 

“Yeah, Y/N.” Tony echoed, not even trying to hide his laughter. “C’mon out.” 

“Steve, please.” You begged. “I can’t see him right now.” 

“He’s not even here, дорогой (sweetheart),” Wanda yelled out. “Please come out, we’re worried about you.” 

“I am not leaving.” You shook your head. “You can’t make me.” 

The dinner table was quiet, the entirety of the Avengers (minus Bucky) staring at you with utter fascination. Well, more like a mix of pity, worry, and fascination. 

Peter cleared his throat, smiling kindly. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I did the same thing, and it all turned out fine.” 

That brought you some inkling of hope. “Really?” 

The teenager nodded. “She was very nice about it. We’re still friends.” 

Your face fell, dropping your head into your hands. The table erupted with laughter, and Peter’s cheeks grew bright red in record time. 

“Not exactly the smartest thing you could’ve said there, kid.” Tony snickered.

“Ease up, Tony,” Steve interjected. “He’s trying, unlike all of you.” 

“He meant well.” Vision finally spoke, much to everyone’s surprise. “There was no malice in his tone.” 

Clint smirked. “Yeah, Y/N. No malice. Does that bring you comfort?”

You raised your right hand, flipping him off.  

Sam shook his head. “I just want to eat, man. Eat, and see Bucky’s reaction.” 

Sitting up, you glared at the Falcon. “You’re excited for my demise, you psychopath.” 

“Not exactly.” 

“What’s-” The table turned around, dead silent as they stared at the Winter Soldier, who looked perfectly fine, content even. He stood in front of them with a bright smile, food in hand. “What’s going on?” 

“What’s going on?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell us?” You wished your superpower was invisibility. Unfortunately, it was not, so you opted for sinking further into your seat. “Nothing happened recently you want to share?” 

His smile fell. “No?”

Sam groaned, standing up and pulling the food from the super soldier’s hands. “Please. I’m starving.” 

Nat laughed. “I thought you wanted to see his reaction.” 

“Reaction?” Bucky sounded confused. “Reaction to what, exactly?” 

Thor was the final push. “I love you!” 

“I love you too?” Bucky sat down, eyes brightening when he met yours. You quickly stared at your hands, which were placed in tight balls in your lap. 

“Not me. Y/N. The words Y/N-” 

Clint slapped a hand over Thor’s mouth, glaring. “That’s enough out of you, big guy.” 

“What?” Bucky tilted his head, staring at you, with what seemed to be a glimpse of hope in his gaze. “When did you-” 

“On the phone?” Nat interjected. “You were on the phone, and Y/N said-” 

“Nat.” You hissed. “Stop, please.” 

“Y/N?” Bucky looked at you. “What’s going on?” 

So the phone had cut out. The phone had cut out, meaning if you had just kept your big mouth shut, everything would have been fine. 

And if Thor hadn’t opened his mouth, maybe you could have made it out with your dignity. “Nothing, James.” Reaching out, you grabbed your order from the pile, the rest of the Avengers following suit. Bucky stayed still, staring at you intently. 

You tried to focus on your dinner, on the conversation that started after, but every time you looked up, he was staring at you with his ice-blue eyes. “Doll?” The table quieted, staring at the pair. “Can we talk?” 

You swallowed the food that you’d been chewing, nodding slowly. You felt like you were being marched to your death as you followed him out of the dining room. Sparing one last look at the dinner table, Wanda and Peter gave you a half-hearted thumbs up. 

The hall was dim, Bucky’s eyes bore into your soul as he waited for an explanation. “Tell me what happened.” 

“Nothing-” You grew small when he sighed, crossing his arms. “It’s really not that big of a deal.” 

“Yeah?” He smirked, but you could tell he was panicking. You told each other everything, you were sure he was breaking a sweat from your lack of transparency. “Then tell me.” You stayed silent, and he took a step forward, practically backing you up against the wall. “Please, Doll.” 

You were sure this was a nightmare. A horrible horrible nightmare. “We were on the phone… and I um… I may or may not have said that I love you.” He did not react, continuing to stare at you. That’d made you even more nervous, and you began to ramble as a result. “And you didn’t reply, so I panicked, and then I hung up. I came home and hid in my room and then everyone found out and then I found out you didn’t even hear it, and-” You took a shallow breath. “I don’t want you to feel rushed or forced because I want you to feel comfortable, because I really do-” You stopped, looking up at him hesitantly. “I really do love you.” He was fully grinning now, and you frowned. “Are you about to laugh at me?” 

He shook his head placing his hand on the wall above you as he leaned down. “No.” 

“No?” You scoffed, ignoring the way his eyes had darkened. “You’re smirking, and I’m being vulnerable and you’re- you-” You huffed, walking away from him. “Maybe we should just-” Escape had almost been achieved when his metal hand wrapped around your wrist, spinning you around. “Stop.” You felt trapped in a spell, a horrifyingly beautiful spell. He stared at you so intensely that your knees buckled. “Buck-” 

He was still grinning. “I love you too.” 

“I-” You smiled. “You do?” 

“C’mon Doll.” He teased, brushing his nose against yours as he reached for your lips. “Of course I do.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, still not believing this was real life. “You-” His lips were rushed; like he needed to kiss you to live. Placing his other arm around your waist, he pulled you impossibly close, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He could have gone on kissing you senseless for hours, but you pulled away, gasping for air. “Buck-” 

“You are so considerate, too considerate even.” He whispered. “I did want to take things slow, you’re right.” 

You nodded. “If you-” 

“Did I-” He kissed you before you could finish your sentence. “Or did I not,” He kissed you so gently, so longingly. “Just tell you that I love you too?” 

You were positively weak in the knees. “You did.” 

“I did want to take things slow, but you…” He almost growled. “You happened.” 

“Oh?” You were grinning now, actually grinning. “I’m assuming I happened in a good way.” 

“In a perfect way.” He corrected, pushing a hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “You’re too good for me, Doll. Don’t deserve you.” 

“I don’t know, Barnes.” You shook your head, kissing the corner of his mouth so lightly he could have sworn it never happened. “You’re pretty swell.” 

He rolled his eyes, pushing you away teasingly. “Never mind then.” 

You gasped, stalking back into the dining room, the Avengers observing from the safe distance the table provided. “In that case-” 

His hand wrapped around your wrist once more, pulling your lips to his instantly. Wolf whistles erupted, all of them laughing at the couple in front of them. Your hands rested on his chest, smiling as he pulled away, lips still touching. “Did you really have to do that?” 

He shrugged. “Just wanted another reason to kiss you.” 

“So sappy.” You teased. “What a charmer you are.” 

“Well,” He leaned toward your ear, whispering. “I aim to please.” 

“Break it up!” Sam yelled, mouth full of food. “I’m trying to eat here. Plus…” He pointed to Peter, laughing. “There’s kids present.” 

“I’m eighteen, Sam.” 

“Still a kid, Parker.” 

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