#i did have to take his collar off for his current look

[uhhhitsgray]

i am NOT okay, i repeat I AM NOT OKAY

holy hells - little collection of screenshots throughout my playthrough rn bless the folks who made these clothing mods and how i can just toss my baby boy into whatever i want. fuck, how can he look good in literally everything? my girl, haleth, always looks like a snack with her vampire boyfriend (sorry karlach and shadowheart, your armor is much better than the clothes i have so i need you to be ready for war and not have your boobas out like astarion and i <3)

[flowersforbucky]

love language

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6.6k

snapshots of your relationship with bucky told through the five love languages.

“remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

warnings/tags: smut, oral, unprotected sex, mentions of blood, wound care, brief uses of alcohol, anxiety and self-doubt, language, reader is afab, avenger!reader, fluffier than what i typically write, undercover mission, friends to lovers!!! 18+ only

Acts of Service

“Exciting Friday night?” Your head snaps up at the masculine voice. You nearly slosh hot tea on both yourself and the pages of the book that lay open in your lap. You're surprised to see him - as far as you were aware, Bucky and Sam were in Munich. You didn't think they were supposed to be back in the country for another two days.

“Something like that,” you answer, regaining your composure as you bring the mug to your lips. “What are you doing back so early? Did recon go okay?”

Bucky lets out a long sigh as he plops down into the recliner, adjacent to where you're curled up on the sofa in the compound’s communal living room. His eyelids look heavier than normal, with dark circles underneath that aren't typically present. You place your cup of tea on the end table next to you and close the book before angling your body towards him, giving him your undivided attention.

“It was a shit-show,” he answers bluntly, voice laced with defeat. “HYDRA had the drop on us from the minute we entered Germany. What was supposed to be us just gathering intel turned into an ambush. One minute, it was just the two of us in an old warehouse, and then the next..” he trails off, eyes locked on one of the buttons of his tactical pants that he’s fidgeting with. “We’re lucky to have made it out. Sam was taken to med-bay as soon as we got back. Broken arm and collarbone, dislocated shoulder, possibly a few fractured ribs..” he lists off the injuries.

“Jesus,” you cringe, a death grip on the book in your hands as you listen to him summarize the mission. “Looks like you came out pretty unscathed in comparison.” You glance him over from head to toe, relieved to see no visible wounds or bruises.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, sitting forward and pulling the collar of his black t-shirt over to expose his right shoulder. Your eyes bulge when you see the obvious knife wound that the fabric had been concealing. “Not completely unscathed.”

“Holy shit, Bucky, why didn’t you go get this stitched up?” You stand up quickly, your book falling forgotten to the floor as you step closer to him to inspect the cut. There’s dried blood covering the surrounding skin of his chest and shoulder, with fresh blood still seeping from the opening of the wound. Even with the luxury of the Quinjet, a direct flight from Germany to New York is at least eight hours, who knows how long the cut had been steadily oozing–

“The bleeding has slacked off for the most part at this point,” he tries to assure you, attempting to cover the wound back up with his shirt. His shirt that, upon closer inspection, is thoroughly soaked through with blood. You all but smack his hand away so that you can continue to inspect the cut.

“It’s too deep,” you shake your head. “It needs stitches.”

“It’ll be fine by morning–” he starts to argue with you, but you’re already walking away from him, exiting the room to retrieve a first-aid kit kept in one of the shared bathrooms just down the hallway. Though you can’t currently see him, you have no doubt that he is shaking his head and rolling his eyes at you.

Before returning to the living room, you stop by the kitchen and grab a cold can of Blue Moon to help take the edge off. Upon reentering the living room, you find that he’s hunched over where he sits in the recliner, leaning forward to grab your book from where it had fallen on the rug.

“What were you reading before I so rudely interrupted you?” The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in a smirk as he inspects the cover of the book.

“The Hunger Games,” you answer simply as you place the first-aid kit on the couch and hold out the beer to him. He accepts the drink, a small, surprised smile appearing on his face.

“Shirt,” you instruct a second later, turning to him with a warm, wet rag that you intend to clean some of the dried blood off with. Surprisingly, he obliges your request, placing both the beer and the book in his lap to pull the bloodied fabric over his head.

“And what exactly is The Hunger Games about?” he asks, looking up at you through his thick lashes before turning his attention back to the book in his lap. He flips it over, skimming the words on the back cover.

“The Hunger Games,” you begin as you delicately swipe the damp washcloth across the dirty skin around his wound, watching as the material turns from white to pink as it collects the old blood. “Are dystopian fiction novels. The books get their title from an annual event in which a boy and a girl, ranging from the ages of twelve to eighteen, from twelve different districts are selected by name-drawing to compete in a fight to the death. Twenty-four go into an arena, one comes out.”

“Sheesh,” Bucky grimaces and pops the tab to the beer. You turn away from him, placing the soiled washcloth on the table next to him before retrieving some disinfectant from the kit. “And what’s the point in having a bunch of children kill each other?”

“Punishment and control,” you shrug, pouring some of the clear liquid on a large gauze pad until it’s soaked. He gives you a vague nod, signaling he’s ready for you to clean the wound. You dab the drenched cotton along the opening of the wound, wincing more visibly than Bucky does himself. “The districts where the children are reaped from have had uprisings against the nation’s Capitol in the past. The games are to punish them, as well as to remind them what power the Capitol holds.”

Bucky’s brows furrow together, contemplating your words. You make the initial incision for his stitches and he lets out a grunt of discomfort. “Sorry,” you mumble, concentrating on the stitchwork.

“So what happens?” He asks after a few moments of silence, obviously trying to distract himself from the needle going in and out of his tender flesh as he sips on the amber colored liquid. “The group of kids rebel and take down the Capitol?”

“You’re not too far off,” you chuckle lightly. “I guess you’ll just have to read them for yourself to find out.”

“I suppose I will,” he says, eyeing your needlework from the corner of his eye. “Will you let me borrow your copies when I finish The Lord of the Rings?”

“You’re reading The Lord of the Rings?” you fail at hiding your tone of surprise, more focused on finishing suturing his cut.

“Don’t act so shocked,” he feigns insult. “I read when I have the free time to do so.” He turns his head towards you for the first time since you began stitching, causing you to realize just how close his face is to your own. You push down the fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach at the close proximity, clearing your throat as you turn to grab a pair of small medical scissors. You clip the thread before backing away from him.

“That should hold you together well enough until your supernatural super-soldier healing abilities take care of it while you sleep.”

He stands from his position in the recliner, holding out your book to you. “Thank you,” he tells you sincerely. “For the stitches, and the beer.”

“Of course,” you say as you take your book back from him. “Don’t want you getting blood all over the compound.”

“I think I’m gonna go check on Sam,” he sighs. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Get some rest!” you demand as he retreats to the hallway.

“Yes ma’am,” he calls without looking back, his Brooklyn drawl making an appearance.

For the rest of the night, you try to focus on your book and not the way you felt when his plush pink lips and cerulean blue eyes were just inches from your face.

Receiving Gifts

One week later

Punctuality has never been your strong-suit, but you didn’t expect to be the very last person to arrive at Bucky’s birthday party - get together, as he insists on calling it, since he feels silly having a birthday party at over one hundred years old. However, as you’re approaching the pavilion at the compound’s lake, you see that all of your friends are already mingling comfortably.

Natasha, Sharon, and Wanda wave at you from where they lounge next to the bonfire, Steve and Sam are engaged in an intense game of beer pong (which Sam seems to be doing impressively well at, considering one arm is still in a cast and sling), Clint and Bruce are playing cornhole - everyone is here, though you don’t see the one person you came for.

You make your way over to a picnic table closer to the lake that has been dedicated to presents so that you can add yours to the pile. You had ordered the gift a week ago, the same night that you had stitched up Bucky’s shoulder wound, and it arrived just in time - in today's mail, only an hour ago.

Hence the reason you are the last to arrive with a shittily-wrapped present in hand.

“Is that Avengers wrapping paper?” You whirl around at the amused voice to see Bucky walking towards you.

“That it is,” you confirm. “You and I aren't featured, though. Just the OGs,” you shrug, staring down at the cartoon depictions of Steve and the others.

“I was starting to wonder if you weren't going to come.” He says lightheartedly, nodding in the direction of everyone else.

“Your present didn't get delivered until the last minute,” you explain, giving the box-shaped object in your hand a shake. “Didn't want to show up empty handed.”

“You didn't have to get me a gift at all,” he says reassuringly, but eyes the present curiously. “But since you almost missed my party over it, I should open it right away.” He holds his hands out expectantly, almost childlike.

You roll your eyes, handing over the poorly packaged present. You had never been the best at gift-wrapping, usually preferring to reuse bags.

“I did not almost miss your party. It's just now eight o'clock,” you defend yourself, staring at the sun that's just starting to set over the lake's horizon, painting the New York sky in hues of orange and purple.

He smirks, walking past you to place the present on the table. You watch as he rips the wrapping paper away unceremoniously, until the gift is revealed.

“I know you had asked to borrow my copies,” you begin, suddenly feeling nervous as you watch him look over the box set of the first edition of The Hunger Games trilogy. “But my copies are old, and tattered, and have been annotated to shit, so.. I thought maybe you'd like your own,” you shrug nonchalantly.

He studies the box, pulling out the first book and glancing it over with a look you can't quite decipher. There's a faint hint of rose on his cheeks, and the lines around his eyes crinkle when he turns his head to look at you.

“Thank you,” he says with a soft, earnest smile. “This is incredibly thoughtful of you. I'm going to start reading them–”

“This pizza is getting cold!” You hear Sam's voice bellow from under the pavilion a few yards away. “I'm about to dig in with or without the birthday boy.”

You exhale through your nose, a half laugh, half sigh and look at Bucky expectantly. “Pretty sure you're the only birthday boy here.”

“I guess that's my cue,” he sighs as he places the books with the rest of his unopened gifts. “Thanks again, really. It's my favorite gift,” he adds with a sly grin as he begins to walk towards Sam and the table of pizza boxes.

“You haven't even opened the others yet,” you point out, following in his steps.

“Don’t need to open any of the others to know that yours is my favorite.”

Words of Affirmation

Two weeks later

Overstimulated. That's the best word to describe the way you're currently feeling.

Nervous, uncomfortable, irritable, a little hungry, even - any of those words would suffice, too. But with the way the velvet fabric of your dress hugs your hips too tightly, the way that the conversation of the drunk party guests roars in your ears, and the way that the heels of your feet already burn in your platform wedges so early in the evening, you think overstimulated sums up your current state the best.

You fidget with the extravagant ring that adorns your left ring finger, twisting it back and forth and rubbing the pad of your right thumb across the oval-shaped stone.

You aren't even supposed to be here, your brain keeps reminding you. It was supposed to be Natasha. Natasha, who has a boatload of undercover operations experience. But then she had to come down with the flu. Natasha, who never gets sick with anything more than a head cold, bedridden with the flu the day before a highly anticipated undercover mission that you are now taking her place in.

It's not that you hadn't been part of an undercover operation before - you had. You just hadn't been part of any undercover operation that required you to pose as someone's wife before.

Definitely not Bucky's wife.

The two of you had just arrived at the party no more than thirty minutes ago and you had spent the entirety of that time thinking that you wouldn't be able to make this believable; that everyone would see how anxious and awkward you feel and just know - just know that you weren't meant to be here and that it's abundantly clear that you and Bucky aren't actually together.

“Ivanov just arrived,” Bucky's voice murmurs next to your ear as he walks up behind you, snapping you out of your self-doubt induced trance. His left hand, disguised using nano-tech to look like a human, flesh hand, comes to rest against the small of your back and his right hand extends the drink that he retrieved for you from the bar.

“How'd you know I like lemon drops?” You ask, instantly recognizing the pale yellow liquid in the martini glass.

“I'm your husband. It's part of my job to know your go-to cocktail,” he smirks, looking at you in a way that almost makes you believe his words. “Besides, I'd know your drink of choice anyway. You always order a lemon drop.”

You clear your throat, breaking his stare by checking out the fellow attendees and event staff filtering through the ballroom. You slowly sip the sour liquid, trying to focus on the burn of the vodka and not the heat radiating across the skin of your back from him simply resting his fingers against the material of your dress.

“So where's Ivanov?” you break the tension. The illegal arms dealer that you'd been assigned to spy on was nowhere to be seen.

“He should be showing his face any minute now,” Bucky answers, a hint of displeasure in his voice. “I overheard some men at the bar saying he had just arrived in a three million dollar Bugatti with his twenty year old girlfriend.” You visibly cringe at the numbers. Ivanov had to be approaching senior citizen status at this point.

“Can't say that I'd expect anything else from him,” you sigh, attempting to wipe the disgust from your features. “What’s our game plan from here? Hover close by him and listen in on conversations–”

“Dance with me,” Bucky interrupts, his eyes locked on something on the opposite side of the room. You follow his gaze, realizing that Ivanov has entered with his exceptionally youthful girlfriend on his arm. Bucky extends his own arm to you, which you accept after tossing back the last sip of your drink and setting the empty glass on a table behind you.

He guides you to the center of the dance floor where several other couples are swaying to classical piano music. Ivanov mingles with a small group of questionable looking men just a few feet behind you, where Bucky is able to keep an eye on him.

He places one hand on your waist, using the other to hold one of yours in his own as he begins to slowly sway both of you to the rhythm of the music. Your free hand rests on the back of his neck, where you nervously twirl a tuft of his hair between your perfectly manicured fingers (you tried not to take too much offense to Sharon rushing you to the first salon she could find yesterday to help you look the part).

Bucky huffs a low laugh before using his grip on your hip to tug you closer to him, closing an awkward amount of space that separates your chest from his.

“If we want this to be believable, you’re gonna have to act like you kind of like me,” he murmurs lowly so that no one near you overhears. His face is just inches from yours - the scent of sandalwood from his aftershave and spearmint from his mouthwash is dizzying. Add in the fact that the lemon drop you had just quickly downed was heavy on the vodka, it’s a miracle that you’re still standing upright in these ridiculous heels that Sharon had picked out for you.

“I do like you,” you huff, your cheeks warming. “Not liking you isn’t the problem.” His gaze shifts away from where Ivanov stands a few yards behind you and down to your face.

“What is the problem then?”

You stare at his hand that holds yours, your eyes fixated on the brilliant diamond of your faux wedding ring. “For starters, I don’t really know how to slow dance,” you half-mumble. As if on cue, your left ankle shifts ever so slightly in your shoe, causing you to wobble. Bucky tightens his grasp on both your waist and hand to help steady you. He cackles - loudly enough for an old lady walking by to give him a side-eye.

“I think it’s pretty unlikely that our cover gets blown because you’re a little unsteady,” he whispers reassuringly. It does little to ease the lump of anxiety that has settled in your gut.

“It’s not just my lack of dancing experience,” you retort. “It’s all of this. I’m a bit out of my element here and I can’t help but feel like Natasha would have been able to do a much better–”

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, beginning to massage his thumb over the skin of your hand in languid, circular motions. You can’t decide if it’s the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins or if it’s just the fact that it’s him, but it feels as though there’s a continuous trail of hot sparks everywhere his skin touches yours. “You've got this. If anyone’s got this, it's you. You've handled missions far more daunting than this with ease, right?”

You finally shift your eyes to meet his gaze. His deep blue eyes bore into yours with utmost sincerity. You give him a small nod of agreement and a tight-lipped, uncertain smile.

He leans in closer so that his mouth hovers just next to your ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps down the expanse of your neck and shoulders.

“And remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

The slow, gentle swaying motions you'd been forcing your body to perform come to a sudden halt. You look at Bucky as if he's grown a second head. He’s looking at you with a shit-eating grin spread from ear to ear.

“Did you just quote Peeta Mellark?”

“I finished up the first book yesterday,” he shrugs as if his words hadn't just made your heart skip several beats. “Now let's get this job over with so we can go discuss the book in detail over some greasy diner food, yeah?”

Quality Time

The mere thought of getting the fuck out of that giant estate and away from Ivanov and the other countless skeevy party-goers to gorge on greasy diner food was more than enough motivation to get you through the duration of the mission.

Of course, it helped that Ivanov is a lightweight drunk with no concept of volume control. After a couple drinks, he handed the location of his next illegal arms deal to you and Bucky on a silver platter - without ever even noticing the two of you dancing just feet away from him.

“I'm sending the audio recording over to you right now,” Bucky says as he types on his cell phone. The two of you are currently in a drugstore parking lot half an hour away from the estate, sitting in the Audi SUV that you'd been given for this evening’s mission.

“Got it,” Sam’s voice booms through the car’s Bluetooth speakers a second later. “You guys did great back there. Go ahead and get back to the compound for debriefing.”

Your eyes flash to the time on the vehicle's touchscreen display - 10:06 pm. You can feel your stomach churning from hunger and your skin itching to get out of the restrictive velvet fabric, the last thing you wanted to do at this hour was go to a fucking debriefing.

“About that..” Bucky starts, noticing your disappointed expression and tense posture. “Debriefing is going to have to wait until the morning.”

“We should really get any details while they are still fresh–”

“What’s that? Sam? Sorry, you're breaking up, can't understand what you're–”

Bucky's flesh finger touches a button on the digital display screen and the call disconnects before he finishes his sentence.

“You know he's going to call back any second, right?” You ask after a moment of loaded silence. Bucky says nothing at first. You watch as he powers off his phone, and then grabs yours from its location in the center cup holder and powers it off, as well.

“I fully anticipate him trying,” he answers as he puts the car in reverse and peels out of the nearly vacant parking lot. “But I promised you a potentially gut-rotting meal, and I'm going to keep that promise.”

Half an hour later, you and Bucky sit opposite each other in a cozy, corner booth of the only open diner in a five mile radius. It's half diner, half arcade, and the two of you are some of the only people here save for the teenage couple making out next to the jukebox in the gaming area. You both look out of place - him in his black satin suit and you in your burgundy colored dress with the thigh-slit, but you're too relieved to be eating to care.

He's already scarfed down a fried chicken sandwich and is rapidly making his way through a pile of mozzarella sticks. You're eating a fat stack of blueberry pancakes and the best loaded hash browns that you think you've ever had.

Breakfast foods hit different at eleven o'clock at night.

“I'm just saying, Katniss is kind of oblivious,” Bucky shrugs with a mouthful of fried cheese. “It's obvious that Peeta was never just pretending to be in love with her.”

“That's a big assumption coming from someone who hasn't even started the second book yet,” you say as you fork a bite of pancake into your mouth.

He throws his hands up in mock defense, covering his now empty plate up with a dirty napkin.

“You're not wrong though,” you admit. “She did miss a lot of signs, and she's not always the most reliable narrator.”

He responds with a small hum as he watches you finish your pancakes with a soft smile that shows his laugh lines and the dimple of his left cheek.

His smile turns to something more curious as the young couple who had been making out in the arcade room earlier dashes past your booth and out the back door of the restaurant.

“What is it?” You ask, pushing your empty plate towards the center of the table.

“The game room is free now,” he states, as if it's obvious. “Now I can kick your ass in air hockey.”

And kick your ass in air hockey he does. And skee ball, and Dance Dance revolution.

“Please don't tell Natasha that you beat me at Dance Dance Revolution,” you beg him as you pick up your high heels that you had discarded for the game. “She'll never let me live that one down. In fact, if anyone asks, it was a dead tie for all of these games.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he chuckles, approaching the pool table in the center of the room and leaning against the edge. “As long as you win this game of pool.”

“No, nope, absolutely not,” you freeze where you're standing, crossing your arms over your chest. “If I couldn't beat you at air hockey then I don't stand a chance of beating you at pool.”

He ignores you, instead turning to choose two cue sticks from the selection on the back wall. He tosses one to you from several feet away, which you instinctively drop your shoes to the floor to catch.

“I haven't even tried to play pool since I was maybe ten years old,” you whine.

“Why were you trying to play pool at ten years old?” he chuckles, gathering up all of the balls and placing them inside the triangular rack in the center of the table.

“It was at a birthday party,” you admit. “I pretended to know what I was doing to impress a boy that I had a crush on.”

“And how did that go for you?” He removes the triangle-shaped container from around the balls and begins to line up his shot.

“Well, I haven't tried to play pool since then,” you begin, taking a seat on the edge of the table and turning your head to watch him. He pulls the cue stick back and quickly stabs it forward, breaking the balls apart and sending them rolling in various directions across the felt table. “And Kyle from my fourth grade class thought that I had cooties, so, you tell me how you think that went for me.”

“Sounds like it was Kyle's loss.” You watch as he walks to one of the table's pockets to look inside. “I've got stripes,” he states, looking at you with an expectant smile.

You exhale a dramatic sigh, hopping off the edge of the table and turning around to position your stick in front of the cue ball.

“Fine,” you relent, looking up at him from where you're leaning over across the table. “But you're not allowed to laugh at me when you realize I wasn't lying about having no experience at this.”

“Scout's honor,” he swears and you can tell by his smile and reddened cheeks that he’s already trying to contain his laughter.

Feeling extra nervous due to the way you can physically feel him watching you, you take an embarrassing amount of time working up the courage to propel the tip of the cue stick towards a solid purple colored ball.

It travels a foot or so across the green felt material of the table and comes to a stop just inches away from a corner pocket.

“Damn it,” you sigh under your breath.

“That wasn't too bad, actually,” he says, not even trying to conceal his tone of surprise as he walks over to where you're standing. “You just need to change your stance a little and hit the ball a bit harder.”

“So, do basically everything differently, then?”

“I can help you, if you want,” he offers with a smug grin.

“Hm,” you bite your lip as you pretend to contemplate the proposition. “Okay,” you accept with a shrug. “But this better not be an attempt to pull a cliche “pretend to help her with pool as an excuse to make a move” kind of move.” You're fully joking - you know Bucky well enough to know he wouldn't make such a corny, obvious move with anyone - and you definitely wouldn't expect him to do so with you.

But you don't miss the way his expression darkens ever so slightly and his eyes sweep up your figure before moving to stand behind you, propping his own cue stick up against the table.

The front of your thighs brush up against the edge of the table and Bucky’s arms enclose you on either side - his hands coming to rest next to each of your legs on the table's edge, as close as they can be to you without actually touching.

Your breath hitches in your throat when the silky material of his suit brushes against your bare shoulders, the sensation causing you to go deadly still as you await his next move.

“With how fast your heart is beating right now, I don't think I would have to do something as cheesy as that to make a move.” He murmurs, his mouth close enough to the exposed skin of your neck that you can feel the heat of his breath. It's an automatic response, the way your head tilts back into his touch. You start to pull away, start to feel embarrassed, start to tell him just how wrong he is, when he brings a flesh finger to the ball of your shoulder and trails his index finger down the skin of your arm, eliciting a surge of goosebumps in its wake.

This physical reaction doesn't go unnoticed by him, either. He hums a small laugh, inching closer to you so that his body presses against your ass.

“In fact,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “I think that if I wanted to, I could have you bent over this table for me without having to resort to anything like that.”

If his chest wasn't pinning you between him and the pool table, you probably would have fallen over. The air in the arcade feels a sudden ten degrees warmer and you swear you can hear your blood pumping in your ears - things that unfortunately can't be blamed on the effects of the martini that had dissipated from your system hours ago.

No, it's all him. His closeness, his warmth, his voice, his scent. Just him.

“If you wanted to, yeah?” You question, your voice an octave higher than you ideally would have liked. “That makes it sound like you don't want to. But the bulge I'm feeling from your pants makes it seem like you do want to. Kinda sending me mixed signals here.” You rut back against him for good measure.

He hisses next to your ear, his hands snapping to your hips, effectively stilling you beneath him. His fingers dig into the flesh around your hip bones, the pressure somewhere perfectly between uncomfortable and pleasurable.

“Here? Bent over this table?” he tuts, his lips grazing the skin next to the shoulder strap of your dress. “Where a couple of unsuspecting teenagers could walk in for a game of skee ball at any second?” He lets out a low laugh, the sound vibrating against your back.

“No, I don't think so,” he continues. “Not when we've got a brand new Audi with a spacious backseat and highly tinted windows just outside this building.”

Physical Touch

If someone had asked you six hours ago if you thought there was a chance you would be ending this night by having sex with Bucky Barnes, you would have said no.

But if someone had asked you if you thought there was a chance you would be having sex with Bucky Barnes in the backseat of a car in a diner-arcade combo parking lot, you would have said fuck no.

You would have been wrong on both accounts. And with the way that he's nipping and sucking up the insides of your thighs, you're pretty fucking okay with that.

Your dress is bunched up around your waist, your panties discarded on the floor of the car. You're laying as comfortably as you can across the backseat with Bucky nestled snuggly between your legs. It's a tight fit, and the stagnant air inside the Audi is balmy, but you'll be damned if you interrupt this to turn the AC on. The only light inside the vehicle is from the glow of the full moon that illuminates the sky, and the giant neon green diner sign a few yards away from where you're parked.

He's not wasting any time - it's well past midnight at this point and considering the fact that Bucky turned your cell phones off hours ago, you're surprised that Sam hasn't traced the location of the vehicle and sent search and rescue already.

As soon as his mouth makes contact with your center, you’re lacing your fingers through his short, soft locks and tugging on them. You grind your pussy against his face, meeting his fervent motions with your own. He locks his lips around your clit before pulling away with an obscene, wet pop that echoes through the cab of the car.

He reaches one hand up to your shoulders while keeping his lips on you, quickly tugging down the spaghetti straps of your dress and then pawing at the fabric covering your chest to free your tits.

At the same time that he plunges his tongue inside you, he rolls a nipple between two of his cool, metal digits, yearning a sharp yelp from you. He releases his grip and then palms your breast in his hand, continuing to work your folds with his lips and tongue.

You don't know if it's the fact that it's been a ridiculous amount of time since you so much as kissed someone or the fact that Bucky eats pussy like he's starving, but you're approaching your climax insanely fast.

You clench your thighs around his ears and push your hips upwards, the friction building that warm tension in your lower belly that comes spilling over when he lets out a guttural moan across your core.

You cum against his face, feeling your juices drip down the insides of your thighs - there's a pesky voice in the back of your head telling you that you're going to have to pay to have this car detailed before giving it back.

He sits up, his back resting against the middle of the leather seat. He unbuttons and unzips his suit pants, raising off the seat just enough to tug them down to mid-thigh along with his boxers. You're still coming down from your orgasm when he's pulling you up from the seat and into a sitting position.

You tuck your legs underneath you so that you're propped up on your knees on the seat directly next to him. Bucky pumps himself in his hand as you lean over, gathering all of the saliva in your mouth and letting it slide between your lips and over the head of his cock.

You push his hand away to replace it with your own, using your spit as lubrication as you stroke him up and down. He throws his head back against the headrest, looking up at the roof of the car as he brings his hand around the curve of your ass, flesh hand finding your pussy that's still throbbing from how hard he had made you cum.

You can feel the smooth band of the engagement ring that you'd been wearing all evening repeatedly caress a large vein on the side of his dick - you remove your hand from him, causing him to snap his head back down to look at you. You bring your other hand to remove the ring from your finger, planning to tuck it into a cup holder for safekeeping while you use your hands on him.

“Leave it on,” he breaks the thick silence when he realizes what you're doing. “Want you to keep wearing it.”

You push the ring back down on your finger, his command sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You're extending your hand back to his cock when he cuts you off, pulling you to him and across his lap.

You straddle him, his erection locked between your pussy lips and his lower belly. You move forwards, and then backwards - earning another deep groan from him as you coat the underbelly of his cock in your juices. You grind up and down against him several times, until you're feeling impossibly empty and can't take the feeling of not having him inside you any longer.

You lift yourself up on the balls of your feet, high enough for him to guide himself to your entrance. He teases your hole with his head - or at least tries to, before you're sinking yourself down onto his length. You go still for a moment when he's fully inside you, giving you both time to adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation of each other.

You begin to ride him, slowly at first - he stretches you blissfully sweet and soon you're picking up the pace, your ass bouncing off of his thighs with each comedown.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, pulling your face down to his in a sloppy, searing kiss. It hits you that he's inside you raw right now, and you're just now kissing. You taste yourself on him, warm and salty sweet. He sweeps his tongue along your bottom lip and you open up for him, letting him explore your mouth from the perfect angle that he's at beneath you.

He continues to kiss you but removes his hand from the back of your neck, moving both of them to cup your ass. He begins to meet your movements with his own, thrusting himself upwards so that his cock is ramming into that sweet spot of your cervix and sending you towards a second climax.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” you moan into his mouth, breaking the kiss for air. Your encouragement spurs him on, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Your legs turn to jelly beneath you, but he's got you - he holds you up by your ass cheeks and leans forward to take one of your nipples in his warm mouth.

It's enough to send you over the edge again. Your orgasm builds, heat exploding through your abdomen as his movements grow erratic and he spills into you from below.

He stills beneath you when you're both spent, your chest heaving against his. You make no effort to remove yourself from him, and he seems more than happy to keep you right where you are - his arms locking around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“I guess now would be as good of a time as any to ask you if you'd like to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Go on a date with you sometime?” You lean back, looking down with him with the limited amount of moonlight and neon lighting that breaks through the tinted windows. “We dressed up real nice, slow danced, spied on a bad guy, ate greasy diner food, played arcade games, and you're inside me as we speak. I think it's safe to say we're currently on a date.”

He snorts, breaking into laughter beneath you. “A second date, then,” he concedes. “I would love to take you on a second date.”

♡♡♡♡♡

thank you for reading!!! kind of nervous to put this one out there tbh, i've been working on it off and on for weeks but i love how it turned out and i hope you all do too. as always comments and reblogs are very appreciated 💕

it's nice to have a friend

moth to a flame

oil & water

[jjslaybank]

mine - rafe cameron

warnings: porn WITH plot, use of degrading language to describe reader ("fucktoy," "slut," "bitch"), unprotected sex

i recommend listening to "it's no good" by depeche mode or "come undone" by duran duran while reading :)

omg this has been in my drafts for probably a MONTH atp 😭 hope you guys like it <3 OH and imagine s2!rafe while reading

please read till the end for a few more notes from yours truly 🥰

🏷list: @slut-4-gojo @booklover-6665 @amel1ee @riaras-everthroner

ward is going to kill him.

fuck it, rafe thinks to himself as he enters a strip club. he clutches the money his father had given him to escape the outer banks tightly to his chest as he surveys the scene in front of him.

he squints his eyes, adjusting to the dim lighting of the room. the whole place smells heavily of sweat and cigarettes. he believes it's the perfect place to find a little fucktoy to help him forget the intense pressure he's currently under.

it was then that he spots you — dancing and humping and grinding against the pole as men throw you money.

"holy shit," rafe mumbles softly to himself, his feet carrying him near to the pole you're dancing with before he even knew what his body was doing. a few men shoot him dirty looks. he never noticed them — his eyes are solely on you.

you're wearing your favorite pair — black, lacy underwear and a matching black pushup bra which pushed your tits higher than normal, deepening your cleavage.

as you notice rafe staring, you give him a wink. his eyes darken.

he needs you.

and he's willing to do whatever was necessary to have his way with you.

"hey, asshole!"

he turns to face one of the men who had rudely greeted him.

"eyes off my damn property."

"what?" rafe asks, squinting at the man. "what do you mean? she's like... like your girlfriend or something?"

the man scoffs. "hell no. just my property for the night."

he holds up a keychain with a singular key attached and a small, white jade stone.

the man nods his head to where you were dancing, oblivious to the conversation. "jade's my little slut for tonight, so i better not see your lousy ass around her. got that?"

rafe growls. no way in hell was he losing this pretty girl to an asshole like him.

"hell no."

the man stands up, slamming his fist down on the table to emphasize the motion. others look on at the commotion.

"i think you oughta learn some manners, boy."

"how much did you pay?" rafe asks, sighing and rolling his eyes as he rubs the bridge of his nose. he had been in too many fights recently. the poor guy just wants to empty his balls into some willing, pretty slut.

"more than you can comprehend."

rafe raises an eyebrow, squeezing the wad of bills ward had given him.

"number."

the man tilts his head, confused. "what?"

"give me a number."

"more than 1k."

"1k," rafe echoes to himself as he shakes his head, the tone in his voice almost mocking. "i have so, so much more than that... that lousy amount you're paying her. hey jade!"

you turn towards him, responding to your stripper name.

"if i pay you more, will you let me fuck you instead of him?"

"depends on the amount," you reply, batting your eyelashes at him as you continue dancing around the pole.

you can barely see his face as you converse, but you can make out the curtain bangs, hunched back, and the furrow of his eyebrows as he flips through his stack of bills.

"5k," rafe says.

your eyes light up and you shrug at the other man who had "bought" you for the night.

"sorry, i'm going with this fine young gentleman tonight." you gesture at rafe.

"you made a deal, bitch!" the man yells. rafe's eyes flash with anger. he grabs the man by his shirt collar.

"she said she's going with me! back the fuck off!"

rafe pushes the man down and he collides with a nearby table. he then frantically fishes a sizable stack of bills from his stash. as he hands it to you and you take it from him, his fingers reach to grab yours - effectively sandwiching the money between your hand and his.

he begins to run but you pause, picking up the key the other man was holding earlier. rafe takes the key from you and heads to the back of the club with you in tow.

the back is a hallway with doors - somewhat like what you'd see at a hotel. names of available women were attached at the top of each door.

"jade," he murmurs, looking at the names of the doors.

"jade," you repeat as an agreement. a good look at the man reveals to you his set jaw and conflicted eyes. you can feel something brewing beneath the surface, but you push it aside. you were told not to be nosy. you were lying if you said you didn't find hin sexy. in fact, to say he was attractive was an understatement.

you pull him to the door marked with your name. you grab the key from his hand as he lets you go and open the door.

the room inside is lit by a single small lamp perched atop a dresser. a bed sits in the middle, taking up most of the small room's space.

"shit," rafe sighs, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. "just wanted to empty my balls, dammit. no confrontations, no fights..."

he begins to pace around the room. "everyone's fucking after me. like... like everyone wants me gone or dead – or just out of their life. i'm not doing good, man. just gotta... just gotta push it aside and focus on the now, though. like... you know? just gotta man up!"

"hey," you begin calmly. "it's all good. i'm yours for tonight, 'kay?"

rafe sits down at the edge of the bed. you follow suit.

"calm down. i'm here. thanks for the money."

he nods, trying to calm himself. you take his hand. he looks into your eyes with what you think is a hint of vulnerability, but it immediately gets replaced with hunger. his eyes darken, and you liken it to a predator about to pounce on its prey.

rafe grabs your shoulders and lifts you, throwing you face down into the bed. your makeup stains the white sheets.

he paces around the bed, a low hum sounding from his lips. "don't fucking move, jade. you understand?"

"y-yes..." you reply meekly, feeling your panties dampen. being manhandled was something that turned you on more than you realized.

"just be good for me, okay?" rafe asks, his voice trembling slightly as he undos his pants. "such a pretty fucking ass."

you jolt as he slaps the meaty flesh. rafe chuckles lowly.

"i did everything i could to have you, and now you're here. and i'm about to fuck you."

you hear the soft clink of his belt buckle as it hits the floor. your heart skips a beat, your anticipation at its peak.

"but i'm gonna be nice about it," he mutters more to himself than to you. "gonna prep this tight fucking hole."

your bottoms come off with one swift tug, and rafe inhales them deeply, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"fuuuuccckk," he gasps shakily, his nostrils full of your scent.

he puts his middle finger into his mouth and wets it before slowly sliding it into your wet hole. his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head as he feels your hot, warm walls envelop his finger.

"oh, fuck," you moan, your back arching. the fact that you couldn't see what he was doing turned you on even more.

"give it to me, baby," rafe says, pumping his finger in and out of you faster.

he adds another finger and you gasp.

"that's it," rafe coaxes. "so fucking tight and wet, you slut."

he removes his fingers and positions his cock near your stretched hole, hissing at the contact.

"shit." rafe groans. "fuck, it's gonna feel so good filling this tight cunt up."

he takes a deep breath as he removes his finger and enters you. your eyes roll to the back of your head as you moan loudly.

"fucking hell," rafe growls. "shit, you're so fucking tight!"

he rocks into you, his cock filling you up completely.

"such a pretty fuckin' cunt," he murmurs, leaning down to bite the shell of your ear.

"this cunt," he continues, accentuating his words with harsh thrusts, "is all mine for tonight."

he pants, speeding up his thrusts. "i hope you're on the pill because i'm cumming inside this greedy fuckin' cunt."

you nod, your mind hazy with lust. "mhm, i'm clean and take the pill."

"good girl. see how she fucking sucks in my fat cock, she was made for me. fuckin' cunt was made for me," he mutters through clenched teeth.

suddenly he slips out of you. you cry out.

"fucking turn around. lemme see that pretty face as i fuck you."

you obey immediately. he lands a gentle slap on your ass as encouragment.

"pretty fuckin' girl," he compliments, leaning down to kiss your lips. you kiss him back, savoring the taste of sweat and marijuana on his lips.

as he pulls back, he re-enters you. you both hiss at the feeling.

"i'll never get enough of this fucking cunt, jade," he groans as you feel his balls slapping against you.

"mm," you whimper, about to moan out his name when you realize he never told you what it was. "wh-what's your name?"

"rafe," he answers, accentuating the one syllable with a deep thrust, making you see stars.

the name falls from your lips as a high-pitched moan. it sounds almost natural. he groans at the sound of his name and he thrusts into you faster, feeling his balls tighten.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum, you slut," he hisses through clenched teeth, the words coming out clipped as he revels in the feel of your pussy.

"cum!" you repeat, your brain going blank as you feel the knot in your stomach close to snap. "cum inside my greedy cunt!"

at that rafe thrusts forward, groaning in ecstasy as his cum shoots deep into your pussy. you cry out as you spasm around his cock, milking it for every last drop.

"fuck," he mutters breathlessly, slowly pulling out to marvel at the mess he made. "would you look at that - a properly bred fucktoy."

you're gasping for breath as you come down from your high.

"fucking shit," you mutter, your thighs soaked with rafe's cum as it slides down from your pussy.

"pretty good, eh?" rafe asks, a low chuckle leaving his lips. "i like it messier, though."

"me too," you admit with a small smile, moving your messy hair out of your face.

"i like you," rafe says, lying down beside you. "maybe i should keep you around. what do you think about coming to wilmington with me?"

charm's notes:

first of all, tysm for reading! <3 i've been working on this for so long lmao. anyways, i have this thing on my blog called "horny hours" where you can hope into my inbox (anon is on, dw) and send me horny thoughts you may have about any of the obx boys! feel free to add links to pics/vids/whatever too! don't forget to read my request rules tho to know what i vibe with. lastly if you want to read more of my work, you can check out my masterlist for my previous works as well as others i'm working on.

©️ jjslaybank, 2024.

[heartlesscorpse]

HII another request

Mc X Mr crawling where Mr crawling is laying on Mc and giving small love bites (can be Sfw or nsfw up to you :>

Love Bites <3

A/N: Hi hi again 😌😌 fbjsbfjjsbf I took awhile with this sorry sorry, I was caught up w other things and I got a little busy — but I gotchu tho dw lmao.

⭑.ᐟ — Cuddles were becoming a must have for Mr. Crawling since the two of you were growing closer than ever since you’ve came to this horrific world of ghosts and ghouls.

⭑.ᐟ — But it was also the one thing that kept you anchored, kept you sane, you found solace in the arms of a creepy yet puppy-like ghost, and it made you feel somewhat human again since you’ve been stuck here for god knows how long.

⭑.ᐟ — Right now, you and Mr. Crawling were taking a brief break in some room you just came across while wandering the place, (either you’re still in search for an exit or you’ve given up in looking for one at this point, whichever really).

⭑.ᐟ — The both of you are sprawled out on a leather couch, you’re currently being smothered underneath Mr. Crawling’s weight which is a tad uncomfortable and you can’t move much, but you’re not complaining and enjoying the closeness with your ghostly companion.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling on the other hand had his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you and he’s melting in the warmth radiating from your body heat with a goofy little smile on his features, and he’s quietly giggling every now and then. Sometimes he’s reaching a hand into the hood of your raincoat and giving you some head pats or leaving kisses around your neck.

⭑.ᐟ — While Mr. Crawling’s busy peppering you with kisses around your neck, he felt you twitch out of surprise when he gently nipped you.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling at first was a little worried from that reaction but you assured him it just threw you off guard and told him to continue, which he happily did once he had the green light you were okay with this.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr. Crawling went as far to slide his cold hands underneath your shirt when he was given permission, just to marvel at the warmth of your body and the contrast between your unblemished and soft skin and his calloused and cold fingers.

⭑.ᐟ — By the end of that break your neck and collar area was practically littered with hickeys all thanks to Mr. Crawling. <3

[38riku]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃

making the phantom bride final four feel things (it's my favorite event sue me)

warnings — suggestive? light flirting.

𝐀. 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀

"stop glaring or i'll mess it up."

as if to prove your point, his brows pinched further, causing you huff in irritation. "okay. what's wrong? you were psyched up like two seconds ago."

"yeah, well, that was two seconds ago and now is now." his rebuttal caused you to roll your eyes. 'boys' you thought as a viable excuse before trying yet again to straighten his eyeliner.

his eyes darted around the room where the others did similar things: riddle fixed his lapels, epel examined his bouquet, and rook practiced his lines, everyone was unaffected by the current circumstance.

not the rampaging bride that is going to doom a teenage boy to the eternal afterlife, no, the fact that you were straddling him in a small vanity chair.

why was such a compromising position seen so casually? now that he thinks about it, the two of you were rather touchy – piggyback rides, you holding his arms, hugs, etc. – still, this is really teetering the line of friendly affection.

"done!" beaming, you leaned back a bit, causing him to hold on to your waist a bit firmer to keep you upright. "riddle! you have a keen eye, is it straight or what?"

the house warden walked over to the two of you and ace was sure he'd call out how inappropriate this is, but he didn't. instead, he nodded and complimented you on your handiwork.

"no need to thank me." you snorted, getting up to go help the others.

riddle chuckled, patting his freshman on the shoulder as he spoke, "are you upset that they're casually intimate with you or are you upset they might act like that with someone else?"

"w-what?!" ace's cheeks flushed red.

"i may be romantically handicapped but i'm more perceptive to it than you think. i can only suggest to say something sooner than later."

he lowered his head, still blushing, diverting his gaze away from your swaying figure as his house warden's words sunk in.

damn. he did want it to mean something.

ace doesn't know which is more embarrassing: his crush on you or that riddle was the one to make him realize.

𝐑. 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

"may i offer a suggestion?"

riddle hummed, meeting your eyes in the vanity mirror. "and what might that be? it's impossible to elevate perfection, you know."

ignoring his arrogant statement, you took a seat, propping his collar up and undoing his tie. "i think you'll stand out more it you tie it differently." you explained your actions, pausing momentarily until he nodded for you to continue.

he watched as you knotted and twirled the fabric, straightening it here and there, and you were done a minute later.

"a bow? it's rather ... cutesy."

"but you're cutesy."

riddle choked, coughing loudly and catching the attention of the other occupants of the room. as they began to walk towards him, he waved them off, effectively keeping them away from his flustered form.

"w-why would you–"

"the cuter you look, the less they'll take you seriously, and as one of the strongest mages left that's perfect for us to break their defenses."

of course, you meant it as a battle advantage – that is your area of expertise, after all.

"don't look so surprised." you joked, flattening out his collar and he hopes you can't feel the heated blush on his neck. "you were thinking the same thing too, right?"

"no, actually... i can't say that i was."

you tilted your head sideways, doubting his words but dropping the subject. "well, from now on don't look down on being cute, kay?"

standing from your seat, you left his vanity to tend to grimm, who, was arguing with ace about who knows what.

if he had half a mind he'd scold them both and cut off the small feline's magic, however, his mind was completely blank.

cute. you think he's cute.

riddle didn't take it as he usually would. for some off reason he felt giddy inside, wishing you meant it in a different ... more flirtatious manner. the poor boy has zero experience but wishing might work, right?

𝐑. 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓

"you need to talk normally to us so they won't be suspicious. try again."

if rook wasn't used to a strict training regime he'd undoubtedly call you a harsh teacher, but, as a lover of all things beautiful and magnificent he tossed the thought aside.

"no can do mon cherie. her actions are horrendous and nowhere near beautiful." he signed, placing a hand over his wounded heart. "but you, darling, are as heroic and magnificent as ever."

he watched as you rolled your eyes, placing a hand on your hip as you began to reprimand him for his lack of seriousness.

although he heard the words coming from your mouth, he couldn't help but focus on everything else.

despite not being a contender in this entire ordeal you were still dressed beautifully. the color is ethereal on you, he must make note of the hue for later ... and whatever scent you adorned had his senses on ten.

don't you know never to where perfume when there's a hunter nearby?

"rook! are you even listening to–"

all too suddenly he had your hand in his, the other gripping your waist firmly to keep your surprised form upright.

"let me give it to you straight then. the unseen beauty of your compassion and tender heart outshines that of a world class model. not that you aren't attractive, no, no, quite the opposite."

"how greedy can you possibly be?"

deep. rich. clear. his voice was positively enthralling when he dropped that phony accent (it does have a charm of its own in your opinion)

"perfect!" you beamed, his grip on you loosening in surprise of his own. "i knew you could do it. she'll be knocked off her translucent feet i tell you!"

rook allowed you to walk away, scolding epel who wiped his makeup off for the ninth time deeming it unmanly.

he couldn't help but laugh. he broke character, purposely, but he did nevertheless, and don't think he didn't notice the flash of attraction in your eyes.

never let your guard down in front of a predator, mon cherie.

𝐄. 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐑

"i swear on the seven you'll have more problems than a poof of blush if you keep testing my patience."

epel felt a chill run down his spine at your words but he stood his ground. he let you do the liner, tousle his hair all nice, and even spray a painfully potent cologne – but he draws the line at that pigmented puff of doom.

"i'm telling ya i'm not wearing that!" he argued back from the other side of the table. the two of you were playing chicken to the amusement of the others who were nearly done with their preparations.

"stop being a big baby!"

"i ain't no baby!"

he flinched back as you narrowed your eyes in a glare. for a moment, he felt sorry that grimm had to live with such a scary person.

"fine. don't wear the blush." you slid the compacted container to his side of the table, raising your hands in surrender.

"let me redo your hair then. it'll fit the look better, baby."

yeah. that's right, you better listen when he — wait, baby?

you pushed him down in the nearest chair, undoing the small ponytail you had before in favor of something else.

epel thought this earlier but your hands did feel amazing as you twirled and pinned his hair. he nearly fell asleep the first time but he knew better than to let down his guard.

"what do you think of this, baby?"

you were teasing him but jeez, why did it make his heart race?

"doesn't matter what i think." he huffed, and you laughed softly at the statement.

"well, i'm no ghost bride with unnaturally specific standards but you look good, baby." this time, you drawled out the pet name, winking, and then leaving him alone to question everything.

in the end he came to the conclusion that he should've just let you put the damn blush on.

© 2024 — 38riku. Do not copy or repost or plagiarize my work. All Rights Reserved.

[hello-gloomy]

'Every doctor should have one.'

Ratchet x Fem!Reader

SMUT MDNI 18+

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

Description: Ratchet offers to pick you up after an "event" at a friend's house. Arriving and seeing you walk out after he initially said bye to you that night, he sees just what kind of party it was and what you wore to it.

Warnings: Maybe OOC, horny, lots of describing of the reader's outfit. No penetration, and not really descriptive of smut, but it is there, I promise.

A/N: It came to me in a dream, and I just had to write it; I hope I did our lovely doc justice. Also, don't be mad that I cut off the good stuff; maybe I'll do more like this if you guys actually like it.

Words: 874

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

He didn't know what made his helm hurt more: the thumping music from the giant house he was currently parked in front of or the strobing lights bleeding through the windows and open doors. He's getting more irritated by the minute of the thought of his cover being blown; it's a bit odd for an ambulance to be sitting outside of a human habisuite, especially if it is not there to take care of the injured or for an emergency. He almost texts you again until he sees you strut out with multiple locals surrounding you; he has to do a double take and just about reset his optics. His engine revs up at the sight of it, a high-collared white latex nurse uniform that stops above your thigh, paired with the medical cross in orange, his orange. Your nurse's hat has the same cross in orange; your white tights lead down to a pair of black heels. Primus, seeing you just made him want to grab you in front of everyone here. Your head turns in his direction at the sound of the engine, and you wave at him. The people surrounding you looked over at him as well. He flashed his lights a few times, and you smiled back. You waltz up to him with a few others still trailing behind you, amazed that you had an ambulance for a ride.

"How the hell did you get an ambulance?" One of the boys by you asked while you started touching the hood of Ratchet.

"My lover owns it, and let me borrow him for the night." You tell him while pushing your body more into Ratchet before hopping up and sitting on his hood. You continue to rub him while you chat with the last few curious people about your ride. All the while, Ratchet was trying not to overheat from having your ass directly on him and not being able to do anything about it. You say your final goodbyes and slap Ratchet before jumping off and entering the driver's seat. You drive in relative silence, waiting for him to complain or even fuss.

"Is your underwear my orange as well?" He starts evenly, and you have to steel yourself not to drop your jaw at his boldness.

"Did you take a hit of synth-en before you came and got me?" You tease while gripping the steering wheel; you can feel his gaze on you even though you don't know where he's looking from in his alt-mode. His engine hums a bit louder before he speaks again.

"Are you even wearing a bra?" he asks lowly. That dress looks so tight." You are grinning so hard at his crassness tonight; you love it when he drops the 'I don't care about anyone' attitude.

"Wanna see the answer to your first question?" You ask as he stops in front of your garage, and never have you been more grateful to live a bit farther from town than now. He turns off his headlights, and you take that as your cue to spread your legs; he moves your seat back a bit, which makes you let out a little squeak. He lets out a little sigh while looking at you. You run your hands down your chest to give him a little show before you show him the answer to his second question. You drag your hand back up your chest and then to your neck; you grab the zipper and slowly pull it down your body. You stop halfway down your naval, slightly pushing the fabric away from your chest. You heard him let out a soft gasp.

"So, doctor, what is your diagnosis?" You ask him sweetly while leaning further back into his seating, spreading your legs a bit further while playing with the edge of your dress.

"Well, I'll have to take a closer look," he tells you. You unbuckle the seat belt, fixing your dress just a little bit, and he transforms back to his bipedal mode. He leans down to your level and then scoops you up in his hands, holding you close to his face, smelling you, and rubbing you against his intake, giving little nips to the bare area of your chest where you opened it originally.

"Mhm, such a pretty nurse you are." He whispers close to your face while giving you little kisses.

"Every doctor should have one." You giggle back before moaning when he nudges his faceplate between your legs; he moves the fabric to the side so he can taste you better. Arching your back into his large glossa, you grind into him while he uses one of his digits to rub your chest. He keeps rubbing and licking and sucking until you gasp and let out a shout of his name. He slows down his ministrations on you; while you catch your breath, he moves to lay against the side of your house. You watch him while you calm down before patting his servo, holding you, and sliding down to his modesty panel. You give him a few grinds, and he groans in response before you stop and smile up at him.

"Care for me to give you a little check-up?"

[blarshwritezz]

Hello~

Can I request a yandere rich boy x m reader where the rich boy is so utterly in love and obsessed with the reader that he would do anything, can the reader also be a sub that's extremely enabling towards the yan giving him winks! And leaving things out for him to steal and just generally playing into the fans delusions

Yes, hello 👹 anon! Decided to combine these 'cause they're very similar, hope that's alright!

Yandere Richboy x Enabling Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW (slight, towards end)

It was actually pretty cute how much Rich!Yan was obsessed with you. Even when he had to be "far" from you, his eyes never left you. So of course you had to tease him, winking and sticking your tongue out.

If only you knew how much you made him melt. He was putty in your hands, willing to give and be anything for you.

The public had their eyes on him, but his were always on you. Always.

He'd often sneak in your room to find your things strewn about, almost as if you wanted him to take them. Silly you, didn't you know anyone could break in and do all sorts of perverse things with your underwear if you left it out like this? You were lucky it was just him. He'd at least return them, cleaner than they were before.

You knew all this. And you knew better than to question it when people who got too close to you would suddenly disappear.

If it was someone you really cared about, he was always conveniently there with chocolate and all his money at your complete disposal. To comfort you, of course.

And well, how could you refuse when he gave you his card? Especially when he's so happy seeing you spoil yourself with everything you could possibly desire.

With just a simple please, his money was entirely yours. And it was even easier when you gave him even the smallest amount of attention. Not to mention how cute he was trying to keep himself together for you.

The way his face would flush, and how he'd fiddle with his collar or tie to cool down. It was adorable.

Maybe you shouldn't have pushed as far as you did...but it was impossible not to. Especially when this was exactly what you wanted.

He's been holding off on fucking you for too long. And finally you got him to concede to his own limitations, leading to this current predicament.

The same predicament that you've been in for over an hour now. You stopped bothering to look at the clock after so long.

"Fuck, that's a good boy. You're taking me so well." He whined in your ear as drool dribbled down your chin. You were starting to realize that you may have bit off a bit more than you could chew.

"You look so good...so damn good like that." His thrusts didn't slow down for even a second, their harshness not wavering.

You had to admit, it was impressive how much stamina he had.

"Been holding this in for too long...so long...you feel so good."

There was a sticky pool of his cum beneath you from what little your ass couldn't hold, or what didn't stick to your skin.

With a groan, his cock twitched, releasing yet another load into you. You've already lost count of how many it's been. And this certainly wasn't the last.

And another complete! I sincerely hope it was alright!

[januaryembrs]

Congratulations on 3 thousand🎀💫 May I please get a hot chocolate with Jacaerys Velaryon

RUEFUL | Jacaerys Velaryon x Pregnant!Reader

description: Jace says goodbye to his pregnant wife as he leaves for the North

length: 600+wds

warnings: afab reader, fertile reader (if that's the correct terminology idk, basically able to conceive and carry a baby), I pictured Harry Collett's current age of 20 when I wrote this since

“You won’t be gone long, will you?” You asked, your lip pulled between your teeth as he loaded a few days supplies onto Vermax’s saddle. He looked up at you then, the worry in your tone enough to set Jace on edge. 

His gaze drifted to your stomach, pulling at your day dress that was possibly the only one that fit you anymore. Four months had flown by since you’d realised the two of you had conceived, and it seemed in the last week or so your prince or princess had made more than enough room for themselves inside your womb, judging by all the nudging you’d felt. 

“A few weeks at most, my love,” He hushed, stuffing the last of his rations into the bag and wasting no time taking your shaking hands in his own. His curls stroked at his neck where the salty, sea air bristled between the two of you, and Vermax groaned in annoyance, his scaled prickling against one another as he shook himself out, “Mother needs the North secured as our allies if we have any chance of taking the advantage,”

You nodded quietly, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a long, warm and much needed hug. “I understand. I wish I could come with you, though,”

He sighed, his face pressing against your collar bone as you squeezed him tightly. “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you,”

Jace and your Queen Mother had been quick to forbid flying the second the maesters had declared you to be with child. You’d put up a fight for it when it had just been Jace being overprotective, but when Queen Rhaenyra was the one to tell you no, you were quick to listen, no negotiations. 

“I know, just..” You replied in a sombre cadence, drinking up as much time with your husband as possible, “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I swear by the thousand Valyrian gods I’ll come back to you,” He murmured, and you leaned in to kiss him then, not caring that the wind whipped around the two of you, a storm brewing off the shore line as the sea sprayed against the cliff face. 

You felt a large, warm head press into your stomach with a feather lightness and the two of you chuckled, pulling apart from one another to see Vermax rubbing against your swollen belly affectionately. 

“I’ll keep them safe,” You reassured with a gentle hand rubbing over the creature's nose, because it wasn’t unnatural for dragons to become incredibly territorial where their rider’s offspring were concerned. The gelding had all but tried to rip a guard limb from limb when he saw him standing too close, and since then Jace had to accompany you to the dragon pit whenever you wanted to visit. You’d always said they were two sides of the same coin. 

The dragon chuffed in his mouth, sounding like a small wail, and Jace knew he shared the sentiment of it as he pressed another kiss to the side of your head. 

“You stay safe, my mother and Daemon will take care of you,” He said, his brown hues unlike any Targeryen or Velaryon you had ever seen, but the ones you fell in love with nevertheless. Because it never mattered to you where he had come from, only that he was yours, “You stay with them at all times, yes?” 

“Yes, yes of course,” You shook your head with a smile, because he always did fuss over you, and it had only gotten worse since you’d become pregnant, “Nothing could ever take me from you, Jace,”

He smiled, somewhat ruefully, because both of you knew that wasn’t entirely true when you lived in the epicentre of a war, pressing another kiss to your hairline and heading for his saddle. He only hoped you were right. 

[shotmrmiller]

Mistress.

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB!Reader

TW: femdom! reader, slight degradation?, complete and utter submission, masturbation

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley, a hulking giant of a man, a solid figure of authority on base and the reaper itself on the field, passing through the enemy like smoke, taking their lives with him— had a big secret. To find out, even by chance, is a death sentence.

Simon on leave always went home to an empty flat. He just doesn't have the time to meet anyone, and he figures no one would want to have a relationship with someone who leaves for months on end and with little to no communication. But that didn't mean he did not want someone to spoil. Shower them with gifts and the money he accumulated over years of serving because he never had any time to spend it on anything other than basic necessities.

So once he was home, he indulged in his secret. His Mistress. You.

Sending £800 to your bank account, he sent a text.

'I'm home, Mistress.'

A reply, minutes later.

'You paid your tribute. I'll indulge you just this once, but you ought to remember we work on my schedule, not yours.'

'Of course, my Mistress. I humbly apologize.'

'I will be there in 30. You will not make me wait at the door.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

The Lieutenant was always overlooking something or someone on base, so you were perfect for him. You demanded complete control, and if not given, you took it regardless— and nothing was sweeter than having such a large man submit to you and only you.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You arrived outside his door, and without knocking just said, 'Simon.'

The front door was opened almost immediately, and you were greeted with Simon on his knees — you'll never get over how delicious he looks submitting to you even though he's so tall his head reaches your hipbones and you're in heels — with a collar already on his neck and the leash's handle on his raised palm. You step inside and watch him close the door.

'Good boy,' you murmur as you take the handle, 'Look at me.'

He lifts his head as you look down at him and you see his blue eyes soften at your outfit— which you'll never admit you purposefully put on, knowing it's his favorite based on past meetings.

You're wearing a pink latex corset dress with the laces tied tight on the entire back of the dress and the length of the dress reaches your upper thigh. For stockings, you have petal pink, sheer stay-ups, and your shoes are 'So Kate' 120mm in the same rosy color— and to finish the look, you've got on a long, black a-line wool coat that you're currently taking off and putting on the coat hanger by the front door.

Leash in hand, you walk towards the leather couch, hearing Simon's jeans dragging on his carpet as he crawls behind you before you turn and sit, crossing your legs.

"Permission to take your heels off, Goddess."

"Permission granted. You know what to do."

He takes your dainty foot in both his hands and presses his lips on your ankle, before moving on to the bridge of your foot. Squeezing the counter of your heel, he pulls it, and your toes slip from the shoebox— he gives a pathetic moan at the sight of your stocking-covered, white nail-polished toes.

Removing your other heel, he grabs both of your feet and places them flat on the floor before, still kneeling, he lowers his head to worship you, peppering kisses anywhere he can put his lips on.

You extend your toes and press them to his forehead, pushing him back up and away from you.

"That's enough."

He immediately kneels back on his haunches, and you look at his face to take in his body language. Pupils so large his iris is a thin blue ring, cheeks red and blotchy, mouth slightly agape as he let out shuddering wispy breaths.

Yanking on his collar, you open your legs and pull him to slot in between them. How his torso blankets your entire body makes your toes curl— and that he's still in a submissive pose and still massive makes your walls clench.

Simon, biting his lower lip, lets out a loud groan— gripping the side of the sofa cushions by your knees as his eyes gaze directly to the apex of your thighs. Right to your unclothed quim. Simon is the only sub that's ever seen you in any state of undress. He's the only one you'd fuck straight into his mattress if he begged, and he never looked so good than when he's begging you for attention.

You entangle your fingers into his ash-brown hair and pull, hard, to make eye contact and say, 'The next time you stare at anything other than my eyes without my explicit permission and I walk. I'll drain your bank account of every single pound and you'll thank me for it before I cut off all contact. This is your first and last warning."

Simon whimpers a pitiful little noise before jerking his head in an aggressive nod.

"Yes, my mistress."

You yank on his hair hard enough to wiggle his head a little and loudly say,

"Yes, my mistress what???"

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing, and proclaims, " Yes, my mistress. I am wholly unworthy of your beautiful gift. I deserve absolutely nothing from you."

Biting your lip, you let go of his hair and drag it down towards his jaw to softly cup his cheek.

In a faint, caressing voice you say, "Good boy. Staying in your place is easy once you're reminded of it."

You recline back, shift your eyes down to the monstrous bulge in Simon's pants before pressing your whole foot against his erection— noticing how there's still about 3 inches that your foot doesn't cover, jesus christ—

"What's this, then?", and you push your foot harder into him, and Simon gives a low moan, from deep in his chest— and he lowers his head, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open.

"Well? I asked a question and I did say it in english."

Simon raises his head and his eyes are glossy, scar across the corner of his upper lip whitening with how he thins them before answering.

"Oh, my Mistress, my Queen. I'm just so happy you're here, giving me your complete attention," and in a quieter, vulnerable tone says, "I missed this. Missed you."

That has your heart pounding against your rib cage. You clench your jaw— you cannot show Simon how exhilarated those words make you. You've been harboring the tiniest crush on Simon, and how could you not? Look at him. 6 foot 4, 320 pounds and he submits so beautifully. You'd ruin him. And with the small feel you've gotten from his cock, he'd definitely ruin you. But not now. Simon deserves a reward for being so good and obedient.

"Go on, pet. Show me how much you've really missed me. For you, I'll permit your release." Only for you.

Hands flying to his zipper, he takes his thick, long length out— what a fucking cock it was too, you can't wait to get your hands on it— he starts stroking it, skin bunching up at the flared head on the upstroke and Simon presses his thumb down on his slit. He lets out a hiss as he starts smearing the pre-come around the head and then smooths out the skin on the way down.

Your arm is stretched out holding your weight as you lean to the side, head tilted and you flick your eyes to Simon's face and you startle— Simon's holding direct eye contact, tongue wetting his bottom lip and you can feel heat radiating from your cheeks at the intensity of his stare.

You don't look away though. You stare right into his eyes as the room starts to fill with faster paced, wet, skin slapping noises— and Simon's eyes roll to the back of his head as his eyes close and you look back down to his cock, so hard, swollen red and slippery with his pre-come.

You can hear his teeth grinding together, shoulders stiffening and tattooed forearm vascular with how tight he's squeezing his cock and he chokes out, "Please, Mistress. Let me come, let me come, I'm so close—god"

" Come for your Mistress, Simon. Be a good boy and come for me."

Simon moans loud as his back bows forward and he encircles your ankle with his hand to stabilize himself as his length spurts rope after rope of thick cum inches from your toes— continuously stroking himself through the aftershocks and into oversensitivity.

He puts both palms flat on the floor as he gulps in big shaky breaths, arms trembling slightly. You stand up, carefully stepping around his come, and slip into your heels. Simon raises his head to look at you and— look at that simple, empty expression. You want to sit on that face 'til he repeatedly taps your thick thigh, begging for air— and tell him to clean up his mess. You put on your jacket, close it with the belt and leave.

Your pocket vibrates with a text, and tap the screen to read the text.

Simon: I beg you, my Angel. Let me look at your beautiful pussy as I come, next time.

You: You know what to do.

And then a notification from your bank.

Simon Riley has deposited £4000.

Pressing your phone screen to your chin as hold in a squeal, you cannot wait to get your hands on him.

'Only ever for you.'

A/N: i'd give all the cod boys the gawk gawk without question. at the same time. and valeria can sit on my face til i stop breathing.

[bunny-jpeg]

hiiii bunnnyyyyyy ! i'd like to request for pumpkin pie + vanilla cheesecake + berry trifle, with frozen latte + mint julep + dark roast coffee with max verstappen pleaaaasseeeeee :3

bakery menu!

want to submit an order? hit the menu up! there's tons of stuff to see! i've added new items to the menu to really spice things up! the small staff of bunnies (me) and the servers are here to take your order! don't want to suggest f1, then don't worry! there are tons of other fandoms to choose from! and thank you to this patron for such a lovely order! i see what you're envisioning here with the sub!max trope plus everything else. i hope you love it! enjoy! (also comments, reblogs & tags are greatly appreciated!!)

pumpkin pie ("i've met strays who were more obedient.") + vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + frozen latte (dumbification) + mint julep (punishments) + dark roast coffee (sub!character)

cw: smut/pwp, sub!max, dom!reader, punishments, dirty talk/degrading language, masturbation, teasing, jerking off, sex toys, mean!reader, filth (!!), mention of oral sex

you weren't with max. in all fairness the idea of being a wag felt a bit... wrong. you weren't the ideal woman for the prestige of formula one. a little rough around the edges. but yet in the sea of models in monaco, max was currently knelt down on the floor of your bedroom with his arms bound behind his back.

painfully panting at the feeling of you on your knees in front of him. stroking his cock. the soft noises from his lips as he tried to buck into your touch, but he knew what would happen if he tried to take more than he was given.

"god max. i've met strays who were more obedient." you sighed as you continued to jerk him off. your smaller hand around his painfully erect cock. the tip of it was almost purple from the blood rush.

it was making everything painfully dizzy for him. his tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he tried to form words. but there was nothing to be said. this was a punishment.

while in all fairness, you couldn't care less what place max came in. you often had the races on when you made breakfast. you knew very clearly that max was the best. but when he came in fourth in the most recent race, just slipping out of the podium. you weren't shocked that he wanted to see you after. flying back home to monaco to see his mistress.

it wasn't about love. after max's previous relationship went south very fast, he yearned for something different. he didn't need arm candy, he needed a woman that'll dip her fingers into the sick desires in his head. mess him up inside and out.

like you were now. jerking him off alongside a toy, keep orgasm just out of reach. you sighed, "where are your manners, verstappen? did you leave them on the track? you didn't even say please or thank you when i invited you into my home." you shook your head.

max dipped his head down and you grabbed him by the face with your free hand, forcing those blue eyes to look at you. he swallowed and felt like he was going to explode.

he swallowed deeply, "i'm sorry, miss. i'm sorry." his voice was tight. he was so painfully desperate. it made something curl in your stomach. it was hot in a way. having him bound like this.

his strong arms behind his back. you often wondered if maybe you should get a collar from that thick neck of his. the thought was amusing as you continued to pleasure him alongside the toy stuck to his cock via medical tape.

you kissed him lazily on the mouth and said, "see. you do know how to be good. but, you need to be better."

he nodded dumbly, "i will. i will." his tongue was loose when he got this deep. when he was using all of his willpower to keep it together. poor, poor max verstappen. needing to be punished for every little mistake.

if you don't do it, then he'll beat himself down to the bone. your time being a dom had led you to understand. that men desperate enough to let go of the control, often had skeletons in their closet.

and you had only scratched the surface in the six months you've been with max. you held his face in your hand and scratched his scalp with the other. it was almost affectionate.

you said lowly, "i need perfection, verstappen. i will not accept anything less. and you know this. i let it slide when you get onto the podium. i am forgiving. but slipping past third is unacceptable."

he nodded, "yes, miss. thank you for your kindness.'

you kissed him softly on the lips. your red lipstick stained the corner of the man's mouth. he whimpered a little and you smiled.

his voice was light as he said, "please, miss. i'm sorry."

you smiled then got onto the couch, which made max whine. but not too much, or else the punishment would be dragged out. you were naked like him and sat down. you got one leg up onto the couch and exposed your wet pussy to max.

you dragged your fingers across your sex before you sank your fingers in. you rubbed your clit a little as you pleasured yourself. you sighed, "you have so much to learn, max. i bet you don't even know how to make a woman cum. you formula boys are all so greedy. take, take, take and hurt whatever woman you want in the process." you shook your head, keeping your composure as you pleasured yourself.

he whined, "not to you. never to you, miss." his voice felt tight. he was starting to lose it. the pleasure was eating his brain and leaving mush behind.

you seemed almost bored, un-amused by max's desperation. leaving him out to dry as he withered against the toy taped to his swollen cock. you said, "right. because you're a good boy, right? well.. good boys get world championships. you're slipping verstappen. what's going to happen if norris or sainz beat you."

he swallowed and squirmed, "I'll do better next time, miss. please."

you felt a flame in your stomach as you pleasured yourself to max's sweet pleas. the promises of being better. to push himself to the next level. and while the games were fun, you could tell that max was getting too far gone. his self control was slipping.

the last thing you needed was a sub off the deep end. this was kink sex, not fucked up therapy. you pulled your fingers out of your sticky cunt then leaned back into the couch to get comfortable. you then said, "cum."

and a moan choked out max's throat. he hunched over and let out a strangled noise as he came all over himself. ropes of cum hit all the way to his chest. he was a sweaty, overstimulated mess. he thought he was going to collapse over himself from the intensity of it all.

you chuckled a little at the suddenness of it. you leaned forward on the couch, your bare cunt exposed to him. your legs spread open as an invitation for him. you took him by the hair of the hair and looked into his eyes. "and how do we thank me for being able to cum?"

he swallowed. those blue eyes gazed up at you, his breath staggering, "trips? money? anything!" he sounded almost desperate. it was a good look on him.

you yanked his hair a little and said, "wrong. try again."

he said, "giving my mistress the pleasure she deserves." before you pulled him right up against your soaked cunt and he got to work. the groan that left his lips as his face collided with your pussy made you shiver.

you had to give max credit. you was determined when it came to repaying what he felt like he owed you. this was not a romantic partnership. but as max looked up at you, his tongue against your sex. you wondered if like most things max did, he was hiding from a truth.

you pulled him closer to your pussy and let him indulge. which only made his cock twitch in alertness. it would be a long night, and you intended to use every moment of it <3

[suzukiblu]

Day fifteen of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: mentions of past grooming/abuse; mentions of homophobia. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Naw, naw, it was his name-name,” he says with another laugh. “Dude swore up and down it was Greek. And then I’m pretty sure he specifically went out of his way to find a ‘Leander’ to date just so he could validate that shit, because he absolutely did in fact date a super-ripped alien named Leander.” 

Tim pauses again, and isn’t sure if . . . 

Just something about the tone Kon was using and the look in the back of his eyes is sticking in his head a little, maybe. And he does in fact want to know if this guy at least is a valid source of intel in regards to anyone he might need to put on his supervillain hit list, so . . . 

“But he was cool?” he asks carefully. 

“Um–yeah,” Kon says, tearing up the last bite of his sandwich stack a little restlessly and watching himself do it more than making eye contact. Tim represses a frown. “Just, um–I wasn’t into him or anything, for the record, just he was, like . . . I kinda didn’t really know anybody else who was, like–who liked guys or whatever, before him. I mean, like–other guys who liked guys, I mean. And I didn’t know why I felt–like, how I felt about that. And then, like, not everybody was actually cool with him liking guys, and it was just kinda like . . .” 

He shrugs a little, then glances back at him. Tim stomps on so many invasive questions, and wonders again if Tim Drake is, like–an experiment, or if Kon has dated other guys before. Or at least liked other guys, anyway. He already said he hadn’t really done anything with any, and he said he wasn’t into this guy, but . . . 

“I didn’t even ever tell him I was, you know–like–” Kon shrugs again, then takes another grilled cheese off the stack and starts ripping bites off it too. “Like, whatever I am. Did not actually know that I was that at the time, admittedly, but then Tuftan put a collar on me and not remotely unclearly kept me as his pet and I had some memory problems goin’ at the time, and anyway I woke up to some real interesting, uh, realizations or whatever after that one.” 

“. . . I’m sorry, I know this is a serious conversation and you’re telling me something important, but did you just tell me that your gay awakening was a tiger-king who was keeping you as a pet?” Tim asks, trying not to laugh because, like, clearly Kon is being serious, but oh god, what are their actual lives? What is Kon’s actual life? 

“I mean, technically he was still the prince then,” Kon mutters under his breath, flushing in embarrassment with a sheepish laugh and half-hiding his face with the hand not currently full of incredibly-cheap-but-still-calorie-packed grilled cheese. “Listen, he was just real nice to me while I was all fucked-up and freaked-out about a whole lot of shit, okay, and I swear to god, babe, if you make one single furry joke I will actually go throw myself in a volcano and die, so please have mercy?” 

“I am the most merciful guy you know,” Tim lies, and feels a weird sort of–just a weird feeling, kind of, because Kon would never ask Robin something like that. He’d just get irritated or pissed off or defensive. He wouldn’t just–ask, and think there was any chance he’d actually agree not to do something like that. “Won’t hear a word about it out of me.” 

Though he’s not gonna pretend that the fact that Kon apparently had a crush on a guy who was effectively taking care of everything he needed in life isn’t a good sign for his cul-de-sac plans. 

Maybe Kon’s just more into castles. Tim could get him a castle. Get one built or just import one, he doesn’t know. 

“Uh–thanks,” Kon says, still looking sheepish even as he smiles at him again. “Look, literally not even my fault, alright, if you’d met the dude you’d know. He is literally the tiger from Zootopia who would treat you right, okay? Like, I watched that movie and was like ‘huh okay this is a mortifyingly familiar experience’ the friggin’ moment that scene came on.” 

Tim briefly remembers a couple of tiger-themed memes that he remembers seeing around the time that movie dropped, then decides not to go down that rabbit hole or learn anything new about himself today. Like–not anything else new, anyway.

He has maybe learned a few too many new things about himself lately, admittedly. 

Or, uh . . . definitely, yeah. 

[happy74827]

Can you make more Joe Goldberg? You did such aan amazing job on the first one that I NEED a second one. Just please consider. Thank. Love your fics btw 💖💖💖

Lily of the Valley

[Joe Goldberg x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Coffee might not be his favorite, but things can change when it involves a person like you.

WC: 659

Category: Fluff

Fortunately, I already had this small idea in mind for our lovely stalker man and this request really just put the icing on top of the cake. Hopefully it fulfills your needs 🙌 (also you’re too sweet… thank you so much for the kind words 💞)

『••✎••』

Coffee. The hard, hot, and bitter drink that is the reason many people get out of bed each day and the reason why some people stay up until the early hours of the morning. He never understood the appeal.

But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the smell of coffee beans roasting, the smell of fresh ground beans being poured into a filter, and the smell of the finished product. He didn't understand how something so bitter and disgusting could have such a calming and comforting smell.

Joe had been sitting in a booth in a coffee shop for the past few hours, watching the world outside go by, sipping a small mug of tea, and his current read, "The Woman In The Window" by A.J Finn, in front of him. His eyes were trained on the people going by, not really taking much of anything in. He was on autopilot, a default setting he slipped into whenever his mind was full of something else.

It was only when a waitress with a short, black pixie cut walked over to his table that his eyes come back into focus, and his thoughts began to slow down. She didn't look like she belonged in a coffee shop. With a long, floral dress, combat boots, and a cardigan, she was far too pretty and too interesting to be serving lattes. She was a rose in a garden full of daisies, a peacock among chickens.

Then, like a snap to reality, the sound of his name pulled him away from her and onto… you. The whole reason he was here in the first place.

If he thought the waitress was a rose, you were a whole bouquet.

"Jonathan! Are you going to order anything, or are you just going to keep sitting there, scaring all our other employees?" You said a laugh in your voice.

He hadn't even noticed the waitress had already left, and now, you were standing by the table, holding a coffee pot.

Yeah, he needs to stop letting his thoughts take over.

"No, no, I was just, uh, reading."

"Reading a book, or reading her?" You said, cocking your head to the side, indicating the waitress who had moved on to another table.

"Reading the book."

"Mhm, sure." You said, not at all convinced. God, he just wanted to kiss the smirk off your face. Those pretty lipstick-covered lips moving against his.

You shook your head, smiling.

"You want a muffin… or something? On the house, since you're a regular and all."

He looked down at the book again, then back up at you. Unlike the waitress, you were dressed for work in a black, collared shirt tucked into black pants and a black apron tied around your waist.

It told him a lot about you, like the fact that you were a rule follower organized. The other waitress played confidence to stand out. You wanted to blend in, but still, he noticed.

How could he not notice you?

"Sure."

"Blueberry, right? Your usual."

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll be back in a second."

You had just turned to leave before you spun on your heel and stopped.

"And, Jonathan,” you paused. "That book in your hands? Wonderful read."

As you walked away, he realized how his heart had started to beat faster, and he couldn't stop the grin on his face.

A bouquet? No, you were something far more rare and far more beautiful than that.

You were an orchid.

And when you returned with that perfectly shaped muffin and that award-winning smile, Joe decided this would be the last time he ever chased a woman. Because this one?

You?

It was as though you were a mix between all his past loves and yet someone entirely new.

You were that new orchid in the greenhouse, the lily of the valley, and he wanted to nurture you and make you grow.

It's time to stop blending in; he would bring you out to bloom.

[pinkcaraz]

obsessed - c. alcaraz

c. alcaraz x f!reader

summary: you really don't want carlos to get a haircut.

wc: 1.3k

tags/warnings: suggestive, fluff, implied oral sex, making out.

a/n: posting this to cope with the fact that we're probs gonna lose fluffy hair pinkcaraz 😔. as you can probably tell, i don't speak spanish, so please feel free to correct me. as always, likes, reblogs, feedback, etc. are always appreciated! if you want to be tagged in any future writing, please lmk. i might make an official taglist form later if enough people want to be tagged. thanks and hope you enjoy!

it’s one of his days off. thankfully, you and carlos have been enjoying a relaxing vacation at home after several long weeks of traveling and tournaments. for the past few days, the two of you have been making the most of his time off by sleeping in and lounging around at home for most of the day. today, however, the absence of your personal heater next to you rouses you from your comfortable sleep early. you blindly pat his side of the bed just to be sure, and when you don’t find him, you lazily crack your eyes open to look for him. sitting up in bed, you find him half dressed, just starting to get ready for the day. 

“lo siento, did i wake you?” he asks apologetically while fondly watching you rub your eyes from sleep. you look so cute with your sleepy expression and wild bed hair, it makes his heart flutter. he stops what he’s doing to sit next to you on the bed and places a soft good morning kiss on your forehead. 

you yawn and shake your head smiling. “it’s okay. what are you doing? where are you going?” you ask, trying to smooth down your unruly hair. carlos laughs softly and brushes back a few strands that fall into your face.

“i thought i would go run some errands, maybe go get a haircu-”

“no!”

“‘no?’ what do you mean ‘no?’”

shit, did you just say that out loud? you’re still a little hazy from sleep, and clearly, your brain-to-mouth filter isn’t working at full capacity yet. 

when you don’t answer him right away, carlos presses on. “do you not want me to get a haircut? do my haircuts not look good?” he asks with his pretty brown puppy-dog eyes and signature pout.

you’ve really dug yourself into a hole here. “no, charlie, you always look good,” you respond quickly. and it’s true, he does always look good to you, even when he comes home with his goofy ass fade and you’re forced to mourn his soft, fluffy hair. at just the mere mention of a haircut, you’re already lamenting the loss of his current look. he’s been overseas for a few weeks now, so it’s been a while since he last went to see his barber. his hair has grown out a bit on the sides and especially in the front, where it curls and falls just above his eyes. he looks so good like this, it drives you insane sometimes. 

you distinctly remember an incident just last week where you couldn’t take it anymore and basically jumped his bones as soon as he wrapped up his post-match press conference. he had played so well that day. watching him absolutely glowing, dashing back and forth on court, had you so incredibly worked up. his hair was also slightly ruffled from a vigorous match and him occasionally brushing it out of his eyes. despite that, it still looked perfectly soft. you didn’t care that he was still sweaty from the match, you had to have him close so you could run your hands through his hair and ruffle it up even more. 

with unwavering determination, the second carlos stepped out of the press room, you were leading him down an empty hallway of the stadium. once the two of you were away from prying eyes, you had pulled him in by the collar for a searing kiss. as much as he was surprised, he knew better than to interrupt you when you were like this, so he played along, backing you up and caging you against the wall. your resulting gasp allowed him to lick past your lips, into your mouth, teasing you. with one hand still clinging to the collar of his shirt, your other hand reached up to tangle itself in carlos’ hair, bringing him impossibly closer to you. completely engrossed in you, he continued licking and nipping at your bottom lip until you were panting hard. when you gently pulled him back by his hair so you could catch your breath, he let out a soft moan, sending a shiver down your spine. your eyes met, both dark with want, and he dove back in, assertively pressing his soft lips to yours before moving to bury his face in your neck. when he tentatively nibbled at your pulse point, you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair ever so slightly. this had him increasing the intensity of his attention to your neck with a satisfied smirk on his face. you were running your fingers through his hair in appreciation when you heard voices down at the end of the hall, forcing you to drag him off of you. 

you were dreamily reminiscing about how you had quickly pulled him somewhere else more private to finish what you started when carlos’ voice interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. “then, por qué no?” he asks, referring back to you not wanting him to get a haircut.

“um…well…it’s just- uh-,” you stutter in response. you clearly have an answer – you’re a little obsessed with his hair grown out – but you don’t want to tell him that outright. feeling embarrassed from being in this position and also still slightly flustered from the memory, your cheeks burn. you get that look on your face that says you’re thinking unsavory thoughts about him, and ever-observant carlos starts to pick up on how you’re feeling at the moment.

with a mischievous grin and a teasing tone, he keeps pushing you to answer. “dime, amor. you can tell me anything.” at this point, he’s leaning in so close to you, practically crawling up your body, so you’re forced to lay back on the bed while he hovers over you.

“i just, uh, really like your hair like this is all.”

“oh, de verdad? is that really all you were thinking about? you weren’t thinking about yesterday?” he questions deviously while holding himself up on top of you, slotted in between your legs. 

yesterday. yesterday, as in, when the both of you were in the same position in bed. except, then, he was lower down, attentively nipping and sucking a path from your inner thighs upwards. your hands were tangled in his hair, pulling groans from him and directing him closer to the burning ache between your legs. that yesterday. 

uh oh, he’s caught you. he’s probably known this whole time that you’re obsessed – not that you were really trying to hide it or anything – and when you finally realize, you whine and cover your face from embarrassment. 

“well, no i wasn’t thinking about yesterday, but i am now,” you grumble out. thinking back, you subconsciously try to squeeze your thighs together at the memory, but because carlos is still positioned with an evil little smile between your legs, you can’t. you can hear him trying to hold back his laughter, so from behind your arms, you mumble, with no venom behind it, “you’re the worst.”

“ok, well if i’m the worst, then i guess i should get up so i can go get a haircut then,” he teases while moving to get up off of you. 

before he can get anywhere, you pull him back so that he’s plopped on top of you and wrap yourself around him like a koala. “nooooo, don’t go,” you whine into the crook of his neck and snuggle even closer to him. “please.” 

the way you hold him close has him melting. he can’t deny you when you’re this adorable. “ok, fine,” he mumbles endearingly into your hair as he presses a sweet kiss to the top of your head. carlos then wraps his own arms around you in a bear hug and rolls over so that you’re the one laying on top of him. pulling the blankets back up, he settles the both of you back into bed so the two of you can cuddle the rest of the day away. 

taglist: @yungbludz

[kiame-sama]

Would Papa Hades mind if I rant to him my frustration over how people always make him a ‘Bad Guy’ in our world?

Whenever Movies that have Greek Mythology in it, it always pissed me off when they make Hades the Villain (I feel like it’s just because Hades is the God of the Underworld that automatically makes him ‘Evil’)

Literally out of ALL the Greek Gods, Hades is actually the NICEST of the Gods (He was willing to let a mortal man take his wife out of the Underworld but he must not look at her because she’ll be sent back during the journey until they leave his realm) and was never unfaithful to his beloved Persephone

There was a myth that he had ONE lover, but that was BEFORE he met his Beloved

Would Papa Hades appreciate that I don’t see him as evil just because he rules over the Underworld? (Because since he’s one of the Great Seven so he’ll naturally be feared for his powers and authority)

Warnings: Papa Hades in his 50ft form, comforting ancient Shinigami, daily allotted sunshine/shade garden time,

For reference, this is approximately the current height difference:

~~~~~~~~

"-but I mean, why do they always have to make Hades out to be bad? I don't think my Hades is bad and I don't think you're bad either. You're probably the only one I've met in this world who didn't immediately try to make decisions for me. You haven't collared me, or taken me away from where I want to be, or tried to control me in any way. You're even letting me sit on your shoulder and talk your ear off in the garden because I wanted some time away from it all!"

The giant Shinigami was leaning his cheek on his hand, listening attentively to your every word. You both were seated upon a shadowy throne he had summoned in the stone and briar garden of Ramshackle. It was a good distance away from the building itself and no one was willing to tell the Shinigami he couldn't protect you.

Deep in the shadows, watchful eyes thought better of challenging a being of myth and power. Some were dissuaded from the prospect altogether, seeing such an ancient being so casually attending the soft Human prize. Not all who hunted sought harm, but even the insane knew better. Smaller predators will almost always give space to a bigger predator. No need to die this day.

The giant Shinigami was enjoying the history lessons from your world, curious that your own history had beings so similar to him that even shared his name. He also appreciated the fact you were so passionately defending his doppelganger in your world. Truthfully, the similarities between him and the Hades of your world was not lost on him. Perhaps the Humans of your world were originally from Twisted Wonderland and simply forgot over time after crossing to a different realm. If that were the case then he had much to consider.

Still, he appreciates how relaxed you are around him, now trusting in his willingness to act in your best interest. He had always afforded all of the Humans under his protection the ability to choose. The only difference now was he had to keep a closer eye on you than he did the Humans leaving his isle.

"I'm glad to be living up to your expectations, Little One. So long as it is your wish to stay here, I will aid you however I can. Young Idia has updated your phone to contact me directly should you ever have need. I must say, it is nice to hear of your home, you speak so little about it. I'm sure you have your reasons, so I won't pry. I'm thankful you trust me enough to share all of this with."

"Well, it's hard not to trust you. You've kind of been amazing."

It soothed the wounded depths of the old Shinigami's heart to hear such earnest words. You truly did trust him and he treasured that more than you would likely ever know. The mourning shawl had adorned him many long centuries. Those centuries were some of the most painful for him, yet that pain was lessened and balmed by your simple trust and affection. He treasured that.

[satorhime]

trouble comes twice ࿐ gojo satoru x female reader. satoru falls ill with a case of baby fever after seeing his baby girl dressed up as him.

content . ᕀ gojo and reader are parents [ referred to as ‘dada’ & ‘mama’ ], brief mention of pregnancy, emotional!gojo, sweet fluff with slightly suggestive dialogue at the end. 

“dada- dada, look at me!” 

your daughter screeches out, announcing her arrival with the bright and melodic babble of a mischievous child. she stands on her tippy toes, her fingers covering your own as she helps you twist the knob and open the door to satoru’s office. 

even now, he forgets that he’s a father, until he is reminded in the most wonderful way. sometimes, your five-year-old will beg to wake satoru up two hours before he has to go to work just so they can play with her dolls together, or she’ll step all over his toes as she squeezes in between him and the kitchen counter while the three of you cook dinner together or like right now, crashing towards him with all the subtlety of a carpet bomb of cursed energy— so eager to show off her costume that her feet accidentally stumble over your heels. 

dressed up as a miniature version of him. 

his lips curve into an instant grin, pressing the button on the screen of the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder to end his current call.  the sound of the higher up scolding him cutting off sharp and abrupt makes his grin widen. they can wait, but his baby girl cannot. twisting in his chair, he catches his daughter just as she collides against him with an audible oof. 

“did we interrupt an important call?” you greet him, a soft smile on your glossy lips as you walk around the large desk satoru is seated at. you pat a hand to his knee before leaning against the edge of his desk. “sorry, i tried to get her to wait.” 

“you kiddin’? nothing’s more important than my two best girls,” he says, tugging at the bottom edge of his blindfold to drag it down, his expression playful as he watches his daughter copy him. she hurriedly removes her own blindfold, a tiny scrap of cloth covering her summer blue eyes. 

“so who are you?” he teases her, twitching one milky brow at the bouncing toddler in front of him. “where’s princess? did a curse finally eat my snotty kid?”  

“i’m the strongest!” your daughter chirps excitedly, crisscrossing two baby fingers to mimic his domain summon. 

your bitty sprout is so precious with her tiny white curls, tied into two space buns and her black blindfold that she scratches at with the back of her fist. not to mention, the bottom half of her cherub face is covered by the high collar of the jacket she’s wearing, identical to gojo’s standard uniform and the result of you staying up all night at your sewing machine, shredding one of his spares into a costume for your daughter. 

looking at her like this, she really is a tinier, stickier version of gojo satoru. 

“the strongest, huh? look at that, you’re already my favorite child. megumi would never offer to take my place so i can retire early.” 

“satoru…” you start, shaking your head in half-hearted exasperation. “when she picks up your sass and uses it against you, i’ll be the first to say “i told you so.’” 

“worried you’ll be outnumbered, mama?” he shoots the words at you, flashing a smile that amusement drizzles from like sweet icing. 

you roll your eyes, and then he turns back to his daughter, reaching down to effortlessly gather her against his broad chest before he pulls gently at one of her fat cheeks, nuzzling her close. “how come you chose to dress up as me, jellybean? it’s not october.” 

“i’m going to a costume party for keigo and haru,” she explains excitedly, her little face brightening at the mention of suguru’s sons. “but mama couldn’t find scarlet witch costume.” 

“oh, ouch,” he whines dramatically, placing a hand over his heart and pretending to be wounded by her open honesty. “wound me some more.” 

“dada, you’re so dramatic,” she giggles at him, and though satoru’s genetics may have overpowered your own for the most part, the roll of her eyes is a trait she learned directly from you. 

“second place is a serious injury, little princess. i should go see if shoko’s awake to make sure i’m not dying-”

“i wanted to dress up as dada because he’s a hero, like avengers,” she cuts him off, so perceptive and honest. your daughter latches on to the collar of his jacket so she can pull his head closer and plant him a slobbery mwah! on his cheek, and if you see gojo’s eyes mist over, glassy ocean blue from tears, you don’t comment on it. 

“down, please,” she requests, grunting and wriggling until he sets her down on the floor with a wobbly chuckle. unaware that her father’s expression has glazed over, his mind spiraling from her words. 

gojo satoru doesn’t even shed tears at funerals, but right now? his eyes flicker to you desperately, and you soften like clouds, nodding silently. 

“sweet pea, the party starts at 3:30 so you have plenty of time to show megumi-nii your costume, why don’t you?” you suggest, giving your boyfriend a moment to discreetly wipe the wet away from his cheeks. sure, he’s seen his students grow into formidable sorcerers that he is infinitely proud of and sure, he may have gotten choked up once or twice while snapping memories of megumi’s important milestones— like his middle school graduation, and that one time he didn’t insult gojo loudly when he picked him up from class in front of his peers— but this…? this overwhelms him, the kind of love he feels right now.

this love… this love is so different, something he’s never experienced before. it’s unlike quick flings brought home from bars, trying to lift the weight off his shoulders for a couple of hours with a pretty face. it’s unlike the near religious idolization from his clan, smothering him with their expectations and obsessive admiration. it’s whole and pure— it’s his family, his true one. it’s you and your baby girl driving away his loneliness like sunlight chases down bad dreams. 

“okay, mama!” she agrees, nodding.

“but go directly to his room. remember where it is?” 

“i remember!” 

“i’ll be right behind you after i talk to your da. don’t annoy megumi-nii too much, ‘kay?” you turn around, opening the door to let your daughter out of satoru’s office and into the long corridor where you watch as she waddles in the direction to megumi’s room. when you can no longer see her, you step back into the office and shut the door before turning to look at your boyfriend. “she’s so excited to go to this party. it’s supposed to be superhero-themed and she wanted to dress up as wanda maximoff, but- are you still crying?” 

satoru barely remembers moving so quick, reaching out to hook one of his strong arms around your waist to pull you into his lap sideways.. he barely remembers cupping your cheeks into his big palms as if you’re his most precious thing, a goddess that carved out a piece of heaven for him to hold here on earth. your body is rounded and soft, a comfort to him when his emotions get the best of him. his eyes, pale blue like the northern glaciers, flicker over your face— to your expression that is more than concerned, and your lips that are parting to ask if he’s okay, and then, he’s kissing you—

you gasp, but your initial surprise melts into love, like a piece of chocolate held between your fingertips for too long, because you know what came over him now. you feel it too sometimes, when you see him bonding with your baby girl. it’s sweet, the way he spells words into those kisses— gratitude, affection, and something a little more primal that you can’t place. 

god, he knows you can feel his tears, saltine as they slip traitorously down his cheeks to pool in between the cracks of your joined lips.

when he pulls away a little, you wipe his wet cheeks with your thumbs, your heart tender from the aches until he ruins the moment by whispering four words against your lips that make your big doe eyes widen to full moons. 

“i want another one.” 

huh.

“are you crazy?” you whisper-shout, laying a fist against his chest to keep him from moving closer and indulging him in another kiss. before jellybean was born, having a child together had not been in either of your wishlists for the future, but two pale pink lines gleaming on your bathroom counter five years ago had changed everything and now, you couldn’t imagine life without her. 

but another one? 

“don’t tell me you’re getting baby fever just because she dressed up as you.” 

satoru doesn’t know what has come over him. he never wanted to have children of his own anyway. it was one of those stubborn pacts he made with himself when he was young and flippant. but seeing his baby girl dressed up as him— calling him a hero above all of his faults and failures— is making him want an entire litter with you, a dream team.

“she said i was a hero. i need to hear that from at least one more little me.” 

“we’re not having another baby just to feed your ego, satoru,” you shake your head. “i mean it so stop giving me that look!” 

“what look?”

“that look, the one that tells me you want to bend me over your desk right now,” you huff, “i have a party to go to.” 

“but she was so cute in her little costume, wasn’t she? we make cute kids, i told you that the first time you let me-” 

“i should have left you at dinner that night.” 

“but you didn’t,” he says, grinning toothily, his long, pale fingers sneaking under the hem of your shirt to tease at soft skin underneath. he’s got you already, and he knows it. “just like you ain’t gonna leave this office without another baby in you.”

꒰ LOLLYNOTE ꒱: waaaah, i hope you enjoyed this lil piece ! this was a bit selfshippy and totally self indulgent but i hope you love it anyways <3 thank you to @sleepygetou for letting me use her darling babie ocs keigo & haru too 🥹

[paranoiddreams]

Hello! It's currently Halloween where I am, so what about reader taking any of the JJK men to Halloween Horror night where they get chased by clowns and all kinds of creepy cosplay. 100 points if any of them scream like a girl or puff up like a cat.

You can choose which JJK men. 😊

Happy Halloween 🎃

SCREAM! (HC)

🎃 [Inc.] Satoru, Sukuna, Yuji, Megumi

🎃 Warnings!! - fem!reader, some swearing, descriptions of (fake) blood/gore, movies/shows like The Exorcist, Chucky, Stranger Things, The Last of Us, Beetlejuice, and The Haunting of Hill House, cocky Satoru (what’s new), Megumi’s is terribly sweet, lol, Yuji’s is actually a lil sad I didn’t intent that lmao

🎃 A/n!! - Hello!!! Thank you so much for the ask, I’m currently working on another ask, but thought that I should get this one out before Halloween ends! If I don’t manage to, I’m sincerely sorry, but I hope you enjoy this anyways! I also haven’t been to any of the haunted houses I mention, so if the experience is inaccurate I apologize hehe. Have a happy Halloween to everyone who celebrates it, and a wonderful night to everyone who doesn’t!🫶🏻🤍

🍡Satoru🍡

Satoru is ALL FOR the idea

In fact, he was the one who brought it up. 

Going to a theme park to get a good scare, AND have his girlfriend cling to his arm the whole night?

That’s a plan if he’s ever heard one. 

“You can hold onto me if you get scared, love~”

Y/n looks up at Satoru, a smile playing on her lips. “Me? Are you sure you won’t get scared, Toru?”

Satoru laughs, waving off the idea with his hand. “You kidding, love?! I’m the strongest, how could I get scared?”

He’s eating his words by the third haunted house. 

The first was alright, just an alien invasion walk through, which he found himself practically flying through. 

You, in the other hand, took his offer to your advantage, and held onto his arm every time a slimy animatronic creature popped out of the wall. 

“Don’t look so smug, Toru,” y/n scoffs as they walk out of the first haunted house, her heart still racing a bit. 

“I don’t even need my 6 eyes to tell that you’re scared, baby! It’s okay to admit I was right—I usually am,” Satoru smiles, leaning down to kiss her cheek, only to be met with a scowl. 

“Whatever…”

Boy are you happy when you both enter an exorcist themed haunted house, and Satoru’s body stiffens significantly beside you. 

It’s dark, and thick fog fills the house as you both walk through. 

There’s screaming and growling in the distance, which seems to move around the house. 

You’re holding onto Satoru’s arm even tighter, but his smug smile is nowhere to be seen.

The last room of the house comes into view, a wave of relief washing over the couple as they walk eagerly to the door. 

When Satoru twists the handle, the old wood creaking loudly, an actor dressed as a priest jumps out. 

“Help! Help!” The man screams, his white collar stained with blood. He’s then seemingly dragged to the side of the room, a growl emitting from the corner. 

Satoru walks hesitantly inside, y/n clinging to his side. Another actor, a little girl resembling the same one in the movie this house took inspiration from, is standing over the priest, blood and black liquid dripping from her mouth. 

Y/n screams, running towards the exit on the other side of the room. She drags Satoru along, his face pale and frozen in fear. 

Yk the face Satoru pulled when he first met Megumi? 

Yeah, that’s what he looks like when you both leave the haunted house. 

He can feel his heart beating rapidly, but puts on a brave face for you, of course. 

That is, until the third, and last house of the night. 

You insisted, since the haunt was based off of the show “The Last of Us”, and you both had watched it earlier that year

But little did you know, Satoru was nervously biting the inside of his cheek each episode.

But how could he say no to you when you looked so sweet, looking up at him with those adorable eyes of yours???

“Last one. It’s…getting late.”

Y/n looks up at Satoru as they both walk towards the, apparently, last house of the night. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Satoru Gojo,” she smiles, reaching a finger up to poke his cheek. 

He grabs her hand, stopping her from touching his face. “Don’t tease me, love, you can’t talk,” he says, putting her finger between his teeth. 

“Shut up!” Y/n pouts, pulling her finger back. 

“Trust me, you’re going to want to leave after this one,” Satoru says, looking up at the large haunted attraction they’re about to enter. 

Satoru thinks he’s got everything together when you first walk in, more interested in the set they’ve built and how accurate it is to the show

Until the first clicker pops out and he’s brought back to the scenes of the show that made him nearly jump off of the couch. 

He quite literally screams like a little girl, his mask falling off, which only blinds the actor decorated in the costume that scared Satoru in the first place. 

Now they’re both screaming, and you’re off to the side with a shell-shocked expression, wondering to yourself how this even happened. 

“Baby…don’t be mad, please?”

“Satoru…” you grumble, looking out the window of his car, “we’re banned for life…”

“Honestly…” he sighs, “wasn’t even thinking of going back after that.”

Y/n glares at him from the passenger seat, her arms crossed over her chest. But when she remembers the screams of her boyfriend, the actor, and a little boy behind them who happened to witness the incident, a snort escapes her lips. 

“You’re such a dork,” she laughs, leaning over the center console to grab his hand, kissing his knuckles. “I didn’t want to go back after the first house anyways.”

🫀Sukuna🫀

He is not amused one bit.

Why the hell would humans create a whole event just to dress up and scare themselves? It’s stupid!

But when you ask him so sweetly to attend with you, he can’t find it in himself to say no.

“This night will be a waste of time,” Sukuna grumbles down at y/n as they walk around the crowded amusement park, actors dressed as demons, vampires, clowns, and zombies jumping out to scare people.

When one of them, a man in an elaborate clown getup, comes up screaming, honking a horn in y/n’s face, Sukuna can feel his anger boil. It takes every ounce of his cursed-being, and a harsh squeeze of his hand from his girlfriend, for him to compose himself and walk away.

“Sukuna, do not—“

“What were they thinking?! Getting in your face, invading your space like that!” He grumbles, his hand still in y/n’s. “Assholes…”

You decide to take him into a haunted house, hoping it’ll be a little less invasive.

There are various options every year, but you’re happy that this year includes a movie you both watched, and Sukuna didn’t seem too annoyed by:

Beetlejuice.

He even chuckled a few times!

“Oh? That movie? Yes, I remember,” Sukuna says, recounting the movie as soon as y/n points to the cryptic house in the distance.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much effort for her to take him inside of the attraction; he was practically the one dragging her in, actually.

With a wicked smile, Sukuna looks at the surroundings of the house as music blares through hidden speakers, the familiar purple and green theme of the movie throughout. He holds y/n’s hand while walking through the halls, seemingly unfazed by the actor leading them through, and the animatronics jumping out at every corner to scare them.

He starts to feel his distaste for ‘frivolous human events’ quickly turns to amusement when y/n practically clings to him even more throughout the house. Every jumpscare, loud noise, or enthusiastic actor that pops out and sends waves of fear through her body no longer gets a death stare from Sukuna; rather, he finds himself laughing at the little effort it takes his girlfriend, relishing in the feeling of priority he gets every time she squeezes his fingers or bicep.

When they come towards the end of the house, and the infamous character of Beetlejuice comes out himself, y/n is initially really giddy and pulling Sukuna towards him to take a picture.

But when they go, one of the huge, iconic sandworms from the movie pops out in front of them. That, including the cackling laughs of the actor portraying Beetlejuice, elicit a horrified scream from y/n, while Sukuna is openly chuckling as she pulls him out.

He’s shaking his head as you both leave, but can’t help the small smile on his face when he looks down to see you still holding onto his muscular arm.

You’re even laughing now, telling him how much of a thrill that was.

He thinks he’s starting to understand why humans come to places like this by the time the moon has risen high in the sky, and a glint of exhaustion sparkles in your eyes.

As the car drives down the nearly empty highway, soft music playing from the radio, y/n leans her head on the window. Her eyes flutter closed every few moments, the memories of that night flashing in her mind.

“Hey, brat,” sukuna calls softly from the driver’s seat, his hand gripping the steering wheel, “you’re that tired, huh?”

Y/n lifts her head, looking over at her boyfriend in the sliver of moonlight pouring through his window.

“Yeah,” she hums, resting her hand atop his on the center console, “I had a lot of find today, Kuna.”

Sukuna thinks about suppressing his smile as he usually does, but when he looks over at y/n and sees her sleepy eyes, he can’t. She won’t even remember this tomorrow, he thinks.

“I did too, surprisingly.”

Y/n lifts her head slightly, a smile slowly forming on her lips. “You did?” She asks. “You really did?”

“I really did,” Sukuna sighs, looking at the road ahead. “Human’s aren’t entirely stupid, I suppose; but the whole Halloween tradition is still meaningless to me.”

Y/n giggles, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. “So you’ll go with me again next year?”

Sukuna turns his head to look at her, a flash of amusement in his eyes. She wants to go again?

“Silly girl,” he smiles, lifting her hand up to his lips, “you want to indulge in something that made you shake in terror again?”

Y/n shrugs her shoulders, blushing a bit at the feeling of his lips against her skin.

“You scare me, but I come back to you every night, don’t I?”

“Hmm…you’re very right, little lamb.”

⭐️Yuji⭐️

Another boy who’s all for it

He’s actually been to many Halloween themed parks ever since he was a kid, his grandpa usually taking him. 

“He was a sucker for a good scare!” He’d tell you, an enthusiastic smile on his face. 

Sobbing and crying. 

So ofc, you’re putting on your bravest face the whole time in order not to ruin his night. 

“Babe! Babe! Look, there’s a house for stranger things! And the Exorcist, annnnd Chucky! We have to go to the Chucky one, please baby?!”

Y/n, looking around with a subtle sweat building at her hairline, sends him the best smile she can. “Y-yeah! Let’s go, Yuj…”

Yuji takes his girlfriend’s hand, dragging her along like a kid in a candy store. He points out each detail of the park, screaming and cackling every time an actor jumps out to scare both of them. 

Y/n on the other hand…is a mess on the inside. She uses every ounce of her being to put on a smile, and force out those breathy-fake laughs she hates doing so much. 

But it’s all worth it each time she sees Yuji’s perfect smile, or hears his infectious laugh. 

Yuji drags you to the Chucky attraction first, a giddy pep to his step. 

You’re trying not to shake too much as screaming and music boom from inside the house, grabbing onto your boyfriend’s hand tightly. 

But of course, your sweet, sweet baby Yuji only takes this as your equal excitement, dragging you faster towards the house. 

The walls are painted bright shades of yellow, red, blue, and decorated with various pictures of the doll the house is based on, music and childish laughter flowing through the speakers hidden throughout. 

“Woah! Look at how elaborate this place is!” Yuji couldn’t be more excited, looking around with his big, curious, brown eyes, and a smile. 

But y/n, she can only focus on the anxiety creeping up her spine as they walk through the maze-like halls, a constant feeling of fear nagging at her. She tries to shove it down, but each and every time the red-headed demonic doll pops out of the walls or paintings, she can’t help but scream like a little girl. 

Yuji doesn’t really notice, too busy screaming and laughing himself; only, he’s thrilled to have the constant rush of fear flowing through him. 

Y/n, standing next to him and squeezing his hand, is starting to chip away at her pride and confidence. 

It isn’t until the stranger things haunted house that Yuji realizes something is wrong with the way you’re acting. 

Throughout the first half of the tour, you seem fine, gazing at the LED lights and elaborate set pieces that are so similar to the show

But when the first loud bang, and cloud of thick fog, rolls in, he can practically feel you shaking next to him. 

“Baby…are you okay?”

Y/n looks up, Yuji’s face illuminated by the red LED lights surrounding them. “Yeah, what are you talking about, Yuji?” She smiles back at him, swinging their arms together in between them as they walk. 

Yuji decides not to push her any further, instead continuing down the twisting halls of the haunted house. 

But when they both turn a corner, and a large demogorgon rips through a slimy, grotesque ‘portal’ in the wall, y/n looses all confidence, her terrified state finally coming to fruition. 

This time, Yuji isn’t laughing at the high-tech animatronic jump scares. It takes one glance over at his pretty girlfriend’s face twisted in a genuinely horrified scream for him to pick her up bridal style, and run towards the exit. 

It takes at least five minutes of you reassuring him your fine before he puts you back down lmao

He’s so worried, pressing his fingers to your pulse every few minutes to check if your heart is slowing down. 

He genuinely feels so so bad for not noticing your fear sooner, feeling like the worst boyfriend ever. 

But you assure him it was you who didn’t want to show your fear, putting on a face for him. 

“But…why didn’t you just tell me, y/n? We could’ve left way earlier!”

Y/n looks down at the wooden picnic table they snagged, picking at the decrepit wood. “I know…but you were so excited, and I didn’t want to be a big baby about it.”

Yuji’s heart breaks, and he leans over to wrap his arms around you tightly. “Baby, please, you could never be a big baby about anything,” he says into her hair, “if you’re scared of something, hell, I’m terrified of it. We never have to come back again.”

Y/n pulls away, looking into his eyes. “No, no, Yuji, we can’t! You love this place, we can—“

“No,” yuji pouts dramatically, now acting as if he was the one who was scared out of his mind a minute ago, “I’m scared. I wanna leave.”

“Yuj—“

“Please?”

Yuji looks at y/n with those damn puppy eyes, and she can’t help but laugh. “You’re a dork, you know that?”

Yuji just smiles. “For you, and only you, my looooveeee,” he says, dragging out his words for emphasis. 

As they both walk back to the parking lot, looking for Yuji’s car, y/n looks back at the amusement park in the distance. 

“You sure it’s okay we leave, Yuji? I know you and your grandpa came here every year…”

Yuji stops, his pink hair blowing in the night wind as he looks down at his perfect girlfriend. He smiles, and ruffles the top of her hair. 

“Yeah, well my grandpa would much rather me spend my time with the love of my life than at a stupid theme park that’ll come back next year,” he says wholeheartedly. “He would have loved you more than a stupid tradition.”

🫐Megumi🫐

Okay, be warned, if you take this man to any kind of theme park, he’s GOING to be that nonchalant-doesn’t gaf kinda guy

So when you decide to take him to Halloween Horror Nights, you’re expecting the same kind of behavior from him. 

BUT NO!

This man is on guard from the moment you both get through the gates

He was complaining about how expensive the tickets were, before he stopped and looked around, eyes wide and completely silent. 

“Megs? Are you okay?”

Megumi is too concerned with the man in an elaborate zombie costume a few feet away, his eyes slanted. Y/n recognizes the look in his eyes as the look he has when he senses cursed energy in an area they’re in. 

But when he takes her hand ever so subtly, she knows that isn’t the case. 

“Are you…scared, honey?” She asks in a hushed tone, holding back a laugh. 

Megumi’s azure eyes dart down to hers, his lips forming a thin line. “Y/n…” he says in a warning tone. 

“What?” She exclaims. “I’m a little nervous too, don’t worry baby—“

“I’m not scared.”

That man does not want to admit he’s scared JSHEBSIWVVW

But by the time it gets darker, and you both start walking around more parts of the park, stakes start rising. 

Actors in makeup and costumes jump out and chase you both, eliciting screams and laughs from you, but DEATH STARES from your poor boyfriend🥲

“Megumi! Stop looking at them like that when they scare us!” 

Megumi looks at y/n, an annoyed huff escaping his lips. He opens his mouth to say something, but a man in clown makeup and a colorful-bloody costume slides past them, honking a loud horn in both of their faces. 

Y/n jumps, squeezing Megumi’s hand, while he practically yanks her into his arms, almost resembling a cat when it’s fur puffs up in fear.

“Megs—“

“Let’s go to the ice cream stand.”

He’ll say he wants to get a food item from every food stand you both pass, but in reality he just knows the actors can’t get too close to them there HAHAHAH.

He’ll end up spending all of his money (that Gojo gave him for his ‘little date’) on drinks and food for you both. 

You’re not complaining, thinking it’s cute that your strong-brave-sorcerer boyfriend is scared of humans in costumes. 

That is until he’s down to only a few bucks, and you both know you can’t avoid the park anymore. 

“Megumi, do you want to go back home? We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” y/n whispers in her boyfriend’s ear, pulling him into a secluded alley. 

He looks down at her, bringing a soft hand up to her cheek. “Baby, I don’t want to ruin your fun,” he says, genuine guilt in his tone. But she can also sense the anxiety and fear in his touch.

Y/n smiles, putting her hand on the back of his caressing her cheek. “Honey, my night won’t be ruined as long as you’re here with me,” she whispers. “It’s no fun when one of us is having a good time and the other is scared.”

For the first time that night, Megumi smiles, leaning down to kiss y/n’s forehead gratefully. 

“Okay, baby…let’s go home and watch that one movie you wanted to—what was it called?”

Y/n’s eyes light up, an enthusiastic sparkle in them.

“Terrifier!”

Megumi’s faces falls a bit, but being scared by a movie on the couch with his girlfriend is way better than being jumpscared by strangers in costumes.

“Yes, that one.”

Special thanks to @gamer-kat for the amazing request!! Hope you enjoyed ml🩷