#i even came up with a new name for it that like.

[vunblr]

Plump & Ripe

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected Sex. Some fluff. Slight Angst. A Pinch of Body Insecurity. Size kink. Use of pet names.

Summary: On a routine visit to the fruit shop, Bucky ends up with more than his usual goodies.

Word Count: 7.4k.

note: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event for Bucky's 108th birthday, running throughout March. The prompt was "Plums". It was supposed to be a cute and fluffy fic, but it turned into pure filth instead. I'm sorry -not-

She looked up from the counter, and a welcoming smile instantly spread across her lips when she saw who had made the doorbell chime.

“You’re late. You’re lucky I set this bag aside when the distributor came this morning because they’re all sold out now.” She lifted a small paper bag from the shelf behind her, placing it on the counter between them. The deep violet of the plums peeked through the crinkled opening, and their smooth skins caught the golden light that filtered through the shop’s front windows.

Bucky stood just inside the doorway, a little tense as his fingers fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket. “Sorry. Something came up and... couldn’t make it earlier.” He mumbled.

That ‘something’ had been him forcing himself out of bed after three days of avoiding the world. Everything felt heavier these days, his body, his thoughts, even some goddamn things that weren’t so before. But he was here now, and that was better than nothing.

She leaned her elbows on the counter. “No worries. I know you’d never miss plum day on purpose.” She tried to tease warmly.

Right. One of the rare occasions he’d missed plum day was when he went on that stupid mission, the so-called ‘walk in the park’ that turned into a bloodbath of agents and ended with him being taken again by the same people who’d tormented him for nearly 80 years. Only this time, they didn’t just want their precious pet back, they wanted it better.

In five days of captivity, they not only just strapped him to a modernized version of that damned chair. Oh no, they’d injected him with a cocktail of drugs that messed up his body in ways he was still discovering, even a year later. Like his fucked-up metabolism.

His eyes flicked to the bag, and his mouth twitched just slightly. “You know me too well on that aspect,” he muttered, reaching out to grab the bag.

She watched him carefully. “Do you need anything else?”

He hesitated, shifting his gaze to the baskets of apples lined up near the wall. “Yeah… green apples.”

She nodded, moving around the counter to grab a paper bag. As she started picking the crisp, bright green apples, she spoke over her shoulder. “I got a new kind in this week. They’re a mix of green and red, still sour but with a sweet twist. Figured you might like them, so I’m throwing one in for you to try.” She dropped a smaller, two-toned apple into the bag, the colors blending in a swirl of muted red and pale green. “No charge.”

His lips quirked, just for a moment, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from him in weeks. “Thanks.” He said gruffly.

She twisted the top of the bag, folding it neatly before placing it on the counter beside the plums. But she didn’t step back, and her fingers lingered on the edge as if debating something. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, worrying the skin.

Always perceptive, Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

Her head jerked up, eyes widening. “Huh?”

“You look like you’re trying to decide whether to say something or not.” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight on one leg. “Tell me.”

She huffed a laugh, embarrassed. “It’s... not very appropriate.”

One eyebrow shot up. “I’ve heard worse.”

She bit her lip again before glancing toward the back room. “I was just wondering if you could help me with a couple of crates. The distributor was in a hurry, and he just tossed the merchandise back there. It’s kind of a mess... hard to move around.” She gave a half-shrug, sheepish. I’d do it myself, but they’re actually pretty heavy.”

He followed her gaze, and his expression softened. “That all?”

“Well... yeah,” she admitted, heat creeping up her neck. “You already helped with the shelves last week... and the cooler the week before. I just... I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage or something.”

His features softened even more, as he huffed, twitching his lips in a half-smile. “I wouldn’t help if I didn’t want to. Show the way.”

She gestured to the door behind the counter -the only door, really- and he shot her a look. She shrugged, grinning. “I know, I know. Real hard to find.”

He followed her through the doorway, ducking his head slightly as they entered the cramped back room. His steps faltered as his eyes took in the scene. Stacks of boxes and wooden crates were scattered haphazardly across the floor, some leaning precariously against each other. It was like the distributor had been in a damn race to get out of there.

His mouth pulled into a deep scowl. How the hell did that asshole expect her to move this on her own? Where were the manners nowadays? He grumbled under his breath, weaving between the clutter as he started rearranging the crates into a more orderly stack. He made sure to place the heavier boxes at the bottom, the lighter ones on top, within easy reach for her.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching as the chaos turned into something more manageable. “God, I’ll kidnap you and put you on my bedside table.”

His head snapped up, brows drawing together. “Uh?”

She blinked, a faint heat creeping up her neck. “Oh, it’s just... a saying we have. You know, to cherish something.” She waved a hand, brushing off her embarrassment. “Forget it. Thank you, really for always helping.”

He chuckled. “Pretty sure your poor bedside table can’t handle me anyway.” His tone was dry, self-deprecating, like he was almost daring her to argue.

But her brain had short-circuited somewhere around ‘bedside,’ and before she could think better of it, the words just tumbled out: “But my bed sure can.”

He froze, fingers clenching around the edge of a crate. For a second, he didn’t even breathe. “What?”

She cursed inwardly. Did she… did she actually say that aloud? Oh my god. She could feel her soul leaving her body, and her eyes darted down as her brain scrambled for something -anything- that could sound similar. She fumbled, words tripping over themselves. “I- I said... I wondered if... if you can open a can.”

Bucky blinked, his expression shifting from shock to confusion. “A can?”

She nodded furiously, feeling her face burn. “Yeah. A big one. I have... with peaches. And I don’t have an opener, so I thought maybe...” Her eyes flicked to his metal hand, then back to his face.

They stared at each other, the silence was thick and heavy. “You want me to open... a can of peaches.”

Her chin lifted defiantly, even as her face burned. “Yes. A big one.”

He looked at her, then tilted his head, and his lips twitched slightly. “That so?”

“Yup. I figured you’re more than capable and I... really wanted to try them.” Her voice was firmer now, though her face was still in flames.

Bucky watched her for another moment, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to figure her out. Finally, he huffed, low and almost amused. “Alright then. Bring it over.”

She nodded quickly, grateful for the excuse to turn away from his piercing gaze. Her heart was still hammering against her ribs, and her hands trembled as she rummaged through a cluttered shelf. Eventually, she found the can half-buried behind a jar of jam, with its bright label slightly faded. Two forks were grabbed from a drawer without much thought, and her fingers clenched around them as she tried to calm herself. When she turned back, Bucky was stacking the last of the boxes, his back to her.

Her eyes lingered on his body for a beat too long, and her mind flashed back to her stupid, impulsive words. But my bed sure can. She almost groaned out loud, the embarrassment creeping over her anew. She was never going to live this down.

Clearing her throat, she approached him, holding out the can. “Here. I... uh... figured we could share. Since you’re helping me out and all.”

He turned, and his gaze dropped to the can before lifting to meet hers. His expression was neutral, but his eyes held a glint of something she couldn’t quite place. “Peaches, huh?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. They should be good. Sweet. Soft, too... uh, juicy” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and her face burned all over again. God, why did she have to say it like that?

Bucky just stared at her for a second, flicking his eyes to her lips before his mouth twitched. “Alright.” His voice was a little rougher, a little lower. He took the can from her, popping a metal finger through the lid and curling it, crumpling the metal until it popped off.

He handed it back, licking his finger for a brief moment and she could swear she could have a stroke. “There you go. Good thing at least I’m good as a can opener.”

She furrowed her brow, and the playful glint in her eyes faded. “Don’t do that.”

His shoulders went rigid. What did he do to upset her? “Do what?”

“That,” she said, “Sell yourself short. That... self-deprecation thing you always pull.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes drifted away from hers. “Just saying the truth.” Almost unconsciously, his gaze dropped to his midsection, to the slight curve that hadn’t been there before. To the proof that his body was failing him, that even with all the enhancements, he was broken.

“Bucky,” she said, with a softer tone but no less resolute. “You’re a damn Avenger. Half the days you come in here, you’re bruised and battered because you fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. You protect them. That’s incredible.” Her hand gestured to the neatly stacked crates behind him. “You’re kind... and good. Don’t diminish yourself.”

His eyes snapped back to hers, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual calm but hard expression. He wanted to deflect, to brush it off with a sarcastic remark. It was easier to joke than to acknowledge the weight of her words. But the way she looked at him, made the words stick in his throat. His fingers tightened around the can, and the metal creaked under his grip. “Yeah, well... sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.”

She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. “Our own perceptions sometimes lie. Doesn’t make it less true.”

He stared at her, and his defenses faltered. The familiar cynicism was there, clawing at him, but her words were louder. His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always this stubborn?”

She crossed her arms, lifting her chin defiantly. “Only when someone I care about is being stupid.”

The air grew still. She seemed to realize what she’d said a second too late, eyes widening before she looked away. “I mean... you know... as a customer. And a... friend.”

He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly as if he was trying to get a better read on her. “A friend to put on your nightstand.”

Her eyes snapped to his, caught off guard by the teasing lilt in his voice. “Sure.”

He leaned against the stacked crates, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw worked, like he was chewing over his next words. For a heartbeat, he thought about letting it slide, about keeping his mouth shut and pretending he hadn’t heard. But the thought of not knowing twisted his gut in a way that made him reckless. “Did you mean it?”

Her heart skipped, the peach suddenly feeling too heavy on her tongue. She forced herself to chew slowly, buying time. “What?”

“The... bed.” His gaze pierced in that way that made her feel stripped bare. “Did you mean it?”

Oh. So he had heard her.

Her mind raced, instincts screaming at her to laugh it off, to deflect with a joke or change the subject. But he just stood there, watching her, waiting. It was infuriating how still he could be, how his silence demanded more than words ever could. His eyes didn’t waver, his face was impassive, but there was something tight in his stance, something almost vulnerable in the way his fingers tapped once against his arm before he caught himself, stilling the movement.

She paused mid-chew, the peach now a lump in her throat. The hell with all. “What if I did?”

His expression didn’t change, but his posture did: his shoulders straightened, and his arms uncrossed just slightly. He took a step closer, and the room suddenly felt a lot smaller. “Then I’d say... you’d better be sure.”

She swallowed, heat blooming up her neck. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile as he closed the space between them. “I figured.”

His hand came up slowly, hesitantly, like he was giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t move as his fingers brushed her cheek, rough callouses skimming her skin. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and she couldn’t help but lean into it, never breaking the eye contact.

His thumb traced her cheekbone, and his gaze softened as his fingers curled on the back of her neck. Her pulse quickened, and she could feel her heartbeats echoing in her ears, but she didn’t dare look away. Not when his eyes were so impossibly blue, locked on hers with a focus that stole her breath.

She parted her lips, in a silent invitation, while her hand found its way to his chest, curling her fingers into the fabric of his jacket.

For a moment, he just looked at her, his face so close she could feel his breath on her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his eyes darkened, “Tell me to stop if this is not what you want.” he murmured, but his hand didn’t move.

She shook her head, tightening her fingers on his jacket. “Not a chance.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his lips crashed into hers, firm and demanding, as he fisted her hair and pulled her closer.

She responded instinctively, pressing her body into his as her hands slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck. He groaned against her mouth, circling his vibranium arm on her waist.

The world around her faded, the cluttered storeroom, the lingering scent of the peaches, everything disappeared until there was only him. His warmth, his strength, his mouth moving against hers with a hunger that made her knees weak.

She sighed, threading her fingers through his hair, and he responded by deepening the kiss. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, she ran a hand along his slightly rounded cheek, tracing its curve with her thumb with a tenderness that made something clench on his chest.

“You are so damn handsome.”

His gaze widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features before something else settled in. Cocky 40s Sergeant Barnes wouldn’t have agreed. In fact, he wouldn’t have dreamed of seeing himself like this, heavier, slower, tired.

He swallowed, as the weight of her words pressed against years of ingrained self-doubt. She exhaled, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile. “I can see the gears turning inside your head, you know?” Her fingers lingered against his skin, warm and sure. “And, in a courageous and embarrassing -but it seems necessary-confession, I must say that I like this version of you. A lot.”

His body tensed beneath her touch. Of all the things he expected, this wasn’t one of them. People -some- admired him for what he could do. No one ever said they liked him like this.

He searched her face, looking for doubt, for anything that suggested she was just saying it to make him feel better. His throat felt tight. “You don’t have to say that.”

Her brows furrowed, and her fingers pressed just slightly into his skin. “I told you earlier that I mean what I say. You’re a soft wall of muscle.” She bit her lip, as her eyes drifted over his shoulders, his chest, lingering just long enough to make his pulse quicken. “And I like big men, so...”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, utterly at a loss. That... wasn’t what he expected. Not at all.

She felt the heat on her face but didn’t look away, just kept caressing his cheek. “In my eyes, you’re better than when I first knew you.”

His heart skipped, the words settling heavy and warm somewhere behind his ribs. “Better?” His voice was low, rough, like he was forcing the word out. “How?”

Her thumb traced his cheekbone, and she felt all the heat in her body rush to her face again. She looked away, sensing her bravado faltering. “God, you’re going to make me say it. This is so embarrassing.” She took a breath, meeting his gaze again. “Sexier, Bucky. You look better to me because I find your bigger body more than appealing. Manlier. Is that enough clarification for y-”

She didn’t get to finish. His mouth crashed again against hers, more heated and demanding than before, as his fingers tightened at her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

A low growl vibrated in his chest, his lips moving hungrily over hers, and she barely had time to gasp before his tongue slid past her lips, tasting, claiming. Her back hit the wall as his body crowded hers, and she didn’t care, didn’t want space, didn’t want air, didn’t want anything that wasn’t him.

His heart pounded in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. Her words echoed in his mind, looping over and over again. Sexier. Manlier. More than appealing.

A rush of masculine pride coursed his body, fierce and hot, like lightning in his veins. She wanted him like this, wanted him bigger, broader. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that, how deeply her praise soothed the bruised ego he hadn’t even admitted having.

She felt his growing erection pressing against her hip, and she gripped his shoulders, feeling him beneath. There was nothing soft about him, not in the way he kissed her, fierce and unrelenting, not in the way his body surrounded hers, hard and unyielding.

He tore his mouth from hers, with ragged breathing, eyes dark and wild as they bore into hers. “You like this?” His voice was rough, deeper than before, and his words dripped with hunger. “You like me like this?”

She swallowed, her pulse fluttering wildly. “Yes. God, yes.”

His lips curved into a grin, that old cocky sergeant slipping through the cracks of his armor. “Good,” he growled, as his mouth descended on hers again, sliding down his hand to grip her thigh with bruising force as he hitched her leg up around his waist, pressing himself against her. His mouth was at her ear, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that sent shivers down her spine. “Because I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t think about fucking you raw under this slutty green apron every damn time you hand me my plums.”

Her brain stuttered, eyes widening as she processed his words.

His hips rolled, grinding his hardon against her tummy, and she felt every inch of his cock, hard and wanting, and god, she couldn’t help it, she whined. A desperate, needy sound that escaped her throat before she could bite it back.

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide as his lips curled again into that smirk. “Always with a little extra product, always checking on me.” His teeth scraped her jaw, flicking out his tongue to taste her skin. “Thought you were just sweet, just nice. Turns out you were trying to fatten me up for yourself, huh?” His words were teasing, but his tone was rough and possessive.

He rocked his hips again, a slow, deliberate grind that had her gasping, her fingers digging into his shoulders as heat coiled tighter and tighter in her belly.

“Bucky-” Her voice was a breathless plea, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to find words, tried to get a grip on herself, but his mouth was on her neck, sucking a hot, wet mark just above her collarbone, and she was gone, utterly, completely gone.

“You like that, huh?” His teeth grazed her skin again, his metal fingers tightening on her thigh, holding her in place as he ground against her. “Like knowing you drive me crazy? That every time I leave, all I can think about is coming back here, bending you over that counter, and fuck you right there, maybe squishing a fucking orange just to watch the juice dripping down your ass?”

Another whine slipped out, her body arching into his as her hips rolled instinctively to meet his. His words wrapped around her, filthy and raw, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel.

His lips trailed up to her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “So tell me, sweetheart... how long have you been thinking about me ruining you right here in your little shop?”

“If... if we’re about to speak on hard numbers...” She tried to tease, but the words came out ragged, crumbling under the hard suck he planted just behind her ear. Her body shuddered, another whimper escaping before she could stop it. “I’d say... the first time you came here. You’d just moved in and didn’t... didn’t even have pans to cook. Remember?”

His mouth paused on her skin, lips curved against her neck. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Came looking for fruit and you ended up selling me that tray of already cut vegetables to make soup. Lent me that steel jar to boil ’em in.” His tongue flicked over the mark he’d made, soothing the sting before he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “I thought you were too damn trusting. What if I didn’t come back?”

She let out a breathless laugh, curling her fingers on his biceps. “I saw your hand. You forgot the gloves that day... and I figured... the Winter Soldier wouldn’t steal a steel jar.” Her lips twitched, and a spark of mischief lit her eyes. “If you did, well, the loss was on me. But if you didn’t...” She trailed off.

His eyes darkened, and his grip tightened on her thigh as he pressed her harder against the wall. “If I didn’t?”

She swallowed, feeling her heart hammering against her ribs. “Then... I would have set some points with a handsome man.”

“Sneaky,” he muttered, brushing her lips, a teasing, fleeting touch. “You were setting a trap for me from the start.”

Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging just enough to earn her another low, hungry sound from him. “Can you blame me?” she whispered, her lips barely an inch from his. “You were brooding and grumpy... and so damn gorgeous.”

His eyes flashed with something wild and primal sparking in them. “And now?” His voice was low and dangerous, his metal fingers flexing on her thigh, holding her in place. “Now that you’ve got me? This bigger, grumpier version?”

She didn’t hesitate, running her hands over his broad shoulders. “Now?” She leaned in, grazing his bottom lip with her teeth before she pulled back. “I’d say It was a pretty good investment.”

His lips were into hers again, swallowing her gasp as his body pressed into hers, heavy and hard and perfect. He kissed her hard, his mouth rough and hungry while rocking his hips against hers, and she moaned, digging her nails into his scalp as she arched into him. He tore his mouth away, with ragged breathing, his eyes pinning her in place as they locked with hers. “Last chance, sugarplum” His voice felt vulnerable beneath the heat. “You want this?”

She held his gaze and pressed herself against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest enticingly. "I want you to ruin me, papa bear"

He froze. Every muscle in his body went taut. His eyes widened, and his pupils blew wide as her words penetrated his fogged brain. “...What did you just call me?”

Her heart plummeted. Oh god. Why? Why did she have to let that slip out now, of all times? She could feel her face heating up, a wave of mortification crashing over her. “Um... uh...” She looked away, curling her fingers nervously into his shoulders. “Too soon?”

For a heartbeat, he was silent, his jaw tight and his chest heaving as he processed it. But then a low, guttural sound escaped him, somewhere between a groan and a growl. His head dropped to her shoulder, pressing his forehead into her as his body shuddered against hers. “Fuck,”

She let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding so hard she swore he could feel it. “S-sorry. I don’t... I don’t even know where that came from, I-”

He lifted his head, eyes dark, pupils blown. “Don’t.” His voice was rough, firm. “Don’t take it back.”

Her mouth went dry, and her body arched instinctively into him as his grip on her tightened. “You- uh... liked it?”

His lips curled into a feral grin, grazing her earlobe with his teeth before he growled, “You have no idea.” His nose brushed her cheek, his lips a breath away from hers. “Say it again.”

Her heart skipped a beat, face flaming. “I-” She hesitated, but the way his body trembled, the raw need in his eyes, the way he was holding her like he was afraid she’d vanish... it shattered any scruple she had. She leaned in, brushing his lips with hers as she whispered, “Ruin me, Papa Bear.”

He swore under his breath, crashing his mouth into hers again with bruising force. His hands gripped her tighter, possessive, desperate, and she moaned, opening up to him, letting him in. His tongue swept over hers, hungry and demanding, and she melted, her body molding to his as he consumed her.

He broke away just long enough to start tugging at her apron. “Take it off, or I’ll-”

The faint chime of the bell at the front door echoed through the storage room, hitting them like a bucket of cold water. Her eyes widened, and he stilled, with his fingers curled around the knot of her apron. The door to the storage room was wide open, and the front door? Neither of them had bothered to close it since none of this was supposed to happen.

His jaw clenched, and he lifted a finger, pointing at her with a look that could melt steel. “Don’t move.”

She barely had time to blink before he was striding out of the storage room, with his hair slightly mussed and crumpled clothing. He rounded the corner to find an elderly woman standing uncertainly by the counter, clutching her purse tightly in her hands.

His expression softened -just a bit- as he forced a strained smile. “It’s closed.”

The woman’s brows knitted together. “Oh, but I just wanted to-”

“Lemme accompany you out, yes?” He cut in, his voice dripping with forced politeness. “An emergency came up, and she’s... not here. I just stopped by to lock up.” His words were rushed, his body practically blocking the doorway.

“Oh, I see...” The woman glanced around, clearly confused but too polite to question him. “I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

“Good idea,” he agreed, already guiding her toward the door, hovering his hand protectively behind her back as she shuffled out. The door shut with more force than necessary, as the chime echoed sharply in the now-empty store. He twisted the lock, and stood there for a moment, with a rigid back, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.

In a flash, he was back in the storage room, locking his eyes on her with a hunger that made her knees weak. He didn’t say a word as he closed the distance between them, and his fingers went immediately to the buttons of her blouse, his mouth trailing kisses over every newly exposed inch of skin.

He almost groaned when he saw her bra clasp at the front. “You’re a fucking menace,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before popping the clasp with an impatient flick of his fingers. The fabric fell away, and his mouth and hands were on her before he could think: Palms warm against her bare skin, squeezing just hard enough to make her arch into him, a breathy moan escaping her lips. He latched his mouth to the delicate skin just above her collarbone, swirling his tongue, teeth scraping, tasting the salt of her skin.

She was driving him insane. Every little sound, every shiver, every way her fingers gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer.

Her hands were just as eager, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. She hesitated for a heartbeat when her fingers grazed his belly, flicking her eyes up to his. But there was no discomfort there, only hunger. Her pupils were blown, her lips parted, her breathing ragged. Her fingers splayed over his stomach, and the warmth of her touch sank into his skin even through the fabric of his shirt.

He kissed her harder, deeper, pressing her back against the wall as his body settled heavily against hers, his bigger form pinning her in place. She gasped, hitching her leg around his waist again, pulling him closer, grinding, her hips against his, and he nearly lost it.

His lips trailed lower, over the swell of her breast, and his stubble grazed her sensitive skin as his tongue flicked over an already pert nipple. She cried out, her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there as her body arched beneath him, desperate, needing more. He was only too happy to oblige, closing his mouth around her, suckling greedily as his hand moved to the other, kneading, teasing.

“Bucky... please...” Her voice was a broken whisper, as her nails dug into his shoulders and scalp, and her body writhed against his.

He dragged his mouth back up to hers, capturing her lips in another bruising kiss, slipping his hand beneath her skirt, teasing the edge of her panties. “Want papa bear to touch you, sugarplum?” he growled, rough and low, “Want me to prep you open nice and deep and then ruin this little pussy?”

His words made her shiver, and her whole body tensed at the need in his voice. She could barely breathe, could barely think, as her mind spun while his fingers danced along the delicate lace of her panties, teasing, taunting.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her hips rolling instinctively toward his touch. “Yes, please.”

A low, satisfied growl rumbled from his chest, “That’s my good girl.” His fingers hooked under the fabric, dragging her panties down slowly, deliberately,  grazing his knuckles on the sensitive skin of her thighs. He wanted to savor this, to watch her come apart for him.

He lifted her easily, her back hitting the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist. The feeling of her pussy against his stomach made him swear under his breath, his head dropping to her shoulder again as he struggled to hold on to the last shreds of his self-control.

His metal fingers pressed her hips into the wall, to accompany his body, pinning her in place as his flesh hand slipped between her thighs. She was already soaked, and he groaned, feeling his cock throbbing painfully against his jeans. “So fucking wet for me... all that from just a little talk?”

Her head tipped back, hitting the wall, lips parting in a breathless gasp as his fingers found her clit, circling lazily, teasing only to dip them lower, slipping them inside her, stretching her, pressing his thumb down on her clit.

He watched her face as he started to move his hand, pumping slowly, deliberately, curling just enough to make her shudder. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth falling open in a silent cry as her hips rocked against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “Such a greedy pussy, taking everything I give you.” His teeth grazed her earlobe. “You’re mine now.”

Her body clenched around his fingers, a whimper escaping her lips, and her nails dug into his shoulders as she held on, tightening her muscles as he pushed her closer to the edge.

“Gonna come for me, sugarplum?” His fingers started to move faster, harder, while his thumb circled her clit mercilessly. “Gonna fall apart on my fingers before I even get to ruin you properly?”

Her whole body tensed and her head snapped forward, pressing her forehead into his as she shattered with a force that stole her breath.

“That’s it... that’s my girl,” he whispered, slowing his fingers, easing her down from the high, brushing his lips against hers in a surprisingly tender kiss.

He adjusted his grip on her body, grinding his clothed erection against her, letting her feel how hard he was, how ready. “And now, I gonna give you what you wanted,” he growled.

He slid his fingers out of her and fumbled with the zipper of his pants "look at the mess you did here, all this cream on my zipper." she just moaned and grind herself against the back of his hand, thrilled by being pinned to the wall by his weight alone and his vibranium hand on her asscheek.

“Bucky... please...” Her voice was breathy, broken, and her body trembled as his metal hand squeezed her ass, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

He hummed, while his fingers continued to play with the wetness she’d left on his pants, dragging her up his length, letting her feel every ridge, every pulse under his denim. “You’re so needy for me, sugarplum,” he murmured, his voice low, rough. “So wet, so… ready.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, her mind was blank with need as he finally spread his thick thighs squatting a little, and sat her on them, tugging down his zipper, and freeing his heavy, leaking cock. He wrapped his hand around himself, and his eyes never left hers as he stroked once, spreading her slickness all over his length. “You see this?” he growled. “This is what you do to me.”

She bit her lip, her eyes locked down, watching him slowly pump himself, zeroed on the pornographic sight of his cock glistening with a mix of their arousal.

Seeing his heated gaze he leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “You made this mess... now you’re gonna take responsibility for it”. It was all the warning he did before hooking the back of her knees on his forearms, and pressing his hands on the wall, surging forward, burying the fat head of his cock in her entrance, pushing himself inside her in one slow, stretching thrust.

Her mouth fell open, and a choked moan escaped her lips as he filled her, inch by agonizing inch. Her back arched against the wall, fingers scrambling for purchase on his arms, nails digging in as her body stretched to accommodate him.

He was relentless, his eyes locked on her face, watching every flicker of pleasure, every gasp, every shudder as he sank into her, slow and merciless. “You feel that?” His voice was a rough whisper, his breath hot against her ear.

She could only nod, as he pressed his hips in even deeper, against hers, burying his cock to the hilt. “Bucky... oh God...” Her legs trembled, thighs spread wide over his forearms, helpless to do anything but take everything he gave her.

He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder, grazing her skin with his teeth as he fought to keep himself in check, to keep from losing himself in the incredible heat of her body. “Fuck... you feel so damn good... driving me crazy, sugarplum.” His words were rough, and breathless, his control slipping with every second he stayed buried inside her.

Her walls quivered around him, tightening instinctively, pulling him in, holding him close. “Bucky... move... please...” she pleaded, trying to roll her hips to create some friction, to ease the maddening stretch.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His fingers almost dug into the bricks, and he began to move in slow, heavy thrusts that made her whole body rock against the wall. Each time he withdrew, she felt the loss, felt the emptiness, and each time he filled her again, her world shattered a little more as she felt his cock stretching her, filling her, owning her. “Oh God...”

He could feel himself losing control, as his thrusts grew harder and faster, pinning her like a ragdoll against the wall, relishing the needy moans and whimpers escaping her lips.

A hand flew to his head tugging his locks as he wrecked her.  “Fuck Papa Bear… you feel so good, so heavy, so… fucking… big, you turn me on so much.” 

Her praise wrapped around him, squeezing him just as tight as her body did, and his head spun with primal satisfaction. He groaned, as his cock throbbed and pulsed inside her flooding her with precum, and growing even harder inside her. “Yeah? You like this thick Bear covering you, pinning you, breeding you full?”

Her head thudded back against the wall, as she tried to tighten her legs against his forearms, to arch her body to join his thrusts, digging her nails into his shoulders. “Yes, yes, god, yes... love feeling you like this, love how big you are...”

“Fuck, sugar” his bruised ego drank her words like a man dying of thirst. Each confession went straight to his cock. He could feel her body yielding to him, taking everything he gave, and it made him lose his rhythm, made him rut into her like an animal, making her back slide up and down the wall with every hard thrust.

He lifted his arms to spread her wide to take him deeper. Her cries only grew louder, more desperate, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “You’re mine now, sugar plum. Fuck, ‘m gonna fuck you so good you’ll never look at another man again... gonna make sure you remember this every time you close your eyes.”

She whimpered as he buried his face in her neck, nipping her sensitive skin. “Bucky... Papa... please... don’t stop...” she pleaded, curling her fingers into his hair.

His mouth curved into a half smile against her throat. “Not planning to, sugarplum.” He rolled his hips, grinding deep, making her back arch and her legs quiver. “Not until you’re dripping with me... not until you’re so full of my cum you can’t stand.”

Her body convulsed, one hand remained fisting his hair and the other dragged her nails on his broad back, “Fuck! Yes, I want it so bad...”

He lost whatever thread of control he had left. His thrusts grew brutal, punishing as his cock stretched her, pounding into her with a force that bordered on savage. He watched her face contort with pleasure, as the base of his cock ground deliciously against her swollen clit. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and her eyes rolled back as he drove into her, harder, faster. “You’re gonna take it all... every drop... you understand?”

She could only nod, her words were lost to the raw, consuming pleasure.

He was so close, muscles tensed to the point of aching, his breath ragged as his cock throbbed, his balls tightened, ready to spill. But he held on, watching her, waiting, needing to see her fall apart first.

“Come on, doll... give it to me... come all over my cock... let me feel it...” he growled, as his wide shoulders caged her in. “Bet you’ve never been this full before. Never had someone this big ruin you like this.”

Her nails raked down his back, desperate, her eyes rolling back as she tried to meet his rhythm but was utterly at his mercy. “F-Fuck, Bucky... so... so big...”

“That’s right,” he rasped, a savage grin flashing across his face. “Too big for this pretty little pussy, huh?” he lifted her higher and marked every word with a harder thrust.

Her entire body seized up before she felt herself shatter, arching against his body and squeezing him, milking him so tight he finally let himself go.

“That’s it... make a mess... make a fucking mess for me, doll... fuck!” his cock jerked, pulsing, as his release came hot and violent, spilling thick ropes of cum inside her. He kept grinding his hips, pressing himself as deep as he could, stirring his load inside her until it was too much to contain. The excess bubbled out around his shaft obscenely, warm and sticky, dripping down her thighs and landing on the floor.

He nipped at her collarbone, a lazy smirk curving his lips as he gently withdrew them from the wall. He eased her thighs down just enough to let her hook them around his waist, and his eyes flicked to an old chair in the corner of the room. Without a word, he began to move with steady steps despite the lingering tremors in his muscles. As he walked them over, each stride pressed him deeper inside her, drawing soft whimpers from her swollen lips.

Reaching the chair, he sank down heavily, the wood creaking beneath their weight. She straddled him, still nesting him deep inside her pussy, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, tangling her fingers on his hair. His hands settled on her hips, keeping her pressed close, unwilling to break their connection just yet.

His head fell back against the chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he let himself breathe. “You feel... too damn good. Could stay like this all day...”

Her fingers started to brush his hair gently. “Then don’t move... Just stay. You made sure that no other clients visited today." She slightly pinched his stubbled full cheek. "And... is not fair you didn’t remove any of your clothes besides your jacket in all this ordeal."

He huffed out a low laugh, that rumbled against her chest. “Yeah? That bother you, sugarplum?” His hands slid up her back, splaying wide as he pressed her tighter against him. “You wanna see all of me?”

Her fingers tightened in his hair. “I think it’s only fair,” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I wanna see what I’ve been getting my hands on... what I’ve been wanting.” Her eyes dropped pointedly to his still-clothed body, darting her tongue out to wet her lips.

His eyes flicked away for a beat, and his shoulders tensed a little. There was a moment, a fleeting second where his hands stilled on her body, where his fingers dug just a little too hard into her waist. Old doubts echoed in his mind, flashing to his reflection in the mirror, the soft curve of his belly, the heft in his chest that wasn’t just only muscle.

But then she moved, running her hands up his chest, her eyes wide, pupils blown as she whispered. “I want to see you, Bucky.”

His heart thudded hard, but he felt himself relax, the tension ebbing away as he let out a slow, shaky breath. “Alright, sugarplum,” he murmured. “You asked for it.”

In one swift motion, he gripped the hem of his shirt, muscles flexing as he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. He forced himself to sit there, exposed, waiting for the flicker of judgment, for her gaze to catch on his soft middle, or the faint stretch marks on his hips.

But her eyes were wide with interest as she took him in. Her hands roamed over him, tracing her fingers on his skin, lingering on the scars, the old wounds. She palmed his chest, brushing her thumbs over his hardened nipples, and his muscles jumped under her touch.

“Better?” his voice rough, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watched her explore him.

She bit her lip, as she kept worshipping him. “Better... but I’m not done yet.” She added as she trailed softly the scarred flesh where his prosthesis joined his body with her tongue.

His cock twitched with interest inside her, still hard, still nestled so deep. His hands gripped hard on her waist and his eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with fire, sugarplum.”

She smirked, rolling her hips slowly and deliberately. “Then burn me up, Papa Bear.”

Taglist: @civilbucky @blythesarchives

Dividers by:@/cafekitsune

[mattscoquette]

reader going through perv!matt’s journal

“i’ll be back in a sec, i just need to run downstairs and help chris with something really quick.”

that’s what matt told you over ten minutes ago, and he’s still gone. you were over at the triplets place hanging out with nick, when matt insisted he show you both his new pc set up. it only took nick five minutes to be over it, but you felt bad when you saw matt’s defeatist expression after nick went back to his room. you decided to stay, but soon after matt abandoned you to go do something with chris.

you could’ve gone back upstairs with nick, but you let your curiosity get the best of you, and somehow you were going through matt’s bedside drawers, seeing what he had in there.

you knew matt had a thing for you, he made it very, very clear. although those feelings weren’t really reciprocated, it was fun to tease him. like, really fun.

before you could stop yourself, the leather binding of matt’s journal was in your hands, itching to be opened and read. you thumbed through the pages, reading matt’s chicken scratch handwriting while he wrote about whatever. you didn’t want to be too invasive, but his journal piqued your interest a lot. you wondered if he ever wrote about you, or if he only kept those thoughts in his head.

your eyes skimmed up and down the pages, nothing really standing out to you until you saw your name.

today y/n came over to see nick. she had on this rly short skirt, i think they were going out to a bar or something later. i don’t really care. i overhear her talking to nick about the guys she gets with. i could be so much better than them. i would make her feel so good, where she’d be begging me for more. god her moans are probably so fucking pretty.

your cheeks got hot as they blushed a deep red, fingers flipping to the next entry.

it’s been a few days since i saw y/n, i miss her so much. i’ve probably touched myself to her more times than i can count in the last day or two. i don’t know what it is with her, but she just gets me so worked up. she doesn’t even have to do anything and i’ll literally get hard from her. a couple weeks ago we were at her place and i heard her in the shower. it turned me on so much i couldn’t handle it. i want her so bad.

there’s gotta be something seriously deranged about me. every time that y/n sleeps over here, i always sneak up to nicks room and take a pair of her panties. she has to have noticed by now. i can’t help it though. i use them to get myself off. sometimes she has really pretty lace ones, other ones are really really skimpy. i don’t care though. i wonder what they’d look like on her. she’d probably think im a fucking creep if she ever really found out. i wonder what she’d do.

at this point, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your thighs were pressed together, trying to relieve the ache that had grown in your cunt. maybe it was weird what he was doing, but the level of obsession was turning you on. bad.

you were quick to find a pen somewhere in the bedside drawer, popping the cap off and scribbling underneath the entry in your loopy handwriting.

you naughty boy. you didn’t learn that stealing was wrong? i would probably punish you and not let you cum. i would tease you, get you all wound up and make you hold it. id use my pretty pink panties around your cock to get you off and let you cum in them after edging you for so long. maybe i’ll use my hands too, or my mouth if you’re really good for me.

you grinned to yourself as you shut the journal, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth before returning the notebook to its rightful place, exactly how you found it.

you knew that matt wouldn’t do anything about it, either. he would see the note, and probably get off to it a million times, but never actually reach out to you. until then, he’d just have to learn how to keep pleasuring himself alone.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ inspired by this fic from my girl @st7rnioioss ♡︎♡︎ perv!matt is soooo back i miss that freak

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

seven - m. kaiser

you were seven years old when you first met the piece of trash named michael kaiser.

sitting on the swings alone with a busted violet lip and ripped jeans and scratched up, bloody knees wasn’t considered the ideal invitation for a friendship. but you had mindlessly approached him, sitting on the swing next to him before waving to him.

subhuman garbage looked up, wondering why such a nice girl would be looking at him, talking to him. but he didn’t question it and instead listened to you talk, introducing himself.

“but i don’t like to be called michael, so don’t call me that.”

“got it! you’re mihya then!”

subhuman shit—no, newly named mihya felt his heart skip a beat. no one was ever affectionate enough to give him a nickname, so such an experience made mihya strangely ecstatic. he nodded, a small smile slowly making way onto his swollen lips. “right. im mihya.”

the second time you saw mihya was only a few days later.

he had been sitting on the swings, crying his eyes out. this time he had a nosebleed, angry red marks on his neck, and his hands were nearly purple. you had approached him, your eyebrows knit together.

“mihya? what’s wrong?”

mihya had sniffled before looking up at you. “will you get mad at me…?” he choked out weakly. your jaw dropped, grasping both of his hands.

“mihya, i would never get mad at you!” you exclaimed. “you’re my friend!”

mihya muttered something incoherent before sighing. “…my dad. he gets mad a lot.”

you blinked a few times, your seven year old mind not quite comprehending the situation. but you frowned, looking up at the sky. “oh, i really hate it whenever mama and dad get mad at me. your dad is always mad? that sounds so bad. im so sorry, mihya.”

mihya nodded. “it’s…don’t worry about it.”

one day, after many encounters and at eight years old, you finally spoke your thoughts.

“i think your house is haunted.”

mihya, who had been chewing on garlic and sugar flavored bread from the bakery, stopped mid chew. “why?”

“well, your dad is always mad, and you’re always crying. you’re outside as much as you possibly can, and you don’t wanna be there. that sounds haunted to me. and when you are, you hide from him.” you muttered. “i don’t like that. i don’t like how you’re always crying and hiding.”

mihya hummed, quick to respond. “well, i guess i really got no other choice. i wanna avoid getting hit as much as i can.”

your chest tightened to the point where it hurt, a frown making way onto your face. “i love you, you know that? to the moon and saturn, i really do love you.”

mihya’s heart stopped.

and eight years old, having such a crush probably won’t end good for him. but no one had ever told him that they loved him before, and yet you say it out of nowhere, and to the moon and saturn? he might just die of happiness.

heat spread throughout his cheeks before he squeaked out. “i-i love you…too?” you gave him a toothy grin and gave him a high-five.

at ten years old, you’re on the swings once more, this time with a blue raspberry popsicle in between your lips. mihya has a strawberry flavored one, bought using your money.

“you know, mihya. we should move away forever. or maybe we could be pirates or something. y’know, like from one piece.” you said dreamily.

“that came out of nowhere. why?” mihya replied, tossing his now empty stick into the trash can of the park.

“so that we could get away from your damn father and you won’t have to cry anymore.” you muttered, pouting. “i’ve never even met the guy, and yet i hate him.” you chomped down on the popsicle stick, breaking it in half.

mihya laughed. “yeah? i want to leave too. and it sounds nice to leave with you.”

at fourteen, the news arrived.

you sat on the swings, sobbing into your hands. mihya had come from behind you, his heart aching when he saw your tears. you were the love of his life (you just didn’t know it yet), and your tears hurt him.

“mihya, im moving.”

three words, and yet it wasn’t the usual three words that was like music to mihya’s ears.

he swallowed, tears stinging his own eyes. “to where…?”

“japan. apparently it’s supposed to be a safer environment there or something like that. i have to learn the language and the customs and everything.” you sniffled. “but i don’t want to. i don’t want to leave everything i know. but i mostly don’t want to leave you, mihya.”

mihya wanted to go to your family and interrogate them and to beg them to let you stay. he couldn’t live without you, he wouldn’t be able to survive without the light of his life. you would leave and forget him within a month or two because you have all new friends, and he’ll just be another piece of your forgotten childhood. but you would still be his whole life; you were his first friend, his only real friend.

the only person who he will ever love and the only person who will ever love him.

“right. got it.” mihya replied, his throat dry.

two weeks later, mihya became subhuman piece of shit again.

however, at fifteen, the subhuman was arrested and eventually scouted.

subhuman became kaiser.

at nineteen, kaiser traveled to japan to participate in the still fairly recent blue lock program. although he was interested in blue lock’s new rising player isagi yoichi, he wondered if he could coincidentally see you.

nothing was impossible, after all.

—

for the past five years, you’ve been lonely.

the language barrier was resolved within three years of hard work, but unknown customs and a personality that didn’t match the japanese status quo just made everything worse. for years, you had no friends, you spent lunchtime alone, and worst of all?

you didn’t have mihya in your life.

there were nights when you felt so alone that you would just curl up with your pillow and remember mihya. your mihya. those beautiful seven years spent with him, years that you will never forget.

there was a night where you forgot what he looked like.

panicked and crying, you had opened up your phone immediately too look at a picture of him. after a few minutes of staring, your tears stopped as you memorized his face once more. you never wanted to forget him, not a single bit.

at nineteen and in desperation of college credit and money, you volunteered to be a manager of the blue lock program. ego jinpachi was a strange man, but everything was worth it for the money.

and you couldn’t help but think of your mihya, who you remembered bought a soccer ball for his twelfth birthday and adored it.

for years, you’ve refused to check soccer news out of heartbreak.

after blue lock won against the japanese u20 team, you were given a two week break, and was afterwards immediately shoved into the hell of the neo egoist league.

responsible for helping bastard münchen (“for it’s undeniable potential” said ego, although you really couldn’t care less.), you had walked to the germany wing expecting to have the rest the next few months surrounded by the company of isagi, kurona, yukimiya, hiori, and the others.

and yet when you entered, the first thing you saw was pale blonde hair.

the same that mihya had.

kaiser turned to you, as did the other blue lockers and bastard münchen members.

and finally, kaiser became mihya again.

BASED OFF OF THE TAYLOR SWIFT SONG “seven”

[rafes-slut]

You send your best friend nudes on aciddent

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader (Best Friends)

Summary: you wanted ro send nudes to guy you were talking to and without even realizing you sended them to rafe. He shows up at your house and he fucks you pretty

Warnings:(Explicit sexual content (18+), Rough, raw, and unprotected sex, Best friends-to-lovers tension, Possessiveness/jealousy, Strong language, Slight dominance themes, Mentions of nudes/sexting, Brief edging/denial)

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

Your house was too quiet. Too empty. The kind of silence that made you restless, forcing you to find something—anything—to keep yourself occupied.

You had already scrolled through every possible social media feed, tried binge-watching a show, and even considered taking a nap, but nothing seemed to cure the boredom eating at you. The guy you’d been talking to—the one you had a… thing with—hadn't texted you all day, and for some reason, that only annoyed you more.

With a sigh, you plopped onto your bed, staring at the ceiling before an idea popped into your head. A reckless, stupid idea. But an exciting one.

Grabbing your phone, you opened the camera app, biting your lip as you hesitated. Then, without thinking too hard about it, you started posing, taking pictures of yourself—fully naked.

The longer you did it, the more confident you became, experimenting with angles, capturing the way the dim lighting cast shadows over your skin. By the time you finished, you were beyond pleased with how good you looked.

Your finger hovered over the screen as you scrolled through the pictures, feeling the rush of power that came with it. Maybe if you sent them to him—the guy you’d been talking to—he’d finally give you the attention you deserved.

Without another thought, you selected a few of your best shots and hit send.

The moment was thrilling. You smirked to yourself, placing your phone aside as you basked in the satisfaction of it all. You left your phone unattended for a while, assuming he’d take his time responding, so you didn’t bother checking right away.

It wasn’t until an hour later, when you absentmindedly picked up your phone to see if he had replied, that your stomach dropped.

36 new messages.

But they weren’t from him.

They were from Rafe.

Your heart stopped. Your entire body froze as dread crept up your spine. Confusion clouded your mind until you clicked on his name, your blood running cold as you read the first message.

Rafe: Tell me you didn’t just send that to me.

Your breath hitched. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you scrolled.

Rafe: Are you serious right now?

Rafe: Fucking answer me.

Rafe: Jesus Christ, what the fuck?

Rafe: Are you out of your mind?

Panic overtook your senses as you finally understood what had happened. Your fingers shook as you scrolled up, only to confirm your worst nightmare.

You hadn’t sent those pictures to the guy you’d been talking to.

You had sent them to Rafe.

Your best friend.

The same Rafe who had seen you at your worst, who had been there through everything, who—until now—had never seen you like that.

You felt sick.

Rafe: I swear to fucking God, tell me that was a mistake.

Rafe: Are you ignoring me on purpose?

Rafe: Do you even realize what you just did?

You stared at the messages, paralyzed with horror, your mind racing with what to do. There was no taking it back. No pretending it never happened.

Your phone buzzed again, and another text popped up.

Rafe: I’m coming over.

Your stomach flipped.

Oh. Fuck.

You barely had time to process the messages before loud, impatient knocking shook your front door. Your heart jumped into your throat.

Shit.

Rafe was already here.

Panic surged through you as you scrambled off your bed. You weren’t even dressed—still completely bare from your little photoshoot. With no time to properly throw on clothes, you grabbed the first thing within reach—an oversized shirt that smelled faintly of cologne. Rafe’s cologne. It was probably his shirt, one he had left behind on one of the countless nights he crashed at your place.

You barely managed to pull it over your head, the hem brushing mid-thigh, before the knocking got louder.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Open the damn door."

His voice was sharp, edged with something you couldn’t quite place—urgency, frustration… something more.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out the shirt, schooling your expression into something nonchalant. Like you didn’t just send your best friend a full spread of naked pictures. Like you weren’t freaking the fuck out inside.

You swung the door open, greeting him with a bright, innocent smile. "Hey, Rafe."

His eyes flickered over you immediately, scanning your barely covered frame. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. "You’re fucking joking."

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. "About what?"

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling a sharp breath before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. "Don't do that. Don't act like you didn't just—" He stopped himself, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as his eyes dragged down your body again, lingering on your bare legs.

You crossed your arms, biting back a smirk. "Didn't just what?"

His jaw ticked. "Send me those pictures."

You shrugged. "It was an accident."

His blue eyes snapped to yours, dark and dangerous. "An accident?" He took a step closer, forcing you back slightly. "Tell me, how exactly do you 'accidentally' send someone half a dozen nude pictures?"

You swallowed hard, nerves creeping up your spine, but you refused to back down. You weren’t about to let him see how flustered you were. "I meant to send them to someone else."

His expression darkened, something flickering behind his eyes at your words. His voice dropped, lower, rougher. "Yeah? Who?"

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You weren’t sure why, but suddenly, saying his name—the guy you’d been talking to—felt wrong. The way Rafe was looking at you, staring through you like he was barely holding himself together, made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t prepared for.

His fingers twitched at his side. "Who were they meant for?"

You hesitated. "It doesn’t matter."

"Like hell it doesn’t," Rafe snapped, stepping in again, this time leaving no space between you. Your breath hitched. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his chest barely brushing yours. His gaze flicked to your lips for a fraction of a second before locking onto your eyes again. "You were really about to send those to some other guy?"

Your mouth felt dry. You blinked up at him, struggling to find your voice. "It’s not a big deal—"

His laugh was humorless. "Not a big deal?" His fingers curled at his sides like he was physically restraining himself. "You seriously don’t get it, do you?"

"Get what?" You whispered.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched so tightly you swore he might break his teeth. Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Don’t ever send shit like that to another guy." His voice was low, dangerously soft. "Not when you have me."

Your heart stuttered. "Rafe—"

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly like he was at war with himself. His grip on your chin tightened just enough to make you dizzy. "Do you have any idea what you just did to me?"

You swallowed, your skin buzzing under his touch. "I—"

"You think I didn’t like it?" He scoffed, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "You think I’m mad because I didn’t want to see you like that?"

Your stomach flipped.

He leaned in, his lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "I’m mad because now I can't stop fucking thinking about it."

A sharp breath left your lungs.

His other hand trailed down, gripping the hem of your—his—shirt. His fingers brushed against your bare thigh, sending shivers up your spine.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The second you didn’t tell him to stop, Rafe took that as a green light.

Before you could process it, his hands gripped your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifted you off the floor. A startled gasp left your lips as he placed you on the nearest surface—the hallway counter—knocking over a few things in the process.

Your legs instinctively spread, your oversized shirt riding up your thighs, exposing just how bare you were beneath it.

Rafe wasn’t blind. He saw everything.

And fuck, he wasn’t about to pretend he didn’t notice how worked up you already were.

A dark smirk tugged at his lips as his hands slid up your thighs, fingers tracing your soft skin. "You didn’t even think about putting something on, huh?" His voice was low, teasing. "Almost like you wanted me to see you like this."

Heat crawled up your neck, but before you could snap back, his fingers were already moving.

Without hesitation, he slipped between your thighs, brushing against your slick heat. A breathy moan slipped past your lips as he ran two fingers through your folds, feeling just how wet you were for him.

"Shit," Rafe groaned under his breath. "Look at you."

Your head tilted back slightly, hands gripping the edge of the counter as he teased you, his fingers barely dipping into you before pulling away again. Your hips bucked slightly, chasing the friction, and he chuckled.

"Needy, huh?"

"Rafe—" Your voice was a quiet plea, but he wasn’t feeling merciful tonight.

He pushed two fingers inside you with ease, the stretch making you gasp. He wasted no time, his fingers curling just right, pressing against that spot that made your entire body shudder.

"That’s it, baby," he murmured, his free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread for him. "Fuck, you’re already squeezing me."

Your legs twitched, the pleasure overwhelming as he pumped his fingers inside you, slow but deliberate. His thumb found your clit, rubbing small, calculated circles that made you whimper.

"Bet you weren’t even thinking about that guy when you took those pictures," he taunted, his pace never faltering. "Bet you were thinking about me."

You didn’t answer, but your body betrayed you—the way you clenched around his fingers, the way your thighs trembled.

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours, but never closing the distance. "Say it," he murmured. "Tell me who you really wanted to send them to."

Your pride held on, but your body was already giving him the answer.

You didn’t answer his question. You couldn’t. Saying it out loud would mean admitting it—to him, to yourself. That you never meant for those pictures to go to anyone but him. That the only person you wanted to see you like this, touch you like this, was Rafe.

But your silence didn’t matter. Your body told him everything he needed to know.

You gasped, yanking his wrist, pulling his fingers out of you before you could tumble over the edge. Rafe’s brows furrowed, his fingers glistening in the dim light, but before he could question it, your hands found his waistband, tugging at his jeans.

He let out a low chuckle, but it was rough, almost breathless. "That desperate, huh?"

You ignored him, too focused on shoving his jeans down. The second they pooled around his ankles, you took a moment—your breath hitching as you took him in.

Fuck.

You already knew he was big, but seeing it—thick, hard, already leaking at the tip—had you swallowing hard.

Rafe didn’t give you time to think. He grabbed your hips, dragging you to the edge of the counter, spreading you wider. He didn’t bother with teasing or stretching you any further—he knew you could take it.

And you did.

The moment he pushed inside, a strangled moan left your lips, your hands flying to grip his shoulders.

"Shit," Rafe gritted, his fingers digging into your skin as he bottomed out in one sharp thrust.

It was rough. Raw. Deep.

He didn’t give you time to adjust—he pulled back just enough before slamming into you again, knocking the breath from your lungs. The counter rattled beneath you with every thrust, his grip bruising, his pace relentless.

"Look at you," he groaned, watching the way your body took him, how you clenched around him with every movement. "This is what you wanted, huh? Not him—me."

Your nails scraped down his back, a broken moan escaping as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars.

"You feel that?" Rafe panted, his forehead pressing against yours. "This is mine. You're mine."

You couldn’t even argue.

Not when you were falling apart around him, your body trembling as you came, his name spilling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew.

And Rafe? He followed right after, burying himself deep, groaning your name as he spilled inside you, claiming you in every way possible.

[keraawrites]

Don't play wit' me

Summary: Dealer Eren AU, Eren doesn't play when it comes to you, and you loved how you had him wrapped around your finger. So when you don't get your way one day, no one can blame you for being a tad bit bratty. ۶ৎ Eren x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Drug use, use of the word nigga, tongue piercing, tattoo's, alcohol use, bratty reader, rough sex, oral (m&f), chocking, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys x), pole dancing, degrading, use of word daddy, ma, mama, public sex (?)

Word count — 5.7k

You couldn't help the small smile that tugged on your brown-stained lips as you watched your man put a gun to some bum ass nigga's head for calling you out of your name.

Everyone who knew Eren knew you. He was the biggest dealer around, not only for his top product but for the fact that he had such great referrals. Eren didn't like strangers until they were vetted by him, Levi, and Connie, so it was strange that Jean had recommended someone to him, but it was even stranger that he let it slide without any background check.

Maybe it was because he was in a good mood after you took his dick in your mouth ten minutes earlier.

You often went along with Eren to his drops and to the trap, so it wasn't strange to see you prancing around. As you were friendly with his boss and the rest of his friends, Eren had no problem bringing you.

But there was a little hiccup. Jean.

Eren never really considered him a friend—God knows why—but he did sell to him, so when Jean brought a guest with him to the trap, all hell broke loose when said nigga called you the trap whore and asked when he could have a turn with you.

The room went silent. Eren’s head snapped toward the guy so fast, before anyone could even process what happened, he had the barrel of his Glock pressed right between the dude’s brows, his jaw tight, emerald eyes glinting with a rage that was barely contained.

"Say that shit again," Eren’s voice was eerily calm, too calm.

Jean took a step back, hands raised. "Eren, chill, bro—"

"Nah, fuck that." Eren cocked the gun, pressing it harder into the guy’s forehead. "You think you can just walk up in here, talk on my girl, and walk out breathing?"

The guy stammered, sweat beading along his hairline. "I-I ain't mean it like that, man—"

"Oh, you ain’t mean it like that?" Eren mocked, tilting his head. "So what the fuck did you mean?"

The whole room held its breath. Even Levi, usually unbothered by anything, shifted slightly in his seat, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. Connie, sitting a few feet away, shook his head with a low chuckle.

He continued to stammer, his tough-guy act completely squashed under Eren’s glare. You sighed, arms crossed, tapping your nails against your thigh as you watched the scene unfold. This wasn’t new. Eren never let disrespect slide, especially when it came to you.

Levi finally spoke up, voice dry. "Eren, we got business to handle. Ain't no point wasting a bullet on some dumbass who won't live long in this game anyway."

Eren didn’t move immediately, his trigger finger twitching slightly. You could tell he was debating it. You wouldn’t stop him if he pulled it—you knew how he was.

Still, you sighed dramatically, shifting in your seat. “Renny,” your voice was soft, lilting, deliberately sweet.

Eren’s shoulders dropped slightly at the sound of your voice. He let out a short breath through his nose before taking a slow step back, lowering the piece.

"Get the fuck out," Eren muttered, voice still deadly.

The guy didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled back, practically tripping over himself as he bolted out the door. Jean lingered for a second, giving you and Eren an unreadable look before following after him.

Eren turned to you, jaw still tight, but his eyes softened just a little. "You good?"

You smirked, reaching up to brush a thumb across his jaw. "Of course. My man handled it."

He let out a small, satisfied hum, pulling you in close, fingers curling around your waist. "Damn right I did."

You leaned in, voice a low whisper. "Still owe me for leaving me hanging earlier."

Eren chuckled, pressing a slow kiss against your lips before murmuring against them, "I’ll make it up to you, baby. In every way you want."

That's how it was. Eren didn't play when it came to you. You want a fresh set? He'd give you more than enough money. You want a new coach bag? He gives you his black card and tells you to go nuts. You want some dick? He'll stop what he's doing and has you crying on his cock before you can think.

So yeah, three years with the man has made you endlessly spoiled—you always got your way.

Your brows were furrowed as you looked down at the text that lit your screen. You were confused, very confused.

'Have to rain check on our date ma, gotta deal with some shit'

You blinked, your fingers hovering over the keyboard—you were a little confused, not knowing how to respond to something you weren't used to.

You pressed the ringer next to his name before you could think. You could hear it ring for a while, anger starting to bubble in your chest, thinking he wasn't going to answer your call.

"Ma, I cant talk—“

You cut him off before he could finish. "What do you mean you have to reschedule?"

You could hear music and shouting in the background but you didn't care, "I got shit to deal with, I'll take you out tomorrow--“

"Eren, no," you snapped, your body shifting in your shared oversized bathtub, your nails tapping against the sides, "I don’t wanna go out tomorrow. I gotta help Mikasa with some shit so I want to go out today, like you promised."

He sighed on the other end. "Ma, don’t start—"

"Don’t start what? Getting upset that my man is ditching me? After I just had a bath with all those essential oils that you like? Had my hair done, nails fresh, bought a tight ass dress that you said would make my ass like fat? And for what? A damn rain check?"

You heard him exhale sharply. "You know I don’t wanna do this, baby, but shit came up. Business. You know how it is."

"Nah, what I know is that I always come first." Your tone was laced with attitude, lips pouting even though he couldn’t see it.

He was quiet for a second, and you could picture him rubbing his temple, jaw clenched. You didn’t care. Eren never told you no. He always made time. So the fact that he was choosing not to right now? Unacceptable.

"Ma—"

"Nope," you interrupted, shifting again as the bubbles rose, your fingers pulling a fresh blunt off your bath table, voice turning syrupy sweet but still full of attitude. "I get it. You got 'shit to deal with.’ So I’ma go find something else to do too. 

"Oi--"

"Byeeee." You hung up the phone, kissing your teeth, you watched as he tried to call you again, knowing he hated it when you cut him off.

You continued to ignore him as you sent Historia and Sasah a text asking if they were still going to the club. The two quickly hit you back with a yes and said they'd swing by to get you in 40 minutes.

You were glad your makeup and hair were already done, you set your bath knowing you liked the dewy look it gave your freshly beat face.

You sighed as you took a drag from the freshly lit blunt that sat between your fingers, letting the smooth smoke curl around your lips before exhaling.

The sound of your phone buzzing again caught your attention, your eyes darting down to the last text you knew Eren would send you for the night.

'Don't play with me'

You felt the hum of the weed running through you as a small smirk pulled on your lips. You opened the message, letting him know you had read it before locking your phone.

By the time you stepped out of the bath, the weed had settled into your bloodstream, leaving you warm and buzzing. The bathroom mirror was fogged up, but you could still see the outline of your figure as you slipped into a dangerously low-cut silver dress that showed off your spine tattoo, the fabric hugging your curves like it was made for you.

Biting your lip, you took a quick selfie, your fingers placed gently on your neck, purposely showing off your ring finger that had his name tatted across. Hearing the honk of a car, you licked your lips as you quickly made a post to Instagram, tagging your man before you grabbed your clutch and waltzed out the front door.

C'mre daddy.

The club was already packed when you walked in with Historia and Sasha, neon lights bouncing off your skin, the bass of the music thrumming deep in your chest as you made your way through the crowd.

You were playing with fire; you saw the look of recognition in the bouncer's eyes as he noticed you. You could see the hesitation in him, but with a raised brow, he let you through. You knew Eren would know where you were the minute you stepped into his club.

Yes, his club.

Annie and Ymir were already in the VIP section, waiting, drinks in hand. Annie, ever the minimalist, had on a fitted two-piece, gold jewelry catching the light as she raised her glass in greeting. Ymir, sprawled lazily on one of the couches, smirked at her blonde girlfriend, squeals leaving her lips as she practically pounced on the short-haired brunette.

“About time,” Ymir teased. “Figured Eren had you locked up somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, plopping down beside her. “Boy’s acting up tonight. Fucking cancelled on me so here I am--"

"You mean he told you no, so now you're in his club, knowing he probably already knows you're here?"

You smirked, your tongue running along your teeth, the cool metal of your piercing clinking with your pearly whites. Your fingers ran against the rim of the shot glass before downing the tequila.

"Exactly, so let me go shake my ass."

Eren continued to faze out the stupid argument between Connie and Armin as he lazily rolled a blunt between his fingers. He wasn’t paying them much attention; his focus was on his phone, eyes scanning through messages from his men.

At first, he thought he had read it wrong.

Then another text came through.

And another.

"Yo, your girl just walked into the club."

Eren’s brows furrowed.

Nah. No way.

There was no way that you were acting out all because he had to reschedule. Actually, scratch that, that is exactly what you were doing, and he knew he should have seen it coming.

His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing around his phone as more messages popped up.

"She came with Historia and Sasha." "VIP spotted her with Annie and Ymir."

Eren’s grip on his blunt tightened. He was already annoyed as it was—you had hung up on him earlier, ignored his text and calls, and now? You were out, in his fucking club, acting like he wasn’t going to find out?

Armin must’ve noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor because he leaned in. "Something wrong?"

Eren didn’t respond right away, instead unlocking his phone and scrolling through Instagram. He had a feeling—one that was confirmed the moment he saw your post.

"C’mere, daddy."

That picture. That fucking picture.

Your smooth, dark skin glowing under the dim light of your shared bedroom, the silver dress clinging to your curves like it was made for you, the way you placed your fingers just right to show off the tattoo of his name across your ring finger.

Eren’s nostrils flared. His tongue ran across his teeth, that little muscle in his jaw ticking.

Oh, you were real bold tonight, huh?

Armin, still waiting for an answer, gave Eren a skeptical look. "Eren? What is it?"

Eren exhaled sharply, his voice rough. "She’s at the club."

Armin rubbed his temple. "Shit. Annie told me the girls were going out, but she never mentioned—" He trailed off, eyes darting to Eren’s phone. His brows lifted as he took in the post. "Oh."

Eren didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He picked up his keys, and the two followed right behind him.

Connie was grinning like a cat got milk in the back, windows rolled down as he continued to smoke. The speakers blaring with some rap song Armin put on but Eren couldn't care about those two, he was thinking how he was gonna spank your ass raw for acting like a spoiled brat.

He pulled up to the club not that long after; it was no surprise, given how fast he was speeding. Connie dapped the bouncer, but Eren was already pushing through bodies as he entered the club. The atmosphere was thick—sweaty bodies grinding to the heavy bass, flashing neon lights casting everything in deep shades of red and purple.

His eyes scanned the VIP section, his gaze falling on Ymir and Annie. He was getting ready to barge over to them, but he felt it. He felt you.

The green hue of his eyes scanned the crowd until it landed on the cheering crowd, whistling, roaring men, their greedy hands throwing cash towards the stage.

His body went rigid.

He was going to kill you.

Eren’s breath stilled in his chest as his gaze locked onto you, his entire world narrowing down to the sight before him.

You moved with a kind of confidence that made his stomach twist, muscles flexing as you spun around the pole, the silver dress clinging to your curves like a second skin. The fabric barely covered your ass as you dipped low, teasing, taunting, daring.

Eren’s jaw ticked, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

The brunettes jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He could hear Connie mutter a "Goddamn" under his breath, and even Armin, usually the most composed of the three, shifted uncomfortably.

Eren moved slowly, ignoring the two who probably ran off to find their perspective women as he continued to watch you. He wasn't a bitch, but if you could describe what he was feeling it was fucking love, love and hate.

His stomach was a wreck as you worked that pole like you owned it. Eren never forgot how much he loved you even when you pissed him off like today and watching your perfect self make other men hard was how he loved you the most.

He watched as your dark skin gleamed under the dim lights, muscles flexing and moving with every precise motion. You twisted, arching your back just right as your hands traced down your body. Your hips rolled, slow and seductive, before you spun again, gripping the pole with ease, confidence dripping from every movement.

Your eyes—half-lidded, sultry—flicked up, scanning the crowd.

His lips pulled, your gazes locked. His arms crossed as he continued to watch you, noticing the slight hesitation in your movement but you didn't stop.

Eren inhaled sharply through his nose, his patience hanging by a fucking thread.

The music was pounding, the crowd cheering, money leaving the hands that reached toward you, but Eren didn’t hear or see any of it.

All he saw was you.

The way you dropped down, ass nearly touching the floor before rising back up, body winding like you were made of liquid.

The way your fingers ran down the length of the pole before wrapping around it again, your tongue swiping along your lips, that teasing little expression still in place.

You watched as he started pushing through the crowd, having had enough of your game, so you thought, why not double down.

Your leg curled around the pole, the cheers loud, your ass facing the crowd as you began to give the crowd a little twerk. The roar of the men around you—the way their hands stretched toward you like they had a fucking chance—

The hem of your dress flapping against your ass was what set him over the edge— well it could have been a number of things but before you knew it you had been dragged off the stage.

The boos of the crowd was drowned out as Eren's tatted hand held a firm grip, almost brusing grip on your wrist as he pulled you towards his back office.

You stumbled slightly as he dragged you through the club, your heels clicking against the floor, but he didn’t let up, didn’t speak, didn’t fucking look at you.

You bit your lip, hiding the smug little grin threatening to form. Oh, he was mad.

But you weren’t stupid. You could feel the heat rolling off him, the tension in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed against your skin.

The moment he kicked open the door to his office and yanked you inside, Eren slammed the door shut, pushing you up against it before you could get a word out. His hands braced on either side of your head, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths.

You tilted your chin up, refusing to break eye contact, that bratty little smirk still playing on your lips. "Something wrong, daddy?"

His nostrils flared. "Don’t fucking start with me."

"Start what?" You batted your lashes innocently, running your hands up his chest, feeling how his muscles tense under your touch.

A soft moan left your lips, his tattooed ring-clad hand had wrapped around your throat, you continued to stare up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw tighten, your pussy clenched around nothing as you noticed how dark his eyes got—how angry he was.

Fuck.

"You wanna act up just cause I told you no? I spoil you too god damn much." His voice was low, dark, dripping with restrained hunger.

A whine left your lips, his thumb rubbing against your lips"You always give me what I want, Renny." Your eyes never left his as your lips wrapped softly around the tip of his thumb.

You could barley make out the 'fuck' that he muttered under his breath, eyes hooded, watching the way your soft lips moved. Eren’s jaw clenched so tight you thought it might shatter. His thumb pressed down against your tongue, the cool feel of your piercing rubbed against the ridges on his thumb. He watched the way your soft lips wrapped around it, the way your warm mouth sucked just enough to send all the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick.

His grip on your throat tightened, forcing your head back against the door as he leaned in, his breath hot against your lips.

"I do always give you what you want, don’t I? Treat you like a fucking queen." His voice was low and rough. "That why you think you can get away with this shit?"

Your lashes fluttered, your hands smoothing up his chest, nails grazing over the tattoos on his arm. Your birthday in Roman numerals.

"You don’t tell me no," you whispered, your lips brushing against his thumb as you spoke. "So I don’t know why you thought you could start today."

Eren exhaled sharply, his hand leaving your throat only to grab your chin, tilting your head further back. His eyes burned into yours, that sharp emerald gaze swimming with a hunger that had your thighs pressing together.

"You know what your problem is, ma?" His fingers slid down, his knuckles grazing your pulse. "You think you run this shit. Think you can act up, go out, put on a little fucking show—"

His voice dropped lower, more dangerous.

"—and I won’t remind you exactly who you belong to."

Your breath hitched, pussy throbbing at the way he was looking at you, at the way he was speaking to you.

"You should," you whispered, lips barely brushing against his. "Remind me, I mean."

Eren growled.

His hands were on you in an instant, gripping your waist, spinning you around so your front pressed against the cold surface of his desk. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, pressing you down slightly, just enough to make you shiver.

"You wanna be a fucking brat?" he muttered, his other hand dragging your dress up your thighs, exposing more and more of your soft, glistening skin. "Act up just to get my attention?"

You smirked against the desk, arching your back slightly. "Worked, didn’t it?"

Eren smacked your ass, hard.

A gasp ripped from your throat, your fingers curling against the desk as your skin burned from the contact.

"Yeah," he murmured, smoothing a palm over the spot he just hit before landing another sharp slap, making you whimper. "Worked real fucking good."

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath warm, sending chills down your spine.

"You just love making me mad, huh, baby?" His fingers dipped between your thighs, sliding against the damp lace of your panties, pressing right against the spot that had you trembling.

You couldn’t fucking speak, not when his fingers were right there, not when he was teasing you like this, his voice deep and smug, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

"You’re soaked," he hummed, slipping a single finger under the fabric, gliding it through your wetness. "You got yourself this fucking wet dancing for other men?"

You turned your head slightly, your cheek pressed against the desk as you stared up at him, lips parting slightly.

"Nah," you whispered, breathless, needy, bratty. "I got wet thinking about you dragging me back here and fucking me like you should’ve after our date."

Eren’s grip on your neck tightened.

His fingers pressed deeper against your soaked panties, teasing the sensitive bud just enough to make you whimper. "You fucking piss me off," he murmured, voice dark, low.

You turned your head, lips curling into a smirk "You piss me off too Ren," you purred, shifting your hips just enough to grind against his fingers. "But I guess that's why you love me."

Eren inhaled sharply through his nose.

Your panties were ripped off before you could even process it, the lace tearing in his grip before being tossed somewhere across the room. His palm smacked against your bare ass, a sharp sting blossoming where he hit, your thighs twitching at the sensation.

"I spoil you too much."

You hummed, a teasing little sound, looking back at him with half-lidded eyes. "You do."

Eren’s jaw ticked. "Yeah? And this is how you thank me?"

You gave him a little shrug, hips shifting, rubbing your slick folds against the hard outline of his dick through his jeans. "Only want your attention Renny."

Eren grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat, his lips hovering over your ear.

"You had it the second you walked on that stage," he murmured, voice like gravel.

Eren wasted no more time. His belt clinked, the sound making your thighs clench together in anticipation, your breath stalling as you felt the heat of him pressing against you. His free hand gripped your hip, keeping you in place as he slid his cock between your slick folds.

Your lips parted, a soft whimper slipping out as he coated himself in your wetness, dragging his length up and down your folds, teasing your clit just enough to make you squirm.

"Eren," you whined, pushing your hips back, desperate for more, for him.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your skin. "Fucking slut, just wanted to be drunk on my cock huh?"

You nodded, moaning softly as he pressed the thick head of his cock right against your entrance, so close, but still not enough.

"Say it," he demanded, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against your ear.

You whimpered, your body trembling with need. "I want to be drunk on you."

He groaned, the sound went staright to your cunt, with one rough thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you open, filling you up all at once. A choked gasp tore from your throat, fingers scrambling against the surface of the desk, nails digging into the wood.

"Fuck—Eren!" Your voice broke on the last syllable, your walls clenching around him, trying to adjust to the sudden fullness.

His fingers tightened in your hair, keeping your head tilted back, his other hand spreading over your stomach, holding you still.

"You feel that, ma?" he murmured against your ear, voice dark, laced with raw need. "This dick ain’t for nobody else.And you got the nerve to be up there, showing off?"

A moan spilled from your lips as he dragged out of you slowly, the thick length of him pressing against your walls in all the right ways, before he slammed back in, hard enough to make the desk beneath you shake.

"Answer me," he demanded, his palm cracking against your ass, leaving behind a sting that only made the heat between your legs burn hotter.

You whined, gripping the edge of the desk, your body trembling as he set a brutal pace, thrusting into you with deep, punishing strokes that left you breathless.

"I—" You tried to speak, but another thrust had you moaning instead.

Eren clicked his tongue, his grip on your hip tightening, his thumb pressing into the dip of your spine. "Nah, use your words, baby. You had all that attitude before—where is it now?"

Your nails dragged against the desk, your thighs shaking, toes curling in your heels. "Y-you’re right," you finally managed, voice shaky, wrecked. "I was acting up."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, but there was no humor in it—just heat. "Damn right you were."

His fingers slid lower, dipping between your thighs, finding your clit and rubbing slow, deliberate circles, a sharp contrast to the way he was fucking you into the desk.

Your entire body jerked, a whimper tumbling from your lips as your walls clenched around him.

Eren groaned, his hips stuttering for just a second before he picked up the pace, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

"You know I’d give you whatever you want," he murmured, his lips grazing your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

You barely processed his words—too lost in the feeling of him, the way he stretched you, filled you, owned every inch of you like he had something to prove.

"Tell me you’re mine," he growled, his hand tightening around your throat, his cock throbbing inside you.

Your lips parted, a desperate little whimper escaping as your body arched against him, surrendering completely. "I’m yours, daddy—fuck, I’m yours."

Eren groaned, his hips slamming into you harder, rougher, deeper.

"Yeah," he muttered, voice strained, wrecked. "You fucking are."

His grip on your throat tightened, his fingers pressing into the sides just enough to make your head swim, your breath hitch. He was so fucking deep, splitting you open on his cock, your walls fluttering around him as he pounded into you, using your body just how he wanted.

"Look at you," he gritted, his voice dark, condescending, dripping with heat. His hand tugged your head back, forcing your spine into a deep arch, your chest pressing against the cool wood of his desk. "Acting all high and mighty earlier, bratty as fuck— now you can’t even talk. Can’t even think, huh?"

You whimpered, your fingers curling into fists, your thighs trembling as he fucked you hard, each stroke knocking the air from your lungs, pushing you closer to that sweet, devastating edge.

Eren chuckled, low and taunting. "Nah, don’t get quiet now, ma. You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Thought you could act like a fucking slut in front of all those men and not deal with me?"

A sharp slap to your ass had you gasping, your pussy clenching around him in response.

Eren groaned, his hips faltering for just a second before he snapped back into rhythm, his grip on your throat loosened just enough for his fingers to slide up, gripping your jaw, forcing your head up.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, tilting your chin towards the dark glass of the office window, the faint reflection of your fucked-out expression staring back at you.

Your lips were swollen, glossy, parted. Your mascara was smudged, your hair a mess. Your eyes—half-lidded, hazy, desperate.

Eren grinned. "Such a fucking mess." His hand slipped between your legs again, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, brutal circles. "You like being fucked like this, huh? Like being put in your place?"

You sobbed out a moan, your entire body trembling.

Eren's grip tightened on your jaw, his fingers pressing into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open as he spat onto your tongue.

"Swallow it," he ordered.

And you did. Without hesitation.

Eren groaned, his hips stuttering, his cock twitching inside you. "That’s my fucking girl."

Your walls clamped down around him, your orgasm hitting you hard, sudden, unforgiving. Your body shook, your moans breaking as your climax crashed over you, pleasure swallowing you whole.

Your breathing became staggered, your vision trying to focus as you came down from your high but Eren had other ideas. Your back, ass now hanging off the edge of the desk, Eren spread your legs wide, his head immediately dipping between your thighs.

A broken moan tore from your throat as his tongue found your clit, pressing against you as he licked slow, teasing circles.

Your body arched, legs trembling, hands scrambling for purchase.

"Eren—fuck, oh my God," you gasped, your hips rolling against his mouth, but he only pinned you down harder.

"Be good," he murmured against you, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you still. "Take it."

And you did. You took it all— the messy, open-mouthed kisses he pressed against your folds, the way his tongue dipped inside you, teasing, curling, before returning to your clit, flicking against it just right.

It was too much. Your body shook, your mind blanked, your breath caught.

"Fuck, Eren, I—"

You came hard, your thighs squeezing around his head as he groaned against you, licking you through it.

But he didn’t give you time to recover. The second your high began to fade, he was already pressing you into the desk, pushing your legs up until they were practically touching your chest. Putting you in a delicious matting press,

A choked moan left your lips as he slid back inside you, stretching you all over again.

His hips snapped against yours roughly, the sound of skin slapping, your wetness, his growls and your cries filling the room.

"Look at you," he taunted, his lips curling. "Fucking ruined. Just. For. Me."

You could barely breathe, let alone talk back. Your fingers dug into his arms, your body jolting with each punishing thrust.

"You gonna stop acting out?" His hand wrapped around your throat again,

"Yes," you sobbed, the lewd sounds of your pussy and moans filled the room, you knew you had made a mess of the desk, knowing if you managed to get a peak you would see your cream all over his cock.

Eren’s tattooed fingers slipped between your bodies, his thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles over your clit, making you jolt, making you wail.

"E--rennnn." A desperate, breathless cry tore from your lips, your nails raking down his sweat-slick back as the pleasure coiled tight and hot in your belly.

"Yeah, that’s it. Take it."

He angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that had you trembling, shaking, gasping his name like a prayer.

"You gonna come again, sweetheart? Gonna make a mess all over my dick?"

You nodded frantically, helpless, wrecked.

"Please—Eren, fuck—please, I—"

"Do it," he ordered, his thumb pressing down harder, rubbing faster. "Come for me, baby"

You shattered, pleasure crashing over you like a fucking tidal wave, your body clenching, spasming, locking up as the orgasm ripped through you.

Eren cursed, his head dropping against your throat, his own breathing ragged, uneven.

"Fuck—good girl," he murmured against your sweat-damp skin, kissing, biting, licking.

You were soaked, trembling, overstimulated, but Eren kept going. His pace never slowed, never faltered. His cock was still thick, still heavy, still throbbing.

And he wanted more.

His fingers dug into your hips, lifting you, pulling you impossibly closer, forcing your bodies flush together as he fucked you through it, dragging out every last aftershock, every last whimper.

"One more," he murmured, almost soothing, almost sweet. "Just one more, baby."

You whimpered, nails dragging down his back as his pace grew. Your legs trembled from how deep he was, how good he was hitting that spot over and over again, like he was trying to imprint himself inside you.

"Fuck, Eren—I can’t—"

"Yes, the fuck you can," he snarled, his grip tightening on your thighs, forcing them higher, pressing you deeper into the desk.

The change in angle had you screaming, arching, gasping his name.

"That’s it," he groaned, sweat dripping down his temple. "Take it. Take every inch of this dick like the good fucking girl I know you are."

Your body seized up, pleasure snapping through you like a live wire. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath caught in your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, violent and all-consuming.

Eren felt it instantly. The way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, your body gripping him like a vice, refusing to let go.

His pace turned sloppy, erratic, desperate, his breathing ragged as he fucked you through your high, chasing his own.

Your name tumbled past his lips, over and over, reverent and raw, his forehead pressing against yours as he lost himself, buried deep.

"Fuck—" Eren gritted his teeth, his hands gripping your hips tight, bruising, before he slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep, his cock pulsing, twitching, spilling inside you.

The silence between you two was calming, your bodies still pressed together, you moaned softly as you felt him shift in you, he pressed a lazy kiss to your jaw.

Your hands trailed up his arms, fingertips ghosting over the ink covering his skin. You smirked, voice breathless, smug.

"I basically got what I wanted."

Eren could feel his eye twitch, you did his head in but you loved you nonetheless. Huffing a laugh, he bit down on your neck causing you to giggle.

"Too damn spoiled."

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[hughesmuse86]

Okay maybe subby jack because you’re jealous? like a girl is flirting with him at the bar and he’s just a natural flirt so he’s giving the wrong impression and she goes to kiss him and that’s where you jump in as he pushes her off of him. he’s clearly confused and not interested and you’re pissed so you go home and show him that he’s yours. He so apologetic and begging for forgiveness, definitely whining and praising you.

Yeahhhhh I like this sub!jack

Hi hun! Thank you so much for your ask!! 🤭🤭🤭 ahhh I’m so glad you like him too 😋💕

+18 -> smut | Jack needs to make things better after a bar night gone wrong 🩷

𝓢𝓾𝓫!𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: sub!jack, jealous reader, ownership, swearing, pet names (bunny, baby, sweetheart, princess, pretty <- out boy is in trouble), cum tasting, oral (female receiving, praise, begging

just a little t8 to set the mood 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

1.7 k

Jack Hughes has always been a flirt. Not in a way that means anything; he’s just too damn charming, naturally magnetic, with a smile that makes all the girls weak, including you. He doesn’t even realize half the time how easily he pulls people in. You know this. You’ve always known this. But tonight, he’s testing you.

You're sitting at a bar, celebrating a win with some of his teammates. The energy is electric, music pumping; drinks flowing. Jack has had a grin plastered on his face since you got there, enjoying the post-game buzz with his teammates, completely relaxed and carefree.

Jack walks up to the bar, ordering your drinks as you watch from across the way. And, just like clockwork, a woman walks up to him, and all smiles as well. A beautiful smile—the bleach blonde putting on a show as she arches her back and flutters her lashes.

Her fingers run through her hair, playing with it a little, her glossed lips catching the light. She laughs at something he says, leaning a little too close and touching his arm for just a little too long.

Jack, being Jack, doesn’t shut it down. He’s too nice. Too oblivious. He doesn’t realize that just because he’s not interested doesn’t mean she won’t be.

Luke catches your eye from across the bar, raising a brow in question. He knows you well enough to tell you’re seconds away from snapping if his brother doesn't pull his head out of his ass. You exhale sharply, setting what’s left of your drink down hard before stepping out of the booth and walking toward him.

Luke leans over to warn him you're coming, bringing Jack closer to her, and of course, she takes it every way but right—rising on her tippy toes, lips parting as Jack’s body retracts, dodging her advances a new clarity, blue eyes wide like a deer in the headlight.

“Woah, hey now—” He stops her, his voice laced with confusion. His eyes snap down to you, blinking like he doesn’t understand what could have possibly just happened.

And just as fast as she came, she scurried away, recognizing your face right away. You turn toward him, stepping a little closer, your features sharp as he starts to panic.

“What the fuck, Jack—”

“I'm just as confused as you, baby. I swear—”

You cut him a look, and he instantly shuts up. “I’m leaving.”

“I’m coming with you, baby. What do you mean?”

“You seem busy, Jack,” you clip, giving him a smile—the kind that's anything but nice, causing him to panic.

“She got the wrong idea. I promise—” He stammers as you turn on your heels, walking toward the exit, and before you can even take a step, his hand is on your lower back, guiding you through the thick crowd, his soul-focus on you.

The two of you step out into the street, taking the short walk back to the hotel, Jack’s feet pounding against the pavement to keep up with you.

You step into the elevator, and he quickly steps to your side. His body language’s rigid; his apology, right on the tip of his tongue. He sneaks anxious glances at you, fingers tapping against his thighs.

As soon as the hotel door locks, he's on you, his chest pressed against your back with his hand holding your hips, burying himself in your neck. “Baby, c’mon. I didn’t do anything, I promise. You know me. You know I wouldn't do that to you. It was nothing—”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, surely making him shiver. “Mhmm… That looked like a lot of nothing, Jack,” you say with a sigh, your words dripping with condescension.

“I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Jack,” you cut him off. “Luke saw it before you did… He was thinking. You…”

“Weren’t thinking,” he finishes your words submissively, his voice hoarse and uneasy.

“She thought she had a chance.”

“No fuckin’ way—”

“Are you serious?” You ask through a laugh as you turn around to face him, and you can see in his eyes that he clearly does not have a clue, nonetheless you couldn’t help, but be pissed.

Jack shakes his head so fast it’s almost pathetic, his hands reaching for you desperately. “No, baby, I wasn’t flirting back, I swear. She’s Trevor’s sister. She was in town for the game. We were just jokin’ around, talking shit about him. That's it.”

"That's all? You allowed her to touch you, Jack. You allowed her to think she could kiss you."

His shoulders slump in defeat as he looks down at you, biting at his lip, trying to think of what he can say to make this better. "I didn't do it. I swear, I didn't do it. I would never…"

You tilt your head slightly, angling your lips, making him chase yours. Your hands press against his broad chest, holding him back, making his breath catch.

“You didn’t even realize, did you?” You whisper as you feel his uneven breaths dust your lips. “You’re mine, Jack.”

A small, shaky whimper slips from his lips. “Yours,” he breathes instantly. “I’m yours, bunny. Only yours. Please, I swear.” Jack takes his opportunity, stripping the both of you bare.

“Are you gonna prove it?”

His hands tighten on your waist, his voice soft and needy. “Let me, baby. Please...”

You look down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his thick dick, pulling to the tip, making his abs flex tight.

His lip tucks between his teeth as he watches your finger swirl through the precum, gathered at his pulsing tip.

“You’re saying you're sorry, Jack. Does it look like you feel bad?” You ask with a slight tip of your head, your finger slipping between your lips to suck it clean, making his eyes roll back as you release it with a pop.

“I'm sorry. I—”

“Then get on your knees.”

Jack drops so fast it makes your head spin, looking up at you, eyes wide and desperate as he waits for instruction, wanting to do whatever it takes to get back in your good graces, knowing full well you could easily make him sweat it out longer and that's the last thing he wants.

“Baby, please,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper as his rough hands grip your thighs.

You scratch your nails through his hair, making his dark lashes flutter shut as he feeds off your touch.

“You embarrassed me, Jack,” you whisper. His lips part with a shaky inhale, his fingers twitching against your thighs. “You let some girl think she had a chance with you.”

He whimpers, his head jerking back and forth in a wild motion. "No, no, baby. I swear, I didn't… I didn't even know—" His voice breaks, and he buries his forehead in your hip, his grip on you tightening.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging his hair just enough to make him look up at you again; his lips are rosy and swollen, his pupils blown wide.

“Make me forget—” Jack doesn’t need to be told twice. Jack’s hands tighten on your thigh as he grips one, lifting it over his shoulder, his lips brushing soft, teasing kisses against your skin as he settles in.

He applies another kiss on your inner thigh, and another one, clutches like he's relishing the moment as though he's thanking you for letting him do it

“I love you, princess,” he mumbles, hot against your sex. “I’m gonna be so good for you, bunny. So fucking good… Gonna make you forget about everything else. Just you and me, yeah?” He whispers against your lips pressing onto your clit, inserting two thick fingers deep, curling them inwards, causing your knees to buckle.

"Fuck, Jack," you groan, your hand in his hair tightening as his fingers slide in slow, calculated motions, his lips kissing and sucking, tongue flicking and swirling.

He groans against your cunt, the sound resonating directly through you, making your toes curl. His biceps curl, pulling you closer, drowning in your wet pussy. Your head falls back in pleasure as a moan tumbles from your lips. “There we go,” he sighs as he hears your pleasure, feeling like he’s making headway. “Sound so fucking good, baby.”

He works you with a little more desperation, finger and tongue fucking you just like you love, hoping to hear it again as you hold back your pleasured sounds with intention.

You gasp out a breath, unable to stop the words from coming. “Atta, baby. Fuckk. Please—Just please let me make you cum,” he pleads.

“Just like that, Jack. Fuck, you're gonna make me cum—” Your words cut off as pleasure courses through your veins, Jack only working harder as your thighs shake with overstimulation.

He slows down, dropping his hands, using his tongue to clean up the mess he made as your body softens.

With one powerful movement, he lifts you up into his muscular arms, his grasp tight and possessive. Your thighs hug his waist, arms wrapping his shoulders as he pushes his mouth on yours in a tender kiss.

You can taste yourself on him—the sweetness of my release mixed with the heat of his mouth. His tongue sweeps against you, rolling effortlessly as he walks with you toward the bed. “Taste that, pretty?” He asks, his voice low and husky. Jack’s lips curl into a smirk as he hears your uneven breathing this time. “So damn sweet.”

“Yeah?” You ask breathily, with a taunting edge, like you're still expecting a little more begging even after all that.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Could stay between your legs all fuckin’ night if you’d let me… Just wanna make you feel good. I wanna be good for you, baby…”

“You're mine, Jack,” you whisper.

“I’m all yours. I’m gonna prove it to you… Whatever you want, alright?”

“Okay…”

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “My girl—”

“I love you too, baby,” you mumble between gentle kisses. “Now make me forget again.”

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

[nolita-fairytale]

and for us, it won't be long | joaquin torres x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: after joaquin's accident, you reconnect with your childhood friend

warnings: hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, eventual smut, spoilers for captain america: brave new world, swearing, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers

word count: 2.7k

a/n: so i think this is a small cute mini series of exactly 3 parts. i haven't written a fic in a while so this is wild but i'm happy to be here. the title of this fic is from baynk's song, grin.

You watch him fall out of the sky on national television, the footage juxtaposed with an exterior shot of the Walter Reed Military Medical Center that’s got been stock footage, resulting in the world’s worst case of emotional whiplash. The news anchor’s voice is clear—reassuring, even—as he explains the situation: 

An accident involving the Falcon. 

In critical condition. 

The new Captain America at his side.

Hopeful. 

It’s the word he keeps repeating. 

The doctors are hopeful. 

But his words are lost on you, traveling in through one ear and out through another. In a state of shock, you’re only able to comprehend bits and pieces because watching the man you’ve known for most of your life soar through the air—not to mention, in flames—and plummet straight into the Indian Ocean, makes you feel like you’re going to pass out. 

It’s not like you expect for him to pick up—but you’re calling Joaquin’s phone, your heart practically beating out of your chest like he could—because there isn’t much else you feel like you can do. Besides, if, when he wakes up, you want him to know that you’ll be there.

You get his voicemail. 

Of course. 

But you can’t sit with this alone.

So you call your mom. And then his. And then three of you hold each other through the phone like he held your father all five years through The Blip. 

And when all is said and done, after days of agonizing nothingness, you get a text from his mother saying: 

He’s going to be okay. 

*

It’s the seventh time in the last ten minutes that Sam sees the screen of Joaquin’s phone flash upwards toward the hospital ceiling, signaling that he’s got yet another notification. 

“You should give ‘em a call,” Sam encourages.

Joaquin shoots a quizzical look to the man he’s looked up to his whole life, as Sam nods towards the cell phone once again, clarifying his previous statement with: “Your family, Torres. And whoever else’s been blowin’ your phone all day.” 

His face falls. 

The doctors had called to let his family know that he had made it through a successful surgery, and that he was going to be okay, but he hadn’t reached out just yet. Hell, he was almost grateful that his phone had been dead for days, crossing his fingers that the hospital wouldn’t find a spare charger. But then Sam came in this morning, brand new phone charger in hand, forcing Joaquin to return to reality: an overwhelm of missed calls and texts.

“I don’t-, I… I don’t want to worry them,” Joaquin hesitates, the disappointment in himself evident in how cautious he is. It’s why he’s been putting it off. He can’t seem to beat the nagging feeling that he should’ve done some differently—something so he didn’t have to make this kind of call. 

But he knows he’ll have to face the music sooner or later. 

“What-? What do I say? What am I supposed to tell them?” he asks earnestly, searching the face of his mentor for any kind of guidance. 

“Tell ‘em you’re gonna be okay,” Sam replies gently, the reassurance in his words allowing the obvious to land a little softer than it would had he chosen a different path. Joaquin nods slowly in response, reaching for the phone on his hospital bedside table. 

With a sigh and a heaviness he can’t yet name, Joaquin begins to scroll through the notifications. While he expects to see calls and texts from his parents, extended family members he hasn’t spoken to in years, he doesn’t expect to see 5 missed calls and 3 texts from you. 

Sam watches carefully as a look of surprise washes over his friend, colleague, and wingman’s face, and there’s something different about his reaction when his thumb hovers over your messages. 

“I’ll give you a few minutes, man,” Sam bows out, respectfully. 

*

When Joaquin finally texts you, it’s just a stupid GIF of a zombie rising from the grave. You’re less than amused by his humor at a time like this, but your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest as you see that the notification is from him. 2:08 pm 

You: Not funny, asshole! We’ve all been worried sick. 2:10 pm 

Joaquin: 😣You talked to my mom?!

2:15 pm 

You: 🖕Fuck off. You know Lydia likes me more than you. 

2:16 pm 

Joaquin: 💔

Savage. 

2:16 pm 

I’m jk. Mom told me how wonderful you’ve been with her and Dad. Thank you. 🙏

2:22 pm 

You: I’m just glad you’re okay. 

2:30 pm 

Joaquin: 😅

2:30 pm 

You: Can I call you later? 

2:31 pm 

Joaquin: Yeah :)

*

You’ve never been this girl: the girl that waits by the phone for some guy to text her.

But in the days following Joaquin’s accident, you have to remind yourself that the fact that you’re practically glued to your phone waiting for updates is just a result of the fact that you could’ve lost him. 

Besides, he’s not just some guy. It’s Joaquin: he’s the neighborhood kid you grew up with, the sweet seventeen year-old boy who took you to your senior prom, and the man that both of your mothers still swear to this day that you’ll marry. 

It’s Captain America—Sam, he insists that you call him—who eventually puts you out of your misery by inviting you to see Joaquin, when he notices his wingman’s recovery is going better and better all thanks to his mysterious pen pal. 

“I know kids these days can’t get off their phones, but something’s telling me there’s a cute girl on the other end, Buck,” Sam mentions over the phone one day, when the latter asks him about Joaquin’s recovery. “Hey, I’m not mad at it! Seems like it’s helping him.”

“Kid’s gotta girl?” Bucky asks from somewhere along the campaign trail, a hint of curiosity in his voice as he inquires further. “There’s only one way to find out,” Sam shrugs with a little mischief in his voice. 

It’s not hard to swipe Joaquin’s phone, considering his recovery still requires lots and lots of rest. The last thing you had expected that day was a call from Captain America himself—from Joaquin’s phone, no less—asking you to come to DC to reunite with your childhood friend. 

What’s even more shocking is the fact that it’s Sam Wilson himself, who’s there to meet you at the hospital. You try to keep your cool as you introduce yourself, but you can’t shake the giddy feeling of excitement that fills you upon meeting the Avenger you and Joaquin used to see on TV. He leads you down the long hospital hallways, warning you quietly that Joaquin was pretty badly injured, and he may have a little more wear and tear than you expected. 

You don’t mean to gasp, but your sharp intake of breath upon seeing him in his hospital bed isn’t exactly subtle. Your eyes trace over him worriedly, as you take in the burn scars on his neck and the still-healing cuts and scrapes on his face. It’s the moment you realize that, since making the choice to join The Avengers, your superhero friend is not so invincible. 

“What’re you-?” Joaquin balks, speechless at the sight of you. He looks from you to Sam, then back to you, before returning to Sam once more, his eyes landing on the man like he’s Benedict Arnold. “Sam, you didn’t-. How did you-? You called her?!” 

“Wasn’t hard to swipe your phone when you need a nap every 2 hours,” Sam replies casually, as if he isn’t acting like the world’s most embarrassing dad right now. “And I got tired of watching you wait by the phone all day for your girl to finally text you.”

“Oh my god!” Joaquin groans, at the very same time you let out a:

“Oh he’s not my-!” 

“Dude, we’re not-,” Joaquin gestures towards you in a panic, as he searches for the right words, saying a silent prayer that he can get out at least one full-finished sentence. “I’m not like, waiting by the phone but It’s not like I can go anywhere right now, man!” Sam chuckles only to be met with a very dramatic eye roll from Joaquin as he tries to defend himself. 

“Listen, we’re old friends. We’ve just been catching up,” he tries to explain again, gesturing towards you once more. 

Sam smirks, uttering an unconvinced, “Sure. Well, whoever she is or isn’t to you… seems like she’s been helping your recovery. Thought it couldn’t hurt.” 

You laugh, exchanging a look with Joaquin. 

“I still can’t believe you called her,” Joaquin shakes his head, still trying his best to process this. 

“Well, of course he called me, Torres, considering you’ve always been shit at asking for help,” you finally chime in, with a ball-busting attitude he’s missed. 

“Oh shit,” Sam says, looking from you back to Joaquin as he waits for a reaction. 

Joaquin grins, gearing up to explain: “When she feels threatened, she has a tendency to lash out.” 

Sam chuckles. 

“Feisty. I like it," he smirks with a nod of approval. And he knows that this that’s his cue. It’s time to give you kids some time alone. “Imma step out for a second. You guys… catch up. Or whatever.” 

You press your lips together, stifling another laugh, and waiting a beat as Sam disappears. 

“Dude,” you start, taking a few steps closer to Joaquin, with a look of disbelief.

“Dude,” Joaquin mimics you, unable to hide the smile on his face upon seeing you. 

“That’s like… Captain America,” you nod towards the hallway as you take a few more steps forward. 

“I know,” Joaquin says back, an excitement between the two of you. 

“Captain fucking America,” you emphasize.. 

You’ve really been doing the best to keep your cool, but you’re not sure you can contain it any longer. 

“I know!” he fanboys with you this time, because Joaquin still can’t believe this is real either. 

That he works with Sam Wilson. That he’s Captain America’s wingman. That you’re here, in DC, with him. 

It’s as if a piece of home has joined him for the first time in a long time in this new chapter of his life. 

The two of you exchange another smile and a wave of relief washes over you. 

You take a beat and one step closer to him, sitting down in the chair next to his hospital bed. You shake your head and this time, the expression on your face goes from soft to a much more hardened and worried look. 

“Joaquin,” you start, the tone of your voice a warning enough. 

“Oh God,” he sighs, recognizing that tone. 

“I could kill you,” you threaten, the next part reinforcing his more than accurate evaluation of you from earlier. “But clearly you don’t need my help.” 

“Well, I did technically die,” he parries, light heartedly. 

“Joaquin!” You interject, your voice going up in pitch as you cut him off. 

“What? You scared you’d miss me or something?” he teases, meeting your fire with his. 

“Oh fuck off,” you scoff, with a shake of your head. “It’s not-, don’t joke about that! It’s not funny!” 

“Didn’t you just threaten me with-?” he continues, knowing all the buttons to press. 

“Yeah, but it’s different when I-. Didn’t you just say that I have a tendency of lashing out when I feel threatened?” you snap, the worry in your voice enough to get him to stop. 

You sigh, your eyes scanning him once more, because maybe it would be easier if he really were invincible.

You take a beat, and the two of you share a full silence between you. It’s comfortable, yet filled with ‘what ifs’ neither of you want to acknowledge. 

“I can’t believe Sam stole my phone and called you,” Joaquin shakes his head this time, groaning again because Captain America really should be renamed to America’s Most Embarrassing Dad for this. “How did you get here so fast, anyway? My parents won’t even arrive till tomorrow.” 

“Oh I uh-. Well, you’ve been busy saving the world so I haven’t exactly been able to tell you,” you reply, realizing that it hadn’t even come up in conversation via text yet. “I moved to Philly a few months ago.” 

“Philly?” Joaquin asks, a little surprised, because he’s not sure he could picture you anywhere that has a properly cold Winter season. “Yeah,” you chuckle, immediately recognizing his look. “I had to buy my first Winter coat this year but… the trade off is that I’m only an hour train ride away from you now.”

His face lights up as soon as you spell it out for him. 

“Well, my parents are coming in tomorrow. Are you-, think you’ll be around?” he asks, hopefully. 

“Do you want me to be?” you ask in return. 

He nods, “Yeah. Think they’d like to see you.” “Okay,” you agree softly. “I’ll stay.” 

A beat. 

And another silence between the two of you, one that feels much heavier than the last. 

“You could’ve died, Joaquin,” you state quietly. 

“I know,” he replies, the guilt evident in his voice. 

You could’ve-,” you begin to repeat, your voice breaking this time. 

“I know,” he says again, much firmer as he reassures you. “But I didn’t. And we’re here now.” 

He reaches for your hand, and you’re almost angry with the way your body betrays you. With tears in your eyes you look back at him, shaking your head. 

“Goddamit,” you swear with a small laugh. “You’re the one who gets hurt yet you’re here comforting me.”

He shakes his head this time, squeezing your hand as he smiles, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.” A beat. “But I’m still gonna kill Sam.”

You laugh, wiping a few tears out of your eyes with your free hand. 

“And yeah. I would,” you finally admit, your voice soft. 

“Hm?” Joaquin asks, his lashes heavy as he blinks, taking you in. 

“I would really, really miss you,” you answer, a vulnerability in your voice this time that you’re quick to put an end to. “So don’t fucking do this shit again!” 

Joaquin laughs as he squeezes your hand once more, knowing it’s not a promise he can make to either of you. 

*

9:45 am 

Joaquin: Mom and Dad left yesterday and Mom told me to tell you that she misses you already. 

10:01 am 

You: You can just admit that you miss me already. 

10:03 am 

Joaquin: 🤐

Thanks though. I think they’re a little less worried now that they know you’re close by. 

10:08 am 

You: How’s it going? 

10:13 am 

Joaquin: Good! I got discharged a few days ago and am heading to Wakanda in a few weeks. 

New suit! 🦸

The last time you see me can’t be in a hospital gown. 

10:15 am 

You: I don’t know why you’d say that! It’s a great look for you. 

10:20 am 

Joaquin: 🙄

Guess I should’ve swiped one from the hospital to wear all the time.

What’re you doing next weekend? 

10:21 am 

You: Nothing. What’s up? 

10:30 am 

Joaquin: What do you think about me coming to Philly? 

10:31 am

You: To visit me? Or just because?

10:32 am Joaquin: Yes to visit you 😆

Thought we could hang out before I go.

10:33 am 

You: Yeah! I know it’s only an hour train ride in and out, but I’ve got a super comfy couch you can crash on if you want. 

So that’s an option. 

The next text you receive is a selfie of him, wearing a plain grey crewneck sweater. 

You laugh. The guy loves a good selfie. 

10:40 am

Joaquin: 1 photo attached

Rocky ain’t ready for this 

10:43 am 

You: LOL 

Please don’t tell me you’re coming to Philly so you can recreate the Rocky training montage.

And if you’re wondering, I will not be partaking. You’re on your own with that one. 

But yeah, I’d be happy to host you! 

10:48 am 

Joaquin: Deal. 

I’ll call you later. We can work out the details :) 

11:00 am 

You: Deal :)

[seaborgium-dazies]

call me baby ♡ mdni

how mha boys praise you praise kink, established relationship, f!reader, dirty talk (puppy, princess, good girl), p in v, oral f!receiving 🌊: deku, bakugo, shoto, kirishima

deku:

I think it goes without saying that deku loves calling you puppy. He sprinkles a mix of darling, love and dear into his daily use of pet names as well. 'Puppy' is something very private to him; something meant just for him and you; something that lays both of you completely bare. And we all know how rambly deku gets when he's nervous or excited, you can bet your ass it's even more amplified when he's horny.

When deku came home after evening patrol completely spent you could practically feel the exhaustion dripping off of him and pooling on the floor around him. You hated seeing him like this and you knew you had to help him somehow. It didn't take long until you were on top of him bouncing and grinding to your hearts content. You made quick work of deku and soon enough he was trying his hardest to hold onto what was left of his sanity. "Puppy, you feel s'good" he slurs as your hips rock against his. He could barely keep his green eyes open and yet he couldn't stop praising you. "You're so so good to me puppy, taking me so well, ahh~". Even when his mind was wiped blank the love he held for you was so prominent that his tongue was doing somersaults, carefully stringing words of praise together "You're doing so good for me puppy. You feel haaah~ amazing. Keep going puppy, puppy-". His rambling came to a halt only as his muscles spasmed and his head fell back in a silent cry. But he was quick to pick up again after he came back to his senses, telling you how good you feel and how much he loves you <3

bakugo:

Bakugo may seem like a person who doesn't praise at all but in reality he's a sucker for it. In the beginning it would really require some emotional work from him though because admitting how much he cares for you and how important you are to him is incredibly hard for him. It's something he struggles with but after he gets used to being vulnerable with you he can't stop praising you. Especially when you're having sensual sex the words effortlessly fall from his lips.

You were going at it for what felt like hours and yet it was only your second round. Bakugos cock was pistoning in and out of you with speed that left you unable to speak. Your whines and moans fell like oil into the fire that is Katsuki Bakugos ego. "Yeah? You like that?" Katsuki asks breathlessly. Your reply made entirely of moans only earns a cocky chuckle. "You're taking me so well baby, just like that, yeah". He hungrily stares at the space where you two are connected, eager to get more moans out of you he starts circling your clit. "Just like that baby, just let loose for me princess". You couldn't help but throw your head back as he settled on the perfect pace. You couldn't help but wonder if someone had given him an instruction manual on how to make you cum with the way that he's working your buttons. "Eyes on me pretty princess" he says as he gently guides your face back "That's a good girl". And with one more flick of your clit your orgasm washes over you, bakugos voice still echoing through your head.

shoto:

At first shoto was very new to dirty talk but after you tried it out on him and he enjoyed it a lot he decided he wanted to be able to make you feel that way too. His gentle and kind nature translates to this aspect as well and and his dirty talk is very literal.

It took shoto mere seconds to figure out that something was bothering you. Although you tried to hide it as to not alarm or bother him, you weren't too surprised that he had you pegged so quickly. Shoto coaxed your troubles out of you, and as he heard that you couldn't help but feel undesirable and unattractive his brows furrowed. Luckily he knew exactly how to convince you of the opposite. His tongue was lapping at your folds and obscene slurping sounds filled the air. "Your pretty pussy tastes so good, mmmm". The vibration of shotos groan made you moan. He pulled away with a dopey smile and spoke with a voice so sweet it was practically dripping honey. "Look at you all splayed out for me, I've never seen anything more beautiful, you take my breath away baby". And just like that, as if he didn't just bring tears to your eyes with his words he ducked down and sucked on your clit like there was no tomorrow.

kirishima:

Kirishima is already kissing the ground you walk on in everyday life so it's no surprise that he's showering you with praise in the bedroom as well. Really it'd be a surprise if someone were to date him and NOT develop a praise kink. He maneuvers his way around words like a champion, alternating between sickly sweet and downright nasty.

Kirishima considered it a miracle that the two of you had a day off work that actually lined up. He didn't remember the last time that had happened. He was up and dripping with sweat from his morning run as you were still sound asleep. A quick shower later he stepped out of the fogged up room to hear you humming in the kitchen. He saw you making yourself a cup of coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter in nothing but panties and an oversized shirt. He took a good thirty seconds to just watch your ass gently bounce as you were bobbing your head to the song from the radio, almost salivating at the way your flesh spilled out of your panties. You heard a soft "Baby you're killing me" from the hallway. You just had to chuckle when you saw kirishima, palming his boner. The effect you had on him was truly undeniable. You curled your finger, beckoning him to come and kirishima was on you in an instant. His tongue was working miracles on your neck and every time he stopped to breathe, he leaned in close and whispered something sinfully sweet into your ear. As if your mind wasn't hazy enough as you heard him "Such a good girl for me, so perfect". Your knees were about to give out as kirishima scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your bed. You couldn't deny that he was your demise as well as your salvation.

all characters aged up

©️ seaborgium-dazies 2025

[g0r3wh0rre]

facefucking w jay and after he makes you gag on his dick and swallow all of his cum he’s swiping up the rest that spilled from the corners of your mouth up and making you gag on his fingers next

@prkhaven : “ jay showing off his new rings and matching bracelet that came in the mail… “

📌 NSFW, MDNI! park jongseong x fem!reader • oral (m. rec), dom!jay, dirty talk, praise kink, lots of pet names, face fucking, finger sucking, hand and finger kink, spit kink, cum eating, cumplay

jay just wanted to show you the new jewelry he ordered. he loves to show off his new purchases, and he loves even more to hear how much you like them— all of the sterling silver he has wrapped around his wrists and fingers are all for you, anyway. he knows how much you like his hands.

but that was just the issue, when he reached out to you with expensive chunky rings adorning those long, veiny fingers; you liked his hands a little too much.

just the sight of them are enough to get you wet some days, the motions of his fingers plucking at his guitar reminding you of something else entirely. jay could work magic with his fingers, able to make you come undone before you can even register it, get you trembling and whimpering from your pink puffy pussy squirting over and over and over again. he’ll overstimulate you until you’re begging for him to stop, and only then will he even consider putting his cock inside of you.

you’re addicted to the pleasure his hands bring you. whining for his fingers in your cunt even when you’re out in public with the other members, keening into his ear about how badly you need him. and seeing those pretty hands adorned in jewelry… you weren’t any better than a rabid animal.

“fuck, yeah, princess, just like that~” he purrs, his rings cold against your skin as he guides your head up and down on his hard leaking cock, “taking this dick like such a good girl…~"

you moan is muffled around the hot swollen flesh that you swallow deeper down your throat, the fat bulbous tip of jay’s cock making you gag and splutter. filthy wet noises echo off the walls, a frothy mix of drool and precum dripping down your chin and onto your lap. jay’s hand caresses your cheek before moving to cup the back of your head, tugging you roughly down onto his cock until you choke loudly.

“that pussy’s dripping, isn’t it, princess?” he coos honey-sweet, his thumb swiping across your jaw comfortingly as you struggle to take his entire length in your mouth. “i know you want my fingers deep in that cunt, don’t you? answer me.”

you nod dumbly around his dick, raising your hand to wrap it around what you can’t fit— he swats it away effortlessly, wrapping a fist around himself instead to continue feeding his shaft down your tight throat. his girth makes a visible bulge in your throat, you can feel it, and the hand jay has on the back of your head slides down to press down on it with a sick smile. “make me cum and i’ll give you what you want, baby, okay? no hands, be a good girl.”

you relax completely, allowing him to fuck your throat with reckless abandon— he coos at the tears that begin to slide down your hollowed cheeks, the sight making his cock throb between your spit-slick lips. it doesn’t take him long to empty himself down your throat, throwing his head back with a beautiful groan buzzing deep in his chest; there’s so much you choke on it, hot and thick filling up your cheeks and spilling down your throat, nasty globs and bubbles of it dripping out from between the pulled back corners of your lips. he leaves you ruined and filthy, pulling his softening cock out to rub his fingers across your face, smearing his cum and your spit all over your chin and cheeks.

“nasty girl.” he chuckles breathlessly, sliding two long, thin fingers between your lips and curling them against the inside of your cheek. you suck them in just as you did his cock, gazing up at him with big wet eyes as he shoves them deeper and deeper until you gag. “i love it when you make a mess.”

[taeyongdoyoung]

beg for you

summary: missing your ex, you stumble upon an interesting song that brings back memories you thought you could bottle up... pairing: vernon x reader genre: angst, smut, exes to online friends to lovers warnings: mentions of past break-up, reader felt neglected and lonely, insecurities, lowkey catfishing+lie by omission, swearing, song-writing themes, some serious talks, hand-holding, kissing, spitting, eating out, fingering, dom!vernon, orgasm denial, public unprotected sex (in a café bathroom), mainly lots of emotions, idk author's note: the fic was inspired by this iconic song, in particular vernon's verse and it has some occasional references to the lyrics in bold word count: 2.6k

It's been three months since you ended things with Vernon, blocked his number and all his socials and tried your best to forget about him. The reason for your break-up was mainly because you felt like he never had time for you, his music always came first and while that was appealing at the start of your relationship, it began to infuriate you and make you feel invisible towards its end. He would stand you up and forget about your dates more than once. He would make you feel like you were always his second choice. Not being around him hurts like hell, because you'd become so used to his presence that the lack of it brings so much emptiness. And also because a part of you still loves him.

One evening, you can't fall asleep so you're scrolling through some music apps. Suddenly you discover a new song. The artist hides their face behind a mask but their voice sounds somewhat familiar. Strangely enough, the lyrics just speak to you:

I don't think I'll ever feel this type of way again (This way again; Yеah, uh, yeah) I beg for you, please (Don't let go), don't let go of me, don't let go of me All the endless conversations about us been going on in our head In the night, we dream a future together and I feel bad in your bed I beg for you, please stay, I can't go a day without No, I can't go a day without you, hoo

So weird. It's like the artist knows exactly what's been on your mind for the past three months. You shut your phone off with a sigh and attempt to get some sleep. The next day, that same melody and those words haunt you. And the following day…It goes on for a while and you've become so obsessed with it that you try to do some research on the artist. Unfortunately, it's not of much help. Nobody knows the identity of the artist, how they look or their real name. It's frustrating but it is what it is. Maybe you should drop it. But then again…you really can't stop thinking about these fucking lyrics and how well they described how you've been feeling.

You decide to do something stupid and slide into the DMs of the anonymous artist. They'll probably never see this message as they have thousands of followers, but still, you need to get this off your chest somehow.

You: Hi, you probably get this a lot but your lyrics are really relatable, like they truly spoke to me and totally represent the way I've been feeling for the past three months. You're incredibly talented and I'd be happy to hear more of your music in the future.

It's a short message, nothing too crazy. You feel a sense of relief once you've sent it. You realize it doesn't matter if the artist ever sees it. You're just happy you were able to express your feelings.

To your immense shock, about 30 minutes later, you receive a notification. This is actually so insane you can't believe your eyes. The anonymous artist…texted you back?!

RevN98: Hi, this really means a lot to me. Actually, I don't get a lot of feedback, as I'm just starting out. I'll try my best to write more music. In what ways did you relate to the lyrics?

Is he seriously…initiating a discussion? It is wild enough he texted you back but the fact he wants to continue texting baffles you. But you are not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth. So, you respond rightaway.

You: I got out of a long-term relationship a couple of months ago and even though I should probably move on already, some part of me wishes my ex begged for me to stay. I know it's probably a selfish thought, considering I'm the one who broke up with the guy, but…I miss him sometimes and I keep thinking of a universe in which he'd fought for me.

After sending that message, you look at it in horror as you realize how personal it was. Why is it so easy to open up to a complete stranger? And not to people who actually know you…

You: Sorry, that was probably a whole bunch of TMI. Anyways, I really thought your lyrics were connected to how I was feeling if that makes sense.

You double text just in case. The response from the mysterious artist comes soon after.

RevN98: It makes sense, yeah. When I was writing them, I was also thinking about my past relationship. Honestly, I kind of wish I'd begged my ex to stay. I thought that by not doing so, I was respecting her wishes and giving her space. But now that it's been a while, I can't help but think I should have expressed myself better. I really miss her, though, so I guess that got reflected in the lyrics somehow.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts and figure out what to text.

You: Aw, man. Whoever your ex is, she's lucky to have such lyrics written about her. Even if it's over, maybe there's a way she finds your music and…I don't know, reconsiders things?

RevN98: Hah, that'd be a dream come true. I don't think she likes the kind of music I make.

You: Why not? Your music is great!

RevN98: Well, the truth is I was spending more time on my music than time with her. So, I guess that's one of the reasons for our break-up.

My God. This feels…too similar to your situation it gives you goosebumps. Despite that, it's like your fingers are possessed as they keep itching to text the anonymous artist back.

You: Time changes the way people feel. Maybe if you're honest with her and how you're feeling, there's a chance for a reconciliation. Or at least some closer. You should call her!

RevN98: I'd love that but she's blocked my number.

You: Use a friend's phone, duh!

RevN98: That'd be suspicious, considering I haven't told any of my friends about our break-up.

You: Dang…you're really not over this girl, huh?

RevN98: Not a chance.

You: So…what are you going to do?

RevN98: I don't know, for the time being texting you helps to ease the pain.

You: Likewise. But just to give you a heads-up, I'm not interested in any rebound relationship.

RevN98: Great. I'm not interested in that, either.

You: So…online buddies, then?

RevN98: Sounds good to me.

It is so strange how quickly the mysterious artist becomes part of your everyday life. You text each other quite often about anything. From what you've had for breakfast to what other music you've been listening to. From where you're planning to go with your friends to…how much you miss your exes. It is truly extraordinarily easy to talk to them. You still don't know much. How they look, what their real name is, where they live…But somehow it's enough knowing they're out there making awesome and relatable music.

Until one day it isn't.

You: We should meet up!

RevN98: I don't think that is a good idea…My schedule's crazy lately.

You: What do you mean? It's not like you have live performances.

You point out the obvious because from what you've gathered, maintaining this anonymity is key to RevN98.

RevN98: I just don't feel comfortable meeting in person…

You: Are you worried I'd expose your identity? You know I'm not that kind of person, right?

RevN98: I'm not worried about that. It's hard to explain. It would make sense if we met up, which is exactly why we can't meet up.

You: I'm super confused right now. But you know how important honesty is to me. So, it's now or never, I guess. If you don't want to meet up in the near future, I don't think I want to continue being friends…

You wait a couple of minutes, to give them a chance to make a decision. Finally, the response comes.

RevN98: Okay, let's meet up.

They text you a time and place. And then you ask the crucial question.

You: How will I know it's you?

RevN98: Trust me, you'll know.

This is…so cryptic. You guess you'll just have to rely on the fact that there are a bunch of photos of you on your profile, so the musician would be able to recognize you first.

When you arrive at the small café, you look around nervously, waiting. Negative thoughts keep haunting your mind. What if they change their mind in the last minute and stand you up? What if they are disappointed upon meeting you and never want to text you again? What if you were too harsh by giving an ultimatum? What if-

So many scenarios and you failed to consider the one that truly matters.

What if…you run into your ex at said café? What are the fucking odds?!

"What are you doing here?" you ask Vernon, sounding a bit too rude. Better to be rude than to burst into tears or something more embarrassing.

"Waiting for you," Vernon replies simply.

"What are you talking about?" you blink in confusion. Until it clicks…No. Freaking. Way.

Vernon sighs and takes his phone out, showing you the texts between you and RevN98. And the only explanation is…fucking hell. He is RevN98.

"Please, tell me you're joking right now."

"I wish I was," Vernon looks down, feeling guilty.

"How could you do this to me?" you inquire, eyes welling up already. You feel so weak upon seeing him.

"What was I supposed to do? You had me blocked on everything."

"What, and writing me a song under a false name sounded like the greatest idea?" you snap at him.

"I just needed to talk to you again. Somehow."

"Why? What is there to say?"

"I miss you," Vernon murmurs.

"You lied to me," you insist stubbornly.

"Please come back to me," he keeps trying.

"It's too late…" you try to reject him gently.

"I'm begging you," Vernon really wants a second chance.

You shake your head, but your hands are already reaching for his. Desperate to hold them one more time, you lean closer.

"I'm not taking you back," you keep fighting it.

"Okay," he nods.

"We're just…gonna talk, yeah? Seems a waste of my great outfit to go back home."

"Okay," Vernon repeatss.

As the two of you sit down to have a chat, suddenly all of the unsaid words and undelivered messages bubble up to the surface.

"I should have fought for you. I mean it. Music is important to me but not as much as you. You are my muse, how could I go another day without you?"

"It seems you've been doing a great job writing music without me," you say bitterly.

"Oh, yeah?" Vernon raises his eyebrows cockily. "Well, I bet I can write even better if you're back in my life."

"I was too harsh," you admit. "I let my overthinking and insecurities get the worst of me. When I broke up with you, it seems I had forgotten how much I love music, too. I was so caught up in my own dark thoughts that I didn't matter to you that things escalated."

"You had a point," Vernon chuckles sadly. "I wasn't giving you the attention you needed. The attention you deserve. I was being selfish."

"I was selfish, too," you confess. "I shouldn't have made you feel like you needed to make a choice between me and music."

"I would pick you. For the record."

"Record is exactly what you'll be making," you tease him. "I'm serious. I need to hear more of what you've been working on."

"I'd love to show you. But there's something else I'd like to do first," Vernon smirks mischievously.

He grabs your hand and takes you to the café's bathroom. He pushes you inside a free booth and locks the door behind him. He kisses you under the bathroom lights eagerly, not wanting to let go ever again.

"Hey!" you chide him playfully. "I said I wasn't taking you back."

"Too bad. 'Cause I'm taking you," Vernon says assertively.

"You…you've changed," you blink in surprise.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Vernon smiles and his palms dig into your lower back deliciously, as he kisses you again. "God, I missed this taste."

"You're insane," you laugh but you can't find it in you to deny it any longer. You want him so bad.

"Don't let go of me," he repeats the song's lyrics in your ear.

"I won't. As long as you promise the same," you ask.

Vernon doesn't say a word as he kneels in front of you. He picks up one of your legs and swings it over his shoulder as pulls your panties to the side. Suddenly, you're so grateful for your genius decision to wear a dress. He spits on your pussy and attacks your folds with his skilled tongue. You're already losing your mind over how good it feels, when suddenly, he pulls back.

You gasp in disappointment as your pleasure was so abruptly interrupted.

"Beg me," Vernon commands you easily. "Beg me to make you come."

"You're fucking insane," you refuse. You've always had a little bit of a brat in you.

Vernon, however, doesn't seem perturbed by your refusal to cooperate and sticks one finger inside you, teasing you slow enough to frustrate you but not fast enough to get you there. It hurts so sweetly you both hate and love it.

"Beg me," he repeats.

It would be so easy to do that. Just to get that sweet release…But the stubborn part of you is still stronger than the part of you that wants to come.

''Try harder," you grin cruelly.

Vernon is not one to back down from a challenge and unleashes his final weapon. He takes off his jeans and slides his hard cock inside you. Fuck. You'd forgotten how girthy he is.

"I missed you so much," he whispers in your ear. And his genuine words affect you more than his actions. And oh, how terribly you've missed him, too.

You hold on to the back of his neck, needing him for support. He keeps tormenting you, not moving a lot, just making you feel so full but so dissatisfied at the same time. You truly can't take it anymore.

"P-please, let me c-come," you beg for him hopelessly.

"There's my good girl," Vernon smiles proudly and adjusts his movements, adding pressure with his fingers so that you come in mere seconds.

"T-thank you, thank you," you chant, not knowing what demon possessed you to act this way.

"So polite," he laughs adorably and holds you close as he reaches his own high.

You don't want to let go of him ever again. But you're gonna have to, because you hear angry people who want to use the bathroom. Uh-oh.

You quickly try to clean each other up and rush outside, cheeks red with embarrassment.

You get a few weird looks from random people, but honestly, it doesn't matter. This felt too good.

"Sooo…" Vernon says once you've arrived at his chill but cozy apartment. "Does this mean you'll take me back?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Beg me nicely?" you suggest teasingly.

"Oh, you know I will," Vernon promises.

Bonus:

"Veeern, it's been hours, didn't you finish the song already?" you complain, desperate for his attention.

"Just five-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," you warn him, though you don't really mean it. You're just playing around. You know he cares about you deeply. Perhaps more deeply that he lets on.

"Won't you wait another hour or two?" Vernon teases you back.

"You know what? I'd wait as long as it takes," you smile and put your lips on his lips.

The End

[ditzydoe444]

what about sacrificial lamb!reader who's ritualistically bestowed to Lucifer!Jason

MDNI 18+

lucifer! jason x sacrificial lamb! reader

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ jason todd x reader ಿৎ

▐ fingering, innocent reader

a/n: this request made my jaw drop because it’s so good, but jason is kinda nice in this one so i hope i did it justice :((

you were a pretty thing, innocent and untouched, and yet you were handed to him. a pathetic sacrificial lamb, given to him. your eyes were wide as you kneeled in front of him, your eyes downcast. “look at me pretty girl,” his tone cold and sharp, making you shake even more, fidgeting with your nails. you nodded, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.

it was adorable how scared you were, nothing but a flimsy white dress that barely covered anything, giving him a glimpse of your plush thighs. “come here,” he patted his thighs, “on my lap so we can talk alright? since you are mine now.”

you couldn’t even walk to him without almost tripping on your own feet, he was so big he could crush you with his hands alone. the moment you came close enough to his grasp he pulled you into his lap, his hands gently rubbing your waist. “names jason,” he whispered as he snuggled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, almost sickening.

“can you say that for me?” he promoted, his gaze burning into yours as you nodded, not wanting to disobey him on the first day. “jason,” you mumbled barely audible but gaining a small hum of approval from him. “i must say, you smell sickly sweet,” he groaned as his hands traced up your body, which was significantly smaller than his.

despite how horrifying the situation was for you, you couldn’t help but to be a little turned on. you were now his, a big large man who controlled you, but yet he was treating you like you were the most precious thing in the world, his touch gentle as he explored your body. you secretly hoped that he couldn’t smell your arousal, though clearly you were wrong.

gently, his calloused hands separated your legs, tracing your inner thigh. “what is this sweetheart?” he cooed at the small damp spot on your cotton panties, gently tracing it feeling the slight wetness on his fingers. “mm,” you whined as you tried to hide the pleasure, your cheeks burning. “what was that?” he cooed as he gently probed a response, “you enjoying this? being a sacrificial lamb?”

jason thought that you would be crying and running away, but clearly you were just as entertained as he was, his cock straining his pants. “well a sweet girl like you has needs no?” his voice low as his touch became slightly rougher, applying more pressure on your clit. “nngh,” you squirmed on his lap, the sensation was new but so much, and it felt so good.

“how about i help you with this little situation yeah?” his fingers gently pushing your panties to the side, admiring the sight of your bare cunt. “girls have needs no?”

the ache in between your legs was a new sensation, it was burning whenever he stopped touching you, making you slightly grind on his thigh, earning a low chuckle. “desperate?”

his fingers glistened with your arousal within seconds, the sweet smell filling the room making him slightly hazy, he was pretty damn sure he could get drunk off it. “‘m gonna make you feel good alright?”

“please” you whimpered when he entered a finger, you were a virgin, so that alone was enough to cause a slight burn. you were so tight, gripping tightly on his finger, jason couldn’t help but to wonder what you would feel like around his cock.

within a few minutes your cunt relaxed slightly, taking three of his large fingers with ease as he pumped in and out of your cunt. “mm!” you moaned as your head tilts back, on his chest. “needy thing aren’t you? they didn’t pay attention to you back there?”

god he was going to corrupt a sweet girl like you.

[writing-flower]

“ Between life and death, death is tempting ”

First act: “From the roots”

Chapter II: “Dancing with fabric (and glances).”

WARNING: Panic attack

Masterlist

I was on a stage, too big to be a normal one or at least that was my perspective. I was wearing my suit, with the fans in my hands as the fabric touched the floor.

There was no one by my side, I was alone.

There was no one in the seats in the audience either, not a single person to watch me dance at that moment.

I let out a sigh. I started dancing.

The music in my head started playing but now it also started to be heard on the stage. slowly. Little by little. The music continued to grow.

I moved with the fabric of the fans that slowly became longer and longer.

I reached a point where I could no longer appreciate what was in front of me, I could no longer feel the cold floor of the theater.

But the lights. They were getting brighter as the music came to an end.

They wrapped me up in such a soft way, it was so suffocating.

I always wanted to be in the spotlight, to be the leader, to be the one leading the dance.

Why does it feel so different now?

I fell to my knees at the same time that the music slowly stopped along with that voice that made me remember that everything was a dream.

I hadn't realized how big the fan fabric was now, so long that it reached to the ends of the stage, The skirt also grew now it was so long and big that I couldn't stand up because of the weight of the fabric on my waist.

It shouldn't have been heavy, but it was.

It's too big for me.

When the fan fabric stopped, I fixed my gaze on the audience.

The only lights were above me, they moved where I was going but never where I wanted.

I couldn't shine light on them. I wanted to shine light on them to see their faces.

What expressions will they have? Are they waiting for me to keep dancing? Even though I can't get up, they want me to continue with the show?

Just talk, say it.

I will, just please...

Stop

Looking

at me.

[Name] immediately gets up from her bed feeling her heart beating quickly and painfully, her feet were numb as were her arms.

While she was sitting in her bed, she tried to relax. Is this what people call "lucid dreaming"?

When she finally felt her legs and arms move just a little to get used to it, it felt like a million ants were walking on her limbs.

She sighed and then tried to get up, she managed it but a little wobbly.

She grabbed a towel along with a set of clothes to go to the bathroom.

She loved her new room, I think it would be more accurate to call it her fiveteenth room.

Compared to the previous one, which was already starting to be quite small for her and too childish, in an attempt to free up her room a bit as she ran out of space.

She found a not so small door in the ceiling, she could barely open it and saw the enormous space that had moved to that hidden part of the mansion.

But obviously being a attic, it didn't have a bathroom, that was the only thing [Name] regretted.

Once she could feel her arms and feet much better she opened the attic door and carefully went down the stairs.

"What are you doing up there, little one?"

[Name] almost fell down the stairs from the fright, she immediately looked back even though she was on the stairs to...

"First with the child...and now with the hypocrite." [Name] thought, trying not to frown, well, not so much.

"Dick, you scared me!" She did her best to fake that squeaky voice she remembers.

And thank goodness it worked. Except for one small detail.

Dick frowned.

"Dick?"

"Did something happen? Or why that face?" She finally came down from the stairs and with a little force, she pushed the stairs up and in turn closed the attic door with a small 'click'.

"What face?"

"Well, you know, that confused face..." She smiled slightly, but inside her head she was analyzing him, exactly his expression.

Dick genuinely had a face of confusion hidden, he was smiling and using his body to express otherwise.

But his eyes narrowed for a few moments before she asked about his expression.

"Oh! Don't worry little one, It's just that I've never seen that attic, and with good reason."

Dick walked past [Name] and checked the entrance to the attic better, either tensely or intentionally the entrance was very well camouflaged.

[Name] nodded. "I thought you'd be in Bludhaven by now."

"I decided to stay a few days, mostly to rest." [Name] nodded again, keeping that small smile. "And you didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

Dick laughed at her confusion.

"What were you doing up there?"

[Name] opened her mouth slightly and then closed it instantly, What the hell could she say?

"Umm, well, I was looking for some things for my dance classes!"

"Your dance classes?"

"Yep! When I found that place I started using it as a place to store some clothes or supplies that they sometimes ask us for in class." This time the tone was a little shriller, it was a mix between the voice she was faking and the nervousness of being caught.

Dick only looked at her for a few moments before instantly lowering the attic door without breaking his gaze.

"First, it's bad to lie to your brother and second, you're a very bad liar, little one." Dick smiled before carefully climbing the stairs, frowning at the unsteady ladder.

[Name] just sighed in frustration. "Let's see, how the fuck did Dick fucking Grayson know I'd be here?" She didn't say anything, nothing came out of her mouth.

Dick on the other hand was greatly surprised by what was inside, two mattresses one on top of the other, a nightstand, two not so large trunks accompanied by drawers to store clothes.

There were some hand-painted colorful bottles hanging in the higher parts of the attic, surely her creations.

The only lights illuminating the place were the skylight, a row of light bulbs, and the lamp on the nightstand.

It was a room.

Why would his sister sleep here?

Why didn't he know this?

Why...she didn't tell him about this?

"[Name]" He called her but there was no answer.

He turned around and with a leap landed in the hallway of the mansion, leaving the attic.

Only to realize she was gone.

"Shit..." He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up a bit. "Was this always her room?.."

Of course not.

And that was what was causing him an uncomfortable stomach ache.

He glanced at the attic that was still open, his curiosity got the better of him again, he went back in.

But this time he looked more closely at the "room."

The lights were off leaving only the skylight as a light source, it felt quite comfortable actually.

The orange and yellow light of dawn began to stream even further through the skylight, starting to flood some parts of the room with its light.

But the moment the light reached a certain angle of the room, everything lit up with colors, distracting Dick a little.

The lights from the bottles illuminated the rest of the room, which was still dark.

Now the whole room was illuminated without even a single artificial light switch on. Dick stood admiring for several long minutes the little light show his sister had created.

That admiration turned into something else when he noticed that on top of one of the trunks was a medium-sized box.

He walked over slowly, grabbed the box and sat down on the makeshift bed.

A long skirt and a very long fabric was the first thing she saw, but what caught her attention was the only colored fabric that was in that box.

Two fans with gradients of warm colors, yellow, orange and red. Red was what remained the most on both fans.

"This is what Alfred gave you...I don't think it's suitable for a girl of your age-"

Wait.

"How old are you?."

[Name] arrived at the bathroom tired from running, well, now she has to get away from Dick, how ironic.

"Oh. My. GOD." She immediately leaned against the bathroom wall and slowly lowered herself until she ended up sitting.

She brought her hands to her hair, ruffling it quite a bit.

"Will this affect anything? I mean, technically do I travel back in time, or am I reincarnated? IT DOESN'T MATTER." She jumped back up and began pacing back and forth.

"Actions have consequences, allowing Dick into my room will surely change something..." [Name] stopped instantly.

"In fact... he, no, no one, found that place, at no time during my childhood until I left...What did I do?-"

Her breathing gradually began to become more agitated than before.

She felt her palms getting sweatier than before, she felt like she had been punched in the stomach and all the air she had been knocked out of her but she couldn't get it back no matter how hard she tried.

Gradually her legs as well as her hands began to shake, she didn't feel it because she was so lost in her head until she fell to the floor.

Her legs gave out as she trembled and she brought her hands to her chest. She felt dizzy.

Ten minutes passed, she still felt the trembling in her hands but her legs stopped shaking, she was still kneeling on the floor.

The dizziness disappeared but the result was a sharp headache.

"Shit...and I have to go to school." She muttered as she tried to stand up with the help of the sink. "Please, just for today, no more surprises."

"Whoever is behind this, leave me the surprises when I find a way to get back and leave here..."

If there is any way. Safe.

NOTES: Heyyyyy guess who's back? Well I genuinely hope you all like it.

You know, if you want to ask questions, ask them, and if you want to be on the taglist, let me know in the comments.

In the end! I love you muak muak muak💋

TAGLIST:

@crazycaoticsimp @closetreader1864 @eyeless-kun @welpthisisboring @saiichai @leeiasure @shycreatorreview @bat1212 @vanessa-boo @midnightgrimoire @thereeallink @c4xcocoa @jsprien213 @stargirl404 @chericia @a-lurking-fae @kye-chen-r @alittletiredcry @lfiee @mishkapi @cxcilla @alittlelostmoonchild @ocean-mochi @randomlyappearingartist @thegothamsiren @lilithskywalker @gmwtsw @deathbynarcisstick @wizzerreblogs @mariadvorak @stardustnightfall @cristy-101

[rgwriteshockey]

side by side w/ quinn hughes ⇒

quinn hughes x gf!reader

summary: quinn hughes gets named captain of the vancouver canucks, and his girlfriend of five years, y/n, is right there with him. from the hype of the announcement to the pressures of being captain, she’s his rock. as quinn steps into the role, he juggles the weight of leadership and the challenges of the season, but with y/n’s support, he stays grounded. they continue to grow together, face tough moments, and celebrate the good ones. through it all, they prove that they’re stronger together—both on the ice and off.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mild language, happy relationship

a/n: fic #2!! hope yall enjoy and don't forget to like!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

quinn hughes had always rolled with the changes. from the days he spent watching hockey games from the sidelines, dreaming of being in the nhl, to getting drafted by the vancouver canucks, and now, stepping into the role of team captain. it felt like all those late nights, tough games, and moments of doubt had led him to this point.

but the one thing that made all of this feel even more meaningful? you being there right beside him.

you and quinn had been together for five years, through all the ups and downs that came with being in a relationship with someone who lived such a high-profile life. you’d been there for his breakout moments, when he nailed an insane assist or made a game-saving play. but you’d also been there when things didn’t go right—when the team wasn’t performing well, when he got hurt, or when the pressure of living up to expectations seemed like it might break him.

through all of it, you’d been the person he could lean on. and now, as he stood at the threshold of a new chapter—becoming captain of the canucks—it felt surreal, but it also felt like something he truly deserved.

────────────────────────────────────────────

it was a crisp morning when quinn was officially named captain of the vancouver canucks. the press conference was packed with reporters, cameras flashing, and everyone eager to hear what quinn had to say. the excitement in the air was contagious, but you could tell that quinn was feeling a bit of the pressure too. he stood there, looking calm on the outside, but you could see the nerves in his eyes. this was a big moment.

you sat in the front row, next to his family. jack, his brother, had flown in to support him, and you could see the pride in his eyes every time he looked at quinn. you weren’t the only one who was proud—everyone in the room could feel the weight of this moment. but even so, quinn’s demeanor was humble as ever. he didn’t seem to let the spotlight rattle him.

"thank you all for being here," the canucks' gm said from the podium. "it’s an honor to introduce the new captain of the vancouver canucks: quinn hughes."

the room erupted in applause. quinn gave a modest nod as he stepped up to the microphone. you could see how much this meant to him, but he kept his composure as always. he adjusted his tie, took a deep breath, and started speaking.

“it’s an honor to be here today,” quinn said, his voice strong, but there was a bit of a nervous edge to it. “being part of this organization has been incredible, and it means the world to me to have the chance to lead this team. but none of this happens without the people who’ve been there for me along the way—my teammates, my coaches, my family, and, of course, my girlfriend, y/n.”

your heart skipped a beat as quinn’s eyes found you in the crowd. the moment felt surreal, as all the eyes in the room turned to you. it wasn’t something you expected—being called out like that. but there he was, giving you that soft smile, the one you loved so much, as if to say, “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

you quickly wiped a tear from your eye, feeling all sorts of emotions hit at once. quinn wasn’t just a hockey player to you—he was your partner, your best friend, the person who made all the long nights worth it.

“y/n has been there for me through everything,” quinn continued. “She’s been my biggest supporter, my rock. I’m proud to share this moment with her.”

the room erupted in applause again, and you felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. it was overwhelming, but in the best way. quinn’s words made everything feel like it was meant to be.

after the press conference ended, reporters started to trickle out, but quinn didn’t rush. he made his way to you, his family following behind, and you met him halfway.

"hey," quinn said, his voice low, as he wrapped you in a hug. "thank you for always being here. for everything."

you hugged him tight, your heart full. “you deserve this, quinn. I’m so proud of you.”

he pulled away, looking into your eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

you both stood there for a moment, away from the chaos, just the two of you. no words were needed. you both knew this was just the beginning of something huge.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of excitement and adjustment. quinn was officially the captain now, and it came with a lot more responsibility. he was taking on extra meetings, spending more time at the rink, and handling pressure that he’d never had to before. but through it all, he kept his calm. he took the responsibility seriously, but he didn’t let it consume him.

you saw the subtle changes in him—he was more focused, more aware of how his actions affected the team. he was always the first one on the ice, pushing the younger players to work hard. but he also made sure to check in with everyone, making sure the guys knew they had his back. he wasn’t just the captain on paper—he was earning the respect of his teammates every day.

at home, it wasn’t much different. after a tough game, where the canucks had lost in overtime, you found quinn sitting on the couch, staring out the window. the city lights below twinkled, but he seemed lost in thought.

“rough game?” you asked, walking over and sitting beside him.

quinn let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. “yeah, we just couldn’t get it together. I made that last pass, and I messed it up.”

you gently squeezed his hand. “you can’t win them all, quinn. you’ve been killing it all season. one mistake doesn’t change that.”

he gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was still frustrated. “I just hate feeling like I let everyone down. I’m supposed to be the leader.”

“you’re doing great,” you reassured him. “nobody expects you to be perfect. your team knows you’re doing everything you can, and they look up to you for it.”

quinn looked at you, his eyes softening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, y/n. you make everything easier.”

you grinned and gave his hand a soft squeeze. “I’m always gonna be here, quinn. don’t ever forget that.”

he pulled you into a tight hug, and for a while, that was all you needed. just to be there together, away from everything. the world outside could wait.

────────────────────────────────────────────

as the season wore on, quinn settled into the role of captain. the canucks started clicking as a team, and with quinn leading the charge, their play was getting better and better. he seemed to grow more comfortable with each game, more confident in his leadership abilities. but despite the growing success, he stayed grounded. he was still the same quinn you’d known from the beginning—humble, hardworking, and always ready to laugh at the little things.

one night, after a huge win, quinn and the team went out to celebrate. you stood at the back of the room, watching him interact with his teammates, joking around and laughing. he looked like a natural leader, fitting perfectly into this new role. but it was when his eyes found yours across the room that your heart skipped a beat. you could see the pride in his gaze, the quiet appreciation that you were there, supporting him every step of the way.

later that night, when most of the team had left, quinn pulled you aside in the quiet of the hallway. he looked at you with a mix of exhaustion and contentment.

“you’ve been with me through everything,” he said quietly, taking both your hands in his. “I couldn’t have done this without you. I’m so thankful for you, y/n.”

you smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m proud of you, quinn. you’ve earned this.”

quinn stepped closer and pulled you into a kiss—gentle, full of meaning, and everything you’d ever needed. the world outside seemed to disappear as he kissed you, and for a few moments, it was just the two of you. the pressure, the expectations, the challenges—they didn’t matter. you were together, and that was enough.

and as the season continued, you both knew that this was only the beginning. quinn’s leadership was just taking shape, and with you by his side, there was nothing he couldn’t face. the road ahead was full of possibilities, and you’d be there with him every step of the way.

[angelltheninth]

HELLOOOO GOOD MORNNNNNN (even if its prolly not morning there) huge fan, love your hoyo posts LOVE UR WRITING IN GENERAL!!!!!!!! feel free to ignore if ur not taking any reqs rn but i wanted to know your take on the batboys having a meet-cute with their s/o!!! hope u have a good day btw 🫶

I'm so glad you enjoy my writing. Really makes my day.

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Reader

Tags: fluff, meet-cute, flirting, difference of opinion, banter, dancing, pets

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I thought it would be funny to give them something more normal rather than the regula superhero things.

DICK GRAYSON

You meet him at the local dog shelter. Both of you want to adopt the same dog and neither of you want to back off. Dick is pretty well built and argues that he would take the dog out on walks a lot more than you, but on the other hand you live in a bigger house with a backyard so the dog wouldn't need to be cooped up in an apartment while Dick does, whatever he does for a living. When you hear he already has one dog you tell him then it's only fair that you get this one. The only way to settle this is to let the dog choose. And the dog chose you, much to your apparent rival's disappointment. Well since you both have a dog now, perhaps luck will have it and you'll meet at the park. He looks like a fun dog dad.

JASON TODD

Jason was someone you saw a few times at the bar that you both frequent. You never approached him before, despite really wanting to, so he approached you first. He called you out on staring at him like some pervert, and if you claim you're not then you should have no problem dancing with him. One dance isn't gonna kill you, or maybe you're a horrible dancer and you're hiding it. Well he might be an asshole, but you're the one who's been eyeing him ever since he stepped into the bar. So he gets to tease you for tonight. All he wants actually, since it's so fun to watch you blush. In exchange for being your dance and drinking buddy for the night, how about you repay him with a date.

TIM DRAKE

Tim and you go to the same classes at college so you see each other pretty often, or whenever he shows up actually. You never talked much, outside of when you needed to, you just knew of each other, more than knowing each other. In fact the first time you first talked to each other, for a long period of time, was in the library when you were both looking for the same book. Since you both had project deadlines and he was too busy at night, for some reason, you agreed to work on your projects in the afternoons. As it turns out he's a pretty nice guy, not at all the rich loner you thought he'd be. Not only that but he is very helpful when it came to your own project. So helpful in fact that you had to ask him on a date to thank him.

DAMIAN WAYNE

He really likes books and proving that he has better taste and understanding than anyone else. So of course you get into a debate with him over the book you read for this months book club. Damian is loud and has plenty of opinions, you and everyone else will hear them out regardless if you want to or not. This your first time seeing him at your book club so he has to be new and already making enemies. Of course you knew who he was, his last name was a dead giveaway, but just because his dad is one of the richest men in Gotham doesn't mean he gets to be rude. A fight almost breaks out between you two but he has a smirk on his face the whole time, a rather cute smirk. Part of you hopes that he'll show up to the next meeting.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{Heyyy, So I got this wonderful idea from @villainmirabelmadriga but it’s not letting me add on to it so I’m just making this!}~

•Protecter•

The JL have a new…problem?

There has been a new pattern when it comes to young vigilantes and young solo heroes where they will disappear for a couple months before showing back up with a power up if they have powers or stronger weapons and technology if they don’t as well as a necklace that they all wear after showing back up.

The JL have located how they get to wherever they are when not fighting but it seems to have something on it to keep everyone out but those who have the necklace or being brought in by someone with a necklace, The JL have tried to take a necklace from a young villain but it burned the one who took it so that plan was a bust.

Martian Manhunter tried to transform into one of the young vigilantes and go in back it sent him flying back if he hadn’t caught himself he would have been thrown more than 20 feet back.

These were the first two plans but the JL have tried many more but all where unsuccessful so they are on their last plan.

They will send YJL with Robin and Nightwing to infiltrate them by acting as a new vigilante group that needs help and a place to stay.

Hope this works.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Background•

Danny was the Ancient of Protection.

So when he came to this world to see if this was a good place to stay for a bit and saw the young Vigilantes and solo heroes, he was reminded of him when he was still a halfa and fighting with the other ghost and G.I.W and that kick starts his protective instincts (As both a ghost parent and the Ancient as Protection).

So he goes to find a good place to set up a gateway to his lair so he can protect and help the kids and that’s when he meets an old woman.

Her name is Lazaire, she seems to be in her 70 or 80 but Danny doesn’t want to ask and she even sees Danny when he when invisible so Danny of course asks how she can and she explains that when she was a young girl she died for 5 minutes before being brought back since then she has always been able to see and interact with ghost so that’s why then she asks why a Ancient like Danny is on this world.

And Danny explains why he’s here then Lazaire offers up the old church that she has been taking care of for the past 4 decades and Danny agrees.

And that’s how we got here!

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Facts•

•The portal to Danny’s lair is in a dark cave also the gems in the necklaces are the keys into it

•Some of the people in the Lair will style the gems in different ways like in ear rings, anklet, bracelets, hair pin, pin

•Danny is the Ancient of Protection and the Life cycle, Dani is the Ancient Of Freedom and Chaos, Dan is the Ancient Of Beauty and Destruction 

•Danny’s human half died hundreds of years ago so he’s a full ghost now

•Dan and Dani are his children and they call him “Mother” by Dan and “Mama” by Dani

•Priestess Lazaire is the one to take in the nuns who are in dangerous situations and of course with Danny being the Ancient of Protection he’s more than ok with it [and sends Dan, Dani to go beat the shit out of the abusers or send to Fright Night]

•All of the Nuns kinda think of Danny as a mother/Father as he treats them like he treats Dan and Dani

•Dani is the best (besides Danny because that’s mom) with the kids while Dan doesn’t know how to interact with little kids to he mostly leaves them alone but that just makes the older kids love to hang out with (more like follow him around while he does what he wants or naps)

•Lazaire is like the church’s Alfred but with Bruce’s adoption addiction

•Danny is super chill after living for hundreds of years you kinda get this unnatural chill that is always there

•Just wait until Dan and Dick met lol (Dick is going to SIMP so hard)

•On the outside the Church looks rundown and the trees around it are mostly dead but inside the Lair the Church looks new and beautiful and the forest and gardens and perfect (It’s Dan made it like this, Danny just wants to make the kids safe and comfortable while Dani wants them to have fun and be free while Dan makes it pretty lol)

•Danny has a room where he threads tapestries that the nuns like to hang up [He make them like Penelope from Epic or old Greek stories:) ]

•Dan and Dani joined Danny in his Lair after the first few kids as they missed their mom

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearances•

Danny

[Instead of blue it’s black and it’s a lot fancier but I could find one that looked the way I wanted :( ]

Dani

[^ This one is for when she’s fighting and ^this one is for when she’s doing literally anything else than fighting]

Dan

Nuns

[They wear long cloaks when outside of the church but they mostly wear the second one as it was given to them by Ellie and makes it easier for them to do chores and cook so they like it]

Priestess Lazaire

[Instead of purple it’s green and black]

~{And that’s it,Sorry if the story stuff is a bit short and choppy the post didn’t save and I had to redo it lol anyway I hope you gremlins liked it byeeeee}~

[writingmeraki]

take me back — c.sc ft k.mg (TEASER)

❝ in which with some people you meet, you learn they are better off as memories.

( or growing up you thought the one who you considered your dearest would stick with you till the end of time but turns out life doesn't work that way and along the way, you find solace in the least expected of places and people perhaps. )

pairings : seungcheol x reader, mingyu x reader, best friend seungcheol, enemy mingyu. genre : angst, romance, bits of humour, fluff, coming of age. warnings : mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, cusses, lots of relation issues, people are mean too,crisis (plenty) about life and all its ugly ( as well as good) points, lots of cameos from svt members and my loml @etherealyoungk :) inspired by — the night we met by lord huron. a/n at end, pls do read <3

w.c : 1.1k for the teaser | estimated 15-20k for final. | note : in "[__]" are the ages !

❝ I HAD ALL — seven to fifteen.

[ begin : seven ]

You knew it was always a wonder how you'd end up becoming friends with him. Even though he was your age, same class, similarly missing teeth, unruly hair, and curiosity that would annoy impatient adults (those who had a longing for their now gone childhood) about how you wanted to know everything about the humongous world and all its tidbits.

Choi Seungcheol. The dimple, wide eyed boy who you found a little suspicious the first time you saw him. He looked a little too happy for someone sitting in the math class early in the morning. Or maybe it was just you who disliked the subject hence you were not as happy as usual having to study it first thing in the morning.

Then again, he was a new student too. After the class ended, everyone seemed to be enticed with him and rushed forward to be his friend, perhaps best friend too.

You were too focused on packing your bag, making sure not to forget your favorite purple pen that you didn’t see who stood in front of you.

“Hi!” Startled, you dropped it on the floor and frowned as it rolled beneath the desk. Annoyed, you looked up at the person, eyes narrowing more once you saw who it was.

“You scared me.” When his smile dimmed down, so did his dimples disappear and he sort of looked like your grandma’s puppy when he would get scolded which made you feel bad for him, in this situation, you felt bad.

“Sorry I didn't mean to, I just wanted to ask if we could be friends.” He murmured to you as he bent down to pick up your pen and handed it to you. “Here. Oh, pretty color!”

Surprised at his words and even more at his compliment, you couldn’t help but grin back at him and nodded, “Isn’t it?! I have more like this and the red is even prettier with sparkles!”

“Woah, red is my favorite color!”

“Mine too along with purple of course!”

You gasped as your eyes widened, all feelings that may have arised of annoyance disappeared.

“What’s your name?”

You said your name, the grin on your face not leaving.

“Can we-can we be friends then? I don’t know anyone except you now.”

And with a nod, you raised your hand for a handshake,

“Okay, new friend.”

Both of you giggled as you shook hands and that day, you went home with a new friend to introduce to your dad.

[ intermission : fifteen. ]

Seungcheol became captain of the boys soccer team and you honestly couldn’t be more proud of him. You were someone who knew about his love for soccer since the very first day and even were someone to help him practice at times so it was no surprise to you he’d become the captain.

But with this newfound title, also came the new friends. Friends you did not expect but you couldn’t say you didn’t like them.

Joshua was sweet actually, as sweet as a fifteen year old boy can be. Probably the nicest out of the whole bunch. Jeonghan was annoying but nonetheless he knew when to shut up if it got too much. Vernon and Soonyoung were petty and pesky and you think one of these days you might just ‘accidentally’ put green dye in their shampoos. The worst was surprisingly not these two but Mingyu. He downright had a distaste and was always clear about it.

And one thing your father thought you was to treat people the way they treat you, so if he was going to be a bitch to you, you’d be a bigger one. He played the part of being a dog almost too well, his floppy hair and puppy eyes at times convinced you he was likely one in his past life. Too bad he also carried the personality of one to this lifetime.

But still, Seungcheol was your best friend. The others, well they were your friends ( you doubted that with Mingyu) but not the type to just greet you, you guys hung out and had fun, except when Mingyu picked fights with you, but it was still fun.

Does knowing someone longer in your life automatically make them of more importance than someone who comes later?

Perhaps it was why you were not able to declare anyone else your best friend because indeed you knew him the longest.

“Okay cut it off you two.” There he finally came, arm over your shoulder and he looked between his two best friends fighting.

Your arms were crossed as you continued to glare at the boy in front of you. He decided to pick a fight and while you were trying not to lose your patience.

You looked up at Seungcheol and he was smiling at you, shaking his head lightly.

“Why are you both always at each other's neck?”

“You mean why is Mingyu so obsessed with me that he can't help but intervene in every thing I do?”

You smirked and blinked innocently, turning to look at Mingyu whose face twitched in annoyance as he rolled his eyes and pushed back his hair.

“Yeah right as if anyone would even want to keep up with you.”

“Mm but see Cheol has…for almost eight years now.”

You mocked him, childishly poking your tongue out. He glared at you, ready to retort as fast as you finished the sentence.

“Again? Knock it out, come on.” Seungcheol cut him off before another screaming match would happen. You truly wondered how the heck did he even become friends with that.

He came after you, he became friends just because of a sport and somehow he was a good friend, dare you say a best friend of his.

Maybe you were petty for feeling like that but you couldn't help it.

You knew him longer. Mingyu came afterwards.

“You two are my best friends, it's sad to see you not get along well.”

You paused. Stopping in your tracks and then you realized that you'd both been walking already with Mingyu trailing along.

Best friend…friends?

“What's wrong?” Seungcheol asked concerned as you blinked up at him as if you'd heard wrong and he looked at you in confusion wondering if he said something wrong.

You pretended to ignore the faint murmur of the word everything falling out from the boy who was beside Seungcheol.

“It's getting late…I should uh…go, Dad will get worried.”

It was as though those three words seemed to affect you. Maybe you were being overdramatic.

But, all the years you made friends, you only declared one of them your best friend. A title you thought was supposed to be reserved for one person.

You learnt that, perhaps knowing someone longer did not mean they would hold more importance than those who came after.

They would hold the same. Or less.

And maybe, that title itself did not have to be held for one person, having more than one didn't seem all too bad…right?

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a/n : thank you to my biggest motivator @etherealyoungk for helping me and motivating me to write. i love you so much. and yes this is my comeback fic HAHAHA, i decided if we're gonna be back, might as well be something huge!! this fic means a lot to me and by releasing this teaser i'm hoping it gives me the motivation to fully finish this. i promise u it will get so much better :") i just dk how teasers work im so sorry :") looking forward to writing again and i truly missed you all. mwah <3

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