#me. every day. me. all day every day ME. me. me. me

[abdalsalam2000]

Has any of you experienced your little one asking for a loaf of bread and standing there sadly, staring at their empty hands? Or your infant crying with hunger and you can't bring a single drop of milk to calm them down? Has any of you tasted the bitterness of standing in long lines just for a meal that barely keeps them alive? Has any of you experienced the feeling of living on one meal a day, divided among family members as if it were a precious treasure? This is our reality and our situation today. It has become a familiar scene to us, but it is met with cold international and global silence. How long, how long will we be left to face hunger and death alone? Wake up, dignity is being slaughtered here every day, and our hearts bleed in silence. How long will we remain afraid, displaced, hungry, besieged, and killed every day? How long? If hearts were made of stone, stones would crumble from the intensity of the pain and abandonment we are suffering. We hope that those with humanity and mercy in their hearts will support me and my family until we find something to eat and get out of here alive

Well all I ask is that you donate if you can and I really need this donation I need it badly don’t read and leave share also maybe someone will see it who can donate please sympathize with us and stand by us with your donation you are providing me with a lot and a lot of help please donate

[brninghouse]

Let me help you | Robert Reynolds

Pairing. Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x Fem!Reader

Summary. A year after the events in New York City, the memories of that dreadful day come back to haunt you. Luckily, this time you have Bob with you and he will not let your pain drag you down, the same way you won’t let him blame himself for it.

Word Count. 3.8k

Tags/Warnings. Hurt to comfort, slight angst, SMUT, mention of Bob’s father and trauma, female receiving penetration, use of pet names such as honey, sweetheart and baby. Reader calls him Bobby during sex.

EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD, MUST BE 18+ TO READ, I WILL BE CHECKING. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Notes. My comeback to being a fic writer since I abandoned my writing blog back in 2023. Shoutout to Mr. Bob and his pathetically charming self for dragging me back to my writing ways. Also… I created and pushed the Inexperienced!Bob agenda in this fic. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcomed.

You could feel the darkness trying to consume you. It worked slowly, yet it felt as if it was rapidly trying to drown you, robbing the air straight out of your lungs and leaving you without any air left to breathe. It was an all-consuming feeling of dread — except this wasn't a feeling, it was a person. He had a face and a name. The exact same face of the man you would eventually come to fall in love with, but it wasn't him, not really.

It was the silhouette of the darkest parts of him. The dark side of him that wanted you to feel the exact same type of pain he was feeling. All of the abuse and suffering. He wanted you to feel it, too. He wanted every living person to feel it.

He was nothing more than a void — and he wanted you to drown in it. He wanted you to understand that there was nothing more in this world than the neverending feeling of numbness and agony.

His darkness was consuming you and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Honey, you have to wake up,” a worried sleepy voice urged you while a warm hand wiped the sweat off your forehead, carefully brushing and putting away the strands of hair that were stuck to it.

You opened your eyes so fast it felt like your heart was about to give out. Your breathing came out in quick, unsteady gasps that made it hard to figure out where you were. Your heart was beating just as hard as last year, back when the man next to you wasn’t the one he is right now.

“Bob?” you asked, trying to catch your breath and reaching out to him with a shaky hand.

“Hey, it was just a nightmare. Can you, uh.. can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked, sitting up in your shared bed and turning on the bedside lamp next to him before taking your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You didn't reply, all you could do was close your eyes and sit up next to him, bringing your free hand to your racing heart.

Your lack of an answer didn’t help soothe the worry he was feeling. “C’mon, sweetheart. Please,” Bob begged you, squeezing your hand two times.

I’m here. He’s gone.

You nodded once and opened your eyes, turning your head to the right and meeting the soft blue eyes of your boyfriend who was sitting next to you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice raspy and strained. He shook his head. “It’s okay. We can do it together,” he answered with a small smile.

Bob took a deep breath, held it in for a few seconds, and then exhaled. You copied his movements, keeping your hand in his. “Again,” he said before taking another deep inhale and then letting it out, never taking his eyes away from you.

You weren’t able to count the number of times you breathed in and out with Bob, but he stayed with you through it all. Holding your hand until you were finally able to breathe normally.

You stayed silent for a while, but Bob didn’t seem to mind. All of his focus was on you, and he would wait for you for eternity if that was the time you needed to get a word out. “I’m sorry,” you croaked.

“None of that, honey,” he answered, not missing a beat. “Does it hurt to speak?” He thought of things he could do to help, rummaging through his head for any useful advice when his eyes lit up as he remembered something from his childhood.

“Do you want me to get you a glass of water?” He asked, his eyes shining as if he had finally gotten the right answer to an unsolvable paradox.

“Please,” you whispered. Bob took hold of the covers that were discarded away to the bottom of the bed and brought them up to your chest, standing up with a small groan as his feet met the cold floor and he stretched his arms above his head, giving you a clear view of his toned shirtless figure.

“I’ll be right back,” he replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before moving to your bedroom door and walking out.

Bob didn’t take long walking to the kitchen and grabbing you a cold glass of water, yet every second he spent outside of your shared room made you remember your awful nightmare, which you wouldn’t even describe as a nightmare — it was a terrible fucking memory.

You anxiously chewed on your bottom lip as you stared at your door, impatiently waiting for your boyfriend to come back. The door eventually opened after a few minutes and Bob walked in with a glass of water in his right hand, you took notice of the metallic straw inside of it.

“It’s, uh… so it’s easier for you to drink,” he explained.

“That’s nice, thank you,” you replied before taking the glass from him and taking a small sip. The coldness that seeped through your body and the feeling of the condensation on the glass helping you ground yourself back to reality.

“Better?” He asked, climbing back onto the bed and placing a hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You hummed and leaned your body closer to him, leaning your head against his toned shoulder.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“You really need to stop apologizing, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he replied, turning his head to the left and kissing your temple.

You stayed silent for a while, taking small sips of your water. Finding comfort in each other’s presence and the sound of his steady breathing next to you. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

“It was—,” you started.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But my mom used to tell me that talking about these types of things could help make you feel better,” Bob rambled, moving his free hand as he spoke to try and make his statement seem casual.

Bob had once shared with you that his mother used to help him out whenever he’d wake up terrified from nightmares about his father. She would give him a glass of water — with a straw to make it easier to drink — and comfort him through it all. He mentioned those moments were what eased his mind whenever he had one of his Low Days.

You let out a soft sigh, setting the empty glass on the bedside table next to you. “It was about last year,” you said softly.

“Oh,” Bob whispered, his shoulder going tense beneath your head. You didn’t have to look up at him to know there was a look of worry in his eyes.

You placed your hand over his on your thigh. “It’s not your fault,” you tried to comfort him, only to be quickly cut off by him.

“But it was me who did that,” he stated, his head hanging low.

“You weren’t in control, Bob. God, you didn’t even remember what happened once we got you out,” you said, slightly turning your head to press a kiss against his shoulder blade, causing Bob to let out a shaky breath.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I.. he,” Bob corrected himself, “He hurt you. He hurt every civilian in the city,”

“It wasn’t you, baby. I mean, now you're considered a hero. A goddamned Avenger, for fuck’s sake.”

“A pretty useless one. All I do is clean up after everyone and be Walker’s gym buddy,” he said, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping his lips.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You also helped Alexei get that Red Bull sponsor for his ugly New Avengerz merch,” you replied, trying to lighten the mood.

That caused Bob to let out a genuine smile and it was enough to make you feel like you had single-handedly caused world peace. It felt like the sun had shone straight through your heart. An infinite sunbathe.

“You’re a good person, Bob,” you lifted your head from his shoulder, sitting up to meet his gaze and bringing a hand to caress his cheek. Bob closed his eyes at the feeling, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he felt your touch on his skin. “Once you learn how to control your powers — how to control him.. you’ll be the most powerful member of this team.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the one comforting you, honey” he replied, opening his eyes and turning his head to give the palm of your hand a kiss, his eyes not leaving yours as he did it.

“Knowing you’re next to me is enough to make me feel better.”

A bright blush took over Bob’s cheeks. He wasn’t fully used to all of this, to the way you seemed to love him despite his darkest moments. Two months into your relationship he had shyly confessed to you that he had no romantic experiences due to his addiction and Low Days. That didn’t change the fact that he was eager to learn and make you feel just as loved as you made him feel.

He was about to open his mouth to say something along the lines of you being too sweet for a messed up man like him when he was distracted by the yawn that escaped you. A soft smile adorned Bob’s features.

“Oh, honey. You must be tired,” he said in the softest voice he could muster. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Is it that obvious?” You joked, another yawn leaving your lips, causing Bob’s smile to get even bigger. “Nope, not at all, sweetheart.”

Bob extended his arm to turn off your bedside lamp with a small sigh and moved to lay down facing you, you followed his movements, laying on your side and pressing your back to his strong chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist and gently pressed a kiss to the back of your head.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus on the feeling of his beating heart against your back to lull you to sleep. It didn’t take long for you to notice that your attempt to slip back into dreamland was futile. You had no idea how long you spent trying to go back to sleep, it could’ve easily been fifteen minutes or an hour, but that didn’t matter. You just couldn’t.

You were so fucking exhausted, your body knew that but your brain wasn’t cooperating. You couldn’t fall back asleep. You tried to switch positions and move around, but it was useless. Nothing was working. Maybe your nightmare shook you up more than you thought.

“You okay over there?” You heard Bob’s tired voice behind you.

“Yeah… No. I don’t know why I can’t fall back asleep,” you answered, frustration lacing your tone.

Bob’s right arm that was gently wrapped around your waist moved down as his warm hand traveled beneath the sleeping shirt you were wearing — his sleeping shirt to be exact. His hand rubbed slow circles on your skin.

He used his free hand to move away the hair that was covering your neck and began to trail sweet kisses up your throat, moving slowly until he reached your jaw. “Is this alright?” He asked. You hummed and closed your eyes as he continued scattering soft wet kisses against your jawline until reaching your earlobe, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“Let me help you, honey,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath and wandering hand under your shirt causing a heat to build up in your core. A whimper escaped your lips as your hips involuntarily pressed back against his. The feeling of his hardening member against your ass and his toned, strong chest right behind your back making you feel dizzy.

“Bobby,” you gasped, slightly turning your head to meet his eyes. “Tell me what you need,” he replied, licking his lips and pulling his hand away from under your shirt to use it to lift himself up and hover above you. You weren’t able to get any words out so you did what your body was begging you to do.

You pressed your lips against his and kissed him. Bob eagerly kissed you back, using his free hand to hold your face and lift it up towards him, a small moan leaving his lips. You two had been in this position several times, yet it always felt like the first time for him, because due to his inexperience: every feeling was new to him. Moans and whimpers would always escape him whenever he found himself making out with you.

His hand moved from your cheek to your hair, tangling his fingers in it and pressing himself closer to you. The kiss was heated but still soft — still so Bob. He pulled away to take a breather before saying, “Wait, I, uh.. I think I know of something that could help.”

He shifted his position to lay on his back, spreading his legs and manhandling your body, moving you to sit between his thighs. “Is this.. Is this alright, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you answered, letting out a sigh of comfort as you laid your head on his chest, your back pressed against his shirtless figure, his head above yours and his legs keeping you in place, spread next to yours.

“You tell me if you want me to stop.. or if it’s too much,” he rambled “Oh! And also if I do something wrong—“

“It’s fine, Bobby,” you replied with a small smile. “You’re pretty good at what you do, don’t worry too much about it.”

Your statement brought a bright blush to his cheeks, the second of the night — which wasn’t strange because he always got shy whenever you praised him during your intimate moments. He still wasn’t used to being praised, especially not on times like this.

He lets out a nervous laugh as he uses his left arm to hold your waist, pulling you closer to his chest and his right hand smoothes over your covered abdomen, the tips of his warm fingers making you shiver and internally beg for more.

“Can I.. Is it okay if I take this off?” he asks, slightly pulling your shirt up, your eyes close as you feel his lips against your ear.

“Please,” you exhale. Bob slowly pulls your shirt over your figure, causing the cold air of your shared room to hit the soft skin of your bare chest, making your nipples harden. Leaving you almost completely naked, the only thing covering your body being your panties that were getting wetter by the second.

“Jesus,” Bob whispers, bringing his hand up to softly trace the outline of your right breast. Taking his time as he trails the tips of his fingers through its underside, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He slowly brings his fingers up to play with your hardened nipple, pinching it slightly before using his whole hand to grope your breast.

“Stop teasing.”

“I wasn’t trying to tease,” he replies. You didn’t have to see his face to know there was a huge smile adorning it. “I’m just admiring my beautiful girlfriend.”

You try to move closer to him, wanting to feel something — anything that could help ease the burning in between your legs. You dropped your hand over his left arm that held your waist in place and pushed your hips back against his, a moan escaping you as you grind your ass against his hard cock.

Bob’s self-esteem boosted at the sweet sound you let out, giving your breast a last squeeze before trailing his fingers downwards to where you wanted it the most.

“Please, Bobby,” you pathetically whimpered, your hips involuntarily jutting upwards towards his hand as your body begged for more of his touch.

“Shh, I know, honey,” he hushed your pleas. He trailed his fingers through the plush of your thighs before letting them linger along the hem of your drenched panties. He slowly brings his hand down to cup your covered pussy over the fabric of your underwear, causing another moan to escape you.

You threw your head back against him, your breathing coming out in unsteady pants. You could feel and hear his heavy breathing, too. Feel him getting worked up over the sight of your begging body. He slowly pressed his fingertips down to touch you through the drenched fabric of your underwear, the pressure of his fingers against your covered folds feeling just right.

“God, look at that,” Bob panted. Quickly taking his hand off of your needy core to stare at his fingers, watching them glisten with your slick wetness. “Can’t believe all of this is because of me, sweetheart.” You whimpered at the loss of his hot touch, your hips bucking towards him in a desperate way of trying to get closer.

“Only for you, Bob. Fuck.”

Bob’s chest swelled with pride at your reaction. “Lift your hips, honey,” he ordered, his breath fanning against your cheek as you swiftly lifted your hips and watched him slowly bring your underwear down, finally letting you completely spread your legs as your naked pussy met the cold air of the room.

Bob’s entire world stopped spinning the second he saw your bare body laying against him. He could see your wet pussy glisten with arousal due to the dim light that entered your room through the small crack underneath the door. He had seen you naked a bunch of times already, but it still felt new to him to see a woman’s body be this needy for his touch. It still surprised him that he could be the cause of the wetness that dripped on your bedsheets. He was nothing more than a recovered addict with a shit ton of mental issues and yet… he could cause this. He could somehow make you trust and love him completely.

“Touch me, Bobby,” you begged.

Your boyfriend happily obliged, swiping his long middle finger in between your folds and spreading your wetness through your pleading pussy. “Bob,” you warned.

He let out a shaky laugh, “Sorry, I got you.”

He slowly eased his middle finger in you, feeling the way your walls clenched against it, begging for more. Both of you moaned at the sensation. “You’re so warm, honey,” he moaned.

“More, please.”

Bob used his thumb to press your clit and give it slow circles, feeling the way it pulsated under his finger. Making his blood flow straight to his hard member. You mewled at the feeling of his middle finger pumping in and out of you as his thumb worked on your clit. Your wetness covering his hand.

He took his time pumping into you in an easy rhythm, waiting for your begging body to be ready for him to add a second one. Remembering everything you taught him about pleasing your body. Bob’s free hand came up to grope your tits as he began to drop wet kisses on your neck, sucking on your skin, forgetting that you’d wake up in a few hours to a purple bruise sitting there.

“So good, Bobby,” you whimpered, closing your eyes and letting the pleasure he was causing you take all over your body. His strong hand groping your breasts and his other one working on your pussy making you feel drunk on him. The length of his finger pumping against your soft walls made your body melt against him.

Bob slowly entered his thick ring finger inside your wet heat, causing a moan of his name to escape you. He began to push it in and out, matching the rhythm he had created with his middle finger. Your body shook against him. He added more pressure to his thumb on your clit, circling it faster as he felt your breathing hitch and saw a blissful expression take over your face.

“Just like that, sweetheart. You’re doing so good for me, you always do,” he praised.

Your body kept shaking and your breathing came out in short gasps. “Relax, honey. Breathe,” Bob reminded you, but it was useless. You could feel him all over your body. Only him. Not The Void. Not your suffering. Only Bob and the love he felt for you.

You could smell your arousal and hear the lewd sounds of his fingers moving in and out your pussy, it all felt too much and too right. The fire you felt in your belly got bigger, causing your hips to buck against Bob’s fingers, wanting more. “I think I’m gonna—” you exhaled.

“I know. I got you,” Bob whispered in your ear. Bob put more pressure on your clit the moment he felt your walls clench and shake against his fingers. You closed your eyes and let the pleasure you were feeling wash all over you.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” you whined. A hot feeling taking all over you as Bob continued to ease his fingers in you, helping you ride your orgasm. Seconds later, you come all over his fingers, your wet and hot fluids soaking his hand and spilling over your sheets. It was all so hot, Bob couldn’t help but moan at the sight.

Your body shuddered and your legs shook as you kept your eyes closed and came down from your high. Trying to catch your breath and focus on the whispered praises you were getting from Bob that seemed light-years away.

“Are you with me?” Bob asked. You hummed and buried your head on his chest, making him chuckle. Bob slowly pulled his fingers out, making you whine at the overstimulation you were feeling. “I’m sorry, honey,” he apologized before raising his soaked fingers to his lips and groaning as he tasted your hot juices.

You could feel a wave of exhaustion lulling you to sleep. “It’s okay if you fall asleep, I’ll just run to the bathroom real quick for a towel to clean you up. I’ll be right back,” he spoke softly, remembering how you taught him about the importance of aftercare.

Just as he was about to leave for the bathroom you said, “Hey, Bob?” stopping him on his tracks.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I love you. I’m thankful that Valentina almost killing me brought us together,” you replied in your sleepy state.

“I love you, too. You have no idea,” and you really didn’t. Because he would never let the darkness consume you. He wasn’t going to let you drown in it, the same way you wouldn’t let him drown either.

Bob admired your naked body for a bit more before walking to the bathroom for a towel. He wondered if life had always been this beautiful.

© BRNINGHOUSE. do not translate or claim any of my work as your own.

[bdbdbdbdmn]

your internet has All Of Your Data. it shares information between devices over the wifi. Everything you do Is Known by All of your electronic devices that have the ability to connect to the internet. not only will it get your tiktok to show you trans stuff, but if you share wifi with anyone, or sync contacts, etc., it will show it to your friends and family and roommates and neighbors and whoever used the same wifi as you at a place with free wifi. it's incredibly fucked up that it happens and that it's not explicitly told to everyone that it is happening and that it's not a simple problem to solve, but it's not trans people's fault. it's the internet companies' faults. i don't even think you can really be blamed since you weren't told, even if you were "technically" the one that caused it. it's fucking disgusting how our private alone time is bought and sold by these companies, and it needs to be stopped.

I can't believe I gotta be saying this shit but. a trans guy headcanoning a masculine or strong female character as also being a trans guy doesn't take anything from cis women just so it's clear. first of all, it's a headcanon. in his HEAD. about a fake not real character. an angel has never had their wings "violently ripped off and thrown into a shredder" because of a headcanon, especially not for trans headcanons. it's not misogynistic for trans men to find common ground with girl characters, especially likable, cool, masculine ones who struggle against sexism. they know women can be strong too. they know that girls can like boy things. why are you assuming that everything they do is a betrayal and sexist? why do you think they skipped believing cis men and cis women are equal and went straight to transitioning? you have to not be sexist for the entire concept to work

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: asking for a massage from the king of curses is a brave thing to dare and do. but maybe he'll make an exception for you, his pregnant lover.

tags. true form!sukuna x pregnant!female reader. fluff. you can be his concubine or wife or whatever. foot massage. reader gets called 'woman, brat'. not proofread (it sucks).

you’re currently lounged back on the plush futon you share with the one and only ryomen sukuna. the big man - as per usual - takes up almost all of the space which leaves you no choice but to snuggle up against him. not that you’re complaining about that. he’s like your personal teddy bear. calling him that to his face might have some unfortunate consequences though.

sukuna sits beside you, his muscular frame relaxed yet somehow still radiating a menacing aura. the bedroom is filled with a comfortable and intimate silence—a stark contrast to the icy tension that once dominated your early days together.

the pink-haired man glances down at you, his red eyes narrowing as he takes in your pouty and uncomfortable expression. you’re absentmindedly rubbing your rounded belly which reminds him of the life he’s planted in your womb. his son and future heir. a flicker of pride shines in his eyes at the thought.

“‘kuna,” your voice cuts through the silence while you squirm into a more comfortable position. you’re already in your last trimester and your body is aching all over. especially when you have to walk on your now swollen feet. you’ve tried every remedy there is on earth and yet the discomfort doesn’t fully disappear.

you pout and tilt your head to look at sukuna, “my feet are killing me.”

you leave it at that, but there’s a pleading look in your eyes as you gaze up at the king of curses. it’s an indirect request—a request to relieve that ache in your feet in the form of a massage. maybe he can do your back too while he’s at it.

sukuna rolls his eyes at that pouty expression of yours. he knows what you’re implying, though it seems like he couldn’t care any less. “so?” he replies curtly, the single word dripping with disinterest.

you let out a scoff in return and sulk even more at his cold dismissal. the seconds tick by and it leaves you wondering if sukuna doesn’t even feel the slightest urge to help you out. you’ve always known that he’s a heartless man, literally, but it’s during moments like these that you yearn for just a crumb of empathy.

and so the silence stretches between you two, thick and heavy.

just as you’re about to turn on your side and deal with the discomfort on your own, sukuna’s large hand reaches out and grabs your ankle. his fingers wrap around the flesh before yanking your foot towards him with surprising force.

sukuna grumbles something incomprehensible under his breath before impatiently flicking your sensitive skin. “what are you waiting for, woman?” his voice is deep and low, almost a growl. he roughly places one of your feet in his lap, “hurry up and place the other one here too.”

despite his harsh words and rough manhandling, there’s a hint of something softer in his voice, a subtle undercurrent of concern that he will never admit out loud.

you’re stunned for a good couple seconds. your eyes are wide as you look up at your partner but it doesn’t take long for you to comply.

better grab your chance before he changes his mind and actually leaves you to your own devices.

you obediently place your other foot in his lap and relax back against the soft pillows. sukuna glances down at them, his brows furrowing slightly as he tries to figure out how to proceed. he’s never given massages to anyone, only ever received them. this is a privilege for you, but also a new experience for him.

his calloused hands look almsot comically out of place against your delicate, swollen feet. he starts to knead the arch of your right foot, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. he’s a bit rough with it—his touch firm and somewhat clumsy.

you’re reminded of the fact that his hands are only made for battle and destruction when he increases the pressure without any regard for your comfort.

“…you're quite heavy handed,” you mumble and follow it up with a groan. you don’t want to interrupt your peaceful moment, but your leg twitches and you squirm, a clear sign that sukuna is a bit too rough with your achy limbs.

the king of curses uses one of his four hands to firmly yet gently smack the sole of your foot. you should be grateful that he’s even willing to try to do this, he thinks.

“shut up, brat,” sukuna grumbles, but his actions speak louder than his words. his calloused fingers gentle their ministrations on your skin slightly, now a perfect balance of pressure and tenderness.

the silence falls upon the room once more, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath the futon and the faint sound of sukuna’s hands working over your feet. he uses too much pressure at times, his grip bordering on painful, before easing up and stroking your skin almost gently.

“mmh, that’s perfect,” you moan and close your eyes in contentment. sukuna’s large, strong hands knead and squeeze the soft flesh of your soles, much like one would knead dough. it’s rough but not too much like it was earlier.

you smile to yourself as you compliment his skills, “you’re getting really good at this, ryo.”

the pink-haired man spares you a quick glance. he lets out a condescending scoff at the way you seem to melt at his touch.

“mhhm,” sukuna lets out a short and indifferent hum. he lets a short silence fall before a wicked smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “. . .have to make sure the meat is nice and tender after all,” he adds and licks his lips as a carnal hunger flashes through his crimson eyes.

the mouth on his stomach suddenly opens up, the big and heavy tongue darting out to lick a disgusting stripe up your foot. the king of curses even lets it nibble on your skin, emphasising the so-called threat of readying you for his consumption.

“ew!” you squeal and kick your legs, shivering at the icky sensation. the switch in his mood caught you off guard, “quit it!”

that stomach tongue of his still creeps you out at times. even more so when you realise he can actually just use it to gobble you up.

sukuna’s eyes flash with amusement at your reaction, but he settles down and simply clicks his tongue in mock annoyance. “tsk, fine,” he grumbles. “now stop movin’ or these will actually serve as my dinner,” he yanks at your feet and holds them down firmly so he can continue the massage.

you do as told almost instantly and stop squirming. you watch as the mouth on sukuna’s abs closes and forms a thin line once more—the immediate threat gone. you breathe out in relief and regain your composure.

and yet you can’t help but provoke him again just two seconds later.

you grin and stick your tongue out at your partner once you thought of a smart retort. “surely you wouldn’t actually do such a thing to the mother of your child,” you taunt and pat your swollen tummy.

sukuna raises an eyebrow at your comment. pulling out that card with a morally ambiguous man like him sure is an interesting choice. “oh yeah? try me,” he says in a scarily serious voice that has you rethinking your daring words.

you quickly shake your head when you see the mouth on his abs open up again, that damned tongue peeking out slowly and teasingly.

oh, that man sure knows how to deal with you.

“uhmmm, yeah, no thanks.”

“that’s what i thought.”

[reignpage]

She's Crazy But She's Mine

Synopsis: In which everyone wonders why hockey player!Toji is with the weird girl  Warnings: smut, fluff, porn with some plot, fem!reader, some cringe - might hit home for some people lol, cockwarming, semi-exhibitionism, blowjob, unprotected sex, roleplaying, biting, dirty talk (at parts cringy on purpose), boxers sniffing, improper use of hockey sticks, cunnilingus, fingering, not proofread - like seriously, not at all. sorry Word Count: 2k

Toji’s the star of the hockey team — highly skilled, a strong performer, speedy, agile, a visionary, and so damn hot. Everyone loves him: the guys want to be him and the girls want to ride him. With those broad shoulders, his slutty waist, sinful smirk and tempting scar, he’s earned his title as MVP. 

What people don’t get, though, is why he walks the halls of campus with his arm slung over a girl who is clearly not on his level: you wear anime merch, galaxy leggings, and big, boxy glasses you don't seem to actually need. People who have classes with you gossip about how you sit at the back, in the far right corner, chewing on your hair and drawing male characters in intimate positions. One cheerleader even swears you hissed at her when she said she likes your art style. 

After practice, he doesn’t hang back with the guys, instead, he’s heading over to the robotics lab to pick you up.  You’re rambling about circuits, the future of android domination or whatever to some nerd. He blushes when you press close. Toji, at the doorway, is staring daggers at the lanky little shit, who obviously didn’t get the memo about his claim. 

“Ya like nerds, ma? That why you were practically milking his dick in the lab?” He’s bullying his fat cock inside your tight, sloppy pussy. Your ugly-ass leggings are ripped apart at the crotch, legs spread to their limits as he fucks you against some shelves in the janitor’s closet.

Breathless, glasses askew, you reply. “N-no. Was just -ah, Toji, slow down!- just excited to tell him about LADS… I think he’d -hah- really like Zayne.”

He laughs against your neck, sucking at a sensitive spot just to feel you tighten around him. 

“God, if your moans didn’t sound so damn good, I’d stuff your panties in your mouth.”

In the locker room, after a good game, the guys ask him why he’s even with you. They point out that you talk to yourself sometimes, that you have different pictures of pretty men in your phone case every day, wear brightly-coloured clothes you made yourself, and have only ever been seen drinking cans of Monster.

Toji doesn’t bother answering. Why would he? They’ll never understand your dynamic, your appeal, and the fact that he wouldn't be able to shake you off even if he did want to. 

With the pummelling of the water, he hides the nasty slurrrrrrps coming from your mouth as you kneel between his legs in his stall, at the very back of the showers. Toji's always the first one in the locker room after a game because he knows you'll be hiding somewhere; you love to lick, suck and fondle his balls after he's gotten all sweaty and sticky. Something about his 'musk' and 'pheromones' unlocking your 'inner moon goddess.'

You’ve got a tail plugged in your ass, all soaked and pathetic looking, but when it twitches as you clench, empowered by the taste and enormous size of him filling your throat, your hockey player boyfriend can’t help but cum hard. 

“Drink it all up —yeah, just like that, good girl.” He licks his scar when you stick your tongue out, playing with the cum on there with your long fingers, making yourself gag just for him. “Shh, keep quiet, yeah? Don’t want them to catch you. Alright, turn around, baby, show me your pretty pussy.”

Bent over, you smoosh your face against the cold tiles and spread your cheeks for him, purposefully clenching so he can see your juices drool out when he lifts your soggy tail up. Wriggling your ass, you whisper, “Come and plant your seed, oh Dark Lord. Make this mudblood bear fruit for my serpent king.”

He shakes his head in disappointment but sinks his cock into you anyways. “You got back into your Harry Potter phase again, didn’t ya?”

Since he's started dating you, his understanding of pop culture has broadened considerably. For example, just recently, the new Marvel movie came out and you couldn't stop replaying edits of Bucky. He was doing push-ups when you dropped to the ground and crawled right under his body, his arms fully extended. That mischievous grin on your lips could only spell out one thing: trouble. 

That was how he found himself, folding you into a pretzel, in his bedroom. And despite the dangerous hold he had around your neck, you could only whine out, "Harder, Buck!"

"Yeah, Steve, take my fat cock. Milk the Winter out of my Soldie—God, these lines are so shit, ma. Who wrote this garbage?"

Nails digging into his meaty forearm, sweat-slicked and delirious, you reply with a giggle, working your ass back against his pelvis to feel his tip kiss your cervix. "My mootie. Don't worry about it. Come on, we're only in Act Two out of seven. Think you can last?"

He grunts. "Worry 'bout yourself, doll. I can do this all day."

Sometimes, your weirdness doesn't even involve him. Just last week, he came home after practice and dumped his duffel bag in the living room on his way to the bathroom, keen to get clean. When he finished, he noticed the bag unzipped and rifled through. Sighing, he saunters into his bedroom, bends down, grabs your ankle, and drags you out from under his bed.

With his boxers covering your entire face, he tuts. "What have I said about taking my shit? Huh? What did I say about going around and sniffing my boxers like some kinda dog? Said you just gotta ask, didn't I?"

Shamelessly, you come to a kneeling position, pulling his towel off so you can nuzzle his already half-hard cock, still wearing his boxers on your head. "Sorry, Toji."

"Show me, ma. Show me how damn sorry you are."

Not a moment of peace is given to him with you as his girlfriend. Not when you always have a new hobby, when there's drama unfolding all the time in all the online communities and fandoms you're part of, and certainly not when your appetite is seemingly endless. He can't even tape his new stick up for grip without you climbing on his back and laying kisses all over his neck. "No."

"But I wanna!"

Trying to shape you off, he says, "You gotta wait. Need to get a feel for it before I keep taping."

Of course, you don't listen to him. So, he's forced to throw the tape aside and let you crawl onto the floor, between his legs. The hockey stick is hooked on your clothed pussy, pressed deliciously right against your slit.

"Needy fucking girl, aren't ya? Can't fucking wait. Well, fine. Go on, then. Make it a good one. Make it worth my damn time."

Grinding, you get lost in the friction, groping your bouncy tits over your shirt. He huffs a laugh when you meet his gaze, eyes clouded over with desire, and lick a long stripe up the shaft. "Toji, tie my wrists to the ends and fuck me from behind, please."

"Sure, but I get to choose the movies for the next week. Getting tired of all the Lord of the Rings shit."

You moan in agreement when he suddenly tugs on the stick, pulling it hard against your clit. Your pussy juices coat the toe and he can't resist rubbing his throbbing cock over his shorts, already imagining all the good luck seeping into the stick, carrying him onto his victory.

"Cum, baby. Get it all wet for me, yeah? I'll be sure to thank you real good when I win next time."

Showing up to practice with a crick in his neck, Toji shrugs off any questions about it. His teammates would only tease him for being a simp if they found out he had spent hours the night before eating you out under your desk as you gamed.

He had three fingers stuffed inside your drenched cunt, curling them again and again against your gummy spot as he sucked hard on your pulsing clit. Your thighs quivered around his head, keeping him close, threatening to suffocate him; there are worst ways to die, he supposed.

"Fuck! Whose goddamn Venti is that? Did they even equip any fucking artefacts? I gotta carry this team with my Yaelan. Again."

Toji fought the urge to roll his eyes, and instead focused on rolling your clit around with his tongue, teasing the bundle of nerves with his skills. Despite your less than perfect diet, he finds that you actually always tastes good. You only eat fast food and chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs, yet you're sweet, mild, and completely addictive.

Sucking hard, partly to bring you closer to an orgasm and partly so he could bring your attention back to him rather than whatever's on your screen, he listened to your sharp intake of breath. "Ah! T-toji, be gentle. I'm still -ngh!- sensitive."

"Hurry up and win then, ma. My balls are about to fucking burst."

You giggled, brushing a hand through his hair, scratching just right and gaining a low groan out of him. "Give me one more -hah- o-orgasm and I'll let you -fuuuuuck, Toji- creampie me. You can watch it ooze out like custard filling, whatd'ya say, baby?"

"Yeah, sure. But don't make me recite any lines from whatever mafia erotica shit you're reading, yeah?"

He bit back a chuckle when he felt you pout, through some cosmic connection (your words, never his) and shoved your chair back suddenly. Standing to his full height, he lifted your hips with him, leaving you dangling in the air, clinging to the armrests desperately as he sucked the soul out of your drooling pussy. "Yes, fuck! God, y-you're so good to me. I love -hngh!- you! Marry me!"

"Shut up. That's my fucking line."

Even his brother sometimes wonders why you two are even together. It’s not that the younger boy doesn’t like you, no, of course, he does — you’re nice, and you bake him cookies. He just thinks you two are so different from each other. Toji likes sports and fitness. You like anime and bedrotting.

He's brought it up before, and his older brother would only muss his hair and tell him, 'You're asking questions you're not ready to hear the answers to.'

What he doesn’t get to see, because he’s at school, is that you two have found a common ground, a way to blend your worlds together. 

Your boyfriend watches sports on the TV, beer in hand and you on his lap, arms and legs wrapped around his body. You watch whatever anime you’re obsessed with at the moment on your iPad, which you hold up behind his head, nuzzling close into the crook of his neck. Occasionally, you’ll take a long whiff of his scent or chomp on his skin, and in retaliation, he’ll rut his cock deep inside you. Something about quality time and cockwarming really gets you going, apparently. 

“Up, baby. Need to get another drink.” He grunts when you tighten your hold around him, even going as far as to clamp down on his throbbing cock, grinding your hips around. A dribble of cum runs down his balls. “No? You’re a real piece of work. Alright, hold on tight then.”

Every step he takes drives him deeper inside you, nudging his fat cock head against that gooey spot inside of you. “Ah, Toji, your rock-hard member is impaling me!”

Groaning, he smacks your ass. “Do you gotta call it those weird ass names, ma? Ain’t ‘dick’ just fine?”

“What about ‘manhood?’”

“Try again.”

You hum. “‘Shaft?’ Or, ‘wizard’s staff?’”

He takes a swig of his beer, sighing. “Forget it.”

Yeah, his girl might be weird, but you're cute. Toji’s never met anyone else who can get his dick hard and leaking like there’s no tomorrow all while you ramble about which fictional world you'd love to be ‘isekaid’ into, whatever that means. You might be weird, but you help his brother out with his homework, massage aches out of his limbs after a particularly violent game, don't judge him for not having many real friends or for his family situation, and you push his desires to their very limits with your wild imaginations and lack of reservations. You’re incredible and people would never understand that.

And plus, Toji really doesn’t think you’re that weird, anyway.

“Hey, Toji? Can you cum inside and then eat me out? I want to record you making bubbles on my clit.”

Never mind.

[mwphisto]

LaDs Men and the nicknames they love

Pairings include: Xavier x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Sylus x Reader | Caleb x Reader

Warning, this post contains: very light smut, nothing super detailed but definitely suggestive! Also fluff! Read at your own risk!

A/N: all moving banners in the post are by @cafekitsune + please be kind, as these are just my opinion / nicknames I have for them in game and in writings I’ve done. I had fun with this one! I def have more to write so you’ll be seeing more of me soon, thank you for the support!

Xavier

🐰Baby

Xavier isn’t sure what it is about the nickname. It’s so popular, so widely used, almost cliche. Some couples even find it cringy, and for him? It’s pretty damn modern. Maybe that’s why he loves it so much. Something about the way you sound when you call him baby, the tone of your voice, the caress of your fingers. That soft and sleepy “good morning, baby.” Sends his heart into a frenzy. It sparks kiss, then two, then three, and suddenly you’re making out and he’s shoving down his sweats to get inside of you.

“Keep calling me that, please. Need you to keep calling me your baby… I love it so much… fuck!”

🐰Xavi

Simple, sweet, playful. The first time you uttered the shortened version of his name, blood rushed to Xavier’s face. It wasn’t expect it, and for some reason it gave him cuteness aggression. He felt the need to tug you close, suffocate you with his hugs and kisses and maybe slip a nibble or two in there. However, the nickname could be used as a weapon against him. You’ve become prone to using it when he’s mad or jealous. “C’mon, Xavi! He was just giving me bread.” Yeah sure, just bread. That’s the first step, next is getting into your bed. Still, there is nothing he loves more than that nickname.

“Xavi, he’s just giving me bread!” His tone is higher, mocking you as he pounds you into the mattress. Xavi being the only name you can utter as he fucks you utterly senseless.

🐰Bunny

A classic. He just… he’s so… you know? How can you not? He’s your little bunny boy, your sweet, totally innocent bunny boy. You usually call him bunny through text, sending him selfies with the bunny plushie he won you in the claw machine (seems he had a new enemy). Bunny has also become a dual nickname, he’ll call you bunny right back whenever you’re excited or… riled up. It just suits him, suits you, makes perfect sense. “we also tend to fuck like bunnies.” A prompt slap to his bare shoulder sent him into a giggling fit.

“Tell—ha—tell me I’m wrong, my lil bunny…”

Rafayel

🐚 Bub or Bubba

This nickname just came so naturally once you and Rafayel had officially began dating. It just slipped out one day and Rafayel didn’t point it out — simply because he didn’t think you noticed. Then, it happened again, and again, and again. The variation between bub and bubba and sometimes both came out within the span of a minute. Eventually he teased you about it, but you claimed you couldn’t help yourself because he was just too cute. “If you can call me cutie, I can call you bubba.” Rafayel wasn’t complaining though.

“My sweet girl.” A gentle coo in your ear as he hugged you tighter from behind, lips ghosting the shell of your ear as his hips grind forward. “Let your bubba take care of you.”

🐚 Guppy

Rafayel had a huge love hate relationship with this chosen nickname. Initially he had gotten a little defensive, pouting his lips and puffing his cheeks and accidentally reinforcing your love for the nickname in the process. Now? He actually had to admit he thought it was pretty cute. Especially when you’d waltz into his studio, arms wrapping around his neck as you peck his cheek. “Is this your latest piece, guppy? It looks beautiful already!” The nickname was sweet, so sweet it made his cheeks warm every time you used it.

“You like this, huh guppy?” He was going to lose it, tugging against the silk restraints with a frustrated whine. “C-course…” but you fixed him in place with a cool stare “I mean… yes!”

🐚 Raffie

It came out while play fighting one night and Rafayel made you repeat it three times before bursting into a fit of giggles. He’d never heard anyone make his name cute before, so it was only right that his cutie was the one to do it. Though, there was also the argument that he had never let anyone get as close to him as you were. So, in a sense, the shortened and cute-ified version of his name was yours for the taking. It always had been, he was certain of it. “Raffie, what are we gonna do today? Wanna walk on the beach?” Or “Raffie, you’re wiggling too much I’m trying to sleep” no matter the context, Rafayel loved hearing the little nickname from you.

“R-Raffie! Feels so… good please don’t stop!” Your hips jerk against his lips, a fist full of his hair in your fingers: still, the nickname slipped past your lips. You weren’t far gone yet.”

Zayne

❄️ My Love

Just like all of your nicknames for him, none of them really shone through until after the surgeon and you made things official. So, it should be no surprise that Zayne’s face turned a shade of crimson the first time you said it. “My love, where did you put my reusable cup? I need it for training tomorrow.” Poor thing, he short circuited for a good two minutes before finally telling you where the cup had been moved to. Once he was used to it? Zayne started using the nickname back at you. “My love” became a common phrase.

“My love, I’ve missed you—“ a kiss “—so damn—“ another kiss “much…!” You were all over each other, two weeks apart due to surgeries and missions really caught up to you both.

❄️ Sweetheart

You picked it up from the man himself. Every time Zayne called you sweetheart, you found yourself calling it back. Turns out you were both creatures of habit. Whatever one did, eventually the other would pick up. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Don’t stay too late, those files can always wait for the next shift.” Your voice filled this ear, a gentle sigh leaving Zayne’s lips as tired eyes scanned over his computer screen. “Don’t worry, I’ll be mindful of the time. I just have to do one more round and I’ll be on my way home. Don’t wait up for me.” The sweet nickname was the mood boost Zayne needed to finish his shift.

“Hi, sweetheart.” It was groggy, a kiss on your brow was all you needed to know your lover was home. “Hi, my love.” You shivered at the cool sensation of his hands slipping under the covers, roaming your skin in search of some much needed warmth.

❄️ Zaynie

A nickname that you had used on him since childhood, and yet it never failed to make his heart beat just a little faster. As cute as it was, it carried a level of intimacy and domestic nature that made Zayne smile. “Zaynie! It’s your day off, what do you want to do?” And — astra help him — he could think of serval things he wanted to do that didn’t so much as involve leaving his bed. You were just too cute for his heart to handle, so sweet and beautiful and— well it is his day off after all.

“How about this, my love… does this work?” Your mind is reeling, a quite plea if “zaynie…” leaving your lips out of habit.

Sylus

🍷Handsome

Sylus could have fainted the first time you called him handsome. You had done it so nonchalantly, so genuinely too, for the first time the leader of Onychinus didn’t know what to do with himself. You noticed, of course, the little hitch in his breath and the widening of his eyes. And you didn’t say a word, just tucked it in the back of your mind for later. Eventually he got used to you calling him handsome, but it didn’t stop the flutter in his chest when you did. “Morning, handsome. Are we going to go for a walk?” Sure, a walk works, but he can think of way better things to do to… warm up.

“S-so handsome, my ha-handsome boy—“ Sylus groaned, hips swiveling against yours. “Still praising me? What a good girl…”

🍷My Beloved

He thinks you got the nickname from him, considering he’s called you it a handful of times himself. So, it becomes a shared nickname for eachother, and Sylus finds himself grinning like a fool whenever he hears you calling him. “Are you ready to go, my beloved?” Your hand is extended towards him, you’re both dressed to the nines, and he swears the butterflies in his chest are about to break through his damn rib cage. “Course I am, beautiful.” With a shaky little breath, his fingers intertwined with your own. Now? It was time to get the job done… hopefully he could focus for that long—

“Couldn’t help yourself, beloved?” This wasn’t exactly your first time getting pressed up against a wall by your lover while on a mission. And it certainly wouldn’t be your last… “you know I’m insatiable.”

🍷Sy

It was so effortless falling from your lips that Sylus barely noticed it the first few times you had used it. It wasn't until the twins had begun to chuckle that Sylus picked up on the key detail his brain had been glossing over. "So domestic, boss!" to which the two of them were banished from the kitchen. All you could do was laugh, a dopey grin on your face as your lover approached you with mock disdain. "Using a nickname in front of those two... what a dangerous game you're playing, kitten." You could only continue your giggling, even as he picked you up and placed you on the marble countertop. "Naughty naughty..."

"S-sy! Sylus! Shit- slow down!" But he could feel you thrusting your hips backwards to meet his erratic thrusts. "You're so indecisive -ha- kitten."

Caleb

🍏 Honey

Caleb had been cheeky back when you pretended to be his girlfriend, using the pet name as frequently as he could to really sell the act. But, somewhere along the way after things became official, you had begun to use the term genuinely. "Hi honey." Here and "honey, where did you put the laundry detergent?" there and suddenly he was doing it too. It made him feel warm and fuzzy every time you uttered the phrase, and he didn’t dare tease you about it in fear that you’d stop using it all together. He could be your honey any time.

“You like that, honey? Like when I do this?” His lips are all over your chest, nipping and sucking and licking. “Bet you do, you’re as sweet as honey… how about I give you some of my honey too?”

🍏 Lover Boy

It had started as a joke, you even changed his name in your phone to the silly little name. Then? It was something that stuck. He’d say something to you with hearts in his eyes and you couldn’t help but chuckle, a fond smile on your face as you whisper “okay, lover boy, whatever you say.” Other times, you’d come home from work with a tired expression on your face and sleepily mutter it. And fuck did it drive Caleb wild. Sometimes he’d even use it against you, just to see your face fall apart as he pressed his body against yours, whispering the beloved nickname in your ear.

“This is what you want your lover boy to do, huh? Fuck this pretty pussy stupid with his cock? Yeah, good girl, I bet.”

🍏 Kay (pronounced like a shortened version of his name)

You’ve used the nickname since childhood, a shortened version of his name that he’s become damn near trained to respond to. “C’mon, Kay, please?” Anytime you’d want him to cook for you, or do your share of chores, or when you needed help with your homework. The list goes on and on, but Kay was such a special term to him. He loved how sweet and natural it felt coming from your mouth. Even if you were whining a majority of the time you used it.

“Kay! C’mon! Harder!” You’re flushed and drooling, nails biting into his shoulders as you plead with him to fuck you just a little rougher.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Xavi didn’t enjoy being an incubus, especially when he was the last one of his kind.

Feeding was a pain, and now he had no one to guide him or gather food for him.

Before becoming an adult, young incubi would eat human food, but now that Xavi had reached maturity, the only thing that would sustain him was having sex with a human.

“How embarrassing…” he murmured, peering into your window. “She’s the only one asleep right now…”

During the day, Xavi disguised himself as a human. He had seen you a few times at the local college he attended with you.

You enticed him with your sweet scent and soft figure. He had never felt so hungry before, was this what being an adult incubus felt like?

Xavi watched you for a few weeks, feeding routinely on your naughty dreams. It was just enough to keep him from starving, but he craved being even closer to you.

His hand moved down your soft tummy. Usually, he tried his best to stay away from humans. After all, he didn’t want to grow attached

However, you were so soft and kind, always helping out your fellow classmates and volunteering to bring homework to people who were sick.

You even smiled at him when he walked to his seat every day. No one ever paid him much attention. Xavi tried his best to be as uninteresting as possible, to blend into the background.

Being an incubus meant his blood was the most valuable aphrodisiac in the world, and having a pair of the incubus horns meant you’d be able to have any woman or man you wanted.

That’s why his entire race had been slaughtered, for their bodies. It hurt to think about, and to keep himself safe, Xavi took up very little space.

Something about you enticed him, however. Maybe it was the smell of your perfume, or the way your hips swayed as you walked.

You were alluring, and that’s why his hand was moving up your shirt while you-

“Xavi?”

He jumped back, his wings extending as he got ready to retreat. You sat up, rubbing your sleepy eyes and yawning. “Xavi… what are you doing in my… room?”

His cheeks turned red as he tried to explain. “W-well you see, I was just-“

“And… you have horns… a tail… are those wings?”

This was it, he’d completely exposed himself to a human. You were going to call the local church and he’d be cut apart!

“Are you okay..?”

Your words stilled his racing heart. “… no, if I’m being honest I’m not okay at all.”

You sat up, stretching a little before patting your bed. Xavi could still see that your eyes were clouded with sleep. “Mmph, tell me all about it.”

For some reason, you felt like a safe person. Xavi spent his entire life keeping his guard up, which meant making friends was forbidden.

So why did he want to tell you all of his secrets, every little thing that was currently bothering him?

Xavi looked down at your soft form, his eyes on the way your nightgown barely covered your breasts. Your bare thighs were a problem too, he could already feel his body beginning to shake with desire.

“(Name)… I need your help.”

You looked up, your eyes still foggy from sleep. “Help..? If it’s about the homework, I’m behind-“

“I’m in your room in the middle of the night, this isn’t about homework.”

He placed a timid hand on your thigh, his entire body tensing when he felt your warmth soaking into his skin.

“Oh… then… what do you need?” you asked, shyly crossing your bare legs. Xavi noticed this, and pulled his hand away.

“Sexual intercourse.”

He said it with a straight face, but Xavi’s heart was pounding and his cheeks were beginning to heat up. You stared at him in shock, your mouth agape as you processed that the quiet guy you waved to every morning was asking to have sex with you.

“Ehem.” he cleared his throat, trying to disguise the fact his face was red and voice was shaky. “As you can tell, I am not human. I am a demon, specifically an incubus. We feed off of life energy, specifically the energy humans exert when having sex.”

“S-so you’ve done this before?” you asked, causing him to sputter.

“N-n-not exactly, no, but…”

Xavi sighed, stretching out his wings and fluttering them. “I’ve done my research. I know the human body better than most.”

In a blink of an eye he was hovering over you, his tail flicking before placing itself between your legs.

“W-what are you-“

He lowered his head, whispering into your ear. “I’ve tasted your dreams, and they’re full of pent up sexual frustration.”

His tail rubbed against your clothed cunt, the end of it pressing against your twitching clit. “You want this just as much as I need it.”

Xavi kissed down your neck, his fangs brushing against your pulse point. “I can relieve all of your tension, and all I need in return is some of your life energy.”

The incubus bit down, his aphrodisiac venom coursing through your veins. “There we go, this will loosen your body up,” he murmured, pulling your now soaked panties off.

Your body felt so hot, your mind hazy as he prepped you with his fingers. Xavi looked at your pussy with a mixture of curiosity and lust, taking a tentative sniff before his pupils dilated.

He buried his face between your thighs, latching onto your clit for a bit while his fingers continued to loosen you up.

The man had never fathomed that his body would react instinctively to a female's pheromones, but he was already doing everything as if he had done it a thousand times before.

“There you go, that’s it…”

Your pussy drooled when he pulled back, and he stared up at you with pussy-drunk eyes. If he could, he would have stayed between your legs the entire night.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”

His cock rested on your thigh, erect and throbbing. Xavi barely ever touched himself, and now he was just inches away from being buried inside of a woman.

For years, you had wanted to lose your virginity. Thankfully, you weren’t desperate enough to go with any guy, but lately it has been hard to satisfy your needs. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t react much to Xavi’s explanation, and why you were so lax about everything.

He was right, you wanted this so bad it almost hurt.

“P-please…”

Xavi was not one to make a lady wait.

He held onto your thighs, his tail flicking your clit skillfully as his cock sunk into you.

You had played with toys before, trying to prepare for this very moment, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer size and girth. Xavi wasn’t huge, but he could change his shape and length by will.

“Is that a good size for you?” he murmured, testing your endurance with a few light thrusts. “Maybe a bit bigger, hmm?”

His mouth latched onto one of your nipples while his tail continued to play with your clit. Xavi was overstimulating you, bringing you to an orgasm within a few minutes.

Through the next few hours, his cock expanded and shrank, getting longer or shorter to meet your needs at that moment. Despite being a virgin, he was amazing at pleasing a woman.

Being an incubus meant it came natural to him. Sex was how he fed…

Xavi pulled out after a while, his cheeks flushed as he watched his cum pool out of you. Being the smart man he was, he knew that having too many sexual partners may blow his cover.

‘It was nothing to do with liking her,’ he thought, staring at your flustered face. ‘Not… at all.’

He carefully cleaned you up before tucking you back into bed.

“We can do this twice a week… how about Saturday and Wednesday?” he asked, carefully caressing your cheek.

So you formed a contract with a demon… one that would keep you satisfied and happy.

Though… would he want to stop at just having sex with you? Incubi could be rather possessive…

Part 2?

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[luna-azzurra]

Rage, Grief & Other Quiet Explosions

(Emotional meltdowns that don’t look like meltdowns, but absolutely are)

 The “Smiling Too Much” Grief Your character’s entire world is on fire, and they’re asking if anyone wants more wine. That’s not denial, it’s an effort to hold the damn pieces together. Smile like a glue gun. Watch them crack.

The “Not Crying At the Funeral” Breakdown They don't shed a tear. They organize everything. Perfect speech. Perfect outfit. But a week later, they scream into the laundry basket over a missing sock. That’s the moment. That’s the eulogy.

 The “Silent Dinner Table” Fight No yelling. No slamming doors. Just chewing. Clinking silverware. The kind of silence that tastes like metal. Let the reader feel the air shrink.

 The “Polite but Dead Inside” Apology They say “Sorry” because it’s expected, not because they’re ready. Their voice doesn’t crack. Their eyes don’t meet yours. This isn’t healing. This is a peace treaty with no peace.

The “I Don’t Want to Talk About It” Detour The one where they ask about your day mid-sob. Redirect. Deflect. “Let’s not talk about me.” That’s rage choked by shame. Write it like it’s shoving itself into a smaller box.

 The “Obsessively Productive” Meltdown New projects. New hobbies. Suddenly they’re running marathons, baking sourdough, fixing the garage door. Because if they sit still for one second, they’ll break. Keep the camera on them when they finally sit.

The “Unsent Letters” Grief They write it all down. Every damn emotion. Then burn it. Or delete it. Or hide it in a shoebox under their bed. It’s not for closure. It’s to let the ghosts know they were seen.

The “I’m Fine” That Echoes Delivered too fast. Too sharp. You could bounce a quarter off it. “I’m fine” isn’t fine. It’s the dam cracking. Listen to the echo. Let another character hear the hollowness.

The “Hyper-Logical Rant” Rage They argue with spreadsheets. With perfect bullet points. Cold rage—like ice, not fire. “I’m not mad, I’m just saying…” But that’s a lie. They’re volcanic under that clipboard.

 The “Laughing in the Middle of the Breakdown” Moment That bitter, hysterical laugh. The kind that sounds more like sobbing with teeth. Let it come at the worst time. Let it shock even them. That’s emotion refusing to stay boxed in.

[humanjarvis]

nurse for a day

synopsis: who knew a sick doctor could be such a handful? 

tags: stubborn zayne who hates being sick, reader takes care of him anyway, sleepy delirious zayne, fluff fluff fluff, humor(?), suggestive for .5 seconds word count: 2k 

a/n: i personally think i ate with this one 

It was quiet. Too quiet. 

As you slink through the seemingly empty house, ducking into shadows like you’re on a stealth mission, you really wish your boyfriend weren’t so damn stubborn. 

On your earlier phone call, Zayne had tried admirably hard to mask the nasally tone in his voice—to pretend like his frequent coughs were simply him “clearing his throat.” But you knew better.

He doesn’t get sick often—what with knowing exactly how to prevent it, and all—but when he does, he detests it for several reasons. The most pressing one, at the moment? You love when Zayne is sick.

Not because you think he deserves it, not because you want to see him suffer, but because you get to play nurse. After so many days being taken care of and scolded by the best doctor in Linkon, you finally get to return the favor. 

Except Zayne isn’t particularly…appreciative of the favor. You’re a very strict nurse, he’s frowned at you several times before. You tell him over and over again that you only want him to feel better, but that doesn’t stop him from holing up in a bunker every time he comes down with something. It’s the only time he avoids you. 

And now, he’s hiding from you. In his own home. 

You know he’s here. When you arrived, his freshly washed car was sparkling in the driveway, a full mug of jasmine tea was still steaming on the kitchen countertop, and various office supplies were left scattered across the coffee table. As if he’d heard you coming and frantically abandoned ship. 

You’d searched the usual spots: his empty bedroom, so pristine it looked like a hotel cleaning crew had stopped by; the walk-in closet, to make sure he hadn’t disguised himself among the hangers; and his study, where there’d been nothing but heaps of paperwork threatening the desk’s structural integrity. 

He’s being extra sneaky this time, you scoff to yourself as you tiptoe around upstairs. Room after room, and no endearingly, adorably, annoyingly stubborn doctor inside. 

But then, pressing your ear to the laundry room door, you hear it. 

The unmistakable crinkle of a candy wrapper.

You’ve never felt so lucky that Zayne reserves his self-control for you and not sweets. 

With a deep breath and a crack of your knuckles, you jiggle the doorknob slightly before bursting into the room. The man inside, hunched over the floor next to a tissue box, jumps at the sudden noise before freezing in place. And then, slowly, shyly, he spins to face you with the wide eyes and stuffed cheeks of a disgruntled hamster. 

Zayne has spent enough time with you to know what the unimpressed look on your face means: Explain yourself. 

“I don’t remember you knocking,” he sniffles curtly, unable to hide the way his stuffy nose constricts his throat. The rosy blush on his cheeks is the only indication of his guilt. 

“I don’t remember signing up to date an escape artist,” you shoot back, satisfied with his resulting wince. “What are you doing all the way in here? Was the space under the desk in your study not suitable this time?” 

“Just wanted a—”sniff—“change of scenery,” he jokes lamely, gesturing to the sleek washer and dryer towering over him. 

Sighing, you crouch down in front of him, taking in the wall of chocolate wrappers barricading him in. “Is the idea of me taking care of you really that bad? I’m just trying to help.” 

“That’s exactly it,” he says dryly. “You always help more than what’s needed.” 

At that, your eyes narrow into slits sharp enough to cut through bone. His bones, if he’s not careful. “Excuse me?” 

“I mean,” he clears his throat, grimacing at the dull burn in his sinuses, “You always help me exactly how I need it, and more.” 

“That’s what I thought you said. Now, come downstairs so I can give you the medicine you need, Dr. Zayne. And hand over the candy.” 

It was no secret that Zayne loved sweet things. The confiscated tub of chocolates sitting on the counter was evidence enough. 

But as you look down at his frowning face, cup of chemically red liquid in hand, you can’t help but wonder if it’s because Zayne loves sweet things that he hates taking medicine. 

Once he’d finally trudged into the kitchen, you’d sat him down on a barstool before fishing the dreaded bottle out of the cabinet. “Why not a lozenge instead?” he’d asked. “One of the citrus ones.” 

You hadn’t fallen for his trap, of course. But as he eyes you like he’ll make a break for it any second now, a weary part of you wishes you had. 

“You know,” you lean in conspiratorially, “they say if you plug your nose, you won’t taste it as much.” 

“Illness doesn’t make me a fool,” he mutters bitterly. “I, more than anyone, know how fruitless that trick often is. It doesn’t even work on the kids in the pediatric ward anymore.” 

“And why would a 27-year-old man need the same encouragement as sick children, I wonder?” you crack slyly. 

Zayne looks away, taking a sudden interest in the floor tiles. 

Snorting, you double-check the dosage in the medicine cup and hold it out to him. He regards it with abject misery, his big, hazel eyes staring up at you pleadingly, and you feel a crack in your resolve.

“Fine,” you grumble, pivoting to raid the pantry behind you. Retrieving the most acceptable pastry you can find—there are about 7 different options—you set the blueberry muffin on the island in front of him. 

At the peace offering, those hazel eyes light up slightly, driving out some of the pallor on his face. With a deep breath, Zayne grunts softly before downing the liquid like a shot, shuddering at the aftertaste. Eyes closed in a lasting grimace, he reaches blindly for the muffin before you push it into his grasp, and he sighs in contentment when he bites into it.

Running a hand through his dark hair, you can’t help but grin fondly. 

If only the pediatric ward could see him now. 

After Zayne recovered from the horrors of modern medicine, he’d sullenly asked for more tea, since the batch he’d made earlier was cold now. Pinching his cheek, you’d sent him to sulk on the living room couch so you could keep an eye on him. Which had worked, for several minutes. You’d gathered the ingredients, and he’d flipped blankly through a journal, intermittent sniffles reassuring you of his presence. 

But as you gawk at the abandoned sofa, you realize he must have ducked you while your back was turned. 

Yep. Definitely an escape artist.

With a frustrated growl, you hurriedly plunk the tea bag in and listen for signs of movement. Hearing the faint clicks of a keyboard, you stomp up the stairs to his study, not caring if the drink in hand sloshes over the rim of his favorite penguin mug. Serves him right.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you snap, setting the cup on his desk to put your hands on your hips.

“Working,” he answers with an innocent upturn of his lips. 

“I mean,” you clarify, “what do you think you’re doing when you should be resting?”

Too distracted to keep typing, Zayne switches his attention to the stack of papers before him. “I feel much better already,” he lies flatly, breaking eye contact when yours bore into his. 

As an incredulous laugh escapes you, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What would you say to one of your patients if they tried to work through an illness?” 

“I’d say that as a medical professional, I only have the jurisdiction to advise them on the best course of treatment. Once out of hospital care, it’s up to them to exercise judgment and decide if they’re able to work or not. Like I’m doing now,” he retorts, and you almost commend his ability to bullshit such a polished answer.

“Right, of course,” you entertain him sweetly. “So is that why you just scrawled your signature through the bottom of that confidentiality agreement?”

With sluggish alarm, Zayne jerks his head down to survey the damage, and sure enough, his swooping penmanship has rendered the contract illegible.

“How could I have missed the signature line?” he whispers, face aghast with disbelief. “I…I don’t even know what…”

“I do,” you sing triumphantly, walking around to haul him up from his armchair. “I know exactly what’s wrong.” 

The main reason Zayne hates being sick isn’t the symptoms. It isn’t the unneeded pity, the inopportune sick days, or even the insidious slide of what tastes like poison down his throat.  

No. Unfortunately, for your stubborn snowman of a boyfriend, the main reason Zayne hates being sick is simply of his nature: cold medicine makes him terribly drowsy. 

Its heightened effect on him is just like his alcohol intolerance—something in his genes just can’t handle outside influences. 

So as you lead him back to rest on the sofa, laying his head across your lap, it becomes clear you’re now dealing with an oversized koala. 

“You smell nice. I think. I can’t really smell anything,” he murmurs into your navel, tickling your skin with his rhythmic deep breaths. 

“Mm. You smell nice too, under the medicine scent. Like jasmine tea.”

As you gently massage his scalp, he burrows into your stomach, lifting his head up seconds later as if remembering something. 

“Did you d’something different with your hair today? Looks nice,” he slurs, blinking at you with sleep-laced eyes. 

“Yep!” Nope. “Thank you for noticing, Zaynie. So observant even when you’re sick,” you coo, rubbing soothing circles into his back. 

With a delirious hum, he smiles softly at the praise before his gaze lands on your chest, rising and falling above him. “You’re very…warm,” he whispers, baby pink tongue wetting his lips. But just as he leans up to nuzzle into you, you stop him halfway. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” you chide, catching him by the scruff. “Not right now, at least.” 

A quiet sigh is his only resistance, and as he slumps back down, he brings a hand around your waist to leave a lingering kiss on your stomach. 

“Are you tired, Zayne?” you ask, cradling his head in your palms to meet his clouded gaze.

“Mm. I’d like to go to bed now.”

As you turn off the bedside lamp, preparing to leave Zayne in peace for the night, feverishly warm hands pull you down onto the mattress. Lying beside him, you flutter your eyes closed as he presses a tender kiss to your cheek. 

“Aren’t you worried about getting me sick?” you question, raising a brow in the moonlight. 

Chuckling, he shakes his head languidly. “Sinus infections aren’t contagious,” he yawns. “But even if they were, transmission would only give me the chance to look after you in return.”

“Are you sure? Someone once told me I’m too stern of a nurse. I’d hate to be the same way as a patient.” 

Zayne frowns contemplatively as he rests a hand on your hip. “Even though your methods are…involved,” he swallows, “I appreciate the consideration you’ve shown me today. Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“Approval from the illustrious Dr. Zayne,” you whisper, gently tapping his reddened nose. “I hope this means he won’t hide from me next time.” 

As he winces, you can almost see the events of this afternoon replaying in his mind. “If he can help it, there won’t be a next time. But yes, I won’t hide from you again. I truly do feel better with you here beside me.” 

“And you’ll feel even better with proper rest,” you remind him. “Sleep. I’ll stay right here until you do.”

Finally relenting, he turns on his side, holding you to him like a child with a teddy bear. 

And though he’s never believed in them before, when Zayne wakes the next morning, nose clear and fever broken, he thinks you might be a miracle worker. 

[madamechrissy]

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- this chap - lots of tension, angstyyy, misunderstandings, emotional, some kissing and heavy desire but mostly this chap is sfw, mutual pining, lots of feelings - Tag list closed

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazingg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙

<<<Part Four - Masterlist - Part Six>>> (coming soon)

Part Five

It’s been two hours since Satoru said he’d meet you, and you are as dressed up as you have been in years, hair curled to perfection, beautiful dress that’s hugging every inch of your body, pretty and dark red, long sleeves with lace all over them, and black tights underneath with thigh high boots. Your parents had been gushing over you when you’d walked out, doing a little spin and giggling.

That was two hours ago.

Now you’re touching up your highlighter, blinking mascara coated lashes that are far longer than you’re used to. He was used to models, so surely your skills wouldn’t be that level, but you wanted to at least try to look pretty for this… date. Yes it was going to be a date. He's only seen you casual so far, you're literally wearing lace panties and not Sailor Mars this time too.

The thoughts of last night make you blush, even as the moments tick by. To feel like that underneath him, so fucking beautiful and desired, with the boy you adored? It seemed worth whatever hurt that was coming when he went back home. You want to believe him, that he won't forget you again, but as the clock ticks it's hard to know if he's staying true to his word.

You call again, it's the third time in two hours, you hope it's not too much but now you're almost a little worried, shooting him a text instead, biting your lip as your fingers dance across the cool screen. 

Satoru, are you okay? It's fine if you can't make it! Just let me know you're safe, the roads are covered in snow.

You sigh, setting down the phone as your mom walks in where you're sitting by the window, watching the snowfall gently. “Hey honey, are you staying for dinner?”

It's your mom's sweet way of distracting you. “He might still come, mom.”

“Absolutely! But I am getting ready to cook, you know.” She puts a hand on your shoulder, gentle now. “You're so stunning.”

“Aw, mom...” You look back to see her blinking emotions, making your heart ache.

“He'd only be so lucky to see you like this. You know that?”

You look down shyly. “You see him. He's a whole model.”

“And you're you. And that's special too. Don't get too upset if…” She trails off a bit no. “Just, seeing you like that after he left was really hard for me is all.” You stand now, hugging her and inhaling the familiar scent of her as she blinks back emotion.

“You're scared I'll get hurt again.” She nods, sniffling now as you brush aside a tear.

“That was worse than watching any breakup. I'm really scared for you, it's not that I don't still love Satoru. I promise it's not that. But you're doing so good now.” you smile sadly, remembering the days you laid in bed after, crying and not leaving your room for weeks aside from essential needs.

You wouldn't get that way again. Even if he…

“Just watch your heart, it's a million sizes too big.” You smile tremulously up at her, holding her hands now.

“Get that from you two.” You both smile now, and a knock sounds at the door, making you jump in excitement, rushing to where your dad was opening the door now, and then pausing.

“Sukuna how have you been!?” Your dad says, and Sukuna chuckles, coming into view as he puts his hand on your dad's shoulder.

“I've been good, how about you, old man?”

“Old man!? I'll show you ‘old man’. Got a football you know!”

“Oh yeah? I'm down for a challenge.” He grins, and your mom blinks in surprise, looking at you, then at the door, when your dad invites the tall man in, and his ruby eyes catch you, making him falter, his lips parted.

“Sukuna…” You trail off, while his gaze drifts over you, heating you up with his look, before clearing his throat, walking over to you.

“I was right in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hi to the family. You look… beautiful, shit.” He rubs the back of his neck as he murmurs it, and your dad shuts the door to the cold, leaving you all basking in the warmth of the well heated home.

Beautiful, Sukuna had never said that sort of thing when you dated - maybe sexy, hot or whatever ridiculously horny statement he used to make, but then he had changed a lot. So had Satoru Gojo, and here you were, still the same girl, with two famous men back in town showing up, the doubts creeping as you realize how excited you were for it to be Satoru at the door.

“Are you going out or… getting back?” He asks then, you watch as snowdrops dissolve on his black overcoat, he brushes some off his pink locks, just a little damp from them melting.

“Thank you, I’m so delayed in my responses.” He chuckles as you get just a little flustered, he’s eyeing you so intensely right now, while you’re fidgeting with your hands in front of your lap. “I had a date but… he hasn’t um, showed up or answered the phone. So I don’t know my plans.”

“Idiot.” You glare, and he sighs. “Sorry, but only an idiot would not show up.”

“He could be… caught up with the show, or something. So I don’t know, he should still come. But for now, um… I may help mom cook?”

“Looking like that?” He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, as your parents walk up now, and your dad has busted out his football, Sukuna chuckles over at him - he’s much thinner than he probably remembers, but he’s so much stronger than he was years back. “You’re ready to get your ass kicked, old man?”

“You’re a pro, but I’m old school.” Your dad winks over at you, and you giggle just a bit. He’d always loved Sukuna, where your mom was not his biggest fan, they had some weird male football bond happening.

But you haven’t seen your dad so excited in forever, he was a huge fan of Sukuna’s team, so you’re sure this is a trip for him. “You came to see my parents, or me?”

Your soft question earns a raised brow and an arrogant smirk, smacking you right back to the girl fawning over him in high school. “Both, I didn't know if you’d be home or not, but I was hoping. But also I wanted to… see him too, if that’s cool?”

“Of course it is.” You grin now, a hand on his broad shoulder, and he exhales, leaning a little low. “How are you two gonna play in the snow!?”

“Tch, it’s nothing brat.”

“Brat!? No, no. Not calling me that again.” You shove at the big man, as your dad starts bundling up, and you look at him with concern. “Dad are you okay to…”

“Honey, let him. He needs this.” Your mom whispers, and you nod then, smiling as your dad looks at you curiously.

“You worried about your ‘old man’?” He teases, kissing your head affectionately, and you’re so thankful for Sukuna then, something you’d never thought you’d say.

“Don’t catch a cold, now! Sukuna, take it easy on him.”

“Psh, no way.” Sukuna grins deviously as the two men run outside in the cold like psychos in the darkening sky, you stand by the door and giggle as you watch them, the sky a snowy mix of purples and pinks as nighttime comes.

“You’re awfully popular again, I feel like I need to make these boys ask permission again.” Your mom teases, you roll your eyes, hugging your arms as the brisk air hits, then peeking back at your phone.

No response.

But your text was read.

You swallow a bit, feeling sick to your stomach - was he… with Samantha? He said he wasn’t interested, but they had a history. This morning you’d laid in his bed for longer than you should have, inhaling his scent, lingering memories flitting through your mind until you’d finally left - and it took far, far too much effort, that room really felt like you and Satoru’s personal snowglobe.

“I’ll call one more time,” you say, and your mom nods understandingly, bundling up in her jacket now. “You headed outside?”

“I gotta see your dad like this for a few. Then we can cook dinner together, maybe Sukuna can stay?” You nod and smile at her, hand shaking when you’re left alone, pacing nervously. Your heels click on the old hardwood floors as you do, as it rings and rings and rings.

Did Satoru break his promise?

*****

“Shit, shit, shit. No reception. Fuck, do you have any, Samantha?” The blond model pouts, brushing back her blong locks.

“No, I wish! Ugh this town is so fucking stupid! Why aren’t we moving!?” She leans out of the window then, screaming out - “Move, townies, I have to take a fucking piss!”

He’d been stuck in this car in traffic for an hour with her, barely moving inch by fucking inch from some really bad accident, a four car pile up according to the radio - which is the only thing that’s working. Neither of them have reception, and no internet access on any of their devices in this particular area, maybe because of the storm, he’s not sure.

But this is hell.

You’re going to think he broke his fucking promise, you’re probably already giving up on him coming, and he had everything perfectly planned, for it to all start to fall apart, and now in this car with a psycho brat and nothing to pass the time, just the windshield wipers and the fucking heat blasting, with some fuzzy radio. He peers at his phone again, glaring at it.

“Boring, so boring! Ugh this whole trip! I can’t wait to fucking get back home, out of these backwoods.” She rolls up her windows and pouts, pressing closer over to the heat that’s blasting from the vents.

“Yeah, yeah I know. You’ve hated being in a ‘small town’ you yap about it enough.” She scoffs, crossing her slender arms and scowling at him.

“Well you’re no fun, all fucking broody over the little girl from the bar.”

“Yeah we are not talking about her.” His jaw clenches, blue eyes flashing, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re just gonna fuck her, so do it and get on with it.”

“What!?”

“It’s what you do - fuck women, leave them. Or fuck them when you feel like it if they’re cool with sharing. Lucky for you, I didn’t give a fuck, because I had my own roster,” her words are the first serious things he’s ever heard from her, while she looks out the windshield, hugging herself under her jacket. “But that girl won’t.”

“What are you even on about, you didn’t want more than sex,” Satoru trails off then, when her eyes meet his again, softer than he’s used to. “You were fine just fucking, we never dated.”

“Well yeah, you don’t date, everyone in the industry knows, you have serious issues, you know?”

“Me, issues!? Samantha-”

“No. You do. Soon as we fucked you had a ride waiting for me as if I was some… escort? And all my friends say you did the same. Ever think it made any of them feel shitty?” Satoru’s stomach twists, looking back down at the phone and then at the road, avoiding her gaze. “Well, it did.”

“You felt great under me, all of you did. I’ve never had a complaint in the bedroom, okay?” She laughs a bit, sighing.

“You are a superb fuck, but if that’s all you’re gonna do to her, leave the poor girl the fuck alone.”

“You don’t know shit of how I feel for her.” He scowls at her, and she just shrugs a narrow shoulder, a nasty smile on her face.

“I know you, I know men like you, you’re an industry standard.”

“And so the fuck are you.” She snorts now, rolling her eyes again.

“Sure am, but I know what I am - you’re trying to act like you’re any better. Go fuck her then, and leave her like you do. Think that’ll be good? She’d be better off with me.”

“With you!?”

“Mmm, yes. At least I’d give her some affection after.” Satoru’s heart races as her words hit. “I kept fucking you because I liked you, I really liked you - until I realized you’re shallow.”

“You are not calling me shallow, you tell everyone in the city they’re poor because they don’t wear designer clothes. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“You’re as shallow as me.”

“You know, shut the fuck up please.” He keeps peering at the road, as the cars finally start moving, he checks the time and curses.

“Best you don’t make it, save her the heartbreak.”

“You’re suddenly really deep, Samantha. I don’t like it anymore than you being annoying as fuck.” She looks out the window, shaking her head.

“You don’t know any of the women in your bed. You don’t bother to.”

Satoru can’t argue it, he knows Samantha is right, and she’s read him like a fucking book, her words swirling through his mind - would he just hurt you? No, it’s different, you’re different, you’re the reason he became this way. The hurt that day, the rejection he thought he was going to get, along with Sukuna and everyone, it had made him high tail it and run.

And he changed.

Fuck who was he? Sometimes he’d look in that mirror at his perfect features and contemplate just that - who was he? Satoru Gojo, a model, a famous man on the runway with endless women, or was he that nerdy boy, the one who laughed with you till your tummies hurt? Who made popcorn and oreos for the two of you - the weirdest thing ever but you loved it - and watched movies in your room?

Could he ever be that boy again truly, was last night any sort of real attempt, or would he fuck it all up and hurt you again?

He can’t live with himself if he does.

“You’re right,” his murmur brings her attention to him, he’s exhausted from the shoot and the drive, and so is she, but her eyes soften a bit. “I was a dick to you, and everyone.”

“Understatement.” He just sighs, clenching the wheel with tight hands.

“Were you different before you were famous?” He asks, he’s never asked shit about her, it’s true - she was just fun when he wanted a psycho in the bed, he didn’t even see her as a person.

Sure she was indeed insane, but he didn’t have to treat her like shit.

“No, I’ve always been this way honestly. I didn’t change because I got famous, but I grew up rich.”

“Ah.” It’s quiet, as he takes a breath now. “I feel a lot for her.”

“I know, it’s written all over your face when you talk about her.” He looks at her once more, before focusing on the road again. “If you feel something, say it, I never hold back shit I want to.”

“No you don’t.” He laughs a bit and so does she, shifting a bit, eyes brightening now.

“I have internet, oh fuck yes. I can drown out your moody ass.” He sticks his tongue out, and she returns it, slipping in her ear buds as they come to a red light, and he pulls up his phone finally, seeing your missed calls come through and texts.

Shit, shit, shit.

He picks up the phone, calling it finally, but it keeps ringing, and he hangs up and tries again, only for it to do the same thing, making his stomach twist in knots. Did you think he wasn’t coming!? Were you upset, or mad? Were you ignoring his calls- god a million what ifs occur as he tries to focus on driving, to get Samantha back to the hotel so he can see you.

*****

“Oh god, yeah I remember that! So embarrassing!” You’re covering your face as your mom starts getting the plates ready and you have busted out your old pictures, Sukuna and you in football and cheerleader gear.

“You sucked at cheer, you were only allowed because you were so pretty.” He teases, and you gasp, shoving at him playfully.

“Oh whatever!? No way!” His hand comes to the small of your back as he grabs the plates you can’t reach, pressing him too closely against you.

It’s been another half hour or so, and at this point your phone was just by the entryway, you couldn’t keep calling and texting, you would come off super pathetic, so you’re just enjoying the ambience of being with your parents and Sukuna. He’s made your dad damn near giddy, and you’re thankful for that, but your mind keeps drifting to Satoru.

“I think everything is ready! Drinks?” You say then, and Sukuna smiles a little. “Let me guess, beer?”

“I’ll drink whatever you’ve got.” His tone and eyes make you tremble just a bit, as you remember being with him - sex was never your problem, your problem was Sukuna was a little shit then. He was your first, and the memories hit your mind a little too vividly, and he seems to notice, leaning low. “What ya thinking about?”

“Nothing!? Nothing. Um…” The doorbell rings now, you figure at this point it’s a neighbor, your hopes of Satoru are just shoved back so it doesn’t hurt as much.

“I’ll go get it.” Your mom says then, smiling over at you two, when Sukuna brushes his rough, calloused fingers against your delicate cheek.

“Kuna…���

“There’s that nickname?” You glare, and he just chuckles, tilting your chin up to make you look at the tall man then. “What is on that mind? Memories?”

“Of you being a dick.” He sighs, dropping his hand then.

“Yeah, I was. A big dick to you. An idiot.”

“No, I mean, look at your life? It’s amazing.” His jaw clenches a bit, hands gripping the counter a bit tightly as you hear murmurs coming from the living room, but your heart is hammering in your ears, blocking it out.

“It’s not all amazing, okay? I thought of you alot. I wanted to reach out-”

“Satoru is here, honey.” You blink in shock, as you turn to look at Satoru Gojo, for once a complete disheveled mess, breathless almost as he smiles at you and then it falls, as he sees your proximity to Sukuna. “Sukuna came over and is having dinner, do you want to join us?”

Satoru wants to kill him, he wants to rip his arms off for being near you - which is irrational, it’s stupid, but it brings back every memory of longing and need while he watched the girl he loved in Sukuna’s arms. When Sukuna dated you he stopped being an ass to Satoru, it wasn’t until after the split he started being a dick again - a big dick to many people too, just particularly Satoru.

The hatred and resentment burn him so badly, he hardly notices you until he blinks it away, sighing, seeing your gorgeous dress. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, you’re so fucking beautiful tonight, dressed to go out and dressed to kill, that dress hugging every curve he was dying to touch, to hold, to kiss upon. Earrings dangle off your pretty ears, reflection against your dress as you look at him.

“I am so sorry, I… can we talk?” He asks then, softly, and you nod, trying not to let your hurt or worry make you angry at him, you need to hear him out.

“Sure. Just a minute, Sukuna.” He nods then, and you walk out to Satoru, he takes your wrist gently, pulling you over by the stairs, exhaling as he eyes you up and down slowly, as if he was caressing you with his blue eyes.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, my god.” You look down nervously, biting your lip a bit, and he tilts your chin, leaning low, making you vividly remember his kisses. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Oh, thank you Satoru. I didn’t know where you… were… taking me.” Your pause speaks volumes, and he sighs, pulling out his phone now.

“I called so many times after I got service, there was a horrible accident and we got stuck for hours. I’m so sorry.” You hear it then, the desperation, as he shows you his phone. “Your messages didn’t come until then, I am so fucking sorry, I tried to get here as quickly as I could. But… I guess I’m too late.”

“What, no, no. You’re not too late.” You step closer, and he exhales, pulling you against his chest now, resting his head against yours. “Sukuna came to see my parents, we’re not on a date or anything.”

“Fuck…” His relief makes his shoulders slump.

“Were you… worried about that?” Your whisper makes him laugh softly, pulling back to look into your eyes, cool hand cupping your face.

“Yeah. I was.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeats, while your hands cling to his soft sweater under his black jacket. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“How serious can we get if you leave soon?” Your voice is full of hurt, full of worry, and he can’t blame you one fucking bit, especially after soaking in what Samantha said.

“I will never just abandon you again.”

“Will you forget me again?” Your tears swim in your eyes, and you step back, shaking your head. “Fuck, ignore me, I’m tired I guess.”

Your words crush his heart, he feels it, the pain he put you through now, blinking back his own emotions. “I never forgot you, how could I?”

“You did.” You look away, and he turns you back to him, you fall again and again, over and over, body reacting, heart gravitating toward him against any better judgement you should have.

“No, I never fucking did.” His husky declaration is met with your mom peeking out now, concern on her face.

“Are you all going out or staying for dinner? There’s plenty, Satoru.” He clears his throat, watching you rub your arms nervously, a million things he’s dying to say to you, to tell you, all stuck in his fucking throat.

“We could just hit the movies and eat here, what do you think?” You say to him then, looking back up, as he runs a hand through his white locks.

“Think you look too beautiful not to take to a fancy restaurant, but I also think I’d love your mom’s cooking again.” You smile tremulously at his answer, sighing and trying to compose yourself.

“Then let’s go.” You take his hand, it feels too good, your little one engulfed in his warm palm, while Satoru sets his jacket and pulls out a chair for you, glaring over at Sukuna, who just smiles.

“Satoru, I should… say sorry for being a dick.” He says then, making Satoru blink in surprise.

“What?”

“I was a dick. Football makes us go to therapy, it’s really making me a little bitch but, here it is. I’m sorry.” He blinks once more, while he sits on the other side of you.

“Shit um, thanks I guess.” He mumbles, he still hates him, but he’s not going to keep the tension at the family table. Sukuna reaches around you to pat his shoulder, smiling a bit.

“It’s like a reunion huh?” Sukuna says teasingly, hand now finding your thigh under the table, making you look wide eyed at him, burning over your black tights. “It’s kind of nice being here again.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Satoru’s hand comes to your thigh now too, and you shift just a bit, Satoru’s is higher, thumb brushing circles on your soft inner thigh.

Some reunion.

“It’s nice to see you all getting along, and seeing you all again. I know she really missed you a lot, Satoru.” Your dad says then, and you hear it, the tone. Your dad was very protective, and he was never cool with his daughter being hurt - with Sukuna you both mutually broke up, but Satoru…

He really just left.

Satoru feels it in his gaze, sighing now. “Yeah well, certain people made High school shit for me. So I left.”

Sukuna looks away, sighing, and you feel the pain in his voice. “Not everyone was so bad.” You say softly, he nods then, hand on your thigh squeezing as Sukuna’s eases off.

“No, someone was amazing, and I shouldn’t have just left her.” His words are said in front of the room, and the tension eases, your dad smiles just a bit.

“She is amazing, you know.”

“Dad!”

“She is.” Satoru agrees, then he nibbles on the food in front of him, sighing. “I’m losing my abs this week.”

“You are not, silly!” You giggle with him, as all of you begin to reminisce, to talk softly, until food is done, and you’re going to help your mom clean up, but she stops you.

“You have a movie to get to, go on.” You smile at her knowing gaze.

“Satoru, have her home safe.” Your dad says, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m twenty six!”

“Still!”

“I’ll have her home safe. Unless she… wants to stay at my place again. But we’ll let you know, promise.” He nods then, hugging Satoru firmly.

“Please do, the roads are slick, be careful you two.”

“We will be, dad.” You look to see Sukuna saying his goodbyes as well, and Satoru glares at him, he can’t help it, the jealousy raging.

“Let me warm up the car, mmkay sweets?” He says softly, and you nod, but he shocks you by planting a kiss right on your cheek in front of everyone, making your skin heat up against his lips. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Thanks, Satoru.” You go to grab your jacket, but Sukuna has already gotten it, gently placing it over you as you two step outside into the cold, and you look up at him in the now dark night, just the porch light illuminating his silhouette. “Thank you so much for coming over, Sukuna. Truly.”

“I had fun catching up, your old man’s strong, he’ll be fine.” He pats your head affectionately, when you hug him tightly.

Satoru watches from his car and feels sick. He can’t hear a word you fucking said, but Sukuna showing up when he was supposed to already left him one step behind. Sukuna wraps his arms around you, you literally disappear in the big man’s embrace, while he gets the heat going, looking away before he does get sick.

He wants you to be his.

Is it selfish, is it fucking foolish? What future could you two even have? And you were a girl who needed a future, security, loyalty. You weren’t a girl he could just have and ever let go, but all he can think of is having you, over and over. All he can imagine is his lips bruising and marking every inch of your skin, not leaving the bed for days and just ordering food when you need it, fuck he’d hand feed you.

Shit Satoru Gojo has never thought of doing.

“You’re welcome, brat.” Sukuna says softly, after you thank him for spending time with your father.

“No, it meant alot. Truly. You’ve changed so much, but you weren’t all bad back then you know.” You tease, he chuckles then, sooty pink lashes lowering over those ruby eyes as his breath comes out in a puff of condensation.

“I fucked up with you. If you ever… figure out… all that.” He gestures his head to the car, and watches as you blush furiously. “And it’s not what you want, you have my contact info now. I’ll always answer your call, okay?”

“Sukuna, that's corny!”

“Fuck off, I know.” He glares, and you giggle again.

“That therapist should be famous.”

“Bye, now, brat.” You giggle and smack a kiss on his cheek, up on your tiptoes, watching a blush form on his cheeks. “It’s an open offer.” He says, husky toned, you nod then.

“Please drive safe!”

“You too, be careful tonight.”

“I will. Good night, Sukuna.” He nods with a half turn of is lips and walks over to his own sports car as you get inside the warmth with Satoru, smiling and then gasping as he yanks you against him. “Satoru?”

“I’ve been dying to do this all day.” He whispers huskily, before pressing his lips against yours, holding you against him in the warm confines of the car. He drinks up your sighs as you melt in his embrace, those shocks coursing through your veins from his plump lips, from his touch.

“Mnh…” Your soft cry makes him throb in need, but he tries to hold back, taking a breath instead, looking down at your now swollen lips, caressing them with his thumb.

“I never forgot you.” He repeats what he said earlier, you kiss him again, eagerly, tenderly, and he moans as you do, tongues dancing as lips keep pressing, melding against each other. “How could I?”

“Toru, I’m scared.” Your whisper makes him pause, he pulls back a bit, hands on your face now, shaking his head.

“I know. And I’m sorry you are. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing when I forgave you long ago, just… don’t hurt me again. Okay? I can’t handle it.” He nods, feeling your vulnerability, and you then relax, kissing him over and over, until he presses you against the door, leaned over, his hands dragging down your body, you whimper so sweetly he almost devours you there in that car.

“Shit, shit. I need to…” He backs off, watching your breasts rise and fall, he has never felt this, the insane need, once you all kissed he knew it was over, but every kiss drives him more out of his mind, as he falls just as bad as he had then. “I’ll fuck you right here if we don’t go.”

“In front of my parents!?”

“Full high school nostalgia.” You laugh then, and so does he, to break the tension, as you shakily put on your seat belt.

“None of that, gonna give my dad a damn heart attack. He has enough shit to deal with.” He presses one more kiss before he backs out of your driveway, an arm over the seat, brushing against the back of your neck.

“He looks healthy and good, I was really glad to see that.”

“Sukuna cheered him up playing football.” Your words are innocent and sweet, but he feels it hit - the inadequacy. He was supposed to be your best fucking friend in the world, and an ex had a better connection and was more involved.

The pain and guilt eats at him, and it’s quiet then, as the snow lightens up, and Satoru drives carefully in the night, you put a hand on his thigh, and his falls right over yours, squeezing it tightly. “Thank you for even going out with me tonight.”

“Of course, I want to… spend as much time as we can.” Your soft voice hits his ears, as you lean close, pressing a kiss on his neck.

“Me too, I was so stressed out, god being stuck in the car with Samantha was torture.” You laugh a bit, but he can hear it’s tense. “Sweetheart,” you two come to a stop, and he looks at you now, the streetlights casting a red glow over him while the snow finally stops falling, and the look he gives you makes your breath catch. “I only want you, okay?”

“Satoru you don’t-”

“No, I do. There’s nothing between me and her alright?” You nod then, swallowing nervously, as he kisses your forehead far too sweetly. “I used to sleep with her. But we never dated, I… never dated anyone.”

“Never?” You asked quietly, and he laughs without humor, looking back at the road now.

“Never. I guess I had someone in my head. I guess I had someone’s faded picture in my pocket.”

“You… what?” He taps his pocket, and you reach down now, emotions hitting your throat when you see it, the last picture he’d taken of you. You’re bright, cheerful and so, so happy. “You kept this?”

“You didn’t like it, and were gonna throw it out, remember? I got mad about it, so I swiped it. It was beautiful.” Your tears fall on the faded, crumbled up polaroid, taking several shaky breaths now as the meaning sinks in.

“I didn’t like it then, but… now I do.” He smiles, the weight off his chest while you put it back in his pocket. “Why didn’t you reach out?”

Satoru sighs, pulling up to another light, hand on yours gripping tightly as he studies you with that lidded gaze, with his plump lips parted just so, eyes that you have always loved looking into. But now they’re different, they’re jaded eyes yes, but there’s so much unsaid in them, so much it makes you falter, when he takes your hand and kisses the back of it, lips brushing your knuckles.

“I was terrified of feeling it all again. Every feeling I had for you, I just… thought it was best to shove down. But, I guess they never left.” The words in the yearbook flash across your mind now.

Did he mean them?

“I guess I never shared all my feelings, either.” You say softly, he is driving once more, but keeps your hand up by his lips.

“You have no fault in anything, here. You were just… you. And I love that, how you’re you. You are still you.”

“You’re still you, too, Satoru.”

He blinks a bit, sighing again. “Am I?”

“I think so.”

You hope so.

You wish it so.

You have never felt what this is, even with him before, the intensity of just being near him enough to drive you insane, every breath and motion leading you deeper into the abyss that is Satoru Gojo. Opening your heart to someone who could so easily crush it all over again, who can tear it all apart so casually, but it’s as if you would take it all if it meant having him for just a bit.

“What movie are we seeing, hmm?” Your whisper breaks him out of his thoughts, of how the fuck he could make this work, of how he could express everything that’s been bottled up inside. Of how he could be that Satoru for you again.

He looks over at your gorgeous face, bathed in moonlight, as beautiful as the day he first met you in school, the inner beauty just radiating with your kindness, your heart, all too much to even look upon. Momentarily stunned he doesn’t compute your question at first, instead just drinking in the love in front of him, the love of his life that he shoved aside like she was nothing.

He’s not even sure he deserves you near him, but he’s not going to fuck this up, aside from life literally already fucking the first part of the evening up.

“It was your favorite, they’re doing a whole re-run of it. And we have time to catch the last showing.”

You bounce just a bit in your seat, so cute then, he fucking melts, he aches, your smile so precious he can’t fathom how he lived with just the memory of it. You’re brightening up his heart, his world, as he just stares at you, so enamored that he has to get honked at to drive at the light again.

When the two of you arrive in that movie theater, he can hardly focus on anything but your laugh, your glittery eyes as you two settle with your snacks in the old theater, that hasn’t changed one damn bit. He’s so lost in you he can’t remember what the movie is called, or what it’s about, an arm wrapped around as you nibble on popcorn, snuggling up.

It feels too perfect, and Satoru can’t fuck this up. Knowing he’s had you for years existing across the country and could have had this the entire time makes every bit of money he’s had feel hollow. His phone keeps going off, he keeps ignoring the vibrations until you pull back curiously.

“It may be important, Satoru, check it.” He sighs, looking now that it’s his manager. “Go ahead, take a call, I'll be fine.”

“Fuck it, he can wait.” He says then, checking the texts and his heart drops as he sees it.

He has a shoot coming up tomorrow night and then he has to get back to Hollywood for a magazine interview and photo shoot for Vogue. One more measly day with the girl he’s been missing like a piece of his heart? How the fuck could he even tell you?

“What’s wrong, Toru?” You whisper, he just turns the screen off, leaning close and kissing you, tasting salty popcorn on your lips and licking it, making you laugh breathlessly.

“Nothing, it can all wait.” His words reassure you, despite the lingering concerns, as he pulls you back against him and reclines the big black leather seats, the two of you snuggling under the blanket he’d brought as you fall into your favorite movie.

But you also fall deeper for him, for the boy you knew and the man you’re trying to learn, who’s heart thuds steadily under your cheek.

Could you handle him leaving you again, or just enjoy this while it lasted, savor every moment, could you let him go again?

Next chap will be smutty AND emotional AND angsty, yayyy hehe

taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Just Another Typical Day

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It's just another typical day living and working with the Thunderbolts* and also dating Bucky Barnes.

WARNING: THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!

"Wakey wakey! Time to start the day!" Alexei enters your shared room with Bucky at the New Avengers Tower. His loud Russian accent echoing throughout the room, "Up and at 'em, as you Americans like to say, eh?" The Red Guardian leaves as quick as he comes in.

You pull the blankets over you and Bucky and curl into his side, "I thought he'd tire of that by now," you grumble, nuzzling your face into his neck.

Bucky sleepily chuckles, "Same, we greatly underestimated him."

"Yup," you lean in to kiss him, but there's a knock at the door this time and you hear Yelena say, "You two better come out soon. You know how Alexei gets when it comes to breakfast."

Bucky groans, "Maybe I should've kept my place in Brooklyn."

"Yeah, maybe," you giggle and kick off the blanket and sheets. You and Bucky made sure to start sleeping with clothes on after Alexei had barged into your room while you two were naked far too many times.

You two quickly dress and step out into the hall, the same time Bob steps out of his room. You bump shoulders with him, "Mornin', Robby."

He shyly smiles and nods, "Y/N, Bucky. Morning." Despite knowing and living with the guy for a little over a year, he's still very shy with you and the rest of the New Avengers.

You all meet in the kitchen where everyone is spread out doing their own task of cooking breakfast.

Today, John is at the stove cooking the bacon, Ava is making omelets, Bob and Yelena are working together to make French toast.

"Just in time! Bucky and Y/N, you'll cut the fruit for the fruit salad!" Alexei gestures to the section on the large kitchen island where an array of fruits are spread out.

Alexei considers breakfast and dinner time as family time. Therefore, he makes sure everyone cooks and eats together like a family. Everyone except for him because, despite his good intentions, he's not very good at cooking. Therefore, the Red Guardian sits back and lets everyone else do the work while he scrolls on his phone.

You and Bucky stand beside each other, cutting your respective fruits and tossing them into the large bowl. Bucky hums to the music softly playing in the background and you sway to the music.

You also hear Ava and John arguing at the stove, "I just don't understand how you don't like scrambled eggs?" Ava says in disbelief.

"I just don't like the texture!"

"Most people usually say that about sunny side eggs."

"Well I'm not most people!"

You tune them out because arguments and bantering is very typical with this group. You weren't there when the group was first formed, but you take everyone's word for it when they say that they all tried to kill each other in the beginning.

Honestly sometimes it still seems like they're trying to kill each other.

You clear your throat and speak up, "So, John, you excited for visitation in a few days?"

John's wife, Olivia, had filed for divorce and got full custody of their son. Bucky smirks at you, you often played mediator when members of the group began to argue.

John clears his throat, "Yeah. I'm meeting them at the park again. He-He's getting used to me again, which is nice."

You nod, "One step at a time. Just gotta continue to show that you still love and care for him. You got this."

"Thanks," John murmurs.

"Dang it," you hear Bob say and you look to the other side of the kitchen island. He has egg all over his hand.

Yelena chuckles, "It's okay. At least you got it in the bowl this time."

"You good, Robby?" you ask him with a smile.

Bob sighs, "I've been watching a lot of cooking shows recently so I wanted to try cracking an egg with one hand."

You chuckle, "Not everyone gets it on the first try. Bucky sucks at cracking eggs. Gets shell bits in 'em every single time." You look at your boyfriend with a teasing smirk.

Bucky groans, "Must you always-"

"Yes, because it's funny and adorable," you kiss his cheek and it makes Yelena gag.

"You two are cute and disgusting. I hate you guys."

You throw her a wink, "Love you too, Lena."

The rest of breakfast prep continues with more banter and a few burnt bacon strips, but, overall, a success.

Everything is plated on the table that you're all sat around. Bucky serves you your food first then grabs his own food. You all eat and chat with each other, enjoying the normal morning you have before the business of work and saving the day hits you all.

You look around the table with a grateful gleam in your eyes. You're happy you joined this band of misfits turned heroes.

(A/N: AVENGERS TOWER FICS ARE SOOOOO BACK!)

[rafeslittlepup]

mrs. cameron

that’s what he calls you the moment you walk out of the bridal suite, veil still clipped delicately into your half-up hair, brigitte bardot lashes, baby pink gloss, you’re clutching your mini bouquet like it’s a prop. there’s a bow tied around your wrist.

and the dress is a dream. white lace, vintage-inspired, barely brushing the floor because you “didn’t want to trip,” but everyone knows it’s because rafe likes seeing your ankles. there’s a tiny rosette at the bust.

the ceremony takes place at your family’s estate. it was the kind with an overgrown rose garden and a marble fountain. the guests are all wearing pastels and sweating silently in the carolina sun. but when you appear, the crowd goes quiet. people genuinely tear up. maybe barry mutters “this is fucking psycho” and topper just agrees, but he’s taking pictures anyway.

rafe looks like he’s either going to cry or punch someone. when you get to the altar, he whispers, “you look so fuckin’ pretty.” you giggle, your cheeks blushing like it was the first time he complimented you.

the vows are deranged. you cry halfway through yours, clutching rafe’s hand like you’ll faint at any moment. “you’re my person. even when you’re terrible.” you say, and he just stares at her and smiles

the kiss is way too long. wheezie covers her eyes. sarah pretends to gag. kelce howls

don’t even het me started on the reception. pink champagne tower. four-tier vanilla cake with edible pearls and sugar bows.

your heels are off by 9PM and you’re dancing barefoot to “be my baby”. and rafe is following you around like a dog. never letting go off your hand.

and later that night, when you’re both drunk and sunk into a velvet couch at the afterparty, you lean into rafe and whisper, “we should do this every year…”

he just stares at you, eyes wild and half-lidded and definitely full of love. “i’d marry you every damn day.”

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | southern drawl

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @itscalledastrategyfred) : how the grid reacts to a texan!driver!reader and her southern accent — from flustered blushing to terrible cowboy impressions and a whole lotta “yes, ma’am.” 🤠💬

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 2116

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : yall i missed the race cus i fell asleep... am i cooked?

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen

gives you so much shit for your drawl at first.

“did you really just say y’all while threatening me?”

can’t stop smirking whenever you get riled up... especially when you say something like “i swear to god, i’ll whup your ass.”

fully imitates your accent when teasing you... and it’s terrible.

lowkey loves it though. it reminds him of daniel, in a way that’s nostalgic and soft.

once heard you say “darlin’” to someone and just froze for a second like okay, maybe this is the hottest thing alive.

pretends not to care but definitely perks up every time you say something country-coded.

yuki tsunoda

is very confused at first. “why do you sound like a cowboy?”

teases you constantly but in a very you’re my favorite person to annoy way.

starts mimicking your phrases just to make you laugh — “howdy” becomes part of his vocabulary purely to irritate you.

calls you “cowgirl” when you beat him in anything and grumbles when you call him “city boy” back.

secretly adores how unapologetic you are about it. says it makes you sound confident.

would 100% ask you to translate slang and then say it in his best impression just to see you roll your eyes.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell

first time he hears you say “bless your heart,” he panics. “wait… is that… a good thing or not?”

tries to keep it professional but gets flustered when you throw a “yes, sir” his way with that southern sweetness.

definitely raises an eyebrow every time you drop a “y’all” during press, but secretly thinks it’s endearing.

once tried to imitate your accent on live tv and it came out as australian. never lived it down.

thinks it’s hilarious how you say things like “fixin’ to win this race” — quotes it back to you every chance he gets.

might tease you gently, but 100% defends your accent if anyone else makes fun of it. “it’s not weird, it’s hers.”

kimi antonelli

very confused at first but listens so intently whenever you speak — your accent is like a whole new language to him.

starts asking what everything means. “what is… ‘rode hard and put up wet?’”

tries to mimic you saying “howdy” once and instantly turned red when you burst out laughing.

quietly loves the way you talk. it’s soft and warm to him, even if you’re smack-talking.

calls you "texas" like it’s your nickname. “hey, texas. need help with your helmet?”

100% memorizes your slang and starts slipping it into conversations to make you smile.

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc

confused the entire first week. just stands there smiling while you say things like “i’m fixin’ to head out” and later quietly asks carlos what it meant.

blushes furiously the first time you call him “darlin’” — tries to play it cool but is visibly short-circuiting.

imitates your accent once during an interview and gets roasted online for how bad it was. “i wasn’t even that bad, right?” you nod slowly, hiding laughter.

starts calling you “cowgirl” in private, just to see you roll your eyes and smile.

says your voice sounds like “sunlight on hot pavement.” he’s a romantic.

lowkey tries to learn country music just to bond with you — gets too into kacey musgraves and now you catch him humming “slow burn” on race days.

lewis hamilton

absolutely obsessed. tells you it’s “the sexiest accent” he’s ever heard.

constantly asking you to say things again, slower this time — just so he can hear it twice.

you say “yes, sir” once and his whole soul leaves his body.

teases you when you get heated and slip into full-blown southern mode, but with the softest grin. “there she goes, my wild southern girl.”

absolutely convinced you two need to do a cowboy-themed photo shoot. insists on wearing the hat too.

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris

the second he hears your accent, he’s already planning impressions.

“well howdy y’all, ah’m fixin’ to win me a lil ol’ race today!” — said in the worst cowboy voice imaginable.

you threaten to fight him. he grins harder.

calls you “ma’am” dramatically and tips invisible hats at you in the paddock. you once slapped him with your water bottle.

has no idea that it’s kind of hot until you call him “sweetheart” mid-argument and he just shuts up entirely.

you catch him watching country tiktoks so he can learn phrases to throw back at you. he says it’s “research.”

may joke nonstop, but the second someone else mocks you? “nah, only i get to call her cowgirl.”

oscar piastri

didn’t expect to fall in love with your accent, but here we are.

says nothing when you speak, just blinks slowly and listens like it’s music.

every now and then you catch him smiling to himself after you say something super southern like “he ain’t got the sense god gave a goose.”

finds your little quirks adorable. “you just said ‘buggy’ instead of shopping cart,” he says softly, grinning.

doesn’t mimic your accent. not even once. too respectful.

will 100% ask you to teach him how to say certain phrases, then casually use them later to make you laugh.

you say “c’mere, sugar” once and he actually blushes. he’s so gone.

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso

pretends like he doesn’t care but he’s obsessed with your accent.

the first time you say something like “sugar, that was a rough quali,” he just stares for a second before going, “say it again.”

tries to mimic you with his own spanish accent and ends up sounding like a cowboy in a telenovela.

“how do you say it? y’all? yuhhhll?”

laughs at himself when you make fun of it but still keeps doing it because your eyes light up every time.

secretly loves how fiery you get when you're mad — especially when you let the accent fly. “you gonna kill me, cariño?” he teases.

absolutely calls you "cowgirl" in the most smug voice imaginable.

lance stroll

immediately thinks your accent is the cutest thing alive.

“you sound like a character from a movie. it’s awesome.”

gets super flustered when you call him anything sweet — “baby,” “darlin’,” “honeybun.” it kills him every time.

has a weird little canadian twang himself so when he tries to imitate you, it comes out like “howd-eh y’all.”

you cry laughing. he commits to it anyway.

lowkey loves how different you sound from everyone else — thinks it makes you magnetic.

tries to “cowboy up” next to you in interviews and fails miserably. “we’re a dynamic duo,” he says. “city boy and the wild west.”

ʚ・williams

alex albon

thinks your accent is the best thing ever, and won’t shut up about it.

constantly repeats your phrases back to you in a horrendous mock accent just to make you laugh.

“well shoot, sugar! i reckon we got ourselves a pole!” — said at full volume in the paddock.

you threaten to hit him with your boot. he tells everyone “she threatened me in southern again. it was so hot.”

teases you with names like “rodeo queen” and “yee-haw y/n” but goes feral the first time you call him “sweetheart” on comms.

100% starts saying “y’all” unironically. refuses to admit it.

tells his PR team you’re his “emotional support cowboy.”

carlos sainz

tries to act unfazed like “it’s just an accent” but his eyes go all soft when you call him “darlin’.”

loves hearing you talk — especially when you ramble. just nods along and smiles like he understands every word even when you say things like “that boy ain’t right.”

calls you mi vaquera under his breath when you walk away.

one time you called him “baby” and he blinked twice, turned red, and muttered “mi vida...” like a reflex.

doesn’t tease, but subtly flirts back in spanish until you’re the one blushing.

quietly practices a southern phrase or two just so he can surprise you later. you catch him whispering “fixin’ to win” before a race and nearly crash your scooter laughing.

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman

absolutely thrilled the first time he hears you speak. grins like a little menace and goes “wait, say that again.”

becomes obsessed with getting you to say weird southern phrases. “wait wait, what’s the one about biscuits and gravy again?”

mimics your accent constantly but in that annoying younger brother way. you threaten him with a tire gun. he laughs harder.

teases you with a fake lasso motion every time you walk into the garage. “woah there, cowgirl.”

once called you “ma’am” in a joking tone and you shot back with “watch your mouth, sugar.” he shut up immediately.

genuinely adores it though. thinks you’re the coolest person alive.

starts picking up your slang accidentally. pr catches him saying “fixin’ to” in an interview. he panics.

esteban ocon

acts completely unbothered at first. nods politely while you talk, no visible reaction.

but he’s so internally flustered.

one day you say “yes, sir” in that sweet, drawling tone and he just stands there blinking like you short-circuited his brain.

asks pierre what certain things mean later in private. “what’s a ‘hoot and a half’?”

doesn’t tease, but is very intrigued. tells people he likes how “unique” you sound.

once tried to say “howdy” as a joke but it came out awkward and overly French. he never attempted it again.

secretly loves when you call him something soft in that accent. might not say much, but his smile says everything.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson

pretends to be unbothered but he’s fully gone the first time you say “darlin’.”

literally pauses mid-sentence when you call him “sweetheart” like… yeah. that’s it. you’ve got him.

teases you gently, but it’s always with heart eyes. “you really gonna charm everyone with that voice, huh?”

obsessed with how passionate you sound when you’re fired up. just lets you rant and watches, smiling like an idiot.

tells everyone “i don’t get the hype” and then immediately melts when you rest your boots on his lap.

absolutely wants you to teach him how to two-step. “for educational reasons.”

isack hadjar

chaos incarnate. tries to mimic your accent constantly and fails in the funniest ways.

“whatchu doin’, sugarplum?” he says. you throw a wrench at him. he ducks and cackles.

you start mimicking his french accent right back. “ohhh la la, baguette!”

you two are just rude to each other and completely in love about it.

insists on calling you “sheriff” like it’s your job title. even salutes you sometimes.

if you ever call him “baby” or “mon cœur” in your accent, he shuts up immediately.

secretly thinks your voice is the most comforting sound on earth, even when you’re yelling.

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly

absolutely loses it the first time you call him something soft like “sugar.” full flirty grin, immediately flirting back.

“you keep talkin’ like that and i’m gonna start fallin’ in love, mon amour.”

mimics your accent way too often and does it so dramatically it’s offensive.

“well HAW-DEE Y’ALL,” he says, strutting into the motorhome in your cowboy boots. you throw a towel at him.

turns every southern phrase you say into something scandalous.

“i’m fixin’ to fight you, pierre.”

“please do.”

but when you’re soft? when you call him “darlin’” and it’s not a joke? he’s quiet. maybe even a little breathless.

“don’t stop,” he mumbles. “say it again.”

jack doohan

acts cool at first but the second you hit him with a “yes, sir,” he’s toast.

blinks. stares at the floor. full body flush.

“you alright?”

“yep. yeah. mmhm.”

loves your voice but doesn’t tease. just listens. takes in every word.

gets kind of protective when people joke about your accent. “don’t be weird. it’s just how she talks.”

one time you called him “honeybun” in the middle of a race debrief and he messed up a tire strategy.

definitely the type to lowkey start picking up your phrasing — you catch him saying “reckon” once and he immediately denies it.

“i didn’t say that. you imagined it.”

he 100% said that.

ʚ・kick sauber

nico hulkenberg

pretends he’s unfazed but absolutely notices every time you say something country-coded.

raises an eyebrow and goes “what does that even mean?” but secretly writes it down for later.

makes sarcastic comments like “you gonna ride a horse to the race next?” while absolutely staring when you wear boots to media.

calls you “cowgirl” in the driest voice imaginable but it makes you grin every time.

once heard you say “lord have mercy” under your breath and now repeats it back in a bad drawl just to mess with you.

claims he’s above it, but the second you call him “baby” in a sweet voice, he forgets how to speak.

accidentally got flustered once when you offered to teach him how to line dance. “oh. uh. yeah. maybe.”

gabriel bortoleto

fully enchanted from day one. like… heart-eyes level enchanted.

asks you a million questions. “wait, say that again? what does it mean when you say ‘bless his heart’?”

doesn’t mock, just listens with a little awe in his expression.

is super respectful, always like “you sound really cool” instead of teasing.

lowkey tries to learn southern slang so he can flirt back better.

once called you “sugar” in a heavy brazilian accent and you nearly fainted.

gives you that boyish grin and shrugs like “you started it.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[woantohae]

In my arms || (Bob Reynolds x reader)

Summary: The Thunderbolts are constantly on missions, busy trying to do good and save whoever they can. One of them was Bob Reynolds, the defenseless yet powerful man who is part of this team and family. However, he doesn't participate in these missions so he can continue practicing controlling his powers.

Despite telling them he's capable, the team prefers to give him more time to get used to them, until one mission, when a member of the team is injured. And all Bob can think about is the fury he feels when he hears Y/N being hurt. And how much he wants revenge on whoever did it.

content warnings: angst, he fell first and he fell harder, "avengers" tower, fluff, thunderbolts being a family, violence, curse words, SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS*, Yelena and Bob being like brother and sister, "touch her and you die" trope.

Author's note: I WATCHED THUNDERBOLTS*!!!! And let me tell you, it was better than i imagined. Honestly, it became one of my favorites and it can easily be in my top 3 of Marvel movies. I just can't describe the experience with enough words, but the waiting was totally worth it ✨️ AND THE POST CREDIT SCENE 👀 MARVEL ATE WITH THAT ONE.

With that being said, i'm excited to tell you that i'm gonna write more of Bob Reynolds 👉🏻👈🏻 So here you go, a one shot with him, wich contains a few spoilers of the movie. At this point our reader will be polaris lol.

Hope you like it and comment what do you think of this one 💌

Bob was getting used to the place.

What had once been Avengers Tower had now become his new "home." He had an incredible view of New York City, several rooms to hang out in, thousands of dishes and meals he'd never been able to prepare in his life, and the pleasant company he shared every day.

The team had made him feel comfortable and part of something worthwhile, despite what they'd gone through to get to this moment.

Bob still felt guilty about what happened when Void took control of him and darkened everything in its path, even when Yelena reminded him it wasn't his fault and that he wasn't alone. The blonde had become a trusted person for him and was always there when he needed her. He told her his secrets and how he felt, and the Russian always gave him advice or a word of encouragement. Even with the trust he had in her, he confided in her something he never thought would happen to him. Or rather, something he thought was impossible to happen in such a short time.

He was attracted to Y/N.

The girl whom his other self had caused to see horrible things from her past, the one who could move metal objects with a simple flick of her fingers, and the one who made his heart race and his cheeks blush. It was a feeling that consumed him every time he was near her or even thought about her.

And Yelena, being the good spy she was and good at reading people, knew how Bob felt about Y/N. She always encouraged him to get closer and talk to her more, but Bob simply couldn't do it. It was not that easy.

"It sounds easy," John says, after hearing the plan for carrying out the mission.

Bob shakes his head to return to reality and ignore such thoughts.

"Wait until we get there and they welcome us with open arms," ​​Bucky says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"We still made it last time, and look at us here," Y/N replies, shrugging her shoulders.

Ava laughs and shakes her head.

"We'd better get moving," she says.

Bob looks at the group with hope in his eyes, but feels unsure about what he's gonna say.

"Can I come with you, guys?" he asks.

All heads turn to look at him with a mixture of surprise and sympathy for his question. They know he wants to help however he can, but after Void was under control and hadn't appeared for quite some time, they weren't so sure it was a good idea to expose him like that again.

"Bob..." Yelena begins to say.

Bob hurries to explain himself.

"I know what you're gonna say. But I think I'm ready, I know I can control it" Bob says with determination in his voice "I've been practicing and trying to talk to him, so maybe I can do it, today"

"We know, Bobby," says John, "But we must complete the mission without any mistakes or problems along the way."

The brunette looks down and clears his throat, nodding. He raises his gaze to smile and meet Y/N's gaze, who smiles back.

"No, no, I understand," he says dejectedly. "When the time is right, I can come with you."

Bucky pats his shoulder and Alexei gives him a thumbs-up. Despite their attempt to lift his spirits, he can't help but feel useless and without any reason to be in the group, other than washing dishes, tidying the place, or reading books he finds lying around.

He hates the feeling.

But it is what it is, right now. And he has to face it.

After the meeting to organize the plan, the group dispersed to look for the weapons and prepare the car in which they would go to the location. Bob watched from afar as the rest of them prepared, while playing with his fingers. He shifted his gaze to the large window overlooking the city and didn't feel Y/N's presence approaching him.

"Hey," she said in a soft tone.

Bob turned his head to look at her and smiled delightedly.

"Hey," she asked.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nods and laughs softly, pretending to be okay and swallowing the feeling that bothered him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine"

The girl mimics his smile and stares at him, while Bob feels the heat spread to his cheeks.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie when I get back?" she offers, patting his arm to get his attention.

Bob smiles.

"I was actually thinking it could be a movie night with just us. If you like that idea," Y/N says, crossing her arms and shrugging her shoulders with a smile on her face.

"A movie would be nice. I think it would be fun to have a movie night with the rest of the team," he says awkwardly "We haven't had one of those in a while, so..."

She lets out a soft laugh, thinking how cute he looks all flustered.

"Oh..." he remains silent to calm his nerves until he speaks again so as not to make a fool of himself. "Oh! Yeah, just the two of us. Of course. It could be fun. Count me in!"

Y/N smiles and laughs softly, wich sounds angelical to Bob's ears.

"Great. It's a date" she says.

Bucky calls her to let her know they're about to leave, so she starts walking away from Bob.

"See you, Bob."

"See you. Good luck," Bob says with a dazed smile on his face, remembering the girl's words.

It's a date.

Bob walks to his room with an excited smile, feeling happiness in his chest, but when he remembers the last thing Y/N said, his eyes widen.

"Oh shit! It is a date!"

He needs to prepare for it.

----------

Bob listened and watched from the communications room to see how the team was doing on the mission.

It wasn't going so easy as they planed back in the tower a few hours ago, as they had run into a group of mercenaries who weren't going to give up so easily. The brunette just hoped everyone was okay and managed to complete the mission—and he really hoped Y/N was okay and didn't get hurt.

A feeling of anguish and anxiety was causing Bob's chest to tighten. His leg kept moving as he played with the Rubik's Cube in his hands, unable to complete a color.

The sound of bullets filled his ears, and his jaw clenched as he heard and saw Yelena or Bucky being hit. Alexei grumbled as he tried to pull a man off John to help him, and Ava took care of a few. Y/N tried to stop the bullets as best she could, but there were some hidden snipers she couldn't sense with her powers so easily.

"There's to many of them!" John complains through the earpiece in Bob's ear.

"Fuck! If we don't stop the ones from the roof we cannot go back to the car!" Ava exclaims in an almost exhaustive voice.

"Shit. C'mon guys" Bob whispers while frowning his eyebrows at the scene.

"Bob, can you see how many are on the roof?" Yelena asks from the communicator in her ear.

"Uh, yeah, yeah" he says inmediatly "There's five on the roof. Three of them has guns and two of them are programming something on the computer. Seems like.... oh no"

"What Bob?" Bucky asks.

"It's a bomb! You need to get out of there" Bob says quickly.

"Shit," Yelena curses.

"I can try to stop them. But I need you to cover my back," Y/N says in a confident, hurried tone.

Bob watches as the girl begins to head toward the other side to attack the group of men with guns at the entrance. The others try to stop anyone from attacking her, and she moves stealthily between the bodies to reach the entrance. Bob focuses his attention on the cameras in the building that shows Y/N, his heart aching at what's happening in the footage. Or what could happen.

"Please, be careful," Bob whispers.

Y/N stops the guards' bullets at the entrance with precision in her movements and attacks some who plan to hit her. Bob's eyes glance at the rest of the team as they manage to escape thanks to the distraction caused by the girl with green sparkles flashing from her fingers. However, he doesn't stop for more than five seconds just to check on the girl again. He wants to make sure she's okay, even if it's from behind the computer. Far away from the place where she is right now —just the thought of it makes his inner self freak out.

Something it's beginning to awake inside of him. Something he thought he had buried for his own good.

Or rather someone.

"Y/N, all done. Let's head to the car. I'll try to get to you right away," Bucky orders.

"No. It's okay, I got this," she chimes in stubbornly.

Bob shakes his head.

But before she can do so, a stray bullet hits her shoulder, destabilizing the girl.

"Fuck!" she complains, touching her shoulder.

"Y/N?" Bucky asks worriedly.

"Y/N!" Bob yells, watching as one of the guards hits her with her gun on the back of her head, causing the girl to fall unconscious to the ground.

That's it.

Bob rushes out of the tower's communications room and runs to the balcony, where he takes to the air with determination. He doesn't stop for a second, because time is precious, especially after seeing Y/N getting attacked. The only thing that keeps repeating in his mind is the visual image of the girl being injured, so he moves quickly through the air until he reaches the others. He had seen the coordinates and the area where they were, so it was easy for him to arrive in time.

Bob tries to find the place that the camera allowed him to watched the area in wich the girl was back at the tower, and when he finds it, he is surprised to find that one of the men responsible of attacking Y/N is carrying her unconscious body in his arms. Fury courses through his veins at the sight, and he rushes to stop the bastard. It's as if he's being consumed by darkness, a sensation he knows all too well.

As soon as he's in front of the guy, he stops him and without a second thought, tries to attack him, careful not to hit Y/N. The man looks at him in horror and carefully places the girl's body on the ground, then raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know..." he stumbles, but all Bob sees is red.

He growls and begins to mercilessly beat the man's body, making him bleed, and doesn't stop until he's unconscious. Blow after blow, unleashing all the anger he felt at seeing how the bastard hurt the girl. He can still see her grimace of pain and how her body fell unconscious to the ground, helpless, and who knows what they might have done to her if he hadn't arrived in time.

"Please...." the man begs almost unconscious.

Bob doesn't hear him. He doesn't want to.

And Void doesn't want to too.

The rest of the team arrives at Y/N's location, only to see her lying on the ground with a scarlet stain forming on the shoulder of her suit, while Bob kills the man. Ava approaches the girl's body and makes sure she has a steady pulse, while John makes sure that no one appears and attacks them by surprise.

"Bob," Yelena warns and tries to approach him to make him see reason.

"No! He hurt her. No one can touch her, or hurt her!" he exclaims in a mixture of anger and darkness. "No one! You heard me? Fucking no one!"

The others stare at the scene and notice how Y/N wakes up and observes the state Bob is in. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she rushes over to him and wraps her arms around him from behind, resting her face on his.

"Bob, hey. It's okay," she murmurs in his ear, feeling the man begin to slow down the blows, so she tightens her grip on his body. "I'm okay. Everything will be okay."

Bob calms down and brings his now covered in blood hands to Y/N's arms, then turns his body and hugs her with all his strength, trying to cover her body to protect her just in case, and also feel her in his arms and make sure nothing happens to her anymore.

"You are hurt" he whispers in her ear.

"It's just a scratch. I'll be fine" Y/N says with a small smile on her lips.

"He hurt you. I couln't allow him to do it" he says in a broken voice.

Y/N looks at the rest of the team and smiles at them, letting them know she's okay. Kinda. Bucky sighs and shakes his head at the girl in that state, knowing she must be screaming from the pain of the bullet, while Alexei smiles sideways and tries to encourage her from a distance. The blonde russian girl mouths to her that she will get the car ready to go, to wich Y/N nods and indicates her to do so.

"We still have our date," she tells him, still standing with the brunette, glancing at the man's lifeless body.

Bob lets out a sigh and nods his head against Y/N's chest, agreeing with her.

"Our date," he says in a soft tone, relaxing at the touch of her fingers in his hair. Although he can't help but feel anger again when he smells the metallic scent coming from the girl's wound.

"Yeah. Are we still up to that?"

"Definitely" Bob answers and lets out a small laugh.

She smiles and then pulls away from him to look him in the eye. Those blue orbits who watch her with a spark on his eyes.

"So let's go home and have our date, okay?" Bob nods and then lowers his gaze to the girl's wound.

"First, we need to treat your wound," he says, pointing to the red stain on her suit.

"Would you help me with that?"

"You don't have to ask me twice."

They both stare at each other with a small smile on their faces, understanding how much they care for each other and would do anything to keep them safe and viceversa.

Especially Bob.

And as long as Y/N is in his arms, he'll be okay.

[buckleydiaz]

“I’m not gonna disappear, you know,” Eddie says, lowering his mug to meet Buck’s eyes.

“W-what?” Buck stammers, blinking away like he got caught doing something wrong.

“You keep staring,” Eddie says, carefully, “like I'm gonna vanish. Or go back to Texas without telling you or something. I'm not.”

It’s been hours since Buck met him at the airport, drove him home, made him tea. And Eddie’s felt the weight of his gaze the entire time. Buck hasn’t said much, which Eddie isn’t surprised by, honestly. He’s not really in the mood to talk himself. But there’s something quietly devastating about the way Buck is looking at him. Eddie’s not sure what to do with that.

“Sorry,” Buck says.

Eddie sighs. “Don't apologize, it’s not…I don't mind that you’re looking. Just—you know you can talk to me, right?“

“I know,” Buck says. He’s trying to sound casual but his voice comes out just a little unsteady. Enough for Eddie to catch it.

“It’s, uh, it’s not that,” Buck adds, after a beat.

“What?”

“I don't—I don't think you’re gonna vanish. It's just… you look different.”

“You mean this?” Eddie rubs at his chin self consciously.

Buck’s eyes flicker momentarily to Eddie’s face before his gaze drops again. He nods.

After Eddie got the call, he couldn’t help but blame himself. He should have been there. Maybe if he was, Bobby would still be here—with his team, with his family. Not for the first time, Eddie felt like he couldn’t bear the sight of his own reflection. He felt small, useless. He thought maybe it would get easier with time. It didn’t. And with each day, as the guilt grew, so did the stubble on his face—thicker, darker. An awful reminder of the time that passed since Bobby—

Eddie sets the mug down, afraid it’s gonna shatter in his grip.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, and the words taste like ash in his mouth.

“No it, uh, it looks good. You always look good. It’s just—god, it’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Eddie bumps Buck’s foot under the table, keeps it there. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s not stupid.”

“I’m…” Buck exhales, “I’m not sure if you’re real.”

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it.

Buck shrugs. “Told you it’s stupid.”

“No! No, um, I—what do you mean I’m not real?”

There’s a moment where Buck doesn’t say anything, just stares at his own hands on the table, fidgets with his fingers. Eddie waits. Doesn’t push.

Eventually Buck speaks.

“After the lightning strikes, after the uh—“ Buck clears his throat, “the coma. I had this thing I used to do every morning. A-a checklist. To make sure I wasn’t dreaming. That I was still me.” Buck’s eyes stay locked on his hands, and Eddie desperately wishes he’d look at him again. “Ever since he—“ Buck stops, swallows, sniffs. “I wake up and I pray for this to be a dream. An awful, terrible nightmare. I pray, Eddie. And it’s—“

Buck’s hands are shaking. Eddie reaches out, takes them in his own.

Buck finally looks up. His eyes are impossibly sad and impossibly blue, and Eddie is struck by how beautiful he is. It’s a weird thought to have at that moment, but it’s true nonetheless.

“Sorry, this is so embarrassing,” Buck says, a little wetly.

“Hey, it’s not embarrassing, okay? You’re dealing with it. We all are.”

“Look, I know you’re real. I know that. But also just—everything is so different, you know? Nothing makes sense anymore and you look different. And it’s like—like, how do I know I’m not dreaming?” Buck says. “Does that make sense?”

It doesn’t. But Eddie gets it anyway.

He wraps a hand around Buck’s wrist, lifts his hand up to his face.

“You feel that?”

Buck doesn’t say anything, just looks at him.

Eddie closes his eyes, presses his face into Buck’s hand a little more.

“I’m here, Buck.”

Buck’s hand starts moving on his face, careful fingers trace his cheeks, his jaw, his chin. Eddie’s breath catches when a thumb ghosts over his bottom lip.

“You’re here,” Buck says, voice barely a whisper.

Eddie nods.

“He’s really—“ Buck's voice cracks. “He's really gone.”

“I know,” Eddie says, because what else is there to say?

Eddie’s eyes sting. He lets go of Buck’s wrist and places his hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb gently grazing the base of his neck. He wishes he could press his lips to his temple, like he does with Christopher. He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls him in, presses their foreheads together.

They stay like that, breathing together, until their eyes are red and their cheeks are wet. Eventually Buck pulls away, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his cardigan.

“Thanks,” Buck says.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. For—for being here, I guess.”

Eddie wants to tell him that he’s always going to be here. But that’s not true. He's leaving in a few days. He’s always leaving.

“Hey, you have a razor here somewhere, right?” is what he says instead.

“Come on, you don’t have to do that,” Buck protests, and Eddie is pretty sure he catches a small hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. ”I think I do.”

[tojisteddy]

Mean nasty daddy simon when you try to rile him up? (The piss kink one made me..... realise stuff)

Feenin | cw: dark content, 18+ mdni, daddy kink (icky), meanie!simon/toxic (ish), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t try this at home folks), smol degregation, overstim, cunnilingus, edging (to hell), breath play, p in v, cum play, dd/lg dynamics, slight sub-drop, some after care, blackcat!reader

a/n: I’m sorry if this is too long. I just had a vision and had to map it out. Lmk what you think.

No one is surprised when Simon brushes you off.

He could be a complete and utter asshole, he’d brush off plenty of women in his day. Other women too. But he was doing it to you, his girlfriend. His precious kitty, who he sworn he cared deeply about.

All you wanted was for him to look at your outfit, tell you how pretty you look, hold your chin in his hand and adorn you with a peck on your pretty lip lined lips. But he simply gave you a glance and went on talking to Soap. You blinked, once, twice. He was kidding, right?

Not when you’d spent more than an hour curling your hair and getting it absolutely volumized and every curl in the perfect spot. Not when you’d picked out something undoubtedly sexy to have him eating out of your palm.

Did you look too uppity— god no. Never. A little slutty of course, a little minx— the way you liked it. The way the blonde, tattooed man should have. He does.

Soap gave you an apologetic smile, “You look great lass. Out ‘f a magazine.” And you did.

Who wouldn’t want to be with the girls out of a fashion magazine? Clearly not the man you’d actually want attention from.

“Thank you Soap,” you tried not to speak so tightly. with that, you turned, digging yourself out the small ditch you’d gotten stuck in— your feelings— and continuing to option D.

If the brute couldnt be bothered, you go seek attention else where.

It would never be your first option, or your second… or your third— the last resort— not since you’d been with Simon. But there was a rare occasion, like now, that ass hole would really try to make you mad. So you did what you had to do to get his attention. Show him what he was missing in the exact moment.

It was easy to get it too. You had the allure, pretty smile, a voice anyone would be at the edge of their seats to hear, enchant anyone with the sway of your hips to the music. It didn’t take long for you to find yourself sat next to some stranger at the bar. A fuck boy right of the bat, drowning you in compliments just as you wanted. But he was someone you and Simon both knew looked like the type you’d used to fuck.

Pretty, tall, too far gone up their own ass for their own good— men who looked right off of Paris Fashion Week.

The exact opposite of Simon Riley.

You were just playing at first. A little causal flirting never hurt anyone most of the time. A playful push of the shoulder, biting your long manicured nail and looking at him like he was the prettiest thing ever, a small giggle, playing with the necklace Ghost had gifted you so that the guy would look down at your perfect tits. No harm, no foul.

It was when he’d bought you a martini and coincidentally started talking about a show he was watching— your favorite show. You weren’t flirting anymore, you were fully indulging in deep conversation. Unknowingly making the guy think he had a chance against the rugged man who was staring you down now that you actually looked like you gave a shit about the man beside you.

You’d known Simon had to be watching by now. You felt it in your gut, those butterflies flying higher and higher. You couldn’t help that smug smirk that got on your face. The idiot beside you thinking it was for him.

Enough of the bullshit.

Simon stood from his seat, he didn’t need to yell, didn’t need to call out your name, didn’t even need to look directly at you. You saw him stand in the corner of your eye, then move towards the exit. You scramble to get up, eyebrows furrowing, your nose flaring. Not because you have to leave, because he didn’t give you the reaction you wanted.

He never did.

“Where you going? We were just having a good time right?” You-didn’t-even-know-his-name, asked as you double checked your purse.

“My boyfriend just left, we’re going home.” You say as if he should’ve already known that. Games over.

The drive home was quiet, so was the shower you too took together, and then he’s telling you to go to your room and think about what you did wrong. You didn’t even get the chance to refute it, he just went to his room— where you usually slept together— and shut it.

You woke up with a puffy face, you’d cried yourself to sleep before it even really got to the bad part. Your first instinct was to rush to where ever Simon was but you’d head the music from the garage blaring, so you knew it’d be harder to get your words out the way you wanted.

Push through it like Simon told you to.

So you occupied an hour or so of your time with other tasks, getting dressed just to stay in the house, eating the breakfast Simon left for you. Cleaning off the shelves of Simon’s large movie collection.

And here comes the hard part. Talking it out. Apologizing because you fucked up. Crossed the line.

“I’m sorry Pa,” you squeeked out over the music. And he knows you’re looking down on the floor, he can see you rocking in your little kitten heals from the corner of his eye, beyond nervous. But he doesn’t look up from the car he was tinkering with, just turns down the volume to the music. He doesn’t have to verbally say it, ‘for?’

“I’m sorry for flirting with that guy. I was- I was mad you didn’t pay attention to me. I wasn’t usin my brain like you tell me to. ‘Nd it’s not an excuse for bein tipsy.”

“No, no it’s not.,” he shuts the hood of the truck with a sigh. Moving over to wash his hands at the utility sink. He comes toward you, really taking you in— his gorgeous babe. You looked like the sexiest thing alive last night. Simon knew that. The asshole just likes fucking with you a little bit, get you riled up so he can fuck you. Tell you you’re the best thing in the world, his fucking girl. The blonde didn’t expect for you to play his game better than him. Get him jealous and pissed off.

His kiddo learned fast, didn’t you? Sweet thing. So loveable.

Flirting was a line never to be crossed with either one of you. You’d danced on it last night and the man would have to show you what that actually meant. But jeez, how fucking pretty did you look right now in your denim pencil skirt, cheetah print and lace cami, light make up just for a day in the house, gold hoops, your curls flowing down your back— the most adorable pout on your trembling, glossed bottom lip— he’d ruin it. Ruin you.

In the best way of course.

Simon holds your chin in his fingers, pecks your lips— you want to cry, you want to melt. It’s all what you wanted this whole time but you knew you can’t take, and take, and take. Someone’s gotta give.

“Dad’s gotta teach you to a lesson, doesn’t he kitty?”

You already want to say sorry again, maybe rewind and cancel out your prior actions and shake the sense into yourself. But you nod, tell yourself just to wait it out. Be a good girl for once.

“Yes sir.”

Simon wouldn’t let you cum.

The fucking demon, the bastard— had you running to grasp on to your own sanity.

He snatched your skirt off, spreading you thighs open on the hood of that old unfinished car Simon had been working on and ate. His tongue running through your folds, down to your hole, sopping up any of your sweet fluids that flowed out, making sure to catch every drop. Then slowly worked his tongue up to your fat clit. Swirling it around in his mouth before full on French kissing it.

Just when you felt your eyes cross, you tried to close your thighs that were pushed back with Simons large hands, that magical feeling coming to you— the blonde gave your cunt a harsh smack that got car wet from your juices.

“You’re not cumming that fuckin fast, are you?”

You want to scuff and shove his face away. But you’re trembling just from the thought of cumming. You wanted him to fuck the daylights out of you. “I-I’m fine.” You force out, turning your head away.

You so easily fall for the little bit of teasing. Simon’s little kitty, he’d fuck your little brain up. He’d continue eating away at you, sucking, rubbing, licking— until your mascara was smudged, tears falling from your face and not letting you cum.

But he was just getting started.

He fucked you againt the car, squeezing and pulling at your breasts through the seamless cami and then right as he felt you clench, with a smack to the ass, Simon would pull out. Stroking his own dick till he released all over ass. Then again, your leg over his shoulder, shoving all of his veiny cock in your sobbing pussy that was aching for release. Pulling away and cumming on your stomach. In between your thighs, right on your fucking pussy. Not giving a fuck that he worked it into you when he fucked you again.

And now, you’re on the ground, knees scrapping the concrete of the ground while he fucks you, rough. His hands gripping your hips enough to leave a bruise. You can feel it building inside your stomach, you shimmy your ass against Simon for more but you know he won’t give it to you by the swat he leaves on your ass, going to rub your more abused and misused clit.

Your sobs were loud, clawing at the ground, you babble, “Daddy, I wanna-“

“Shut it.”

“But-“

“[+],” he warns through a grunt, yanking his dick out of you again and you shake you head. Like a child who’s gotten their favorite toy taken away, crying even harder. Simon’s hand goes back and forth against his shaft, and holding you tightly by your hair.

“Spent all that time last night, talkin that pricks head off, now you’re gonna shut the fuck up for me. Be my little sex doll, yeah?” Simon rubs the tip of his dick on your ass, then in between the two globes, shuddering at how good you made him feel. His cum spurting all over you. He thrusts his dick a couple more times, making sure it’s properly smeared.

He groans at the sight of you, it’s fucking filthy the mess he’s created on you, dripping down to the floor.

“Hold y’self open for me.” Your hands aren’t even steady anymore, you’re quivering. You reach behind, your manicured nails spreading your pussy lips open. And it’s like if you stared at the sun for too long, seen Jesus rise from the tomb— your pink insides, glistening with his cum and your shining slick.

“Stay there.” And then you hear his footsteps going away and the door to the garage that’s connected to the house, close.

“Daddy, I don’t- I can’t-“ you stumble over words, but there no immediate response. In fact there’s no response at all. Just the sound of the breeze, music low from when Simon turned it down, cars passing in the distance, you can’t even hear the tv in the living room. It’s silent— like he’s gone.

And you wrack your brain, your eyes start to glisten— what if he’s gone and he doesn’t come back? What if your left here and someone comes and sees you in this state?

The embarrassment builds, worry, you’re scared— “Daddy! I can’t do this anymore- please! I’m sorry!” You keen, still unmoving, just in case he changed his mind. He’d come for you. You wanted to be good.

And then, you hear the sound of a car pulling up. Not passing, it’s coming through the paved brush, and soon it’ll come up go the house. They’ll get out for car—

Someone’s gonna see you like this, your skirt god knows where, heels in two different places while you were a disheveled, stupid and fucked out mess. You plop down on the ground, your hands in your lap, one hiccup comes out— and right on queue, the garage door comes down. The dam breaks open.

The delivery driver doesn’t see you. He goes straight to the front door. Your favorite food in hand because the blonde knows his sweet girl needs a treat after this punishment—

“Everything alright sir?” The delivery driver asks.

“My kids just ‘avin a little cry,” no a big one, your sobs were echoing loudly. Even to where they stood. The delivery man gave an understanding nod and went about his way. Ghost placed the food down on one of the end tables and immediately went to you.

You feel arms wrap around you, pulling you close. You try to shove them away but he holds onto you tighter. Snaps in your face and you finally open your puffy eyes. Lashes clunked together as you struggle to look at the big man holding you’.

“Fuckin ‘ell, hey look at me, look at me,” and he turns your head to look at him, “I’m right ‘ere. Daddy’s right here.” Simon lifts you holds you against his firm chest.

“Y-youuu, left Daddy. You left!” You get out through your hiccups and ragged voice. Clutching onto his shirt.

“Just like you did to me last night, right? Dad doesn’t like when you go runnin off like that, do I?”

“No sir, ‘m sorry. I wasn’t good- I was bad.”

Simon brushes your curls back, planting a soft kiss to your cheek, coaxing you, “You just made a mistake ‘s all. It’s okay. You’re okay. You learned your lesson.”

Your concept of time is off, you don’t even realize Ghost has now put you on the bed, gently placing you on all fours, he rubs the fat of your ass, down to your thighs. Then angles himself to your hole, “Gonna let you cum once, okay? Did fuckin perfect for your Daddy, gotta treat you.”

Ghost sinks into your heat, deep, snug— just as he molded you pretty cunt. Ghost is slow this time. Immediately thrusting into your g-spot, the sound of your thighs clapping against each other bounces off the walls. You mewl, arching your back further into him. Drool starts forming down your mouth and Simon wipes it, just before covering your mouth.

“Shhhhh, just feel it kitty. You got it. S’okay.”

You can’t breath— you try through to through your nose but it’s not helping going straight to your brain. It makes you dizzy, while you moan out Simons name in muffled cries while he drives you further and further to the brink of your first orgasm of the night.

Simon gives you one last thrust, and that’s what it takes for you to unravel around him. And it’s fucking euphoric, earth shattering. Life changing. You let out a scream, muffled by Simons hand. Your gooey walls gripping onto his cock. The man finally lets you go and you fall against the mattress, chest heaving up and down, as your legs shake, tears drops falling against the sheets. Simon kisses your scalp as you shake, he mumbles, “Did so good for me doll. Took your punishment so well. Knew you could, so proud of you.”

You hiccup, eyes finding him as he slowly slides out from you. Throwing his pants on and then going over to the pile of stuffed animals you had on the floor. He lifts your two go to’s. A Miffy rabbit or the stuffed stripped tiger.

“Miffy or George?” And you sniffle, eyes slowly blinking at the two objects he’s holding out.

You point, “G-eorge.” Your voice is shot for sure. Ghost would worry about that later.

“Yeah? Fuckin good choice kitty.” He hands you the stuffed animal. Kissing your full lips, once, twice.

“Gonna clean you up, alright? Go to sleep, Daddy’s got you.”

Your eyes flutter shut, cuddling onto George tight, “Okay Daddy.”

a/n: if you ever wonder why it takes me so long to do requests. This is why. I do it for the plot. I need plot. Istg I’m writing it, I just gotta have the vision and proper inspo. This was fun to write tho. Luv you babes lots.

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𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱<3: @bruisedfig @tessakate @sevikasblackgf @mocha-the-muse @mims900