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forestryfae · 2 years ago

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its like. i KNOW, on some level, that its kind of fucked up that dad and mom are like. not talking to me or reaching out and they never have ven when i was a kid, and i know on some level its pretty fucked up how little they care about me yet somehow want a say in EVERYTHING in my life

and its kinda fucked up that i asked my dad about a hypothetical scenario where i rent that really shitty apartment he has in the basement for a little while after finally getting rid of the house i currently live in. just so ill have somewhere to live until i find a better apartment somewhere. and somehow my brother gets 12k a month and only pays 4k ish but i make 18k a month so i should ay 10k in rent just cus

and somehow im just a trash heap so when i moved into the house i got a bunch of crap my parents just didnt want. my old stuff from when i was a kid?? okay thanks for the toys but can i ssell them or give some of them to my little sister? NO. what if my little sister comes to visit. they dont fucking visit me more than once a year at most and they only visit my neighbours or show up when im not around. baby pictures??? stuff i had when i was a baby like a toy and some shit drawings from when i was a kid???? WHY WOULD THEY GIVE ME THAT. its stuff that should be sentimentally important enough for dad to keep, not give to me cus theyd feel bad throwing it away or give to me cus it was taking up space. mom kept the big photoalbum books i had to go get from dads house before they sold it even tho it was all packed away and probably hadnt been in a bookshelf for a while and i didnt even get my own babypictures or the album even tho mom said i was gonna get it when i moved out some furniture and shit?? mom didnt wanna get rid of a fucking bench with drawers so he asked me if i wanted it?? i said okay but like if i try selling it is she gonna want it back? and she even tried buying an unopened box with a dresser in it (i dont have space for it anywhere. YET.) from me even tho i said i needed it. she couldve just asked where she got it or some shit, they literally still sell it at the store and you can order it online and dad and stepmom came with some mats and lamps for me "in case i needed some" so thats lying in the garage taking up space cus i dont have any use for them. they even gave me a fucking roomba even tho i didnt think itd help and i never used it and now they want it back cus they wanna give it to grandma. like i get the logic but why give it away if you want it back.

and like. most of my shit is secondhand from family. because the solution to all my problems is apparently not getting me the fuck out of that house, its Giving Me Things. i just got picked up from the psychiatrists office or i have a headache and feel awful or i almost had a panic attack, but dad cant drop me off at home or even at moms house cus that takes 10 minutes extra so instead i get a soda. cus that makes up for him just letting me have a headache or literally driving me aorund for 3 hours cus hes got "chores" (checking out used car dealerships for more cars he can buy so he can fix them cus his hobbies are so important he cant just put them aside and make sure were fed or have clothes, thats mom and grandmas job)

so instead of actually trying to help me or spend time with me they give me shit. i dont see people for literal months and im literally crying daily for hours in the middle of fucking winter and nobody even fucking talks to me but the best way to fix that?? give me a christmas tree and ornaments. give me some of their old decorations too. bail on me to stay home for new years eve but thats okay cus i got a christmas tree they bought for me cus that fixes everything i dont have a table and chairs to sit in the livingroom or kitchen and im almost having a mental breakdown cus i think THATS whats missing and having more furniture is going to fix the complete lack of any connection with other people cus if i have a big house and i have stting space people will actually bother visiting. so ofc dad gives me their old furniture from their cottage, theyve been meaning to get rid of it so they can replace it anyways. literally giving me their unwanted shit cus its easier. going to the thriftstore with me is too much work and i cant get to any of the more remote but cheap furniture stores but thats okay cus they dont care and for as long as they dont have to drive me or spend time with me all is well.

like it is no fuckin wonder im struggling to even save up money when i keep buying shit cus thats literally what always happens when im with family. we go on a daytrip somwhere to buy shit cus there no fucking connection there thats worth even trying to deal with, so the whole idea of an experience or bonding isnt really applicable. being a kid and hanging out with the paternal side of the family was literally always a shopping trip where we bought new clothes. cus dads cheap and didnt wanna spend his precious hobby money on clothes, he wants to fix cars for months then sell them for a couple extra hundreds, and my uncle and aunt and cousin only visited for weekends every now and then so it wasnt often either. but it was practically every time.

like even when im alone in the city or somewhere i wind up spending money on shit cus i just. dont have the self control and who gives a shit anyways its not like ill be able to ever save up for anything and atleast this way i get something i want besides just groceries or whatever. and maybe if i buy the right things ill have motivation to actually do shit like having hobbies or fixing my life and if i have the right aesthetic ill atleast feel less like all my shit is embarrassing and childish and i wont get tired of it as easily ig. but also like whats the fucking point of anything. it feels like im no allowed to get things i genuinely want or thhink would help and im not allowed to switch things out when theyre not working. im not allowed to get a new desk cus i have an old one i dont want and never use, i have a new one ive never used and thats driving me insane because of the size and how can i know it doesnt help or work or makes me wanna draw if i havent even tried it. so i already have stuff so im not allowe dt get new things or nicer things.

except a new desk would atleast let me clean my room properly and itd give me more space and maybe if i was allowed to do that id finally draw again us id have somewhere to put my art stuff and somewhere nice to sit. maybe itd make stuff easier and nicer for me?? is that not a good reason. especially considering everything else. im fuckign depressed, ive been for years and im only now starting to get a little better, i have a house i dont wanna fucking live in most of the time cus its just one big boring fucking chore and i cant even afford it. i cant even clean it properly or fix anything cus why bother, i dont wanna fucking be here i hate it here. it sucks and its lonely and its not even functional and nothing works and i cant even decide on a wallcolor without everyone else giving me their input whether i ask for it or not. i have 40k in an account and im not even allowed to look at it and i didnt even know i had it cus mom never fucking told me about it. i literally just wanna get rid of everything and start over and move somewhere and actually have a car and a job i enjoy that i actually get paid for and some mental stability so i can go to the job and get dishes and laudnry done without it being a fucking struggle every god damn time.

#talkies #long post//////////////////////////////////////////#so yeah. im gonna go do laundry and maybe ill make macaroni for dinner. idk what ill put in it tho. maybe cheese or some shit #anyways the point of the post was i know on some level hat this shit is kinda fucked up. but im used to it so i dont actualy know how much #and its hard to feel like im allowed to be upset due to neglect + emotional abuse and so on cus i wasnt allowed to have feelings other peopl #people didnt want me to have. and i was usually yelled at for bing upset about literally anything ever no mater what it was #and im so used to being treated this way that i feel like its my fault cus im worthless and its selfish to want people to actually care abou #t me. and it feels weird cus its like. am i allowed to be upset about this. is this my own fault? am i an asshole for all of this? it feels

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luvyeni · 7 months ago

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genre smut 𖹭 warning hidden relationship, unprotected sex, getting caught, practice room sex— brotherbestfriend!jeongin x fem reader | back to library .

request. i need more jeongin smut reactions and smut fanfics and everything gosh I'm (s)creaming rnnnnnnnnn manning I'm dying please post again some jeongin smut I'm dying unnue pleaseeeeeeee 🫠🫠🫠🫠

“what are you doing here?” your brother questioned as you walked through the door. “can i not visit my brother at practice?” you asked as he wrapped his arms around you in a hug. “because you never visit me even when i beg you to come watch me dance.”

“hyune , maybe i just missed my brother , you haven't been home to visit yet.” you said. “i know , i know im sorry.” he said. “i came all this way.” you said. “and i thank you for that.” he said. “me and lee know hyung were just gonna grab some food , you wanna wait here?” you nodded. “i won't be no more than 20-30 minutes.” you gave him a thumbs up— because if you were being honest , you weren't really here for your brother.

“jeongin might come back early , you know him , he's a good kid.” your brother said walking out the room. “real good kid.” lee know winked before leaving out , you smiled down at your phone.

a few minutes later, the door opened , making you look up at the boy who walked in. “how long?” he asked , closing the door, locking it , walking towards the couch you were sitting on. “30 minutes if lee know can keep him distracted.” the boy smiled , sitting on the couch , you straddled his lap. “fuck i missed you so much.” he kissed your neck. “i’m sick of hiding.” he said. “why do we have to jump through hoops to see each other?”

he nipped at your neck. “fu-fuck you explain it to him, his best friend and his sister fucking.” you moaned as his hips bucked up into you. “I'm not just fucking you , you're my girlfriend.” he groaned , you lifted your shirt. “that's not how he's gonna see it.” before he could say something you kissed him. “no more brother talk, we don't have a lot of time.”

you both don't waste anymore time , lifting yourself up, as he freed himself from his sweats , his hard cock slapping against his stomach. “fuck , sit on it.” you held his base , sinking yourself down on him , his cock filling you up, he sighed. “so fucking good.”

you stopped once he was fully seethed inside you; both of you moaning out. “fu-fuck you feel good baby.” he held your hips , helping you move back and forth. “missed your pretty pussy so much.” he groaned throwing his head back. “fu-fuck innie, so big.” you moaned as his hands came up to your boobs. “baby you gotta move faster if you wanna cum before they get back.”

both of you were moving against each other , he smirked licking his two fingers before reaching in between your bodies to your neglected clit. “oh fuck innie.” you moaned. “you gonna cum for me?” he cursed under his breath , ready to burst. “fu-fuck cum for me baby.” he kissed your lips as you came , fucking his hips into you. “sh-shit your so tight , i’m gonna cum.” he grunted. “fuck im cumming!” he moaned , feeling his cum coating your walls. “shit.”

“fuck you need to visit me more often.” he said. “you live in seoul.” he cradled your face. “I miss seeing your face.” he kissed you , his cock still inside you , twitching. “see how much I need you and your pretty pussy.” you moaned. “we-we still have 10 minutes.” he smirked , squeezing your boob. “gonna fuck more of my cum inside you.”

“we're back!” your brother shouted , opening the door. “we bought food.” he said. “innie you're back? she didn't annoy you did she?” you rolled your eyes. “no she good.” your brother didn't notice as he sat out the food , but lee know , he wasn't dumb , noticing the hickey on your boyfriend's neck, smirking with a scoff.

“i bet she was.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #skz drabbles #jeongin x reader #jeongin scenarios #jeongin smut #yang jeongin hard thoughts #yang jeongin fanfic #yang jeongin hard hours

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sceletaflores · 8 months ago

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where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.”

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name.

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.”

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?”

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves.

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face.

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts.

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose.

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils.

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup.

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you.

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you.

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around.

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach.

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.”

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off.

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness.

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso.

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in. You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass.

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock.

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly.

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts.

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks.

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door.

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted.

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

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depresssant · 4 months ago

Text

Shades of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

wsp guys. it's been pretty long, huh?... OK IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IT QUICKLY. here, damn 🙄. anyways, i hope yall enjoy n im glad u guys liked the first chapter. lets just hope this one lives up to yalls expectations 😭. follow me and repost this if u want a chapter three. also I NEED SOMEONE TO EDUCATE ME ABOUT SUNDAY FROM HSR BC I WANNA WRITE FICS ABOUT HIM SO BAD SO PLS SOMEONE EDUCATE ME N ALSO IF U KNOW LOVE AND DEEP SPACE??? PLS HIT ME UP AND EXPLAIN THIS LORE BC I WANNA WRITE YANDERE FICS FOR THEM SO BAD

“Why are balls called balls when testicles sounds hella fancier?”

At your friend’s bizarre question, the face of your other friend, Zarian, twinges in disgust. “Jayelene… why do you feel the need to put that out there?”

You huff in amusement, focusing on your pizza before what Jaylene says ruins your entire mood.

“I’m just saying! Testicles just seems more appropriate⏤the type of fancy shit drake and his family would say.”

Tim Drake Wayne…

Dinner with him and his freak-a-zoid family was like trying to make it past no-man’s land without any help to shield you from the straight up chilling vibes they gave off with their constant comments about bat facts. Bats. The atmosphere during the entire time you spent there was dreadful and quite literally heavy since Tim's youngest little brother wanted to sneak stares at you as if you wouldn’t notice his bug-looking eyes creeping into your soul.

Rich people really are weird, huh?

The Wayne family is nothing like how you expected them to be. They’re supposed to be cold, mysterious, and irresistibly enchanting, but all you’ve got are creepy vibes and a strong urge to stay away from them as much as possible. From the way Mr. Wayne made that weird comment about your father in the limo to how forcibly happy Richard or “Dick” was with you, you’ve come to an understanding that rich people are complete lunatics.

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

“There you go again,” Jaylene sighs when she notices the irritated expression on your face. “It’s never that serious, [Name]. You just hate everyone.”

“No, you don't get it! They were creepy as hell! Like… Like bats in dark caves coming at you all at once. They talk funny, they look funny⏤they act funny! What normal man name drops your mother’s name after knowing each other for about thirty minutes?”

Zarian huffs in amusement. “That’s the creepy part. How does Mr. Wayne know your name?”

“I dont know.” You run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the booth seat. “I don't want anything to do with them. Billionaire or not, how the hell does he know my mother’s name.”

It was perhaps towards the end of your stay at the Wayne’s manor for dinner, and you knew you had to go home, so you had largely hinted at leaving to Drake. Everything had gotten wrapped up, but when you were just about to leave, Mr. Wayne had told you, “make sure to tell [M/n] I said hi.”

You could only stare at him in shock as your body carried along, because how does a man as famous and wealthy as bruce wayne know your mother⏤your mother? He’s the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises yet mentions your mother?

That moment alone is enough to wave every red flag in your brain that screams at you, telling you something is up with these shady people. The only question is what? What can a billionaire possibly want from you? Out of everything the world has to offer, the most influential billionaire in America wants to target some meager high school kid?

What do these people want from you? Is it a rich people thing to play around with those below you? Well, you guess it probably is. Like, is Mr. Wayne gonna pop out with his soulless eyes and say, ‘you’re my long lost child?’ or something?

You still don’t know why you’re being a goat stuffed before slaughtering. These people want something from you, but you? You’ve got nothing to offer that they could want. Why the hell do they even bother? If there's one thing you really hate, it’s being left in the dark like this. Not knowing is terrifying. It's dangerous. Not knowing means not being prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you won’t make it out. Damn it, you should’ve booked it the moment Mr. Wayne mentioned your father in the limo. Movies and shows always display rich people as eccentric and psychopathic weirdos, and now you’re finally believing it.

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But maybe it’s not.

You’ve watched enough true crime and have enough intuition and trust in your gut to know when something is wrong.

It’s not adding up.

You’re not dumb. You see all the warnings there, but what if you're exaggerating. What if this is just the nature of the Waynes, and you think you’re special enough to be noticed by them? Mr. Wayne is a damn billionaire! He’s got the money to do whatever he wants, so it’s only natural for him to do a background check on everybody that interacts with his sons, right?

It’s all in your head… It’s all in your head.

Sighing, you stare at the plate of food in front of you, appetite long gone. Still, you grab a fork and continue to eat as Zarian and Jaylene scream back and forth next to you. Drake, who had accompanied the three of you to the diner after practice, has left, thankfully. He left as soon as his food arrived while talking about some family emergency, and honestly, you’re pretty damn grateful for that.

Ever since dinner at his house, he’s surrounded you like a pillow smothering you, and you can’t do anything about it. He’s a billionaire’s son, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for you and your friends to finish up, and you all part ways at the door of the diner before you clutch the straps of your backpack and walk around the city endlessly. This is a habit for you now⏤a way to put off going home as much as possible ever since you found out your mother’s boyfriend doesn’t come home until one or two in the morning.

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

He’s as gross as every other man your mother’s brought home under the terribly veiled illusion that he’ll provide her a good life and treat her right. No matter how many times you try to tell that blind bitc… No. It's wrong. It’s not your mother’s fault.

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

Most mother’s destroy their own lives for their children, yet yours cannot even think about leaving the man that beats her child on a daily. Those types of mothers leave their spouses the second they see something wrong, while your mother treats those finger-print bruises around your neck like a necklace instead of abuse.

You’ve given up on her. You gave up on her back when you were eleven years old locked in a room with her boyfriend, and she didn’t listen. Or when you were twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen. And now eighteen.

And each day feels like a repetition of the same. Wake up, go to school, practice, walk around, go home, get beat, and sleep like none of it all happens. It’s a routine you despise with every fiber of your being⏤makes you wanna jump over Gotham City Bridge before thinking about returning home because who would want to? Who wants this average life?

A life where you’re not happy enough, not sad enough. Not good enough, not bad enough. Not energized enough, not tired enough. You feel like a survivor of a plane crash floating on a raft at the center of the endless ocean with no way out. Everything just seems so vast, wide, and unreachable. How can you find the shore on a simple raft? How can you find a way out of inescapable misery if it’s not by drowning?

You’ve been waiting to find the shore, but it’s been a whole eighteen years since you’ve found yourself floating along the ocean.

That whole “it’ll get better” shit is a tragic lie.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter⏤not anymore, at least. You’re going to get far away from this place and never look back. Never have to relieve this wretched city. Never have to be confined by chains again. You’ve only a few months left before you’re free.

Until then, you’ll have to be patient and go home because the sun has fully disappeared.

Nothing but satellites twinkle in the disgustingly polluted sky of Gotham City, and the streets have come to a staggering halt as you stroll about the sidewalks, trying to find the longest path to get home. One in the morning is always the perfect time in Gotham because it’s too late and too early to be outside, so it’s generally safe for a walk.

Of course, the universe likes to prove you wrong at every point.

The sound of a thud followed by a pained groan behind you has your legs locked and ready to run with your brain screaming alerts, but you take a deep breath and turn around. How bad can it get, anyways? The sight before you surprised you nonetheless. It’s… Nightwing, a Bludhaven hero, here in Gotham, just randomly popping up behind you?

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

His eyes lock onto and they make you freeze right then and there like he’s cast some spell upon you. But that’s for a cold, brief second before you’re hooking your thumbs under the straps of your backpacks and turning around hot on your heels, refusing to spare him a single second.

You even hear him murmur a strained, “wait,” but you don't care.

It’s rude, mean, cruel, and it’s also none of your business. All you simply do is walk ahead to your approaching doom with an pit of unease and bitter understanding of your helplessness in your stomach. You can already feel the soon-to-be new bruises blooming along your back.

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

Each drag is more out of necessity than it is a choice ever since you’ve met your friend’s plug at the dumb age of sixteen, but it's a way to dull the harsh truth of reality. The world just fades into nothing but muted and mixed colors like the loud city underneath your balcony it blurs into a faint hum the longer you stare at the spiral puffs of smoke that disappear into the air.

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

Really bitter at the blood semi-dried on your face and the dull ache along your back.

You’ve got about an hour and a half until you have to head out to school, so what other way is there to spend it than smoking away your brain? The joint’s a temporary escape, but it helps you stall whatever new feeling of despair you’ll feel for the day. Until you’re interrupted by your phone buzzing⏤the sound still a dull hum in your ears

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

“Where the hell are you? Hurry up and get to school or else you’re gonna get in trouble for not helping to set up the club fair, and coach will be on our ass! And don't forget to bring money for the tickets!”

Coach?... Club fair?... Club fair! Holy shit!

Your eyes shoot open, and you frantically scramble up, tossing the joint over the balcony railing before hectically staggering through the living room like a drunk man. Damn it, how could you be so clueless and forget such an important event? Especially one you need money for! Damn it⏤damnit! What do you do?

… Mom! She’s got a box of money somewhere in her closet, right? You’ve seen it before! It's just twenty dollars, and she wont notice. Okay… Okay. You’re quick to get ready. You wash away all the blood that’s dried on your face, brush your teeth, and change into baggy jeans and a clean shirt before storming into your mother’s bedroom and rummaging through her things.

She’s off at work. Her bastard boyfriend doesn't come home until late at night, which means he’s probably already taken money for the day. Okay. That's fine. They won't notice.

But you can't find anything! What the hell? Where is that fucking box? You could’ve sworn it was there on the top shelf last night, but as you swipe your hands across everything on the shelf, you can’t find it. All of a sudden, something made of wood hits the top of your head and falls to the ground with a crack. You hiss, palm moving to cover where you got hit, but your eyes land on the box that now has money strewn all across the floor and a broken… false bottom?

What the fuck.

You pull away at the rest of the false bottom to only be met with countless photos of you as a child with your mother. Mom’s shit boyfriend had all the family photos taken down for some weird reason, so they’ve been here this entire time? All of these photos are full of you throughout every stage of your life, but some have different people in them as well. Their faces are either scratched out or they’re ripped out of the photo entirely.

From what you can gather, the figures are a man and what seems to be a teenage boy. The absurdity and even slight creepiness of the scratched out faces has you laughing, yet even with your now dulled senses, your eyes land on a photo you failed to notice earlier. Maybe you’re hallucinating. There must be something wrong with your brain. Or your eyes. The universe must be playing with you because is that a photo of you and a teenage-looking dick grayson?

Your eyes widen because it looks just like the strange man you had the unfortunate opportunity of having a conversation with during dinner with the Waynes. It’s him! More importantly, why the hell is he holding a ‘three year old’ you’s hand? You probably should be screaming. Yelling. Maybe panicking? But all you can do is shuffle through the rest of the box before your fingers graze against something metal that has your heart jumping.

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

Ears ringing so loudly in your head you can't even think, you wipe your teary and red eyes hastily before grabbing a twenty dollar bill, putting everything except for the photo and camera in the box, set it back on the closet shelf, and hastily grab your backpack before making way to school.

The second you reach the damned place, you seek out your now three friends and drop into a seat with a heavy thud, sighing and meeting Tim's eyes with a burning gaze.

“You mean to tell me [Name] found the camera? And you decided to tell me after school?”

Time Drake Wayne sighs and runs his fingers through his black hair, shrugging apathetically while scrolling through every photo in his phone that he’s taken of you during the club fair. His brother, Richard, is pacing throughout his room anxiously as he rambles off about their latest fuckup.

“Look, Bruce doesn't let any slip ups happen,” Tim murmurs in exasperation. “He wouldn't let this happen because [Name]’s mom and him talked this morning. Relax, he probably knows.”

It's not a lot, but it’s enough to calm Richard down. The man takes a deep breath but finds himself sitting down next to Tim, trying to get a good look at the pictures. “How mad was [Name]?”

“High, for starters, but clearly pissed off. Very observant, too.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. Not until Bruce gives us the okay.”

TAGLIST :

@ilovemyhusbandnanami (so real), @missikkj, @ferakillia, @darlinqvi, @soriansick, @sleepydhanie, @h0rr0r-10ver-69 (love ur blog aesthetic bae), @anuttellaa (OK WINX 😽), @feral-childs-word (love the pfp), @shycreatorreview, @friesandfixations, @stuff6969fuckyou, @babiebubsie, @jsprien213, @cattioo, @cherrydaisymanic (cheetah?leopard? printttt 😍), @00hellohello00, @princessloveweird, @amber-content, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @f1lover4ever, @dreamsarenicer, @imaginarydreams, @solkara (love the calm aesthetic), @bobfood, @toast-on-dandelioms, @ijustfuckme, @cantfindmelol, @xx1shadow1xx, @azulawayne, @box-of-kinderjoy, @iamaunknownsecret, @missybabes, @phoenixgurl030, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @devils-blackrose, @arevvv, @freakthis, @yourhornysister, @kirahhhh, @perfectparadisegardener, @testishere, @spaceunicorn293, @vanilliona (love the pfpp), @uknowimdumb, @esposadomd, @dakotali, @lilyalone, @kore-of-the-underworld, @pix-stuff, @hellcatsworld, @chericia, @mspoisoncoil (love the bannnnerrr) , @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @cheeseburgercasserole (love the aesthetic), @twismare

so follow me n repost if u want part lll. and somebody pls explain hsr and love and deepspace lore to me. making a taglistttttt. if this post doesnt get as many likes as the first one, im deleting this series 😭. if u see a grammatical mistake, no u didnt 😃🔪

if anybody’s got requests about this series or in general, feel free to ask!!!

WAIT!! FOLLOW MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT : @depresssant. I JUS PUBLISHED A HISTORICAL YANDERE X READER STORY

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lanabuckybarnes · 11 months ago

Text

Missed Dates.

(I do not own any photos used, credit to original owners)

Bucky arranges a date for you both on the day he comes back from a mission, a date that he doesn't remember. Unfortunately, it's the straw that breaks the camel's back.

AN: Hello how are we all? sorry for not posting yesterday. I’ve got a limited amount of drafts and I wanna spread them before I run out of content.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Bucky done be neglecting his bf duties.

Word count: around 918 (where'd they come from?)

(Bucky ever looked at my like that I’d be on my knees)

—

Bucky has been busy with missions again. His pardon was never really a pardon, more of a we’ll forgive you if you do our dirty work. You can’t remember the last time he’d spent more than 2 weeks with you and in those 2 weeks, he was constantly being called away to meetings or other things.

The distance was becoming unbearable, you loved Bucky you really did but the time away from him was putting a wedge between you two. You’re last date night you’d dressed up all nice for him, he would be arriving back in New York around 5 pm, you had warned him about organising a date after a long mission— especially with his sleep pattern— but he brushed you off with a sweet kiss and honey-toned words.

When his heavy feet stomped into the apartment you knew he was tired, what you didn’t expect was for him to flop onto the couch and go to sleep. You checked the time, 4.45 pm, you were never making your reservation.

You heaved a sigh and swallowed the thick slew of emotions bubbling up your throat as you turned on your heel to take off the stupid dress.

That morning he’d woke up, brewed you both a coffee and said not a word about your missed date yesterday, usually he’d apologise for sleeping without so much as a hello and you told him there was no need but something about him completely glossing over the fact he hadn’t even mentioned your unsuccessful date— the first in over 2 months.

“Everything alright sweetheart?” His brows furrowed and his words cautious at the sight of your sour face, clearly you hadn’t been hiding your emotions very well, and the sound of his voice had anger washing over you

“Everything’s peachy” you spat, noticing instantly how his face turned to one of confusion, then anger.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” One of Bucky’s flaws was how defensive he got easily. You were rarely angry with him so to have you hiss at him, his guard was raised instantly.

“My problem!? I should be asking you, what’s your problem Bucky?” The words felt so foreign like they weren’t falling from your mouth. Bucky thought so too.

“I didn’t have a problem until you got all pissy, why?” He retorted, his jaw and fists clenching to suppress the urge to raise his voice.

“You wanna know why? Fine! Two fucking months we haven’t been on a date and when I get dressed up for you, after warning you about organising a date straight after you came off a plane, you sank your ass right on that couch and slept. I should’ve known Bucky I really should’ve” You stormed off to your shared bedroom, the slamming of the wood wasn’t the cause of Bucky’s flinch.

He’d forgotten all about you, you’d done your best for him and he’d completely disregarded it, he felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

He had to think of how to make it up to you.

—

An hour later there was a soft knock on the door, startling you awake. You rubbed at your sensitive eyes— you’d cried yourself to sleep because of the guilt you felt shouting at Bucky. You knew the risk of him being unable to do certain things due to missions and such was extremely high, you knew his sleep pattern was the worst leading him to stay awake days at a time, yet you still screamed at him.

You had every right to advocate for your needs but you couldn’t help that sinking feeling in your stomach.

A second knock pulled you from your trance “Hey…. Sweetheart, can I come in?” His voice was muffled by the door but you could tell he shared the same emotions as you.

“Y-yeah” you mentally cursed your hoarse throat.

Bucky entered holding a white box and a bag, his eyes looking slightly red and his shoulders slumped. Gently he took a seat next to you, far enough away that it hurt, you felt like you’d pushed him that far.

“Look I’m really sorry I forgot about yesterday, you warned me and I didn’t listen… I’ve booked us again for tomorrow if you’re up for it” he explained, flashing you his nervous smile.

“Didn’t you have-“

“I called in, let them know I was taking time off for some private reasons” he interrupted, his hand hovering over the white box he’d now placed between you on the bed. He opened it gently, his smile growing as he did. Inside was a cake, with cursive fondant.

‘I’m so sorry I’m an ass’

You couldn’t help but laugh at the decoration, your laugh drawing a chuckle from him as well

“I uhh also bought some snacks, I was thinking we could watch that movie you wanted to see” he spoke as his laughter died down, now replaced with a slight shyness.

Bucky might be a man with many flaws, yes sometimes he prioritised his work over you and he really tried to balance you both but sometimes it got too much. You had to admit though, the man truly knew the way to his woman’s heart.

“So?” He questioned, his fingers tapping his knee as his ocean blue eyes darted over your face.

“Aww Buck… I love you”

He smiled widely, relief pooling in his veins. leaning over he kissed you deeply.

“You know… you gotta make up for shouting at me” he mumbled against your lips.

This man. He was lucky he was cute.

THE URGE TO MAKE THIS AN ANGST AHHHH.

You guys are soo lucky I can’t write angst. I hope you enjoyed my 5am thoughts xx

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godmadeaterribleerror · 15 days ago

Text

Setting In A Honeymoon

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Oh to be loved. (back on my using gifs because they fit the vibes not the plot shit)

Chapter Title from I'm Like A Lawyer by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary/Warnings: You and Ben finally get a honeymoon. Takes place about a year post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, pre-established relationship, so much horniness (would we expect anything less?), smut (breeding kink, oral, fingering, p in v)

“Sunshine-“

You hold a hand up—your attention still on the suitcases—and Ben falls silent, but you can still feel his glower. “Did you pack a toothbrush?”

“Of course I packed a fucking toothbrush-“

“And shampoo?”

“They’re going to have shampoo there-“

You shake your head, turning around and moving past Ben to the bathroom. “They won’t have the right shampoo-“

“It’s fucking shampoo.” He mutters, trailing after you to stand in the doorframe, watching you rifle through the cabinets with a frown. “It’s just goddamn hair soap-“

“And you have very nice hair, my love.” You walk up to him—bottle of shampoo in hand—and press a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Let me take care of it.”

Ben’s frown deepens, even as his arm wraps around your waist. “That’s not your damn job, Sunshine-“

“Yes, it is.” You give him a wide smile, and feel all his love flare in your chest. “This is a two-way street, Pretty Boy. You refuse to let me fly on a plane, I refuse to let you neglect your hair.”

“Fine.” He grunts, leaning down to pull you into a long, easy kiss, going until you’re melted into his touch and clinging to his arm. But this is the last fucking thing, we need to go-

We have time. You pull away, reaching your free hand up to hold his cheek, your grin unrestrained and a little ditzy. All the time in the world.

Ben sighs, pulls your hand to his mouth, and kisses your knuckles with a deep glare you know is fake. If it’s not in the rough affection and devotion in his chest, it’s in the way he’s holding you so carefully against his body, like he can’t bear the idea of you even stepping away. “Be quick.” He grumbles, and you nod.

“I always am.” You drag yourself away from him, crossing back to the bed. Grumpy.

Shut the fuck up. He moves behind you, almost hanging off your body as you sort through the bags for anything else missing. Tell me how to make this shit go faster.

Patience-

No. Ben lowers his mouth to your neck, and you have to take a long breath as he starts to nip and suck at your skin. I want to take my wife on our fucking honeymoon.

Your wife wants to go on that honeymoon as well, but she also wants to make sure we have everything-

I have you, Sunshine. Ben’s hand grabs your chin, tipping your head back to capture your lips with his. That’s all I fucking need.

You let out a soft, blissful sigh. Romantic, Benjamin-

Only for you, darling. Let’s fucking go.

No, I need to feed Bowser-

I already fucking fed him-

What about the car-

Filled up the gas last night-

Okay, let me just-

Your silent words are cut off with a yelp as Ben scoops you up into his arms and marches you out of the bedroom, his whole body alight with a concrete determination.

“Benjamin-“

“We’re going now,” he grunts your name, shooting you a stern glare. “Everything is fucking fine, we’ve got all we need, and you’re going to fucking hurt yourself if you keep worrying.”

You pout up at him. “I am not going to hurt myself-“

“Yes, you are.” Ben half kicks open the front door of your house. “We’re going to leave, and you’re going to enjoy your goddamn honeymoon without losing that pretty mind about what could go wrong, got it?”

“But-“

“No.” He lowers you into the driver’s seat of the car, kneeling at your side on the pavement and blocking your path back out. “Look at me, beautiful.”

You glare at him, and he reaches up to trace a careful line over your cheekbone, dragging his thumb over your lip in a way that makes it very hard to act genuinely pissed at him.

“We’re good, Sunshine.” He mutters. “Ryan’s with Butcher, Annie and Kimiko have us covered at work, and if any shit goes wrong, which it fucking won’t, we’ll deal with it together.”

You swallow, nodding slowly. “And I get to drive?”

Ben chuckles. “You get to drive, you fucking brat.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, curling into the seat. “You love it.”

“I love you.” Ben rises up to press a kiss to your brow, hunger and his raw, focused love slamming into you like a train when you grab his face between your hands and pull him down into a full, devouring kiss. Fucking Christ, Sunshine, I love you.

I love you too, Benjamin. You pull back to give him a wide, easy smile. Am I allowed to go get the bags?

No. Ben smirks against your lips. Stay in your fucking seat, darling, or you’re not getting fucked for the whole week.

You snort, because that’s the worst lie he’s ever told you. You don’t think Ben would survive not fucking you for the whole week. He’s been looking forward to this more than you’ve ever seen him be excited for everything. The closer you had gotten to your honeymoon, the more he looked less like a massive, grumpy, amazing man-child and more like a little boy who was about to be set loose in a candy shop and told to go crazy. It’s why worrying about this was, admittedly, a little dumb. Ben wouldn’t let anything go wrong. He’d refused Rome as a destination because he’d never let you fly if he could fucking help it. He’d chosen this resort because they had a very good insurance policy that would allow you to burst into flames and Ben to break a lot of things. He’d even hounded after Singer for a special permission to drive into Mexico, so that the border patrol wouldn’t get all angry about the whole supe thing.

And you never doubt him. Not for a second. Ben never does anything but what he says he’ll do, and he’s sworn that this was going to be fucking perfect, Sunshine, and he was going make you forget your goddamn name, so it would be good.

Ben was good, so this would be fucking good.

The drive is long. Almost three days, both of you determined to utilize the advantage of being supes and make it the full drive with only a few stops for gas and one night spent at a hotel near the border. The gas is easy—Ben always stomping out of the station with a prideful glow in his chest as he presents his snack assortments to you like a dog offering its owner a rabbit—and you only leave a slightly charred indent on the wall of the hotel after Ben slams you into it and fucks you until you’re wrapped in flame, but your amazing, impossible husband is not helpful on the actual drive at all. He’s still incredibly anti-GPS, and when he’s not glowering at the map on your phone—grumbling that he’d be able to get you there just fine by his goddamn self—he’s being distracting. Rubbing patterns on your thigh and tracing his hand up to just rest over your pussy, only smirking whenever you shoot him a glare.

“Ben,” your voice is a little strained, because the asshole has started to rub. “You’re going to make me crash the car-“

“We’d live.” He shrugs, pinching your clit in over your panties and drawing a loud moan from your lips. “Need you fucking ready for me, Sunshine, I’m about to fuck you better than you’ve ever been fucked before-“

“You know you’ve fucked me the most, right?” You give him an amused look, trying not to giggle as he pauses, an almost adorable frown crossing his face. “At this point you’re making up about 85% of all sex I’ve had, ever. You’re only competing with yourself.”

Something hot and bright flares in Ben’s chest, his hunger settling right in your core, and you realize your mistake a second too late.

“Am I the best you’ve ever fucking had,” he drawls your name, his hand resuming with long, lazy movements. “The only one who’s ever fucked you properly, like the perfect fucking problem you are, fucking ruined you-“

“Shut up.” You mumble, small lights starting to dance through the car as your face heats up. “Of course you’re the best I’ve had, you asshole, you’re my husband-“

Second mistake. That only spurs him on.

“That’s fucking right, beautiful.” Ben leans over to growl right into your ear, spanking your pussy once and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “You’re fucking mine, and this cock his yours-“

You moan, grinding into his hand and thanking the universe that this highway is mostly empty. “Ben-“

“I’m about to fuck this pretty pussy full of me when we get to the resort,” he grunts, shoving a finger under your panties, right into your cunt. “Already so fucking wet for me, darling, ready to be pumped full of my cum-“

That’s enough. You flip on your turn signal, pull off to the side of the road, and almost leap out of your seat onto Ben’s lap.

The sex is quick, feral, and brutal. You half burn through his pants as you fumble with his belt, sinking yourself onto his cock in half a second, and squeaking as Ben wraps his arm around your waist, pinning you to his chest as he hammers up into you. You’re not quite burning, but you’re lost in the sheer power of the hunger and adoration in Ben’s body, and the sound of his skin slapping on yours, the way he’s biting and sucking at your neck, how deep he’s hitting inside of you-

You find release quickly, a second orgasm rushing through your body as Ben cums up into you with a roar of your name.

He drives the rest of the way—the combination of sex and almost two days of straight driving making your eyes start to droop, so Ben flat out refuses to let you keep going—and you slump in the passenger’s seat, your head buried in his arm and your mind a little high on the smell of pine and coffee and Ben.

You get through border security fast, mostly thanks to Ben’s sheer everything. You keep your face hidden against his body as he glowers at the guards, refusing to answer any sort of question about your lives outside of you’re heading to Mexico for your honeymoon, you have permission from the fucking president himself to cross the border with weapons—you’re the weapons, plus you’re pretty sure Ben has a gun in the trunk—yes, he’s over a hundred, but if these pussies try to act like they don’t know why he’ll fucking kill them, and obviously you’re fucking married, he’s wearing a goddamn wedding ring, and it was all over the damn papers after Homelander’s death.

“Nobody reads the papers, Benjamin.” You mumble as he pulls past the border checkpoint.

“Well how the fuck do those pussies get the news-“

“TV, you old cunt.”

Ben snorts, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and running a hand through your hair until you melt into his side. “Brat.”

You only hum, and the remainder of the drive carries out in easy silence as you drift in and out of sleep, Ben keeping you tucked into his body.

You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until you’re in Ben’s arms, and he’s carrying you up to your room.

“Ben,” you push slightly against his chest, your face still nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “Bags-“

“It’s handled, Sunshine.” Ben presses a kiss to the top of your head, his words low. “Go back to sleep.”

You shake your head, the movement not at all convincing. “Wanna help-“

“You’re on vacation.” He grunts your name, squeezing his gentle hold on your body. “Fucking rest.”

God, you’re going to kill him. You love him more than life and every beautiful thing in the universe, but that’s the fucking problem. Ben tells you to rest, and he’s alive and attentive and devout in your body, so you can’t stop yourself from falling right back into peaceful sleep.

When you’re up, Ben’s body is heavy over yours, his face buried between your breasts and his arms wrapped around your waist. You don’t wake him. He looks so handsome and calm against you, his snores rumbling easily through your body, and his love sitting in content at the top of your chest, so you’ll stay here until he makes you move. Playing with his hair and watching him with a stupid smile, humming softly and letting the room fill with rainbow mist and light until he stirs, looks up and you, and meets your gaze with his own, wide and powerful grin.

“Hi, Sunshine.” His voice is hoarse, his eyes still slightly glazed with sleep, and you don’t think spending eternity with him is going to be enough. You need him all the time before, and now, and a little longer than forever after.

“Hi, Benjamin, my love.” You lean down to kiss his nose, and he makes a low, grunting noise that goes right to your core. “Thank you.”

He frowns. “I didn’t do fucking shit-“

“You’re here.” You whisper. “You’re taking care of me.”

“That’s my goddamn job-“

“And I’m still thanking you.” You hold his face between your hands, shifting slightly up to he every angle of him impossible handsome face. “I love you-”

The sound that Ben makes is low and primal, and you cut yourself off with a gasp as he flips you over, kissing you into the mattress and rutting into you until you’re writhing under him, scraping at his arms for more.

“Ben-“

He starts to trail sloppy kisses over your whole face, smirking as you let out another strangled moan. “You’re fucking perfect, Sunshine, fucking love you, so goddamn good-“

You whimper as he pins you to the bed with his hips, his mouth trailing down to your neck, over your collarbone, and his hand pushing between your bodies to rub fast, strong circles on your clit.

“So fucking beautiful, already fucking wrecked.” He growls against you, and you can only whimper. “Cum for me, darling, soak my fucking hand-“

You cum with a scream, and Ben groans as he jerks against you, something warm spreading over his boxers as he buries his face in your neck, his own orgasm sending a small, shivering one into your body.

“Did you just-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He grunts, nipping at your skin as he flicks your clit once, your back arching off the bed at the movement. “You’d cum like that as well, if you could see how fucking perfect you are.”

You giggle, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Grumpy-“

“I said shut the fuck up.” He growls, and you just hum, still smiling like an idiot. God, you fucking love him.

It takes an hour for you to get out of bed, and then another two to leave the room. Ben will grumble something that makes you jump on him, and then you smile at him and he’ll pin you to the mattress, or the wall, or just hold you up in his arms as he fingers you in the middle of the room. He tries to get changed and you fall to your knees to take his cock into your mouth. You bend over to pick something up and he drives himself into your cunt from behind. The only reason it ever comes to an end is because your stomach growls, Ben’s head shoots up from between your thighs, and you’re suddenly being dragged down to the lobby for breakfast.

The day from there is slow and lazy. Wandering around with no destination, Ben’s hand tangled naturally in yours, acting like you can’t see the people silently watching you with whispers and wide eyes. You’d expected it, but it’s still strange, and you’re more than happy to let Ben handle it whenever someone crosses a line. Mostly it’s just the stares, but one very drunk man tells you he could give you cock better than any old Hollywood asshole, and you have to act like it doesn’t make you ache for Ben when he draws to his full height, puffs out his chest like a lion, and hisses that he’s the only fucking asshole in the world that could handle you, because you burn this pussy to fucking charcoal in a second. Then a rich finance dick tries to get Ben to invest in his crypto business, and you get to smile like a dummy as Ben snaps that his wife thinks crypto is stupid as fuck, and she’s smarter than this fucking idiot by a goddamn mile. The best one is when a very stupid woman comes up to Ben and tell him he deserves a real, truly American woman, and you get to watch him go tense and—pulling you so close you think he’s worried you’ll vanish into thin air—sneer that he’s already got the best fucking woman in the goddamn world.

But outside of these sparse moments, it’s all so fucking easy. Ben flat out refuses to wear a Hawaiian shirt because he’s not goddamn Butcher, but you get him into a loose, white linen one that makes you almost climb on top of him in the middle of a very crowded shopping center. He buys you flowers—shoving them into your hands with a low grumble of for you, beautiful and a radiant glow blooming over his ribs—and then tucks one behind your ear with a grin, looking at you like you’re holy. There are a few moments when you have to slap him for saying things that really do prove he’s a hundred years old, but you’d expected that. You know who you psychically bound yourself to for eternity, and it’s a grumpy old man who frowns as you explain why he can’t say that, then nods and never says it again. He doesn’t apologize—Ben so rarely apologizes, and it’s only ever to you and Ryan—but he learns, and he tries, and you love him even more.

It’s only when you go to the beach and you remember why you’d try to talk him out of honeymooning anywhere near the ocean, that the day comes to a crashing halt in the best way possible.

Ben shouldn’t be allowed near a beach. His skin glows golden, and his eyes look greener than the sea, and his bare chest is broad and muscular and covered in a light layer of sweat that you want to taste-

“You’re drooling, Sunshine.” He mutters in your ear, and your knees almost give out from the force of the want in his body. “You need something?”

You swallow, looking up into his lust-blown eyes, and your voice is soft and breathless. “Ben-“

“Fucking Christ,” he grunts you name, spinning your body to fully press into his, his hands drawing rough patterns on your hips. “You’re so fucking beautiful, darling, driving me fucking insane, want to fuck you until everyone can see that you’re mine-“

And that’s enough. You grab Ben’s wrist, spin on your heels, and drag him after you as you half-run back to the hotel.

You make it about ten steps before Ben pulls you back into his arms, picks you up without breaking pace, and marches you back to the room.

You’re barely through the door when you squirm in his hold, reaching down to palm at his bulge over his shorts. Ben groans right in your ear, his grip on your body tightening, and you grin as he twitches at your touch. You manage to twist in his arms, offering yourself more access to slip your hand right into his trunks, wrapping your hand around his thick cock and start to jerk him off with slow, teasing movements

Ben growls, prying you off his body to lower you onto the mattress, standing above you with a stern glare you can feel right in your pussy.

“Jesus, beautiful,” he grunts, tangling your hair in his fingers, tracing your parted lips with his thumb. “Such a needy fucking brat, need to be damn careful-“

“Or what?”

His throat bobs, and you feel the glow over his ribs grow starved, all of it focused into you, and he says your name in a low warning. “You’re- Fuck,tell me what you want, brat.”

You run your hand up his thigh, making your eyes big and pleading, letting little bit of your sheer desire leak into Ben’s body. “Want you, my love. Want your cock filling me up.”

“Fuck.” He grunts, his jaw clenching as you pull down his shorts. “Want me to fuck your mouth, Sunshine? Want me to feed you with my cock until you’re begging for more-“

You know Ben. He’ll keep dirty talking and taunting you until you either fold into him and start begging before you even taste him, or you explicitly tell him want your big cock on my tongue, Ben, please.

And you might have said that between your minds, because Ben’s grip on your hair does tighten, but it doesn’t matter because you’re not bothering to wait. You take Ben into your mouth in one motion—until your nose is pressed to his abdomen and the head of him is bumping the back of your throat—and look up at him under hooded eyes.

He’s holy. He looks feral—his eyes almost wholly black and his full mouth parted as he stares at you—and a low growl escapes his chest as you hollow your cheeks, lick the underside of his cock, and speak in a needy, high plea into his mind. Fuck my mouth, Ben, please-

You moan as he tugs you almost fully off of him, lets you flick your tongue against the weeping slit of his cock, and shoves your back down until you’re gagging.

He pauses, his grip loosening slightly as his stone-like concern wraps over your skin, and his voice is strained from above you. “You-“

I’m good. You reach a hand to play with his balls, making your eyes soft and pleading when you look back up at him. Please, just fuck my mouth-

“Fuck.” He groans, repeating the same movement from before, once, twice, over and over until you’re drooling on him, your fingers on his balls light and uncontrolled as you grow cockdrunk. “You’re fucking perfect, Sunshine, goddamn beautiful choking on my cock, pretty lips made to be wrapped around my fucking dick, making sounds like fucking music, sucking on me like a fucking brat, so fucking good-“

You whine around him, your thighs rolling as you try to bunch the sheet between them, and Ben chuckles, the sound raspy and hoarse and shooting through you like lightning.

“Need some help, beautiful? Got a fucking problem, so fucking wet and desperate for me, just from sucking my fucking cock like a good fucking girl-“

God, he can’t be allowed to speak during sex. You’ll never be able to stop him—it would be downright cruel to your pussy, pulsing and grinding against nothing, soaked just from the deep sound of Ben’s voice—but he’s going to make you lose your mind.

Ben, you moan between your heads, and his dick jerks, heavy on your tongue. Please, need you so bad-

He pops you off of him, angles your head up to hold his gaze, and you whine at how fucking good he looks. How his chest is heaving, and his eyes are pulling you apart under him, how he drags you up to crash into him halfway, making you moan down his throat from his demanding kiss.

“Fucking love you,” he grunts your name, biting on your lower lip and smirking as you start to try and climb up his body. “Want to fill you up, Sunshine-“

You nod franticly, squirming against him. “Fuck, yes, yes please-“

“You want my fucking cum, beautiful?” Ben growls, and when you glance down you don’t miss the way his own words are making his cock jump against nothing. “Need me to stuff that pretty pussy full of me, mark you up with me-“

“Yes,” your moan is shameless, because god, you’ll give him whatever he asks for, and take anything he offers you. “Please, Ben, fuck me, want your cock, want your cum-“

You gasp as Ben rips off your fully ruined swimsuit, tosses you back on the mattress, and shoves your thighs apart with rough hands.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters, running two fingers between your folds, looking up at you with an awe and love that feels slightly out of place for how he’s plunged those two fingers inside you, crooked them in your cunt, and started to rub right against that deep, desperate spot. “Squirt on my hand, darling, need you fucking soaked for my cock-“

Your body obeys his command without thought, and cum with a choked gasp of Ben.

“There you go,” he growls, scissoring his fingers as your back arches off the bed, keeping his movements careful and measured as he drags you through your orgasm. “Good girl, so fucking good, just for me-“

Just for you, Ben, please. You grab at his wrist with a slack grip, grinding helplessly against his hand. Please, fucking please, my love-

He pulls his fingers away, flicking your clit once and smirking at your high whine before positioning himself between your legs, slowing pumping himself as he scans over your flushed body.

“Beautiful,” he mutters, and it seems to be mostly to himself. “Fucking perfect, love you so fucking much, Sunshine, you don’t have a goddamn clue-“

You have sort of a clue—he does tell you that about five times a day—but your words and mind are lost in a daze of Ben, so all you do is reach pathetically up for him, spreading your legs wider with a sound of need to beg him to just take you. Just fuck you like no one else can, like no one else ever could.

“Christ.” He grunts, shaking his head slightly. “You’re- fuck-“ Ben doubles over with a groan as you raise your arms over your head, your legs splayed fully apart in a silent plea.

Benjamin. You take a long, heavy breath, rolling your hips for him with your best sweet, pleading gaze. Fuck me.

The sound that leaves Ben might be the deepest you’ve ever heard, and his voice is downright animalistic as his hand trails over your abdomen and inner thighs, sending a shiver through your spine.

“Arms stay up.” He orders, and you nod, moaning as Ben crawls over you, lining himself up to shove into your needy cunt. “Don’t stop looking at me.”

You barely have a moment to hum an agreement before Ben shoves into you, and everything turns into an intoxicating haze of Ben. He’s hiked your leg over his waist to push deeper into your cunt, the tip of his cock slamming into your cervix, and trailed a hand up your arms to pin your hands to the bed, leaving you open and vulnerable for him to use.

And fuck, he’s using you. Ben’s thrusting his cock into you at a feral pace, his mouth biting and sucking everywhere he can reach, pulling you so high you can only moan and whimper his name as he ruins you.

“So fucking perfect, darling,” he groans against your throat, and you throw your head back with a high whimper. “Gonna fuck you full, fill your perfect fucking pussy with my cum, get you fucking round and beautiful with my baby, show the world how good I fuck my wife, how fucking desperate you are for my cock-“

You make a high, breathy noise, writhing under Ben’s touch as his free hand moves to roll your nipple between his fingers. “Fuck, Ben-“

“Say my name, Sunshine, fucking scream so everyone knows you fucks you right, tell the whole damn hotel who you belong to-“

“Ben!” You can’t remember any other words as he moves his hips in a circle, angling you a little higher to somehow hit deeper inside of you. You can’t touch him—your hands still trapped over your head—but he’s so good, and you’re so full, and fuck, you might be crying with pleasure as he bites on your shoulder, and you know whatever mark he leaves will fade in a second but god, you want it to stick-

“Fuck,” Ben hisses your name as you squeeze around him, and your eyes roll back in your head as his hand snakes between your bodies and he starts to circle around—but never on—your clit. “You’re so fucking good, beautiful, tight and warm, wrecked on my cock, you’re perfect, love you so fucking much-“

“Ben,” you trying to keep your eyes on him, his face filled with a zealous care and hunger, but fuck you need to come so bad. “Ben-“

“All goddamn stupid when I fuck you, smart fucking mouth all, fuck-“ Ben kisses you into the mattress with a brutal force, shoving his tongue down your throat as his thrusts grow sloppy. Christ, need to cum in you, darling, you’re- Fuck- Ben’s hips stutter and you squeak down his throat. Cum with me, Sunshine-

You let go with a scream right as Ben pinches your clit, and he slams home with a roar of your name. You feel his warm cum spread inside you, leaking slowly down your thighs as he pulls out, and when Ben drops his weight carefully down over you—his head resting on your chest as you move your arms to wrap around his neck—you hum in happy, fucked out, empty-minded content.

“You’re really having a lot of fun with the baby thing, my love.” You mumble, and Ben rolls his eyes.

“You fucking love it.” He pauses, something sore settling over his skin as he frowns up at you, and you can’t stop the small smile crossing your face at the stone like protection wrapping around your body, Ben’s grip on you tightening like he’s trying to protect you from ghosts that never exist when he’s at your side. “You-“

“I do love it.” You whisper, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. “I love you.”

He grunts. “You’re fucking certain-“

“Positive.” You smile against his lips. “With you, Benjamin, I’m always positive.”

His nostrils flare slightly, and everything fades back into furious, bloody, unwavering love in his body. “Then we’ve got a goddamn week to make sure it happens, Sunshine.” He growls, rolling his already semi-hard cock against your thighs. “You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when I get it to stick.”

He always avoids the words when you’re not actively fucking, and youknow why. Ben never seems to fully trust that you’re really ready for this. Not because he doesn’t trust you, not because he doesn’t want it more than you do—if the way he flares and bursts over your ribs at the very mention of it isn’t proof, the way that you’ve caught him staring at baby cribs and clothing when you walk through Costco is—but because he’s a stubborn, protective, amazing asshole who values your comfort above everything else in the world. Once a douchebag congress member accused you of illegally aborting Homelander’s baby, and Ben interrupted the hearing to hold your cold, frozen body against his chest and roar some of the most violent threats you’ve ever heard at the committee.

But Ben’s not Homelander. He’s the furthest thing from Homelander. He’s the light that’s dancing over the room as you lay in his arms, and the whole world inside your body, and the best thing that’s ever happened to you in your life. He gives you everything, and more, and the only thing that could ever be better than him is what you could offer him.

The only person in the whole world who, after everything, could ever want to offer that.

So you smile at him, playing with the hair of his beard, and crane your neck to whisper against his lips. “When you fuck me full of a baby, Benjamin? When you get me pregnant?”

Ben stiffens, his cock already hard once more and prodding against your thigh, his voice so low you almost cum on the spot. “Christ on a fucking cross,” he mutters your name, ardor and a fervorish, wrathful reverence exploding in his chest, all aimed at you. “You’re going to fucking kill me-“

“No, I won’t.” You grind up into him, and he hisses. “But I am going to let you fuck me stupid, Pretty Boy, let you fill me up with your baby-“

Your blatant bait works. Ben sits up in a sharp movement, pulling you with him, and impales you back on his cock in one, smooth movement.

“Such a fucking brat.” He grunts in your ear, his hands on your hips holding you still, forcing you to just fall into his warmth and clench desperately around him. “You want my cum, beautiful?”

You nod stupidly, and he smirks.

“Words-“

“Want it, Ben.” You moan, clinging to his body. “Want you.”

“You’ve got me, Sunshine.” He mutters, squeezing your ass with a firm hand. “Now be a good girl and take me.”

You half-scream as he starts to move, and you could be happy dying here. With a husband that loves you with such a raging strength, who fucks you so good that all you can do is grow slack in his hold and let him abuse your cunt until you’re his in every way possible.

And you already are. He’s alive inside of you, and molded into you, and wears a matching ring to yours that you think he’d sear into his skin if he could.

But God, it will never be enough. Ben is more than enough, but you’ll never be satiated of him.

You could never be satiated of him.

And that’s why, when he cums into you again, you really do hope it sticks. Because the only thing could ever be better than Ben was a bright-eyed, cared for, happy bundle of evidence that you belong to each other forever. A child that will never know the pain you and Ben have held each other through, because Ben doesn’t allow people he loves to be in pain.

And he really deserves more people to love. His own piece of proof that you trust him more than you trust yourself, that he’s repented and you’ll offer him a million smiling children for everything he’s done for you. For how well be cares for you, and how well you know he’ll care for them. For how it will be hard, but worth it, because you’ve bled for less and cried for more.

And no matter what any form of family comes, you’d never want it with anyone but Ben.

End Note: God please send me someone who's as down bad for me as Ben is for Her.

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@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @Ambiguous-avery

@elle14-blog1 @impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @heyimolive @alwaystiredandconfused

@kamisobsessed @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @Jackles010378 @ilovedeanwinchester4 @immastealurkneecaps

@star-yawnznn @chi-raz @Lori19 @wynnthewynnder @fultiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey @and-i-wish

@jsudsgf @deans-yn @jofinka @allthetroubleiveseen @dyhsversion

@Pillowjj @megara0224 @funkenniffler @disappearintofanfiction @kr804573

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ultravioletrayz · 5 months ago

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KINKTOBER

╰┈➤ DAY ONE: SENSORY DEPRIVATION w/ SIMON RILEY

It was your idea. You hadn't seen Simon in so long, too long, his latest deployment lasting what had felt like an eternity. When he finally returned, all you wanted to do was revel in the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne, and the feeling of his touch. A part of you resented him for withholding all of this from you, even though it was selfish. Still, you wanted to get him back in the best way possible.

Simon is completely bare and sprawled out on the bed you share, arms tied behind his back and legs spread and bound to the bed post. His balaclava is turned the wrong way, concealing the entirety of his face. Meanwhile, you're sitting pretty on his defined, firm abs, looking down at his gorgeous, thick cock, one of your hands massaging and rolling the swollen head of it in your palm, while the other rests on the slightly softer lower part of Simon's stomach.

The pretty moans and staggered grunts that the balaclava muffles still reach your eager ears, making you smile. Your eyes were focused on the way his hips buck as much as the restraints will allow them to, and the occasional sharp, pinched breath that Simon lets out. He hates this, hates that he can't touch you, hold you, make sweet love to you. He's getting a taste of his own medicine.

Every move you make is a surprise, eliciting so many shocked curses and cute gasps from your typically quiet man. He's on edge, waiting for the moment you sink down on him, those tight, soft walls enveloping him so snuggly that he doesn't need to be able to see or touch you, he'll still be utterly connected to you and your pleasure. But you know that, too. You know he's got your body memorised, you know he'll win if you give in to the fucking tantalising visual of Simon's twitching dick, the prominent veins travelling from base to tip throbbing angrily, precum practically gushing out of him.

Instead, you reach into the nightstand and grab out the little bullet vibrator you've been forced to use over the past months. It was perfect. You caress and squeeze Simon's heavy, neglected balls while bringing the vibrator up to the underside of his weighty shaft, wrapping your hand around it as well as you can and starting the vibrator on it's highest setting, held right up against that overly sensitive vein below Simon's tip that will have him cumming in minutes.

"Fuck! Love- shit! Fuck're you doing t'me?!" Simon practically screams, helplessly writhing around and groaning, abs tensing up beneath your soaked panties.

You'll comfort him and tell him how you missed him later, but right now, you're having your fun.

sorry this is a day late...

#ultravioletrayz #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #ghost fanfiction #ghost smut #ghost cod #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #𖤓uv-c𖤓

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jamilynfx · 6 months ago

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Stuck Again

Summary: You're stuck between your boyfriends in what seems to be the hottest night of the year.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Inspired by this post made by @dorkszn 💖

Warnings: implied sexual content, mentions of stabbing and biting, FLUFF ALL OVER

Part 2

It’s hot.

You don’t mean the usual, July kind of hot in New York when everything seems to melt like a neglected ice-cream cone. You also don’t mean yourself or your companions, even though they have a lot of hot qualities going on.

It’s the place that you’ve found yourself in, or, more accurately, a nest that one of your boyfriends insists on creating each night, no matter the high temperatures outside. With the AC unit barely working and a half-damaged fan, which was almost destroyed on purpose by Logan during one of his daily fights with Wade, tonight’s heat is unbearable.

And it’s not that you don’t like being warm. You’re more of a summer girl, enjoying extreme heat and the sun kissing your skin, your wardrobe full of dresses and skirts to catch a light breeze when outside, always the first one on a lounge chair to sunbathe and bask in the heavenly white heat of long, summer days. Your worst nightmare is deep winter, with agonizingly cold temperatures and activities like ice-skating or building a snowman, hands half-frozen and teeth clattering uncontrollably.

But tonight?

Tonight everything is too much, even for you. The heat is overwhelming and unpleasant, surrounding you from every possible angle.

The fan sounds as if it’s its last night on earth, definitely working overtime and below its paygrade. You can’t see Mary but her light snores fill the room accompanying Logan’s casual growling, deep and insistent in your ear. Wade is silent for once, his breath steadily brushing the skin of your upper arm and neck, the constant sleep talking temporarily simmered down.

It’s your usual sleep arrangement, Logan comfortably situated behind you, your naked back flush with his bare chest, his arms hooped around your belly and mid-section like a vine, his large hands on your waist, leaving you literally no space to move or escape without waking him up. Wade is glued to the front of your body, your legs tangled together like roots of a crazy tree, your head resting on his shoulder with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, and Wade’s other arm slung over you and Logan, to have you both within an arm’s reach.

Logan isn’t a fan of Wade stealing you all for himself, especially if he does it in that obnoxious, you won’t do shit about it, peanut way, which causes low, unamused grumbling on better days and scratching or outright stabbing Wade on not so good ones. It’s more of expressing difficult feelings through violence than real hatred but Logan wouldn’t be caught dead saying out loud that he secretly enjoys when Wade hugs you both the way he’s doing it now.

Sure, there are nights where Wade is the one to squish you from behind like a sponge but, most of the time, he prefers to be in front, chest to chest or tits to tits,if you were to quote the man himself, leaving your behind to Logan’s exclusive use. Too bad Wade ain’t ever really tits to tits, it’s more of his head resting on your shoulder or right between your cleavage, which dangerously overlaps with him drooling all over your breasts every other time. It isn’t that unpleasant but you fake-complain in the mornings when it happens, just to see Wade be slightly embarrassed for once. Your legs always end up entangled, little Mary resting somewhere in between the three of you.

And while having two private heaters is heavenly during the cold, winter months of the year, now it seems to be a not-so-funny joke. Both Wade and Logan love to sleep naked or with just one item of clothing on them, Wade sometimes choosing to sleep only in Logan’s t-shirt. Yes, it doesn’t cover anything, and on days like this you’re grateful that Al is actually blind. Sleeping naked isn’t a downside per se, but now it makes you feel oven-hot, the heat that radiates from everyone suddenly too overwhelming to enjoy it.

To make matters worse, you’re sticky. Sticky with multiple layers of sweat, droplets of it actively trickling down your side and back, your hair plastered all over your neck and forehead making you even hotter, especially with Logan’s beard buried in the crook of your neck. The place where Wade’s arm rests on yours is soaking wet, little beads of sweat running down to drip, drip, drip right onto your hip and sheets. On the top of it all, you’re sticky like that, too, a mixture of bodily fluids splashed all over your thighs, lower belly, and chest, a rather messy testament to your before-bedtime activities, which made you delirious with pleasure and forced you to fall asleep right after Logan’s hushed ‘night, princess.

You’re stuck.

You try to focus on falling back to sleep but it doesn’t work. There’s no way you’re not going to wake up Logan if you start moving but you can’t stay like that, feeling like a lobster being thrown into boiling water. The final straw is Mary, who changes her position mid-sleep and covers your feet with her little body, making your temperature skyrocket.

You grunt, wiggling carefully to free yourself of Logan’s arms. Wade is still asleep when he slightly turns away from you both, leaving you a bit shocked that he dressed into his Hello Kitty boxers for once.

You’re in the middle of sliding down Logan’s chest, his arms level with your tits, when Logan’s hoarse voice makes you stop all your abrupt movements.

“What is it that you’re doing, bub?”

Fuck.

“It’s too hot in here. I need out,” you whisper quickly, your hands coming to rest on his huge arms. You’d think he’d let you go but it’s not that easy. Logan slightly loosens his grip on you, only to slide you back up and hide his face in your sweaty hair. You manage to twist your body towards his face. “I’m serious, Lo. I need a cold shower, right now.”

The urgency in your tone gets his attention. He lets you go with an unhappy growl that makes Mary perk up.

“Want me to go wit’ ya?”

You kiss him on the lips, just a little peck but that seems to do the trick.

“No, I’ll be quick. Sorry about waking you up.”

His only answer is another low growl but the crease between Logan’s brows straightens, then completely disappears, right when you’re kissing Wade’s sweaty forehead.

Your visit to the bathroom is quick but Mary follows you anyway. She sits right in front of the shower curtain, yawning a total of six times before you finish showering. The water is cold on your skin, a bit of a shock after being surrounded with extreme warmth, all stickiness and hotness going down the drain in a matter of minutes. Dry and ready to go, you pick the dog up with one hand, placing her under your left arm.

“Look at you, standing guard and all,” you whisper words of praise as you go back into your small, stuffy room, Mary wagging her tail happily.

Ten minutes are enough for Wade to force himself into Logan’s personal space, now that you’re not their buffer. His hello kitty cladded hips are perfectly aligned with Logan’s naked ones, his hand fondling Logan’s tits, his face halfway in Logan’s hair.

“Come quick, baby girl, and save me,” squeaks Wade when you put Mary down on the edge of the bed. That’s when you see it, Logan’s teeth buried in Wade’s arm, the same one which Wade used to feel Logan up. It’s nothing serious if there’s no blood, so you lie down in between them, forcing Logan to let go of Wade’s flesh.

“Gods’sake, behave, both of you.”

You put your head on Wade’s chest, finding your way back into a comfortable position, Logan’s hands immediately on your hips. Wade makes a big stretch, “accidentally” extending his arm to embrace you both.

“Thought he’d bite it off but I’m safe when you’re here.”

Logan buries his nose in your neck, growling lowly behind your ear, probably something about slicing Wade’s arm off, but it’s too incoherent to know for sure. He doesn’t move away from Wade’s embrace, though, which is enough for you to smile happily, watching as Mary finds her spot in between Logan’s feet.

Stuck again.

Exactly the way it should be.

#deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #poolverine x reader #deadpool x wolverine x reader #deadpool 3 #wade wilson x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wade wilson x you #dorkszn #writing #mine

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astrow1zar6 · 1 year ago

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Astro observations of players/ heartbreakers - 26

Libra placements: Libras really adore romantic attention (when single & sometimes even in a relationship) they will flirt with people they really have no attraction to for fun or cuz their bored. They have this amazing ability to make others feel really special just for them to be doing that to 5 others or just for it to be completely ingenuine. They can be so charming that you really believe they like you until you realize they don’t. Libras leave a lot of broken hearts behind them. They will say the most heart warming shit that will have you thinking they’re in love with you just to leave you for the cutie next door 😭 especially if you have libra in your sun, moon and rising.

5th house stellium’s: oh lord lol these people can be everywhere in terms of the heart. The 5th house is related to short love affairs. So you can imagine these people go thru a lot of potential partners in their life (unless afflicted or Saturns in the 5th). These people are very flirty they love the feeling of having new crushes and the LOVE the attention they get from their crush too. However, these people normally have a lot of crushes and never usually settles down with one. This can be a big baby maker placement especially if Jupiter and Venus are involved. I’ve seen men with a lot of 5th house placements that have babies with multiple women or have a lot of baby mommas. They tend to do very risky shit for fun just for it to backfire on them. They are part animals at heart and usually that’s where I notice they make most of their mistakes they end up regretting. They usually end up getting caught up in the heat of the moment when it comes to people their attracted to which can lead to a cheating problem.

Sagittarius suns: if you can get a Sagittarius to actually commit to you you won.. no but seriously they are not the best with commitment😭 when they feel a relationship is getting too close I notice they start to get cold feet and become really distant with their partner or do little things to self sabotage the relationship. They are very romantic very fast in the beginning of the relationship. Most Sagittarius’s move REALLY fast and are impulsive when getting in relationships. They usually try to commit too early having the other party believe they are in love with them just for them to back out the minute it gets to stabilized and that isn’t usually long. They can feel like their partners slow them down in some way and end up neglecting the relationship.

Scorpio Venus: now I really don’t believe all these posts saying “this this the most die heart loyal sign” cuz that’s complete bull crap and the people who know know😭 I’m mostly talking about the men in this situation but these men can be the biggest cheaters!! It’s honestly rare to see these people not cheat from what I’ve seen. They are really picky of the women they date and I notice the women they do pick to date they don’t really like them that much?? They go for people they have a very mild attraction to usually and for such intense people it’s something you wouldn’t expect. I believe Scorpio Venus do this as a way of control because when they are truly in love and with the right partner they become fiercely loyal and loving. But I don’t think they seek out those type of relationships because they are often extremely painful for them because of their intense emotions, when they are truly in love they feel like they have no control over themselves when in that state, so I think they find people they don’t love that deeply so they can be in complete control of themselves and their partner. Which is why they can be very possessive and jealous of their partner even while their sleeping around it’s a big control thing. But I believe once they find their soulmate it’s the complete opposite but that’s usually a challenge.

Pisces Venus: these are also extreme charmers like libra. Pisces is exalted here so they have the ability to be some of the most romantic loving partners, they will sweep you off your feet with the words and promises that they give you then outta no where where you think everything’s perfect between the two of you… he ghosts you. Then next thing you know you see him at the bar talking to another girl like nothing. These men tend to never quite know what they want and usually have wandering eyes for other females. The commitment line is usually really blurred for these people which is why they attract a lot of situationships no one knows what it really is.

Aqua Venus: these people play hot & cold soo much it can drive the person they’re talking to a little crazy. When they are unsure of the partner they tend to juggle them around until they decide. One minute they are so flirty and engaging and romantic towards you then the next they’re ignoring your texts, giving you really dry robotic responses. They put their partners thru a whirlwind to get to their heart. This can leave the other party feel like they are being stringed along (most likely they are) like Scorpio Venus they are very picky with their partners and settle for very authentic/unique people. They can like the most oddest people or just people you’d never expect them to date. You never know what’s going to melt these peoples heart. They really need someone who excites them. (Sn: I notice Scorpio and Aqua Venus’s actually make an amazing couple)

Uranus square Venus: one minute they wanna break up & meet other people the next they want you again and the cycle repeats. These are the kings & queens of on and off relationships 😂 they can never seem to make up their mind on if they’re ready to commit, they can be really unpredictable in love which can be pretty exhausting. One minute they’re in love the next they’re bored and cold towards you. U tend to have a lot of relationships come and go but can’t seem to get them stabilized. This can leave your partners feeling really confused & played.

Gemini Venus: they never really seem like they’re interested in anyone they’re dating. They are always trying to seek out attention from other people even when in a relationship. Their crushes are usually very superficial and fleeting. It takes A LOT to keep these people attention, you have to be very mentally stimulating and almost fascinate them to really get them hooked on you. But they are not easily impressed, they are really good at predicting people’s behaviors so it’s hard to find someone that really excites them. They enjoy things they can’t predict or keeps them guessing it lights up their curious minds (go for a Venus in aqua!).

P.S. just because you have any of the placements mentioned that doesn’t make you a player other placements obviously play a role! Just the most common ones I’ve observed 🐮

#astro observations #astrologist #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

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hana-no-seiiki · 9 months ago

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WHY DON’T YOU GIVE ME A SMILE? (ACT 2)

YANDERE! BATFAM x JINX (ARCANE/LEAGUE)-ESQUE! READER

[ ACT ONE HERE ]

cw/tw: mentally ill reader. schizophrenic reader. reader w/ abandonment issues. manipulative reader. crimes. arson.

summary: we dive deeper into Gotham's explosive personality and history with those that took the title of ‘boy wonder’