#puppy angel muse

[vullcanica]

Resting bitch face: Angel, Sally, Danny, Vanya

Resting smiling face: Nik, Avita, Silas, Lumen

Resting sad face: Danny

Resting mannequin face: Connie

[surftrips]

ABOUT YOU | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

request: luke x reader fluff w like an aphrodite!reader? reader is all sunshine and flowers and makes luke all soft/campers teasing luke abt the way reader changed him 🤭

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is probably my favorite luke fic that i've written so far thank u so much anon for sending this request in! writing aphrodite!reader is so much fun, i'm such a sucker for the opposites trope. hope you all enjoy 🤍

You were the human embodiment of sunshine, a real life angel. Gentle, kind, and lovely— in other words, the complete and total opposite of Luke Castellan. He was dark and broody, strong and rough, and not totally unfriendly, but definitely intimidating. 

But even if you weren’t the daughter of Aphrodite, Luke believed that you would still be just as beautiful. There was something in the way you carried yourself that had made his heart surrender the second he laid eyes on you. You became the one and only exception in his long list of grievances. 

So it came as no surprise to anyone at camp when the two of you started dating, just to the dismay of many of your admirers and a few of Luke’s as well. If there was one thing you had in common, it was your beauty. With his puppy dog eyes and curly brown hair, Luke was a sight for sore eyes, almost as much as you were. 

One day, you were walking hand in hand when one of the younger campers accidentally bumped into Luke. On any other occasion, Luke might have started an altercation, but today, he simply smiled and said, “Just be careful next time.” The camper stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked into place as you softly giggled.

“What?” he smiled, looking over at you as the kid took it as an opportunity to run away. 

“Nothing,” you mused. “Just that I think you’re getting soft, Luke Castellan.” You poked a finger at his chest playfully. 

“What?” he shook his head. “No, I’m not.” 

Though he attempts to keep a serious face, you could see the amusement in his eyes. He often looked at you like this, ready to go along with anything you said— no matter how silly or whimsical your remarks. 

“Okay, lover boy. Whatever you say,” you shrugged, offering him a kiss on his cheek that instantly causes color to rush into his face. Ignoring that he’s just proven your point, he attempts to hide his expression by seeking solace in the crook of your neck. He would never admit it to anyone, but he often thought his favorite place at camp was the spot in between your jaw and collarbone. 

Even though most of the campers were still a little frightened by the idea of approaching Luke, his closest friends were not afraid to speak their minds. 

“Dude, you’re like, totally whipped for her,” Percy remarked over lunch once. 

“And you’re like, totally fourteen years old,” Luke said.

“I think the fourteen year old’s right,” Chris jumped in.

“Dude! I thought you were supposed to have my back,” Luke throws up his arms in mock aggravation.

The two boys snickered, causing Luke to speak up again. “I am not whipped for Y/N.” 

“Oh, sure,” Chris began. “So the reason you’re practically skipping around camp and letting whatever team Aphrodite cabin is in win Capture the Flag is because…?” 

“Oh, and don’t forget the constant checking his phone to see if she texted back and sharing his blanket with her at the campfire!” Percy pointed out. “Meanwhile, I’m over here freezing…” 

“Maybe,” Luke scrambled to come up with an answer. “Maybe, I was just in a really good mood those days. It could have absolutely nothing to do with Y/N.” 

He barely believed the words himself, and Chris and Percy were certainly not convinced. Luke wasn’t even sure why he felt the need to defend himself. 

“Dude, it’s okay if you are, she’s literally your girlfriend,” Chris said.

“Hey! I have an idea, let’s ask Annabeth!” Percy declared.

“Annabeth? Why her?” Luke furrowed his brow. 

“Because, she’s a girl. And she’s known you the longest, she can give us a real answer,” Percy said matter-of-factly. 

Luke thought it over. The young boy was technically right, Annabeth was like a little sister to him. If anyone could tell if he had changed since dating you, it would be her. This came as both a good and bad realization to him, because what if he had changed? Gods, was it that obvious? 

Before he could agree to asking Annabeth, the young girl was already at their table. Percy must have called her over while Luke was thinking. 

“What’s up?” she asked, sitting down across from him with her plate of food. 

“Oh, nothing, just talking about how soft Luke has gotten since he started dating Y/N,” Chris explained with a grin on his face. 

“Oh?” Annabeth said, seemingly amused. 

“Yeah, we actually wanted to get your opinion,” Percy continued. “Would you say you agree or disagree, that you know, Luke is nicer now that he’s with Y/N?”

Annabeth seemed to think it over for a second. “Gods, you guys are such children,” she scoffed. 

“Thank you!” Luke cut in.

“I mean, all of you,” she looked at Luke pointedly. “Why do you care what a bunch of kids think about you anyway? And not that it matters, but you, Castellan, are most definitely whipped for Y/N.” 

That shut Luke up immediately, and caused cheers to erupt from Chris and Percy, who were clapping each other on their backs as if they had just won Capture the Flag. 

Annabeth smiled and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say “Sorry, Luke. It’s true.” 

Later that night, Luke snuck over to the Aphrodite Cabin to find you. You were surprised when Luke woke you up, it had been a while since he came seeking your comfort in the middle of the night. He used to have bad nightmares, but you noticed he had gotten better since you started dating. You’d like to think it was because of you, but perhaps that would be thinking too highly of yourself.  

In an effort to clear his mind, you suggested to go on a walk together. He agreed, and you climbed out of bed as quietly as you could.

You allowed him a few minutes of silence until his heavy breathing had slowed down and his grip on your hand had loosened. 

“What’s on your mind, hon?” you asked softly. 

Luke didn’t respond at first, distracting himself by tracing the lines on the palm of your hand. You were happy to give him as much time as he needed, placing your other hand on his back and gently drawing circles.

After a while, he did speak up. “Uhm, do you think that I’m, like, unapproachable?” 

Your heart sank and you stopped in your tracks. “What makes you say that?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just something that’s been on my mind recently.” 

“Luke, is this about what I said to you the other day? Because I didn’t mean it like that—” 

“No, baby,” he rushed. The last thing he wanted was for you to think you had done something wrong. He wasn’t sure that you could ever do wrong, not in his eyes. “I was just talking to Percy and Chris at lunch today and they were kind of teasing me.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of your boyfriend, Mr. Tough Guy, being teased by a few kids younger than him. “I’m sorry, babe. Continue,” you placed a supportive hand on his chest as you regained your composure. 

“They said that I’ve changed since we started dating.” 

Though you were an expert in human emotion, there were still times you couldn’t read the expression on Luke’s face. You couldn’t tell if he thought of this as a bad thing, or if he was just curious to see what you thought. You decided on the latter. “Changed how so?” 

“They think I’m soft now because I’m always in a good mood and stuff…” he trailed off. Even now, in the dark of the night, you could tell he was blushing.

“Well,” you started, trying to find the right words. “You know, I was just teasing you the other day, babe. I think you’ve always been this way.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think you’ve always been a giant teddy bear,” you grinned, unable to contain yourself. “Luke, you’re not as bad as everyone thinks you are.” 

By now, both of you had stopped walking. Ever since Luke arrived at camp, he had been characterized as the tough, stony, and slightly antagonistic guy. All because of a scar he carried and the stories of what he had gone through with Annabeth and Thalia. Many people were still intimidated by him, despite his position as the counselor in Hermes and his job to welcome newcomers. It had been so long, he wasn’t sure if this was the way he was, or the way that he was made to be. 

As if reading his thoughts, you said, “You don’t have to be what they tell you to be. Do you know the words I use to describe you when someone asks me about you?” 

Unable to speak, Luke simply shook his head. 

“Gentle, kind, and lovely.” 

Luke wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but certainly nothing close to the words you had chosen. “You do not,” he objected. 

“I'm serious, baby,” you placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him in until your foreheads were touching. “I think you’re the most wonderful and caring guy I’ve ever met. I think you always have been, you just don’t always show it.”

He stared at you intently before pulling a loose strand of hair out of your face. You kissed the top of his head, “I must be one lucky girl.” 

“Hey, if there’s one thing I’m sure about, it’s that I’m the lucky one,” he said, before pulling you in for a kiss. 

[katsukistofu]

claire de lune

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x fem reader. 1.8k words — domestic fluff. slightly suggestive. ⭑ there’s nothing you and katsuki wouldn’t do for your baby girl, and that includes giving her the moon.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“Yes angel?”

“I want that thing down!” Your daughter points above you with her tiny finger. The faint chirping of crickets can be heard in the distance, and tall, silken blades of grass tickle the both of your cheeks as you gaze upward at the vast periwinkle sky. 

A sweet smile spreads across your lips. “You want me to get the moon down?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Aw sweetheart, I’d get it for you but mommy can’t reach that high. Daddy probably can though.”

She pouts at this, and turns away from you to poke her dad who is on the brink of falling asleep again on the other side of her. 

“Dada!”

Katsuki’s eyes flutter open and he groggily faces her, head resting on his folded arms behind him. You bite back a laugh at the crumbs still decorating his cheeks. Sumi was trying to balance Cheeto puffs on his nose earlier before his nap. “What ‘sup bubba?”

She points at the moon again. “Get it down.”

“That?” Your husband covers his mouth to yawn, glancing up at the darkening sky. Sumi nods excitedly. “M’kay. Was thinking about it when you and mommy started lookin’ anyway.” He says it so casually, like getting the moon for her was a feat as simple as buying a carton of strawberries at the store.

“Yay!” Sumi cheers, and he chuckles when she struggles to slip her hand under his arm on the ground to hug it. Katsuki rolls over and she giggles, now sandwiched between the both of you as you hug her.

“Sumi, how about you wait inside while Daddy gets it for you?” You suggest. It was starting to get late. 

“Nooo,” Sumi whines. “Wanna stay here and watch.”

“You can have the last cookie in the kitchen’s jar.”

Sumi’s eyes brighten. “The bear one that looks like dada!”

“That’s right, sweetheart. The one with his grump grump face.”

“Who’re you calling a grump grump.” Katsuki scowls, secretly reaching over Sumi to give an affectionate pinch to the softness of your hip and you squeal. 

“Sumi, Daddy’s being mean to mommy!”

Sumi’s face matches Katsuki’s expression from before. “Stop that dada!” 

Katsuki slyly grins and withdraws his hand, masking his face into an expression that is the definition of innocence. With amusement, you note the little huff of pride he makes seeing Sumi’s tiny scowl, perfectly identical to his. “Mommy started it.” 

She blows a raspberry at him and wriggles out of his grasp, then gives the both of you pats on the head like you’re misbehaving puppies and finally runs off back into the house. 

“You two play nice!” Sumi waggles her finger with as much sternness as a three year old can muster before promptly shutting the door in your faces.

Katsuki meets your eyes with his and the both of you laugh on the grass, breathlessly clutching each other. 

“I wonder who she takes after more,” you muse between giggles. 

“Definitely you.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, bringing you closer to him with his arms snug around your waist.

“Whaaat? No way, I was totally going to say you.” You grin cheekily, eyes going almost comically wide when he kisses you hard on the mouth in response.

“Shut up.” 

“Kiss me again and I will,” you murmur dazedly and he chuckles, muttering something under his breath about you being insatiable despite leaning in to give you another one.

With how close he is, everything is soft eyelashes, the dull thudding of his heart beat synchronizing with yours as his firm chest presses against you, and the warmth radiating from his smooth skin, slowly seeping into your body.

Each movement of your lips brushes his mouth more and more against yours and even after almost a decade of being together, the feeling still makes your brain go fuzzy. All your thoughts melt away. It’s just you and him.

“Kats,” you breathe in warning. His fingers have somehow found their way under your sundress and they’re mindlessly tracing nonsensical shapes into the small of your back, his other arm still tightly wrapping you in his warm embrace. “I really, really need to go iron your suit for tomorrow. Plus, aren’t you supposed to be catching the moon right now, mister?”

“Just ten more minutes,” Katsuki murmurs against your collarbone and you shiver. His voice is still husky with sleep. “And I already caught the thing.”

“Really? Proof or you’re lying.” You raise a brow skeptically, and you should’ve known better than to doubt him when he actually reaches behind him, the wedding ring that he never takes off even to wear his hero costume glinting in the moonlight, to lift up a neatly wrapped up box with a little baby pink ribbon on it. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Where the hell did you get that?”

Katsuki grins proudly. “Found it after patrol last week with Eijiro.”

“It being…?”

“The moon.” He sets the box down in front of you. “It’s a night light, ‘cause I know Mimi’s scared of the dark.” 

“Aww Katsuki,” you coo, reaching out to caress his cheek. “That’s so cute.”

He blushes at the pure look of adoration in your eyes, and you can’t help but smile when he hides his face in your hair. “S’nothin’. Just getting the best for our little girl.”

Your husband grumbles when you let out that perfect, angelic giggle of yours and rest your hand on his head in response. He was so adorable. 

The way he’s acting is so similar to how you did at the beginning of your relationship all those years ago in high school, but it seems that as the both of you got older the tables turned and he was the clingier one now, much to the amusement of your classmates and the press when they managed to get ahold of you.

Katsuki lets out a low, content hum as you run your fingers through his soft hair. The both of you lay there, basking in each other’s touch and comfortable silence.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you when you were sunbathing on the beach this morning.”

Your cheeks are warm. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Katsuki smirks at your expression. “Sumi kept smacking me with her damn shovel when we were making sand castles. Stop staring at mommy, it's rude!” He says, mimicking your daughter’s scolding tone.

You laugh at his Sumi impression. “My girl was trying to teach you some manners!”

“Damn straight.” He grins against your neck, and your cheeks grow hot at the way his teeth lightly graze over your skin. “That’s why I said she’s more like you, mommy.”

Your stomach flips against your will and your cheeks burn as you smack his well-muscled chest. “Don’t call me that!”

“Hah? Am I hearing my wife being embarrassed right now, after everything we’ve done? After what we made together?” Katsuki teases. “When you’re talking to Sumi you call me dadd—“

“What’s taking you so long!” Speaking of the little devil, Sumi’s impatient voice floats down to the garden through the open window of her room upstairs. “I want my moon and bedtime story now!”

“We’re on our way, Sumi!” You call up. Katsuki reluctantly lets you pull away from his arms, and the both of you stand up to dust yourselves off. He groans as he cracks his back next to you.

“Don’t think we’re nursing home age just yet,” you say jokingly. Katsuki snorts and pinches your cheek for the jibe. 

“You’re lucky I’m still gonna think you’re cute when you’re in grandma diapers.”

“Wha—Hey!” You trail after him into the house. Damn his fast pace and his longer legs. He’s already up the stairs, the present box in his hand.

You reach the top of the stairs and head for the familiar light pink interior of Sumi’s room but stop in the doorway to coo at the sight before you. 

“Hey, squirt. Got the moon for you, just like I said I would.” Katsuki’s voice is gentle as he kneels on the floor to meet her sparkling eyes, and gently shakes the box in his hands before holding it out to her.

“Whoaaa!” Sumi eagerly takes it. “Thank you dada!” 

She raises her head and spots you leaning against the frame of her door. “Mommy look!”

“I’m looking, Mimi.”

“You and dada watch me open it.” 

“Okay, go ahead we’re watching.” Katsuki and you smile softly as she unwraps the present with care and she gasps, tiny hands taking the globe-shaped, moon night light out. It was decorated with realistic looking craters, and even came with a wooden stand to put it on.

“So cute.” Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates. “So pretty.” Then she tilts her head in the direction of her open curtains.

“Why’s she still up there though?” Sumi asks curiously, and Katsuki chuckles. Of course his kid is way too smart to be tricked by something like a night light. 

“Well we can’t actually take the moon away, sweetie. She has her stars to take care of.”

“Oh.” Sumi frowns, deep in thought, then perks up. “Mr. Sun would miss her too!”

“Mhm, that’s right.” You ruffle her hair playfully and she squeals. “That’d be like someone taking me away from you and daddy.”

“No!” Sumi pouts. “Don’t like that. Wanna stay with you and dada forever.”

“And you will, Sumi.” Katsuki pats her little head with his much larger hand in reassurance. “Mommy and I are gonna to be with you forever. Right mommy?”

You sigh, realizing he’s got you trapped. “That’s right… daddy,” you grit out, ignoring the victorious grin that causes his unfairly attractive dimple to appear on his cheek and you head straight for Sumi’s spot on the bed, taking a seat next to her. She leans against your arm, and you press a loving kiss to the top of her head. 

Sumi holds the night light out to Katsuki, who gently sets it down on her nightstand and plugs it in. It casts a soft, white glow, just like real moonlight on his face, and Sumi and you ooh and awe at it in appreciation.

“Can I have my bedtime story now?” Sumi pipes up.

“Sure, think it’s mommy’s turn to read.” Katsuki joins the both of you in bed, sliding an arm behind you. “What book were you thinking of tonight?”

“Le Peewee Prince!”

You giggle. “Le Petit Prince?”

“Yeah, that one!”

“Okay then. Come here and lay down, sweetheart.” You take the bookmark out from where you left off last time, the moon night light beside you illuminating the pages as you begin to read.

“Goodbye, said the fox.” You recite in a quiet, dulcet voice. Katsuki’s arm around your waist hugs you and Sumi closer, who snuggles up between you both, blanket tucked snug under her chin. Your chest warms at the sight, and you continue. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye…”

[devdozes]

♥ Who's the cute doctor with a white jacket and a cute accent?

Phainon is a vigilante who kills heroes :0 and reader is a doctor who owns a clinic

The street was empty when you stepped out of your small clinic, stretching your arms with a yawn. The neon glow of streetlights flickered against the pavement, a steady hum of crickets filling the air. It was well past midnight, your usual closing time. The last patient had left hours ago, leaving you with only the scent of antiseptic and the ever-present exhaustion clinging to your bones.

And that was when you saw him.

Slumped against the alley wall right beside your clinic’s entrance, a man lay sprawled out, one leg bent awkwardly, his clothes torn and stained with blood. His messy silver hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and from the way his chest heaved unevenly, he was in bad shape.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, already moving toward him. “Don’t tell me I’ve got another late-night idiot with a hero complex.”

Kneeling beside him, you gently prodded his shoulder. “Hey. Still breathing?”

A soft, pitiful whine escaped him, followed by a lazy blink. Then, like a puppy realizing it had finally been noticed, the man perked up almost instantly. Despite his obviously battered state, he offered you the most ridiculous, lopsided grin you had ever seen.

“Angel,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “Have I…died?”

You stared at him. He blinked up at you, expectant.

“…No, but you might if you keep bleeding all over my sidewalk.”

His grin widened, eyes gleaming under the dim light. “Then I must be in heaven, because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let out a short, exasperated sigh. “Great. You’re one of those types.”

Deciding that talking would get you nowhere, you looped his arm around your shoulders and, with a great deal of effort, hauled him to his feet. He was heavier than he looked, all lean muscle beneath the torn layers of his dark hoodie.

“C’mon, Casanova, let’s get you patched up.” ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The clinic was quiet save for the rustling of medical supplies and the occasional hiss of pain from your unexpected patient. He sat on the examination table, swinging his legs slightly like a child as you cleaned a particularly nasty gash on his forearm. His hoodie had been discarded, leaving him in a black tank top that did nothing to hide the bruises blooming across his torso.

“You got into quite the fight, huh?” you mused, applying a fresh bandage.

He hummed, tilting his head. “You could say that.”

“You don’t look like the street brawling type,” you continued, noting the way his wounds were oddly precise—like someone had been targeting specific areas to incapacitate rather than kill. “Pissed off the wrong guy?”

“Something like that,” he said, watching you with an intensity that sent a small shiver down your spine. Then, without warning, he reached out and poked your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re all serious, y’know?”

You smacked his hand away. “I will sedate you.”

He laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. It was such a stark contrast to his earlier state that you had to pause. This guy…was weird. But you’d dealt with weirder.

“Alright, mystery man,” you said, stepping back. “You’re patched up, but you should probably rest before you start running around and getting into more trouble.”

His expression shifted slightly, something unreadable flashing through his eyes. Then, just as quickly, he was beaming again. “So you do care about me, doc.”

You rolled your eyes. “I'm a doctor; if I don't care, I will lose my license.”

Little did you know, you had just invited the most dangerous, yet oddly devoted, presence into your life. And he had no plans of leaving any time soon.

It started with small things.

The next evening, Phainon showed up at your clinic’s doorstep, miraculously uninjured this time, holding a single flower in his hand. “For my angel,” he declared dramatically, offering it to you with a grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “You realize this is a medical clinic, not a flower shop, right?”

He pouted. Actually pouted. “Can’t I just appreciate my favorite person in the world?”

You huffed but took the flower, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

The visits didn’t stop. Each day, he came bearing small gifts—some fresh fruit, a book he claimed “reminded him of you,” even a plushie one time. You didn’t know where he got them, and you didn’t ask. He never overstayed his welcome, just long enough to chat, flash you that infuriatingly charming grin, and then disappear into the night.

There were…odd moments, though. Bruises appearing overnight. The way he sometimes winced when he thought you weren’t looking. You questioned him once, but he only ruffled your hair and said, “I’m just clumsy.”

You didn’t buy it. But you let it go. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It was nearly 3 AM when you heard the familiar knock at your clinic door. You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Phainon, if you brought me another bouquet, I swear—”

The door swung open, revealing a very unimpressed Phainon holding a Tupperware container. “Stop eating instant noodles 24/7,” he deadpanned, marching straight to your desk.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I saw the trash,” he accused. “You are a doctor, and yet you treat your body like a college student cramming for finals.”

You gaped at him as he shoved the container into your hands. “I—You—Did you make this?”

He crossed his arms, looking almost smug. “Of course. You deserve real food.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, unexpected but not unwelcome. You sighed, popping the lid open to reveal a neatly prepared meal. “...Fine. But if this kills me, I’m haunting you.”

Phainon beamed. “Deal.”

And so, your strange dynamic continued—one clueless doctor, one overly devoted, not-so-secret vigilante, and an ever-growing pile of suspiciously extravagant gifts you pretended not to question.

But as the days passed, you couldn’t ignore it anymore—the way his grip lingered when he handed you something, how he always seemed to know when you were exhausted, the fleeting shadows in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.

Something about Phainon was undeniably dangerous. And yet, when he smiled at you like you were his whole world, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The city breathed at night. It wasn’t the kind of breath that brought life—it was shallow, ragged, laced with rot. Beneath the neon glow of the skyline, the filth that called themselves "heroes" thrived, hiding behind capes and empty words.

Phainon had no patience for them.

He crouched on the rooftop of an abandoned parking structure, the cool wind ruffling his platinum hair. Below, the target moved, blissfully unaware of the predator watching from above.

Adrian Vaughn.

A hero by title. A parasite by nature. His record was pristine in the public eye—dozens of successful operations, multiple civilians "rescued," a shining beacon of hope for the people. But beneath that fabricated veneer, Vaughn was filth. Human trafficking, drug smuggling, bribery. He sold out the very people he was meant to protect, sending them into the hands of the highest bidder.

Phainon had been tracking him for weeks, studying his routines, his weaknesses. Tonight, he would erase his name from existence.

Vaughn turned into an alley, accompanied by two bodyguards dressed in sleek tactical gear. They weren’t ordinary thugs; they moved with the precision of trained killers. But Phainon wasn’t concerned.

He relished the challenge.

As Vaughn leaned against the brick wall, pulling out a cigar, Phainon dropped from the rooftop in complete silence.

The first man didn’t even have time to react. A dagger plunged into his throat, severing vocal cords before he could scream. Blood sprayed across the wall as Phainon twisted the blade, then yanked it free. The second guard barely managed to spin around, gun raised—

Too slow.

Phainon sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, and snapped it with a sickening crack. The gun clattered to the ground. Before the guard could register the pain, Phainon drove his knee into the man’s ribs, sending him crumpling. A swift strike to the temple, and the body hit the floor with a thud.

Vaughn stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror. “What the f—”

Phainon was on him before he could finish.

A brutal punch to the gut sent Vaughn reeling. He gasped, dropping his cigar, but Phainon didn’t let up. He grabbed the so-called hero by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall.

"Scared, ‘hero’?" Phainon murmured, voice dripping with mockery. His usual cheerful demeanor was nowhere to be found—only cold amusement remained.

Vaughn wheezed. "W-Wait—"

Phainon drove his fist into the man’s ribs, feeling something crack. Vaughn let out a choked sound of pain.

"Did your victims get to beg?" Phainon asked, tilting his head. "Did you let them plead before you sold them like cattle?"

Vaughn trembled. "I—I can pay you! Triple whatever you’re getting! Just—"

The words died in his throat as Phainon unsheathed a second dagger, pressing it lightly against Vaughn’s cheek. A thin line of blood beaded where the blade kissed skin.

"Oh, Vaughn," Phainon sighed theatrically. "You really think this is about money?"

Vaughn whimpered.

Phainon’s grip tightened. His blade trailed down Vaughn’s neck, slow, deliberate. He could feel the man’s pulse hammering beneath his skin.

"You pretend to be a savior," Phainon whispered, his breath warm against Vaughn’s ear. "But you’re just another parasite, feeding off the innocent."

With a flick of his wrist, he drove the dagger into Vaughn’s shoulder.

A scream tore from the so-called hero’s lips, echoing through the alley.

"Shh, shh," Phainon cooed, twisting the blade. "Screaming won’t help you. No one’s coming."

Vaughn gasped, clawing at Phainon’s wrist, but the grip was unyielding.

"Please—!"

Phainon’s eyes darkened.

He yanked the blade free and, in one swift motion, slashed downward. Vaughn’s body convulsed before sagging against the wall. His eyes, once filled with arrogance, were now lifeless.

A pool of blood spread beneath him.

Phainon exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.

Another name erased. Another stain cleansed.

Wiping the blood off his blade, he stepped over the corpses, retrieving the gun one of the bodyguards had dropped. He turned it over in his hands before smirking. A hero’s own weapon, used to kill his accomplices. The police would find the bodies in the morning and spin whatever story they wanted.

He didn’t care.

All that mattered was that Vaughn wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

The night welcomed him as he vanished into the darkness.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

You sat on the worn-out couch of your clinic, a half-eaten pancake held loosely in your hands. The morning air was still crisp, the warmth of your blanket cocooning you, yet something about Phainon felt…off.

He was smiling—he always was—but there was something different about it. A flicker of exhaustion hidden behind his golden eyes, the way his fingers drummed against his knee, restless.

Something had happened.

You swallowed a bite of your food, tilting your head. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

Phainon blinked, then grinned, feigning innocence. “What? Me? Angel, I am the very picture of health.”

You narrowed your eyes, setting your plate down. “Phainon.”

He flinched. You rarely used his name like that, not unless you were serious.

"Okay, okay, maybe I took a tiny night stroll," he admitted, waving a hand dismissively. "But look! I still had time to make you breakfast. Aren't I the best?"

You huffed, standing up and walking over to him. He was still sprawled lazily on your couch, but you could see it now—the tension in his shoulders, the subtle twitch in his fingers, as if his body hadn't fully come down from something.

You reached out, brushing your fingers against his wrist. "You're tense."

For the first time since walking in, he hesitated.

You weren’t stupid. Phainon was good at hiding things, slipping past questions with honeyed words and cheeky grins. But now, up close, you could see the faint traces of red beneath his nails, the way his hoodie sleeves were rolled just enough to hide fresh bruises blooming along his skin.

Blood that wasn’t his.

The realization hit like a whisper of cold air.

"You’re hurt."

Phainon blinked. Then he smiled—small this time, softer, a little weary. "Not really," he murmured. "I’ve had worse."

You sighed, grabbing his wrist more firmly now. "Sit up."

He raised a brow. "Bossy today, aren't we?"

You shot him a look, and with a chuckle, he obeyed, straightening as you moved to inspect him properly.

Your hands were gentle, fingers tracing over his knuckles, noting the split skin. A fresh bruise painted the side of his hand, likely from impact. His sleeves had smudges of something darker—wiped-off blood.

You didn’t ask who it belonged to. You didn’t think you wanted to know.

Instead, you focused on tending to him, pulling out your medical kit. "You always come to me like this," you muttered. "How many times do I have to patch you up before you stop throwing yourself into trouble?"

Phainon leaned back against the couch, watching you with a lopsided smirk. "Mm… I dunno. How many times are you willing to fix me up?"

You paused, fingers hovering over his bruised skin. He always did this—teased, danced around the weight of his actions. And yet, the way he looked at you now, cerulean eyes searching, waiting—

It made your heart stutter.

"You're an idiot," you murmured, dipping a cloth into antiseptic before pressing it against his hand.

Phainon winced slightly but didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch.

"Maybe," he hummed, voice lower now, almost thoughtful. "But I'm your idiot, aren't I?"

Your breath hitched.

The room was quiet now, save for the soft rustling of bandages as you wrapped his hand. He was watching you too closely, his usual playful mask slipping into something else—something heavier.

You could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his breathing had slowed. His free hand—uninjured, warm—lifted slightly, brushing against your wrist.

A silent question.

You swallowed.

"...You are," you admitted, barely above a whisper.

And that was all it took.

Phainon grinned, lazy and triumphant, before tugging you forward by the wrist. You barely had time to react before you found yourself half in his lap, your knees pressing against the couch cushions, his warmth seeping into your skin.

"Phainon—"

"Shhh," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. His voice was softer now, playful but laced with something deeper. "Just let me have this, angel."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You could feel his breath against your lips, the lingering scent of blood and something sweeter—cinnamon, from the breakfast he'd brought.

"You’re ridiculous," you mumbled, feeling heat creep up your neck.

Phainon chuckled, fingers brushing against your cheek. "And yet, you’re still here."

You wanted to argue, to shove him away and scold him for always making your heart race like this—but you didn't. Instead, you let yourself sink into the warmth of him, just for a moment.

The air smelled like rust and rain. Blood pooled into the cracks of the pavement, seeping into the earth like ink on paper. Phainon flicked his blade once, crimson droplets splattering against the nearby wall, before slipping it back into its holster.

The "hero" at his feet gurgled one last, pitiful sound before falling silent.

Pathetic.

Phainon sighed, running a gloved hand through his pristine white hair, pushing back strands that had fallen loose from his usual messy style. His blue eyes gleamed under the dim glow of a streetlamp, their usual mischievous shine dulled by the weight of his work.

"You done being dramatic, or should I start playing sad violin music?"

A voice, flat and unimpressed, cut through the night air.

Phainon turned his head, spotting a familiar figure standing against the alley wall—arms crossed, eyes narrowed, looking as grumpy as ever. Mydei.

Phainon grinned. "Aw, come on, don’t be like that, Mydei. You’re making it sound like I don’t do good work."

Mydei sighed, pushing off the wall with an irritated huff. His white uniform, pristine even in the grimy alley, barely had a speck of blood on it—contrasting Phainon’s more…chaotic approach. His ash-blonde hair with red tips was in a loose ponytail, with a braid out of place from his left side, and his sharp golden eyes burned with constant disapproval.

“I swear, working with you is an exercise in patience,” Mydei muttered, stepping over the corpse with little care. “You take too long.”

Phainon shrugged, stretching his arms above his head lazily. “Art takes time, Mydei. You can’t rush greatness.”

Mydei gave him a look. “We’re not painting a fucking masterpiece. We’re eliminating scum.”

“Eh, same thing.”

Another sigh. Mydei pinched the bridge of his nose like he was fighting off a migraine. “Just tell me it’s done so I can leave.”

“It’s done,” Phainon confirmed, rocking back on his heels. “You know, I don't get why you're always in such a rush. You should take time to appreciate the little things in life. Smell the roses, bask in the moonlight, think about the people you love—”

Mydei groaned. “Oh my god, do not start.”

Too late.

Phainon’s golden eyes softened, and a ridiculous, lovesick grin spread across his face. “Speaking of which, you won’t believe how adorable my angel looked this morning.” "Phainon shut up."

The clinic smelled like antiseptic and exhaustion. It was late—too late for anyone to still be working, and yet, there you were, hunched over a stack of medical files, barely blinking as you scribbled down notes.

Phainon leaned against the doorframe, watching with mild amusement and growing concern. He had come to visit—not because he was injured (for once), but because, well… he missed you. Not that he’d ever say it outright.

But the moment he stepped inside, he noticed something off.

Your movements were sluggish, and your usual sharp focus seemed dulled by exhaustion. There were dark circles under your eyes, your lips slightly chapped, and your uniform was wrinkled—like you hadn’t had a proper break in days.

Phainon frowned.

“Hey, Angel—”

“Don’t call me that,” you muttered, barely looking up from your work.

“Alright, alright. [Name].” His tone softened slightly. “How long have you been at this?”

You hummed distractedly, flipping a page. “Since morning.”

Phainon’s brow twitched. “…It’s midnight.”

“Mm.”

Oh, hell no.

Before he could argue, you sniffled slightly. Then—

A single drop of red hit the page in front of you.

Phainon stiffened. His cerulean blue eyes widened slightly as he watched another drop fall.

You blinked. Touched your nose. Oh. Blood.

“Ah…” you mumbled, finally acknowledging your own state. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Phainon echoed incredulously.

You waved him off, already reaching for a tissue. “It’s fine. I just need to—”

“Sit. Down.”

Your hands froze.

When you finally looked up, Phainon was giving you a look. His usual easygoing grin was gone, replaced with something serious. It wasn’t often you saw him like this—jaw tight, eyes sharp, expression unreadable.

"Phai, I still have—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “You’re overworking yourself to the point of bleeding, [Name]. That’s not normal.”

You scoffed. “It’s just a nosebleed.”

“It’s not just a nosebleed when you’ve been running on fumes for who knows how long,” he shot back. “Have you even eaten today?”

You didn’t answer. That was answer enough.

Phainon sighed, dragging a hand through his messy white hair. “Unbelievable.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving. You barely had time to react before he grabbed the chair you were sitting in and spun it around so you were facing him. Then, to your surprise, he crouched down in front of you, resting his arms on his knees as he looked up at you with an unreadable expression.

The change in height was jarring. He was always towering over you at 6’2, but now? Now he looked genuinely concerned.

“Hey,” his voice softened. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, but you met his gaze.

“…When’s the last time you slept properly?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You swallowed. “Um.”

“That’s what I thought.” He clicked his tongue. “Angel—”

You shot him a weak glare.

“Fine, fine. [Name].” He sighed again, softer this time. “You can’t keep this up.”

You glanced at the files on your desk. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice was gentle, but firm. “The world isn’t gonna end if you take a break.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, Phainon reached out and—

Tapped your forehead.

You blinked in surprise.

“Rest,” he murmured, his tone carrying an uncharacteristic warmth. “For me?”

For a moment, you just… stared at him.

The cerulean blue of his eyes was unusually soft, like the glow of the sky just before dawn. His messy white hair framed his face, strands falling over his forehead, but he made no move to fix it. He was just there, crouched in front of you, waiting.

You sighed. “…Fine.”

A slow, satisfied grin stretched across Phainon’s face. “Good.”

Then, to your utter horror, he stood up—grabbed you by the shoulders—and physically dragged you out of your chair.

“Phai—! What are you—”

“Bed. Now.”

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he said cheerfully, leading you toward the break room. “I’m amazing.”

You groaned. “You’re annoying.”

“And you love me for it.”

“Shut up.”

He only laughed.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

For the first time that night, the clinic was quiet.

The usual hum of your overworked mind had finally been silenced—replaced by the soft, even breaths of sleep. Phainon leaned against the doorway of the break room, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You had knocked out almost immediately after your head hit the pillow. Figures. Your body had probably been screaming for rest, and yet, you'd kept going until you'd collapsed.

He sighed through his nose, running a hand through his messy white hair.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words.

The dim clinic lights cast soft shadows over your face, highlighting the exhaustion that had settled deep into your features. He had never seen you like this before—not just tired, but completely worn down. It made something tighten in his chest.

You always worked too damn hard. Too much responsibility. Too much weight on your shoulders.

Phainon hated it.

His cerulean blue eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally moved. Quietly, he stepped forward, pulling the blanket over your shoulders. You barely stirred, only sighing in your sleep as you curled further into the warmth.

He huffed a quiet laugh, crouching down beside you.

"You really do too much, y'know," he murmured, mostly to himself. "What would you do without me, huh?"

Silence.

A small smile ghosted over his lips.

His gloved fingers brushed against a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You always looked so sharp, so focused—yet here, like this, you looked… peaceful.

He let out another sigh, softer this time.

“…Rest, Angel,” he murmured.

And for once, you did.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the silence.

No beeping machines, no shuffling patients, no ringing phone. Just the soft, comforting quiet of a world you weren’t used to.

Then, the second thing hit you.

You felt… rested.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Your eyes shot open, and the moment you glanced at the clock, your stomach dropped.

2:07 PM.

You had been asleep for over thirteen hours.

Panic surged through you, and you shot up so fast that the blanket slipped off your shoulders. "Oh, shit—I—"

"You’re finally up, Angel."

Your head whipped toward the source of the voice.

Phainon leaned lazily against the doorframe, his usual easygoing smile in place. He looked completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just let you sleep through half the day.

"Thirteen hours?!" you nearly shrieked, throwing the blanket off yourself. "Why the hell didn’t you wake me up? I have patients—I have work—"

"You don’t," Phainon said smoothly, pushing off the doorframe and strolling toward you. "I told the nurse to cancel all your appointments for the day."

You froze.

"You what?"

Phainon only grinned, placing his hands on his hips like he’d done something heroic. "Today, you’re gonna rest and take care of yourself."

Your brain short-circuited. "Phai, you canceled my entire schedule?! Do you know how many—"

"Yup. And I’d do it again." He patted your head before you could dodge, his cerulean eyes glinting mischievously. "You're lucky I didn’t call a damn intervention."

You smacked his hand away with a scowl. "You can’t just decide that for me!"

"Yeah?" He arched a brow. "Then tell me, oh mighty doctor—when’s the last time you actually got a full night’s sleep?"

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

He had a point.

You hated that he had a point.

"...Exactly." Phainon ruffled your hair again, this time dodging your half-hearted attempt to swat him. "Now, c’mon. I made breakfast."

You blinked.

Your eyes trailed past him, toward the break room, and sure enough, you smelled it—the unmistakable scent of eggs, toast, and something slightly sweet.

Your stomach betrayed you with a low grumble.

Phainon’s grin widened.

"...Fine," you muttered, crossing your arms. "But only because I’m starving."

"Uh-huh," he teased, motioning for you to follow. "C’mon, Angel, let me spoil you for once."

You rolled your eyes, but despite yourself, warmth curled in your chest. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

After reluctantly agreeing to Phainon’s so-called "rest day," you made your way to the bathroom, still half-convinced this was some elaborate prank.

But the moment you stepped into the warm shower, feeling the tension in your muscles slowly melt away, you realized just how much you needed this.

For once, you weren’t rushing.

No patients waiting outside. No phone buzzing with emergency calls. No back-to-back shifts looming over your head.

Just peace.

You took your time—longer than usual—letting the hot water soothe your overworked body. Once you finally emerged, refreshed and slightly dazed, you dried your hair, slipped into comfortable clothes, and stepped out into the main clinic space.

And the first thing you saw was him.

Phainon sat on the couch, casually twirling something between his fingers. The moment his cerulean blue eyes landed on you, his entire face lit up.

Like a puppy seeing its favorite person.

"You look cute all cozy," he teased, tilting his head.

You scoffed, but before you could throw back a retort, he suddenly reached for your hand.

You blinked as he placed something cold and sleek against your palm.

A… black credit card?

You stared down at it, then back at him. "Uh, Phai? What the hell is this?"

His smile only grew. "Your new best friend."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why do you have a black credit card with no limit? And why are you giving it to me?"

He leaned forward, propping his chin on one hand as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Because," he drawled, tapping the card in your hand, "I want you to spoil yourself."

You deadpanned. "Phai."

"Angel."

"Phainon."

"[Name]."

You groaned. "This is insane! I can’t just—"

"Sure, you can," he interrupted smoothly, flashing you a grin. "Buy whatever you want. Clothes, skincare, a new bed, hell—buy a whole damn island if it makes you happy."

"Why are you like this?" you muttered, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Because you deserve it," he said, voice softer this time. No teasing, no smugness—just pure, genuine sincerity. "You work your ass off for everyone else. So, let me take care of you for once, yeah?"

You bit your lip, suddenly unsure how to respond.

The idea of spending his money—let alone this much money—felt ridiculous. But the way he looked at you, so effortlessly warm and unwavering in his care, made your chest tighten.

"...I’ll think about it," you muttered, shoving the card into your pocket.

Phainon beamed. "That’s my girl."

You flushed. "Phai—"

"Shhh." He grinned, standing up and ruffling your hair. "Now, go pick something. Or better yet, let’s go out, and I’ll help you spend it."

You were lounging on the couch, finally allowing yourself a moment of rest, when you heard a loud thud.

Your head snapped up just in time to see Phainon stumble back, one hand clutching his forehead after walking straight into the wall.

For a second, there was silence. Then—

"Ow."

Your stomach dropped. "Phai?!"

Without thinking, you shot up from your seat and rushed to him. His cerulean eyes blinked in mild confusion as you cupped his face, tilting it down so you could examine his forehead.

"Let me see," you mumbled, scanning for any signs of bruising. "God, you’re such an idiot. How did you even—"

Before you could finish, Phainon suddenly turned his head—

And pressed a soft kiss against the inside of your palm.

You froze.

The warmth of his lips lingered against your skin, his gaze locked onto yours, impossibly fond and teasing all at once.

"Don’t worry, Angel," he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. "You won’t lose me that easily."

Your breath hitched, heart thudding a little too fast. "Phai—"

But before anything else could happen—

The door slammed open.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You jolted in shock as a familiar figure stormed inside.

Dressed in his usual crisp uniform, Mydei stood at the entrance, his golden eyes immediately narrowing at the scene before him. His already grumpy expression twisted into something even darker the moment he spotted you—cupping Phainon’s face—while Phainon was holding your wrist way too tenderly.

For a long, tense moment, there was silence.

Then—

"BRO GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

Your brain short-circuited. "…What?"

Phainon, to your absolute horror, simply turned to him with a shit-eating grin. "Ohhh, so now you decide to show up?"

"PHAINON, I SWEAR TO GOD—"

"Wait, wait, wait," you cut in, still trying to process literally everything. You looked between the two men—one your unbearably clingy not-so-secret admirer, the other your grumpy older brother who should not be here. "What do you mean ‘sister’?!"

"What do you mean ‘now you show up’?!"

Mydei scowled, ignoring your question entirely. "I knew something was up. The way you’ve been talking about some ‘angel’ non-stop—"

"Ohhh," Phainon mused, leaning back slightly. "Now it all makes sense."

You turned to him, utterly bewildered. "What makes sense?!"

He simply beamed at you, still completely unbothered. "Angel, did I forget to mention?* Your brother and I are coworkers.*"

You blinked. Then, slowly—painfully—you turned to Mydei. "You what?"

Your brother pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about "just one damn night without problems." Then, exhaling sharply, he shot Phainon a glare that could’ve killed a man on the spot.

"This is exactly why I told you not to get involved," Mydei growled. "But nooo, you just had to imprint on my little sister like a lost puppy—"

Phainon grinned. "You call it imprinting. I call it fate."

"Phainon, I swear—"

"Everyone shut up!" you finally snapped, massaging your temples. "Someone start explaining before I actually lose my mind."

Mydei glared at Phainon like he was this close to throwing him out the window. "You first, dumbass."

Phainon chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Where do I even start? The part where we’ve been hunting down corrupt heroes together? Or the part where I fell for your sister the moment she patched me up?"

Mydei’s eye twitched. "Get the fuck out."

"No can do, big bro," Phainon said, grinning. "I live for danger, and your sister happens to be my favorite one."

Mydei clenched his fists. "I am so going to kill you."

Meanwhile, you just stood there, completely overwhelmed.

Your brother was a secret vigilante.

Phainon was his partner in crime.

And apparently, Mydei had no idea that Phainon had been sneaking into your life like a love-struck idiot this entire time.

You let out a slow, suffering sigh. "I need another bath."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ Its been 47 fucking minutes and those two gigantic men are STILL arguing

You inhaled sharply through your nose, gripping the bridge of your nose as both Phainon and Mydei continued their bickering like two overgrown children.

"I swear to god," Mydei seethed, jabbing a finger at Phainon. "If you so much as breathe near my sister again—"

"Too late," Phainon interrupted smoothly, looking completely unbothered. "I’ve already done much more than breathing. Did you know her hands are so soft—"

"PHAINON, I WILL MURDER YOU."

"OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!"

Your voice boomed through the room, silencing both men immediately.

They both snapped their heads toward you, wide-eyed, as you glared at them with the force of someone who had been through way too much in one day.

"I don’t care who kills who," you hissed. "I don’t care who works with who, and I especially don’t care about your dumb territorial bullshit. Both of you, just—SHUT UP."

A thick, heavy silence filled the air.

Then, very slowly—

Phainon’s expression crumbled into the most heart-wrenchingly sad look you had ever seen.

His cerulean eyes went wide with devastation. His lips wobbled slightly. His shoulders slumped. His entire demeanor changed into that of an abandoned puppy who had just been kicked out into the rain.

And then—he sank onto the floor.

"...Okay," he mumbled, looking utterly defeated.

You blinked. "Phai, what are you doing—"

Before you could finish, Mydei also stiffened.

Your brother—grumpy, terrifying, merciless vigilante Mydei—visibly swallowed, his golden eyes darting between you and Phainon. Then, hesitantly, with all the grace of a cat who didn’t want to admit guilt—he sat down beside Phainon.

"...Sorry," he grumbled.

You stared at them.

One sad, abandoned puppy.

One guilty, grumpy cat.

Sitting on your floor.

Like two children who had just been scolded by their mom.

You let out the biggest sigh of your life and rubbed your temples. "You both have got to be kidding me."

Phainon, still looking like he had been emotionally devastated, peeked up at you through messy white bangs. "Angel… are you still mad at me?"

You exhaled sharply. "No."

Phainon immediately perked up, tail-wagging energy returning. "Okay, cool. So I can—"

"DON’T PUSH IT."

"Okay," he whispered, sitting back down.

Beside him, Mydei grumbled under his breath before side-eyeing Phainon. "...Why are you sitting on the floor?"

Phainon turned to him and blinked. "Because you sat down."

"I sat down because she was mad at me!"

"Yeah, and she was mad at me too."

"So what, you just copied me?"

"Pretty much."

Mydei groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hate you so much." "But your sister loves me ;)"

[temporarywelcome]

Please? - Peter Maximoff

Word Count: 3.5k

REQUESTED!

The Ask: I humbly ask for a Peter Maximoff smut, I'm thinking y/n either a: distracts him while he is playing his arcade games, b: using whipped cream to give him a lil sweet treat while fucking, or c: literally any smut of this man, I need him. Preferably him being a little cocky/silly, but when you actually do anything he is a whimpering mess praising you. - @envy-of-greed

I give you... Option A.

WARNINGS: SMUT! oral (m recieve), handjob, mommy kink, praise, reader is a tease, reader is MEAN, sub!peter, dom!reader, Peter becomes a MESS, reader calls him "pup" and "puppy" like once, aftercare, alluding to punishment

A/N: gonna work on a Spencer Reid fluff/comedic fic next

_____

Peter was annoying as hell.

She loved him to bits, she would do absolutely anything for him, but she was allowed to admit her boyfriend was a complete terror?

Y/N was peacefully sitting in her room when her telephone had rang. Placing down her magazine, she reached for it, bringing it to her ear, “Hello?”

“Babeeee,”

What a surprise this was. Peter Maximoff, who usually would just show up unannounced with his super speed, decided to give her a phone call?

“Peter? What’s the occasion?” she asked with a smile, leaning back against her pillows, twirling the telephone’s wire in her newly manicured fingers. 

“Eh, I just remember you saying you like phone calls, the bonding or whatever. So i wanted to give you one.”

That made her heart melt. This little terror was sometimes a complete angel as well. “Yeah…” Y/N replied, “I love phone calls. Your voice sounds so nice on the phone, by the way,”

She could already picture him blushing. “I-It does? I mean, of course, yeah it does! I’m Peter freaking Maximoff, babe. Everything about me is top-tier,”

“You could work on your baking skills,” she mused, remembering literally every single time she would attempt to bake something with him. Flour everywhere. Remnants of cake or brownie batter on his face because he just had to eat some (a lot). Firealarm going off. Burnt baked goods. Every. Single. Time.

“Bitch! Every baking failure is your fault for always distracting me!” he whined in protest.

“How the hell do I distract you? I’m baking too!” 

“ ‘Cause you’re pretty,” Peter replied cheekily, and she knew he would have wiggled his eyebrows if she could see him, “How am I supposed to focus?”

“Stop making excuses for your terrible baking skills. Even if I wasn’t there, you would be a mess,”

“For different reasons,” Peter scoffed, “I can’t bake by myself, I need your guidance,”

“But you can’t bake with me either because you allegedly get distracted. Sounds like you just can’t bake,”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, making her laugh, “Let’s get to more important business: when can I pick you up?”

“I wasn’t aware of being picked up at all,”

“Yeah well I’m picking you up. I wanna spend some time with you!” she could hear his excited tone that was so uniquely Peter. Everything about him was unique. Everything about him was different and weird and strange and she loved every part of him. 

“Well…” Y/N sighed, “I was going to start on some homework…”

“Boooo! College student booooo!”

“Shit, excuse me for wanting an education. Better than planning on living in my mom’s basement for the rest of my life,” she teased.

“Ouch. Fine. Can’t you do your homework later?”

“I’ve been procrastinating on it,” Y/N set down her magazine, getting off of the bed and walking to her desk, stretching her body as far as she could with the limits of the phone cord. Fingertips brushing against her notebook, she was able to grab it, nestling back into her bed and opening it, “Shit, it’s a lot.”

“Who cares? Finish it tomorrow!”

“It’s due in the morning.”

She could already tell he was pouting, she knew him so well. “Can’t you do it at my place?”

“You mean your mom’s place?” Y/N decided to keep teasing him. Peter was pretty much a loser, not really having any plans in life other than to lounge in his mom’s basement playing video games and eating twinkies for eternity. He thought he was a loser, Y/N’s parents thought he was a loser (which is why they don’t like him much), even Y/N thought he was a loser when they had first met. 

Yet here she was, smiling like an idiot while babbling on the telephone with said loser. Said loser who always gives her (stolen) gifts. Said loser who comes over at random points in the day just to say he loves her (superspeed is pretty handy). Said loser who named his Dungeons and Dragons character after her (however, he was such a loser, he didn’t have many people to play it with). Said loser who would scoff and pout whenever she would tease him about being her future house husband (well, what else would he be, if he just plays video games and dotes on her all day?) Her favorite loser. 

“Yes,” Peter deadpanned, “My mom’s place. Now may I come over so I can escort you to my mom’s place?”

She pretended to think about it, hearing his soft breathing on the other line as he waited for her to answer, “Fine. No distractions though!” 

“Yes, ma’am,”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, jumping when she heard a harsh knock on her window. Whipping her head towards the source of the noise, she rolled her eyes with a laugh. Peter, waving at her with his usual happy dorky expression. Placing the phone back down onto its receiver, Y/N rushed towards the window, opening it. “Babe!”

“Missed me?” he asked with a smirk, zipping into her room and right past her, making her roll her eyes again. He picked up her notebook, examining the pages, “Ew ew ew. What the hell are you studying again?”

“Psychology,” Y/N sat on the bed, slipping her sneakers on and tying them. 

“Boring,” he sped off in a blur to her desk, grabbing a pencil, and rushing back to her notebook. 

She didn’t even notice, focused on her sneakers, but when she raised her head and saw him drawing on her notebook, her facial expression soured, “Pietro Maximoff!” she snatched the notebook back, flicking his forehead. 

“Hey!” he gasped dramatically, “Ain’t no way you used my real name.”

“You misbehave to the point I have to like a mom,” Y/n replied dryly, going off to her closet to grab her bag. Brows furrowing, she dug around a bit, “Shit… Dunno where my bag went-”

“Ahem,”

Y/N didn’t even have to turn to know what that meant. But she did, and, not to her surprise, Peter was holding her bag with a smirk on his face. 

“Asshole,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew him well. If she attempted to grab the bag, he would just zoom off somewhere else to tease her. 

“Aren’t you going to get it?” he asked with faux innocence, holding it out to her. 

“Fuck that, I know what you’re planning,” Y/N shook her head, raising her brow at him expectantly, “Drop the bag,”

“Um, am I a dog?” He placed a hand to his chest, jaw dropping like the drama king he was. He should have been in theatre when he was in school. 

“Do I have to treat you like one?” Y/N threatened boldly, “Come on, pup, drop the bag,”

Peter’s eyes widened and he dropped the bag, “You did not just say that,” 

“Well, it worked,” Y/N smirked, grabbing her bag and planting a kiss on his cheek, “Good boy,” She began throwing her supplies for her homework into her bag, unaware of the growing dent in his pants. 

“Bitch,” he mumbled to himself, too quiet for her to hear. 

“Alright, I’m ready to go,” she announced, slinging her bag over her shoulder. He just stood there, eyes glazed over. “Earth to Peter?” she snapped her fingers in his face twice before he blinked, coming back down to society. 

“Okayletsgetoutofhere,” he word vomited, grabbing her waist (with one hand on her neck, of course! Gotta prevent that whiplash!), and within seconds, they were in his room (the basement). 

“Shit, am I ever gonna get used to that?” Y/N laughed, flopping onto his unmade bed in dizziness. Before she could react, Peter dived in on top of her, making her let out a pained, “Oof!” and a “Peter!”

A childish giggle left him, arms going around her waist as he nuzzled into her neck, “Hm?”

“Can’t breathe,”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I apologize, my dainty little princess,” she deadpanned, arms going around him too. Yes, he was crushing her, but she honestly didn’t care, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. She then felt something on her thigh. Felt like something was poking-

Oh.

Oh.

She smirked, but didn’t say anything about what she just realized, casually stroking his hair, “My pretty puppy,”

He gasped, immediately dashing off. Poor thing was flustered, playing one of his (stolen) arcade games, back turned to her. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N immediately got to teasing him, “I thought we were cuddling?”

“Wanna game,” he replied simply, and his ears went red. Cutie pie. 

“You wanna game? But I thought you wanted to spend time with me?” she laughed.

“You said you wanted to do your homework,” 

“True true…” she opened up her notebook, glancing at his squirming figure, “You dancin’, love?”

“No, I’m not dancing,” was all he said. There were plenty of times he didn’t catch onto her teasing, which was always adorable. This seemed to be one of them.

“Then why are you moving like that?” 

“Like what?” Now he was playing dumb. He groaned as he died in the game, restarting it.

She slid off of the bed, walking to him and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she said, “You’re acting funny, darling,” she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, feeling him tense under her touch.

“N-No, I’m not,”

“Oh, really?” One hand reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before planting a kiss there, “You’ve been acting funny ever since I called you a good boy,” His breath hitched, making her smirk, “I didn’t know calling you that would have such an effect on you, baby. Maybe it’s because you’re so bratty, you don’t hear that often, huh?”

“Stoooop,” he whined, losing in his game again, “You made me lose,” Peter pouted. 

“Hm,” she let her hands drop lower, fiddling with the button of his pants absentmindedly, “You must be slacking, Peter! You should be able to game under any condition, right?”

“But-”

“Nuhuh,” she pressed a finger to his plush lips, “No ‘but’s from you. We gotta practice your concentration skills, my love. They’re lacking,” she unbuttoned his jeans, making him gasp. His hands were gripping the game’s controls tightly, however they were unmoving as she palmed him through his boxers. “Hey,” she roughly squeezed his length, making him squeak cutely. “Did I say you could stop? C’mon, time to practice.” 

“S-Sorry, Y/N,” he stuttered out, hitting restart again. She squeezed his cock through his boxers again, earning a whine from him. 

“Now what do you call me when I play with you?” Y/N asked tauntingly, running a single finger over his clothed length. Up and down. Up and down. Up and-

“Mommy,” he bit his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning. 

“That’s right, darling, I’m Mommy,” She stepped away, confusing him, until she got down on the floor, crawling right between him and the game. “Mommy’s going to take care of your pretty cock now, okay?” Her hands trailed towards the belt loops of his jeans as she spoke, “You are not allowed to stop playing your game. Each in-game death is two spanks. You’re not allowed to cum till you clear three levels, understood?”

Peter’s cheeks flared up and he nodded excitedly, “Yes, Mommy,” 

“Good boy,” she purred, pulling down his pants and letting them pool at his ankles. Fingers dipping into the waistband of his boxers, she cooed, already noticing a small wet patch, “So excited, huh?” she pulled down his boxers, letting them join his pants on the floor. Y/N stuck out her index finger, letting it run along his cock like before. Up and down. Up and down. Up and-

“-Mommy,” Peter whined, “Stop teasing me, please,”

“Oh? The bratty boy is using his manners?” she cooed, wrapping her fingers around his thick length and slooooowly stroking him, “Remember the rules and everything will feel amazing, yeah?”

He nodded, sucking in a breath, “Y-Yeah,” Peter tried to focus on his game, he really did, trying his best to get his character past the villainous NPCs. But as soon as Y/N began to stroke faster, he whimpered, his character being slain. 

“Oh?” Y/N smirked, pausing her movements and making him whine more, “Already lost? That’s two spanks, darling,”

“Sorry, Mommy…” He mumbled in embarrassment, restarting the game, “I won't do it again- fuck,” She started stroking him again, the delicious feeling going straight to his pretty little head. Any sort of sexual intimacy would immediately make his brain short-circuit, causing him to be complete putty in her hands.

“I know you won’t do it again, Peter, because you’re a good boy, right?” Y/N’s lips curled into a little smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to his tip, continuing to stroke him. “You’re my good boy?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, bottom lip between his teeth as he attempted his game again, his avatar jumping through obstacles and avoiding approaching enemies, “I’m y-your good boy- ughhh,” she wrapped her pretty lips around his tip, teasingly sucking on it. He bit his bottom lip again, hard enough to draw blood. 

Peter couldn’t help it, he took a glance down at Y/N, mouth going dry seeing her sucking on his tip, stroking him in a steady rhythm with her own eyes looking dead at his. His eyes widened seeing her take him deeper into her mouth, eyes not leaving his for even a second.

Game over.

He looked up at the screen of his game, realizing his character died again. Fuck. 

Y/N pulled her mouth off of his dick with a pop, making him whimper, “Two more spanks, darling. That’s four now.”

This was going to suck. This was going to suck in the best way possible. 

“Didn’t you say you were going to be a good boy?” Y/N asked, pouting exageratively, “I remember you saying you were going to be a good boy,”

“I am your good boy!” Peter huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Y/N laughed, pressing a kiss to his thigh, “You’re so cute, baby. Now, c’mon, start the game again. You’ll never get to cum at this rate.”

Poor thing panics, starting the game up again. He began spamming the buttons desperately, wanting to clear those three levels so Y/N would allow him to cum. Overstimulation was hot as hell, but edging was terrible (which is why that was her usual punishment for him).  

Her lips were on him again, sucking hard, and poor guy was seeing fucking stars trying to focus on this damn fucking game. He was a good gamer, these levels should be easy to clear, but when Mommy is sucking his cock how is he able to focus on such a thing? He would rather abandon the game and fuck her like a bitch in heat, which is certainly what he felt like at that moment. 

It was torture. Spamming buttons desperately, not beating the level, the threat of edging and spanking in the air. He was going crazy.

“Thats ten spanks now, baby,” Y/N said after another failed level, “I thought you were good at games,”

“I-I am!” He exclaimed, “It's hard to fucking focus when you're sucking the soul out of me!” A pout formed on his pretty lips, brows furrowed as he attempted to play the level again. 

“Watch your tone, Peter,” Y/N glared at him, making him feel emotional. Whenever he was in a vulnerable place like this, it's embarrassingly easy for him to burst into tears. Especially because during any form of intimacy he was baby or darling or something cute, never Peter. Why would she call him by his name? Was he being bad?

“Sorry, Mama,” he mumbled.

Y/N couldn't help but smile softly, being reminded once again how much she adored him. Her pretty boy. Her favorite loser. Being called her titles by him always made her weak at the knees. “I know, baby,” she was a soft domme at heart, she can't be mad at him. Ever. He was her baby and he deserved the whole world. “Let's try this again, okay?”

She waited for him to nod before taking him into her mouth again. His pretty tip was red and hot in her mouth, dribbling pre-cum on her tongue as she swirled the muscle along. 

He finally beat the first level, moving on to the next excitedly. He was getting somewhere now! Soon he'll be allowed to cum and maybe Y/N will let him inside…

Yes, he really wanted to be inside her. 

Y/N began taking him deeper into her mouth, and fuck he felt his tip nudge the back of her throat so perfectly he wanted to cum. So bad. But he won't because he's a good boy and he's not going to cum until he's allowed to. 

That was the plan, at least.

But his name was Quicksilver for a reason and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. His left hand was gripping the joystick painfully hard, knuckles white as he moved it around in an attempt to get his character across the map to the next level. 

He finally made it to the third level, sighing in relief. He was getting somewhere. Almost to the end. She was bobbing her head up and down, one hand gently rubbing his tender balls, bringing him closer and closer to release. 

“AhI’msoclosethatfeelssogoodthankyouthankyouI’msoclose” he babbled out, speaking practically a mile a minute. A wide grin appeared on his face once he cleared the third level, “IdiditcanIcomenowpleasecanIcumnow-”

She pulled off of his dick again, making him groan in both desperation and annoyance, “You cleared the level? Good job, sweetie. I guess I can let you cum now…” They both stared at each other, Peter panting and his chest rising with each labored breath, Y/N batting her eyelashes at him meanly, continuing to tease him. He was ready to just start fucking her face and go wild, but he told himself he was going to behave.

So he’s going to behave. 

Ugh, but why does she have to make it so hard? 

“Can you keep going?” he finally asked.

“Should I, though?”

“You… You promised!” he gasped, eyes widening in panic.

“Hmmm, I don’t remember promising anything,” she replied, trailing her finger along his shaft like she always did when she wanted to fucking tease him. Up and down up and down up and down-

“Please?” Was she really going to make him beg? She knew he hated begging, which is probably why she enjoyed making him do that so much. 

All she did was hum, continuing with that aggravating motion of her finger, fucking asshole. 

“Please, Mommy?” he grumbled, hands balling into fists at his sides to keep him from going crazy. Think with your head and not your dick, Peter.

Y/N gave him another mean smirk, “That’s my boy…” she went straight back to sucking him off, and he was back to being a fucking mess. 

“ThatfeelssogoodyoualwaysdosogoodfuckI’mgoingtocumcanIcumpleasepleaseplease-”

She nodded, not stopping her sucking motion for even a second. However, his eyes were screwed shut so he didn’t even notice, continuing to beg to cum till she released his dick from her mouth and said, “You can cum, baby,” with a little laugh before going right back to work. 

And within two seconds of being back inside her mouth, he was cumming hard, hands going to her hair for something to keep him grounded. When she pulled away from his cock once again, she swallowed without a second thought, rubbing his thigh soothingly, “You still there, baby?”

“Mhm,” Peter was a known chatterbox, everybody knew this. But every time after cumming, his desire to speak would vanish, the need to just be held and taken care of overpowering all else. 

So Y/N stood up, taking his hand, “Let’s lay down, yeah?” She knew Peter could not last long, however, he could bounce back extremely fast. Just some cuddles will do, and he’ll be back to either a) yapping her ear off, or b) being hard as a rock. Or both. Who knows? 

She laid down on his (unmade) bed, pulling him down beside her, “You need anything, baby?” He simply shrugged, arms going around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder, “Water?” He shook his head. “Snack?” Fast nod. Of course. “Alright,” she went to sit up, but he immediately tightened his grip on her. “Didn’t you want a snack?” she laughed.

He thought for a moment before hesitantly releasing her from his hold, allowing her to get up and go to his practical tower of Hostess treats, grabbing a box of Twinkies. His favorite. Sitting back down, she opened up the box, unwrapping a cakey treat while he leaned against her again. 

“Here you go,” she said softly, letting Peter pluck the dessert from her hand and eat it. It was silent as he ate, her hand going to his hair to gently stroke the silver strands. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled after he finished, looking up at her with a cute smile, “You always know just what I need,” he nuzzled his nose into her neck, inhaling her scent. “Love you,”

“Love you too, baby,” she kissed his head, sighing peacefully, “So… about that punishment…”

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: surprise! Something to tide you guys over until the heart-wrencher that is part five!! Y'know, gotta have some laughs before everything blows up 💣 or something like that :)

previous chapter ▪︎ series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

What happens when your castmates decide to have a drinking game based on yours and Ewan's interviews? Chaos. Absolute chaos.

"Is it just me or does my head look abnormally large in this?" comes Tom's query as they sit on the floor around the low table in Phia's living room.

Phia, Tom, and Olivia are snug on the carpet, legs strewn in varying postions, their attention on the laptop on the table.

"No, just you, mate," Phia responds.

"Nah, look at 'im," Olivia counters, "Looking like a right old egghead."

"I knew it," Tom clicks his tongue, smiling at the jab.

The friends were just having a nice time catching up in Phia's apartment, and after several coffees and rolled cigarettes, they found themselves nestled on the floor, beers in hand.

Someone made a suggestion to check up on the interviews being released as part of the media rollout. And so they watched the cast's interviews, already having done with the one from Wired, MTV, and the Buzzfeed Puppy Interview.

"I loved those pups," Olivia remarked jokingly. "But they didn't love me back. Story of my life."

"Oh, I love you, Liv!" Phia had exclaimed, pulling her friend in for a hug.

"Aaanyway," Phia says, reaching forward and scrolling through the suggested videos, "how about this one next! I miss those two." She clicks on an interview you and Ewan had done together, in that long press day where you guys were paired by the media team.

"They look adorable, don't they?" Tom says. "Here's to hoping the lad's finally made a bloody move."

"What about the goss on that girl you all were with? The one at the pub?" Olivia curiously asks, not kept in the loop due to her holiday abroad.

"All bull. You know how the tabloids are. She was sweet and everything but Ewan was practically side-eyeing her all the way into oblivion when she kept clinging on his arm. Poor girl." Tom smirks, the memory still fresh in his mind.

"Awww, look! Ewan's looking at her all gooey-eyed. Even then!" Phia simpers, leaning against Olivia.

"Of course, I was extremely excited and nervous to join the cast for season two," you can be heard saying, "being a huge fan of the book and the first season... I mean, it was such a tall order for me to step into this world but you know - "

"She did it so flawlessly," Ewan says to the interviewer. "We were so lucky to have her join the show."

"Oh, come on," you can't help but blush and shake your head. "Everyone was so welcoming, really."

"Well, it's safe to say that the audience loves your character!" the interviewer says kindly.

"Thank you so much, I'm glad to hear that," you beam in return.

"What a character, indeed," Ewan says, looking at you again.

Tom giggles, swinging his beer, "The look on his face, oh my days! Ewan is whi-ipped, I'm telling you. Just look at those stars in his eyes, you'd think she's an angel or somethin."

"She is an angel," Phia muses.

"Lovely girl," Olivia agrees.

"Oh!" Tom sits upright suddenly, leaning forward on his knees, "How about this? They've got a couple interviews up, right? Drinking game then, shall we? A shot each time Ewan looks at her or pays her a compliment!"

Olivia laughs nervously, but she's more than game to participate. "A swig of beer or... "

"Nah!" Tom scrunches his face in response. "Say, Phi, have you got vodka or tequila or whatever?"

"I... think I've got some leftover tequila," she ponders. "Are you proposing a shot of tequila every time Ewan fawns over her? Isn't that a bit dangerous? Should we stick to beer?"

"It'll be fun," Tom reassures, already getting on his feet to fetch the bottle from the kitchen. "Ewan's a professional," he says, when he returns with tequila and three shot glasses. "Surely he maintained his focus during all of that. Can't be more than - what, three or four shots each?"

Oh, how wrong he is.

It only takes another interview for them to realise that they might have been overzealous in taking on the challenge.

Most Likely To with the cast of House of the Dragon, the screen displays. You and Ewan pop up in intervals, and they eagerly await your clips with shots in hand.

"Most likely to be late on set?" you say, raising your hands when you answer with, "I'm happy to say that it was not me."

"No?" Ewan asks.

"Nope, early each day," you smile at him.

"I believe you, I mean, I wish we actually had scenes together," Ewan says, smiling right back, eyes lingering on you when you add something more to your answer.

"Shot!" Tom exclaims. The trio's faces crunch up when the burning liquid slides down their throats.

"Fuck's sake," Olivia mutters. "Ewan better keep his googly eyes to himself."

"Don't get your hopes up," Phia says, knowing the both of you well.

"Most likely to accidentally date a serial killer? What the hell is this question?" Ewan snorts, eyebrows shooting up.

"Are we even in the right show for this?" you joke, and Ewan laughs harder, his hand finding your forearm and squeezing briefly.

"Shot, I suppose," Phia mumbles. "I mean, look at his face, the sweetheart."

Another round, and everyone feels warmer and more lightheaded.

"Wouldn't be me, I don't know about you?" you ask Ewan.

"Oh, I wouldn't. I don't think Aemond would either, he would see right through that."

"Next, most likely to show up in a stunning outfit," you read from the prompts off-camera.

"Hmm," Ewan muses, "I would say maybe Liv Cooke... she's had really good outfits on the carpet lately..."

"I agree," you nod enthusiastically. "Liv's killing it."

"And you, definitely," Ewan turns to you again. "I mean, stunning would be an understatement."

"Shot!" Olivia half-yells. "And bless her, look! She's turned all red from Ewan's flirting."

"Thanks, mate," you say, tilting your head at him. "You as well! Your stylists have outdone themselves this press tour, for sure."

"Half a shot cause she gives something his way?" Tom suggests, comically shrugging. By the end of the video, the group had done three and a half rounds of shots, all growing redder in the face, their laughter turning unhinged.

"I'm actually scared to do another interview," Olivia groans. "Can those two just shag each other already? Goodness!"

"Who knows? Maybe they have? Would be about time," Tom cheekily says, ever the agent of chaos.

"Ewan did fly out to see her," Phia nods. "They're both in America right now, my darlings."

"Another interview!" Tom gets to clicking, landing on the one you and Ewan did with Rotten Tomatoes.

"We ask everyone this question - can you tell me your favourite movie from this year?" is what the interviewer starts with.

"That's a good question," Ewan says. "Uhhmm, well, it isn't from this year I think but her film - " he gestures to you, " - is one of my all-time favourites. I think it came out late last year, if I'm not mistaken?" He looks to you for confirmation, and your flustered self manages to hum a response. "I just think the whole film was brilliant. It definitely showcases her talents and solidifies her as one to watch."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Tom sighs, and they all bring the shot glasses back to their lips.

"Guys, I might pass out by the end of this." Olivia stands to fetch herself a glass of water. "Ewan's a menace!" she calls out from the kitchen.

"We shouldn't have done this," Tom shakes his head.

"You suggested it!" Phia punches his arm, laughing.

"I guess I underestimated the degree of whipped that Ewan is. That cheeky lad."

Four more rounds of shots later, and the group has their tally up to eight and a half.

Yet another interview plays on the screen, and when Ewan - with all his bloody audacity - pushes a lock of hair away from your face on camera, Tom's eyes nearly bulge right out of his head.

"Oh my god!" he cries out. "He's trying to kill us! I think I'm actually going to puke."

"I quit." Olivia slumps against the base of the velvet couch. "I can't drink any more. Ewan wins."

Phia giggles at the screen, at the sight of her two dear friends slowly but surely falling in love right before the audience's eyes. In some show of celebration, she takes another shot, the last player left in the game.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Meanwhile across the Atlantic...

"Hey, darling," you hear Ewan's voice on the other line. "I just settled in my hotel in New York."

"That's good! Did your flight go well?"

"Mhmm, my meeting's tomorrow afternoon so I've got time to prepare," he takes a breath, before softly saying, "I miss you."

You laugh, "So you keep telling me, Mitchell."

"We're still on that huh, darling? Shouldn't you be calling me something more... personal, by now?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Well... the internet does call you their babygirl."

"Oh come on," he complains, smiling nevertheless.

"What is it, babygirl?"

"That's how you want to play it, bunny?"

"Ewan!" you groan. "Okay, okay."

"Anyway, darling," he says. "I really do miss you. I can't wait to see you again.'

The longing is clear in his voice and it tugs at your heart so much that you need to pause and collect yourself, before finally saying, "I miss you too, baby."

Cheers to all of yous who voted here! Baby it is ~

In the meantime...

Update! ~ part five

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff @onlyrealjoy

[astonmartinii]

a very nonsense christmas | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem singer!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter

based on this request: Hi, how are you can you please write something with Charles x singer reader like a part 2 of "nonsense... or is it?" based on Santa doesn't know you like I do music video something very wholesome idk you can ignore this if you want, hope you have a good day/night 🤍 - @rana030

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI? | PART ONE

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,441,934 others

yourusername: do you hear those slay bells ringing? i love christmas so much that i'm giving you guys six new songs for this holiday season !!

view all comments

user1: mama is going straight on the nice list for this one

user2: christmas is saved

charles_leclerc: so proud of you cherie

yourusername: says the muse

charles_leclerc: you're my angel on the top of the tree

yourusername: as long as you're under the tree ready to be unwrapped

pierregasly: STOP

alexalbon: we MUST protect the sanctity of christmas

yourusername: oh alex, do not listen to the ep...

alexalbon: too late just pressed play

alexalbon: YOU NEED THE CHARLES DICKENS ???

yourusername: amazing word play, am i right?

alexalbon: no.

charles_leclerc: he doesn't meant that babe. lily has a commitment, he's just lonely

user3: y/n was like "if you weren't aware, i am getting DICKED DOWN for christmas"

user4: as much as i'd peel all of my skin off to be in either of their positions, good for her

maxverstappen1: i think nonsense christmas has single handedly killed my investigative journalism career. i am not analysing charles' massive sack

yourusername: damn right you won't be

charles_leclerc: maybe you should analyse it, you could learn something from it

maxverstappen1: hOW DARE YOU

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,887,341 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, taylorswift & killatrav

yourusername: thank you to all the lovely people who came to the fruitcake release party ! xx

view all comments

user7: CHARLES AND TRAVIS IN ONE PLACE ALERT

user8: so does this mean we can get a y/n and charles appearance on the new heights podcast?

charles_leclerc: do you think people could tell i was about to pass out while playing the piano?

yourusername: definitely not !

maxverstappen1: yes we could

charles_leclerc: WHAT I WAS JUST NERVOUS AND I DIDN'T WANT TO LET Y/N DOWN AND TAYLOR WAS THERE SO I DIDN'T WANT TO EMBARRASS MYSELF

maxverstappen1: okay i didn't need the pity party. you were good, unfortunately very good. i need to learn piano now. i have to beat you in everything

yourusername: maybe you should've forgone the santa suit... it was quite warm

charles_leclerc: but you wanna be mrs claus ? (i also have a big north pole lol)

alexalbon: ENOUGH

user9: wait so like, was the grid at the release party?

user10: based on most of their instagram stories, and y/n's stories i'm gonna say yes

taylorswift: i had so much fun !! i love fruitcake and tell charlie his piano was great

charles_leclerc: SUCK ON THAT @maxverstappen1

taylorswift: ?

charles_leclerc: we've got bad blood taylor's version featuring kendrick lamar?

taylorswift: i see

maxverstappen1: he's the reason we can't have nice things

user11: someone free taylor from lestappen

killatrav: okay. the girls throw the best parties. esteban and pierre i own your team now, you guys gotta get better at drinking

yourusername: careful travis they're french ...

killtrav: is your boyfriend not also french? he's like a puppy dog

yourusername: HE'S MONAGASQUE

charles_leclerc: i am NOT french

estebanocon: i only threw up because eggnog is not what you guys advertise it to be

pierregasly: i'm not gonna lie i don't remember even seeing you last night

user12: okay so get invited to one of these parties is definitely on the bucket list now

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 1,922,033 others

tagged: yourusername, killatrav

charles_leclerc: charles and travis 🤝 just happy we got a chance

view all comments

user13: if he's not like them i don't want it

user14: if santa doesn't pull through with a man like them under my tree this year ... imma be mad

killatrav: travis and charles 🤝 having girlfriends that make us giggle and swing our feet

charles_leclerc: does the honeymoon phase ever finish?

killtrav: well it definitely hasn't for me

maxverstappen1: NOOOOOOOOOOOO

alexalbon: say it ain't so

yourusername: haters gonna hate 😎

alexalbon: he is so happy it is bordering on insufferable

charles_leclerc: alex :(

alexalbon: i am very happy for you charlie and lily is definitely very happy for you, but if you talk to me for the TWELVE HOUR flight to brazil again i will terminate this friendship

killtrav: i am so confused

user15: poor travis and taylor are just being exposed to the grid chaos

yourusername: you posting this like i'm not the luckiest girl in the world

charles_leclerc: i just love you so much and i'm so glad you shortlisted me for your music video

yourusername: yeah spolier alert there was no shortlist. i wanted you and i didn't want to get out right rejected...

charles_leclerc: as if i would reject any offer from you i think i would've torn down maranello if they said i wasn't allowed to be in it

scuderiaferrari: ?

user16: i'm so obsessed with how much charles has embraced the wag life

user17: can't believe i get to live a life where i can bop along to music about how good in bed charles leclerc is

user18: they better not break up cause i may be tifosi but i shall be streaming

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,833,922 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: santa doesn't know you like i do baby

view all comments

user21: all i want for christmas is even more y/n and charles content

user22: mum and dad have kept us fed over the winter break

user23: i'm not ready for them to be separated when the season starts again :(

charles_leclerc: not to be that person but we're so hot

yourusername: no, you should say it louder

charles_leclerc: WE'RE HOT

maxverstappen1: can you people knock it off or we're not coming to your christmas party

yourusername: ERM ??? 🫤

alexalbon: you people have single handedly made me the grinch

yourusername: but but but ??? you all begged for an invite :(

charles_leclerc: FAKE and that's why you're all getting coal from us

user24: my god i am so lonely

user25: if i don't wake up to a charles shape gift under my tree i will not make it to next christmas

danielricciardo: just to be sure, this party is not going to be filmed and turned into a music video?

yourusername: it's just an old-fashioned shin dig girly don't worry

yourusername: or by the tone of this, should i be worried?

danielricciardo: no!

charles_leclerc: do NOT ruin my home please

danielricciardo: no promises xoxoxo

user26: y/n might want to film the party but I NEED THE FOOTAGE

user27: @tedkravitz boy do i have a gig for you

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,093,445 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & yourusername

danielricciardo: do NOT drink the eggnog at a y/n christmas party this is a public safety announcement

view all comments

user28: i would commit unspeakable crimes to be present here

yourusername: if you weren't a fake fan you would've listened to fruitcake and would know we spike the eggnog 🤷‍♀️

danielricciardo: i am a fan !!!!!!!!!

yourusername: you asked me and yuki how we escaped the north pole last night

yukitsunoda0511: don't think i've forgotten about that, say goodbye to a tow in quali old man

danielricciardo: IT WAS A COMPLIMENT ELVES ARE CUTE?

charles_leclerc: don't call my girlfriend cute that's my job 🤨

danielricciardo: do you people ever let me live? i am battling a hangover like no other please stop shouting at me

charles_leclerc: maybe someone of your old age should manage his drink better

danielricciardo: THAT'S IT I'M GOING

yourusername: thanks we did actually want the kitchen floor back

user29: daniel calling y/n and yuki elves kills me

yourusername: we're not elf height we're cutie patootie height 💅

yukitsunoda0511: amen

alexalbon: i will endure the torture because that was fucking insane

maxverstappen1: @yourusername you're in charge of all after parties now sorry

yourusername: let charlie win and you got a deal

maxverstappen1: i'd rather drink my gin and tonic in a ditch than let that happen

charles_leclerc: BOOO

alexalbon: cocktail recipe immediately @yourusername

yourusername: you've changed your tune ?

alexalbon: i had fun, sue me. plus i am actually happy for charlie but please no more singing about his dick

yourusername: i can't make any promises

charles_leclerc: and there's plenty of material to get the creative juices flowing

alexalbon: FUCK OFF

maxverstappen1: FUCK OFF

user30: the grid will never know peace, not even at christmas time

charles_leclerc

liked by taylorswift, yourusername and 1,893,446 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: nothing like the holidays with the love of your life

view all comments

user35: how down bad all men should be

yourusername: best holidays ever !!!! love you charlie xx

charles_leclerc: my christmas wish last year came true, and now you're stuck with me

yourusername: no one i would rather be stuck with

charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU

yourusername: I LOVE YOU MORE

user36: good thing i got presents this year or the sheer sight of this couple would make me so jealous i would spontaneously combust

user37: real

landonorris: you will see to the crime of the stupid amount of mistletoe you had up at that damn party

charles_leclerc: have you seen y/n? (don't answer that) obviously i want any excuse to kiss her

landonorris: i DON'T CARE I HAD TO KISS DANIEL FIVE TIMES I WILL NEVER RECOVER

danielricciardo: i know you enjoyed baby

landonorris: @yourusername @charles_leclerc YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS

yourusername: idk it looked like you enjoyed it to me

landonorris: you WATCHED?

yourusername: i filmed it :) top blackmail material, don't crash into charlie OR ELSE

charles_leclerc: thanks babe

landonorris: @georgerussell63 get the gdpa to intervene nOW

georgerussell63: eh i'm quite entertained

user38: this really is the giving season huh

arthurleclerc: do i mean nothing to you?

charles_leclerc: you're nowhere near as cute as y/n 🤷‍♀️

yourusername: awwwww charlie

arthurleclerc: EXCUSE ME? WHAT HAPPENED TO CHRISTMAS SPIRIT?

user39: charles is really ride or die lol

note: have a very merry christmas! i hope you guys all have a great holiday season and enjoy this quick one! i've been super busy but wanted to give you all a lil christmas treat - much love xx

[zuhaism]

i saw you have a sophia fic brewing and i’d love to req for literally ANYTHING ELSE YOU HAVE OF HER. she’s such a perfect muse and i just love reading people’s thoughts on her 🥹🥹 any hcs?

pairing : sophialaforteza x brothersbff!reader

a/n : THIS IS LIKE A SPOILER FOR MY SOPHIA FIC COMJNG OTW. my it girl this month is sophia i love her face omg and her kindness on dream academy i cant. my angel.

• sophia who tries to convince her friends she’s not into you and it was just a silly childhood crush. "i don't like her like that," she insists, arms crossed, looking almost offended at the accusation. her friends, however, know better. they exchange glances, barely holding in their laughter.

• she gives herself away all the time. like when she immediately straightens up whenever you walk into the room. or how her gaze subconsciously follows you when you’re talking to someone else. manon smirks. “oh, and what about how you always go quiet when she’s around?” “i do not—” daniela cuts in, deadpan. “you literally stop mid-sentence.” and right on cue, you walk by—brushing past sophia with a casual “hey, soph.” sophia freezes. entirely. her friends just watch. they watch as she visibly tenses, eyes wide, jaw slightly clenched like she’s trying to not react. the moment you disappear down the hall, her friends burst into laughter. "SHUT UP," she groans, face burning.

• whenever you call her name unexpectedly, she turns around way too fast and then tries to act normal, like her heart isn’t racing. her stomach flips at the sound of your voice saying her name, but she plays it off by raising an eyebrow. “what?” she asks, trying to look like she doesn’t care, crossing her arms. you just smirk, shaking your head. “nothing, you just looked cute in my jacket.” her friends bursts into laughter at how fast she turns beet red. “i thought this was Basil’s,” she tries to brush it off, tugging at the sleeves like that’ll somehow make the situation less mortifying.but then you tilt your head, smirking, “well, maybe this should be yours.”

• her friends gave eachother knowing glances and teasing smiles to sophia. she’s trying so hard not to react, but she can’t even come up with a snarky response her face is burning, her heart is pounding, and she’s pretty sure she just forgot how to breathe. “whatever,” she mutters, turning away in an attempt to save face, but she doesn’t take the jacket off. in fact, she wears it the rest of the day, pulling the sleeves over her hands whenever no one’s looking. sometimes she wears it at home but no one knows that of course.

• if you ever ruffle her hair or flick her forehead playfully, she’ll grumble about it but secretly loves the attention. “y/n, stop it,” she huffs, swatting your hand away, even though her ears are already turning pink. but the second you turn around, she’s fixing her hair with a small, hidden smile. her friends definitely catch it. if you don’t do it for a few days, she wonders if she did something wrong. like, are you mad at her? did you get bored of messing with her? she tells herself she doesn’t care, but when she sees you approaching in the hall, she stands a little closer, waiting to be fake annoyed.

• and when you finally ruffle her hair again, she’s about to grumble like usual, but then “ugh, y/n—” “hold on,” you cut her off, and before she can process it, you’re smoothing her hair back into place, carefully fixing the strands you just messed up. her breath catches. she just stares up at you, wide-eyed, completely frozen as your fingers lightly graze her scalp. her face is burning. “there. much better,” you say casually, like you didn’t just ruin her entire day in the best way possible.

• and then, to make things worse you give her a light pat on the head. like she’s some flustered little puppy. “good girl.” sophia doesn’t even breathe. she just stands there, stunned, mouth slightly open like she’s about to say something but nothing comes out. she watches you walk away with her brother groaning at you. once you were out of earshot her friends lose their minds immediately.

• megan is the first to react, nearly choking. “GOOD GIRL??” she gapes at soph, then turns to the others. “did i hear that right?” manon leans in, smirking. “sophia… if you’re still not into her, i’ll gladly take your place.” daniela hums, side-eyeing you as you casually walk off. “honestly? if you’re serious you dont want her, it’s open season.” sophia finally snaps out of it, whirling around. “SHUT UP. ALL OF YOU.”her friends just laugh, shaking their heads, because she’s so obvious.

• when she’s walking in the cafeteria, she subtly checks if you’re already there. if you are, she pretends she didn’t see you, but if you wave, she instantly wave back. sometimes, she tries to act like she’s so busy looking at her phone, but the second you greet her, her focus snaps to you. her wave is always a little awkward too stiff but you smile anyway, which makes it worth it.

• if you casually drape your arm around her shoulders, she stiffens for a solid three seconds before melting into it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. the first time it happened, she froze like a deer in headlights. now, she tries to act unbothered, even tilting her head slightly against you but if anyone teases her about it, she immediately pushes you off with a glare (but she doesn’t really mean it).

• the first time it happened, it was so unexpected. you had just casually thrown an arm around sophia’s shoulders like it was second nature—like it was normal. but for her? she almost passed out. meanwhile, you? completely unbothered. just chatting away like this was the most natural thing in the world. and after a solid three seconds of internal chaos, she relaxed. melted, even—because your arm was warm, your presence was familiar, and if she leaned just a little into you.

• tilts her head slightly against you? sure. shifts a little closer? okay. lets herself enjoy it? absolutely not. because the second someone (usually megan or manon) raises an eyebrow as they walk down the hallway, she immediately stiffens, shoving you off with a glare. "get off, y/n." you just laugh, raising your hands in surrender. "okay, okay." then she goes off to regroup with her friends. ignoring the way her cheeks burn. megan grins as she comes over. "you literally didn't care five seconds ago." "i DIDN’T NOTICE," sophia argues, glaring at her. but later at home, when you do it again effortlessly slinging your arm around her like it belongs there. she doesn’t push you away. she just pretends not to hear her heart pounding.

• whenever your band plays at school events, sophia acts completely unbothered. arms crossed, face neutral, like she’s barely paying attention. but the second the song ends? she’s the first to cheer. loud. enthusiastic. maybe even a little too eager. she swears she’s just there for her brother. just supporting the school. not because you’re on stage looking stupidly good under the lights. definitely not that. but her friends aren’t blind. her eyes never leave you the entire performance.

• and when you’re learning a new song? she’s suspiciously invested. “you should play this one next,” she says, casually sliding her phone across the table with a playlist already queued up. “oh?” you smirk, leaning in a little too close. “you been thinking about my setlist, baby?” immediate regret. her ears turn red. "shut up. just listen to it." and it doesn’t stop there. she finds excuses to hang around when you’re practicing in her basement with Basil and the others. she says it’s ‘boring’ at home, but everyone knows better.

• Basil groans every time she shows up. "you don’t even care about band stuff." “i can’t hang out with my brother now?” she huffs, plopping onto the couch like she belongs there. but the way she sits up the second you pick up your guitar? the way she suddenly has opinions on which songs you should cover? yeah. Basil’s not buying it. "jesus, if you like her so much, just say that." “i do not.” but the giddy little smile she tries (and fails) to hide when you invite her to listen to the set. tells him otherwise.

• sometimes she texts you late at night, she spends at least five minutes rereading what she wrote before pressing send. and if you take more than a minute to reply, she convinces herself that she said something dumb and deletes it. the next morning she’s met by your text “??” “nothing”

• if you ever notice something small about her—like a new bracelet or how she tied her hair differently she thinks about it for the rest of the day. “nice bracelet, soph.” your voice is so casual, like you didn’t just send her entire nervous system into overdrive. she blinks down at her wrist, lips parting slightly, suddenly hyper-aware of the little beaded bracelet she put on that morning. “oh… thanks,” she mumbles, trying to play it cool, but the second you walk away, she’s staring at it like it’s the only thing in the world. her friends don’t miss the way she keeps glancing at it, fiddling with the beads between her fingers. “you’re so obvious,” lara snickers, nudging her side. “mind your business,” sophia hisses, face burning, but even as she says it, she tugs her sleeve down over her wrist. she suddenly wants to protect it from the world.

• when you laugh at one of her jokes, even if it’s dumb, she gets this little proud smile and immediately tries to think of another one to keep you laughing. sometimes she catches herself laughing when you laugh too. it’s like muscle memory. now, whenever she gets the rare chance to make you laugh, she feels this ridiculous sense of accomplishment, like she just won something.

• sometimes, even when she’s not trying, she still finds herself smiling just because you are. like earlier today when you were joking around with her brother. she had no idea what was even said, but you were laughing, and next thing she knew, she was already smiling. she’s not even focusing, but whenever she sees you smile, she smiles too.

• “what are you smiling at?” daniela teased, catching her in the act. sophia immediately wiped the smile off her face, turning away. “nothing.” but the both of them knew it wasnt nothing.

[lovelyjj]

hi! I'm not sure if this is against any of ur boundaries but if it is please let me know! I know it's not technically smut but it's in somewhat of the same category, could you write aftercare from jj?

aftercare

jj maybank x fem!reader

wc: 984

warnings: slight smut

(not my gif)

JJ was pounding into you. His cock was stretching you out. He pulled all the way out just to slam back in.

You let out a whine, because he was fucking into you and it felt so good.

“I know baby girl, I know,” JJ soothed.

JJ could tell you were getting close by the way you were squeezing him.

“Give me one more,” JJ asked.

You let out a moan while your orgasm washed over you. Your whole body felt tingly and you coated JJ’s cock in your release. JJ fucked you through your orgasm. JJ came with a jerk of his hips spilling his seed inside of you.

“Did so good for me angel,” JJ expressed.

You gave JJ a weak smile and his heart melted at the sight.

“Thank you J,” you whispered.

“No need to thank me, come on let’s get you cleaned up,”

JJ let go of your hand and went to go to the bathroom to start the bath when you let out a whine.

“Nooo J please don’t leave me” you pleaded.

“Baby I want to bring you some water and then start the bath, It should only be a second.” JJ reasoned.

You gave him your best puppy dog face and JJ wasn’t strong enough to turn you down. JJ climbed back in bed and like a magnet you cuddled up to him.

JJ rubbed your back in soothing circles as you traced patterns on his chest.

“Baby I love you but I really need to clean you up.” JJ begged.

“Ok,” you whispered.

JJ got up and went to get a wash cloth while you patiently waited on the bed. JJ came back pretty quickly since the bathroom was conjoined with the bedroom.

“Here we go angel, stay still for me.” JJ cooed.

You opened your legs and JJ wiped up the juices. You whined because you were sensitive.

“I know baby I know, almost done.”

JJ finished cleaning you up and came to lay down with you.

“Your perfect, perfect for me. I think maybe you were made for me. That maybe in every lifetime and every universe we would somehow end up together.” JJ preached.

“J, you’re so good to me. You’re so sweet, I know I’d choose you in every lifetime,” you responded.

You and JJ held each other close wrapped up in your own little world of love and comfort.

JJ was playing with your hair when he asked, “you want to take a bath my love?”

“Yeah ok.”

JJ got up and made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the hot water and grabbed a few candles. He lit them and set them around the tub. He put some nice smelling bubble bath in the water making it bubble up.

“Come on princess the bath is ready.”

You went to the bathroom and JJ greeted you by kissing your temple and telling you to get in and that he will be right back.

JJ returned with a cold water bottle and stepped in behind you.

“You need to drink please,” JJ instructed.

He held the bottle to your lips and you took it and you gulped down some water. “Thank you J.”

You sank into the hot water letting your sore muscles relax. JJ pressed kisses on the back of your shoulder. Then he began washing your body. He delicately washed and bathed you. He even washed your hair. He peppered kisses to any where he could reach.

“You take such good care of me J,” you spoke.

“You deserve nothing but the best my love,” JJ responded.

“I love you so much,” you announced.

“I love you too,” JJ replied.

Only when your fingers were wrinkled did you get out of the bath. JJ had a warm fluffy towel waiting for you to be wrapped up in it.

When you entered back into the bedroom JJ asked you if you would like a massage. You told him that you would love it.

“Just relax,” JJ soothed.

He got some lotion and smoothed his hands over your back. He worked meticulously rubbing out your sore muscles.

“Feels so good J,” you mused.

JJ hummed and continued his work on your back. You enjoyed the intimacy of the massage. You liked having his hands on you, touching you in a loving way.

JJ liked it too he liked taking care of you and making you feel good. He loved aftercare almost as much as he loved the sex if not more.

When JJ was finished with the massage he kissed your shoulder and then your head. The two of you got back into bed and snuggled up together.

JJ was scratching your scalp as you laid on his chest. The warmth of his chest heating your skin. You were relaxed and enjoying just being with JJ, your person.

“JJ?”

“Hmm” JJ hummed.

“What are you thinking about?“ you asked.

“I’m thinking about how pretty you are.”

“I don’t believe you,” you giggled.

“What? it’s true! I swear.”

“Yeah right.”

“Fine then. Don’t believe me,” JJ crossed his arms over his chest.

You laughed out loud and shoved him playfully.

You truly loved JJ and you enjoyed every second you spent with him. It’s like you were always smiling and laughing around him. You held your memories you made together close to you heart. The love you shared could be seen by everyone.

When the two of you had sex, JJ always made sure to take care of you afterwards. He never skipped aftercare. He always made sure you were alright and would dot on you and love on you and give you reassurance.

Aftercare with JJ was always lovely. He always took his time being gentle and kind. Always putting your needs before his. He was amazing and you felt like you had the best boyfriend in the world.

[lexirosewrites]

Ficlet idea, designer Eddie and model Steve

OH NO OMFG this prompt was from a year and a half ago (September 2023) because i apparently wrote this whole thing and then accidentally lost it in my drafts😭😭😭 might as well post it now!

A New Muse

Eddie can’t say how he went from the Indiana trailer park to having his own collection at New York Fashion Week without explaining that things like that don’t usually happen to people like him.

Maybe it was the luck of being born an alpha. Or maybe it was just stupid fate.

Who knows? Certainly not him.

And although he’s been used to the lifestyle of excess and glamor for a while now, sometimes the world he lives in now still manages to amaze him.

All it took was a lucky break and his work being seen by the right people. Then he’d been whisked away to riches and fame, his name becoming known by every young adult in a matter of months.

Suffice to say that by this point, Eddie wasn’t overly surprised when he was asked to do a feature piece in a big time magazine. The editor had specifically requested for him to design a few grunge menswear outfits to be modeled alongside the article about his rise to success.

Eddie spent weeks grueling over his designs, making sure all his pieces were representative of the kind of work he does, but it was a struggle to create something that he was proud of and that would explain his vision of fashion.

The interview itself was simple enough, just a handful of questions by someone who already knew far too much about his life. They skirted around his less than pretty past and played up the rags to riches aspect that everyone loved to oversell when it comes to alphas.

And then came the photoshoot.

Eddie had been given measurements of an up-and-coming model who would be showcasing all of the designs. Supposedly, the guy was fine modeling both masculine and feminine clothing, so Eddie was able to keep his sizing consistent across the board.

The only mistake was that he was never given a photo of the model. Or told that he was an omega.

He had no clue that the model would be the most stunning man he’s ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Stevie,” the angle introduced himself with a dimpled smile and wide eyes. His scent dripping with sugary sweetness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Eddie almost forgets to shake his hand, too enamored with the beautiful omega being presented to him on a platter. He recovers enough to slip his hand into the waiting one.

“I’m an alpha.”

That’s definitely not what he meant to say.

Steve chuckles, a soft charming little thing.

“Good to know. Do you have a name, alpha?”

Eddie’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. He might be drooling. He’s definitely lightheaded.

The omega called him alpha. He could be his alpha.

“Um, I’m so sorry! Eddie! It’s Eddie!” he spits out in a rush, attempting to recover from his temporary lapse in sanity.

Another angelic noise of amusement.

“You’re sweet, Eddie,” Steve tells him, sounding slightly forlorn about it. “But I can’t date a coworker.”

Eddie can practically feel his ears pin back against his head in disappointment like a kicked puppy.

“Oh. Right, yeah, no that makes sense. Smart idea. Gotta be careful when you’re a professional.” His voice is thin and unconvincing.

Being rejected by a perfect angel hurts more than he thought it would.

Steve’s perfectly plump lips turn upward slowly.

“But if you find me after the shoot when we’re not coworkers anymore, you can buy me coffee. That is… if you let go of my hand so I can do my job first.”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie had never let go of his hand.

He loosens his grip long enough for Steve to make it through the shoot and then he vows to never let go again.

They’re mated a year later, right before Steve changes his modeling demographic to maternity photoshoots instead.

And Eddie finds his lifelong muse.

[writtenbymoonflower]

evening!!! i was wondering if you could write something for polymarauders w autistic reader? lavayou 💗💗💗🧁

thank you for requesting, lovely! sorry it took so long :(

cw: description of sensory overload/sensory issues. mentions of masking

465 words

Your shoulders slumped the minute you shut the door, held down from the weight of everything around you. The waist of your pants dug uncomfortably into your middle, discomfort increased by the scratch of your sweater. The buzzing from the fluorescent lights at work still rang in your ears like a sickening symphony. 

“Is that you, babydoll?” You winced at the sharp sting that wracked your body, every nerve ending firing unpleasantly. It’s not that you don’t love Sirius (or all the boys) voice, but on days like these, every new sensation can be too much. Especially when you’ve been keeping your pain hidden all day. Despite this, you made sure to put on your practiced expression, and walked to the kitchen. 

“It’s me.” You said quietly, hoping your low volume would catch on. Remus turned around from the stove, eyeing you inquisitively. 

“How was work, sweetness?” James questioned. You stifled another grimace. You had to get out of these constricting clothes, that would help. 

“It was okay. Long.” You were too exhausted to successfully add levity to your tone.

“Yeah?” Now Sirius was inspecting you. You squirmed under his gaze. You just nodded. James seemed to also catch on. You hated admitting when you felt like this, burnt out from daily life. No matter how sweet or understanding the boys were, you still saw your struggles as an inconvenience to others, more than yourself. 

“Anything we can do to help, angel?” James looked terribly sympathetic. A denial started on your tongue, but you were cut off. 

“Fair warning, we are going to try to help no matter what you say. Might as well help by telling us what would be best.” Remus mused in his tone that leaves no room for argument. You sighed, fully relaxing your face into its natural expression. 

“I don’t know. Everything’s just a lot I guess.” You fiddled with your hands. 

“That’s okay, why don’t we try to make things a bit less?” James flicked the lights off, leaving just the gentle light from the window streaming it. That immediately eased some of the tension in your head. 

“Thank you. Siri, do you think you could get my comfy clothes for me? They’re on the desk chair.” 

“Course, baby.” You noticed he didn’t touch you as you left, knowing it would likely be too much. You kicked off your shoes as Remus handed you a bowl of cereal. 

“Here you go, dovey. ‘S your favorite.” He smiled sweetly at you, honey eyes searching for discomfort. Sirius returned with your clothes. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled. “Jamie, could you turn my show on please?” You made puppy eyes at him. 

“Already on it.” He grinned at you. You smiled unashamedly. 

“Alright, dollface.” Sirius drawled. “Let me help you with these clothes.” 

[always-just-red]

008 with Xavier for Christmas prompts? 🥰

Whoaaaa this was actually my first ever solo request for Xavier? So thank you!!! Hope you've enjoyed the holidays, anon! 🥰

Christmas Tree

Xavier x Reader ⭐🎄☃️❄️

Prompt #008: lifting up a smaller frame to put on the finishing touch on the christmas tree: the tree topper (a star, an angel, or something else!)

| Word count: 800 | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Please be careful.”

You feel a gentle pair of hands at your waist as you balance on a stool, up on the tiptoes of one foot. You’re reaching, reaching… but you can’t quite get this stupid star on the tree, and Xavier thinks he’s helping, but he’s not. He’s an anchor, keeping you from achieving maximum reach. You just need to get a liiiiiitle further.

“It’s okay, Xavi, I got it. Sheesh, where’s this concern when I’m tackling Wanderers, huh?”

“I’m always concerned when you’re tackling Wanderers,” he frowns behind you— you can hear it. “Although, in a healthy, supportive way. Not a paranoid, lack-of-faith-in-you way.”

You chuckle to yourself. Stop reaching. “This feels like a lack of faith,” you say, patting his hands.

“Well, it’s healthy support.”

“Okay, okay. Can I get a healthy, supportive boost, please?”

He adjusts: moving closer to you, letting his hands circle lower. After a short countdown, he lifts you. There’s no huff of exertion. No tension. Show off. You still have to reach a little, but you manage to plonk the star on top of the tree.

“Happy?” Xavier asks, and there’s no strain in his voice, either.

“Happy. You may release me.”

With his own, quiet chuckle, Xavier sets you down beside the stool. You sigh and brush your hands together like you’ve just accomplished something difficult. It takes all of your Wanderer-tackling strength and poise to not giggle as you glance up at the tree topper.

Xavier looks up at it too. “Wait.” He narrows his eyes: inspection, not suspicion. “Is that… me?”

You couldn’t believe your luck when you found that star the other day, when you were out Christmas shopping with Tara. It’s pretty, shiny and golden— as all stars ought to be— but it’s also a photo frame. Maybe for pets? They’d used a picture of a cat on the box it came in, but you had a much, much better idea.

“Yeah…” you confirm. “I was tied, you know? Did I want an angel on top of the tree? Did I want a star? Then I thought—” you stretch, catching Xavier’s face in your hands— “why settle for one? Why not have both?”

His cheeks are being squished by your palms, but his eyes dart back to the tree topper. “Aww,” he says after a moment. “That’s cute.”

“You’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His mouth is still pinched, and his voice? A mumble.

You let him go so you can gaze at the photo on top of the tree.

It’s not a flattering picture. You never thought you’d be able to say that, but you worked hard for it, so you can— it is not a flattering picture! It took you about a hundred ambushes with a camera. About a thousand, failed, flattering photos. His face stuns at literally every angle, and damn it, you now have proof! He’s blessed by gods you didn’t even know existed. He’s impossible. Insufferable.

But then you got that one photo.

… In Akso, when he was maybe sort of kinda unconscious, even bleeding a little, but it’s fine! He was fine, wasn’t he? One flash of your phone, one scathing look from dear Doctor Zayne, and you got it:

The one photo of Xavier where he doesn’t look like a model. At least… not for anything anyone would want.

“It’s… not the best picture,” you answer finally. You don’t know what else to say; you thought your masterpiece would speak for itself.

“I don’t know,” he muses. “I think I look handsome. Why? Don’t you?”

Blue eyes turn on you, wide like the baubles on the tree, and sparkling with just as many Christmas lights. You feel like you’ve kicked a puppy. “Well, yeah, of course,” you stammer, “but still, it isn’t—”

A flash.

You blink, stunned.

Xavier is smiling down at his phone, and realisation dawns on you. “Wait, did you just—”

He turns the phone around to show you the photo he just took of you, and suddenly ‘unflattering’ has a whole new face and meaning. Your eyes are closed. You’re mid-speech, but you look mid-sneeze. “For next year!” Xavier chirps sweetly.

“No, no, no, Xavier, you have to delete that. It’s Christmas! Come on, please, just—”

You grab at the phone but he’s way ahead of you, holding it up out of reach with an easy-going hum. He turns away— walks away— and you can’t see it, but as you nip at his heels, flailing and frantically begging, he smiles, triumphant.

[girlwithsharpt33th]

ANGELIC - 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖔

content: smut with feelings, reader and Choso are very much in love, a little fluffy, virgin!choso, virgin!reader, AFAB!reader, Choso is a lightweight

a/n: I want to make this a series with my favorite JJK men

your new boyfriend nuzzled his cheek into your knees, his large hands exploring the plush planes of your bare thighs. He wasn’t even that fucked up. you’d only seen him gingerly drinking two cups of sake as he listened to his roommate blab on opposite him at the dingy kitchen table.

“ mmm..missed you.” He murmured dreamily, his eyelids drooping and a sloppy grin painting his pretty lips. You chuckled, scooting closer towards the edge of his bed and embrace.

“Cho…I’ve been with you the past 3 hours” you mused, running your hands through his messy hair.

As your fingers combed through it, you decided to take the pigtails out, being careful not to snag his hair on the elastics. He let out a low hum of approval, and moaned when you began to massage his scalp. He adjusted himself slightly so his clothed cock was pressed against your leg, humping it, hips gyrating sloppily. Normally he was so awkward, but it appeared a little liquid courage undid all of his uncertainty about sex. It was beyond amusing, watching him rut against you like a horny puppy.

He quickly became more desperate and pried your legs apart, mouth practically watering at the sight of your already damp panties. He’d eaten you out a couple of times, and you were more than happy to oblige his talented tongue. You lifted your hips so he could rid you of your panties and eagerly pushed you up on the bed, slotting his head between your legs. His hair and warm breath tickled your cunt, a mewl escaping your lips. He inserted his finger, pumping it in and out. He immediately dove in, relishing in the taste of you, frantically latching onto your clit.

Your breathing was heavy and uneven, embarrassing sounds falling from your lips. Your legs were already quaking.

“S-slow down baby, ‘s too much!” you pleaded, voice breaking. He simply let out a low groan and shoved his tongue further inside you, adding a second finger in your sensitive hole.

He looked so pretty like this, his hair in his bedroom eyes, lashes fluttering angelically as he looked up at you. The sloppy sounds he was making and his little noises of ecstasy chimed in your ears like a siren’s song, practically making you cum on the spot.

your legs began to quake, clenching around Choso’s ears, your climax tumbling out of you. He gulped down your essence wildly, practically sucking you dry. He made pleased hums every now and then, causing even more stimulation for you, reinvigorating the tightening in your stomach.

Before you could fully recover from your first orgasm, you came a second time, fingers and toes gripping the sheets with your head thrown back.

“ ‘m done, Cho, please!” you exclaimed, your voice breaking and bordering on desperation.

He relented. His lips parted with your sex and he withdrew his fingers, a glorious mixture of his spit and your cum coating his chin. His cheeks were rosy, eyes glassy. He was so beautiful it hurt, almost making tears well up in your eyes. You were wrecked already and he hadn’t even pulled his cock out yet.

As if in a trance, ogling your face, he licked his fingers clean and removed his sweats and boxers - the crotches of both saturated with his own cum. You could tell he was taking a mental image of the state you found yourself in, a sort of perverted memento he could get off to when you weren’t around.

He blushed a deep crimson when he realized he came in his pants. It appeared he was so drunk he wasn’t even aware he had come! He bit his lip anxiously and flitted his eyes nervously up at you.

“Baby, come here, don’t be embarrassed,” you cooed and spread your legs. You were nervous, having never had penetrative sex before, but you attempted to hide it. Cho needed as much guidance as possible. “I’ll…talk you through it.”

A switch seemed to flip in your boyfriend as he appeared to regain his voracious sexual appetite from earlier. He settled between your legs, fat cock flush between your pussy lips. He drunkenly ground his hips, eyebrows knitted, eagerly awaiting further instruction from you.

You gulped, intimidated by his size. He rarely took his pants off in front of you, preferring to prioritize your pleasure over his own. But today was about both of you.

“I’m ready, Cho.” you said, voice wavering. He gave a quick little nod, hoisted your legs over his shoulders, and delicately entered you, savoring the warmth enveloping his sensitive tip.

“Oh~” he moaned before pushing himself the rest of the way inside. You held his face in your hands.

“I said I’m ready,” You smiled. The stretch was painful but the feeling of fullness was irresistible. You ground your pelvis against his, encouraging him to move. He gazed at you with his lips parted and his hair curtaining his face. He rocked his hips so gently. Even in his inebriated, desperately horny state he still treated you with such care.

You knew he was close already by the way his thrusts got more and more sloppy. “You…f-feel too good, g-gonna cum.” he said quietly, pressing your legs up even further. His strong hands were warm and comforting on the backs of your thighs, supporting you through the intense position he had you in.

He looked at you intently, almost salivating, and picking his pace up significantly. Something about you had turned him on so much, it appeared he couldn’t handle himself. Your expression?

Your thoughts’ little dance came to a halt when he let out a guttural moan, filling you to the brim with his seed. His grip on your thighs intensified, no doubt leaving bruises. The only thing on his mind now was his determination to make you cum.

He languidly stroked in and out of you, intimate, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His soft breaths filled your ear and he slipped one of his hands underneath your head, cradling it. His cum squelched in and out of you, the warm wetness spilling out of your cunt.

“I-I’m almost…!” you exclaimed, before coating Choso’s dick with your slick. He continued to hold you, fucking you through your orgasm even though his dick was oversensitive.

“I’ve got you.” he murmured into your ear, almost too low to hear. He continued to hold you until he was sure you were satisfied, extracting himself from you. He admired your form, caressing your cheek and kissing you passionately. He looked spent, thoroughly wrung dry.

He barely managed to half-assedly clean you up with a warm wash cloth before promptly keeling over and passing out on your chest. Even in his rather unfortunate state, he was still effortlessly pretty and smelled nice. some sort of cherub. A bouncing babe. This thought made you giggle and he stirred a bit, tsking at you for interrupting his snooze fest.

You traced patterns on his cheek before you finally conked out. Your little lightweight would need all the help he could get tomorrow.

[jinuaei]

Dare

I saw a vid on twitter where the dude came while tattooing his own dick. Couldn't get out of my mind so now I have to write it about Leon because he's my muse. RE2r Leon in my mind but with a lil bit RE4r body. NO OUTBREAK HERE.

I also don't have any experience in tattoos in general so pardon me for getting stuff wrong.

Update: Put the vid in question, unsafe twitter link underneath the fic

Warning: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Multiple orgasms(Leon), tattooing, needles, dacryphilia, UNSAFE LINK BELOW

Word count: 2.2k

Leon S. Kennedy x Tattoo artist! Reader

This was a bad idea.

Leon feels stupid standing outside the studio, he can't believe he's actually going to do a stupid dare that Chris forced him to do. He's going to get his dick tattooed. Thankfully, Chris was gracious enough to give him the freedom to choose his own tattoo.

I'll just get a small one and go.

But once he steps in and is greeted by the tattoo artist, he realizes that maybe he might get a bigger one after all.

You stood there with a smile, the tattoos on your body proudly shown to the world-- and holy fuck it was hot. He stammers a hello and nervously looks around, feeling awkward being in a place that he clearly doesn't belong in. There were a few people inside, 2 customers and another tattooist doing work on one of them, and of course there was you.

Chuckling at him, you guide this bumbling blond to your chair, showing him a catalogue of the designs that you do. He was overwhelmed with the choices so ultimately he just looked at you with his big blue eyes.

"Uh.. could...could you choose one for me? Something that you think would look good on me..."

...

I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO CHOOSE ONE FOR YOURSELF???

He mentally punched the air when your relaxed eyes clashes with his wide ones, berating himself for probably annoying you with his indecision.

I-I mean, I don't really know much about tattoos so it would be a good idea to ask them right? I-it's not because I think they're gorgeous and want their approval or something right?? Yeah..

Expecting irritation crossing your face, he braced himself to get screamed at but instead he was met with giddiness. He relaxes under your eyes, finally keeping his nervousness under control.

"I'd love that! I was meaning to do a design I came up with recently, so if you don't mind I can do that to you?"

He nods eagerly, like a happy puppy getting asked to go on a walk.

"Great! Where do you want to get tattooed so I can modify it based on the area."

Leon's blood runs cold as the nerves came back ten fold. He forgot that he was going to get a tattoo, on his dick.

"...my dick." He tries to tell you but it only comes out as a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"My dick...!"

"Sorry could you repeat tha-"

"My dick!!! I'm gonna get my dick tattooed...!" He finally shouts, panting, exasperated.

The studio is quiet except for the buzzing of the machines, everyone's eyes was on him. He feels his face flush and tried to hide himself, scrunching into a ball, or close to it at least without looking like a pathetic baby in front of you. But being the angel that you are, only laughed and waved those staring at him as if to say 'this is normal'. Your assistant also laughed but directed the costumers attention to himself, explaining how newbies get nervous like that.

The blond unfurls himself, looking at you with sad eyes. You pat his head and he won't lie to himself that he didn't enjoy that.

"Don't worry dude, we don't judge here. Luckily for you, I have experience in that regard, but you don't look like you have any. Fresh meat?"

"Yeah... This is my first time."

"Bold of you to choose a sensitive part of your body. Really brave bud."

A smile creeps onto his face, delighted at being complimented by you. Yet his mind wanders back to your words earlier, you tattooed other peoples dick before? Internally shaking his head, he then asks when they'll start, which you promptly answered with a right now if you're ready, in which he agreed excited to get done by you... The tattoo he means.

You lead him to a different part of the studio, a more private area to be exact, its smaller with only one chair for the client. Due to him being too excitable he forgot how embarrassing it would be for people to see his dick in general. But if it's you... Of course it's fine! You're tattooing him after all, this is professional work, be professional Leon.

He sits on the chair after you instructed him to, you then proceed to tell him to strip his pants and underwear and roll up his shirt. Before he did that though he had to ask something important.

"Does it matter if I'm hard or not...?"

"Nah, it'll still look the same whether it's flaccid or erected."

Nodding shyly he starts to strip off slowly, almost teasing, which embarrasses him further since he imagines himself looking like he's giving you a strip dance. You wait there patiently, head lowered, arms crossed, eyes switching between his pants to his own. Eventually he lowers his pants and underwear to his ankles, shirt blocking his dick, but when he raises his shirt your eyebrows raise when you see how hard he is. Red angry tip, twitching under your scrutiny.

"Do you like it...?"

"Hm. You're bigger than I expected. Great abs too."

That made him more confident, puffing his chest out in response. He laid down on the chair, readying himself with what's going to happen. On the side he can see you prepare a piece of paper with your design on it. Staring at you, he admires the tattoos that litter your whole body, your arms filled with dark ink, one half filled with intricate details of crosses and angels, he can also see some weird sigils, rings with what looks like Latin on it and stars. He can only assume that underneath your clothes there are more than what he is allowed to see.

The young mans imagination is cut of with a jerk of his hips, startled he looks at you wide eyed and scared. He tried to apologize profusely but you only shook your head and explained that you needed to put the stencil on his dick. Luckily he survived the stenciling as it was done faster than he expected, he can't say the same for the actual tattooing part though.

You we're thankfully very patient with him, caressing his thigh before starting, which his body reacted with a jerk that he somewhat kept to a minimum.

The first thing he noticed was the loud buzzing of the machine, the next is the vibration, finally-- the pain. It was bearable, but that was not the horrific part of this situation, no, it was the fact that he was enjoying the constant stabbing, combined with the vibrations it felt so good on his cock. Leon wouldn't say that he's a masochist, but damnit whatever the fuck is happening turns him on so fucking much.

Shaky breaths start to come out of his mouth, it was getting harder to breathe with the constant stimulation and if he focus hard enough he could actually feel your breath on his thigh. God you were so close to his dick.

"O-oh! Oh God...huff... shit. I like it, why the fuck do I like it???" He mumbles to himself, biting his cheek to suppress the moans that's bubbling up from his throat.

He tries so hard to focus on something else, the paperwork left on the station-- the vibrations... Chris' smug face when he told him the dare-- feels so good..! His best friend at home, his good ol' dog-- FUCK!!!

"STOP!! Stop...! Fuck. Ah...sorry, it's just hahh... Feels too good."

He pants harshly, fingers holding on the smooth leather for dear life. He feels humiliated under your stare, tears starting to prick at his eyes, making it hard to decipher the expression on your face but he can feel the heat in your eyes.

Your eyes hungrily take in his body, appreciating his muscles as well as his pudge in certain areas. With such a sensitive man in front of you, you get to see all of his reactions. The way his eyes are tightly closed, eyebrows furrowed, his lashes accentuated by the heavy blush spreading from his face. Every flinch causes his body to flex and it is truly a sight for sore eyes.

However, since this is a professional setting, you as the professional doing your job, and him, the client just getting a tattoo on his weeping cock. The same cock that you have to wipe over and over as it drips pre-cum over your work. You tried your best to hold back, managing to stop yourself from ravaging this delectable hunk in front of you. But it was soooo hard to do so.

God... What a cute little thing he is. Makes me want to eat him up.

You tried to wait patiently for him to calm down, you waited 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes for it to stop twitching but it just wouldn't. stop. dripping. Ultimately you gave him a choice, either you stop here and work on it another time or you keep going regardless of how currently sensitive he his.

A whimper came out of his mouth when he sensed you getting more and more impatient with him. Wanting to please you he chose the 2nd option. The faster he's done the better right?

"If you're gonna cum, tell me."

"Wha- Hngggh...!"

The needles start up again and Leon really held himself back, gripping on the leather beneath his fingers. It worked for a moment but the sensation proves too much when his body jerks forward from a particularly more painful-- but delicious, jab of the needle. His hips was then forced down by your hand slamming itself on his pelvis. Your touch almost made him fall off the edge of the cliff but at that exact moment he had a brilliant idea to stop himself from cumming on the spot.

"Hahh...hng! Fuck!! I'm gonna cum! Pleasepleaseplease...!"

And then immediately proceeding to cum all over his chest and your hand that is still pining him down. Even then you were not strong enough to fully hold him down, his hips almost flying from the chair. Tears stream down his face, a mix of humiliation and pleasure dripping to the leather below. As he calms down from his high, he hears shuffling before suddenly, a weight plops down onto his lap. You didn't even warn him before starting again.

"Wait...! I'm still hnggg... I'm still sensitive!" Not knowing if you heard him or not, he tries again but is cut off with a moan.

"Don't move too much because I'm not stopping until it's done."

You're gonna be the death of him.

Finally after so so so so long you were done with his tattoo. Leon is spent, lying there chest covered with his fluids, t-shirt soaked with a mix of tears, drool, and probably semen. He was still twitching, eyes rolled back, overstimulated to hell and back. He doesn't know how much he came, thrice? Four times? Maybe even more than that but God was it amazing. Nothing could prepare him from the tenderness that you exude as you wipe the tears from his cheeks. You leaned in, face hovering over his as you look him in the eye, cooing at how much of a good boy he is for handling everything so well.

"Thank you... hahh hah..."

You hopped off his lap and went to get a mirror for him. He feels a little loopy with the dopamine rushing through his brain but that didn't stop him from thanking you. Blinking sluggishly, his eyes look at the mirror, showing his cock being held by you. Focusing on the design he can tell how much love you put on it.

It starts from just below the head, the whole thing wrapping around his whole dick. It was something akin to an insect, maybe a scorpion with 4 sharp legs, the head of the creature sprouting tentacles. The tail of it was long, twisting around until it stops, the sharpened end on the base, close to his balls. It was honestly really good, the shading makes it look realistic, almost like it will jump at him and bury itself into his skin. He's kind of sad that it's not similar to any of your tattoos. Still, he's happy to have been marked by you.

"Did you bring extra clothes?"

"What?"

"You can't walk around the streets with a cum stained shirt, and you need to wear looser pants so it won't irritate tattoo."

Chris you better fucking pick up.

I should've called Luis instead.

Chris brought him clothes, probably from his own closet and Leon knew when Chris arrived because he could hear his boisterous laughter right outside the private room. SHIT! If I could hear him, people definitely heard me earlier.

After dressing up and doing the walk of shame towards the main studio, he sees Chris and your assistant laughing their guts out. Yeah they definitely heard me, and he's probably telling Chris everything.

You went over to them and smacked the tanned guy upside the head, introducing him as Carlos. Leon strains a smile, regardless of how much he wants to curl up into a ball and die. But Carlos reassures him that it actually happens and how he also cummed from you tattooing his dick, although he was not as loud as him. After that he was informed how to do aftercare for the tattoo and both him and Chris were off to go home.

Sitting on the passengers seat, Leon tuned out Chris' teasing and how 'I can't believe you actually did it!' and 'Imagine cumming while getting a tattoo LMAO'. On his hand is a piece of paper, written inside is your number and a note that read; 'See you when it heals ;)'.

Hey, maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all.

The vid in question:

[captjprice]

Could you write a smut fic where Captain Price is absolutely obsessed with the the F!reader? What I mean is that he's head over heels in love with her. Also could you add lots of praise? 🤭

Captain Price x FemReader

He's absolutely smitten.

a/n: i love doing requests omg. pls send in more

mentions: smut, eating pussy, he's a munch, praise, PRAISE!!!!, domprice, subreader, he's sooooo down bad, sweet nicknames

It had been absolutely no secret for the rest of the task force that you and the captain had something going on. It was fairly obvious, even just in the beginning. Those shared glances and sweet laughter in each other's presence was enough to make even the others melt.

It had gotten worse, lately. His gaze went from admiring you to practically undressing you with his eyes, or both at the same time. It's not like he could help it, right? You were just so amazing. Wonderful. Perfect. You were everything he wanted. Strong, independent, yet still had a soft spot. Sometimes he has to do a double take at you to remind himself he's not dreaming and that he, infact, has his own angel sitting right there by him.

He's so loving, kissing your forehead or squeezing your waist. Anything to just remind you that he's there. The two of you acted like a couple, yet you weren't. But everyone could see it wasn't going to take much longer.

And he wanted you, so fucking bad. He finally made up his mind in one of Shepherd's meetings. He'd tell you, and he'd take you.

So now you sit, arms crossed as you listen to Shepherd moan about a mission that you've already got the intel explained of a million times. You glance at John out of instinct, giving a small smile to which he nods back. You notice he stares at you a lot, simply letting his gaze rest on your details until he's confident he could repaint them in his dreams. He shifts in his seat, getting a little more comfortable. He notices you staring back, of course he does.

To tease, he moves his hips again, manspreading on the chair as he holds eye-contact with you. Fuck. It makes you fluster, and you avert your eyes back to Shepherd. Your thighs press together and John wishes he could bury himself between them, right now. He wouldn't mind taking you infront of everyone, showing all of them that you were his— Even if they all knew. You manage to keep yourself at bay, distracting yourself with other thoughts so you don't look back at John.

When the meeting finishes, you know you're going to get a load ontop of you. You shuffle out of the meeting room with the rest of the task force, not even batting an eye as John joins you in the walk back to your quarters. His arm slithers around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Sorry," He says with a cheeky grin, looking down at you. John knows you like the tease despite the way you don't reply to his very not-sincere apology, because you lean into his side anyways.

He hasn't fallen this deep in a while, he realizes as he follows you into your quarters. "Why— I didn't tell you to come in?" You mumble in confusion as he takes a seat on your bed. You've no idea why he follows you like a puppy sometimes. "Do you want me to leave?" John asks, having his signature sweet smile on his face as he kicks off his shoes. "Come here," He cooes, opening up his arms. You stare for a moment. There's no real reason to refuse him, right? Despite him being your superior... But he's the one initiating it. So it must be okay.

You shuffle forward and settle on his lap, your thighs on each side of his. Your hands glide along his shoulders to behind his neck. "What do you want?" You ask with a small smile. "Me? No, nothing, love. Just missed you." His words made you laugh, as you've not been a minute without one another. "I've been here the whole time," You retort, to which he shakes his head and lets a finger trail across your jaw. "Mmh, but not on me, love." John muses, his hands moving from your waist to your ass, resting there. "You're so beautiful, christ.." He says, admiring you again. The tension of his gaze makes you squirm and blush, and he gives your bottom a firm squeeze to remind you to stay put. You do just so.

And you lean forward to rest your head against his shoulder, just humming at the warmth. John feels a familiar nervous feeling in his stomach as he remembers he was going to tell you. In his own way, ofcourse.

"I think it could work." John confesses, and the look in his eyes tells you everything. "We could separate work and.. us, you know? Communicate.." He really wants it, of course he does. You were the best thing that had happened to him in a while. And obviously, you wanted this too. "So you want to try?" You suggest, and he hums in response. "If it goes sideways, then.. well. We could always be friends." John suggests, even though he's lying straight through his teeth. He wouldn't let you go now. You know this too, but in a way, it's.. attractive. Knowing you had the captain head over heels and drooling for you.

"Love?" He chirps, and you raise your head in response to his worried tone. John tilts his head, "Have you ever.. thought about this being.. more?" He asks, and it's a dreaded question to you. You enjoyed not having a label on what the two of you had, just having fun, but this would come up eventually. Your fingers rub circles into the back of his neck as you look up at him. "Ofcourse. But it'd be complicated.. Right? You're my captain."

John nods to your words, because you're right, but he's too deep in. He wouldn't mind breaking the rules for you anymore. He knows you wouldn't really mind either, more worried about his job than what the others would think.

"I want you," You blurt out, your hands moving forward to rest on his pants. John pulls back, looking at you with amusement. "Yeah?" He lets his hand wander up your thigh. You nod eagerly in response to him. "How could I ever deny a pretty beaut like you?" He cooes, sitting upright as you reach for his belt. He stops you with his hand, shaking his head. "Don't you want to go first, love?" His words surprise you, and your eyes widen. "Oh, I-.. You don't have to if you don't..-" You trail off as he chuckles, pulling you to lay down next to him. You feel butterflies fill your stomach as he crawls over, pulling your legs apart and sitting in between them.

You smile and lean up, giving him a chaste kiss. A chaste kiss that evolves when he squeezes your ass again and pulls you a little closer. "I don't really think this changed anything," He whispers huskily with a grin. "You were mine the whole time." You let out a breathless whine, kissing him again after he said that. He was absolutely yours, and you were absolutely his.

"Not really true," You respond through kisses. He lets himself fall back onto the bed, having you straddle his hips. "Are you trying to challenge me on something, love?" John asks with a chuckle, grabbing your wrist to yank you towards him. "That's dangerous," He mumbles absentmindedly, pressing his lips to your neck. You moan softly, leaning closer to him. For once, you want more than just kisses and love bites.

"You trust me, yeah? I want to do this, baby. Gonna spoil you silly with my mouth." He says sweetly, his hand rubbing your leg. You can't really object to that, can you? You've been with a decent amount of men, none of them had been willing to put themselves aside for your pleasure, but of course he did. Your cheeks burn red and you nod, slowly shuffling your pants off and kicking them to the floor. John kisses your knee, then moves up towards your thigh.

You take in a little breath, looking at the ceiling. Fuck, you're hesitant. Confidence hadn't really ever been an obstacle in intimacy, but now you were getting nervous.

John notices you trailing off, and when he reaches your inner thigh he nips at the skin. You whimper, looking back at him. "That's it. Look at me." He hums, "Nothing to worry about, love." He reaches your panties, seeing how you've already soaked them. You whine at his breath on your pussy, instinctively trying to close your legs.

He makes an annoyed noise, and his hands grip your thighs to claw them open again. "Stop acting like this. I'm a grown man, not like the boys you've had before." John grunts. His words make you nod, and you try your best to keep your eyes on him as he gently tugs down your panties. When he's thrown them to the side, he just stares at your pretty cunt like it's the most delicious thing in the world. You watch through hazy eyes as he presses a kiss just above your clit. "You're doing good, love. So brave." John says, continuing to litter kisses around your folds.

"I'm going to devour you so good, baby. Wonder what you taste like," He whispers, before licking a long stripe along your clit. Your back arches and you moan, reaching to grab onto his shoulders, hair, anything. John hums, pressing his face into your pussy. His beard makes you jolt at the sensation even more, "Oh, my god!-" You shriek as he continues running his tongue along your clit, devouring you like he's got nothing better to do.

Your pants and little noises make him chuckle, keeping his mouth on you. One of the hands holding your thighs open runs down, and he presses his middle finger into your sopping cunt, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels how you clench. As he pumps in and out of you, he takes his mouth off of your clit for a moment, leaning up to kiss you sloppily.

"Taste so good, love. So well for me." He whispers, nipping at your neck before returning back between your thighs. "Gonna marry you, pretty thing." John grumbles before using his mouth on you again. You can only whimper in response— Too caught up with the new sensations and the fact that your captain was between your legs.

You're close, he can feel it too as you clench more and more around his finger, and he adds a second one to quicken the process. He hums as he continues to eat you out, almost making it seem like he's doing it for his own pleasure. You gasp when you feel the coil in your stomach snap, and your legs twitch when you cum, making a mess of his beard and fingers. You babble something absentmindedly, tugging at his hair.

You're barely able to come down from the orgasm, because John doesn't seem to let up. He continues his assault on your clit, still pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your whimpers turn to high-pitched moans, and you try to pull his hair again to make him stop.

He laughs against your pussy again, continuing until you can't find the strength to pull at his hair anymore, and you lay back to let your second orgasm wash over you. "J-... Mmh, fuck! John!" You squeal, trying to kick him off to just give you a few seconds of rest. Your moans continue, even when he pulls back with a cocky grin. He puts his hands on your knees to stop your restless legs, moving closer to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it makes you clench around nothing.

Fuck. You wouldn't mind this every night.

"Are you mine now?" He asks with an attitude, pulling back and sitting next to you, pulling you onto his lap. Your back rests against his chest. You look up at him to the side with tired eyes, and nod. "Yeahh, you're so easy to win over, aren't you, love?" John asks, one of his hands ghosting over your inner thigh. You don't even bother to protest when his fingers catch your clit between them, you just whine and let your head fall back against his chest.

"You're doing so good, baby, just one more for me? Please, angel.." He whispers in your ear as he rubs slow circles on your aching pussy. You nod weakly again, one of your hands grabbing onto his arm. "Mmm, you're doing so well, all wet for me." He says, continuing to spurr you on as his fingers speed up, working your clit to oblivion. "Maybe next time i'll breed you, let you use my cock." His words make you gasp, and you can feel yourself on the edge. "You'd be so good on my cock, wouldn't you? Lovely girl," You moan loudly in response, and he leans to press his lips to yours as you cum for the third time.

John works you through the orgasm gently this time, pressing little kisses to your neck. "You did well, love." He whispers softly, pulling his hand away from you. He sets you down next to him, leaving to retrieve a towel and wipe the mess from your thighs and the bed. You just stare at him tiredly, wanting to kiss him all over and make him feel just as good as he did. John presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips. "We should rest," He gently slips your panties back onto you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you flush against him.

You were off with mere minutes.