#thank you for sending me this! I love requests!

[boyfiechan]

Idk if reqs are open still but imagine Bangchan would fuck his s/o who has no gag reflex and allows him to use their throat OR how he would train his s/o to have no gag reflex and absolutely getting lost in the sauce (or throat)

It’s a thought idk how reqs really work lol. I love your works sm💕

-🧍‍♀️

Hi, thank you for requesting! I don't really have many rules or guidelines, you can feel free to send me some thoughts and I'll make something out of it <3 Also, this got… very filthy, very fast. I don't know how much I strayed from your idea, but it was yummy to write.

Content Warning: This piece contains explicit sexual content, suggestive themes, and mature language including dominance, rough intimacy, consensual power dynamics, oral sex and throat training.

[2.5k words]

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You trust me, yeah?, his voice was low, rough as his hand in your hair loosened, just slightly, enough for you to feel the shift, enough to know he was giving you space to choose. His eyes searched yours, dark but steady, waiting. Not pushing, not yet an you swallowed, heart thudding hard, breath shaky but sure as you nodded. Yeah. It wasn’t just a word—it was a promise, one that settled deep in your chest, heavy and certain.

The tension in his shoulders eased, the grip in your hair tightening again—not harshly, just enough to ground you as his thumb dragged along your jaw, slow, memorizing the shape of your trust, the feel of it under his hand. Good, he murmured, softer this time. The smirk that twisted his mouth was dark, dangerous—satisfied. His hand slid deeper into your hair, fingers tangling, pulling until the sharp burn made you gasp as he tilted your head back, gaze heavy and consuming, his thumb tracing along your lower lip.

Open, he ordered, and it wasn’t a suggestion—it was a command that thrummed through you, low and undeniable. Your breath hitched, heart hammering as you obeyed, lips parting, tongue slick and waiting. Vulnerable. Offering. His hand tightened in your hair, possessive and sure, grounding you.

His thumb was the first to invade, pressing down on your tongue with slow, calculated weight, heavy, demanding, testing. The sensation was sharp, a reminder of his control, of how deeply you were surrendering. His eyes didn’t leave yours, dark and unwavering, watching every twitch, every shift, as though he wanted to carve the image of you into his memory, the image of you, open and obedient, ready to be ruined. His gaze burned, searing through you, and it made your pulse race faster, made heat bloom low in your belly. Wider, he muttered, voice low and rough, curling around you like smoke. Show me how much you can take.

The words slid over your skin, electric, coaxing you to stretch, to give more, to prove yourself and you obeyed, lips parting further, tongue pressing out, trembling but eager. His eyes darkened, a quiet growl rumbling low in his throat as he watched you offer yourself so completely. The air between you thickened, heavy with heat and want, you could feel it—his satisfaction, his hunger and you wanted to give him more. Wanted to be enough for him, to show him just how far you’d go.

He hummed, the sound low and approving, a dark ripple of satisfaction that made your skin burn. And then—he let go. Just long enough to undo his belt with slow, sharp precision, the sound of leather sliding through loops cut through the quiet, rough and deliberate, a promise in every movement as his fingers worked with lazy ease, but there was nothing casual about the tension that coiled beneath his skin as he freed himself, thick and heavy, already slick for you. The sight of him made your stomach twist, breath catch painfully in your throat.

He was big. Thick and long, flushed dark with arousal, the head glossy and wet, shining with pre-cum that dripped slow, glistening in the low light. He stroked his cock once, slow and measured, watching your eyes widen, watching the heat bloom across your cheeks, how your breath hitched, how hunger softened your gaze. His smirk deepened, dark and dangerous. Look at you, he muttered, voice rough with approval. So pretty when you’re ready to be fucked.

He stepped closer, closing the distance until his heat pressed against you, one hand still tight in your hair, the other guiding himself to your lips. He pressed the head against your mouth, slow and controlled, smearing the slickness along your skin, dragging it across the seam of your lips, down to your chin. Marking you, claiming you in slow, messy strokes, each pass left a gleaming trail that caught the light, that made your skin burn hotter. Stick out your tongue, he said, voice thick and dark, almost a growl. Show me how bad you want it.

You obeyed once again, tongue slipping out, trembling slightly with need, with anticipation. The sharp edge of hunger made your body ache, made the moment feel endless and he groaned, low and rough, the sound scraping through his throat like it hurt him to hold back. Good, he rasped, thumb brushing over your cheek in a brief, soft reward. Now keep it out. Don’t move. He smeared himself over you, slow and filthy, letting you taste the salt of him, the weight of him. And then—he pressed in, the head slid past your lips, heavy and thick, the stretch immediate and sharp. Your mouth opened wider, jaw already aching as he pushed deeper. Breathe through your nose, baby, he ordered, hand tightening in your hair. And don’t pull back.

His cock was scorching and weighty on your tongue, sliding deeper with a relentless heat that seared your senses. The taste of salt and skin flooded your mouth, sharp and primal, mingling with the slick mess that coated your lips, the sensation was thick, suffocating, a raw burn that pushed you deeper into submission, making your throat tighten and your pulse hammer, every nerve ending alive with the overwhelming depth of him. Your throat clenched as the head nudged the back, instinctive, but he didn’t stop. Relax, he murmured, thumb brushing over your cheek. I’ve got you. You can do it.

And he pushed deeper, slow but unrelenting, savoring every inch as he claimed you. The stretch burned, sharp and consuming, until your lips were stretched tight around him, until you could feel the pulse of him against your tongue, spit leaked from the corners of your mouth, slick and warm, sliding down your chin. Your throat clenched instinctively, a soft, broken gag tearing from you, but he didn’t falter. Didn’t pull back. His hand in your hair stayed firm, anchoring you in place as his hips pressed flush to your lips, the weight of him heavy and deep in your throat. That’s it, he groaned, voice ragged, breath stuttering as his fingers curled tighter. Fuck… just like that. Look how good you look.

Your eyes were wet, lashes clinging together, cheeks flushed and burning from the effort. Every breath was a struggle, your chest heaving as you fought to keep control, to take all of him. The mess was everywhere, spit shining messily across your chin, your skin damp where it slid down to your throat, but he loved it. Loved the sight of you undone and wrecked, eyes glassy, lips swollen, throat stretched tight around him, loved that you didn’t pull back, that you stayed right there, letting him take whatever he wanted.

You’re so messy for me, he muttered, hips rolling deeper, slow but devastating. Each thrust forced you to stretch wider, forced you to take more, to surrender more. Drooling all over yourself, taking me so fucking deep. He pulled back slightly, just enough for you to drag in a ragged breath, but not enough to let you escape. Not enough to stop the mess. Your lips glistened, slick with spit and pre-cum, and the connection between you stayed—a thin, glistening string that stretched and snapped with every movement, and then he pushed in again, harder, deeper, it was like a claim, like a brand, searing you from the inside out. The stretch burned, sharp and relentless, but you took it, you wanted it, every inch, every push, every breathless second where it felt like too much. Because it was his, because it was him.

He watched it, eyes dark, obsessed. His grip tightened, fingers digging in, controlling every movement, every breath as his hips pressed deeper, unrelenting, his cock filling you completely, stretching you wide. You swallowed around him, desperate, throat clenching tight, and the sound he gave was low, dangerous, rough with satisfaction. That’s it, he hissed, his voice sharp and dark. Let me feel you, mhm? Let me fuck this throat.

And he did, slow at first, but steady. Each thrust deep, claiming, his pace measured—like he wanted to feel every inch of you surrender. Like he wanted to stretch the moment out until it burned, until your nose was pressed flush to his skin, your breath stolen, choked, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. But you didn’t stop, didn’t pull back. You took it—took him—letting him own every inch of you, letting him own the sounds that broke from your throat, the helpless tremble that shivered through you, the way your body shook beneath his hold. And he loved it, loved how you gave yourself over, how you let him push deeper, take more, loved the rawness of it, the surrender, the way you didn’t fight but welcomed it, craved it. Loved knowing it was him making you this way—wrecked, undone, and his.

That’s my baby, he groaned, the words thick, heavy, molten. His voice dragged over you, curling hot through your belly. Tatking it so fucking deep. Like you were made for it. And he watched you—always watching, devouring every detail. The flush that painted your cheeks, the gloss of spit glistening along your chin, the raw wetness pooling at the corners of your eyes. He watched the way you trembled, the way your throat struggled and still took him deeper. Watched how your lips stretched wide, slick and ruined around him, how the mess of you—spit, tears, surrender—only made him harder, made his hand clench tighter in your hair, made his hips roll sharper, deeper, like he wanted to leave the shape of himself in your throat.

You look so fucking good like this, he muttered, almost to himself, his tone low, dark, reverent. Possessive, as his gaze burned, taking in every wrecked part of you like it was his to claim. All fucked out. All mine.

You moaned, the sound muffled, broken, and it hit him like a spark to dry kindling. His fingers tightened in your hair, breath catching hard in his chest, he could feel it—the way your throat stretched tight around him, how you burned to take it, how you didn't stop, wouldn’t, not with his eyes locked on yours, not with the stutter of his breath every time you swallowed around him. The way it felt. Hot, tight, fucking perfect. Shit, you're good, he muttered, voice rough and shaking with control he was barely holding. So fucking good with your mouth full. Like it shocked him, he couldn't believe how well you took him, how willing you were to let him push, let him teach you what he wanted.

He pulled back slow, letting you gasp, letting your lips stay parted as spit dripped in a thick string, catching the light as it stretched between you. His eyes traced it, dark and greedy, lingering on the shine coating your lips, the way they looked—swollen, wrecked, open. Ready, qlways ready for more and it made his chest burn ad much as it made his cock twitch. God, look at you, he rasped, voice dark and low. Reverent. Like he couldn’t believe you were real. You want it, mhm? Want me to fuck this throat raw, yeah? Want me to teach you how good you can take it?

You nodded, breathless, and his groan tore from his chest, raw and deep as his hand flexed in your hair once again, and then he pushed back in—harder this time, deeper. Enough that your throat convulsed, fought, but you didn’t pull away. Shirt, that's it, he growled, hips snapping forward, relentless and rough. His pace quickened, sliding slick and heavy between your lips, pushing deeper, claiming more and it was messy, messier, spit dripped down to your chest, pooling warm along your collarbones, mixing with the salty slick of his pre-cum. Your skin burned, flushed and damp, throat stretched wide and aching, but he loved it. God, he loved it, loved seeing you like this—wrecked and perfect, ruined for him.

You’re learning so fast, he muttered, watching you through half-lidded eyes, watching the tears that streaked down your cheeks, the raw, desperate heat in your gaze, the wet, messy heat of you… it ruined him as much as it ruined you. Taking it so fucking well. Gonna make this throat mine. His grip in your hair tightened, rough and demanding, dragging you deeper, holding you there until you swallowed, until you gagged and gasped and still didn’t stop, still didn’t pull away. And that look on your face—wrecked, desperate, lustful—it tore a groan from him, low and dangerous, hips rocking deeper, savoring the way you let him take it.

Fuck—baby, he gasped, voice shattering, hips jerking as he fought for control. You’re gonna make me cum. You’re gonna swallow it all, yeah? Take it all down that pretty fucking throat? His words were sharp, ragged, breaking apart on his tongue, but his hand didn’t loosen, they held you there, deep and tight, feeling the way your throat clenched, how you pushed deeper, how you opened for him, hungry. And it destroyed him.

Shit, fuck, just like that, he groaned, hips stuttering, body trembling as he chased it. Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, I’m—, His breath broke, sharp and raw, his body tight as a bowstring. His cock pulsed deep in your throat, thick and heavy, and then—he snapped. Fuck—take it, take it all, he growled, voice jagged, hips grinding deep as he spilled, hot and heavy, thick ropes of cum flooding your throat. It was messy, brutal, the rush of it filling you so fast you could barely keep up, leaking from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

You swallowed, desperate and shaking, choking around him, and it tore a broken groan from his throat as his body shuddered, tense and straining, hand tight in your hair, holding you there, keeping you down. His chest rose hard and fast, muscles flexed, his jaw tight as he watched—watched you take it, swallow it, let it fill you. His eyes burned, dark and molten, locked on the way you trembled beneath him. Every drop, he hissed, the words ragged, rough with hunger. His voice cracked, sharp and desperate. Don’t waste it. Be a good fucking girl, yeah?

And you were, you took it all, swallowed him down, felt the heat burn its way into you. It smeared your lips, your tongue, sticky and slick, and when he finally pulled back—slow, reluctant, as though he hated letting go—a thick string of spit and cum clung between you, wet and heavy. Chan looked wrecked. His chest heaved, skin flushed, hair damp and curling at his temples. His lips were parted, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth, like he could still taste it, still feel it.

You did so fucking good, he muttered, voice low, wrecked. Took me so well… didn’t pull back once. Let me ruin you. His eyes dragged over your face, lingering on your swollen lips, the spit and cum glistening on your chin. He groaned, deep and low, like the sight of you broke him. Fuck… if you’re this good already, I’m fucked. Got so much to teach you, and you’re already taking it like this? His hand tightened in your hair, tilting your head back just enough to meet his gaze. You’ve got no idea what you do to me.

[rafes-slut]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING! and I have a request bestfriend Rafe! having sex with reader and reader begs for him to cum inside thanks!!

Best Friends Don’t Do This… Right?

Pairing: bsf!Rafe Cameron x Female Reader

Warnings: (SMUT (18+ ONLY), Friends with benefits dynamic, Rough sex, unprotected sex (praise kink, size kink, creampie kink),Desperation, begging, whiny reader, Dom!Rafe, possessiveness, Slight degradation, choking, manhandling, Obsession with breeding, overstimulation)

His hips snapped against your ass relentlessly, each brutal thrust sending you forward on the bed with a helpless moan. Your knees were already sore from the position—your chest flush to the mattress, ass up, hands gripping the sheets like they’d save you from drowning in the way he was destroying you.

"Rafe—Rafe—please," you whined, your voice high, desperate, needy in a way that only he could make you. Your body trembled, every nerve alight, every inch of you begging for more.

He groaned, leaning over your back, grabbing a fistful of your hair to yank your head up. "You’ve been whining since you walked through the damn door, baby."

You gasped, your thighs shaking. "I can’t—need you to—inside, Rafe, please, please—"

"Oh, now you wanna be filled up?" He grinned against your ear, voice thick with amusement and something darker—possessive, dangerous. "Now you’re ready to beg for it?"

You nodded frantically, the words spilling out without shame. "Please, need it so bad. Wanna feel you cum inside me, please—wanna be full, Rafe, please, need it, need it so bad—"

He cursed, low and filthy, grabbing your hips tighter, the bruises already forming under his rough grip. "Fuck, you’re such a needy little thing, huh? Can’t go a day without this dick inside you."

You moaned at the way he said it, your body arching into him as he fucked you harder, faster, like he was trying to ruin you.

You were soaked—slick dripping down your thighs, your body clenching around him like it couldn’t stand the thought of him pulling out.

And you didn’t want him to.

"Don’t pull out, please—don’t pull out," you sobbed, your voice cracking under the intensity. "Wanna feel you—wanna feel it inside, wanna feel you cum in me, please, please—"

He let out a guttural growl, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself deeper, deeper, until his cock was hitting that spot that made you scream.

"You're gonna take it, baby," he snarled, his hand sliding to your throat, pulling you up against his chest, his other hand rubbing your clit fast and hard. "You’re gonna milk every fucking drop, yeah?"

"Yes—yes, please—need it, need your cum—need it so bad," you babbled, a complete mess, tears pricking your eyes as your climax built, sharp and hot in your core. "Please, Rafe, cum in me—fill me up, wanna feel it drip out—"

"Fuck," he groaned, losing it, slamming into you with brutal force until he was spilling inside, thick ropes of cum shooting deep as you cried out, body convulsing from your orgasm. It hit you like a freight train, blinding, pulsing, endless as you milked every drop from him just like he said.

You collapsed forward with a shaky moan, body twitching, overwhelmed and full, so full of him you could feel it leaking out already.

And Rafe? He didn’t pull out.

He stayed there, buried in you, watching the mess between your thighs like he’d never seen anything more perfect.

"You’re fuckin’ filthy, baby," he murmured, fingers trailing down to push his cum back inside, making you whimper from the sensitivity. "So desperate for me to fill you up... Best friends don’t do this shit, huh?"

You couldn’t even answer—brain fogged, body limp, heart racing.

But you’d be back.

[jadeyuuzi]

GURLLLL I LOVE YOUR ART STYLEE♡♡♡please can l get wasp or skywarp optimus or sentinel from tfa!?!?!

I'm sorry for the late reply! This is the first request I've received (is it?), and I've also started school, so it took some time to respond.

I thought about it for a long time, I added some details to y/n's image, but still can insert:D

Cybertronian! reader

Btw, I’d like to take this opportunity to inform everyone about the request . Due to my academic commitments and waist fatigue, my drawing speed will be very slow. Therefore, I apologize for temporarily closing requests during this period (but you can still send me messages!)

I will later prepare and post a pinned post to describe the request rules, but I need to declare in advance that I prefer to complete them in batches, for example, pausing after receiving 5 requests, and continuing after finishing… If this causes any discomfort, I apologize! But I sincerely thank you for your support!

o(*￣▽￣*)o❤

(use translator

[thehauntedetheral]

YANDERE X DANCER READER

Requests are open!

"This is the 13th diamond jewellery he has sent you in the past 2 month" your work friend said.

" The note with it says you were flawless as always. Have dinner with me, beautiful. Please". Your work friend continued saying.

This has become a common thing now. You thought while removing your makeup.

Ever since the day he joined this club and saw you dancing this man yan has been trying to get your attention.

You were a dancer for a private rich club where only members of prestigious titles and ranks such as politicians, billionaire, millionaire were part of.

You loved dancing. Performing and presenting Your art. Your dream is to open Your own dance studio but due to financial backlash here you were a performer for rich people's club. You didn't hate this job but neither like it too. You were neutral about it. Due to good pay you are still continuing the job saving money to open your dance studio and live your dream.

But since the last two months something is bugging you or more precisely yan is bugging you. 2 months before he joined this club being a billionaire. On every week on Tuesday and Friday your dance performance are in club while on other night other people perform.

On the first day of joining club yan saw you performing on stage. Dancing ever so gracefully. In his eyes You look so perfect, flawless like something unreal. He just felt drawned to you like a bee to a flower. The way you carry yourself, your smile after finishing your performance and thanking audience. This all intrigued him.

Ever since then you observed on your every performance night he is present in audience to watch you. Not only that he always sit in the front and centre table of your performance to watch you. No one but him has been sitting on that table since straight two months. No one can sit there as it is reserved by yan himself.

After every performance he sends you diamond necklace or flowers, expensive wine, exclusive limited edition branded handbags or footwear or dress. He always send you something at backstage makeup room after your performance with a note complementing your performance and asking for a dinner. But you always decline and send the gifts back. Yan always politely accept your decision but never takes back the gifts. So they all just stay in club's locker. Even after declining him. he still ask after every performance for dinner with a gift. He is very persistent you thought.

One time an member got too drunk and misbehaved with you the next day he was thrown out of club and badly beaten up by yan's people.

Since that security for all performers was increased thanks to yan (as he threatened and sued the founders to do that)

"Why do you always reject him? He is asking only for a dinner? Just go. If I were you I would have gone. All this gifts and stuff hell I would have married this guy!!" Your friend said while admiring the new exclusive handbag he sent today with the usual note.

"Today they ask for dinner, then tomorrow for More. Can never trust this rich people " You said while taking the beautiful handbag and giving it back to the delivery person.

"Tell your sir I can't have dinner with him I am busy." You said with a stern smile and the delivery guy just nodded and left.

Sometimes you thought about going to dinner with yan or selling his gift for your studio dream but your stubborn pride and self respect always stopped you from doing it.

"After sometime he will get bored and leave me alone you thought. But the other side of your mind said even after declining so many times yan is still persistent will he ever stop this? His obsession with you.

How about a part 2? Let me know through comments.

For More Yandere Reading:

[moonstruckme]

Mae I have a lil request idea! Can I please get any of the boys with a gf whose inexperienced and she's super stressed about having sex (I just started being open to the idea of dating but I haven't been with anyone in 3+ years and I'm scared/nervous about sex now like what if they hate my body?? Or I suck??)

Thank you for requesting angel <3

cw: smut mdni, body insecurities, reader isn’t a virgin necessarily but is inexperienced

James Potter x afab!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’re trying very hard not to think. To get swept up like you’ve heard you’re supposed to, and in fairness James is doing a very fine job of sweeping you. He’s all strong hands and wet mouth moving over the slopes of your face, your neck, your sides. He’s got your shirt off on one side to expose your shoulder, and you think it’s only a matter of time before the rest follows.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles. It’s believable when he sounds like this, almost drunk, like he can’t lift his lips from you for one second to get it out right.

You burrow your fingers in the curls at the back of his head and try to let yourself be swept. Your body reacts in all the right ways. You gasp, you arch, you throb. You feel the muscles of James’ back, let the friction of his knee between your thighs send electric frissions coursing through you. You relish the warmth of every point of contact and tell yourself that all is going perfectly.

It’s not enough. When James undoes your trousers and his fingers brush the fabric of your underwear, your head is all alarm bells.

You try to enjoy yourself through their wailing. It feels nice, the way he’s touching you. But oh god, what if he cares that you didn’t shave? Do adult men want a bare vagina? Or what if James wouldn’t like it bare, but what you have is too much for him? Is there a universally agreed upon pubic hair length you don’t know about?

The rest of your body is a whole other thing. James calls you beautiful, but he hasn’t seen all of you. What if he takes your clothes off and he doesn’t think so anymore? You know he’d never say anything cruel, but he’s still human, he can think it.

You don’t know what you’re doing. There are so many ways this could go wrong. Even if he’s fine with your body, you could still be too boring or try too hard or be too loud or too quiet or not move right. You could break his dick. There’s no way he’ll want to see you again after that. Not even James could be that forgiving. What if you mess all this up because of one stupid night?

Your heart pounds to the beat of what-if, louder and more insistent until you can’t take it.

“James.” You set a hand on his chest.

He makes a low sound, misinterpreting your hesitance as encouragement. His lips part over your shoulder, fingers teasing the elastic of your underwear. Your breath seizes.

“James.” You push a little this time. James takes the hint immediately, pulling back to look at you.

“Hm?” He blinks. You know his vision must be fuzzy, his glasses on the nightstand, but whatever he can see of your face makes his brows pull in and up in the middle of his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t shave,” you say.

James’ expression relaxes. For a second he looks like he might laugh at you, but presumably your obvious distress keeps him from it. “Okay,” he says, moving his hand a couple inches up from your underwear to run it over your stomach soothingly. “That’s fine, love, I don’t care. I’m a grown-up, I don’t need you to pretend you don’t grow hair.”

This comforts you, but only some.

“I just feel like I need to give you some disclaimers.”

Now James does laugh. It’s just a little one, soft, the way sunlight dapples through the shade of a tree canopy. “You don’t need to disclaim anything.” He kisses you, curved lips against your frowny ones. “But lay it on me, if you want to.”

“I just…” He keeps kissing you, and you speak in between. “Your pasta was really good, but I’m sort of bloated now.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“I also don’t have any, like, moves.”

It’s almost a giggle, the thing that vibrates against your lips. “Moves?”

“Yeah. I’m not exactly well versed in all this. I feel like I’m going to fuck it up.”

“Sweetheart.” James says it all warm and heavy, the sort of tone that usually portends him squishing your face in his hands. This time, he only kisses the tip of your nose with sticky fondness. “If you’re nervous, we don’t have to keep going, but none of these are things you need to worry about.”

You touch his wrist, stopping his hand rubbing your stomach. It sits patiently just below your navel.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say, earnest in the way James always manages to draw out of you. “I need a manual. What’s my job?”

“I promise you won’t need a manual,” he says, kissing you again. “Lovely, your only job is to feel good.”

You frown. “That seems sexist.”

“What?” He laughs. “It’s not sexist.”

“It’s not? You have a job and I don’t. Feels sexist to me.”

“I just told you, your job is to feel good. And it’s not sexist.” James’ mouth moves down to your neck. “It’s a beginner’s pass.”

You swallow as he finds a favored spot below your ear. “I just get that this once, then?”

James pauses for a moment. “Well, there’s also the I’m-in-love-with-you pass.”

“Oh?” Your voice is turning breathy. “What’s that one mean?”

“It means you get to do whatever you want, sweetheart.” He kisses that same spot over and over until you think you’ll go mad. “I’ll love it no matter what, because I love you.”

You give in with a soft whimpering sound. James hugs you close like he means to comfort you, and you take your trousers the rest of the way off yourself.

There are no holds barred after that. You let James put his hands or his mouth wherever he likes, and each time he checks in that something is okay you barely have the air to tell him yes. It feels different than you were expecting, different than anyone else in your history or imaginings, hot but gentle and good in a way that transcends what you thought the word to mean before.

James does get your clothes off, eventually, but you’re not alone in that regard. Being vulnerable with him feels more privileged than frightening then. You can’t believe you ever worried that these hands would find fault in you. You’ve never wanted anyone to touch you so badly as you want James to.

“I love you,” you murmur, against his chest, his cheek, into the hollow of his throat.

James says it back a dozen times. When he calls you beautiful, you know he means it.

[vbecker10]

Bucky comforting reader after a nightmare?🥺

You're Okay Doll, I'm Here

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N) established relationship

Summary: You have a nightmare while Bucky is away on a mission and he comes home just in time to comfort you.

A/N: Thank you so much for sending this request! I absolutely love it. I hope you enjoy it 💚

The second the jet lands, Bucky picks up his gear and stands at the rear door waiting impatiently for the ramp to lower. As soon as it begins moving, he waves to Steve and Natasha over his shoulder without turning to check if they are following him. "I'll do my part of the paperwork in the morning," Bucky tells his teammates.

"Sure, that works," Steve responds, his attention focused on the checklist in his hand. "Night Buck," he adds a moment later but by the time he looks up, his friend has disappeared into the Tower.

"I guess he's in a bit of a rush to see Y/N again," Natasha laughs lightly as she switches off the last computer system in the jet.

Bucky shifts his bag to his other shoulder and presses the button for the elevator, hoping it will come quickly. Once the button lights up, he looks down to check his phone, hiding a yawn behind his metal hand. It's just a little after three in the morning, almost two hours later than he originally told you they'd be home.

As usual, your boyfriend had texted you when the mission officially ended and the jet took off to bring him home.

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

Y/N: Yay! ❤️ Can't wait to see you!

Bucky: I'm excited to see you too, beautiful. It's going to be late though, we're still about five hours away. It's okay if you fall asleep before I get back

Y/N: I won't, I just started a new book 😊

Bucky: Ahh, I see. You're not waiting up to see your amazing boyfriend, you just want to finish your new book

Y/N: Lol you figured me out 😆

Bucky: That's how well I know you. I'll see you in a few hours doll, I'm going to try and take a nap

Y/N: Can't wait! Enjoy your nap 🥱 have a safe flight ❤️

Bucky smiles at your last text then closes his eyes, folding his arms across his chest and resting his cheek on his shoulder. He breaths slowly, thinking about the plans you made for next weekend to help him relax. With a wide yawn, he stretches then slips off to sleep a few minutes later.

An hour into the flight, Bucky's jolted awake and nearly thrown from his seat in the rear of the jet by heavy turbulence. He opens his eyes, suddenly wide awake to the sound of thunder surrounding the jet. The super soldier looks towards Natasha and Steve who are focused on flying through the driving rain.

After discussing the unexpected weather with his teammates, Bucky returns to his seat in the rear of the jet. The three of them agreed the storm was too large and violent to fly directly through and follow the original flight path. The decision was made to fly around the storm, adding at least an hour but possibly more to the trip home.

Bucky sighs deeply, looking at his phone unsure of what to do as the sky lights up from a large streak of lightening. If he tells you about the storm and how much longer it will take to get back, you'll stay awake worrying about him. If he doesn't tell you and he doesn't come home when he was supposed to, you'll worry something happened. The last thing he wants to do is cause you any more stress so he decides to close his phone and hope you're asleep when he gets home. Maybe you won't even notice how late he is.

Bucky opens the door to your shared apartment quietly, not wanting to wake you if you had fallen asleep on the couch like you had several times in the past. The living room is dark expect for a small bit of light that shines from under the bedroom door. He knows the light doesn't mean you're still awake, you've fallen asleep with it on while reading plenty of times.

He takes off his jacket then kicks off his shoes and places his bag down by the door. Bucky walks silently through the living room without turning any of the lights on and heads straight for your bedroom.

As he gets closer he smiles to himself, remembering when he came home from a mission a few weeks ago and you were fast asleep. Bucky will never forget how absolutely adorable you looked curled up in the large bed, hugging his pillow tightly and wearing his favorite shirt. After a few moments of watching you from the doorway, he slipped carefully under the covers and pulled you into his arms. You sighed deeply when you felt his arms around you and he kissed your cheek and neck softly until you smiled and mumbled his name in your sleep. When you opened your eyes, you had the most beautiful smile and told him your dream came true.

Bucky reaches your bedroom door and listens for a moment to see if your still up reading. Instead of hearing a soft giggle or pages turning, he hears you groan and say something he can't quite make out. He pushes the door open, his eyes quickly adjusting to how bright the room is.

The lamp on your side of the bed is still on and a book lays open on the bed but it falls to the floor when you roll over quickly and yank on the sheets. It takes Bucky a moment to realize you're not trying to get comfortable, you're having a nightmare.

You squeeze your eyes closed tightly and breath heavily as your nightmare intensifies. "Bucky... come home," you mumble, kicking at the sheet as you scream those words in your dream.

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed and tries to reach for you but you roll over once again, your legs now tangled in the sheet from trying to kick it away. He gently grabs ahold of the sheet and frees your legs so you don't make it worse, "Y/N, wake up." You don't respond to him or notice when he climbs onto the bed next to you.

"Please... come back..." you beg in your sleep as several tears land on Bucky's pillow. You turn your head and groan again in your sleep.

He moves closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and talking gently to you. "Wake up, baby you're having a nightmare," he tells you as he pulls you onto his chest and rubs your back.

You open your eyes suddenly, gasping as the images from your nightmare repeat in your mind. "Bucky..." you breath out his name and try to catch your breath.

Your body tenses at the sudden contact and he loosens his hold of you but doesn't let go completely. He can feel your shakey breathing and rapid heartbeat as your chest rests on his. He kisses the top of your head lightly and rubs your back again. "Y/N, open your eyes for me. You're having a bad dream, you need to wake up," he says a little louder to break through your deep sleep.

"You're okay doll, I'm here," he says, his arms hold you to his chest, letting you know he's really with you.

"You didn't come home," you tell him as your eyes fill with tears. You press your cheek against his chest and hug him back tightly.

He rubs your back in slow circles and kisses the top of your head several times. "I'm so sorry, we hit some rough weather and I didn't want to worry you," Bucky says, his heart breaking when he realizes he is the cause of your nightmare.

You look up at him, "Bucky, I always worry about you. I'm always afraid you're not going to come home."

He wipes away a tear that rolls slowly down your cheek then kisses your cheek lightly. You give him a small smile and he says, "I'm sorry I didn't text you. I know I should have but I'm always going to come home."

"You promise?" you ask, biting your lip nervously.

His fingers move under your chin and he tilts your head up so he can kiss your lips like he haa wanted to since he left you days ago. You kiss him back deeply, closing your eyes as his hand slides down your lower back. When he finally breaks the kiss, he smiles, "I promise Y/N. I may be late sometimes, but I will always come home to you, always."

You smile and place a quick kiss to his lips then rest your head on his shoulder. "You better, cause I really like you," you giggle and wait for his response.

"You really like me?" he repeats and you nod without lifting your head, smiling wider. "Well that's awkward cause I love you," he says.

"So awkward," you agree then jump as Bucky suddenly begins to tickle you. You giggle and squirm in his arms, trying to get away.

"Tell me you love me," he says with a smirk as he continues to tickle you.

You shake your head no but there's no escaping him. Bucky waits for you to lift your head so he can kiss your cheeks and nose, his fingers still tickling your body. "I... love... you," you manage to force those three words out between laughs and he smiles down at you, his hands now resting calmly on your back.

"That's better," he kisses your lips then reaches over and turns off the light. "Goodnight doll," you can hear the smile in his voice as he pulls the sheet back up around you both.

"Goodnight Bucky," you answer with a yawn as you curl up against him. You kiss his cheek and close your eyes, feeling more comfortable and relaxed than you have in days. His metal fingers run gently up and down your arm as you drift off to sleep.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did ❤️❤️ Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @multyunervisesuperfan @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @ash-muses @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @wolfsmom1 @sabspoetic @peaches1958 @catsladen @michellewgrt @crimson25 @jaidenhawke @mochie85 @itscomplicatedx @motherofmischief

[namgyusrings]

Dating namgyu hc’s

Sypnosis:some hc’s on what I think it’d be like to date namgyu

Warnings:some nsfw in some

A/n:I was bored so I wrote these! Pls send in requests if you have any, doesn’t have to just be namgyu! Enjoy x

♡︎———————————————————————♡︎

•when going out with him he would always have an arm wrapped around your waist or draped over your shoulder, he simply cannot get enough of you.

•not huge on matching stuff with anyone but for you he’ll have a matching bracelet or ring. Something small but still there

•big on late night walks with you, you’ll usually be dressed in one of his hoodies and some shorts while you both took a walk in the park in the dead of night. Typically sharing a cigarette together.

•always buys you cute gifts like plushies and flowers.

•he loves loves loves physical touch but won’t ask for it, if you cuddle up to him he’ll never say no. He will tuck your head under his chin and gently stroke your arm or back.

•when your out with his friends (or just in general) he will constantly be kissing you or showing you off making sure everybody knows you’re his. If he sees any one trying to hit on you his shows them that you’re his instantly by either kissing you or hugging you from behind

•always lets you wear his clothes. Whether that’s a jacket, t shirt or bottoms he loves it. He loves seeing you wear his stuff it gives him a sense of possessiveness

•loves listening to you talk, he’ll let you go on the most random rants just to hear your voice, he’s obsessed with you and your little stories. While you tell him he’ll cuddle you and stroke your hair or back.

•it took him awhile to say I love you, but when he did you could tell he fully meant it.

NSFW!

•he loves praising you, while he’s shoving his cock down your throat he’ll constantly praise you for being good just for him. “Good girl baby. Just for me Hm? No one else.”

•his favourite position is definitely missionary. He loves being able to look at your gorgeous face while you take him in your perfect pussy.

•loves hearing you moan, the melodic noises that come out of your mouth when he’s thrusting deep inside of you turn him on like crazy knowing he made them come out.

•he loves eating you out. He’ll flick his tongue all through your folds tasting every inch of you before coming up and kissing you making you taste yourself.

♡︎———————————————————————♡︎

Thanks for reading!🖤

[zorosangell]

First of all, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Can't thank you enough for gracing us all with your fics. They've made me smile and gush over em many times. Heaven knows I'm too far gone to be simping some more on Zoro but THE FICS JUST MADE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM SO MUCH MORE. You write and make me envision him so beautifully. The Inn Series are THE BEST and my FAVES so far. 💚

Lastly, an ask if you're still taking requests: Writing Zoro with a reader/OC with a dynamic where they're both equally strong parts of the Straw Hat crew and always draw inspiration from each other as they journey on together. Slow burn and idiots who don't know they have feelings for each other + a scene with tension while they're sparring/swordfighting? 🥺

⛥ﾟ・。 white lotus

synopsis: you and your squadron reprimand zoro and bring him back to the castle after he's found wandering around in your kingdom's forest. turns out, the crew is already there since, surprise surprise, luffy destroyed something he wasn't supposed to. now the crew has to plead their case... but while they're doing so, zoro can't seem to keep his eyes off a certain someone, nor understand the weird feeling in his chest at the sight of her strength.

cw: part 1/3 (possibly more), fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is a bit of a simp, sanji is definitely a simp, reader has a facial scar (nothing crazy), reader is FIONE, i hate writing fighting scenes but with this series imma do my best

a/n: went a bit overboard with this one but i really enjoyed the concept (also plz forgive my upload schedule my life is chaos)

a/n 2: AND DON'T BE AFRAID TO SEND MULTIPLE ASKS I LITERALLY LOVE THEM IDK

With a soft sigh, Zoro rolled his shoulders, muscles melting into the rough bark of the olive tree he rested under as he shifted.

Smoothly, he tucked his hands behind his neck, letting out a faint yawn before tilting his head to glance up, a small smile rising to his lips at the clear sky and soft breeze.

A guy could really get used to this...

It was a known fact that Zoro was no stranger to hard work—he'd had the same, strict training regiment since the ripe age of ten—and was often very selective of the pleasures he allowed himself to indulge in.

But... if there was one secret satisfaction he found in everyday life, it was a good summer island.

Especially if there was nothing to be done.

No evil tyrants.

No endangered princesses.

No oppressed villages.

Don't get him wrong, he loved to fight more than anything—the rush of battle, the chance to test his strength against unbeatable foes, the ability to emerge victorious and land one step closer to his dream.

But everyone deserved a break every once in a while.

And now, after straying from the crew and getting lost in the sun-dappled glade bordering the southern ridge of the island, all the swordsman wanted to do was rest against a well-shaded tree, drink some sake, and take a solid nap.

That is... until you showed up.

The sound of a snapping twig quickly ripped Zoro from his slumber, his eye widening at the sight before him as he instantly drew one of his swords, managing to meet your spear with only a fraction of a second to spare.

The reverberations from your powerful clash tore through the tree he was leaning against as if it were butter, sharp cracks echoing through the empty clearing before it finally split in two, the pieces toppling on either side and exposing the splintered wood within.

Swiftly, you used your shield to push off, putting some space between you two before you launched another attack.

"State your name!" you barked, the iciness of your tone sending a cold shiver down the swordsman's spine. "What is your business on Nabis?"

The two of you collided once again, but rather than attempt another test of strength, you went straight for the head, Zoro managing to dodge by the skin of his teeth before pushing you off with a second sword.

'Goddammit, Usopp... told me this place was uninhabited.'

The man was shocked to say the least.

He had honestly never seen someone move so fast, nor get the jump on him so easily.

"I said state your name! What is your business here?!"

The words seemed to go in one ear and out the other as he finally got a good look at you, the will to listen leaving him.

You had smooth, silky chestnut skin that stood out among the polished, gold armor you donned, consisting of a breastplate, greaves, vambraces, and spaulders, along with a scarlet tunic that fell teasingly high, yet somehow still covered your ass.

Paired with that was your large, gold helmet, which only exposed your ears, nose, and mouth, and had a large, red mohawk running down its center.

But the statement piece of it all... was your eyes.

Although shaded slightly by the shadows of the helmet, they were still just as piercing and entrancing as they were in the sun, maybe even more so.

You stared him down with cold calculation, as if it would take nothing to cut him down where he stood.

And he found that hot.

He found that really hot.

"I will not ask you again, swordsman! State your name, and your business on Nabis!" you bared your teeth, your stance readying you for another attack.

"What's it to you?" he asked, having finally found his voice.

"We detained a pirate crew this morning. Their captain caused a scene in the middle of Leonidas Square," you raised your spear to point at him. "Are you an ally to a rubber man known as Luffy?"

At the name, Zoro groaned, fervently fighting off the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

'Of course...'

He leaves them alone for a few hours and everything goes to shit.

"What happens if I say yes?"

As your brows furrowed, your hand swirled your spear back into its upright position, a rather awe-inspiring feat seeing as it was about a few inches taller than you and made of solid gold.

"I bring you back to the royal castle where you will face the queen's judgement alongside your crew."

For a moment, Zoro paused, ruminating on the option.

It didn't sound too shabby, and if the whole crew was together, whatever forces were waiting didn't stand a chance.

"Fine, then," he sighed, sheathing his two swords before raising his arms in the air. "I surrender."

Still wary, you gave him a firm nod, slowly coming out of your rigid stance to stand fully erect.

Suddenly, a squad of a little over ten men emerged from the trees, grabbing hold of Zoro and cuffing his wrists with haki-imbued shackles, allowing you to step closer until you were standing right in front of him.

"Swordsman, in the name of Queen Calysta, you are hereby under arrest."

"Hey, Zoro! Ya made it!" Luffy cheered, grinning widely as the moss-haired swordsman was ushered into the throne room.

"That's not something to be happy about, Luffy!" Nami and Usopp exclaimed, both of them hitting him upside the head with their shackles.

"Ouchie!"

"I take it they found you wandering around in the woods, eh?" Franky asked, raising a brow as the man was moved to stand next to him.

"Was in the middle of a nap, actually," Zoro corrected with a sigh, eye slowly gliding to your form standing a few feet away. "A good one, too. 'Til someone had to come along and ruin it."

Now that he was really looking, he noticed that you were the only guard in the entire room with gold armor, the rest of the them donning some sort of bronze or worn silver.

His brows furrowed, slightly confused.

'Weird.'

Just then, a loud horn blew, every soldier standing at attention and turning toward the elevated throne.

"Now arriving! Her Majesty... Queen Calysta!"

A sharp flourish bounded off the walls, playing proudly as the woman entered the room, catching the awe of the entire crew.

She looked young enough to be in her forties, barely a wrinkle or vein in sight, but the locks of silver and deep grey cascading down her armored back proved that she was significantly older.

Though her walk still carried a certain aura, powerful and unwavering as she approached the steps, and eventually scaled them before sitting down on the menacing throne—it was decorated by the shattered fragments of enemy swords.

"And advising! High General of the Nabisian Army... Her Highness... Princess (y/n)!"

'Princess?'

To Zoro's thorough surprise, you were the one to step forward at the introduction, the man watching with a wide eye as you strode up to your mother's side, receiving an acknowledging nod from her before you turned to face the crew.

In one, smooth motion, you removed your helmet, your eyes finding the moss-haired swordsman as you finally revealed your face.

"Holy shit," he muttered under his breath, a faint tinge pink burning up his neck as his heart stuttered to a sudden stop, the skin of his chest tightening over itself and constricting his air supply.

You were hands-down the prettiest women he had ever seen; utterly gorgeous.

From your eyes to your lips to your hair to the rather prominent scar that spanned across the bridge of your nose, you were breath-taking, each feature only further accentuating your natural beauty.

"My dreams have come true! I'm in the presence of a real-life goddess!" Sanji squealed, eyes bulging out their sockets as his tongue lulled out his mouth, a singular trickle of blood rolling out his nose.

"My word! What a dazzling beauty!" Brook marveled, flailing his arms. "Miss, could you be so kind as to show me your panties?"

"Knock it off, you two!" Nami barked, kicking them both upside the head.

"Which of you is the one known as Luffy?" your mother asked, her powerful voice instantly shutting down all side conversations.

"That's me!" Luffy answered, proudly, his smile never wavering.

Though, the guards were quick to change that, roughly grabbing him by his shackles before pulling him forward and forcing him to his knees, their spears crossing above his neck to keep him from lifting his head.

"Hey! Watch it!" Zoro barked, brows furrowing at the treatment of his captain.

"The hell's all this for, anyway!" Franky exclaimed.

"We didn't do anything!" Sanji scoffed.

"Yeah, what's the big idea?" Usopp agreed.

"You destroyed the tribute to my father!" you bellowed, your eyes zeroing in on the crew's captain. "You besmirched his memory!"

"Hey, lady, I didn't de-birch anything!" Luffy fired back with a pout.

"What did you do this time?!" Nami groaned, utterly confused.

"I dunno! I have no idea what she's even talking about!"

"Luffy, remember when you rushed into the market and ate at every food stall?" Robin chimed, maintaining her smooth monotone.

"Yeah?"

"Well, after that you burped, and it was so powerful that it blew over and shattered the statue standing in the middle of the town square. I assume that's the one she's talking about."

"Oh! Now I remember! Yeah, I've never burped that hard before. That food was really yummy!"

"Apologize, you idiot!" Usopp exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah," Luffy nodded, bowing his head so low that his hat fell off his head, "I'm really sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

"Is there anything that can we do to make it up to you?" Nami asked, sincerely. "We can pay to get it fixed. Or rebuild it, if you like."

"My father was the hero of our people, and did not deserve to be burped on! What he has done is the ultimate disrespect!" you scoffed, sharply. "You cannot buy our good graces! The penalty for such contempt is death!"

"WHAT?!"

"Unless..." the queen piped up, calmly. "You can assist us with a problem of our own."

At that, your eyes widened, your head instantly snapping over to her.

"Mother, you can't—"

"Silence."

Pausing for a brief moment, you warred with her, eyes meeting in a silent, defiant clash before you finally gave in, taking a tentative step back as she turned to her personal guard, sharing a knowing look.

Without having to say a word, she summoned four servants to the throne room, each of them carrying a handle to a stretcher, which had a very sickly-looking boy sitting on top.

Looking closer, Zoro noticed that the kid looked an awful lot like you and the queen.

"Being pirates, you must have a doctor on your crew, yes?" Calysta asked, more as a statement than a question. "Step forward."

Timidly, Chopper presented himself, nervously fiddling with his hooves.

"The best healers this kingdom has to offer have tried and failed to cure this boy of his illness. If you can... then all will be forgiven."

With a silent nod, Chopper quickly ran forward, meeting the boy as the servants lowered the stretcher to the reindeer's level.

The doctor performed his tests with lightening speed and precision, completing all of which before finally coming to the conclusion that—

"I'm afraid he's infected with White Lotus disease," Chopper stated, removing his stethoscope. "It would explain his paleness, along with his labored breathing."

"White Lotus?" the queen raised a brow, stroking her chin.

"It's a rare disease caused by an invasive plant species known as White Lotus. They appear suddenly in bodies of fresh water, and release spores invisible to humans that are toxic to breathe in."

Rummaging through his bag, he finally managed to pull out a large vial of purple liquid, along with an empty syringe.

"Luckily, we've caught it before it could get any worse. If you'd waited any later, he would have certainly died."

"So you can save him?" you asked, hopefully.

"Mhmm," Chopper nodded with a smile, carefully injecting some of the liquid into the boy's arm, "Give him two shots of this a day, and he should be good as new in no time!"

A wide smile broke out onto your lips as you turned to your mother, the two of you sharing a look of relief.

The joy on your face sent Zoro's heart into a frenzy, flush burning all the way up to his ears now.

Damn, you had a nice smile.

"If you know what body of water he went to, you should definitely close it off to the people. Especially if they use it for drinking. And make sure your men remove the plant with masks so they don't get sick, too."

"Thank you, Dr. Chopper. We will do just that," Calysta grinned, standing from her throne. "As per our agreement, all is forgiven! And for saving my son, it would be my pleasure to make you and all your friends our honored guests at tonight's royal banquet!"

"All right! Party time!" Luffy cheered, the guards standing down at your command and allowing the captain to rise to his feet.

The throne room erupted with roars and whoops of joy, soldiers, servants, and Strawhats alike utterly elated to see that the young prince would be okay.

Among the chaos, your eyes managed to land on the green-haired swordsman once again, something warm thrumming through your stomach at the realization that he'd already been staring at you.

Although you were High General, and the crown princess at that, at your very core you were also a woman.

Hell, you were a person with eyes.

It was clear as day that the swordsman was incredibly, almost bafflingly handsome, and you'd be a liar if you said you weren't checking him out while your squadron perp-walked him through the woods.

Broad shoulders...

Strong chest...

Sexy voice...

Nabisian men were not small nor frail in the slightest, but even still, the man dwarfed most of them in both size and strength—if your clash told you anything.

And now that he and his crew were no longer enemies of the crown, it was no longer immoral to have more... unsavory thoughts about him.

Unable to resist, you flashed the man a smooth, coy smile, relishing in his obvious fluster as his back suddenly straightened, eyes seeming to flick toward everything but you.

Oh, yeah... you were gonna have a good time tonight.

[hotchnerwrites]

hello this is my first time requesting so sorry if it’s bad😭😭😭. but i was thinking about maybe the reader having a hard day at work (she worked at the bau) and was kinda stress out so hotch sits her in between his legs and fingers her while whispering sweet nothings in her ear ???? i just need him to take care of me😩😩😩😩😩

Reckless

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: NSFW (18+), fingering, mirror sex, kind of established but hidden relationship, no use of (y/n), afab reader

A/N: Hi, hun, thank you so much for taking the chance on me and requesting, especially since this is your first time <3 It was a great request, and I love the idea! I'm kinda new to writing smut. It's definitely a learning curve for me, but I tried my best. I really hope you like this, and it's what you wanted!!! mwah mwah mwah, enjoy. And man, I want Aaron to talk me through it so bad 😩

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

You hate Denver.

It’s ridiculously hot. Not even the AC was helping. And to add fuel to the fire, the local sheriff was utterly incompetent. Not only had he lost half the physical evidence, but he was also getting in the way of the team’s job.

And just your luck— you’d been tasked with retrieving the evidence. In a desperate effort to escape from reality, you’d locked yourself in the evidence cabinet, hands still shaking from too much caffeine. You knew it couldn’t last forever, but even ten minutes away from the local police was solace. 

For a while, the only noise in the room was the ruffle of papers as you dug through cardboard boxes desperately, wishing the documents would magically reappear. Mindless work, but it was grinding your gears, and you could feel yourself becoming more stressed by the minute. But you keep at it, hoping against hope. 

Just as you begin to settle into your task, you hear the door creak open. Damn it.

You tense, hoping it’s not that damn sheriff again. You didn’t want to have to punch him in the face. But a familiar cologne of warm spice and amber crowds your space and the tension eases— Hotch. 

Though you were grateful for his presence, the case, the pressure, the exhaustion— it had all built up to a breaking point. The last thing you wanted was to talk, but you couldn’t shake the knot in your chest. Hotch, always attuned to your mood, noticed how you seemed to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders right now. That’s why he’d followed you into the filing cabinet. 

Wordlessly, he slides you a small piece of paper. Before you could open it, he places a soft kiss on your temple and leaves the way he came.

10 pm Knock thrice if you’re feeling reckless. Twice if you want me to behave. Either way, my door is always open. - A

You smile.

———

You lay spread-eagle on your bed, listening for the sound of doors closing. You wanted the team in bed before you went to Aaron. All but one door… and there it was. The last click. The coast was clear. You swing your legs off the bed. Exhaustion racks your frame, but your excitement masks the strain.

You slip out of your hotel room, gently drawing your door close. Aaron’s room is opposite yours— convenient. As you’re about to knock on his door, you hesitate for a second. Twice or thrice? But as the week you’ve had flashes in front of your eyes, your resolve hardens. 

Tap-tap-tap.

The door swings open almost immediately. Chocolate brown eyes meet yours, and the day’s irritation melts away. Aaron takes you by the wrist, guiding you into the room gently. The warmth of his palm was comforting, a reassurance that you were safe, even when your mind was racing.

As you follow him, you take in the state of the room. Files are scattered across the desk. A few are marked with sticky notes, others open to pages filled with dense reports and scribbled annotations. A half-finished glass of bourbon is balanced precariously nearby, and his blazer is draped over the back of the chair. Aaron’s tie is missing, tossed in some dark corner.

A dry chuckle escapes you, “Good to see I’m not the only one going nuts from stress.”

He doesn’t respond, but the small quirk of his lips tells you he heard.

“Sit,” he instructed softly, pointing towards the edge of the bed. With a quiet exhale, you obey, letting yourself be steered. You didn’t want to think anymore. Your knees fall open as you settle in, tension roving through your muscles.

Hotch steps between your legs, presence steady and grounding. Without a word, he places his hands on your shoulders, expert thumbs kneading the knots there. 

Slow. Deliberate.

You can’t help the groan that falls from your lips. It felt heavenly. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and soothing. “Take a deep breath for me.”

The rigidity in your neck eases slowly, and your breathing evens out. For the first time since landing in Denver, you let go.

But just as you begin to get comfortable under Aaron’s ministrations, he moves.

Not far, just enough to sink down on the mattress beside you. Before you could process his decision, his large paws envelop your waist. And he pulls— guiding you effortlessly into his lap.

A quiet gasp escaped you as you let yourself be gathered into his hold, your back pressing flush against his chest, his arms winding around your middle.

“Better?” he murmured against your hair, his lips barely brushing your temple.

You exhaled, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Better.”

“Let me take care of you tonight, honey,” he whispered, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

He wasn’t kidding about being reckless. You had never done this before on a case. Despite that, you nod eagerly. You needed this. And something told you that Aaron did, too.

He doesn’t waste any time. Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hands trail up your ribs, going all the way up under your shirt. The feeling of his fingers on your skin set your senses on fire. Heat blooms across your face and your head lolls back against his shoulders as he cups your tits, the rough pad of his thumbs flicking against your nipples. A low grunt from Aaron conveys that he’s grateful for your decision to forego a bra tonight. 

Without warning, he pinches your right nipple. The sudden sensation catches you off guard, and you gasp, arching into his touch. He’s barely even started touching you, and you’re already losing it.

“The mirror,” he says suddenly.

The words cut through the haze of arousal settling on your brain. “What?”

“The mirror. Look at it.” You feel him indicate with a nod, and you blink, gaze shifting forward to land on the large mirror across from the bed—one of those standard hotel-room fixtures positioned perfectly to reflect the two of you. 

What you see makes heat spread across your face. You, seated in Aaron’s lap, with his arms wrapped securely around your waist. Your face is flushed, and your nipples are pointed through the material of your shirt. Your jaw hangs slightly open, and you’re breathing audibly. You look utterly wanton and at Aaron’s mercy. With a start, you realise his shirt is rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms.

Just the way you like it.

And the way they strained as they caged you against him? Words couldn’t describe how badly you needed him right now. Sensing your desire, Aaron moves faster. In the blink of an eye, he pulls your thin shirt over your head and discards it, exposing your breasts. Large, calloused hands sweep across your body and whispered sighs fall from your mouth. 

“Touch me, please,” you beg, desperate for his hands to graze you where you need him the most.

Through the mirror, you watch Aaron as he slowly mouths up your neck, settling on that soft spot behind your ears. Impatience takes over, and you grind into his lap, rubbing your pussy into his hardening crotch. You needed him inside you now, and you didn’t care whether it was his fingers or his cock.

“Patience,” he rasps into your ear, “Or I’m gonna go even slower.”

Your retort burns on your tongue, but before you can do anything about it, Aaron slides his hands under the waistband of your pants. He brushes his fingers gently over your abdomen, taking his sweet time.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good tonight, sweetheart,” he continues. His voice is unfairly composed. You have no idea how his brain is still functioning because yours certainly isn’t. All you can think about is the feeling of his thick fingers, preferably buried inside your cunt.

A prolonged moan slips out of you. You couldn’t give less of a damn about who heard right now. 

“Aaron,” you plead, making eye contact through the mirror. He looks so pleased— like a cat that got the cream. And then, slowly— oh, so slowly—his fingers flit over where you needed him the mouth.

“I want you to keep your eyes on yourself, sweetheart,” Aaron commanded, his Unit Chief voice seeping out. “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”

Your breath hitches. You nod. Anything. Whatever he wanted, you’d give it to him. You just wanted him inside of you. 

Aaron rolls your pants down in a deft movement, letting his palms rove over your stomach. Thankfully, he decides to put you out of your misery, and slides his fingers into your panties, groaning in your ear as it slips in oh so easily, creating a wet sound. The friction sends you to heaven, and you stretch your legs further apart, too far gone to be embarrassed by how you look in the mirror right now. 

“My pretty girl,” he rasps, “You’ve been so good today.”

The praise has you whimpering and you grind down on his palm.

“Didn’t even complain,” Aaron grunts, hooking his fingers inside your gummy walls, “Such a good girl.” You whimper at his words and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck. The way he’s scissoring his fingers in your cunt… 

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re so wet for me right now.”

Aaron continues to slide his fingers in and out of you, ever so slowly but oh so perfectly. You bite your lips to contain the noises threatening to escape you, but when he grabs your tit, rolling a nipple between his fingers, your eyes slide shut, letting the sensations take over.

“I said,” he growls, punctuating his words with thrusts of his fingers, “Look. At. The Mirror.” 

Your eyes fly open, and your hips jerk involuntarily, overwhelmed by the feel of his touch. Your body burns in pleasure, and his name falls from your lips, tangled with a soft moan. 

“God, you feel so fucking good, honey,” Aaron groans, “I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re so wet. You’re doing so well, baby”

“Please, yes…” you whine back, body arching to beg for more. His fingers are dripping wet with your arousal and you watch them disappear repeatedly into your cunt, making damp sounds. You bite your lower lip to keep your impending orgasm at bay, but just then, Aaron circles your clit with the pad of his thumb.

The cry that leaves you only seems to incense Aaron. He’s fully hard by now, and you can feel his cock straining painfully against your ass. Pleasure clouds your brain, and you can’t do anything but take what he gives you and grind helplessly on his lap. Despite that, you don’t look away from the mirror, watching indulgently as you bounce on Aaron’s hand and he sucks light bruises into your neck.

Aaron keeps circling your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. The coil in your belly is tightening and you can barely even concentrate on the honeyed words he’s spilling in your ears. He continues to work you, pumping his fingers steadily into your pussy.

“Aaron, I wanna cum so bad,” you sob, hovering over the edge. The pleasure is spreading from your clit to the rest of your body, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold on.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers, “Let go.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. 

Your orgasm crashes into you like a massive wave, walls squeezing his fingers tightly. Aaron groans deeply in your ear as you ride out your pleasure, watching you through the mirror. He continues thrusting his fingers inside you, his other hand holding your waist tightly.

Tears prick your eyes, and your body shakes. You take time to come down from your high, but when you do, you can’t even remember why you’d been in such a shit mood today to start with.

Aaron gently brushes strands of hair away from your face, still whispering sweet nothings. His eyes were still dark with lust, but he was looking at you like you’d hung the moon. You lift a trembling hand and wrap your palm around his wrist. Not pushing or pulling, just holding on.

“There’s my girl,” Aaron smiles, holding you close. “Feel any better?”

“Much,” you admit. 

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, as he peppers your neck and shoulders with kisses.

“Hey, Aaron,” you start suddenly, “I think I know where the sheriff put the evidence.”

“What?” Aaron blinks at you, processing your words. Then, with an exasperated smirk, “You really know how to kill a mood, sweetheart.”

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You can sense the reluctance as Thor drags his finger around the crumbs on his plate. You cannot mirror the sentiment. You are desperate to get away. You wipe your fingers with a napkin and cough. 

“Thanks, uh, again, that was really nice but I should probably go.” You look around evasively. 

“Oh?” He utters flatly. “Should? We could go for a walk? See a movie? I must admit, I didn’t get to see much when I was away. I have much to catch on.” 

You make yourself look at him. Despite his size and strength, even his age, there’s something very puppyish about him. That twinkle in his eye gleams with hopefulness, a stark contrast to your own doom. 

“Well, you know, I gotta get back to the house. My stepdad’s super paranoid and I did say I’d hold down the fort, so... yeah.” 

He nods as his brows arch curiously. 

“They’re off on vacation and he thinks the neighbour’s been dumping grass trimming in the back...” 

“Away? Without you?” Thor wonders. 

You have to keep from visibly cringing. Again, you said too much. Just like online. Just like how you got yourself into this mess. You give a sheepish smile. 

“Well, I have work so... just couldn’t make it work.” 

“But you have the house to yourself?” He asks. 

You stare at him and nod. Shit. 

“If your stepfather worries, would it not be better for you to have some protection? My queen, I must admit, to think of you all alone, it makes me worry,” he taps on the edge of his plate. “All those months in prison, I worried. I could not wait to be out, not only to look upon your beauty in the flesh but to make sure that you are safe.” 

Your breath clogs in your chest. You squirm. Your lies always just compound into a trap. This is why honesty is best yet you know telling him the whole truth won’t help you now. 

“Well, maybe you can walk me home?” You shrug. “Like I said, my stepdad. Super controlling, I don’t think he’d be okay with me having company.” 

He narrows his eyes and sits back, puffing his large chest as he strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Mm, yes, this stepfather of yours, he does sound as controlling as a prison guard. Well, my queen, you needn’t mind the peasants. Your king is here.” 

“Thor, please, it’s fine. I... he’s not that bad and I... I live there so... it’s the least I can do,” you shrug. 

“Not for much longer. You should not live with him if he cannot trust you. If he cannot see you for the treasure you are,” he crosses his arms, his muscles bulging in the flannel. “You deserve a castle of your own.” 

“Right, uh, that’s so sweet but really, I’m tired. I need to go,” you cautiously stand and put your empty mug on the small plate. 

“Yes, my queen, you have blessed me on this happy day, when at last we are together,” he stands and gathers his own dishes before reaching for yours. “Do not trouble yourself. Allow me to serve you as you deserve.” 

You let him take the plate. You watch him go to the counter and leave them there. You hurry for the door. Not quick enough. He’s there to meet you. He opens it in his gentlemanly way and you step out. 

“I have to catch the bus, you know? So you don’t need to come all this way.” 

“The bus? No, my queen, I have a vehicle,” he assures as he catches up to you. You wince as he wraps his arm around you, his hand firmly on your cushy hip.  

You touch his knuckles as you squeak. “Oh.” 

“Forgive me, queen, I cannot help myself,” he growls. “I finally have you near...” he squeezes as he leads you the sidewalk, “and you are softer than I could know.” 

“Please, er,” you look around. “I... not in public.” 

“Yes, my queen,” he recoils, dragging his hand across your back with a huff. “I understand, you would save our love only for us.” 

“Um, sure, yes, exactly,” you agree frantically. 

“This is me,” he points to a big red truck.  

You slow and eye the bright paint. It’s not what you expect. It looks brand new. You eye him warily. He wouldn’t steal on day one? Well, you know his record. He’s done worse. You shiver at the thought. 

He opens the door once more. He helps you up into the lifted truck. You’re dizzy, not just from the height. This whole situation is disorienting. 

You stare through the windshield. Pedestrians trawl by lazily, ignorant to your predicament. If they knew, they’d judge you anyway. Stupid girl. 

You should’ve left it alone. You should have stayed alone. Nope, you just needed to feel special. You needed to let these dirty old criminals tell you the same things they’d say to a forty-year-old. It was never real. Or never should have been. 

“My queen,” he snaps in his seat belt. You glance over at how it stretches over his thick torso. “You must secure yourself.” 

Your eyes flick back and forth. You cough and nod. You click the seat belt in and fight to release the air trapped in your chest. 

“Do you work tomorrow, my love?” He asks as he turns the engine. 

You brace the interior of the door and force the breath through your nose. Your blood is boiling. You can’t think fast enough to lie. Haven't you done enough of that? 

“Nope,” you gulp. 

“Perfect, then I shall plan us a wonderful day,” he proclaims. “And we will be together and happy.” 

“Thor, I... I have chores,” you eke out. That’s not a lie. You told your stepdad you’d take care of the place and you slacked on the vacuuming and laundry. 

“Hm, yes, a very responsible woman. It is how I know you will make a good wife. Well, I could assist--” 

“Wife--” You squeak and curl your fingers around the handle of the door. “Thor.” 

“Yes, well, we will take it one step at a time,” he grins at the road as he steers. Somehow, he seems too small for the gargantuan vehicle. “I’ve not yet kissed you as I’ve longed to. Held you. Worshipped you from head to toe.” A breath rumbles up from his chest and plumes from his nose in a growl. He shifts in the seat. “You cannot know how you’ve saved me, queen. You kept me good. You got me out.” 

You press yourself to your seat and pray for spontaneous combustion. He stops at a light and hums. His large fingers tap the ridges of the wheel. 

“Which way do I go, my queen?” 

You point. Your voice is stuck deep down in your gut. He turns and you blink away the horror. You manage to pluck out a sliver of courage. You use it to guide him to your stepfather’s house. The thought of being away from him is what gets you through. 

He stops at the curb as you declare your arrival. He reaches and grips the seat above your shoulder. You pause as your hand rests on the seat belt. Your heart pounds. Is he going to do something? 

“My queen, I hate to part so soon after waiting so long,” he slips his hand free and strokes your cheek. “But to look upon your beauty, to have you near at all, will soothe me for a time.” 

He cradles your face, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone. His touch alone dwarfs you. Your brain swirls like overcooked soup. You’re going to pass out. 

“I-- thank you, I... that’s-- thanks for the ride but I...” You cautiously look away. 

“Yes, yes, I promised to deliver you unscathed.” He retracts his touch and inhales deeply. 

He undoes his seat belt as he puffs out his reluctance. He gets out and you unbuckle. He opens your door and lifts you out before you can resist. You yelp, once more startled by his easy strength. 

He places you on your feet and you don’t think before you grab him for stability. Your legs are hollow and shaking. The longer he’s around, the more dire, the more real it all is. 

“Allow me to escort you to the door. For safekeeping,” he hooks his arm through yours and guides you up the walk. 

You move on instinct alone. The instinct to get away. You stop at the door and pull away to find your keys. You feel his gaze on you. 

“Before I leave, my queen, a kiss?” He sounds as nervous as you are.  

You look at him, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice. You make a noise and wet the roof of your mouth. Your chest fills with sand. Your lips open and close. 

“Okay?” You utter. 

His cheeks pinken slightly. You stare at him. Why did you say that? 

He smiles and puts his hand on your shoulder as he makes you face him. You quiver as he bends and his other hand comes up under your chin. You squeak as his mouth meets yours. His tongue flicks across your lips but does not delve deeper. 

He parts with a hum. You stare wide-eyed. His tongue glides out to taste his lips. You babble. 

“My queen? Are you unwell?” 

“I never...” you trail off and shake your head. 

You yank your keys free of your bag and face the door. He stays close, “you never kissed a man? Only me?” He wonders. “You saved yourself for me, my queen. I am honoured.” 

You choke and struggle to open the door. Heat encases your body. You push the door inward and it hits the side table just inside. 

“Uh, yeah, er, bye,” you flit through and quickly swing the door shut.  

You lock it and lean into the wood for good measure. You blink and press your back to the door. The smart screen on the side table shows Thor on the doorbell cam. He runs his hand down the door before he goes, his steps heavy. 

You blow out a breath and sink down onto the mat. You sit and stare down the hall as you listen to the engine turn. You stay there until it rumbles off down the street. 

Your daze is broken by the jitter of your phone. You blindly take it out. It’s Andy. Shit. 

You swipe the call away and get up. You leave your shoes by the door and head up to the guest room. You toss your bag on the bed and pace around with your phone. 

Do you call the cops? What did Thor do? You’ve watched those TV shows on stalkers. You’ve seen the horror stories of indifference. Take notes. That’s what they say. What good are notes going to do against a man like that? 

You yipe as your phone shakes again. Andy, leave me alone. You answer, just to get him off your back. 

“Hi,” you answer sharply. 

He sighs. “What did I say about guests?” 

“Huh?” 

“I said none, didn’t I?” He challenges. You blink, confused. 

“What?” You stop and frown at the wall. The door cam. He checks that app incessantly. “No, they just drove me back.” 

“Is that all?” He scoffs. You know he saw it all. You want to throw up. 

“Andy, please, he’s gone--” 

“Bit old for you,” he snorts. 

You shake your head, “I’m an adult.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he clucks. “You’re lucky your mom took the kids for a hike. I’m sure she’d be less than impressed to see you doing that.” 

“I...” you shrug. He hates everything you do. 

“I didn’t think you were that kind of girl,” he says. Your stomach knots. What does he mean? “You always were so nice.” 

You sniff, “it won’t happen again.” 

“Hm,” he tisks, “not any of my business. It’s just my house.” 

“I get it. Okay?” 

“Do you? You know exactly what you’re doing with that old man?” He sneers. 

“What do you care?” You blurt out. “You hate me.” 

He tuts again, “I don’t know where you got that from.” 

You wallow in silence. You can’t handle this right now. “Okay, Andy. I’m sorry.” 

“Hm, was that so hard?” He sighs again. “Don’t forget to mop the kitchen.” 

You hold back a heave of your own. How does he always know? You nod as your hand shakes around the phone. Your stepdad is nothing compared to your real problem. 

“Yes, sir.” 

He hums, “don’t be like that.” 

“Okay, Andy, I’ll mop right now.” 

“Good,” he preens victoriously. “And I’ll keep this little secret between us.” 

“Right, er, bye.” 

You hang up before your skin melts off your bones. Something about his tone has your nerves roiling. He always talks down to you. Like you’re stupid. A burden.  

Well, you’re just the baggage your mother brought to the marriage. He’s ready to offload you completely, and it might just happen sooner than he knows. The more you think about it, you almost prefer the criminal to your own stepdad. 

[dipperscavern]

as you write and create wonders from thin air, i bring forward to you a humble request from the town folk: jon snow marrying/wedding, drabble or such 🙏 my life is yours 🙂‍↕️

thin air?? never!! i could never do it without my lovely anons 💗💗

jon snow x reader (gn i believe… idk reader has hair long enough to braid!)

you’re being dramatic. no, really, you are — but you’ll allow yourself this one moment, it is your wedding day, after all.

jon is the only one who knows how to braid your hair the way you like. both sansa and arya have tried their very best to replicate it, but one way or another it never turns out quite how you need it to be.

the easy fix of simply asking for jon's help is thwarted by aryas insistence of a braavosi wedding tradition, one which requires you and jon to not see each other until the actual ceremony. according to her, doing so supposedly brings bad luck. one shared look between you and jon says neither of you quite believe it, but you've humored the princess nonetheless. up until now, that is.

the door shuts with a click. jon, expecting sam or perhaps one of his sisters, is thoroughly surprised when greeted by the sight of you. "I, uh, thought we.."

"Are you not happy to see me, Jon Snow?"

jon cant help but smile while getting his first proper look of you all day, and the one you bite back reaffirms that he's in no real danger. "I need your help."

"With what?"

you look away momentarily - the way you do when you're nervous to ask for something. he finds the action terribly endearing. "My hair. Could you braid it?”

aye, he thinks. he could also kiss you silly and mess up the small bit of makeup sansa has dusted over your features. he could make you both late to your own wedding.

instead, his pupils dilate ever so slightly, face softening along with them. “Turn around.”

you flash a smile before heeding his request. it hits him that he’ll get to see that very smile for the rest of his waking days, if the gods are good.

his hands are gentle as they work your hair, delicately intertwining the strands in a dance he’s done countless times before. the feeling of his skin occasionally brushing against yours sends your lashes fluttering shut, goosebumps breaking out across your shoulders.

the silence of this moment is comforting — a momentary chance to rest, your day having been a whirlwind so far. everyone has decidedly thrown themselves into this; a bright, shining, good thing happening amidst all the bad that has scorched not just the north, but the entirety of westeros for the last coming years.

sansa has spent the last days sewing you and jon’s cloaks, and arya spent the morning making you a hair mask that has, undoubtedly, made it softer than ever. when asked she only shakes her head, letting you know she intends to keep the recipe closely guarded. and he’d never admit to it, but you know theon is responsible for the fresh sheets, new candles, and the pastries being made by the cooks to warm everyone up once back inside from the ceremony.

jon sliding the hair band you brought off your wrist brings you back to the present moment, eyes reopening & landing in the door in front of you. “Done.”

hands on your waist turn you to meet their owner, and before you can utter thanks, you hear footsteps making their way to the door directly behind jon. they’re light, airy — almost nonexistent. but a split second after you notice, jon’s head turns to confirm what his ears tell him.

when he looks back at you, childlike fear of being caught dances in his pupils. you can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes you as you turn to quickly (and quietly) exit out the door you came in from.

he’s quick to help usher you out in lieu of his sisters approaching footsteps. “You’re my savior.” you tell him.

he doesn’t shut the door without pressing a small kiss to your lips first. “I bask in the glory.”

[pinkyqily]

BITTER SWEET - KiKi RICE X USC READER

Summary: You both win or lose but no matter what you still have each other.

Warning: angst - fluff

A/n: kiki fic as the audience requested hope y'all enjoyed reading this, I would appreciate it if you guys send feedbacks or live reactions, happy readings 💕.

Dating someone from a rival team means things are going to get heavily heated on the court. When your teams face each other, it was what you we're told, but you couldn't care.

But the consequences would later come bite you in the back.

Usc were having their last game of the regular season against the bruins at their home court. From the second half, you guys started dominating the until the match was over.

You felt so much joy once the game was over, jumping around with your teammates celebrating this huge win for the team.

But you couldn't help but turn your back, getting a glimpse of an upset kiki who was getting comforted by her own teammates. You hadn't realized that you were staring at her too long until you felt someone tap your shoulders.

It was juju she pulled you over with the rest of the teams. Only both your teammates and family members knew about you and kiki, because if the media would find out, oh, the headlines about la's superstars would be the hot talk of town.

"You were staring at her way too long, and we're about to head into the locker rooms." She told you

"Oh, okay, thanks for the heads up. Let's go join the rest." You told her looking back one more time as you walked away, but this time you made eye contact with kiki. It hurt your heart seeing her like that, not being able to comfort her.

Time felt like it was put in slow motion until one of you wasn't looking back anymore.

Back in the locker room you guys were going crazy with the celebration, but that didn't mean a few of your teammates didn't clock you starting at your girl.

Until Kennedy and Dom walked up to having a look of Mischive looking way to excited about what they were going to say. Dom had her camera, and ken sat right next to you, pretending her hand was a microphone.

"Okay, so how does it feel like dating the op and taking home a win?". She said with zero exitation, getting a laugh out of you and most people around you.

"Okay, one, not too much on the op girlfriend because, y'all don't see what I see two it feels great to win, but that doesn't mean fuck ucla because it's fuck ucla!". You told her, saying that last part out loud having your teammates acting hyped around you.

"Don't worry, I won't clip this part in the vlog." Dom told you.

Later that night, you and kiki hopped on face time together.

"You know I'm very proud of you right". She told you, you knew she was but you could also tell how hurt she was from expression.

"I know, kiki it okay your feelings are validated you guys played well and you know that".

"We didn't play our best, and you know it don't have to try and sugarcoat it." She said

"Well you guys necessarily bring out the undefeated ucla".

"Bruh, you don't have to say it like that." She said, rolling her eyes.

"You just told me not to sugarcoat it bighead, rolling won't your eyes won't fix that." You told her

You both ended your night...

Once again, both teams cross path, but only one leaves with a winning crown, it like a game of strings faith tugging on there heart strings, playing with how they feel against each other, playing with there love to see how long it would last maybe it was a test from destiny maybe it wasn't and they weren't meant to be.

The buzzers hits and usc isn't able to grasp this wins against ucla, it was frustrating and disheartening for them.

You felt like this was a win that you guys should've been able to get, you played them twice and won it should've have been easy but it wasn't everything went south for the team in the finale minute.

But you weren't going to cry they might have won but that doesn't stop the fire in your heart to stop burning, especially when once again you guys lock eyes but this time she's the victorious one.

You could only turn your back against her once not being able to face her. When the teams had to get into a line for their sportsmanship moments. You felt kiki squeeze your hand and flash you a smile.

It made you feel all warm inside it was a very timid moment but you could push away whatever sour feeling you felt because seeing her happy was worth thousands.

It was definitely a bittersweet moment between the two of you but no matter how challenging things are between the two of you your love for each other was all that matters.

_

© pinkyqily

[aquarius-johnny]

hey. i wanna say that i'm obsessed with your blog, like i love the way you portrait johnny in your works, it's really good to read. i don't know if your are taking requests but can you do something with johnny at the gym related? as a gym rat (hehe), i would love to read something like this

“reps and romance”

aimee’s reply 💬 : you’re very sweet for sending this to me, thank you! not quite working out related, but gym related fore sure. I hope you enjoy!

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader, creepy men encounter, johnny is protective and a lil shy at the end, strangers to lovers (maybe? i guess? yeah?)

m.list navi

being hit on at the gym is something that you’ll never really get used to. especially when men don’t take the hint.

“hey.”

you look up to find the man you’ve been trying to avoid since you walked in. you give him a silent nod before continuing to stretch.

“haven’t seen you in a while.”

silence.

“don’t wanna talk?”

silence.

before he could respond to your silence, a tall man appears in your peripheral view.

“hey, sorry to bother. do you mind spotting for me real quick until my friend returns?” a tall man asks. you spot his tattooed arm, sweat glistening against his skin, telling you he’s well into his workout at this point.

your eyes flicks between the two men, opting to help the stranger you just met over the creep who won't leave you alone.

standing up, you walk with the stranger to his spot, him occasionally turning to look at the man you’re avoiding.

“do you know that guy?” he asks, purposely blocking the creep’s view of you.

taking notice of his actions, you give him a grateful smile. “not really,” you sigh. “he always tries to talk to me when i’m here.”

he nods. “i’m johnny, by the way.” he extends his hand and you quickly grab it, introducing yourself to him as well. “are you planning on doing a set, too?”

“i was, but considering that guy is lingering, i might just leave after this.”

“i can stay until you’re done, i don’t think it’s fair you have to leave because of that loser.”

“would you really?” your eyes light up the offer, causing johnny to smile. “what about your friend? would they mind?”

johnny chuckles. “i came alone. i noticed how uncomfortable that guy was making you and thought that he’d leave you alone if you were busy,” he turns to see the guy still waiting around. “but he clearly isn’t.”

“that’s nice of you, thank you. i’ll gladly take your offer, if you don’t mind.”

he nods, a small chuckle part his lips. taking his position to continue his workout, you place yourself near the barbell and your hands carefully hover over his movements as he lifts the bar with the weight plates attached to the ends of the bar. he does it with ease, easily impressing you.

when he’s done, he helps you finish your workout in return. he occasionally blocks your view from the creep, who shamelessly tries to get a better view of you from different angles. when he gets uncomfortably close, you see johnny’s frustration spill over.

“can we help you?” he snaps, eyes narrowing at the persistent pervert who just can’t seem to leave you alone. “if not, fuck off.”

“i just want to talk to her.”

“no, not a fucking chance.” johnny retorts, towering over the incessantly bothersome man.

you sit up, watching as johnny continues to block you from view. a worker takes notice of the commotion and quickly defuses the situation, escorting the gym creep out the door.

you thank the man you met that night. “you really didn’t have to, but i appreciate it a lot.” grabbing your gym bag, johnny does the same, following you out the front doors.

"did you drive here?" he asks, looking around. "i can walk you to your car, if you'd like."

you pause for a moment before taking up his offer. “seriously, thank you for tonight,” you let out turning to the tall man next to you as you both walk to your car.

he smiles, the street lights illuminating his tired features. “do you come here a lot?” he asks, hand gripping tighter on the strap of his gym bag.

you nod. “all the time,” you giggle before you stop in front of your car.

johnny’s mind tugs back and forth, debating on asking what he wants to ask you but a few seconds later, he clears his throat. “where’s your phone?”

you pull your phone out of the front pockets of your gym bag, looking at johnny in confusion.

without a word, he quickly airdrops his number with you.

“if you need someone to come with you to the gym or if you’re wondering if i’ll be there, feel free to text me.” he pauses. “just in case, y’know?”

your heart swells with joy, although you try to hide it with a kind smile. you don’t protest.

that’s how it started.

since that night, you’ve been going to the gym with johnny. the men who hit on you slowly dwindle to the occasional one or two guys who quickly leave you alone when they notice you’re with johnny.

after every work out, johnny walks you to your car without fail.

tonight you notice his demeanor change ever so slightly, almost as if something is weighing heavy on his mind.

“are you okay?” you ask, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“yeah,” he forces a smile. “i’m fine.”

you stop in your tracks. “are you sure? did i do something wrong?”

johnny lets out a small laugh. “no, not at all.” sharply inhaling, he pulls you aside. “i’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“sure.”

“please forgive me if i have my wires cross,” his voice trembles a bit. “i’ve been really enjoying coming here with you and the texts here and there.”

your body fills with anxiety — your heart races and you begin to lightly pick at your nails, unsure of where he’s going with this conversation.

“i was thinking, if you’re okay with it, maybe we could hang out outside of the gym.” johnny avoids eye contact, something you’ve noticed he rarely does.

a breath of relief leaves you. “like a friend hang out or a date?” you ask.

“i was hoping for more of a date,” he clears his throat. “but if you don’t want that, i get it. we can just hang out as friends. that’s totally fine.”

“when and what time?”

“tomorrow night? how does 7 sound?” he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, something you notice he does a lot.

you grin up at him, heart fluttering with happiness. “it’s a date.”

[ravennaortiz]

Girl I loved the teasing Juice can I please have a code of what would happen after teasing possessive Happy all day long 🤭 thank you for taking all these requests your writing is absolutely amazing ❤️🤭!!!!

Thank you!! 💜😈🥰 ! Oh gosh thank you so much for those kind words as well! As always 18+

"Damn" stated the prospect his eyes on something behind Happy distracting him and making him drop the beer spilling it all over.

Happy grumbled as he righted the bottle and jumped up from the seat before the beer could oak his jeans anymore.

He was already in a foul mood after not being able to get home early to see you after you had spent all day sending him teasing photos and messages.

Glancing over his shoulder to see what had distracted the prospect his jaw dropped. You were strutting around greeting the guys in a tiny bikini with a trench coat over it and heels. His crow on clear display as you flaunted everything that was his

"The things I would love to do with her" stated the prospect making Happy whip around and yank him over the counter of the bar

"Mine" he snarled before letting the guy go so that he could get you under control. He frowned as he looked to where he had last seen you. His eyes scanning but not seeing you.

His phone dinged . -Can't punish me if you can't find me Daddy- followed by a picture of just you in the heels in his dorm room.

Happy pocketed his phone as he smirked and made his way to the room. Easy he thought to himself.

An hour later he had you pinned in a car window as he pounded in and out of you. Bringing you to the edge only to pull out before you could cum.

"Please Happy" you begged over and over. But he just ignored you. With a slap to your ass he pulled out and came on the ground at your feet making you whine.

"Naughty teases don't deserve to cum or deserve to have mine" stated Happy roughly as he pulled his pants up.

[shootingstargirl2001]

i got another request idea, I'm never stopping requesting as long as i get ideas but sadly its percy cause I'm brain can thinking faster for him. I apologize, anyways an jealous Percy reader where reader likes to help in the infirmary and Percy comes wounded inside like small and there's another boy jokingly flirting with reader and reader just laugh cause she knows he makes jokes like that ( nothing extremes like i just imagine cheesy pick up lines)

...Jealousy...

Percy’s least favorite days were when you went to help in the infirmary, such as today. Now the reason is simply because Percy is very clingy and can’t follow you around like a lost puppy. Therefore, he purposefully lets the campers he trains land a couple minor hits on him when sword-fighting so he has an excuse to see you (even though he can just go to the lake.)

Seeing Percy walk in for the seventeenth(fourth) time today, you exhale. Percy makes his way towards you. “Hey angel,” you cut him off. “No, go fill out an incident report first.”

“c’mon angel, please..”

He whines not wanting to ‘fill out a stupid report’, but complies and grabs a form. After filling it out, he finds you and hands it to you. Muttering a “was that so hard,” you scan over the paper before bringing him to a cot and closing the curtain.

A small muttered “yes” escapes his lips, earning an annoyed huff. He sits down on the cot and lifts his orange camp shirt to show the cut on his abdomen. With a raised eyebrow you inhale “that’s what you came here for…bandaid wound..if you're gonna get injured just to hang out with me.. don’t make it so obvious like earlier.”

You put a singular blue bandaid on it and stand up “i love you perce …so so much…but please get out” He grins before standing. “Wow, you re going to send m,e out after having such a traumatic injury…without a kiss…girlfriend of the year” he murmured sarcastically.

The corners of your mouth fight a smile at the clinginess of your boyfriend. You turn to him and plant a gentle peck on his lips “Happy?” you ask. Getting what he wanted, a kiss, he has a boyish grin on his face “no, but it will do for now i suppose.”

You shove him towards the imfimary exit before going back to tending to other campers. Percy makes a choice to linger for awhile (shoooocker). As he lingers a camper come up to you; he watches as the camper says something that must’ve been a complimeant given the smile and thanks you responed with.

Watching the camper’s gaze fall on your lips a little too long for percys (and your liking, given the glance you gave him) he feels a small spark of jealousy inside him along with the fact that hes just annoyed beacuse he hasnt seen you much today. He takes a moment to gouge his options, walk over there and make sure the camper knows your in a relationship, or let you handle it yourself. He was about to go with the latter option before looking back over and that small spark ignites at the way the campers gaze switched from your lips to your chest for a moment.

With a slight scowl, Percy wraps an arm around your waist and looks at the camper. The camper looks at Percy, the back at you ,a look of relization flashes across his face before scurrying off. “y’know…jealousy looks like really good on you perseus” you hum.

“Oh yeah…how good?”

You huff and gently smack him on the chest “shush you perv…i was going to ask if you wanted to help me in the infimary for the rest of the day but I wont just for that.” Percys face drops “no no no no…im sorry truly sorry..please let me stay” he begs.

“Fine..only if you promise not to make any sex jokes”

“i promise”

He infact made more sex jokes.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Here’s the Ask: I’m feeling the angst!!! I love the angst!!!

Here’s some more 😈

Wheelchair bound!reader gets taken and held hostage after a planned attack in London by some Makarov goons.

Some how (fanfic magic ✨) they recognize reader as someone close to the 141. So they take her hostage.

When Kyle and the rest of the 141 finds reader and the rest of the hostages, readers chair is smashed to pieces, including the metal plate Johnny made.

They are alive but badly hurt

Thank you!!! I love your writing

Nowhere to Run

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Wheelchair-user!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, injuries, broken wheelchair, broken Johnny’s gift, protective 141, Kyle losing his mind with worry, comfort and reassurance, aftermath care

Author's Note: this is an ask, requested by the great and lovely @bringinsexybackk69 tumblr is just doing a weird thing where it won’t let me respond or tag the ask or whatever in the post soooooo here we are! Do please enjoy!

Summary: An attack in London turns into a nightmare when you're taken hostage by Makarov’s men. The 141 scrambles to track you down, but when they finally find you, it’s worse than any of them imagined.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Kyle was exhausted.

The mission had been brutal—long days, longer nights, little sleep. He wanted nothing more than to come home to you, to hold you, bury his face in your neck, and just be.

Then his phone rang.

Kyle frowned when he saw Laswell’s name flash across the screen. He stepped out of the debriefing room, answering with a clipped, “Garrick.”

And then his entire world tilted.

"Your partner was taken," Laswell said, her voice calm but urgent. "Makarov’s men grabbed them before the London attack. We believe they were targeting civilians close to the 141."

Kyle’s blood ran cold.

His grip on the phone tightened. "Where?"

"We’re working on a location," she continued. "We have a lead on a safe house where hostages are being kept."

Kyle was already moving. He barely heard Price calling after him, barely registered the way Johnny and Simon immediately fell in step behind him.

The briefing didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered except getting to you.

Price caught up, gripping his shoulder. "Gaz, listen—"

"They have them, Cap," Kyle ground out, yanking away. His heart was pounding. "We’re wasting time."

Price didn’t argue. Instead, he turned to Laswell on the call. "Send us coordinates. We’re moving now."

---

The safe house was a decrepit warehouse on the outskirts of London, surrounded by rusted shipping containers and chain-link fences. It was heavily guarded, but that didn’t matter.

Kyle’s grip on his rifle was vice-like as he moved into position. His breaths were steady, but his body thrummed with a deadly kind of energy—rage and fear all tangled together, keeping him sharp.

He barely heard the plan. Johnny and Simon flanked the side entrance, Price took the back, Kyle was on point.

The breach was brutal.

A silencer hissed, and the first guard dropped. Another turned—Kyle didn’t hesitate. His finger squeezed the trigger, and the man crumpled.

The alarm blared.

Shouting. More gunfire.

Kyle moved like a man possessed, cutting through Makarov’s men with singular purpose. He didn’t care about the mission. He didn’t care about the bodies.

He cared about you.

And when he finally reached the main holding area, his heart nearly stopped.

You were on the floor, surrounded by terrified hostages.

Blood smeared the cracked concrete beneath you.

Your wheelchair—destroyed.

The frame was bent at unnatural angles, wheels ripped off, the seat slashed. Among the wreckage, Kyle’s eyes landed on something that made his stomach drop.

Johnny’s metal plate.

JOHNNY ROCKS.

It lay twisted and battered among the debris, the words barely legible through the dents and grime.

Something inside Kyle snapped.

He bolted toward you, dropping to his knees, barely aware of Johnny and Simon securing the room.

"Love," he gasped, reaching for you. His hands hovered over your face, your shoulders, terrified to touch. "Hey—hey, stay with me, yeah?"

Your eyelids fluttered. Your breathing was shallow, your skin too pale. Your lips parted, voice hoarse. "Kyle…"

His breath caught. Relief and horror warred inside him. "I’m here, I got you," he murmured, brushing trembling fingers over your cheek.

He scanned your injuries—deep gash along your arm, cuts on your temple, bruises forming along your ribs.

His jaw clenched so hard it ached.

Johnny crouched beside him, his face a storm of emotions. His eyes flickered to the broken chair, then to the battered piece of metal in the wreckage.

"Shite," he whispered. "They really messed you up, huh?"

Your cracked lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. "Still… better looking… than you, MacTavish."

Johnny let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but it was too shaky to be real. He reached out, gripping your shoulder. "You’re tough as hell, bonnie. We’re gettin’ you outta here."

Simon, standing guard, spoke low. "More hostiles inbound. We need to move."

Kyle swore under his breath.

"Alright, love, listen to me." He shifted, carefully maneuvering you into his arms. "I’m gonna lift you, okay? Just hold on to me."

You nodded weakly. As soon as he lifted you, a pained whimper slipped from your lips. Kyle hated it.

"Shh, I know, I know," he whispered, cradling you against his chest. "I got you, love. I got you."

Johnny worked fast, securing a strap under your legs to help stabilize you. Then, without a word, he reached down and pried the battered metal plate from the wreckage, tucking it into his pocket.

Kyle carried you through the chaos, his grip unwavering, his heartbeat a wild drum against your ear. You barely had the strength to hold onto his vest, fingers weakly grasping at the fabric.

"You’re safe," he murmured over and over. "I got you. Never letting you go, alright?"

---

The helicopter ride back was tense.

Kyle refused to let anyone take you from his arms, keeping you pressed against his chest. He ignored the sting of blood on his uniform, ignored the worried looks Johnny and Simon kept shooting him.

You were hurt. But you were alive.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips warm against your chilled skin.

"You scared the hell outta me," he whispered.

You gave a weak chuckle. "Didn’t… mean to."

Johnny shifted across from you, pulling something from his pocket.

"I saved this," he murmured, placing the battered metal plate in your lap.

Your fingers trembled as you traced the dented words.

Kyle saw your lip wobble.

"I’ll make you a new one," Johnny promised, voice thick. "Better than the last."

You swallowed hard. "Thanks, Johnny."

Simon leaned back, arms crossed. "Next time, don’t get kidnapped."

Kyle shot him a glare, but you let out a tired, rasping laugh. "I’ll… try."

Price's voice came through the comms. "Hospital’s ready for us. We’re almost there."

Kyle tightened his grip.

"You’re safe now," he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Always."

And he meant it.

No one was ever taking you away from him again.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜