#thank you for this ask! I hope this makes sense?

[hitomisuzuya]

Hii suzu!! So, i dunno if this particular idea already been asked. So if it's already done, please don't mind this one!

Reader edging scara. Like, really, really edging n teasing him for a full whole day. Making out, Slipping hand to his thigh under the table while in meeting.. Stopped rubbing him through his pants right when he's almost reach climax.. Etc.

So when back on bed at night? Scara couldn't handle it anymore and fucking reader roughly without mercy. Maybe even a hint of mind break on reader side. (Sorry if this doesn't make sense, english is hard. ;-;)

That's all, go wild with this one if you decided to write this! i hope you have a good day, suzu! Love your writings as always <3 don't forget to take care of yourself 💕

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Masturbation. Orgasm denial. Brat taming. Cunnilingus. Degradation. Edging. Mind break. Dom! Scaramouche.

Thank you very much, dear❤️ Sorry this took a bit to get to. You take care of yourself too🥺

The state you are reduced to now was a far cry from your earlier demeanor. You'd been an absolute menace today. It started with your hand on his thigh, your lithe little fingers stroking and teasing him outside his shorts under the table. All the while smiling politely while he struggled to keep up with the meeting.

Usually it was his fingers teasing between your legs during a meeting, pumping them in and out of your sopping cunt, drinking in the sight of watching you struggle. What was making you so bold?

After the meeting, abruptly condensed and cut short, your lips had been sweet and hungry on his. You'd taken his dick from his shorts, exploring his mouth and letting him wrestle your tongue into submission. You pumped and stroked your hand on his straining cock until he was whimpering into your mouth, rutting into your hand like a mutt in heat.

But you, for some reason, had to push him even further. He'd been about to put you on your knees, and force his cock past your lips. Stroking your hair while he bobbed your head, promising to fuck you full tonight, that cumming down your throat would have to appease you for now. Good girls deserve a treat to tide them over.

He didn't get to. You took your hand away before he could cum. Leaving him frustrated the rest of the day.

Now look at you. His mouth on your pussy was reducing you to the same state you'd left him in earlier.

"Impatient slut," Scaramouche growled, tightening his fingers on your thighs. "You want to tell me what you were trying to pull earlier," He swirled his tongue around your clit. The throbbing in your clit made you gasp, squirming as you grinded your pussy on his mouth.

"I just..I just.." You were struggling to find the right words. Each lick and caress of his tongue was teetering you closer to the edge. Agonizingly slow. You pushed his mouth down onto your cunt. "I just wanted your attention," You managed to whimper.

He groaned into your pussy, latching his lips onto your clit. As sweet as you sounded, there was no way he was going to get ahead of himself and lose control. You needed to be broken, just a little bit. Which meant you would absolutely shatter like glass.

"You wanted my attention that badly? I was going to stuff your greedy cunt full regardless," He hissed, narrowing his eyes in a glare up at you. "You really are a fucking slut," He hooked two fingers abruptly inside of you. He needed to hear you beg while he kept you right on the edge of cumming.

"Only your fingers?!" You protested, rocking your hips up. Your body had been burning and aching for him all day. And now he was only making you ache worse. Your desperate moans more than told you could hardly stand it any more.

"You brat," Scaramouche hissed, reaching down to palm and rub his straining cock. He couldn't deny he loves it when you get like this. He was only going to enjoy putting you in your place that much more.

Tears welled into your eyes as you looked down at him. You waited, your body tense and twitching in anticipation. Anticipation of more degradation from him, a more brutal pace of his fingers. Something, anything. But you got nothing.

Nothing but his tongue and his fingers abusing your dripping hole and your swollen clit. This was clearly about his pleasure now. It was almost unbearable for you. He could tell in the way your body twitched as he latched his lips around your clit. He casually hooked his fingers into your sweet spot, only giving you the slightest jolt of pleasure before taking it away.

You broke best that way.

"Tell me slut, do you want to cum?" A smirk coiled on the corners of his lips. The longer he brutally edged you, the deeper the look of desperation in your watery eyes.

"Yes, so badly," You moaned, grinding shamelessly on his mouth, trying to urge his lips and tongue firmer on your clit. You needed him so badly it hurt. You tugged on his hair to emphasize your pleas.

"Hmm?" He prodded his tongue on your sensitive clit, making your legs quake as you rolled your hips up. "That's too bad," He taunted, laughing softly into your pussy. It made his cock pulse to deny you the same you had earlier.

He hooked his fingers generously for the first time into your sweet spot, curling it extra before pulling them from your pussy. You cried out in both bliss and protest before you were unceremoniously flipped over onto your stomach.

"Ass up, whore," From his tone you knew he wasn't going to be gentle. Your cunt clenched at the thought. You raised your ass up, going down onto your elbows and giving him a view of your sopping cunt. "Bratty sluts like you need to be bred into their place."

Your pussy clenched around nothing as he pinched and rubbed your clit. You yelped in bliss feeling his hand smack roughly on your ass, making you arch your back as you grinded on his cock. Fuck you are so irresistible like this, craving his every touch.

Grasping his cock, Scaramouche moaned as he pushed it slowly inside. He bottomed out with a fluid thrust. The tight feeling of your pussy sucking him in made him lose control then.

He pulled out, only to stuff his cock back into your pussy all at once. It didn't take him long to set a brutal pace, his hands grasping your hips possessively. Fucking you roughly from behind was a dominant way for him to break you.

"Scara! Scara! I can't..breathe," You moaned, his cock head hammering into your sweet spot made your head spin. You moaned like you were finally getting something you were denied for years.

Scaramouche's cock squelched loudly in and out of you. "Going from teasing like a slut, to moaning like a slut," He laughed as your walls clutched around his cock, "Fuck, you feel so tight," He lost himself in taking the frustration of being teased by you earlier out on your pussy.

He still held your orgasm in the palm of his hand. He was dangling the promise right in front of you, little by little. "Please, please, I'm sorry. Just let me cum," You sobbed in pleasure, clawing at the sheets before reaching down to rub your clit.

Scaramouche batted your hand away, helping you along himself. You had a certain way of moaning right before cumming. He knew the moment your mind essentially shattered. Your body felt more pliable in his hands. "Yes, that's my good girl. Break just like I want," He groaned.

[yukioos]

Hi!! <3

I was wondering if you could do a Wolverine and Deadpool × S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?

If that makes sense...

Like the S/O is very sweet and shorter than them. But she is a total powerhouse! She can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.

Like even harder or stronger than the them!

I hope that made sense!! I love your writing, thank you!! ❤️

logan & wade with strong!reader

warnings: cussing, not proofread

authors note: i’m so sorry i don’t have a lot of hcs!! i do love the idea of wade or logan being with a strong reader though :) so sorry this took so long to post! i’m glad you like my writing, thank you for requesting!

word count: 0.4k

logan howlett

- when he first met you, he anticipated you wouldn’t be as strong because of your stature, he tried attacking you and was shocked when you threw him across the room

- then he started viewing you as a threat because you were stronger than him

- he later realized you were the sweetest and cutest thing ever, and began flirting with you 24/7

- he’s always testing you and asking if you can carry one thing or another, like a large box or a couch

- he secretly thinks it's so badass that you’re so much stronger than you appear

- everyone who sees you immediately thinks you’re a sweetheart, a frail thing someone could take care of

- they’re half wrong, and logan makes that clear to others who flirt with you

- he loves working out with you so much, it gives you one more activity to do together

wade wilson

- let’s be honest, wade is down bad for you whether or not you’re strong

- sometimes if he’s being sassy, you’ll just throw him over your shoulder and place him in another room then walk away

- of course, he never stays in his place and follows you to wherever you’re going

- though, he’s always teasing you about how you’re so tiny but so strong

- if someone ever messes with you and he’s around, he either doesn’t tell them that you’re strong or full-on brags about it

- although you’re strong, he still babies you constantly and tells you how cute you are, fully aware that you could rip his head off without trying

- sometimes he’ll ask you to open things like jars for him just so he can admire your strength

- wade kinda loves that you can beat him up so easily, he knows you won’t hurt him but loves to have a strong woman by his side

- he loves using your head as an armrest, always placing his arm on your head when he’s tired

- sometimes you’ll slap his arm away and he’ll yelp, but place it back on your head anyway

logan & wade

- both of them know that you could kick their asses with no effort, but tease you nonetheless

- they both love you with their whole hearts

- wade loves yapping to logan about how strong you are, while logan silently agrees with everything he says

[kingkat12]

art on art (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), drug mentions, nasty fluff tihi

summary: why hasn't Eric reached out after leaving rehab yet, and how long does it take for marker ink to fade?

word count: 5,272 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part 3 of my Eric Draven fanfic draw you! thanks again for the overwhelming support of this series, and enjoy!!<333

(not my gif!! if it's yours, pls reach out and i will tag u<3)

Some broken part of me never expected to see Eric again. I knew that the previous men in my life would leave the second they got what they wanted out of me, so why should I hope for this one to be different?

I had been out of rehab for exactly two weeks now, and I knew this meant that Eric was out as well. He had my address, he had my number, and he weirdly enough also had my email address... yet I hadn't heard anything from him. Not a single thing. I wasn't quite sure why my heart was breaking at the realization I had been thrown away again-- I should be used to this.

In actuality, I knew exactly why my hopes were up.

The last time I saw Eric, had been right before I was about to leave rehab. We were standing in my room, the guards no longer watching me as I was technically excused and only there to get my stuff. I was packing everything into a big cardboard box, unable to meet Eric's green eyes as he sat on my bed-- he just looked so damn sad, I couldn't bring myself to watch. 

At the same time, I couldn't believe that he was upset about me leaving; no one had ever cared for me like that before. "Why do you look like that?" I eventually asked, stuffing his drawings into a book so that they wouldn't get ruined during the move. 

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to shoot a puppy,"

Eric snorted, a slight smile finally forming across his lips. "Just thinking about how shit these next days are going to be without you here,"

I dared to gaze at him, watching his chest rise and fall in a long sigh. Even while doing the simplest act of sitting, Eric looked downright gorgeous. His dark hair had grown even longer during the time we had known each other, which allowed slight curls to form along his forehead. Draped in pink, tattoos peeking up from the collar of his jumper, green eyes soft with feelings-- the sight was almost enough to make my breath hitch.

"Oh, you won't notice I'm gone," I mumbled, trying to lighten the mood at the same time as I tried to be discreet about shoving my underwear down into the box. "Time will fly by, don't you worry."

Eric shifted, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He stopped me from picking up the next batch of my stuff, leading my hands into his as his rounded eyes sunk into mine. "You're saying that as though I won't miss you,"

I held my breath, unsure what to say. 

Eric noticed my hesitance, squeezing my hands; "I will miss you. Do you understand that?"

Oh, I most certainly did not understand that. Not at all. But it didn't stop my heart from swelling, beating harder than it probably ever had before. It also didn't get any better when Eric led me between his legs, letting go of my hands so that he could put his against my waist. He looked up at me through his thick, long lashes, clearly trying to make me understand the longing lingering in his body. "Will you miss me?"

There was no question in my mind that I would. I'd miss him every second of every day, as I already did. However, I wasn't sure whether it was smart to tell him this, or whether that would make him lose interest like my previous flings. But weirdly enough, something told me I could trust this guy-- or was that just his pretty face doing the talking? "I will," I said, taking his face into my hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks in a newfound sense of affection.

Eric's previously glossy look suddenly became a hopeful one-- he pulled me even closer, my hands going up into his hair as he buried his face against the crook of my neck. 

There was something so sincere about him, that I couldn't help but smile. Even now, as I remembered it. Was I stupid to imagine that it had all been real? That he hadn't acted like he would miss me just out of pity?

This was definitely my insecurity talking. I needed to get it all out of my head-- which is exactly why I ended up going out tonight, my friends by my side as we made our way into our usual spot at the club downtown. Being back in the darkness of this place, music blasting through my ears, brought a lot of memories back; specifically the dark ones. 

However, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't taking anything, and I wasn't planning on doing so. In the back of my mind, I kept imagining a scenario where Eric would finally reach out and find me relapsed... and that was certainly not ideal. Then he'd definitely not want to be with me.

Maybe I just needed to forget about him?

And so I began trying-- it didn't take long before I sat down next to some guy trying to tell me about his life story. I had never been this disinterested in my life, allowing him to put his arm around me as I stared up at the light-show on display across the roof, lost in thought.

I wondered where Eric was. What he was doing, who he was with, where he was. Whether he thought about me at all. It quickly hit me that being sober at a club took away all the fun, and with alcohol floating around right before my eyes, I wondered whether I should bother staying sober or not. I didn't exactly have anyone to stay clean for, as I thought I would. 

And just as I was about to ask the guy next to me whether I could have the tiniest sip of his beer, I spotted a familiar tall frame across the room. I blinked several times, straightening up in my seat as though I was a woman possessed. I was sure it was him-- I immediately knew the second I saw the tattooed poem on his back peeking through the top of his shirt.

As though I had heard a gunshot, I got up from the couch, my whole body tingling with unexpected excitement. This was an adrenaline surge unlike anything drugs could give me, and it only grew stronger as Eric seemed to be leaving. 

Panicked, I sped up into a light jog despite being in heels, making my way through the crowd on the dancefloor. It didn't take long before I caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

Eric had a bewildered look about him as he frantically searched who it could be that had held him back from leaving. When his big, green eyes finally landed on me, they widened as he broke out into a look of relief. "There you are!" he exclaimed, his large hands grabbing my shoulders. "I've been looking for you all over!--"

I was sure I would've started crying if I hadn't reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to my level to press my lips against his in the neediest kiss I had probably ever shared. I flung my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer, both of us letting out relieved sighs at our reunion. 

I wanted to stay like this forever, swimming in the bliss of being reunited with the man who had haunted my every waking thought. However, I couldn't let myself revel in the joy before I got the answer to my question; "You never called!" I said, my hands now at the sides of his face. "You never fucking called!"

Eric hummed, connecting our foreheads as he closed his eyes. "I did... just from a different number. You never answered, so I had to track you down all the way here,"

My thumbs stroked over his cheeks, my anger simmering down into a slow ache. The thought of Eric calling without getting a response made me feel worse than bad. "How?" was all I was able to say, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

Eric blushed a little before pulling away, and I was unsure whether the reason for my sudden dizziness was the loud music or his smile. God, he was gorgeous. "Our dealers are cousins," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist as we swayed on the dance floor. "And your guy told me I could find you here."

"I see," The loving look in Eric's eyes nearly made me melt— it was clear that he had missed me as well. But my questions kept coming to me; "Why did you get a different number? Is everything alright?"

With that, Eric's smile faltered just a little. His grip around my waist tightened as he brought one hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear in a loving gesture. "I... suppose there's a lot I have to tell you, now that I've come all this way,"

I could sense that this was serious— I had seen enough of those guilty eyes for one lifetime. "I see," I repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, reveling in the feeling of tasting him again. There was nothing I had missed more about rehab than this. "Let's talk it out somewhere else, then?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It wasn't every day that I brought back men from the club— my policy was no men at my place at all, just in case I encountered a serial killer in disguise. But this thing with Eric was different; he could've moved in for all I cared. He could also proceed to burn it all down, rip me apart with his bare hands, and I'd let him.

However, the difference between Eric and the other men in my life was that I knew, deep down in my heart, that he would never hurt me; which is why I let him into my apartment.

I watched as Eric took a look around, his hands tucked into his front pockets as he whistled; "Quite the place,"

Shrugging, I made my way towards him as he towered over everything in my living room. "Sure is,"

Eric turned to me, a raised brow on display. "You're telling me you're loaded?"

I felt a bit embarrassed— I knew that once Eric found out the truth, he'd think of me just as all the other ones did. The spoiled girl who had nothing else to do but turn to drugs to get a high out of life. I couldn't help but grow nervous, unsure how to explain the truth to him; "Well... It's my parents' money,"

Eric nodded to himself, stepping towards me. "Are they around much? I didn't see them visiting you in rehab,"

The truth stung. "They don't want to look their biggest disappointment in the eye," I mumbled, my gaze falling to my feet. "But they make sure I'm still alive, I suppose. So it's not that bad."

There was a silence before I suddenly felt Eric's long, slender fingers beneath my chin, tilting me up so that I could meet his gaze. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't this; compassion. "Their loss," he said, the emerald green of his eyes engulfing my being with unexpected kindness. "At least you got a great apartment out of it."

I let out a warm laugh, now keening against the palm of his hand as he placed it to my cheek. "I've missed you,"

As Eric smiled down at me, it was obvious that his heart fluttered at the sight of me. I had never thought someone would ever look at me like that. "I've missed you too," he breathed. "Thought about you during every waking moment of every day. You have no idea how glad I am that I found you."

I could barely believe this was real— didn't stuff like this only happen in movies? "If only I had known you called," I mumbled, placing my hand on top of his. "Being without you was just hell... What happened?"

Eric inhaled a sharp breath, an unintelligible emotion swimming in his eyes. "I want to be honest with you, but... I'm afraid you'll run,"

In a flash of desperation, I placed his hand against my heart. "I have nowhere else to run but to you,"

Eric's green eyes rounded out, his lips parting in confusion— was I maybe not the only one stunned by the confessions of complete and utter love tonight? "I— Fuck," 

With that, Eric's strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me towards him as our lips came together in a hungry kiss. The sheer force of it, along with the element of surprise, nearly had me stumbling a few steps back. But Eric only followed; I nearly moaned out as I felt his tongue against mine, my hands flying up into his dark locks and pulling him closer. I had missed him more than I had ever missed anything in the world, including drugs— all my swarming feelings of never-dying love had me pushing away all my needs for an answer from him regarding his phone, and I let my back hit the surface of the couch as Eric hovered above me.

"Missed you," he breathed in between kisses, a slight growl to his voice. Something told me Eric was trying to melt himself into me to make sure we would never be apart again— it only made my need for him stronger. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his tall figure as I attempted to pull him even closer than he already was. 

Fuck, his lips were so soft. Deadly soft. The way Eric was nipping at my lower lip, occasionally sinking his teeth into it to draw out a whimper, was making a familiar knot form in my lower abdomen. I barely registered that my dress was gone before I watched him discard his shirt somewhere on the floor— now that we finally had time, I let my fingers run over his tattoos, smiling into the next kiss as I realized we would finally have that messy morning I was promised. I couldn't wait to lie in his arms, tracing every piece of art on his skin, taking it all in— this was heaven. Everything about finally being alone with Eric was heaven. 

"Missed you too," I eventually managed to moan out, feeling him grow hard against the apex of my thighs. "I don't ever want to be without you again." My breath hitched as Eric left wet kisses down jaw, neck, breasts, and stomach, knowing exactly where he was heading. I drew my hand towards my mouth, gently biting down to suppress a rather girly squeal. 

"You'll never be," Eric purred against my skin, sinking his teeth gently into my thigh to evoke a sound. "If you think we're ever going to be apart from now on, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours once more."

It was impossible not to smile, and I squirmed against the couch before Eric's big, strong hands grabbed my hips, holding me in place as he pressed a kiss against my clothed sex. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing this to avoid telling me what had happened in the moments we had been apart. Despite wanting to give in to the pleasure, let him tease me and keep me on the edge through the night, my mind wouldn't let me.

In the moment Eric threw my underwear to the floor, now kissing up my thighs and leaving me breathless, I propped myself up on my elbows; "Hold on," I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair in hopes of getting his attention. "Eric, wait--"

As he looked up at me through his brows, eyes wide with confusion as he paused for me, I didn't know whether I could go through with it. This moment was so damn precious, something I had been longing for ever since the moment I saw him; so why couldn't it wait? With a sigh, I laid back down. 

"You okay?" Eric asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my hipbone. "Wanna stop?"

That was definitely not it-- I let in a lazy breath, my eyelids drooping over my eyes as my body shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against my cunt. Everything about this situation was making my brain shut down. "No... I don't want to stop," My hands reached for his, and Eric let out a hum, his free hand now ghosting over my sex. "Just wondering whether you drew it or not."

"Drew what?"

"What we did in that stairwell,"

Eric's eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed, placing a wet kiss against the inside of my thigh. "You bet I did,"

"Will you show me?"

He hummed against my skin; "Later... I'm a little busy here, as you see," Eric hooked his arms around my legs, dragging me closer to him as I yelped. I could only laugh, the realization that I had finally gotten all I had ever wanted hitting me just as I felt the warm trickle of spit running down my cunt-- my hips bucked up in surprise, my breath escaping me. I was about to prop myself up on my elbows for a second time, hoping to get a look at what the fuck he was doing, but as he ran his tongue up between my folds with a ridiculously soft touch, I could only whimper.

The memory of Eric saying he would take his time with me when we were out of rehab suddenly dawned on me-- I was in for the long run.

It didn't take long before he had me writhing beneath him, a whimpering, panting mess. With every swirl of his tongue around my clit, every time he sucked in my aching bud between his plush lips, I held back the urge to buck my hips up against him. It got increasingly hard to keep still, especially when Eric pulled away to simply breathe down on my sex, knowing exactly where he had me. 

"Fuck," I cried, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair-- I did my best not to tighten my grip, fighting the urge to use his dark locks as handles. 

I could feel Eric smiling against me, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my clit; my breath immediately hitched, bucking up against his mouth in an attempt to beg for more. His fingers dug themselves into my thighs, driving my legs further apart as he made space for his broad shoulders. I whined at the loss of friction when he tilted his head to look up at me, and a shiver ran up my spine at the look of his face, slicked with my arousal. 

A mischievous smile spread across Eric's plush, glistening lips; "Someone's impatient,"

I could feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment, lolling my head back down against the couch-- looking at him only made it worse. "Can you blame me? You're doing this on purpose," 

Eric hummed, one hand leaving my thigh to lazily rub soft circles around my clit, using my slick as a lubricant. It only made me squirm, letting out a shaky moan as my back arched slightly off the couch. Even worse, was that I started to feel a small tremble appearing in my hands. "Can't handle a little teasing?" he said, biting his lip as he watched me attempt to suppress my noises. "You keep saying you've waited for me... What happened to your patience?"

I held back the urge to simply kick him-- but that thought immediately slipped out of my mind the second Eric flattened his tongue against me, licking a stripe all the way up to my swollen clit. It was impossible to suppress the hitch of my breath, and the tug I gave his hair in response was purely instinctual. It surprised me further to hear him enjoy it; I decided to keep that observation stored for later.

I had a feeling Eric knew my mind was buzzing, that he wouldn't be able to toy with me much longer. There might've been a few giveaways that I was at my wit's end-- all of which left me feeling like an even bigger mess than I already was beneath him. "I- I can't," I whined, my words leaving me as Eric sucked me in once more. "Wait, please!--"

He hummed against me, now pressing his lips against the crease of my thigh as a chuckle built in his throat. "Fine, fine," he said, playfully sinking his teeth into my skin, his green eyes watching my every move. "I suppose I'm dragging this out... I don't know why I'm feeling nervous."

Nervous? Eric didn't look very nervous to me. "It's just me, though?" I tried, attempting to catch my breath as I laid my hand on top of his. My next words came out shakier than anticipated, especially now that he was kissing way back up my body; "You don't need to be nervous."

Eric hummed, his large, tattooed hands kneading my chest, kissing along the hem of my bra. "It's just... When you left rehab," he started, his lips pressing along my collarbones. "I realized it took me days to recover after a dream with you in it."

The rush of joy surging through my veins reminded me of a hit of amphetamine-- it was all-taking, consuming, and I wanted nothing more than to press him so closely that we'd melt together. "Eric--"

"I've drawn you over and over," he breathed, kissing up my neck with a toe-curling softness. "In every way possible. Imagined the way you'd look at me after waking up in the morning, how it would feel to kiss your pretty little face good night..." Eric's lips hovered above mine, our shared breaths hot and shaky against one another as he continued; "I want you to burn into me like warm glass, mold into one. It sounds insane, but... how else can I ensure we stay together?"

My eyes were wide, finding his, as my hands reached up to cup his face. Like this, I finally had the time to admire the tattoo above his right brow, the deep scar on his cheek, and the tattoo above it. I stroked my thumb over the ink, holding back from connecting our lips just yet; "If you think I'm ever leaving you, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours" I breathed, watching his pupils dilate as I bit back a smug smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm all yours?" My fingers now ghosted over his lips, still wet with my slick, as an idea suddenly hit me. "Actually..."

Eric watched in confusion as I shifted beneath him, now reaching for the table right by the couch. There, I had left a marker which I had previously used to write a birthday card, and I took it into my hand before laying back down, looking up at the puzzled look on his face. "I'm not able to physically melt into you, but..." 

Eric's green eyes widened further, watching as I popped the cap and drew a tiny little heart on the peak of his shoulder.

I met his gaze, beaming up at him; "I can leave my mark,"

The most unexpected thing happened-- The sight of Eric welling up in tears was not something I had counted on when I let my impulses take the lead. For a second, I got genuinely worried I had overstepped all boundaries until he pinned my hand above my head and pressed a needy, passionate kiss against my lips.

I couldn't control the moan that escaped me, my hips bucking up against his, feeling his hard length grind down and brush up against my clit as our chests came together, pulling each other in as close as possible. The need I felt for Eric was undescribable, ravaging through my being-- I had never wanted anyone as bad as this. 

Mind dulled by anticipation and pleasure, I barely registered that he had managed to pry the marker from my fingers and pull it into his hand. Eric disconnected the kiss, pressing his wet lips against my cheek before propping himself up on his knees, scanning his canvas. "I'm definitely dreaming now," he whispered, mostly to himself, hovering above me as he drove the marker tip to the point where my ribs met on my chest. 

I could only smile, watching my favourite artist at work with admiration blossoming in my chest. Knowing I would be decorated with his work made me even more hot and bothered; I did my best to get a look at what he was drawing without disrupting his process. 

Eric drew a line down my chest, a few leaves scattered along it-- it dawned on me that he was drawing a rose. A beautiful, big rose, with that same scratchy style that I recognized from his previous creations. I watched him dart his tongue out, keeping it between his lips, focused; I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Art on art," he breathed, pulling away to drink in the sight of what he had drawn on my body. Eric's green eyes found mine, his shy smile returning to his plush, glistening lips. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."

"So are you," I held back the urge to cry happy tears, my hands reaching out for him. "I love it, Eric. I'm scared of needles, so I won't be able to get this tattooed... Meaning you'll have to draw it over and over. Would you do that for me?"

Eric let out a choked laugh, eyes glossing over as he put the cap back on the marker, discarding it somewhere before returning to his place above me. "I'd do anything for you,"

I hadn't smiled so brightly in what felt like years. Like this, at this moment, I was sure this was it. He was it. 

Before I knew it, we were completely lost in the fiery kiss that ensued-- Eric's tongue against mine, hands lost around my waist as my fingers hooked into his dark locks, our chests heaving at one another. I was so gone, so dizzyingly aroused, that when I felt his thick cock pushing past my sopping entrance, I could only gasp. 

Eric let out a grunt, both of us moaning into the kiss at the immediate relief-- I could barely believe that this was real, that we were back as one. In a sense, this was the melting together that we had both craved so badly. 

My nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks in their wake as I let him push further into me. Eric buried his face in the crook of my neck, letting out a breathy groan against my skin when he finally moved. His cock stroked my walls the same way it had that one evening in the stairwell, the exact feeling I had chased as I buried my fingers deep inside of me every night since-- I had forgotten how the real deal had felt. How mind-numbingly good it felt to have Eric in me.

I whimpered as I felt his cock throb upwards, immediately hitting my sweet spot, and I wrapped my legs around him, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. Knowing I bared his mark on my chest, knowing he had dreamed of this as well, only strengthened the electricity running all the way up to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know how I was supposed to last long at all, especially when I heard Eric moan out my name-- I shivered, pressing my lips against the heart I had drawn on his shoulder. 

I noticed a blush creep up his cheeks before he connected our lips once more, but it was hard to kiss properly when we were both in a heavy daze of pleasure-- we ended up mostly breathing against one another, Eric's green eyes watching as I let out a string of moans with every stroke of his cock. 

"You're everything," Eric rambled, nipping at my lower lip to suppress another grunt. "You're everything, you're-- Fuck!--" His hands dug into my hips, fucking me properly into the couch as he deepened his thrusts. 

My heart fluttered in my marked chest as I realized we were both looking down to watch our union-- the sight of Eric's cock pumping in and out of me, the wet sounds of our love filling the room, was almost enough to bring me over the edge. I also caught a glimpse of the petals drawn over my body, realizing I was admiring both the art and his body against mine. 

My back arched off the couch as Eric shifted, angling his thrusts upwards-- now, he was dead on pumping his cock against my sweet spot, which had me mewling out against his lips. "Eric, I-- I'm not gonna last, a-ah!--"

With glossy eyes, I watched a smirk spread across Eric's lips; "Let go if you need to," he cooed, his dark hair now kissing his forehead as he let out a laboured grunt. "We'll go again, baby-- hah, don't worry."

That was all I needed-- my heart fluttered, realizing we had all the time in the world to fuck all through the night. 

Forever, if we wanted to.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

This was nice. Stupidly nice. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment.

The softness of his fingers running up my bare shoulder, the kindness with which he bathed me-- I didn't even know this existed before now. I looked up at Eric, my head nuzzled against his broad, tattooed chest as we lay in post-coital bliss. I reached out to trace the heart I had marked him with, and I wondered what else I could draw on his beautiful body.

However, I knew I had to ask the question he hadn't been willing to answer yet. I had to look past how heavy his beautiful lashes looked in his drowsy state, and how badly I wanted to reach out and trace the upward slope of his nose, to ask what needed to be asked. "Eric?"

He hummed, glancing down at me. 

It was incredibly hard to take my eyes off his kiss-swollen lips. "You never told me,"

"Told you what?"

It felt as though we'd had this conversation about three times now; "You didn't tell me why you changed your number. Or why you waited to reach out. Or, better yet, why you didn't just show up here... I even gave you my address," I couldn't stop the imminent pout appearing across my lips-- I had forgotten how upset I was about this. "I waited for you. I nearly drove myself crazy thinking I'd imagined it all."

Sighing, Eric's gaze diverted to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I will tell you everything. Just... could I have one more day?"

"What?" Something told me that his secret was a lot more damning than I initially thought-- why was he so reluctant to tell me? Did he think it would change how I felt?

"One more day," he echoed, his tattoed hand mindlessly traveling up into my hair as his eyes glossed over.  "Just give me one more day..."

I didn't know what to say, at a loss for words. Instead, I popped the cap to the marker in my hand, realizing I wouldn't be the one to deny him his one wish. Eric closed his eyes with a sigh of relief as he felt the tip of the marker against his skin once more; time was a gift I was willing to give him.

I was willing to give him absolutely anything he'd ever want-- I just hoped it wouldn't be the death of me.

(a/n: PART 1 and PART 2 linked here<33 thank you for reading!!)

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Hey could u do something about ghost being a dad to a son. I always see him as girl!dad but Icl I imagine him to have boys

Thank you xx

Just another day, just another night {Simon "Ghost" Riley}

A/n: ngl, I always see Simon as a girl dad too but he would be an amazing boy dad as well. Anyways, thank you for requesting and I hope you like it.

Pairing: Simon Riley x fem!reader

Trigger warning: mentions of Ghost's past

Not once in his life had Simon thought that being woken up by a four year old boy jumping up and down on your shared bed would bring him joy.

He had returned last night and even though you had stayed up waiting for him after he called you as soon as he landed on the base, of course your son couldn't stay up that late. He had thought about asking you to wake him up just for five minutes but the thought was instantly scratched from his mind when he realised that putting him back to bed would be a nightmare.

Simon wanted to groan from how tired he was but didn't. He felt your body slightly moving next to him and he quickly opened his eyes, picked your son up in his arms and got out of bed. As much as he wanted to spend the entire morning in bed with just you and your son, preparing a small surprise breakfast for you seemed more appealing in his mind.

"Number one rule for being a proper man, buddy," Simon placed the tiny -compared to him- boy on the counter. Your kitchen was pretty small so he wasn't worried about him falling since Simon took up most of the space. "Always cook for your partner." He ruffled the boy's head and got down to work.

Looking at your son at first, back when he was nothing more than a baby in your belly, made Simon tear up. Would he even be a good father? Could he be a good father? Those two questions roamed in his brain, keeping him awake most if not all nights. But as soon as the baby boy was born and he held him the first time, all he could see was a spitting image of himself along with a few of your traits.

And soon enough, whenever Simon deemed that you needed to rest, which was technically everyday, he would pick up your son, head to the living room and turned on the tv. It wasn't until a few days later when you woke up from a nap and walked to the living room that you realised that Simon and your son were watching Premier League together.

It was a funny sight, your son curled up in Simon's arms happily waving his hands while your husband explained the rules to him. And now, four years later, your son would make you watch Premier League with him whenever Simon wasn't there and then he would call his father -only if the mission allowed some sort of communication- and they would talk about football. Not that the little boy's words made much sense but Simon understood him anyways.

"Waffles!" The little boy tagged on his dad's shirt. Simon stopped and looked at him, slightly confused.

"Did your mum buy that waffle maker?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He was planning on buying you one as a small gift but it appeared as if you had bought one already. The small boy nodded. "Let's make waffles then."

[unhinged-waterlilly]

Hello!

Something about @/demigod-jack-hearth

Something I wanna say about this post (with my reblog on it). I wanna give a side of a story. Mine to be exact.

They were one of the first people I talked to outside of rp. They were a close friend. But that fades.

I DONT WANT THEM TAGGED IN THIS I DONT WANT THEM TO KNOW ABOUT THIS. I HAVE THEM BLOCKED. IF THEY LEARN ABOUT THIS, IT IS BECAUSE SOMEONE SEND THIS TO THEM.

Tw: sa, strong language, I'm a little bitch, please please please read at your own risk

When start this by saying Jack worries me. I've seen so many post, rp or otherwise, where they bring up extremely triggering comments...just randomly. This has happened to me too. I don't get bothered by them I've been lucky enough to not deal with most and be comfortable with what I have dealt with. I think he needs professional help. Or to talk to someone that is an adult. This is difficult for some people. But there are free therapy websites out there. I have seen them. I have participated in them. The people on the other line aren't professionals but they are people willing to listen. And adults.

It started with when I saw an rp they had with camp Sky. I can't give screenshots of that but I do have some of confronting them.

Now all good right? Yeah! I thought so too. Untill an anon confronts em.

Posts here and here

Oh...kay? What's wrong about this?

Yeah...

Actively calling out anon

Now mind me I thought they had buried this au deep deep into the ground. Wasn't until I opened Circe's blog that I realised they didn't. I was pissed. I had every reason to be. We have so few stories of male victims as it is and this 'au' was blatantly disrespectful to victims of all genders. I felt really fucking disrespected that's for sure.

Unfortunately I don't confront them. But I do vent.

Now I feel bad for this. Maybe this was dirty laundry I shouldn't have aired out. But I was just so angry I couldn't think properly. I didn't mention Jack in this post, but friends figured it out. I won't say who these friends are for obvious reasons. Also, this is a bit wrong. They thought Odysseus cheated with only Circe, and Calyspo was SA. I got that wrong, and I admit it. I only remembered that when I scrolled up our dm to take a screenshot of it.

Now I wanted to leave that convo because I wasn't in the mood for arguing, and I've learned to give people what they want, which makes em and yourself stop. My fault again.

Things happen. It leads to the apology. Now, obviously, I can't tell if an apology is genuine through a screen, and I am most certainly a pessimist. So, like, I don't think it is. Also, I'm almost certain that most was written by whoever the friend was who 'helped' em.

Sure, people can change, but not enough times do they actually. Just look on the Internet. And real life. A person like Jack, well, they've talked to me enough to know it is most likely not the case. If they were so angry at a piece of good criticism, then I don't have much hope.

Am I an angry person ? Yes. Do I think I have the right to be? Yes. Am I also a logical person? I believe so. The people I've asked think so, too. I don't dislike something for no reason. But I do dislike things. What I do like is reasons for my dislikes. With me so far?

Good. Moving on.

After the apology and after I finally got my thoughts in order, I sent them a message because they tagged me. A lot.

This is what I sent. It's emotional, but in my opinion, it also makes sense. I was mad they lied to me. I was mad they twisted the story so. Fucking. Much. Odysseus isn't a rapist and Circe isn't an innocent flower. That is not what an AU is. What was their reaction to this? Nothing. To me at least.

A mutual friend told me they sent the last half of my messages and told them that they were angry I. Didn't. Thank. Them. For. The. Apology. Take that for what you will.

Now they made another post replying to the first anon who criticized them. I've read it. And when I tell you it is so fulled with self-pity-

I haven't collected my thoughts properly about this so this is bad and more emotion than the above. but this is the basic things behind it.

1) never directly addressing what he did and constantly tell em to read the apology. Don't wanna repeat yourself. How much time is it gonna take out of your day exactly?

2) not acknowledging the fact the male sa victim. At all. They don't say anything about it. No 'my condolences'. No 'I'm so sorry that happened to you' . Not acknowledging how terrible of a thing that is. At all.

3)says they aren't gonna defend themself... and defend themselves

4) have yet to tell us who these people are. Which is just bad cuz there are people out there who are okay with this. If they were IRL friends just say that.

5) it felt just fucking dull

Maybe this isn't right. Maybe you disagree with these points. But do not tell me you disagree with the rest.

I wanna end this by saying I am victim of SA. Did I tell him this? No. Maybe I should've. I don't feel comfortable sharing it. Because remembring fucking hurts. Remembering means crying and opening the lights and either sitting or laying down on my back because I can still. Fucking. Feel. It. And I was nine.

I don't want your pity on this. I don't want you to say sorry. The people you should be saying sorry to are the people who are not believed when this happens. Feel sorry for the people who cannot report this stuff because they don't trust the people who are supposed to protect them. Feel sorry for the people who think it was their fault and they actually wanted it when they didn't. 63% of rape are not reported in females. Only 12% of child rapes are reported.

I can't find a clear fucking statistics on males.

Do you know how difficult it is for males to have any representation at all? How many male victims do you see online? Even Odysseus being regonized as one is recent. Fucking. Stop. This is more than a made up story. It means the world to some people. So this actually happen. It might mean everything. This was taken away from them from so many retellings. And a stupid fucking au.

If you want to talk about SA, wanna make a character out of it, learn about it first.

So I'm not going to forgive and I am definitely not going to forget. You can. If you want. I don't care if you do. But I ask you not to forget. Please.

I am tagging Jack's taglist

@zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-child-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass @kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @zoe-aura-of-d3ath @itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena @sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan @demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia @i-was-never-sane

[galeorderbride]

Forgiving the Flame for a Burn - Zevlor x F!Tav Fic Request

An angst/comfort/smut piece for @evocationwriter. Thank you so much for asking me to do this piece, I adore you! Xx

This is SMUT (tags/details below)

18+ MDNI

Summary:

One year after the defeat of the Elder Brain, Tav is trying to settle into daily life. But being a hero means the making of enemies, and Tav ends up on the wrong side of the city, with the wrong kinds of people.

That is, until a charming, former Hellrider steps in, saving her from the worst and taking her into his home for the night.

Tags: angst, comfort, smut. Unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), light orgasm denial, tail play, tiefling anatomy (infernal ridges, forked tongue), religious language used; some detailed depictions of a violent attack (beating to be specific)

Word count: 5k

Zevlor x F!Tav

No one talks about the end of a hero’s journey. Tav found herself thinking of that often, ever since the Elder Brain fell by the hand of her and her companions. Subjects of bard’s songs and children’s puppet performances, all of them bending to the whim of ‘thank yous’ and questions about adventures. All of them fading over time into nothing. People moved on, they had to, of course. Rebuilding homes, restarting businesses, schools and cleaning up parks. Life went on, and the looks of admiration as she’d wander the streets dissolved.

Needless to say, that wasn’t all bad. Walking around the city gave her a sense of anonymity she’d missed in the year since the brain’s defeat. While she had fond memories of children asking for autographs and telling tales at the Elfsong to curious attendees, the harassment and threats from those who felt nostalgia for the cult of the Absolute soured the experience. Every time she’d think about it, memories of Stone Lord exiles and concealed Banites taunting her with torture fled to mind.

Now, she could relax. Bask in the beauty of city living with no one to bother her (other than letters from her companions and comrades, which always excited her). Evening slowly began to fall, a wondrous sunset disembarking for the night as shopkeepers lit sconces outside their doors and brought in their signs. Fishmongers and tradesmen met in the streets to coalesce at either the Blushing Mermaid or the Elfsong. Parents corralled their children to follow them home after a day at the markets. Tav walked among them, smiling at the peace of normality she’d never forget again.

On nights like this one, Tav would look up above the Elfsong and see Alfira strumming her lute on the balcony. By now, she’d been giving lessons to children at her very own music studio for the last three or four months. Even then, she’d still go up to that rooftop and sing her heart out. Tav felt remorse every time she gazed upon the dazzling tiefling, guilt in her heart that, rather than enjoy the music, her soul yearned for the presence of a different tiefling entirely.

A year since she saw Zevlor at the final battle. A year since she’d discovered he survived. A year—and not a single letter. Everyone else reached out to her but him. In the weeks following, she wracked her brain for anything she might’ve said wrong. Any word that could be taken as an insult. Only he knew, and that would be just so forever.

She ignored the chest aches now, and the tingling in her abdomen that sometimes made her knees shake. Hoping one day they’d fade away like her fame. One outlived the other.

Was he even in Baldur’s Gate anymore?

Clearing her throat, she kept walking. Straightening her shoulders. New bottles of dye clinked against each other in her basket, held close to her stomach. In her daydream, the clock tower struck nine, startling her as she realized she’d been standing there for too long.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, forced to face her newfound fear of walking alone outside ever since anonymous former cultists began to harass her. She chastised herself for going today, irritated that she didn’t just wait until tomorrow morning.

Sticking to the main road, Tav hurried her step through the emptying streets. The end of a tenday, people looking for a rowdy night out were trickling into every space they could get drunk. Irrationality kicked in, everyone became an enemy, and no one had even noticed her yet. She repeated in her mind: Tav, get yourself together, you fought an elder brain. You can take anything a mere civilian can hit you with. Just walk.

Halfway home, things were normal. Everyone ignored her, and she felt her shoulders begin to calm as she neared her destination. The sky grew dark, only the light of the crescent moon peering behind the overcast lit her way. Little droplets of rain began to dot her face, she lifted her cape hood for shelter. Right as heavy footsteps trailed behind. The jungle of buckled boots and a person at least twice her size, she could discern that without even looking.

“The hero of Baldur’s Gate! Walking about these parts alone at night. Guess you don’t need brains to be a saviour, huh?” The voice behind her said. A man with a gravelly voice, slurred with drunkenness and malice.

Tav tried to ignore him, swallowing her fear as she kept walking at a brisk stride. One or two minutes and she’d be home. Counting the seconds, in tandem with the footsteps continuing to pursue her. Now in a quiet street, no one was around to help or witness whatever the man behind her had planned.

“Don’t run off so quick, sweet one! Sing me one of those ballads made about you! Bet it’ll sound sweet gurgling out of your throat when I cut it!” He chided, a growl so feral within him she could mistake him for a wild animal.

Another voice poked through an alleyway she passed, another men bumping her with his shoulder, rough enough to send her steps back against a wall. He said, “Father will love this at his temple doorstep, brother.”

Bhaalists. She should’ve known the ones to keep pestering her after all this time would be them. Likely a worse nightmare than anyone else, given their propensity for insane, maniacal violence. Were they even drunk? Or was that a farce to blend in with the city?

“Leave me be! I’ve killed more than you for less,” she said, sucking in her frightened breath.

Both of them cornered her, trudging towards her and beginning to push her around between the two. Smaller than both of them, she struggled to fight back as her basket of dyes shattered to the ground. Catching them off guard just quick enough for her to throw a punch in the face of one. He fell back, grunting in pain as the other smacked Tav against the brick wall. A sharp ache ran across her spine, the wind knocked out of her to completion when the one she punched slammed his fist into her stomach.

Gasping for breath, they let her collapse to the ground. Holding her abdomen tight, the roof of her mouth dryer than sand. Catching impossible air as the two paced around her, predators toying with their prey. That hit to her stomach so hard that she couldn’t find the strength to get up let alone fight back. Gods, was she really done in so quickly? Had she softened so much in just a year?

Most of the time, they were four at least. Now, she was one. And defeated in a matter of minutes. Dye stained her clothing as she twitched around the ground, feeling a harsh sting of hands clawing at her hair, pulling her back.

“Not so heroic now, are you?” The one that held her hair teased, giggles oozing with evil.

“Enough dawdling,” said the other, sheathing out a sharp, shining knife. “Tie her up to take her to the temple.”

Right when they began to tie the rope around her, a swing of a longsword sliced across one’s throat. Tav didn’t see all of it, still reeling from the punch. But the second one began to fight against her rescuer. Behind her writhing body, the sound of punching, stabbing and armour sliding against leather permeated the air.

And then nothing. Quiet air mixing with laboured breath, a few growling sighs to follow. Ones she recognized after a few seconds. A calming but assertive tone that used to excite her beyond belief.

“Z—,” she tried to say his name, but coughed instead. Recovering from the punch to the gut, breathless all the same.

Warm arms wrapped around her, lifted into an embrace healing her in seconds. Heat coursing within each injured vein, the tender flesh of a tiefling’s hold. Her head hung back against his arm, aching stomach muscles jolting. But the rest of her soul eased with the shelter of safety, letting him take her wherever he deemed right.

It could’ve been minutes. Or hours. Awakening in a soft bed covered in thick furs and clean sheets. Glowing candlelight against stone walls and the blurry flame of a burning fireplace. Sparks flew across the mantle as a broad shouldered, tailed man threw another log in. Trickling liquid poured from a clay pot, steaming scents of green tea and lemon soothing her into full awareness. No more pain, other than a small ache in her abdomen. For a second, she wondered if she’d died.

Tav shifted on the mattress, wincing from her sore muscles. At the corner of her eye were her dye-soaked clothes, hanging to dry after being washed. Bare arms and legs slid around the linen fabric of her ivory slip. Hair swept back from her face in a loose, well done braid.

“Am I dead?” She whispered, groaning out remnants of her voice as if she’d forgotten she had one.

The man turned from the fireplace, rushing to the bedside. Seating himself on the stool directly next to her, she could clearly make out the weathered, handsome features of Zevlor. Pouring tea like an old friend, not someone who’d been silent for a year.

“Not dead, Tav. You can’t imagine how glad I am that you’re awake. After those mongrels attacked you…I feared the worst,” he said, handing her the small cup as she sat up. Zevlor outstretched his hand as she winced, but pulled back before he could touch her.

Her eyes closed with the peace of green tea on the tongue. Pushing away the thoughts of the attack, burdened by yet another memory of pain. She chose another route, “You saved me. I don’t know how you found me but thank you, I owe you for such a gesture.”

With a cordial nod of a soldier, he said, “Think nothing of it. I—well, it’s a long story but I’ve made a living through private security. I was coming home from a job when I saw you in the street. Found you just in time before you slipped into that alleyway.”

She cupped the mug in her hands, resting on her cross-legged lap. A skipped beat of her heart went aflutter when she caught Zevlor’s eyes linger over her bare legs, and back to her face in a split second.

“I didn’t even know you were in the city,” she said, “It’s been so long since we’ve talked.”

Zevlor shifted, eyes darting away from her to every other corner of the room. The place was small, fit for a single man who didn’t want for much. Exactly him, melding in with the space as he paced around with his arms crossed. Keeping his distance as he always did even when they had fought together, even after the celebration…

“Certainly, I owe you an apology for that. There is still much agony in going into it but—I was in a bad way after the final battle. An injury of the mind, if you will. Times were hard, too hard to reach out to you with any confidence,” he explained.

“I expected no less, after all that happened. Only that, well I thought we’d become close. That maybe you’d find some peace through my support. But,” she trailed off as her hands shook, shock of what happened to her still dominant over her, “seems you supported me.”

Her feet hit the cold floor, trying to stand up while wobbling about. Just as her hips moved off the mattress, she stumbled downward. Zevlor strode over, hooking his arms around her, lifting her back onto the bed. In her panic, she clutched him without mercy. Holding him so close to her that he fell forward, knees landing on the bed as she lay under him. Hovering over her, he saw the quick rise and fall of her chest, struggling to properly exhale. Bringing him back to their moment alone at the Grove celebration, when he comforted her, held her as she wrestled with the fear she had to hide for her companion’s sakes. Here he was again, taking one, brave move to slide the strap of her slip back onto her shoulder.

“Zevlor…please don’t leave,” she said as she felt him move away, feeling his heart shred at the discomfort of being so close. No matter how much he craved it. Craved her.

He sighed, “You’re terrified, shocked from what happened. I don’t want to get in your way and make things worse.”

As he pulled away, she stabilized her tremored hand by grasping his wrist, “You haven’t made things worse. Remember when you sat with me at the party? When I confessed to you how afraid I was of everything? You helped me so much back then, how could now be any different?”

Zevlor faced away, staring into the firelight as Tav waited. He could not retreat from the visions of their last meeting. How she cried to him, and told him she felt safe in the comfort of his arms. Sitting in a grassy, humid corner away from the rest of the guests. Sheltered by fern leaves and flowers, he let her talk and talk about all that troubled her. Felt so touched by her vulnerability that he shared his own worries too. Two of them, absorbed in isolating fear and finding each other in the dark. Hands wandering around with each kind word, and then the arousing jolt of remembering her naked flesh against his. Tail wrapped around her ankle while they made love under the plant covered moonlight. So beautiful under him, sensations he never thought he’d experience again.

He thought of making her his again so many times after. But in between then and now, he kept failing. Falling into disorder and defeat. People dying for his mistakes. Who would want someone like that? A man so past his prime he verged on cowardice, next to the hero of Baldur’s Gate. How could that ever make sense?

“Both of us were vulnerable at that time. You’re recovering from an attack, and…well, I know you appreciate honesty. My body is so excited from the fight, and from seeing you again, that if I get close enough I might take you here and now. Even though I’d come to regret being so forceful,” he explained.

Hot shame filled every corner of his face just for saying it. Avoiding her gaze even as she took deep breaths, standing from the bed again. This time, with success. Still slow, but steady in each step closer to Zevlor by the fireplace.

“You were always so hesitant about what you wanted,” Tav said, close behind him. The glow of the fire warmed one side of her exposed arms, fingers tickling against the fabric of his cotton shirt. Brushing the tip of her nose against his spine, taking in the scent of brimstone and pine. Her strength regained with each graze of her palm against him, light and teasing.

“I venture to deserve the things I want first,” he said, head down towards the flame. Closing his eyes to the feeling of Tav’s hand sliding from the back of his arm to the top of his hand. Rested on the mantle as she gave a gentle squeeze.

“Isn’t that up to me to decide?” She asked, taking the strap he once adjusted in place and pulling it down again. “You saved my life today. And I missed you terribly, Zevlor.”

Hand in hand, she turned him to face her. Tall and soldierly in front of her, head craning up to face him in all his glory. Fire crackled before them, leading her hand guiding his to her waist. His nails craved to dig into her skin, pull her close and never let go. She tiptoed into his embrace, other arm around her back, forming a gentle, passionate hug. Feeling her skin against his again, he was happy to die that moment.

“Are you sure this is what you want tonight? It was not my intention when I took you in to do this,” he said, wondering if she heard a word he said. She pushed their faces closer, lips hovering around each other. Temptation already too difficult bear as his mouth opened to bite into her supple flesh, but stopped short. “I won’t be able to control myself if you allow me this.”

Tav’s cool breath danced along his tongue, a full body desire to sob over how much she wanted him. To do what they did last time and pretend the world didn’t exist.

“You make me feel safe, Zevlor. I’ve been on my guard ever since we parted. Do you know how wonderful it feels to just…relax? Please, I want you near me. Inside me all night. Just like at the Grove. Hold me, Zevlor,” Tav said, her voice a crescendo of emotion from whisper to yelp.

Words weren’t enough, he had to be shown. Tav ruminated that very idea ever since they last parted. How a commander of a group like the Hellriders could end up so unsure of himself. Maybe he wasn’t always like that, but he was now. And she wasn’t inclined to change a thing. She laced her fingers under the straps of her slip, letting the fabric slowly waterfall off her body. In the wake of her naked form before him, she swore she could hear his beating heart. Rapid and fiery like the burning glimmer of the room.

“Can you promise me one thing?” He asked, hands pressed against her cheeks, lifting her eyes up to him. Round and ablaze with desire, warm and cool at the same time.

“Anything,” she whispered.

“Do not leave in the morning,” he said.

“I’ll never leave if that’s what you require.”

It was a kiss like never before. A whirlwind heart attack imploding between the two of them. Zevlor’s soul rose out of his body, taken over by the beckoning ache of her open mouth, welcoming his forked tongue. Tav melted into him, relishing in the hot pleasure of pressing her bare body against his clothed one. She clawed at his belt, longing for the image of his warrior frame above her. Scarred and toned by years of combat. Tail swivelling back and forth, a supplicant tying around her supple thigh.

Their voices hummed into each other, a hymn of blossoming want. Walking in tandem to the bed as Zevlor climbed over her, shuddering at the pleasure of pushing between her legs. He sat up on his knees, stretching his flexed back muscles as he pulled off his cotton shirt. A tingling sensation spread between Tav’s legs, cool air biting at her wet, sensitive core. She couldn’t resist the urge to run her hands across his torso, savouring every scar and mark, repeating her movements when he’d moan. His belt jingled below, unclasped as the imprint of a large erection outlined his pants. He was an impressive man…everywhere.

“Pull them down slowly, I want to see,” Tav ordered, voice dark and wistful with lust.

“At your command, my beautiful goddess,” he said, a low growl vibrating from the back of his throat. Taking slow, painful time in pulling down his trousers. Tav bit her lip, the excitement almost too much. A little tuft of pubic hair opened the door to a long, thick shaft, bouncing against Zevlor’s stomach when it finally broke free. Her mouth watered, licking up the collection of desperate saliva at the top corner of her lip.

Her heart fluttered, body hot and assured unlike before. That was the spell Zevlor had her under since they’d met. Empowering her just from being close, reminding her of the strength she still had. Not a thing of the past, but something to be embraced. And now, she had a chance to stay with him for more than a night. Protect each other, and revel in their primal need to be attached.

Discarding his pants with the rest of his clothes, Zevlor lowered, kissing between her bare breasts and down to her stomach. Heartfelt, exciting tickles made her giggle with a flirtatious ring. Shivering at the scratches his nails left in their stead. Relaxing every nerve within as she lay in his embrace, letting him take the lead. She hoped he’d always give her a chance to let go this way, think about nothing other than the pleasure he’d cover her in.

Between peppered kisses and flicks of his tongue along her stomach, he whispered, “You’re mine, I’ve wanted you to be since the moment I saw you. I’ll protect you, keep you safe. Come here.”

With untold force, Zevlor swung Tav’s legs onto his shoulders, capturing her cunt in his mouth. Jolts of ecstasy wet and savoured with each slide of his tongue across her clit. Sucking, licking, moaning into her without any attempt to catch his breath. Driven each time he tasted more of her essence. Unbridled to the point where she had to hold his horns to keep balance. The temperature of his hellfire skin stimulated her even more, muscles tightening with every weakened, whimpering moan that escaped her. Assertive, but slow, gentle even as he became primal against her. Letting the rhythm take her exactly where she needed to be.

Tav’s moans fluttered like butterflies, one hand clutching his horn and the other falling over her eyes, focusing on the chase of that wonderful high. Vampiric biting down of her lip, containing her innate need to be even louder. There would be time for that. Tonight, she wanted to sink into him, fall into a calming, warm pool of passionate affection. Enjoy the sensation of his body becoming a vessel for her pleasure, moving his tongue in just the way she liked.

Between tiny gasps, Tav said, “Zevlor…you’re going to make me cum. Please don’t stop…please.”

He didn’t reply, too focused on slurping up every trickle of sex that dripped out of her. He simply moaned, muffled by the soft grind of her pussy against his face. Building up to a climax that bloomed throughout her body, arching her back as she rode out an orgasm she had no idea she craved so deeply until it happened. He’d refuse to let her stop a second early, continuing to circle his tongue around her clit until she shook with sensitivity.

She melted into the bed, a thin veneer of sweat combining with the dripping warmth between her legs as Zevlor took his mouth off. Positively beautiful over her, muscular back bent in a perfect curve when he began to suckle and kiss around her neck and collarbone. Travelling downward in a desperate need to cover every inch. Landing with satisfaction on her nipples, laughing for the first time in years, lost in the joy of her.

Zevlor stopped for a moment, lifting his head to face her below him. Tranquil and drunk with sinful pleasure, cheeks filled with rosy blush and eyes glazed over. Arms splayed out like the wings of a celestial Aasimar. He loathed the past, for so many reasons, but mostly because she wasn’t there with him. In her infinite beauty, a plush and wanton solace before him. How did he ever stomach being away from her since they’d met?

“I’m sorry for leaving you after that night. Forgive me?” He asked.

Tav laughed, spellbound to the point of forgetting she was ever upset. As if he’d never left. She said, “You may need to convince me a little more, hellrider.”

Something switched off within him, a zealous need to have her succumb to him. Forgive him for his misgivings. Praying to a new goddess and asking for redemption. Offering himself to her by inching his cock deep inside her, feeling the pull of her soft walls lock him in. Driven to eternal admiration from the sound of her shocked, euphoric moan, submitting to the stretch of him. An addictive sting, exposed to every synapse erupting within her sensitive, yearning cunt. She bit her bottom lip with a smile, shivering at the comforting wrap of his tail around her waist to keep her in place. No escaping the loving, dominant thrust of his hips deep into her.

“Forgive me,” he said, “Forgive me. Forgive me!” A passionate, hard thrust into her pussy each time he said it.

The might of him rendered her eyes at the back of her head, nearly unable to reply as he begged for her forgiveness. Her slick smacking against his pubic bone, gushing onto his cock in a lustful mess of an orgasm begging to come back. Tav snaked her arms across Zevlor’s shoulders for dear life, brought to the edge with his heavy grunts in her ear. She tightened around him, rocking back and forth on the bed, closer and closer to release.

He felt the contracting of her around him, unfulfilled by her silence on forgiveness. Just as she was about to finish, he pulled out of her, smacking the tip of his cock against her clit repeatedly. Listening to her whine and whimper, threatening tears. Then, before she knew it, he thrusted back in, hard and unmerciful. Pulling out again, repeating that pattern.

“Have I earned your forgiveness? Or shall I deny you until you use your words all night? Tell me, am I absolved, goddess?” He growled, voice husky and feral, the militant part of him revealing just enough of itself to command her to his whim.

By the fourth thrust and pull, she wailed, “Yes, gods above, I forgive you! There’s nothing to forgive, just make love to me!”

He pushed inside her fully, smashing his lips against hers at the same time. Holding her hips in line to use his infernal ridges as friction against her swollen clit. Locking his hand into hers, supported above her head while he thrusted and thrusted with reckless abandon. Both of them grunting in tandem, overcome with delayed pleasure. Tav found her footing quickly, edged so deliciously that her orgasm ripped through her with little effort, squeezing onto his cock. Her nails dug into his knuckles, mouth hanging open in awe over the intensity of her second climax.

Pulling from the kiss, he struggled against his own release. Mourning for the eventual time when he’d have to leave her cunt. Comfortable, warm and wet, a shelter from all harm. He couldn’t stand it yet, and used his tail around her waist to flip her onto her side, like fresh sand in the palm of his hand.

“Let me lie next to you,” he said, moving his body in a spoon position, chest pressed against her back, “I want to cum with you in my arms.”

Tav mustered a whisper thin ‘please’ under her breath, running her hands through his hair as he snuggled in behind her. The curve of her spine angled just right for him to sheathe himself inside her once more. Pumping slowly this time, arms and tail curled across her body like ivy against an ancient wall. Kissing the side of her neck, an endless waterfall of tenderness mixed with the possessive thrust of his cock. She was completely enveloped, safe and sound in his embrace, floating in the paradise he gave her.

“You’re with me, now. Right here, safe. Does that feel good? Am I pleasing you, goddess? Might I cum inside you?” He whispered in her ear, low and gruff. Intense bravado oozing from every part.

She was awash with sensual energy, captivated by him just like the first time. Although that was much quieter, fearing someone might hear them. Now, she felt as if they were sharing a home. In the privacy of their own dwelling, even if that was a fantasy.

“Oh, yes, you are perfect. I want your everything, Zevlor. Please, give me everything,” she replied, taking care to run her tongue up and down his bottom lip before she pushed them into a wet, feverish kiss. Flicking her tongue against his teeth, relishing in the sharp edge.

Their mouths were open to each other when he felt the stirrings of his climax. Languishing movements lost rhythm as he climbed ever forward into that much desired sensation. Possessed by the supple flesh of her lips and everything else. Hips, breasts, stomach, ass, everything. Falling into her deep, insane at the ache of his cock inside her. He breathed out a hard, rapturous moan before he let himself spill, soaking her cunt with the cum that twitched out of him. Dribbling out of the side as she lay before him with a wide, calm smile. Their muscles relaxed together, fusing into the bed.

Tav shivered, the slide of his cock pulling out sending a shock in her spine. Imbued with comfort immediately as Zevlor pulled a thin sheet over her. Tucking her into the blankets and the warm hold of him. Snuggling tight into her, yearning to find a way to fuse his body with hers. Kissing the top of her head, lingering to take in her scent.

“You did not smell of rosemary when we last saw each other,” he said, “That’s always been a favourite of mine. Rosemary.”

Tav grinned, turning to face him. A much needed distraction to keep her heavy eyelids from shutting for the night. To see him once more, maybe twice. Absorb all she missed in the year past. His handsome, aged face glowing under firelight. Sandy hair, messy and dotted with sweat. Strong hands stuck tight to her hips. All she imagined came to life.

Zevlor held her hand, kissing each knuckle, down to the bottom of her palm. A touch so ethereal, he could have been giving healing magic. Rescuing her both outside and in, cleansing her soul of all evil and wrongdoing endured before.

“We’ll replenish your lost supplies tomorrow,” he said, her hand close to his face, “If you’ll allow me to accompany you?”

She smiled, containing its ever widening stretch. “Well, we do have a great deal to catch up on.”

[cloudraker]

What would the tfp autobots (your pick) reactions would be if their neutral NB cybertonian ally goes, "Oh? You didn't know? I have a Conjux now :)" and brings the motherfucker predaking.

But hey! Atleast the predacon is a green flag. The man would do anything for the reader, respects them, and is utterly smitten. At that point the autobots wouldn't have to worry about him anymore since reader is their ally

This has been rotting in my inbox for so long,, anon if you see this thank you for your patience

TFP Preadaking with a Neutral S/O

Under the cut :)

Setting this after the war/the return to Cybertron

Assuming you didn't fight in the war, you're probably the most normal person he knows. You're probably the most normal person on Cybertron at this point. The others don't think much of it when you start spending more and more time out by yourself- there's a lot to take in now that the war is over and cybertron is so different

Your little adventures start at a few hours, then it's half a day, and before long you're gone for days at at time. That's when they start asking questions

Where have you been going? What could possibly be so important that you go missing for days at a time when there is- what do you mean you met somebody?

Having to explain that yes you met somebody and yes they're on Cybertron and well you don't know if it's a good idea if they all met him. It's all very "he goes to a different school you don't know him"

They eventually get you to agree and when you actually bring him around the Autobots are.. well they sure are there and that sure is a guy you've brought home

Predakind, to his credit, is on his best behavior. He's standing behind you (a respectable distance away from them) as you talk the others out of shooting him then and there

He doesn't stay long, much to your disappointment. A few conversations with both sides reveals their past history, leaving you caught in the middle.

The overall consensus on the Autobot side is "you're an adult, we can't stop you but it's also a really bad idea-"

Ratchet would be the most understanding- which isn't saying much. He's upset but he also knows you don't have the same feelings towards Predaking as he and the other Autobots do- to you, he's just some guy you met. While he makes his many grievances known, he also makes it clear that if anything happens you'll still have people supporting you

Magnus is.. conflicted. On one hand, part of him is glad that there's some sense of normalcy for somebody- a hope that things will be okay. On the other hand, he doesn't have an other hand

He doesn't count as an Autobot but Knockout would warn you against the predacon, calling him things like dangerous and a brute while also trying to dig any gossip out of you. Will begrudgingly make sure you're polished and shiny before you go out if you ask him for help. Very "you're going out dress like that?"

Once they get more familiar with the idea, Predaking starts making the occasional appearance

At first it's just flying by overhead, letting you know he's still around even if you haven't been able to see each other much lately. Then it's coming to meet you when you've got plans and then he's making very awkward small talk with Bulkhead while he waits for you to come out

Everybody starts to relax a bit when they see just how good he is to you. This hulking beast of a robot, built for fighting and dragged into a time not meant for him, bending to take your hand and kiss your knuckles whenever he sees you. How you never come back with a so much as a scratch on your pain and only with good things to say

He gets some serious side-eye when he enters the base for the first time, and everybody is a bit tense, but it (thankfully) all goes well

He's eventually asked to help with some repairs or some mundane task and- while somewhat reluctant- he complies. For you, of course, in an attempt to make life just a little bit easier

It's a very, very slow journey to having both your partner and the Autobots start to build even a semblance of trust, but you're willing to put in the work and Predaking is willing to put in the work for you

[badomensgoodomens]

Can I request for noah. Reader and him are in a friend group and they're always flirty and tactile but won't admit their feelings? I love a slow burn. Will they won't they? 👀😊

Noah Sebastian x Reader (fluff)

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

Thank you so much for the request!!

slowburns are kind of difficult for me, as i have the attention span of a rock and im a busy gyal.

its not exactly long but im hoping 1.3k words will suffice!!!

i hope this is good enough!!

_______________________________________________

Noah was genuinely one of your closest friend, ontop of the other band members. 

You guys did alot of things together, errands, shopping sprees, markets, arts, crafts and even simple work stuff. That was just the nature of your friendship. 

Joakim and Nicholas caught on during a house party, you had gotten soooo drunk you were dancing on the island, noah had his arms around your knees so you wouldn’t fall. They exchanged glances, and immediately burst out laughing. It was honestly no secret the way he looked at you, but you were occupied with hobbies and interests. 

One particular night you were setting up for a house party, it was the middle of summer. Clad in swimsuits and skanky coverups, you stood on the island, hanging some streamers from the pendant lights. Noah laughs, thinking back to that night. You raise your eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, chuckling. You finish and waddle to the edge of the island. “Help..?” you ask, he laughs, heading over to grab you around your knees to help you down. 

He relishes in the warmth of your tan skin in your bikini, gently patting your shoulder as he sets you down. You stare back up at him, grinning. “Whats that look for?” he asks, crossing his arms. “You're a human elevator.” 

Fast forward maybe a few hours, youre a light weight, thats no secret. Youre a giggling mess as you walk through the house onto the porch. Theres a slight breeze as you sit down on the bench swing, you take in the night sky, the pretty purple undertones stretch over the coastal side, reflecting off the beach. The porch door clicks open, the loud music and strobe lights filtering through the crack in the door. 

“You good?” noah asks, strobe lights reflecting off his forehead. You giggle, nodding. He walks along the creaky wooden porch to sit next to you. “The sky is so beautiful.” you murmur, he hums in agreement, but hes staring at you. You turn to look at him, a soft smile on your face. “Take a picture itll last longer” you grin, he laughs and nudges you. “I’d run out of storage.” he snickers. “That doesn’t even make sense!!!!” you laugh. He chuckles, throwing his arm around you. 

“You wanna play water volleyball?” Matt yells over the fence, you practically jump out of your skin, “u-uh! Yeah sure!” you stammer, standing up and adjusting your bikini. Noah clears his throat awkwardly and walks down the porch stairs to the gate, you in tow. You do the walk of shame through the gate together, folio and nicholas snicker. 

Noah just straight up jumps in the pool, you teeter on the edge. The boys start to play, matts girlfriend even coming to join. You sit on the edge, dipping your feet in. the slight breeze littering goosebumps over my skin. 

“Cmon!! Come play!!” joakim pokes you, splashing you. You yelp as some random party-goer pushes you in from behind. The cold pool water wakes you up, you weren’t THAT comfortable of a swimmer, and this BRAT just ruined our hair. Joakim helps you upright as noah starts yelling at the party goer. Your makeup is running a little bit, your perfect curls now sopping wet. Joakim helps you sit on the edge of the pool, you readjust your bikini and just can’t help but laugh. Noah walks over to you, stupid bitch can actually stand in this fuckass pool because he is soooooo tall. “Are you okay?” he says, resting his hands on your knees. Your heart beats a little faster.  He gently wipes the mascara from under your eyes. Your heart beats dramatically. “U-uhm, i’m okay.” you stammer out,a little freaked out at noahs affectionate nature. “Are you cold?” he asks, running his hands up and down your arms. You nod, a little unsure of what to do. He gently helps you off the ledge and carries you across the pool. You walk to the upstairs bathroom, he wraps you up in a towel, setting you on the edge of the bathtub. You sigh, night totally ruined. 

He gently wipes your running makeup off with some makeup wipes as you pout and shake from the cold. The bathroom door clicks open, Nicholas sticks his head through. “I’m kicking them all out.” he states, before leaving again. “Its not that big of a deal-” you start. Noah cuts you off. “No- i wanted to wrap it up anyways. Im tired. Youre tired. We are all tired.” 

You quickly got changed into a pair of sweatpants, brushing through your wet hair. The house has been cleared out by now, the boys getting to work to clean up all the bottles. Matt’s girlfriend, Heidi, comes into your room. “He was a totalllll dick!” she exclaims, sitting down on your bed. You two gossip. “And noah was soooo cute to come rescue you!!! You should totally go for him.” “i don’t know.. Hes a bit out of my league-” before you can even finish, Folio bursts through the door. “HAH! I knew you liked him!!! You two-” “SSHHSshshshshs” you panic, shutting the door. Folio begins to go on a tangent about allll the reasons he believes you should go for him. Heidi backs him up.

You feel a little cornered as they spout off reasons on why noah likes you, using the incident that occurred before as an example.”he was overreacting!!!!!!!!” you shout. You bicker back and forth until somebody bangs on the door. You unlock the door with a huff, greeted by a confused looking noah. 

“What the fuck are you lot yelling about?” he asks, pushing the door open more. “Doesn’t matter-” “okay… we are gonna watch a movie on the couch, come join, bring blankets.” heidi and folio filter out as you grab a big blanket and a pillow. 

All 7 of us lounge on the big white couch, a random comedy playing on the screen, you lay with your head on a pillow. Youre about five seconds away from falling asleep when you feel noahs big ass fingers combing through your half dry hair. You settle quickly. Off to dream land. 

—----------------------------------------------

You wake up later on, 2am perhaps. The boys are softly chatting. You try to tune in to hear their conversation. 

“Dude- its so obvious just go for it.”

“Nah.. man.. I don’t wanna ruin anything.” 

You fall back asleep.

—-------------------------------------------------------

Everybody wakes up hungover and cranky, a common theme in this household. 

You groan, hiding your face under the blanket from the blinds you forgot to close. “I’m ordering coffee, who wants some?” heidi says, laying on matts chest. 

Noah continues running his hands through your hair, he bends down, whispering. “Can we talk later?” you nod, immediately becoming anxious. 

You anxiously drink your ice coffee, awaiting the conversation. 

About an hour later he comes and gets you, leading you to the porch swing. The sun beams down on your legs as you sit. An ocean breeze filtering throughout the coastal beachside. 

You turn to look at him, he looks… nervous. 

“So i uh…” he clears his throat. 

“Look, if i’m out of line we can just pretend this never happened-”

“Noah.” you cut him off, feeling too anxious to put up with his rambling. 

“Sorry- sorry. I just.. Look. i know we have a pretty flirty friendship- and- and i don’t want to make assumptions but i love you.” 

Time seems to stop, and your jaw completely drops. Your heart beats out of your chest. 

No.

No. surely hes joking. 

He looks panicked, his mouth is moving, i don’t hear anything. My ears are ringing. 

“You love.. Me?” you stammer out.

He nods frantically, still panicked. His hands cup your cheeks. 

“Please. Tell me you love me. Im sick of pretending.” he chokes out, his eyes wide, staring down at you. 

You nod, not able to form words. He hugs you tightly. You almost feel like crying. 

“I love you noah.” 

“I TOLD YOU-!!!!” Folio yells.

__________________________________________________________

if you havent already noticed, i dont do chapter books to avoid burn out!! but im hoping on being able to do this level of writing frequently.

im also trying to write more formally or more detailed as im so used to short, unserious stories.

please keep challenging me with requests!!!!

(i also don't edit lol)

[withahappyrefrain]

FRAT TASM!PETER WITH

“I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard/wet. Wanna hear about it?”

THIS IS SOMETHING THAT COCKY ASSHOLE WOULD SAYYY OH MY GOD

This is how blonde frat Peter returns bless you

Warning: language, frat Peter being a cocky little shit, female reader, I think that's it!

"Hey, you made it after all."

You audbily breathe in through your nose, trying to ignore the fumes of vodka and who knows what else was in this God forsaken jungle juice.

Anything to give you the strength to face Peter Parker.

You turn around to find him leaning against the door, a joint tucked behind his ear, hands in the pocket of his black hoodie, bleached blonde hair somehow perfectly messy.

"Don't get ahead of yourself Parker. I'm only here to support my roommate," you scoff, turning your attention back to the game of beer pong. Not that you were truly interested.

But you couldn't let him know that.

You regret being late to the first day of your Science Diplomacy & World Health class. Had you known it would have left you no choice but to sit next to Peter Parker, you wouldn't have hit the snooze button for your alarm five times.

It wasn't even like you had asked to borrow a pencil from him. He seemed drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

"Y'know, I feel like I would have remembered a face like yours. You a transfer?" He asked, as if you two weren't in the middle of a lecture.

Thanks to your roommate being in the sorority that paired up with his frat, you had heard all about Peter Parker. The infamous parties. How he dyed his hair blonde at the beginning of sophomore. How he's the biggest flirt that Delta Lambda Phi had.

You didn't even look at him when you responded, "We've been in the same class since freshman year. But I came here to get a degree, not to party."

Ever since that day, he wouldn't leave you alone. At first it started with ridiculously over the top pick up lines.

"Are you made up of copper and tellurium? Because you're cute."

All you could do was roll your eyes at every line, mustering all the strength you had to not smile. You had eyes, the guy was cute. But you also knew his type.

So when he extended a personal invite to the latest frat party, you simply turned him down, like you had for countless of other parties.

Of course, as luck would have it, it was exactly the party your roommate wanted to go to.

You hoped to avoid him, hoped that your roommate would find whoever she was looking for so you could leave.

But it was as if Peter Parker had a sixth sense for you specifically. His inability to find you in libraries, dinning halls, and the university's coffee shop (bc fuck Starbucks) had now extended to frat parties.

"You know Parker, stalking is a serious crime," you scoff, refusing to look at him. The ever present scent of cinnamon alerted you that he was now standing next to you.

"It's not my fault you have a beautiful face that I could pick out from a crowd," He mumbles, a stark contrast to the usual cocky bravada you're used to.

"Excuse me?" Without thinking, you turn to face him, making contact with those big brown eyes.

The corner of his pink lips jerk upwards as he leans in, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. His touch is gentle, something you weren't expecting at all.

"You heard me." The cocky smile had returned, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't gimme that. I know you love how cheesy I am."

Unfortunately, it was true. He was never crude and it somehow sounded genuine, despite being accompanied by a worn snapback.

"It's not crass, unlike your fellow brotherin. I'll give you that Parker." You would have taken a step back if you could, but you were now up against the wall. But he still had space to close in on you, not that he did. He always kept enough distance that you could walk away.

Come to think of it, you hadn't seen or heard him flirt with anyone since the first day of classes.

"Y'know, I got an offer from Delta Chi. It could be way worse." His comment earned a laugh from you, a feat Peter was quite proud of.

"You're right, I guess I should give you that."

"I think you can give me a lot more," He leaned in, closing some of the distance between you two but not all the way, "If you want."

The ball was in your court. His lips looked so soft, no doubt from the vanilla chapstick he used. God, why did you know that about him? And why did he always smell like cinnamon instead of Axe body spray? That's what he should be using, it would certainly make it easier for you to discourage your own feelings about the guy.

Tired of denying, tired of putting up a wall, and not kissing anyone in the last four months caused you to grab at his hoodie, your lips crashing onto his.

You vaguely register the sound of the dropped plastic cup, as your fingers thread through his hair to find it soft, despite all the hair dye and bleach.

Peter's hands feel large as they skim your sides, landing at your hips. When his tongue slid across your bottom lip, you could feel your knees begin to go weak. As if he could sense it, he pushed your back firmly against the wall, one of his large hands going down to your thigh to help steady you.

Fuck, his lips were soft. There was muscle underneath that hoodie, you could feel it.

His lips trailed down to your jaw before settling on your ear.

"I had a dream about you last night. Woke up hard. Wanna hear about it?"

Desire burned at the pit of your stomach, your fingers gripping the strands of his hair.

"Where the fuck is your bedroom Parker?"

[https-murdock]

Be Good to Me - Matt Murdock

summary: do you deserve to come? matt isn’t so sure.

word count: ~1.2k

warning: mean!matt - blowjob, insults (not that bad?), unprotected sex (no!), orgasm denial, p in v, bondage, as per usual with me it’s my fave - porn no plot.

note: first time writing mean!matt ahhh, had a really fun time writing this - requested by our own @kit-murdock - thank you gorgeous ! hope it’s ok :)

matt knows how wet you are, he can smell it. does he care? no.

“knees, sweetheart.” he grimly says, eyes looking down in your direction with a new darkness that hasn’t quite shown itself before.

Dropping down onto your knees, the cold hard floor of his living room hits your skin fast. It’s painful, the way your weight is laying on your knees but again, you know he doesn’t care - he’s only here for his pleasure, and somehow that’s what’s making the slick soak your underwear so much.

“desperate, aren’t you?” He asks, belt buckle clinging as he slowly undoes it, taking it out of his suit pants and just holding it - almost as if he’s debating what to do next. “turn around.” he’s growling at you now, calloused hands grabbing at your shoulders and spinning you round forcibly when you don’t move quick enough for his liking.

“matt what-“ you start, before realising that you should probably leave him to do what he wants.

“quiet. i didn’t tell you to speak, did i sweetheart?” Matt says, he’s being stern now, it annoys him when you don’t do as you’re told. you get punished if you don’t do what he says - and often, that’s what you want.

but not tonight, you’re here to solely give Matt his pleasure - find delight in the way he responds to you.

He uses his belt to tie your hands behind your back, moulding you back into the way he wants you - on your knees, mouth open and looking up at him. As Matt is standing above you, the red lights from the billboard casing over his whole body, you know you’re in for a long, but fun, night.

“keep that pretty mouth open, dumb girl,” he begins, his hand gripping around your cheeks while your jaw drops open ready to take him, before he continues, “gonna take me? do as you’re told? gotta be good for me.” You nod, knowing he doesn’t want to hear your voice right now.

He takes his time stripping his clothes off, and you wonder if this will make him forget about the stress of his cases. Having you wrapped so tightly around him in any sense he wishes to use you.

slowly, you begin to feel the tip of his cock tapping at your lips - and you know what he means, but he says it before you can act, “come on, i know you know what to do. don’t act all stupid on me now.” he’s smirking, precum tapping onto your lips.

you let your tongue crawl from your mouth, desperate to taste him, matt letting his heavy cock fall onto it as you wrap your lips around the head. “good girl, just do as you’re told and you might get a treat.” he mutters, and the pulsing in your core gets stronger at the thought of him allowing you to come.

He’s twisting his fingers into your hair, both hands gripping at the back of your head as he begins thrusting his hips and hitting the back of your throat. There’s no time to take a breath as you let your eyes flutter closed and appreciate the taste of him all over you.

“A-ah shit, you do know what to do, fuck.” he’s giggling to himself, almost like he didn’t believe all the punishments you’ve endured had shown you how to please him.

you’re letting him use you, just sitting there and hoping he’ll let you finish and give you the pleasure of touching you. Matt’s hitting the back of your throat and sometimes staying there, holding your head down on his cock until he can tell you desperately need to breathe.

“you need to breathe? huh?” he’s asking, again holding you down and feeling the pulsing in your temples as your eyes stream. He lets you go, listening to the big breath you take when your head flies backwards off of him, laughing at you, “my stupid girl. can smell how wet you are for me, such a slut.”

“just need you, please.” you whisper, hoping the plea will reach his ears in a good manner.

“hmmm. no, you’re mine tonight, my little whore.” he grins, slapping your face gently a few times, feeling the drool around your mouth that you can’t wipe away, hands still bonded behind your back.

Matt drags you up, legs wobbling as he swings you over his shoulder, walking to the bedroom as you realise you’re in for a fight.

you’re thrown on the bed in an instant, the belt still tight around your wrists stinging slightly at the landing. “gonna use you. all mine. do whatever i want with you.” he’s almost talking to himself now, shoving his two middle fingers in your mouth and listening to the gag when he hits the back of your throat.

“ohhh sweetheart, you’re soaked. this wet for my cock huh?” he laughs, and your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, knowing how much slick sits between your legs.

“p-please. please.” it’s the only word that can even fall from your lips right now, the rest escaping you.

“so fucking desperate… all for this?” he asks, sheathing himself inside you in one fluid motion, making you scream out in a mixture of pain and pleasure at the feeling of him stretching you so good.

“hmmm, so tight still. always. my girl.” he’s muttering to himself, almost growling at you as he begins slamming his hips against you, the belt still tightly around your wrists as the pins and needles grows in them, the weight of matt on top of you, pressing your legs near your chest weighing you against them.

“so fucking wet for me, this is the effect i have on you?” you’re nodding frantically, feeling a little coil building below.

“don’t you dare come, little slut. don’t.” he’s saying, tugging you to the edge of the bed and standing up, still fucking into you but using those strong fingers to slap your pussy as he continues ravaging you.

“no, no no. matt, please.” you’re starting to beg, almost panic, because you know exactly what it means when he doesn’t let you come when he can feel it like he does now.

you’re moaning so loud he’s putting a hand over your mouth, “fuck, matt, h…”

“ah, shit. always so tight.” he’s grunting, and his hips are stuttering now. you know exactly what’s coming and you don’t like it, but he feels so good.

you feel it as soon as it happens, the hot white ropes filling you to the brim - and he pulls out.

as you realise you were right, a single, frustrated tear falls onto your cheek, as he throws a towel your way.

“please, matt i need to, i-“ you’re pleading to finish, desperate for him to tip you over the edge you’ve been craving from him this whole time.

“you think you deserve to come? i don’t think so.”

— tags

@lambmurdock @parker-murdock @silas-aeiou @blushingrn @audreyclimbs

[jealousmartini]

hi! i saw ur post where u mention age change with loa and could u talk more about that? cause i just turned 20, but i wanna be 17 again just so i can experience teenage things (i had depression and extreme social anxiety my whole teenagehood). i wanna feel young and do things right, apply everything i know now to this time in my life cause i can't help but feeling so old speacially since i have zero "firsts", like i'm 20 and no first crush or first kiss (ik it's not the end of the world, but i want back the expirences i was stolen from). i don't wanna over-explain myself nor trauma dump on u, but basically i just wanna start over yk? i know nothing is impossible to loa, truly know, but this one wish makss me insecure cause that will mean i was born in 2007 instead of 2004 and my old classmates werent really my classmates which is okay cause i never liked them but instead i had different ones that i don't know? i don't know if i'm making sense here, sorry to be asking u these things but ur the only person i've seen talking about age change so i'll be very thankful to anything u have to say to me. hope u have a good day :)

This ask unironically made me frown, like so hard, knowing that manifesters like you have to ask if starting over is okay because of the heavy misrepresentation and misunderstanding of manifesters and shifters who age change.

My love, OF COURSE you can. I cannot believe we have come to the point, on the interent as a whole, that people feel that they need to ask permission on what to do with THEIR LIVES, because the all high and mighty LOA police feel like they have the right to dictate what others should and shouldn't do with their lives.

And God forbid you don't obey them because then they'll throw every derogatory name, they'll diagnose you with every mental illness they want to insult you with (that they don't even understand), they'll assume that utmost worst about you, and take to their side of the community to shame you infront of them all. It's genuinely appalling.

Which is why I finally reminded myself a couple years ago that these people are not my mum. I have free will to do what I want with MY LIFE and whatever they say are nothing more than opinions that I can literally choose to listen to or to ignore. I refuse to fall into the trap of giving power, MY power away to outsiders and let them control me because real talk now, what are they actually going to do? At the end of the day they can cry, shout, rip their hair out on camera an tell me how insne I am for not having the same views as them, but none of that's stopping me from sleeping with their mum AND dad in another reality

Long story short, my answer is yes, you can start over and change the year you were born hun. You can do whatever you want because this is your call. Do what YOU want, not whatever the LOA police deems acceptable by their beliefs

[scarlet-bitch]

Her Perfume's Holding Me Ransom  

4k words, Office Siren - Steve Harrington X fem!reader, 18+, MDNI, set in '88 Steve aged up accordingly, no use of y/n & no physical descriptions apart from clothing/makeup, no mention of upside down. A/N: Recently watched Henry Gamble's Birthday Party, so had to piggy back off the dialogue from that opening scene! Fic inspo songs: No Control, Espresso, Bed Chem, Jackie & Wilson Feedback/likes/reblogs are all greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading & as always, I hope you enjoy! XO, Scarlet 💋

A year ago, Steve Harrington traded his Family Video vest for a blazer when his father hired him. The transition was rocky but with help from receptionist Shirley, he earned his father's respect and even his own office. Then Shirley announced her retirement, and in came her replacement: you. With cherry red lips and nails that matched, you strode into the office like a siren, and Steve wasn't immune to your charm. 

"Lost My Senses, I'm Defenseless"

Steve was always one to pride himself on his ability to stay focused, but you tested that the moment you walked through the door. You were the type of beautiful that prompted a double take. Pair that with your naturally sweet and helpful demeanor, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Every time he tried to concentrate on his work, you would appear at his door with another offer of assistance. While you were just doing your job, it was a tantalizing interruption. He suddenly found himself stumbling over tasks and struggling to concentrate, just like when he first started. 

Your arrival didn't just effect him, it had turned the heads of everyone. Suddenly the break room became reminiscent of high school, where the guys' suggestive remarks about you made his skin crawl.  The worst part? Sometimes he thought them too. Like every time you asked him questions, all he could focus on was the plumpness of your pouty lips and how pretty they would look wrapped around —fuck. He didn't want to be that guy, and yet these thoughts constantly crept into his mind.

But sometimes, an even worse thought would cross Steve's mind: that you were taunting him on purpose. Because yes, since your arrival, nearly everyone had focused on you, but it seemed like you were focused on him. That's ridiculous though, right? Of course, it is. He should be ashamed of himself for even entertaining the idea.

And yet, he kept going back to it.

Steve couldn't help but notice you made a habit of bending over when you were around him. Whether it was your cleavage or your backside, every day you were giving him a view. The first few times it happened, he looked away, but curiosity got the best of him when it began to feel more than coincidental. He hasn’t stopped since, often looking forward to it.

Every week when you handed him the new reports, he couldn't get over how you managed to make the exchange of a manila envelope seem seductive; batting your lashes, grazing his fingertips. You constantly had him rocking a semi, and it all felt calculated.

The biggest factor in it all was your fucking perfume. The lingering scent of warm vanilla would continue to flood his senses even when you returned to your desk. Your scent had him under a spell, making his mind wander to places it shouldn't: Your nails raking down his chest. You soothing the marks they'd leave behind with your kiss, lipstick print scattered across his skin. Your soft voice telling him he's doing a good job, just as you always do, but this time, you wouldn't be talking about work. Steve scolded himself for these thoughts, but only after he'd had his fist wrapped around his cock.

Three months had passed since you'd disrupted Steve's routine. The decline in his productivity was obvious. After a heated one sided argument, his father concluded, "I don't mean to be a hard ass, Steven, but there's no exceptions. If it were any other employee, I wouldn't let it slide! I just don't get it. You'd come so far... Maybe I underestimated Shirley's role in your success."

Steve couldn't admit to his dad that you were the real cause of his current predicament. If you were dating, or even fucking he'd feel less embarrassed but the thought of confessing that he'd let mere attraction derail his progress felt pathetic. In his entire life, no one had ever captured his attention like this. 

Steve knew he had to turn things around. He pinpointed the exact moment in every day that his focus goes off track: between 9:30 and 10a.m. When you made your first appearance, traipsing into his office with coffee.

While you delivered coffee to everyone -with them, it was a quick drop off. With Steve, it was never just about the coffee.

Your other check ins with him throughout the day were short and strictly work related, but this visit was always more personal and drawn out. It might have derailed his focus for the day, but it was also a highlight for him.

That’s why, as you walked in swaying your hips with coffee in your hand, Steve made sure to really take in the sight because it had to be the last time. 

“Mornin' Stevie,” you said, bending forward slightly, just enough to give him his favorite view as you placed the cup on his desk.

Steve sucked a breath in through gritted teeth. “Good morning.” He said, forcing his attention away from you and back on the paperwork on his desk.

You straightened up. “Did ya have a good weekend?” 

“It was alright,” he said, struggling to keep his eyes from drifting back to you. He stared at the paperwork in front of him. Focus. 

“Glad to hear it,” you replied.

Steve immediately regretted his choice of words. Normally, he would’ve engaged in conversation, the two of you exchanging playful banter with that slight undertone of flirtation that made his heart flutter. He thought it best to hold back today, but he didn’t mean to come off so cold.

“How ‘bout you?” he asked, looking back up at you. He couldn’t help it —if he was going to cut this moment short, he had to at least be present. And was he happy he did, you were just so pretty, his mouth fell slack, and he had to force it closed so he wouldn’t drool. 

“Yeah, good.” You said with a small, half smile. 

Steve felt his stomach drop at your answer -guess you’d taken the hint. He wished he had just let today play out as usual and given himself one last drawn out conversation with you. But he's come this far, might as well see it through. 

“That’s.. nice.” Nice? The word felt weak, insufficient. 

"Mhmm." You nodded, a hint of disappointment in your eyes. “Need help with anything particular this morning?” 

"Uh, no, I do-don't think so.” 

"Well if you think of anything, you know where to find me.” You said, as you turned on your heels to leave his office. 

As he watched you head out, it dawned on him that in his efforts to not let you derail his focus, he didn’t even thank you for the coffee. 

“Thanks, by the way!” he called out. 

You stopped in your tracks at the door, turning around with a smirk on your lips. "Alway’s my pleasure. Even when you’re... moody? Or whatever this is today." 

Steve couldn't contain the grin that spread across his lips. There was the banter that he adored. “Sorry. Just a bit distracted is all. These deadlines have me stressed.”

“Well, I could always help you relieve that stress if you’d like.” You leaned against the doorframe. 

Steve’s heart raced. Were you suggesting what he thought you were, or was that just wishful thinking? He could have sworn you winked, and the way you licked your lips —was his mind playing tricks? He hesitated to respond, undure what to say. 

“Y’know, take some of the workload off your hands, or I could always bring tea instead of coffee. It’s supposed to be calming or whatever.” 

Right, of course you weren’t suggesting anything else. 

Steve let out a slight chuckle, trying to play it cool. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just whining, but thank you.” He wanted to leave it at that, but you had just handed him a perfect opportunity to finalize his decision. “As for the tea, I um, yeah I-I think I just need to cut caffeine out entirely. It, uh, it makes me jittery. So going forward, you don’t need to bring me anything in the morning.”

You raised an eyebrow, “You sure?”

"Uh, yeah, for now at least." Steve noticed the amused look on your face, as if you could see right through his lie. You simply shook your head and strutted back to your desk.

He let out a relieved sigh -the hardest part was over. He moved to the window, flinging it open to dispel the sweetness of your presence that your fragrance left. Then he grabbed the "Please Do Not Disturb" sign Shirley had given him when he got his office. The thought of spending the rest of the day without seeing you was a blow, but he didn't have much of a choice. 

“Soft Skin & I Perfumed It For Ya" 

This wasn’t some grand scheme. You needed a job, and they were hiring. You had no idea it was his father’s company, let alone that he’d be working here.

It’s not like you ever knew him. If you recall correctly, there may have been a brief interaction at a party, but all you actually knew were the rumors. You attended Hawkins High's rival school, and at every away game in Hawkins, the talk was always about Steve Harrington. When you realized he would be your colleague, you decided to up the ante. After all, you're an opportunist —curious to find out if those rumors were true.

Now roles are reversed, and all the talk is about you. You don’t mind what anyone's saying -crude or not, you couldn’t blame them. You've brought a little spice to the mundane duties of clerical work. What you do mind is that, from what you could tell, Steve wasn't engaging. While it’s nice to think he’s above objectifying women, it’s exactly his attention you were after. 

As you settled into the office's routine, you realized that you did in fact have an effect on Steve. He was just good at concealing it. So you began to make your intentions more obvious: offering cheeky views, lingering touches, flirty banter. You wanted him, and you wanted him to know that. 

Earlier, you were a little more outright with your behavior than you ever had been. Truth be told, you'd almost offered to blow him right there, but you chose to allusive.  And while the look on his face implied he knew exactly what you were getting at, you backtracked. Hindsight’s 20/20 and you regret not giving him a chance to respond. Maybe if you had, instead of daydreaming about it, you'd actually be experiencing his pretty eyes staring down at you while his oversized cock -if those rumors were true-  was hitting the back of your throat. You needed him.

But as you marched your way to his office, you were stopped in your tracks as you spotted his door shut with a "Please Do Not Disturb" sign —and it stayed there the whole damn day. 

So the next day as you strolled into work, you were on a mission. One that quickly got derailed when that god forsaken sign was once again on Steve's door. 

Later that morning, during your coffee deliveries, a light bulb went off when you reached Laura's desk. As you set her coffee down, you noticed the stack of folders with a note from Steve asking for her to work on them. 

"Laura, I have a pretty clear schedule. Why don't I take these off your hands?" you offered.

"Oh dear, that would be fantastic, if you wouldn't mind! I wasn't sure why he didn't ask you originally, Shirley always helped with this... not that I mind but I still have a whole other stack to go through for James.” 

While this was an absolutely self serving offer you were happy you could actually be of assistance. "Gladly! It's no trouble at all!" You expressed, whilst grabbing the folders, and heading back to your desk.

You could guess exactly why Steve didn't ask you. It was clear yesterday, when he was practically drooling, all flustered as he told you the caffeine’s getting to him. All of these things, as well as that damn sign that’s taken perch on his door were pretty good indicators that Steve was struggling to resist your temptation. You had him right where you wanted him.

"Maybe it's all in my head...."

Steve heard a knock at his door.

"Come in," he said, eyes still focused on the work in front of him. He looked up only when he heard the familiar click of your heels against the tile. There you were walking towards him carrying the stack of folders he gave Laura. 

"Hey..."

"Good afternoon," you replied smoothly, setting the folders on the edge of his desk and taking a seat across from him. You crossed your legs slowly, making Steve's eyes follow every movement. The flush on his cheeks was unmistakable as his eyes roamed your figure. 

"You alright, Steve?” 

"Oh yeah, I was just expecting Laura," 

You shrugged with a playful smile. "Well, here I am. Laura had a lot on her plate, so l took these off her hands." Leaning forward slightly, you rested your elbows on his desk. "Why didn't you ask me for help anyway?"

Steve shifted in his chair, tapping his pen nervously. "She's familiar with this. I wasn't sure if you were."

You leaned back, crossing your arms against your chest, making Steve's breath hitch as your position emphasized your breasts. "Have a little faith in me, Steve. Besides, I need to learn, and I'm best when I'm hands on," you said, drawing out the words with a whisper as your lips curled into a smirk.

Steve felt his cock hardening, he just couldn't help it, you were utterly arousing without even trying. Pull it together. He looked towards the folders, nodding. "I'll check them over."

"Great," you said, standing and smoothing out your skirt. "I'm gonna grab a snack. Want anything?"

"No, I'm good, thanks.” 

Steve studied the folders until your return, about five minutes later. He could have sworn he heard the click of the lock when you shut the door, but chose not to question it as took your seat across from him once more.

"So, how’d they look?" you asked, peeling the banana you got.

Steve glanced back down at the folder he was reviewing. "Yeah, everything's in order. Good job."

"See? You shouldn't doubt me.”

Steve laughed softly and looked up at you. "Never again-"

His words were cut off as you slowly brought the banana to your lips. He watched as you wrapped your lips around the fruit, holding eye contact. You let your lips rest for a moment, hollowing your cheeks with a slight suck before taking a bite. Steve's gaze moved from your mouth to your eyes, as a groan escaped him. 

You giggled, “Wanna taste?”

"You're unbelievable," Steve chuckled. "To think I've been questioning if this was all in my head."

You tossed the rest of the banana into the trash. "I thought I was being obvious enough. Didn't realize all I needed was a visual aid for you to catch on."

Steve shrugged, a wry smile on his lips. "I caught on weeks ago, just seemed too good to be true."

"It's not," you said, rising and moving toward him.

Steve's eyes widened as you dropped to your knees in front of him. A breathy moan escaping him as you settled between his legs, your hands resting gently on his thighs.

"Let me take care of you," you whispered seductively. "Relieve all that stress."

"Honey, you're the cause," Steve mused. "You've never even touched me, and I haven't been able to focus on anything but you. I can only imagine how distracted I'll be once you do."

You let out a laugh, the sweetest sound Steve had ever heard. "Mmm, quite the contrary. It's all this pent up tension we have that's got you so distracted.”

Goddammit. You looked so eager, so tempting as you bat your lashes at him. He cupped your face with his right hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, and he couldn't resist sliding his thumb in to press flat against your tongue. You took a soft suck, and the guttural sound that escaped him only encouraged you. You hollowed your cheeks before slowly sliding off with a pop. Steve shuddered at the feeling, and a smirk settled on your face. 

Within an instant his hands moved to unbuckle his belt. You slid your right hand further up his thigh, moving it to palm the outline of his cock.

"Aghhh," he groaned as he went to unbutton his pants. Just before he could unzip them, the phone rang, startling both of you.

Steve glanced at the clock. "Fuck," he muttered. "What time was that call, today?" 

You put your palm over your mouth, giggling as you stumbled to stand up. "Now." 

Steve's hand went to pinch the bridge of his nose as he breathed in, trying to regain some composure before he answered. 

You leaned forward, whispering into his ear, ”Tell your daddy I said hi," and nipped his earlobe gently before turning toward the door.

Steve grabbed your wrist, turning you back to face him. 

“I think you're going to be the death of me." He groaned. 

“Oh Steve, you have no idea," you said with a wink as you walked out of his office.

"How You're Looking At Me, Yeah I Know What That Means" 

Your desk felt like a prison. The ache between your thighs unrelenting as you kept replaying the look on Steve's face when you sunk to your knees. You were plagued by the unfinished business, taunted by the tick of the clock moving slowly toward 5p.m.

At a quarter til 5, you saw Steve making his way toward your desk, casting a quick glance around the emptiness of the front of the office. 

“Hey,” he said. “Can I borrow you? I need some help with some... filing. Might keep you after a bit, if you don’t mind staying a little late.”

"Laura can't help?” You teased.

Steve chuckled, rolling his eyes before they locked back on yours. “This requires your.... expertise.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “Well if that's the case, I guess I can make it work."

Steve smirked as he stepped closer, the look in his eyes was clear —he was going to fuck you. "I promise it'll be worth your time.” He whispered. 

Without another word you stood up from your desk, and followed him to his office. 

"Are You Free Next Week? I Bet We'd Have Really Good Bed Chem" 

All bets were off when Steve closed his office door. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands gripped your waist as your mouths collided fervently.

His lips were soft and plush, his tongue teasing yours as you opened your mouth.

You tasted like the cherry life savers you kept at your desk, and Steve couldn't get enough. "Want you so fucking bad," He said between the breaths of your kiss.

You responded with a moan as his lips trailed across your jaw, burying his face in your neck. He groaned as the scent of your perfume enveloped him while he sucked softly at your skin.

You began tearing off his blazer, clawing at his dress shirt to grip his firm biceps, as his lips found yours again. 

When Steve pulled back, he was a sight to behold. Your lipstick smeared across his mouth, his eyes glistening —almost in tears from the strain of his cock. It was clear he needed this as much as you.

By next week the two of you will savor each other for hours. His lips will trail down your body, appreciating every inch. He'll have you writhing on his tongue as he tastes you, not just for your pleasure but for his own. His skin will bear the marks or your lipstick, love bites and scratches, as you stake your claim. You’ll take him into your mouth, where he will cum down your throat before he fucks you. When he finally slides into your pussy, he'll make you cum repeatedly on his cock until you can't take anymore, begging for him to fill you. Hair slicked with sweat, voices raspy and breaths panting, it will be nothing short of perfection. But this moment, here and now, with the slight implication that you could be caught, will be a fast, but fulfilling need for release. 

"Raincheck on-?" 

Steve cut you off, nodding profusely, "How do you want it?" 

"Take me from behind. Been dreaming of you bending me over that desk." 

Steve groaned pulling you into another kiss, before he moved you towards his desk. He pulled out a condom from his wallet, before he began to undo his pants. Your eyes trained on his hand's movements until he freed his cock, boxers and slacks falling around his knees.  

Steve chuckled when you let out a gasp. The rumors were true, Harrington's hung.

Thankful you'd opted for no tights today, you slid down your panties and turned to bend over the desk. Steve groaned at the view, your plaid skirt framing your ass as he spread you apart, taking in the sight of your dripping pussy. You looked more than ready for him, but he needed to be sure. He ran two fingers through your folds, gently pumping them into you.

You slapped your hand on the desk at the feeling, muffling the moans that were leaving you with your other hand. 

"Ahh shit," Steve growled. 

"Please, Steve, give it to me," you begged.

You didn't have to ask him twice. He rolled the condom over his cock, and lined himself up thrusting into you forcefully. He didn't offer you time to adjust but the initial pain quickly melted into pleasure. Steve couldn't contain himself, whispers of how good you felt falling from his tongue. 

"Harder Steve, harder, harder," you pleaded, trying your best to keep your voice to a whisper.

He obliged, his hands firm on your hips as he thrust relentlessly. After a few breathy moans from both of you, he slipped his right hand between you and the desk, fingers finding your clit.

You had to stifle a shriek at the dual stimulation, gripping the desk tightly, your ribs colliding with the wood, sure to leave bruises that you'd admire later. 

"Do you like that, baby?" Steve whispered.

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yeah, yes, s'really like that."

"Fuuuuuck. Are ya free this weekend? Wanna take you out."

"Mhmm."

“Gonna fuck you properly after," he groaned. "You're so fucking beautiful, can't wait to see all of you.

His words brought you closer to your release, and he could feel it. "Fuck, baby, are you about to cum?"

"Y-yes."

"Me too," he whimpered.

"Sweet & Sour, Heart Devoured"

Turn’s out, you'd been right —it was all that pent up tension. After your first hookup, Steve’s focus immediately returned.

Your coffee exchanges resumed, but the drawn out moments were no longer necessary now that you were spending time together outside of work.

That "DND" sign was tucked away and forgotten until two months later, when he considered offering you a special birthday treat -an afternoon delight. But you both knew better than to hook up at work again.

At Thanksgiving, Steve and you stopped keeping your relationship to yourselves when he invited you to spend it with his family. You were apprehensive about his father's reaction, but it wasn't an issue. In truth, it wouldn't have mattered to Steve if it had been. Had his father disapproved, and insisted it couldn't continue, Steve would have quit without hesitation. 

Steve had fallen for you, and looking back, he realized it was inevitable. It took one glance for you to captivate his attention, so of course the more time spent together, he'd hand over his heart.

Now all the times you lay tangled in his sheets, your fingers running through his hair, and "Baby" softly falling from your lips —he reflects on the moment you agreed you'd be the death of him.

Because in those moments, he couldn’t think of a better way to go.

[amirasainz]

Hi! I love your work and have a request that I hope you could do whenever your free. Would you be able to write one where charles has a little sister and it's the monaco grand prix and the photographers won't leave her alone and starts getting anxious but charles and alex are there to help her get through it. I honestly like to read your work whenever I have free time to. Thank you if you are able to write this. ❤️❤️

Stop. This is so adorable. Thank you so much for your request, and I hope you like it!

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!

-xoxo

Under the Spotlight

The Monaco Grand Prix was always a monumental event, not just for Charles but for the entire Leclerc family. Racing in his home city, surrounded by the streets he grew up on, filled him with a sense of pride. But this year, things were a little different for his younger sister, Y/N.

At just 17 years old, Y/N was still trying to navigate her own life, balancing school, friends, and living in the shadow of her older brother’s fame. Charles had always been protective of her, knowing how overwhelming the spotlight could be. But with exams and school commitments, she hadn't spent much time in the F1 world lately. Today, however, she was determined to make it to the Monaco paddock right after school, even though she knew the chaos waiting for her.

---

It was the Thursday of the Grand Prix weekend, and Y/N had rushed out of school the moment the bell rang. She hurried through the streets of Monte Carlo, still dressed in her school uniform, and headed straight for the paddock. Charles had offered to send a car to pick her up, but Y/N insisted on walking—feeling a sense of independence. She wanted to surprise him.

As she arrived at the paddock entrance, her bag slung over one shoulder, she could already feel eyes on her. The photographers, always on the lookout for family members of the drivers, instantly recognized her. They crowded around her, snapping photos and shouting questions.

“Y/N! Over here, just a smile!”

“Y/N, are you here to support your brother today?”

"How does it feel being Charles' little sister at his home Grand Prix?"

The cameras were relentless, flashes going off in every direction, and the sea of voices became overwhelming. Her breath hitched, her palms sweaty as her heart raced faster than one of Charles’ qualifying laps. She tried to navigate through them, but there were too many, and she could barely see where she was going.

“Excuse me, please,” Y/N mumbled quietly, her voice drowned out by the clamor. She hugged her bag closer to her chest, feeling more and more trapped. The walls of people pressed in, the loud noises blurring together into one giant roar in her ears.

Suddenly, her chest tightened, and she felt the familiar pang of panic setting in. Her breathing grew shallow, each breath shorter than the last.

Just then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar figure.

---

Charles was inside the Ferrari garage, chatting with his engineers when his girlfriend, Alexandra, nudged him, her eyes narrowing in concern.

“Charles, isn’t that Y/N?” she asked, pointing towards the entrance.

Charles turned, his heart sinking the moment he saw his little sister surrounded by the mob of photographers. She looked small, vulnerable, and worst of all, he could see the telltale signs of her anxiety setting in.

“Shit,” Charles muttered under his breath before springing into action. “Come on, let’s go,” he said to Alexandra, his protective instincts kicking in.

Together, they made their way quickly through the paddock, pushing past people who were trying to get their attention. The moment Y/N saw Charles and Alexandra approaching, relief washed over her, but the anxiety still clung to her like a heavy weight.

---

“Hey, hey, Y/N!” Charles called out as he reached her, immediately placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His voice was gentle, but firm. “You’re alright, I’m here.”

Alexandra quickly moved to Y/N’s other side, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Breathe, Y/N. Just breathe. We’ve got you.”

Y/N nodded, trying to steady her breath, but the flashes continued, and the crowd wasn’t giving up.

“Alright, enough!” Charles raised his voice, turning to the photographers with a scowl. “Give her some space. Back off, now!”

Some of them hesitated, but a few persistent ones kept snapping photos until Alexandra stepped in.

“She’s seventeen, and she just came from school. Show some respect,” Alexandra’s voice was sharp, but calm. There was an authority in her tone that even Charles admired. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse, realizing they weren’t going to get more photos out of this situation.

With the worst of the photographers gone, Charles quickly led Y/N away from the commotion, guiding her towards a quiet corner of the Ferrari hospitality area.

---

Once they were away from the noise, Charles crouched down in front of Y/N, who had slumped into a chair, still trying to catch her breath.

“Chérie, look at me,” Charles said softly, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. “Deep breaths, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Just like we practiced, remember?”

Y/N nodded shakily, following his lead as he demonstrated a few slow, deep breaths.

“In... and out,” he coached gently.

Beside them, Alexandra crouched down too, rubbing Y/N’s back in slow circles. “You’re doing great, jolie fille. Just focus on your breathing. Everything else can wait.”

After a few minutes, Y/N’s breathing began to slow, and the tightness in her chest started to ease. She looked up at Charles and Alexandra, her eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I just... I didn’t expect it to be so much. I thought I could handle it.”

Charles smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to handle everything on your own. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You did great coming straight after school,” Alexandra added, her tone soft. “But next time, let us know when you’re on your way. We’ll meet you at the entrance so you don’t have to go through that again.”

Y/N nodded, feeling more grounded with them by her side. ��I just wanted to surprise you,” she admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Charles chuckled, sitting down next to her. “Well, you definitely surprised me. But no more surprises when it comes to dealing with that crowd, alright? They can be... intense.”

“You’re telling me,” Y/N said with a nervous laugh, though the tension had finally started to ease.

Alexandra smiled, squeezing Y/N’s hand. “You know, you can always text me, too. I’ll come running.”

Y/N grinned, her eyes softening. “Thanks, Alex. You guys are the best.”

“Of course,” Charles said, his protective tone still lingering. He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “And if anyone bothers you again, you let me know. I’ll deal with them.”

Alexandra playfully nudged Charles. “Alright, Mr. Overprotective, calm down. She’s safe now.”

Y/N laughed for real this time, the anxiety of earlier fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded her how lucky she was to have both of them—Charles, with his fierce protectiveness, and Alexandra, with her calm, caring presence.

Charles stood up, offering his hand to Y/N. “Come on, how about we go somewhere quieter? Maybe grab something to eat?”

Y/N took his hand, standing up and feeling much lighter. “That sounds perfect.”

Alexandra looped her arm through Y/N’s free one. “Let’s go. No photographers this time, I promise.”

As they walked together through the paddock, Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful. The world of Formula 1 might be overwhelming, but with Charles and Alexandra by her side, she knew she could face anything—even the photographers.

[shotoyami]

Can I request Scott summers x reader ( gender doesn't matter ) where Scott is reminiscing about his life with the reader. Scott and reader are bestfriends and have always been together as X-Men, they have never left eachother. As he is reminiscing he's like shoot I think I'm in love with my bestfriend.

Bro, what if we like…kissed right now? Wouldn’t that be, idk, crazy?

prenotes: first off: I’M IN LOVE WITH THIS, SOFT SCOTT OMGGGG!!!!

that aside, my absolute obsession for this man aside,

this request literally made my heart melt, imagining how silly and cliche it is to realize you’re in love with your best friend; literally one of my favorite troupes, hands down.

Thank you so much for the request, anon<3

pairing: Scott Summers + gender neutral reader

warnings: none, yet again!

genre: fluff, absolute filthy fluff– like, seriously, enough to make even the strongest man crumble and slam his fist to the ground

notes: as mentioned above, one of my favorite troupes. it’s everywhere in media, but you can’t help but squeal and kick your feet when you see it happening. I am but a simple human being, in love with the cutest, most sweetest concepts known to man. that aside, I hope everyone enjoys this one as much as I enjoyed writing!!!

word count: 700

Scott’s always deemed himself as awkward. Yeah, sure, it’s a pretty huge flaw of his, but everyone is awkward about something at some point. 

That being admitted, Scott fully understands that friends aren’t awkward with each other (at least, not from any experience of his). In fact, he finds himself quite content in his friendships, especially one with his best friend, (y/n). A silly little mutant, one that instantly clicked with him. It was refreshing to have someone that didn’t immediately smartass him. They’d always been so respectful of him and valued his say-so– it really didn’t come as a huge surprise to anyone that the two were fast friends.

It’s refreshing to have a best friend like (y/n), someone he can speak unfiltered to. For example, when he and Jean broke up (gosh, he’s cringing so hard at the memory– her admitting she’s leaving him for Logan of all people), (y/n) was the first to check up on him, and even did their best to keep his morale high.

Now, don’t get him wrong, Scott is no sort of rule breaker, not by a long shot, but who can say no to (y/n)’s pouting face when they asked him to sneak out one night and just…take a break from the mansion, from other mutants, for one night to just be at peace.

And he appreciated it a lot. It definitely helped. But, being around (y/n) in general is always so much fun, it’s almost upsetting when he has to retreat to his dorm for the night– well, unless they had an impromptu sleepover, set with a pillow fort and everything. 

To have someone understand him so well, someone he genuinely enjoys being around and listening to, from going on missions together, to just listening to them rant about whoever had annoyed them the most that day, even to just laying next to each other (not touching, of course, Scott prides himself on being extremely respectful of boundaries, thank you very much).

That all being said, Scott just couldn’t shake a growing feeling recently, one that made him stop and think about how he feels his best around his best friend. It’s like he’s been seeking their presence more and more recently– but he wouldn’t consider himself clingy? It’s all confusing, and a lot to digest, so he’s just pushed it aside.

But now, sitting in his dorm, lost in thought while still attentively nodding as (y/n) rambles about their latest annoyance (Gambit’s daily card trick that involved blowing up the fridge), Scott can’t help it as it hits him. The realization hits him hard– like a train carrying 5000 tons of freight had ran right into him. ‘Holy shit, I’m in love with my best friend.’ Scott stares blankly for a second. It all made so much sense now, the lingering touch they shared when passing an item to one another, the longing gaze that followed (y/n) any time they’d leave the general area.

“(y/n) I have something to tell you!” Scott blurts out, leaving the other person confused, though they tilt their head, urging him to continue since apparently it was important enough to interrupt them. “I think I like you- like, a lot, but I don’t want to jinx or ruin what we have, I value our friendship so much and-”

“Damn, that’s gay Scott.” ‘What? Is that really all they have to say?!’ Scott frowns a bit after hearing that response, it was unserious and clashing with him as if they think he’s joking or– “Alright, I’m chill with gay. Gimme a smooch, Scotty.” Though a bit caught off guard by the random nickname, Scott finds himself unable to argue, scooting closer to them and– hesitantly, looking for further consent– reaches to cup a hand against their cheek. He leans in and– god, it’s everything he’s ever wanted and more, so soft and full of feelings, a silent admission from their side of reciprocation. He finds himself chasing after the feeling of the kiss when they separate, which only causes (y/n) to giggle. “Gosh, desperate are we?”

“Only for you…”

[angel-gone-dark]

Kyle x Coquette girlie pretty please with sugar on top. 🤭

Kyle x Coquette!F!Reader

ok so like. i went off here. um, hope you like it bestie LMAO

CWs: unprotected sex, reader is a little bit of a shit, maybe a lil rough?

SMUT UNDER CUT. MDNI.

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

Kyle raised a brow at his friends in the hallway, who were all in various states of confusion. 

“What the hell are you all staring at?” He snipped, and Cartman pointed across the hall.

“Dude, look at her outfit. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

Kyle looked over at the girl who had been pointed out. She was surrounded by the other girls, talking and laughing. He was entranced with the way she moved, flipping her hair over her shoulder. He’d never seen someone dress the way she did, her outfit consisting of white lace and pink bows. The mary janes on her feet clicked against the tiles any time she shuffled her pose. He swallowed, forcing his eyes back onto his friends. 

“Yeah? What, uh, what about it?” He asked.

Cartman cocked his head to the side, “What is she even going for?”

“Who cares, it works,” Kenny grinned. “She looks fucking hot.”

Kyle couldn’t help but agree. Her skirt was short over her tights, shirt showing off the smooth skin of her shoulders. He couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of it pressed against him, especially the skin on her chest and thighs. He had to take some deep breaths, attempting to force his boner down. Kyle was saved, literally, by the bell. He dashed off to his class, trying his hardest to ignore the pretty girl- and the bewildered cries of his friends.

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

The ginger slid his fingers through his curls, squinting down at his textbooks in frustration. He jotted down notes, rereading them at least 5 times over to make sure they made sense. He jumped, looking up with wide eyes when he was joined at the table… by the girl he was looking at earlier. You.

“Uh, hey,” he greeted. “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, I hear you’re a really good tutor. Can I get you to look over my work quickly?” You batted your lashes at him and he was suddenly extremely glad he was sitting down. 

“Yeah, yes of course,” He nodded, taking your notebook from you to glance over your notes. “This looks really good, but I think you have an error right here.”

You hummed, nodding. You contorted your face into your cutest pout, absolutely indulging in his eyes on you. 

“I don’t understand,” you huffed, moving your chair closer to him and pressing your chest up against his arm. 

He stammered trying to muster a reply, “W-well, uh, here. Look at the way I broke it down in my notes.”

Throughout his whole ‘tutoring’ thing, you acted your absolute cutest. If you were being entirely honest, you’d had your eyes on him from the moment you saw him. You were heavily repressing the urge to jump his bones in the very public library.

“You know, I think you should come to my house after school. I could use some more help,” you suggested, leaning further into him. 

His face was tinged deep with a blush that went from the tops of his ears down, down… you gnawed your lip thinking how far it reached. 

“Y-yeah. Okay,” he gave in. “Where do you…”

You interrupted him, “Meet me after school. We’ll walk together, handsome.”

He gaped as you retreated from the library, your little date secure. 

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

You waited for Kyle near the school’s main entrance, books clutched close to your chest. Your sickly sweet smile returned as he approached, and you gave him that innocent look that you knew would drive him nuts.

“Hi, Kyle,” you had put on your most charming voice. “Thanks for walking me home and helping me with homework.”

“No problem,” he smiled and it nearly took you out. “Can you scooch over? I’d rather be the one walking on the outside of the sidewalk.”

Oh, he was going to be the death of you. The walk to your house was mostly quiet, Kyle seeming content with the silence.

You opened your door, gesturing for him to follow you, and led him all the way up to your room. You sat pretty on your bed, tilting your head at him. He glanced around, trying to avoid your hungry gaze draping down him. You sighed gently, combing your fingers up your body to untie the ribbon holding your hair in its graceful ponytail. He sat in your desk chair, moving his textbook over his lap.

You stood, waltzing right on over and placing your hand over the thick book between you and heaven.

“Hiding something?” You teased, pressing down on it. 

He grabbed your wrist in his hand, speaking through grit teeth, “Stop it.” 

“Or what?” You taunted. He had had enough of your attitude. 

Kyle stood, grabbed you by the hips, and tossed you onto the mattress. He leaned over you, voice strained and hands gripping the sheets. 

“You’re making it extremely difficult for me to stay decent, do you know that? You asked me to help you study, and here I am trying, and you’re giving me those goddamn eyes,” he rambled, more frustrated than you had expected. “I can’t tell if you’re giving me permission to touch you like I want to.”

“Do it.”

As soon as he had your permission he was ravishing your lips with his, his hands moving to squeeze eagerly at your chest as he practically shoved his tongue down your throat. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, honey,” he breathed, face dipping to nip at your neck. “Why can’t you be this good all the time, hm?” 

You groaned as his lips moved downwards, and he left purpley blue hickeys on your skin. Those would be hard to cover, and you would have been angrier if one of his hands hadn’t moved under your skirt to stroke your slit through your tights and panties.

“Sorry about this, but the damn things are in the way.” He huffed, ripping a hole directly in the crotch of your tights.

As you made a move to protest, his deft fingers moved your panties to the side, thumb rolling over your clit and index plunging into you. You gasped, back arching under his touch as he stretched you out, adding his middle finger as well.

“Kyle, please.” You whined.

“Please what, pretty? Use your manners.” 

“Please just fuck me.” 

He chuckled, fingers curling inside of you teasingly, “Since you asked so nicely.”

You whimpered at how empty you felt as he retracted his fingers to undo his belt and jeans, leaning up on your elbows to watch. As he pulled his cock out of his boxers, you couldn’t help but salivate. He was thick, and wet, and blushing an angry pink at the tip. It twitched as he touched it to glide it against your slit, making you moan.

He was eager, too eager to properly undress either of you. All he did was flip your skirt up as he sunk into you, his jaw hanging open as he allowed you to adjust. 

“Shit, you’re tight,” he grunted, rolling his hips harshly into yours. “Atta girl, you can take it. C’mere.”

He pressed his lips on yours again as he began to move, pace quickly rising from the simple grind of his hips to roughly pound into your cunt. Your eyes fell shut, hands clawing at your cute pink bedspread. 

“K-Kyle, fuck.” You heaved, hips bucking up into his.

“Such a dirty mouth on you, gorgeous…” He smirked down at you, thumb moving back to roll over your clit. “Do you want me to make you cum on my cock?”

“Please, please, I need it, Kyle.” You begged, all sense of dignity out the window as he plunged in and out of you with wet slaps.

“Good girl. Such a good girl,” he groaned, increasing the pressure of his tight little circles. “So cute f’me.”

His cock twitched inside you, and he dropped his drooling mouth to your neck again, biting down hard before whispering in your ear.

“I’m gonna cum inside you, honey, you can take it. Fuck.”

You couldn’t hold it any longer, the tight coil that rested in your abdomen snapping suddenly as you came with a cry. You gripped him so tight he could barely move as he ground his hips down into you, his release not far behind, spilling warmth inside of you.

“Shit,” he cursed, gently pulling himself from your hole. “If you look this good with my cum dripping out of you we might be here for a while.”

୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

he owes reader a pair of tights!!!!

word count: 1411

[theplutodeity]

TO FORGIVE AND FORGET

REQUESTED BY: @princeasimdiya12 - "So for my request, can you write a oneshot where Izuku doesn't forgive Bakugou please? It happens after Bakugou's "apologizes" to Izuku in front of their class but Izuku refuses to accept before passing out. When they get to the dorms, he elaborates on why he won't forgive his tormentor in front of their class."

Thank you for your request! I hope you like this! <3 WORD COUNT: 2.0k words

The memory replayed in the freckled boy’s mind. The exact angle Bakugou bent his upper body towards Midoriya, the exact words he uttered towards the boy. The rain. But at the same time, it felt fake. The things around him felt fake, too. Was this set-up? Bakugou never really changed from middle school, it’s only been a year since middle school, how much could a person change within a year? Some to most people would label Midoriya’s mindset as “unheroic”. However, he’s being honest: how much could a person, who’s corrupted most of his childhood, change within a year? He’ll tell you the answer: Unless there was some sort of quirk that could permanently change someone’s personality: it would take years to change. Especially with a mindset like his.

“I’m sorry for everything I did.” 

Izuku only felt distrust and confusion.

Why now?--

Why would he apologise now? 

Midoriya’s eyes fluttered open, staring at the ceiling that saved him from the rain outside. The recent memory long forgotten as everything else overtook his senses. The plush of the mattress felt softer than normal, has it been that long that he’s forgotten the feeling of these beds? Inhaling felt like a chore, same with exhaling. However, Midoriya pushed himself to keep breathing. His eyes softened as he took in his surroundings: he was in his dorm, apparently. It felt too bright, for some reason. As the drowsiness slipped away from his body, he sat up.

He expected someone to be next to him, but instead he found a chair that was slightly wet. The colour of the seat and the backrest was darkened, meaning somebody must’ve been next to him this entire time. They only recently left. 

Midoriya’s entire body felt as though it’d collapse within seconds, but he used whatever remained of his strength to push his body backwards until it was flush against his bed. In an attempt to keep his mind busy, he tried to recall the dream he had.

Bakugou apologising.

His frown began to grow more prominent, he really didn’t like it. The apology. Did the blond expect him to tell him that years of burdens weighed upon his shoulders, words that drove him to the brink of doing insane things to prove those phrases wrong, and the mentality he ruined were all okay and that he’d forget about it? Forgive and forget all of it?

Izuku looked down at his hands.

He was still in the same clothes he was in when he was outside, he smelled a bit odd. He probably should take a shower when he gets his strength back. However, his clothes felt drier than they did earlier. He didn’t like the sticky feeling that clothes gave him when they were wet. 

The door creaked open, two people talking as the gap between the door and it’s frame widened. Izuku looked up and spotted Kirishima wrapping a white bandana around his head while a towel rested upon his shoulders, Denki following behind him with hair clips in his hair. They seemed to be talking about what to do with all this drama, making it a light-hearted joke to lighten up the mood between them. 

However, the moment they spotted Izuku sitting up on the bed, they both froze. Although, it took barely a few seconds for them to snap back into it, Denki rushing to the edge of Izuku’s bed, Kirishima calling for Uraraka to ask if there’s any food left over for Midoriya. 

“Good god, man! You’re finally awake, sleeping after making such a scene with Kacchan is such a powerful move, dude!” Denki blurted, his grin widening as Izuku raised an eyebrow at his attitude. Kirishima shuffled to punch Kaminari’s shoulder to tell him to calm down, chuckling.

“Are you okay, man? You slept for a while. Kinda got scared that you died in your sleep or something, haha!” Kirishima jokes, moving to pat Midoriya’s back softly to let him know he’s here. It felt tense within the dorms, especially after Bakugou apologising to Midoriya and the latter falling into a deep sleep. Hell, Kirishima hasn’t seen Bakugou so vulnerable before, especially in the rain. 

The redhead remembers how Bakugou had told him that he absolutely hated how the rain felt on him. It ended up becoming a joke within the little group that included his friends, but he knew the blond meant it. His eyes drifted down to Midoriya’s hands, how the boy fiddled with them when he thought about something.

“Hey–” Kirishima was quickly cut off by Mineta’s urge to kick the door open, somehow with his tiny height. Mineta moved around so he could be face to face with Midoriya, grabbing the boy’s shoulders as he stood on a stool to seem more dramatic. 

“What the hell was that!? I got a ton of questions for you, how could you easily reject that hothead’s apology, greenie!? How were you not scared of being sent to hell by the man himself!?--” Mineta screamed, shaking the injured boy as much as he could. To which Denki called Sero to tape the boy up, obviously concerned over Midoriya getting overwhelmed. 

The room stood silent as Kirishima wiped off any droplets of water off his face with the towel he had, Sero tying a bow as he finished tying up Mineta and Denki biting his nail as he had to stop himself from asking the question they all wanted to ask.

Midoriya, however, wanted to go back to sleep. Seriously…

Was him rejecting Bakugou’s apology something to make such a big fuss about?

Izuku thought about it for a second, before sighing. Yeah… Yeah, it was. 

“Alright I can’t do this anymore!! Why did you reject his apology? I’m curious, man! What was that phrase!? Curiosity killed the cat– but satisfaction brought it back, I’m the cat man, tell me!” Denki cried, tugging at his own hair softly to emphasise his need to know what the hell went wrong. 

Kirishima stared at Denki, but slowly looked over to Midoriya. Saying nothing, but it was obvious he was curious too.

“I might as well listen too, you always have a good reason to do stuff, Midoriya. So what happened?” Sero butted in, squatting and sitting next to a silent Mineta, who frantically nodded as best as he could. 

The green-haired boy sat there, still and silent. He opened his mouth once, twice, and managed to pull out only a singular word.

“Change..?” Midoriya began, though it sounded more like a question than an answer to what they were curious about. Izuku bit his lip and scratched his neck. “I suppose, ah.. It’s… Unnatural.” That’s what caught their attention,

‘Unnatural’.

“Ehh..? Unnatural? What’s that supposed to mean?” Kirishima spoke up, sitting down on the edge of the boy’s bed. Denki was happy with standing, playing with a hairclip he took out of his hand.

“I don’t know… Don’t you find it weird…?” Izuku sighed, feeling guilty as he let the words he’s been thinking of this entire time out. He gulped down the guilt and fear of other’s opinions, he knew this was the best choice. Not forgiving him. 

“I get he’s changing, I mean, we all are, right? We’re becoming heroes and that’s amazing! But– It’s been barely a year, and we’ve gone through so much, and things might be a bit difficult for some of us, but for Kacchan to… Apologise about everything he’s done to me doesn’t feel like enough.” Midoriya explained, looking back down at his calloused hands, the same hands which carried the weight of others' opinions, the same ones that he’s used to save multiples, to fight. 

“He’s done so much. How could I say ‘it's okay’? How can I say ‘I'm sorry, too.’? How could I say that to a person like him? Nobody…” He paused, debating on genuinely saying this outloud. “Nobody can change that quickly, can they…?” Midoriya muttered, picking at the dead skin around his nails. 

Kirishima looked down at his own feet, black and white socks covering them, biting the inner part of his cheek as he mulled over Midoriya’s words, Sero seemed to understand, whilst Denki processed it all: nodding slowly. 

“You saw him. You’re friends with Kacchan now, right? He’s never changed. I know, he will one day, maybe. But that's in the future– it doesn’t feel right now.” Midoriya stopped talking, feeling as though he’s blurted too much again. Nobody really spoke, until Denki walked towards Midoriya and ruffled his hair. 

“Yeah.” Denki sighed, scratching his chin. “I guess I kind of get it, man. Hard to get over it.” He crossed his arms and shook his head, Sero following suit: before walking towards Midoriya and patting the boy’s back. 

“It’s your thing, we don’t really get to choose how you feel, man.” Sero shrugged, deciding it’s not his place to really say anything. He wasn’t incredibly close to Midoriya, having his own circle he interacted with most. Though, he decided it was a good idea to drag Mineta out of here, so he did so. Leaving.

Kirishima, though. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, hell, even Denki had to stop himself from grabbing the man: mainly because he could tell he wanted to say something.

“Haha, i’ll go make sure nobody’s eating all your food, man! I bet Ojiro’s gonna knock most of it down by accident!” Denki exclaimed, waving happily to both of them and shutting the door.

Midoriya stared, confused at why Kirishima was so quiet.

“You know, I– get the whole ‘cant change’ thing, man. But why do you think he can’t..?” Kirishima spoke up, finally looking Midoriya in the eyes as he swallowed down the words he wanted to ask: ‘Do you think nobody can change, even if they tried hard enough?’, he couldn’t ask that. This wasn’t about him, but his friend.

Midoriya’s bottom lip quivered as he sighed right after, scratching his head. Eugh, he really has to wash his hair. It’s sort of stiff.

“Kacchan isn’t the best person.” Midoriya muttered, “He has a lot of potential, he can become a hero, but that won’t… Excuse anything he does. He can’t say ‘sorry’ and be done with it, Kirishima. It doesn’t work like that. He– he tormented me. It feels dramatic, I can be dramatic sometimes, but Kirishima…” He trailed off, leaning into the back of the bed frame. He couldn’t find the words he wanted to say, he knew Kirishima and Bakugou’s bond was special, the boy having made the blond a slightly better person over the months, but he couldn’t find anything to say about the blond, to reassure him that maybe, just maybe they could grow close one day.

“Nah. I get it, man.” Kirishima sighed, getting up. He stretched his legs and popped his spine, smiling at Midoriya. “I was just curious, you’ve got your reasons. It was real manly of you to express yourself, instead of just saying that it was fine and getting it over with! Good on you, dude.” Kirishima grinned, his smile faltering as he heard someone– most likely Denki or Mineta– screaming, eyeing the door before looking back at Midoriya. “You wanna join us, man? It might help you to talk to some more people.” He suggested, offering a hand.

Midoriya smiled, shifting around in bed. His legs dangling off the bed, using Kirishima’s hand to pull himself up. Kirishima made sure to hold Izuku’s upper arm to stabilise him, the latter not shaking him off. 

“That’ll be nice.” Izuku agreed, allowing Kirishima to help him out of his room. However, he noticed a blond head of hair disappear into the stairwell. Izuku stared at the spot for a while, before walking with Kirishima towards the stairwell to reach the lounge at the ground floor. 

Midoriya chewed his inner cheek.

Maybe one day he could forgive him, but he doubts it.

It's too much to forgive, and the burdens that weighed upon his shoulders in the past were hard to forget.