#the one handed lift is driving me insane sorry

[simulacrah]

men's waists be so small like what do u need that small of a waist for? For other men to grab it? whore

[kutepik]

Eyes on you - Part 2

(mdni 18+) Caleb is aware that you know about the hidden cameras all over his house. Now he’ll have to face the consequences of his actions once he gets home.

3k words. also posted on ao3!

Part 1 HERE (please read it for context)

Did you... Winked at the camera? 

Did you... know? Were you aware of the cameras all along? And you did all that, knowing he'd be watching? 

Caleb stared at the large monitor in his office like a maniac, replaying the part of the tape where you left your soaked panties on the bathroom door handle and looked directly at the hidden camera next to the painting in the hallway. He played the scene once more, pausing at the frame where you winked directly at him. Caleb's lips curled up into a sick smile. He could touch himself and cum right there and then, but you were clearly waiting for him at home to “relax”. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were as fucking insane as he was. And that made him even crazier about you. 

Flustered and in a hurry, Caleb left his office without explaining himself to anyone, determined to arrive in less than twenty minutes - no, ten if he ran over a few stop signs. It didn't matter how many tickets he got, he just had to be quick enough to find those panties still wet. And trust him, he would. 

Now he found himself in that hallway, standing in front of the closed bathroom door with those panties between his fingers. He could feel the wetness and viscosity of your fluids against the soft fabric. It was so soaked that his fingers got wet enough to bring it to his lips and lick it like a hungry dog. It wasn't enough. Caleb brought the panties to his mouth and nose, sinking into their smell, taste and wetness. And that was the scene you witnessed when you opened the bathroom door, dripping from the shower and wrapped in a towel. 

The lilac eyes of your oh, so dear friend Caleb seemed more violet in the dimness of that corridor. He looked at you like an animal, not a man. It was almost threatening, if you didn't know that this man would never be able to do anything to you - at least not something you didn't want him to. 

At first, when you left the panties on the doorknob, the plan was to get Caleb into the bathroom, where you two could work out the sexual tension that had built up over the years. But now, here, with this man explicitly pleasuring himself with your used panties, obsessed, hungry, and unashamed to show it to you, all you could think about was how far he would go for you. 

"Pathetic” you said, lifting your chin, your eyes locked on his. His pupils dilated as he heard you, his hand still holding your panties to his nose, as if he could not fucking stop smelling and feeling you in that dirty piece of cloth, even with you here, watching him and scolding him for it. "I knew you stole my panties in high school," you muttered quietly, taking a step forward. "But you're still doing it as a full-grown man? Really pathetic" His erection was obvious "And what about those cameras? Hm?" You pushed your hand against his, suffocating him with the panties he smelled like a pervert. Caleb smiled while groaning under the fabric, breathless. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?" You pushed him, your hand still over his nose and your panties, making him stagger backwards and through the bedroom door that was opposite the bathroom in the hallway. With one last push, Caleb fell onto the bed, his elbows supporting him, and you took the opportunity to grab your panties back. He panted like a dog after his favorite toy, forcing you to put a knee between his legs — against his hard-on — to prevent him from moving. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he groaned, rubbing his clothed cock against your leg. “I- you're driving me crazy-" he gasped, holding your thigh "Literally. All I think about is you, all I want is you, all I..." He panted, still thrusting against your bare skin like a pervert. You pressed your knee down harder, making him moan louder and stop moving. 

"Since when did you install the cameras?" You waved your panties in front of his face like a tempting reward. "Hm?" You brought the fabric close to his nose and pulled before he could grab it. 

"Ever since you came back to Linkon and told me you were coming to see me," Caleb leaned his head against your stomach, like a devotee holding onto their god. "I just wanted to see you when I wasn't home, Pipsqueak. I just want to make sure you're safe." The Colonel's rough fingers curled into the fabric of the towel wrapped around your damp body, pulling you closer, secure in his embrace. "You're everything. Everything" He lifted his face, still pressed against your abdomen, staring at you with eyes that were now a deep purple. 

"You say it like that was your only intention." You pulled his hair back, forcing him to pull away from you "But what about the cameras in the bathroom? The ones near the shower? Are they there to protect me?" He bit his lip and tried to pull you close again, but you pulled even harder on his hair. Caleb groaned, and even with the force that your knee exerted on the middle of his legs, you felt the abundant pre-cum against your skin. 

"I told you, crazy. You drive me crazy, Pip. I want it all, to see it all, to touch it everything-" He dug his fingers even deeper into the towel. "I tried, I swear, I really did. But you're like a fucking drug. The panties weren't enough, I needed more." His voice was rough, like he was about to lose it, about to give in to his desires, but he kept fighting with everything he had. 

"More." You repeated and loosened your grip on the back of his neck, bringing the same hand up to caress his face. With the other hand, you released your panties on the floor. Then, you moved to the knot holding the towel and loosened it, letting the fabric fall to your feet. "Like this?" 

That was all it took for Caleb to sink his face into your stomach again, this time feeling skin on skin, covering it with mouth-open kisses. "Yes, yes, yes, fuck-" He sank his fingers into your flesh, bringing your mound against his lips. "Fuck, yes, like that," he said, almost desperate. 

"I'll give you what you need." You replied in a sweet tone and lifted the leg that had been caging against his cock to rest on the bed. This gave Caleb full access, and he understood the message. He started eating you out like a starving man who hadn't eaten in days. His tongue sank between your wet flesh, up and down, while his nose circled over your clit, soaking in your scent as if his life depended on it. One of his hands that had been holding your waist went down to your dripping pussy, and Caleb ran his fingers into your folds, wetting them with your juices. Suddenly, you felt his calloused, lubricated fingers enter you, curving as they fucked into you deliciously. 

"Thank you," he whispered as he kissed and licked your clit non-stop, at the same time as he fucked you with his fingers at a frantic pace. The whole situation had already turned you on, and the way Caleb fucked you with his fingers was too intoxicating for you to last long. Soon, your thighs started trembling, betraying the orgasm that was about to come. "Princess, please, please, come on my fingers, please," he begged, desperate, as he increased the speed of his thrusts and the movements of his tongue against your sweet nub. 

"Caleb!" You grabbed his hair again, trying to keep his face away from the squirt of your orgasm, but he grunted and stayed between your legs, drinking every drop. 

"You think I wouldn't want you to come all over my face?" He stuck out his tongue and licked your pussy again, looking at you obscenely. "I fucking dreamt about this for years. God, you're perfect." He kissed your belly again and nuzzled his face there. 

"You're really crazy." You grabbed his face, watching his drunken, cum-slicked smile. He seemed satisfied with it, as if your pleasure was all that mattered, and in fact, Caleb could die now, and it would be more than enough. But that wasn't enough for you. Not at all. During the time he was supposedly dead, if there was one thing you had learned, it was how much you regretted not having done more. You put yourself through hell, thinking about what might have happened if you'd just admitted that you knew about his crush on you, or that you knew about the hidden panties, or that you'd heard him masturbate countless times and call your name when he thought he was alone. You spent sleepless nights back then, thinking about what Caleb would do if he found out that you liked this, this obsession, this devotion, and worse, you felt that way about him too. You were obsessed, crazy, and attentive to him and what he did for you and to you. Now that he was back to you and had made his intentions clearer than ever, there was no point in hiding. 

"Take your clothes off." Your eyes lit up as you stared at the large stain in the middle of his pants. That wasn't just pre-cum. He came just from eating you out. Crazy bastard.  

Caleb pulled off his clothes carelessly, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't really need you to do anything. It already feels really good just to have had the chance to eat you out and make you come." You could tell he was holding back, and it made you angry. You wanted all of him, everything, completely honest and true, to you and to himself. 

"Caleb." You climbed on top of him, rubbing your wet pussy perfectly against the length of his throbbing and once again erect cock. Caleb moaned with pleasure, bringing his eyes down to meet your folds as you licked his cock clean. "You can do whatever you want to me." Your hips moved back and forth slowly. "I love that you're fucking insane about me..." You both moaned as your clit rubbed against his swollen tip. In one smooth motion, you lifted your hips slightly and held his hot length, rubbing the throbbing head over your clit, using his cock to please yourself. 

"Oh my god, that's so fucking hot," he cried as he began to thrust against your clit, moaning loudly along with you. 

"Caleb, I love that you're insane about me, because I'm just as insane as you are, and for you." With another roll against his tip, your lips let out a loud moan that was soon interrupted by Caleb's rough hands pulling you into a kiss. It was dirty and unceremonious. Your tongues met obscenely and without shame. 

"I-I can really do whatever I want? You sure?" He said between kisses, lowering one hand to your ass and the other to your soaking cunt. 

 "A-Ah! Yes! Please." You felt him thrust his fingers into you again, fucking you. The noise was wet, erotic, and your moans mingled with your panting breaths. 

"I want to fuck your pussy with my cock, please, please, please - I know you said I can do whatever I want, but I want to hear you tell me that I can, and that you want it as much as I do. I want to fuck you stupid and make you come again and again and again and fill your pussy with my cum to the brim," he said against your ear, spreading kisses as he continued to push his fingers inside you without stopping.  

"I want you inside me. Fuck." You whimpered at the speed of his fingers. "I want your cock, I – I want you." Your lips came together again in a hasty kiss. 

He thrust his curved fingers in harder, eliciting an obscene sound from you, before pulling them out. "I'll give you what you want. I'll give you anything, anything you want." Caleb ran his wet fingers over his own throbbing cock and held it, slapping it against the folds of your sensitive pussy. With his other hand, he lifted your hips just enough to bring his cock closer to your hole. He let out a loud sigh as he circled the tip over your entrance, feeling you, soaking into your juices. Then, in one smooth motion, he thrust in and reached your bottom. You swallowed him whole at once, both moaned in unison. This was just insane. 

"Are you okay? Are you feeling okay?" He said, breathing heavily, his eyebrows scrunched up, violet eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. You smiled and relaxed your hips a bit more, lowering yourself enough to feel him balls deep into you. "Oh my god, you're so fucking good, you're taking me so deep. God, you're so tight—so perfect for me." Caleb looked so happy, finally being able to feel you, to be inside you, to fuck you. The two of you stared at each other breathlessly, still, savoring the sensation of being connected like this for the first time. "Look at you," he said, moving his hands up to your breasts and caressing them. "I need to fuck your breasts, cover them with cum, bite them and suck them..." Caleb murmured in a trance as he ran his hands over your body, imagining the possibilities. He brought his fingers up to your mouth, and you opened your lips and sucked his index and middle fingers. "I need to fuck your mouth too... I've imagined you sucking me off and me slapping my cock against your pretty cheek just to paint your face with my cum. I bet you'd look so beautiful." You moaned with his fingers inside your mouth. He withdrew the wet digits and guided them into his own mouth, sucking on them. 

You couldn't take it anymore, so you threw your torso back, leaned on his knees with your hands, and started rolling back and forth, riding him. Caleb watched as your pussy swallowed his throbbing cock up and down. "Holy shi- Yeah, just like that, fuck- like that." He brought his thumb to your sensitive nub and started stimulating it in slow, circular motions. 

"A-Ah, instead of thinking about what you are going to fuck, why don't you concentrate on this?" You teased, lifting your hips just enough to reach the sensitive head of his cock, only to slowly roll over. 

"You are- " Before Caleb could finish, you sank down again and started fucking yourself on his cock at a faster pace. Caleb threw his head back and cried out, moaning your name like a mantra. "'Holy fucking shit, where did you learn that?!" Before he could think too much about how you had acquired your sexual skills, you decided to hit him with another brutal ride. He groaned again, gripping your hips tightly. That would leave a mark 

"Better than you imagined, huh? When you touch yourself thinking of me." You said breathlessly, without stopping the movement of your hips. Caleb lifted his face to look at you, his eyes full of water and his mouth swollen from biting down to hold back his moans. 

"Are you kidding? Fuck. There's no comparison." He rubbed his thumb against your clit again, encouraging you to roll over more, seeking more friction. "Ah- Ah, yes! Good girl, use me however you want, fuck me, please." His finger followed the increasingly rapid speed of your hips, almost violently, abusing your already swollen spot from another orgasm. "Please, please use my cock however you want, fuck, sit on it, cum on my cock, please" 

"C-Caleb- Ah, ah, Shit!" You were breathless at the way he rubbed your clit, and suddenly, you stopped riding, sitting on him with your legs trembling, as you felt the orgasm come for the second time, wetting his cock with your liquid again. Your walls were contracting non-stop against his member, making him curse loudly. 

 "Fuck, you're so hot, squirting all over my cock, so fucking pretty.” He moaned, eyes filled with lust as he absorbed the vision of his cock soaked from your juices,  “You're going to drive me crazy squeezing me like this, shit-" He suddenly pulled your torso into a tight embrace, pressing your breasts against his chest as he began to thrust into you like a savage animal. "I'm sorry, I really can't hold it anymore," he bit your shoulder as he rammed into you with all his might, fucking and fucking you deep and dumb. Your sweaty skin seemed to melt and fuse together, and it was almost as if you were one. "You're so beautiful, so perfect. Your pussy was made to be fucked by me and only - shit - by me." He hugged your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling you two as close as possible. "You were made. for. me," he punctuated the words with each thrust, and took on an erratic rhythm. 

"I was. And you for — Ah! Me." You said, burying your face in his neck, and it was like a trigger: Caleb's legs started shaking, and his cock started throbbing, shooting his load inside you, over and over again. You both groaned loudly and hugged each other even tighter, as if that were humanly possible. The two of you stayed like that, hugging, soaked, stuck together, panting, and even after a full minute you could feel Caleb's cock twitching inside you, releasing one last hot spurt. 

After a bit of quiet time to catch your breath, you began to laugh and planted a few kisses on Caleb's sweaty neck. Carefully, you lifted your face to look at him. He had his eyes closed and a smile on his face. 

"Hey, Colonel, how's it going?" You said, your voice hoarse and tired. Caleb let out a quiet "mm-hmm" of approval. "Can you let me go now? We're disgusting." You looked down, feeling the sweat that glued your breasts and belly to his chest and abdomen. Caleb wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. 

"I'll never let you go," he said with a smile. You laughed and nuzzled your face against his neck again. You stayed like that, together, your breathing calming down and your heartbeats synchronizing. Suddenly, something popped into your head. 

"Hey, how long do these cameras keep the recordings?" You whispered, and Caleb shivered. You looked at him again, and he opened his eyes, his pupils getting bigger again. 

"I don't know... A few hours, or days, maybe." He stroked your back, lost in thought. "Do you want to see?" 

You laughed and stared back at him, "Absolutely." 

[bunnis-monsters]

Cat hybrid reader going through her first heat after taking heat suppresent pills all her life with werewolf husband(NSFW obv). This sounds kinda cute in my head.... I can't explain it.... Like getting married and then finally deciding that you want to let yourself go through a natural process which you were suppressing all your life.

Happy 5k! If this isn't something you'll write, I am sorry, please do not block me, I can't tell if this is following the rules or not.

Your husband held your hand as you started the morning without taking your heat suppressant pill for the first time.

You wanted to have kittens with him so badly, and he wanted to fuck you full of pups, so the two of you decided that it was beast for you to temporarily stop taking them so you could mate properly.

“You think it’ll be okay?” he asked, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

You frowned, leaning against him. “I’m not sure… it’ll take a few days for the suppressant to leave my system. I’ll find out then…”

And find out you did.

Your husband returned home after a long day of work, only for his cock to immediately strain against his pants when he picked up the smell of your heat. He could hear your desperate little mews from the bedroom, walking in to see you crying and begging for release.

You had never felt such an ache in your cunt, and had never really felt the urge to masturbate so you had no idea what to do. He watched you struggle to finger yourself and play with your clit, your pretty kitty tail rubbing against your fat, wet pussy.

“Poor baby, can’t even make herself cum…”

He fucked his fingers into you, making your back arch. “Mmph! P-please, need more!”

You panted, your body feeling like it was on fire. His fingers were a little help, but it was like throwing a bucket of water on a house fire.

You needed more.

“Shh, sweetheart. Gotta stretch you out, okay? Can you be my good girl and wait for me?”

He moved his fingers in a scissoring motion, trying his best to stretch you out as quickly as possible.

You nearly lost it when you felt him kiss your inner thigh, his lips moving to your fat pussy. He licked your clit, sucking on it as his fingers kept fucking into you.

After a few moments you cried out, cumming on his fingers and writhing on the bed. Orgasming while in heat was like nothing you’d ever felt before!

Your entire body spasmed as he pulled out his fingers from your aching pussy with a wet squelch. It took him a second to compose himself, watching your pussy ooze. There was a mess under your hips already, and your scent alone was driving him insane!

He already towered over you, but now he seemed to loom over your body like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

He rolled you onto your fat tummy, lifting your hips so he could properly mount you. By now, he was going off of pure instinct, ready to breed his fertile little mate.

“Mew…”

You let out a pathetic little meow as he sunk into you. The two of you had sex before, but now it was an entirely different experience.

The pleasure was multiplied tenfold, and he was so much more intense than he had been previously. “Wanna make puppies with you! W-wanna-!”

You buried your face into the pillow as he pounded your kitty cunt. His grip on your tail made you cry out, arching your back so he could reach you better.

Your hips and legs were easily lifted off the bed as he began using your fat pussy to get off, his mind fat gone. You didn’t mind, the feeling of him knotting you and filling your belly with cum over and over again was the only thing helping to calm the heat in your body.

The next day, your mate fussed over you, feeling terrible that he went overboard and lost control.

“I’m sorry, little one… your heat, it just-“

You butted your head against him affectionately, purring as he began to pet you.

“I think it’s what I needed… thank you for being with me for my first heat.”

“Of course… I’m your husband and mate, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”

The two of you spent the morning cuddling in bed, soft purrs and loving mews filling the air.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr

[nerdlvr]

mr. lee (donghyuck)

(MDNI)

smut , boss hyuck RAHHH , this hyuck , secretary reader , business company stuff idk stock market stuff HE'S A RICH BOSS CEO OKAY , a bunch of shit that is UNETHICAL , jealous hyuck , park jisung cameo yuhh , kissing ofc , a singular pussy lick , insane backshots , clothes sex ig? , creampie woop , unprotected sex (be smart ffs) , hair pulling , hyuck's kinda mean and degrading but in a hot boss way , the real warning is unpaid overtime (paid in dick) , inspo from my situationship and this request !

last time he checked, the intern's desk was on the opposite end of the office, a small dim corner, exactly where he belonged. so could someone please explain why he's been standing at your desk for half an hour talking your ear off?

the worst part is that you seemed to enjoy his company, giggling at his words, even throwing in a couple arm grabs when the joke was just that funny. what does an intern even know about funny? the only thing funny about him was that sad little thing he called his salary.

his tie seemed to suddenly be suffocating him, quick fingers working to loosen the fabric, an intern really y/n? did you have no standards?

your soft giggles were muffled, only your pretty smile being proof of some lame joke mr. park was telling.

he watched you like a hawk through the glass walls of his office, fist balled and leg shaking uncomfortably against his desk.

.

you and jisung jumped at the loud bang of mr. lee's door, your heads quickly turning to where he stood.

"go home."

jisung's eyes widened, his words coming out weak and stuttered,

"s-sorry?"

mr. lee rolled his eyes, his long legs pressing against his suit pants as he strode towards the two of you.

"i said- go. home."

he lifted his finger to point towards the elevator, his head turning slightly to tease jisung.

"you're the last one here, and instead of catching up on work you're deciding to flirt with my secretary who-"

he turned towards you, hands now coming to land at your desk,

"also should be catching up on work. isn't that right ms. l/n"

you bit your lip as you looked towards jisung's tense figure. your eyes only met for a second before mr. lee had lifted a folder in between your faces, a small scoff leaving his lips.

"please, while i'm asking nicely, go home park jisung. or i promise you won't have a job to come back to tomorrow."

jisung didn't even give it a second thought, grabbing his bag from your desk and bowing deeply towards you both before b-lining straight to the staircase.

mr. lee turned to you, a sarcastic smile on his face as he clasped his hands together,

"meet me in my office in 5 minutes."

you peaked from your desk to watch as he walked away, you were in so much trouble.

.

why was 5 minutes taking so long? maybe he should've said come to my office as soon as possible but that was definitely too desperate. not that he has anything to be desperate for... he just wanted to have a little talk on using your work time wisely, instead of flirting with some low grade intern.

he impatiently looked towards you desk, your soft eyes already staring towards his office nervously. he lifted his hand, gesturing for you to come. the scene was almost comedic as you scrambled to line up your paperwork, almost tripping as you rushed into his office.

.

you stood tensely in front of him, chest rising and falling quickly with each hesitant breath. your neat pencil skirt hugged each of your curves, white button down slightly unbuttoned revealing just enough skin to drive him insane.

you followed his gaze, hand coming up to quickly button your shirt.

"i- i have your paperwork mr. lee, i called our contractor but he said that he wanted to wait until mr. zhong approved, but he's on a business trip in-"

he raised his hand, your lips clamping shut,

"did i call you in for paperwork?"

you swallowed hard, fingers playing with the ends of the folders you carried,

"i just figured- since you said i had work to catch up on- i- i've caught up on everything-"

he knew you were competent, probably the most competent secretary he's ever had. he looked up at you, a small smirk playing on his lips,

"i didn't call you in for paperwork ms. l/n. i apologize if it seemed like i was questioning your work ethic earlier."

your shoulders relaxed, a soft sigh leaving your lips,

"i called you in to talk about your lack of professionally in the workplace."

your eyes grew wide as you stared down at him, you relaxed posture now once again tense.

"this is the third day i've seen you blatantly flirt with the intern for longer than half an hour. do you have any shame?"

"i- i- i wasn't flirting with jisu-"

"it's a yes or a no ms. l/n."

"no mr. lee."

his smirk grew, his legs spreading as he relaxed into his chair.

"no? you have no shame? ms. l/n likes flirting with that boy in my face?"

your head hung low as you waited for his next words, folders in your hands now slightly crumpled from your fidgeting. you heard him leave his seat, his black dress shoes coming into view as he stood in front of you.

he brought his hand up to hold your chin, lifting your head to look at him,

"be good and look at me when i'm speaking to you."

you nodded against his palm, his warm fingers burning your skin,

"yes sir."

his free hand moved along your hip and up to your shirt, tugging apart the button you had just fixed. his fingers slipped past you shirt, poking softly at your exposed skin.

"you know how hard it is to watch you flirt with a nobody when i'm right in here waiting for you?"

your eyes widened slightly, your hands now gripping his to stop the light tickling against your breasts.

"for- for me?"

he leaned down towards your ear, his breath hot against your skin,

"why else do you think i call you in here so often? time after time i tell you to come into my office, but the only time you show any interest is when you're talking to some low grade employee."

he released his hand from your grip, bringing it down to hold the back of your waist, pulling you against his chest.

"why are you so stiff with me? am i not worthy of your attention?"

your breath shuddered, hands now gripping the ends of his suit jacket,

"n-no that's not it mr. lee-"

"because you've clearly caught mine, how could i ever ignore this pretty girl, hm? so let me show you i'm worthy of your attention."

this was wrong. so wrong. but as he untucked your shirt, hands finding warmth against your bare skin, you couldn't help the soft sighs that threatened to spill past your lips.

"stop holding it in, let me hear you."

"thi- this is wrong mr. lee, we can't-"

his hands reached up to the back of your bra, fingers skillfully opening one clasp after the other,

"who said we can't? your boss?"

he chuckled into your neck, your body still tense in his grasp,

"come on baby it's just us."

he brought his free hand towards the end of your skirt, pulling it up to reveal your black lace panties. he tutted at you, an unimpressed expression on his face. his hand slid against the fabric, snapping the waist band against your skin,

"wearing this to work? were you expecting mr. park to see you in these?"

your grip on his suit tightened as he ran his hands against your ass, stopping to grab onto the supple skin,

"answer me."

"n-no sir."

he hummed in approval, hand moving past your ass and towards your core, his fingers softly pressing against your soaked panties.

"did you wear these for me then, hm? wanted your boss to see you in these? cause this pretty pussy clearly wants me, so who else would it be for?"

you couldn't help the soft whimpers that left your lips, your hands moving up to hold onto his shoulders, your legs weakening at his touch.

"no-nobody else sir, just- just you."

he chuckled as you melted against him, arms wrapping around your waist to hold you up. he leaned down to plant a kiss on your lips, soft and reassuring,

"you're in control baby, just say no and i'll stop okay?"

you reached your hands up to cup his face, pulling him back down to press your lips against his.

this kiss was different from the one before, your actions giving him the confirmation he needed. his grip against your body was tight, pulling you impossibly closer to him as he licked into your mouth. he pulled away grinning as you chased after him, a small whine leaving your lips,

"so needy baby."

he pulled you towards his desk, quickly pushing away any paperwork that has been splayed on the surface,

"mr. lee!"

he rolled his eyes at your shocked expression,

"you're practically dripping on my floor ms. l/n. there are bigger issues to deal with right now than some- fuck- shut up and turn around."

you listened to his orders, gasping as he pushed you against his desk, his hand firm against your back,

"sorry-"

he rubbed your back soothingly, his clothed length now pressing against your ass, watching as your juices stained his pants,

"shh, it's okay baby, look at you, you're just begging to get fucked."

you winced as you felt a harsh slap land against your ass,

"like that? i can see you squeezing your thighs, don't hide from me."

he slipped his fingers past the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to hang at your ankles. the groan he let out was animalistic, hands immediately spreading your ass to get a better look,

"shit- got the prettiest pussy i've ever seen-"

you lifted your leg slightly, squeezing your thighs together as he got down to lick a stripe up your cunt, savoring the taste of you,

"and so fucking sweet too- jesus."

your turned you head as you heard the buckle of his belt, his fingers quick and impatient as he released himself from his confines, length slapping against his stomach.

"like what you see?"

the smirk on his face was borderline mocking, his hand coming down to pump his length. you bit your lip, wishing it was you wrapped around him instead. his smirk only grew as you pushed you hips back towards him, slightly arching your back.

he pushed his bare length against your heat, leaning down to press his weight against your back. his hand wrapped around your hair, pulling your head to the side so he could get close to your ear,

"didn't think you'd be so desperate ms. l/n. want your boss's cock that bad hm? want me to fuck you? teach you how to behave at work?"

you grunted in response, his hips rocking against your core,

"yes, yes. want you so bad mr. lee, so bad."

you felt his hand move down to grip the base of his length, angling himself to push his swollen tip against your entrance,

"say that again for me, say, 'want your cock so bad mr. lee, need it'"

you could hear the smirk in his tone, the tip of his length already stretching your walls,

"want your cock, mr. lee- fuck- need it so bad."

"close enough."

he filled you up in one swift movement, the stretch making your eyes water. you let out a gasp, hand reaching for the corner of his desk for support. his hips were pressed hard against your ass, hands gripping your waist to keep you in place,

"shittt, got the sweetest little pussy, you're sucking me in so good baby- fuck-"

he pulled his length out of you completely, his tip pressing at your entrance again before he snapped his hips into you. you shook against his desk, strangled moans filling the room as he repeated his movements, over and over.

he ran his hands up your back softly, stopping them to hold onto your shoulders, fingers digging into your skin roughly,

"don't move, be a good girl and take me."

he picked up in pace, the sound of skin slapping growing louder. your eyes were squeezed shut as you gripped onto the desk, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. you grunted as he slammed his hips into you, his body coming down to lay against your back,

"say my name baby, wanna hear you say it, say donghyuck."

he brought his arm down to wrap around your hip, fingers pressing hard against your clit as he rocked his hips against you,

"fuck- fuck, you're so deep donghyuck please, please i'm so close."

"just like that baby, so good, so fucking good for me."

he used his free hand to grab your messy hair, his other still working against your sensitive bud. you were a blabbering mess under him, a mix of curses and his name, his real name, spilling out of your lips, your head was glued to the desk as his hips picked up in pace.

"shit- how are you getting tighter?"

his dirty words filled your ears, your core squeezing impossible tighter around him as you felt your stomach tighten. you turned to look at him, his suit was a mess, sweat building all over his body, his tie practically falling off of him. his eyebrows were knit together, bottom lip stuck in between his teeth as his eyes focused on where your bodies met. the image of him was more than enough, your thighs squeezed together as your head hit his desk, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

his hips never faltered, grip on your hair only tightening as he continued to fuck you, your body grew limp against his desk, his laugh mocking as he watched you twitched under him, his fingers still moving quickly against your clit,

"hyuck- donghyuck- 's too much, please, please."

you squeezed tightly around him, a groan leaving his lips as you moved your hips away from him. he moved his hands to grip tightly at the skirt that was bunched at your waist, keeping you in place,

"don't fucking move- or i swear, fuck."

you whined against his desk, spit dripping from the side of your mouth as he slammed into you, chasing his own high. your whimpers only led him on, your fucked out face making his stomach tighten. his perfect little secretary, laid out on his desk, begging for his cock, what a dream.

you tightened around him, overstimulation making your core ache,

"please hyuck, please, want you to fill me up so bad, cum inside me please, please."

your begging was what finally set him off, his hips stuttering as his cum spilled into you, a strangled groan leaving his lips as he hunched over you, pulling you close.

he laid his forehead on your shoulder blade, his light pants warming your skin,

"fuck-"

he slapped your ass lightly,

"don't do that."

you giggled as he huffed against your back, his length softening inside your pulsing walls. your body was weak against his desk as he slowly pulled out of you, his cum dripping onto his floor. he reached forward to spread you open, watching as you clenched around nothing.

"i'm firing mr. park tomorrow morning for even thinking he could touch you."

you groaned at the feeling of him squeezing your ass, body growing sore.

"mr. park? who even is that?"

you heard him chuckle as he reached for some tissues,

"smart girl."

[rafesteddy]

ugh, saw the post about your inbox opening and i RAN!!

frat!rafe x reader (anywhere, doesn’t matter—backseat of a car, dorm room, or at a party) fucking, and he’s wearing a baseball hat backwards. while reader is riding him, he pulls it off and puts it on her head—also backwards.

ily, thank you if you do this one 💋💋

Awww that made me so happy 💕 thank you for your ask bb!!!!

+18 -> smut

𝓯𝓻𝓪𝓽!𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: possessive!rafe, ownership kink, pet names, swearing, unprotected p in v, spanking, drinking.

2K

The music was loud, blaring through shitty speakers that had blown the night before. A full crowd of hot, sweaty bodies—but none of it mattered, because all Rafe could see was you.

You were on the table now, in the center of the chaos, wrapped up in your friends and the haze of cheap liquor and that last-weekend energy. Your little top barely clung to your body, and that mini skirt did nothing to hide the curve of your ass every time you swirled your hips.

And those panties—fuck, they were the icing on top. Pretty, pink, and purchased by Rafe. Every time your hips swayed, he caught a flash, making it nearly impossible to stay where he was.

He stood across the room, half a drink in hand, pretending to listen to Topper, all while his eyes never left you. Your tits bounced just enough to drive him insane, feeding flashbacks from the night before. And he knew you knew. You weren’t a stranger to the chokehold you had him in.

Then you leaned down—slow, deliberate—pouring liquor into your friend’s mouth, grinning as you did. Your back arched just a little and that skirt hiked up even more, leaving Rafe a muttering mess of ‘fuck me’s’ and ‘keep that shit up and see what happens’ under his breath.

Cue JJ, swaggering up to the table like clockwork, shooting his shot for the nth time, like anything had changed. But who could blame him—you were perfect.

Maybank tilted his head and gave you that smug little smile like you were even an option. Like Rafe wasn’t watching every second of it.

You took a sip straight from the bottle, some dark liquor dribbling off your bottom lip and down your chest. JJ licked his lips like a fucking idiot, and that was it. Rafe was already moving. Shoving through the crowd with purpose. Shouting before he’d even grabbed two fists of the blonde’s shirt.

“You always stare at girls way outta your league, or just when they’re mine, huh?”

“Calm down, Cameron. I was just—”

“Just what?” Rafe’s smile was all teeth, blue eyes hard and daring. “She wouldn’t fuck you in your dreams. Stop embarrassing yourself—” He shoved him hard, making JJ stumble into a group of friends. And before he could say another word, Rafe was lifting you off the table—an arm around your thighs, flipping you over his shoulder.

You squealed, laughing, as he snagged the liquor bottle off the table, your body draped like a trophy.

“Have a nice night, boys,” he said with that wicked grin. JJ rolled his eyes, downing the rest of his drink as Rafe disappeared toward the stairs.

The crowd parted without realizing, making way. His grip adjusted as he climbed, one hand sliding up the back of your thigh before dipping to bite the soft skin beneath your ass cheek—playful, but sharp enough to make you gasp.

“Rafe!”

“Sorry, baby,” he said, not sorry at all. “Can’t help myself. You looked too damn good up there. You know that?” His voice went soft, just for you.

Then—gentle—he tugged your skirt down just enough to cover your panties. That quiet, casual kind of care that made your stomach flutter. A possessiveness he saved only for you.

Rafe kicked open the door to his room, the slam muffling the chaos outside. He crossed to the bed and dropped you like a ragdoll, grinning when your curves bounced and your back arched in that pretty little way he loved.

His shirt was gone in a second, ripped over his head as his abs flexed. His boxers rode low, and he tugged his hat back on.

You sat up on your knees, pulling your top off. The second your tits bounced free, Rafe tackled you to the mattress, laughing into your neck as your giggles echoed off the walls.

He rolled you onto his lap, your thighs spread over his hard cock. His hands gripped your hips. You reached back for the zipper on your skirt, but he shook his head.

“Leave it,” he muttered, head tilted as he admired the lace peeking beneath the hem. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

He tugged his boxers down, never breaking eye contact. His jaw clenched tight like he was barely keeping it together.

With that hungry, hooded look, he reached between your thighs, tugging your panties gently aside—just enough to see what he wanted. Then his hand snapped back to your waist, rough and fast, the other wrapping around his cock, thick and leaking.

“Pull ‘em, princess,” he groaned. You obeyed, fingers pinching the fabric to the side, showing him your glistening slit.

And then you sank down slowly, both of you moaning aloud, your shared pleasure filling the room. Your head fell back as he filled you to the hilt, his eyes fluttering shut, jaw slack.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned.

You braced your hands on his chest as his gripped your hips, guiding you. He watched you ride him slow, matching the beat of the music creeping under the floorboards.

“Atta girl—” Crack. He slapped your ass. You moved faster, filthier. The sound of your arousal and skin-on-skin collided with your moans. You grinded on him, used him.

Rafe just lay back, watching you like a man starving, sipping from the liquor bottle. He handed it to you, expecting a drink—but instead, you hovered over him, spit it into his mouth.

He swallowed it down with a low laugh, then grabbed your neck and kissed you hard, one hand moving his hat to the back. He devoured you. Sweet liquor and tongue, sucking on yours slow.

“You look like every guy’s fantasy,” he whispered. “But you’re mine. You hear me?” He kissed you again, rougher. “They want you. None of them get you… but me.”

“Only you, Rafe.”

He groaned. You pushed up and started riding him again.

“Fuck, baby—Mpfhh.” He gritted his teeth, hips bucking as you clenched around him. You bounced, moaned his name, and he gave it right back—breathless praise spilling between gasps.

He was close. So were you. Your thighs trembled. And then he lifted you off fast, flipping you to reverse, dropping you back down on his thick length.

You screamed at the stretch, thighs spread wide. That skirt bunched up in his fist. “You good, pretty?” he panted. You whimpered, nodding.

He slapped your ass again, squeezing, jiggling, loving the mess you made. Then he started bouncing you, driving into you from below, cock spearing deep, wet, loud.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped. “Do that shit I like.” You swiveled your hips just the way he liked. That pressure built. That sweet spot hit again and again. Your stomach coiled.

Rafe sat up behind you, chest flush to your back. One arm wrapped tight around you. The other slid between your thighs, rubbing fast, tight circles on your clit.

“Told you you were perfect,” he growled in your ear. “Perfect girl. Perfect body. Perfect pussy. Make a mess. Show me who you fucking belong to.” You whimpered, grinding against him. “So good for me. You hear me?”

“Yes,” you choked. “I—I… Fuck—”

“Yeah, baby?” he rasped, voice cocky and raw. “Why don’t you just cum for me then, huh?”

Your body locked up, a cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm hit. You shook and gasped as he fucked up into you, rubbing you through every flutter and spasm.

Rafe buried his face in your shoulder, hips twitching as he came, filling you full. You collapsed back onto him, both of you shaking, breathless.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, laughing, warm breath fanning your neck. You turned your cheek to snuggle closer, and his arms tightened around you.

He eased you off him, both of you hissing at the loss. You jolted, making him laugh softly as he snapped your panties back into place, his hand pressed possessively over your pussy.

“There,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse. “Keep those on.” Rafe pressed a kiss to your neck, then another, his lips brushing the curve of your cheek. He sighs, still catching his breath as the both of you come down from your highs.

Rafe reached up and adjusted the hat on your head, tugging it just a little lower, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Keep this on, too,” he said proudly as his finger trailed down your jaw. “In case anyone forgets who the fuck you belong to.”

banners: @cafekitsune

tags | @rafesthroatbaby | @hughessweetheart | @slut-4-rafey | @blair-bears-blog | @iikximii | @akobx | @gri959 | @misatxox | @ch4rrykisses | @st8rkey | @laniirackssss | @barnesboo1967 | @justdamnpeachy | @dylsdaily | @rafesapprentice | @angellocket | @my-name-is-baby | @wtfisastiles | @skye-44 @romaescapes | @anothershorthuman | @rafeslovergirly | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @v3n1ce-bxtch | @maybankslover | @theater-bitch | @frankoceanluvr11 | @rcameronlova1 | @lhhlver | @yourmomdotcom42069 | @cameronsprincess | @kdoll-7 | @angelicameron | @imsiriuslyreal | @alphabetically-deranged | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @hyperfixationgirl | @faephoria | @wtfdudesblog | @rafesdoll | @yasmin-oviedo | @lizzysmith110 | @ietss | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @lilithblackkk | @premiumshitt | @littlelamy | @dulcescorderitas | @prettybabyyyy | @star017 | @hannieskzzz | @biascriptum

[henry7931]

Waking Up As a Stranger

Joey:

“What the— where am I?”

The last thing I can remember was right before falling down a flight of stairs. This guy and I bumped into eachother and ended up tumbling down… and then I think I blacked out…

Actually the more I think about it— I remember the dream I had right afterwards.

I was floating outside of my body… it so surreal seeing myself… and I saw the guy as well. Our bodies were on the ground together. So I panicked and rushed into my body….

But wait—where am I at right now? I feel kinda funny.

I look around and then this nice looking guy comes running over.

“Baby you’re awake!,” he says to me.

“Baby?”

“Yeah honey, it’s me your husband Jacob!”

“Husband?”

That’s when a doctor comes in and says, “Dr. Hasan! You’re awake!”

Wtf? Who is this guy saying he’s my husband and why did that doctor just call me a doctor— that’s when I notice my hands.

They’re big thick masculine hands covered with black hair. I look down and see my chest…

I have dark chest hairy…this isn’t my chest…

I run my fingers down it, this feels so unreal. Maybe I am still asleep?

“Oh I’m sorry Jacob, Pete maybe experiencing some slight amnesia. Good thing is that should wear off soon.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry for just coming in like that. I was just o excited to see that he woke up so quickly.”

“It’s okay! Just give him a second.”

The doctor and Jacob walk closer to the door. I close my eyes and say to myself softly, “wake up…”

“So what about that kid he bumped into? Is he okay?,” I hear Jacob ask.

Kid? Oh shit! They’re talking about me!

“Yes he’s okay! Left with his family 30 minutes ago, what’s strange is that he also had slight amnesia. Kept saying he knew me…”

“Huh, that’s really weird.”

My body’s gone??? And this guy— Pete, is in my key? That’s when I sit up and immediately see a mirror of myself. Only to confirm what I already knew— I’m the guy who I fell down the stairs with…

Hold on… that means that wasn’t a dream earlier… I floated into the wrong body!!!

I get out of bed and both the Doctor and Jacob rush over to me.

“Pete, take it slow,” says the doc.

“I’m feeling fine now, I want to go home,” I say to him.

“Pete baby, come on and listen to him,” says Jacob.

I sit back down and the Doc runs a bunch of tests on me.

What was strange was that he asked me personal questions— and somehow I knew this guys birthday and his parents names…

“Well he seems to be good, just take it easy today.”

We leave the hospital and we get to Jacob’s BMW X7. Nice car I thought…

I wanted to go find my body so bad but I knew that would be hard to do right now.

As we’re driving, Jacob grabs my hand and holds it firmly. I found it kinda comforting even if he’s a strange to me.

I study his face, he’s handsome. The kind of guy I’d hope to marry when I’m this age.

“You scared me today,” he said to me.

“Sorry,” I say back.

“It’s okay, I’m just happy you’re okay.”

We pull up to a giant beach front property. My eyes get huge… is this there house???

Don’t get me wrong my parents are well off but this kind of property in southern Florida is insane! So I guess this body is super rich!

We head inside and Jacob gets me to sit down on the couch.

I kick off my shoes and stair down at the big manly feet that now belong to me. I wiggle my toes and smirk at them.

I feel a slight amount of excitement rush through me. These feet are so hot and I control them…

I run my new hands around my thighs… shit… I wonder…

I open up my pants and I gasp! Surrounded by a lovely trimmed dark bush was thick cock sitting at around 6 inches in length soft.

Man, now that I want to try out! I close my pants as I hear Jacob come back up.

“So we are off for the week, obviously your work knows that after I talked to your boss.”

My work— I’m an orthopedic surgeon. I specialize in trauma and that guy earlier is one of my best buds… Wait! This guys memories are starting to come to me.

Lifts up my feet and sits down placing them on his lap.

He starts rubbing my feet and it feels so good. I watch him and notice something… I’m turned on right now.

Jacob lifts one foot up and kisses my toes. I bite my lip watching him…

I look down at his bare feet… fuck he has some sexy toes too. Actually a lot about him is sexy… his feet, legs, face, beard, the warmth in his smile, his dick…

Memories of being in bed with him rush through my mind…. Fuckkk… he’s so good in bed. Atleast that’s how Pete remembers…

Tbh in my actual body I’ve only dated one guy and I don’t even know if that even qualifies. It’s tough being a 19 year old scrawny guy who’s so unsure about the world. The only time I’ve ever hooked up with someone was from a sketchy one night Grindr hookup.

Kinda freaked me out…

But Jacob is sooo different from anything he’s kissing my feet and telling me how or Pete… idk that he’s so happy he gets to kiss them and how much he loves me.

“I love you too baby,” I say back to him.

I take my other foot and rub it on his crotch. He grins and says, “oh so you are feeling better.”

“Yeah I think so,” I say biting my lip.

He rubs his hands up my think hairy legs… I feel his hand reach into my pants and he grabs my dick.

“You’re so hard right now,” he says grasping it and gently jerking me.

“Well yeah I have a hot husband,” I say back.

He climbs over to me and pulls me in. We start making out.

I run my hands all over him and he pulls back.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

We both head to the bedroom kissing and taking off a piece of clothing every step.

I look over both of our naked bodies… his cock… my cock…

I’m a handsome Doctor with an incredible handsome husband. Maybe I don’t need to worry about finding my body today… or tomorrow…

We crash into the bed and now Jacob is all I’m thinking about…

He climbs on top of me and pulls lube out of the drawer.

He rubs it on my cock and his hole.

He leans down and says softly, “finger me baby.”

I gently insert two fingers into him and he lets out a moan. I finger his hole for a minute before he says, “I’m ready.”

Jacob grabs my cock and works it in. It’s so warm inside of him. Jacob does so much of the work, he’s literally riding my dick. I have my hand on his jerking him off.

Both of us are moaning, loudly!

We keep kissing and repeating I love you to one another. And right now , I do feel like I love him.

More flashback come back… oh god, Pete was having an affair with Jacob… why would he do that???

It’s been months since we’ve… that’s when all of there relationship rushed through my head…

A tear goes down my face and I say, “I love you so much Jacob!”

“I love you too Pete!”

Both of us moan loudly as we cum in unison. My pours so much cum into him while his dick gets all over my chest, hand, and face.

Both of us are panting and I taste his cum.

Jacob climbs off of me and curls into me. I wrap my arms around him and say, “I’m sorry.”

He looks a little confused.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t done that sooner with you. You’re my everything Jacob.”

He pulls me in closer.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too. Maybe we can make up for that this week.”

“Well you wanna go to the beach or the pool?,” I say with a grin.

“I don’t care but let’s order out tonight.”

“Deal,” I say giving him a kiss.

Both of us go out of bed and head to the shower. We bathe together washing off our cum covered selves.

It’s so hot getting to rub soap on his cute hairy butt.

We dry off and grab a speedo out of my drawer.

I take a photo of myself really just admiring my new body. Gosh, I hope Pete doesn’t want his body back…

I walk outside and Jacob’s already laying out.

“Did you already jump in?,” I ask him.

“Yeah, couldn’t help it!”

Man, I can’t wait to fuck him again tonight!

Meanwhile…

Pete:

I was initially freaked out waking up in this body! But something about being 19 years old again is so sexy!

And I can actually just be single, not have to worry about work, or anything stressful.

Hell, with my knowledge and this youth— I’ll be an unstoppable doctor this round. And I’ll actually have time to party this round!

I pull off my shorts and touch the perky cute cock between my new legs. Ohhhh it’s so sensitive!

I pull off one of my socks and bring up the soft foot up to my face. I take a deep breath into my sole.

“Fuckkkk…”

I gingerly toy with my dick and pull out my phone. I redownload Grindr and set the location for the closest college university.

I wanna fuck a frat guy tonight!

As I gently tease my new dick, all I can think about is that I sure that Joey likes my body— because I want to keep his!

[jjennuine]

THE BOY ──── ( 종성 ) IS MINE ! jay shows you he’s all yours ..

엔하이픈 종성 && f ! r ! 7OO fluff suggestive established relationship skinship making out alcohol consumption ⪩⪨ ( ESTANTE )

이에라 i got carried away sorry .. this is for my babygirl chole btw, she begs for more Jay!!

&メモ reblogs ˊᗜˋ feedback pls !

you felt an overwhelming urge to leave the party at your house upon seeing a girl holding your boyfriend's arm. anger swelled within you as you glared at the scene — clenching your fist in anger.

you were furious, seething at how close the girl was to your boyfriend. sure, he was the perfect guy, but he belonged to you. you couldn’t stand her; batting her eyelashes and licking her lips as if she wanted to devour jay. the jealousy surged within you and consumed your thoughts.

he looked visibly uncomfortable, gently pushing her overly touchy hands away, yet jealousy still consumed your emotions. you desperately needed to escape this party and regain control over your rising anger before it boiled over.

( ˊᗜˋ more under cut ! )

you didn't realize that you were gripping your plastic cup so hard until you felt it squash. you continued to glare at the two of them — making eye contact with jay as his eyes seemed to widen.

you stormed off, pushing through the crowd of people; jay finally pushing the girl off as he chased after you. you were still fuming with anger as you scoffed at the pathetic sight of jay hurrying over to you.

but before you can walk away further, jay reached for your hand, his eyes pleading, silently conveying a message that made your heart secretly flutter even though you were still mad.

“what do you want?” you asked, your voice flat as you tried to break free from jay’s hold. “princess, she was clinging onto me, please..” jay’s plea for understanding made your cheeks flush; his intense and yearning gaze on you made you flustered from how hot he looked.

you sighed, choosing to reveal the embarrassing truth. “i’m not angry, it was just her touch on your arm i couldn’t stand.” jay's frown transformed into a grin, clearly entertained by your jealousy. “what if I show her I’m yours, hmm?” he suggested, your cheeks flushed visibly as you nodded, and jay wasted no time grabbing your face and pressing his lips against yours hungrily.

you drop your cup to the ground as jay kisses you harder, snaking a hand down your waist to pull you closer. you wrap your hands around his neck as Jay holds you tight, lifting you as you flutter your eyes for a second to admire his pretty face.

you gasp in the kiss at jay lowering his hand to your hip, jay’s eyes looking eager as if he was a starved man. the party around you two faded away as your focus was solely on him.

he was intoxicating, you don't know if it was the drinks you shoved down your throat or the strawberry taste of his lips from his chap stick mixed with the scent of his strong cologne.

you could feel jay’s lips curl into a smirk hearing you whimper at jay’s hand slowly sliding his hand slightly under your shirt, feeling his cold fingers on your warm skin. the eager man opened his eyes to see you and he could feel his mind drive to insanity seeing your furrowed brows.

he craved your touch, and he knew you craved his as well. jay’s hand on the side of your face moves to your thighs — making you feel sparks of electricity from how risky this was. jay seemed to become more desperate as he groaned in the kiss, letting go for a split minute.

“i’m all yours, hmm? no one else on my mind.” he breathed, his hot breath against your sweaty neck from the heat. you nodd, his pink lips against yours again — feeling the hunger from his lips. despite the dark room, the dim light still showed you the sultry view of jay biting your bottom lip gently, savoring every taste of your plump lips.

he looked breathtaking — his loose black t-shirt and the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead driving you crazy, wanting nothing more than to feel his body press against yours.

you two finally break free from each other as you gasp for air, losing track of how long you two have been devouring each other. you looked around, grinning possessively not seeing the touchy girl anymore. “now she knows who you belong to.”

“all yours, sweet girl.” you chuckle as you grab jay’s shirt to pull his face closer to yours, only an inch being the gap between your faces. “please, pretty girl, let me have more?” jay looked up at you with soft, pleading eyes that you couldn't resist as traced his jawline with your finger before connecting your lips once again.

taglist open ☘️ ! send an ask, comment on any post to join

[luveline]

could you pleaseee do more hotch x bombshell reader

cw suggestive —you and Hotch have a shared secret you’re hiding from the rest of the team. fem, 1k

“He’s too old for you, you know.” 

You give Elle a charmed smile. “He is not.” 

“Is too.” 

“How old do you think I am, Greenaway?” you tease. “I know I look good for my age, but I’m fully developed. He is not too old for me.” 

“Who?” Spencer asks, placing down his dinner tray with a smile. 

“Gideon,” you say. “What do you think, babe, do I have a chance with our great leader?” 

“No,” Spencer says, giggling as he spears a dehydrated looking green bean with his fork. He’s getting good at recognising jokes for what they are. 

As the younger (but, despite Elle’s insistence, not young) crowd, you have complimentary avoiding of work to do, free with your employment. You spend your lunch hour trying to stretch it into two, driving Gideon insane, and prompting Hotch to come and find you. He hasn’t appeared yet, but when you check your watch you’ve got about ten minutes left until you need to get back. 

“The line was so long,” Spencer says. “They could reduce the foot traffic in here by half if they had two people working the register.” 

“Maybe if we had our own offices we could eat our lunch alone from a brown paper bag like everybody else does, and we wouldn’t need to line up,” Elle says wryly. 

“You don’t like lining up like middle schoolers?” you ask in feigned shock. 

“I don’t,” Spencer says earnestly. 

“She’s being sarcastic,” Elle says. “You couldn’t tell?” She looks over your shoulder suddenly, but there’s a velvet voice in your ear before you can turn around.

“Can I borrow you?” 

You smile because he can’t see it. “That depends, Agent Hotchner, will I get to finish my lunch?” 

You don’t have a tray in front of you. It clearly doesn’t matter to Hotch. “I’ll take care of it.” 

You’d let him drag you around by the collar, but that’s none of his business. You turn to meet his eyes over your shoulder, disappointed that he’s already a few steps back waiting for you to stand up. 

What Elle doesn’t get, what nobody seems to see but you, is that Hotch had no need to lean in and talk so close to your ear. He could have sent you an email, paged you, and he’s here in the cafeteria waiting for you to follow him out. 

You send both Elle and Spencer a suggestive look and climb off of the bench. Hotch senses when you’re near rather than looking, starting out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the elevator bank. He does a sharp turn you aren’t expecting to the photocopying rooms, where you refuse to go, lest you get killed by a falling stack of printer paper. One minute you’re walking together and the next he’s taken your hand and pulling you into an alcove, suddenly sliding his hand behind your back. 

“Aaron–”

He dips his face down and kisses you. It’s surprising and not, one slight nipping kiss before he looks you in the eyes. He’s asking if you’re alright to be kissed, and if it’s him, he can shove you up against a wall —you lift your head and he pulls you right back up to be kissed again. His hands slide over the tight fabric of your blazer and hold you chest to chest, his nose crushing yours, his lips unwavering. Pinpricks of heat ricochet from your mouth to your neck, a shudder he feels that has him laughing hot against your lips.

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” you say, weaving your fingers into the soft crop of hair behind his ears. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. He lifts his hand, cleaning the smudge of your lipstick with his pinky finger, before stroking your cheek with his knuckle.  “What sort of note was that, this afternoon? Why do you think that’s alright to leave at my desk?” 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask, dropping your hands from his hair to poke at his waist. 

“I hoped it was you,” he admits. He looks like he might say something else, but he steals a rough kiss instead, and then another. 

“Okay,” you say, pleased to be kissed like this by him, “it was me. And you deserved it.” 

“Did I?” He takes your face into two hands. “Did I?” 

You stutter momentarily at his repeated question. “You– yeah, Hotchner, you did. It was supposed to be nice, like a promise.” 

“Are you promising?” he asks, giving your cheek a sweet, gentle stroke with his thumb. 

You kiss his nice jaw, ruffle the hair that curls over his forehead playfully, and laugh as he catches your hand. He doesn’t grab. Hotch isn’t ever aggressive with you (though he can get a little excited). 

“Decide what you want for dinner tonight, and we’ll go after work,” he says, returning your hand gently to your side. 

“Another kiss?” you ask. 

Hotch kisses you sweetly. “Come on, honey, lunch is over.” 

“Just one more?” you ask. 

He falls for it every time. You must harvest half a dozen extra kisses, incensed because it’s him, because nobody thought for a minute he’d bend to your whims. 

Hotch doesn’t bend. He just wants you like you want him. 

“One more,” he says as you pull away. “Just one.” 

It tickles your lips. You curl your arms behind his neck and try to make it one that’ll linger, your fingers scratching lightly at his scalp as he presses your back to the cold wall. You yelp a laugh and he covers your back with big hands, mumbling a sorry that gets completely lost. 

You don’t know how he’s going to explain this to Gideon. 

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ ONE MORE CHANCE? (IT WON'T BE THE LAST) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ you hate your ex, but nobody else can fuck you half as well — so maybe you'll give him one more chance.

contents: fem!reader. implied unprotected sex, dirty talk (?), lil' bit of praise, lil' bit of degradation, oral (fem. receiving), couch sex, gojo covers your mouth at one point, cursing, lil' bit of teasing/mocking (?). sorta toxic but whatevs we love a toxic king! 2000+ words.

author's note: got lazy in the middle of writing this loll

"he's just so fucking annoying," you groan, swirling the drink in your hand. the ice clinks against the side of the glass as you lift the cup to your lips, sipping the whiskey and wincing at the way it burns the back of your throat. you lean back in the plush couch in your friend's living room and sigh. "i don't know why i ever dated him."

your friend nods in agreement, eyes fixed on her phone for another second before she turns it towards you. "look what he posted on his instagram."

on your friend's screen is an instagram story, and the tag shows that it's from your ex-boyfriend — satoru gojo. tired of his insensitivity and annoying nature, you had dumped him two weeks ago, and god, you'd never had such a petty ex in your life.

after you broke up with him, he blocked you from all his socials and got all his friends to do the same. so, since he practically knew everyone, you lost a hundred followers.

and apparently, he's out fucking some other girl right now.

the story on your friend's phone is a picture of a smirking satoru with his arm wrapped around some girl with a red plastic cup in her hand. they're bathed in overhead red lights, and you can barely make out a familiar dark-haired boy in the back — another one of satoru's fuckboy friends.

"he's such a manwhore," your friend says with an eyeroll. "d'you want to stay the night?"

you shake your head, setting down the now-empty glass on a coaster. "it's alright, i wouldn't want to intrude," you say with a rueful smile.

your friend eyes you suspiciously for another second before leaning back in her own seat and closing her eyes. "stay safe, it's pretty late."

you nod and toss your things into your bag before stepping out the door, closing it gently behind you. as you get in your car and drive back to your house, thoughts of satoru fill your head. 

you don't recognize the girl under satoru's arm, but she's pretty — too pretty for him. sure, satoru was conventionally attractive, with his ocean-blue eyes and flawless physique, but still. 

satoru was a shitty boyfriend, and now he's an even shittier ex. when you two dated, his spoiled brattiness and constant sorry, i forgot's drove you insane. he couldn't even remember your birthday. it was a miracle that you tolerated him for that long — until your one-year anniversary, which obviously slipped his mind.

"you're so insensitive," you groan, dragging a hand down your face. satoru suppresses a sigh, blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. "and— satoru, are you even listening to me?"

you're quiet for three seconds before he responds, and naturally, it was with a "huh? yeah, what is it?"

every time. every single time.

"it's over," you mutter, shaking your head frustratedly. "we're over, satoru."

"fine," he responds after a moment. "i never really liked you anyways."

"fuck you."

if you didn't give a fuck about that white-haired bastard anymore, why did the memory of your breakup still sting?

you try to tell yourself that it doesn't matter. maybe it was for the best — he was out with some pretty girl, so why couldn't you go out and sleep with some hot guy? 

you make up your mind right as you step into your house, and thirty minutes later, you're in a tight dress and four-inch heels. and it's almost funny how easy it is to doll up when you don't have a horny boyfriend trying to fuck you every two seconds.

right before you step out the door, you eye yourself in the mirror and can't help but admire the way your dress hugs your waist, accentuating your curves. that smug manwhore didn't know what he was missing out on — so why not show him?

you pull out your phone and take a picture of yourself, snapping a couple before deciding on one and posting it on your story. you knew he'd see it — you intentionally let his burner stay unblocked, and coincidentally, he didn't block you either. 

just as you push open your door, you realize that your phone's on death's door — just over five percent remaining. so you plug it into your charger, kicking your feet impatiently as you wait for it to charge to a reasonable amount.

some part of you wants to chicken out, to stay home and spend the night watching a classic romcom. but the other part of you, the part that can't ignore the fact that you haven't had sex in two weeks, urges you to go out and get laid.

so twenty minutes later, when your phone finally hits forty percent, you practically throw open the door and rush out and find yourself face-to-face with the guy who's somewhere between belly conklin and andy bernard on your most-disliked list. satoru gojo.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold night air touches your bare skin. satoru eyes you up and down, and suddenly, you're very aware of just how exposed you are. "satoru, answer the damn question."

"where are you going?" he asks, eyes narrowing when they settle on your dress's deep neckline. 

"none of your business," you reply shortly, biting the inside of your cheek. unfortunately, satoru looks good. just like in his instagram story, he has one button undone in his collar, and his hair is rumpled and perfect all at the same time. "answer the fuckin' question."

"saw your story," satoru replies, slipping his hands into his pocket. "you going out on a date or something?"

the question catches you off guard, and your irritated expression drops for a moment. strangely enough, satoru doesn't have his usual smug expression on his face — he looks conflicted. he never looks conflicted.

"doesn't matter," you respond, walking around him and relishing the way your heels clack on the concrete ground. without turning around, you ask, "so, what about my story made you come over?"

you're not sure why you're baiting him. maybe it's the slight chance that he would beg to get you back, maybe it's the tightness in your chest and pussy, or maybe you just want the satisfaction of seeing satoru squirm.

whatever it is, it lets satoru take you by the wrist and drag you back inside. you suppose that if you can get dick at home, then there's no point in going all the way to the club. and it's not like you're gonna get back together over one night — this would be purely physical. he wanted you, and you wouldn't mind him.

"fuck, right there, sweetheart," satoru groans, pushing your legs impossibly farther apart as his tongue laps at your pussy. the two of you barely made it to the couch in your living room before satoru pushed you down, a mischievous smile on his lips. one thing turned to another, and soon enough he was on his knees in front of you and eatung you out like a starving man.

"you're such a loser," you mutter, threading your fingers through his hair as his tongue makes you see stars. he really was — who shows up to their ex's place after getting dumped? a laugh bubbles out of satoru's lips while his mouth is still on your pussy and it makes you shiver. satoru looks up at you, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"s' that so?" satoru mumbles, pressing his lips to your inner thigh with a smirk. "then why'd you let me in, huh?"

"why would i go out when i can just get fucked at home?" you say dryly, a smile growing on your lips. "since you made the effort of coming all the way here."

"my pleasure," satoru scoffs sarcastically, getting up and joining you on the couch as he tugs you into his lap. "so i'm the pathetic loser here, yeah?"

you nod, letting satoru unzip the back of your dress with one hand. he laughs and shakes his head. "you're the one who let me in, baby."

"yeah, well, you showed up."

"you coulda slammed the door in my face."

"maybe i should've," you mutter, not liking the way he's grinning at you. "you gonna fuck me or what?"

"aw, you're desperate. how cute," he replies without missing a beat. it's been a while since you got to banter with satoru like this, and some part of you misses it. sure, he's disgustingly cocky, but at least he has the dick to back it up. and it's fun, too — you like the chase, and clearly, he does too.

"not really," you say with a shrug. that's a lie — the only reason you let him in was to get fucked, and contrary to the excuses falling from your mouth, you were getting impatient. not that he needed to know that.

"fine. have it your way, brat." satoru smiles cheekily and bounces his leg up and down, making you grit your teeth as you struggle to focus.

you make a face at satoru, crossing your arms. "what are you—"

"waiting."

"for what?"

"for you to beg."

your mouth falls open, and you glare at satoru, hating the way he's smugly grinning at you. this isn't the first time he's asked you to beg for him to fuck you — back when the two of you were dating, he had no problem edging you the whole night and practically making you cry for him.

"not this again," you groan, letting out a drawn-out sigh. "just fuck me already, satoru. or i'll go get someone else to."

satoru clicks his tongue, smiling lazily. "we both know you won't do that."

again, he's right, and god, you hate him for it. "just shut up and fuck me."

"alright, since you asked so nicely," satoru drawls, running his tongue over his teeth. he studies you intently, white hair falling into his eyes. before you can ask what he's looking at, he has you pinned against the couch cushions, face down and ass up. 

"good girl, stayin' nice and quiet for me," satoru groans, hand clasped over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind. "you always talked too much. never knew when to shut that damn mouth."

you moan against his hand, unable to think about anything else but satoru and his dick. that's the only reason the two of you stayed together for as long as you did — because the sex was irreplaceable. and after two weeks without getting fucked, you seriously consider throwing all pride out the window and begging for him back.

"shit, you're so fuckin' tight," satoru says with a rough laugh. "have you really not fucked with anyone else since you dumped me?" 

you shake your head, eyes pressed shut as satoru continues sloppily thrusting into you. there's a coil in your chest that's threatening to burst, and the whines slipping out of your lips increase in both pitch and volume.

at this point, you can hardly remember why you broke up with satoru — or maybe, he's just not giving you a chance to remember. his pace is relentless and mind-numbing, and shit, maybe it's for the best.

when he finally lets you cum, it's the best feeling you've had in what feels like forever. the edges of your vision go white, and satoru removes his hand from your mouth, letting out the lewd, muffled sounds that you've been suppressing all this time. not long after, satoru cums too, and it's sloppy, messy, and all over you. 

satoru collapses on top of your back, hot breaths slipping out of his mouth and brushing against your cheek. "took me so good, baby," he groans, pressing his lips to your neck and laughing breathily. "we should do this again sometime."

you shouldn't like this. you should be shoving him out your door, but his mischievous smile is irresistible. and even though you know this time probably won't end any different than the rest, you decide to give satoru one more chance.

"yeah, same time tomorrow?"

"anythin' for you."

[daryldeerdixon]

Get off my back - Daryl Dixon

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Summary: A great fascination for the youngest Dixon took over you ever since the Quarry. Daryl notices and in fear of reciprocating your feelings, he continuously pushes you away. After Andrea shoots him, you don’t leave his side with the excuse of keeping an eye on him.

Warnings: Implied age gap (reader early 20s, Daryl late 30s) Fem!reader, Usual TWD gore, mentions of injuries, angst, yelling, mean!Daryl, failed-ish attempts of comfort, slightly medically skilled!reader, cigarettes, Daryl being a little too abrasive.

Era(s): Quarry, Greene farm.

Word count: 1.7k

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚꩜ ➴

Your eyes were trained on him the second you got to the group. As days went by, he seemed to have cast a spell on you, hypnotised you with something only he had. You saw beyond his mean persona, his rugged ways only making his vulnerability shine through. How you treated him didn't go unnoticed, not by him, certainly not by the rest. Always ensuring he had everything he could use before leaving for a hunt, sparing him extra food because 'He needed the extra energy', even small insignificant details like leaving his folded clothes at his tent door were starting to get to him. He felt like you could read him better than he could himself, which made him want to hate you.

Daryl kept everyone at a distance, but you were kept even farther. It bothered you and occupied your thoughts like a plague, you were practically living with the sole purpose of showing him he was worth everything you'd ever do and more. He had pulled something within you, although it was beyond your comprehension, you let your instincts and desire take you over. You were anything but pushy, you didn't try to force yourself onto his life, content with giving and not receiving even a glance your way in return. The archer hated that he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

In a fucked up world where the dead roamed, injuring oneself with the simple task of carrying firewood seemed flat-out stupid. Angry mumbles escaped the man as the log fell with a thud. "Goddamnit." Your eyes lifted from your task of shaping branches as stakes, at the sound of Daryl's grumbles. Blood dripped down to the ground as the blue-eyed man fixated on his newly obtained cut.

"Sit." You pointed to the nearest makeshift seat, marching your way inside your tent to look for your precarious medical supplies. "Wha' " He growled, squinted eyes now settled in your back, as he obeyed your command.

"You heard me." You replied in a quiet mumble, carrying alcohol, iodine, and bandages in one hand. You accommodated yourself on the ground at his feet, hands grasping his injured one in one swift but gentle motion. "Won't need stitches." You assured. Worried demeanor showed through your actions and on this occasion, he couldn't look away.

His stare changed from your face to your working consistently, as you finished wrapping the bandage expertly he looked at you through his eyebrows. "Ya' a doctor 'fore all this?"

A nostalgic smile crept up your face, usually content eyes now clouding with sadness. At your change of aura, he wished he could take back the question, even if he didn't understand what was wrong in his doing. "Sorry." He spoke barely above a whisper, raspy voice making him nearly unintelligible

"Third year of med-school. 'bout to start my fourth." He nodded, now wrapping his mind around your medical knowledge, you did look too young to be a doctor.

After that evening he stayed even further from you, which you didn't think possible. Still, you abstained from offering to look after his wound, knowing he was capable of doing that himself, and knew it would bother him to have the obligation of holding a conversation with you every day. The archer hated that you knew all that, proving his point of you being able to read him like your favourite goddamn romantic novel. If his mind stayed too much upon it, he would drive himself insane.

The next few weeks were hectic, in a matter of days you were already starting to get settled in a new location, a family farm that was lending you the place till the shot kid, Carl, healed and the lost kid, Sophia, whom Daryl frantically looked for, resurfaced from god knows where.

You paced around camp, Daryl had left earlier that morning and while that wasn't odd, the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach was. "He's fine." Carol smiled at you, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder. Your brows furrowed, answering your own silent question as to how she knew what was on your mind. Being sly was never your strength.

"I know." You smiled, rubbing her back up and down in a reciprocation of her action. You admired how she stood strongly, after the death of her asshole husband and the disappearance of her daughter, she had survivor written all over her face. The calm atmosphere faded at the series of unfortunate events that continued to unfold before you. A shot, screaming and a bloody, limp archer being carried inside the house.

As Hershel worked on the wound at his torso, which you were relieved to know was not a walker bite, you got your hands on the bullet graze at the side of his head. The youngest Dixon would be fine, back on his feet in a few days time, that didn't wash away your anger at the blonde now standing behind you. "Oh my god, he's going to be fine, right?" Andrea questioned for the billionth time.

Your eyes travelled back to her. "You won't be if you don't shut your mouth." Attention back on your stitching, you mumbled an unintelligible cuss, anger practically bubbling out of you.

That night you slept curled up in a chair next to his sleeping form. He had woken up multiple times, only having the strength to look around the room and then doze off once again. You kept constantly waking up to check for a fever, maybe a broken stitch, anything putting his life at stake, your mind could not rest easy. Andrea had apologised to him and even to you, but you brushed her off, too angry to hold a conversation on the topic still.

The idea of not having the archer around made your heart sink. His rough hands that you ached to hold, blue eyes that got smaller the brighter his surroundings got, the unsympathetic yet very empathic personality that made him so fucking special, and his fear of being loved which pulled you close to him. Losing Daryl Dixon would've made you wish you stayed at the CDC. That would've been the day when you wouldn't be grateful at Doctor Jenner for giving you a shot at life.

"You need to stay in bed!" Exasperated, you grabbed both of the brunette's shoulders, pushing him down on the bed. The morning of the second day after his accident, Daryl wanted to get back on his normal doings. He glared at you sideways, the corner of his mouth lifting up before he spat out the words.

"Get off my back, bitch. Don’ need ya’ pesterin’ me like you’re ma’ goddamn babysitter.” He pushed you off him with a strength he couldn't seem to control under his rage spell.  The volume of his voice grew louder by the second. “Always ´round ‘ere. Big brown eyes starin’ like I’m bein’ exhibited. I ain’t your pet. Sure as hell ain't your boyfriend.” Now on his feet, he held the bedsheets to his torso as he looked over the room for his clothes.

You stared at him, not a sign of emotion on your features, though you wished you could yell back, maybe even shed a tear or two, but you knew it would be uncalled for. Same way everything you had been doing was.

You extended your hand holding a pile of folded clothes, his folded clothes. The brunette snatched them from your grip without care, launching them onto the mattress behind him.

His body caged yours, one of his hands gripped your forearm as you were backed up into a wall. Your free hand went to rest against his bare chest, no pressure inflicted nonetheless. “Dar..” You whispered, chin pointing towards the ceiling to look into his eyes. 

“Don’ call me that like I’m your friend. Ya’ could be gone tomorrow ‘n I wouldn’t give a goddamn shit.” His grip tightened as his face inched closer to your own, so much his breath fanned over the tip of your nose. "Yer so desperate t'be loved it shows how ya never have been before, but I don't do charity, so go bother somebody else and leave me the hell alone!."

He stood like that for half a minute, keeping you in place with his hand clutching your skin tight, though his grip fell the second he noticed a hint of pain in your eyes, though you weren't sure if it was for his grip or his words, implying you weren't worthy of anything. Making you feel small. He pushed himself off you, taking a good few steps back. "Get the hell outta 'ere." He yelled, pointing with his uninjured side to the, hopefully empty, hall behind the bedroom door.

You had vanished. Completely erased yourself from existence for the rest of the day. You grabbed the pack of cigarettes you had kept after your last run, a lighter, and climbed up the tree furthest away from everyone. You sat on the wide branch with your knees to your chest, the stilled bike belonging to the man you had pestered all this time staring right back at you, yelling the same words he had hours ago. He was right, couldn´t argue against anything he said, as much as it hurt, it was the truth.

You were down to the last two tobacco sticks, an unlit one being hugged by your reddened lips from all the nervous biting. "Hard as shit lookin' for ya in this state." His grumble woke you up from your daydreaming, eyes landing right on his as you brought the fire to your cigarette. "Wha's doctor doin' with a smoke? Don' tha' kill you?" He tried to joke around after being met with radio silence on your part. Attempting to rip something out of you.

A small smile formed on your lips, shrugging. "Gonna die sooner or later." You weren´t big on it, but ever since you were sixteen cigarettes were a habit of you that was embarrassingly hard to let go of. His head was at level with your legs, you weren´t too far up and he didn't lack height. Hence why he easily reached for the last cigarette and the red lighter beside you, lighting it up swiftly.

" 'm sorry." He whispered. The view you had was one you wanted carved onto your skin. The sun setting behind the archer, his dirty blond hair being lit up by the orange beaming from the large figure. Cigarette between his lips, as well as your own, and a shy hand, going to rest on your calf in an awkward comfort-inducing mannerism he wasn´t too experienced with.

" 's fine." You smiled, hand enveloping his. "i'll get off your back."

"Don'. I like ya' pesterin' me."

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i kinda hate it but i got it done lol

Anyway, my requests are open! please leave me anything you'd want to read and with no promised deadline I'll get it done :)

[amethystarachnid]

I know it's very classic. Tony Stark x F!Reader. Office romance. Tony likes her and the reader is unaware of it. Tony gets very angry at a man who tries to flirt with the reader in the office and makes her uncomfortable, then informs him of his mistake. He drags his assistant to his room and while arguing, he lets it slip that he is in love with her.

OFFICE ROMANCE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance, rom-com

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): little spicy scenes at the end, nothing too explicit

ᯓ★ Part 2

ᯓ★ yeah I know the title sucks I didnt know what to name it lol

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The elevator ride to Tony Stark’s office is uneventful—until the doors slide open, and you step right into chaos.

“Where is she? Where’s my assistant? Oh my God, I’m dying.”

Tony Stark is dramatically draped over his desk, one hand clutching his chest, the other extended toward the heavens like he’s in a Shakespearean tragedy. You barely have time to react before he twists his head toward the elevator, eyes locking onto yours with laser focus.

“There you are,” he groans. “Y/N, I think this is it. This is the end. You’re going to have to plan my funeral. Make it something classy, but also extravagant. Maybe fireworks? A Viking funeral? I don’t know, you decide.”

You sigh and step inside, the doors sliding shut behind you. “What is it this time, Mr. Stark?”

At the sound of his title, he frowns. “Really? We’re doing the ‘Mr. Stark’ thing today? Thought we were past that, sweetheart.”

You ignore him and set your bag down at your desk, flipping through the folders left for you overnight. Tony is still sprawled across his desk, his theatrics undeterred by your lack of concern.

“I’m serious,” he insists. “I might actually die this time.”

You finally look up at him, arms crossed. “Is it reactor-related, or are you just being dramatic?”

He gasps, placing a hand over his arc reactor. “I am never dramatic.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m a little dramatic. But you were late this morning.”

You glance at the clock. “I was not late.”

“You were late to me,” he says, pointing accusingly. “Do you know what happens when you’re not here? Bad things. Boring things. Pepper makes me do paperwork, and Happy refuses to let me take the suit out for a spin at seven in the morning.”

Your lips twitch, but you suppress the smile. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t realize my presence was so vital to your survival.”

He lifts his head, expression serious. “Y/N, I don’t think you understand. You are the glue holding my fragile existence together.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Without you, I am but a billionaire genius playboy philanthropist adrift, lost at sea, doomed to perish in the harsh, unforgiving corporate world.”

“You are so full of it,” you mutter, grabbing your tablet to check his schedule.

Tony watches you, chin propped up in one hand. He does this a lot—just looks at you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the room, even when you’re doing something as mundane as scheduling meetings and reading emails. But you don’t notice.

You never notice.

And it’s driving him insane.

Tony Stark is in love with you.

Painfully, ridiculously, stupidly in love with you. And he’s not subtle about it, either. At least, he doesn’t think he is. He finds reasons to keep you around, finds excuses to talk to you, makes up the dumbest emergencies just to get your attention—and yet, somehow, you remain oblivious.

It’s almost impressive, really.

But also aggravating.

Tony sighs, rubbing his hands down his face before dramatically throwing himself back in his chair. “Okay, what’s on the agenda today, darling?”

You scroll through your tablet. “You have a meeting with Pepper at ten—”

“Cancel it.”

“You cannot cancel on Pepper.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “What else?”

“You have a tech demonstration at two, a conference call with the board at four—”

“Cancel that too.”

You sigh. “Tony.”

“Oh, now it’s Tony?” He smirks. “See, I knew you liked me.”

“I tolerate you,” you correct, setting your tablet down. “And you are going to that board meeting, whether you like it or not.”

“Fine, but only if you’re there,” he says, pointing at you. “I refuse to suffer alone.”

You roll your eyes but nod. “I’ll be there.”

Tony grins, far too pleased with himself. He’s made you sit in on dozens of meetings that had nothing to do with your job, just because he likes having you there. He tells himself it’s because you keep him sane. That you make the long, boring hours more bearable.

But if he’s being honest, it’s just because he likes looking at you.

He likes the way your lips press together when you’re concentrating, the way your nose scrunches up when he says something stupid. He likes the way your eyes soften when you talk to him, even when you’re exasperated. He likes you. God, he likes you.

And yet, you remain completely, utterly unaware.

Tony watches as you type something into your tablet, your brows furrowed in concentration. He wonders what would happen if he just said it. If he just leaned across the desk, took your hands in his, and said—

“Mr. Stark?”

He snaps out of it. “Huh?”

“You okay? You spaced out.”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Fine. Totally fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

You squint at him, suspicious. “Are you sure? You look kind of—”

“Handsome? Dashing? Devastatingly attractive?”

“I was going to say pained, but sure.”

Tony groans and leans back in his chair. “This is agony,” he mutters.

You blink. “What is?”

You. You are agony. Being around you, loving you, wanting you, and you not even noticing—it’s torture.

But of course, he doesn’t say that.

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just this board meeting. Ugh, corporate politics. You have to sit next to me, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, amused. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I need coffee. Desperately.”

You snort but stand up, grabbing your purse. “I’ll be back in ten.”

Tony watches you go, his head hitting the desk as soon as the doors shut behind you.

He is so screwed.

The days pass like they always do—fast, chaotic, and filled with Tony Stark’s unique brand of dramatics.

Between meetings, tech demos, Stark Industries board nonsense, and the occasional explosion in his lab (which he always swears is intentional), you’ve settled into an odd routine with him.

A routine that involves not just work, but him.

It starts small.

At first, it’s just casual conversation in between scheduling his appointments and making sure he actually attends them. A random question here and there.

“Morning, sweetheart. How do you feel about pineapple on pizza?”

“It’s fine, I guess.”

“Wrong answer. Completely unacceptable. I might have to fire you.”

Then, it becomes a daily thing.

He asks about your coffee order, remembers the way you take it without you telling him twice. He learns your favorite snacks, stocks the office kitchen with them. He finds out you love old Hollywood movies, and suddenly, his TV has a list of black-and-white classics queued up.

You don’t think much of it.

Tony Stark is friendly. He’s nosy. He likes to know things. It makes sense that he’d ask about your life outside of work.

But to him, it’s everything.

Because these little details—the things you like, the way you laugh, the way you light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about—are what keep him grounded.

Sometimes, he even talks about himself, which is rare.

You don’t realize what a big deal it is at first. You’ve worked for him long enough to know he talks a lot, but usually, it’s about his inventions or some wild new idea he has.

But with you?

He tells you about his mom’s love for classical music, how she used to play records while she cooked. How his dad was cold but brilliant, how he spent his childhood trying to impress a man who never really saw him. How he went to MIT at fifteen and spent half his time pranking professors and the other half building things he wasn’t supposed to.

He tells you about Afghanistan one night, when it’s just the two of you in his office, the city lights glowing behind him.

About the cave, about the first arc reactor, about Yinsen and what he’d meant to him.

You listen.

You don’t pity him, don’t give him some empty platitude about how it must’ve been hard. You just listen.

And Tony—who has spent most of his life drowning out his own thoughts with distractions—thinks maybe you are the best thing that has ever happened to him.

He also thinks you might never notice how much you mean to him.

Which is why he’s completely blindsided when it happens.

It’s a normal day.

You’re at your desk, typing away, while Tony lounges on the couch with a blueprint in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, pretending to work while actually watching you.

Then Happy walks in.

“There’s a guy here to see you,” he tells Tony, looking unimpressed.

Tony doesn’t even look up. “Tell him I’m busy.”

“He says it’s urgent.”

Tony sighs, pushing himself up. “Fine, fine. Send him in.”

Happy steps aside, and the guy walks in.

You glance up, offering a polite smile before going back to your work.

The man is tall, well-dressed, and carries himself like he’s important—which immediately annoys Tony. He hates people who walk into his space acting like they own the place.

“Mr. Stark,” the man says, offering his hand. “Nathan Ellis. Big fan.”

Tony shakes his hand but looks bored already. “Uh-huh. What do you want?”

Nathan chuckles, like Tony just made a joke. “I had a business proposition I wanted to discuss with you. Something that could be mutually beneficial.”

Tony gestures lazily to you. “Talk to her. She handles all the boring stuff.”

You roll your eyes but give Nathan a professional smile. “What’s the proposition?”

But Nathan isn’t looking at you like a businessman pitching an idea. He’s looking at you like a man sizing up a woman, and Tony immediately hates him.

Nathan smirks. “You’re much prettier than I expected.”

You stiffen just a little, but you keep your composure. “That’s not really relevant,” you say, your tone still polite but firm. “What’s relevant is what you’re proposing.”

Nathan leans against your desk like he belongs there. “Can’t I compliment a beautiful woman?”

Tony sits up straight, his eyes narrowing.

You force a tight smile. “I’d prefer if we kept this professional.”

Nathan laughs, but it’s the kind of laugh that says he doesn’t really take you seriously. “Oh, come on. No need to be so serious, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Tony sees red.

That’s his word.

His fingers tighten around the screwdriver in his hand, but he stays quiet—for now—watching you, waiting to see if you want him to step in.

You shift uncomfortably, clearly trying to remain professional, but it’s obvious you’re not enjoying this.

Tony doesn’t give a damn about professionalism.

He stands up, moving toward you in a few easy strides before leaning down and planting his hands on your desk, effectively caging you in while staring Nathan down.

“You know,” Tony says, voice deceptively light, “I really don’t like it when people make my assistant uncomfortable.”

Nathan blinks, clearly not expecting that.

You glance up at Tony, eyes wide.

Tony doesn’t look at you. His attention is solely on Nathan, his jaw tight, his expression calm but dangerous.

Nathan chuckles nervously. “I was just making conversation.”

“Yeah? Well, here’s the thing,” Tony says, tilting his head. “She doesn’t want to have a conversation with you.”

Nathan raises his hands. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

Tony smiles, but it’s not friendly. “Oh, buddy, you stepped on mine, and I really don’t like that.”

Nathan shifts uncomfortably.

Tony straightens, taking a step back—but then he leans down again, close enough that only Nathan can hear when he says, “If you ever talk to her like that again, I will ruin your entire life before breakfast.”

Nathan swallows.

Tony claps him on the shoulder, grinning. “Now, I think we’re done here.”

Nathan nods quickly, then turns and practically flees the office.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Tony turns to you, concern flickering across his face. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just… guys like that make my skin crawl.”

Tony watches you for a moment, then surprises you by gently brushing his fingers over yours.

You glance down at your hands, startled.

It’s not much. Just the lightest touch. But it makes your heart stutter.

“Next time, just say the word,” Tony says softly. “I’ll handle it.”

You swallow, suddenly very aware of how close he is.

“I—uh—thank you,” you murmur.

Tony smirks, his fingers curling around yours for just a second before he lets go.

Then, just like that, he’s back to normal, plopping onto the couch and stretching like nothing happened.

But something did.

And for the first time, you wonder if you’ve been missing something this whole time.

In the days after the Nathan incident, something shifts.

You don’t know what it is exactly, but you feel it.

Maybe it’s the way Tony watches you a little too closely when he thinks you aren’t looking. Or the way you replay that moment in your head—his fingers brushing yours, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

Or maybe it’s the way you feel when you look at him now.

You’ve worked for Tony long enough to know he’s magnetic. People gravitate toward him, caught in his orbit like planets around the sun. You’ve always thought he was charming in an annoying way, a flirt by nature, someone who could talk his way into—or out of—anything.

But now, for the first time, you find yourself looking at him differently.

You start noticing things you never did before.

The way his eyes soften when he looks at you. The way he always saves the last bite of his favorite snacks for you. The way he makes excuses to keep you in his office longer, even when the work is done.

And it’s terrifying.

Because if this was anyone else—anyone—maybe you’d let yourself admit it. Maybe you’d let yourself fall.

But this is Tony Stark. Your boss.

And that means it’s impossible.

So, you bury it. You convince yourself you’re imagining things, that Tony is just Tony, and you’re reading into it too much.

Then Nathan Ellis comes back.

You’re at your desk, sorting through a ridiculous amount of emails when Happy walks in, looking unimpressed as always.

“Great,” he mutters. “He’s back.”

You look up, confused. “Who’s back?”

As if on cue, Nathan Ellis strolls in, his smarmy grin already making your stomach twist.

Tony is in the corner of the room, tinkering with something, but at the sound of Nathan’s voice, his hands still.

Nathan leans against your desk. “Miss Y/N,” he says smoothly. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot last time.”

You keep your expression polite but distant. “Did we?”

He laughs. “Look, I’m not here to talk business today.”

Tony doesn’t like that.

His fingers tighten around his wrench, his jaw clenching as he subtly shifts closer to listen.

Nathan continues, oblivious. “I was hoping to make it up to you. Dinner, maybe? There’s a great place downtown. My treat.”

You blink, caught off guard.

Your first instinct is to say no. You don’t like Nathan. He made you uncomfortable, and you have no interest in him.

But then—Tony.

You don’t look at him, but you feel his presence. You feel the weight of everything unspoken between you, the things you refuse to acknowledge.

So before you can think it through, you hear yourself say, “Sure.”

It’s a knee-jerk reaction, a way to prove—to yourself, to Tony, to whatever this thing is between you—that you can still be rational. That you don’t have feelings for Tony. That you can move on, be professional, keep your life normal.

But as soon as the word leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Nathan grins, clearly pleased. “Great. I’ll pick you up Friday at seven.”

You nod stiffly, and he finally leaves.

Silence lingers in the room.

You risk a glance at Tony.

He’s looking at his workbench, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say a word.

And that, somehow, makes you feel worse.

—

Friday rolls around faster than you expect.

You dread it.

The moment you wake up, you regret saying yes.

You don’t want to go out with Nathan.

But backing out now would make you look ridiculous, and you refuse to admit—to yourself or to anyone else—why you really don’t want to go.

So, you tell yourself you’ll go. One date. It’s not a big deal.

Then Tony ruins it.

The day is insane.

More meetings than usual, a sudden crisis with one of Stark Industries’ overseas contracts, a last-minute tech demo that Tony insists he needs you to be there for.

By the time you finally look at the clock, it’s almost nine.

Your stomach drops.

You completely forgot about the date.

You grab your phone, wincing when you see multiple missed calls and texts from Nathan, all of them getting progressively more annoyed.

Shit.

You stand abruptly, grabbing your bag.

Tony—who is lounging on the couch, looking suspiciously satisfied—raises an eyebrow. “Going somewhere?”

You glare at him. “Did you do this on purpose?”

He blinks, all mock innocence. “Do what?”

“This.” You gesture wildly at the stack of paperwork still on your desk, the mess of your day, the way you were so busy you lost track of time. “You knew I had plans tonight.”

Tony shrugs. “Did you?”

You want to scream.

“Tony.”

Something flickers in his expression when you say his name like that—low, almost dangerous.

You step closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You did do this on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but the smug look on his face tells you everything.

He did this.

He made sure you were too busy to leave, too busy to go on the date.

And for some reason, that makes your heart pound in a way you don’t want to analyze.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Tony leans back, tilting his head at you. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a date.”

You gape at him. “That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is you manipulated me into missing it!”

He stands, stepping into your space, close enough that you have to crane your neck to keep looking at him.

And suddenly, the room feels too small.

“I didn’t manipulate anything,” he says, voice low. “I just gave you work. You’re the one who got so caught up in it you forgot about him.”

Your breath catches.

Because he’s right.

You were the one who didn’t check the time. The one who let yourself get wrapped up in Tony’s world.

And maybe—just maybe—it was because deep down, you didn’t want to go.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he wanted this. That he made sure it happened.

You shake your head, stepping back. “You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Mess with my life like this. You don’t get to control who I see, Tony.”

He flinches.

For a second, you think he’s going to argue, make another joke, deflect like he always does.

But instead, he just watches you, something raw and unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Then, he sighs. Runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “I don’t.”

The honesty in his voice catches you off guard.

It almost—almost—makes you soften.

But you’re still angry.

So without another word, you turn on your heel and leave.

Tony doesn’t stop you.

And the worst part?

A small, traitorous part of you wishes he had.

You don’t make it far.

You storm out of the office, heart pounding, anger bubbling in your chest so violently you can taste it. You don’t even know where you’re going—just away.

Away from Tony and his smug little I didn’t manipulate anything face. Away from the way he looked at you, like he wasn’t the least bit sorry. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Like he had every right to do it.

You make it to the elevator before you hear him behind you.

“Y/N.”

You don’t turn around.

“Y/N,” Tony repeats, voice sharp now, edged with something you don’t recognize.

You stab the elevator button. “Go away, Tony.”

“Yeah, see, that’s not gonna happen.”

You spin on your heel, glaring at him. “Oh, what now? You gonna kidnap me? Make sure I never leave this damn building?”

Tony sighs like you’re the one being difficult. “I just want to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” You laugh, crossing your arms. “Because when I was trying to talk about how you sabotaged my night, you had nothing to say.”

Tony clenches his jaw. “It wasn’t sabotage.”

“Oh, really?” You raise an eyebrow. “So it was just a coincidence that today of all days you gave me twice as much work as usual? That you suddenly needed me in meetings I normally don’t have to be in? That you—”

“I didn’t want you to go.”

The words come out quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

But you hear them.

And you freeze.

Tony exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. His gaze flickers away for a second, like he’s regretting saying it.

But then he looks back at you, and there’s something in his eyes—something real.

Something that makes your stomach flip.

You swallow hard. “Tony…”

He shakes his head. “Just—come back to the office. Please.”

You should say no. You should walk away.

But you don’t.

Because even though you’re furious, even though every rational part of your brain is screaming at you to be professional—to keep things normal—there’s a deeper, quieter part of you that wants to hear what he has to say.

So, you turn. Walk back.

And Tony follows.

—

The office feels different when you get back.

Quieter. Tense.

You lean against your desk, arms crossed, watching as Tony paces the room.

“Well?” you say finally.

Tony stops. Looks at you.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks… nervous.

Not the fake, exaggerated kind he puts on for show, but real nervous.

He exhales. “I don’t want you dating him.”

You scoff. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“I don’t want you dating anyone.”

Your breath catches.

Tony swallows hard. “Because I—” He hesitates, like he’s physically fighting the words. Then, finally, he just says it.

“Because I love you.”

Everything stops.

The air in the room shifts, like the world itself is holding its breath.

You stare at him, your brain struggling to process what just happened.

Tony looks like he wants to take it back, like he wants to shove the words back into his mouth and pretend they never happened.

But they did.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

The way he looks at you. The way he knows you—your coffee order, your favorite movies, the way you feel about things before you even say them.

The way he brushed his fingers over yours that day, like it meant something.

The way he sabotaged your date—not because he was being petty, but because the thought of you with someone else made him want to burn the world down.

And, God—maybe you do love him.

Maybe you have for longer than you realized.

You exhale sharply, your heart slamming against your ribs.

“Say something,” Tony mutters.

You don’t.

You move.

Before you can second-guess yourself, before you can let all the rules and expectations stop you, you grab him by the collar of his stupidly expensive shirt and kiss him.

Tony freezes for half a second.

Then he melts.

His hands come up, one gripping your waist, the other tangling in your hair. He kisses you like he’s starving for it, like he’s been waiting for this—for you.

And maybe he has.

Maybe you both have.

When you finally pull back, you’re breathless.

Tony stares at you, lips parted, looking so completely wrecked that you almost laugh.

Almost.

Instead, you press your forehead against his, inhaling deeply.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

Tony chuckles, breath warm against your skin. “No, you don’t.”

You sigh, closing your eyes. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You do laugh this time.

Because of course he’d say that.

Because of course it was always going to be this—messy, chaotic, inevitable.

And as Tony kisses you again—slow this time, like he never wants to stop—you know one thing for certain.

You’re never making it to another date with anyone ever again.

Tony kisses you like he’s making up for lost time. Like he’s wanted this for so long he doesn’t know how to hold back anymore. His hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin through the fabric of your blouse as he pulls you closer, eliminating the last bit of space between you. You feel the edge of the desk dig into the small of your back, but you don’t care. Not when Tony’s mouth is on yours, not when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, not when his hand slides up your back, warm and firm and impossible to ignore.

You gasp against his lips, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt, and he groans in response. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and suddenly you’re not thinking about where you are or what this means or how this is completely unprofessional. You’re only thinking about how much you want him. How much you’ve always wanted him, even when you didn’t want to admit it.

Tony shifts, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, and before you can process what’s happening, he lifts you onto the desk. You barely manage to let out a startled breath before he’s between your legs, pressing into you, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You tilt your head back, your hands moving on their own, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, sliding over the hard planes of his chest. Tony lets out a low curse, his breath hot against your skin, and you know this is getting out of control. You know you should stop. But then his fingers graze the hem of your skirt, and your heart is pounding, and—

A knock on the door makes you both freeze.

Your eyes snap open, and Tony’s lips still against your throat. For a second, neither of you moves. Your breath is ragged, and Tony’s grip on your waist tightens like he’s physically stopping himself from ignoring the interruption.

“Tony?”

Happy’s voice is muffled through the door, but it’s enough to jolt you back to reality.

You push at Tony’s chest, and he steps back with obvious reluctance. His eyes are dark, his hair is a mess from your hands, and his lips are swollen. The sight of him like this, completely wrecked, makes something deep in your stomach tighten.

You shake yourself out of it, sliding off the desk as you smooth down your clothes. Tony watches you, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to get himself under control.

“Yeah, yeah,” he calls out, voice rough. “Give me a second.”

There’s a pause, then the sound of footsteps retreating.

You exhale, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“That was—”

Tony smirks. “Hot?”

You glare at him, but it lacks heat. “Unprofessional.”

Tony sighs dramatically. “Yeah, that too.”

You shake your head, trying to ignore the way your entire body is still buzzing. “We can’t do that at work.”

Tony’s smirk widens, and you realize what you just said a second too late.

“So you’re saying we can do it outside of work?”

You groan. “Not what I meant.”

Tony grins, stepping closer again. His fingers brush your wrist, light and teasing. “Come over after your shift.”

You bite your lip, considering.

Tony dips his head, voice dropping. “I’ll behave.”

You snort. “No, you won’t.”

Tony shrugs, completely unapologetic. “Yeah, okay, I won’t.”

You roll your eyes but don’t say no.

Tony notices.

—

You don’t talk about what this means. You don’t sit down and define your relationship, don’t have some long, serious conversation about what you are to each other now.

But you don’t need to.

Because it’s obvious in the way Tony kisses you when you show up at his penthouse after work. In the way he pulls you onto the couch, his hands sliding under your shirt, his mouth never leaving yours. In the way you spend the night tangled in his sheets, waking up to his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

It’s obvious in the way he looks at you at work, in the way he always finds an excuse to touch you. A hand at the small of your back when he passes by, a brush of his fingers against yours when he hands you something, a teasing whisper against your ear that makes you shiver.

You try to be subtle.

You don’t want anyone thinking you’re only with him to climb the corporate ladder, and Tony—surprisingly—understands. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t announce it to the world, doesn’t make some grand declaration in the middle of a meeting.

But he also doesn’t hide it.

Not really.

Because the way he looks at you isn’t subtle. The way he finds any excuse to keep you in his office longer than necessary isn’t subtle. The way he calls you sweetheart in private and Miss Y/L/N in front of others with a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing definitely isn’t subtle.

And then there are the stolen kisses.

The ones in the elevator when no one else is around. The ones in the hallway when he tugs you into a supply closet with a grin and a just real quick, I missed you. The ones at his penthouse when you show up after a long day and he greets you at the door with his hands already on your hips, pulling you inside like he’s been waiting for you all day.

Because he has.

You find yourself spending more nights at his place than your own. It starts slowly—one night, then two, then three. Then, before you know it, most of your stuff is at his penthouse, and you don’t even think about going home after work anymore.

Tony never says anything about it. He never asks you to stay.

But he doesn’t have to.

Because the way he holds you when you fall asleep says everything.

Because the way he presses a lazy kiss to your temple in the morning when he thinks you’re still asleep says everything.

Because the way he looks at you—like you’re the most important thing in the world—says everything.

Tony kisses you like he’s savoring every second. His hands rest on your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make you shiver. You’re sitting on his desk, legs wrapped loosely around his hips, completely lost in the moment. It’s a rare quiet afternoon in the office, just the two of you, and Tony has taken full advantage of it.

You hum against his lips as he trails his mouth down your jaw, then lower to your neck. His stubble grazes your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. His lips are warm, soft, teasing as he lingers just beneath your ear. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Tony chuckles when he feels your breath hitch. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You grab a fistful of his shirt. Tony responds with a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of your neck. His tongue flicks against your skin, followed by a light nip that makes you gasp. His mouth lingers there, sucking just hard enough to leave his mark.

A sharp knock on the door shatters the moment.

You both freeze. Tony exhales against your skin, shoulders tensing.

Another knock, this one louder.

Tony groans. "They have the worst timing, I swear—"

Then the door swings open, and your stomach drops.

Nathan Ellis stands in the doorway, his expression dark and furious.

The sight of him immediately kills any lingering warmth from your moment with Tony. He looks different from the smooth, arrogant man who asked you out—his jaw is clenched, his eyes cold, his posture rigid with anger.

You stiffen, already knowing this won’t be good.

Nathan steps inside without waiting for permission, eyes locked onto you. "You stood me up."

Tony straightens, immediately stepping in front of you in a way that makes it clear he has no intention of letting Nathan get any closer. "Big deal," he says flatly. "She didn’t want to go. Move on."

Nathan ignores him, eyes still burning into you. "You didn’t even have the decency to text me? Let me know instead of wasting my time?"

Your throat tightens. You don’t want to deal with this. "I got caught up at work. It wasn’t intentional."

Nathan scoffs. "Bullshit. You’re just another woman who likes to play games. You say yes to a date and then don’t even bother showing up? You think that makes you look good?"

Something shifts in Tony. His entire body goes tense, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Watch how you talk to her."

Nathan finally looks at Tony, his upper lip curling in disgust. "Oh, I get it now. This is why you didn’t show up, huh?" His gaze flickers back to you, sharp and accusing. Then his eyes catch something on your neck, and his entire expression twists into something uglier.

Your stomach sinks.

You don’t even need to look in a mirror to know what he’s staring at. You feel the lingering warmth where Tony’s mouth was just moments ago.

Nathan lets out a short, bitter laugh. "Wow. That’s just perfect." He turns back to Tony. "Guess I should’ve figured. Why go out with someone like me when you can just screw your boss instead?"

Your eyes widen in shock.

Tony moves before you can react.

His fist collides with Nathan’s jaw, the impact loud in the silence of the office. Nathan stumbles back, his hand flying up to his face, a stunned expression flashing across his features before fury takes over.

"Tony!" You grab his arm before he can swing again, your heart pounding.

Nathan straightens, eyes blazing with pure hatred. "You’re insane."

Tony glares at him. "Get out."

Nathan sneers, wiping his mouth. "Oh, trust me, I’m leaving. But you’re gonna regret this. Both of you."

Tony doesn’t even let him turn fully before pulling out his phone and pressing a button. "Happy. Come get this asshole out of my office."

Nathan’s jaw tightens, but before he can say anything else, heavy footsteps echo down the hall. Happy Hogan appears in the doorway, expression unreadable but posture firm.

"Let’s go," Happy says.

Nathan glares at you one last time, then at Tony, before reluctantly stepping back. Happy follows him out, and just like that, he’s gone.

The office is silent again, but the tension lingers.

Your pulse is still racing. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. Then you look at Tony.

He’s standing there, still tense, his hand flexing like he’s barely holding himself back from going after Nathan again.

"You punched him," you say, still a little in shock.

Tony shrugs. "He deserved it."

You let out a breath, rubbing your hands over your face. "I can’t believe this happened."

Tony frowns. "You okay?"

You hesitate. "I just—" You groan. "Tony, you gave me a hickey."

Tony blinks, then smirks. "Just now realizing that?"

You glare at him. "I have to work in this office. People are gonna see."

Tony tilts his head, completely unbothered. "So? Let ‘em see."

You stare at him. "I don’t want them to see."

He sighs dramatically. "Alright, alright. I guess I can be more strategic about my placement next time."

You groan again, turning toward your desk. "I need concealer."

Tony snickers. "You could just wear a scarf. It’d be very elegant. Very old-Hollywood."

You shoot him a look over your shoulder. "You think this is funny."

Tony steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder as he murmurs against your ear, "I know this is funny."

You shove at him, but you’re smiling despite yourself. "You’re the worst."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw before finally letting you go. "Now hurry up and cover it. I have a meeting in ten minutes, and I need my very professional assistant to not look like she just had a makeout session with her boss."

You roll your eyes, reaching into your bag for your concealer. Tony watches you with a stupidly smug expression.

You shake your head, but your heart is still racing for a completely different reason now.

Because even after everything, even after the chaos Nathan caused, one thing is crystal clear.

You and Tony? You’re solid. And no one—not Nathan, not anyone—can change that.

[bratbby333]

please more gamer bf sukuna<3

❝ play with me, instead ❞

nsfw mdni

request from: @youliveincassisworld + 🔋anon + and two others ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ part one here + gamer!bf sukuna drabbles here cw: it's sukuna lol

gamer!bf sukuna who loves when you cockwarm him while he plays, even though you are quite the distraction.

⋆˖⁺‧₊𓆩♡𓆪₊‧⁺˖⋆

you straddle his hips, legs threading through the arm rests of his gaming chair, your bare chest flush against his clothed one. his big, throbbing cock nestles deliciously inside you.

“god you’re so fuckin’ tight on me…gonna win this one just for you, doll...then i'm all yours.”

you whimper against his neck, your needy pants sending chills down his spine.

“please...make it quick 'kuna…need you so bad,” you whine, but his eyes never break away from the monitor, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrates on his game.

you huff at his lack of attention, the stillness of his girth no longer quelling the unrelenting pangs of desire pulsing deep in your core. you slowly grind your hips into him, the thick head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot. you choke back a moan when his hand finds the back of your neck, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh.

"be good 'n sit still or you're not gettin' anything at all," he says sternly.

you know better than to distract him. he takes his games very seriously and absolutely hates losing. but, you also know how good he fucks you when you act up, and how rough he gets with you when the game doesn't end the way he likes...so, why not kill two birds with one stone?

you weigh both options before siding with your better judgement, your movements ceasing. you rest your cheek on his shoulder, your arms snaking underneath his arms, hugging him tight.

"good girl."

your heart flutters at his praise as you smile into his neck, nuzzling deeper into him, the smell of his cologne making your head fuzzy.

his fingers press rapidly on the keyboard, the monotonous clicks and soft sounds of gunfire fill the room.

you sit patiently, taking in the warmth of his body and the stretch of his rock hard member still deep inside you. your pussy flutters around him as he swears at his game. you love seeing him tense and focused.

you can't take it, you need more.

your soft smile shifts into a devious smirk as your hips pick up where they left off. you feel his shoulders tense against your arms as he growls deeply, jutting his hips up into you, but seemly frustrated by your deviance.

“cut that shit out, brat.”

you hum in response, suppressing a giggle, your pelvis grinding deeper into him.

you hear the sound of his computer shutting down, and before you can register what's happening, his hands anchor in your armpits, lifting you up and flipping you around, your back now firm against his chest. he positions your feet on the edge of the desk, knees bent up.

“wanna act like a disobedient brat, im gonna treat you like one.”

he takes two fingers and shoves them between your parted lips, toying with the back of your throat. you gag as your mouth inundates with saliva.

he removes his fingers from your hot, wet mouth, dragging them down your chest, leaving a trail of spit along your body. his soaked fingers dance around your folds. you lean into his rough touches, heat rising in your cheeks as he plays with the flesh around your clit.

"kuna...p-please. want your fingers...need them," you stutter out.

a deep chuckle erupts from his chest as he continues to tease you, caressing every part of you other than the place you need him most.

"you defy me and think you'll be rewarded for it? you must be out of your mind, brat." he brings his free hand up to your face.

"spit."

with his palm coated in your saliva, he strokes himself as his fingers strum in and out of your folds. you whine, the lack of attention on your clit driving you insane.

"c'mon brat, talk to me. since you wanna interrupt my game…whaddya need?"

"anythin'...please 'kuna i'm sorry. want you so fuckin' bad. i'll be good...jus' give me anything..."

you whine as you feel his fingers leave your core.

"wha- no...sukuna i-," your pleas get stuck in your throat, eyes blowing wide as his hand clenches around your neck. he tilts your head back so it's resting on his shoulder.

"you're gonna sit here n let me use your sweet little cunt..." he lets go of your throat, jostling your head around from the force of his grip.

"but brats don't get to cum."

you try to bargain with him, but his large hand clamps over your mouth. he laughs, watching your chest heave in desperation, before pressing the head of his cock to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles against your dripping cunt.

he pushes into you roughly, your slickness the only thing saving you from the abruptness of the intrusion.

he leans back in the chair, connecting his forearms to the pits of your knees, pulling your legs toward your ears. he clasps his hands behind your head, and your heart drops knowing what's in store for you.

he shifts himself lower in the chair, planting his feet firmly on the ground, using his new found leverage to pummel into your gushing pussy, giving you no time to adjust to his pace. your legs push against his forearms, your body fighting for relief from his unyielding strokes. your cries resonate through the room as he bullies deeper into you.

"p-please...can't..can't take it," you beg, eyes filling with tears.

"you said you'd take anything...thought this was what you wanted, slut." he readjusts his grip behind your head, grabbing at your hair, craning your neck so he can see your face.

"look at me. open your fucking eyes...watch me destroy you." he growls, his unrelenting pace and bruising grip in your hair making you see stars. he tilts your head down, forcing you to watch him plunge in and out of you. the sight alone is enough to bring you to release.

his thick cock kisses your g-spot with every stroke. you grip down on him, choking on your moans.

"kuna..'m gonna c-cum," you stutter out, barely able to keep your eyes open. he hums in acknowledgment, and just as your body reaches its crescendo, he pulls out.

"don't even think about it...already told you no."

you cry out as his hand smacks repeatedly on your pulsating clit, sending twinges of pain and pleasure through your tired body.

"gonna use you some more...you can’t cum ‘til i say so.”

he drops one of your legs over the arm rest, tugging at his cock before he shoves back into you, finding his original pace immediately. he picks your leg back up and pulls them both tighter against your trembling body, knees rubbing against your ears as he rams deeper into you.

your body aches, every neuron firing at once, urging you to let go. the ferocity of his strokes coaxing you to paint his taught thighs with your sweet juices, but you know that if you ignore his commands the punishment will be even worse.

"fuck...f-fuck, 'kuna...i-"

he pulls out again, smacking the shaft of his dick on your puffy pussy. he grins at your tortured expression, his crazed eyes drinking in your shaking body as he edges you. you writhe around in his lap, groaning at your emptiness.

"not yet..." he teases before bottoming out inside you once again. hot, wet tears trickle down your face as you fight off your impending orgasm once again.

"this is what you wanted, right?" the heavy sound of his balls smacking into your center emphasizes his words. your head is spinning, unable to focus on anything other than the aggressive, rhythmic strokes finding the deepest parts of your sopping core.

“answer me, brat.”

“unghh…yes. yes ‘kuna. ahhh! love when you u-use me,” you babble, too overstimulated to form coherent sentences.

he releases one of your legs again, shoving his digits back into your mouth. you choke against his fingers, the sounds of your gagging sends heatwaves through his body.

the tightness in your tummy is impossible to ignore as he pounds into you like a madman, his drenched fingers rubbing rough, sporadic circles into your poor, abused clit as he continues to drill into you.

"i-i'm...ah fuck, ‘kuna i-"

you squeeze around him, making his hips stutter and his cock twitch inside you.

"mhm...i know," he purrs into your ear. "i feel you grippin' down on me...go 'head. cum for me right fuckin' now. make a mess on me." he approves, his pelvis smacking into you with fervor, fingers continuing to rub against you.

your eyes roll back as a string of incoherent curses fall from your lips as you finally meet the sweet release of your orgasm. a few more pumps and he spills his thick, hot seed into you, accompanied by a rumbling groan that vibrates through his chest and into yours. he stills against you and releases the leg that was still held up against your chest, untangling your bodies as you both work through your highs.

you brace yourself on the edge of the desk as you work to regain your breath, trying your hardest not to pass out.

he chuckles as he watches your feeble attempts at regaining your composure, his hands rubbing gentle circles into your lower back.

he leans forward, his broad frame looming over your fucked out body, his lips caressing the outer shell of your ear.

"i'll give you 'til the end of this game to recover...be ready for round two, doll," his voice low, reaching around you to turn his computer back on.

⋆˖⁺‧₊𓆩♡𓆪₊‧⁺˖⋆

author note: thank you so much for all the love on part one and part two and on the headcannons for gamer!boyfie sukuna i wrote 🥺🥺

im still working through my requests, but my inbox is always open...feel free to drop a suggestion here!

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[aspenmissing]

Heyyy, I just wanted to say that I really enjoy your writing!!! Also, I would love to see the way you write the arcane characters x chubby reader if it's possible? (Sorry if you have already done something like this) 💗

ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4183 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇꜱᴇʟꜰ, ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴꜱᴜʟᴛ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ/ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ! ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ʙᴜꜰꜰ, ʟᴇᴀɴ ᴍᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴄʜᴜʙʙʏ ꜱ/ᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ

JAYCE

Jayce had always been drawn to beauty. The sleekness of Hextech, the gleam of polished metal, the refined architecture of Piltover. But none of it, none of it, compared to you.

You, with your curves that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves, draped in fabric that hugged every soft dip and roll of your body. You had never been one to hide, never been one to shrink yourself down to fit into someone else’s mould. You knew exactly who you were, and you owned it.

And Jayce? Jayce adored it.

He watched from across the room as you adjusted your corset, pushing up your ample chest with a satisfied smirk. The deep burgundy fabric accentuated every inch of you, cinched at the waist, only to flare out around your full hips. You turned slightly, catching him staring in the mirror, and let out a teasing hum.

"Like what you see, Talis?"

Jayce set down the schematics he was pretending to study and leaned against his desk, arms crossed, but his eyes never left you. "You know I do. How could I not when you look like that?"

You sauntered over, hips swaying, reveling in the way his gaze darkened, how he practically devoured you without laying a single hand on you yet. Stopping in front of him, you placed a hand on his chest and tilted your chin up, an eyebrow raised.

"You should say it, you know," you teased. "A man of your intellect should be able to articulate what he wants."

Jayce let out a breathy chuckle, his hands finally finding your waist, his fingers pressing into the plush softness there. He had always been strong, always been powerful, but when it came to you? He was completely at your mercy.

"I want you," he murmured, pulling you flush against him. "I love all of you."

You grinned, satisfied, running your hands up his broad shoulders. "Damn right you do."

Jayce kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of devotion into the press of his lips against yours. His hands roamed greedily, tracing every curve, every soft plane, revelling in the warmth of you beneath his fingertips. He didn’t just love you—he worshipped you.

His lips moved from yours, trailing down your jawline, along the sensitive skin of your neck, drawing a soft sigh from you. "You drive me insane, you know that?" he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing.

You laughed, fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "I know. That’s half the fun."

His grip on your waist tightened as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on his desk amidst scattered blueprints and tools. His hands slid along your thighs, his thumbs brushing teasingly over the tops of your stockings. "And what about you?" he asked, his voice husky. "Do you know what you do to me?"

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer. "Oh, I have an idea," you purred. "But I’d love a demonstration."

Jayce let out a deep, satisfied chuckle before capturing your lips again, his hands roaming, exploring, savouring every inch of you. He wanted to make sure you felt just how much he adored you, how much he needed you. Every curve, every soft plane—everything about you drove him to the brink of madness.

And he had no intention of stopping.

VIKTOR

The hum of Piltover’s night buzzed softly beyond the lab’s windows, but inside, all was still. The only illumination came from the dim glow of Hextech crystals, their soft light casting a golden hue over Viktor’s form as he lounged on the small couch in his lab. He looked comfortable—one arm stretched over the back, the other resting against his chest, his ever-present cane propped against the side of the couch. His golden eyes gleamed with warmth as they traced over you, standing hesitantly by his side.

“Come,” he murmured, patting his chest invitingly. “Lay with me, moje láska.” (My Love)

Your heart clenched at the tenderness in his voice, but the moment you considered it, a flicker of hesitation crept in. You weren’t small, and Viktor—Viktor was delicate in ways you didn’t like to dwell on. His body bore the weight of his work, of years of overexertion and the creeping grasp of his illness. You didn’t want to risk making it worse.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you admitted, arms crossing over your stomach instinctively. “I’m—”

“Soft?” Viktor finished for you, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Warm? Everything I could possibly want pressing into me?” He tilted his head, watching you with an expression you knew well—the one that told you he was about to be stubborn.

You scoffed, but your pulse quickened when he suddenly reached for you, strong fingers curling around your wrist. Before you could protest, he pulled, not with force, but with conviction, guiding you until you were straddling his lap. His hands settled at your hips, grounding you.

You froze. “Viktor—”

“Shh,” he soothed, slipping a hand up your back, pressing you down against him. “You will not break me, my love. I want you here.”

Your breath caught as his warmth seeped into you, his body firm beneath you despite his slender frame. His heartbeat thrummed steadily under your ear, and for a moment, all the worries melted away. His fingers traced absentminded patterns over your back, slow and tender, as if memorizing every curve of you.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness and something deeper—something reverent. "I have dreamed of this. Of you, against me, without restraint."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I just—sometimes I worry that I’m too much.”

Viktor huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “můj drahý, if you are too much, then let me be crushed beneath your love. It is the only weight I wish to bear.” (My Dear)

His words wrapped around your heart like silk, warm and unyielding. You let yourself exhale, sinking further into his embrace. Viktor hummed in approval, his hands smoothing over your back as though reassuring himself that you were finally giving in.

“See?” he whispered. “Not so bad, is it?”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the junction of his neck and collarbone. “You’re warm,” you admitted.

Viktor chuckled, the sound deep and content. “I should hope so. You are quite the blanket.”

You groaned against his skin, giving his side a playful squeeze, and he laughed again—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that made your chest ache with love.

=

For a long moment, you simply lay there, tangled together. Viktor’s breathing was steady, a slow rise and fall beneath you, his hand trailing idly over your back. You felt the occasional twitch in his leg, the remnants of strain from a long day, but he never complained. If anything, he held you tighter, as though afraid you might slip away.

“You should rest,” you murmured after a while, shifting just enough to brush your fingers through his hair. It was soft, tousled from hours spent hunched over his workbench, and the urge to card through it further was impossible to resist.

Viktor hummed, tipping his head slightly into your touch. “I will. But only if you stay right here.”

Your lips curved into a small smile. “I think I can manage that.”

He smirked, but there was something softer beneath it. “Good,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Because I do not plan to let you go.”

His voice had that low, certain weight to it, the kind that made your breath catch.

Viktor was many things—brilliant, stubborn, a man forever chasing the next great discovery—but above all, he was yours. And no matter how many doubts clouded your mind, no matter how often you worried about being too much, he always pulled you back to him.

Always.

You shifted slightly, just enough to press a lingering kiss to his jaw before settling against him once more. His arms wrapped around you with ease, and as the glow of the Hextech crystals flickered gently in the dim light, you felt it.

The quiet gravity of him. Of this. Of home.

JAYVIK

The door creaked open as Viktor and Jayce stepped into their shared room, voices low as they discussed the day’s work. The scent of metal and oil clung to them, remnants of long hours in the lab. They hadn’t expected to find Y/N standing before the full-length mirror, clad only in her underwear, fingers pinching harshly at the soft skin of her stomach.

Viktor stopped mid-step, his cane pressing into the floor. Jayce’s brows furrowed, his expression softening as he took in the scene. Y/N didn’t seem to notice them yet, lost in her own harsh assessment, a scowl pulling at her lips. The dim light cast shadows on her frame, accentuating every dip and curve she scrutinized so cruelly.

“What are you doing, darling?” Viktor’s voice was gentle but firm, enough to break her from her trance.

Y/N startled, arms moving instinctively to cover herself. “I—nothing. It’s nothing.”

Jayce sighed, stepping closer, his large hands reaching for hers. “That doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, guiding her arms away with deliberate care. He traced his fingers over the soft pouch of her stomach, his touch warm and grounding. “You know, this?” He pressed a kiss just above her navel. “This is where your body keeps you safe, keeps you healthy.”

Viktor moved to her side, his cane resting against the dresser as he cupped her cheek. “Did you know that this,” he murmured, his fingers skimming over the plush skin at her waist, “is a sign of warmth? Your body holds onto softness because it knows you deserve it.” He leaned in, lips brushing over the side of her stomach, reverent and slow.

Jayce’s fingers traced down her thighs, his lips following suit. “And these?” He murmured against the soft flesh. “These are strength. They carry you, support you, and they are beautiful.” He pressed a kiss against the plush skin, appreciating the warmth beneath his lips. “Soft, strong, and perfect.”

Viktor’s hands ghosted over her upper arms, his thumb rubbing circles over them. “These arms have held us, comforted us,” he said softly. “How could you think anything less of them?” He kissed her shoulder, letting his lips linger before whispering, “They are a gift.”

Jayce chuckled, tilting her chin up so he could brush his lips against the underside. “And this,” he murmured, pressing another kiss, “is just another part of you to love. It’s soft, and every time I see it, I think of how beautiful you are.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her collarbone, then lower. His fingers traced the plush swell of her breasts, admiration shining in his eyes. “And these,” he breathed, voice laced with affection, “are perfect. They make the best pillows.” His lips brushed over them gently, reverently. “Soft, warm, and made to be cherished.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her earlier self-criticism wavering in the face of their tenderness. “I just…” she exhaled shakily. “I don’t always feel good about it.”

Jayce hummed, kneeling before her, his hands splaying over her hips. “Then let us remind you.” He pressed another kiss, this time to the inside of her thigh, his touch radiating nothing but admiration.

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her shoulder. “We see every part of you, and we adore it. Every curve, every mark—” he kissed the soft skin of her upper arm, “—every inch of you is worthy of love.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, overwhelmed by the weight of their affection. Her self-doubt still lingered, but in this moment, with their hands and lips mapping her body with care, it was easier to believe that maybe—just maybe—they were right.

VANDER

The Last Drop had quieted for the night, its usual hum of raucous voices and the clink of glass replaced by the low crackling of the hearth. Vander leaned against the bar, his watchful gaze softening as he took in the sight before him.

There you were, curled up on the worn-out couch near the fire, with Vi and Powder nestled against you, their small forms tucked against your warmth. Mylo lay sprawled across your lap, his head resting on your plush thigh, while Claggor had somehow claimed a spot by your hip, one arm slung across your waist like a lifeline.

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. They adored you—each of them, drawn to your kindness, your warmth, your presence.

Hell, how could they not?

You were the heart of this ragtag family, and Vander knew, deep in his bones, he was the luckiest bastard alive to have you.

"Think ya got enough room there, love?" he teased, approaching with that familiar smirk playing at his lips.

Your sleepy eyes met his, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Mmm, there's always room for you," you murmured, voice thick with drowsiness.

His heart damn near melted.

Crouching beside you, he reached out, his large, calloused hand running over the curve of your hip, giving it a firm, appreciative squeeze.

"That so?" he murmured, voice low, eyes glinting with something more.

Vi stirred, grumbling against your shoulder. "Ugh, get a room, you two…"

You laughed softly, fingers threading through Powder’s messy blue hair. "Shhh, just sleep, sweetheart."

Vander only grinned. "Girl’s got a point, though." His hand trailed lower, fingers ghosting over your thigh before he realized—his damn spot was taken.

Mylo, the little brat, was already sprawled across your lap, his head buried against the plush of your thigh like he had every right in the world to it.

Vander let out a deep sigh, shaking his head with a smirk as he lowered himself to the floor beside you. "Guess I’m gettin’ bumped to second place now, huh?"

You hummed, amused. "You saying you'd fight a kid for my thigh?"

His rough chuckle rumbled through his chest as he leaned in, resting his head just beside your other thigh, where your warmth radiated like a comforting embrace. "Depends. Think I got a chance?"

You carded your fingers through his thick hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Vander sighed, completely boneless beneath your touch, his hand slipping up to squeeze at your hip, thumb tracing lazy circles against the soft flesh.

"Dunno how ya do it," he muttered, voice thick with something deep, something reverent. "Holdin’ all of us together like this."

You smiled, tilting your head down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "Because I love you. All of you."

His grip on your hip tightened, just for a moment. "Yeah, love?" His voice was husky, filled with something raw. "Lucky me, then."

And with that, sleep claimed him, wrapped in your warmth, in your love, in the family you’d built together.

=

Morning came with the usual chaos—Vi trying to fight Mylo over breakfast, Powder accidentally knocking over a mug, Claggor just trying to keep the peace.

You were at the stove, flipping eggs onto plates, the rich scent of a hearty meal filling the room. A pot simmered nearby, steam curling up in lazy wisps. With a sigh, you crouched down to grab a skillet from the lower cabinet, shifting aside a few mismatched lids in the process.

And then—smack.

A sharp but playful sting echoed through the kitchen. You jolted, head nearly knocking against the counter as you whipped around with a glare. Vander stood there, utterly unapologetic, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Vander," you hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Morning, love," he rumbled, entirely too amused.

Your glare wavered when he leaned in, his calloused hands settling at your waist, fingers kneading into the plush curves with slow, familiar ease. His breath brushed your ear, warm and teasing. "Couldn't resist," he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

You huffed, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. "You're impossible."

"Ya love it."

Before you could retort, Powder piped up from the table, "Y/N! Vi’s stealing Mylo’s toast again!"

You sighed, slipping out of Vander’s grasp as you turned back to the chaos of breakfast. "Vi, knock it off!"

Vander chuckled, watching you go with a look of pure devotion before finally joining the kids at the table—like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

Yeah. This was home.

SILCO

The Last Drop hummed with low chatter, the heavy bass of the music pulsing through the floor like a heartbeat. Smoke curled in lazy tendrils above the tables, the air thick with liquor and sin. But in your secluded corner—reserved only for you and Silco—the world felt quieter.

Silco’s hand rested possessively on your thigh, the leather of his glove warm against your skin. He was always touching you, always anchoring you to him in some way. A silent declaration. A warning.

You lifted your glass to your lips, savoring the burn of the whiskey. Across from you, Silco swirled his drink, his mismatched eyes half-lidded as he watched you. It was a rare thing, moments like this, where the chaos of Zaun could not touch you.

Then the peace shattered.

A drunken fool stumbled toward your table, glass sloshing in his grip. His eyes, bloodshot and unfocused, zeroed in on you.

“Didn’t know Silco had a thing for—” The man hiccuped, then laughed, his gaze dragging over your form. “—soft women.”

Your jaw tightened, irritation prickling beneath your skin. Before you could react, Silco’s fingers twitched against your thigh. The shift was minuscule, but you knew what it meant.

Danger.

Silco leaned back, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Do finish that sentence.” His voice was soft, almost inviting, but the undertone was razor-sharp.

The drunkard blinked, suddenly aware of the weight of his own words. “I—I just meant—”

Silco moved before the man could stumble out an excuse. His grip left your thigh, and in a blink, he had the fool by the collar, dragging him closer with deceptive ease.

“Tell me,” Silco murmured, his lips ghosting the man’s ear, “do you have a death wish, or are you simply too stupid to recognize one?”

The man stammered, sweat beading at his temple. “I—I didn’t—”

“You did,” Silco interrupted. His free hand—knife-sharp fingers wrapped in leather—came up to press against the drunk’s throat. Not hard. Not yet. Just enough to make the man’s breath hitch. “And now, you will pay for it.”

A sound like a whimper escaped the man’s lips. The Last Drop wasn’t silent, but the patrons nearby had stopped pretending not to watch. Everyone knew how this would end.

You exhaled slowly, setting your glass down with a quiet clink.

“Silco.” Your voice was calm, but it held weight.

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he sighed through his nose. His irritation was palpable. But he listened.

With a shove, he sent the man sprawling to the floor. “Crawl away,” he sneered. “Before I change my mind.”

The drunk scrambled backward, his face pale, and scuttled into the crowd.

Silco exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders before turning back to you. He settled into his seat as if nothing had happened, his hand finding your thigh again, gripping it a little firmer this time.

You traced the rim of your glass, watching the whiskey catch the dim light before turning your gaze back to him. “You let him off easy.”

Silco hummed, swirling his drink before taking a slow sip. “Because you asked me to.”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the sharpness of his features, the tension still lingering in the line of his shoulders.

Then you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the table as you smirked. “He’s nothing but a drunken fool, love,” you murmured, voice warm with amusement. “Not worth the clean-up.”

Silco’s gaze flicked to you, that keen intelligence behind his mismatched eyes sharpening. He turned his glass slightly between his fingers, considering your words.

You continued, tone softer now. “A man like that… he doesn’t deserve the energy it would take to dispose of him. He’ll wake up tomorrow reeking of piss and regret, and he won’t even remember why.” You tilted your head, your smirk growing. “Now, that’s a fate worse than death, don’t you think?”

Silco chuckled, low and indulgent, his fingers tightening on your thigh. “You’re far too merciful.”

You arched a brow. “No, I just know the best way to make a man suffer.”

Silco let out a quiet hum of approval, his grip lingering as his thumb brushed absentmindedly over your skin. The warmth of his touch, the silent claim, was intoxicating.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, his expression softened, the hard edge of him melting just enough. “No one,” he murmured, voice like velvet, “speaks to you that way and walks away unscathed.”

Your fingers brushed against his jaw, tilting his face toward you. “I know.”

And when his lips curled into that knowing smirk, you knew—no matter how dangerous the world was, with Silco, you would always be safe.

CLAGGOR (AU)

The dim glow of Zaun’s flickering streetlights barely reached the small hideout where you and Claggor had tucked yourselves away for the night. The world outside was alive with the hum of machinery, the distant rumble of pipes, and the occasional shouts from a gang fight somewhere in the underbelly of the city. But none of it mattered. Not when Claggor had you wrapped up in his arms, his big hands roaming over your soft curves like he was memorizing every inch of you.

You lay sprawled on the bed, tucked against his broad chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The sheets were thin, but Claggor’s body was warm, his grip firm but gentle as he held you close. His scent—gunpowder, metal, and something faintly sweet—wrapped around you like a comfort you never wanted to leave.

“Damn, I love this,” he murmured against your hair, voice thick with contentment. His fingers trailed lazy circles over your stomach, kneading the soft flesh like he couldn’t get enough. “Love how soft you are.”

Your cheeks burned at the way he said it—gruff, reverent, like it was a secret only for him to cherish.

“You say that every time we cuddle.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s true every time,” he rumbled, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He dipped his head to press a lingering kiss to your temple, the heat of his lips lingering as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His arms tightened around you, his fingers wandering over the dips and curves of your body, mapping them out with slow, appreciative touches.

There was something about the way he touched you—like he was fascinated, obsessed with how perfectly you fit into him. His hands never stayed in one place for long, tracing along your waist, dipping lower just to squeeze at your plush thighs before drifting back up. His fingertips skimmed the underside of your belly, then up to your sides, his palms pressing into every soft part of you as if reassuring himself you were really there.

“I swear you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as he gave your hip a playful squeeze.

Claggor chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through your entire body. “Maybe,” he admitted, shifting slightly so he could press his forehead against yours, “but I got the best spot in Zaun right here. Ain’t nothing better than holding my girl.”

Your heart clenched at the pure adoration in his voice. He meant it. No hesitation, no second-guessing—just Claggor and his unwavering love.

You sighed, melting further into him, and let yourself relax. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands didn’t stop exploring, sliding up your back, fingertips ghosting over your spine before traveling down to squeeze at the plushness of your hips. His thumbs stroked along your skin absentmindedly, as if every inch of you was something to be adored.

Outside, the city rumbled on—pipes hissing, gears grinding, neon signs buzzing faintly in the distance. But inside this little hideout, it was just the two of you. His warmth, his touch, his whispered words grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, lips brushing against your cheek, voice hushed like he was afraid saying it too loud might shatter the moment.

You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of oil and iron, of home.

“Always.”

And with the steady heartbeat of the only person who ever made you feel truly safe, you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

[kitty384]

Operation: Talk Some Sense Into Your Best Friends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s overprotectiveness during your pregnancy hits an all-time high, and you enlist Steve and Sam to stage a much-needed intervention.

Warnings: Pregnancy, overprotective behavior (comedic), fluff, light swearing, established relationship, mentions of nausea and hormonal shifts

I love my husband.

I really do.

But if he tells me I can’t lift one more thing, I swear on all things holy I’m going to strangle him with the world’s softest maternity blanket.

“Bucky,” I say slowly, placing the folded stack of towels into the linen closet. “It’s laundry. I am literally moving fabric from one surface to another.”

“You’re carrying our baby,” he says seriously, crossing the room like I just lifted a car. “You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavier than a feather.”

I blink. “Towels are not heavy.”

“Towels can cause accidents. Back strain. Slippery floors—”

“Did you just make that up?”

He gently takes the remaining towels from my hands like I’m an elderly Victorian fainting woman. “You’re pregnant. Not allowed.”

I stare at him.

He stares back, unbothered.

This is getting out of hand.

It started around week sixteen.

Just a slight uptick in Bucky’s worry level. Not too crazy. Just a few extra check-ins. Some hovering. The occasional “do you want me to carry you to the couch so you don’t have to walk there?”

Cute. Kind of funny.

Week seventeen? He downloaded three pregnancy tracking apps and started setting my hydration alarms.

Week eighteen? He wouldn’t let me walk to the mailbox alone. Said it was “uneven terrain.”

Today?

He told me I needed a spotter to get out of bed.

I’ve had enough.

I find Sam and Steve in the gym, predictably trying to one-up each other with pull-ups. Steve is winning. Sam is swearing.

I walk in, arms crossed, belly slightly more obvious in my fitted t-shirt, and glare.

They both stop mid-rep.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says, wiping sweat from his brow. “You good?”

“No. Your best friend is driving me absolutely insane and I need backup before I fake a dramatic fainting spell and run away to Aruba.”

Steve blinks. “I’m sorry?”

I sigh. “Bucky is in full-blown dad-mode overdrive. He won’t let me carry a grocery bag. He walks me to the bathroom like I’m made of glass. I caught him googling pregnancy-safe shoelace techniques last night.”

Sam chokes on his water.

Steve raises a hand. “Wait—shoelaces?”

“He thinks I’ll fall over if I bend forward.”

Sam snorts. “Okay, that’s a little much.”

“A little?” I throw my hands up. “He almost tackled me for opening the fridge.”

“To be fair, that thing is kind of heavy—”

“STEVE.”

“Right. Sorry.”

I exhale, then lean against the wall. “Look. I know he means well. I love how much he cares. But if someone doesn’t talk him off this overprotective ledge, I am going to scream. Or cry. Or both. At the same time.”

Sam claps a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll handle it.”

Steve nods solemnly. “You’ll have personal space again in no time.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Operation: Chill the Hell Out is a go.”

They corner him in the kitchen that afternoon.

I’m not even in the room—I’m just around the corner, eavesdropping like a professional.

“Buck,” Sam says, “we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About how you’ve turned into the world’s most intense dad before the kid’s even born.”

Steve jumps in. “You’re stressing Y/N out.”

“She’s pregnant,” Bucky replies, confused. “She shouldn’t be stressed.”

“That’s your fault!” Sam yells.

“I’m protecting her!”

“You’re bubble-wrapping her soul, man.”

Bucky grumbles. “I just… I worry.”

“We know,” Steve says gently. “But you can’t hover her into safety.”

“She’s tough, Buck,” Sam adds. “Let her be.”

There’s silence.

Then, Bucky sighs. “She told you about the shoelaces, didn’t she?”

Steve and Sam answer in perfect unison: “Yes.”

That night, I walk into the living room to find Bucky setting up a foot massage station like I’m royalty.

I raise an eyebrow.

He gives me a sheepish look. “Truce?”

I sit beside him. “Maybe. Are we done banning me from bending over?”

“Yes.”

“And from picking up my own snacks?”

“Yes.”

“And from standing in the kitchen while a microwave runs?”

“That one was one time—”

“Bucky.”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright. I’ll dial it down. I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you. Or them.”

I reach for his hand and place it gently over my belly.

“We’re okay,” I say softly. “But I need you to breathe. And maybe… let me pee without an escort.”

He laughs.

“Deal.”

He still carries the laundry sometimes.

But now he lets me do it with him.

And when I tie my own shoes the next morning, he claps.

So… progress.

Masterlist

Request

[bvrnesher]

Hiii! Hope your day is going well, could you please do jealous!Leo or Jealous!Percy headcanons. Either NSFW or SFW please?

❝ Jealous headcanons ! ❞ ― percy jackson !

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

warnings: nsfw/sfw content.

— ✦ pairing: percy jackson ! reader.

a/n: couldn’t decide between sfw or nsfw, so i did both, hehe. + i just did jealous!leo headcanons, so I chose percy for this req <3 | you'll find the post here !

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

— ୨ৎㅤ˳ NSFW

He tries to be chill. Sees someone flirting with you and he laughs, arm draping over your shoulders, lips brushing your ear like it’s casual—but his fingers are tight on your waist, and when he kisses your temple, it’s all teeth. Later, alone, his voice is low, rough: “They made you laugh. You never laugh like that for me.”

Jealous Percy gets rough. He grabs you by the hips and fucks the insecurity out of himself. Fast, deep, unforgiving. His hands are everywhere—one tangled in your hair, the other gripping your ass like he’s trying to brand you. He groans, “You’re mine. Say it. Let the whole damn ocean hear it.”

He marks you up. Not on purpose at first, but when you gasp at the feel of his teeth on your neck? He does it again. And again. Hickeys trailing from your collarbone to your inner thighs. When someone at camp comments, he just smirks, throws an arm around you, and says “Yeah, they’re taken.”

He gets desperate when he's jealous. It’s not just anger—it’s fear. That he’s not enough. That he’s too messed up. That you’ll find someone who doesn’t carry the weight of the gods. So when he eats you out, it’s like he’s trying to prove he can be everything. Tongue deep, fingers curling just right, his eyes locked on yours like please stay, please want me.

He fucks you with his whole body. None of that half-assed shit. You’re pinned beneath him, legs over his shoulders, his forehead pressed to yours as he thrusts slow and deep. His voice breaks on every moan. “I need you. I need you so bad, baby—fuck—don’t want anyone else even looking at you.”

He’s silent when he’s really mad. Not cold—stormy. You can feel it rolling off him, the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes follow your every move. Then he finally pulls you into a dark hallway, pushes you against the wall, kisses you hard. “You’re gonna sit on my cock and not think about anyone else. Got it?”

Water bends around your bodies during sex. It lifts you onto the counter. Soaks the sheets when he’s frantic. A cool mist clings to your skin after—like the sea wants to keep you his. It’s not a power move. It’s instinct. The ocean mirrors his jealousy, his need to claim you.

He loves fucking you face down. Hand on your lower back, cock buried deep, your body trembling underneath him. It’s about control. About keeping you where he needs you—right here, right now, with your pretty little whimpers and your soaked thighs and his name punched out like a prayer. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

Aftercare with Percy is clutching you like a lifeline. He’s so quiet after, arms locked around your waist, his face buried in your neck. He kisses the bruises he left. He tells you he’s sorry for getting like that. But when you whisper “I like it when you get possessive,” he just groans, hard again, and flips you back onto the bed.

He gets feral when you wear something revealing. He acts fine when you leave the cabin—waves you off with a smile, kisses your cheek. But when you come back hours later? Door slams. Words low and breathless: “Walking around camp like that? Baby, are you trying to drive me insane?” He fucks you against the wall, panties pushed aside, hand over your mouth so no one hears the way you scream for him.

He ruts when he’s too jealous to speak. Like literally grinds into you, cock rock-hard, breath ragged, lips barely brushing your shoulder as he pants, “Say you don’t want them. Say I’m the only one who gets to make you feel like this.” And when you do? He growls your name like a curse and fucks you like he’s trying to etch it into your bones.

Percy pouts when he’s not allowed to act on his jealousy. Maybe you were in public. Maybe Chiron gave him The Look. But later? He’s whining into your neck while grinding against your ass, cock heavy and leaking through his boxers. “C’mon, baby, you know how bad I wanted you earlier. Just let me taste you. Please.”

He nibbles your jealousy spots. The soft part of your neck where you’re sensitive. The inside of your thigh. The spot behind your knee that makes you twitch. He leaves tiny teeth marks, kisses them better, and says “Mine,” between each one. You tease him and he’ll just push you down and show you exactly how serious he is.

When he’s insecure jealous, he needs to wreck you. It’s not about anger—it’s about fear. That you’ll realize someone else could give you more. So he eats you out like he has to. Fingers curling, tongue insistent, thighs pinned open. You try to close your legs and he growls. “You don’t hide from me, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere—and neither are you.”

He fucks you in the shower when he’s pissed. Hair slicked back, steam everywhere, water hitting the tile in a constant roar—but you barely hear it over the sound of skin on skin. One arm around your waist, hand between your legs, breath hot against your ear: “Do they make you feel like this? Huh? Didn’t think so.”

He has a praise kink—but it’s twisted by jealousy. He wants you to beg for him. Tell him he’s the only one. Tell him no one else makes you feel like this. Every time you moan his name, his rhythm stutters—hips jerk forward, hand fisting the sheets, a broken “Gods, I love you” slipping out like a confession.

He’ll tie your hands if you tease him too much. Bandana. Belt. Seaweed, once—when you were near the beach and being particularly bratty. He wraps your wrists, kisses your knuckles sweetly, and fucks you slow. Every thrust is maddening. His mouth brushes yours. “Next time? You don’t flirt with anyone. Or I’ll keep you like this all day.”

He can’t stop touching you after. His fingers tracing over your hip bones. Arms locked around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. Lips pressed to your spine, your shoulder, your fingers. His voice is barely a whisper: “You’re it for me, you know that? You’re everything.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

— ୨ৎㅤ˳ SFW ㅤ

He’s surprisingly quiet when he’s jealous. Percy’s first instinct when feeling jealous isn’t to shout or lash out. Instead, he becomes quiet, focusing on the person who’s making him uncomfortable, or just generally pulling back from the situation. He won’t make a scene—but his eyes are locked on whatever is making him uneasy.

His inner monologue goes into overdrive. Percy’s always questioning himself. When someone flirts with you or gives you too much attention, he’s immediately comparing himself to them—“Why would they want someone like me when they could have someone like that?” He doesn’t show it on the outside, but internally, there’s a whirlwind of doubt.

He starts acting a little distant. Percy’s a big emotional guy, and when he feels jealous, he often retreats inside himself. He’ll try to distract himself with something—whether it’s training, hanging out with Annabeth, or even staring out at the water—but he’s really just giving you space. He’s scared that pushing you away will make you choose someone else.

He becomes hyperprotective without realizing it. You might notice him getting closer when you’re talking to someone else. He might stand a little bit too close, his arm brushing against yours just a bit more than usual, or his hand resting on your back when you’re walking. It’s subtle, but he’s making sure you know where he is.

He hides it with humor. Percy’s defense mechanism is often humor. If someone gets a little too friendly with you, he’ll crack a joke or tease you, trying to make light of the situation. “Oh, wow, looks like I’m losing my competition to a guy who still thinks he can flirt with me standing right here.” The humor makes it seem like he’s unaffected, but really, it’s his way of coping.

He’ll go a little too far out of his way to impress you. When Percy’s jealous, he often overcompensates by trying to be the “cool guy.” He’ll dive into dangerous situations headfirst just to get your attention. It’s not about the attention from anyone else—he just needs to remind you he’s the one who’s worth noticing. Whether it’s cracking a witty line or doing something crazy heroic, he’s trying to prove his worth to you, though he might not even know that’s what he’s doing.

He avoids talking about it. If you try to bring up his jealousy, he’ll shut down. “What? I’m not jealous. Why would I be? It’s fine.” Percy’s the type of person who tries to ignore his feelings rather than confronting them directly. He doesn’t know how to talk about it, and he doesn’t want to burden you with it, even though his actions might show how affected he is.

He gets protective of you in small ways. Percy doesn’t let people cross certain boundaries. If someone’s making you uncomfortable—if they’re too handsy or crossing a line—he’s the first one to step in, even if it’s just a little bit. He’ll make a point of cutting the conversation short or pulling you to the side with a distracted, “Hey, I think it’s time to go.”

He acts a little off. Percy doesn’t wear his jealousy openly, but you’ll notice it in small ways. He might fidget more, rub the back of his neck nervously, or pace around. It’s like his body can’t handle the uncomfortable emotions, so he channels that nervous energy into something physical.

He craves reassurance from you. Once the jealousy is out in the open (or at least, in a way that Percy can’t ignore it anymore), he’ll need to hear you tell him that you’re his. A quick kiss on the cheek or a quiet “You’re the one I want, Percy” is all it takes to melt his worries away. He needs that reminder because it pulls him out of his head and back to what’s real.

[ghoulishhx]

Hellooooo!

Thank you for fuelling my addiction for frank castle while we wait for him to appear again in ddba

I was wondering how I could ask for all the prompts in one lol

But seriously if you could write #11 pretty please? Like Frank just sees you doing something mundane and comes up from behind? 😍🥵

4.) quickie where you don't take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials

im more than happy to fuel your addiction, its what im here to do!! this prompt has been going through my head for dayss now and i finally wrote it!! apologies for the delay :')

this is just a smallll little drabble, quick read for a quickie!!!

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: smut smut smut and more smut, unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, swearing, fluff

Wordcount: almost 900

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ cookies

Frank can’t watch you do anything remotely domestic. It drives him insane, you’ll be in the kitchen in your little apron, baking his favourite sweet treats while listening to your music and he will be standing staring at you, eyes bulging out of his skull. You’d notice him staring, jumping out of your skin because you had no idea he had been watching you this whole time

“Jesus Frank, have you been standing there this whole time?” 

He notices the way your chest dramatically rises and falls having now acknowledged his presence, the action making him twitch in his jeans.

“Don’ let me get in your way, doll.” he’d grumble under his breath as you turn back around, resuming your task.

You feel him come up behind you, snaking his hands around your waist, lowering his head to the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin as his hands wander beneath the apron. He was in fact, getting in your way.

“Frank! What are you doing?” you say as blush creeps up your neck onto your face, his movements causing your knees begin to buckle. The way he holds you, touches and tastes you drives you wild.

“ ‘M sorry baby, I jus need ya ok?” he reaches down to lift your skirt, bunching the fabric up to your waist as it pools around your hips. He lets out a groan seeing the sight beneath him, bent over your shared kitchen counter, soaked panties clasping to your folds, preparing food for him. He must’ve been a saint in his past life to get so lucky to end up with you.

He doesn’t bother removing any of his clothes, unbuckling and unzipping his jeans, tugging his boxers down just enough to free his achingly hard cock. He doesn’t even take the time to take off your underwear either, just simply pushing the fabric to the side as he teases the head of his cock between your puffed petals, accumulating your sweet nectar as lubricant.

“Tight squeeze ok sweetheart? You can take it, attagirl.” he growls as he pushes his length into you slowly, taking his time revelling in the situation before him. The noises he was eliciting from you from so little almost made him cum right there and then. The most beautiful, sinful noises he has ever heard.

You were still clutching your batter covered wooden spoon, not having the chance to set it down because it was only mere moments ago you were in your own little world, your own little bubble. Frank’s sudden desire was a welcomed change of plans however.

“Fuck darlin’, ya dunno what ya do t’me.. Looking like that, I have to stop myself from takin’ ya right here in the kitchen every damn time I come home.” He fucks into you with a relentless pace, fully consumed by his arousal.

“My sweet girl already cockdrunk hmm? Love it when your Frankie takes you anywhere he wants? Usin’ your sweet pussy whenever he wants? All fuckin’ mine doll, all mine.”

There are no thoughts in his head but you, the way you feel around him, the way you sound and look. God, he loves you.

Your whole body travels up the counter with the force of his thrusts, and it’s not long until you’re gushing around his length, whining his name with an incoherent string of thank yous and I love yous.

Despite your overstimulation, he resumes his pace, gripping your hips with his large calloused hands, definitely bruising them.

He feels your weeping cunt leak all over him, staining his jeans, feeling your slick through the gritty material.

“That’s it babydoll, make a fuckin’ mess of my cock. It’s all yours sweet girl.” his thrusts falter, the clamping of your walls dragging his orgasm out of him and it’s not before long he’s spilling his seed inside of you, painting you white as a deep gutteral groan emerges from his throat.

He pulls himself out of you reluctantly, marvelling at the state of your pussy, your mixed juices intertwining with one another. 

He tugs your panties back on, covering your hole and pulling your skirt and apron back down.

He looks over your shoulder, finally noticing what you’ve been baking for him. His eyebrows raise seeing the chocolate chips submerged in batter, practically salivating. You were making him cookies, his favourite.

“You treat me too good, doll.” he reaches down, kissing the side of your head and smacking your ass as he takes the wooden spoon from your weak grasp, instantly clearing it with his tongue.

“What the fuck Frankie! Give it back you fuckin’ dope.” You turn to him, dumbfounded by the daylight robbery yet you can’t help laughing as he returns the spoon, no remnants of dough to be seen.

"Ya know I love ya, right sweet thing?" he says joining you in the laughter, pulling you into his grasp, running his hands through you're hair, squeezing onto you like you were going to disappear.

"I know Frankie, I love you too."

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i hope you enjoy!! sorry it's on the shorter side!

my inbox is open!