#they really look like they were gonna kiss ^^;

[carnalcrows]

MILK YOU DRY - THANOS

pairing: thanos x top male reader

synopsis: This is why you never accept things from people you don't know.

content warnings: 18+, bottom thanos, drug usage, riding, cockwarming, semi-public sex

word count: 0.4k (this is short as fuck lolol)

It all started with one little pill.

"Come on, man. It'll take the edge off," Thanos had said, pressing the tiny thing into your palm with that signature smug smirk. "Consider it a gift. Or an investment."

You had hesitated for all of three seconds before shrugging and dry-swallowing it. Bad decision? Maybe. But you were already knee-deep in the nightmare that was the death game you were currently stuck participating in, so what was one more risk? Plus, Thanos had this way of talking that made everything sound like a good idea, even the objectively stupid ones.

Fast forward fifteen minutes later, and you were absolutely wrecked.

"You're so—you're so soft," you slurred, hands gripping Thanos' waist as he straddled your lap inside a bathroom stall, your cock happily burrowed in his ass. The world was spinning in a fun way, your limbs felt light, and Thanos smelled like cigarette smoke and…vanilla?

"You’re so gone," he snickered, arms slung around your shoulders, his fingers playing with the back of your hair. "Damn, you really can't handle your stuff."

"I can handle you just fine," you shot back, half-lidded eyes locking onto his. That seemed to be the magic phrase because Thanos grinned, leaned in, and kissed you, as he slowly bounced on your cock– the overstimulation and the effects of the pill making your brain go mushy.

It was messy. It was uncoordinated. It was hands roaming where they shouldn’t and teeth clashing because neither of you had enough patience to slow down. Thanos was warm in your lap, your cock in his tight ass grounding you just enough to keep your head from floating off entirely.

"You're kinda hot when you're like this," he murmured against your lips before biting down—hard enough to make you hiss.

"You're kinda a menace," you shot back, fingers digging into his hips, dragging him back onto your length.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open barely registered at first. But then, a very familiar and exasperated voice filled the stall.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Both of you froze.

Slowly—very slowly—you turned your head. And there, standing in the doorway with an expression of pure disbelief, was Nam-gyu.

Thanos, the absolute menace that he was, didn't even look fazed. If anything, his grin widened as he leaned back, still comfortably perched on your lap. "Hey, Nam-gyu. We were just—"

"I can see what you were just." Nam-gyu pinched the bridge of his nose. "I leave you alone for twenty minutes, and this is what happens?"

You opened your mouth to come up with some kind of excuse, but all that came out was an unhelpful, "Uh."

Nam-gyu exhaled, shaking his head before stepping inside and shutting the stall door behind him. The last thing you saw before exhaustion came over you was the absolutely devilish smirk spreading across his face.

Well. This was gonna be interesting.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[merchantziro]

This was Danny's final shot, he honestly didn't have that much ecto left in him to keep enchanting metal. This city didn't have much, it was concerning it generated ectoplasm as is without a Ghost Portal as far as Danny knew but... Not his monkeys, not his circus.

So he built the portal outside the city, hoping it was somewhere secluded where those furries won't bother him this time.

Phantom finally got the portal set up and just needed to find a power source, so he left for what would hopefully be the final time to gather up some sort of power source, however right when he was returning...

B O O M !

Danny heard an explosion in the distance, that sounded like it came from-

The ghost boy ran back into his hideout, but was immediately kicked to the ground by one of the costumed jerks.

"No... No!"

Danny looked over at smoking and burning remains of the portal. They seemed to be asking him something but Danny neither understood what they were saying nor cared enough to say anything.

However what he did do was collapse to his knees, this was the final straw that broke the Halfa's back.

"Why? Why do you keep doing this?"

The costumed heroes paused before one reached out to him...

"Art thee tis fine...?"

...But Danny smacked the hand away with a growl.

"Get out..."

The man flinched back at the venom before the smaller one, a child that might be almost Danny's age, raised a sword.

"Thou art the one with the League, whatev'r grandfath'r is planning wonneth't cometh to fruition!"

The Halfa then looked at him coldly before wailing.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

A green shockwave came from his mouse and knocked them into a wall. They raised their weapons and prepared to battle, but Danny then just turned away to the portal as tears formed in his eyes before collapsing to the ground sobbing.

"I just wanted to go home..."

That made the costumed freaks pause before looking at each other confused, not really knowing what to do. As the ghost boy cried himself until he fell asleep.

--- Hours Later ---

Danny woke up, only to find one of his tormentors, the one in a black and blue suit, was watching over him in a room that looked like a guest bedroom as he was laying on a bed. Though this time he looked concerned.

"Art thee good now?"

The ghost boy just glared before grumbling.

"...Why do YOU care all of the sudden? You sure didn't care before?"

"T appears we might has't misund'rstood thy intentions, and we wanteth to fixeth yond misprision."

"You want to what?"

Danny tilted his head before noticing a woman with a purple outfit enter the room, she had tan skin, green eyes, and poofy red hair that looked long and vibrant.

"This the one thee hath asked me to holp thee with right, Dick?"

She asked the man before he nodded, the woman turned back to him before getting closer as she puckered her lips

"Good now holdeth still, this shall only taketh a moment."

Danny immediately flinched back reflexively but couldn't react or speak fast before feeling the woman kiss him briefly on the lips. He could also see the man turn away, looking grumpy.

However the moment AFTER they broke, he was coughing and gagging.

"Ugh! What the hell was that for, I'm only 15 and not interested in whatever weird kinky shit you-"

"Do you understand me better now?"

Danny paused when he heard her speak English back to him.

"Uh? ...Yeah? How did you"

The woman nodded.

"I apologize for scaring you, Tamaraneans like myself have the ability to learn other alien languages through oral contact."

"Wait Tama-what now? Wait, I kissed an alien!?"

The woman giggled at Danny's stuttering realization, while the man continued to watch the conversation from the sidelines.

"Indeed, I am Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran, but you may call me Starfire."

"Uh... Danny, Danny Fenton of... Well it's complicated."

Danny felt his cheeks burning green because, concerning potential age difference aside, holy shit kissing an alien princess almost makes this all worth it and he's gonna brag to Tucker and Sam about it for a week when he gets home!

...Home...

The memory of the ruined portal immediately caused Danny to slump back into his chair as he turned back to the man.

"So what? After every time those guys destroyed my attempts to make a portal, NOW they decide they want to talk when I lost my final chance!?"

He folded his arms and looked away, the man flinching at his outburst.

"...There might have been a misunderstanding with your intentions and nature. Tell me, do the terms Lazarus Pits or League of Assassins mean anything to you?"

"The Who Pits and League of What!? No, Ancients no!"

Danny raised an eyebrow and looked genuinely baffled by the question.

"Well according to what Nightwing told me, they believed you were using an old form of their dialect and thus believed you were with them. Tell me then where did you learn it?"

"Uh? This is English? I don't know why everyone else speaks like old Shakespearean novels in this world but at least it's English back in my dimension?"

"I see... So then I assume you were just trying to build a portal home?"

She placed a hand onto Danny's shoulder, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Y-Yeah... And... That was my last shot. Because I needed to use Ectoplasm to imbue the parts in order to make the portal into the Infinite Realms so I could find my way back."

This caused the man to take a deep sigh as he's having a slow burn realization of something before resting his head on his arms.

"Oh mine own god we couldst not has't fuck'd this up any m're if 't be true we hath tried..."

Step 1: Get stuck in another dimension. Step 2: build a portal back to the Ghost Zone. Step 3: Leave.

Danny's got it down to a science at this point. It barely takes him a week to get back home. (Except for the time the dimension he landed in was in the stone age, but we don't talk about that.)

Step 1 was easy enough, if involuntary. Now, step 2 is where it's all going wrong.

This dimension's language isn't one he speaks. That's fine, maybe adds a day or two to the search for parts, but the main problem is the people dressed in Halloween costumes, speaking like they're from a Shakespearean play who always find him and wreck his portal.

And it's not like he can just move to a different city, this one's soaked in ectoplasm. He'd have to spend a pretty fair amount of time searching for another place as saturated as this one.

Meanwhile, the Bats are not having a good time. Some League or League-adjacent member speaking a barely intelligible form of the League dialect keeps attempting to build some sort of weapon in Gotham, and refuses all communication in English.

(AKA: Danny is stuck in another dimension where his English is their League dialect. He just wants to go home now, please.)

[themultifanshipper]

Filming an ad for Hilton with Lando wasn't really on your bucket list, to be honest. 

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, filming (yeah you know where this is going), oral, blowjobs (mxm), based on that 12 minute video of Nortrell flirting, reader is a Quadrant employee

Requested by 🎲 anon ;)

He was your situationship friend, not a commercial partner.  

And neither were Hilton quite frankly, but what the hell. You knew Lando would share the money with you, he wasn't a total ass. 

You were part of the Quadrant production team, and you owed Lando this favour. 

So there you were, being shuffled around with Max and Lando around the fancy hotel, eating food and watching Lando do his photoshoots. 

You ended up in one of the rooms where Lando was supposed to be posing in a bathtub. 

You decided to skip this particular part and stood next to Max while he filmed with the camcorder. 

“I'm videoing you in a bathtub. Never thought this would happen.” Max deadpanned, making you and Lando burst out laughing. 

“Yeah right. As if you've never seen your boyfriend naked.” You teased. 

He huffed and looked at you mischievously. 

He waited until everyone else was packed up and out of the room to snap back. 

“Well actually there isn't anyone in this room I haven't seen naked, so…” 

Your jaw dropped, hopefully that little nugget wouldn't make it into the ad.  

You could blackmail Max into deleting it before sending the footage to the Hilton comms department. 

Lando scoffed and crawled out of the tub. He took off his robe and folded it, putting it back on the bed where he'd found it. 

“You're never gonna let us forget that are you? It's not our fault you don't know how to knock!” 

Max guffawed at the accusation. 

“You were in my living room, why would I need to knock?!” 

“Because we were naked!”  

“Oh my god!”  

You remembered that night. You and Lando hadn't seen each other in a while and Max was out so you had a little fun.  

You facepalmed while the two bickered back and forth. 

Long story short you got carried away and lost track of time. It could happen to anyone! 

Max came home, opened the door and saw the two of you going at it like animals. 

But what he neglects to mention every time he brings it up, is that he rather enjoyed the experience.  

Because you and Lando invited him to stay and watch.  

And watch he did… 

“I don’t remember you complaining while you were having a wank over it”  

“You said I could stay!” 

“Yeah, out of the goodness of my heart, and yet you still give us shit for it!” 

You'd had enough. 

“Oi! Shut the fuck up, both of you!” You shouted from where you were sprawled over the bed. 

Lando's gaze snapped to you. 

“You're not gonna weigh in here?” he asked you. 

“No, Max is right, it was his apartment, and you invited him to watch” 

“Oh I invited him, did I?” he stalked over to you, planting his hands on your thighs as he leaned over you. “Because I seem to remember you being rather excited at the idea of being watched.” 

You sat up, your face ending up inches from his as you stared at each other defiantly. 

“Yeah, I did enjoy it, so what?” 

“So” he chuckled “You're just as guilty as me... and I don't think you would be opposed to me inviting him more often” 

Your eyebrows shot up and you leaned in closer. 

“You tell me, he's your boyfriend” you murmured teasingly. 

He hummed and closed the distance, brushing his lips against yours. 

“You’re such a brat” he whispered.

“You love it, though” you smiled into the kiss, nibbling on his lower lip in the way you knew drove him absolutely crazy. 

Max couldn't quite believe what was happening right in front of him. 

He had the camera still pointed at the two of you, and watched as Lando climbed onto your lap, straddling your thighs as he deepened the kiss. 

One of you hands went to hold his lower back while the other curled into the hair at the back of his head to pull at it. 

Lando moaned into the kiss and Max felt his pants tighten. 

“Yeah” you rasped “Yeah, okay” 

“Fuck- let me… let me fuck you. Please” Lando panted, unbuttoning your shirt to palm at your tits. 

Lord, he was quite desperate today... it must have been the presence of the camera that made him want to jump your bones this badly.

You shuffled around, shedding clothes until you were both left in your underwear. 

Lando kneeled at the edge of the bed and peeled your panties off slowly, reveling in the way you shivered under his intense gaze. 

He licked his lips hungrily before diving in between your thighs. 

His deep groans served only to drive you mad with need as the vibration stimulated you further, and he slid a couple of his slender fingers into you. 

The way he knew your body like no one else could gave him the advantage of knowing the quickest way to make you come. 

Your loud moans echoed in the room and Max didn't know what to do with himself. 

His knees were seconds away from buckling, and he was transfixed by the way Lando's eyes were closed as he hummed at the taste of your release on his tongue. 

Then Lando sat back on his haunches and turned around, wet face gleaming obscenely in the light while he grinned at Max. 

“Sit down, camera boy. The cuck chair is right there” he pointed towards the leather armchair that was on the side of the bed, facing it, as if that was it's purpose. 

He did so, sitting in the chair and shuffling it closer to the bed to get a better angle. 

Lando crawled over your body and gave you a lingering kiss before hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. 

“Gonna take all of me baby?” he mumbled, lining himself up and pushing just the tip in. “Gonna be good for the camera and show them how well you take my cock?” 

You nodded, clinging to him desperately as he softly kissed the inside of your knee that was on his shoulder. 

He glanced at Max, who’s mouth was open, and pants well tented. 

He sent him a sly wink and Max had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from cursing as Lando thrust his whole cock into you in one go. 

He wasn't huge in length, thank god, but his girth was impressive and the sight of it splitting you open was almost too much for Max to handle. 

He rubbed himself over his pants, trying to get a semblance of relief while he watched his best friend pound into your sweet cunt over and over, making the bed rock with the power of his thrusts. 

“Lando!” you cried, you were having trouble getting air into your lungs with the way he was slamming into you. 

“Fuck-“ Lando groaned, he was transfixed by the way his cock was coated in your juices every time it slid out of you.  

You were on cloud nine, the way Lando’s cock was stretching you out and hitting all the right spots was making you go limp, and Lando was able to lean over you to make you bend any way he wanted. 

“I can feel you tightening around me” he chuckled, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. “Are you getting close, sweetheart?”  

Max's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't deny that Lando's condescending tone was doing funny things to his brain. 

He watched you acquiesce and writhe in ecstasy when Lando thumbed at your clit while rolling his hips up into you just the way he knew made you feral. 

Max almost came at the sight, the two sweaty bodies rutting against each other desperately, and the sweet moans coming from you and Lando were making him ache. 

Then all movement stopped, Lando's forehead was pressed against yours as you breathed each other in and panted into the stale air. 

Then something shifted. 

Max felt the energy change when you whispered something unintelligible to Lando. 

The latter turned his head to look at Max, slight smirk creeping at the edge of his lips. 

“Want me to suck you off, camera boy?” he said. 

Max almost dropped the camera in shock at the question. 

That was new. In their many years of knowing each other they'd dabbled in voyeurism, even getting off to each other on the phone once. They had been particularly desperate that time. 

But never had they actually touched each other like that. 

“Go on then” he attempted to sound nonchalant, but there was a definite tremble in his voice. 

Lando grinned and made his way over, kneeling at Max's feet while his hands slid up Max's legs enticingly. 

“Do you uhm…” Max motioned at the camera that was still in his hand “what do want me to do with…” 

“Film me” Lando purred, one of his hands going to unbuckled Max's belt. “Keep the footage if you want” 

Max groaned at the thought of having such a video on his computer to use whenever he needed to unwind. 

“Okay” he breathed, just as Lando pulled his aching cock  out and gave it a teasing lick. 

Lando was making quite the show of it, looking straight into the camera while licking Max from base to tip.  

When he finally wrapped his lips around it, about halfway down and sucked, Max couldn't help the involuntary thrust of his hips. 

Lando didn't choke though, he just held Max's hips down and took him even further, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. 

Max had no idea Lando liked sucking cock this much. 

The hand not holding the camera went to tangle in Lando's curls, and only when his lips reached the base did he choke slightly. 

Max pulled him off for a quick breather and stood up, forcing Lando's head backwards to look at him properly. 

Deshevelled didn't even begin to cover it. 

Lando's cheeks were red and tears clung to his lashes. Not to mention the drool dripping down his chin. 

His eyes were lidded and slightly unfocused as he gazed up at Max with his tongue almost hanging out. 

“Fucking hell, man. I had no idea you were such a whore for cock”  

Lando whined pathetically and Max looked at you, where you were perched on the edge of the bed. 

“Did you know?” he asked breathlessly. 

You nodded with a smirk “Why do you think I ordered the strap-on?” 

Ah yes, Max thought. That little incident. 

Max had been staying over at Lando's for a few nights and a mysterious parcel had been delivered. 

You had shown up for some reason (Max didn't yet know about you and Lando) and taken it with you. 

Max and Lando had opened it beforehand though, so he knew the contents. 

Lando claimed he sometimes received packages for you because of some administrative problems with the postal service, or some other bullshit Lando managed to cook up. 

Max had then assumed you were a lesbian. Until he walked in on you fucking in his apartment that time. 

After that he assumed you were bisexual. He never suspected that it was in fact Lando on the receiving end of the strap. 

And he now knew Lando liked receiving it at both ends… 

Well that certainly was a vivid image, but not quite as vivid as the one currently burning into Max's retinas. The one of Lando on his knees while Max fucked his eager mouth. 

“So you like being fucked, huh?” He mumbled. “You like being used? Is that it? You such a slut that you'll let us do whatever we want with you?” 

Lando whined around his cock, and it didn't take long before Max was shooting ropes of cum into Lando's open mouth. 

He'd been quite riled up after all, and this was new and exciting territory, and Lando's mouth felt like fucking heaven. 

And the absolute whore swallowed every last drop of it, opening his mouth and showing him the proof. 

“Good boy” you and Max both said at the same time, and you glanced at each other with a smirk. This wasn’t the last time Max was going to join you, that's for sure. 

Later, back in the car that was taking you to your evening obligations. Lando let out an unexpected giggle. 

You and Max looked at him questionningly. 

“How much do you think Hilton would pay us for that footage?” 

“Lando!” 

[semisasseater]

YEAH, I BROUGHT THE HEAT BACK

데일 듯 hotter, hotter

SUMMARY ‘ y/n pushes jays limits during their promotions which causes him to fuck her brains out ♡

𓊆 爵士 𓊇 x f!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 1,007 smut rough sex spanking degradation light face slapping dom/sub dynamics daddy kink overstimulation? slight non-prep penetration aftercare — 类型 smut romance idol au secret relationship

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎

‧˚⠀⠀ 🔥⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : i need jays cock i need jays cock i need jays cock NOW.

As the days passed, your secret relationship with Jay continued to flourish, even amid the chaos of your group’s comeback. The song Brought the Heat Back was a massive hit, dominating the charts and earning nonstop promotions. But despite the demanding schedule, you found yourself increasingly distracted—specifically by Jay’s ridiculously good looks. Every time he stepped onto the stage, exuding effortless confidence and raw charisma, your mind wandered to places it probably shouldn’t during work.

During one particular photoshoot, Jay sat in a chair, looking like an absolute greek god in his outfit. His sharp gaze and relaxed posture made him all the more irresistible. Your pose required you to sit on his thigh, turning your head towards the camera while keeping your back to it. The moment you settled onto him, a mischievous idea struck you. With the staff focused elsewhere, you subtly rolled your hips, grinding against his thigh just enough to tease.

Jay’s reaction was immediate. His grip on your pants tightened, and his jaw clenched. He leaned in just enough for you to hear his low warning. “Knock it off wait till we get home.”

But you weren’t feeling patient. Pouting, you shook your head in defiance, a silent plea for more. Jay exhaled sharply, his frustration evident, but there was something else in his eyes—amusement. You were testing his limits, and you both knew it.

The next shoot included the entire group—Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki. As you all gathered for a group shot, you couldn’t resist pushing things further. Under the guise of casual placement, you discreetly rested your hand over Jay’s crotch, feeling the warmth of him through his pants.

Jay’s fingers instantly wrapped around your wrist, removing your hand with a firm grip. He leaned down, his voice a sharp whisper in your ear. “I said fucking stop it wait till we get home.”

Again, you refused, shaking your head with a playful smirk. This time, Jay’s patience snapped. The warning look he shot you sent a clear message—you had pushed far enough. Finally, you backed down, but the tension between you only grew stronger as the day dragged on.

By the time you both made it home, the moment the door shut behind you, Jay had you pinned against the wall. His hands pressed firmly against your sides as his darkened eyes bore into yours.

“I told you to fucking wait until we were done.” His voice was deep, edged with frustration and something more dangerous—desire.

You barely had a chance to respond before he crashed his lips against yours, his body pressing you further into the wall. Breathless, you managed to mumble an apology between kisses. “I’m sorry daddy… I was just really horny…”

Jay let out a low chuckle, his amusement quickly overshadowed by hunger. “Oh you’re gonna be sorry alright.”

He wasted no time dragging you to the bedroom. Clothes were torn off in a frenzy, and when he yanked your pink panties off, you gasped. “Hey! Those were my favorite!”

Jay smirked, tossing them aside. “Shut up i’ll buy you more.”

As he prepared to stretch you out, you shook your head, voice breathless with impatience. “No… I don’t want that just want your cock.”

Jay froze for a second, brows furrowed. “You don’t want prep? Are you sure?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, I don’t.”

That was all he needed to hear. As he stripped the last of his clothes, he muttered under his breath, “Of course you don’t… fucking slut.”

With a quick flick, he grabbed the lube, slicking himself up before pushing into you in one swift motion. The sudden stretch had you squirming, your body clenching around him as moans spilled uncontrollably from your lips. Jay held still for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust before pulling back and slamming into you again.

Your cries filled the room as he set a relentless pace, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. You clung to him desperately, hands grasping at anything—his arms, the sheets, the headboard—anything to ground yourself. But Jay wasn’t done with you yet.

Flipping you onto your hands and knees, he gripped your hips and started pounding into you from behind. Your knees trembled beneath you, your body barely able to handle the intensity. Each sharp thrust sent you spiraling further, your voice breaking as you whimpered his name over and over.

“J-Jay—please—s-slow down—”

But he wasn’t listening. A firm slap landed against your ass, making you cry out. Another followed, and another, each one leaving a stinging heat in its wake. Tears welled in your eyes from the overwhelming sensations—pain, pleasure, overstimulation—it was all too much. Yet, you didn’t want him to stop.

Jay let out a deep chuckle, his fingers trailing up to your face. With a firm grip, he grabbed your jaw, forcing your head to the side. He watched you, your teary eyes, your parted lips, the way drool dripped onto the sheets. He laughed, rubbing his thumb over your cheek before giving your face a light slap.

“Look at you” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Fucking ruined.”

Your body shook with exhaustion, yet you still begged for more. By the time he finally spilled inside you, your limbs had turned to jelly, your mind foggy with bliss.

Jay sighed, pulling you against his chest as he peppered gentle kisses along your temple. He scooped you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. The moment he set you down, he helped you onto the toilet, rubbing your thighs soothingly as he whispered, “Come on baby you gotta pee.”

Afterward, he ran a warm bath, massaging your shoulders as he helped you relax. His hands glided over your skin, rubbing your sore legs, whispering sweet words of love and praise.

As the two of you curled up in bed afterward, bodies tangled together, you felt yourself slipping into a peaceful sleep.

Still, one lingering thought danced in your mind—how you were definitely going to tease him again during filming.

@semisasseater

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary:  When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips. 

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood. 

No man his age should look that good. 

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands. 

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you. 

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly. 

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap. 

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher. 

You were always distracted by him. 

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out. 

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one. 

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing. 

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin. 

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you. 

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy. 

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up. 

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle. 

But you liked your job… sometimes. 

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander. 

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut. 

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced. 

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies. 

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe. 

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you. 

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him. 

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up. 

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again. 

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

“What?” You ask him. 

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red. 

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking. 

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben. 

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else. 

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath. 

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble. 

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done. 

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard. 

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin. 

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.” 

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced. 

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone. 

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose. 

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly. 

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously. 

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment. 

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!” 

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly. 

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this. 

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was. 

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair. 

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not. 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to. 

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you. 

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away. 

“Fine.” Ben states. 

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-” 

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Keep it together… 

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin. 

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight. 

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.” 

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

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[sinstear]

ㅤI KINDA WANNA KISS YOUR GIRLFRIEND IF YOU DON’T MIND

tags; 18+, established ellabs relationship, loser!abby, sub!abby, dom!reader, dom!ellie (kinda), cocky!reader, fingering (a!receiving) needy abby, mutual pining between 3 fuckin’ idiots who don’t want to admit they like each other to be honest, smoking, dirty talk, spitting, nipple play. wrote this 3 times 😃 so if i’m missing some stuff, soz!

You’ve been Ellie’s best friend since you could practically walk, curse like a sailor at a random person in the street if they looked at you funny, and break anything you could find. Abby, who’s been dating Ellie for almost 2 years, wonders if Ellie had ever felt anything other than friendship with you. She wonders if she looks at you in the way Abby finds herself doing. Was it wrong? So wrong to look at someone who isn’t her girlfriend? Maybe but she wasn’t going to tell Ellie that. No.

It probably only started after times Ellie had asked you to pick Abby up from work because she herself was working, and maybe if you hadn’t given her that stupid fucking lazy smile you’d give her whenever she would grumble under her breath at your loud music every single time you did pick her up, then maybe she wouldn’t steal glances at you. Even when her girlfriend was with her.

If Ellie picked up on it, she sure as hell never mentioned it to Abby or You. Ellie was good. If she notices something, she doesn’t say anything until Abby brings it up first. They got each other like that.

Since getting with Abby, Ellie never really moved out from the apartment she shared with you. Her girlfriend spends more time there than she does at her own place so it always made sense this way. You were never a third wheel per say, you enjoyed both their company; even if you were a grumpy asshole most of the time.

You also loved to pretend to be annoyed at the fact they would always wake you up. Acting like it bothered you, but when breakfast came, Abby would be a blushing, flustered mess when you would mock how she sounds. Ellie would sit on the other side of the couch, drinking her coffee and smirking subtly.

Ellie’s sitting on her— your bed, Abby slumped between her legs with her head resting on the brunette’s chest comfortably. She’s reading one of her books, Ellie isn’t sure which one, just knows it’s one from her huge collection and she slowly threads her fingers through the Blonde hair, tugging strands lightly.

“Stop hoggin it,” Abby murmurs, reaching a hand up behind her. “S’my turn.”

Rolling her eyes, Ellie pulls the joint from between her lips and carefully passes it to Abby, slipping it between her fingers and shoving her other hand under her girlfriend’s shirt. The action causes Abby to shiver and wrap her lips around the joint before inhaling.

Both of them are able to share the joint a few more times until the sound of the bathroom door is unlocking, and you walk out freshly showered hair wet and a loose pair of sweatpants hang loosely around your hips with a little too tight shirt on. Of course Abby notices that.

“Can you guys go five minutes without fuckin on my bed’? I bet you’ve both fucked twice since I went in the shower,” you grumbled as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

Ellie snorts under her breath, eyebrow slightly raising. “Told you that you’re welcome to join.”

As you move around your room, you glance over and find Abby’s eyes fluttering closed with each puff she takes, and a subtle grin appears on your lips. “Nah, think you guys would enjoy that too much— is that my shirt?”

“Relax, she needed a new one.” Ellie scoffed.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything, looks good,” You nodded, dropped your towel on the floor and made your way back over to the bed. “Are you gonna share or?”

Abby’s eyes snap open and lock with yours quickly when she finally takes notice of you being a lot closer than you originally were. “No,” She smirked playfully, dropped her book beside her and shook her head. “Don’t feel like it.”

“Oh? You don’t?” You laughed, cocking your head to the side with a soft tut. “Ellie, does your girl not have manners?”

“Only sometimes,” Ellie murmured against Abby’s neck, and snuck her hand back up the shirt. “She doesn’t like to share joints with many people.”

Eyeing her up closely, a deep hum emitted from the back of your throat. “Yeah, I can see that, dickhead,” You scowled and held your hand out. “But I bought the weed, therefore you’re smoking my stuff.”

Blowing the smoke in your face, Abby giggles with a gentle eye roll and passes it to you this time, shivering and softly whimpering when Ellie’s hand cups one of her tits. None of you are seemingly embarrassed by this. Or you chose to ignore Abby’s flushed cheeks.

“Please don’t fuck on my bed again,” You sighed, watching how Ellie practically gropes Abby right before your eyes and not having a single ounce of shame.

“Abby likes when people watch,” Ellie admitted, biting back a laugh when Abby scoffs. “Right, you like when she watches.” Just like that her eyes snap open again and she’s caught. Shit.

“What?” Abby chokes out.

“S’cute,” You started, taking another hit and chuckling. “Think we don’t know, but we do,”

“Know what?”

“Your little staring problem. You think I don’t notice the way you stare a little too long? Especially when it’s just you and me. M’surprised you haven’t drooled over yourself yet.”

“That’s not—”

“So you haven’t thought about it before?”

Ellie’s silently watching from behind, smirking and pushing the shirt up higher, Abby’s perky nipples on display before you can blink. “T..Thought about what?” She mumbles, eyes not leaving yours.

Her lips part and pupils are blown slightly wide when you kneel on the bed and the joint is still between your lips. “You’ve never thought about me fucking you?”

The question hangs in the air, her skin is covered in goosebumps, you’ve got her right where you want her that she seems to only be focused on you. So focused that Ellie manages to get the shirt off her without a problem. “Do you, Baby?” Ellie finally speaks and it’s soft against her ear. “Do you think about her fucking you?”

Placing the joint in the ashtray, your attention doesn’t waver from Abby. It’s always on her for fuck sake, you’ve stole your own glances at her when Ellie’s not here, when she’s in your apartment, wearing your clothes that Ellie lent her. Fuck.

“S..Sometimes.” Abby admitted with a moan, heat pooling between her legs and she doesn’t have the balls to admit just how wet she is right now.

“Ellie?”

“What?”

“Can I kiss her?” The question is innocent and Abby’s heart swells at how softly you ask. Your hand rests on her thigh, eyes roaming her face slowly and that stupid grin would have her melting into a puddle if she was stood up and not lying down.

Abby’s cheeks flush at the feeling of Ellie’s smile against her neck, and the vibration of her laugh sends her into a frenzy. “Do you want her to kiss you?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes.”

You’re suddenly so much closer to her face, so close that she can see the way your pupils are blown too. Was it the weed? Was it something else? Abby wasn’t sure, but with Ellie’s fingers pinching and rolling her nipples, and your breath against her face, she couldn’t focus. “You want it?” You asked, fingers gripping her chin.

“Uh huh,” Abby nodded, arching against Ellie’s chest at a certain pinch.

“You want it?”

“Please?”

You press your lips to hers, and Abby melts into you with a gentle sigh. She didn’t expect for your lips to be so perfect and soft against hers, maybe it’s because of all the times she catches you using lip balm or some stupid shit you saw on the internet, either way, she doesn’t care. Not when your free hand reaches up and cups the side of her face and kisses her just a little harder. Ellie watches from behind and her stomach flutters and her cunt clenches around nothing at the sight. At the sounds you were easily pulling from her girlfriend.

Whimpering into your mouth suddenly, Abby grips your hand and pushes it downwards abruptly. Pulling away just slightly, you ignored the whine she let out and laughed at how wet she was. “Weed makes you fuckin’ horny, huh?”

Makes her horny all the time, why do you think she’s always riding my cock like a slut?” Ellie piped up, biting and sucking her neck harshly. “Bet you could just slip your fingers right in, always so wet.”

“Want me to fuck you?” You whispered against her lips, squeezing and gripping her thigh. Abby’s quick to nod while you simply tutted again. “Words, Baby.”

“Yes, want you to fuck me,” She whimpered quietly and lifted her hips up at your patting of her hip. Licking her lips and looking away bashfully when you’re pulling down her sweatpants and her boxers, she suddenly feels embarrassed at the noticeable wet patch on the fabric.

“Makes you horny alright,” You murmured and threw her clothes somewhere behind you. Your eyes find Ellie, and for a few seconds you just stare at each other. “Is this okay?”

“It’s okay with me, Abs are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, just— please,” She sighed, legs falling open on their own accord and her cunt glistened with slick before you. “Need you to fuck me, please, please.”

“Someone’s needy,” You commented.

Before Abby could respond to your words, your lips were already back on hers, kissing her hungrily. Your teeth nipped at her bottom lip, hands running up and down her thighs and she shivered. Blunt nails sunk into the skin and Abby whines pathetically at both yours and Abby’s touch. “Such a needy slut,” Ellie murmurs into her neck, fingertips pinching harder at her nipples. “Need to always be full, hm?”

Your thumb finds her clit, and Abby pulls away with a soft whimper, a string of spit keeping the two of you together as her eyes flutter closed and arches into you. “So wet,” You murmured, kissing up and down her jaw. You rub slow circles on her clit, and smile against her skin at her jolts. “Sensitive too.”

“I bet,” Ellie laughed, reaching her hand up and tilting Abby’s head back by her chin. “Only fucked her this morning—”

“Could hear you,” You scoffed, dipping your fingers down and slipping them between her soaked folds, slick coating your fingers embarrassingly quick. “Sound so pretty when you moan,” Your lips brushed against her ear and Abby whined. “So pretty when you’re getting fucked.”

Abby’s eyes fluttered open at your words, cheeks flushed and heart hammering in her chest, to find Ellie already looking down at her with a smirk on her lips and her thumb stroked her cheek slowly. “Open your mouth for me, baby,” She asked, moving her fingers and tapping her lips. “Be a good girl for us, yeah?”

Obediently, Abby opens her mouth and Ellie lowers her face down a little more. You watched the sight silently, fingers still rubbing faster and harsher circles on her clit, and you licked your lips hungrily as Ellie held her mouth open by her chin, and spat a glob of spit into her waiting mouth. Just as she went to swallow, the brunette locked her in a harsh kiss and Abby moaned into her mouth when you’re sinking two of your fingers into her cunt. Her hand grasped your wrist tightly and the other held onto Ellie’s knee tightly.

“So tight,” You growled at the feeling of her walls clamping tightly around your fingers. Abby’s hand grips your wrist harder, hips wildy bucking up into your touch as your fingers brush and curl against her velvet walls perfectly.

Pulling away with a smack of wet lips, Ellie grinned down at Abby’s flushed face, wiped the spit from the corners of her lips with her thumb, and slid her other hand down her stomach. “Look so pretty,” She murmurs softly. “Pretty when you’re stuffed full and being a good girl.”

“More,” Abby whimpered, grinding against your fingers, taking them deeper with each thrust. Her back arches against Ellie’s chest, pushing more up into you when your lips find her neck; where you kiss, bite and suck harshly. “Fuck.”

Your lips curl into a smile at her whimpers, and you barely notice Ellie moving her hand down between Abby’s legs until she gasps loudly and holds your wrist with an iron grip. “This what you wanted? Me playing with your pretty clit while she fucks you?”

“Yes— fuck, please.” Abby chants pathetically.

Littering kisses up and down her neck, another curl of your fingers has her letting go of your wrist and wrapping an arm around your neck, pulling you closer to her. “You think about me when you fuck yourself?” You found yourself muttering into her skin, working your fingers in and out of her with vigor. “Hm?”

The way her cunt clenches around your fingers, and clit throbs beneath Ellie’s thumb at your question is an answer for both of you and it has your heart hammering in your chest. “Course you do, pussy’s made for my fingers, ain’t she?” You’re purposely Pissing Ellie off, and it works when you hear her grumbling behind Abby. “Don’t worry, baby, my cock will be perfect for you.”

Abby gasps, but she’s not sure if it’s the way you’re fucking her so good, or your words that has her flushed and wrecked, but she doesn’t seem to care. Especially not when you lift your head from her neck, lean your face closer to hers and brush your lips against her pink plump ones. “Look so pretty for me, so beautiful while you ride my fingers like a whore,” You smiled. Smiled like you didn’t have your fingers reaching parts she couldn’t even reach.

It usually takes Abby a while to get to where she wants, but when she feels the tightening of her lower stomach, the familiar feeling rising, she closes her legs around your wrist, shamelessly grinding against your fingers. “M’gonna cum,” She whines, eyes fluttering open and closed a couple of times before they find yours again. “Need to cum,”

“Yeah?” You cocked your head to the side, looked down where Ellie had one of her hands on her thighs, keeping it apart and hummed at the sight of her fingers against Abby’s clit. “Gonna cum for me or her?”

“Please—”

“Who are you gonna cum for? Me or her?” You asked again, speeding up your fingers. “C’mon baby, tell me who you’re gonna cum for.”

The loud squelching sounds had the blood rushing to her head, the thumping in her ears louder and Abby’s lips parted with a loud whimper when you’re brushing that spot that makes her toes curl. “You! M’gonna cum for you, please.”

“Yeah? Go on then, cum for me.”

That’s all it took for her body to tense up, like your words were the only things she needed to hear, as her back arches, body arching into you, her gasps come out in short breaths and cums against your fingers with a pathetic whine. The gush of sticky spray covering your wrist makes you grin down at her smugly. “Fuck, made you squirt, huh? Definitely need to do that again, angel,” You murmured, leaning down and kissing her lips with a soft moan of your own. “You’re so pretty when you cum.”

As Abby came down from her high, your fingers buried to a hilt, still inside her, your lips found her ear again and your eyes locked with Ellie’s lustful ones as you spoke. “You’re gonna ride my cock while we show your girlfriend how to fuck her girl right, yeah?”

[mssorceressupreme]

Take Care of You | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: you wake up realising you’ve stained your boyfriend’s bed with period blood, and you feel terrible. later, while playing a friendly quidditch game, you get deadly cramps again and fred takes care of you for the rest of the day.

Warnings/content: reader gets her period, mentions of blood, pimples (lmao), insecure!reader, period cramps, fluff, fred weasley is THE standard :,), molly and arthur being the sweetest gems

———

The Burrow was quiet in the early morning, the golden glow of the sun barely peeking through the curtains of Fred's bedroom. The soft rise and fall of his breathing filled the room, his arms wrapped securely around you as you lay nestled against him. His warmth, his scent—fresh, like cinnamon and a hint of something mischievously sweet—made you want to stay here forever.

However, during this particular morning, something felt...off.

You shifted slightly, your brows knitting as you became aware of a slight discomfort in your lower abdomen. Your face scrunched up in confusion, and as you moved your hand to touch your face, you felt a few bumps along your skin—pimples, no doubt. Great. Just what you needed.

Then, you felt it. The damp warmth between your legs. A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. Panic shot through you as you carefully lifted the covers, heart pounding as you caught sight of the undeniable red stain on Fred’s bedsheets.

Oh no.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening in sheer mortification. Not only had you woken up to pimples, but you had gotten your period in your boyfriend’s bed.

Your boyfriend’s bed. Sure, if it was your own bed, you didn't mind, as it would be your problem to deal with. This, however, was an entirely different case. Godric, you wanted to hide, to run away, to retreat into your shell.

The urge to disappear entirely took over as your face burned with embarrassment. What were you supposed to do? Wake him up and tell him you’d basically bled all over his sheets? You felt a lump in your throat and your vision became teary. Especially with pimples all over your face now, what would Fred think? Would he get grossed out, horrified, disgusted?

Maybe if you were really quiet, you could sneak out and fix it before he even noticed—

Time seemed to slip from your hands when all the shifting you did stirred Fred from his sleep. Shit, it was too late to move.

He groaned softly before his arms instinctively tightened around your waist, pulling you back against him with a lazy smile.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He pressed a sleepy kiss to your cheek before pausing, sensing the tension in your body. His brows furrowed, and he blinked, still groggy. “You alright, darling? You seem a little tense.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “Fred, I—” Your voice was small, laced with hesitation. You inhaled deeply before revealing your dilemma, “I got my period.”

Fred blinked, confused for a second, before his lips curled into a small, lopsided smile. “Alright, love, no need to sound so distressed about it.”

You groaned again, this time with frustration. “No, you don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I stained your bed.”

With a deep breath, you lifted up the duvet and hesitantly pointed at the small red patch on the sheets. You felt your heart hammering in your chest as you dared to glance at his face, bracing yourself for—well, you didn’t know what exactly. Disgust? Annoyance? Irritation? But instead, all you found was Fred sitting up, stretching before looking at the stain with mild curiosity, then back at you with a soft chuckle.

“Is that all?” he said, completely unfazed. “Thought you were gonna tell me you’d hexed my eyebrows off in my sleep or something.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Fred, I just bled on your bed,” you repeated, incredulous. “How are you this calm?”

"I just got my period...and I'm breaking out all over my face, I feel like a mess right now, I—" You continued rambling, all your worries spilling out at once.

He rolled his eyes fondly and pulled you into a warm hug, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay, love,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s normal, yeah? Not like you did it on purpose.” He pulled back slightly, his hands gently cupping your face. “My poor baby, let me take care of you.”

Your heart melted at his words, but you still couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. “But your sheets—”

“Easily cleaned,” he interrupted, waving a hand like it was nothing. “Mum’s got stain removers, no big deal. What is a big deal, though, is that you’re clearly not feeling great.” His hands dropped to your waist, tugging you close again. “And my girl needs to be taken care of.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, Fred was already hopping out of bed. “I’ll be right back,” he said, tossing on a shirt. “You go to the bathroom, get cleaned up. I’ll sort everything else out.”

Still in a daze from his reaction, you hesitated before nodding. You slipped into the bathroom, heart still pounding as you peeled off your clothes, carefully cleaning yourself up. A few moments later, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Here, I’ve got some pads for you,” Fred called from the other side.

You cracked open the door, peeking out to see him holding a small stack of pads in his hands, a sheepish yet triumphant grin on his face.

“Ginny might have thrown something at me when I woke her up to ask, but worth it,” he teased, handing them to you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Thank you, handsome.”

“For a pretty girl like you, anytime.” He kissed your forehead gently before stepping back. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Once you were done, you returned to Fred’s room to find the bed already spotless, the stain completely gone. He grinned when he saw you. “Told you I’d sort it.”

You launched yourself at him, hugging him tightly. “Ugh Fred, you’re too good at this.”

“I know,” he said smugly, earning a light smack on the arm. He chuckled before pressing another soft kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get some breakfast in you, yeah?” There was something comforting about his kisses, every time he planted one on you, it felt as though everything was going to be alright.

Downstairs, the Burrow was already lively with chatter. Molly beamed as she hugged you good morning before returning to cooking, and Arthur greeted you warmly.

"Ah come join us, you lovebirds." Arthur teased, Fred's ears turning a light shade of red in response.

"What took you guys so long today? Busy eh?" Ron teased, wiggling his brows before taking a bite of his toast.

"Shove off, what's the point in rushing downstairs? Not like we've got somewhere to be." Fred retorted, a bit more harshly than he had intended.

Ginny shot you two a knowing look, giving you a sympathetic smile, "You won't understand the pressures of being a woman Ron, takes a lot to look this good every day." She joked, though laced with a comforting undertone, indirectly defending you. You tilted your head and smiled warmly at her, a way of showing gratitude.

"Come Y/N dear, you must be starving." Molly placed two eggs on your plate next to your toast, "Percy, pass her the butter will you."

"This looks delicious, thank you Molly!" You beamed, her food was always made with love; a mother's love, and that's what made it extra tasty.

Though you smiled, and occasionally shared quips with the others, only Fred was able to see right through you. He kept sneaking glances, his hand resting on your thigh under the table, stroking it gently.

You turned to give him a reassuring smile, but he still worried for you, wanting to ensure you felt better.

___

Later that afternoon, you and the Weasleys were playing a toned-down version of Quidditch outside the Burrow.

The sky was clear as day, the air crisp with a cool breeze occasionally blowing your hair, and laughter filled the open field as Ron, Fred, and Ginny zoomed around on their brooms, chucking the Quaffle back and forth.

Meanwhile, you, Percy, and George remained on the ground, running, dodging, and attempting to intercept the ball whenever it came your way.

At first, you kept up, laughing as George nudged you playfully and you pretended to dramatically fall or trip, making him burst into laughter.

"Woah, when did you get so strong?" Sarcasm lingered in your tone.

"Puh-lease, this is like twenty-percent of my strength. You're lucky I'm going on easy on ya." George ruffled your hair messily, it was safe to say the two of you definitely had a sibling-like relationship.

Though as the game went on, you started to slow down. The cramps you’d been trying to ignore all day crept in with full force, sharp and unbearable.

It felt like your insides were twisting, a deep ache radiating through your stomach and back, growing stronger by the minute. You bit your lip, pressing a hand to your abdomen, willing the pain away. But it was no use.

After a few more steps, you stopped completely, crouching down with a sharp inhale.

Fred, who had been mid-air, immediately noticed. He veered off from the game and swooped down toward you, concern flickering across his face. "Love? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice softer now as he handed his broom off to George, who had also stopped running and looked at you with concern.

“You alright, Y/N?” George asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with genuine worry.

You tried to wave them off, not wanting to make a fuss, but Fred wasn’t having it. He crouched beside you, his large hands gently resting on your arms as he searched your face.

"Cramps," you admitted in a whisper, wincing slightly.

Fred was up in an instant. "Alright, that’s it. You're going inside." He stood, helping you up carefully, his arm wrapping around your waist protectively. George gave you an encouraging nod before returning to the game, and as you and Fred walked toward the Burrow, you leaned into him, grateful for his warmth and steady presence.

As soon as you stepped inside, Molly turned from the stove, immediately noticing your pale face and Fred’s worried expression. "What’s wrong, dear?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached.

“Cramps,” Fred answered before you could, his voice carrying that soft, caring edge that made your heart ache in the best way.

“Oh, sweetheart," Molly cooed. "You sit down and rest. I’ll whip up some soup and a cramp relief potion right away.”

"Thank you, Molly," you said softly, feeling a rush of gratitude for the warmth and kindness of the Weasley family.

You always secretly hoped you'd marry into the family one day, but you didn't want to admit that aloud, or pressure Fred into such things yet.

Fred led you upstairs to his room, insisting you lay down. "Rest up, yeah? I’ll be back in a bit," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of the room.

A little while later, the door creaked open again, and Fred returned, carrying a small basket filled with chocolates, a heating pad, some of your favourite snacks, and—to your surprise—a teddy bear.

You blinked at it, smiling despite your discomfort. “A teddy?”

Fred set the basket down, and held the bear up, making its little arm wave at you. "To cuddle with."

You giggled, looking at him with awe. “Come here. I’d rather cuddle with you, baby."

He grinned before climbing into bed next to you, immediately wrapping you in his buff arms. His embrace, his scent—everything about him was comforting, you could only melt right into him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly to face you. But after a moment, you grew shy, burying your face in his chest.

“Don’t look at me,” you mumbled, insecurity creeping in. “I don’t feel pretty right now.”

Fred’s brows furrowed, and he cupped your cheek, tilting your face back up to him. "Don’t you ever say that," he murmured, his gaze filled with so much love it made your heartache.

"You’re perfect. You’re gorgeous. These little things, flaws you might call them—they don’t matter. If anything, they make you even more beautiful. To me, you always look good, angel."

Tears welled in your eyes at his words, and you let out a shaky breath. “I love you, Freddie.”

His expression softened even more, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you too.”

With that, he pulled you closer, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second, drifting off into a peaceful nap in his arms.

___

An hour later, Molly walked in, a tray in her hands carrying a bowl of warm soup and a small vial of cramp relief potion. But as soon as she saw the two of you curled up together, fast asleep, a tender smile spread across her face. She stood there for a moment, simply watching, before turning to call Arthur over.

Arthur peeked inside, his eyes crinkling with affection as he took in the sight. “Reminds me of us back in the day,” he murmured with a fond chuckle.

Molly playfully swatted his arm before she placed the tray on the bedside table, snapping a quick photo of you and Fred with a knowing grin. Then, hand in hand, she and Arthur quietly slipped out of the room, leaving you both to your peaceful afternoon nap.

____

A/N: currently on my period and thought a fluffy fic would be healing rn <3 lowkey feeling a smut one soon? not sure though hehehe (help I'm so indecisive 😭😩)

[wandascrush]

For the first time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Summary: “It’s just like seeing her, for the first time, again”

Warnings: kissing, intimacy, small allusions to sex, angst, descriptions of the female body

Song: For the first time by Mac Demarco

A/N: Some lyrics will be infused in this story (always italicized) Also I swear fluff coming soon for Wanda and Nat!

One Year Ago

“Promise me,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath as you traced slow, lazy circles against Natasha’s bare shoulder. You two lay tangled together in bed, limbs entwined, sheets a mess from the night before. The city hummed softly outside the window, but here, in this moment, you were in your own world.

“Promise you what?” Natasha murmured, her fingers ghosting over your spine.

“That you won’t shut me out. No matter what.” 

Natasha hesitated. She wanted to promise. She really, really did. But some things weren’t that simple. Instead, she kissed your forehead, pulling you closer, letting herself believe—just for a little while—that she could have this.

That she could keep you.

Two years ago

It had been raining that night.

   The soft patter against the windows mixed with the smell of tea and fresh laundry as you paced the tiny apartment, rambling about something that Natasha had long since lost track of. She was too distracted by how beautiful her girlfriend looked in that oversized sweater, her socks sliding slightly against the hardwood as she moved.

“And then she had the nerve to say I should’ve just let her cheat off me—Nat, are you even listening?”

“Hm?” Natasha blinked, trying to focus.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, stepping closer. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?” Natasha smirked, catching your wrist and pulling you forward until you were pressed against her.

Your breath hitched, hands coming to rest on Natasha’s waist.

“You love me.”

  The words were meant to be playful, but Natasha’s heart clenched. Because it was true. And suddenly, it didn’t feel so scary to say it anymore.

“I do,” Natasha admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

Your  eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a smile broke across your face—radiant, breathtaking. She threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss.

“Good,” you murmured against her lips. “Because I love you too.”

The kiss turned more and more heated, Natasha sliding her hands between your legs, filling you up with her fingers as you moved against each other on the couch. Your moans filled the living room, Nat whispering, “Mine,” between each thrust. 

A Lazy Sunday Morning

The smell of coffee filled the apartment as Natasha shuffled into the kitchen, still groggy from sleep. You were at the stove, humming a soft tune, hair a mess from sleep.

Your girlfriend leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching with a lazy smile.

“You gonna make me coffee, or are you just gonna look pretty and tease me?” Natasha rasped, her morning voice thick with sleep.

 “Both.”

The redhead chuckled, stepping forward to wrap her arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling your neck.

“Mm, I think I like waking up to this.”

“You’re getting soft, Romanoff.”

“Only for you.”

You knew what Natasha did, it was impossible not to. She was an Avenger, a hero, a SHIELD agent. Natasha tried so hard to protect you from her life, keep you safe and guarded. But life has a funny way of messing things up. That’s all it took really, one overheard conversation, one unguarded file for your life to change. 

That day would live on in her mind forever, playing like a horror movie. The look of despair, terror on your face when you found out things that no one should ever know. Civilians, should never know. 

You two argued that night, a boxing match, if you will. You both left the ring bruised.  Pleading, crying promises- telling Natasha you’d forget everything you knew, if she just told you the truth. And she so desperately wanted to believe you, but the Agent in her had to tell Fury. She just had to. 

 His suggestion never occurred as a possibility to Nat, was never even a thought in her mind. If it was, she would have never told him. 

“I’m sorry. We just can’t risk it.” 

  “Nick, please-“

”It’s not up for discussion.” 

————

The beep of the heart monitor filled the lab. Sedation kept you peacefully unaware, the dinner you ate that night immediately putting you to sleep before you could stop chewing. 

“Are you sure about this?” Bruce asked gently, standing beside his friend, expression unreadable.

No. For the first time in years, Natasha Romanoff wasn’t sure. But it wasn’t about what she wanted. It never was. 

“Just do it.”

Bruce hesitated for only a moment before pressing the button. Dr. Cho kept your vitals in check, making sure your heartbeat and blood pressure were reasonable. Soft hands gently pressed cold compresses to your limp body. 

It was agony. Watching you twitch, the way your chest rapidly rose and fell, the groans leaving your mouth before you went quiet. 

Bruce carried you into the car, lying your head across Natashas lap in the back seat. It was thirty minutes to the hospital, the last thirty minutes she would ever be able to stroke your soft hair, feel the skin of your arms, or hold your gentle hands. 

And it was thirty minutes until they would place you in a hospital bed, dress you in a medical gown, hook IV’s up to your arms, and Cho would play the part of a typical doctor. She would tell you that you were in an accident, and you would cry. Your memory of Natasha Romanoff, the girl who captured your heart, would cease to exist. From that moment forward, you would become just another civilian. 

And Natasha—broken, bleeding inside—had forced a small, bittersweet smile as Cho wheeled you into the back entrance of the hospital. It was time to play pretend. 

Present Day – Some NY bagel shop

The bell above the café door chimed softly, the Avenger barely noticed. She was staring into her black tea, thoughts elsewhere—until she felt it.

While she’s been away, living day to day has been tough. Without her at my side, simply being alive has been rough.

A pull. A warmth.

Her green eyes shot up.

And there you were.

It’s just like seeing her, for the first time, again. 

Bathed in golden sunlight, wrapped in a soft sundress that clung to you in all the right ways. So effortlessly beautiful that it physically hurt.

Natasha’s breath hitched. Her hands clenched around her cup.

It had been a year. A year since she erased herself from your life. 

Her body involuntarily got up from the table, quickly walking toward the exit. At the same time you quickly turned, bumping into her and knocking the smile off your face.

“Oh!” you gasped, stumbling slightly.

Your eyes met.

Natasha should have left. Should have gotten up and walked away before you could even process who you were. Your brows furrowed slightly as you studied the beautiful woman before you, lips parting in soft confusion.

“I’m sorry…you just look so familiar.”

Natasha’s heart shattered.

She forced a tight smile, gripping her bag strap so hard her knuckles turned white.

“I—I don’t think we’ve met,” she lied.

You weren’t convinced. Squinting, head tilted slightly as if trying to place Natasha in the depths of your mind.

“I swear I’ve seen you before…” you murmured, mainly to yourself.  “Maybe I just have one of those feelings, you know? Like déjà vu.”

Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat.

Déjà vu.

“Yeah,” Natasha whispered. “Maybe.”

When you smiled, it was the same smile. Natasha had fallen in love with. Bright. Warm. Unaware that it had once belonged to the redhead alone. Then, as if drawn to by some unimaginable force, you hesitated.

“Hey, um…” you played with the edge of your cup. “Would you maybe want to sit with me? I—I don’t know why, but I feel like we’d get along. And my date is late anyway.”

Natasha should say no.

She should walk away.

But somehow, she found herself nodding.

[jeongin-lvr]

hi hru? i hope you're ok 💓

i saw that your requests were open so if its ok, id like to request a fic with husband!taehyun. the plot is up to you, cause i love your fics and how you perfectly balanced a soft smut. tysm if you read this request. and take your sweet time, no rush! (:

hi cutie pie im so okay :P and tysm ur so sweet genuinely love getting asks like this ☹️ cw. trad-leaning relationship, breeding kink.

trad husband! taehyun that begs you to carry his babies— literally begs. he practically loses his mind whenever you tell him to cum inside. everything about it is so intimate, so erotic. his favorite place to cum is right in your gushing pussy, as deep as he can go. taehyun tends to let out soft breaths and groans but when he cums inside of you is borderline pornographic breathy moans. high pitched but brief; every time he does it you savor it. cumming as he tells you how pretty you’ll look full of his babies, how you’re gonna be a perfect mama and how he’s gonna be so good to you both. you really don’t need convincing anymore, simply letting him make his claim in you whenever he got pent up. if hubby wants a baby give him a baby <3

trad husband! taehyun who lets you cock warm him as soon as he comes home from work. you’re sure he’s had a rough day from the bags under his eyes and the messiness of his usually well kept hair, so you offer him something he can’t refuse. when you sit on his lap with his cock buried to the hilt inside you, your fingers intertwine in his hair, combing the styling mousse out and kissing his jaw as he rants about a long day. being a business man has his downsides and as a good wife you’re always willing to listen!

trad husband! taehyun that buys you gifts— jewelry, lingerie, dresses, anything —just to fuck you in it. that new pearl necklace and earrings set he got? he wants to watch the precious jewel bounce as you ride his dick. that new floral patterned dress is perfect for easy access so of course he takes advantage of it; bending you over the kitchen counter mid-dinner prep and using you as he pleases. he buys you new panties and asks you to model them for him, knowing damn well it’d be much more than that. if he’s gonna spend money on you (gladly) he’s also gonna get a tiny bit of payment back. even buys new lipstick or mascara for you just to kiss it off, or make you cry on his cock.

trad husband! taehyun who never cums before you. sex feels unfinished when it’s just him cumming, so if he finds himself getting too close to the edge he’ll pull out, opting to play with your clit, teasing you by rubbing just his leaky, red tip along your folds. he doesn’t tell you he’s on the brink of explosion, too focused on dragging you along with him. it’s honestly not hard at all to get you there, though. a few whispers of praise into your ear, breathy and hot, already get you going for him. taehyun has a fetish for your pleasure; honestly, he can’t cum happily if you haven’t yet. he’s so sweet about it too, “c’mon, my pretty wife, give me what I want. you’re close aren’t you? love when you cum on my dick, baby, so give it to me.” you swear you go brain dead when he does this.

trad husband! taehyun who eats you out from behind while you talk about your day. it could be mundane as “I cleaned the house today” to random gossip about your friends or neighbors or whatever. taehyun, honestly, isn’t listening wholly. he’s too busy burying his nose against your throbbing clit and scissoring you open with his slender fingers, wedding band rubbing against your folds. he holds your hips down, enjoying the stutter in your voice when you get close to cumming even though you’re in the middle of your story. he mutters into your core “that’s nice, sweetie” and “yeah, babe.” you’re too blissed out to realize he hasn’t heard a single thing you said this whole time.

trad husband! taehyun who’s favorite version of you is when you wear his big white button ups and nothing else. draping over your smaller frame like curtains to a window; dripping just below your hips. it makes him so hard; blood rushing to his cock the moment he sees you like this. when you have no panties underneath and raise your arms, revealing the soft flesh of your ass his mind short circuits. he can’t help but want to fuck you in any and every position in his button downs.

if this is absolute garbage I’m so sorry I’m so deep into a writers block

[zanarkandss]

the perks of having a teleslate

phainon/reader: 656 words; established relationship; mentions of rough sex; phainon is whipped but also very down to ruin you; gn reader; nsfw (minors dni)

part of the reason i wrote this was bc i kept making jokes about how the hell they were gonna deal w phones in ancient greece. well turns out they did and also gave a guy a gun. so what do i know.

Phainon’s wallpaper is you. You’re pretty sure he had you as his teleslate screen before you got together - ‘It’s what best friends do!’ he’d told you, grin plastered on his face. He even rotates the image out on a weekly basis, wanting to make sure he captures every moment of your life. 

It’s a sweet sentiment, really. You’re just…slightly concerned for his storage space. Surely it’s getting full by now? You’ll ask to go through his phone and he’ll hand you his teleslate no questions asked, and you can’t help but put your head in your hands at how many photos he’s got of you. Some of these, you have no idea when he’s managed to take them, or how he’s managed to convince your friends to send him photos of you when you’re not with him.

(‘What did you bribe them with?’ 

‘Who?’ You glare at him. ‘Ahem. Aglaea gets to go through my wardrobe and sort through it. She said she’d keep what you bought me, though, and said it was a blessing you had—‘ 

‘No more, please. I can't fault her for that.’)

Oh, and Titan’s forbid you try to delete any. He’d swiftly pull the device up and away out of reach, using his height against you. Only when you provide him with the number of kisses he wants (a lot) will he let you go through them again. If you want to delete them, he’ll allow you, though, not without going on about what the photo means to him. Losing to him is an inevitability; you end up way too flustered to let him continue to harp on about how much he loved you in this single moment. That he can do that for each of the photos he has is…a bit too much for your heart.

Well, at least he has the other ones of you hidden. They’re behind another app, something benign that no one would go on. And even then there’s a passcode. He’d whined about wanting to get some photos of the two of you having sex so that he could have something to use while he was away from you. 

You found it hard to say no. After all, he’s so earnest, and a hero to boot. Who else could reward him with something like this? 

Now, whenever he feels it right, he’ll take a photo. Maybe a quick video too, if he’s daring, though he’d much rather tend to you. These photos you don’t really realise he takes at that moment. You tend to be too fucked out, malleable to his whims as he grips your cheeks with one hand to get you to look into the camera, eyes bleary and body covered with bites. There are others as well. Some, where your face is pressed into the pillows and he pushes you down so hard you can see the veins in his arms. Others, where he’s got you laying on his chest, too tired to sit up to ride him properly, make-up streaked down your face. They’re always followed up with pictures where he��ll be stroking your hair, gentle, placating, as if he didn’t put you in this situation in the first place. 

Not that you’ve got room to complain. He tends to you well. Maybe you’re more annoyed at the fact he calls it ‘making love’ like some young pining maiden instead of a man who can fold you in half and ruin you until morning comes, only stopping because he has duties to attend to instead of being left drained of all energy.  

Still, you love him. And he loves you too. You’re the only one he’d ever dream of being with like this, the one he wants to see the future of Amphoreus with. And if anything comes between him and that dream? Well, he’s enough strength to protect your honour. He is not a Chrysos Heir for nothing, after all.

© 2025 zanarkandss; do not plagirise, translate, or repost my works elsewhere.

[ds-angel1]

Daddy´s least favorites

cw: SMUT(18+), incest, fingering, reader cries, ward is a bad parent like always, SO. MANY. NICKNAMES., DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!!

wc: ~ 2,8k

a/n: hellooooooo! didn´t exactly (carefully) proof-read this one, sorry!!

You had always been sensitive—Rafe loved to call you a crybaby for it, teasing you relentlessly. But even as the sting of his words faded into affection over the years, you knew there was a painful truth beneath it. You felt things deeply, and that wasn’t always easy.

Growing up in the shadow of your family’s wealth might sound enviable to outsiders, but it didn’t shield you from the heartbreak of vying for your father Ward’s approval—or the devastating loss of your mother. Those experiences carved you into someone tender, someone raw, and someone Rafe couldn’t help but try to protect, even in his messy way.

Your older brother could be cruel with his jokes, sure, but when it truly mattered, Rafe was there for you. Always.

When you cried as a toddler because you’d lost your favorite stuffed animal, 8-year-old Rafe handed you a piece of candy and made silly faces until your giggles broke through your tears. When you were inconsolable over your father’s constant favoritism toward Sarah, Rafe sat beside you in quiet solidarity, gently murmuring, “I know, I know… it’s okay.” He did know. The two of you shared an unspoken understanding, a bond rooted in the same aching void your father’s love failed to fill.

Then there were the teenage years, full of heartbreaks and disappointments. On the eve of your 15th birthday, when the boy you liked stopped talking to you out of nowhere, you collapsed into Rafe’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He didn’t hesitate. Pulling you close, he kissed your forehead and promised, “Everything’s gonna be alright.” You were too wrapped up in your heartbreak to notice the smirk he hid behind your back.

Now, at 19, you’d just scraped through college with barely passing grades—another milestone your father dismissed with a half-hearted nod. You weren’t the smartest person, and you knew it, but Rafe had always found ways to make you feel like you were enough.

A bad grade? He’d distract you with stupid jokes or drag you out for ice cream until your mood lifted. Summer school? He rode the bus with you every single day, waiting patiently for the final bell so he could walk you home under the blistering sun—because your parents couldn’t be bothered to make time.

Sarah and Rafe may have been closer in age, but you and Rafe were something different, something deeper. The five-year gap between you didn’t matter when it came to the bond you shared. He wasn’t just your brother; he was your anchor in a house that often felt more like a storm.

That’s why, during your weekly FaceTime call, when he announced he’d be coming home for an entire week during autumn break, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You squealed, clapped, and practically counted down the days like it was Christmas.

The morning of his arrival, you woke up buzzing with energy. You hadn’t felt this happy in weeks, maybe months. Without really thinking about it, you found yourself putting on your cutest top and skirt, doing your makeup, and styling your hair with care. It was silly, you told yourself—he was just your brother. But something about seeing him again made you want to look your best.

“Rafe’s here!” your dad called from downstairs, his voice carrying through the house. Four minutes early. Your heart leaped at the sound, and before you knew it, you were sprinting down the stairs, nearly tripping over yourself in your excitement.

You skidded to a halt at the front door, and there he was, standing in the entryway with that familiar crooked grin. His duffel bag hung over one shoulder, and his eyes lit up the moment he saw you.

“Rafe!” you practically screamed, throwing yourself at him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, squeezing tight as you buried your face against his shoulder.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he chuckled, his voice warm as he hugged you back. One arm tightened around your waist while his other hand came up to cradle the back of your head. “Miss me?”

“So much,” you mumbled against him, your voice muffled but heartfelt. It had been months since you’d last seen him, and the comfort of his presence was overwhelming.

“You gonna let go anytime soon?” he teased, tilting his head back slightly to try and meet your gaze.

“Mm-mm, nope,” you replied, your grip only tightening. The faint smell of his cologne mixed with the crisp autumn air clinging to his jacket, and for the first time in a long time, you felt completely at ease.

—————————

The rest of the day, you stuck by him like a shadow, trailing him wherever he wandered in the house. It was as if you couldn’t bear to let him out of your sight, and truthfully, you couldn’t. Having him back after so long made you realize just how much you had missed him. The house felt whole again, and for the first time in months, so did you.

At dinner the whole family sat around the dinner table, conversations flowing and everyone eager to catch up with the 24-year-old who had been gone for several months.

“So,” Ward said, glancing at Rafe while cutting into his steak. “You seein’ anyone?” His tone was casual, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

Rafe paused for a moment, shifting in his seat. “Oh, uh… not really,” he replied, his voice light. “Been talking to this one girl, but it’s nothing serious.”

You froze. A mix of emotions churned within you—anger, sadness, jealousy. You hated the idea of him seeing someone. It wasn’t fair; he’d already been away for months, and now he might share what little time he had left with someone else.

As Ward launched into a nostalgic story about his heartbreaker days, your thoughts spiraled. Rafe, however, didn’t miss the way your lips had curled into a subtle pout. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice to speak only to you.

“You okay, pretty girl?” His words were soft, almost tender, and his piercing gaze sent your heart racing.

Caught off guard, you quickly smoothed out your frown and replaced it with a small smile. “Oh, uh—yeah. Of course, I am,” you replied, your voice not as convincing as you’d hoped.

Rafe studied you for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced, but decided not to press. He leaned back in his chair, ready to return to the conversation, when you blurted out in a hushed tone, “So… you’re talking to someone? Is she… nice?”

You’d meant to sound casual, but the words came out hesitant, laced with something you couldn’t quite hide. The moment you saw his eyebrows shoot up and that familiar smirk stretch across his face, you knew you hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.

“Aww, are you jealous?” he teased, his voice quiet but amused as he leaned in closer. The soft chuckle that followed made your cheeks burn.

“What? No—” you stammered, your protest weak and unconvincing.

Rafe only grinned wider, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, kiddo.” He reached over and lightly tapped your hand resting on the table. “C’mon, you know you’ll always be my number one girl.”

His words sent a warmth through you that you couldn’t quite explain. You tried to hide the pleased smile tugging at your lips but failed miserably. Instead, you muttered a quiet, “Thanks…” and hoped he didn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks.

—————————

The glow of the fridge light spilled into the darkened kitchen, the quiet hum of its machinery the only sound cutting through the stillness of the evening. You stood there, staring blankly at its contents, your hand gripping the cool edge of the door. It was the first moment all night you’d been away from Rafe since he came home. He had asked you to grab him a bottle of water while he disappeared to the bathroom, and of course, you obliged. You always did.

As your fingers curled around the condensation-covered bottle, you heard the faint sound of footsteps behind you. Instinctively, you turned, your breath catching as your father’s figure emerged from the shadows. He stood by the kitchen counter, the sharp lines of his face illuminated by the faint glow. His posture was firm, his expression unreadable, save for the weight it carried—heavy, commanding.

“You’re happy to have Rafe back, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice even, though its edge cut through you. His fingers drummed slowly against the countertop, each tap sinking into the silence like a stone dropped into water. “Maybe it’s time you start thinking about your future too. College, maybe? Something worthwhile.”

“Dad, I—”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses,” he interrupted sharply, his words like a door slamming in your face.

“But Rafe and Sarah—”

“It doesn’t matter what they’ve done,” he barked, his voice rising impatiently. “What matters is you. You need to get your act together and stop wasting your life on things that don’t matter.”

The words stung. Each one a deliberate wound, striking deeper than the last. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, to explain, to plead for understanding, but every attempt was drowned out by his voice—louder, harsher, cutting you down before you could stand.

By the time the tears slipped from your eyes, hot and unbidden, you couldn’t stay any longer. Your chest tightened, your breath faltered, and without another word, you turned and fled. His voice followed you, sharp and biting, as you took the stairs two at a time and stumbled into your room. You shut the door hard behind you, muffling the world outside as sobs wracked your body.

“Pretty girl, what’s wrong?”

The voice was soft, familiar—steady as the tide. Through your blurred vision, you saw him: Rafe, sitting on the edge of your bed, his brows knit with concern. He looked at you like you were something fragile, something precious, and in that moment, the storm inside you softened just a little.

“D-Dad,” you choked out, your voice cracking as the words tangled with your tears. “H-he… he said—”

“Shh, angel,” Rafe murmured, already rising and closing the distance between you. His arms enveloped you, pulling you into his chest. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

His warmth surrounded you, his hands steadying your trembling frame as he held you close. You buried your face into the soft fabric of his shirt, your tears soaking into him as the safety of his presence began to untangle the knot in your chest.

“Ward said something to you?” he asked, his voice low but laced with barely contained anger. His hand moved to the back of your head, stroking your hair gently as you struggled to speak.

“H-he’s just so mean,” you finally whispered, your voice cracking like a splintered branch. “Why does he have to be like that? Why is he always so mean?”

Rafe sighed softly, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “I know, angel. I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that soothed even as your tears kept falling. His thumb wiped a stray tear from your cheek, his touch warm and deliberate. “He shouldn’t talk to you like that. You know that, right? He’s wrong.”

You nodded weakly, your exhaustion weighing heavier now, your sobs quieting into soft, uneven breaths.

“Let’s get you settled, yeah?” Rafe whispered, shifting slightly as he cupped your thighs to guide your legs onto the bed.

“But… I don’t have my PJs on,” you mumbled, your voice small and thick with the remnants of your tears.

“Don’t worry, princess, just relax. Let your big brother take care of you,” he said reassuringly, starting to pull the zipper of your plaid skirt down.

“Rafe, what—!”

“Shh… it’s okay,” his words cut you off, pressing kisses to your forehead and petting your hair — the affectionate gesture making your brain go fuzzy.

As his large hands tugged your skirt off, his lips trailed down to your neck, innocent affectionate kisses turning desire-filled and nasty—sweet to sloppy.

Your mouth stood agape, eyes fluttering shut as your head fell back to be cast upward. Rafe’s slender long fingers deftly hooked around the hem of your shirt, pulling it up your arms and torso, over your head, and onto the white rug next to your skirt.

Suddenly he pulled away, his lips disappearing from your now burning skin which caused you to straighten your head again and look at him — now with an embarrassingly noticeable flush coating your cheeks and chest.

It didn’t matter though, he wasn’t looking at your face; no, he was intently studying your body, only clad in a mismatching lace bra and underwear set, seated on the bed before him.

As you peered down at your attire along with him, taking in the revealing sight — a bra, baby pink and completed with small little flowers and intricate details on top. Your panties, are virgin white and accompanied by swirls and frills of lace at the top hem of the soft fabric.

You knew this was not how you should be dressed in the presence of your brother.

“C’mon, bedtime.” You knew sleeping in your bra wasn’t good concerning breast development but you didn’t say anything. Choosing to instead crawl into bed and cozy up in the warm scarlet sheets.

As you cuddled into your blanket and pillows you felt the mattress dip behind you, upon further inspection after you had turned your head, you saw Rafe climbing in next to you.

“You doin’ a bit better, princess?” The question made you remember the argument and the tears shed. You answered with just a small curt nod, turning back around to face the wall to hide the tears that started filling your eyes again.

Soon enough you felt Rafe’s hard chest pressed against your back and his comforting arms wrapped around you.

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl, you deserve so much better,” he whispered as he ran his fingertips over your arm.

“I’ll help you cheer up, okay? Just… just hold still for me, okay? Be a good little sister.”

With a confused face, you hesitantly agreed. Said confused expression soon turned to shock when Rafe’s hand tread scarily close to your thighs.

“You’ve grown so much.” His breath hit your ear tantalizingly as his hand gripped your thigh and pried it apart from the other.

"You’re a real woman now, huh? So proud of you. So so so proud of you, baby.” Your heart flourished and your mind melted, his praise overloading your body too much to even register that he had reached your panties and was tracing the edge of them.

A small kiss was placed on your shoulder, followed by a low, “I can give you what you deserve.”

His index finger snaked its way down into the fabric, making you gasp as he barely touched your most sensitive and private body part.

“I’m gonna provide for you one day.” His finger ran through your slit, teasing your puffy clit when he reached it. “I’ll take such good care of you.” He probed at your entrance, circling it like hyenas do their prey. He ignored your gasps and mewls and spoke further. “We’ll leave this place behind and we’ll be happy. Together. Forever.”

Two of his gnarled fingers plunged into your tight hole, pushing and stretching against the walls.

Your back arched and you let out a series of moans and blubbers — soon to be shut up by Rafe clasping his hand over your mouth.

He continued pumping his digits in and out of you, trailing kisses from the front column of your throat to the nape of the back of your neck.

You knew it was wrong, what you both were doing was so so incredibly wrong but it felt so great.

“You’re mine, yeah pretty girl? All mine,” he snarled as you reached your intense and overpowering high, your orgasm crashing onto you with a force of gravity itself.

Rafe slowly fucked you through your blissful haze, slipping his hand out of your now wet panties and licking his fingers coated in your essence clean.

“Rafe…” was the first word you spoke when he removed his hand from your face. Your voice was trial and shaky, your eyes wide and guilt-ridden as they looked at him.

“I know, I know. C’mere,” he inveigled your body to lay flat on his as he intoned validations and easements.

His hand glided up and down your bare back, repeating the same phrase under his breath — his version of a lullaby to get his baby sister to sleep.

“I got you, sweetheart, I got you now.”

[uracutieraka]

Bakugo Katsuki as your boyfriend!

small scenarios of what it's like to date the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite!

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'who would win in a fight kacchan? Me or Mina.' Denki asks, hands on his hips as he turns to the Blond hoping to settle this petty argument.

'Y/n.'

A scoff leaves Mina's mouth as she crosses her arms and turns back to Denki.

'I knew you shouldn't have asked him!'

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'Bakugo it's kind of creepy how nice you are around her.' Mina says one day while everyones gathered in the kitchen cooking dinner.

a few hums and words of agreement spill from fellow classmates.

Kirishima interrupts.

'It's totally manly and I am so jealous you got a girlfriend before me! Especially such a hottie too!'

A harsh chop to the side of the red haired boys neck has him falling over in pain.

'Don't call my girlfriend hot asshole!'

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You two had been cuddled up in your bed, watching videos on your phone.

Katsuki played with your hair, lazily twirling strands between his index and middle finger.

You enjoyed the familiar feeling of the slow rise and fall of his chest. The sounds of his heartbeat also fueling your desire to rest your head on him.

He's quietly humming a random melody you had never heard.

You move your head to look up at him and he looks down at you.

'What'cha singing 'Suki ?'

'Nothin' in particular.'

You chuckle at his response.

He has a wide grin on his face, pupils dilated fully while looking at you.

'You're so cute I think I could die right now.' He moves his hands to squish the bottom half of your face around. Forcing you to pucker your lips out.

You're laughing and moving your head back and forth trying to escape his grip.

He leans down to give you a long and dramatic kiss, complete with sound effects.

'mmmMMWAH!' he pulls off you with a popping sound., letting go of your face.

'Suki! That was so slobbery!'

You wipe your mouth and face off and pull a fake disgusted look.

He rolls his eyes and scoff.

'Whatever.'

'I'm gonna tell everyone how sweet you really are!' It's a hallow threat, holding no real backlash.

'They'll never believe you.' a cheeky smirk now fills his face.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'Bakugo? What's on your face?' Aizawa asks him one afternoon when the class is about to start training.

Midnight quickly grabs the boys jaw in her hand, turning his head to get a better look at it.

'Oh! You sneaky little thing! Is that a lipstick mark?'

He's quick to escape her grip and jump two steps back.

He stands, puffing his chest a bit and resting his hands on his hips. Tilting his head up and to the side, a cocky look across his face.

'It's from y/n.' He says proudly.

He hears a few gags and 'ew's come from his classmates but he doesn't care.

'So manly!' Kirishima says loudly to himself, pumping a fist in the air and looking down at the ground.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You're standing at the front gate of your family home, holding Katsuki's hand.

You step forward and gently tug his arm to get him to move.

he takes a slow step.

'What if they hate me?'

You stop moving and turn to face him, lifting your hands up to gently brush over the material covering his shoulders.

You straighten the collar of his polo as well before responding.

'They won't'

He takes a deep breath before grabbing your hand again and giving it a quick squeeze.

You smile back at him as you make it to the front door and a sense of calmness washes over him, if you were confident they would like him then he didn't need to stress too much. After all you know your parents better than anyone else.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'So Dynamite, it it?,'

He grunts as a response.

Present Mic gives him a side eye and slight eyebrow raise at his lack of words but continues to ask the questions.

'What motivates you to-' He's cut off before he can finish the question.

'My girlfriend, y/n.'

'You didn't even le-'

'Didn't need to. She's what motivates me.'

Present mic rolls his eyes and keeps trying to continue, but Bakugo doesn't let him.

'Yeah, she's just like the best thing that's ever happened to me.' His arms are crossed and a prideful look crosses his face as he continues a long list of reasons why you're the best girlfriend ever.

Present Mic completely gives up any hopes of getting him to actually answer the questions, instead he looks helplessly at his long time friend and coworker, Aizawa.

"Bakugo!" Aizawa's sharp tone causes the Blond to sneer and look over at his teacher with a glare.

'You're done. Go.' His teacher makes a shoo motion with his hand.

Bakugo proudly walks off, sure he totally nailed it. He received his first ever 'F' that day.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

'What'cha drawing there Kacchan?' a wide smile is on the green haired boy's face.

Katsuki's face grows red as he jumps and hurriedly shoves his note book to his chest.

He looks up at Deku's face with wide eyes before speaking.

'Mind your own damn business!'

Uraka now joins in on the conversation.

She turns around in her desk, to look at them both.

'Probably stick figure doodles of him and y/n with their future house, he draws that all the time!'

He drops his jaw with a scoff at her snitching on him.

'Do not!' his voice is harsh and gruff.

Now some of the other students crowd around his desk, curious as to what all the ruckus was.

Mina and Denki are quick to start prying the notebook out of his strong grip.

They want to know if Bakugo is maybe just the slightest bit normal.

Finally Kirishima joins in, with the added strength Bakugo loses the hold he had on the book.

He groans and slams his head down on the desk as the class crowds Mina and Denki, trying to get a glimpse at the said drawings.

Sure enough, doodles of you and him fill the margins of his notes.

'I <3 Y/N' is scribbled between the stick figure people, along with your name paired with his last name.

The girls are all gushing about just how sweet he was for loving you so much, as the boys are now turning to dog on him for being so whipped by you.

He's never going to live this down.

[luvvums]

"But i've been so good!" - Sub!Daeho x Fem!Reader

[ MINORS NO!!! PLS!!! ]

...….......................................................................................

Sumn: Daeho loved making bets for fun but what happens when he finally loses and isn't able to touch himself while you're out?

(Basically whiny Daeho/calling reader mistress. He's so cute.. this idea has been stuck in my head foreverrr (an hour) idk if this is a drabble or one shot I have yet to research the differences!)

• Under 1k words // Not proofread •

(TYSM FOR 40 NOTES ON MY FIRST POST <33)

Nsfw below the cut <3

...….......................................................................................

• Dae-ho who had been so good for you, patiently waiting for you to come back from work.

• Dae-ho who was struggling after losing a bet he thought he'd win, where the consequences unfortunately included not being able to touch himself all day

• Dae-ho who suddenly felt like your 4 hour, part-time shift was way too long.

• Dae-ho who had to hype himself up, convincing himself the bet was "no biggieee." But the second he heard the door knob jingle, he felt his cock throb painfully.

The second you walked through the door, he was there in front of you on his knees, the bulge in his pants clearly apparent. "M-missed you sweetheart." The tremors in his voice were not missed by you, which made you smile. He waited until you came to him so he could hug your legs, his breathing shaky. "I.. missed you a ton, love.."

"M'yeah?" You whispered, petting his head, letting your fingers run through his long black hair. The subtle feeling of his crotch grinding against your leg wasn't missed either. "Did you really miss me that much?" Daeho whimpered as he rubbed his crotch against your leg, already panting, his face turning a gentle shade of pink. "B-baby.. Baby please. I did so good, so can I please-" But a gentle shush from your lips had him quiet down immediately, his lips quivering close.

"Now how would I know you haven't touched yourself hm? If you tried to sneak it while I was gone?" He let out a whiny groan, pressing his head against your stomach before lifting up your shirt to kiss your tummy. "B-but I've been so good! You have to trust me sweetheart! Please.. f-fuck, I need to.. w-wanna love you.." Despite the butterflies forming in your stomach because of his words, you only smiled, enjoying how needy Daeho really could be. "What do you need to call me?"

"Please mistress."

And slowly, you kneeled down to unbuckle his belt, having to hold his hips down so he couldn't buck. He was laser focused on your face, looking at you with nothing but pure admiration and love. Your gentle ministrations, your calm expression, everything you did and how you looked made him fall even more in love with you.

Daeho was so deep in his admiration for you, he felt like the wind was knocked out of him when he felt your hand slide down his cock. He let out a deep groan, searching to grab onto something other than the smooth wood floor of the apartment, but instead latched onto your arm. Precum immediately beaded on his tip, a sign of how pent up he was. He bucked his hips in a desperate attempt to feel more despite you just using your hand as he clenched his stomach from the pleasure.

"Need more.. need you mistress." "How badly do you want it?" You whispered, your voice lulling him into a desire-filled frenzy. "T-till I can't t-take it." And that's what was given to him. When your mouth wrapped around his cock and he felt the licks against his shaft, he was so embarrassed to admit he was fighting back from cumming. And so early too. Daeho's cock twitched as he ran his fingers through your hair, lightly tugging, but clearly trying to be gentle. But when he felt you sneak one of your hands to gently squeeze and massage his balls, he let out a whimper as he teared up.

"M-m'gonna cum.. gonna cum mistress.. a-ahhn.." You let out a gentle him as you sucked him off, the vibrations making him buck. You deep throated him, letting your nose bury itself against his well kept hairs before pulling back only to come back down to deep throat him again.

With a groan, he held your hand as you sucked him off, letting him cum deep in your throat. "I-im yours..! I'm your good boy!!" He whined, his thighs tensing and shaking as he struggled to sit still. His cum hit the back of your throat in thick warm ropes, which was immediately swallowed. After pulling away, Dae-ho was taking deep breaths to relax, his face beet red. After wiping your mouth, you smiled and looked at him.

"Let's get in the shower, and then in bed, yeah? It'll feel more comfortable than the floor."

"A-alright..~"

"..."

"Did I do good for you today, miss?" His tired voice rang out in a gentle whisper.

"You were perfect, Dae~"

...….......................................................................................

(OKAYY I HOPEE THIS WAS OKAY LMAO IVE NEVER WRITTEN SMUT AND POSTED IT B4)

[writeriguess]

Something fluffy for Katsuki x fem y/n please?? It could have something to do with a surprise dinner.

Recipe For Love

The apartment is quiet when you step inside, a welcome change from the bustling streets outside. You toe off your shoes, sighing at the relief of being home after a long day. The air smells... different. Not bad, just unexpected. Something savory, warm—like someone’s been cooking. That alone is strange enough to make you pause.

You call out his name. "Katsuki?"

There's a clatter from the kitchen, followed by a low curse. Your brows furrow, curiosity overtaking your fatigue as you step toward the source of the noise.

When you round the corner, you find him standing by the stove, a towel slung over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up, and an irritated scowl on his face. His usually wild blonde hair is slightly damp, like he’d just washed it before deciding to tackle whatever’s happening in front of him. There’s a faint dusting of flour on his forearm, and the apron he’s wearing—black, simple—makes your heart flip in your chest.

“You’re home early,” he mutters, glancing over his shoulder. His red eyes flick to you, then back to the pan in front of him.

“You’re cooking.” The statement comes out more surprised than you intended.

“Yeah, no shit,” he grumbles, poking at whatever’s sizzling in the pan. “I was gonna have this done before you got back.”

Your lips twitch. “I didn’t know you were planning anything.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says quickly, but the tips of his ears betray him, turning red as he keeps his focus on the food. “Just figured I’d make dinner.”

Your heart softens at that. Katsuki isn’t the type to make grand gestures with words, but actions? That’s where he speaks the loudest.

You step closer, peering over his shoulder. The smell is stronger now, rich and inviting. “What are you making?”

“Your favorite,” he grunts, then pauses, looking away like he doesn’t want to admit it out loud. “Or, uh, my best attempt at it.”

Your chest tightens, warmth pooling in your stomach. He must have looked up the recipe—maybe even practiced a bit beforehand. The thought of him doing all that, just for you, makes your heart ache in the best way.

“You’re really sweet, you know that?” You lean in, pressing a kiss against his cheek before he can protest.

His reaction is immediate. “Oi—”

But you catch the way his shoulders tense, how his grip on the spatula falters for a second. The redness from his ears creeps down to his neck, and even though he scowls at you, there’s no real bite behind it.

“Just shut up and set the table,” he mutters, turning back to the stove like he needs to regain his composure.

You grin. “Yes, chef.”

His eye twitches, but he lets you get away with it. Because, despite all his grumbling, despite his stubbornness, this is how Katsuki loves—through the things he does rather than the things he says.

And, honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[balladofboothill]

Fifth Third

Joe burrow x wnba player!r

an : we're gonna pretend Cincinnati has a wnba team, Cleveland had one called the rockers a while ago so im just gonna use that

warnings : nothing just a nosy reporter and allusions to sex

To say everything hurt was an understatement, you had zoned out a while ago, losing track of what your coach was droning on about. Rockers has gotten their first play off win in franchise history but not without you being fouled and shoved over and over again. Being snapped out of your trance when some reporter asked about the bengals jersey you had worn to this game and how it felt to be back in Cincinnati. Fumbling over your own words spitting out an answer of "yeah it feels amazing to be back home and bring this team their first playoff win, I spent 3 of my college years here at this arena so it feels like I never left. And on the jersey, I gotta rep the city's greatest." You say with a dry laugh. "Please let this be over soon." You silently beg what ever god might be listening.

"Private but not a secret" was the best way to describe your relationship with Joe, meeting at Paris fashion week and the rest has been history. When the wnba announced the Cincinnati expansion team you knew that you should go back home, more importantly back to Joe.

After what felt like forever you were finally freed from the press, gathering all your bags and sending a "be home in 20 :)" text to Joe, even though he's 100% asleep on the couch. After a mind numbing drive home you finally reach the road you and Joe live on. Almost feeling the rain shower that was installed last winter for moments like this.

"Joe I'm back." You yell in the entry way flinging all your bags down, that's a later you issue. Suddenly you hear the sound of pans hitting the tile of your kitchen. "It's fineee don't worry." Joe yells back, mentally cursing himself out for ruining his suprise of making a a sheet of your favorite cookies to celebrate the win.

Turning a corner you see every pan you own on the floor and Joe looking like a kicked puppy. "What the hell happened here baby." You pry, "uhhh I was trying you make you those cookies your grandmother always made you post win but the fucking drawer we keep the pans in broke." He mumbled out. He was very confused once you bust out laughing, between heaves he works out "you're so cute" and "this is so sweet but you need supervision in the kitchen"

Pulling him in to a hug and kissing his bright red cheek, "you are the best ever, thank you so much baby." You say grabbing a cookie, Joe let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you tell him "these are so fucking good."

You really needed to shower, the bright orange rocker shirt was stuck to you at this point, spinning around to go to the shower, "aren't you gonna join me? If you wanna congratulate me on this win I have an idea." Teasing Joe always worked in your favor

Please reblog to support writers and I'd love to know your thoughts!!!

[emsdevs]

🎁 14 with quinn 👀

a/n: kirby my love, this one is for you 🧡 i know you love your angst

Prompt 14: "Please. Please just listen to me."

Birthday Celly 2025 Masterlist | masterlist

You never thought it would come to this. You thought you and Quinn were forever. Everything had been perfect until you had started seeing less and less of him. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date, and he barely held a conversation with you now. You knew bringing it up would be difficult, but you hadn’t imagined it would blow up like this.

“Quinn, we barely talk anymore! When was the last time you kissed me? A real kiss, not some reflexive kiss on the cheek when you get home from a roadie!” you weren’t sure when it started, but the two of you have been shouting back and forth so long your throat is starting to feel scratchy.

“That’s not fair! Do you know how busy I am?”

“Oh, trust me I know! The only thing I hear about anymore is the Canucks! The team needs this! The team can’t do that! God, Quinn, even when you were hurt and had absolutely no business being on that ice, you couldn’t shut up about your team! Sometimes, it’s like you forget I even exist! Like I’m just some housemaid or someone to come to when you need relief! Except we don’t even do that anymore do we?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re so clingy! I mean, Jesus, I barely get a moment to myself! You’re so obsessed with me! This isn’t even that serious!” 

Your face goes blank the second the words leave his mouth. This isn’t even that serious? He didn’t tell you he wanted to break up, but with those five words, Quinn just ended your relationship.

“It isn’t that serious?” you’re fuming now, and he can tell by how level your voice is. “So what? You’ve been stringing me along for over two years? Let me move in? You remember me having to get permanent residency for this right? All of that and it’s not serious?”

“Babe don’t-”

“No you’re right, Quinn. I’m leaving. You can have your space back. I’d hate to take it anymore since you so obviously don’t want me here,” you head to what was a shared bedroom not even two hours ago. You pack all your bags, at least what you would need for a couple of days, and Quinn does nothing but stand there and watch. He doesn’t speak up again until you’re leaving the bedroom and heading for the front door with your suitcase in tow.

“Baby, c’mon. You’re being dramatic. Where are you even gonna stay?”

“Oh, no! Clingy and dramatic! Guess I really need to get out of your hair then. And where I’m staying is not of your concern anymore,” you roll your eyes, attempting to continue on your path to the door when he blocks it.

“Please. Please just listen to me. It doesn’t have to end like this. We don’t have to end like this,” he’s begging now, and as pitiful as he looks, you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore. You’re tired of sitting around, waiting for him to give you attention like some dog sitting at the door waiting for its owner to return. You have to get out.

“Just stop, Quinn. It’s done. We’re done. No second chances. I’ve given you too many to begin with. If you didn’t want this to end, you should’ve tried harder to keep me before it was too late. Hopefully, you can find someone a little less clingy and obsessive.”

You walk away, not looking back once the door is shut. You just closed a huge chapter in your life. Anyone else would probably be rejoicing right now, basking in the feeling of being free from a situation that wasn’t good. Somehow, though, you can’t help but feel like this might have been a mistake.

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