#and to hear that it's something that exists in your mind too is just like. wow. yeah. 🥺

[bensonoliviasstuff]

“Turning Page”

Final Chapter! “Your love was my turning page”

Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Masterlist for Turning Page

Summary: Once Bucky regained consciousness and was no longer the Winter Soldier, all he missed from the 40s was his wife. But maybe she's closer than he thought.

Warnings: English is NOT my first language, so I'm sorry if there are too many errors. A little bit of angst, memory loss, betrayal, trauma, Insecurities, kidnapping. And the best part: Thanos doesn't exist here

Taglist: @capswife @mostlymarvelgirl @scott-loki-barnes @bxckybxrnes24 @alliw27 @buckys-metal-arm

Bucky parked the motorcycle and quickly ran into the building, he didn't know where to start looking for you, but the first thing that came to his mind was the experiment base where they found you.

The same base of experiments that kept him imprisoned for so long.

"Doll?" He called, it wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear, But he couldn't resist just calling out to you.

What if by then they had already erased your memory again? What if they had done something worst to you?

Bucky Barnes ran through the dark structure, his heart heavy and his mind in turmoil. He had to find you. Every second without you was unbearable torture. Fear and anger mixed, forming an almost unbearable feeling.

He started to walk through the building, he felt everything inside him burn as he saw the rooms he could never forget.

He headed towards the basement, it was agonizing how he still knew that entire structure like the back of his hand.

He holds tightly to the gun he had brought with him from the compound, kicking some debris that appeared in front of him.

He finally arrived at the laboratory, sighing desperately when he realized that there was no one there.

He was starting to panic, he hadn't panicked like this since the last time Hydra erased his memory.

He needed you, once he had you back he would never be ready to let you go again.

The phone rang and he answered it with shaking hands.

“Barnes, I have a lead for you” said the raspy voice of Sam Wilson on the other end of the line. “We found something.”

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, a wave of relief mixed with apprehension washing over him.

“Steve called you?” he asked.

“Just because you needed it” he said, Buvky could imagine the smug smile just by hearing his voice.

“Thanks, I'll see you in a minute” he hung up the phone and got ready to leave, but as soon as he reached the door a voice stopped him.

“How long, Winter Soldier”

The nickname made Bucky squirm, dying to punch someone.

He turned back to see Zemo sitting on a chair in a dark corner.

Bucky quickly raised his gun, pointing it at Zemo with hatred. "What are you doing here?"

“You don't want to shoot before hearing what I have to say” He said arrogantly, crossing his arms.

“You don’t want to talk long enough to see me shoot” Bucky replied through clenched teeth.

“I have something important to tell you about Y/N”

Bucky held the gun tighter, his jaw tense “Speak”

Zemo took a deep breath before starting, always with a smile.

“Y/N is not who you think she is”

“Wrong, she is not who YOU think she is, she is my wife.”

“She is a spy, infiltrated”

Bucky's grip on the gun loosened for a moment, but then he tightened his grip even more.

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, his head was ringing, but all he could discern from that ringing were these words: lie, lie, lie

“Initially, she had a clear mission: get close to you, gain your trust, and eventually betray you and the Avengers.” He said, looking deep into Bucky's eyes as he spoke, as if he wanted to see and delight in the pain Bucky would feel. “You didn't find it very weird the way she was rescued so... easily?” He stood up, wanting to examine Bucky's pain more closely. “She was never reluctant... Always kind, always observant” He got closer and closer, a maniacal smile on her face. “Your missions going wrong”

Bucky's world seemed to crumble at those words. But he refused to believe it, anger boiling in his blood.

“You’re lying.” He pushed the gun into Zemo's chest, seeing red with anger.

Zemo slowly shook his head. “I wish it were a lie, but it's not. Her mission changed, that was very frustrating” Zemo rolled his eyes “The famous true love hm? After truly getting to know you, even if she still hadn't remembered you yet, she couldn't follow orders anymore. This put her in a dangerous position. The recent kidnapping was an attempt to bring her back under their control.” Zemo said, watching Bucky carefully to see his reaction "Unfortunately I assume that even if she forgot about you, she would never be able to betray you like we wanted her to do"

Zemo waited for a reaction from Bucky, but all he did was hold the gun tighter, Zemo frowned. “You don't look as hurt as I expected.”

“I forgive her” He said without hesitation. “That was everything you didn’t want to hear, wasn’t it?”

Zemo looked confused “What do you mean? Will you just forgive? Listen to what I’m saying, she was sent by someone who wanted you dead!”

Bucky walked away, running his hands through his hair. The pain of betrayal and the hope of true love fought within him. Finally, he stood up, determined.

He remembered the first real conversation you had, you saying that you 'felt like you should trust him', you did, you abandoned the mission. Now he needed to trust you.

He clung to the feeling that that conversation was true, those words were true, you meant it to him.

“Where is she? ” He said confidently “I will find my wife, if necessary I will make her remember again, and I will forgive her” Bucky said without hesitating in any of his words.

“This is really frustrating, I was expecting a show where you said we could kill her and you wouldn't care anymore” He said, returning to his chair.

Bucky advanced on him, grabbing the collar of his shirt. “Touch a finger on her and you will never have fingers to touch anyone again.”

Zemo laughed “This is entertainment” he sighed, letting go of Bucky “They are taking her to another small town, now they are definitely arriving at the airport” He said, satisfied “You won’t make it in time, but good luck.”

Bucky sighed irritably, running out of the building while shouting into the phone for the team to get to the airport immediately.

He was not willing to lose this battle.

After driving for some time, Bucky finally arrived at the airport, he entered the room looking for any sign of you.

He ran into the hallway of the main gates, trying to spot anyone he recognized.

The airport was crowded with hurried passengers, voices echoing everywhere, the sound of luggage being dragged, and constant announcements over the loudspeakers. Suddenly, a shout broke out in the terminal, until a loud noise caught everyone's attention.

Two men, visibly tense, they were holding a girl who clearly didn't want to be there, her back was turned but Bucky recognized it just by her silhouette.

It was you.

He felt weird seeing you for the first time after finding out about you being a “sleeper cell spy” or something like that, he felt anxious, his stomach felt like it was spinning

Surrounded by curious onlookers and staff trying to maintain order, a man in a black suit, had his jaw clenched and fists closed.

Bucky started to make his way there, Feeling the adrenaline and excitement of seeing you again, but before he took more than five steps he saw Steve and Sam arriving before him.

At least they had listened to Bucky's pleas to move quickly.

The men didn't seem pleased with Steve and Sam being around, and it seemed like they didn't give a shit about the place, they were willing to fight here and now.

The man in the suit was the first to strike, advancing quickly trying to throw a direct punch at Steve, he dodged skillfully, responding with a sidekick that made the man in the suit stagger back, almost knocking over a magazine display. People around quickly stepped back, forming an impromptu circle.

Bucky approached, helping Sam and Steve fight the two men, but his biggest effort was to get to you and get you out of that mess.

The fight continued with quick and precise blows. With each movement, you could hear the muffled sound of impacts and the frightened gasp of the spectators. Steve grabbed the arm of the men, twisting it forcefully and pushing him against a pile of suitcases. The sound of falling luggage echoed through the terminal as the man in the suit struggled to break free.

Suddenly, an airport security team appeared, running toward the commotion. The guards split up, surrounding the fighters. One of them shouted orders, trying to calm the situation. But before they could intervene, the man in the suit broke free with a sudden movement, grabbing a nearby chair and throwing it at Sam

The chair flew through the air, passing dangerously close to a family watching in horror. Sam ducked just in time, but before he could get up, he was pinned down by two guards who brought him to the ground. Steve and the other men tried to resist, but soon they were all under arrest.

Bucky and you were taken too, straight to the airport police station, all detained, but at least Bucky could keep his eyes on you.

He was anxious the whole way to the station, paying close attention to you, you were silent the whole time, he was starting to get worried.

The cops strapped one of you to a chair, leaving to take statements from Steve, Sam and the two men first.

He looked at you and pursed his lips, “Doll?” He tried the nickname, desperately wanting to know if you still remembered him or if they had erased your memory.

You do not answer, You looked at him with glassy eyes, he went into despair, didn't you know who he was?

“I'm…” he starts to say, but your voice comes soon after.

“James” you said calmly, eyes downcast. “You're James Buchanan Barnes”

Bucky he smiled, relieved that you didn't go through any torture while you were with Hydra, He couldn't put into words how happy this made him.

“Bucky, I...” You began, but he interrupted.

“I know” he said softly. “I know you were a spy, but I also know that you didn't remember me, or us, i forgive you, Y/N. We’ll get through this together.” He said sincerely, but you were outraged by it.

“That simple? Do you still trust me? Bucky, I betrayed you, I don’t deserve all this forgiveness, I don’t deserve your trust”

“I know” he repeated “You don't deserve it, but... Swear to God doll, there's no way I can't trust you” He said simply and sincerely “You could stab me a hundred times, it would take a thousand more to make me lose one percent of the love and trust I feel for you”

You looked at him in shock, you would never feel worthy of this forgiveness, yet he loved you and forgave you and all his eyes wanted was to keep looking at you, all his body wanted was to break free from the handcuffs and hold you against him.

Your eyes watered and soon you were crying, “I'm so sorry, Bucky. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know” he replied, stroking her hair. “We'll be out of here soon, and we’ll find a way to start over, without secrets this time, promise?”

“I promise”

You felt relieved, you still didn't understand how Bucky could have forgiven you so easily.

In fact, the Avengers didn't understand either.

As soon as you arrived at the complex, Bucky sent you to your room and felt like he needed to be honest with everyone, after all everyone helped you and him, they deserved satisfaction.

Steve was ready to defend you, Clint and Tony were pissed, Bruce was quiet and distressed.

Natasha was silent, sitting in the corner, apparently thinking hard about something.

“Guys, you have to try to understand her side a little, only God knows what they would do to her if she didn’t follow orders, she had no option, she wasn’t in it because she wanted to!” Bucky tried to argue.

“She might not want to be here, but she could have left this mission at any time since she got here” Tony said “She could have told any of us”

“She did, we just didn’t realize.” Natasha spoke out for the first time “I mean, I didn’t notice”

“What haven’t you noticed?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms.

“She told me once, that she constantly dreamed about you” She pointed at Bucky “And about you” she pointed at Steve. “I thought it was her memory trying to make her remember, but now it's very clear that she dreamed of you two because Hydra showed her what the next mission would be like.” Natasha furrowed her eyebrows “I believe she had no choice, and everyone here has been through things that you would do anything to escape.”

Tony sighed, irritated. “Look, I understand that, what I don’t understand is why she never said anything explicitly to all of us, it’s not like we weren’t going to keep her safe here.”

"We did? Hydra invaded and took her, we didn't keep her safe”

“I don't trust her” Clint said, leaning on the couch “She's going to have to climb a lot of steps before she has our trust again, but I'm not going to tell you to send her away, I suppose now that she remembers you she will be a different person, any mistake she makes from now on and I vote to have her away from the compound, everyone in agreement?”

Tony nodded, going to another room, the others agreed and Bucky sighed in relief, running towards his room.

As soon as he arrived, he knocked on the door to enter (the door was closed). He entered the room and saw you lying on the bed playing with the radio.

“They hate me now, don’t they?” you asked apprehensively.

He threw himself on your bed, approaching you with love “They’re just angry, It will pass, and they will forget”

“You should be angry too” You continued fiddling with the radio.

He took the radio from your hands, pulling you into his embrace, and then rolling on top of you on the bed.

“If there’s one thing” he said before snuggling his head into the crook of your neck, making you laugh “What I’ve learned from all this time we’ve spent apart, is that there’s no time to waste, I’m not going to waste time feeling angry at my lovely wife.”

That afternoon was filled with laughter, you laughed, played and, most importantly, talked.

You guys talked about everything, Bucky told you what happened to him from the beginning, making you cry a little at how much your husband suffered, it hurt to see that he still blamed himself for things he couldn't help but do.

You told him everything you remembered, the times you remembered Bucky, and the times you heard Bucky screams from the next room.

They both beat themselves up for spending so much time so close but so far away.

"Do you know what I think?" You interrupted the silence that had been established.

You were lying face down on the bed, Bucky's arm was around your waist, caressing your back.

He looked at you, listening carefully.

“That only the two of us could be perfect for each other” you spoke sincerely “I mean, do you realize how crazy it is that they tortured us and took everything from us, and they still couldn't make us separate? It’s like no matter what happens, it will always be you and me.”

Bucky smiled at the prospect “I didn’t need to go through all that to know that”

You rolled your eyes “I know, but it's just... I mean, I'll probably feel guilty forever because of the missions where I killed innocent people” she hesitated, lowering her gaze.

“Me too, doll...” Bucky said sadly.

“That’s the point” you said “I could only be loved by someone who understands what this guilt feels like, that’s why we complement each other, only the two of us understand that.” You smiled at Bucky. “We spent what felt like a million years apart”

“And I would wait a million more for you” Bucky walked over, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart, doll.”

“I love you Barnes, I'm so happy to have you, it's like It's like we're trapped in that horrible story we've been through, but when I look at you i know It's enough, i feel like i could be a feather and yet bring the kingdoms to their knees”

Bucky smiled, running a hand over your cheek. “You are right, our love is our turning page”

“Yes, our turning page”

#bucky barnes x reader #imagine #bucky barnes #steve rogers #winter soldier #writing #captain america #fanfic #natasha romanoff #tony stark

[shmothman]

Defying Fate

Pairing: Casper/Reader Rating: Teen and up audiences Words: 991 Read on AO3

Summary: Finally, you and Casper are together in person, tangled together with your feelings laid bare. Still, there are some things that he needs to ask.

With your head resting on Casper’s bare chest and his fingers smoothing over your hair, you don’t think you’ve ever felt quite so happy, so in love. You’ve been making good use of the past hour or so since he showed up at your door in person, and you practically feel like you’re walking on air.

You can’t believe he’s real.

You can’t believe any of this is real.

But you’re so, so glad that it is.

He calls your name softly, his voice like heaven, and you hum a questioning tone back as you’re pulled from your thoughts, loath to move from your comfortable spot against his chest.

“I…” he starts, and you immediately hear that he sounds nervous, so you look up at him, eyes brimming with all the feelings swirling in your heart. “I am certainly not complaining, but… I… I need to know…”

Your brows draw together in confusion as he seems to gather his thoughts. “Know what?”

He meets your eyes, and his gaze is… sad. Remorseful. “How… how are you okay with this?”

You blink. “What, having sex with you?”

His cheeks flush that pretty pink you adore so much. “N-not that,” he rushes to say, before growing serious once more. “I mean… with being with me. After I have spent the last several years trying to kill you. Doesn’t… does that not bother you? You act as if it’s nothing.”

Oh. That’s what’s on his mind.

You settle back into his arms, laying your head next to his so that your noses almost touch. His gaze is so open and honest, it almost makes your heart hurt. “Well,” you say quietly, “no harm, no foul, I guess?”

He exhales through his nose in something that’s almost like an amused little laugh. “You are so… cavalier about things, Sunshine. Is that truly all you think of it?”

For a grim reaper, Casper sure does wear his heart on his sleeve. Not that you’ve met any other reapers yet—maybe they’re all like this. 

You bring your hand to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone and watching the way his eyes flutter closed. How do you love him so much when you’ve only known he exists for a week?

“I… don’t know, honestly. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it. All I know is how I feel about you.” 

He blinks his eyes open, and the look on his face is so very hopeful. Like he needs to hear you tell him that it doesn’t matter to you, that it doesn’t change how you feel about him.

“It’s like… by the time that I realized you’re, y’know, actually the grim reaper and everything, I already felt like I had known you for ages, and that was only after like, two days. And then I get this massive revelation that every weird thing that’s happened to me, everything that people say is crazy but is just my everyday experience, that’s all you? That’s all the doing of this pretty boy on my computer screen?”

He pouts slightly at being called a pretty boy, but you continue.

“But, I mean, I’ve never taken my constant near death experiences seriously. You’ve been watching, right? Have you ever seen me react in any way that isn’t just… a shrug?”

“I suppose not,” he says. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been the one trying to end your life.”

“You said it yourself, Casper. If it wasn’t you, it would be another reaper. Normally ‘I was just doing my job’ would be a terrible excuse, but given that we’re in the realm of like, fate and magic and the balance of nature type shit, I can’t fault you too much here.” You grin. “I just happened to get lucky, and they assigned me to the one reaper who would fall head over heels for me the minute he decided to break protocol and talk to me.”

He’s blushing again, and you think he’s about to protest the idea that he fell for you that quickly, but instead, he leans in to touch his forehead to yours and says, “any reaper would have fallen for you. I’m the one who got lucky.”

Your heart flutters happily in your chest, and you sound rather breathless as you say, “okay, maybe we’re both lucky,” and you lean in to press your lips to his.

You feel him melt beneath your kiss, as he has every time so far, like he’s turned to liquid: quicksilver at your touch, shimmering and cold. If he says that you’re like sunshine, then you say he’s the moon: something beautiful and bright in the darkness, the light by which you find your way home.

As you pull back slightly, there’s a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Or,” you say, “maybe it’s just fate.”

He’s been made breathless by your kiss, but he still smiles back. “Perhaps,” he replies into the scant space between you. “Though, I’m growing fond of the idea that this is in defiance of fate itself. That we are making our own destiny.”

You hum, as if thinking deeply. “Well, clearly we both love breaking the rules, especially for each other.” With a sudden grin, you shift, rolling yourself atop him and watching those pretty red eyes go wide. “Whaddya say we defy fate all night?”

That vivid blush crawls up to his ears, then down his neck to splash across his bare chest. Unable to summon words, he simply nods.

You waggle your eyebrows, only just getting started with your terrible jokes. “Wait, wait, I got another one: how’s this for destiny?” 

He rolls his eyes with a huff that doesn’t mask his clear affection, and opens his mouth—probably to call you annoying or something, but he doesn’t get that far, because you’re already kissing him again.

And that’s something he won’t defy.

#a date with death #casper adwd #adwd #casper x reader #x reader #grim reaper adwd #sef writes #waaaugh im so. he's so. babygirl #so excited for beyond the bet #gotta write fluff about it #crossposted on tumblr and ao3 #<333

[searidings]

my sister & i were talking about unending love, and i was immediately reminded of "i'll take the desert, you take the coast", so i pulled it up and read some of it to her, and i got to the line "even if she still can’t look at a bunch of fresh kale without a deep twinge of something she’d prefer not to define," and golly and knocked me over, i was tearing up about it all. so good. so all that to say, thanks for writing beautiful words :)

bro this message has fucked me all the way up i'm so 🥺 truly and honestly thank you so much for this

#im beyond honoured that you would think of that in that kind of discussion like !!!! wow #if anyone needs me i'll be over here having a heart attack #i rly love that little fic actually like in terms of economy of language while still having it Hit i think that's one i'm most proud of #i know it's probably too bittersweet for many but im really happy with how it turned out and for once in my life #i actually don't think there's anything superfluous in there like i think every sentence has something to say #which is very unusual because i am extremely wordy and simply do not know when to Shut Up #but with that one i held myself back and it turned into something near and dear to my heart #and to hear that it's something that exists in your mind too is just like. wow. yeah. 🥺 #thank YOU so so so so so much for this message it means a tremendous amount to me #and has made me unbearably warm and fuzzy inside #this ask has knocked ME over #hope you're having the best day of your life today #asks #theghostofpreston

[radiance1]

"Danny!" Danny turned around to find Plasmius, gunning straight for him on his motorbike, and came to a quick stop as if he wasn't about to run him over. "You need to keep your alternative self on a leash. You hear me?"

Danny took one long sip of his tea, staring Plasmius straight in the eyes, savored the taste for a moment before swallowing. "Nuh uh."

"What do you mean 'Nuh uh'!?"

"Nuh uh."

Plasmius straight up hissed, red eyes glowing from beyond his pair of sunglasses as he stared the teenager down. "Do you know how many times he's woken me up, before the sun itself is up, just to annoy me into spending valuable hours of my time with him!?"

Danny took another sip of his tea, reaching a hand under his shirt to scratch his stomach. "That sounds like a you problem, really."

"Da-"

"You know he's also made from you right? If I had to fight him, you're going to be annoyed by him." Danny stated plainly, making a gesture with his thermos. "Also, it's a bonus for me since you're too busy to do your frootloop things-"

Plasmius grabbed Danny by the back of his shirt and wrinkled his nose. "You really need to get better pajamas than a simple shirt and oversized pants." He placed the boy under his arm and took the sky. Danny idly shifted to Phantom as he took another sip. "So like, where're you taking me?"

"To go and put stop to that imbecile."

"You know I had plans today."

"Ice cream for a month, all from my card."

Phantom humed. "Make it two."

"Deal."

Phantom flexed his fingers. "...Three..."

"Doable."

"Oh, you're actually serious about this."

A drive later

You see, Dan was having the time of his life. Strongarming that old man at the asscrack of dawn, driving to Metroplis and causing mass amounts of property damage with the crown jewel being that he got to chase around Superman in an attempt to run him over.

He should've expected something to go wrong.

One moment, he was casually minding his business, trying to trample one of the Earth's greatest heroes under his motorbike. The next he was nearly knocked off of it when something slammed into him.

"Ello." Phantom said calmly, as if he wasn't just thrown by Plasmius right into his alternative self from a future that no longer exists. "Twerp." Dan also said 'calmly' as he grabbed onto Phantom and lifted him off of him.

Then dropped him.

Superman was very quick to catch the boy. "Thanks." Phantom said, and Superman smiled. "You're welcome! Are you here to pick him up now, or are you just waiting?"

"I'm getting three months worth of ice cream if I stop him now so like, pick him up I guess."

Superman help him up under the armpits and faced him towards Dan. "He's here to pick you up, by the way!"

"I fucking heard that!" Dan shouted at Superman before turning his attention to Phantom. "Also, what the fuck! You can't just do that! Did that old fuck put you up to this!?"

"Whaaaat? Noooo, he would neveeer..." Phantom glanced around, looking for Plasmius before clicking his tongue. There was an unfortunate lack of said halfa to throw under the bus. "If you stop for like, now, I'll share some of my ice cream with you."

Dan genuinely considered this proposal. "Know what, fine." He yanked Phantom from Superman's hold and dropped him onto the seat beside him before driving away.

"Enjoy your ice cream!" Superman shouted.

"Shut the fuck up boy scout!" Dan shouted back.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

[forzalando]

Orange Theory

Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)

summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right? wc: 2.5k author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists! warnings: none!

You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.

Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.

“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?” The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles’ body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.

“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”

“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.

“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”

You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.

“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

“I just came to give you this.”

Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.

“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”

“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”

“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.

“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.

Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.

“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.

“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.

He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”

You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.

“He peels your oranges for you?”

You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”

“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”

“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”

Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.

“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”

“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”

As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.

“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.

As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight. “Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”

“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”

“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”

“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”

A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.

“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”

“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”

“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”

Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between. “Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”

“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”

“What else?”

“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”

Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.

“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.

“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.

“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”

Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”

“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”

“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”

“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”

Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition. “I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.

Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.

Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.

You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.

When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.

You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.

But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.

They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.

You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”

The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.

“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”

“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”

“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.

“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”

You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.

“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”

This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.

“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”

“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.

“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.

You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.

He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.

He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.

His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.

You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.

After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.

Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #forzalando #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

[shotmrmiller]

now im thinking about how you're technically johnny's wife of convenience but now also simon's girlfriend.

like maybe you're crazy but you do remember johnny telling you that you can see other people, just don't bring them home. but every time you try to, simon is there.

something always suspiciously happens when you're out, conveniently forcing you to cut the date short, and the one that picks you up is simon. he doesn't even let you walk yourself out either. he'll already be at your table, putting your phone and wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. and what's worse, with the one guy who didn't mind, the one who had asked for a raincheck, simon told him that you have a husband at home waiting for them with a warm dinner.

he chuckles under his breath at the guy's reaction— ashen face, wide eyes, and gaping mouth. "don't know what ya saw in tha' bloke anyway. he didn't even cover the bill." because simon stared at him until he skittered out the front door without a backward glance.

and then their dates. they're supposed to be a couple; you're just a front, so why do they keep taking you with them as a third wheel. is it an exhibitionist kink? because that's what it feels like every time they're together. it's all sloppy kisses, grabby hands and you swear that if you hadn't spun around and briskly walked away that one lazy saturday simon was home, they would've probably let you watch them fuck each other stupid on the living room carpet.

it's also hard to bring it up to johnny because either simon's there, leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed as he watches you exist, or is taking up far too much space on the couch so that if you want to sit there and watch the telly, you're obligated to press up against his massive thigh. (manspreading, simon? really? truly?) or you can't look him in the eye after listening to the headboard repeatedly slam against the wall all night. you can still hear johnny's moans curling around the edges of your very conscious.

then, you meet the rest of the 141: a tall, broad bear of a man with the ocean in his eyes and an iconic mutton chop beard. john price, he'd rumbled as he shook your hand. and then the other one, a devastatingly pretty man with chocolate-brown eyes, a small scar on his cheek, and perfect, white teeth. kyle, the boys call me gaz. a pleasure. he'd grabbed your hand with both of his as he also shook it.

johnny doesn't stick around, excusing himself quickly as he takes a phone call but simon does. he stands directly behind you— a suffocating presence a silent guardian— so close you can feel his body warmth on the expanse of your back.

little close there, eh simon?

no' at all, boss.

once he starts showing up at your college with lunch, you feel like your patience is dangling by a fragile, whisper-thin thread so you confront him directly.

only to have him shut you down in seconds.

what's johnny's is mine. now sit, i know ya didn't eat breakfast this mornin'.

at least he brought you your favorite meal:}

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

[hairmetal666]

Steve knows he falls in love too easily. Nancy told him, Robin too.

But falling in love with Eddie Munson is hard.

They're supposed to be friends after Vecna. They're supposed to be friends, but Steve can't get past what Eddie did in the Upside Down; how he put himself in a position to nearly die, how Dustin got hurt. It's not fair. He knows it's not, but it doesn't make the anger go away.

Eddie's part of the group now, though, and Steve won't leave him out, no matter how angry. They're all at movie nights, at pool parties, at Hellfire, at Corroded Coffin gigs. It's just that Steve and Eddie don't speak. And Steve is okay with it. If it's what it takes to make sure that they're all hanging out together, not talking to Eddie is a small thing. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't mind. At least, he seems as uninterested in hanging out with Steve as Steve is with him.

It doesn't need to be anything more than that, and it isn't, not until Steve goes upstairs to get more sunscreen during one of the pool parties, and walks back downstairs to find Munson waiting for him in his kitchen.

"You need something?" He asks, unable to fully hide the way he jolts with surprise.

Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, something Steve's noticed he does whenever he's nervous. "You have a problem with me, Harrington?

"No, of course not," he answers too fast.

"C'mon, man. You can barely stand to be in the same room with me."

"That's not true! We're in one together right now."

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard that it has to hurt. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You can't stand to be alone with me for more than thirty seconds."

Steve splutters, searching for a plausible reason.

"Is it cause--" Eddie swallows, hand going back to cup his neck. "Is it cause you heard me tell Robin that I'm gay? Back at the hospital. Is it because--" he cuts himself off.

Something in Steve's chest clenches hard, warmth swooping dangerously in his stomach. "No," Steve says, means it. "I didn't hear. I didn't-- it has nothing to do with that. It's--that's cool. Thanks for--yeah, that's cool."

Eddie's smile is a brittle little thing. "Then, what else?" Eddie pulls a chunk of hair over his mouth. "I can't think of any other reason you'd hate me so much."

"I don't." And Steve hopes it's coming off as genuine. "I promise."

He can't help remember the camaraderie, the understanding, that started to grow between them in the Upside Down. The "don't cha, big boy?" of it all. They could be friends. They should be.

They shouldn't get into it. Not right here, not right now when the kids' splashes and excited screams filter through the sliding door.

"You're a shit liar, Harrington."

"Ed--I'm not--"

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll just--" He jolts in the direction of the front door.

"Don't be stupid, Munson."

"God, I can't believe I didn't see it before. You just fucking loathe me."

"I do not. Grow up."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's your problem?"

"There isn't--"

"Stop lying!"

"You didn't fucking think!" He shouts. Loud enough that the noise outside cuts off. "You pulled that shit in the Upside Down and you almost died! Dustin got hurt!"

Eddie blinks his big brown eyes in stunned surprise.

"I told you, I said, 'dont try to be cute or be a hero or something.' And you know what you said? Do you?"

Eddie won't look at him now. "I had to make a choice, Steve."

"It was the wrong one!"

"I would do it all again. No matter what you say. I would do it to draw the bats away. To protect Dustin."

"But you didn't."

"There was no other way to stop them, Steve! They would've gotten through, into Hawkins."

"It doesn't matter."

"You weren't there! You can't tell me--"

"Yes, I can! I know."

"You don't! You think--"

"I almost lost you!" He screams. "You nearly died in my arms, Eddie. And for what?"

Falling in love with Eddie wasn't easy. It was blood and near death; it was weeks in a cold hospital room while Eddie existed in a drug-induced twilight state; it was agonizing convalescence and physical therapy and changing bandages; it was Eddie leading dnd sessions with bright eyes and contagious enthusiasm, herding the kids to the arcade and video store, theatrically serving snacks at movie night; it was festering, senseless anger at the near loss of something.

Eddie's lips tremble. "Steve, I--"

"It doesn't matter." He turns away to slide a hand down his face in an effort to wipe away the emotion. "You're fine and we're--it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Steve, I'm sorry. I wanted--I thought it would help. I thought--"

And Steve has to admit, he does, the whole terrible contradiction of it all. "I know," he whispers back. "I would've--I know."

"I thought I was protecting Dustin. I thought I was buying you guys time with Vecna." Eddie's voice breaks. "I didn't--I--" He squeezes his eyes shut.

In the quiet of the kitchen, they gravitate to one another, foreheads resting together.

"I should have been there, Ed. I shouldn't have left you two alone. You almost died, and I--"

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. We're right here."

They don't kiss, but they're close enough that their mouths brush with each breath they take.

"Don't do that, again." Steve clenches his fists into Eddie's cutoff t-shirt. "Promise you won't ever--"

"I promise, Stevie. I promise. I'll be by your side until the very end, whatever it is."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #angst with a happy ending #getting together #falling in love #protective steve harrington #oblivious eddie munson #mutual pining #steve harrington is bad at feelings #not quite rivals not quite enemies but a secret third thing to lovers #it's angst but then it's sweet #we're all traumatized here

[incognit0slut]

All I Need

Spencer realizes how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. What better time is there to propose if not in the middle of making love? Based on:

Warnings: 18+ mature content but nothing too explicit, this is just sweet love making

words: 2077

A/n: I’m supposed to finish my last kinktober and update my series, but both are very heavy and I needed something sweet to defrost my writer's block. I hope you don’t mind me squeezing something else until I finish my other WIPs🥲

“…every time I look into your eyes I see it, you’re all I need…”

SPENCER KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. There wasn't a single thing he wasn't familiar with—from every mole, every scar, to every stretch mark. Any imperfection you considered of yourself he found to be perfect.

He was well aware of the small scar on your hip bone. Or the mole resting at the back of your thigh. Or the way you disliked caffeine, because every time you drank it, it increased your heart rate drastically. Which was why you always judged him every time he had a cup of coffee in his hand, especially with the amount of sugar he never seemed to stop adding.

"That is definitely not healthy," you would always say, to which he simply responded with a small peck on your lips. It was his way to shut you up without saying anything.

He also knew how soft you actually were underneath that hard exterior you always carried. You were an enigma the first time you joined the team, but Spencer always had a soft spot for mystery, and solving you became his mission even when he wasn't the best at maintaining conversations. He remembered making a fool of himself when he talked to you, stuttering about one of the random facts engraved in his brain.

But you still listened to him, and for once in his life, he finally found someone who didn't mind hearing him talk. It was nice to have somebody who found his knowledge interesting, and with that thought in mind, it didn't take long for him to take an interest in you.

Not that he wasn't interested at first, because honestly, you were a splendid sight when you first walked through the door. It was more so an interest that was considered surpassing a simple friendship. An interest that had him push his confidence into asking you out.

Spencer never pegged himself as someone who would be content having a significant other in his daily routine—his past relationships never seemed to work out, after all—but the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he was actually in pure bliss. It seemed as if you had cast a spell, drawing him deeper into your presence, a magnetic force of affection that went beyond the superficial. Every smile, every touch, seemed to emanate a radiant heat, and he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnitude of your warmth.

Especially at this moment, staring into your eyes as they slowly fluttered open from a long night of slumber, he found himself leaning forward. You were so warm, so inviting. The soft light coming from the curtains cast a shadow over your curves and he couldn't help himself from trailing down your body.

You were fully awake now as he pressed his lips on every part of your skin. The slight movement of your arms wrapping around his neck had him grunting, and somehow he was suddenly positioned between your legs, pressing his hot length onto your wet folds, wanting nothing else but to push himself deep into your warmth.

As he watched you beneath him, eyes half closed, mouth open in anticipation, he couldn't help but mutter his next words because you looked breathtakingly beautiful. Heavenly gorgeous covered in a sheen of sweat, so damn pretty with eyes full of desire. You looked like a siren, an angel, and a lustful woman all rolled into one.

Everything about you was so divine, and the desire to consume every part of your existence became an insatiable hunger. It was a need, a yearning that made the idea of spending a lifetime without you seem unfathomable as if oxygen slowly drained from his world, leaving him breathless. 

The words bubbled up from the depths of his heart, and before he could second-guess himself, he blurted out, "Marry me." 

Your eyes snapped open as he finally sank his hips into you, and before you could even respond, before you could even register his words, his rough thrust stole the breath from your lungs. Rational thoughts shattered as he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was slightly painful yet completely pleasurable.

He slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, your back arching, legs wrapping around his waist. "Spence," you moaned as he started a steady pace, trying to gain your focus but failing miserably. You couldn't think of anything else except the sensation between your legs. "Oh, God."

Languid and smooth, his hips continued to roll into you. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

The feel of his cock sinking in and out of you had your head falling back against the mattress. Your fingernails tightened upon his back, and he drove you gently into the bed with low grunts. His voice was rough, broken by focused breaths. "We could do this every morning."

A whine broke out of you.

"I'd wake up first," he told you. "I'd make you breakfast in bed..." He slipped out again before thrusting into you slowly, dragging his cock along your inner walls that had you mewling. "...right after I wake you with my tongue between your thighs."

You let out another moan. He drank in the sound with a smile before lowering his mouth to the base of your neck. Heated kisses trailed along your skin as his fingers trailed down the outline of your body before they stopped at the warmth between your legs.

Your mouth was wide open against his shoulder, eyes watering with the force of pleasure from having his cock smacking through your wetness, his body forcefully shoving your knees apart. You felt his fingers trailing your clit in slow circles and you arched your back, each tender brush tightened that coil of heat simmering in the pit of your stomach. The simulation drove you further into a haze of pleasure that a soft yes finally escaped your lips without you realizing it.

The barely whispered word didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Yes to this," he wondered as prompted his weight on his other hand. "Or to my proposal?"

You glanced up at him, your face a mixture of pleasure and alarm as you gave him a look. "You're crazy."

He watched you closely, mesmerized by the way your hips were bucking every time his cock hit that soft spot inside you while his fingers continued their tease. "Maybe." He leaned down and softly bit your shoulder. "But I am crazy in love with you."

When you didn't respond, he slowly pulled away and fixed his gaze on you. Your reaction, or lack thereof, spoke volumes, and as his eyes met yours, he found himself captivated by the reflective pools of emotion within. There was a hint of fear and concern, shadows that danced with the flicker of uncertainty. Yet, beneath those layers, he could see the distinct longing in your eyes. It was hard not to distinguish it as it matched the same look in his. Your stare was warm and domineering.

They were so full of love.

And that moment, Spencer realized, that was what you were to him—love. You were the greatest passion he had ever known.

You felt completely in the moment with him as you let your gaze scan over his features. His eyes appeared darker in this light of the room, but you could still see the soft lightness of them. Then, you leaned up, noses brushing gently against each other before you pressed your lips onto his. His body moved again in response, hips bucking into you and you felt him pulsing inside your core as his mouth worked harmoniously along yours.

"Marry." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

You whimpered. Everything was too much. The intensity of the pleasure was almost intoxicating, a heady concoction that wrapped around you, rendering you momentarily breathless.

"Having you for the rest of my life is a privilege." He continued, grunting as you clenched around him. He lost himself with one final, jagged plea. "Marry me and make me the happiest man alive."

His words, touch, and the stroke of him inside you—it all blurred together. It pushed you so wildly that the coil in your stomach twisted sharply through along your body. He lunged down to kiss you again, tongue pushing deep as he stole your moan before it could break into the air. He tugged you into him at the same time that you submitted to his pull.

There were times when you would appreciate this. The contact, the intimacy, the warmth of your boyfriend connected with you. Right now though, you needed release. So you buried your hand in his curls, all messy and askew.

"Spencer," you breathed out against his lips. Each of his thrusts fed the growing flame in your body as your body turned pliant for him. “Oh god, yes,” you cried, head thrashing side to side as your eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by pleasure.

He peppered kisses over your neck, your jaw, your temple, desperate to be even closer to you, to melt into you. "Yes to what?"

Your senses were heightened, every touch and every breath seemed magnified in the intensity of the moment. Your body shuddered with every vicious thrust.

"Yes, yes, yes." A desperate, needy little whine slipped past your lips and you opened your eyes wide to give him a pleading look. "Spencer, please, please."

You were panting, your breath hot and your skin even hotter, and you could barely hear him when he spoke, "Yes to what, Angel?"

Angel. The syllables carried a warmth that resonated deep within your heart. Sometimes you were his Angel. Sometimes you were his Sweetheart. While you cherished the way he expressed his affection, a yearning for more had taken root.

Marry me.

You could be more than his angel. You could be his wife. But it wasn't just about the affectionate words anymore; it was about a promise, a shared future, and you realized as he hovered above you, all sweaty and desperate, that you wanted to feel this bliss every day. How could you not when he fits so perfectly inside you that you could swear he was made for you?

And then you felt it, his hand trailing down your arm before it stopped right along your fingers, intertwining them with his. Your hand clutched onto his as his thrust sped up a fraction—but it was still deep and lazy, enough to make you squirm. His cock was achingly hard inside you and when you clenched down on him, you adored the twitch and resounding moan it drew out of him.

You wanted this for your life. You wanted him every day. You wanted to wake up each morning in his arms, him whispering sweet nothings as he buried himself inside you.

You wanted him so much you would be a fool not to accept his proposal.

"Yes," you breathed out. "I'll marry you."

He grunted against your lips. "Say that again."

His thrusts were now fast and ruthless, his groans filling the room while the sound of skin slapping together echoed with it. Every time you could feel him deep inside you, it brought you closer to that familiar coil in your stomach. It was a heady sensation, an intoxicating blend of desire that quickened your pulse and set your senses ablaze.

"I—shit," you cried out, legs shaking at the pleasure traveling along your body you were starting to wail desperately for your release. "Fuck, baby, I'll marry you."

A sound of satisfaction erupted from him as he kissed you with every ounce of power he had. He kissed you as he had never kissed anyone before. He kissed you deeply, possessively even, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from different angles, but it felt perfect.

You felt perfect. Your lips. Your curves. Your scent. It was as if you were made especially for him. He was fully consumed with you, consumed by you, and yet he couldn't get enough. Though you were beneath him, he was at your mercy, and the fact that you could still have such control over him made his stomach twist even more.

He was so in love with you. He was so sure of it, so sure of this abundance of passion, for Spencer Reid could sometimes be dense when it came to sudden bursts of emotions, but he was not stupid. He wasn't oblivious, nor was he lacking in perception. It wasn't about intelligence or lack thereof, it was simply about the purity of his emotion. 

And he was deeply, unequivocally in love.

.

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#spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #Spotify

[gay-dorito-dust]

Reader being Jason or Dick's girlfriend, who doesn't know about their double life, casually blurting out that she was never a fan of Batman and Robin or that she prefers Superman and the whole family is offended. 😭

I was tired and failed to realises that this came out a bit like a crack fic in the end but I’m sure you won’t mind…hopefully.

Jason: honestly has too much fun shit talking Bruce to you, especially when you didn’t know the man that you were shit talking as well as he did.

He just found it funny hearing you say with your full chest in front of his family that you prefer the Man of Steel over the Dark Knight.

It sends his entire family in disarray and chaos and Jason was thriving off of it immensely. He does not help the situation at all and would wholeheartedly make things worse for the sake of having something to talk about later.

Dick was borderline catatonic as Duke and Steph were trying to bring him back to reality.

Alfred excused himself from the room.

Damian was sharpening his dinner knife. Menacingly.

Meanwhile Tim was pulling up a long winded power point presentation about how statistically Batman was better than Superman. (In every possibly way, you’re just hating.)

That’s literally the title of his presentation.

‘Did he have this prepared in his free time or?’ You’d ask Jason who shrugs.

‘Let the boy have hobbies peanut, it’s not like he’s got anything better going for him right now.’ He replies, thinking that he should start coming to family dinners more if this was the end result.

Bruce might’ve looked the calmest out of everyone but internally he was cursing out Clark for stealing his future in law. He knew preferences exists and didn’t hold it against you, but currently he was in a disagreement with Clark over a recent mission and it had become a thing where the entire family didn’t dare speak or utter Clark/Superman’s name during this sensitive period.

Once Dick comes back to the land of the living, he’s practically hanging off of you screaming, ‘WHY?!’

Jason has to get involved and remove his brother off of you before he potentially scared you away from future family dinners, even though he himself barely attends any, but the moment you entered his life he wanted you to be more involved with the people in his life that cares about; whether he’d like to admit it or not.

‘They don’t hate me do they?’ You asked Jason by the end of the night, genuinely worried that his family might not like you after tonight.

Jason, noticing this, grabs your hands and grips them tightly in his and gives you a reassuring smile. ‘Babe I’m sure as shit they like you, I mean I’ve never seen them react like that before and if they didn’t like you, they would let you know immediately.’ He tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘Besides, weren’t not a vocal bunch when it comes to our emotions. So seeing them get all up in arms over you preferring Superman and trying to persuade you into thinking otherwise was a highlight for me.’

‘Really you think so?’ You leant into him, still not fully convinced and needing his comfort more than anything.

‘Oh yeah. I’m for certain chipmunk. I think I even heard Bruce curse Clark under his breath once or twice.’ He tells you, pressing a kiss to your head as he holds you close.

‘But why? It’s not like they work with Batman, right?’ Your curious words caused Jason to stiffen and his breath to hitch as he tried to find the words before blurting out the first thing that came to his head. ‘No, they’re just…really devoted fans of Batman and Robin. So you could say that preferring Superman over them is a personal insult to them.’ He said, hoping you’d buy the lie, he genuinely didn’t want to subject you to the whole vigilantism so early on in your relationship.

Thankfully you did take the bait as you muttered into his shoulder, ‘okay, I hope they know I meant no offence but it.’ Jason let’s our a laugh, holding you closer to him as he closes his eyes to savour your bodily warmth against him. ‘I’m sure they do sweetheart, they’re the smartest people I know and they wouldn’t let something silly this affect our relationship.’ He said softly. ‘Now let’s go home and cuddle up in bed together yeah?’

‘That sounds like a great idea.’ You replied.

Dick: pouty baby.

What do you mean you don’t like Batman and Robin?! What did Superman have that he didn’t?!

For as far as Dick was concerned he has the fatter ass between him and Clark. He’s done the research.

He’s leaning all of his weight into you and says under his breath. ‘Why does my love betray me so.’ Meanwhile you’re looking at his confused as to why he’s acting as if you’ve just destroyed his lively hood with a single sentence.

Duke and Steph were patting Dick on the shoulder, sharing their sympathies with the revelation made at the dinner table.

Alfred left the room…again. First Jason’s partner, now Dick’s? What a coincidence.

Jason immeditly calls you his favourite and talks about how you and his partner -who also prefers Superman- would get along great while shit talks Batman simultaneously, almost as though he has a personal gripe with him or something.

Damian is sharpening his dinner knife…again but even more menacingly.

And Tim was back on the PowerPoint presentation where he goes into excruciating depths as to why Batman was statistically better the Superman.

The family is once again dissolved into chaos and Bruce was sat at the head of the table, calm, cool and collected but internally cursing Clark out once again for stealing another potential future in law.

(Clark has sneezed approximately twice at this rate and was taking every test to make sure he wasn’t coming down with anything serious)

After all was said and done and you were getting ready for bed, you asked the question that had been on your mind the entire night; ‘Your family doesn’t hate me, do they?’

Dick chuckled as he held you against his chest. ‘No, they love you enough to almost start a war over the fact that you like Superman over Batman and they’re not exactly the most in tune with their emotions. So seeing them react the way that they did? Only proves that they do like you cutie.’ He says as he gives you a peck on the lips.

You pouted. ‘But why does it feel like I just attached their lively hoods? It’s not like they know Batman or Robin personally or work with them in any capacity.’

Dick froze, he -much like Jason- didn’t want to subject you with the whole vigilante thing just yet, he didn’t want to scare you off so soon into the relationship in fear of scaring you away forever. ‘Devoted fans act like that whenever you tell them that you don’t like the same person as them.’ Dick replied, rubbing his hand up and down your back. ‘It’s an issue that should be regulated and or addressed at least.’

You hummed in agreement. ‘Well besides that, I like yours family, they all look like great people to know that have your back when you’re in a tough situation.’ You say as you kissed the side of his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, feeling sleepy.

‘They really are.’ Dick replied softly. ‘They really are.’

#dc x y/n #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fic #dc comics x reader #dc fanfiction #jason todd imagines #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagines #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #nightwing x you #nightwing fluff #nightwing imagines #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader

[lovrspell]

Reflection

Pairing: Astarion x Afab!Reader (no gender specific pronouns used, only anatomy)

Summary: Astarion can't see his own reflection as he fucks you, but he can still see yours.

Warnings: 18+. Katoptronophilia. Body worship. Fingering. Hair pulling. Sprinkled some dry humping in there. PiV. Creampie. Astarion has an oral fixation. Overstimulation. Aftercare.

Word count: 3,3k.

Masterlist.

(Screenshot ↷ by @cheekylittlepupp, I cropped it a bit)

Astarion has accepted the fact that he'll never truly know his own appearance. Denied the privilege to see himself through his own eyes, he must rely solely on others' description to gather an image of himself.

Something which makes him feel particularly vain is hearing your own portrayal of him. You make him feel so beautiful, basically flawless.

You would tell him that he has hypnotizing ruby eyes, you would tell him about the way his white strands curl around his pointy ears or about the sensual curve of his upper lip — and he'll love it all.

In your bedroom, there is a mirror right next to your shared bed, against the wall. He likes to watch you through it when you get ready for the day or, which he prefers most, when you get ready for the night. Your pre-bed routine is sacrosanct and he somewhat finds it relaxing, too. He has learned the smallest of your habits in depth.

On the other hand, during your most intimate moments, he likes to turn his head to admire the shapes of your body, or, when he takes you from behind and holds his hand in the locks of your hair, making you sink your head into the soft mattress, he notices how your cheek slumps against it; how you drool, how your face contorts in pleasure...

On all the times it has happened, it has always been the breaking point for him. That view is all he needs to come undone. Perhaps that's why he doesn't do it too often.

So it usually ends at a quick glance, nothing more.

Usually.

He had different plans in mind tonight, it seems.

It's one of those nights where having sex was inevitable. It occurs when you feel that simply being close is not enough anymore; when you feel the compelling desire to mold into a shared existence and become one.

It's not that difficult to do something that makes the other shiver with the familiar thrill of arousal. By now you are used to it: you immerse yourselves in intimacy, in each other, ending up in a realm with no name, that is simply all yours. In moments of passion, you lose all sense of surroundings: be it on the bed, on a table, against a wall — on the floor, even. Nothing matters anymore, just the two of you.

“Come here,” he whispers against your lips, finally detaching from them after yet another intense kiss. He grabs your hips and pushes you onto his lap, his back resting against the headboard of the bed.

You follow the motion as your lips come to latch on his throat, where you plant wet kisses. Your arms reach around his back to wrap around him, bodies nestled perfectly like a lock and a key.

As you do so, you feel him doing something you absolutely adore: he lets himself go.

It's always a wonderful feeling: his muscles softening under your touch as he lets himself be touched, loved, explored; you touch him as if you are rediscovering him every single time. Moments like these remind you of how much he trusts you.

His head tilts to the side and he groans, arms snaking around your form and coming to a stop once they reach your rear, of which he grabs an handful.

He gives it a few gentle slaps, something he does to encourage you to come closer.

You oblige, scooting closer with your hips, making your sexes brush against one another above the fabric of your clothes.

His sex bumps into yours as he buckles his hips up gently one, two, three times. Enough for you to feel his cock slowly getting harder and harder under your spell.

The gentle movements earn a languid whine out of you, and you pull back from his neck only to meet his gaze.

Astarion leans in, parting his lips as his front teeth gently catch your cheek in an affectionate nibble, ensuring his canines don't intrude in it.

He adores those soft spots of yours. Perfect for his teeth to sink into.

You grin, giggling softly as you press yourself down against his hardening member; he feels the damp heat coming from your sex, even through your pants. Not surprising after your intense make out session that had been going on for at least thirty minutes.

A slow drag of your hips along his length is enough to make his nose scrunch up as he suppresses a hiss. You big tease.

His cock twitches for you.

But he's not going to let you know just how needy he is yet.

He moves his hands to your hips, bringing his lips to your ear and mumbling a gentle command: “Lie down, darling.”

You hum in understanding, but pull back from him reluctantly. The friction between your sexes had just started to feel nice.

You adjust on the mattress and as he scoots closer to you, your hands immediately reach for him again.

As he's at your side, his hands go for the hem of your trousers. His thumbs slip past the fabric so he can get ahold of your panties too, and slowly, he starts to pull them down.

Your breath is uneven already.

“Part your legs for me, yes?” he whispers, smiling wryly at you. He's awfully aware of how much these alluring commands can turn you on.

“Gods, Astarion...” you whine, biting the inside of your cheek.

He knows what that's about.

“Oh, come on. Don't be coy. You can't possibly be any wetter than what I've made you on other occasions.”

You roll your eyes, watching him as he slips those clothes past your ankles and finally, your feet.

Tossing them aside, his gaze returns to you and he gives you a knowing smile.

“Let me see it.”

You spread your thighs slowly, making space for him in between them — a space he immediately occupies. He looks down at your exposed sex, raises his eyebrow and hums.

“Could've been a lot worse.”

He takes such pride in knowing he can make you wet with so little. He'll brag about it. Tease you as if you can't make him hard as brick without even touching him.

“Oh, please. Don't start.” you reply, scowling.

“You know you love it.”

You're grateful he didn't notice the clench down there.

It is true, after all, that deep down you love it when you're left bare and exposed for him in all your glory — and sticky wetness.

Before you can muster up something to say, you feel a pair of cold fingers brush over your clit.

You gasp softly, as Astarion starts to trace delicate circular motions, swelling up that particularly sensitive spot. The pace is slow, but he puts a noticeable amount of pressure on it — enough to make your legs twitch slightly every time he touches it from a specific angle.

“How does it feel?” he purrs, persistently keeping his eyes on yours. “Feels good?”

All you can manage is a nod. Now, come on, you could've certainly saw his response coming,

“Use your voice, dear.”

You swallow, then mumble “It feels good.”

With his free hand he caresses your inner thigh, before slowly trailing it towards the hem of your shirt and pulling it up, up, up, until your breasts are left exposed.

The view is certainly pleasing to him — you could swear that you saw his ears perk up a little.

He sighs deeply, leaning down to plaster kisses all over your breasts. His lips find your nipple and he nibbles gently, sucking on it a bit. When he pulls back from it, a string of saliva still connects him with its hardened surface. You writhe in pleasure, wrapping both arms loosely around his head.

He rests the side of his face on your soft tit, his sensitive ear right where your heart sings a rhythmic armony. He listens carefully as it beats against his ear, closing his eyes. That's life flowing inside you. Your body hot and and lively and vigurous with passion is something he'll never tire to admire, feel or taste.

He can hear the noise the blood coursing through your veins makes, your heart pounding faster and harder as the pleasures builds.

In the meantime, his fingers trace your swollen clit for one last time before his fingers slide down to trace your folds expertly. When they reach the entrance to your sex, he traces a few circles around it.

“So wet,” he comments, sliding a pair of fingers inside.

They follow an agonizingly slow in-and-out rhythm. You squirm, moving your hips in the direction of his hand — it's not enough.

He feels his pants going quite tight as he works his fingers inside you, caressing your sweet spot in deep strokes.

“More,” you whine, squeezing his waist with your thighs.

He doesn't answer, but he does move his thumb to circle your clit gently.

He has to bite back a groan when your walls hug his fingers tightly and a pool of warm wetness drenches them.

You writhe underneath him and his cock responds to that unexpected motion with a twitch.

He pushes his hips down the mattress and ruts against it, since his cock is too far away from any part of your body that he could possibly hump.

He turns his head from one side to the other and as he newly nestles against your chest, adjusting comfortably.

Then he sees it.

Your reflection.

In the mirror, your arms wrapped around his head look like they're floating.

Back arched, lips parted, thighs squirming, eyes shut rightly...

You look sublime.

It's not the first time he's greeted by such view, but even so he can't refrain himself from commenting on it. You're stunning when you have any part of him inside you and you need to know that.

“Look,” he mumbles, but you don't hear him.

Lifting his head from your chest, he smoothly raises his free hand to grab your chin, turning your head toward the mirror. The abrupt motion interrupts your pleasure momentarily; his cheek presses against yours as you both face the mirror.

“Look at that,” he repeats, his fingers curling into your sweet spot deeply enough to earn a high pitched moan out of you.

Knuckles deep, his fingers now fuck you at a rather frantic pace.

“Gods, you're beautiful...” he mumbles, his eyes fixed on that image before him.

You don't even have time to process what he's saying that he's basically already grinding his hips against your inner thigh. He skillfully maintains a coordinated rhythm with his fingers even while he's pleasuring himself.

But this dance doesn't last long.

He has to be inside you.

You're about to approach the edge of an orgasm when he pulls away from you.

“Up,” he gestures with an hand, patting your thigh impatiently with the other. As you do so, taking your time, he's already unbuttoning his pants. Only when he lowers his underwear enough to let his cock spring free he does exhale a quiet sigh of relief. He pumps it a bit, glancing up at you as he does.

He's not surprised to catch you staring, lips parted to form an ‘o’ shape.

“Up, honey. On your hands and knees. And face that mirror.”

Oh.

“...The mirror?” you echo, raising your brows and searching his gaze again.

“Did I stutter?” he retorts, raising his brows in a familiar fashion, playfully mocking you. “Go ahead.”

You take a few moments to process that order but you eventually oblige, placing yourself on all fours in front of said mirror.

Astarion scoots behind you, hands coming up to the small of your back to press on it, making you arch. He hears your sigh as his hardened cock presses against your ass. His lips curve in a knowing smile when one of his hands cups your rear and squeezes gently. He drags his cock along it again, grunting.

You whine, looking back at him from behind your shoulder. “Stop teasing.”

“Patient is the key,” he murmurs, leaning onto you and planting a tiny kiss on your shoulder before his chin comes to rest on it. He observes your reflection with feline attention.

“Look up.” he orders, and so you do. You meet your own eyes, feeling a certain embarrassment; you've always found it kind of creepy how, whenever you cross a reflective surface and you're in his company, he's simply not there.

“Do I have to?”

“I'm not going to let that go unseen,” his hips press into you and he uses an hand to help himself part your damp folds with the tip of his cock. “you look so pretty when I fuck you senseless.”

You grunt as your lips part in delight, eyes fluttering closed. He fills you with his whole length, slowly, and you're already at his mercy as he begins thrusting at a lazy rhythm. Astarion's lips press on your ear and he hushes you when you whine, “I've not even started yet,” he mumbles, reaching an hand up to grasp your hair so to hold your head up. Yet again, you're forced to meet your own reflection.

“That's the problem.” you answer, earning a chuckle out of him.

“Trust me, darling, if I had let my instincts win I would have been ravaging you by now. But waiting makes the experience better, doesn't it?”

Every word whispered brings sweet shivers down your spine. His lips move down the nape of your neck as he makes sure you feel every single inch of him as he pushes in and out. The pace picks up gradually and his eyes never leave the immacolate vision ahead of you.

You look in absolute bliss, lip twitching up whenever he speeds up a bit. It's impressive how you seem to forget about the rest of the world in a flash whenever he takes you.

Astarion starts to get impatient with himself. His cock is straining and all he wants is to get straight to the point and fuck you into oblivion until you're a sobbing, stuttering, trembling mess. But he insists on fighting against that urge; he always plays this ‘edging’ game with himself. It makes it all the better, somehow.

“You there?” he asks after a few seconds, given the fact that you've gotten silent and dropped the whining. He lifts off your back and straightens his own. His hand leaves your hair, trusting you to keep you head up on your own.

“Hm,” you hum in response. It seems you've gotten quite fond of the slow, gentle rhythm.

He has to fix that.

Can't have you falling asleep now, can he?

His hands find the soft curve of your hips and he gives them a strong squeeze that only lasts for a second, like a warning. It seems to stir you up a bit.

He angles his hips in a way that ensures that each movement he makes meets your deepest spot. He switches to a rapid pace so suddenly that it almost makes you lose your balance and slip your hands past the edge of the bed.

Fortunately, Astarion is there for you.

He grabs you by the hair not so gently, pulling you up. Your back arches naturally as a yelp escapes you.

He grins, letting out quick puffs of breath with every thrust. One of his hands finds your throat and his fingers curl around it, while the other rests on your ass for good measure. He tilts his head back, loosing himself in the warmth of your wet walls.

But he quickly raises his head back up towards the mirror. Your breasts, partially covered by the shirt you didn't bother to take off, bounce with every thrust. And as if that sight isn't enough to make his dick twitch inside you, he catches a glimpse of you rubbing your clit as he's fucking you.

This view somehow encourages him to give you more. So much more.

Until you can't handle it.

He uses the hand around your throat to pull you against his chest: an hoarse moan rumbles in your chest and fills the room as the movement chokes you a bit, but you don't mind.

His hand leaves your neck and find the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to expose your breasts further. His other arm snakes around your stomach and your head tilts back, resting against his shoulder.

Astarion doesn't miss the opportunity to plant kisses all over your neck, nibbling here and there and leaving a few scratches with his sharp fangs. He doesn't make too much of an effort to find the point in which your pulse pounds, pressing his parted lips on it and sucking.

When he makes sure he has left an hickey, lips find your earlobe and he bring it in between his lips, suckling it gently. “Such elegance in your every movement,” he sighs, voice low and alluring. “impressive.”

You whimper in response, and as he tilts his to the side, he catches your hand trembling in the reflection.

Your brain fogs up and you reach that moment in your ecstasy in which you go limp, letting yourself go completely. Your stomach slowly twists in a knot as your orgasm approaches.

“Let me do it for you,” he whispers, gently pushing your hand away, replacing it with his own. His fingers circle your clit in quick movements that match the pace of his thrusts, which, however, gets messier and sloppier as he approaches the sweet edge as well.

He groans as his free hand gropes you all over, squeezing and pulling on the softest spots of your body he knows by heart by now. You manage to open your eyes and see clearly for a couple of seconds and, well, you're surprised to notice that the view ahead of you does turn you on some more.

There's just... Something in the way you know that it's Astarion reducing you to such a mess and and most of all, it's to be witnessing it in real time what earns a clench of your walls around his member.

The way your sex responds to that vision can't go unnoticed when Astarion is balls deep inside it.

He smirks, biting the shell of your ear as he rams inside you, chasing both yours and his orgasm. Your moans sound breathless as your clit swells with arousal under the tips of his fingers, aching for a release. You raise an hand up to grasp his hair, desperate for something to hold onto. You tilt your head so that you can meet his lips for a messy kiss, which Astarion reciprocates.

However, he breaks away with a growl when you start panting into his mouth. He watches the climax happen on your face, then your body: you tremble, losing control over your hips that chase those fingers on your clit and his cock. Both your shaking hands find his hips and you grip them tightly, dipping your nails in his flesh.

Your clit swells and your walls clench deliciously around his member, squeezing him in.

He stares, eyes wide and basically glowing.

His pace doesn't falter, not even for a second, although he pulls his hand back from your clit in order to focus on his cock straining inside you.

He whimpers desperately, getting impatient to come, which results in sloppier thrusts. His name leaves your lips in a sobby moan; you lose balance, letting yourself sink into the mattress.

He sounds so good. You grip the sheets tightly and he leans down, lips against the nape of your neck.

“Just a little more, a little bit more... I know you can handle it,” he mumbles breathlessly, feeling his cock twitch and balls tightening.

He looks up to meet the blessed view of you, squirming and spent as you cry into the mattress, muttering phrases of ecstasy he doesn't quite catch; he finds it adorable how you kind of... Lose your ability to speak properly when you're drunk on his cock.

His hips falter and he groans, sinking his fingers into your flesh and pushing you down against him. He feels his knees abandon him for a second or two as he spills his semen inside your aching cunt. The thought of pulling out didn't even cross him, not when you clench around him so tantalizingly.

He grunts, mumbling your name a few times as the last thrusts guide him over the wave of his ecstasy.

Next, he collapses on top of you.

You lower your ass under his weight, grunting. It takes a few moments, but he eventually lazily pulls out of you, unable to contain a small, content grin at the sight of his cum spilling out of your puffy sex.

He lays on his back beside you, making the mattress bounce gently with his weight as he settles. You turn your head to him, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He's following your every movement with his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, hand raising to caress your face.

You snuggle against the cool palm of his hand, giving up on trying to keep your eyes open. You give a slight nod, then ask: “Are you?”

“Do I not look like it?” he replies, smiling lovingly, fangs peeking at the corners of his mouth.

A comfortable silence falls between you two, but you're the one to break it:

“I might be into this whole mirror thing, y'know.”

He grins, narrowing his gaze. “Oh, love. I always knew you were a bit of an exhibitionist.”

“...It was your idea, I shall remind you.”

“And you went along with it.”

“I did.”

You yawn, leaning in to rest your head against his unmoving chest. He wraps you up into his arms and you do the same, lifting your head up to print small kisses all over his face.

You both lay there for a while, not bothering to get cleaned up right away: it has been like this ever since you've grown more comfortable around each other. You take it easy, savoring the aftermath of passion and the softness that comes with it, between giggles and stolen kisses.

#astarion #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x fem reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x afab reader #astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader

[chikaras-garden]

Hi petal! May I request Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne dick headcanons? Like, size and width kinda thing? Thank you!

Sweet Jesus. Yes. Goodness. Oh my god.

DICK GRAYSON 💦

Not the longest. Not the girthiest. A pretty pink head that demands kisses. But the curve of his dick helps him reach places inside you that no one else could ever dream of. This is a cock that finds every spot that makes you squirm and scream—and then invents new ones, just to be sure no man has ever made you feel as good as he does. 

He uses his whole body to fuck you. Hands cupping your cheeks, forehead against yours, breath fanning over your lips in between kisses. When he’s inside you, you’re two halves of one whole, and the point where your body ends and his begins may as well not exist. He’s so agile, so flexible; he’ll work as hard as is necessary to find every position that has you coming undone all over his cock.

Loves to stay inside you. He came so much, so hard, so fast—so he’ll just plug you up, you know? You don’t mind, right? He’ll be so impossibly gentle about it, too; laying on top of you, weight on his knees so he doesn’t hurt you, peppering little kisses up and down your face until his cock softens and slips right out.

DAMIAN WAYNE 💦

A cock so perfect that they should be making dildos based off of him. Very long. Very thick. Tanned and super veiny. Honestly, the worst part is that he knows this because he’s heard it a billion times. Praise does nothing to him after hearing so many people say he feels so good, that he splits them open just right—but the look on your face when he thrusts hard, fast, and deep until your eyes roll back in your head? 

That has him feeling something he’s never felt before. He’s buried to the hilt inside you, you feel him all the way up to your lungs, and you reach down to grab his wrist and hold him right where he is. When your fingers wrap around him, he groans, seeing stars of his own. You reach around his hips and press your hands into his ass to pull him even deeper, and he starts forcing himself into breathing exercises to stop himself from coming right there.

Prefers you to come first. Also prefers when you have the time for both of you to come multiple times. He has a thing for coming on your tits first, and he’d love to come on your face if you’re into that, but sex isn’t finished until he fills you, duh.

@uc1wa I wasn't kidding

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne smut #batfam x reader #batfam smut #🌸— mine. #🌸— damian wayne. #🌸— dick grayson. #💌— letters for the gardener. #💋— anon.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

What about Graves with a breeding kink or if reader is pregnant? I know you don't rlly write for him a lot, but I love when you do.

Idk if you'll feel like answering this, but ily and ur fics regardless 🫶

Graves w/ a Breeding Kink

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Breeding Kink, Possessive Graves, Housewifery, Pet Names,Profanity,  Fem! Reader.

He lusts for the American dream; the very foundations upon which he continues his existence. To have – to create – a family. And he can think of nobody better to achieve that dream with than you.

He’s on top of you, arms either side of your head, gasping, panting, bent over you and exerting every inch of himself as if you were crafted of some divine substance with tools far beyond human comprehension.

He’s been at it for hours now. You see it in the way his hair sticks together, slicked with sweat as it drips down his face, hear it in the thick, wet sound of his cock slipping back into you with every thrust of his hips, feel it in the growing ache in your abdomen as he fills you again, letting out a strangled, short-breathed moan as your body squeezes around him. He doesn’t let up, though.

He pushes through, gripping you by your hips and pulling you closer onto him. You gasp, back arching as he hits a spot deeper within you. An area he’d been abusing all night, 

“B’such a good little mommy for me,” he whispers into your hair, just above your ear. He presses a lopsided kiss there, lip wet from the many times he’s drawn it into his mouth with his teeth.

“Y’want that, Sweetness?” he pants, looking into your eyes with his half-lidded pair. “Want me to–” – he grunts – “want me t’make you mine from the inside out?”

You can’t get the words out fast enough; garbled and twisted, they come out tangled and in knots, as if tripping over each other to reach a unified ‘yes’. With the little energy you have left, you nod with all the enthusiasm your half-gone mind can conjure. Graves smiles, giving a brief, airy laugh. “Knew I’d made the right choice pickin’ you. Knew you’d make a good housewife for me someday,”

You clench. Graves gasps. He brings warm lips to yours as if to press his love there, as if you are to now impart upon him that which he has longed for for years unnumbered; a family.

He angles deeper, presses his throbbing, pulsating instrument into the most inconspicuous part of you that has you arching your back and letting out an almost-scream. Your knees press into the sides of Graves’ waist, tightening around him just as your cunt did. He yells, uses every ounce of his strength to not collapse on top of you, the tip of his nose against yours. Something in him tightens, snaps, and he floods you for the umpteenth time, pressing himself deeper, making sure his seed takes.

Not that you can see for your eyes being screwed shut, but Graves gazes upon you as you bask in the afterglow of his labour, feeling a smile creeping up onto his cheeks as he takes in your every feature. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen them, in one form or another, he never stops being fascinated – enamoured – by them. By you.

When you come down, come to, you give Phillip a smile he knows all too well – one that preludes your telling him you’re ready for bed. He all but pounces on you as you turn onto your side, taking you by the wrists and pressing them into the pillow beneath you. A dark glimmer passes through his eye, and he gives you a hazy, slithering smirk, followed by his southern drawl.

“Oh no, Princess,” he says, taking your chin between his fingers.

“We’re not done ‘til I say we’re done.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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#cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod smut #mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #graves mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Yandere Ghost Headcannons

Afab reader ; nsfw ; ghostly somnophilia 

He was orphaned at a young age, but adopted by a widow who eventually  passed away during his 20s. She left him with a hefty inheritance so he was well off for a while.

He eventually met the love of his life, your past reincarnation. Unfortunately for him, you were only using him for money and ended up burning him along with the house down in an attempt to take the life insurance money. You succeeded, leaving him nothing but a broken heart and a vengeful spirit.

The house the two of you lived in was eventually torn down and rebuilt. His ghost resided, watching apathetically as family after family moved in, only to run off when they realized the house was occupied with his spirit. He couldn’t move on because he had too many attachments to the world — namely, still being in love with you.

When you eventually move in with your cat, his heart stops. You’re back. You act a little different, but you’re still the woman he married. He falls in love all over again.

He watches you from both afar and up close. He loves to follow your every movements. When you sit in the reading room, he’s on the other chair eying you dreamily, enjoying the way you react to whatever is happening in your novels. He’s sometimes behind you, reading with you with every page you flip. He finds it cute the way your face scrunches up when you find a bug in the house. He can’t get rid of them, but he does his best to scare the bugs off so they scurries away. He thinks you’re very kind for taking in the stray cats in the neighborhood and feeding them in your backyard. He sits next to you on your back porch while you feed them. 

He loves the way you laugh when you watch a funny video on your phone. He laughs with you. He eyes you pitifully, wanting to lick the tears off your face when you cry after watching a sad movie. 

He thinks you’re fucking hot when you touch yourself in the shower. He’s there with you, too.

He wishes he could touch you, but he can’t. He’s just a ghost after all. At least, that’s what he thought until he finally made contact with your skin one night. He knelt over your sleeping form, wishing he could give you a kiss. Apparently wanting was all he needed, because when he bent over to kiss you, he was able to manifest a slight physical form and land a peck on your lips. 

The revelation makes him ecstatic. Soon, he can’t get enough of your skin. Every night he wills himself to form a physical manifestation, one that gets stronger, lingers longer with every attempt. At night, he would hold you in your sleep, admiring the way your beautiful body was draped over the sheets. 

But soon, just kisses aren’t enough. With physical form comes a carnal need for your body, your touch, your taste. He finds your used panties and masturbates to them, loving that he could feel pleasure for the first time in ages. He wants to share that feeling with you. So push comes to shove, and he develops a habit of groping you in your sleep, moving clothing aside to admire your naked body. He fingers you  while you lay there, listening with joy as you moan and quiver in your sleep. 

You’re so fucking adorable. 

He wishes you knew he existed. But he knows you’d be terrified of him. Who knows, maybe one day, you’ll see him for who he really is - not some ghost haunting your house, but the man who has always and never stopped loving you.

When he hears you on the phone with your friend, talking about a man you might be interested in, all hell breaks loose in his mind.

No one can love you like he can. No one cares about you like he does. No one knows you like he does . Your smiles are reserved for him And him alone.

He begins touching you more, every night even. You start to complain to your friends about something being amiss, but he doesn’t care. He needs you to know he loves you. He needs you to need him.

Just when he thinks he will never get through to you, you wake up on a night he manifests.

#male yandere #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere male #ghost #yandere ghost #yandere drabble #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Soulmates

Pairings: Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: A silly dream you and Natasha shared as kids turns out to be your destiny.

Word Count: 5.05k

Warnings: Injuries — (broken bones, cuts, bruises)

Author’s Note: Another one that’s been collecting dust. At this point I’m just deep cleaning my drafts I hope you like it 💕

Mini-oneshot: Forever

Natasha and you had been raised alongside each other since birth.

As the royal heir you were born the kingdoms Princess, and would one day step up after your parents stepped down from their positions as King and Queen.

Meanwhile, once Natasha became of age her father began her training as she was meant to become the young Princesses Royal Knight.

Both of your families had always been close friends. Natasha’s father was your father’s best solider, so you and the redhead had practically grown up together.

The bond between your two families meant that you and the young knight spent a lot of time together. So much time that as you grew up, you and Natasha inevitably fell for each other and only continued to as you got older.

Your parents knew you two had something special from the gecko, but no one knew if it was just puppy love, or if it’d turn out to be the love story you’d only ever hear about in books.

That thought always took up a space in your mind, just like it was right now.

How you got so lucky to be the one in a billion to actually live one of those love stories.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Nat! Natty, wait for me!” you call out to the slightly older girl.

Natasha always teased you for being younger than her even if it was only by a few months. She stopped in her tracks and turned around, waiting a moment for you to catch up to her as your feet quickly patted against the pavement outside.

“Sorry, princess,” she gazed at you once you reached her. “I’m just really excited to see where our parents are taking us.”

Your cheeks flushed a pink tint at the pet name and your heart fluttered. People were supposed to formally address you as Princess since that’s who you were, but whenever Natasha called you that you both knew it had a different meaning.

Natasha always had such a soft spot for you. Some might call it puppy love, but both of your parents believed it was the cutest thing to ever exist.

As she had a couple inches over you, you had to latch onto her arm and lean up on your tippy-toes to peck her cheek. This time it was Natasha’s turn to blush.

“Well, now we can go down there together.” you said and gave her a sweet smile that made her heart double in beats per minute.

Both of your mothers playfully shook their heads to themselves as they made their way over to you, watching the interaction.

“She’s a smooth little girl.” Melina commented with a chuckle.

Your mother chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t know where she got that from because it definitely was not her father.”

You two on the other hand were completely oblivious of their presence as you became immersed in chasing each other around the castle garden, your loud giggles rumbling through air.

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Melina laughed along with your mother.

The two women watched as Natasha caught up to you and pulled you into her arms. “They’re too cute.” your mother cooed and Melina nodded her head, smiling widely.

At some point Natasha had picked a yellow flower from the grass and place it in your hair with sophistication, admiring how it just accentuated your already beautiful features.

She brought you into a tight hug and dramatically pleaded, “Marry me, Y/n! Marry me so nothing will ever come between us and we can be together forever and ever!”

“Yes! A trillion times yes, Natasha! I will marry you even if it’s the last thing I do!” You theatrically declared, mimicking a woman in a television show.

Natasha pulled back and leaned in with her lips exaggeratedly puckered out way too far and cheeks puffed out so much they could’ve popped, but before she could reach yours she was lifted up into her father’s arms.

“Alright, you little player. You’re not quite ready for that one just yet.” Alexei teased the young redhead.

Natasha scoffed. “I am not a player! Y/n is my fiancé and I am going to make her my wife! I put a flower on it and everything!” she argued with a pout.

That was when your own father scooped you up into his arms and spun you around. “Aren’t you just the enchantress? You’ve got little Natasha all lovestruck and heart eyed. Poor girl.”

You giggled before you heard Natasha call out in annoyance. “I am not little!”

Amused looks spread across your mothers’ faces at the precious scene. At the time, no one knew that your’ and Natasha’s pretend was destined to become a reality.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Time jump to around 11 years old)

“Nat, are you sure you know we’re you’re going?” you asked, hesitation evident in your voice as she guided you by your hand through the trees.

This would be the third time you asked her this question, so she playfully rolled her eyes at your uncertainty.

“Yes, Y/n, I come here all the time after training. Stop worrying your pretty little head so much, you’ll give yourself a headache.” Natasha assured.

Normally her sweet talk would have you swooning, but this time you were too distracted by the uneasiness you felt about where you were. Natasha had dragged you out to the forest behind the kingdom, saying she had something special that she wanted you to see.

You two had snuck away when your parents were busy, so no one even knew where you were, but you of course agreed because you trust the redhead with everything you have.

“Okay, we’re here.” Natasha’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

You looked around in confusion, seeing nothing besides an abnormally large tree.

“What is it that you wanted to show me?” you finally spoke.

The young knight chuckled at your slightly furrowed eyebrows, “Follow me.” was all she said before beginning to climb up the tall tree.

“What— Natasha what’re you doing?”

“Come on, this is the only way you’ll see it.” she attempted to encourage you.

You were still very unsure about it so you just watched from the ground as she made her way up the tree. She eventually stopped and made herself comfortable on one of the limbs. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” you projected your voice up to her.

“Come on, Y/n, trust me! The view is beautiful from up here. It’s like you can the whole world!” Natasha called down to you.

You contemplated once more before finally giving in. You followed the path you had watched the redhead take and began climbing the tree. However, you had only made it about halfway when a branch you had grabbed onto began to snap.

Before you could even yell for Natasha like you had originally intended, the branch snapped completely and you yelped instead as you fell.

Your mind had barely registered the young knight calling out your name when you hit the ground. The air was knocked out of your lungs, but you noticed the sharp pain that shot up your arm the most.

“Y/n!” Natasha panicked, and when she heard you cry out tears she quickly made her way down to you.

The words to ask you what was hurting were on the tip of her tongue, but that question was answered when she saw you holding your arm and a few scratches on the side of your face.

Natasha didn’t know what to do.

You were sobbing and clearly in a lot of pain, so she lifted you into her arms bridal style and ran as fast as her legs would take her back to the kingdom without causing you any further discomfort.

Ignoring all the looks from passing townspeople, she bolted up the castle stairs and rushed inside.

“Mom! Mom, dad, where are you! Mom!” Natasha frantically searched every room for either of your parents.

They must’ve heard her shouting because they exited the meeting room and saw the young knight running straight towards them with you crying in her arms.

“Natasha, what happened?” Melina asked her daughter with furrowed eyebrows.

“I wanted to show Y/n this really nice view, but we had to climb a tree in order to see it. She didn’t even want to do it in the first place but I convinced her to, and she fell and I think she hurt her arm.” Natasha explained to the four adults as your father gently took you into his arms.

She began to tear up and followed them to the infirmary, “I— I just wanted to show her something I thought she’d like. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t mean for her to get hurt.”

Your mother placed a comforting hand on the young girls shoulder to get her attention, “It’s okay, Natasha. We know you’d never put her in harms way on purpose, but you did good bringing her back because now we can help her.”

Natasha wiped away the tears in her eyes, although it was no use because more began to fall anyway, “It’s all my fault, I’m the one who took her out there to begin with. She’d be okay if it weren’t for me.”

“Now, now, Natasha. Stop being so hard on yourself. I’m sure Y/n won’t blame you once she’s all patched up.” Your mother reassured, and she was right.

A couple hours later your parents informed the young redhead and her parents of your condition. The force of the impact when you hit the ground had broken your arm, and you had a few light scratches on your cheek that should quickly fade.

The doctor gave your parents some medication to help with any pain you had, and allowed them to take you back to your own bedroom. When Natasha was asked if she would like to see you she of course said yes, but couldn’t ignore the nerves she felt.

Would you be upset with her?

Your mothers led Natasha to your bedroom and opened the door for her to enter, but she hesitated. She felt as though her feet were glued to the floor.

“Are you sure?” the knight in training asked. “I don’t think she’d want to see me.”

Your mother crouched down to Natasha’s height to look at her. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” she said and Natasha nodded. “Between you and me I think you’re the first person she’d wanna see.”

The young girl sat with those words for a moment longer and contemplated before finally stepping into you room. When she reached your beside she realized that you were sound asleep.

Natasha’s eyes scanned the peaceful expression on your face. Your eyelashes just barely brushed against your cheeks, and your slow breathing was heard through the quietness of the room.

Her gaze traveled down to the white cast around your arm and a sense of guilt washed over her, but she tried to disregard that feeling and just focus on you.

She noticed a lock of hair that had started to fall in front of your face, so Natasha tucked it behind your ear. However, she regretted that decision when your eyes fluttered open and met hers.

Your lips pulled up into a small smile. “Hi, Natty.”

“Hey,” she practically whispered.

You frowned at her vague and quiet response. “What’s wrong?” you wondered.

Natasha sighed and let her eyes travel back to your injured arm. “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened when you said you didn’t wanna go up, and now you’re hurt because of me.”

“Hey,” you sat up and placed a hand over the young knights hand. Her heart skipped a beat at the contact and she met your gaze again. “It was an accident, Nat. I don’t blame you for this, and I’m okay now.”

“I know. I just hated seeing you in so much pain knowing I talked you into doing it.”

You looked at her with soft eyes that instantly calmed her racing mind. “Well you did carry me all the way back, so I guess that makes up for it. All of those extra hours you put into your training finally paid off.” you both giggled.

Maybe this whole situation wasn’t as bad as Natasha convinced herself it was.

“You wanna sign my cast? It looks kind of boring right now.” you asked.

Natasha smiled and nodded her head, looking around the room for something to write with. She spotted a red marker on your large dresser and grabbed it before returning to your side.

She gently took your arm into her hand and signed her name, attempting to draw a few hearts around it, but they just ended up uneven and lopsided.

Nevertheless, they were special.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Time jump to 16 Years Old)

“Mom!” Natasha called out as she rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last step whilst she tucked her maroon button-up shirt into her black slacks. “Does this look okay? Should I try on a different one?”

Melina examined the outfit her daughter was wearing before smiling at her, “You look wonderful, sweetheart. Stop worrying so much, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Are you wearing my pants?” Yelena said as he walked into the room alongside Alexei.

Natasha glared at her sister while slipping on the jacket and straightening out the collar of her shirt with the help of Melina.

“Your mother is right, honey. I’m sure Y/n will love it.” Alexei chimed in.

Today was your sixteenth birthday, and your parents thought it would be the perfect opportunity to throw a ball to celebrate this milestone. Everyone in the kingdom received an invitation in the mail, but the Romanoffs were obviously at the top of the guest list.

Natasha was no doubt nervous. She so badly wanted to make an impression on you, but would never admit it to avoid her family’s very unfunny jokes.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t have to disclose that information in order for her parents and sister to know that she and the young princess always had a thing for each other, even as little kids.

“Oh, so that’s why you stole my pants.” Yelena smirked. “So you could impress your little girlfriend.” she spoke in a teasing tone.

The young knight rolled her eyes, “She is not my girlfriend.”

“Well I suggest you try to change that before someone else decides to sweep her off her feet.”

Before Natasha could retaliate Melina saved her the trouble, “Alright you two, let’s get going before we’re late.” She ushered her family out the front door and gave Natasha a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder.

~

People were still making their way inside when they arrived. Your parents stood at the entrance welcoming people into the castle, and their eyes lit up when they saw their most dearest friends walking up the steps.

“Melina, Alexei, Natasha, Yelena! You’re finally here, thank you for coming!” Your father greeted the family while your mother gave each of them a quick hug.

“You all look lovely tonight.” she said.

“Oh, the same goes for you two as well.” Melina returned the compliment.

Your mother looked towards Natasha, “Y/n is still in her room getting ready and should be down in just a few minutes, but you’re welcome to go find her if you’d like.”

Natasha nodded, “Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n.” she responded before moving past them to make her way to your room.

She knocked on the door and smiled to herself when she heard your comforting voice call out.

“Just a second!”

A few moments later the door opened and you stood face to face, “Nat!” you exclaimed happily and pulled her in for a tight hug.

“Hey, birthday girl.” Natasha chuckled. “Am I interrupting anything?”

You let her go and shook your head, “Not at all. I’m just about ready anyway.” you answered and returned to your spot in front of your mirror.

Natasha migrated further into the room and rested against your bed frame. “Well, you look amazing.” she said.

You turned to look back at her with a smile on your lips, “Thanks,” you replied and took in her attire. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

The young knight smiled and looked down while you went back to fixing your hair. Natasha tried her best not to stare, but that was proving to be difficult as she kept lifting her head to glance at you.

She decided to break the comfortable silence to distract herself. “Is now a good time for me to give you your gift? I know it’s not time to open presents yet, but I think it’ll look good with your dress.”

You looked back at her again, “Nat, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I knew you’d say that, but I wanted to.” Natasha moved to stand behind you before meeting your eyes through the mirror.

When she pulled something out of her pocket and gently placed it around your neck, you realized that it was a necklace, the charm attached shimmering in the light.

You looked down at the piece of jewelry in awe, “Oh Nat, it’s beautiful.” you said and turned around completely to face her.

“It looks even better on you.” she flattered. You couldn’t stop your cheeks from turning a light shade of pink and Natasha grinned at the effect she had on you.

It took a moment for you to gather your composure before taking her hand in yours. “Come on, there’s an entire party downstairs and I wanna see what kind of food they have.” you both giggled as you dragged her down the stairs and to the ballroom.

Hours later the party was now in full swing. You had received happy birthday wishes from so many people you lost count, and ate so many different desserts that you’d probably have a stomachache the next day.

When people began setting down their drinks to find space to dance, Natasha looked towards you and thought she’d take the opportunity to ask you to dance with her.

“May I have—” she started to say, but was interrupted when a young boy around your age approached you.

“Um, excuse me, Princess. Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, clearly nervous considering his fidgeting hands.

As much as you wanted to decline his offer, you felt obligated to accept as you were the kingdoms princess. You looked at Natasha with an apologetic expression and told her you’d be right back before following the boy.

Anyone that looked at the redhead would be able to tell she was annoyed— it was written all over here face.

So when she made her way over to her family, Yelena raised an eyebrow. “What’s up with you?”

The young knight sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, “Someone else decided to sweep her off her feet.”

All she could do was watch as you kept getting pulled away to dance with people. Whenever a song ended and you tried to make your way back over to her, someone else was by your side asking to dance. To both of you, it felt like forever before you were finally back together.

The song came to an end you were practically speed walking to where Natasha was standing off to the side in a successful attempt to avoid getting pulled away again.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I swear they just kept coming out of no where.” you breathed out, gulping down your glass of water to catch your breath.

Natasha smiled and shook her head, “It’s okay, is it my turn now or are you too worn out?”

You playfully rolled your eyes and laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous, Natty.” you took her hand and led her to an empty space amongst other dancing people.

Her arms encircled your waist while yours wrapped loosely around her neck. Neither of you exactly knew how to dance, so you just gently swayed with the music.

The young knight found that the annoyance she was feeling early could no longer be felt now that she finally had you. She was too happy to focus on anything except you— but there was one other thing on her mind.

“Can I ask you something?” Natasha said.

You hummed, nodding your head. “Of course, Nat.”

She sighed contently and tightened her hold on you. “I think we both know that we’ve felt something for each other that’s more than best friends, even as little kids. I mean my parents still won’t let me forget about that time I asked you to marry me when we were what? Six?” she spoke and you both laughed at the memory.

“And I did say yes. Actually, if I recall correctly I was pretty enthusiastic about it too.” you giggled.

“Yeah, you were.” Natasha grinned. “But I wanted to know if you’d maybe wanna make our relationship official. You know, so I can be the only one you dance with at parties like these.” she asked hopefully.

You looked at her with a smirk plastered across your face and raised eyebrows. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Well— yeah…I am.”

You smiled and laid your head on her shoulder, “I’d love nothing more, Nat.” you said and your answer brought an even bigger grin to her face.

What you didn’t know was that your mothers were watching the scene unfold from across the room, sipping on glasses of expensive wine.

Your mother playfully shook her head, “Like true soulmates.” she spoke and Melina hummed in agreement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Two years later)

“Do you have to go?” you said sadly.

You stood on the dock clutching onto the young knight as if she’d disappear into thin air if you let go while she held you just as tight. Both of your families stood around talking, watching the saddening encounter.

Natasha was about to leave for her first ever commission. It was an overseas assignment for her to prove her ability to protect the kingdoms Princess, so as much as she didn’t want to leave you, she had to.

The young knight cupped the back of your head with one hand and pressed her nose into your hair, basking in the comforting scent of your shampoo to soak up her last few moments with you before her departure.

“You’ll be okay, Y/n. Three weeks, and then I’ll be back with you again.” she assured.

“Three weeks without you is too long.” you said. You and Natasha had always been inseparable, so it was hard knowing that she’d be so far away.

“I know, princess, I know.” Natasha whispered into your hair. It was only when she heard you sniffle and felt tears wetting her neck that she pulled back to look at you. “Hey,” she cooed and cupped your cheeks.

“It’ll go by so fast you won’t even remember I’m gone. Yelena promised me she’d keep you company, and she basically is me because she’s my sister, so hopefully you won’t miss me too much.”

That made a small smile pull at your lips. “No offense to Yelena, but no one could ever compare to you, Nat. I’ll miss you so much, and what if you get hurt over there?” you said.

Natasha smiled and kissed your forehead, “I’ll be okay, princess. It’ll all be okay, I promise.”

Her thumbs swiped under your eyes to wipe away your tears before she closed the distance between the two of you and connected your lips.

You both knew you had to keep it short and sweet considering both of your families were still there.

“I love you so much, Nat.” you whispered.

She gazed lovingly at you, “I love you more, my beautiful girl. So much more.” the words fell from Natasha’s lips ever so softly.

You were unfortunately brought out of your little bubble with Natasha much sooner than you would’ve liked when over her shoulder, you caught sight of Natasha’s commander walking off of the ship and towards you.

He cleared his throat, now catching everyone’s attention. “I hate to do this, but the captain’s ready. It’s time to go, romanoff.” he announced.

Your heart dropped as you’d been dreading this moment.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be just a second.” Natasha said.

He nodded his head and walked back onto the ship.

The young knight turned to you and sighed, “I guess that’s my cue.” she said and you nodded in understanding.

Natasha let go of you to approach her family, giving her parents and a hug as well as your parents. She exchanged words with them that you couldn’t really hear before making her way back over to you.

She delicately cupped your face in her hands and pressed her lips to yours once again. You both poured all of your love and passion for each other into the kiss, knowing it’d be the last one until she got back.

You pulled away and rested your forehead against hers. “See you in three weeks?”

“See you in three weeks.” she promised.

You let Natasha go and watched as she boarded. The ship departed soon after.

The castle suddenly became quieter for you with the young knight gone. You of course had to continue with your usual duties and responsibilities because life goes on, but it wasn’t the same without Natasha around.

What made it bearable was that you still had your parents to go into town with every Tuesday and visit all of your favorite spots like normal, conversing with the workers there that you’d become good friends with over the years.

Yelena kept her word and would hang out with you whenever you had free time to distract you from the thought of Natasha being overseas. Melina and Alexei were great as well and did whatever they could to help.

With all of that combined, everything turned out to be okay just like Natasha had said.

And the young knight made good of her promise to you because three weeks later, your father had knocked on your bedroom door, pulling your attention away from the book in your hands to inform you that Natasha’s ship had just returned.

You jumped out of bed so fast, not even bothering to mark your page as you rushed out of the castle and down to the docks. You probably looked like a madman with the way you were running, a huge smile plastered on your face.

But you didn’t care because you got to the docks right on time to see Natasha walking off the ship. When her eyes locked on you she grinned widely and dropped her bags to meet you halfway as you practically leaped into her arms.

~~~~~~~~

(Time jump a few years later/present day)

You turned off the faucet and shook your hands to rid them of dripping water before drying them completely with the hand towel hung on the wall. A gentle smile sat on your lips, one that hasn’t left your face since the night began.

It was the day that you could only dream of as a little kid.

Literally.

You opened the bathroom door and started to walk out, wanting to get back to the after-party before you missed out on too much of this important night when you felt a gentle grip on your wrist.

Whoever grabbed you had pulled you back into them so your back was against their front, but you didn’t panic too much because you immediately recognized the familiar cologne of your wife whom you just tied the knot with merely a couple hours ago.

She wrapped her arms arms around your torso and pressed a feather light kiss to your neck. “There you are, my love. I lost you there for a moment, I missed you.”

You giggled as her breath tickled your neck. “I was only gone for a few minutes, Nat.”

“A few minutes too long. But now that I found you, I can have a moment with you alone before we go back to everyone.”

You hummed and relaxed back into her, letting out a content sigh as you admired the shining ring that Natasha had slid onto your finger after vowing to you that she would spend the rest of her life by your side.

That this was forever like it was always meant to be.

“I can’t believe we’re actually married.” you whispered out.

Natasha smiled against you. “I know, it feels so surreal. Six year old me would be over the moon right now.”

You both laughed at that. It probably was true.

“You know our moms always called us soulmates.” Natasha said as she reached to take your left hand into hers, staring at the ring and smiling to herself at the memories coming back to her.

“Yeah,” you giggled, “They were right though, weren’t they?”

The redhead sighed happily, “They were.”

You two basked in each other’s presence in silence for a moment as Natasha pressed small kisses to any part of your skin she could reach. You giggled whenever her lips touched a ticklish spot.

“We should probably go back out there now. Before people start thinking we abandoned our own wedding.” you joked.

Natasha chuckled, though continuing her ministrations, “We can spare a few more minutes, right?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “No, we cannot. Because you’re going to get carried away and then we’re going to actually abandon our own wedding.”

The redhead groaned when you began pulling away from her, but you made it up to her by pressing a kiss to her lips which seemed to satisfy her for now before taking her hand and leading her back to the after-party.

“There you guys are!” Yelena said once she saw the two of you, “We’ve been looking for you. It’s time for your guy’s first dance.”

She dragged you both over to your parents where they were waiting.

You couldn’t help the smile that seemed to take over your face.

Everything was perfect as can be, and now you get to enjoy it all with your soulmate.

~ end ~

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff mcu #natasha alianovna romanova #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff

[murdrdocs]

death do us part

description. there's murders happening at camp half blood, and you and LUKE CASTELLAN care about them. really, you do. but you can't help but sneak off and break a few of the rules of survival laid out by luke's brother. besides, what's really the worst thing that can happen?

includes. SMUT 18+, mutual masturbation (kinda), oral (f receiving), fingering, handjobs, mentions of vibrators (m and f receiving), shower sex, some mentions of death, subby luke vibes, dom reader vibes, whipped luke, situationships, slightly bitchy reader

wc. 3.4k+

a/n: art is record separator by phil hale. barely edited

Both of you are being selfish. 

Distantly, in the back of your mind beneath the raging hormones perhaps, you’re aware that this is not only disrespectful but also irresponsible. 

Luke’s brother’s words ring in your head, reminding you over and over again. 

You had been sitting around an unsanctioned campfire at the time, a dozen or so of you all passing around bottles of alcohol that had been snuck in by one of Luke’s younger siblings who was desperate to impress and please all of you. With the buzz taking over your body and providing a general feeling of elation, you must admit that they impressed you. Maybe Luke too, who was surely delighted to have you all over him. Your little game of cat and mouse was finally coming to an end, likely spurred on by the havoc that had taken over Camp Half-Blood. Everyone was on edge, wondering who was next. Because according to Chris and a few other kids who were slasher fanatics, there would be a next. And soon. 

Which is likely why all of you were down by the shore and letting off steam. Simply existing before something happened by the time the sun rose. 

Usually, come morning you would blame your touchiness towards Luke on alcohol. But now, if either of you made it to the morning, you swore you would stop playing hard to get, throw caution to the wind, and kiss him during first daylight, a signifier that your relationship, whatever was going on between you two, withstood the test of the night and could now be official. 

You two could do it. If that was tipsy delusion or rationale talking, you didn’t know. 

All you knew was that Chris Rodriquez was definitely drunk, but there had to be some truth to his words. 

“Listen, listen.” He stood, raising his beer bottle as if he were about to toast. You hoped the bottle wasn’t empty yet, for Chris had a habit of pulling you all into a game of spin the bottle whenever he got like this. Sometimes, you didn’t mind it. Not when you got to kiss Luke. But watching Luke kiss someone else always left a sour taste on the back of your tongue. 

When Chris took a swig, you sighed a bit and slunk further into Luke’s side. 

“If we’re going to survive this–” each of you knew what he was talking about. The grieving families and empty beds made sure you each knew what was happening. “We’ll have to live by a set of rules.” 

“Rules?” Luke spoke from beside you for the first time in a while. You turned to look at him and immediately got distracted. His scar shined in the warm lighting, the orange making the slight flush along his cheeks a little more distinct. His eyes were heavy. They were relaxed. He was relaxed, and the irony didn’t fly over your head. 

Weirdly enough, you found yourself relaxed, too. Tucked into his side with his arm slung over your shoulder like the two of you were together. It was normal for you both to get like that late at night, but the difference in the air made it seem more sentimental. 

Luke, likely sensing your staring, turned to look at you. He smiled just a bit, and you didn’t hesitate as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. The two of you separated soon enough to hear Chris’ rant. 

“Yeah. Rules.” When no one around the bonfire seemed to understand what rules he was referring to, he took a swig of his beer, sat it on the log behind him, and stood on his soap box. 

“There are a set of rules to surviving something like this. Rule number 1: never say you’ll be right back. Trust me, you won’t.” 

One of the girls raised her hand, her face scrunched into a pout. Chris stopped to look at her, pointing a finger as an indicator for her to speak. “What do we say instead?”

Chris took a second. He hesitated, his dark and glassy eyes searching around him for an answer, then, “Just leave and come back. Don’t announce it.” 

The answer seemed good enough for her and Chris continued. 

“Rule number 2: don’t shower alone. This is just an invitation for the killer to sneak up on you, and slash you up. Next thing you know, we’re finding you stark naked.” This rule seemed to make sense for everyone else and no one spoke up. “Rule number 3: do not have sex. And if you’re a virgin, now is not the time to lose your virginity.” 

This incited a low level of outrage from a few people around the camp. Your hand settled on Luke’s thigh, and you could feel him staring at you. Still, you continued to stare ahead at Chris. 

“It’s not safe!” He exclaimed. “You’re left vulnerable, just like in rule 2, and for some reason, killers love to prey on the promiscuous. Just keep it in your pants until whoever is doing this is caught. That’s all. And rule 4, the most important one: never ever, ever go off alone. This will single you out and make you an easy target. You follow these rules, and maybe you’ll survive.” 

Chris finished his rant, took a final swig of his beer, and sat back down. 

Luke’s hand fell to your thigh. He ran his touch up and down once, and then squeezed your flesh twice. From the corner of your eye, you saw the grin grow on Luke’s face and turned to him. Neither of you had to say anything. Luke raised his eyebrows, smiled at you, and you nodded. 

Luke opened his mouth to likely spew out some bullshit excuse, but everyone’s attention turned towards one of the kids sitting next to Chris who suddenly broke out of a stupor to protest Chris’ rules. Which left you and Luke an opening. 

He took his arm from around your shoulder, placed his hand out for you to take, and then stood with you on his heels. 

“Where’re you two going?” Silena asked from beside you. 

You grinned down at her and communicated all you needed to in that one look. “To sleep. Chris said not to leave alone, right?” 

She was clearly unconvinced, but she still nodded and kept her mouth shut. 

And the two of you walked away to the sound of Chris pitching yet another spin-the-bottle game. 

Which brought you here, in the bathrooms instead of your cabin. Your poorly formed excuse spoken to Luke was something along the lines of needing to scrub off the grime from the day, and especially the thick layer of bug spray that you’ve recently had to use. Some of the more superstitious kids in camp attributed the increase in bugs to the increase in deaths. You attributed it to a malfunction of the Mist. 

You knew that Luke, being the gentleman that he is, wouldn’t dare let you shower alone. Not since his brother laid out the rules. You also knew that Luke, being as infatuated with you as he is, would take any chance he could to get with you, even if it was selfish and irresponsible. 

But you don’t think he’s considering either factor right now as he’s kissing you as if he has a one-track mind. 

One of the showers is running behind you. The two of you had originally been waiting for the water to turn hot, but that happened a while ago, and now Luke was keeping you busy in the center of the bathroom, his hands gratefully roaming over your body, feeling you up. 

He has one hand settled along the back of your thigh, just right under the end of your jean shorts. His other hand grips your cheek, holding your face steady for him to messily kiss you. You don’t mind the mess of it, you’re not bothered by the way his tongue clumsily slips outside of your mouth a few times, because it’s a sign of how he’ll fuck you. Unabashed, uninhibited, maybe he’ll even whimper in your ear when he cums. 

Just the thought alone is enough to encourage you.

You hook your fingers under Luke’s shirt, a faded graphic tee you thrifted and brought back to camp for him, and lift it just over his navel. He gets the message and pulls away from your lips, but there’s a force pulling him back once, twice, and one final time before he pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head. He looks like something out of a movie as he lifts the black shirt off by the neckline and tosses it to the floor. You don’t know if he means to, but he flexes while he does it, his abdomen taunt and the veins in his arms popping out more than usual. 

You’ve seen Luke’s body many times and in many different scenarios, but each time you have to take a moment. And he knows you well enough to anticipate it. 

He stands within arms reach, watching you watch him. You can’t tell since your eyes are focused on the way his abs frame his navel, the way his skin has deepened a shade, and the scars and moles that are dotted across his body, but he’s smiling. A small, barely there quirk of his lips. 

Eventually, you take a step closer to Luke, pressing your fingers into his skin and sliding your hands back until your fingers interlock around his back. You pull Luke closer to you, lifting your head and nudging the tip of his nose with yours. 

“You done?” he asks, referencing your prolonged staring. 

You hum, nodding as you reach for Luke’s lips with your own. “‘m done.” And then Luke kisses you again. 

There’s some repetition when Luke lifts your shirt over your head, but he appreciates your frame with his lips. He kisses your shoulders and neck as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you. He litters kisses into your stomach as he sinks to his knees, pulling your now unbuttoned shorts with him. He helps you step out of them, taking your shoes off as he does so, and when you’re only left in your panties, he looks up at you. 

“Mind if I do the honors?” 

You answer him through a grin. “Only if you let me return the favor.” 

And he does. 

It has been clear that your shower with Luke was likely going to be more than a shower, even though it was previously unspoken between you both. It doesn’t need to be spoken, not whenever there’s an obvious wet patch in your panties when Luke pulls them down, or when you’re face to face with his semi when you pull his boxers off of his hips. 

You look up at Luke, your eyes slightly narrowed and a tiny smile on your lips. You don’t say anything, but Luke still rolls his eyes. He scoffs, jerks his head in a motion that tells you to stand. As soon as you do, he has your face in his hands and his lips on yours. Your hands grip his sides, keeping him pressed close to you. 

Luke blindly walks you both back to the shower. He turns when your back faces the shower head, and lets the water flow down onto him first, pulling away only when his hair starts to get wet. 

He has his eyes shut, water cascading down his body in a way that makes him look like one of the Greek sculptures that now sit locked in museums. 

He pushes his hair off of his forehead, tipping his head back. 

“Hair,” he tells you. And it takes you a second to tell that he’s asking you if you’re gonna put yours back. You quickly throw your hair up and out of your face, putting it back enough to avoid the stream of the shower, and then you pull Luke closer to you. 

“Not even gonna pretend to shower? Maybe do a quick rinse?” He’s teasing, but you roll your eyes, move Luke out of the way, and then stand beneath the stream, lifting your arms and turning around to let the water roll over your body. 

You look up at Luke and catch him staring. His eyes trail along your tits, deep gaze following individual droplets of water as they collide with your shoulder and roll all the way down to the peak of your tits, where they drop off to fall to the shower floor. 

You scoff but don’t say anything. You’re not a hypocrite. 

“Happy?” You ask him as you step out from the water. 

His answer comes in the form of grateful hands pressing into your lower back. His fingertips pinch your hips as he directs you to the side wall. You don’t have to be told to tilt your head up. You’re already waiting for him, unable to resist smiling into the kiss when Luke brings his lips down onto yours. 

He trails a hand down between your thighs, knocking them further apart with a tap of his knee against yours. 

When his fingers, the middle and index, pull your lips apart, you sigh into his mouth. When they press against you, spreading the wetness already gathered there, you mewl against his tongue. 

Luke’s good with his fingers, you both know it. At this point in your relationship—or whatever both of you decide to call it in the moment—with Luke, he knows you well. He knows that you like it when he hooks his fingers and slightly grazes the top of your walls. He doesn’t have to ask if you’re feeling good, but he does it anyway. 

“Good?” Spoken against your lips, the ghost of his own lips brushing against yours as his words enter your mouth. 

You nod, knocking your head back against the wall without much care of the water there. 

Luke’s other hand clasps behind your knee where he lifts your leg, pressing the inside of it to his hip. He has you opened up for him, giving him free range to practically piston his fingers inside of you. It’s a fervorous pace, more hungry than you’ve known Luke to be. But you don’t mind it. 

It’s late, the two of you are as tired as you are horny, it’s nice to rub one out quickly and then knock out. It’s a routine both of you are used to. 

Like usual, you reach forward and wrap your hand around Luke’s cock. 

It’s no surprise when you swipe your thumb over his tip and are greeted with precum. Truthfully, you’re shocked there’s not more. But tonight, unlike other nights, you hadn’t given Luke the workaround. You wanted him. He knew you wanted him. And you were tired of pretending, tired of acting like you didn’t want to really and truly be with Luke. 

You would tell him. You were gonna tell him tonight. 

… After you came. 

It doesn’t take much more of Luke’s work for you to feel the beginnings of an orgasm creeping in. The urge to reach it is what has you locking your fingers in Luke’s wet curls and nudging him down. 

He doesn’t protest. He just smiles and sinks to his knees, settling his head between your thighs. Without much hesitance at all, he latches his lips onto your clit. 

Soon thereafter you’re arching into his mouth, your standing leg locked while your bent one hooks over Luke’s shoulder, pulling him closer even though your hand in his hair has already assured that he’s as close as he can get. His fingers curl within you, massaging your fluttering walls as you cum around them. Your moans are loud, echoing off of the walls and barely shrouded by the thunder of water meeting the tiled floors. Distantly, you hope that no one else has decided to come for a shower tonight, but the thought in the forefront of your mind is that you hope your orgasm never ends. 

It feels so good when Luke makes you cum. It always does. Rather he does it like this, with his fingers and mouth, or even his cock, or if he does it with one of the toys you brought back from home with you, a recent fascination of his. 

The image of when you had used the toy on Luke, pressing the vibrating shape onto his tip, pushes an aftershock out of your body, one that is pulled to completion by Luke’s eager work between your legs. 

When he pulls himself from between your legs, he swipes his palm, spread out as flat as it can get, along your cunt. You don’t realize that he did it to gather your wetness until he has that same hand wrapped around his cock. He tugs, spreading your arousal with the movement. 

It does the trick, Luke’s eyes fluttering shut as he twists his wrist. 

You tut and pull his hand away from his wrist. He doesn’t question it, only watching you through heavy eyes as you spit a large glob into your hand and replace Luke’s work with your own. 

His arms wrap around your waist. They wrap around your shoulders. He rests his forehead against yours and then lets his head fall to your shoulder whenever you pick your pace up a bit. 

He’s noisy, you can feel his chest vibrating from where you have your hand pressed into his sternum. But he’s too quiet for you to hear. His volume, paired with the noise of the shower, frustrates you. You dip your head to the side, attempting to get your ear closer to Luke. 

It works a bit, you’re able to hear his low groans, but it’s not enough. 

Eventually, you call his name. It comes out as a mix between a request and a demand, existing somewhere in the middle where you hold a considerable amount of control of Luke Castellan, practically the leader of leaders at Camp Half-Blood. 

Yet, you’re his pied piper. 

He hums, his eyebrows pushed together. You can’t tell if his look is one of confusion or pleasure. You figure it’s both. 

“Look at me. I wanna see you.” This is a plea. 

Luke nods once, and then he looks at you. 

It’s something you wanted, but it makes you flush a little. Having Luke’s undivided attention always made you squirm a bit, even when it usually made your ego flare. But that was when you weren’t here. When you were fully clothed and surrounded by the protection of your friends. When they giggled and nudged your side to tell you that the Luke Castellan was staring at you. This look isn’t much different from the one he gave you then, but there’s weight to it. He’s staring at you, with something so sincere in his eyes. Beyond just horniness, beyond a desire for you to make him cum. 

It’s so much, too much, but you were the one to request it, so you don’t back down. 

You square your shoulders and jerk Luke off with more determination. 

His eyes start to flutter shut as he gets closer, getting heavier and heavier as if he’s fighting off sleep. But each time they close, they open back up in a couple of seconds. He’s so determined to obey you, it’s flattering. It’s impossible for the way Luke Castellan treats you to not go to your head. Especially when he starts speaking to you. 

“Feels so good. ‘m so close. A little bit more.” 

He knocks his forehead against yours, holding you still by cupping the back of your neck when your head lolls from the force of the collision. 

He kisses you as he cums. His cock twitched in your hand as warm cum spurts onto your stomach and thighs. His lips move slowly, languidly, not kissing you as much as they just linger. 

But it’s fine that way. You don’t mind it that way. 

By the time both of you have come down, really came down, you’ve washed yourselves clean of the bug spray, cum, and general grime of camp. Luke shuts the shower off, he pads over to the linen closet at the end of the bathroom and you’re momentarily grateful that the kids have actually done their chores and restocked the closet with fresh towels whenever you realize neither you or Luke have clothes. 

Not only did you not have clean and fresh clothes, but the clothes you were wearing before were gone now. 

When you alert Luke of the problem, he groans. He tosses you a towel, wrapping his own around his waist, and stands in the center of the bathroom with his hands tossed onto his hips. He thinks for a second, clicking his tongue a few times. 

“Okay,” he turns to face you. “I’m gonna go grab us some clothes. You stay here.” He kisses your forehead, readjusts his towel on his hips, and tells you, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.” 

#lukesworld! #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

[woodenanemone]

choso was a full-grown man.

a man who takes cares of his brothers, is employed, and pays his taxes. a man who can share his ideas and his thoughts with professionalism and skill. a man who can admit when he’s wrong, who can let his resentment go for the better.

so imagine his confusion when he acts like nothing but a developing teenager when you were around him.

he truly felt like his body had relapsed back to puberty. he can’t control his sweat around you, he’s switched his deodorant three times before finding something long lasting enough (although he barely spends more than a couple hours around you a day, if even that, and yet he still manages to produce so much sweat—). he can barely make eye contact with you without feeling his face grow hot (shooting down his neck, goodness, he has to fan at his face soon or he'll start sweating and he just showered for you—), a tremble in his hands, a trip in his words. the sentences that so ridiculously tumble out of his mouth are ineligible and humiliating, as if he forgot every single word he’s ever learned.

he talks to himself often.

whether it’s him walking on the way back home from your hangout, or when he’s alone at work, choso talks to himself. he walks alone and speaks your name out loud, a small awkward smile on his lips (even hearing the splendid name from his own throat dusts his cheeks pink.). he rants and analyzes how physically impossible it was for anyone to be as lovely as you. frustrated muttered outbursts of his incompetence around you. questions about if he was normal, if what he was feeling was normal (he concluded no.). these thoughts are too much to be confined within his mind, overflowing so much at the seams, he was afraid he would accidentally speak them aloud to you. so, he verbally lets them out when he’s alone, before his mouth gets the best of him. he never feels further from sanity when he talks to himself. but since it’s about you, well… it makes him feel better pretty quickly.

he writes about you.

talking to himself and thinking about you only helped him so much. he still feels a nervousness in his chest, needing to convey these feelings in some other form. so, he started scribbling little notes about you on napkins at restaurants and cafes, soon throwing them away; but he soon garners a deep hatred for this. anything that reminds him of you, anything at all, whether it be from his own hand or out in the world, has to be cherished. If not, what sort of insult is it to you? so, he buys a notebook. it’s a small one, black and dull, pocket sized so he can write about you whenever he so pleases. the first few entries are sloppy and messy, hurried so he could get the thought out before it slips his mind. but he soon grew a hatred for this as well. even thoughts written about you must be written with such a delicacy and care, even though you’ll never see it.

012324

When you look at me,

I forget that this world is capable of hatred and misery.

How could a being so light and pure,

Exist next to a miserable soul such as I?

the more i write about choso the less i feel i should be walking the streets as a free citizen. put me in a padded room, im not okay

#choso #choso fluff #choso kamo #choso kamo fluff #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x reader fluff #choso x reader #jjk #choso x reader fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen