#i was going to say something about reader flashing him in the front row but i thought it was mayhaps too far for this little snippet LMAO

[pucksandpower]

Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

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[buckys-wintersoldier]

Light after Dark | Bucky Barnes

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 -> Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> You ex-boyfriend never treated you well but when Bucky steps into your life it changes and he shows you how much he loves you. Would the behaviour you had with your ex-boyfriend be there because Bucky looks distanced.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 10.057 (it’s long but worth it, guess so)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) 18+, Minors DNI, angst, abusing ex-boyfriend, violence, slapping, shouting, wound/scars because of abuse, smut, non/dub-con, manipulation, blowjob, deep throating, nipple play, handjob (male!receiving), cum eating, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), protected p in v, multiple orgasm, belly bulge, praises, fluff

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 -> Hello hello! It's me, again. Got bit of an angsty idea. Let's say that reader has an abusive ex, and this dude was physically and emotionally draining. She never had a single nice thought about herself in three years. She always thought she had big thighs, or wide hips etc etc. And let's say that she does have some scars from her ex, whenever he used to beer bottles at her they'd crash and cut her. She always thought she was not worthy, because he used to cheat on her all the time. Now, presently, we're with Bucky. And nowadays Bucky has been a little irritated and distant. And you think the worse, and your defense mechanism come up. Back with your ex, you used to cook good food and make so much effort (but your asshole ex never bothered) Bucky is confused why there's whole royal course of a meal on the table when he comes home. You don't want to point out the obvious and say it's for nothing, but it's really because you don't want him to leave. Bucky knows something is up, but how does he approach the situation???🤭🤭🤭This was pretty long lol (Again you don't have to write this if you’re uncomfy😌😌) Okie BYE!! @amathslutsguidetofandom

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you so much for the request. I absolutely love it and I hope you like what I made with that. Also wanna thank my best friend @imtryingbuck for listening to me, and helping me with some parts during writing.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 -> Multifandom-Flash Bingo | 1008 | 1.1 | Cut his heart out with a spoon | @multifandom-flash | Fandom-Free Bingo: Valentines Edition | Row One-Two | Tracing Scars | @fandom-free-bingo

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Come one, can’t you get your shit together? It’s not that hard,” he shouted at you, throwing his hands up while he looked at you.

His expression was disgusted, and he was disappointed — because of you, like he always was. You just asked him to help you with the plates, but he was annoyed, mad that you couldn’t do it without annoying him. You didn’t want to annoy him; it was never your intention, but you’re tired — working hard in the household every day, sleeping only half of the night — and he never appreciates what you did. He wanted to have a meal — a proper meal — but you presented him with something he didn’t want to eat that day. How could you dare to cook soup when he wants meat?

“Take your plate and sit on the floor,” he told you, pointing next to him on the ground.

“P—please. I’m sorry,” you whimpered.

He rolled his eyes, and not even now have you done what he told you. Alex placed his hand on your shoulder, pushing you down until you were sitting next to him on the floor. He used his hand under your chin to tilt your head up, forcing you to lock in with him. Alex let go of your chin, smirking at you before his hand met your cheek painfully. You hissed, tears building in your eyes, but you swallowed harshly and looked down on your plate, which was lying in front of you.

“Shut your mouth. I don’t wanna hear a fucking word."

Your body started to tremble, but you stayed quiet. Alex laughed, turning to the plate in front of him and sliding the spoon through it a few times. He hadn’t tried the soup you cooked; he stared at the plate. That’s nothing a person like him would eat; Alex deserved better than soup. He deserved to be treated well. He turned his face, seeing you sitting in the same position since he smacked your face. You weren’t saying a word; your hands were shaking, and you tried to hide your tears. He took the plate in one of his hands, holding it above you. With a sadistic expression, he let the soup fall down on you.

“Oh— sorry. I forgot you’re not the trash,” he said.

You whimpered, feeling the hot liquid covering your body and burning your skin. Alex watched you and the way the soup soaked your clothes. He then stood up and pushed you to the side; you were curled up in yourself, crying silently while he just kicked you. Alex walked out of the kitchen, leaving you a whimpering and crying mess lying on the ground. Alex just left the house when you started crying more.

Almost half of the night you were lying on the ground, your body trembling, and you cried until there was no tear left anymore. You loved that man; you feel in love with him because he was caring; he made you feel good and appreciated you. But you feel like you were the reason for him being the way he is now. Maybe you were too fat, maybe your food wasn’t good, maybe you didn’t do things like you should do then? You often thought about it already — sleepless nights while Alex was sleeping next to you, smelling like a bottle of alcohol itself while he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Somewhere in the night, you heard the keys in the door. Your body tensed immediately while you pretend to be sleeping on the couch. Alex knew you weren't, and even when he would wake you up, he was drunk and frustrated.

“Babe, come here now. You little bitch,” he shouted through the house, and you sat up. “I won’t repeat myself, slut.”

You slowly walked toward him, holding your arms tightly around your body to cover yourself a bit. He grinned when he saw you walking closer to him; you look so small, while he felt so good looking at your scared form in front of him. Alex was holding a bottle of beer in his hand, and he took a sip, groaning when he noticed that the bottle was empty.

“Alex, y—you should go to bed,” you mumbled, and he raised his eyebrow.

You dared to say something, telling him what he had to do. He didn’t think twice when he lifted the bottle and smashed it against your head. The glass broke and left a bloody wound on your head. You whimpered and tried to hide the tears from rolling down your cheeks, but he saw it, and it made him chuckle even more. Now you knew that you shouldn’t tell him what to do, or else Alex would show you that you were his own little toy to treat and fuck you however he wanted.

“Get on your knees.”

“P—please. C—can I just clean the wound?”

“Get on your knees, or I will give you more than just this one to clean. Fucking little bitch,” he hissed, grabbing your chin harshly.

You whined, trying to turn your face away, but he was too strong for you. So you needed to look directly into his eyes while he leaned closer, and you smelled his breath — which smelled like nothing but alcohol. You pushed the urge to look disgusted away, but when he leaned even closer and captured your lips with his, you tried to pull away from him. His tongue slid over your lips, and when you weren’t parting your lips, he just smacked your cheek to make you hiss in pain. Then you opened your mouth, and he was able to guide his tongue into it. You felt disgusted, but you loved him, and when it was what he wanted, you wouldn’t deny it; otherwise, he would still do it. He has control over your relationship, as he showed you. Alex pulled away from you, leaving you panting while he smirked and pushed you down on your knees.

“Suck my fucking dick. Other girls would beg me to suck it, so why are you complaining about my dick, huh? Thinking you’re pretty? You’re not; have you seen your ugly, fat thighs? I would be ashamed to show them someone,” he said, and you nodded.

You didn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks; you felt so ashamed and embarrassed for looking the way you do. With shaking hands, you gasped his belt and unbuckled it. Opening his pants before you shoved them down his legs. You saw the outline of his dick in his pants, but he wasn’t hard. When you looked at his dick a moment too long for his liking, he cleared his throat, grasped your hair, and pushed you closer.

“Do you really think I will be turned on when I see you? You’re just a little ugly slut,” he said, laughing about the tears in your eyes.

You knew you weren't the most beautiful person, but even when you heard that for three years now, it was still hurtful. Alex always told you that he could have everyone, that everyone wanted to be with him, but he was together with you, even when it’s just because you couldn’t be without him — that’s what he was always saying.

You pushed his boxers down as well, revealing his soft cock. Alex took his shaft in his hand, stroking himself a few times before he pulled you closer and tapped his dick against your lips. You opened your mouth slightly, and when he managed to push into you, he immediately rammed his dick down your throat. He never paid attention to how you felt when you had sex; he didn’t care. You gagged around his length, trying to get used to it, but he had already started to thrust into you. His cock always slid down your throat, and his balls slapped against your chin. His hand in your hair guided you over his cock, and he slapped your cheeks a few times, causing more tears in your eyes.

“You’re such a fucking little slut, aren’t you? That’s the only thing you can do. Sucking my cock."

Your nails were digging into your tights, trying to ground you while he held you on his cock. He was deep in your mouth and throat, and you tried not to panic, but when he didn’t let you pull back, you wiggled softly, trying to move away from his length. But he didn’t let you move away; he was holding you with his cock in your mouth in place. When he was finally letting go of you, you pulled away and breathed deeply, crying quietly, while he grabbed your chin once again. His eyes darkened as he looked into yours. And you knew you shouldn’t have tried to pull away from him.

“Do you wanna kidding me? Making a scene like that?” He asked, looking disappointed at you.

He didn’t wait for an answer before he pushed his dick back inside your mouth. His hips thrusted forward, he groaned, and you felt his dick twitch in your mouth just before he came in your mouth. His cum was sliding down your throat, and he pulled away, smacking your face again before he pointed toward the couch.

“A—Alex.”

“Can’t you just keep your mouth shut? You annoy me. You’re my girlfriend, and your boyfriend wants to fuck you now.”

When you woke up next to your boyfriend, your pussy was aching. He fucked you rough, never minding if it would hurt you or if you enjoyed this sex too. You were slowly getting up, and you felt disgusted with the mixture of sweat and cum on your body. So you walked to the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake him. You really needed a hot shower, so you did exactly that. A hot, relaxing shower was perfect for your arching pussy and your tensed muscles, but when you heard Alex shouting that the breakfast wasn’t ready, you panicked again. You should have done the breakfast first and then thought about a shower. He swung the door of your shared bathroom open, narrowing his eyebrows.

“Do you think you could take a shower before making breakfast for me?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“I’m sorry—“

He walked closer, towering over you and pulling the towel away, leaving you naked in front of him. Alex looked your body up and down, slapping your breast and causing you to gasp.

“Have you looked into the mirror? Look how ugly you are, and your pussy, only great because she is still tight,” he said, turning around to took a shower as well.

You wrapped your arms around your body, trying to cover it. He is right; you’re ugly, and you can’t even look at yourself in the mirror. Your body is covered with scars — scars he caused with beer bottles or when he just hit you hard enough. You bent down to lift your towel, wrapping it around you, and got out of the bathroom to change into leggings and a t-shirt. Then you made your way to the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for the two of you.

It didn’t take long until Alex walked into the kitchen. He smirked at you when you looked so small compared to him since you tried to make yourself small around him. And especially because he can see the respect or more fear you have in your eyes when you look at him. You placed the plates on the table, both of you taking a seat, and you ate in silence; you didn’t want to annoy him. When he was finished, he looked at you, shoving his plate closer to you.

"You already made better food. I want you to clean until I come home from the meeting,” he told you.

“Oke,” you said, taking the plates to put them in the other dishes to clean them later.

Alex went to work, and you needed to clean. You weren’t really motivated to do so, but you didn’t want him to be angry at you again. So you started in the kitchen and then went to the living room. When you were almost finished, you heard Alex coming back home, and your muscles were immediately tensed.

“Lunch?”

“I cleaned and haven’t-“

“I don’t mind. You have to bring lunch to the table, and you didn’t once again,” he said.

“Thought I told you that when you’re not doing what I said, I will break up. You want that? No? But you did it, no. Lazy ass didn’t do what she was told.”

You whimpered, but he shook his head, pointing to the door of the apartment. And grasped your arm to pull you closer to the door. It was raining outside, and you knew he didn’t mind; he would let you wait outside until he allowed you to come back into the apartment. Alex went back inside and left you in front of the door. Your clothes were immediately soaked because of the rain, and you felt the cold all over your body. You were freezing, but he wouldn't let you into the apartment until he wasn't mad anymore. So you sat on the ground, your back against the wall, and your legs were pulled against you while you wrapped your arms around them. You cried quietly, trying to warm yourself up a bit while the cold rain was wetting your whole body.

"Hi, are you oke? Aren't you freezing?" A soft voice asked, and you looked at the man in front of you.

He was kneeling, offering you his hand, but you just smiled at him. He saw that it wasn't a real one, but he didn't want to pressure you. His brown hair was as wet as you were, but he didn't mind. He also didn't mind taking off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders.

"Thank you," you mumbled.

"I'm Bucky, and you?" He asked softly, his hand resting on your knees.

The warmth of his body warmed you a bit as well, and his steel blue eyes and the smile on his lips warmed your heart. You admired his blue eyes; he looked soft and beautiful.

"I'm Y/N"

"And what is a pretty girl like you doing outside in the rain?"

You blushed and turned your face away. Bucky smirked, looking at you, while he tried to find out why you were sitting there with a bruise on your pretty face. He hadn't seen that one before, but when he did, he reached out to slide his fingers over your face to turn it toward him. You hissed, trying to escape his fingers even when his touch was way softer than Alex's. Bucky removed his hand and waited until you were ready to face him again.

"I'm sorry; I didn't know I would scare you. I don't want to hurt you, but where are the bruises from?" He asked, and you shook your head.

"Nothing, really. I just- I just walked against the counter yesterday. I was stupid and ignored the open door of the counter. And I'm sitting here because I forgot my keys," you tell him.

Bucky nodded. He didn't really believe you, but he didn't want to push you either. When he noticed someone opening the door behind you, he got up to face the person behind you.

"You little slut, didn't I tell you to get pizza?" Alex asked, ignoring Bucky, who furrowed his eyebrows.

"Alex, you didn't say that you wanted pizza," you said quietly, looking at your hands.

"Don't dare to talk back, or you can spend the rest of the night here as well," he shouted at you, and you flinched.

Bucky's jaw was clenching when he saw the way Alex treated you, and when you got up from where you were sitting, Bucky reached out to grab your shoulder and pushed you behind him. Alex was laughing about it; his eyes were piercing into Bucky's.

"Do you think someone like him would treat you better? You're nothing but slut, a dumb little bitch," he said to you even when he was looking at Bucky.

You whimpered softly, but before you were able to say something, you saw Bucky's arm flying forward, and a moment later, your boyfriend was walking backwards, his hand covering his nose while he hissed in pain. Bucky just broke his nose with one punch, and you saw the blood slowly running down his chin, and Alex's hand was covered in it as well. You weren't sure if you felt scared or thankful that Bucky protected you for your boyfriend.

"Fucking slut. I'm gonna break up with you; fuck your new lover; he won't love you the way I loved you," he said, shutting the door and leaving you with Bucky in front of it.

Bucky turned around, seeing you crying, and, with widening eyes, looking at him broke his heart. He didn't want to scare you more, but he was just too angry at Alex for treating you the way he did. Bucky smiled nicely, opening his arms for you to decide if you wanted him to hug you or not. You hesitated a moment, but his warmth and the way he protected you made you crave more. So you walked closer toward him and let him wrap his arms around your shoulders, pulling you as close as possible. You placed your hand on his chest, inhaling his sweet-mint scent, and closed your eyes for a moment.

For the first time in years, you felt saved and loved. Someone could really like you the way you are. Bucky didn't know you, but he gave you the warmth you never got from your ex-boyfriend. His touches were soft, and you enjoyed the warmth and softness of them.

"You will come home with me. You can sleep in my bed then; I prefer the floor in the living room," Bucky said.

You were freezing, and when Bucky already offered you his bed and maybe a warm shower, you would definitely say yes. So you nodded softly, and Bucky lifted you up, his hands resting under your thighs, and you wrapped your legs around his waist while you placed your hands around his neck. You looked at him with a smirk, and Bucky grinned just as much as you did. Only then did you realise his beautiful blue eyes, which light up when he smiles, like he did.

"Can I take a shower then as well? And Bucky, I think I'm too heavy for you to carry me home," you say quietly.

"You can also take a long, warm bath if you want to. And don't worry, you're not too heavy for me," he chuckled and gave you some butterflies in your stomach, causing you to giggle softly.

"I'm home, doll," Bucky shouts through the apartment you both live in now.

Bucky takes off his jacket and shoes and makes his way into the kitchen. He inhales the smell of the food deeply, smiling when he sees the plates filled with his favourite food on the table. He walks around the table, wrapping his arms around your waist, and pulls you flat against his broad chest. Bucky places his chin on your shoulder and looks at you while you're cooking.

When Bucky picked you up that day, you met him for the first time. He brought you to his home, and like he said, you were allowed to take a long, warm bath, and you slept in his bed. It was the first time in forever that you felt safe. Bucky made breakfast in the morning — a lot of breakfast because he wasn't sure what you liked to eat, so he made pancakes and French toast, and he offered you cereal. When you finished the dinner, he asked you to look over your wounds, and when you allowed him to do so, he picked you up to carry you into the bathroom and placed you on the edge of the bathtub. Bucky slowly moved his fingers over your thighs, and when you looked away because you were ashamed, he told you how beautiful you are.

Bucky took off your shirt, revealing a lot of scars and wounds all over your body. The hiss that left his lips made you flinch, but he assured you that he was just shocked that such a beautiful person like you has an ex-boyfriend like Alex. Bucky cleaned all your wounds; he didn't say that you were ugly. His words surprised you every time because he always admired your body, and he still does. The two of you came closer when Bucky offered you to stay with him, so you both would have someone, and you said yes, but your behaviour with your ex-boyfriend needed time to slowly fade away.

Bucky was really confused when you were always up before him when you made the meals and always studied his expression to see if it was good or not. With time, Bucky learned to tell you that the food is good, that he would like to cook with you together, and that he is going to help you with the dishes. Bucky took care to always tell you when he got home and to tell you what he would like to eat, or he told you to decide. When you were unsure, Bucky helped you decide, but he never pressured you. His only intention was to make you happy because he could never get enough of your beautiful smile.

Whenever you were looking into the mirror and a disgusted expression was on your face while a few tears fell down your cheeks — you wanted to be at least a bit handsome — Bucky smirked and was standing next to you, and he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. He took off his shirt and showed you the scars on his own body. The bunch of scars around his metal arm, but also the others. He showed you a side of himself that was also just a broken man, and you fell in love with that side just as much as you fell in love with the strong Bucky who would punch everyone to protect you.

When you suddenly got woken up by a scream and you were scared your ex-boyfriend was shouting at you, you needed a moment to remember that you were with Bucky. It confused you at first why you heard a scream, but when you heard another and then a noise that sounded like a punch, you got up to find Bucky sleeping on the floor in the living room. It wasn't new to you to see him lying there, but when you saw the tears rolling down his cheeks and the sweat on his forehead, you walked closer to place your hand on his shoulder. He woke up immediately and tried to wipe the tears away, but everything in his body told you that he had a really bad nightmare. You sat in his lap; your arms were around his neck, and you were sliding your fingers through his soft brown hair. Bucky had his face hidden in the crock of your neck. You being close to him is just as helpful for him as his being close to you to feel safe and comfortable.

You never judge him for having nightmares, for not being comfortable around too many people, or for struggling with his scars and mental health sometimes. And he gives you the same; he never dares to judge you. Bucky tries to show you how beautiful you are, that you're worth it, and that you are and can be more than you think. And he loves you the way you are, just like you love him the way he is.

Slowly, you get used to being good the way you are, and Bucky will never shout at you or hurt you. But for a while, he has looked irritated and distant. He comes home late, and even when he says it's nothing, you feel like you have done something that makes him mad or that he loves you less. So you try to be better, clean the apartment more often, cook what he loves, and try not to be too clingy around him.

"It smells beautiful," he says, kissing your neck softly.

You lean into his touch, smiling, while you finish the dinner. His hands are trailing up and down your sides, and you feel the goosebumps erupting all over your body. You love his soft, warm touches, his kiss all over your neck, and the way his breath hits your soft skin.

"There is something in the oven," you say, and Bucky takes a step back to walk to the oven. "You can just take a seat; dinner is almost done."

Bucky looks slightly confused. Usually, you wouldn't mind his help, but for a few days, you don't ask or let him help you with food and dishes anymore. You cook a lot of what he loves, and the meals are almost royalty meals. He doesn't mind eating your food because he loves what you do, but he wonders why you suddenly act like you did when he first met you. He walks around the table and takes his seat. He looks at you with a soft smile, but he still doesn't understand why you put so much effort into cleaning and cooking.

"How come you cook such royal meals?" He asks softly but sees you flinch.

You constantly feel like you have done something wrong; maybe that's not what Bucky likes? Maybe you shouldn't have cooked that? Bucky wants, probably, a pizza. You feel the tears building in your eyes, and when you turn around, you see Bucky's smile fading away. He looks with a worried expression at you while he gets up and walks closer to you. You shake your head, walking backwards and crashing into the kitchen counter behind you.

"Doll, can I please come closer? I can stand here when you feel comfortable, but please let me come closer," he says, and you hesitate a moment.

Bucky stands a few meters away from you, waiting for you to allow him to come closer. When you nod slightly, Bucky steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible against him. Your head rests against his broad chest, and your tears are soaking his t-shirt while he holds you tightly.

"B—Bucky I'm sorry. I didn't want to make the wrong food. I cleaned the house today; please don't be mad for not cleaning enough," you say quietly.

"Shhh. Doll, you didn't do anything wrong; why do you think that?"

"B—Because you look so distant. Don't you love me anymore? Am I too ugly or too fat? I—I can do a diet."

Bucky's eyes widen, and he slides his hands down to your thighs and picks you up. He shoves the pots away from the cooker. He then turns around and carries you to the bedroom of the two of you. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and you try to wipe the tears away when he places you on the bed. Bucky stands in front of you and smirks softly, then he gets on his knees in front of you. His hands slide up and down your thighs until he reaches the hem of your shirt.

"I love you. I love you so much. And the missions with Sam were really exhausting, especially because John is always trying to tell us what we have to do. But I love you so much, and you are beautiful exactly the way you are. You're not fat or ugly; you're perfect the way you are," Bucky tells you. He then pushes you down and towers over you with a wide smile on his lips.

Bucky captures your lips with his soft and plumb ones, his hands sliding along your sides, and you sigh softly into the kiss. Bucky deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping through your barely parted lips, and he groans when you place your hands in his soft hair and tug at them softly.

You've never had sex with Bucky; he didn't pressure you since you were uncomfortable with it because of your ex-boyfriend. But right now, it feels perfect — the way Bucky has his lips on yours and his hands all over your body. You feel a heat in your lower stomach, which makes its way between your legs, and you can't help but moan about the feeling. When Bucky pulls slightly away, your eyes widen but are filled with lust, the pleasure written on in your expression, and Bucky smiles about it. He kisses down your jawline and to your neck, biting softly and licking over your soft skin.

"Bucky, please," you whimper.

He smirks, kissing your lips once again, before he plays with the hem of your shirt and pushes it up. You sit up, letting him remove the fabric from your body, and he groans about the way you look underneath him with lust in your eyes. Bucky kisses your collarbone, down to your breasts, and unclasps your bra so you can take it off as well. His big hands capture your breasts, palming them softly, and he earns soft moans from you. Bucky licks a strap down to one of your nipples; he kisses it softly before he takes it into his mouth, his tongue twirling around your nipple. You arch your back, pressing yourself more against your boyfriend, who chuckles.

"You're beautiful, doll," he mumbles, nibbling at the soft skin of your breast.

You blush and hide your face with your hands, giggling softly. Bucky looks at you, grasping your hands and pulling them away from your face. He leans closer to kiss your lips softly.

"Don't hide that pretty face of yours. You’re so beautiful; I wanna see you, please," Bucky says, pouting, and you smirk.

You lean closer and peck at his lips, just as softly as he did. Bucky moves his lips down your collarbone and to your other breast, kissing around your nipple before he takes it in his mouth as well. Suckling softly and scratching his teeth over the sensitive skin. You moan, tugging at his hair and pulling him even closer. Bucky slides his hands from your breasts down your stomach, kissing the way down and giving every inch of your soft skin attention.

“Do you want it? If not, we can wait until you’re ready to have sex with me,” Bucky says, his fingers playing with the waistband of your pants.

“I want it, please, Bucky. I need you,” you mumble, blushing once again.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he chuckles.

Bucky opens your pants, trailing his fingers along your skin while he pushes your pants down. He then kisses the way back to your belly and smirks when you wiggle in anticipation. He pushes himself up, removing his shirt as well as his pants, before he leans over you again. You can see his growing bulge in his boxers, and the outline of his cock is visible. A little wet spot forms where his tip is, and you reach out your hand to touch his cock.

“Wanna touch it, babydoll?” He asks, and you nod, your eyes focused on his covered cock.

Bucky grins, getting up the bed once again, and pushes his boxers down. His cock springs free and slaps against his stomach; the red tip is leaking with pre-cum, and you see the vein running along the underside of his shaft. Bucky gets on the bed next to you. You sit up, looking directly into his eyes, while he smiles at you. You slide your fingers over his abs and to the base of his cock. Bucky looks at your fingers, his hand wrapping around yours, and he brings both of your hands to his shaft.

“It’s oke, doll. I won’t do anything unless you want me to,” he says, leaning closer to kiss you before he wraps your hand around his shaft.

You smile when you feel the softness of his length. He is huge, but with Bucky, you feel safe, and you know he wouldn’t do anything when you say you don’t want him to do so. His hand lets go of yours.

For a moment, you just look at his cock in your hand and the way his pre-cum is leaking down his tip. It’s glistening softly, and you swipe your thumb over his slit, smearing the cum all over his tip. Bucky groans softly, smiling when you slowly move your hand up and down his shaft.

“Do you like that?”

“It feels wonderful, babydoll.”

You giggle, swiping your thumb a few more times about his tip until Bucky can’t hold back and thrusts forward into your hand. His eyes widen, and he looks at you, but there is no discomfort, so he relaxes and lets you continue to massage his dick.

“C—Can I touch your balls?” You ask, cheeks heating up.

Bucky nods, and you look at his balls before you use your other hand to bring it to his balls, taking them into your hand. They are soft, and you roll them in your palm, causing Bucky to groan.

“Babydoll, you’re doing so well for me. But when you continue, I won’t last long,” Bucky says.

You grin, moving your hand faster and wrapping it tighter around his shaft. Your other hand is massaging his balls, and when you swipe your thumb once again over his tip, Bucky grasps the sheets and thrusts his hips forward.

“Doll,” he says, looking deeply into your eyes.

The blue lights up when he smirks; they are slightly darkened because of the lust, but they show you nothing but love. When you stroke his cock a few more times, Bucky throws his head back and comes into your hand. He breathes heavily, and sweat is covering his forehead. His seeds are covering his tip and your hand, and for a moment he is worried that you could feel uncomfortable with it. But you just stroke him until he comes down from his high, and then you look at your hand, his cum slowly dropping from it, and you move it to your mouth, so you lick a bit of it away, moaning softly at its salty taste.

“It tastes good,” you smirk, tapping his cock again, and Bucky moans.

When Bucky catches his breath, he pushes you back down so you lay next to him. He spreads your thighs and slides his fingers up and down your thighs further until he reaches your panties. Your face is turned toward him, and he’s focused on your expression, making sure you’re oke. When you nod softly, Bucky guides his hand over your panties and caresses your fold through the fabric. You moan softly; he knows how to touch a woman to make her feel good; he immediately hits your clit and you buck your hips. He then slides his fingers further down, feeling your panties damp, and he smirks.

“Can I take your panties off?” He asks, and you nod, but place your hands on his cheek and press your lips on his.

Bucky moves his lips perfectly against yours; he’s deepening the kiss before he kisses your neck and collarbone before his focus is back on your panties. His fingers circle your clit through the fabric, and you moan quietly, arching your back. Bucky takes the waistband of your panties between his fingers and pulls them down, revealing your pussy. He rolls himself on top of you before he pushes you further down in the bed by your hips. He is then lying between your thighs and smirking at you.

“You’re so wet and so beautiful,” he says, placing a kiss on your pussy.

Bucky’s eyes are focused on your pussy, his fingers trialing through your folds, and he parts them slightly. Using his tongue to lick along them to your clit. Circling around your sensitive spot before he sucks at it softly, making you gasp. You have never felt so much pleasure during sex, and Bucky hasn’t really touched you yet. His fingers trail back down to your soaked entrance. He pushes his digit against it, smirking at the way you push yourself more against his finger.

“You’re cute when you’re desperate for more, doll,” he says, placing his lips once again on your clit.

One of your hands finds its way to his hair, tugging at it and pulling Bucky closer to your cunt. He chuckles against your pussy, causing vibration, and you whine. He slowly pushes one of his fingers into you while his other hand holds you down by your hips. You only then know that he used his metal hand to push inside of you. The sudden cold of his finger feels great compared to the heat in your pussy. Bucky thrusts his finger in and out of you, smirking about the way your pussy is clenching around his digit and sucking him inside. His mouth doesn’t let go of your clit while he does so, enjoying the sounds that are leaving your lips. They are like music, and he could listen to your soft moans all day.

“Bucky— please. It feels so good.”

“You’re tasting so sweet, doll. Can’t get enough of your pussy.”

You smirk, throwing your head back when he adds another finger and pushes them as much as he can into your tight hole. You’re soaking his fingers, and when he curls them, he finds your sweet spot. The moan that leaves your lips is erotic, and you look at him with shock in your eyes about that sound.

“Don’t worry, doll. Just found your sweet spot,” Bucky chuckles, licking down your folds to your entrance.

His tongue joins your fingers, and his lapping at your entrance swallows all your juice. His fingers curl inside of you, hitting always your sweet spot, and you feel the knot in your stomach growing. You haven’t felt a pleasure like that in years, but Bucky is so soft with you; he never says anything bad about you or your body. Bucky loves you; he loves your body; and he shows you that, every day, he makes sure you know how much you’re loved by him and that you’re the most beautiful woman for him.

“I feel soy squeezing my fingers; if you wanna come, then do it. Come all over my fingers, doll,” he says, placing his mouth back at your entrance.

His words, the way his tongue is working over your folds, and the way his fingers are always hitting your sweet spot make you come. Your cum is floating out of you, but Bucky doesn’t dare to miss a bit of it and takes it all. Eating you out like it’s the most delicious meal he's ever had. And he fucks you with his fingers and his tongue through your orgasm; your breath hitches whenever his tongue slides over your folds. Your pussy feels so sensitive, but Bucky is so soft. He earns more soft moans until he pulls his fingers out of you and kisses your clit once more before he places his chin on your lower stomach and smirks at you.

“How are you feeling, pretty girl?”

“Great, thank you. And you?”

Bucky chuckles, you’re always so nice. Even when it’s all about you, you always make sure that he is fine too. That both of you feel comfortable.

“I’m good too. Do you want to have my dick now?” He asks, grinning.

You nod, running your fingers through his soft hair. Bucky kisses your stomach, pushing his elf up until he kneels between your legs. His big hands are caressing your thighs. Bucky’s cock is hard again, and the tip is touching your pussy when he moves closer to you.

“Could you give me a condom? It’s in the drawer from the bedside table.”

You turn yourself a bit around, reaching for the drawer, and open it. You grab a condom and give it to Bucky, then you close the drawer and lay down more comfortably again. Bucky opens the package of the condom, taking it out and throwing the package away. Your boyfriend grasps the base of his cock and pulls the condom over his dick.

You’re spreading your legs further apart when Bucky settles himself between them, his cock still in his hand, and he taps the tip a few times against your clit. He smirks at you, sliding his dick through your folds, and covers his cock with your arousal. You moan softly when he reaches your entrance, pushing his tip softly against it. You whimper softly when Bucky slides his cock once more through your folds. He loves the way you look through your lashes at him; your lips are slightly parted, so desperate for his cock.

"Bucky, please," you say quietly, pushing your hips toward him.

Bucky lines himself up with your entrance and pushes slowly inside of you; his cock is huge, and he stretches you like no one has before. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he pushes further into you. Your back arches, but he doesn't hurt you; the pleasure is breathtaking, and you grasp the sheets. Bucky chuckles, pushing balls deep into you; he then leans closer and captures your lips with his. His cock is filling you perfectly, and you clench around him, causing him to groan into your mouth.

"You're so tight, warming my cock so perfectly," he groans.

"You're so deep," you moan when he pulls slightly out to push back into you.

You both chuckle, and Bucky takes one of your hands, brings it to your stomach, and places it on your lower abdomen. He then thrusts his cock into you, letting you feel him through your skin and causing you to moan even louder. Feeling his cock that way turns you on beyond belief. He moves his cock in a slow but steady rhythmus inside of you. Your walls are squeezing him, sucking him deeper into the warmth of your pussy.

Bucky's balls hit your ass whenever he pushes his dick balls deep into you. His dick is glistening with your arousal, and Bucky looks the whole time into your eyes.

You're beautiful when you lay underneath him like that. Your other hand makes its way to his back, and you try to ground yourself while Bucky holds your other hand, still pressed on your stomach. With every thrust you feel him against your hand, he cock is hitting all the right spots, and he smirks when he hits your sweet spot harder than before.

"That's what you like?" He asks.

"Scared that I will break when you're thrusting harder into me?"

He shakes his head, laughing while he speeds up his thrusts. Your mouth drops open when he causes a pleasure inside of you that you have never felt before. It grows in your stomach and makes its way down to your pussy. Your eyes widen while you breathe heavily, but you still push your hips more against Bucky to show him to fuck you harder. And he does; he pulls almost completely out of you to thrust back inside of you. His breath hitches, and he closes his eyes when you squeeze him harder.

"I won't last long when you squeeze me like that, doll," he says, pressing his lips to yours.

You smirk, clenching your walls on purpose to make him groan against your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and his thrusts become harder and faster while you're not far away from the edge anymore. The pleasure in your stomach is growing, and Bucky growls. When he hits your sweet spot a few more times, he feels your orgasm just as close as his own, speeding his thrusts up. Bucky doesn't want to come before you do — or at least when you do.

"B—Bucky, I'm so close."

"I know, me too. Come with me, doll," he mumbles softly.

He pushes his cock into you; you feel every inch of him inside of you; his lips are slightly parted like yours; and his breath hits your soft skin. The feeling of him feeling you completely inside of you causes you to come all over his cock. You moan his name and its music to his ears, hearing you moan his name while he is buried balls deep into your pussy. You're squirting all over his cock, and Bucky grins while he comes as well. He comes in the condom, still thrusting into you while you both calm down from your high. Bucky lets go of your hand, sliding it over your stomach and your sides, caressing your skin. He places kisses all over your neck while you catch your breath and run your fingers through his soft hair.

"Are you oke?" He asks, his blue eyes slightly worried that he could have been too rough.

"I'm— it was perfect."

His expression softens, and he pulls slowly out of you. You hiss about the sudden emptiness and grasp his muscular arms to pull him back. Bucky chuckles, placing his fingers at your pussy and strokes your folds softly. You're clenching around nothing, while Bucky admires the way your cum is dripping out of you.

He then sits up and helps you sit up as well. Bucky removes the condom and gets up from the bed, making his way to the bathroom to throw the condom away. You're looking at him, smirking. He is adorable, sweet, and caring. He never tells you that you're ugly because of your scars; he just kisses them when you struggle because of them and tells you how beautiful you are. And you're doing the same; whenever he has nightmares or suffers from his past or scars, you know exactly how to cheer him up. A lot of kisses and cuddles always help that soft, big man, and with the way his eyes are shining, his lips curl up to the softest and most adorable smile.

You rest your back against the headboard of the bed, waiting for Bucky. He throws the condom away and runs warm water into the bath; he buts your favourite bubble bath into it as well, before he makes his way back to you. He smirks, picking you up with no effort and getting back into the bathroom. Before you can say something, you're sitting in the bathtub, surrounded by a lot of bubbles and your favourite scent. You squirm softly when you feel the warm water on your sensitive pussy. Bucky gets into the bathtub behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and pulls you as close as possible.

"I love you," he mumbles, taking some of the foam and putting it on your hair.

You giggle when it rolls down your hair and tickles your skin softly. Bucky rubs his hands softly over your stomach, drawing small circles on it while you lean back, resting your head against his broad chest. Bucky plays with the foam, placing them everywhere on your body, and chuckles then.

"You did so well for me, babydoll. Your pussy's feeling so good around my cock," Bucky says, kissing your neck softly. "Made for my cock."

You chuckle, sliding your hands over his legs. But he is right; it was perfect, and he was so soft that you weren't scared when he pushed in; you felt safe, and you knew he wouldn't do it when you didn't want it.

"My pretty doll, I'm so in love with you. How about I prepare some popcorn and pizza after the bath while you decide which movie we're going to watch?"

"Sounds like a good idea," you say, turning around to kiss him.

Bucky washes your hair, trying to avoid letting shampoo come into your eyes, and he manages to do so. When you turn your whole body around, you're washing his hair. When you put the shampoo in his soft brown hair, you give him some fresh hair styles. Laughing about the way he is pouting when you giggle about his hair. You kiss his pout away, causing him to pout again to get more kisses.

When the both of you are finished, you get out of the bathtub, and Bucky holds a towel to wrap around you, kissing your forehead softly when he walks to the bedroom and dresses himself, giving you panties and a t-shirt of his. You smirk, dress yourself, and comb your hair. Bucky makes his way to the kitchen, preparing the popcorn and the pizza. When you're finished in the bathroom, you walk into the living room, placing all the pillows and blankets on the couch and letting yourself fall into them. When Bucky came with the food and drinks into the living room, he burst out laughing. Only your arms and legs are visible from underneath the pillows. He places the food and drinks on the small table and lifts the pillow on top of you, smirking.

"Does the pillow eat you?" He asks, and you chuckle.

"No, I just like to cuddle."

You sit up, moving a bit to make some space for Bucky. He lets himself fall down next to you and wraps his arm around you, then he takes the popcorn and hands it to you before he places the pizza in his lap. With a smirk, you look at the pizza and then into his blue eyes.

"Needy boy," you mumble into his ear.

You slide your hand over his chest to his stomach until you almost reach his cock, but then you take a slice of pizza and bite into it with a grin. You turn on a movie, Bucky, and you like that your head rests on his shoulder while he has his hand around your waist and pulls you as close as possible.

"Just as needy as I'm," he says, making both of you chuckle.

Bucky takes some popcorn from the bowl, which is standing between your legs, so he has to grasp between your legs like you do when you take a slice of pizza from him.

"Bucky?"

"Mhm?" He asks, half asleep, and pulls you even closer against him.

You smile softly and run your fingers through his soft hair. You move some strands out of his face and lean closer to kiss him. Bucky growls and makes you lie on top of him, his arms holding you tightly pressed against him. His fingers draw small circles on your soft skin, and he hides his face in the crock of your neck.

"Y-You know about my things, which are still at Alex's house, right?" You ask carefully; you don't want to upset Bucky.

He hums in response and looks at you, his blue eyes as soft as always. He leans closer and captures your lips for a passionate kiss, showing you that you don't have to worry about telling him about your ex-boyfriend. Bucky knows you love him just as much as he loves you. And he understands that you want to get your personal stuff from your ex-boyfriend.

"A—And I wanted to ask if— could you maybe come with me to him?"

Bucky immediately nods, rolling both of you over so you're underneath him, and he smirks at you. His soft lips grace over yours and along your jawline to your neck, where he bits softly into your skin. His hands move smoothly over your sides, caressing your skin and causing goosebumps all over your body. You sigh softly and enjoy the warmth and softness of Bucky's touches. He is always so soft and careful with you, like you could break into his hands when he doesn't pay attention. But you don't complain; Bucky is everything for you — the love of your life and your best friend.

After a lot of kisses, cuddles, and a good breakfast, you're ready to go to your ex-boyfriend and get your personal stuff. Your hands are sweating, and you dry them on your pants. Your body is slightly shaking. Bucky recognises that; he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flat against his broad chest. Your head rests on his chest, and you listen to his heartbeat.

"He won't hurt you again, babydoll. I'm taking care of you; I'll protect you, and he won't do anything when you don't want it." Bucky mumbles and pushes you softly away.

He presses his lips against your forehead, which helps calm down your nerves. Bucky opens the door for you, holding your hands tight in his while you two walk along the street to the apartment you used to live in a few months ago. When you see the entrance of it already, you panic, stay still, and inhale deeply. Bucky turns toward you and places his hand on your cheek, sliding his thumb over it.

"Doll, you're stronger than you ever were. This man never broke you, and he never will. He can't harm you; I love you, and I won't let him touch you again," Bucky says softly.

He knows how hard it can be to accept a trauma you're carrying in your soul. Wounds that turn into scars, but it needs more time as a cut on the skin. Bucky knows how much you suffered because of your ex-boyfriend, but he also sees the strong woman behind all that pain. He loves you for the person you are, not for the person he wants you to be. When you nod, he leads you further to Alex's apartment. He knocks with a strength you're not used to at the door, and then the door is opened by a man you feel like you don't know.

Alex has messy hair; his beard isn't shaved like he used to, and he has dark shadows underneath his red eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept for a while, but when he sees you, he smiles. A smile you had only seen on his lips when you first met. The one you fell in love with. But when Alex sees Bucky standing next to you and holding your hand in his, his smile drops.

"Hi, I—I would like to get my stuff, please," you mumble.

Surprisingly, Alex nods and takes a step to the side, letting you and Bucky walk into the apartment. When you look around, everything looks similar to the day he threw you out of the apartment. The only difference is that there are clothes and trash on the ground. Bucky lets go of your hand, staying next to you to make sure Alex isn't doing anything. You're walking through the apartment and picking up your things, putting them in a bag you brought.

"Can we talk, please?" He asks when you walk back to the floor, where he is still standing.

You nod carefully, and Bucky kisses your cheek before he walks a step to the side to let the two of you talk. Alex runs his fingers through his hair and his hands over his face, and then he inhales deeply.

"I'm sorry, I—I Baby—“

"Alex, please. We're not together anymore."

"I never wanted to hurt you. I love you. I haven't had a girl since you moved out. Please, I love you. Give me one more chance to show you that I love you. I will be a better boyfriend this time," he says, and you see the tears falling down your cheeks.

You shake your head. And his eyes widen. Realism hits him when he sees that you don't feel the same for him anymore. He sees in your eyes that you moved on, not only in your eyes; you look in general different from the time you were together with him.

"I'm sorry, but I moved on, and you should do the same," you say with such strength in your voice. You never thought you would talk to him like that without fear.

"Please, you— I love you."

"You were strong, and I was not. And you used it — you used it against me. When all is done, there is nothing to say. You have gone, and so effortlessly, you have won. You can go ahead and tell them. You can tell your friends now what you want; you can tell the girls you fuck now how shitty I am and how bad I'm in bed. I never did what you wanted or the way you wanted. Tell them all; I know now that you fucked them all without feeling ashamed to cheat on the girl you have at home, the one who loved you and expected to be treated like you did. To be abused by her boyfriend while still loving him. Shout it from the rooftops; write it on the skyline; all we had is gone now. Tell them I was happy even though my heart was broken. All my scars were open, but I found someone who doesn't mind them and helps to heal them, someone who loves all the scars you caused."

Bucky smirks when he hears your words, and his eyes light up when he hears you tell your ex-boyfriend what was inside of you for so long. And you were finally able to tell him how you felt and how you now feel.

"I know I made mistakes. But I love you."

"Everyone does, but you betrayed me. And falling out of love is hard, but falling for betrayal is worse. And you betrayed me so often. Broken trust and broken hearts — you broke both our hearts; you broke mine when we were together, and yours broke because I moved on. And thinking all you need is there, building faith on love and words, only empty promises will wear. Alex, I loved you, but I moved on, and you should do the same," you say and nod before you walk to Bucky.

He smiles widely at you, his eyes shining in the most beautiful way you have ever seen. You place your hand in his, and he takes the bag before you two make your way to the door and get out of the apartment. When you close the door behind you, you breathe shakily, and you feel like all the pain and fear are fading away. You walk a few steps, but Bucky just can't hold back anymore and stays still, turning around and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"I'm so proud of you, doll. I love you so much. I would tell the whole world; I just do it. I will tell the world how much I love you," Bucky says with a grin, and twirling the two of you around, he then leans closer. "I love you so much, and I'm proud of you. I don't even have words for that; you're the most beautiful woman, and you belong to me; you're mine just as much as I'm yours," he whispers into your ear.

"Thank you. I love you too, Bucky," you giggle, then you smirk playfully. "So, where do you want to go to tell the world that you love me?"

"I already did. When I whispered in your ear that I love you. Because you're my world, my perfect world," Bucky says, kissing you softly.

You feel some tears of joy rolling down your face when you realise his words. No one ever said more meaningful words than Bucky does. He is definitely everything for you, and you are grateful to have such a wonderful and loving man as your boyfriend. One who sees you as the only and most wonderful woman, someone who doesn't even look at other women, and one who tries to make you laugh as often as he can. Bucky is the love of your life, and you're grateful that destiny brought the two of you together and that the two of you discover every day another thing you love about one another.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @vicmc624 @kpopgirlbtssvt @ordelixx @angelbabyyy99 @mostlymarvelgirl @somegirlfromasgard @buck-buck-buckaroo @lov3lys1ns @etherealdisneyvillainness @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel

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[irisintheafterglow]

hi!!! could i request pro hero!bakugo & pro hero!reader where bkgs doing an interview and they ask about relationships and his answer is “I thought you people already knew that im married”

i have no idea how to word things but i hope that was readable🙏🙏

keeping it in the family

wc: 1.6k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, established relationship, dialogue-driven

note: RAHHH I LOVE HUSBAND BAKUGO. anyways !!! i hope you like this, i did get a little carried away when writing it so hopefully it makes sense. thank you for your ask!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“And we’re on in five, four, three, two…give ‘em hell.” The roar of excited applause jumbles together with the late-night show’s opening theme and the screams of excited fans can still be heard even as Kirishima flashes a blinding smile to the camera. 

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Heroes on Heroes! We’re so glad you’re joining us tonight, seeing as this is the finale of season one!” The audience cheers with fiery passion and it makes the three heroes onstage chuckle nervously. This was going to be a long night, especially if the superfans were crying after every word they spoke. “I’m Red Riot,” he pauses while the cheering erupts once again, “and I’m joined by my fellow pros, Chargebolt and Dynamight.” You wince from your place at sidestage from the sheer wave of noise that slams into your eardrums when the latter is introduced. 

“Thanks for having us tonight, man,” Denki grins. He eagerly drums the armrests of his chair, to the left of Kirishima. “I’ve been looking forward to doing one of these since I saw Deku’s a few weeks back.” 

“It’s a great concept, really. I love being able to just chat with you guys and shoot the shit about hero stuff. It’s so manly.” Kirishima turns expectantly to the other hero sitting to his right, whose hot-headed nature was blatantly obvious by how he was slumped in his chair, squinting slightly at the burning spotlights and clicking cameras. You admire Kirishima’s confidence in forcing Katsuki to say something. “What about you, Bakugo? How’re you feeling tonight?” 

“I’m alright,” he shrugs indifferently. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the Dynamight agency’s publicist put his head in his hands. “It’s been a while, so it’s good to see you guys,” he adds with unexpected fondness and you exhale in relief. His eyes meet yours for half a second and he shoots you a wink that makes your knees wobbly. “I saw that save at the bridge collapse last week, Shitty Hair. Pretty decent work.” Kirishima blinks once, twice, and then glances at Denki. Katuski’s blank look narrows into a scowl. “The hell are you looking like that for? I got shit in my teeth or something?”

“No, no. Sorry, man,” Kirishima laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you so early in the show.”

“Yeah, we thought we’d have to booze you up a little more to get you to be nicer,” Denki jokes and he recoils a bit when he’s struck with a molten hot glare from the hero across from him. 

“Whatever you’re about to say, bro, don’t say it,” Kirishima warns and the crackles in Katsuki’s palms gradually dissipate. “But, I’m wondering too. What’s with the good mood?” 

“I guess I feel like playing nice tonight,” he answers cryptically, his gaze flicking over to you again with amusement. You can almost sense the fainting girls falling over each other in the front row. Kirishima’s attention subtly darts over to you and a knowing smirk grows over his face. It was the first time you and Katsuki were at the same press event, since you both thought it was too dangerous to sneak around until now. “But, talk about that bridge save. I don’t think a lot of people know that the guy was wanted by several agencies.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Denki agrees with a quick sip of his drink. He swallows and sets the glass down with a light thud. “He’d been giving us hell for weeks. It's not really the best matchup for a sand villain to be going up against an electric hero.”

“It was the sand villain and his wife, wasn’t it? That chick with the melting Quirk?”

“Yep, they were a nasty couple to deal with,” Kirishima confirms. “I had to keep track of this guy’s damn sand spikes and his wife turning the floor to goop at the same time.”

“Goop is a weird-ass way to put it,” Katsuki points out with obvious distaste. 

“Yeah, but he was a pretty goopy guy.” Chuckles ripple through the audience and you can’t help breaking a smile too at Kirishima’s joke. 

“I think for me, at least,” Denki adds, “the biggest pain was the fact that they were married, and they had, like, marriage telepathy or something.”

“Bro, I thought that was just me! Here I was, thinking that I’d incapacitated one and split them from the other, when bam! Both of them appear in front of me like a damn genie.” 

“You ever have to deal with villain couples, Bakubro?”

“Nah, not recently. We’ve been doing a lot of big raids on all the crime families downtown.” He flexes his right bicep and pulls back the sleeve of his shirt to show a gnarly purple spot growing on his skin. “Got this little beauty three days ago from a neo-Hassaikai asshole.” You're not fazed by the ugly shade of the wound because you were the one who stitched up the...less visible results of the raid.

“Jeez, man,” Denki says in disbelieving awe at his friend’s injury. “If you ever need backup, we’d love to do a team up with you.” 

“I think I’d rather die–”

“My agency would also love to team-up with you,” Kirishima interjects before Katsuki can finish his thought. The heart rate monitor of his publicist begins to rapidly beep behind you. “We can have a threeway team-up! That’d be pretty cool, don’t you guys think?” 

“What if we all just merged into one big super agency? Like a big family?”

“That sounds like the stupidest shit–” Again, Kirishima cuts off Katsuki’s brash protests and saves them from being taken off the air.

"That would be so awesome."

“Would that mean we’d have to get pro-hero partners, too? Keep hero work in the family?”

“I think Salonpas would have heart palpitations if we said we were trying to keep hero work within the family,” Katsuki points out and his friends nod in agreement. “On another fuckin’ note, that Half-and-Half idiot keeps hogging the number two spot and it pisses me off.” Though you didn’t often encounter Todoroki while you were on patrol, you knew that he was adamant about keeping work life and family life separate. It made him even more of a dedicated hero and a recent bust of a notorious crime ring bumped him into the number two spot over Dynamight for that month. You didn’t hear the end of it from Katsuki. 

“He and Deku just work really efficiently, Bakubro.”

“I can efficiently slam both their skulls into a–”

“You know what would solve that problem?” Denki butts in unceremoniously, covering up his harsh words for a third time. Katsuki grunts in response and the lightning-decorated hero gives him enthusiastic finger-guns. “Combining and making a family agency.”

“What are the chances that Sero would want to join too?”

“Probably pretty high,” Kirishima guesses. “He’s at my place every other week, anyway, so he’s basically my brother.”

“Alright, maybe this could actually work, then. I just need to find a smoking hot hero wife.”

“That’ll probably be the hardest part, buddy–”

“What about Bakugo?” You stiffen and the three guys turn their attention to a voice calling out from the audience. Speaking during the interviews was strictly prohibited until the question and answer section, but getting Katsuki’s attention was a surefire way to derail the entire episode.

“The fuck do you mean, what about Bakugo? Who the fuck said that?”

"Dude, just ignore them."

“Can’t be a family agency if Bakugo never gets into relationships,” the same nasally, irritating voice argues and your face feels like it’s been set on fire. Kirishima’s attention jumps to you for a moment and then back to his friend, whose palms are starting to spark like fireworks. “Do you just get no bitches, or something?” The audience gasps and security finally arrives to escort the disturbance out of the building. The director is ready to stop the cameras and jump to a commercial break, but Katsuki speaks before he can order the sound crew to cut the mics. To everyone’s surprise, his voice is nothing but amusement, like the insinuation didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

“You think I don’t get into relationships?”

“Bakugo…”

“It’s alright, Pikachu. I really don’t give a shit about whatever that guy said,” Katsuki reassures his friend with a sly glint in his eye. His friends watch him warily, like a grenade on the verge of exploding. Once again, burning red eyes meet yours with a single question that you answer with a resolute nod. “I’m not gonna blow up, so stop looking like that. Really, I don’t care.”

“Why not?” A tense beat of silence passes, then–

“I thought you people knew that I’m married.” A shit-eating grin spreads across your husband’s face as gasps of shock burst from the audience. Kirishima and Denki both shake their heads in exasperation. They knew already, of course, but they didn’t expect him to reveal his relationship status as a result of a heckler. “Yep, going on a year and a half, now. Around five years together total coming this winter.” More collective cries of jealousy, surprise, and betrayal shake the building’s foundation. "If you don't believe me, ask these guys."

"Yeah, we were at the wedding, too. It's hard to keep it a secret when all of your friends are also high-profile heroes."

“Can you guys believe that he fell in love during the winter?” Denki’s thumb juts out toward his friend, who frowns at the mere mention of cold weather.

“I fucking hate the winter,” he grumbles. 

“We know, man,” Kirishima says sympathetically, unsuccessfully hiding a chuckle. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”

“Yeah, and shit hasn’t changed,” Katsuki bites back with lighthearted indignance. “Look, they saved my ass when it was cold; how was I not supposed to fall in love with them?” To your delight, his complexion has turned a slightly darker shade of pink. “Yeah, I love them. What about it, asshats?”

“Is this a bad time to bring up the family agency again?”

“Let’s go to commercial before I blow this fucking chair to pieces.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #ask iris!

[sincerelyneo]

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

#nct smut #park jisung smut #jisung smut #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #nct hard hours #kpop smut #nct scenarios #park jisung scenarios #nct imagines

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME: ISSUE #4

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Miguel O'Hara saves you from falling off the Chrysler building for a second time, and he's not very happy about it.

Word count: 4,400 words.

Content: Slow burn so slow we're getting a reverse speeding ticket, Spidey-boy has a lot of emotions and really needs therapy, he also swears a lot, tiny speck of angst.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

It's shocking how fast the ground approaches from a height of 72 stories. You always imagined it would take longer given the distance. In movies, the freefall is always captured in a hypnotizing slow motion, but real gravity is brutal and unforgiving.

This time, as you fall through the sky, you don’t see the New York concrete grow wider or nearer. All you see is the vast gap between you and the crystal blue sky rapidly pulling away from you. The buildings looming higher with every second. The blinding sun reflected in the thousands and thousands of glaring windows towering above.

You can't feel your heartbeat or the wind beating against your face. There should be panic. But at the sight of familiar inky-blue piercing through your view, an eerie calm takes over until a comforting numb spreads through your limbs.

Call it misguided naivety. No one should ever place this much trust with their life on a stranger they don't even know to come and save them.

But misguided or not, there's no fear in you this time around. You don't think about how you are plummeting down to your death. Not when you see him speeding after you. Diving head-first into the vast empty space as he closes the distance between you, hand outstretched, reaching for you.

His hand catches around your wrist in mid-air. It's a firm grip like he never means to let go. He reels you in until you're defying gravity, gliding up through the air to meet him until he can wrap his arms around you.

Everything decelerates. The reflection of the rows and rows of windows no longer flashing by. It's a gentle descent as the breeze flows pleasantly through your hair, and if you don't think too hard about how you can't control the direction of movement, you can almost believe you’re flying.

The landing is gentle. He sets you on your feet with such great care that it takes you a second to adjust to the feeling of firm concrete beneath your soles.

Once again, you find yourself standing face to face with the masked superhero who has saved your life more times than you can count on both hands.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, head tilting upwards until your neck strains, and it strikes you that you've forgotten how tall he was. His head tips down, the dark outline of his masked eyes staring down at you, and it makes the hair on the nape of your neck prickle.

Say something. 

You rack your brain, trying to remember all the questions you had meticulously written down in the notepad hidden in your desk as you planned for this very moment. But they’re missing, wiped cleanly from your mind now that he's here in front of you. Your mouth parts, trying to remember how to use your vocal cords again.

Before you find it, the blue fabric recedes until it reveals his face again. You're met with cutting eyes that glow an otherworldly crimson and the bared sharp canine teeth of a predator as he growls at you. 

"What the hell were you thinking?!" 

The low rumble of his words scrapes down your spine and locks you in a fight or flight response. Except you're doing neither. Fixed in place, unable to move.

One of his hands reaches up to pull at his hair in frustration, as he starts to mumble to himself. He's tugging it so hard you think he's going to yank them out by the roots.

"I can’t believe you! Me estás matando. Casi me da un ataque cardíaco–"

You blink up at him dimly, confused until you realize that he's broken into Spanish. But he's speaking too low and too fast. You can only make out about half of it.

"–No puedo más! I am dying of stress. You're impossible! I turn away for one second…” 

One sentence flows directly into the next without stopping for a single breath, and you're surprised he doesn't go lightheaded from lack of oxygen with how long he goes on.

You raise your hand slightly, reminiscent of a gesture you used to pull in school when you wanted to get the teacher's attention to ask a question. But he doesn't notice. Doesn’t even throw a glance in your direction.

“... and you go Anna Karenina on me. I can't with you, I can't, I can't–"

You try to follow along, looking for an appropriate break in his rant to get a word in edgewise. But like the line of tourists lining up for the Statue of liberty, there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. As rude as it is, the only thing you can think of is clearing your throat, loudly, trying to draw attention to yourself, but that's soundly ignored as well.

"Me vas a sacar canas verdes–-"

One broad hand covers his face as if he's trying to scrub away the beginnings of a migraine, and he keeps going.

Listening to him makes you feel like a child on the receiving end of a scolding by an exasperated parent. Any lingering thread of fear or intimidation gives way to irritation at this man who is so subsumed by his tirade that he doesn't even seem to be aware of your presence, not three feet away from him.

"–Siempre haces esto, una y otra y otra vez–"

You don't know exactly how long he’s been going on for by now, but you know that it's long. You could even swear the shadow by your feet has shifted to the opposite end of the patch of concrete at your feet in the time he’s been talking.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks, apparently finally done. He stands there, arms crossed, with a condescending set to his jaw as he looks down on you.

And god, where to even start with this man? You have enough material about his difficult and avoidant behavior to make a powerpoint presentation out of it. You should block out the boardroom for three whole hours and hold a Q&A after.

How, if he had just spoken to you after you left him not one, not two, but several requests to meet with him, then things could have ended up a lot more civilized.

How, if he hadn't been hiding from you this whole time—gaslighting you— you wouldn't have had to spend over $200 on budget DIY spy crap (in this economy!) on an utterly wasted attempt to catch him. And, to add insult to injury, you’re sure you are never going to use any of that stuff ever again!

How, if he hadn't been talking non-stop and had the self-awareness to take a second to observe others, he'd have realized that you had plenty of things to say to him, if only he had paused long enough to let you.

But somehow in the face of his expectant expression, all that comes out of your mouth is, "I don't know what you want me to say."

His face falls. There's a split second of disappointment, raw and anguished, that flitters across his face. Then it's gone as quickly as it appeared, and he turns away from you. Whatever he was expecting from you, that was obviously not it.

When he speaks again, his voice has turned calm and quiet. He almost sounds resigned.

"Yeah. I don't know either." 

There's a sluggish, awkward silence that lingers on the three feet of concrete stretched between the two of you. The echo of traffic below, the cab horns and chatter swarms the space. After everything that’s happened, it all feels very anti-climatic somehow.

"Can you take me back to my apartment and we can talk? I have coffee. Cake too," you say, trying to break the silence.

"I don't drink coffee." His tone is curt, severing the olive branch you were trying to extend with a sharp snap, and your shoulders sag in defeat and disappointment. But then his face tips back in your direction and meets your eyes. The line of his mouth twitches as if he’s war with himself. 

"But I'll have some cake," he concedes. 

Had you known that a superhero was coming over for a visit, you'd probably have done a better job of cleaning up and making the place presentable.

You would have put away the heap of unfolded, wrinkly laundry that's piled up on your bed, granny panties in full sight. Would have washed the dirty dishes stacked up in your sink like a dangerous game of porcelain Jenga. Or at least cleared out the sad looking take out box where your half-eaten pizza is still resting in a greased up spot on the table.

Still, you're not sure how impressed he would be even if you had. Your studio apartment is a standard size for NYC, meaning in most other places it would be classified as a closet. With his height, he has to duck to make it through the threshold of your door and can barely stand upright without banging his head against the ceiling. It’s ironic that the window entrance is probably less hazardous for him.

You get him a plate of cake and set it on the table in front of him, delicately placing the dessert fork on the side.

"Sorry, I don't have any cookies for you today, just coffee cake."

The sight of him sitting hunched over your Ingatorp IKEA dining table is slightly comical. The table looks like a miniature doll set against his broad frame, and as he picks up the small dessert fork in his large hand, that only adds to the absurdity of the situation. He looks like he’s playing at having a tea party with a child’s play tea set. 

You sit down across from him, watching him intently, trying to gather the nerve to ask the questions you've been dying to ask since this all started. But you're hesitant and fumbling, stumbling on your words like an idiot, "Uhm, so I wanted to ask if you– if you knew why all of this is happening to–"

"No."

You frown at his interruption. "You didn't let me finish," you protest.

He leans back against his chair, waving away your protests dismissively into the air. "I didn't need you to. The answer is no. Next question."

You bite down on your lip to stave off the curse stuck in your throat, trying to force its way out. You hold it. Stemming the tide, as you focus on the task at hand.

"Who are you?"

His head tilts to the side at your question, as his hand draws up and gestures vaguely over the spider emblem of his costume draped over his chest. "Isn't it obvious?" he snarkily responds, "I'm Spiderman"

Great, he's a rude and sassy superhero. You narrow your eyes at him

"You're not the Spiderman I know of."

He doesn't respond to that. Just glares down at the cake as he pierces it with a sharp stab of the fork, making the porcelain underneath clank. Then he scoops a large spoonful and shovels it into his mouth.

God, who eats cake so angrily?

"Why did you save–" you start, but he holds up one finger, motioning for you to pause. 

He cleaves off another piece of cake and shoves it into his mouth, chewing slowly. You watch as he beats the Guinness record of slowest chewer across the table from you, before you finally get to repeat your question.

"Why do you keep saving me?"

"I'm a superhero. I save people. It's what I do."

Bright irritation pings through you at his sarcastic attitude. 

This is like playing the world's shittiest game of 20 Questions, except here the whole goal of the game is to see whose sanity cracks first.

Naively, you had thought that being able to sit down with him in person would mean you could finally start getting some answers. You hadn't been expecting the need to deploy strategic maneuvers, and you pause, taking your time before you speak. 

You need to pick a question he won't be able to evade. You think back at the footage of the nanny-cam, that time he carried you to bed. The worry when you weren't where he expected you to be. The over-familiarity that seeps out of his every action with you as if he already knows you and that the last thing you heard as you fell off the ledge was his voice calling out your name.

"How did you know my name?" you finally ask him.

His back stiffens at the question, jaw grinding down until the small muscle there flexes with irritation.

"I don't."

Liar.

"You called my name when I fell," you remind him.

This time instead of answering, he slides the now empty plate at you across the table.

"Can I have another slice?"

You frown. It's an obvious ploy to buy himself some time to avoid answering your question. But you can't deny his request either.

With a sigh, you push away your chair to bring the plate to the counter. You cut up an obscenely big slice so that he won't be able to use this as an excuse a second time.

Turning back around, you find that the gluttonous self-proclaimed Spiderman is pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks a little worse for wear, a pained expression etched into those tightly knitted brows.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concerned.

"No. I–" He breaks off, his broad palm gripping the back of the chair, and you notice a slight tremor in his fingers. "Something’s wrong." 

He pushes the chair back, trying to get to his feet, but to your surprise, he stumbles and sways. 

He seems just as surprised as you are at his newfound lack of coordination. 

"What the–" He looks down on his feet with concentrated effort. Then he takes another step. It's wobblier than the one before, his knee giving way, and his arm shoots out to grip at the edge of your table for balance.

Alarm bells start to go off in your head. You don't understand what's happening, but he's definitely right, something is wrong. A man that can gracefully scale down the Chrysler building from 72 floors down shouldn't be struggling this much just to take two steps back in your living room.

"Maybe you should sit back down," you suggest, looking up at him. There’s a slight sheen of perspiration that's settled on his forehead. The beginnings of a rosy flush tinting his cheeks. "Do you have any food allergies?"

"No. I don't. No. Super metabolism kind of cuts down on that sort of–” he’s stumbling over his words, each syllable slurred on his tongue, as he shakes his head at you. “No, no allergies. No food sensitivities of any kind except...."

He glares around wildly and his eyes land on the remaining slice of cake perched on your kitchen counter. 

"Did you put fucking coffee in that cake?!?!"

“"Yes?” You whip around, and look at the cake on your counter, not understanding the relevance of his question. “I mean... It's a coffee cake? I told you that!" 

You push aside your growing panic as you try to remember if the EpiPen stored away in your kitchen cupboard is past its expiration.

"You didn't tell me there was coffee in it!"

Is he serious?

"I said ‘coffee cake’! What else would be in there? It's in the name," you snap. 

And god, you can't believe this is what you're arguing with him about at this moment.

"Okay, yeah," he concedes testily, "but coffee cake is its own thing too! Isn’t coffee cake just… cake... that you, like... serve with coffee? It doesn't have coffee in it! Why the fuck does it have coffee in it?"

Does the man even hear himself? You're trying to figure out if you need to call an ambulance, and he is arguing with you on the technicalities of what constitutes coffee cake.

"Okay, wait, but are you dying?" you ask, trying to stay calm despite the pandemonium of panic ringing in your head. 

"No! I'm just intoxitac– intocita– intoshica– I'm just fucking drunk okay!?" he spits out.

Your brain stalls at his statement. Intoxicated!? When did he have time to drink? He seemed fine just a few minutes ago, but now he's slurring and about to topple over.

"You're drunk? How–"

"Spiders get drunk on coffee," he interrupts, and the flush on his cheek deepens to a deep alarming red. If you didn't know better, you'd almost think he was blushing.

"Okay, let's sit you down." You rush over, rounding your dining table as you reach for him.

At the sight of your extended hands, his eyes widen in alarm, He steps back from you, eyeing you like you're something dangerous.

"No. No, I'm–" he takes another step backwards, flinging himself away from your touch, but loses his footing in the process. He tilts over, hand grappling for the edge of the table as he goes, but instead of the edge he manages to take the cake plate with him on the way down.

There's a clank of shattered porcelain, followed by the loud thud of his body hitting the ground.

With the large size of him in your tiny studio apartment and the breaking of porcelain left and right, this feels like the idiom of a bull running wild in a China shop, come to life.

You reach out your hand to help him get up, but he doesn't acknowledge it, anchoring his elbow to the floor for leverage, only to wobble and fall flat against his back again with an angry curse.

Why is he so goddamned stubborn? 

You glance down at him, this gigantic man that is lying sprawled out on the floor with the gravitas of a turtle trapped on its back. He's so huge that he's eating up half of the floor space of your entire home. If he doesn’t get up, you won't be able to take two steps without accidentally stepping on him.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the situation, you hunch down on your knees beside him.

There's hesitation etched in those otherworldly crimson eyes as you come near. But as much as he's scowling at you, baring his fangs and trying to look scary, there isn't much he can do from the floor.

"Let me help you," you insist, "let's get you in bed until it wears off. I can't have you passed out on my floor like this."

He takes your outstretched hand, and you pull backwards, trying to bring him up with you. Between the two of you, you manage to get him on his feet again. Barely. 

Whoa.

You crane your head up, up, up til you meet his eyes. Yup, the man is still huge. Must be damn near 7 feet tall and heavy, and you quickly realize there's not much you can do but try to steer so that he falls in the direction of your bed.

Somehow you manage to shepherd him in the right direction, until his knees hit the edges of your bed. He lands with a dramatic thud and you hear your bed frame groan in protest. 

“Do you need anything?” you ask, but he doesn’t answer you. His broad arm drapes over his eyes, blocking you out. 

You sigh, turning on your heels to clean up the mess of coffee cake and broken plates off your floor.

You barely manage to finish sweeping up the floor before you hear soft snoring filling your home.

Knock-off Spiderman is sound asleep, his large shape curled up on your mattress, entirely still.

You settle yourself back at the dining table, eating the leftover coffee cake as you pull up a book on your phone and wait for him to wake.

This was not how you had imagined your first extended interaction would turn out.

Honestly, you can't make sense of any of your interactions with him. How he's constantly avoiding you, yet can't seem to stay away and routinely checks in on you.

How he acts overly familiar in one instance and excessively rude and put off by you the next.

Maybe you remind him of someone else... Maybe even an ex? It feels weird to speculate, but it would explain a lot of things. His belligerent attitude towards you. The way he looks at you with eyes full of resentment, even as he's saving you from certain death. That look in his eyes like he knows you, even though you've never met him.

It doesn't explain how he knows your name though.

From the bed, you can hear him stir, shifting against the mattress with a quiet groan muffled into your pillow. He's softly murmuring something that you can't quite make out, and then he turns in his sleep again, making a pained noise that makes worry squeeze tight in your chest.

Maybe letting him sleep it off wasn't the brightest idea you've had. You probably should've called for the ambulance as soon as he showed physical signs of distress.

You're not a biologist. You don't know how a hybrid spider-human’s physiology works.

What if he's not just drunk? Whoever heard of coffee making someone drunk! And how could it affect him so quickly? There was barely a minute between him stuffing his face and falling all over the place. Some quick, panicked googling confirms that coffee makes spiders a kind of drunk, but it doesn’t say if it’s outright toxic to them.

Oh fuck, what if he's dying!? Oh god, what if a superhero dies in your bed? How will you explain this to your landlord? Or the police! “I fed him coffee cake, and it killed him, officer.” Right, that’s going to go over like a lead balloon! It’ll probably look like you poisoned him. TMZ will be swarming the place. You'll be classified as a supervillain.

Setting down the book, you make your way over to sit on the edge of your bed. You lean over his sleeping form and peer down at him, checking for any signs of physical distress.

That red flush from earlier is still riding high on his cheeks, looking like the beginnings of a fever. You reach out your hand to rest it on his forehead to check his temperature.

Warm.

He stirs at the touch, turning his face and practically nuzzles into your palm. It’s almost endearing as he buries his sharp nose into your wrist.

You hold your breath, worried that exhaling would be loud enough to wake him as you gaze down on him. Up close like this, when he's not being rude, and stubborn and defensive, he's... quite attractive.

He has the kind of sculpted face that Hollywood dreams are made of, angular jaw and a prominent nose that makes him look regal. Not to mention those chiselled cheeks of his are a fucking marvel to look at. But more than that, curled up asleep in your bed, there’s a gentle softness to his features that hadn’t been noticeable when he was awake.  

Now that  he’s not frowning down at you and the line of his mouth isn’t pulled into an angry snarl, you can see that his lips are full and luscious, delicate even. His heavy brows look less intimidating now that his face has relaxed from its perpetual scowl. 

He looks... soft, somehow.

There's a spark of something heated in your veins that has you feeling flushed and warm. You have to turn your eyes, shaking your head and tutting at yourself, because you’re creeping on the drunk guy passed out on your bed, and it’s not a good look on you. 

The commotion makes him stir, his eyes blink softly open. He looks up at you, with half-lidded eyes, and it's different from how he's looked at you up until now. His gaze is still so…. soft.

"Nena," he says quietly.

Your cheeks warm at the warmth in his voice , and you gently pull your hand away from his forehead.

"Sorry, I was just checking if you were okay," you explain awkwardly as you start to back away from him, sliding your knee along the mattress to climb off the bed.

At your movement, he darts upright into a seated position and pulls you to him, clinging onto every inch of you as he buries his face to your side. 

“Don't go,” he murmurs into your neck. His voice is trembling, and you can feel the panic radiating from him as the grip he has on you tightens until it’s bruising.  

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he says, keeps repeating it. You don’t know what he’s apologizing for but the guilt and sadness in his voice tugs at something deep inside your chest. 

Nena, he said, and you realize that even though you're the one he's holding in this moment, he's not talking to you. He thinks you're someone else.

"Please don't leave me again. I-I can't–" he chokes out the words into the hollow of your throat where he's pressed his face tight into your skin. You can't help but notice the damp wetness that gathers there. "I'm trying, but I can't– I don't know how to do this without you."

The words are raw in his throat, and despite your confusion, your chest squeezes tight with a sympathetic ache at the man's obvious heartbreak.

You don't know what's going on here or who he thinks you are. The only thing you know is that you want to make him feel better. To make his hurt a little less painful. To make the consuming guilt you can hear in his voice a little bit smaller. 

"It's okay," you say. 

What the it refers to, you have no idea. But the least you can do is to give the man who has saved your life over and over, a tiny crumb of comfort.

You return his embrace, circling an arm around his shoulder, matching the tightness with which he’s holding you. Your other hand slides into his hair and he shivers at the touch, face burying deeper into your neck.

"I'll protect you,” he murmurs into your skin, “I can do better this time. Keep you safe. I promise.”

"It's okay. It’s okay. I’m already safe," you reassure him, giving him the only truth you know for sure in this moment, "You saved me."

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: as always to my collaborator on this series, who helps me brainstorm, write, edit and beta-read and everything in between and over with this series. This exists because of her, and I am so grateful to her. The hours I spend shouting into her DMs and bother her on the daily since this series infected my mind. You guys don't know what I put poor @thirstworldproblemss through.

Also to @guruan who was kind enough to read through this and steer me in the right way with the spanish, but also for giving me porn that has kept my brain buzzing for days!!!

Please follow both of these insanely lovely, kind and talented people.

Author's note: the Spanish in this chapter has been left untranslated on purpose, so that it's left ambiguous whether reader speak/understand Spanish. The idea is that if you as a reader understand it, then so does the reader, and vice versa 🥰

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #spider man: across the spider verse #marvel #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

[cultrise]

·.⌇ BULLET CATCHER. BOOTHILL

✶ SYNOPSIS boothill decides you’re too weak to join him on his mission. his solution? teach you how to fight.

✶ CONTENTS suggestive content, lots of tension, shy boothill??, mentions of blood, not much description abt the reader just her being shorter than him (istg this man is insanely tall), all curse words changed by his synesthesia beacon are in italics, i want him so bad help. ᵎᵎ wc 1.6k

your body hits the floor with a thud, pain resonating from your abdomen all the way to your skull. you try to get up, palms slipping on the cold surface.

thud!

you groan as you hit the floor again, cursing under your breath. how did he even manage to hit you that time?

the sounds of leather boots get near, steps slow and almost agonising. a slow, metallic clap fills the silence of the room.

“good job! ya’ managed to last 2 minutes. say, if i warn ya’ next time, will ya’ finally be able t’dodge my attacks?” you feel your temple pulse with anger as boothill’s voice continues to keep pressing on your nerves.

“you misled me! you looked like you were going to block my punch and you spun and kicked me! how’s that any fair?” you protested, looking up at the grinning man in front of you. boothill bends down as if talking to a child.

“fightin’ ain’t fair, sweetheart. y’can’t expect a cutie t'play fair” his nose scrunches at the unwanted voice filter. god, he was infuriating. for 2 hours you had repeatedly failed to land any blows while he took every chance to knock you down and irritate you. you were sure to have bruises all over you.

a metallic hand extends in front of you, ever so gentlemanly. you scoff at him, earning a quick smirk. the moment your palm touches his cold one, boothill expertly helps you up, with no effort. a fleeting hint of arousal washes over you at the evident difference in physical power. you quickly brush away the thought.

"now, should i kick your lovely face again?" boothill grins, flashing his white teeth at you. you ponder surprise-kicking his face in.

"keep talking like that. see what good it does you" you threaten. boothill's body leans back on the wall, watching you with an amused stare. you take note of the way his eyes peek from under the tip of his hat, scanning you intently.

"oh? got any fantasies about what to do to me, princess? do tell" he crosses his arms, leaning forward, beckoning you. you knew well enough how empty your threat sounded to him. you intended to do anything to uphold it, even if it meant spending the entire night locked up in that room with him. you couldn't just let him lord his combat skills over your head.

"plenty. something along the lines of ripping your arm and beating you to death with it" you snarl. boothill erupts in wild laughter, almost losing his balance. a vein on your temple starts pulsating with anger. you had to win one sparring match. you absolutely had to wipe that grin off his face.

"how charming! didn' know y'got off to that. i'd like to see that" he cocks up a brow teasingly, watching your own furrow. the sole implication of it makes your mind run wild.. no, you have to concentrate on kicking his ass!

"oh, don't worry! i'll save you front-row seats" you drily indulge him. boothill snorts, walking in your direction. he circles you twice, seemingly analysing whether you have what it takes to carry out such a threat. he stops behind you, bending in to whisper into your ear.

"y'gonna stop daydreaming and put y'r plan in action instead?"

with swift motion you reach your right hand back, grabbing the gun in his holster and turning, pointing it at him. boothill smirks at your bold move but soon enough shakes his head in disapproval. had you forgotten he was a cyborg? how foolish.

within seconds his left index and middle finger take the shape of a gun barrel and he points it back at you without hesitation. the barrel heats and, taking notice of it, you block his aim by hitting his hand with the blunt side of the gun’s magazine. in doing so, the bullet fires into the nearby table and boothill jumps back, taking a look at the dent in his wrist.

"lovely. y'gotta pay for that" he looks up at you, only to notice you trying to create a makeshift distraction from some of the items in the room. he chuckles, eyeing down your movements "now we're talking!"

the sparring goes on for quite a while, with bullets and objects being thrown all over the place. the sounds of clanking metal and breaths of effort go on for a while.. until he has you cornered.

you curse under your breath once mroe. you had been doing so well.. just how did he manage to steal his gun back? boothill approaches, kicking the gun to the other end of the room with the tip of his boot, out of your reach.

a cocky smile overtakes his features, his gun still pointed at you as he nears. you look like cornered prey to him, unable to escape, proving him right. you count your escape options, though it doesn't seem like it'd change much. you had to think of something. and fast.

"y'done?" boothill asks plainly, getting closer to you and pressing his gun between your ribs. he won't fire it, you know that much. who would he agonise then? but it seems like there's no way out. in a real situation, you'd be dead where you stand, bleeding out from a gunshot wound to your side.

"this was cute an' all, but it proved my point. you'd be useless as my partner" his gun retracts, merging back into two steel fingers as he looks down at you. you, on the other hand, are seething, close to seeing red. your mind goes haywire trying to find options to gain the upper hand.

"you think you've won? i can still fight back" you press, boothill sighing.

"ya' could, but what difference would it make? i could pull out my gun again and jus—"

your hands grab his shoulders, making him stall before you tiptoe and hit your forehead against his nose as hard as you can. he stumbles, completely taken aback, hand flying to his now bloody nose.

you seize the chance to flee, reaching for your revolver and approaching him once more, you push it to his temple and ask, "y'done?" mimicking his tone.

boothill's mouth is agape, eyes repeatedly shutting and closing, as to evade the pain. he tries to straighten his back, but he gets reminded of the position he's put in as you press the tip of the barrel to his head.

he scoffs, then grins and fully starts laughing at the realisation "hug me, that was good!.. ow!.. that really hurt, you cutie!" he drags a finger, under his nostril, cleaning himself up.

"you got any more witty comments?" you attach one hand to your hip looking down at him. your eyes glisten with pride as he raises his arms up in defence.

"i must admit. ya' had me there. y'win" he complies before you jump up, ecstatic.

"fuck YES! fuck you, you son of a bitch!" you yell at him, earning only a laugh back. he decides to let you enjoy it. after all, you did get him. and not only that, you got him good.

"yeah yeah... i went easy on you and let you win" he glances at you, waiting for a reaction.

"or maybe i had you at gunpoint. face it, i won fair and square."

"or maybe i just like being held at gunpoint but hot women" he towers over you, grinning. you roll your eyes, shrugging.

"whatever, make up any excuse you want. i still got your ass" you press a finger to his hard chest "not to mention, you're bleeding"

"y'really didn' have to hit that hard... you probably broke my beautiful nose" he presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose, looking for any bumps that would indicate broken bones. "now y're gonna have to kiss it better" he shrugs, closing his eyes with a small smirk.

when his eyes open, however, he notices your face getting nearer to his. his mouth falls open, eyes instantly going to your lips. was that all it took? a simple joke to get you to kiss him? boothill's throat goes dry, eyelids closing again.

click!

he opens them for a second time, startled. you look up at him, amused, as he looks to his side. you had leaned over to put his gun back into the holster which hung off his waist. he feels his cheeks heat.

"not in your wildest, wettest dreams" you retort his proposal, heading for the door. boothill's brain spins. what was that reaction?

his eyes shift to the door as you turn on your heels to face him again "oh, i almost forgot. i'll see you on our mission tomorrow. maybe get your nose fixed before that?" you snort before leaving the room.

boothill is entranced, walking over to the table and placing his hat down, contemplating. he closes his eyes, trying to calm himself down, but the image of you getting closer replays in his head. he remembers the exact curve of your lips, how soft and inviting they looked, your beautiful eyes, the proud look in your eyes when you finally won against him and when you cursed him down...

"system: overheat!" his cyborg body beeps.

"great!" boothill slams a fist on the table, putting a dent in it before he turns and leans on it, placing his palm over his mouth. it was insanely frustrating how he wasn't allowed to curse out loud. no, that wasn’t it.

boothill's face goes red. he runs an impatient hand through his hair, sighing. what the fuck was wrong with him? his body beeps again, signalling more overheating of his mechanical components. he knew he was screwed.

the only thing replaying in his mind is you. boothill's palms and fingers grip the ends of the table.

"what in the world am i g'nna do tomorrow?..."

© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.

#𐙚 — pages. #honkai star rail #hsr #boothill hsr #boothill #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #boothill honkai star rail #hsr boothill #hsr boothill x reader #WE BACK #thank you to this cowboy for getting me back into writing #it was about damn time

[bellewintersroe]

Jenson Button x Famous!Reader 2009

you’re a famous British model and actress who’s dating Jenson Button during 2009 GP. You’re also his biggest support but you get a name for yourself in the British press as being a bit of a ‘wild child’. Cameras constantly follow you around the grid, but Jenson is absolutely smitten by your crazy antics.

warnings: headcanons mentions of sex, oral sex, innuendos, Jenson is in love with her like teeth rotting cuteness, mentions of public flashing?!

I feel like Jenson and y/n would meet a year prior to starting to go out, when she was still in a relationship with somebody else. She’s a little younger, maybe when they actually start dating she’s 22 and he’s like 29?

anyway he’s heard of her before and sees her and his friends are all hyping him up to say something, maybe they’re at an after party where there’s lots of big names.

he walks around the corner all hyped up, then sees you snogging this other fella and he’s deep down crushed.

anyway a year later you’re single and he sweeps you off your feet, absolutely buzzing that this time nobody got in his way.

the relationship moves naturally, you’re both young and still (kinda) like to party, the British press go WILD that the two of you are together. You’d attend as many races as possible, being in the front row and cheering him on each time.

there’s one incident specifically where you’re cheering from below as he stands on the podium. He’s grinning directly towards you and giggling you go to lift your top to flash him cheekily.

the camera ALL point to you but it’s his publicist that stops you, waving a hand in a panicked manner. “I wasn’t really going to!” You’d exclaim, glancing back up to Jenson whose jaw was dropped in excitement. The crowd was ‘wheeeeying’ each time you went to lift your top mischievously, but you ended up getting told off.

he’d love it when you rode tf out of him, titties in his face.

you’d get a reputation for partying together, but the tabloids make it seem far worse than what you actually do.

The uk papers love trying to get a good scandal out of the two of you, but you’re so close knit and stay out of drama it’s all aload of bollocks.

always getting caught in compromising positions, eg, he’s grabbing your bum or boobs.

you once got caught reaching under the blanket to rest a hand teasingly over his crotch.

he’d be such a tease omg, especially when he get a little cocky after winning a race.

but he really is a sweetheart, the media like to present you both as some kind of crazy, party animal couples and there’s sooo many rumours that fly around (none of them are true).

The two of you would 100% become more private and reserved as you got older, but especially in the first few years you’re a magnet for cameras.

you’d often be caught drinking in the paddock or partying, you’d become a staple fashion icon and one of the leading wags. It seems like you’re friends with everybody and anybody, causing you to become a likeable character on the grid.

I feel like Jenson would be so chilled out watching you doing interviews and speaking to whoever, but the minute somebody starts to take advantage of your kindness he’s stepping in.

Like some of the papers print the most misogynistic stories about you ever. We all know paparazzi especially the British press can be ruthless, so there’d be lots of times after nights out where they’re already waiting to hound you coming out of a bar.

One guy tries to take an inappropriate picture of you getting out of a car and Jenson punches him or hits his camera out of his hands, idk he’s just super protective over you.

would take you on soooo many holidays, deffo gets a little frisky on the private beaches and on the yachts, he loves it. He falls in love with you deeper and deeper each time he spends time with you.

Can’t get enough of you in a bikini.

sometimes he’ll get so excited to see you he play fights you and gets a little rough.

loves it when you get a little feisty omg.

when you surprise him at a race he’d wrap his arms so tightly around your front and snuggle his face into the crook of your neck omg he’s so soft idgaf.

massive softie when nobody is watching, isn’t afraid of a little PDA either in front of the right people ;)

#Jenson button x reader #jenson button #jenson button fanfic #Jenson button imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader

[wannaeatramyeon]

Jake Kim x Reader: Cinema

G/N. Soft and fluffy feat Big Deal a lil.

 "You on a date, boss?"

Jake says yes without missing a beat, flashing you a grin and snaking his arm around your waist.

He sees the smirk on Jason's face, the light nudge Lineman gives Brad, and the pride and approval on Jerry's face.

The grin soon melts away though, when Brad follows up with "You going to see Rocky XX too?" and Jake only just manages to hide his grimace.

The answer to that is also yes. But he would prefer to not have a date crashed by the rest of the crew.

Heavens above, you're patient enough with Big Deal and so sweet to everyone. Gotten to know the street and the occupants like the back of your hand, spending more evenings and weekends there than not. 

However. Even with how much Jake lives and breathes Big Deal, he misses some one on one time with you.

Away from everyone, he thinks as he takes in the sight of his boys in front of him. He can't exactly tell them to go away though, can he? A rare weekend off work where they get to just be.

He succumbs to his fate. 

Imagines everyone huddled on the one row together. Seated next to each other. Cosy. A family affair instead of a romantic date. Probably won't be able to sneak you some kisses here and there-

"We're not seeing Rocky!" comes the unmistakable sound of Lua's voice. "We're going to watch The Boy and The Pigeon! Enjoy your film!"

She disappears as quickly as she arrives. A whirlwind of hair and a force of nature. Giving you both a small wave, mind laser focused on reading the goddamn room and shoving the boys towards a different screen.

"B-but we already got the tickets!"

"I wanted to see Rocky XX!"

"Why does Jake think seeing Rocky is romantic anyway?!"

Why?

To be honest, the Rocky franchise died off somewhere along V. Who knows how the hell these films are still being greenlit. Nevertheless, the newest one is a low stakes film where Jake doesn't care what happens apart from you cuddling up to him and some kisses if he's lucky.

It's calculated and planned and Jake mentally pats himself on the back for how things have turned out.

Except-

What he didn't expect was the score to be good, the script to be great, the choreography to be amazing, and the acting to be even better. Neither of you could take your eyes off the screen. You laughed and cried and gasped together. 

Thoughts of cuddling and kissing and even making out completely out the window as you're both on the edge of your seat for the entire two hours.

It was fantastic. Perhaps the best movie he has ever seen (and he could practice some of those moves too).

You're both still talking about it as he walks you home-

"When he came back as a zombie to fight that vampire?"

"And the lizard joins the fight to win the title?" Jake chuckles, at your enthusiasm more than anything else, "Yeah. I liked that."

But as your apartment appears on the horizon, he can't help but think that maybe this was a bit of a waste. That the day is over and as good as the film was, maybe he should have arranged something else, after all it’s been a while since both your schedules have aligned.  A date where you can actually talk and be in each other's company. Instead of being captivated by the screen, your attention could have been held by him.

Jake tries to shake off the doubts and recapture the lighter mood from seconds ago.

He's not entirely successful.

You realise something is amiss.

You peer over at your boyfriend. His sudden subduedness. The small line forming between his eyebrows that you hate so much, because it means he's unhappy about something. You pause mid step and he stops alongside you.

"Don’t overthink it. I had fun," you tell him. You always have fun with him. "Thank you."

Jake's smile returns when he sees the expectant look in your eyes. The way you stretch up towards him. press yourself into his space, and he leans down; meeting you halfway.

Your lips lightly press to his, eyes closing, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks and his own falling shut. Strong arms encircle you, pulling you ever closer, deepening the contact.

There'll be a next time, your kiss reassures him.

You tastes like popcorn. Sugar and butter and salt. Sweet and savoury and perfect.

#admiring respectfully once again #respectfully might be a lie #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #jake kim #jake kim x reader #kim gimyung x reader #kim gimyeong x reader #wannaeatramyeon

[youngies-bae]

The Lorax

Characters/Pairing: Wooyoung x Gn!Reader

AU/Trope Info & Warnings: Idol AU, Body Contact(?), Use of Baby, Teasing, Massage(?).

Genre & Rating: PG, Fluff.

Taglist: @minkilicious

W/C: 1.1K

Summary: You take care of Wooyoung after his great performance at Coachella.

A/n: This story is completely FICTION and does not represent Wooyoung in any way. I FINALLY DID IT. Idk why it took me so long to come out with something... but either way Ima thank my PAPA (@yessa-vie) for her very INSPIRING words. 😔

You walk in the door to see your boyfriend and his members sitting on the couch in a row, with Hongjoong bending down in front of a tripod.  

He takes his phone off it and slides it into his pocket.  

“Hey, Baby.” Wooyoung pops up quickly, his hands are in his pocket, and you can see that his cheeks are slightly flushed. 

“Hey! You did so amazing! I- I can’t get the way you smiled out of my head. I’m replaying your part of Crazy Form repeatedly.” You can’t believe how awesome your boyfriend and his friends are. 

When you found out that they were goi no to Coachella you were so excited. Couldn’t believe it. You were so happy for them.  

They were so happy. They couldn’t stop talking about it.  

“Really?” Wooyoung flashes his beautiful smile. The smile that you love so much.  

“Yes! I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. And when have I ever lied to you?”  

“Okay. Got me there.”  

“And I SO glad that you kept your clothes on unlike somebody…” you drag out the last word making sure the certain “somebody” you're talking about heard you. 

“Hey! I look good! And I’m sure Atinys loved it!” San defends himself. 

“Oh, I’m sure they did. I’m glad you were half naked. It’ll distract them from looking at what’s mine.” You put your arms over Wooyoung shoulders.  

“Hmm, how are you, baby? We haven’t had time to talk all day.” Wooyoung asked you. 

“I am fine, you are the one I wanna focus on right now.” You counter. 

“Wait…,” you lean into Wooyoung and smell his neck. Next you look at his clothing, “ohh baby. You were sweating so much. And it was cold out. You better not get sick.”  

“I’m fine I promise. Plus, I have you to take care of me.” His hands are placed on your hips, and he leans in to give you a soft tender kiss.  

“Gross… you know we’re still here, right?” You hear Mingi complain.  

Wooyoung softly pulls away from you and turns his head to his members, “yeah. That reminds me,” he turns back to you, “I reserved us a different apartment.”  

Your eyes widen, “oh thank God! I didn’t wanna be sharing a apartment with 8 smelly men.” 

“Hey!” Wooyoung wines.  

“Sorry… 7 smelly men.”  

He smiles and glances at your lips, his hands still placed on your hips. He pulls you closer to him and lays his lips on yours.  

“Let’s bounce.”  

***  

“You sure they’ll be, okay?” You ask him. 

“Y/n. There 8 grown men. I’m sure they can handle themselves.” Wooyoung states. 

You nod your head agreeing.  

On your way over to the different apartment you and Wooyoung decided to pick up some take-out. 

KQ decided to go with apartments instead of regular hotel rooms since their stay would be longer than usual.  

Wooyoung stripped himself of his clothes then hopped in the shower as you to him. Because he was stankin… 

He lays back on the couch with his feet up as you make plates.  

“Hmm, it smells so good~” he says.  

You just smile.  

You know how tired he is by listening to his voice, plus you know good and well that if he wasn’t he’d be trying to pick some of the food out with his hands.  

He’d also fight for the bigger plate.  

“Here you go, Sir.” You hand your sleepy boyfriend his large plate of food. He already had his drink placed on the coffee table beside him.  

You run your hand across his bare chest and turn it softly rubbing his shoulder and following with the other hand. 

“Hmm, baby. What are you doing?” Wooyoung tilts his head back, softly tapping your stomach.  

His features are so breathtaking. His lips, eyes, jaw, neck. Makes you just want to kiss every part of him.  

You take the way his head is leaned back as an opportunity to. 

Your hands work on his tense shoulders as you explain what and why you are doing this, “Well, since you worked so hard I figured that you’d be tense, or at least sore.” 

“Huh. Thank you, Y/n.”  

Everything changed since he met you. He’s been having great meals, spending less time on his phone, standing up for himself. Many things that improved him. 

“It feels nice~” he says softly with his eyes shut. He takes his fork and fills his face with rice.  

After about 15 minutes he’s done with his food, and so are you with his shoulders.  

“Hey, why don’t we watch a movie? There’s a tv in the bedroom if you prefer it in there.”  

“Nah, let’s stay in here. Actually, I think I’m gonna stay in here for the rest of the night this coach is really comfortable.” You tilt your head to the side and stopped rubbing his shoulders. 

“You sure? Last time you said you were going to sleep on the coach you didn’t get any sleep and could barely keep your eyes open. And we still have two more nights here. We're going to the second day of Coachella tomorrow. You need energy.” You state.  

“Yea, I’m sure. I just...” You come around and sit on the couch next to him. “I didn't have you sleeping next to me last time.”  

He draped his arm behind you and pulled you closer, laying a soft his to your temple. He pulls away and you look at him and smile. 

“What are we watching?” You ask him.  

“Terrifier.” He responds. 

“Oh hell no. You're gonna be shittin’ bricks watching that. I’m going to have claw marks from you holding onto me so tightly. I don’t need these Americans thinking that you are cutting me.” Your tone is a little stronger and your eyebrows are furrowed. “Remember when we watched “IT”? You literally screamed like you just saw someone get killed in front of you.”  

“Maybe because someone did?!” Wooyoung throws his hands up, with his eyebrows raised as a way to defend himself.  

“Mhm.” You shake your head, disagreeing.  

“Fine then,” he rolls his eyes, “we’ll watch “The Lorax”.”  

Your eyes light up, “YAHH!!”. Your favorite movie is “The Lorax”.  

You turn around so you're facing the TV, and your body is pressed against his. He also moves to position you both comfortably. He set his left arm under the pillow that your head was resting on and wrapped his other arm around you after he put the movie on. 

He pulled you close to him before laying one final kiss to your head.  

“Y/n.”  

“Yes?”  

“I love you.” 

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagines

[stop-talking]

Win for me <3

Josh Futturman x gender-neutral reader

2.3k words

Tags: 18+ Josh x g!n reader, smut, no use of y/n, slight angst, pre-established relationship, reader is called "babe", porn with (slight) plot, pre-show, handjob & oral (josh recieving), unprotected sex, vague penetration (reader receiving), Josh is a sub, reader is a little whiny & needy as well

��────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

You wake up to an empty bed. Again.

Squinting, you check the time on the digital clock sitting on your boyfriend's nightstand.

Nearly 2am. Three hours past the time he promised to come to sleep.

You huff in annoyance and throw the blankets off, heading to the door. It's no secret where he is, or what he's doing right now. What he's always doing.

Josh sits on the couch, laughing and chatting with his stupid little internet friends. He hasn't heard you sneak up behind him, not with his headphones on.

For a few moments, you just stand behind the couch, fuming and watching him play whatever game he's been obsessing over lately.

This is, what? The THIRD time in a row? You'd only been dating him around half a year, sure, but damn. When he invites you to sleep over, is it really so crazy to expect him to actually sleep with you?

"Forget about me again?" You finally speak up, placing a hand on his shoulder and startling him so bad he nearly drops his controller.

"Fuck, BABE, don't do that." He cries out, shooting you a quick look of shock and anger while he adjusts his headset.

Seriously? He's just going to leave one ear hanging out and turn right back to his stupid game?

You bite your tongue and take a few breaths to prevent yourself from saying anything you'll regret, but as you stare down at him... you're struck with an idea.

"I know I'm up a little late, sorry." He mumbles, only half paying attention to you as you make your way around the couch.

"It's just- my friends needed me for this raid, thought it would be quick..."

"It's okay." You lie, taking a seat next to him on the couch and trying to keep up a warm demeaner you aren't really feeling.

Josh visibly relaxes at your words, melting back into the couch and leaning against you slightly as he plays his game.

"I figured, if you aren't going to come to bed, I'll just come hang out with you."

He flashes you a quick smile, but it immediately fades as one of his friends shouts something over the line, and he turns back to the TV.

You can only vaguely make out what they're saying to him. Usually it's insults, screaming, or some kind of cry for help. So annoying. Can't he see you need him more?

Josh's eyes go wide as your hand suddenly squeezes his thigh.

"Babe?" He gasps, reaching up to turn off his mic. "What are you doing?"

God, he's so cute when he squirms like that. You move your hand a little higher, giving his inner thigh another solid squeeze.

"Shh, baby. Focus on your game." As you whisper in his ear, you let your hand wander further, brushing against the growing bulge in his pants. Aww, he's so sensitive.

He hesitates for a moment, clearly torn between wanting to play his game and wanting more of... whatever you're about to do to him.

His friends make the decision for him, yelling something through the headset that makes him snap his attention back to the TV.

"Y-yeah, I'm here. Right behind you guys."

You smirk and slide off the couch, settling down on your knees in front of him.

He glances down at you nervously as you spread his legs, trying and failing to maintain composure with his friends on the line.

So fucking cute. You start to grope him through his pants, feeling up and down his hardening cock. His squirming makes it all worth it. Josh Futturman isn't a bad boyfriend, not really. He's just... easily distracted.

Speaking of which... it seems he's finally giving in to your little distraction, because he sets the controller down and reaches to take off his headphones.

"Don't." You grab his wrist firmly, stopping him.

"Keep playing. That's what you want, right? To win your little game?"

He bites his lip as you start aggressively palming his bulge, desperately trying to hold back his usual slew of whimpers and moans.

"I... I don't..."

You shush him, and guide his hand back to the controller.

"You've been playing for hours. No sense in giving up now. Win for me. Can you do that?"

Nodding, he picks up the controller and sinks back onto the couch. His eyes nervously flicker down to look at you, but his attention is still torn between you and his game.

"Your friends still on the line?" You ask, unzipping his jeans and starting to tug them down.

Another nod. He lifts his hips, eager to be undressed.

"Better be quiet then."

"Can't I just-" He reaches up and wraps his hand around the mic, effectively muting himself. "-do this?"

Before you can tell him no, his friends yell something over the line, and his eyes snap back to the TV, absorbed in his game once more.

"I-I got it." He stammers, clearly stressing. A couple beads of sweat drip down his face, and his hair is sticking to his forehead.

"Just play your game... and try not to be too loud."

This is going better than you imagined. His dick is practically jumping in his boxers as you grope him, and all his words are short and clipped as he struggles to maintain composure.

You wait until he's in the middle of a sentence, then lean down and gently bite at his clothed cock. He reacts exactly as you'd hoped, letting out a short yelp that turns into a moan.

"S-sorry. Stubbed my toe..." He mumbles lamely into the mic, giving you a glare that immediately melts away when you rub circles onto his tip.

There's a wet spot beginning to form in his boxers from how much he's leaking. This must be torture for him. Too bad you aren't even close to finished with him yet.

You peel down his boxers, letting his cock spring free. In turn, he slumps a little lower onto the couch, letting out a sharp breath as it slaps against his stomach.

"Just be quiet for me." You whisper, wrapping a hand around his base and taking the tip in your mouth.

As you look up at him through your eyelashes, he meets your gaze, completely frozen. He nearly loses it when you swirl your tongue around his tip, squirming and biting his lip to keep quiet.

It's almost sad that he has to hold back. You've always loved the pathetic little sounds he makes when he's inside you. Oh well, this is what he gets for ignoring you all the damn time.

Fueled by a little bit of anger and more than a little lust, you start to bob your head, lips meeting the top of your fist.

He lets out a shaky breath, placing a hand on the back of your head in a desperate attempt to pull you down further.

That's not right. He should be playing his game. You pull off of his dick slowly, making a lewd popping sound.

"Have you won for me yet?" You tease, meeting his eyes and moving your hand up and down his spit-covered length.

That's it. That little comment seems to break him, because he sets down the controller and rips his headset off, tossing it aside.

"Don't care - FUCK - don't care about the game right now..." He groans, unable to get out a complete sentence without cursing or whimpering.

"Oh? You sure? Because I can leave you be and let you focus..."

He whines when you stop moving your hand, bucking his hips up into it.

"Please don't go."

His discarded headphones suddenly roar with noise, his friends screaming about something in the game. You pick them up and smirk at Josh as you speak into the mic.

"Sorry boys, he's busy."

You flick them off, then toss them aside again as Josh sputters.

"W-why'd you have to say that? That's fucking embarrassing."

"No, what's embarrassing is how many times I've actually believed you when you say you'll go to bed with me." You snap back, pouting and climbing up onto his lap.

As you straddle him, he finally seems to give you his full attention. He clears his throat, noticing your outfit for the first time. A t-shirt and underwear. More specifically, his t-shirt.

"I've missed you, Josh."

He immediately melts under your touch, letting go of whatever anger had built up.

"I'm sorry."

Looking into his eyes, you can tell he really means it. You cup his face and lean in in close, pressing your forehead to his.

"I'm still mad at you." You whisper, absolutely lying.

"I'm really sorry." He tries again, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close.

"Still don't forgive you."

Josh whines as you start to pepper kisses down his neck. At this point, he can probably tell you're just toying with him, but he's too damn horny to care.

"Really really sorry?" He mumbles, throwing his head back to allow you better access to his neck.

"It's not that easy." You tease, giving his neck a solid bite and starting to softly grind on his lap.

He just whines in response, mind too clouded with lust to think straight at this point.

"Need you to fuck the forgiveness out of me. Can you do that?"

Josh nods, moaning as you suck circles into his neck. He's already lost this fight, giving in to you completely. As he should.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You lie impatiently on his bed, already naked and ready for him. He seems to be taking his sweet time undressing, so you urge him on.

"I need you." You whine, squirming on the bed.

That's all he needs to hear. In seconds, he's on top of you, trailing kisses down your neck.

You wrap your arms tightly around him, sliding a hand up into his hair and gently tugging on it. He takes the hint, bringing his face up to yours and kissing your lips.

He's so eager to taste you. His tongue is in your mouth before you can even kiss him back. Not that you mind. It's endearing.

"Fuck, Josh." You pant as he finally pulls away to catch his breath.

"If you don't put it in me right this second, I'm never going to forgive you."

He lets out a breathless laugh as you tug at his hips, but doesn't waste any time. After lining himself up with your entrance, he slides it in with ease.

"You feel amazing." He stares down at you with those lovesick puppy eyes of his, completely losing himself inside you.

Now that he's finally giving you the attention you've been craving, you're starting to lose it as well.

"Faster." You choke out, gasping from the sensation of being filled. He's usually so sweet and gentle, but tonight you need all of him. Everything he can offer.

His brow furrows in concentration as he goes ever-so-slightly faster.

"Josh." You cup a hand on his cheek, looking up at him with pure desperation in your eyes.

"Fuck me stupid. If I can still walk after this, you're not forgiven."

That makes him blush deeply. It's silly honestly, how he can be so nervous about his performance when he's all you've ever wanted. All you've ever needed.

"A-are you sure?"

"Fuck. Me. Harder."

He complies, moaning and jutting his hips a little more roughly. You cry out with pleasure and grip his hips, pulling him into you further with every thrust.

Once he sees how much you're enjoying it, he goes even harder, making the bed creak and the headboard slap against the wall. You almost can't even hear it, though, over the sound of your own moans.

The way you call out his name only encourages him further, and soon tears are dripping from your eyes.

"Fuck... I'm close..." You whine, tightening your grip on him.

Your admission makes him nearly lose it, hips stuttering as he lets out a sharp moan.

"Please cum with me. Please." He begs breathlessly.

You do so almost immediately, trembling and crying out his name as he pumps hot ropes of cum into you.

"Fuck... missed that so much... missed you so much." He mumbles, collapsing on top of you and panting.

You feel him nuzzle into your neck and you card your fingers through his hair for a minute while you regain composure. Your heart is still racing, and you can feel his cum leaking out of you. Thank god you're making a mess of his bed and not yours.

"You could have fucked me like this at any time." You remind him, a hint of bitterness in your tone. Yes, this was supposed to be apology sex, but it also served as a reminder of what you had been missing out on.

"Damnit. Can you still walk? Do I need to try again so you'll forgive me?" He laughs softly, playfully nipping at your neck and squeezing you tight.

"Mmm... yeah... It's been, what? Three weeks since we last did this?" You muse, humming happily at his touch. It's so hard to stay mad at him.

"So I think I deserve three weeks worth of make-up sex."

Josh nearly chokes at that.

"Three weeks? How much stamina do you think I have?" He laughs again and starts to pepper your face with affectionate kisses.

"We'll have to see, wont we?" You tease, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him back down against you.

"You're going to be the death of me."

"Hey, It'll be a fun death."

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Josh never ended up giving up his late night gaming sessions. And you never expected him to, not really. But now you have an ace up your sleeve.

Sometimes, on nights when you really need him, you place a hand on his thigh while he's gaming. It's a small gesture that he's learned means "turn the game off RIGHT NOW or I will make you regret it."

He never regrets what happens afterwards.

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Author's note: RAHH thanks so much for 100 followers!! I wanted to write a quick little smut piece to celebrate, but this ended up taking all day. Oops.

(Totally worth it because I love Futturman)

This was my first attempt at a gender neutral reader, and I think I executed it pretty well. Please shoot me a message/comment/ask if I missed something.

#josh hutcherson #jhutch #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #future man #no use of y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #smut

[pucksandpower]

Mine

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos wants everyone to know you’re his and he knows exactly how to make that happen

Warnings: 18+ content heavily implied, manipulation, tampering with birth control, pregnancy

“Who was that?”

You glance up to find Carlos’ gaze fixed on the rearview mirror of his sleek Ferrari, eyebrows furrowed. His usually cheerful brown eyes are clouded with something you can’t quite place.

“Who?” You ask, feigning ignorance though you know he’s referring to the tall, blond man who had lingered just a bit too long by your side during the after-race party.

“The cabrón in the blue suit,” he grinds his teeth. “Never seen him around before.”

“Ah,” you laugh, reaching out to playfully flick at the bridge of his nose, “just someone from the event planning team. Harmless.”

Carlos doesn’t smile back. His grip on the steering wheel tightens and the set of his jaw becomes more pronounced. “He touched your arm.”

“He was just being friendly,” you reason but a hint of defensiveness creeps into your voice.

There’s a pause as Carlos winds the car through the foreign streets. You can feel his frustration.

“You’re being naive,” he finally says. “It’s not just him. Everywhere we go, I see them looking at you. The way Daniel winks at you, how Lewis always finds an excuse to chat, even the staff and the fans. Don’t you see it?”

It’s not like you can deny that. Ever since the two of you went public with your relationship, attention has been inevitable. You’re the envy of many and the object of desire for countless others. But Carlos’ brooding possessiveness is new and you’re not sure how to address it.

“They’re just our friends,” you murmur. “And fans are fans. They’re excited to see you and by extension me too. That’s all.”

He exhales heavily. “It’s not just about them being friends or fans. It’s the entitlement, the audacity they have, thinking they can just ... approach you like that. Like they have any shot with you.”

You roll your eyes even though he won’t see it while focused on the road. “I can handle myself. Besides, I chose you. They’re nothing to me.”

The car pulls up to the entrance of a crowded nightclub, its entrance flashing with neon lights. Carlos stops in front of the valet, swiveling in his seat to face you.

You’re taken aback by the intensity in his eyes.

“Yes,” he says in a husky whisper, “you chose me. And I chose you. But I can’t stand by and watch these pretenders think they have a shot with you.”

You swallow hard, shocked by the raw emotion in his voice. “You can’t control who talks to me or looks at me. I love you and that’s all that matters.”

He leans in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I know,” his lips brush your skin. “But I also know how men think and I won’t stand for them disrespecting you or our relationship.”

“We’re in the public eye. This is something we will always have to deal with. Trust me, trust us.”

His gaze searches yours, dark eyes imploring. “I trust you,” he says. “It’s them I don’t trust.”

You wrap your fingers around his much bigger ones. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

Carlos sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I just … I can’t bear the thought of anyone else ever having you.”

Your heart swells. “Mi amor, I’m not going anywhere. The ring on my finger is there because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He pulls you across the console, setting you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you while ignoring the valet waiting right outside the car. “I know. I just ... I need to make sure that everyone else knows too.”

***

Carlos finds himself in a dimly lit pharmacy aisle, heart racing. The overhead fluorescent lights throw ghostly shadows between the narrow rows. He can hear the soft hum of a distant conversation, punctuated by the rustling of paper bags and the occasional beep of the cash register.

But for Carlos, everything feels distant, like he’s viewing the world through a thick veil.

He stops in front of a shelf, his gaze locking onto the birth control pills. Rows upon rows of them, each promising freedom … autonomy.

His mind rushes back to the countless conversations he’s had with you.

“I want to finish school first,” you would always say earnestly. “Kids are a big responsibility. We have all the time in the world for them later.”

But Carlos doesn’t feel like he has time. He has fought with this internal battle for months. The thought of marking you as his, of the world knowing through the unmistakable swell of your belly, appeals to his most primal instincts.

“Can I help you?” A voice interrupts his thoughts.

He turns to see the pharmacist looking at him with a tentative smile. He tries to gather his thoughts, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “I, um, need some pills. Sugar pills.”

The pharmacist frowns. “For a placebo effect?”

Carlos nods, trying to seem nonchalant. “Yeah, something like that. My little cousin needs them for her science fair project.”

She hesitates for a moment then reaches behind the counter, pulling out a small box. “We have these. They’re usually used for clinical trials but they should do the trick.”

He pays for the pills and quickly hides them in his pocket. He thinks about how you would react if you ever found out. But the thought of you carrying his child, the undeniable mark of his claim clear for all to see, is too much to resist.

The next morning starts as it always does. You stretch and make your way to the bathroom, your daily routine staring with the familiar sound of the pill package being opened.

Carlos stands at the doorway, watching as you take your daily birth control. He knows he should feel guilty but instead he is consumed by a heady mix of anticipation and possessiveness.

He imagines your body changing, growing round.

“Morning,” you smile up at him.

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you. “Morning. How did you sleep?”

You lean into his embrace, enjoying the warmth and solidity of his body against yours. “Like a baby. Must have been the post-race celebrations.”

Carlos chuckles but there’s a tension to it, an undercurrent of something more. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins.

You pull back slightly to look up into his eyes, “Mmmh. About?”

“Us. Our future.”

Your heart skips a beat. “What about it?”

He hesitates, his gaze searching yours. “I want to start a family with you,” the words come tumbling out in a rush. “I know you want to wait but the thought of you carrying my child … our child ... I can’t get it out of my head.”

“I love you," you choose your words carefully. "So much. But I’ve told you how I feel. I’m not ready.”

He lets out a heavy breath, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. “I know. I just can’t help how I feel.”

“We’ll get there when the time is right,” you press a kiss to his bare chest. “I promise.”

***

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, feeling his eyes linger on you as you change out of your dress. The dimly lit bedroom is filled with the ambient sounds of Mallorca nightlife. From the open balcony door, you can hear the soft crash of waves and distant murmurs of evening revelers.

Carlos chuckles lowly. “Like what?”

“Like you’re planning something,” you eye him suspiciously but your voice is playful

He stands, taking a few purposeful steps towards you. “Maybe I am,” he corners you against the wall. The heat of his body warms your own, even through the layers of clothing.

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Planning what?”

He leans down, lips grazing the curve of your ear. “To remind you,” he whispers, “that you’re mine.”

You shiver at his words, the dominant tone sending a thrill down your spine. “Is that so?” You challenge, arching a brow.

His hands slide down your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “Very much so,” he replies, sealing his words with a searing kiss.

As the two of you move to the bed, there’s an urgency, a raw need that wasn’t there before.

Every touch, every kiss, every caress feels even more intense than usual.

“Why are you so ... insistent tonight?” You gasp out through the overwhelming rush of sensations.

Carlos halts momentarily, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. “I want to make sure you never forget,” his voice is rough. “Forget what we have. Forget how deep this goes.”

“I could never forget,” your fingers move with a mind of their own to tangle in his hair.

His lips find yours again. “Promise?”

You nod, getting lost deeper and deeper in the moment. “Promise.”

Hours pass in a blur of passion and whispered confessions. The intensity of Carlos’ actions betrays an underlying need and desperation that are hard for you to place.

As the sun rises above the horizon outside, you find yourself curled up against Carlos’ chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

“You were different tonight,” you murmur as your eyes slowly lose their battle against sleep.

Carlos tenses momentarily. “I just wanted to make sure you know," he says lowly. “Know how much I need you. How much I want you.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow, studying his face. “I know,” you brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “But what brought this on?”

Carlos hesitates, searching for the right words. “I can’t shake the feeling that something is going to try to come between us,” he admits. “And I need to make sure that never happens.”

Your heart aches at his words and the vulnerability in his eyes. “Nothing is going to come between us,” you lean over to capture his lips tenderly. “We’re much stronger than that.”

Carlos smiles and flips himself on top of you once more. “I’ll make sure of it.”

***

“Ouch!” You exclaim, pulling away as Carlos’ hands brush against your chest. The sudden sensitivity catches you off guard.

Carlos raises an eyebrow, eyes darkening with a mix of concern and something else — something unreadable. “Mi corazón? What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of the unexpected pain. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kind of ... off lately.”

He moves closer, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “How so?”

You shrug, “Just more sensitive, I guess. And tired. And don’t even get me started on how my clothes have decided to stop fitting properly.”

Carlos smirks, a hint of smugness playing on his lips. “Maybe you’ve just been enjoying Spanish cuisine a little too much.”

You roll your eyes, swatting him playfully. “Funny. But seriously, it’s weird. I’ve been doing my workouts, eating right, and still ...”

He pulls you close, fingers tracing the smooth curve of your waist. “I like the changes,” his voice is muffled as he presses a soft kiss to your neck.

You shiver, torn between the pleasure of his touch and the lingering feeling that something just isn’t right. “It doesn’t feel like me,” you try to shake off the unease.

Carlos tightens his grip, gaze intensely locked on yours. “Maybe it’s just ... natural changes. You know, as we get older.”

You frown, pulling away slightly. “But I’m in my twenties. I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, bodies change. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You’re not convinced but you nod, pushing the uneasy feeling to the back of your mind. “Maybe.”

Carlos watches you closely, the smugness returning to his features. “Besides,” he says, voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I kind of like the changes. You look ... fuller.”

You blush. “Thanks, I guess.”

He laughs, pulling you close again. “Always so modest,” he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You melt completely against him, the warmth and familiarity of his touch pushing away the unease, at least for the moment.

But as the days pass, the changes become more pronounced, the nagging feeling that something is wrong growing stronger.

Carlos, on the other hand, seems happier than ever, his possessiveness reaching new heights. He is constantly by your side, his touch lingering, his gaze intense.

“You’re glowing,” he comments one day, eyes tracing your body.

You roll your eyes but hide a smile. “I think you need to get your eyes checked.”

“I’m serious. There’s something … different about you. I like it.”

You frown, trying to make sense of his words. “Different how?”

He thinks for a moment, searching for the right words. “You just seem more radiant. More alive.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “I think you’re seeing things.”

Carlos smirks. “Maybe,” his hands slip under the material of your shirt, caressing your slightly bloated belly. “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”

***

“I’m what?” Your voice wavers as you clutch the edge of the doctor’s desk in shock, the coolness of the surface grounding you.

The doctor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, looks between you and Carlos. “You’re pregnant,” she repeats gently, handing over the sonogram.

Carlos breaks into a wide grin. “That’s incredible!” He pulls you into a tight embrace, placing kisses all over your face.

But as the news sinks in, panic sets in. Your future plans — graduating with your degree, establishing a career — all seem to crash around you.

You gently extricate yourself from his hold, taking a deep breath. “How is this possible? I’m on birth control! We’re always so careful.”

The doctor tilts her head, looking through her notes. “No birth control method is 100% foolproof,” she says. “It’s rare but it can happen.”

Carlos’ fingers lace through yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

Tears well up in your eyes, the overwhelming emotions threatening to drown you. “I still have a year of school left. I wanted to be established in my own career … this wasn’t part of the plan.”

Carlos cups your face. “Hey,” he murmurs, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. You have me.”

You blink. “Carlos, I want to work. I want a career. I don’t want to be dependent on you.”

He smiles. "You won’t be dependent. You’ll be cared for. Isn’t that what you want?”

You take a step back. “I want to be my own person. I want to make my own choices.”

Carlos’ gaze darkens, the dominant edge returning. “You will be. But you’ll also be mine. That’s what is important now.”

***

You’ve quickly come to love the sensation of your growing belly, cherishing each gentle flutter and kick from the perfect being within, knowing that it’s a bond that only you and Carlos share.

“Good morning, little bean,” you whisper, rubbing the gentle swell of your belly. Every morning, this small act helps you bond with the life growing steadily inside of you.

Carlos enters the room, his hair still tousled from sleep. The morning sunlight casts a warm glow on his chiseled features. “Frijolito is lucky to have a such a beautiful mama,” he murmurs, sidling up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. His hand finds its place on your belly, fingers splayed and feeling for any hint of movement.

“I am huge,” you complain with a mock pout.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss then pulling back to tilt your chin up. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“You have to say that,” you tease. “I’m carrying your baby.”

“Partly,” he admits, sliding his hand up to cup your face, “but mostly because it’s true. You would put Helen of Troy to shame.”

Weeks pass and your body continues to transform.

There’s a softness, a roundness, that wasn’t there before, and it’s something that Carlos revels in. His hand is constantly on your belly, possessive and protective. Every time another man’s gaze lingers a little too long on you, Carlos’ lips curve into a smirk, silently declaring his ownership.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” You ask one evening as the two of you settle into bed.

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “Enjoying what?”

“Having every man that looks at me know that I’m yours,” you poke him playfully on the chest.

“Maybe,” his hand slides down your body. “Is that a problem?”

You sigh, nestling closer to him. “No,” you admit. “It’s kind of nice, actually.”

Carlos grins, pressing a kiss to your belly. “That’s my girl.”

The months fly by and soon the reality of your impending motherhood sets in. There are nursery preparations, birthing classes, and endless discussions about baby names. Through it all, Carlos is by your side, excitement never wavering.

“Can you believe we’re going to be parents?” You marvel one day, looking around the nursery.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Carlos says. “You and our frijolito are my everything.”

Happy tears well up in your eyes. “I love you,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest.

Carlos tightens his grip, resting his chin on top of your head. “Yo también te amo.”

The next race day arrives and as always, Carlos calm and collected. But recently there has been a different kind of energy to him, an intensity that was never there before.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” you clutch his hand.

Carlos smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips and then another on your belly. “I promise,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “I have too much to come home to ever do otherwise.”

***

“It’s time,” you gasp, clutching the bedsheets as another contraction hits.

Carlos lets you grip his hand impossibly tight. “Breathe, mi corazón,” he urges, wiping the sweat off your forehead.

Hours pass in a blur of pain and anticipation. Through it all, Carlos is by your side, his touch both comforting and grounding.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a small cry pierces the air. Tears stream down your face as you catch your first glimpse of your son, his tiny face scrunched up in protest.

“He’s absolutely perfect,” Carlos says thickly, tears gathering as he kisses you gently.

You smile weakly, the exhaustion of a long labour weighing you down. “Our little bean,” you whisper, cradling your son close.

Carlos wipes away an escaped tear. “Our frijolito,” his gaze never leaves your son’s face.

As you start feeding your son for the first time, Carlos’ face softens and his eyes fill with awe. “I can’t believe we made something so amazing,” he traces a finger over your son’s tiny hand.

You smile, heart swelling with love. “He’s perfect,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face.

Carlos leans down to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead and then another to yours. “You did incredible. Thank you for giving me everything I could ever ask for.”

You smile. “We did this together.”

Carlos nods, his gaze locked onto your son’s face. “I promise you that I will always take care of you both. You will never have to worry about a thing.”

“I know," you whisper as you let contentment and tiredness drift you off to sleep.

As the days pass, Carlos becomes even more possessive and protective, his love for you and your son deepening with each passing moment. He is constantly by your side, reluctant to leave either of you for even a second.

One evening, as the two of you sit on the balcony, watching the sunset while your son dozes away, Carlos turns to you. “I want to give you more.”

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “More what?”

Carlos smirks and pulls you close. “More children,” he murmurs, pecking your lips. “I want to fill you with my babies.”

You laugh, “One is enough for now.”

Carlos chuckles but his face is serious. “We’ll see.”

Carlos knows that he will ensure it happens just like he did before.

He’ll keep you bound to him forever.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #carlos sainz #cs55 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz drabble

[danikamariewrites]

Heyy back with another ask bestie🤭 ok so how about a cadre g**g b**g where they are in a war camp with reader and lorcan comes up in there bickering with her which gets the attention of the other cadre and row row comes in like “ik what would shut her up”😈 (they are yummier than the bat boys i stand by that😤)

Cadre (SMUT)

Lorcan x Rowan x Fenrys x Gavriel x f!reader

A/n: hey bestie! I also may favor the cadre over the bat boys at times lol. This concept has me feral so I hope you enjoy this. I left out Connall and Vaughan bc they were so left out of the books so I don’t know their character at all.

Warnings: fivesum, praise kink, degradation, name calling, and some light choking

You pushed back the canvas of the tent, Lorcan on your heels, fuming that you once again didn’t listen. “You’ve got a serious issue, you know that?” You turned, smirking at him. “Lorcan, if I listened to you we’d be dead right now.” Steam practically came out of his ears at your tone.

Before he could start screaming you both spotted Gavriel and Fenrys watching you from their seats at the war table. Fenrys was wearing a feral smirk, nothing brought him joy like watching you and Lorcan spar with your words. Gavriel kept a neutral face. As he assessed the situation and was working through how to intervene should it get physical.

Opening your mouth to say something that would send Lorcan over the edge, Rowan came up behind you. He pressed his sculpted chest into your back. Rowan held your chin in his strong hand, tilting your head back to look up at him.

His long white hair creating a curtain so it felt like it was just you and him having in the room. You flashed him a sweet smile, “Hi Rowan.” You and Rowan had been having a casual fling for some time now. Sex with no strings attached, but whenever he was around it was like you were instantly relaxed.

Rowan smirked back at you, “Hello sweetness. Are you giving Lorcan attitude again?” You feign innocence, “Me? Never.” Rowan lets a hum that let you know he saw right through your bullshit. He looks to Lorcan, keeping your head tilted against his chest, “I think I know how to make her behave. Just need some sense fucked into you huh sweetness.”

Your eyes go wide at Rowan’s boldness in front of the Cadre. He liked to keep things private between you, but you could sense something was different. You decided to play along, just to see what Rowan was scheming. You arched your back, grinding your ass into Rowan’s crotch, letting a small moan past your lips. “Yes sir.”

You could scent the arousal coming from the other Fae males in the tent. Mixing together it was overwhelming you. You didn’t know Rowan had an exhibition kink and if he was going to fuck you as the three of them watched you weren’t one to complain. You could feel your slick almost dripping down your thighs at the thought.

Rowan leans down placing wet, open mouth kisses all over your neck. “Now,” he said against your neck, “since Lorcan told us about the danger you put us all in, we’re all going to teach you a lesson. You gonna be a good girl for us?” Your heart was pounding in your ears. You had dreamed of each of these big strong males manhandling you, but all at once? You were going to pass out.

You hadn’t noticed Fenrys and Gavriel join your little circle until you felt Gavriel caress your cheek. Your attention snapped to him. “He asked you a question y/n.” Your mouth was suddenly dry. Your mind was empty as you wracked your brain for words that wouldn’t show up. Fenrys’ deep laugh had your eyes on him next. “Seems like the thought of having all of us has already caused her pretty little head to go dumb. That right baby?” You nod letting out a soft uh-huh.

“Good girl,” Lorcan purred. Rowan picks you up and brings you over to the large bed, the rest of the cadre follow. Putting you down, Rowan starts taking your leathers off, leaving you bare. He strips and slips behind you, wrapping you in his arms, leaving kisses on your jaw, neck, and shoulders. The others strip and watch you and Rowan with intense stares.

Rowan nips at your pointed ear. “The one treat you get tonight is picking who goes first, baby. Who’s it going to be?” You look at Lorcan, Gavriel, and Fenrys, meeting their hungry gazes with your own. You let out a hum as you think. “Lorcan,” you say in a seductive tone, a smirk playing on your lips.

Lorcan growls as he grabs you from Rowan. You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his lips in a heated kiss. Your teeth and tongues clash as Lorcan fights for dominance as you push into him. You let him win as he pushes you down on the bed, pinning your shoulders.

He slowly moves down your body. Making sure to nip and kiss and lick every sensitive part of you. You shudder under his touch getting lost in the euphoric feeling of Lorcan dominating you. You caress his broad shoulders. Lorcan was quick to grab your wrists and pin them with one hand.

“Uh-uh baby. The only teary you got was picking me. You don’t get to touch.” He growls. Lorcan let’s a bit of his dark magic to wrap around your wrists, tying them to the bed. You whine as you try to move but the dark shadow like tendrils don’t give. Lorcan let’s out a dark laugh.

He moves to dig his fingers into your hips so hard your sure bruises are already forming. Lorcan drags his canines down one of your breasts, his tongue circling your hardened nipple. He looks at you through dark lashes wrapping his mouth around you and sucking hard. A high pitched moan leaves your mouth. You push your chest into his face. He lets go with a pop leaving a kiss to the top of your breast, a purple bruise forming near your nipple.

Lorcan keeps kissing and dragging his teeth down your torso while still keeping you in a death grip. He leaves teasing kisses on your clit and one tiny little lick. You buck your hips as best you can trying to move closer to his mouth. He tuts at your movements and runs a thick, long finger through your soaking folds.

“Fuck baby, so wet. That all for us?” You nod, looking at him through half lidded eyes. Lorcan lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you with the head of his thick, long cock. “You’re gunna be a good girl and take what I give you.” He grunts as he pushes into your tight cunt. You moan in unison at the feeling of him sinking inside you down to his base.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe he was so deep inside you. Lorcan gave you a second to adjust before he started thrusting into you at brutal pace. His thickness felt so good rubbing against your walls. You could do nothing but writhe beneath him. He was fucking you so good that you just went limp as you felt your orgasm approach.

Your moans got louder and louder as Lorcan pushed down on the bulge of him in your stomach. Your walls twitched around him. “Fuck-Lorcan feels so good.” “Yeah baby. You gunna come for me? Gunna come all over my cock?” You let out a pathetic whine in response. “Are you going to listen from now on? Be an obedient little slut?” You nod your head rapidly chanting yes and his name over and over.

With a few more thrusts your back is arching off the bed, your eyes screw shut as your vision goes fuzzy from the intensity of your orgasm. Your left breathless as he finishes inside you and immediately pulls out of you.

Giving you no time to recover Lorcan pulls you up by the shoulders, pulling his magic away from you. Fuck, you’re so out of it you barley feel his hand wrap around your throat. He pulls you to his chest and his lips meet your in another intense kiss. “If only I could have you all night. You’d never have a bratty attitude.”

Before you could respond Fenrys was pulling you from Lorcan’s grip. “Now Lorcan, be nice. Look at her,” Fenrys pulls you onto his lap, snaking his arms around you and rubbing soft circles into your skin with his calloused thumbs. He softly kisses your temple and you relax into him.

“She was so good for you. Don’t you think she deserves a reward?” Lorcan rolls his eyes as he adjusts his position at the foot of the bed. Fenrys gently lays you down and your eyes flutter shut. He smoothes your hair. Your eyes flutter open and wrap your arms around his neck, lazily playing with the strands of his long golden hair.

“You can hold on to me. You’re going to need to baby.” Fenrys kisses down your neck but quickly picks up the pace. Your energy comes back, spurred on by Fenrys’ eagerness to be tracing your curves for the first time. Fenrys wastes no time with you. You tug harder at those perfect curls as he slips into your already stretched out cunt.

Still sensitive from the fucking Lorcan gave you, you knew you wouldn’t last long with Fenrys. His thrusts were long and deep. Exploratory and full of curiosity. You held onto each other as his pace increased, your legs wrapping around his waist. Heels pushing into his back.

Without warning, your walls spasm around Fenrys and come. He keeps going, as he chases his own high. He looks down where you connect and he moans. Your release mixed with Lorcan’s is leaking from your hole. “Shit baby, look at you. Such a mess for us. You feel so good. I never wanna leave this pussy. So warm and full.” You bury your face into his neck and moan, his scent wrapping around you.

“Fuck, you can take another can’t you? You want my come don’t you baby?” “Yes Fenrys! Fuck, please, please, please!” Two more thrusts and his release paints your walls. You once again go limp as Fenrys collapses on top of you. Both of you panting. “So good.” He whispered into your chest.

Gavriel pulls Fenrys off you and rolls him to lay on his back next to Lorcan. Rowan is lifting you again. He turns you to look at him. You settle on your knees, steadying yourself by laying your hands on his chest. “Think you’ve learned your lesson sweets?” Gavriel kneels behind you, his chest pressing into your back.

By the grace of some god you still have the strength to look Rowan in the eyes and give him a smirk that says “not a chance”. He sighs. Looking to Gavriel, Rowan motions with his chin. Rowan move back to lay against the pillows at the headboard, spreading his legs and stroking his cock.

Gavriel moves you both back down the bed a bit then he pushes you to bend at the waist, elbows resting on the bed. Rowan fists your hair “Lets use that mouth for something other than talking back, hmm.” Rowan hummed. He pulls you down to swallow his cock. Making your head bob. Using your hands to cover what you couldn’t take in your mouth you set an acceptable pace for Rowan. “That’s it, just like that. See you can be a good girl. Just needed to give that mouth something to do.”

As you kept sucking Rowan off you felt Gavriel lightly running his fingers over your ass. He moves down to your pussy, sinking two fingers in. He curls and pumps them a few times before pulling out. Gavriel brings his fingers to his lips and licks them clean, moaning at the taste of you mixed with Lorcan and Fenrys.

“Such a filthy slut. But like Lorcan said, just for us to play with.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. As he leaned forward you felt his hard cock poke your thigh, your eyes rolling back at the thought of taking him and Rowan at the same time. Gavriel places soft kisses down your spine, so different from the way he was just talking about you.

He kisses down to your ass and finally lines himself up with you. He slowly sinks into you, letting you adjust to him inch by inch. Not like you need to after having Lorcan and Fenrys absolutely abuse you. But Gods above he feels good. But he’s taking too long.

When Gavriel finally starts to move you hum around Rowan causing him to his, his hands flying to grip your hair again. Gavriel fucks you it’s like no male has ever fucked you before. He’s taking the time to learn every inch of you inside and out. What parts of you are extra sensitive right now. You don’t know if you can go back to just having Rowan after Gavriel. The others were good, but holy shit. Gavriel was great.

You felt his fingers on your clit, rubbing it in small circles. As the pace of his thrusts picked up so did his fingers. You started to choke on Rowan’s cock and he was once again tightly grabbing your hair, controlling your movements.

You’d never admit this to any of them but this felt good. Not being in control. Being pleasured and used by them. You were in heaven right now. You felt your third orgasm on the night creeping up on you. That knot in your stomach tightening. Your eyes rolling. Your moans muffled and squeaky.

With a pinch to your clit and a few more perfectly angled thrusts from Gavriel you come undone one last time. His own orgasm following immediately after. You heard him swear above you as he pulled out of you. He kept your legs spread watching the mess between your legs drip down your thighs and onto the sheets.

Rowan pulled you off of him, finishing in his hand so you could catch your breath. As soon as he let go of your hair you collapsed on the bed, breathing deeply. You felt the four of them staring at you. It felt tense for some reason. You slowly flipped onto your back, stretching as best you could.

You let out a small hum, “Holy shit.” Fenrys let out a laugh. Rowan and Gavriel were pulling you up the bed, tucking you between them. Now that your punishment was over all they wanted to do was take care of you.

“You ok sweets?” An mmhhmm sounds from you followed by a yawn. You turn snuggling into Gavriel’s chest. He wraps an arm around you. Rowan gets up searching for a cloth or spare shirt to clean you up with. When he returns and spreads your legs you whine. Rowan quickly shushes you rubbing your thigh. “I’m just cleaning you up sweets.” He whispers.

You relax letting him wipe between your thighs. “There you go. All done.” He kisses your forehead and slips next to you again. Lorcan and Fenrys head off to their own beds after seeing you content in Rowan and Gavriel’s arms.

“Goodnight y/n,” Gavriel whispers. A cold wind rushes through the tent. Turning out all the lanterns and cooling your heated skin. You were glad it was Gavriel and Rowan holding you. You drifted off thinking what it would be like to be with them for eternity.

#throne of glass #throne of glass smut #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #fenrys moonbeam #gavriel #rowan whitethorn #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass cadre #throne of glass cadre x you #throne of glass cadre x reader #fenrys smut #throne of glass fenrys #fenrys x reader #Gavriel throne of glass x reader #Gavriel x reader #Fenrys x you #Gavriel x you #lorcan x reader #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan salvaterre smut #lorcan x you #lorcan smut #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan smut #rowan whitethorn x you #rowan x reader #throne of glass rowan #rowan x you

[hollythius]

of red cheeks like pomegranate halves

lyney x reader. multi-chapter. (hopefully)

holly’s notes: sorry guys. i just think he’s silly. now you have to deal with it. i haven’t played much of genshin lately, nor have i ever heard a voice line of this man, so please bear with me. 🙏

tldr: pining. so much pining. sort of friends with benefits, implied ‘relations’ if you know what i mean, bad attempts at poetry, kisses, angst + fluff, reader is technically a poet but isn’t expanded on much, hidden/secret relationship. I WROTE THIS IN LIKE 30 MINS HELP. does anyone want a part two. i will write it. i prommy.

“archons, lyney— let me go,” you huff. his arms wrap tightly around your waist, his long-sleeved pajamas brushing against your bare skin. your partner barely hums, his attention nowhere but in the pleasant dreams you’re certain he’s having.

his fingers trace gently along the dips and curvature of your body, wandering a path familiar to him only. lyney is ever the risk taker, having you here. in his room, his siblings not far off within the confines of the house. you groaned again at the thought of finding your clothes on the messy floor and trekking out the window to the chilly morning weather.

but it’s the agreement between you two. he is your magician, and you his poet. his lips kiss only yours. your fingers only pull and tug at his ash-blond tresses. you blow off a little steam, and then return to the cold, shocking morning.

lyney is always clingy. it’s how he is. you don’t dare fight it, lest it worsens for you. he’d almost blown your cover numerous times; his voice too loud, his gestures too grand, or the look in his eyes too longing.

“lyney, i need to leave,” you say again, this time almost begging. finally, your midnight lover relents, rolling over in bed to grant you room to exit. you huff, figuring that was far easier than normal. you spend no extra time gathering your clothes and slipping them on, only to climb down the window.

when lyney wakes, the bed is cold. he finds himself feeling impossibly empty, a feeling that has become more prominent as of late. he finds it ironic— your absence has left the magic dulled, and he longs to create prose adequate to describe his emotions. perhaps one day you’d teach him to rhyme in ways that didn’t make readers cringe.

his eyes drifting to the pillow, imagining your sleeping face still resting there. maybe, if he was lucky, you’d flash him a grin with just a little too much teeth. then, he’d laugh at you softly, place a hand on your cheek, and kiss your lips. that would remain a dream, however, until he’d gathered the courage to profess his undying love for you.

and now, as he dresses himself for the day’s magic show, he smiles. you’ll be there, like you always are. toting around a notebook, jotting down scenes to describe in future poems. lyney glances at the bookshelf in his room, at the few volumes of your poetry that reside there. he keeps them lined in order of publication. you’d never seen them, or you’d never made it known that you had.

but lyney was content. whatever you had, whatever situation yours was, he was perfectly fine with keeping it. he greets his siblings with a big smile, gleaming and ready to perform. lynette shrugs him off, and freminet gives a shaky grin back.

lyney can’t wait to see you again, eyes on him and engrossed in his show. gasps falling from your lips as you watch from the front row of seats. he smiles again, heart fluttering. he’d have to do something about these feelings.

#.hollies #lyney x reader #lyney x y/n #lyney x you #lyney x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

[nqctar]

𖦹 fireworks ; anton lee

pairing. best friend!anton x f!reader. genre. fluff. childhood friends to lovers. inspired by tsitp. synopsis. in the midst of a perfect summer night’s breeze, through flashes of fireworks, your summers spent wishing for anton to give you a sign finally come true. warnings. kissing. physical touch. wc. 1,344 words.

( 🐚 ) ONE SUMMER CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING.

you were in love. you knew it the moment you took glances at anton through your embarassingly large and round eyeglasses. right down to the first brace faced smile the two of you shared, there was always an unspoken mutual pining. though it had been years since that first encounter, seeing him each summer was like the first time over and over again. almost as if anton was a dream you conjured up through fevered nights. he seemed like someone you'd make up in your head to pass time and daydream about.

he was the physical manifestation of all your daydreams. knowing that made your heart ache. every summer you spent with him, digging up seashells along the salty shorelines of cousins beach and pushing each other into the freezing cold water still wasn't enough. you needed more than summers from him. you needed his cello callused hands to run through your hair. you needed to wake up in the morning and see his big brown eyes marveling at you.

you didn't need the summer anymore, if it meant you'd bask for eternity in anton's presence. he was everything to you.

though you wished every lovesick thought you had of him could come true, you found yourself going home at the end of each summer wanting for more. wishing you'd left with a kiss instead of a secret handshake the two of you made up in his treehouse the first summer you met. you deserved more, you thought. with nine years of wishing, something's gotta give.

"i am in control of my destiny," you say through closed eyes while sitting criss-crossed in front of lit french toast scented candles and a mirror. "my fate is up to me." the meditation track booming through your noise cancelling headphones drowned out the sounds of anton's audible confusion.

deep in your own zen and thought, you feel a gentle hand reach out and touch your shoulder. the feeling makes you jump, letting out a yelp louder than you can hear over the music.

"holy shit anton! where did you come from?!" laughter ripples through him, and he clutches his stomach while trying to regain some composure. as always, your heart does backflips upon seeing his beaming smile right in front of you. crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. he looked so, so pretty. you wanted to lean in and-

not now. maybe not today, even. things were perfect between you two. ruining your friendship with a kiss wasn't a chance you wanted to take. not now, not ever.

brushing your feelings aside, you blow the candle flames out and toss your headphones onto the bed. anton had calmed down already, though giggles still shook his body. you rolled your eyes at him. "it wasn't that funny, shut up." anton wiped a tear from his face, shaking his head. "don't be lame, it was hilarious."

"we're about to light the fireworks, obviously i don't want you to miss it so," he stops to brush a strand of long hair out of your face. an action he'd done many times before. it was almost second nature to him, yet it almost made your knees buckle. "finish your weird demonic chanting and come outside with me."

you grab your hoodie, one that actually belonged to anton during his brief stint on the cousins beach rowing team, he'd given it to you two years ago. it was a size too big for you then, and still too big for you now.

"you actually still use that? stop reminding me of my dark past." anton groans.

again, you roll your eyes. “it's comfortable, deal with it. and what 'dark past?' you were on the team for like two weeks. what's the worst that could've happened?"

anton shivers as the two of you step into the surprisingly chilled july air. "i tipped over in the boat and started screaming. people recorded it. they called me the cousins beach klutz." he cringes at the memory, and in turn you laugh. "okay, maybe that does count as a dark past."

the two of you walk down to your special spot, one you both found accidentally after running along the beach back to anton's summer house thinking you'd miss the fireworks. you remember the flashes of red white and blue that lit up the sky, how your hand brushed up against anton's as you both settled on a huge rock. that was the first time you considered your feelings for anton being more than just a normal crush.

it was also the first time you realized how quickly your feelings for him grew.

the two of you both sit down somewhat comfortably on that same rock, closer together than last year. he sets his the stand of his phone down in front of you both, something he does every year to document your reactions to the fireworks. you never questioned it, though something in the back of your mind gives you hope that he's doing it as an excuse to fill his gallery up with pictures and videos of you.

neither of you talk. there's tension in the air for some reason, and anton can feel it too. he peeks down at your hand, covering it with his own.

"your hands look cold," his voice is quiet. he's coming off shy. something is different.

"i'm just... warming them for you." your heart begins to race faster than it was before. you turn to look at him just as the first fireworks begin to colour the sky.

between the illuminated flashes of colourful lights bursting in the night sky, the earth had a population of two.

just anton, and you.

to your surprise anton was staring right back at you, big brown eyes peering into yours. he brushes a lock of hair away from your face and leans in. "i really want to kiss you." he whispers. the intoxicating scent of his vanilla conditioner calms you. anton is as perfect as he's always been, your very own dream come true.

this moment was the culmination of your winters spent praying to whoever was listening for summer to arrive quicker than last year. every drive back to your house at the end of each summer you held tears back was not in vain. everything you wanted was right in front of you.

"kiss me," you utter. "just kiss me."

with the last few bursts of fireworks blooming in the starry night sky, anton's strawberry chapstick flavoured lips meet yours. he kisses you with the fervor of years spent pining and waiting. his hands run through your hair, your noses bump, he lets a thumb smooth over the side of your face. he's everywhere you want him to be.

his hands drag up and down your sitting frame. the two of you pull away for air, lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

"we just kissed." anton remarks, somewhat in shock. his hand finds yours again, lacing your fingers together with his.

"i've been waiting so long for you to make a move, y/n." he lets out a nervous laugh. "i was worried you didn't feel the same."

your face reddens. "i didn't want to ruin us. i was scared that i'd do the wrong thing and you'd leave me." you admit. sympathy flashes over anton's face. "god no, i wouldnt—" he picks your hand up and kisses the back of it. "i'm not going anywhere, y/n."

"you're stuck with me forever." he grins.

you place a soft kiss to his lips again, savouring the brief moment.

"i wouldn't have it any other way, anton." he blushes at your response, ears reddening with shyness.

an unspoken 'i love you' lingers in the air, both of you too timid to say it out loud.

maybe next summer, you think.

for now, you curl into his side, choosing to rest your head on his shoulder.

everything in this moment feels perfect.

it's just you and anton existing together. you'd spend the rest of forever this way, if only you could.

#kpop #anton x reader #anton #anton lee #anton fluff #riize fluff #anton fic #anton fanfic #riize fic #riize fanfic #anton lee x reader #anton imagine #anton imagines #riize imagine #riize imagines #anton oneshot #anton oneshots #riize au #kpop fanfic #kpop au #anton au #tsitp au #anton lee fluff #lee chanyoung #riize anton #anton lee oneshot #anton lee oneshots #anton lee imagine #anton lee imagines #anton lee fic

[chosowarmer]

Choso x Tailor!Reader [18+]

transgender!man choso [non-op] ; transgender!male reader ; semi-public sex ; nipple play ; eating out ; fingering ; 3.7k wc

After getting lost in the boutique, Choso is a bit relieved when you come and introduce yourself as a guide of sorts for the place. After helping him pick out clothes and complimenting him, he can't help but wonder what the odd feeling in his chest was and why he wanted to meet you again so bad.

A/N: took a break from a nanami fic to write about choso !! i love him so bad

“Agh…. Yuji…”

Choso watched as Yuji waddled off with his friends, leaving his older brother behind. He had never been to this boutique before and it was pretty vast. Every aisle looked the same to him, and it felt impossible to navigate.

Still holding the shopping basket Yuji had handed him, Choso turned his attention back to the line of hung clothes in front of him. Maybe he could try to keep looking himself and by the time he was done, his little brother would be back to help him out. 

With a huff, he sifted through the garments, thinking of which ones may be a good fit for him. Although, most of what he found didn’t appeal to him at all, and the ones that did weren’t even a proper size for him. 

After pulling out another shirt with a weird graphic on it, he clicks his tongue, clearly annoyed. With his little brother still not back yet he takes to wandering the aisles, hoping to find his way out. Every sign seemed to only direct him towards another clothing section for him to explore which was mildly nice to pick out things he liked, he would’ve much preferred to be out of here already. After walking past the shoes department for what felt like the third time in a row and growing more frustrated, he jumped in surprise at hearing a sudden voice behind him. 

“Hi there, sir, is there anything I can help you with today?” 

You had been watching him walking back and forth, muttering something under his breath like he was lost or something. Most other days, you’d leave customers like that alone unless they came to bother you directly, but you were having a good day today and he was pretty cute; might as well get a chance away from folding clothes to talk to an attractive guy. 

He eyed you wearily, holding the clothes in his arms closer to him. You tilted your head, a polite smile still on your face but now slightly confused from this guy’s silence. Maybe you should’ve kept to folding and putting clothes away and let him stay lost. 

You’re ready to excuse yourself when he finally says something.

“Who are you?”

Ah? That’s what had him so quiet? You bite your tongue, still keeping to your polite mannerisms lest your boss reprimand you. You wave a hand in front of your name tag that sat right above the boutique’s logo in plain sight.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that, sir, I should’ve introduced myself first,” Even if it was obvious you worked there, “I’m Y/n, I'm the tailor's apprentice here. I couldn’t help but notice you walking around, and thought to stop and ask if you needed any assistance.”

He squints at you, the mark across his face slightly creasing. It’d be more endearing if this conversation were going the way you had wanted it to. 

“You were watching me?”

Okay, yeah, now you were really regretting not minding your own business.

“No, no, sir, I’m sorry if it seemed like that! As an employee here, I’m just trained to spot any lost customers and guide them. You are lost, aren’t you?”

Thankfully for you, this seems to alleviate some of the concerns he had about you as he nods, scratching his neck. 

“Oh.. yeah. I think I am, I was trying to find the way out of here, but…” 

He trails off, looking away, but you get what he means. The regular customers know their way around here, but for any newcomers, it’s pretty confusing. You haven’t seen anyone like him before, and it’s not like your co-workers have mentioned a guy like him coming in here. You flash a smile.

“Of course, sir, follow me.”

As he walks alongside you, you remember the clothes he’s holding in his arms. You weren’t sure if he had bought those yet, considering he was still lost all the way here, but it would be pretty ugly to assume he didn’t if he actually did…

“Oh, and did you need a bag for those, by the way, sir?”

You nod towards the garments in his hand, which makes him frown. 

“Ah… mm… No, I should put these back.”

“Oh! Did you change your mind?”

He nods, giving a frustrated huff, “My brother was helping me look for new clothes, ‘n after he left, I tried to pick out new ones too, but I don’t think I like any of them.”

You should just walk him to the exit and send him on his way. Especially after the earlier awkward conversation. But…

You glance back at him; he was still pretty cute, and whatever hostility he had earlier seems to have gone away or at least faded. If you went about it right, maybe you could get his number out of this…

“Oh, well, if you’d like, I’d love to assist you in picking out new clothes, if you’re still interested in shopping here.”

He blinks before thinking it over, muttering to himself, “I do need some new clothes.”

“Hm?”

“Oh, I’d… find that helpful, thank you.”

“Of course.”

.♡. 

“You think it’s nice?”

Having exited from the small dressing room, Choso examined himself in the mirror before turning to you for your opinion, seeing as you were an expert in clothing to him. 

You had already helped him pick out some casual clothing to wear; a few plain shirts that hugged his torso, lightweight bottoms that shaped his legs. He really was a handsome man, you realize while fitting him; if you were a proper tailor, you would’ve loved to have him as a model. 

He was pretty compliant with most of the clothes you chose for him, though for whatever reason, he continually doubted if he looked as good as you told him he did. You click your tongue walking up behind him, as you pat out wrinkles. You had him in a fine two-piece vest suit, similarly colored to the gi he had shown up in earlier. 

“Absolutely,” you hold up an arm of his as you straighten out the fabric, “If you don’t mind me speaking plainly, I think you’re a fine man, I don’t see why you should doubt that, sir.”

“...Oh.. Really?”

You glance at his face in the mirror, noticing the pink tent on his cheeks. You smirk faintly, it was always so cute to watch the guys you dress crumple at your words. Typically, you weren’t that interested in them, but this guy…

“Positively. Your body alone is quite handsome, if I may. Strong shoulders, a muscular build, powerful arms, even your hands, may I?” You had taken the time to lightly hold each part of his figure to emphasize your point and now took his hand in your gloved ones as you carefully knead over the calloused palm. It wasn’t too rough like a laborer’s would be, but they did look as if they had seen their share of rugged work. Maybe he was a sorcerer?

“Though to be perfectly honest, I’m no professional tailor or anything, just an apprentice, so my word may not hold much in terms of proficiency,” you move to adjust his hair, letting it relax as you undo his ponytails, noting how his eyes blink away to avoid yours, “But I do hope you take my words as fact when I say, you are one beautiful man.”

You flash a formal grin at him in the mirror, fixing his collar before taking a step back from him. He let his arms fall back down to his sides, as he fiddles with the cuffs. The blush on his face and ears almost rivaled the eye shadow around his eyes, contrasting the aloof expression he usually sported.

“I see, thanks.”

You smile, patting his shoulder as you gesture for him to change back to his original clothes while you gather the new ones he plans on buying. 

“It was lovely helping you today, sir, why don’t you change then I’ll help you upfront?”

.♡. 

After you sent him off with his purchases, you honestly weren’t expecting to see him again, or at least, not the very next day. 

Although, he wasn’t alone, being accompanied by a younger teen pointing at you.

“That’s who you wanted to see, Choso? That guy hanging clothes?”

“Mm, thank you, brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna be at the store next over, so you can meet me there when you’re done here.” The younger teen waves to you, before heading off and out the door. A sly smile grows on your face as the man from yesterday makes his way up to you, noticing he was wearing one of the casual shirts you had picked out for him.

Setting down the hanger in your hands, you give him your full attention, “It’s nice to see you again, sir. Is everything alright?”

He nods, his eyes on your hands before moving back up to you, “I was hoping to find some new clothes today.”

“Oh? You weren’t happy with yesterday’s purchase?” you tilt your head, a hidden smile in your voice.

“No, I was! I just… mm..” He pauses, trying to think of how to explain this. You decide to give him a break, smiling warmly at him as you pat his shoulder and gesture to the dressing room.

“I think I understand what you’re trying to say, sir. How about you head on over to the fitting room and I’ll be right with you, hm?” 

A light red tint brushes his ears as he nods weakly before moving; you turn on your heel, already certain what you’d pick out.

.♡. 

“It really is a pleasure to see you again - move your leg here - especially so soon.”

You had picked out a silky dress pants and shirt for him; a modest number of petite jewels adorning the legs and collar, laced sleeves, and an open chest window. It was a personal project you had been working on yourself with the extra fabric you’d get around the store, and it wasn’t nearly finished but it was satisfying to have someone model besides yourself. 

On one knee, you knelt by his leg, carefully tailoring the pant leg to fit him. You hummed to yourself, pretending to not notice the choked gasps that left him every time you let a hold his leg or run your fingers along the fabric. 

“As I’ve already said, this is just a pet project of mine, you won’t be buying it, but if you’re enjoying it, maybe I will see you again?” You glance up at him with a smile, playfully ignorant of your hand resting on his thigh just right below his groin. 

Choso can’t even breathe as his eyes meet yours. He wasn’t exactly sure of what he wanted from you when he came back, he just knew he wanted to meet the charming tailor’s apprentice again. The words he spoke, the way his hands had glided across the cursed spirit’s body so gracefully; it made Choso’s head spin, feelings he had never felt before surfacing in his chest. 

He imagined the many different ways the day would play out as he touched himself the night before. Letting his hand slowly float down his happy trail to his pussy, trying to replicate your mannerisms, but to no avail. Your refined voice playing in his head like an orgasmic melody, as his breath grew heavier and heavier, kneading his sensitive dick. Finally letting a finger slip in, curling up as he tries to take it as painstakingly slow as you probably would. But none of it is like you, he knows, even after getting himself to cum on his fingers, he still ached for your touch on his skin again. 

He just had to see that enchanting man again.

But now that he was actually here again, with you touching him like this, speaking so softly, it was like you put a spell on him. He gulped, remembering you had asked him something, though not at all remembering what it specifically was. 

“Choso-san?”

You tilt your head, trying to hold back a laugh though, letting a chuckle escape as you stifle it with your hand. While the dazed expression on his tinted face was endearing, you did actually want to hear him speak.

Rising to your feet, you gently tap his cheek, garnering a surprised “Ah!” out of him as he realizes how quiet he’s been. 

“Sorry, what did you ask?”

“Oh, you forgot already?”

You hum, sounding like music in Choso’s ears, as you let your gloved hand slide down to his neck before resting on his exposed chest. You meet his eyes with a smirk.

“Do you need a reminder, sir?”

.♡. 

You weren’t preparing for this exact scenario, but nonetheless, you were more than overjoyed for it to be the case. You silently thanked yourself for choosing to tailor him in the more prestigious dressing room the store had to offer, considering it was not only bigger but had a small table for laying down clothes, fabric, and other things. 

Like cute, two-ponytailed guys.

Choso bit his knuckle, trying to stifle his heavy panting as you traced a finger along his Adam’s apple, feeling his pulse quicken with your touch. You lean down, pulling him in for a kiss, as you let your other hand rest just above his chest. 

“Is this okay?” You inquire,  pulling away from his neck, eliciting a whine from him as he nods up at you, guiding your hand onto his breast. 

“Y/n…!” 

With a soft smile, you indulge him, massaging and squeezing while still layering pecks and kisses along his collarbone. He moans in your ear, grabbing hold of your shirt when you let a thumb run over his nipple. 

“I’m sure you’ve never had service like this before, hm? Never had someone kiss you like this, touch your chest like this?” 

Choso shakes his head, grip tightening with a mewl as you move your head lower, biting his soft tissue before licking over the mark. You continue this seemingly endless loop of biting and licking over and over, before finally giving some attention to his hard nipples. Letting your tongue lap over the sensitive buds has Choso a mess. Tears prick in his eyes, as he moans your name, trying to squeeze his thighs together. You don’t let him, though, as you hold his legs open with your other hand, watching him whine pitifully as he rolled his hips from your touch.

“Aht, aht. I don’t see why you should be rushing, aren’t you enjoying this pace?” A smirk evident in your voice, and it drives Choso crazy. You were so charismatic but so infuriating with how lightly you touched him and how leisurely you went about with him. He rolled his hips again, both out of need and in hopes you’d finally touch him. Instead, you tut your tongue, strengthening your hold on his thigh. 

“So impatient... Why don’t you go ahead and tell me exactly what it is you want?”

It feels like his brain’s been reduced to mush as you run your tongue over his nipple again, another whine leaving his lips. He could easily press his thighs together if he wanted, but the way you held his legs open and controlled his movements had his head spinning as he bit his lip. He couldn’t think straight at all as you tapped his thigh to bring him down to Earth.

Right, you asked him a question. A question he didn’t even remember hearing if he was honest. He moaned again, rocking his hips. 

“Haah… Please… y/n…♡”

You let your hand slide down his thigh to the zipper on his crotch, pulling it down as you exposed his pussy to the air. 

You bite your lip, feeling blood rise to your cheeks. “No underwear?” you murmur to yourself. Did he take it off after changing? Or maybe he didn’t wear any at all today? Was he hoping you’d fuck him? Just excited? Fuck, and he was already so wet, just look at him. All for you. 

You jolt a bit as Choso pulls on your shirt, moaning your name in the lewdest tone, trying to get you closer to him, to touch him. You pull him in for a kiss, your hand behind his head as you keep him close, desperate to deepen it. Choso groans, returning the kiss as he parts his lips for you, wrapping his strong legs around you now that you were closer.

Inviting your tongue into his mouth, you trail your hand down his chest to his needy cunt, letting your thumb rub over the head of his stubby cock. He closes his eyes, moaning into the kiss as his legs press tighter around you. As his dick grows wetter in your hand, you pull from the kiss with a gasp before moving down to replace your hand with your mouth. 

“Y- Ah! ❤︎ Puh-please, pleeease! Haah… hah♡!!”

He grinds on your face as you suck slowly, so frustratingly slow. He fucks himself senseless, with this being more than he could’ve imagined even if you were teasing him. His breathing grows heavier as you begin to suck faster and harder on his cock, increasing your pace with every lewd whine that leaves him. His hand grips the back of your head when you give his dick one last suck, seeing stars as he comes right into your mouth. 

It was better than anything he could’ve imagined last night, you were taking such good care of him right now, all he could do was blubber his words, begging for more. The way you touched him, and spoke to him, it was like he was drunk off of you alone. You found it adorable; if only the two of you were at your studio, you would’ve loved to fuck him senseless with your strap, seeing him dazed out of his mind like this. No matter, there was always next time, but for now…

Not giving him a chance to recuperate, you move back up his body to suck on his sensitive nipple as you let a gloved hand slide over his wet cunt. He brings his knuckle back to his mouth to smother his lewd whines, but you pull it away with a tsk.

“Haah…haah.. I want to hear you… don’t even think of hiding that gorgeous voice.”

The tint on his face deepens as he nods, his cock twitching at your words. His noisy whines fill the dressing room as you return to sucking on his nipple, slipping a finger into his needy cunt. You curl your finger up, slowly fingering him as you feel for something. You smirk when Choso screams, throwing his head back as his thighs tremble around you, having found that sensitive bud. 

He’s a babbling mess as he begs for you to add another finger to him, move faster, touch him there gain, anything! You oblige happily, curling another gloved finger into him as he soaks the fabric through. His eyes roll to the back of his head as you increase your pace, plunging your fingers in and out of him, nothing but the sound of squelching and his mewling in the room. 

“Mm.. haah..! CUH-close, so hah… close…♡!”

His thighs tremble pathetically as he gasps when you remove your fingers from his pussy, ready to beg for them back before almost crying out in pleasure as you thrust your tongue deep into his cunt. 

You drink him in, lapping up his sensitive cock before diving your tongue between his folds. His sensitive walls press around you as fuck him crazy with your mouth. As he presses your face deeper between his increasingly shaky legs, you know he’s close as you toy with his cock with your hand.

“Oh! ♡ Mm- Muh.. ah…!! ♡ Haah… M’ gonna…. y/n…! I… HAAH..♡♡..  AH ❤︎!!”

The stimulation is all too much for the poor spirit as he cums hard, his legs locking to keep you there as you continue to tongue-fuck him through his orgasm, eliciting more lewd whines and moans out of him from the overstimulation. Finally, his twitching legs relax as he pants, tears at the corners of his eyes. You pull yourself from his pussy, kissing his thighs. He moans softly as you run your hand over the hickeys on his breasts, kissing each one gently as you hold him. He sighs pleasurably as you peck each one, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips on his chest once again. 

When you pull away, he’s still panting trying to catch his breath a bit as you kiss his cheek. You smile down at him, pulling off your stained glove as you speak, “And how do you feel, sir?”

He feels heat rise to the tips of his ears, suddenly feeling shy as he comes down from his high, “Good.. I.. It was exactly what I was wanting..”

“Oh?” You take your bare hand to cup his face, “Exactly what you wanted, you say? So I can guess you’re satisfied then?”

He’s blushing, he can feel it. He glances down at his decorated body, how you absolutely ravished him, how your fingers alone had him coming. But he also catches sight of the wet patch on your pants and gulps, feeling his cock twitch.

“I want that again. But I want to make you feel good, too.”

You raise an eyebrow; that was a first, usually the guys you played around with always left you high and dry, leaving without much of a thank you or anything. You tilt your head, smiling teasingly.

“Well, usually I like to be wined and dined before getting ate out, but I suppose if you insist…”

“I can do that! Where do you want to go?”

You almost laugh in surprise; you were only teasing, yet he was so serious about taking you out. It was… touching. And cute. So he wasn’t only just attractive, he was thoughtful too. You were going to love him.

You press a kiss onto his lips before pulling away before it got out of hand, “How about you go change, and I’ll have an answer when you’re out?”

He nods, heading for the small changing door, before stopping and turning to you, a light tint on his that accented his cute mark, “You can just say Choso. You don’t have to call me sir.”

The smile on your face beams, “Alright, Choso.”

#m! reader #male reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x male reader

[mvltisstuff]

Hi!, I hope you’re doing okay I know Finals can be stressful, but I hope everything going great :).

I saw that you were doing requests again so I was wondering if we can get a fluffy fic with Buck and Reader having their wedding and Reader also announce at the wedding that she’s pregnant!

Also can you make Bobby the father of Reader :)

la vie en rose - e.b

summary: request :)

evan buckley x nash!reader

a/n: thank you for the request, you guys are wicked creative and i love reading them 🩶 were 1/7 finals done so we’re getting back in the groove 💪

y/n’s hair fell down in light curls on her shoulders, her face done in light makeup. a veil fell down her back and on her white, luscious dress. the time, the money, and love put into this day had finally come to a start. and y/n and buck couldn’t be more excited.

buck could jump up and down at the thought of her having his last name. his last name will on her license, her cards, their kids, next to hers. he could explode from excitement when he looks at the stupendous ring that he picked out. y/n looked at hers the same way, the silver band with minute gems on the middle screamed bucks name. she didn’t want to see it anywhere else but on his left hand.

marriage is a vast milestone in one’s life. the second buck, who proposed in an incredible buck way, got down on one knee, he knew he made the right choice. the rest of his life was meant to be with this woman. and he knew the rest of his life with her would be the best of his life.

standing in front of each other at the ceremony, being an emotional man who just can’t get enough love, bucks eyes welled up with tears the second he saw her flashing smile and radiant eyes. she looked absolutely heavenly, as always, but something was particularly different this time. the bewitching scenery around them and the aesthetic venue has perfectly made the night. watching y/n walk down the isle with her father, bobby, linked arm to arm with her made bucks already massive heart grow ten sizes.

bobby was always buck’s second father. he was there for him always, giving him proper guidance and acceptance that buck always needed growing up. when his own dad couldn’t do that for him, bobby picked up the pieces. bobby couldn’t be happier. his daughter was so happy with buck, and that’s all he wanted for the both of them. having bobby as a mentor made buck a better person, and bobby as a father made y/n the perfect daughter.

y/n’s own tears begin to rise into her eyes when she sees buck, dressed neatly in his black suit. eddie was standing next to him with christopher and a few of bucks good friends. maddie had stood in her alluring bridesmaids dress. y/n and maddie connected so well, and seeing buck perk up whenever she came into a room made maddies heart soar of happiness and delight.

they stood before the officiator, who was reading off things to buck that were almost nonsense. he had memorized everything, as he knew that her beauty would capture him and he couldn’t process anything else.

“i, evan buckley,” buck says. “take you, y/n y/l/n as my lawful wife.”

“to have and to hold, for better or for worse,” y/n speaks gently, locking eyes with her soon-to-be husband.

“in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish.”

“until death do us part,” they finish off their traditional vows and look to the guests. maddie is bawling her eyes out, trying not to make a peep. bobby is better at hiding his tears, hand in hand with athena as he sits in front row, watching his little girl become a wife. eddie and chimney have a smile wider than the horizon and hen and her wife watch in admiration of the couple. ravi, had been quietly cheering in the front row as well, cooling down his ‘life of the party’ personality until the end of the ceremony.

before the priest can finish his sentence about the first kiss, buck grabs the back of y/n’s neck and pulls her into a deep kiss, placing his other hand on her hip. they’ve kissed more times than they can count, but sparks will forever fly every time. this one is particularly special, for it commemorates the rest of their lives together.

the newlyweds step down and walk back down the isle while holding hands and sniffling shamelessly.

the after party was sick, open bars and decor with the live band. the first dance was magical, everyone feeling the love from buck and y/n radiate through the huge room. the circular tables were placed throughout the room, with the entire 118 at one table. they’d formed one table, and the buckleys had intentionally put all their friends name tags around one table. the caterers at the wedding had set up everywhere, and they couldn’t imagine a better night.

chimney came back with ravi and bobby, all of them hauling several drinks over, handing the biggest ones to y/n and buck. “for the husband and wife!” bobby says, placing the cocktails down in front of them. y/n stared at the drinks in front of her, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation. she’s never been one to back out, which kind of alarmed the rest of the team.

y/n had been experiencing extreme fatigue for the past few weeks, and the concern of her health was so important to her. she wasn’t sure if her dad could take the loss of another child. she had been the only one to survive the fire, and the two of them were left to fend off of each other. her pregnancy was quite random, her and buck were getting married in just a few weeks. y/n didn’t know how she was going to hide it, but eventually, the anxiety was drowned out by excitement. they knew they wanted a family, it just happened sooner than they thought.

“oh, i’m alright, ravi,” she politely declines, causing confusion from her husband and her friends.

“c’mon, y/n! it’s your wedding day!” hen cheers on, pushing the drink back closer to her.

“yeah, you ok?” buck asks, quietly to not make his new wife overwhelmed.

“guys, really,” y/n smiles, looking down at her hands. “i’m fine, just not in a drinking mood.”

“you’re allowed to have a drink, y/n. you never get this day back,” bobby encourages her to have one to celebrate the new chapter in her life, but the new addition is more important.

“no, i’m not allowed to.”

everyone looks at her like she has ten heads, surprised that she’s not going all out on her wedding night.

“i cant because i’m pregnant,” she finishes, looking at buck first. his mouth was wide open, his chin on the floor.

“s-sorry, what?” she looks at bucks nervous face and nods. “oh! oh, my god?” he kisses her again, not knowing any other words to describe how he feels. hen let’s out a sharp squeal, before jumping up into y/n’s arms, almost knocking her out of the chair. maddie, who no one thought could cry so much, starts sobbing even more because her little brother became a husband and a parent in one day. y/n makes eye contact with her teary-eyed father, clutching hands with his own wife.

hen pulls away, and y/n says, “dad?”

“i, i don’t know what to say, y/n. other than i’m proud of you. and you’ve been the perfect daughter, and you’re going to be the perfect mom.”

“to your grandchild!” chimney pokes fun at bobby, who sips his club soda.

“don’t remind me, chim,” he says jokingly pointing out his age.

y/n and buck can’t peel their eyes away, and buck finds his hand migrating to her current no-bump stomach. “i love you so much, thank you, thank you!” buck says, over and over again.

“i love you to the moon, darling. i picked the best man, and i know you’ll be the best dad,” y/n grins, her cheeks becoming sore from the repeated smiles. “i still can’t believe you’re not a dream.”

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