#but it's so well written and thought through that it makes you want to ask yourself why havent you read it before

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ all bark and no bite

➤ summary: Rafe posts a thirst trap, and you decide to rage bait him to finally get what you want. ➤ w/c: 2.2k ➤ warnings: piv sex, rough sex, against the wall, brat!reader, teasing banter, gay jokes (i promise not in an offensive way), light power play, slight degradation + praise kink ➤ a/n: saw the similar dialogue on twitter and thought that it was actually hilarious

masterlist

You were chilling on the couch in your living room, a movie playing on the background, bag of chips near you and phone with your instagram feed in hand. 

You were totally not stalking Rafe’s account when you opened his latest story—a mirror selfie from the gym in a gray pants, tight white shirt, which was deliciously stretched on his arms and back, and a cap. You debated only for a second, and after starring at the picture for a solid few minutes, because, well, you wanted to jump his bones for a while already, you swiped up to text him.

You were sick of whatever was going on between the two of you. Constant arguments that were basically just your ways to get under each other’s skin, playful insults, and a lot of eye fucking made all of your friends sigh every single time, so you thought that it was a good opportunity to make a move again. 

You: u look gay

You chewed a chip, staring at the screen when it almost instantly changed from delivered to seen, and a devilish smile played on your lip when three dots appeared on the screen. You got him.

Rafe: gay?🤣 Rafe: watch ur mouth 

You smiled at your phone, knowing that it did hurt his fragile ego and that he was probably fuming or pacing around the room now, all because he couldn’t handle being made fun of. Especially not from you. 

You: or what?  You: want to prove something?  You: dick me down 

And then silence. He logged off Instagram, and you could only imagine what was going through his poor head. You focused back on a movie, fully unbothered and completely not ashamed of what you had just written. Rafe had always been playing dirty, why couldn’t you? 

It was ten solid minutes before your phone buzzed again. 

Rafe: open the door 

You blinked.

You: lmfao what Rafe: open. your. door. 

You padded over, still in a tank top and the tiniest shorts, hair messy, fingers dusty from your chips. When you swung the door open, Rafe pushed right past you, not asking for permission, not taking his time, as if he had done it a million times before. You sucked on your thumb, fully oblivious, to get some taste of your fingers, and his wild and dark eyes were glued to you. 

Rafe closed the door behind him without looking. “You think you can say shit like that and just go back to watching Clueless? And—were you fucking eating while texting me that shit?”

You laughed, shrugging. “It was 10 Things I Hate About You, actually. And yeah, I do.” You popped another salty finger in your mouth. “What, I hurt your ego, pretty boy?”

His nostrils flared when you pushed his buttons again, the way only you, for some reason, could do it. He stepped towards you in two quick steps, backing you into the wall, and you looked up at him casually, almost innocently batting your eyelashes at him.

“You hurt more than my ego, baby.” Rafe bit out, voice low and hot and way too close now. “You made my dick hard.”

You looked so smug, tilting your head slightly with that annoying smirk of yours, and it was driving him insane. As Rafe fully took in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your almost absence of clothes with an excuse of a tank top that was perfectly showing off the shape of your boobs. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, thinking that it was the most chaotic and hottest foreplay he had ever experienced. 

“You really came all the way here just because I said you look gay?” You teased, lips curling. “You do, though. Didn’t say it was a bad thing…”

“God, shut the fuck up.” Rafe growled, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them down near your head, fully caging you between him and the wall. One of his thighs pressed between yours, making the bulge in his pants look more prominent. You grinned again, relishing the way he was reacting to you, the way he couldn’t stop staring at you with the fire in his blue eyes. 

“Bet you were there with Barry again. You two look nice together.” You pressed further, basically driving him up the wall with that smart mouth.

Rafe’s jaw flexed. You could practically hear the restraint cracking in his bones. The grip on your wrists tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to show you that you were really getting yourself into trouble and his patience was running thin. 

“You lucky I like your mouth.”

“I bet you would like it.” You purred back, biting down on your bottom lip like you weren’t actively fanning the flames of the most chaotic man you knew.

Your hips rolled up against his thigh, slow and deliberate, just to make a point, and you watched it happen in real time: the way his breath caught and the way his jaw flexed like he was clenching back a desperate noise. So you pushed harder. 

“You’re all bark and no bite, Cameron. Can you actually handle me, though, or are you all about eye-fucking me and then hiding your head in the sand?” You whispered, your lips dangerously close to his, barely ghosting, but letting him make the final move. And he did. 

Rafe kissed you like a man possessed, with so much force and energy that your head hit against the wall behind you. You groaned into his mouth—a perfect opportunity for him to slip his tongue past your lips, studying you like he was on the mission. At the same time, Rafe’s hold of your wrists got loose, and instead he sneaked his hands under your thighs, lifting you in the air like it was nothing. 

Your legs wrapped around him in an instant, your own hands, now free, had finally the green light to touch whatever they wanted, so you tugged at the roots of his hair and dug your nails into his shoulder until you got a reaction. Rafe gripped your hips with force, grinding you down on his closed cock until you both got dizzy from it being not enough. 

“Such a fucking brat.” He growled, pulling back for long enough to focus on your exposed neck. “Want me to dick you down, huh? Guess I have to find a better use for that mouth later for talking’ all this shit.” Your spine arched off the wall at his words, being sure as hell that both your underwear and shorts were soaking wet.

“You could just shut me up if you fuck me the way I need it.” 

And that was it. One hand was firmly under your ass, and another dragged your top down your shoulders until your tits were right in his face, and Rafe didn’t waste time to take one of your nipples in his mouth and bite down on it. “Dreamed of your tits in my mouth since the day I saw you on the beach—fuck.” His hand then sneaked down your body, easily shoving aside your clothes and running two fingers down your wet slit. “Fuckin’ dripping down my hand. Does it turn you on, baby?” 

“I’ve been wet since I saw your picture.” 

Rafe moaned, eyes wild as he released your nipple with a pop and captured your lips in a heated kiss again. “Gonna give it to you the way you wanted. Punish you for being nothing but a pain in my ass.” 

You didn’t have time to process him pulling his fingers out of you and instead showing his sweats low enough for his dick to spring free. All you knew was that your mouth was watering from how heavy and fucking thick he looked, and the way you were clearly drooling at the sight of him made Rafe’s cocky smile only grow wider. 

He didn’t waste any more time, knowing damn well that your smart mouth and mind sent him into psychosis. Rafe ran a round head through your folds, pushing against your clit until your mouth fell open and eyes rolled back, and then he pushed inside in one smooth and swift motion. 

Your body jerked up, legs and arms locked tighter around his body from the stretch that was almost too much. You whimpered, throwing your head back against the wall, and Rafe took an opportunity to bite down on your throat. 

“About damn time… Look at you.” He said, brushing hair out of your face, voice softer now but still wild underneath, as he bottomed out and then pulled until only the tip was left inside of your clenching hole. “All that attitude. All that smart mouth. But you’re still gonna let me split you open on my cock, huh?”

“R-Rafe!” You moaned his name breathlessly, letting him take full control over your body. He gripped your ass with both of his hands again, pressing your back against the wall, and then moving you up and down his cock like a doll. 

“Just gonna fuck you dumb ‘til you have nothing else to say.” He grunted, pushing into you harder and harder. You clawed at his back, probably leaving marks even through the shirt. His dick hit something deep and perfect, and the sound you made didn’t even sound human anymore. Your head fell forward into the crook of his neck, moaning into his warm skin with absolutely no shame. 

“Please, just don’t stop—“ 

He pulled out for just a second, long enough to slap the head of his cock against your clit. “What was that? Couldn’t hear you. Say it again, baby.”

“Need more, Rafe.” You cried out. 

“So fucking tight. You’re just a little slut for me, baby, yeah? Tried to fucking rage bait me when all you could do was ask.” His cock was sliding into you at a brutal pace, hips slapping against yours with the force of him lifting your body and pushing you back on him. “Gonna fucking claim you.” 

“Yes! Please, I need it—Rafe, Rafe, oh shit!” He let out the filthiest groan you’d ever heard, the kind that made you clench around him involuntarily, and then he snapped. He shoved you harder into the wall, and the rhythm turned reckless. His thrusts came deeper, meaner, like he was chasing something and didn’t care what he destroyed on the way there.

“Take it.” He snarled, fucking into you so hard your breath came in gasps, each thrust punching the air out of your lungs. “Take what you asked for, baby. You wanted this, right? Wanted me to prove it to you?”

You nodded, too gone to answer properly, your hand flying up to grip at his nape, nails biting into his skin.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” Rafe growled against your mouth, sucking your bottom lip into his and biting it hard enough to sting. “So wet and tight and just mine. Say it.”

“Yours, ‘m just yours.” Your body trembled, too close to the edge, and he shifted just slightly, angling his cock until it perfectly hit your g-spot. 

You came with a cry that bordered on sobbing, so intense you forgot your name for a second. Your whole body shuddered against his, the orgasm crashing over you in wave after wave of white-hot heat.

Rafe didn’t slow. He chased his own release like a man who had one goal: you.

“Shit, I’m gonna—” He gritted his teeth, hips stuttering. “Where do you want it, baby?”

“In me.” You gasped, still trembling from the aftershocks, clenching harder. 

“Fuck, take my cum, baby. Yea-ah, such a good fucking girl.” He groaned as the ropes and ropes of cum painted your insides. You trembled around him, milking him for all he was worth. 

You were both gasping and panting, basically glued to each other for a few moments. You were first to pull away, looking like an absolute wreck, yet the teasing smile returned back to its place. “Didn’t think you would take it so personally.”

“You mean the way you called me gay and basically told me to fuck you stupid?” 

You rolled your eyes but still leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, gently this time. Rafe softened under it, eyes closing for a second before opening again. “So are we done now?” He murmured. “You gonna stop driving me crazy?”

“Absolutely not.” You whispered sweetly. “You fuck way too good when you’re mad.” He groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. “Not bad for a gay guy.”

He pulled back instantly, eyes wild, like he was about to throw you against the wall all over again.

“Oh my god.” You gasped between laughs, trying to push at his chest. “I’m joking—damn, why are you looking at me like that?”

Rafe’s hand slid right back to your ass. “Keep talkin’. I’ll fuck you again just to shut you up.”

You smirked, biting your lip as you whispered, “Promise?”

[blaysreid]

FOLDED WORDS - S.R

pairing = shy!spencer + cafeowner!reader

summary = You work at a quiet little café tucked inside a bookstore. Spencer Reid is your shy, book-loving regular. One paper crane, a few handwritten notes, and a shared love of poetry later… he’s not just your favorite customer anymore.

You first noticed him because of his scarf.

Long, tan, kind of fraying at the ends. The type someone keeps for too long because it feels like a friend. He’d walked in on a rainy Thursday, droplets clinging to his curls, glasses fogged up, and asked, so softly you barely heard him for a black coffee with oat milk.

No sugar, just a napkin and a book tucked under his arm: The Bell Jar.

You wanted to ask what he thought of it. But he looked like the kind of person who felt things deeply, and you didn’t want to pry.

So instead, you slipped a paper crane beside his cup. You always left little origami shapes for new customers. Most people smiled politely and left them behind.

He tucked it in his book like a bookmark.

And came back the next day.

And the next.

It became a quiet routine. Always around 3:12 PM. Always with a book. Always sitting in the armchair by the corner window, where the sunlight fell in patches and the ivy from the outside wall snuck through the crack in the glass.

You started writing tiny notes under his cup sleeves.

Hope the book’s good today.

Your scarf looks cozy.

If you like Eliot, you’ll love Plath.

The fourth day, he left one back.

Folded neatly under his empty cup If you like Plath, you might like Rainer Maria Rilke.

You stared at it for a full minute, smiling like a dork.

By the second week, the notes became habit.

Little poems. Random facts.

You learned his name was Spencer.

That he didn’t technically work nearby, but preferred this spot because it was “quiet and well-curated.”

That his favorite book as a kid was A Wrinkle in Time, and he still didn’t quite understand why.

He learned that you liked Chopin, especially when it rained. He told you he preferred Mozart, especially on the plane. You told him your dream was to own a piano café. That you always wore mismatched socks on purpose because it “kept life unpredictable.”

And Spencer never felt he could relate to anyone as much as he does to you. So he told you about his mismatched socks and his purpose being "lucky".

You still hadn’t heard his voice beyond his coffee order.

Until one day. A Tuesday when he came in late, soaked from the rain. Hair curled into soft chaos. Shirt clinging slightly to his chest under a cardigan. And he looked at you like he was about to say something brave.

“I, uh…” He fiddled with the strap of his satchel. “I brought you something.”

You blinked. “Oh?”

He pulled out a book. Old, with a cracked spine and handed it to you.

“Letters to a Young Poet.”

Your name was written neatly on a sticky note on the cover. And below it Page 47.

Your fingers flipped fast.

The underlined passage read:

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart… Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

Your breath caught.

When you looked up, Spencer was staring at you wide-eyed and nervous, like he couldn’t believe he actually did it.

You smiled. Shyly looking into his eyes. "I think I’m going to need your number now, Bookstore Boy.”

His laugh was soft. Hopeful. He pushed his glasses up with one hand and said, “Only if I get to see your sock collection sometime.”

A/N = lowkey really want to make this into a mini series pls don't let this flop 💔

masterlist and tags

tags = @summerobertsvariant @tokalotashiz

[m-robinavitch]

for thirsty thursday !!

HEAR ME OUT,,,, extra soft robby with these prompts,.. TEE HEE AUGHHHHH 😫😫😫

❛ i'll make us feel good. you'll love this. ❜ + ❛ i want this. let me have you like this. ❜

finishing up thirsty thursday/freak nasty friday!

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Shy!Reader

warnings: insecurities, body image issues, jealousy

You’ve been actively avoiding Robby for a week now. You weren’t jealous. Absolutely not. You were well aware of the beautiful women that worked with Robby. You were well aware that Robby worked with his tall, gorgeous, intelligent ex girlfriend daily. And it didn’t bother you at all. Not when you were doing the laundry and found a crumpled up piece of paper in Robby’s hoodie pocket that had someone’s phone number written on it. It didn’t hurt. You weren’t angry when you asked him about it- trying to be as nonchalant as you could but your voice shook a little when you asked. And bless Robby but your boyfriend was actually nonchalant about it- telling you the new orthopedic surgeon gave him her number when he needed a consult in the Pitt immediately but not understanding that she really meant when he wanted to see her. And morbid curiosity got the best of you- visiting the Pitt one day to bring Robby his lunch and you saw the pretty ortho surgeon throwing her head back and laughing at some stupid joke he said with her hand on his arm. Oh. Well, that did hurt a little. Even when he smiled so bright as soon as he saw you- kissing your cheek and saying you made his day. Your insecurities started to creep up a little.

You didn’t usually feel this way- you were comfortable with yourself and confident in your own self, but dammit sometimes it was hard. Especially when Robby was a fucking doctor, the chief of emergency medicine and you just- you felt like you couldn’t compare sometimes. And it was childish and dumb and Robby immediately picked up on it- feeling the way you’d pull away when he held you, the way your smile didn’t reach your eyes, the way your kiss felt distant, the way you rolled over away from when you thought he was asleep. It was like pulling teeth one night- Robby sat on the couch and pulling you into his lap when you walked past him, asking what was wrong. What did he do because he needs you to smile again like you used to and when you said you just felt jealous he wanted to laugh. But he understood his own insecurities- how own self doubt and it hurt him that you felt any kind of way that he did. With soft touches and gentle kisses- Robby wanted to show you how much he loved you. That you had nothing to fear or be insecure over.

“I want this, let me have you like this sweetheart,” mouthing at your neck, Robby tried to lift up your shirt but you were painfully aware of the bright like of the day flooding through the window- threatening to expose your body to him without the comfort of the night. His large hands splayed over your chest- squeezing and grabbing at anything he can find because he’s already growing hard underneath you. It was hard to feel insecure when Robby kept mumbling about how perfect you were for him- begging you to ride him because he knows you’d like it. Missionary had been the only thing you had tried with Robby and- you trusted him. You let him pull off the shirt of his you had on, his hands dragging down your body with his lips closely following so he could lick and suck at your chest. “I’ll make us feel good baby, you'll love this.”

He let you set the pace, strong hands holding onto your hips while he whispered into your lips about how fucking good you felt around him- little ‘like that- perfect baby’ mumbled into your neck along with ‘so good for me sweetheart’ groaned out. Every slow drag of his cock deep inside you set fire to your skin- but not more than his words. Robby’s hand came to wrap around your waist, his other hand cupping your cheek so he could look at you and he begs- ‘look at me baby’ asking you to open your eyes so he could see the way you fell apart on his cock. It was almost too much- the strong eye contact held by his deep brown eyes that made you fall in love so easily, beard scratching into your neck when he mumbled how much he loved you as he gripped your back and thighs when you started to involuntarily lift yourself up and bounce on his cock. It did feel good- especially when his hand came down grab your ass so he could help you ride him, looking up at you like you were a fucking angel because there’s no way you’re human.

[emslittlelibrary]

⭑ sylus has you on his mind. ⭑

⭑ your next-door neighbor, sylus, can’t stop thinking about you. so he has to take matters into his own hands. — (PLUS!) 💌 ⁀➴ a ⭑ special surprise ⭑ for those of you who have read any of my previous works! even if it’s just one!! feel free to skip around! ౨ৎ

💌 ⁀➴ content warnings: 18+! lowercase intended. non-evol au. messy almost desparate masturbating (sylus). nsfw fantasies: tit play. (more cws on the way 😼)

💌 ⁀➴ wc: 1k (+ another 4k hm? where did those come from?? 🤥)

⭑ a note from 乇m! ⭑ fun fact! ⋆˙⟡ tomorrow marks ONE MONTH since i started posting these fics on tumblr! AHHHH! simultaneously can’t believe it’s already been a month + can’t believe it’s only been a month?? em tries not to get sentimental challenge (impossible) BUT i do ofc just have to say how grateful & appreciative i am of all the support i’ve received in the short time i’ve been here. i’m so lucky to be on this platform in this community with all these fellow readers and writers. the fact that so many of you will read about how heinously down bad i am for this man sylus is a privilege i will never take for granted!! thanking everyone with my WHOLE heart. ♡𝜗ৎ here’s a fun way to celebrate this little milestone with all the fics i’ve written so far!

💌 ⁀➴ thank you for reading! ౨ৎ

sylus felt like such a pervert.

he had never felt so ashamed—so embarrassed to give into his immediate impulses. but at a certain point, the restless ache pressing harder and tighter into his pants became suffocating. demanding attention, painful to ignore, as depraved as it was persuasive—especially in the dead of night when his thoughts had no way out.

but you were his impossibly sweet, reserved, innocent next-door neighbor. you’re the same neighbor who left vanilla creampie cookies at his doorstep the first day he moved in. who waved all sheepish and shy with this darling smile quirked on your lips whenever he drove past you on one of your morning jogs. who always slipped an extra mini muffin or donut round with his coffee whenever he visited the bakery during your shift. who asked if he could help you move a particularly heavy package into your living room, and felt so delighted by his willingness to do such a simple favor that you sent him home with a batch of homemade sugar lemon loaves.

who sylus just saw wearing pajamas at the apartment mailboxes, which somehow aroused him so pathetically that he was about to make himself cum over it.

it’s not like you were wearing lingerie. chocolate chip cookie sweats, actually—good god, since when did his silly little private crush on you get this out of hand? but this early morning vision of you really crucified him when the strap of your little silk top slipped down your shoulder, which brought his attention to the perky, hershey’s kiss silhouette of your nipples pebbling through the fabric. the audacity of you to regard him with one of your dessert pink, angel-bright, shy and darling and sugar-sweet smiles, then leave and hook your tank top strap over your shoulder at the same time.

it was your fault. for being so soft and innocent and cavity-ache sweet all the time.

he blamed you for what he was about to do, and he would take this anger out on his inconsolable hard-on, since he couldn’t ask you to take care of it for him instead. some favor that would be.

he didn’t even flick on a lamp, or shift into a more comfortable position. he would simply lie on his back, in the stiff darkness of his bedroom, reach into his boxers and get this over with. so he could sleep—so his boner wouldn’t keep him up with the relentless reminder of how precious your nipples looked underneath the thin fabric of your night shirt.

he worked himself like a well-oiled machine—mechanical and detached from its functions, operating for a specific, objective purpose, moving through the motions like he was simply behaving within a code. sylus wanted the most optimal, efficient way to get off, and that meant squeezing the thick base of his dick with one hand as he thumbed and twisted the ridge of his cockhead with the other, pumping at that fast and sloppy momentum that always brought him to his edge. he was merciless, unreasonable almost, frustrating his cock to satisfaction.

he wouldn’t let his thoughts roam too far. though you would never know that he had done this, it still felt too disrespectful to imagine someone as pure of heart as you in such compromising positions.

but he couldn’t help himself from re-envisioning the state of your nipples, hard and puckered as fruit seeds, insistent on pushing against the silken material of your tank top. he imagined just how tender they would feel when he kneaded them with his fingertips, and how they would respond to the slow roll of his tongue lathering them like syrup. how much harder—needier could they get? and how mouthwatering would they look when strings of saliva followed his lips as he pulled away, or with lovestruck hickeys suckled into the plush of your breasts from starved sucks and nibbles?

his hips bucked, shuddering once he resituated. an accidental groan escaped his lips as he deepened his thrusts, clashing with his base hand on his way down and flicking his thumb over his wet slit on his way up.

but his strength soon weakened when he imagined looking up at you throughout all of this—that sugar cane sparkle in your wide eyes, the doughiness of your pink bottom lip from biting it too many times, the bow and arrow scrunch between your brows as you tried to keep quiet, like the shy, innocent, sweet neighbor you were.

though he just knew that a few of your moans would have to drip out of you, sticky as hot, drizzling honey or lush as cherry pie juice. as soon as he imagined you saying his name—his hips stalled again, his heavier grip weakened, and he had to drape his arm across his forehead to steady himself as he committed to the faithful pump of just one of his hands, faster and more precise than before.

his lips parted for another rasped groan. he was so miserably obsessed with you. it was a miracle that all he had to do was imagine sucking your tits to bring him this close to the edge.

you were just so, so sweet. perhaps even sweet enough to feel guilty about the torment you put him through all night. maybe, if something like this happened again, you would be just sweet enough to help satiate his unending appetite for you.

what if you did let him see your nipples? or sample a taste of your forbidden fruit flesh? what if you let him stroke his cock while he savored just how sweet you really were? what if, when he told you he was nearly there, you asked him in that lovely, strawberry-filling voice of yours to finish on your tits?

that was it. that dazed vision of your hard, berried nipples dripping in the thick glaze of his cum dizzied him until he felt numb everywhere except his slick length prickling with pleasure. he couldn’t restrain his groans anymore.

“hah—” he panted out, then again through a grittier breath, “mmph—such a sweet girl. letting me cum all over her, f-fuck—”

sylus grunted as he came into his pumping fist, drenching his slippery fingertips and bare thighs in just how desperately he craved you. he didn’t expect to cum this much—unloading for so long that he couldn’t catch the leaks of his release that seeped into his bedsheets.

but he couldn’t be bothered by it when the thought of you alone made him feel this fucking good.

💌 ⁀➴ (additional) content warnings: hide and seek sylus! post-fic. established friendship. nsfw fantasies: dry-humping, fingering, fucking from behind in a closet.

sylus couldn’t think about anything else but you when he got home from the kickback that night. because of hide and seek, no less.

he may have been able to get you out of his head by the time he made the half-hour drive back to his place—if his clothes didn’t still smell like you.

that’s why he couldn’t even make it to his bedroom. he should’ve headed right for the shower, but he stalled with a glass of whiskey and late night television. and, in this haze of your flower blossom scent that enchanted his senses like love potion fumes, he had to unbuckle his jeans right there on the couch. dimly lit by cool blue flickers of the tv screen, he stretched the waistband of his boxers with one hand while the other smothered his heavy cock in needy twists and pulls.

he just couldn’t believe you let him grind his dick against you in a random closet. he pinched tight, slippery circles around his tip, enticed by the memory of how soaked you sounded—all because he nuzzled his needy cockhead into the wet stain in your leggings.

your clit felt so sticky and warm, like he was smearing his fingertips over the hard shell of gooey honey candy. thick coats of your arousal melted through your folds, smooth and soft and perhaps glossy like sugar wax.

he could only imagine how drenched you could get if he actually slipped it in.

he leaned back further against the couch, rustling his brows closer together with a breathless grunt as he squeezed his cock tighter, and committed to fuller, deeper, faster pumps. he pounded his fist the way he would’ve fucked you against the wall of that closet, tipping his head back as he leveraged his hips to simulate the exact momentum of his thrusts. his thighs trembled as another uneven breath caved in on his chest, rendered completely defenseless to his pleasure.

he cherished every shiny glimpse of you that washed ashore his mind like sea trinkets—the raw squelch of your liquid core catching and releasing his cock with every snap of his hips, the restless swishes of your clit flustered by his fingertips, how you would no doubt leak sap all the way down to his overweight balls, your muffled whines against the palm of his hand as he shushed you in your ear.

his rough groans weakened into breathless strings of curses.

“fuck,” he hissed again and again, “fuck, fuck, fuck. mm-hm—so fucking good.”

he preserved one last vision of you angling your chin so you could catch his lips in a messy, disorienting kiss. he would delve past your lips, then swirl and lap and mesh your tongues to capture every last one of your fluttery moans and budding sighs.

“mmph—” he growled through the grit of his teeth, “that’s it. that’s it—hah—”

he came hard into his lap, and spilled directly over his dark jeans still perfumed in your honey blossom aroma. he could only hope that you needed to anchor your own release just as much as he did.

💌 ⁀➴ (additional) content warnings: king sylus! pre-fic. foreign princess reader. age gap (reader, 23 + sylus, 42). context: reader and several other princesses visit king sylus’s palace for a summer to potentially court his son, the prince. nsfw fantasies: oral sex (reader receiving), throne sex. spitting. overstimulation. multiple orgasms.

king sylus, it seemed, was inconsolable.

he was often in his most favorable mood when he retreated to his bed chambers at the end of a long, tiresome day as ruler. once, this was all he looked forward to by the end of the night—draped in his satin red nighttime robe, warmed by the crackling glow of his stone fireplace, coaxing himself to sleep with a gold-prism flask of liquor.

but he had contracted some sort of plague over the course of the past week. it fevered his flushed skin with goosebumps. it irritated his nerves with this unfamiliar sensitivity, easily startled and nipped by electric tension. it infected his heartrate, that was no longer capable of beating at a reliable, consistent rhythm. he was unrecognizable—until, the sight of you from across the room or a faint whiff of your strawberry shortcake scent cured him, for as long as he remained in your presence.

this is why the king had to remedy his sudden affliction for you, before it weakened him entirely. this heaven-sent angel of a woman merely disguised as a foreign princess shouldn’t have to bare witness to such a sick, sinful man, no matter how miraculously you could heal him to the core with a single, merciful touch.

but, for now, he would have to settle for his own callous fingertips.

he stroked himself with heavy-handed, miserable clenches of his broad palm and rhythmic rolls of his wrist. his cock bowed forward, hardening with each full cycle from his hand, twitching for more. thick droplets of pre-cum crowned his tip, glistening his slit in the wake of golden fire light. chills nibbled down his spine and unsteadied his hips. he truly was ill.

he just wanted to taste you. the king had convinced himself that what he craved was the divine light between your legs. he just knew that was your sweetest spot, where he could find your hidden garden of ripe, sacred berries to pluck and harvest, until he had savored every last drop of all your heavenly fruit patches. he also knew you would shine brightest as you came.

a wild pant parted his lips with the tight furrow of his brow. “princess,” he sighed like a prayer.

he couldn’t focus on just one way to have you. these mirages blurred his vision like shooting stars—the sight of him pinning you against his wall, hiking up the cupid’s red ballgown you wore at dinner today, and kneading his fingers into the plump flesh of your heart-shaped ass as he parted your folds with his tongue. then bending you over the balcony with your knee propped on the banister, fitting snug around his crucifix tongue as you moaned like sweet music for all the flowers in the garden to witness. then right here, in front of the fireplace, where you could mount his face and bathe in his warm flames and rut your knees into the plush of his velvet rug as you baptized him in your holy nectar.

in any case, he couldn’t imagine taking you in his bed. he didn’t have the patience for that anymore. it would have to happen sooner.

the king defiled his cock with a ruthless hiss of spit, then let it drip past his tip before smearing it in with deeper, heavier strokes, imagining he was soaking himself in your pure pleasure instead. his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he smoothed his fingers over his balls, applying pressure just to deny himself too soon after.

“that’s a good girl,” he babbled to his hallucinations like a madman, “i know you would be such a good girl for me—nngh. my perfect little princess—hah.”

he thrusted wildly into his fist as his symptoms worsened, and he surrendered to his most sacreligious thought of you—taking you on his throne, steering your hips as you bounced up and down in his lap, savoring the rich cake of your ass corrupted by his greedy spanks and naughty bike marks, serving yourself on a silver platter for him to feast upon, up until you creamed on his cock the moment he whimpered that you were his queen.

“sweet girl, sweet girl, sweet girl—mmph—”

he came in thick, warm spurts, fantasizing that he was frosting the sweet flesh of your ass instead of making a mess of his velvet couch and trembling thighs.

though, no matter how masterfully he worked himself through his release, he remained hard. this had to be his condition at its worst.

he writhed off the sofa and collapsed to his knees on the floor, completely helpless to his delirium. his scathed grunts thinned into delicate whimpers as he stroked his slick cock past its limit, drenching himself in his own release, hexed by these deranged imaginings of you.

“ah—hah—” he shriveled out a whine, “fuck, please i—i’ll do anything, princess.”

his next orgasm was much more forgiving, though he still bucked forward without a spare breath like he had been wounded by his need for you. it was pathetic, the way he worshiped you, completely enamored and devoted from simple conversation, your twinkling laughter, and the blessing that was your smile.

but, despite his best efforts, he was still hard for you, even after his second release.

he came to the sudden and grave realization—this was much worse than he thought. if he had any chance of redeeming a full night’s sleep for the rest of the summer, or finding any sense of composure that he so willingly sacrificed to please you, he couldn’t do this alone. there seemed to be only one antidote.

the king would visit your room for the first time that night.

💌 ⁀➴ (additional) content warnings: vampire sylus! without glasses :/ post-fic. human reader. established friendship. blood consumption (via blood bag) while masturbating. nsfw fantasies: oral sex (sylus + reader receiving).

vampire sylus hadn’t been able to think straight since he shared that kiss with you all those nights ago.

he couldn’t feed properly, carelessly whiffing an animal’s vital veins with his fangs on his first or second bite. it didn’t help that he compared every taste to yours, and nothing even neared the sweet warmth of your mouth. he couldn’t convince himself to sleep either, grieving the weight of your sleep-enchanted figure nested on top of his chest. your gentle breaths and fluttering heartbeats hummed to him like a lullaby the entire night, soothing him to slumber faster than he had managed in centuries.

sylus knew he had to satiate this sudden craving he had for you. vampiric urges toward humans, no matter what capacity, could easily evolve into a much more dangerous, often life-threatening addiction. as soon as he outgrew the need for the shallow taste of your skin, and instead hungered for what seeped beneath it, he would lose you forever. and he would do anything to keep that from happening.

even if it meant draining a blood bag for the first time in a decade.

vampires reached the height of their arousal faster, stronger while feeding. so in the darkness of his bedroom, moments before dawn bled into dusk, he punctured his pouch of blood with his fangs, and imagined first the mere color of your lips as his fingertips trickled down past the waistband of his shorts.

he already gave in to a winded sigh as he remembered the precious pink pout from your plush mouth moments before you coaxed him into a kiss.

he had memorized the clotted rhythm of your heartrate before the kiss, struggling to beat fully and thruthfully, squeamish and swollen and restless. but as soon as you allowed him to taste you, your heart sacrificed its strongest, most devoted pulses in quick, unrelenting succession, as if it knew he would no longer be capable of pulling back the second he heard its siren song. oozing blood in healthy doses, squelching and shivering whenever he initiated the next kiss before you could, submitting to his every breath and movement and push and pull from his mouth.

with another carnal groan, he switched from his back to his knees, kneeling into his bedsheets to echo the exact position he had you in. his silver chain iced the back of his neck, dripping over his collarbones now that he hovered over his mattress. he remembered how graciously it tendered your chest as he warmed his mouth along the soft curves of your throat.

his chiseled back muscles flexed with cutthroat precision as he sank his fangs deeper into the blood bag, pretending that it smelled just as dizzy and sweet and warm as you. he tugged his heavy, bobbing length in heartless strokes with the mindless buck of his hips, trickling droplets of pre-cum into his dark, silk bedsheets.

his thoughts of you were truly ravenous. though he didn’t want to think of anything beyond the memory of your doting mouth, he couldn’t resist the temptation of what else your mouth could do to him. how soft and doting would it be to his wretched heartache for a cock? could he take the gentle waft of your breaths, the warm stretch of your lips smearing spit and glitter gloss up and down his entire length, that squishy pocket at the back of your throat when you invited him in as far as your lovely mouth could have him?

he clawed at his bedsheets, feasting at his wildest delusions like a fine delicacy, uncontrollable with his harsher grunts and jagged whimpers. he throttled his tip with corckscrew twists, envisioning your delicate tongue ribboning soft licks around the rim of his flushed cockhead.

then, his thoughts finally returned to the taste of you. and, resisting the urge to indulge in your cherry-scented blood like fine wine, he wondered instead how impeccable you would taste directly from the source of your pleasure.

would you let him trace his tongue along the sugar lining that soaked your inner thighs? could he get you to spill your sweet, sticky honeypot by molding his tongue to the shape of your clit, and, with his vampiric capabilities, flicking tight and fast enough to vibrate against you? how desperately would your heart beg for him then?

“fuck,” he muffled, wet and sticky into the pouch of blood within his teeth.

a woozy whine parted his crimson lips as he came undone to the thought of you gasping for one last breath before releasing into his mouth, soaking his tongue in wet candy-heart glitter. he drained the bag dry, left shriveled in his bedsheets.

this starved supor he allowed himself for only tonight would just have to stifle his growing appetite for you—at least for now.

💌 ⁀➴ (additional) content warnings: biggest fan sylus! without glasses :/ post-fic. masturbating in the shower. spitting. babbling sylus (our man). video game streamer reader. nsfw fantasies: rough sex in your desk chair.

your biggest fan, sylus, didn’t quit his routine of cumming to the thought of you after your streams just because you now knew about it.

he braced his arm against the cold, tile wall of the shower, as spurts of hot water and steam kissed the broad strength of his back that tensed with each one of his satisfied shudders. he suffocated his cock with smothering twists and pulls, accelerating when he reached his achy tip but then slowing to a smoother rhythm if his thighs trembled or a vein in his dick pulsed.

“ah, fuck,” he babbled in between sharp winces and broken sighs, “hah—hah—s-so good. so good and you’re not even here.”

you had to have known what you were doing to him that night. not only did you wear that favorite hoodie he mentioned on your date yesterday, but you also pulled your hair back the exact way you knew he liked it. you wore these tight little pajama shorts too, that barely reached the cusp of your thigh, so every time you folded your legs to your chest as you sat back in your chair, his stare lingered on your luscious curves and the dewy glow on your marshmallow-scented skin—and those adorable fucking kitten-ear socks.

he soaked his tongue, then released a thick, heavy string of spit directly onto his tip, recreating that rare gleam in your snake-charmer eyes as he lathered himself in the glossy sheen of his own saliva. he couldn’t stop thinking about all of the filthy things he wanted to do to you next, and spitting in your mouth would have to be one of the first.

that, and he couldn’t get off his mind how demanding your stream was today. you collaborated with a few of your friends to participate in a fundraiser, and monitoring messages while thanking every donation and progressing in one of the more difficult, time-consuming games you played on your channel, all while maintaining your lovely disposition—it looked exhausting. if only he was at your place, waiting for you in the kitchen with dinner and wine, to help you relax after such a stressful stream.

if only he could really help you relax, by fucking you into your chair until you had no choice but to think only about how good his cock felt pounding you through to your next orgasm.

he pictured you with your legs folded to the side, resting on one of your arm rests and locked in place by his steady grip on your ankles. he would leave you in only your oversized hoodie, snapping his hips against the hearty flesh of your thighs as you received each one of his thrusts with fussy whimpers. he replaced the surrounding echo of dripping shower water with flustered chair squeaks and the spongy squelch of your wet core gagging around the thickness of his cockhead.

his teeth raked over his bottom lip, and a deep furrow dented the space between his brows as he neared his release. his groans thinned into shallow breaths, bucking up into his sloppier, lazier strokes, reaching down to strangle his balls at the same rhythm they would clap against your full, round ass.

“hah—can’t f-fucking take this,” he whined, “i have to cum—fuck. p-please. please, ‘m right there. wanna give it to you so bad.”

he salvaged one last image of you, not taking him on your back, but instead kneeling into the seat cushion, thrashing forward and back on his dick with your nails digging into the chair’s plush shoulders and shiny smears of arousal candy-coating your inner thighs. his eyes clamped shut, holding onto this last thought as long as he could, whittling his focus down to the bratty pout on your lips, the pretty ripples of your ass, that sexy scrunch above your nose just before you came, the smooth creaminess of your cunt sweetening his glazed cock like cake batter.

then, he remembered what you said to him the night before, blinking through heavy lashes and watercolor eyes. “i really want you to cum for me. i want to cum for you too, sylus.”

“yeah, let me cum for you,” he sighed into his relief, “let me cum for you just like that. mmhm.”

his release nearly startled him, arriving so quickly that his hips stalled to an abrupt stop before he was ready. then he spilled his seed in thick, blurry spurts against the tile backing of his shower, until his strokes felt too ticklish and sensitive after draining himself dry.

it was, no doubt, the fastest he had ever cum for you.

and when you sent him a message later that night, asking if he still enjoyed himself in the shower, you had him promise to send you a video next time.

or, of course, you could just jerk his cock in the shower for him.

💌 ⁀➴ (additional) content warnings: sylus fits! post-fic. established relationship. pet name usage (sweetie, baby). masturbating during foreplay. dirty talk. oral sex (reader receiving). spitting. mutual orgasms.

now that sylus finally fit, it wasn’t often when he put in the effort for his own orgasm—though, at times, he couldn’t help himself whenever you he brought you to the peak of your pleasure.

there was this sensual familiarity to it, those occasional instances when he rutted his burden of a boner into the edge of the couch or mattress at the same time that he dedicated his mouth to the refuge between your thighs.

it reminded him of those first few months of dating, when the intimidating weight of his cock could still too easily overwhelm you. too wide to fit within the shape of your lips, too assertive with the back of your throat, too untamed to submit to the weight of both your hands, too cruel and rigid even when sheltered by his boxers, during his attempts to dry-hump you while cuddling on the couch. if sylus wanted to get off back then, he would have to subdue his beast of a cock himself.

the two of you had come so far, really. but despite this, he may never find the strength to overcome his worst habit, especially when you were still this responsive to his mouth.

you obeyed every precise bend and curve of his tongue with the arch of your back or a thrilled fidget from your hips. he knew the exact pattern that led you to an undeniable release—the smush of his lips rubbing hard, slow cirles in between your folds, hungry laps from his tongue flicking over your clit, sloppily enough for leaks of his spit to drip down to your core, the suction of his entire mouth over your puddle for a hole, stuffing you full and tunneling deep. you treated him to lovesick babbles and praises the whole way through.

you were so sweet to him, so grateful that he would devour you this mercilessly. he truly had no choice but to reach beneath his sweatpants to alleviate the dense ache weighing down on his cock, and squeeze his tip tight enough to replicate the needy clutch of your gummy walls struggling to accomodate the size of his taffy pink tongue.

you slipped your fingers through his bed-ridden sweeps of hair, clawing hard at the strands to drive him closer to your cunt. his scalp prickled whenever you pulled him in deeper, and weakened him with a winded groan each time. he clenched the fat of his tip tighter, pledging filthy swivels of his thumb to his slippery slit.

“yeah, take it,” he whined between your thighs, a bit lightheaded, “take what’s yours, sweetie, c’mon. you can do it. where’s my good girl?”

“i’m your good girl,” you sniffled, bracing another surprise whimper when he stunned your clit with a harsh suck, “hmph—‘m your good girl, baby. i love being good for you.”

“mmhm,” he hummed against you.

he drew back for only a moment, to wince and water his tongue before wetting his dick with a thick splatter of your sweet sticky fruit sugar mixed with his saliva. a shiver caved in on his spine and grappled with his shoulders when he returned to the sweet rapture of your warmth, stroking himself at the same time. he squeezed his fingers into his girth, eased the forgiveness of his palm to thrust harder and faster, buried his faint moans into your melted heat. but his uncontrolled mouth still pledged its devotion to you, with faithful sips and slurps and swishes.

“uhn—uhn—b-baby,” you panted out, “i don’t want to cum without you, b-but—mmph—‘m so close. i’m trying to be good for you.”

he pinched one last open-mouth kiss over your clit. “i’m always there when you’re there, sweetie. let me see it. ‘m right here.”

he slow-rolled his tongue in disorienting spirals, so heavy and broad that he could scuff your hole and clip your clit’s squishiest cluster of nerves in one torturous sweep. he shucked his dick in and out of his hand too, sensing the creep of his nearing release as you flattered him with your dreamy, sickly sweet moans.

“almost there,” you warned again.

“mmhm. let me see it, c’mon, sweet girl,” he murmured, as his relief nearly bubbled over.

you never had to tell him when you were cumming. he knew the moment your hips stilled at an incline, followed shortly by a gasp of your last breath.

within his crisis of dazed, fucked-dumb pleasure, sylus stood from his knees, then crouched down and hovered forward to rub your clit with the fat weight of his soggy tip. he only had to follow through with a couple additional strokes before he was a goner, cumming directly onto your blossoming seed with a guttural sigh of relief. shivers wrecked you until you were useless, a hot wet mess of breath and color and satisfaction.

“f-fuck, there she is. there she is,” he panted, breathless and needy.

he pressed his fingers into your putty-soft folds, and spread them apart with a slick, sticky squish from your sopping core. he watched through heavy-lidded, lust-fogged eyes as he fucked his cum into your clit, that then leaked into the crevices of your folds and plugged your fluttery hole until he milked himself dry with your glitter.

sylus was convinced, now more than ever, that this was a habit he could never break—and one that he never wanted to, either.

𝜗ৎ⭑ 乇m’s masterlist! in case you’re interested in my other works!

oh! and psst—for those of you who wanted fic sequels for some of these, this doesn’t count, don’t worry 😇 *cough* two of the sequels are already written anyway *cough* and they’re around 8k+ words each *cough* but you didn’t hear that from me!!! 🥸 although guess which ones they are 🔍 haha thanks for reading this far! 𝜗ৎ

— © 2025. 乇m! all rights reserved. 𝜗ৎ

[artigas]

Top 5 Rabbot fics?

This was the first ask I got and it's such a tough one because you're really spoiled for choice when it comes to amazing robby/abbot fics. here is a small sampling -- not in any specific order and definitely not an exhaustive list!!

All of Nothing by Alethia - this was the first Robby/Abbot fic I read and it is single-handidly responsible for taking me from curious about this ship to absolutely rabid about them. Jack does a wellness check on Robby and there's a moment in this one where he seriously considers the possibility that something seriously nightmarish has occurred, but faces it anyway because of the depths of his love for Robby. hurt/comfort perfection, gorgeous prose, lovely characterization.

Safe Haven by Alethia - you really can't go wrong with @alethialia's fics and I certainly can't choose favorites, but this one has a special place in my heart particularly because i'd just come back from an academic conference that's infamous for people hooking up at when i read this lmaooo. SUCH a gorgeous multichapter that perfectly balances internal and external conflict. so much pining that, when Jack and Robby finally do get together (spoiler!), you'll want to leap right up over the moon.

Healing Hands by Astronomical_Light - i've gone back to this fic a handful of times. @astronomical-light is such an incredible writer and i think this fic is one of many that showcases so much of what i love about her writing. i mean, okay, the premise of this fic is so fun and hot so that's a blast!! but also the vivid details are so evocative. i mean, i blush every time i read it because this fic takes its time building tension. it's so bodily in the most gorgeous way. truly like . . . gold tier example of how to write desire and sexual tension.

Through The Fall by Addandsubstract OOOH i love this one and cannot wait to re-read it after I post this. I'm someone who can read the same fic concept done a million times over, so the wealth of interpretations of how Jack and Robby would begin their relationship endlessly entertain me. This one is SO good for a million reasons, but I especially love the dialogue -- there's an understated, almost . . . careful quality to how Jack and Robby size each other up in this story, reading one another for tells before finally playing their hands. I can practically hear the dialogue. It's SO good.

Dawning by Sarapod - Another one of the first fics I read for this ship!! And I didn't even realize until now that it was a story written by the lovely @sarapod!! I adore the characterization here: writing a believable story where Robby goes to therapy is no small feat. I think it takes a really skilled writer to write this story in a way that doesn't get too hallmarky too fast and well -- Sara is that skilled of a writer! Part of what I love here is the realism: everything from Robby's relationship with mental health to his feelings for Jack feel so lived in and authentic and convincing. This is also a fic that imagines Jack as a gay man which I also really enjoy as a characterization choice; I cannot wait to read more fics of Sara's that dig deeper into Jack's identity and I can't waaaait to re-read this one.

Man of War by dreadthenight - okay you asked for five but I gotta give this one its roses as a bonus. A fic that centers on Jack Abbot, this one is written with such a profound and thoughtful attention to detail that I cannot get enough of; it really cracks open the small bits we know about Jack -- he's a veteran, he's a widower, he's got this uniquely intimate relationship with Robby -- and makes a world out of those details. There's a stunning second part to this that is equal parts tender, heart wrenching, and unsettling and everyone should bully @idreadthenight into writing a third installment!!

okay. again. there are SO many gorgeous fics I could've plugged in here --- several, in fact, from each of these authors alone!! picking a "top" five feels like picking favorites amongst your children. but i hope these selections are a fun place to start! if you have recs to share, my friend, please do send them my way!!

[knivestothroats]

you know how when you struggle to write a chapter and it gets to the point where you can't even tell if it's any good?

well, i'm trying to put a cushion in between "alive" and "party" because when ur reading it as a single book and not just getting updates every few days, it is a pretty jarring shift, and there's not room for the aftermath of all the trauma buck just went through.

thomas pointed out that i can post it and see how people respond, which is true. i've been trying not to post everything so there's some incentive to buy the book if i ever get it published but also....... you've read the story already lmao.

anyway this is that, here it is. let me know if it's shit for realsies i need to know.

Buck stayed in his room so long the next day that Fletcher ended up bursting in without knocking. 

He had been lying on his back in bed, trying to move as little as possible, but the sudden intrusion made him jolt upright, causing a stab of pain in his side.

“Oh,” Fletcher said, stance relaxing slightly. “I got it in my head that you might have died.”

“What?”

“Delayed drowning, or slipped into a coma from a concussion,” Fletcher shrugged.

With an exhale, Buck resumed his position, lying flat on his back with his hands folded over his stomach. Fletcher studied him for a moment.

“You good?” they asked.

Buck paused before responding, “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Fletcher grumbled something unintelligible under their breath and left the room.

Buck spent the next two days much the same. Sometimes he read a book, but often he couldn’t find a comfortable position, nor focus on retaining the words. Sometimes he stood and paced the room just to move, but he tired of that quickly. Mostly he just stared at the ceiling.

Fletcher came in again, this time offering the briefest of warning knocks.

“Do you want to die, Buck?”

This made Buck sit up quickly, the pain in his side a slightly duller thud.

“No,” Buck said urgently.

“Then why are you acting like you’re dead?” Fletcher demanded. 

Buck sighed and laid back down.

“You haven’t left your room in days,” Fletcher said.

“I’ve left my room,” Buck countered in a small voice.

Fletcher’s features twisted in frustration.

“I wasn’t being fucking literal,” they growled. “I would hope not, anyway. I haven’t seen you out of your room in days. Are you eating?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“At night.”

“Are you only eating once a day?” Fletcher asked. “Or are you stashing food in here?”

Buck tapped his finger against the back of his hand nervously.

“Is that… not allowed?”

Fletcher made an exasperated noise.

“I don’t care, as long as you don’t get ants. Look. You gotta get up,” they said. “I’m not making you do chores because I know you need to recover, but it’s not good to waste away in bed either.”

You didn’t seem concerned when you had me chained up in here, Buck thought, but didn’t say. 

“Come with me,” Fletcher ordered.

With great effort, Buck forced himself out of bed and followed Fletcher through the house. They passed the trainees in the living room who were sitting around a pile of locks, racing to see who could pick them the fastest. 

Fletcher led them to the kitchen, where an array of jars were set out, most of them filled with dried plant material.

“Help me make tea blends,” Fletcher said. They took a seat and gestured for Buck to do the same. “Do you drink tea?”

Buck settled into the chair with some hesitancy.

“Mm, not really,” Buck said. He picked up one of the jars that looked to be filled with dry flower buds. There was a piece of masking tape on the glass with “chamomile” written in marker. 

“Just pick flavors you think will go together,” Fletcher said. “Black teas are caffeinated, green teas are less caffeinated, herbal and fruit are not. Chamomile makes you sleepy.”

Buck sifted through a few more jars. Some of them he did not recognize.

“Uh, I don’t really know…”

“You can ask me what they are or what they taste like,” Fletcher said, already scooping the contents of one jar into another. “Just have fun with it; don’t worry too much about it. Oh, but write down what you’re using.”

They pointed at a roll of masking tape and a couple markers sitting on the table.

Buck picked up a jar of dried orange peels, holding it dubiously as he scanned the other options. There was a jar of vanilla pea pods. That would be good, right? Like a creamsicle. He slid that jar over to him as well. That wasn’t exactly tea, though. He hesitantly picked up a jar labeled Darjeeling. That was… a tea. That’s about all he knew. It appeared to be a black tea; would that be too strong? Would a green tea be better? What tea flavors go with orange?

“Um, what do you… think I should make with orange and vanilla?” Buck asked.

“It’s an experiment, Buck,” Fletcher said without looking up from their work. “Just make a small batch and try it.”

Buck took out a few of the orange peel pieces and dropped them into an empty jar, along with a full vanilla pod. He took a scoop of the Darjeeling, then paused. There was a jar of what looked like grass clippings. He unscrewed the lid and took a sniff. It was labeled sencha. Probably green tea? He added a scoop of that too, to balance out the black. Because why not. 

Buck shook the contents of the jar and examined it. He added a few more orange peels, then a cinnamon stick. It didn’t exactly look like tea. 

“Is this, um..?” 

Buck held the jar up for Fletcher to see.

“Sure,” they said. “What’s in it?”

“Uh…” Buck gathered the jars back up and read off their labels.

“Hm.” There was a hint of a smile on Fletcher’s features. “Make sure to label it so we don’t forget.”

Buck scribbled down the ingredients, putting each one on its own strip of tape in case something got swapped out as the recipe was refined. He watched Fletcher as they mixed their ingredients with confidence.

“You clearly know what you’re doing more than I do,” Buck said. “So, maybe it’d be better if I, um, didn’t interfere.”

Fletcher looked up at him. “Are you asking to go back to your room?”

Buck swallowed and nodded.

Fletcher blew a breath out their nose, turning their attention back to their work.

“Fine. Get some food first.”

Buck [grabbed food and went back to his room] [obvs i gotta write this better you can only ask so much of me rn it's a draaaaaaaft]

Buck jumped when he heard a banging at his door. 

It wasn’t too loud, or too angry, but it was different than the normal knock. Deeper and… lower?

The kicking came again.

“Buck, open the door,” Fletcher called to him. “My hands are full.”

Buck scrambled up from the bed to let Fletcher in. They were carrying a steaming mug in each hand.

“I made a tester of your tea,” they said, walking in past him. “And for fun, I made a variation of it that I thought might work better. This one’s yours.”

They held a mug out. Buck took a trepidacious sip. It was… a lot.

Fletcher laughed under their breath at Buck’s grimace and swapped mugs so he could try their version. This one had a much smoother, balanced flavor. Ultimately, to him, all tea just tasted like tea. But he could still find the taste of orange, vanilla, and cinnamon. He took another sip.

“Not bad, huh?” Fletcher said.

Buck nodded and waited silently. Fletcher looked over the contents of the first mug as if debating what to do with it, or as if they needed something to do with their eyes and hands.

“Is there a reason you’re being nice to me now?” Buck asked. “After you nearly killed me?”

Fletcher shrugged and said easily, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

Buck tapped his fingers against the side of his mug. 

“Hard to keep up with,” he muttered. 

“Well, when I stop beating up on you, that means I’m done being mad,” Fletcher supplied helpfully. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Buck said, not meeting their eyes.

“I’m serious about you not wasting away in your room,” Fletcher said.

“I understand that I’ll still have chores,” Buck responded. 

“I mean in general. You’re allowed to watch TV and shit. Go read a book outside or something.”

Buck shrugged, keeping his gaze down.

“Weather’s not too good for it anymore.”

“Oh,” Fletcher said, as if remembering something. They left the room abruptly and returned a few minutes later carrying a heavy work coat, which they held out to Buck.

Buck reached out with slow reverence. He ran his hand over the waxed canvas, and his dad’s name embroidered on the breast. 

“Where did you get this?��� Buck asked in a low voice.

“Your apartment.”

Buck swallowed. “When?”

“Shortly after you got here.”

“And you just… kept it somewhere?” Buck asked. “Why give it to me now?”

Fletcher shrugged. “I hadn’t made many decisions yet in the early days.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Buck said. It was a familiar sentiment these days.

“Like I didn’t totally know who you were or if it was smart to keep you, but it was a nice coat, so I would have kept it otherwise.”

Buck’s face twitched in anger. It was as much of a reaction as he had energy for.

“It has my dad’s fucking name on it,” he couldn’t help but growl out. His eyes stayed fixed on the coat in his hands.

“Okay? Would you rather it get thrown out?”

That gave Buck pause. He had been holding on to this idea of getting back to his apartment, but he hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences of not being around to pay rent. All of his belongings - had they ended up on the curb? Or impounded as evidence in his disappearance case? What else had Fletcher taken and kept hidden from him somewhere?

Fletcher reached out and poked Buck in the forehead, causing him to flinch back and look up at Fletcher wide eyed.

“Don’t shut down,” they ordered him.

Buck blinked at them. “I thought you wanted me to, like, stop fighting you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t fight me,” Fletcher scoffed. “But the reason I kept you in the first place was because I admired your tenacity for survival. You were doing all the right things despite the pain. Seemed a shame to kill you. But if you give up and waste away then what’s the point?”

Buck looked down again. In a small, half-muttering voice, he said, “If you keep threatening to kill me it’ll eventually lose its effect.”

That made Fletcher laugh.

“Okay, fair. I don’t want to kill you unless you really give me a reason to. Like, if you try to kill me again, I’m probably not gonna let it be a three strikes situation. It’d be pretty stupid of me to let you keep trying, you know?”

Buck bounced his leg.

“You kept me for my tenacity for survival?” he echoed.

“Mhm,” Fletcher responded. No further explanation.

“You… are a very difficult person to understand.”

“You know, I’ve gotten that before,” Fletcher said. “Though less diplomatically. But I feel like everything I do makes perfect sense.”

(just gonna put the ol' taglist here)

@lonesome--hunter @spook-queen @victimeyez @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername

@whump-only @misspelledwitch  @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @utopian819 @whumpinggoodtime @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @pretty-face-breaker

@cursedandtired @aqua-blogging

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph! Love what you do, I wish you were around for every fandom <3 Anyway I was wondering if you have any hidden gem fics with either low kudos or low bookmarks that are underrated for how great they are. Thanks !

Hi Nonny!!

You know, I really REALLY love whenever y'all mention that re: needing a Me in every fandom, LOL. It honestly makes me feel like I'm doing something really special for the BBC Sherlock fandom, and it means the world to me to know y'all also feel that way. As an aside, I actively read and tag fics in the Moon Knight, Red Dwarf, Loki (Series), Detroit Become Human, Good Omens, and CURRENTLY Disco Elysium fandoms if you're looking for something from any of those as well LOL.

THAT SAID, this is a great ask for a list idea!! I'm going to go to my bookmarks and pick out the top 25 fics with low kudos. AND you know, I'm going to also shamelessly promote my own fics that I've written (all short one shots), since like no one ever reads or recs them and I think that they're pretty neat.

Of course this list will be obsolete in the future, but I needed a list for today, so this works LOL.

=====

EDIT: OKAY so I CAN'T sort BOOKMARKS by kudos, unfortunately (you can only do it on the works page), so I went through everything and picked out AT RANDOM 25 bookmarks that I loved and need some more love. LESS THAN 300 KUDOS is the cap on these fics. This is COMPLETELY the most RANDOM LIST I've ever made, so apologies if it's not up to your liking <3 I hope you'll give these fics all some love regardless!!!

HIDDEN GEMS (UNDER 300 KUDOS FICS AS OF AUGUST 2025)

TOP 25 BOOKMARKS

The Last Room At The End of The Hall by Corporate_cards (G, 219 w.,  1 Ch. || Fluff) – All things can wait, for finally things work, in the last room at the end of the hall. Part 1 of Random Things I've Written In Class -- Johnlock (43)

Soaring Above by Corporate_cards (G, 394 w., 1 Ch.  || TRF, Light Angst, Superpowers) – "Have you ever though about having a super power...?" Part 2 of the Random Things I've Written In Class -- Johnlock series (23)

Vale Mea by JohntheBlonde (G, 622 w., 1 Ch. || Implied/Referenced Death, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Pining Sherlock, Epistolary) – 'I, William Sherlock Scott Holmes...hereby...declare this my last Will and Testament.' (95)

Octopus by glass_rose_paperweight (G, 705 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Bed Sharing, Limpet Sherlock) – A week after Sherlock and John finally get together, and John is finding sharing a bed with Sherlock Holmes to be ... difficult, sometimes. If not downright suffocating. (255)

Teacups by wsswatson (T, 1,045w., 1 Ch. || Fluff) – A forgotten purchase rekindles a flame. (102)

The Other Shoe by thewaitwasworthitlove (NR, 1,053 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Angst, URT, Post-TSo3) - Sherlock realizes how deep in love he has fallen for John. Only Sherlock Holmes would manage to be more shattered than crystal dropped on concrete. (166)

Clarity by socomessnow (thoughtfulwishing) (NR [T], 1,283 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Tarmac Scene, Stream of Consciousness, URT, First Person Present Tense, Implied/Referenced Drug Use) - During-and-post-HLV piece tracking Sherlock’s thought process from his phone call with Mycroft to his return to the airfield. Part 1 of Rifts (44)

Untouchable by greengrapegaze (T, 1,368 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-S3, UST/URT, Oblivious John, Lonely Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – “He never would. Petty, childish, immature-bitter. Jealous. She had all that he wanted. All he could never have.” Part 1 of Steps to a Bittersweet Symphony (224)

The Talons of Sentiment by dearcst (G, 1,463 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV, Angst, Unrequited Love, Pining Sherlock) – I promised myself long ago I wouldn’t succumb to something so degrading, something so vicious. I promised I wouldn’t let myself fall. But that was before him. That was before I met John. In sleep there is such bliss and peace, and as John slept on my shoulder, it killed me inside to know I was so close yet I could never touch him. (79)

The Imminent Danger of a Tumblr-Night by Loveismyrevolution (T, 2,135 w., 1 Ch. || Tumblr Fics, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock is Out of His Depth, Humour, Fluff, Pining Sherlock, Military Kink, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock gets into trouble when he pretends to know all about John's favourite social media site - tumblr. To save face he seeks help from one of the bloggers and gains more answers than he had aimed for. (287)

In My Life (and dreams, you take my breath away) by Nina36 (NR, 2,847 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF/TEH, Angst, Pining Sherlock) – The first time he had dreamt about John he had been in Peru. He had been “dead” a little over a month, squatting in a tiny rented room, the heat and the stains on the walls making him slightly claustrophobic. It had been a nice dream: John and he eating take away Chinese in their kitchen, a song coming from Mrs. Hudson’s radio downstairs, something about friends and lovers and how no one compared with him, his mind supplied in his dream. (162)

BBCSH ‘Lament’ by tigersilver (T, 2,951 w., 1 Ch. || Implied Infidelity, Angst, Post-HLV, Canon Divergence) – When Sherlock is alone in the flat he still speaks to John Watson. (87)

Until the End of the World by SarahCat1717 (G, 3,049 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, First Kiss, Pining Sherlock, Oblivious John, Drunkenness) – Taking place in Season 3, John listens to an old favourite song and sorts through his memories and feelings about Sherlock and Mary. (143)

Living Musical by  orphan_account (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series (63)

But Tonight You Belong to Me by esplanade (T, 4,296 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff & Angst, Pining, Stag Night, Sad Ending) – “You. It's always you. John Watson, you keep me right.” (191)

Shifting Parameters by ladylindaaa (G, 4,566+ w., 1/? Ch. || WiP || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Inexperienced Sherlock, Humour, Giggles, Caring John, Nervous Sherlock, Adorable Sherlock, Smitten John) – This is getting a bit unbearable, now. Well... more than a bit. (251)

A Case of Identity by PostcardsfromTheoryland (T, 4,978 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, John on Holiday, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Angst, Reunion) – All John wanted was to get away from London for a few weeks. No people pointing and whispering about Sherlock Holmes when he walked past, no reporters wanting an "exclusive" about the dead detective, just some rest and relaxation in the sunshine. Then again, these holiday trips never seem to go as planned. (239)

No Light, No Light (in your bright blue eyes) by orphan_account (G, 5,915 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Pining, Songfic, Mutual Unrequited Love, Unresolved Tension, UST/URT) – Relates to both Sherlock's and John's feelings for each other and highlights select moments of hurt and inner turmoil starting from right before the fall all the way to HLV. (30)

The Meaning of Sacrifice by arts_and_letters (T, 14,101 w., 6/?Ch. || WiP || Angst, Reunion, Hurt/Comfort, Mental / Emotional Turmoil, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock has risked life and limb to protect John Watson, sacrificing his freedom and safety to fulfill his last vow. When Sherlock comes back bruised and battered from his second exile, will John's love be enough to help Sherlock heal? And will John ever know the truth behind Sherlock's enigmatic farewell? (160)

The Slow Dance and Death of a Carbon Copy by batslikepastel (T, 15,576 w., 8 Ch. || Angst with Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Mental Health Issues, Mary is Not Nice, Idiots in Love, Eventual Fluff, Developing Relationship, Alcoholism, Love Confessions, BAMF John, First Kiss) – He hasn’t talked to Sherlock outside the bedroom since that first night. Today, though, when Sherlock painstakingly makes John’s favourite breakfast- eggs Benedict- he smiles delightedly and kisses his cheek. “Thanks, Mary.” The first sign of delusion. (231)

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm. (205)

To Mend Icarus by AlessNox (T, 28,347 w., 14 Ch. || Post-TRF / Pre-S3 Divergence, BAMF John, Anger, Fighting, Sex, Bed Sharing, Stalking, Case Fic, John’s Past, Introspection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crime, Mythology, Darkness) – After a case lands John Watson in court, he tells Sherlock that he is leaving. Not understanding why, Sherlock decides that the only way to learn the truth is to investigate his flatmate, Dr. John Watson. Sherlock finds that coming back is not enough to fix all of the damage that he caused by leaving. A post Reichenbach, post reunion re-discovery fic. (157)

Winter’s Storm by LoloLolly (M, 51,812 w., 11 Ch. || Canon Compliant Through TFP/S4 Is Canon, Alternating POV,  Established / New Relationship, Parentlock with Rosie, Explicit Torture, Mentions of Sherlock’s PTSD, Mentions of Human Trafficking, References to Child Abuse, Violence, Kidnapping/Torture, Captivity, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Case Fic, BAMF / Soldier John, Sherlock Whump, Mycroft and John Work Together, Marriage Proposal, Autistic Sherlock, Lestrade Finds Out, Polyglot Sherlock, Aftermath of Serbia) – Sherlock had buried the past. Shut Serbia away in the attic of his mind palace. Muddy footprints at a heinous crime scene, however, have led him right back to old enemies. And right back to captivity. For God’s sake, Mycroft. Part 2 of the Earthly Pomp (Is But a Dream) series (291)

The Ichor of Talos by Nikoshinigami (T, 59,779 w., 24 Ch. || Sci-Fi / Red Dwarf Inspired AU || Angst, Murder Mystery, Drama, Eventual Romance) – After being convicted of the murder of Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson is sentenced to confinement, therapy, and to the constant companionship of a hologram of his victim to aid in his rehabilitation. While John remains uncertain of his guilt, Sherlock is only too happy to engage in the mystery of his own murder to try and discover why he died and how events set his path to cross with the war-ravaged stranger he's now posthumously bound to. Part 1 of the The Unlikely Death series (82)

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity (265)

[carawenfiction]

Hello! Hope you're well. I was wondering if we could please learn a bit more about the Shadowlady/Shadowman? 🥹

I don't want to reveal too much, but I can talk a little bit about them and the differences between their original counterpart compared to the one in the rewrite!

The update came out very recently and I'm not sure yet what people in general think about the new version of them, though, so these are just my own feelings and thoughts as their creator:

They're the patriarch/matriarch of the 'shadow world' and possess a range of different abilities. Based on what you see in the demo, they are able to assume different forms but conceal their true face, can influence the MC's thoughts and decisions (basically manipulating their mind) and command shadow beings that lack human form.

Their behaviour depends a little bit on how you respond to them. A cooperative MC is more likely to see a more pleasant side while an MC that keeps resisting them might notice some cracks in their facade here and there.

They switch from absurdly playful to thoughtful, sometimes seemingly earnest to manipulating you without guilt. If you read the Azur short, you might also get the sense that even A is secretly terrified of them.

Differences between old and new:

The original was, as some might recall, only called 'the Shadowman' and genderlocked to male. I thought about this more when planning the rewrite and realized that it didn't make much sense for them to be genderlocked. The Tenebris (which is what the shadow beings are called in the rewrite) are fluid in a lot of ways and can assume different genders if they wish to, but The Shadowman/Shadowlady is sort of the 'main representative' of these beings and therefore has an easier time doing certain things that isn't as simple for less powerful beings of the same kind. That's also why the rest of the main cast don't have a non-binary option in the rewrite (and frankly because it'd be too much for me to code 😩)

I think that the original Shadowman was also more direct right off the bat? I can't remember him trying to influence the MC or their opinion of things that much but instead using force while being all jokey about it. The new one is more prone to using different methods to achieve their goal, whatever that might be, and tries to reach the MC through other means because they have the ability to do so in the rewrite. This means you'll also get to spend more time with them in book 1.

Of course I can't compare their respective deeds and attitudes that much at this stage since the OG Shadowman has a whole book while the new one hasn't been fully written yet.

I know this is more a summary than anything, but I can't really say too much specifically without risking spoilers </3

Thank you so much for the ask!

[summergoodwife]

Gonna say it again, "Just stop consuming the genre" is THE WORST POSSIBLE RESPONSE to someone complaining about the lack of representation in their preferred genre!! And "Consume other stuff too" is not much better!!! I don't care how much you think varying media consumption is a Good and Holy lifestyle, not everyone wants to do that! There is no obligation to do that and there should not be! Because it's fucking entertainment. It's not a college major.

And! And and and. I would be remiss to not point out that when you tell someone, "If you want well written (minority) just get out of (genre fandom)" you are, regardless of your motivations, rhetorically aligning yourself with the exact same bigots who just want the pro-representation crowd to shut up and go away.

[fireinmoonshot]

rule breaker | johnny storm x fem!reader

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader Summary: When you and Johnny Storm started fooling around, he made sure to tell you that it was going to be nothing serious. Well, at least until he broke his own rule and fell in love with you. Warnings: Mention of food, a make-out session and references to sex (but nothing explicit), no spoilers for The Fantastic Four: First Steps! Word Count: 2.9k A/N: I literally haven't written in like a month and a half, even though I have been trying. I've been in a massive slump. I assumed Pedro Pascal would help me out of it when I saw Fantastic Four this morning, only for me to come out of the film entirely in love with Johnny Storm (and Sue... I really want to write for her too). And then I ended up writing almost 3k for Johnny, so... me writing for Joaquín, Bob and now Johnny is so telling. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Johnny is fun to write for and I look forward to exploring his character more if people want me to write more for him! Requests are always open 😊

When you first started seeing Johnny Storm, he had only one condition: that nothing between the two of you was to be serious. It was a fling, nothing more. You were fooling around and having fun. Johnny had a reputation to uphold – one that he took great pride in, being known as a ‘womaniser’ across the city and the world.

He was the first one to bend his own rule, though, when he saw you the second time… and then the third, the fourth and so on. He never thought too much of it. The two of you always had a great time and you worked well together in more ways than one. What was the problem with that? Johnny wasn’t planning on settling down (he’d seen enough of his sister and brother-in-law’s life to know that wasn’t in the cards for him yet). But he liked you, he liked spending time with you… and so what if the worst part of his day was when he had to say goodbye to you? 

It was one day when he watched you walking away and hailing a cab to head back to your own apartment that he realised that he hadn’t just bent his rule, he’d broken it completely. 

Johnny Storm was, against his will, in love. 

As he walked back towards the Baxter Building, his eyebrows furrowed, he knew that somewhere along the way things had gone terribly wrong. Johnny Storm didn’t fall in love. He was a womaniser! He loved women, he loved spending time with women, he loved falling into bed with women and not having to think about having a relationship with them. 

But then you came along and changed him before he knew what was happening.

The next morning, he was sitting in the kitchen, a box of Lucky Charms in his hands, though he hadn’t eaten any since he’d sat down. All he was doing was staring across the room, frowning at the wall. Ben, mid-way through making breakfast, was concerned.

“Are you sick?” He asked, trying to break Johnny’s focus.

Johnny blinked and sat the box of Lucky Charms on the table, glancing over at Ben. “No.”

“You haven’t even opened the cereal.”

He looked down at the box, noticing for the first time that it was still sealed. When was the last time he’d gotten a box of Lucky Charms out of the cupboard and not broken straight into them? Ben hadn’t even had to berate him about him ruining his appetite this morning.

Oh, he was so done for.

Johnny let out a groan and threw his head backwards, leaning over the back of the chair.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ben asked as he flipped a pancake.

“No,” Johnny groaned again. He looked over at Ben as he put the pancake on the top of an already very tall stack. “Have you ever been in love, Ben?”

Ben stared at him, almost burning another pancake in the process. “Why are you asking?”

“Just… that’s not important!”

“Sure, kid…” Ben shook his head and flipped another pancake. 

“Are you gonna answer my question?” Johnny pressed.

“No.”

Johnny groaned again and pulled himself up from the seat. There was no way he was going to discuss this with Sue or Reed, so Ben was his best bet… but actually saying the words out loud were so much more difficult than he’d expected, especially since Ben didn’t seem to be particularly open to the conversation either.

“I give up,” he huffed, starting to walk from the room. Breakfast could wait. He could reheat the pancakes later. Since he hadn’t touched the Lucky Charms, he supposed he didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. The only thing he could think about was you.

The way you’d felt in his arms the night before, the feeling of your lips on his, the way your hair looked, spread out over his pillow, the way you smiled at him when he made cheesy jokes, especially in moments when he shouldn’t be making cheesy jokes. 

“Johnny,” Ben called out, just as Johnny was about to leave the room. He turned around, looking over at where Ben was still standing behind the stove. “Just be honest with yourself. No ones reputation is more important than their feelings.”

For a moment, Johnny only stared at Ben. Had he somehow understood everything Johnny had been feeling without him having to say a word? Did he know that Johnny was stressed over his reputation undoubtedly about to come crashing down because he’d fallen in love? He couldn’t… none of his family had even met you. He was always careful about sneaking you in and out so that no one could ask questions. 

But then again, you were the only girl he’d brought back to their home. With every other girl he’d seen before you, he’d gone to them. But somewhere along the way with you, he’d started bringing you home instead. And it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone but you.

Back in his room, he found himself staring at his calendar, trying to figure out if he could move things around so he could see you again sooner. Ben’s words were on repeat in his mind. No ones reputation is more important than their feelings. Maybe he was right. Johnny had briefly considered ending things with you after he realised he loved you. But then he thought about it more and decided that never seeing you again would hurt more. That even the idea of being with someone that wasn’t you felt like a betrayal to both you and himself.

It was a few hours later, the sun just starting to set over New York, when he decided he had to do something about all of this sooner rather than later. He should have been getting ready to have dinner with Ben, Reed and Sue, but instead he was getting dressed to leave the Baxter Building and go to you. He’d been to your apartment before, back when you’d first started fooling around a few months ago. 

Still, as he stood in front of your door, his hand raised to knock on it, he was terrified. What if you turned him away? What if you were busy? What if there was someone else inside your apartment? You two had made it clear from the start that you weren’t exclusive. There was nothing stopping you from seeing other people. It was Johnny who, somewhere along the way, had decided to focus only on being with you. 

His hand was still raised, about to knock, when the door swung open and his eyes fell on you. The way your hair framed your face, the outfit you were wearing and the way it hugged every part of your body perfectly, the colour of your eyes and the look in them – surprise at seeing Johnny Storm standing in the hallway, but also… relief? Was that what that was?

“Johnny,” you said, eyes wide.

“Hi,” he replied. As if that one word said everything.

“Hi.”

For a moment, there was just silence as the two of you looked at each other. One of your neighbours exited the elevator and walked to their apartment, watching you the entire way. Once their door was closed, you finally broke the silence. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, glancing at his hand which was still in mid air, hovering like he’d been about to knock on your door. “We saw each other just last night.” As if you weren’t quietly thrilled to see him again. As if you hadn’t been daydreaming every moment you weren’t with Johnny about a moment just like this. 

He noticed the way you looked at his hand and immediately dropped it, wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers. Why was he nervous all of a sudden? Johnny was never nervous when it came to you. He certainly hadn’t been nervous last night when he’d had you in his bed. 

“Can we talk inside?” He finally asked, managing something other than hi. He didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the hallway. “Unless you have plans.” You were going out by the looks of it. 

You nodded, stepping back to let Johnny into your apartment. Your ‘plans’ had only involved leaving your apartment to get some fresh air and maybe some alcohol at the bar on the corner. Anything to try and get your mind off of Johnny Storm and the night you’d had with him last night. Anything to try and get the fact that you were falling in love with possibly the most unavailable man on the planet.

You closed the door behind Johnny after he was inside your apartment and insisted that he make himself comfortable. Following him into your living room, you sat down on the couch beside him, folding your hands together in your lap. This conversation clearly wasn’t going to be anything good, judging by the look on his face. 

Perhaps he’d gotten an inkling of a feeling about the way you’d been feeling for him. Maybe last night, you’d said something in the heat of the moment that you didn’t remember – something that made him want to end things with you. Maybe, after being with you for so long now, he was ready for a change. He’d probably had many conversations like this in the past with various other women. You weren’t special.

“Whatever it is you’re here to say,” you began, “just say it. No hard feelings.”

Johnny was having trouble making his thoughts coherent, though. You were in front of him again, your knees almost touching his, and his eyes kept flickering to your mouth without them meaning to. He was having to use all his self control not to lean over and kiss you. That wasn’t why he was here, even though he was secretly hoping that would occur at some point in the night, if you didn’t tell him to get out and banish him from your apartment after he said what he had come here to say.

You watched him, noticing the way his gaze was flickering and the way one of his knees had started to bounce up and down – something he tended to do when he was worried. Unable to stop yourself, you reached over and put a hand on his knee. He looked down at your hand immediately, eyes narrowing in on it, on the feeling of the warmth of your hand through the thin material of his trousers.

Something came over him at that small act of touch and before he knew it, he was acting on instinct. He leant towards you, his hands moving to cup your face as he pressed his lips to yours. The pressure had you leaning back against the pillows of the couch as he kissed you. You groaned a little into his mouth, one of your hands moving to fist in the material of his sweater as his lips moved against yours.

Even though you’d kissed less than 24 hours ago, the feeling was unlike anything. There was nothing in life that you could have ever compared it to. The way his lips felt against yours made you feel like you were on fire – which was amusing considering his super powers. Maybe it was even some kind of effect from his powers. You didn’t really care. 

Johnny pulled back from the kiss, breathless, and squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead falling against yours. This was not the plan. He wasn’t coming here to kiss you. He was coming here to confess to you. To ask you to be in a proper relationship with him, not to just fool around with him whenever you both desired that. 

“Johnny,” you muttered, one of your hands moving to cup his cheek. You could see that whatever was going on inside his brain was troubling him. You’d thought he was coming here to break things off with you, but judging by that kiss you’d been very wrong. “What’s going on?” 

Briefly, he captured your lips in his again, his teeth pulling a little on your bottom lip before he pulled away again. One of his hands had moved down to grip your waist during the kiss and the heat coming from it felt almost dangerous. 

“I broke my own rule,” he murmured, lips only inches away from yours.

“What rule?” You breathed, desperately trying not to get your hopes up. There was only one rule that you knew of when it came to your relationship with Johnny Storm: nothing is to be serious. It’s all just for fun.

“This isn’t just a fling anymore,” Johnny admitted, eyes still shut tight. He couldn’t bring himself to open them because if he did, yours would be the first thing he’d see and they’d tell him everything. If you were hurt by his words, he knew he’d never forget the look in your eyes and he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if you were. There was every chance that you only wanted this to be a fling, too. That you wanted nothing serious from Johnny, just like you’d agreed on the first time you slept together.

“What?” You were barely able to get the word out. It was nothing more than a breath and if Johnny wasn’t hovering so close to your face, you’re certain he wouldn’t have even heard you.

Johnny took a breath. “I don’t want to only see you when we fool around,” he started. “I know we agreed on this not being serious at the start. But if you’re open to it, I want to try this for real. An actual relationship.”

He said the words quickly, like he was worried that if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to keep going. He needed to get them all out before he could chicken out or before you could interrupt him and break his heart, something he believed was a real possibility.

Because his eyes were still closed, he didn’t see the smile appearing on your face. You reached up and ran your thumb along his cheek gently. “Johnny, open your eyes.” 

He opened one eye slowly, still worried, and then the second one. His gaze instantly went to your lips, his heart beating faster as he looked at your smile. “You’re smiling,” he murmured. “Does that mean–”

“Yes, Johnny. It does,” you confirmed, stroking his cheek again softly, just happy that he’d finally opened his eyes and therefore opened himself up to you. He hadn’t been afraid to end things with you at all. He’d just been afraid of what you were going to say to him.

“Oh, man,” Johnny laughed, pressing his lips to yours again briefly before pulling away from you properly and standing to his feet. He threw his hands in the air and cheered loudly.

Laughing, you sat up. “Johnny, I have neighbours!” 

“I don’t care,” he shook his head, reaching down and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you up into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, still laughing as he spun you around in a circle. “I’m the happiest man alive right now!”

“I can see that,” you replied, amused. 

Johnny put you back down on solid ground and couldn’t help but kiss you again, dipping you in the process and making sure to hold the back of your head so you didn’t hit it on the coffee table. He loved kissing you before, but now he was going to have a hard time stopping.

“I was concerned,” you said once Johnny had stood you up again and finally detached his lips from yours. “I thought you were coming over here to break things off with me. That you had started to suspect I had feelings for you that were too serious for just a fling.”

He shook his head, arms still around your waist, hands splayed across your back as he held you pressed against his body. “If I’d suspected that, it would have made things a lot easier for me,” he admitted. “I was terrified you were going to end things with me if I confessed. We agreed that this wasn’t going to be anything serious when we started this.”

“Are you sure you want something serious?” You had to ask. Johnny Storm was notorious for not having anything serious with the women of New York City.

“Every time I thought about anyone but you these last few months, it felt like I was cheating on you. My reputation doesn’t matter nearly as much to me as you do.”

A smile came to your face again. “That has to be one of the most attractive things you’ve ever said, Johnny Storm.”

“Oh, yeah?” A cocky smile appeared on his own face. “Gonna do anything about that?”

You rolled your eyes before kissing him. You could feel his smile against your lips as he tightened his grip on you, hands warm against your back. He was completely yours to kiss now – even though he had been for months without you realising it.

“So, I was thinking,” Johnny muttered in-between quick kisses, “we should just stay in tonight… maybe on this couch… maybe we don’t leave it for a couple hours…” 

“Aren’t you meant to be having dinner with your family tonight?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll make it up to them. Tonight, I just want you.”

[rex-rambles]

➤ THE COSTUME | LANDO NORRIS

pairing: lando norris x single mom!reader

summary: your son wants nothing more than to have spiderman at his birthday, and when a certain neighbour finds out, he decides to take matters into his own hands to make it happen.

wc: 4.2 k

warnings: none!

➤ MASTERLIST - part two

"Mr. Norris?" Lando had a soft spot for kids. That much was obvious, especially when they were fans. Maybe it's that he remembers being that age, what it felt like to meet someone he thought was a celebrity. Maybe it was the little McLaren merch, or baby fever, or something, but Lando had a soft spot for kids.

Milo, however?

Milo could probably tell Lando to crash during a race and he'd do it.

"You alright?" He finds himself saying, immediately squatting to Milo's level by the elevator. In the boy's hands are a stack of red and blue envelopes, with names written twice: once in neat, formal writing, and the other in Milo's. "What've you got there?" 

"It's for my birthday party." Milo says quietly, extending the envelopes. "It's spider-man." 

"No way!" Lando says, smiling down at the papers. "That's so cool! How old are you turning?" 

Rather than answering, Milo holds up four fingers, the coordination making the envelopes spill from his hands. Lando's quick to pick them up, neatly sorting them into a stack, when he realizes one has his name on it. "Is this for me? Do I get to come to your birthday party?" 

"Oh, you're the guest of honour." Your voice says from above, and Lando counts another reason he has a soft spot specifically for Milo: 

You. 

His mother. 

You couldn't be much older than him, soft spoken and so kind when you moved in next door, offering sweet treats and texting apologies, laughing at his jokes, taking care of Milo. It was the sort of infatuation that Lando wasn't used to, at least with normal people in real life. You were perfect, he was pretty sure, except that was an insane thing to say to someone, let alone your neighbour. "I'm so honoured." 

The elevator doors ding open and Lando rises to let Milo and you past, and despite the fact that he had just gone up the elevator, he gets back on to waste a moment with you. "Is spider-man coming?" Milo asks up at you, and you gently card your hand through the boy's hair, and Lando wonders how that would feel if you did it to him. 

"No, sweetheart. I'm afraid Spider-Man is busy in New York!" Maybe it was the little British accents, too, that really got him. Lando rented an apartment, back home, for whenever he needed to escape from the chaos that was Monaco and just be normal. You, he thinks, are the perfect embodiment of that normal. 

Just a normal person, leading a normal life, telling your kid Spider-Man can't come to his birthday. Only, as Lando stares down at the envelope in hand, Spider-Man could technically come to the birthday. He might not be able to do a flip, but Lando's pretty sure he still has an old Spider-Man costume hung up in a closet somewhere, and has a cheery enough voice for it. 

"Well, I will definitely be coming." The elevator doors ding open to the first floor as you lead Milo out by the hand, and he reaches up to take Lando's, dragging him along towards the main doors of the building. "Oh, am I joining you today?" 

"You're going to take us in your car," Milo states firmly. "Your fast car." 

"I don't think we'd all fit," You offer with a soft laugh, the kind of noise that has Lando dreaming of a domesticity he's never even thought of before. "And I think Mr. Norris has more important things to be doing today." 

Mr. Norris. It was a sweet thing, for Milo to call him, but whenever you said it, Lando always considered what it would be like to call you Mrs. Norris. 

Not that he would ever, ever voice that thought aloud. "And if you're busy the day of the party, no worries." You add quietly back to him, stopping at the door. "Milo just wanted to make sure you got an invite." 

"I wouldn't miss it for the world!" He responds honestly. "Do you need me to bring anything? Snacks? Presents?" 

"I think just bringing yourself would be enough. I'm sure the other kids will be very, very excited a professional race car driver is at the party." Well, an F1 Driver AND Spider-Man, but he decides to leave you out of those plans. "Say goodbye to Mr. Norris, Milo!" 

"Bye, Mr. Norris," Milo says, waving happily. "See you at the party." 

Lando watches the two of you go, happily walking down the street, and he waits in the doorway until you're gone before he's sprinting back to the elevators. He needed to test out that Spider-Man costume, and find the best possible gift he's ever given in roughly a week. 

Manageable, he thinks. 

Surely that's manageable.

-

The knock on the door is the only unexpected part of Milo's birthday party. So far, everything had gone off without a hitch - all the decorations were perfect, the cake had arrived, the kids were somewhat behaving themselves for a room of four year olds, hyped up on sugar. 

Milo, ever the little copycat, was trying to show them how to play Mario Kart, because when Mr. Norris arrived, Milo wanted to show off how he could beat him at the game. 

Lando threw every game, but Milo didn't need to know that. The thought of the racer next door then clicks to the knock on your door, and you quickly spare a glance in the mirror in the hall before answering. It was a stupid, stupid, childish crush to have on the man, but you couldn't help it. 

Maybe it was the way he played with Milo, offered to babysit, raced around the world and somehow kept a level head, maybe it was how he looked, and how he spoke, and how he dressed, and how he acted, or maybe it was the way he looked at you when he thought you were paying attention to Milo. 

Whatever it was, you were starting to get a bit embarrassed of how much you looked forward to seeing Lando today, until you open the door, and Lando was not standing there. 

Instead, there's Spider-Man, with a stack of boxes tucked under his arm. "Hey there!" He says, with an accent most certainly British but trying not to be. "I heard there's a me-themed birthday party?" 

Slowly, without alerting the kids, you peer around the door and into the living room, where they are still glued to the television, and the parents are watching and conversing nearby. "Spider-Man," You say quietly, "How did you get my address?" 

"A friend of mine told me," He says, accent slipping, "He drives fast cars, and lets me borrow them for my missions." 

"Oh, does he now?" You step aside to hold open the door, and you turn toward the kids. "Milo, your special guest is here!" 

"Mr. Norris?" Then, as Milo turns, you watch the greatest shock you think you've ever seen wash over his face as his jaw drops, clinging to the back of the couch as he stares at Spider-Lando, who offers a cheesy wave. 

And really, maybe you liked Lando because of how much Milo loved him. Watching him now, sprinting full-tilt at the driver, it almost makes you emotional. He had never run like that towards any man, only ever you. Well, you suppose he doesn't know it's Lando, but maybe it's the fact that Lando does stuff like this when he really doesn't need to. 

Lando lets the presents drop to scoop up the boy, who's been spouting questions faster than any human, or any superhuman, could answer them. You join Lando's side to gently take Milo's hand, who finally sucks in a breath to look at you. "Mom," He whispers dramatically, "Spider-Man came." 

"Well, you're a very special kid." You answer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Of course he'd come." 

Four years old. You remember when he was just a thought, a terrifying realization, and now, he was your world, dressed up like Spider-Man himself and in Spider-Man's arms. "Is that Mario Kart?" 

"We have to wait to play with Mr. Norris." Milo says, looking at the TV and the other kids, who are now circling Lando. "He's coming soon." 

"Why don't we do something else then?" Lando offers, voice cracking. You can tell he's smiling under that stupid mask at the thought of Milo waiting for him to play the game. 

"We could do cake." You say, and the crowd erupts with chants for cake. Lando gets Milo to his spot at the head of the table and helps pull out chairs for the others as parents snap photos, offering you strange looks. You had told them, outright, you hadn't been able to afford someone to play Spider Man. 

And now, here he was. You take the cake from its box on the counter, and stick in the large 4 candle and light them, as the kids begin singing. You had been so worried, once, about Milo making friends, about being a single mother, but watching now as you set the cake down in front of him, as he blows out the candles and everyone cheers, as other parents offer to help with plates and knives and forks, you realize you might actually be good at this parenting thing, even if the situation wasn't the best.

"Can you take off your mask to eat some?" Milo says, awkwardly grabbing at Spider-Lando's cheek, who happily moves the boy's hand away.

"I have to keep my identity a secret!" Lando says, before carefully rolling up the edge of his mask. "So I'll do it like this, yeah?" 

"That's silly," Milo says with a giggle, and you cut out a slice for him, which he immediately hands off to Lando. "For you!" 

"No, muppet, birthday boys get the first slice!" Lando has fully abandoned the accent by now, but no one really cares. The rest of the cake gets distributed and smeared across faces, Milo included. He gets one streak of blue icing far up on his cheek, and you grab a napkin to wipe it off. "Do I have any?" Lando asks, and without thinking, you reach over to gently wipe some icing from the corner of his mouth. 

No one seems to notice the action, too absorbed with eating and celebrating, but you feel your cheeks burn, quickly turning back to watch Milo as he finishes up. By the time the cake is done, and Lando hasn't arrived, Milo decides to turn from Mario Kart to a game called 'Spider Man Tag', where everyone chases Lando around the apartment, and you take videos of the whole thing, laughing. 

When that's done, and the kids stop climbing on him, and just when he looks like he might faint, one of the girls suggests hide and seek, and Milo immediately volunteers to be the seeker. "Go hide," He says to you, before clapping his hands over his eyes. "Spider-Man too." 

You're quick to help the other kids find their spots, throwing blankets over them and tucking them behind curtains until finally, Milo is down to 1, and you realize you haven't hidden. Luckily, you don't seem to be the only one alone in this, because Lando grabs your hand and pulls you into the front hall closet, just as Milo pulls his hands away from his eyes. 

"Hold the door," Lando says, and you put your hand together on the sliding doors to keep them from moving, and Lando pulls off his mask with a gasp. He's flushed, hair slick with sweat, and you can imagine this is what he must look like after a race. Hell, you've seen what he looks like after a race - he might honestly look worse. 

Cramped together, he doesn't have much room to wipe over his face, arm bumping into you. "You okay there, Spider-Man?" 

"I worked out this morning!" He groans softly. "That was so stupid." 

"Language," You chide softly, and he offers an amused scowl. "There are little ears nearby." 

"They can't hear us," Lando says, intercut by a scream of a child found as Milo happily laughs. "Right?" 

"We'll just have to whisper," You say, as the predicament you're in slowly dawns on you. 

You're chest to chest with Lando Norris, in a spider-man costume, in your closet, as he pants against you.

There are a lot of not age-appropriate thoughts that occur, so you shift quickly into something you can talk about. "You really didn't have to do all this," You say, and Lando cracks a smile. "You've made his year, I think. This is too much." 

"Well, he said he wanted Spider-Man, so he gets Spider-Man." Lando says, eyes skimming down your face before snapping up to your eyes. "How much longer do you think we have in here?" 

The world slows a little bit at the question. "Not much longer," You say, as Lando somehow manages to shift closer. "Breath while you can." 

"The mask is awful," He says, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "Think it's constricting my airways." 

Well, if you need CPR... "You can say you need to get going to stop a villain or something, and then come back as Lando. He'd be just as excited." 

"No, no, I'm committing to the Spider-Man thing." He says, tugging the mask on, but stopping before his mouth. "Can I ask you something cheesy, and you promise not to hate me for it?" 

"Trust me, Lando, there's little you could do to make me hate you." 

"I always wanted to do the Spider-Man kiss thi-" The door to the closet yanks open as Lando fumbles to get the last of his mask down, and Milo cackles in delight. 

"FOUND YOU!" He grabs both your hands and drags you back to the living room, and you try to take as many deep breaths as possible. 

He always wanted to do the Spider-Man kiss thing. 

Did he...with you? "Why don't we do presents?" You say, trying to find anything to distract you, and also give Lando a break. "Go sit on the couch, Milo." 

You gather up the few gifts the children brought, and Lando grabs the ones he abandoned by the door. Like any little kid, Milo rips through each package excitedly, showing off cars and Spider-Man toys and a new bubble-blower, until finally, he gets to Lando's presents, who you're sure didn't wrap them himself. 

Or, if he did, you might just love him more, considering the Spider-Man wrapping paper that's wrapped neater than you could ever manage, bow included. Milo, for some reason, takes his time opening them, and the first two are Lego sets, one of a Spider-Man scene, the second a McLaren car. 

Oh, Lando. "Mr. Norris still isn't here!" Milo says, distraught. "This is his car!" 

"Mr. Norris invited me!" Lando says, gesturing to the gift. "He told me what to get you! Maybe he'll build it with you when he gets back." 

Then, Milo carefully opens the third box, and discovers his very own webshooters. "No way!" He immediately hands the box off to you to open, which is basically the equivalent of silly string, strapped to his wrists. The moment he gets them on, he begins spraying, and in a matter of mere minutes, the room is covered in string as the kids all giggle in unison. At some point, Lando squats beside him to help him aim and shoot, carefully gesturing to things that will be easier to clean up, and your heart clenches at the image. 

Because as much as you were good at this parenting thing, as much as you had mastered being a single mother, it was something new to see a man in Milo's life who wanted to be there, who cared for him, who bought him gifts and came dressed as Spider-Man and who just...adored him, like you adored him. 

You're not sure how long you just stare at the chaos unfolding, but it's long enough you think you might genuinely have feelings for Lando, cheesy Spider-Man suit be damned. It's the sort of messy, perfect ending to a messy, perfect day. As much as Milo really doesn't want to end the party, considering Mr. Norris hasn't shown up, he's yawning and trying to fight off the inevitable crash that comes after this. 

The kids get their party favours, which include pictures with Spider-Man, and Milo says goodbye to everyone, perched on Spider-Man's shoulders, and Lando carefully dumps the boy on the couch with a huff. "I think you need to get cleaned up!" He says, gesturing to the cake and silly string staining the boy's clothes. "Heroes have to stay clean!" 

The moment Milo disappears into the washroom, Lando collapses onto the couch, head hanging back off the back of it to look at you. You step forward and gently uncurl the mask, and with as much bravery as you can muster, you speak. "Can I ask you something cheesy, and you promise not to hate me for it?" Lando's lips part as he swallows, before he nods. "I always wanted to do the Spider-Man kiss thing." 

"Yeah?" Lando breathes out, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Well, Mary Jane, now's your chance." 

Kissing Lando upside down is not how you originally planned on doing it, but it's sort of everything you wanted it to be and more. It's soft and sweet and patient, the kind of loving you need after everything you've gone through, that's just hot and heavy enough that when you hear the tap turn off in the bathroom, you're quick to pull away. 

"Can Spider-Man stay the night?" Milo asks, running up as Lando pulls down his mask again, and he lets out a soft sort of laugh that does something to your stomach. 

"I've got to get home! Maybe another time," Lando says as he rises from the couch, and Milo's bottom lip trembles. "Just think, you still have your guest of honour that needs to visit." 

"I don't want to see Mr. Norris," Milo mumbles, "I want you to stay." 

You watch Lando hesitate then, about pulling off his mask and revealing himself, but for the sake of the magic, he chooses not to, and you intervene to let the poor man go home. "There's lots of people Spider-Man has to go save," You say, crouching down to his level and brushing the hair from his face. "And you never know, he might come back soon. But for right now, let's thank him for coming." Milo pushes away from you to wrap around Lando's leg, and Lando kneels down to give him a proper hug. 

"Thanks," Milo mumbles into his shoulder. "You can come back whenever you want." 

"Thank you for having me!" Lando tries to say cheerfully. "But your mom is right, I have to get going back to New York! It's a long plane ride." 

"Say goodbye, Milo." Milo finally lets go, and helps walks Spider-Man to the door. 

"Bye, Spider-Man." He says, offering a small wave. 

"Bye, Milo. Hope you had a great birthday." 

-

Lando strips the moment he gets home. 

Fireproofs were hot, the race suits were hot, but the Spider-Man suit? 

Wrangling that many kids? 

With you kissing him? 

He's practically a sauna. And yet, as soon as he's done showering and gets changed, he'd back at your door, knocking and hoping it's not too late, and that Milo's already gone to bed. There's a shuffling noise behind the door before you open it, and he's discovered in the time it took him to shower and get back here, both you and Milo had changed into pyjamas, and were eating dinner at the table. "Mr. Norris!" Milo says, mouthful of pasta falling into his bowl. "You missed Spider-Man!" 

"What? Spider-Man came?" You let Lando in with a soft smile, and all he can think of is your lips on his, how you repeated his line back to him like it was nothing, how right it had felt. Kissing you right-side up probably felt better, but he was just riding off the high that you kissed him at all. He was pretty sure, all things considered, that you had to like him, as much as his brain tried to convince him otherwise. 

Having you actually kiss him and prove it? He was still struggling to wrap his mind around that. "And he brought me webs!" 

"Webs that are going to be tricky to clean up." You say, shooting a grin his way as you move to the stove. "Dinner?" 

"Actually, that sounds great." He had a single slice of cake after being the personal play-place for kids all afternoon. It might not be the most gentlemanly thing he's ever done, but he's not turning down a bowl. He finds his place at the table, and you take your place across from him, and for a moment, Lando thinks he can see into the future. "Did you get anything else?" 

"Bubbles, a book," Then, as if remembering it all over again, "He got me your Lego car! He said we can build it together." Then, as if remembering what Spider-Lando said, "You know Spider-Man? And you didn't tell me?" 

"It's top secret," Lando says around a mouthful of noodles, and you grin down at your own bowl. Dressed in an over-sized t-shirt and fuzzy pyjama pants, it gives a certainly warm glow that has Lando wondering what man could ever give this up. "But, I still haven't given you my gift." 

Milo perks up as your head shoots up to look at him, confusion furrowed between your brows. "Lando, that's not-" 

"I want you to come to a race." He couldn't really think of some big gift to get Milo, besides a full-paid trip to a race. Silverstone was soon, anyways. It would be fun, for Milo to see him race, for you to see him win. At least, Lando really hopes he'll win, because then that's one more reason to kiss you. "All expenses paid." 

"Lando!" You exclaim, fork clattering to your bowl. "No, no that's too much-" 

"Really?" Milo cuts you off, leaping out of his chair to throw himself at Lando. "Thank you thank you thank you-" 

"Okay, okay," Lando says, trying to calm both of you. "But you have to promise to be on your best behaviour for it, okay Milo?" 

Milo nods furiously against Lando's leg, and Lando scoops him up to hold him in his lap. "I promise. Can I drive your car?" 

"Wait another eleven-ish years for that one, mate." He continues eating his pasta as Milo drags his bowl over, content to finish his dinner sitting with Lando, and he catches you staring. You do that a lot, especially when Lando and Milo interact, and he doesn't blame you. He's a strange man playing with your kid, who wouldn't want to be checking in?

But there's always something more in the way you look at him, like you're not used to someone being there. He doesn't know the full story, and he doesn't need to, but he has a feeling that, if he pursues this, he's filling in a spot that never really was occupied before. 

"Thank you, Lando." You finally say, finishing up the last of your dinner. "That means a lot." 

"What else would I do for my favourite neighbour?" Milo, also now finished eating, yawns into his hands. "Bedtime, buddy?" 

"Come on," You say, pulling Milo from his lap. "Let's get you changed and ready for bed. Lando can read you a bedtime story." Then, back towards him, "Finish up your dinner first. No rush." 

And then, like it's the most normal thing in the world, Lando finishes the last of his food and gathers up all the dishes on the table and puts them in the sink, and finds you and Milo already on Milo's bed, a Spider-Man storybook laid out on Milo's Lap. Lando takes the other side of you, and as guest of honour, Milo explains, he gets to read tonight. If he had really been prepared for how tonight was going to go, Lando would've brought his own pyjamas, but instead, he just cozies further into his hoodie, and flips open to the first page. 

"This is Spider-Man," He begins as Milo crawls over you to splay over your lap. "He's a superhero."

"You're a superhero," You whisper quietly with a yawn, and Lando is pretty sure he turns as red as Spider-man's suit. 

"Spider-Man shoots webs," Lando continues, moving to the next page, and he decides to focus all his energy into the book, rather than you pressed up beside him. However, he finds that as he finishes up the last page, he might've let his attention wander to far. 

You're asleep beside him, head tilted back as you doze, and Milo is the same in your lap, tuckered out from the party. Honestly, if Lando could, he'd fall right asleep beside you, but that's for another time, another date, so instead, he presses a kiss to your temple, closes the book, and turns off the light. 

It's how he hopes he can spend every night for the rest of his life.

a/n: baby fever is in full swing. tell me he wouldn't be a fantastic dad.

[koling2345]

Simon with a young and soft girlfriend. NSFW

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Boyfriend! Simon who: Was completely whipped for you, would do anything you asked without question, he'd kiss even the ground you walked on, just say the word and he'll do it.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Bought a new cell phone just to talk to you, his old cubicle could barely hold a video call with you, and now he could finally listen to you chatting away with him every time he had free time. And.. You also sent him some really nice pictures, and he kept them all on his new cell phone for his own personal use.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Sometimes it took him a while to catch up with you in all your youth, not physically, but in your interests, hobbies, the games you liked, series you watched. He wasn't that old, but keeping up with everything you did wasn't that easy, but he tried to get into your vibe. Give him a few days, he'll soon have everything in a notebook, the game you're so excited about, he'll soon be talking with you about it. He makes a point of knowing something or other, just to get into your world, to make you happy.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Melted in place when you showed off your new hoodie, which had his name, 'Riley, written right across the chest. You looked so beautiful wearing an outfit with his name written on it, as if it were a ownership, and he was grateful that you wore the hoodie without any shame, proudly showing who you belonged to.

Boyfriend! Simon who: After listening to you nagging him all week to get a hoodie just like yours, with your name on it, he finally gave in and made one. Just like yours, it had your name on the chest, showing everyone what a couple you two were. As much as he thought it was corny to wear matching clothes, he didn't mind if it was with you. He even put a Kuromi print on his hoodie, since you almost cried for him to put something from Hello Kitty on it. Sometimes he hated this cat and her derivatives, but he did it for you. All for his princess.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Always bought things for you, every time he came to see you, he never came empty-handed. Were you on your period? He would bring you chocolates and flowers, along with your favorite snacks. Did you pass through a store and want to buy something? Well, it'll be at your house as soon as possible. If he couldn't bring it himself, you could be sure that the package would arrive at your house the next day. He wasn't petty, he had plenty of money to spend and he liked spending it on you.

Boyfriend! Simon who: When he went out with you, he wouldn't let you spend a penny, no matter if you wanted a simple ice-cream, he would pay for you. And if he saw your eyes glazing over at something you saw in the shop window, he'd go and pick it up with you. Every time you went out together, you always came back with several bags of shopping, along with the plushies you loved so much. Simon didn't even know how you were going to fit more stuffed animals into your room, with all the stuff you already had.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Is a complete gentleman to you, carries your bag, always takes his helmet off you, as well as before you get on his bike, he attaches the helmet in place himself. He's the type to take you on his arms, just to stop you stepping in a puddle of water and getting your feet wet. And if you're tired, he'll carry you like a princess all the way home without complaint.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Is quite jealous of you, you're young, beautiful, and you're with an old geezer like him. Although he recognized his own value, he couldn't help but feel a sense of possession over you every time someone looked at you with ulterior motives. As a result, he would always mark you on the neck, or put a hand around your waist, always putting a part of himself in you so that everyone would know who you belonged to.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Was a completely kind prince to you on the streets, but he would wreck you inside the bedroom. He loved that you were all submissive to him, always taking him so well, accommodating him as if you were made for it. Even if he opened you all up with his fat cock, your tight cunt would stretch to accommodate him, it was like heaven on earth.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Made you bend over all night, fucking you on all fours, your ass up while he admired the new panties you made such a point of showing off to him. 'Simon's' was the writing on the lace, just seeing you wearing it made his cock throb, he took several photos of you wearing the panties, as well as giving you a good spanking session while you were over his knees, just because you loved being his good little girl.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Recorded a video as soon as he had worn you out on the bed, pulling his cock out of you, to see the mess coming out of your pussy that was full, opening your folds just to see his cum running down your thighs. Your cunt full of him, leaking because he came so hard in you. It's not his fault, seeing you on your stomach, your panties written 'Simon's', you were begging to be fucked. And he'd love to watch the video he recorded himself, his time alone at the base would be lovely.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Had a photo of you on his cell phone, bent over his knee while wearing a short skirt and thigh-high stockings, ass up, pink lace panties. On top of that, a bright red mark on your ass, the mark of the slap he had given you minutes before taking the photo, he is very proud to use this picture, and he's not shy if someone caught it. In addition, the lock screen photo was of you smiling while wearing his famous balaclava, one of the few times he let you touch the mask. Not that he regrets it.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Knew he was going on a dangerous mission, he didn't know when he was coming back, or if he was coming back. So a week before going on said mission, he took a whole week to spend with you. No work, no nothing, just him and you.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Fucked you all week, on your stomach, bending over, missionary, cowgirl, on the wall, living room, bedroom, bathroom, table, floor. Any surface he could slide his thick cock into your folds was fine with him. He couldn't stand the sight of you bending down to pick something up, or when you wore his clothes inside the house. The sight automatically made his cock throb, hard as a rock to fuck you again, always making sure to fill you with his seed, to the point where it was leaking out of you. Only then is he sure that he's filled you to the brim, like a good boyfriend does.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Wasn't very good with goodbyes, so he fucked you all night, all night he had you in a missionary, that's when he wasn't burying himself between your legs. He filled you up so well that night, the bed was full of wet spots, your pussy as full as ever, he'd leave you leaking with his cum, mixing your mess with his, just to bury himself in you and start all over again. He was relentless. His job was done, since you slept like an angel that night.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Went out on his mission early in the morning, grateful that you were out like a light, covered in sucks and marks from last night, making him tempted to go back to bed and hold on to you. But he couldn't, so he settled for a kiss on your lips and forehead. His farewell was a handwritten letter, explaining the details and saying that he loved you very much and would come back to you. Even so, it wasn't enough to prevent the tears that fell down your cheeks when you found out everything.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Even though he was on the battlefield, he couldn't stop thinking about you, always trying to maintain some kind of contact, sending messages every time he had a second of time, and if it was possible, when he was resting, he would call you. Every time the mission dragged on, he felt a sense of dread in his chest. Simon couldn't have realized how important you were, and that scared him, because for the first time in a long time, he was afraid that he wouldn't be alive to finish the mission. He promised himself that if he made it out alive, he would ask for your hand in marriage.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Stayed in a very remote area, his cell phone didn't work there, and he had no way of communicating with you, and that killed him inside, not being able to know how you were. And you were worried to death, thinking the worst.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Came home after four and a half months, of those four months he spent three without being able to talk to you. So as soon as he got off the plane that brought him back, he went to your apartment, stopping first at a jewelry store to buy you a ring, and he spared no expense. You were going to be his wife.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Was all giddy about arriving at your house, preparing to give you a surprise. As well as coming back alive, he was going to ask you to marry him, get on his knees for you. Then he rang the doorbell, still dressed in his work uniform, the box with the ring in one hand, and your favorite flowers in the other.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you after all this time. It wasn't just emotion, his eyes caught your form, wearing one of his shirts, which barely did the job of covering your swollen belly. Well, it seems, he wasn't the only one with a surprise.

[giogiobb]

Tease pt.1

Nerd!Armin x Reader

tags: teasing, drinking, tongue piercing (obviously), semi-public sex, oral fixation, cunnilingus, edging, breath play, overstimulation, gagging, mirror play, biting, mild pain play, smut

inspired by fanart from: @musapylsa

→ pt.2

You were called by your lecturer to wait along with Armin. “Yes, professor?” you said while impatiently waiting to leave class. “Your last assignment was lacking. So, I’m assigning Armin here to tutor you for a few weeks” he said while looking through some papers. You looked over at Armin who was looking at the lecturer absent-mindedly. “Is that okay with you Armin?” the lecturer asked looking up from the papers. “Yes, all good with me.” he piqued while nodding. You didn't have it in you to ask whether that was really necessary. “Alright, thank you professor. Have a good day” you said wanting to hurriedly leave. You walked out of the class not waiting to hear a response because you didn't have any interest in doing the tutoring lessons.

However, Armin on the other hand took any tutoring requests seriously. “Hey, wait up.” he lightly jogged towards you to catch up with you. “Listen Armin, I know you’re a teacher's pet or whatever but I don’t need tutoring lessons so I have to go now.” You said annoyedly. “Yeah well it’s not convenient for me either but I have to do it or else he will question my capability if he sees that your grades are still bad.” He said bluntly. You stared at him blankly, mouth ajar in shock because you didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. You always considered him to be a pushover because of how he looked. “Okay fine, let’s go to the library now if so. I have somewhere to be tonight.” He nodded and began following you to the library.

You sat across him at the table, legs crossed and bouncing under the table. You were bored out of your mind and your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing but he already gave you an annoyed look because of it so you took it off the table and kept it in your bag. Instead of looking at the words written on his book, you kept glancing towards his hand moving on it. He has really beautiful hands, you wondered and your mind wandered to what he can do with it. He then slammed his hand on the book to get your attention which pulled you out of your trance making you look up at him. “Are you even paying attention?” He said with a hint of sternness which you wouldn’t have caught if he didn’t have your full attention. “Um, yeah of course. Why would you think I’m not paying attention?” You said while giving a half hearted chuckle. He just gave you a light glare and continued on with the tutoring. You sat there intrigued by this side of him which you didn’t know existed. Heck, you even felt a bit attracted and wanted to know him more because of it. While teaching, he stretched his leg towards you brushing past your ankle. He looked up from the book to see you squirm a bit with a soft blush spread across your cheeks. He knew you were staring at his hands and he wanted to mess with you a bit more but thought it would be too mean to do so on the first day itself 

After an hour, Armin decided to wrap up because he didn’t want to overwhelm you with the content by teaching everything on the same day. “I’ll be leaving now. See you tomorrow. Same time, same place.” He said while packing up. You didn’t even realize an hour went by. “Oh, uh sure yeah. See you tomorrow.” When he walked away you kept staring at his back. Though he wasn’t the tallest, you also didn’t realize that he had kind of a lean build under the baggy t-shirts that he wear.

-

Next day you meet him at the same time, same place wearing quite a raunchy outfit you’d say. After all, you were going clubbing after this with some of your girlfriends. He glanced you up and down before pulling out and patting on the chair next to him today. You walked over and sat on it feeling a bit proud that you made a nerd like him check you out since you have never seen him talk to any girls before. You pulled the chair closer towards him and the table to settle in. “Shall we begin?” You asked him innocently with a smile on your lips. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses further on his nose bridge and nodded.

Almost half an hour into the tutoring, you started to feel bored from just looking at how his hands moved on the book with the pencil and how his adam's apple moved up and down as he kept teaching you the content. On the other hand, Armin also kept stealing glances at your chest that were slightly spilling out from your V neck top. He snapped out from both tutoring and taking looks when he felt your warm thigh press against his from the side. You moved closer towards him, both your arms slightly brushing against each other. Armin didn’t like this teasing as much as you thought he would. Solely for the reason that it wouldn’t be right to lean over to kiss and ruin you for trying to push him over the edge. He gripped the pencil even more, knuckles turning white. He continued teaching while she stared at the book. He moved towards your neck, ever so slightly just to make you feel his hot breath on your neck as he spoke. You felt yourself squirming and becoming breathless with unholy ideas running through your mind. You couldn’t take it anymore and moved your chair a bit away from him. You couldn’t risk ruining your black lace panties before the night even began.

Time passed slower than yesterday and he wrapped up. “Any plans for tonight?” You asked him curiously. “No, you?” He answered a bit surprised that you wondered about his personal life. “Yeah, I’m going to a club with some friends” You answered as you watched him pack up. “Enjoy if so. I’ll text you next week about tutoring. Goodnight.” He answered and walked away not waiting for your reply since you both exchanged numbers yesterday at the beginning of the tutoring session. You watched him walk away but was snapped out of it when you felt your phone buzz. When you moved towards the table to look at your phone screen, Armin stopped walking and turned his head a bit to take one more glance at your bare legs as you wore a mini jean skirt only. He left with a head full of dirty thoughts.

As he walked towards his dorm room, Eren stopped him just to drag him to a club. Armin has said no enough times but lost a bet the last time they hung out so he had no choice but to go with Eren after dropping his bag off in his room. 

-

You entered the club lit in a purple hue of lights with white lights brightly flashing in different spots. You head to the bar and wait while your most confident friend chatted up some guy named Jean and got him to buy you all some drinks. While you were enjoying the drinks and dancing around, at the corner of your eye you spotted a certain blonde in the same green shirt you saw him in earlier. You thought to yourself that you might or might not be mistaken so you decide to follow the blonde you saw. He stood near a round high table with a goth girl and a frat boy clinking drinks. You watched as he downed the shot with ease and felt the burn of it in his throat reflecting on his face. He then turned around and you were right, it was Armin.

You felt quite shocked and a bit betrayed if you were being honest. Because the good boy image of him that you had in your head wasn’t somewhat true, but it also made you want to approach him. Yet for some reason, now that you find him attractive you felt awfully nervous. You turned around towards where your friends were and began walking away, until you felt a hand grab your wrist. You quickly turned around just to see Armin holding your wrist with his cheeks flushed pink.

He led you to the side a bit away from the crowd and leaned towards your ear to say “Can I kiss you?”. He caught you off guard and before you could register what he said, you felt your head nod. He leaned towards your face and began slowly pecking while holding your waist. Your hands roamed on his body and gripped his shirt to pull him closer. He felt the urge to deepen the kiss so he grabbed you by the back of your throat and tilted his head to the side so that his glasses won’t dig into your cheeks too much. You took a deep breath and began kissing him back deeply while your hand planted onto his hair pushing him closer. You felt his tongue swipe on your lips indicating you to open your mouth, and when you did his tongue began roaming your mouth like it was inspecting the inside.

Suddenly, you felt a warm metal in your mouth and you pulled away wondering what it was. Armin felt your body stiffen up as you pulled away and he knew exactly what it was. He knew that you felt his tongue piercing which was a surprise to you. Before he went in for another, he took one of your hands 2 fingers to make you swipe on his tongue to make you feel his piercing after he stuck his tongue out to show it. Your eyes widened because you didn't expect him to have such a provocative piercing. You moved your hand to the side of his face to grab it towards you to go for another kiss. This time you felt confident and he felt impatient to feel your lips again.

Both of you kissed for what felt like hours before you started dragging him to an out of order washroom. It hasn’t been in use for months because of a shattered mirror so it was convenient.

You entered with him and locked the door before heading towards the countertops. You started leaving kisses and hickeys on his neck while your hand roamed on his body under the shirt inching towards his growing bulge. He let out soft whimpers and moans while breathing heavily and gripping the edge of the countertops. You palmed his bulge over his jeans just to tease him, making him buck his hips up towards your palm. You let out a quiet giggle seeing his reaction and he knew you’d be just teasing him for way too long if he let you.

So he moved his hand towards the hem of your skirt and lifted it up revealing your lacy panties. The thought of you wearing it earlier to the tutoring lesson when you both teased each other made him feral. He moved his fingers to your heat over the panties making you bite your lips and breathe towards his neck. He felt himself lean towards your hot breath as he rubbed slow circles on your clit. You wanted to release so bad at this point you couldn’t be bothered to palm his bulge. Instead your hand reached towards his wrist to keep it still as you humped his hand.

To your dismay, he moved his hand away and made you lean on the countertop instead. He reached to your top to pull it down to your waist leaving your matching bra on. He grabbed one of your boobs while he left kisses and nibbles on the other leaving your nipple alone just to edge you. He moved one of his legs in between yours making you straddle it leaving you on your tip toes. Your heat was now on his thigh making you move your hips involuntarily. He kept pushing his leg towards you just to apply pressure. You felt your eyes roll back as you rode his thigh trying to catch your release, but as soon as you got close he moved his leg away making you whine.

He unclipped your bra from the back and circled your nipple with his tongue. The feel of his tongue piercing cold on your nipples made it even harder than before. After doing so for a bit, he began squatting down, leaving soft nibbles and feeling all your curves with the same hands that you were dreaming about since yesterday. His face finally reached your heat and he looked up at you while hiking your skirt up. He then gripped your panties from the sides to pull them down and off your legs just to stuff it in his pocket. You felt a bit shy now that you were bare and more naked than him. However, all that embarrassed thoughts went out the window when he began licking your clit with his tongue and caressing your folds with his fingers. You let out a moan feeling the touch you have been edged for too long. “So wet. Just for me.” He slightly smirked against your folds as he whispered just enough for you to hear. You felt your cheeks heat up more than you thought were possible when you heard. Not a minute later, he began eating you out as if it’s the first meal he’s having today. Your hand gripped his hair pulling his face towards your heat just to ride it. The way his cold tongue piercing kept hitting different areas of your heat made you lose your mind. Not too long after that, you felt yourself reach your first climax which washed over you making you feel so much pent up relief, but as you were catching your breath, Armin had other thoughts than to let you rest.

He felt your folds even wetter than before and plunged a finger deep in you making you pull his hair a bit harder than you wanted to. The thing about him though is that he loves and can handle pain very well. One reason why he has the piercing that he has. He added 1 more finger and began fucking you at a fast pace making you overstimulated. He stood up while still having his fingers in you and began kissing you while resting his other hand on your throat with a light pressure at the right spots. You felt yourself having a hard time to breathe because of it along with the pleasure he was giving you. He moved his lips away from yours and began leaving hickeys on very visible areas but you were seeing stars at this point so you could care less. You felt another climax approach soon and he knew as he felt you clench around his fingers. He helped you ride out your high while fucking you with his fingers leaving your heat pulsating.

He looked deep in your eyes as flashed his tongue just to lick his fingers that were dripping in your wetness. He licked them suggestively enough to make sure your breath hitched as you watched. You instinctively stuck your tongue out wanting him to do the same and worse to you. He took this as a sign to do the same and gripped the back of your throat before putting the same fingers deep in your mouth reaching your throat. It made you gag and have teary eyes but it burned so good as he moved. You swirled your tongue around his fingers tasting you and himself. It felt dirty but in the best way possible. He took his fingers out with a pop before unbuckling his pants to give himself a few pumps.

He held your arm and turned you around to make you face the mirror that was behind you the whole time. You faced the mirror and watched him from the mirror as he began lining his cock towards your entrance. He gave a few teasing nudges with his tip right before he sank fully into you. To your surprise, for a nerdy guy, he sure was packing. You felt yourself stretch around him which hurt so much.

After all, you have never had sex before despite how you presented yourself. You felt your eyes tear up and he noticed it in the mirror. He began hushing you as he slowly moved hoping it would soothe the pain. After taking a hot minute to adjust yourself to his length, you lifted your head up with hands on the countertop holding onto dear life to make eye contact with him from the mirror. His glasses were starting to now fog up ever so slightly making him look even more mysterious than usual. He held your hips and began fucking you fastening the pace. Your head dropped once again, but this time, he held your jaw and forced you to look towards the mirror so you could make eye contact with him. “Watch while I fuck you.” He lowly said into your ear and moved away after licking a stripe on your ear making you shiver. He began fucking you faster while gripping your hips enough to bruise them. Every now and then he would also give your round butt a squeeze making you moan and squirm.

As he kept fucking you, you became louder which could be risky because anybody could hear. He reached into his pocket and fished out your panties that he put in earlier. He grabbed it out and stuffed them into your mouth catching you off guard. He then grabbed both your wrists with one hand and your hair with the other. He pinned your wrists to your back while he pulled you by your hair towards his chest. He then moved it to your jaw holding your face in place while he fucked you deep with hard thrusts making his tip kiss the cervix in a way you didn’t think was possible. Your mouth was salivating so much to the point that there was spit leaking from the sides because of the way your panties were gagging you. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear making you all hot and bothered even more because of his breath as he fucked you.

He pulled out and reached for the panties in your mouth taking it out. It made you cough a bit before you began catching all the breath you lost. He then flipped you towards him and made you sit on the countertop between the two mirrors. When your butt touched the cold marble countertop, you felt so sensitive. You reached towards his shirt and tugged it upwards making him remove it. You admired his flushed body that was glistening in a thin layer of sweat. He threw the shirt next to you and went in for a kiss as he entered in you again.

This time he focused on getting himself off. So he gripped your waist and began grinding into you desperately. His pubic bone kept pleasuring your clit because of the position making you leave scratches on his back shoulders. This had him moaning and whimpering while yearning for release. He kept fucking you for a good while before he finally felt himself spasm indicating climax. You felt his thrusts become sloppier and held him closer wanting him to finish in you, and he gladly did groaning into your ear. While he kept cumming in you, he rubbed circles on your clit pushing you over the edge and making you cum for the third time that night. He had you biting his shoulder blade to mask the loud moan as he hugged you while you rode out your release while shaking.

You stopped biting and looked at him trying to find his eyes, but because of his fogged up glasses you couldn’t. So you reached towards it and pushed it up to his hair before locking eyes giving one final deep kiss for the night. Afterwards only you realised what you both had done and it left you dreading for the next tutoring lesson. While Armin on the other hand knew exactly what you both had done and couldn’t wait for the next tutoring lesson.

hope you guys enjoyed this.♡ྀི

word count: roughly 3400 words

a/n: lmk if you guys want a 2nd part cause i might have an idea on how to write one more part. :3

[navybrat817]

Sharp Dressed Man

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky looks good in a suit, and it isn't fair how easily he turns you on.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), referenced oral sex (f. receiving), feels, sweet and spicy fic, established relationship, vulnerability, being in love, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Tower Shenanigans based on an anon ask. ❤️ Thank you to the lovely @buckybarnesfic, @soelstress, @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for looking it over and assuring me it wasn't garbage. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was still getting ready for the day while you made him breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day, and neither of you would let the other skip it. Thankfully the rest of the team had already eaten and were elsewhere, otherwise everyone would try to steal something; except for Bob because he wouldn't take food without asking. Not to mention the last time John tried to steal one of Yelena’s meals he almost lost a finger. 

The scent of freshly brewed coffee cut through the last traces of sleep, warming you up as you loaded the plates with various foods and set them on the island. You rinsed the dishes and cleaned the counters while you waited for Bucky, doing a silly little dance in-between tasks. It wasn't your day to tidy up the kitchen, but you weren't going to be a jerk and leave it a mess. 

“Someone’s happy this morning,” Ava said from behind you, and you somehow didn't jump at the sound. You were all getting used to her phasing in and out of the rooms. “Let me guess. Morning sex?”

Was it obvious since you were only in your robe and underwear? “Maybe,” you teased. 

The wonderful ache between your legs was a nice reminder of how Bucky woke you earlier, making you shiver. You felt his fingers and tongue working you over before you opened your eyes, and you barely recovered from your first orgasm before he had his cock in you. It wasn't rushed either. He took his time, making you feel every delicious inch as he thrust slow and deep. Even when you came again he didn't stop. 

“‘Attagirl,” he smiled against your lips while you trembled beneath him, his body effectively caging you in. “But you can give me one more. I know you can.”

“Bucky,” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to fill you to the brim. 

“Just one more, sweetheart.” A hand moved between your bodies so he could play you like a well tuned instrument. “One more and I’ll give it to you.”

You did, and so did he, your name tumbling from his lips as he spilled into you. Who wouldn't give Bucky another orgasm if he gently demanded it? Three orgasms wasn't a bad way to start the day. A girl could do much worse. 

“Lucky,” she smirked, snapping you out of your thoughts when she snatched a bite of food from Bucky’s plate. “Mmm. Remind me to have you make me breakfast the next time you have morning sex.”

“Hey!” you yelled, but there was laughter in your eyes when she took another bite and phased away. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Who will pay for what?” Bucky asked when he walked into the room, making your breath catch in your throat. 

Bucky's hair was tucked behind his ears today, bringing your attention to his steel eyes before you took in the rest of him. His suit was tailored impeccably to his large frame, and he wore it well. He carried himself with composed ease, his steps deliberate and head held high. His presence demanded attention without appearing arrogant, which was tough to balance. He was all man. 

He was your man. 

“Fuck me,” you breathed. 

Bucky may not be a Congressman anymore, but he would have had your vote for anything and everything he ever wanted. 

His eyes flashed with unmistakable lust and pride as he walked toward you, making your stomach flip. “Already did.”

“You did, and you can do that again later,” you said, reaching up to trace his mouth. 

You smiled when he kissed your fingers. It was an honor to touch him and that wasn't at all an exaggeration. You noticed how tense he got when some got too close to him, but not you. Never you. 

“So, I look handsome?” he asked casually, adjusting his tie. “Not that I’m trying to look handsome. I’m only wearing this since I have a meeting, and I might get a few dirty looks if I show up in tactical gear.”

You almost teased that he was fishing for a compliment, but you saw just a flicker of his confidence waver as he waited for your answer. “Suit or tactical gear, you’re the most handsome man I've ever seen.”

He breathed out, his confidence back in full force. “I’m glad to hear that.” Sliding a hand over the curve of your hip, his fingers dug in, a protective and possessive touch, when he brought his mouth to your ear. “And I may have to wear suits around you more often since it turns you on so much.”

You tried to play coy, as if your nipples hadn’t peaked and your clit didn't throb. “Who said I'm turned on?” 

Bucky chuckled and lowered his head, his teeth nipping your neck and drawing a whimper from you. His lips moved up to find your ear again while you tried to keep your breathing steady. “Don't have to say it, sweetheart. I can smell you,” he whispered. You couldn't hide anything with those heightened senses of his, a blessing or a curse depending on how you looked at it. “Ruined your panties the second I walked in here.”

Your eyes closed. He was right, the smug bastard. Damn him. Damn him to Hell. No, not there. That was too cruel. Your bed would do nicely. 

It was insane the more you thought about it. The man could breathe and it would send your libido into overdrive. Feminism? Where did it go? One murder strut or grumpy stare and it went out the window along with your panties. One smile and it melted your insides. 

What had he done to you?

“You're unbelievable,” you sighed. 

He pulled back, searching your face. “What do you mean?” 

“I was a strong and capable woman before I came here,” you said, the words sounding ridiculous as soon as they left your mouth. 

“And you still are,” he assured you. Bucky was one of your biggest supporters, always. 

“It’s just… Do you have any idea what that’s like? To just look at someone and get turned on?” You stepped out of reach and gestured to him. You asked yourself some days how Bucky Barnes could possibly be real. How did someone like him exist? “You breathe and I get aroused. That isn't normal.”

No other man had that kind of power over you, body or heart, until him. 

The warm chuckle from your boyfriend had you fighting not to smile. “One, we’re not normal. Two, your breathing turns me on, too. And three, I do know it’s like to just look at someone and get aroused because that happens when I look at you,” he said, taking your hand to bring you back to him. He placed it against his crotch and grew harder under your touch. “We’re a match made in heaven, Hell, whatever you want to call it.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. You two were a good match. “It isn't just arousal when I look at you. It’s…” You took a breath and gripped his jacket with your other hand, trying to be careful not to wrinkle it. “You smile at me and…” 

“And what?” he asked, catching your eye and softly smiling. 

You swallowed, your eyes suddenly misting over before you dropped your hands. It was alarming how quickly your emotions took over in regard to Bucky. “I see a future with you there.”

Bucky cupped your cheeks when you tried to duck your head. He had stripped you bare more than once, but saying something like that made you feel more vulnerable than when you were naked. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“You have the power to break me,” you whispered, your eyes shutting. Not to hide, but to keep the tears at bay. “Which should be terrifying, but it’s very exhilarating.”

To give that much of yourself to another, to trust them to that extent, wasn't easy. But if life taught you anything, it was that it was too short and you had to seize every opportunity to live it to the fullest. Who better to do that with than Bucky Barnes?

You cleared your throat when he didn't say anything, his eyes a storm of emotions when you opened yours. “Your breakfast is getting cold. You should-”

He surged forward, his lips covering yours. The pad of his thumbs brushed your cheeks when he deepened the kiss, coaxing you to open your mouth to his. Emotions surged through you, your heart nearly overflowing as you held onto each other. You felt everything all at once and let yourself be swept away. 

He slowly broke the kiss allowing you both to savor the lingering touch of each other's lips and take a much needed breath. “You could break me, too, but you won't,” he said, his forehead resting against yours as you attempted to calm your racing heart. “Just like I'd never break you.”

It was a vow that resonated in your core, a declaration of love, one that had you kissing him again and silently promising the same. “Match made in heaven or Hell, huh?”

“And where you go, I’ll follow,” he smiled. 

You'd follow him, too. “Well, right now you need to eat breakfast and head out so you aren't late for your meeting.”

He groaned and refrained from rolling his eyes. “This suit is coming off as soon as I get back,” he said, much to your disappointment. Or maybe your delight. 

“Right when you get back?” You bit your lip. “Will you use the tie on me?” 

“I can,” he smirked, making your body heat up all over again. “Can have a little fun in the office, too. Pretend I’m your boss and-”

“Or I could be your boss since I'm strong and capable,” you teased. 

He moaned, seemingly into that idea as he backed you against the island. “Boss or not, I’ll still bend you over the desk or have you sit on it while I eat your pretty pussy.”

You whined. There was no stopping Bucky when he was hungry. He’d spread your legs and stay between them until you cried, lap up every drop and still want more. 

His hands roamed your body, forgetting all about breakfast. “Fuck you raw and fill you up just the way you-”

Bob cleared his throat, both of you turning toward the sound. How long had the poor guy been standing there? “Just getting a drink,” he said, quickly going to the fridge and avoiding looking at you. “I’m not even here.”

“Sorry, Bob,” you smiled sheepishly when he grabbed his drink and bolted. “We should probably rent a hotel room or something soon and give the team a break.”

You and Bucky could be extremely private some days and others there was no stopping you. How the team put up with it you had no idea. Maybe because you made each other happy. It still had to be slightly obnoxious for them. 

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his handsome face, too. “Or we could always do a campout on the roof so we aren't too far away,” he suggested. 

You smiled as you imagined it. Looking out over the city and watching the stars before cuddling up in a tent. A cabin getaway was also something to keep in mind for the future when you two could take a break together. Peaceful, quiet. Something just for the two of you. 

“A roof campout sounds nice,” you said. 

“Good,” Bucky smirked before he picked you up and set you on the island. “Campout later. Right now I want breakfast.”

“Bucky, your meeting.” 

“I won't be late.”

You didn't resist when he opened your legs. “Ava said no more fooling around in the kitchen since we eat here,” you reminded him. Alexei would probably encourage it. “And I just cleaned up, and you haven't eaten the food I made.”

“I’ll clean up the mess,” he winked as he crouched down. “And I’ll eat after I eat.”

And he did. 

We deserve this. Bucky deserves this. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)

⊱ Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair ⊰ || NSFW Alphabet (A-Z) Headcanons

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Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化, Separate) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns, No Sex-Specific Genitalia is Mentioned but it was Written with an AFAB Reader in Mind) Warning(s): 18+ Content, Virgin Asexual Author, Cum Eating, Facials, Minor Objectification, Cuckoldry, Mutual Masturbation, Face-fucking, Sexual Fantasies, Tickling, Praise/Degradation Kink, Breeding Kink/Creampies, BDSM, Overstimulation, Orgasm Control/Denial, Dumbification, Dacryphilia, Hair-pulling, Light Impact Play, Light Breathplay, Implied Cunnilingus/Blowjobs, Cock Warming, Mention/Discussion of Sex Toys… If I missed anything, please let me know! Genre: Headcanons, Smut (Minors Do Not Interact), Fluff Word Count: 7,200 words Request: “Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)” Author’s Note: I’m still very much working on getting better at writing spicier content, and I had no clue how to start writing these kinds of headcanons from scratch, so I went ahead and just filled out the NSFW Alphabet for both Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair as a jumping off point! It’s definitely interesting to think about how both of these characters would be in a sexually intimate setting, especially since – at least in my mind – they’d be quite different from each other in a variety of aspects even if they did have some overlap on a few of the points. I did my best to keep each of their headcanons at a similar word length (which was kind of hard to do with my Mr. Crawling bias, but I think I accomplished it haha). Anyway, I hope you enjoy these headcanons! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

👣: Mr. Crawling is immensely clingy after having sex, holding onto you and pretty much refusing to let go as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck or your hair. While he doesn’t want to get up from the bed or leave after the two of you have been intimate, if you’re hungry or thirsty or if you want to go take a bath, he’s happy to go fetch you something to restore your energy or help you to the bathroom to clean up. He’s quite good at aftercare, even if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing counts as it. Mr. Crawling just likes making you feel good, and he wants to keep you safe and happy! His favorite thing to do is help you bathe; he enjoys the way the warm water feels on his skin while he washes your back for you. 

💉: Mr. Silvair isn’t too affectionate after the two of you are intimate, but he’ll check up on you and ask if you need him to get you anything. If your wrists were rubbed raw from the restraints he had placed on you, he would make sure to carefully wrap gauze around your irritated skin. If you were thirsty or hungry, he would locate something safe for you to consume to get your strength back up. If you feel sticky or gross afterward, he’ll carefully wipe your body with a wet cloth to make sure you are clean and comfortable. He lets you sleep and typically goes about his own business. Sometimes, though, Mr. Silvair finds himself watching over you to make sure you’re breathing steadily, carefully combing his fingers through your hair. 

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t have a favorite part of your body since he honestly enjoys every aspect of you but, if he had to choose, he loves your hands. He knows that they can hurt people and cause a lot of pain, but he loves the way they feel when you cup his face to softly caress it or whenever you thread your fingers through his hair. For himself, Mr. Crawling loves his hair the most (I know it’s not technically a body part, but I think it makes the most sense for him); he pretty much melts whenever you play with it, and his head is quite sensitive, so he blue screens whenever you pull at his hair or rake your nails across his scalp. I also feel like Mr. Crawling would be proud of his arms since they’re fairly toned considering they’re his primary means of getting around. Because of his impressive strength, despite what his thinner frame may portray, he’s able to hold you up and move you around with relative ease (he 100% can manhandle you, but only will if you’re cool with it). 

💉: Mr. Silvair finds every aspect of your body fascinating, and he could probably explain why each part of you was interesting from a medical perspective or that everything was pleasant to look at in one way or another. If he had to pick a favorite part of your body, though, he would have to say it’s your head (I know, kind of weird, but he does appreciate your intelligence and, well… Ending 06 is my other piece of reasoning haha). Specifically, though, he likes your mouth. He enjoys being able to hold your head in place while your jaw hangs open, all while he just goes to town while you drool and choke around his cock. Don’t worry, though – he’ll find some remedy to lessen the soreness you feel in your throat afterward. For himself, he’s quite proud of his hands. Mr. Silvair is skilled at many things, and being able to make you come undone with his fingers alone makes him feel a sense of power (plus, you called them pretty once, and it made him feel good). 

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

👣: Mr. Crawling gets extremely flustered whenever he sees his cum on any part of your body, from your hair to your face to your stomach. The sight of it alone on your skin makes his brain short-circuit and body flare up – it only makes him want to touch you even more. He likes being able to clean you up, too, leaning forward before he runs his tongue along your body or face, making sure there wasn’t a single drop of his cum left on you (even if now it meant you were covered in saliva…). He doesn’t mind tasting himself, but it most certainly doesn’t compare to your flavor. 

💉: I probably need to ask you to stay with me on this one, but I think Mr. Silvair would probably keep your cum stored away in a sample tube or something along those lines, having a desire to run tests on it to see what he could create. Views your cum as a valuable resource in his research...yay? Maybe he could even use your release to invent some kind of lubricant since that’s not easily accessible in the other world and make having sex much more streamlined… or he just keeps it around to show you later and see your reaction to the fact he keeps your cum stored away in his laboratory to tease you. 

D: Dirty Secret

👣: The thought of taking you in public, in a space where no one but you could see him, makes his mind race and his body feel like it was on fire – this man can act like a feral dog sometimes. I mean, even you sometimes forgot he was there, unable to see his form unless you concentrated hard enough, so imagine if the two of you went out somewhere in public and he (with your consent, of course), just started touching you? Groping your ass, his face between your legs as he runs his hands along your inner thighs… no one can see that it’s him making your face flush and not the excuse of a fever you told the concerned stranger in the hopes they would leave you alone. When you half-heartedly glare at him to try and get him to lay off for a bit, he just laughs at your expression… how rude!

💉: Mr. Silvar wouldn’t be opposed to having a threesome with another resident of the other world. After all, he would be curious to see how differently you acted when another person was there with the two of you, or if your body reacted in an unlikely way if another were to touch you. While I will not write NSFW for Mr. Chopped (the power dynamic there isn’t my favorite thing in the world), he would be the one Mr. Silvair would feel most at ease sharing you with; Mr. Crawling or Mr. Hood would be his second and third choices respectively since he knows how deeply you trust them. He might not even partake in sex either, just sitting off to the side while he lets another use you like a toy. As long as you know your his, though, he doesn’t mind watching you enjoy yourself with another (he has to be there, though). 

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

👣: Mr. Crawling has absolutely zero experience with this kind of stuff, so he would need someone willing to walk him through the whole process, show him what you like, and teach him what and what not to do. What he lacks in experience, though, he makes up for in pure enthusiasm. It’s quite flattering how determined he is when it comes to making you feel good, even if it’s a bit sloppy and unpracticed. His thrusts are extremely unpredictable, never quite finding their rhythm… It’s alright, though; he’ll definitely get better with more time and the more he gets to understand what your body likes. You just have to give him the time to improve, and he’ll be certain to leave you breathless. 

💉: Mr. Silvair also has no experience when it comes to sex, or at least not any while he’s resided in the other world. He is a life-long learner through and through, though, and there’s nothing in the universe he’s not willing to learn about, especially if it has to do with humans and their anatomy. His thrusts are frighteningly accurate, being able to hit your most sensitive inner spots with ease to have you begging him to give you a moment to breathe. He’s an almost terrifyingly fast learner, too, being able to apply whatever new information he’s observed and gathered within moments. He can do it perfectly, too, and he does it in a way that has you questioning whether he was telling the truth when he said this was his first time doing anything like this. 

F: Favorite Position

👣: When it comes to favorite positions, Mr. Crawling loves being able to hold you close to him while also being able to see your face (he has to kiss you during sex – sorry, I don’t make the rules). He enjoys the rocking horse position since it allows him to be able to hold you close while still being able to maintain eye contact with you and easily have access to cover your face in kisses. While he prefers being the one making you feel good, Mr. Crawling would also enjoy the cowgirl position. He’s happy to let you use him to your heart's content while being able to look up and soak in the pleased look that’s plastered across your features while you slam your hips up and down on his cock. 

💉: Mr. Silvair personally enjoys the butterfly position, having you lay on your back atop his operation table all while he can watch and take mental notes on every single facial expression you make and every single twitch of your muscles while he drives you absolutely insane. He would also enjoy missionary, but he would spice it up a little bit by having your hands or wrists tied to something. After all, he doesn’t want you to touch him unless he says you can – just lay there quietly while he completely wrecks you with that annoyingly calm expression on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy when you touch him, though. Mr. Silvair simply prefers being the one in charge and determining when and where you’re able to feel his skin beneath your hands. 

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)  

👣: Acts goofy most of the time during sex, even if he doesn’t mean to. He likes being able to make you happy, and he finds your laughter to be music to his ears. Sometimes you two will be having sex, and he’ll suddenly start giggling completely unprovoked, just finding the experience with you so joyful. Being with you in any capacity makes his chest feel light and fluttery as a sense of giddiness flows through his veins. He’ll wrap his arms around you and nuzzle into your neck, causing your body to spasm and tighten around him while his long hair drapes over you and tickles your skin. Overall, Mr. Crawling enjoys being more playful when the two of you are intimate since it adds to the overall experience for him. 

💉: Prefers to be serious while having sex. He treats the whole process of intercourse like one would treat a research project which, honestly, can make you feel a bit annoyed in some instances (Mr. Silvair still doesn’t quite understand why, though). He’s methodical in everything he does, and being light-hearted or purposefully humorous isn’t high on his list of things to do. He has no problem if you want to be silly, however. He finds it cute when you try to see if you can make him chuckle. It endears you to him more, and it makes him want to keep you around for even longer. The only goofy thing he does is gently run his fingers up and down your sides while thrusting into you, finding the way your body wriggles and writhes away from his touch to be adorable. 

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

👣: I think Mr. Crawling would have fairly long hair beneath the metaphorical belt. His pubic hair would be thick, curly, and a very dark shade of black. He doesn’t really keep himself groomed (kind of hard to do in his world, plus it was never a priority for him), but if you would prefer him to keep it trimmed, he’d be happy to! He doesn’t care one way or another. 

💉: Mr. Silvair comes off to me as someone who would enjoy keeping themselves groomed and their appearance well-maintained, and I mean every inch of his body. I think he would have either no pubic hair or pubic hair that was trimmed to be the perfect length. If he did have any hair below the belt, it would be a gray color, one that was a shade darker than his regular hair and wavy in texture. 

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

👣: One of the more human-like members of the cast when it comes to his affections; he’s as romantic as a non-human being can be. Mr. Crawling loves holding you close as he ruts into you like a wild dog, whispering praises against your skin. He even tries his best to learn phrases in your language so he can tell you how much you mean to him without you having to try and decipher it. He’s always so, so soft with you when you two are having sex. He’s honored that you’d let him have you in such a way, and finds your trust in him heartwarming – he trusts you, too, with his entire heart and soul. 

💉: Mr. Silvair canonically doesn’t comprehend the concept of “liking” or loving someone, so that also translates into sex with him. All he knows is that he finds you entertaining to be around and that he’s somewhat endeared to you at this point. He’s not romantic but, in between teasing you and making you cry (whether it be in frustration or overstimulation), he’s checking in on you to make sure that you’re still comfortable. He knows sex can be invasive, and he’s aware of how much regard the act is held in by some people in your world, so he does his best to respect that... Even if he does need to check himself every now and again. 

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them masturbates much because they simply don’t have a desire or time to do so. Mr. Crawling would rather wait for you to be there so you two can enjoy yourselves together, and Mr. Silvair simply has more important matters to attend to. That’s not to say they never masturbate, though, it’s just typically a rare occurrence. 

👣: Mr. Crawling typically masturbates by rutting up against something, like a pillow, rather than taking himself in his hand. His thoughts before meeting you were just focusing on the physical sensation of his cock sliding against the fabric of his clothing, but now he finds himself thinking of you – the way your voice sounds when you coo sweet words in his ear, the warmth of your body. Imagining your hands gently touching his chest and hips makes him cum right then and there, almost embarrassingly quickly… Yeah, he’s down bad. 

💉: Mr. Silvair treats masturbating as a chore. He’d much rather be doing something else than leaning against the wall of his operation room while his hand goes absolutely ham on his dick. He knows which areas on his body get the most reaction, so he purposefully presses all of his buttons just so he can be done with it quicker. This doesn’t change after meeting and getting to be intimate with you, though, he still sees it as a chore… Just now he imagines cumming on your face or inside you whenever he finally reaches his climax. 

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

👣: 

Mutual Masturbation: He likes spending time with you and doing things together, so why not spend some time watching each other explore yourselves? He likes observing you as you touch yourself, making mental notes of every spot on your body that have you biting your lip and furrowing your brows. While I wouldn’t say he’s into voyeurism since he does like being with you while you touch yourself instead of tucked away in the shadows just watching, he focuses more on the way your hands touch and caress your skin instead of focusing on the way he moves his hands across his body. Doesn’t last very long doing this, though, eventually pouncing on you and touching you himself.

Overstimulation (Giving): Mr. Crawling loves overstimulating you, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it half of the time. He just enjoys seeing you become a blabbering mess all because of him; he takes great pride in being able to make you feel good. However, the first time you started crying because he was simply giving you too much, he felt so guilty – the poor man was on the verge of tears thinking he made you feel bad. 

Praise Kink: While praising you is a bit more difficult considering the language barrier and the limited amount of words and phrases he has to choose from, he still loves doing it. Muttering against your skin how you’re doing such a good job, how he loves you so much, how you make him so happy. Mr. Crawling definitely makes sure to reassure you both inside and outside of the bedroom. 

Hair Pulling (Receiving): He loves, loves, loves it whenever you take his hair in your hand and give it a firm tug. Mr. Crawling enjoys it whenever he’s going down on you and you take his hair into your hands and push him even closer, making him become fully immersed in your scent and taste. 

Sensation Play: While Mr. Crawling may not enjoy more painful experiences, he does like general sensation play quite a bit. He likes the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin while you pepper his flesh with gentle kisses and nips. He enjoys tickling you while his hips sensually thrust in and out, feeling the way you squeeze around him as breathless and airy giggles escape past your lips. He loves whispering into your ear while running his tongue along it before taking your lobe between his teeth and lightly tugging.  

💉: 

Breeding Kink/Creampie: Mr. Silvair, after learning more about human reproduction, has a deep-seated curiosity regarding whether or not the two of you would be able to have offspring. That’s kind of what starts this particular kink for him – he wants to know if you both are sexually compatible in that aspect, and he is curious what the resulting child would look and act like if they were born in the other world. If you’re unable to give birth or get pregnant, even if his initial interest in breeding is certainly from a more scientific aspect, he still finds the image of you full of his seed while it drips down the curve of your ass to be quite arousing. 

Bondage/Shibari (Giving): He enjoys tying you up and pinning you down, being able to have full control over you in the bedroom. He’s perfectly content if you agree to light bondage, like having your hands restrained, and would never ask you to do anything more than that. However, if you trust him enough and feel comfortable doing some more intense bondage, he’s not going to complain. Would definitely be interested in the art of shibari, finding the way the rope looks pressing into your skin tantalizing. 

Orgasm Control/Denial (Giving): Another kink that feeds into his desire for control. Mr. Silvair enjoys being the one in charge of your release, and he likes seeing how far he can push you until you finally break and plead for him to let you cum. He loves seeing how stupid and desperate he can make you, sometimes with just his fingers alone. 

Overstimulation (Giving): Much like orgasm control/denial, he likes pushing you to your breaking point. However, unlike the previous bullet, he likes seeing how much stimulation you can take until you’re crying for him to stop. He thinks it’s fascinating, seeing how quickly your desire for his touch can change – one moment you’re begging for him to touch you, and the next you’re weakly pushing his hand away. He does eventually relent, of course, but only after letting you cry for a bit. 

Dacryphilia: There’s something about seeing your tear-streaked face that makes it feel like he’s just been hit with an arrow in his chest. It’s endearing and oh-so cute the way you look while you sob all because he’s making you feel that good. It makes him feel proud, in a way, seeing you in such a pathetic state all because of him. 

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

👣: He enjoys having sex with you on a bed (boring, I know), but he likes the softness of the mattress and the many pillows and blankets that can be used to bring even more comfort by keeping the heat from your bodies trapped. He also likes taking you in small, enclosed spaces, like an empty locker or cabinet (sorry folks with claustrophobia). Much like the reasoning with the bed, he likes how the smaller space forces you both to be immensely close to each other. Plus, these spaces bring him comfort, so why not mix the two things that make him feel safe together? 

💉: Either in his laboratory/operation room or in one of the many different cages or prison cells that he has access to (bonus points if you allow him to chain you up hehe). Mr. Silvair doesn’t need a soft mattress or pillows to enjoy sex with you. He’s fine taking you on his operation table or the cold concrete floor of the small prison cell, even if your back moving up and down across the ground rubs your skin raw. He’ll patch you up after, no worries, but he doesn’t need a lot of bells and whistles to have an enjoyable time. 

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

👣: Sweet words and gentle touches. The other world is one full of violence and death, one where survival trumps all else. While there are entities like him who only resort to violence when either their safety or the safety of someone they’re fond of is in danger, it’s still not a happy or bright place to exist. Mr. Crawling does what he can to enjoy life, laughing in situations that probably aren’t even that funny just to try and make existing more enjoyable. Then you come along and make him feel cared for – loved – and safe, and he’s never been happier. Being able to lay with you, to feel you clench around his cock with your warmth while you pepper kisses across his face and let him know how good he is… Yeah, this is the life. 

💉: Power and control. He enjoys being able to restrict your movement, being able to dictate when and where you’re allowed to cum and, if you disobey him, he’ll punish you with a sadistic smile on his face. However, he would be lying if he said that was all. Mr. Silvair thinks the fact you trust him with your safety – your life, your heart, your existence – gets him going, whether he realizes it or not. Trusting another in the other world showcases how much two people believe in the fact the other would not do anything to purposefully harm them, and you feel that way toward him (and he feels the same toward you). Whenever you call out his “name,” the one you had given him, he finds his hips unconsciously moving even faster at the sound...

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

👣: Anything involving pain would be a hard no for Mr. Crawling, both giving and receiving. Even though his senses are dull and what would be extremely painful for a human wouldn’t be for him, he still doesn’t particularly enjoy being harmed. When it comes to hurting you in any way, that’s pretty much something he will never concede on. He doesn’t want to do a single thing to hurt you, even if it’s an enjoyable kind of pain. 

💉: Pretty much nothing is off the table for him – Mr. Silvair enjoys experimenting, and that’s no different for him in the bedroom. The only extremely hard no would be coprophilia since he just doesn’t see the appeal nor does he want to test to see if he would like it or not. I also feel like he wouldn’t necessarily want a bratty partner or a partner who is constantly trying to take control back in the bedroom. 

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

👣: Loves giving oral 101%, and he will give it to you anywhere – in public, in private, while you’re sleeping (with your consent, of course). Mr. Crawling adores having his mouth on you, being able to taste every single part of you while his tongue forces its way inside you, feeling your release dripping past his lips or dribbling down his chin… You taste good, too, better than anything he’s ever had before; he might get addicted to it, to be honest. He eats you out/blows you like a man starving, wanting a chance to have a taste and make you cry out his name while you pull harshly on his black locks and encourage him to keep going. He’s very enthusiastic about it, too, putting in so much effort and energy to get you cumming on his face or in his mouth. 

💉: Prefers giving oral over receiving it, but it’s not his favorite thing to do either way. It’s nothing personal, he just prefers using his hands, his cock, or a toy to get you off rather than his mouth. If he does allow you to give him a blowjob, he’ll place a collar around your neck and pull on the chain if you get cheeky – after all, he’s the one in charge here. Mr. Silvair enjoys making you kneel in front of him, watching you with a small smile as you take him into your hands and pump once or twice before taking him into your mouth. If the rare occurrence happens when he gives you head, you better thank the universe. He looks so hot, holding your thighs apart while he slowly runs his tongue along your length/slit and teases you until you’re asking him to touch you more. 

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)  

👣: Enjoys the slower and sensual side of things, but he typically can’t control himself as soon as he’s inside of you, so he ends up being somewhat fast and rough (not all the time, though... his thrusts remain immensely unpredictable no matter what, and he never seems to find a good rhythm to follow). Mr. Crawling enjoys the intimacy of sex, and he finds comfort in the closeness of your bodies while you two are connected at the hips. He loves being able to hold your hands and place kisses across your cheeks. Sometimes, he’s so caught up in the act of showering you with words of praise and sweet displays of affection that he forgets the fact he’s currently inside you and is supposed to be moving. He does see the appeal of rougher sex, though – it makes him feel almost animalistic whenever you two decide to set the pace for the night. 

💉: Mr. Silvair can quickly switch between the two, sometimes almost at a break-neck speed, to the point it feels like you got whiplash from the sudden change of deep and slow thrusts to fast and somehow even deeper ones (he’s very precise when it comes to hitting those sweet spots inside of you – it’s actually kind of terrifying how quickly he can locate them). He pretty much does whatever he thinks will get the most reaction out of your body and acts accordingly – nothing more, nothing less. He tends to prefer rougher and faster sex, enjoying the noises the quick snap of his hips can draw out of your mouth. However, sometimes, he finds himself preferring a slower and softer pace. This way, he’s able to focus on and truly soak in the expression on your face and appreciate the way your body feels under his palms (this sometimes just leads to you cock warming him). 

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)  

👣: Mr. Crawling is down for anything at any time. Pretty much, if you ask him to have sex, he’ll happily do it for you. Need him to eat you out or give you a blowjob, he’ll gladly oblige! After all, he is always pretty much kneeling, so he’s not being made to go out of his way to do it (even if he would go out of his way to please you). Want something more than just his tongue? That’s perfectly fine, too! There’s a private room over there he’ll gladly take you in, or maybe you’d want to try doing it in the empty locker? He’ll try not to take too long, but it’s hard since he loves being able to enjoy you to the fullest. So, Mr. Crawling can do quickies for sure, but he likes being able to take his time with you.  

💉: While he’s not opposed to quickies, he prefers being able to have proper sex with you to get the most out of it. After all, he can’t exactly see how long it takes for you to break or how much time it takes for you to start crying and babbling if you only have a few minutes to enjoy one another. However, he does make it a little challenge for himself to see how quickly he can get you to climax. Mr. Silvair will even make educated guesses on how fast you’ll finish just by making note of your current expression, body language, etc. He likes seeing how flustered you get if you think someone is going to enter the room the two of you are in, begging him to go faster which only makes him want to slow down – how mean! 

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)  

👣: Mr. Crawling is down to experiment but, as stated before, he doesn’t want to try anything that causes him or you harm, even if pain is something you enjoy. He just has no desire to hurt you in any way, something which is quite different from other members of the cast who are definitely more sadistic (cough, Mr. Silvair and Mr. Machete, cough). I feel like he would be down to partake in certain aspects of BDSM, specifically B/D (bondage and discipline) and D/S (dominance and submission). He just wants to have a good time and be close to you, both physically and emotionally. 

💉: 100% down to experiment with anything (except the previously mentioned coprophilia). If you wanted to try some breathplay or impact play or even blood play, he’d be down for it. I honestly think he would enjoy breathplay since it adds more to the differential in power that he enjoys so much (there’s also a stirring in his chest when he sees how much you trust him with your life, but shhh…). Mr. Silvair is a man hungry for information and new experiences, so yes, he’s willing to try a variety of different things even if they could potentially be dangerous – he’ll always make sure you return to your original form. 

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

👣 and 💉: Both of them are inhuman, which means that neither of them need any food, water, or rest to survive. Honestly, the two of them have unlimited amounts of stamina, and they can go for as long as you need them to (which could be two rounds or even eight – nothing is holding them back in the stamina department). 

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them owns any toys because, well… you can’t access them easily in the other world. If they do end up there, though, they’re probably dirty or damaged beyond repair (please do not use nasty sex toys, people – infections and diseases are no joke). 

👣: Mr. Crawling would be down to use toys on you! After all, why not? It’ll just make the experience more fun, right? You’ll probably have to explain what he’s supposed to do with them, though, since he’s not quite sure what some of them are for. If you want to use toys on him, he’s completely fine with that! Want to wear a strap and give him backshots? Go right ahead! Want to tape vibrators to him until he’s whining and writhing? He’d be happy to oblige! Overall, he’s pretty chill about it and is somewhat enthusiastic about adding toys into your sex life. 

💉: Mr. Silvair enjoys using sex toys on you, some of his favorites being cock rings/chastity belts, strangely-shaped dildos, and vibrators. He loves being able to secure the variety of different vibrators he owns to your body, making sure to cover every erogenous zone he’s noted. He doesn’t typically want toys used on him (but he’d probably try out a variety of different sex toys on himself after a while, though, curious about how each of them felt or what they did), however, and the only one he’d be willing to use consistently would be fleshlights. He’d make you watch him use it, never once allowing you to use them on him. 

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

👣: Mr. Crawling is very fair, and he always makes sure to give you exactly what you want in the bedroom. However, that’s not to say he never teases you, he just doesn’t do it very frequently. Sometimes when he’s going down on you, he’ll pause his minstrations to nip at or kiss the fat of your thighs, keeping your hips held down so you can’t buck up against his mouth. When you start getting antsy, he just giggles at your expression before returning his attention to that oh-so-needy part of you. 

💉: If the word unfair was personified, it would be Mr. Silvair. I’d argue teasing you and making you cry – either because you can’t cum or have cum ten times in a row – are the aspects of sex that he enjoys the most. Edging you is one of his favorite things, though, watching you whine and try to move your hips on your own when he stops moving… bad move, though, because now he’s just going to make you wait even longer for release. 

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

👣: He’s not loud, per se, but he does make quite a variety of different noises whenever the two of you are intimate. He whimpers and whines frequently while you’re having sex – they’re barely audible, high-pitched, and come out sounding as though he’s completely out of breath. Sometimes you wonder if he’s in pain with the noises he makes, but he’s not. He just really enjoys being able to feel you like this as he pants like a dog in heat. 

💉: Completely quiet most of the time. Really, the only noises you’ll probably get out of him are barely audible sighs or the sound of his breathing hitching when he feels you stretch/tighten around him. It’s not that Mr. Silvair doesn’t enjoy having sex with you, he just doesn’t express that feeling verbally. You can tell in the way his hand squeezes the fat of your thigh or the way his hips stutter when he moves in and out that he’s having a good time. 

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

👣: Mr. Crawling loves taking showers or baths with you, though he leans more towards baths since it’s less painful on his joints (I headcanon that Mr. Crawling can stand, but walking for extended periods of time is painful for him – ambulatory wheelchair user Mr. Crawling when?). While yes, he can technically sit in the shower, having water spray his face isn’t exactly pleasant… He doesn’t view bathing with you as sexual, he just finds it relaxing as he helps you wash your back or you help him make sure all the soap is out of his hair. His favorite scent would have to be lavender – it’s very calming for him. 

💉: He keeps a journal tucked away full of terms and gestures from your world. Mr. Silvair has a deep desire to understand humans and everything they have to offer, even if he believes it's from a stance of craving knowledge (really, he wants to be able to express his endearment of you in a manner you can understand). He has a page on kissing and different kinds of kisses, a page on gestures of endearment, another on hugging and cuddling… The fact that humans’ bodies release a hormone whenever they simply spend time to bond with another socially, a hormone that turns the dial on their brain for whatever emotion they’re currently experiencing, is fascinating to him. 

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

👣: Mr. Crawling is tall – and I mean extremely tall whenever he stands up (my man has got to at least be seven feet), so I can assume that he’s probably relatively proportionate under the belt. I feel like he would be big, almost concerningly so, clocking in at around 8 inches in length. Even though his size is impressive, his dick doesn’t have much girth to it and is on the thinner side, but it is thicker towards the base compared to the head (not that you can take all of him – you can certainly give it a try, though). It’s on the veinier side, too, with a very distinct and present one on the underside of his cock. 

💉: Much like pretty much the entire cast, Mr. Silvair is also on the taller half of the height spectrum. However, I feel as though he would have a more modest, yet of course still impressive dick size. I imagine him to be 6 ½ inches in length and relatively thick from the base to the head with very little change in girth. Whenever you see his cock, you’re kind of awestruck for a moment because how can a man have such a nice-looking dick?? It doesn’t make sense! There’s barely any hair, there’s no visible veins or bumps, and it’s long and thick enough to drive you wild… Plus, it’s just really nice to look at, honestly. 

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

👣 and 💉: Okay, so I know others probably will not agree with me here… but I honestly don’t think anyone in the cast has much of a sex drive, let alone a high one. I mean, they’re not human, so their cultural/social norms are different than ours, and I wouldn’t hold them to “typical” human desires on a biological/psychological level either. As I said before, I doubt any of them have been laid because sex just isn’t something the residents in the other world partake in – they’re too busy killing/fighting others, eating humans who find themselves lost in the other world, etc. Is this my asexual and world-building brain working? Probably haha. 

👣: Mr. Crawling really only wants sex whenever you want it, but he’s always enthusiastic and does get aroused whenever you ask if he wants to be intimate. While he does love feeling the warmth around his dick whenever you’re clamping down on him, almost like you were hugging him and not wanting to let him go, he enjoys the emotional connection during the moment more than anything else. I headcanon him (and all of the cast, to some degree) as existing somewhere on the aroace-spectrum. For Mr. Crawling, I see him as being reciproromantic/sexual with an average libido – he gets riled up whenever you’re riled up, though there are times he does get horny without you needing to do or say anything.  

💉: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair will have sex if you ask him to – he’ll make you beg for it, though, so he’s not as nice as the former. He prefers the control/power he gets from having sex rather than the sole act of intercourse (not to say he doesn’t enjoy the feeling, though). Plus, he finds the activity interesting since he knows it’s something most humans partake in with one another for a variety of reasons, from procreation to recreation. If you ask him to have sex and he isn’t in the mood, he’ll just use his hands or some toys and play around with you until you’re satisfied. I headcanon Mr. Silvair as being quoiromantic and eegosexual with a low libido. 

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t need to sleep (you know… being non-human and all), but he’ll curl up next to you on the bed and hold your body close to his while pretending to sleep alongside you. It’s kind of adorable, the way his head is nuzzled under your neck while his legs and arms are wrapped around your body, holding you close to him like you were a bodypillow or large stuffed animal. While you sleep, though, he’ll eventually place his head against your chest, listening intently to the sound of your heartbeat and the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath. Moments like this, laying there with you in silence, make his mind wander to scenarios with you he’ll never be able to fully experience. 

💉: Does not rest often, finding it a waste of time that could be spent doing something else. He understands you need your sleep, though, so he lets you do it in peace after you both have had sex. Mr. Silvair always manages to somehow make sure you have enough pillows to keep you comfortable or blankets to keep you from getting cold (you can’t help but wonder where he finds clean linens in such a grimy place…). Occasionally, however, he finds himself sitting next to you on the bed, fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair before he pulls his hand back as though you had burnt him – he doesn’t understand it, and he’s desperate to figure out an answer. 

[humanjarvis]

good heart

synopsis: zayne wonders if he’s mean. you reassure him otherwise.

tags: fluff. comfort. zayne is self-conscious and cute  pairing: zayne x reader word count: 641

a/n: surprise (not rly) first zayne fic :] it’ll be interesting seeing how i want to write him since i’m probably the most similar to him irl #neurodivergence. also posting the most depraved and fluffiest things i’ve ever written in the same week who said versatility

“Darling, have I ever been…mean to you?” Zayne asks hesitantly.

You’re cuddled on his sofa with your knees resting against him, halfheartedly watching a nature documentary. Brilliant rays of afternoon sunlight pour in through the floor-length windows, drawing most of your attention away from the grasslands and toward the trio of squirrels leaping over leaves in Zayne’s backyard. At his question, you raise your head from its place on his shoulder, squinting at him playfully. 

“Hmm,” you draw out, as if actually taking the time to consider his question. He blinks at you. “Nope! A little impassive, sometimes, sure,” you grin, poking his adorably neutral face. “But never mean.”

He forces out a weak smile at your teasing, gently lowering his gaze to your intertwined hands. 

When you don’t receive the usual politely packaged retort, you furrow your brows in worry. “Why do you ask? What’s wrong?” 

Still fixated on your interlaced fingers, Zayne clears his throat. “At the hospital today,” he starts, “one of the younger patients said I was…mean.” He bites the word out as if it tastes bad, the mere association of it with his character destabilizing his being. 

Perplexed, you unclasp your hand from his to lift his chin. “What happened?” 

“All I did was tell her that if she wants to feel better, she’ll need to take her medicine daily.” Now it’s your turn to blink at him. “Perhaps it was the tone I used, I’m not sure. I haven’t encountered this before.” 

Deep in thought, he moves to bow his head again, unconsciously avoiding your gaze out of unwarranted guilt. With a frown, you grab his face between your hands before that can happen, climbing over his lap to straddle him. 

“The Zayne I know is worried that doing his job makes him mean?” you ask, peering into his startled hazel eyes. “C’mon, Zaynie, she was probably just being stubborn. You of all people should know what it’s like to avoid taking medicine.” Lifting his top lip as if to inspect his teeth, you drive your point home when he flinches away. As his face flushes pink, you feel his cheeks warm under your hands.

“I’m aware that children…and adults…are hesitant to follow doctor’s orders at times,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I also know I'm not the most…expressive of people. I’ve gotten so used to behaving freely when I’m with you that I wasn’t monitoring my mannerisms in the pediatric ward today. I must have appeared quite intimidating to a vulnerable child. The thought made me uncomfortable. It made me wonder if…I’d ever made you feel that way as well,” he grimaces.

With a fond sigh, you tilt his face up to yours to kiss his nose. This time, his blink is slow and confused. 

“The only one you're being mean to is yourself,” you start, pinching his cheeks lightly. “No matter what’s on your face or in your voice, I know what’s in here,” you say, placing a firm palm over his chest. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Zayne without your directness. You wouldn’t be my Zaynie, either. And I happen to like both versions of him very much.” 

As you press another kiss to his nose, the corners of his full lips quirk up. “I suppose I should be nicer to him, then.”

“You’d better. Or else he’ll have to write ‘I am nice. I am kind. I have a good heart’ over and over again until he understands. Surgeons don’t have time for that.” 

“I'm sure I possess the cardiovascular fitness to work it into my schedule,” he quips. “I have a good heart, after all.”

As the joke lands, you give him an exaggerated wince, removing a hand from his smiling face to fake a retch. “Okay, maybe I was wrong. Subjecting me to that? That was a little mean.”