#I'm gonna punch you... in your lips... with my lips... softly

[tojishousewife]

Bouncing on Toji’s cock even while he’s overstimulated <3 ddlg reader

His head’s tilted back, hairline freshly damp with sweat, his chest heaving with every deep breath as he grips the arms of the chair hard enough to splinter the wood. He already came. Gosh, he already came—stuffed you so full the first time you felt it spill out before you even stopped grinding.

And yet, here you are. Still bouncing on his poor cock. All messy and filthy and giggling softly with your hands braced on his broad shoulders, your thighs trembling but still determined as you use his cock like your own little toy because fuck it feels so good stuffing you up.

“Darling” he groans, voice hoarse and edged with warning. His fingers twitch, aching to hold your hips still, but he doesn't—he can’t.

Not when his sweet girl is looking down at him all bright-eyed and pouty like that, acting like it's his fault for being so big, so deep, such a perfect fit for your cunt that he carved out perfectly after months and months of sex—just for him. His plump tip is twitching and leaky as it punches your g-spot over and over.

“You said you were done,” you murmur through a sugary whine, lips brushing the corner of his jaw as you bounce again—a little slower this time like you're savoring it. “So why's your cock still hard, huh?”

He swears under his breath, eyes fluttering shut as his hips jerk up without his permission. “You don't know what you're doing” he rasps, his jaw tight as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. “I'm too fucking old for this shit—‘m sensitive, baby, fuck—“

But your little giggle is wicked now, dragging your fingers down his big sweaty, chest, tracing the muscles that flex under your touch like you're testing just how far you can push him. “Then why does it keep twitching inside my cunnie?” you whisper sweetly. “Feels like it wants to cum again”.

Toji growls, real deep in his throat, bucking up into you with a desperate snap of his hips that makes you gasp. You weren't ready for that one—not so deep, not so mean—it caught you off guard. You stutter a breath, hands scrambling for his chest again as he grabs your hips hard, holding you still forcefully.

“You're gonna fucking break me,” he mutters through clenched teeth, watching the way your pretty mouth falls open, eyes wide as he holds you there, impaled on his fat throbbing cock, stuffed full of the last load still leaking around the base.

You roll your hips in tight circles, whining pathetically. “Daddy…it's leaking out”

“Yeah? That what you wanted?” he pants, fucking up into you deep and slow— dragging his cock against the swollen mess inside your cunt, making sure to stuff his cock all the way to the hilt so your pube hairs grind against each other’s “Greedy fucking baby, so full and still not satisfied”.

Your legs are shaking, and your voice cracks when you try to sass him back, but it's nothing but a breathy moan. “Wanna... wanna feel you again,” you whisper. “Need it, daddy—need you to fill me again, even if it hurts!”

He snarls something feral under his breath, hands gripping your thighs to bounce you harder now with his sheer strength, ignoring his own overstimulation just to ruin you. “Fuckfuckfuuuck, You're gonna be the death—hah!—of me, kiddo,” he moans. “But if you want it so bad—fine. I'll fucking give it to you”.

And he does.

Even if his legs are cramping and he's seeing stars from how sensitive he is. Even if he cums again with a strangled grunt, filling you a second time while your nails rake down his chest and you sob into his neck, overwhelmed and stuffed to the brim.

Because you wanted it.

And he always gives his baby what she wants.

[bochowssinner]

🪽 GUEST.

summary: your mama gave remmick permission to come in whenever he wanted, not knowing what he was, and he wanted you first. but remmick has a problem of playin' with his food.

warnings: fighting, light choking, hair pulling, spitting, biting, and a lil freaky.

a/n: y'all loved my other remmick post so i made another. bad at endings, sorry.

your mama had always been sweet, perhaps a little too sweet. especially when a white man stood on your porch one afternoon and offered to cut the grass for free. nobody did anything for free around here, at least that you were aware of. and what white man would do any kind of work for some black people? something wasn't adding up, and only you noticed.

that afternoon he saw you... it had been like a punch to the gut. something that made him want, something that made him.. ache. now here you were, trapped in his arms, just what he wanted. just his type.

“quit fightin’ so hard.” remmick’s voice was a near order as he stepped closer, forcing you back until you bumped against the edge of the kitchen counter. he lifted you higher, strong enough to maneuver your body without much effort at all.

“you sound.. sweet like this.” his hand around your throat loosened slightly, a few gasps of air escaping your lips. he leaned closer, nose brushing your ear, voice low and gravelly.

“what’s that pretty mouth taste like?”

you were pretty when you squirmed, really, it was almost sexy how hard you were still trying.

remmick’s hand squeezed your neck again, tilting your head to the side and back, forcing you to expose the long column of your pretty throat. “i'm gonna find out,” he murmured.

his tongue slid from his mouth, slick with spit and unnaturally long, and you instinctively screamed in disgust as loudly as you could, tilting your head back away from him as you struggled in his firm hold. remmick tsked. now that just wouldn’t do. he didn’t like that sound, or that struggle.

his thumb pressed on your windpipe enough to cut off more airflow while his other hand tangled roughly in your hair, yanking that pretty head back. he leaned closer, mouth just above that exposed neck, breath hot enough to send a shiver down your spine. "you know, you oughta be nicer.” his tongue flicked out, a quick tease of the skin. "you’re real vulnerable like this.”

his tongue traced an invisible line down the curve of your throat, lips pressing softly against you. he held you like a vice, body flush against yours, hand wrapped so tight in your hair it bordered on painful. "maybe I’ll make that pretty mouth scream again,” he murmured, teeth nipping at your collarbone. “just not in disgust this time.”

you reached up and grabbed a chunk of his hair and yanked his head away from your neck. he didn’t like that at all. in a quick, fluid motion, his hand gripped your wrists and slammed both against the edge of the counter, effectively trapping both your hands in one strong grip.

he leaned forward, breath hot against your ear. "do that again, and i’ll do worse than just bite you.” his fingers pressed into your skin, enough to leave little red spots. “i like my hair right where it is, thank you.”

then you spat. right on his lower lip. you weren't any stronger than him, but god forbid you let him bite you with those teeth. that was a bit more than the usual struggle, enough to break his attention. he raised a brow, eyes narrowing as he licked the saliva from his lip. it would’ve been funny if it hadn’t just taken him off guard.

"careful now.” his tone was still low, still thick with a sinful edge, but that sharp hint of warning was clear. he shifted his grip, pulling your head back a bit more as he leaned forward. if you wanted to spit.. he’d have a good way to shut you up. “spit on me again, and I’ll make sure that voice is hoarse for a week.”

“what makes you think you can just spit on me, huh?” he murmured. that ain’t how you should treat a guest, is it?”

"i ain't let you in—" you protested, breathing heavily as he craned your neck back in an uncomfortable position.

“no,” he chuckled, breath hot on your ear as he pulled back far enough to watch your face. “your sweet lil’ mama did.”

he leaned closer, lips just above your pulse. “your sweet ma let me in and told me i could stay as long as i needed to. said i could have a seat at the table and everything.”

his teeth scraped your skin. “so i think that does make me a kind of guest.” that was the last thing you heard him say before he sank his sharp teeth into your neck, piercing every vein along the way.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Given the World

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x GN!Reader

Summary: You like to bring little souvenirs for Bob whenever you travel for a mission.

Marvel Masterlist

You and Bucky were assigned as security detail for a senator in Hawaii. Being part of the new Avengers, you expected various kinds of missions, especially when Val was the orchestrator of the group. Being part of security was the tamest mission you could receive and you were gonna be in Hawaii for a month? Easy.

What wasn't going to be easy was leaving Bob.

You and he were in this weird kind of limbo. You two started off as friends, then the more you hung out with each other, you became best friends. Then, on a random night where you two were cuddled up and watching a movie, you two kissed and confessed your feelings for each other.

You two never put a label on it, but you were together. You didn't say you were exclusive, but you were. There were times you wanted to have the "what are we?" talk but every time you got close to it, you chickened out.

Yeah, you can punch, stab, and kick your way out of any situation, but feelings? Fuck. Feelings were hard and you didn't know how to navigate that.

But still, you tried to show Bob your feelings through other means, and that was through gifts.

Bob still wasn't cleared to go on missions, so he had to stay at the Watch Tower while you and the others travelled all over the world, helping people.

You brought him various keychains, mugs, plushies, books, etc.. You'd take pictures and send them to him. Anything to show that you thought of him.

Now with the Hawaii mission, you started thinking of what little things you could potentially bring back for him.

Even now, as you pack and Bob watches you do so from your bed, you think of him.

"Maybe a book? You said you liked history so maybe I can find a book about some of the local history? Oh!" you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk, "What about a coconut?"

He snorts, "You wanna bring me back a coconut?"

"I'm trying to think out of the box here! I'm trying to stray away from all the keychains, mugs, and magnets-"

"I like all of my keychains, mugs, and magnets."

You sit at the edge of your bed with a pout, "I wanna try to get you something different."

He softly smiles at you and scoots closer to sit beside, "I'll love whatever you bring back for me. Even if you don't bring back anything at all, knowing that you want to bring me back something is enough. You know I appreciate you regardless."

You nod and let out a deep exhale, "I know, but I always feel bad about leaving you here. I want you to experience everything I do."

"I will eventually. Once I get my powers in control and don't let the other guy out, I'll be out there with you, defending senators and civilians alike."

You snort and lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, "At least I'm going with Bucky. Aside from you, he and I get along the best." You then move away, heading back to your open suitcase on the floor.

"A month long mission with a handsome super soldier in paradise. Yeah, that's the dream right there," Bob says it with a playful smile, but you see it in his eyes: the insecurity.

You look at him with a sad frown. You hate how ingrained his self-doubt is in him.

"I promise you, nothing will happen."

He clears his throat and nervously rubs his hands on his sweatpants, "No yeah. I know. It was just joke."

"Robby," you say his nickname softly as you approach him again, sitting on his lap. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and you stare into his eyes, "I'm interested in no one but you. I have feelings, really strong feelings, for no one, but you."

"I know," he replies softly and he looks away in shame, "I'm sorry." He takes hold of your hips to help ground himself.

"I understand. It's okay," you give him a quick kiss on the lips, "I got you."

"I got you," he repeats back to you.

You both rest your foreheads against one another and sit in silence. You listen to his breathing, you feel his fingers dig into your hips.

"I love you," he whispers, "and if you don't feel the same, it's okay. Because I'll still love you even if you don't love me."

You chuckle, "How can I not love you, Robert Reynolds, when you're all that I think about? Is your collection of souvenirs not proof of how much I care about you? Doesn't matter if I'm one mile away or one thousand, you're on my mind and being away from you for a month is going to be hell for me."

His lips perk up into a small smile, "Is it bad that I kind of find it comforting that you'll be as much as a wreck as me when you're away?"

You throw your head back in laughter, "Absolutely not."

His laughter joins yours and you feel yourself feel lighter. You suppose feelings aren't that scary after all.

____________________________

Bucky smirks at you as you and he follow Senator Collins and her husband around Aloha Stadium. It's a free day for the senator and he and her husband wanted to do some touristy things around the island.

You and Bucky follow her along with her regular security detail. However, your attention is divided between work and all the different trinkets you can buy Bob. Already your tote bag is filled with some funny t-shirts and a hat woven from palm leaves.

Bucky found it amusing and adorable how often you were straying from the group to buy something new for yourself or Bob.

"We're supposed to be working."

"I'm paying attention!" Your bag looks even heavier now.

Bucky snorts, "You trying to bring the whole island to him or something?"

"Gift giving is one of my love languages. Leave me alone."

"Love, eh?" he cocks a brow at you, "So you two made things official official?"

You nod, "He said it first. He was feeling insecure about me being here with you for a whole month. I reassured him that I'm not interested in anyone but him and then he told me he loves me."

Bucky grimaces, "He thinks you and I-"

"I know, right. As if you're not madly in love with Sam."

"...I'm not madly in love with him."

"Suuuure, Buck. Anyway, all of this," you pat your tote bag, "is just me bringing back some of the world to Bob, because he deserves it."

The super soldier chuckles and shakes his head, "You two are disgustingly cute."

_________________________

You dump out two tote bags filled with gifts for Bob. He looks at the pile on his bed and then at you, "Honey-"

"I was on an island for a month and they had cool things! Look," you hold up a palm tree figure, "I know you don't smoke anymore, but this is a palm tree bong and I thought it was hilarious. So I bought it for you."

Bob looks at you in confusion and amusement, "I-Well alright then."

"I swear that's the weirdest thing I bought for you. Everything else is pretty tame."

Bob grabs a t-shirt and unfolds it. He snorts and reads it, "'I got lei'd in Hawaii'?" He laughs and tosses the shirt onto the bed, "You're lucky I love you, because that's horrible," he says pulling you to sit on his lap, "Thank you though. I appreciate all the gifts and I'm happy you're back."

"You're welcome and same. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here with you," you peck his lips and hold him tight.

Bob will never tell you, but he thinks the best thing the world has given him, was you.

[steinfellds]

office brat

pairing: wandanat x afab!reader

summary: you piss natasha off and she calls wanda into her office to deal with you.

content: brat taming, dom!wandanat, small mommy kink, strap on (r receiving), finger sucking, voyeurism, orgasm denial, pussy eating (n receiving), degradation.

When Natasha's pen scratching faltered for the fifth time, and she took an irritated breath, you knew you were getting closer to getting what you wanted. Her patience was running thin.

"Sit fucking still," she growled, slamming her pen and turning her chair to face you.

You huffed. You begged to come to the office with Natasha, expecting her to fuck you on her desk until you couldn't take it anymore, but no, she stripped you naked and forced you to kneel next to her, telling to be quiet and still until she finished.

"I'm bored," You whined, reaching out for Natasha's leg but she slapped you away.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. If Natasha were a cartoon character, steam would be coming from her ears. She grabbed her office phone, punching in some numbers on the keypad, and held it to her ear. The line rang for a few seconds before being answered.

"My office. Now."

You frowned and started to rise, but Natasha forced you back down. That was weird. Natasha never lets anyone see you naked. She always said that your body is for her eyes only.

The door clicked open, and you nearly jumped up in excitement. Wanda Maximoff, Natasha's business partner, walked in, shooting you a cheeky grin before stopping in front of Natasha's desk.

"You could use your manners next time." Wanda remarked.

"Don't start." Natasha scoffed. "They've been pissing me off the entire day. Just deal with them."

Wanda hummed, sitting down on the couch and beckoning you over. You crawled over, pulling yourself onto her lap, and basically vibrating with excitement. It's been weeks since you last saw Wanda. You missed her.

She traced your lips with her thumb. "Been bad, huh?"

You pouted, pushing your face into Wanda's neck and grinding into her lap. Like always, she was packing. Wanda unzipped her pants and pulled her strap out, slapping it against your cunt. You sank down on it with ease, groaning at the stretch.

Wanda slipped two fingers inside your mouth. "Gotta stay quiet,"

Her fingers rest heavy on your tongue. You licked at the pads of her fingers and sucked lightly. She kept a bruising grip on your hip and slammed you down repeatedly. You swore she was about to split you in half.

Just as you were about to tip over the pleasurable edge, Natasha had to ruin it. "Stop,"

Wanda stilled your hips, keeping you snug against her. You cried out, softly slamming your fists against her shoulder. Wanda's face dropped, and she grabbed your wrists in an iron grip.

"You do not hit me," she hissed. "Do you understand me? You do not fucking hit me."

Your heart dropped. Angering Wanda was only a mistake an idiot would make. You mumbled an apology around her fingers.

"You're managing to piss off everyone today, aren't you?" Natasha threaded her fingers through your hair and yanked it.

You swallowed back a bratty response.

"I don't even think they deserve an orgasm," Wanda said.

Your cries of protest fell on deaf ears. You were forced to kneel at Wanda's feet and watch. Natasha took your place, sinking down on Wanda's strap, covered in your slick. Wanda pulled her into a messy kiss, muffling her moans and fueling your frustration.

"Please!" you begged.

They ignored you. Natasha was close, and you wished so badly that you could see her face as she came. It wasn't fair.

"You gonna cum for mommy?" Wanda asked with a shit-eating grin.

Natasha's laugh was cut off by a moan. Her head lulled forward and her body shook as her orgasm washed over her. Wanda continued to pump into her until Natasha pulled herself to sit next to Wanda.

She spread her legs and you eagerly sat between them, your eyes trained to her glistering cunt. She pulled your face into her, and your frustration was washed away. You licked and suckled on her clit until her back arched and a silent moan left her throat. Your eyes didn't leave her face for a second.

"Not that hard to be good, huh?" Natasha shuddered as you cleaned her.

You shrugged, "I got what I wanted in the end."

"Brat."

[boypied]

saviour

BOB REYNOLDS x M!READER

MDNI + FDNI, mature content below.

WARNINGS: homophobic themes, mentions of slurs, mentions of hate crime, swearing, kissing, protective!bob.

SUMMARY: trying to calm bob down after he punches someone in the face after they hurt you.

Even though you've both been dating for a couple of months now, Bob is still all giddy and nervous around you. He loves doing special things for you whether they are extremely big gestures or just little ones, you appreciate both. Bob thought that it would be a nice idea if you and him went out for a walk since the sun was shining, and he didn't really want to be all cooped up in your apartment.

You and Bob are holding hands as you walk through the quiet streets where you can pretty much only hear the sound of the wind whooshing back and forth. “Whooooosh” Bob says, mimicking the wind, which causes you to burst out laughing, which then makes him smile cause that's his favourite thing to see from you... other than the obvious thing of you riding his cock till there is tears in his eyes.

As you're walking more and more people begin to appear as you get closer to the main city and further away from your small town, It's not hard to notice that the build-up of people has very obviously made Bob nervous as he squeezes away at your hand. “Baby, are you okay?” You ask him softly as you pull him out the way of people, “Y-Yeah, i'm fine. Maybe we can just start heading back now.” he asks you softly, and you nod your head, giving him an innocent smile.

As you both start walking back the way you came, you start feeling uneasy as a man approaches you from behind and walks through both you and Bob, breaking apart our hands from touching. “Hey! What the fuck.” You gasp out as you shake your hand, the man turns to you and pushes you against the wall aggressively as you bang your head against the brick wall.

“go fuck yourself, faggot.” the man grunts out.

you stumble off the wall, and Bob notices the very obvious blood patch from your head, which must've happened on impact. “Bob, let's just go h-home now.” You mumble out in pain as you try to fight back tears, and Bob's eyes have never looked so furious as he watches the man that assaulted you walk away. “I'm gonna fucking kill him.” Bob blurts out as he starts walking over to the guy, you stand there in shock as you watch the scene unfold. You've never seen Bob like this.

“Hey!” Bob shouts out as he practically speed walks over to the man, “Oh, what do you want now fagg-” and before the man can even finish his sentence Bob's fist collided with his face breaking his nose on impact. You stand in shock but also kinda turned on, Bob grabs the guy by the hem of his shirt and pulls him over to you as he leans down to whisper in his ear, “apologise.” he whispers in the man's ear but he stays silent until Bob punches him in the stomach, “Apologise to my boyfriend... NOW!” He shouts at the man.

“O-OKAY! I'M SORRY!” The man shouts in fear as blood runs down his nose and drips onto the floor as Bob's grip soften as he drops the man and he immediately pulls you towards him, “w-we need to get you to the hopsital.” he murmurs in your ear as he holds back tears, and you just pull away and smile at him “my saviour.” You mumble out as you peck his lips. Bob just stares at you with a lot of concern as well as love, “he's lucky I didn't kill him for hurting you.” he mumbles out as Bob walks you to the hospital.

After the trip to the hospital, you had to get two stitches as well as preventing Bob from going out and committing murder. You now lay in bed with Bob holding you from behind covering your neck in kisses as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear as you listen to the soften of his voice knowing exactly that this is where you want to be.

“I love you bob.” You mumble out in a state of tiredness, “I love you too... and I did the dishes.” he mumbles in your ear and you both just burst out laughing, as he pulls you closer.

taglist ' @starboye @dqrkhold @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @gaefaeyae @sluttyhusband @sleep-0-deprived @lucerowrites1

[yuujispinkhair]

You are watching Sukuna. And Sukuna is watching his brother's girlfriend... Until he is watching you.

-> This is Part 2 of this drabble

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Fluff + angst with a happy end. Word count: 4k. Angst, lots of pining, unrequited love at first, mentions of alcohol. There is no cheating. Sukuna and Reader get their happy end. Minors don't interact.

This small series was inspired by this beautiful art by @nayasch.

Also, for the best experience, I recommend listening to "Is there somewhere" by Halsey while reading this. I had it on repeat while writing. Divider @/hitobaby

It's a spilled drink that brings you closer to Sukuna.

Just a moment ago, you were holding your breath as you walked past the tattooed, pink-haired boy who makes your heart race, too shy to even look his way when you were so close to him. But then someone knocked into you, and now you are standing there like a deer in the headlights, your hands wet, your shirt ruined, staring wide-eyed at the big red stain soaking the front of your crush's white t-shirt.

You faintly hear some guy behind you apologizing. You have no idea if he is apologizing to you or to Sukuna. All you know is that Sukuna is glaring daggers at him,

"Get out of my sight before I punch your stupid face!"

And then those beautiful maroon eyes snap to you, and you forget how to breathe. You wished for Sukuna's gaze to find you, dreamed about it all the time. Hoped he would notice you, hoped that fate would hand you a chance to get closer to him. But now that it happens so unexpectedly, you don't know what to do. A muttered "S... sorry." leaves your lips.

Sukuna's gaze travels from your face down to your shirt, which is just as soaked as his. And that attractive lopsided smirk appears on his face, the one that gives you butterflies, especially now when he is standing right in front of you, close enough to touch. He shrugs,

"Wasn't your fault. I'm gonna change into a fresh shirt. What about you? Want one, too?"

You barely manage a nod before Sukuna starts walking away, and you quickly follow him to his room with your heart beating up to your throat.

He doesn't bother turning away but just pulls his soaked shirt off right in front of you, making your stomach flutter and your face heat when you see his firm abs and chest adorned with those sexy tattoos.

He laughs softly, probably seeing how flustered you are by his bare chest. But he doesn't comment on it and hands you one of his clean shirts, a white one like the one he was wearing before you spilled your drink over it.

He leaves the room after slipping into a fresh shirt, leaving you alone in his room so you can change in peace.

You sit on his bed afterward, pulse fluttering as you feel the soft fabric of Sukuna's shirt on your skin. You bring it to your nose to inhale its scent. It's fresh out of the laundry, so it mostly smells just of fabric softener, but it was in his dresser with his other things, and you can very faintly smell his cologne on it, making you close your eyes and sigh softly, overcome by a longing so bad it almost makes you choke up.

It's ironic. As if fate is taunting you. Here you are, sitting on Sukuna's bed and wearing his shirt like a girlfriend would. But he is already gone again, back to the party, where he will gaze at his brother's girl with the same longing in his eyes that fills yours, too, when you look his way.

Your hand reaches out to touch Sukuna's pillow, fingers sprawling over it, while you stare longingly at the dent where his head rests every night. What you wouldn't give to sleep in this bed with him. Feeling his strong arms around you, your body snuggled against his. Holding him, loving him, showing him that he can have all those things he longs for.

If only things were different.

It's hard to pull yourself away and leave Sukuna's room again. You feel a strange mix of emotions as you walk back to the party. Exhilaration upon getting Sukuna's shirt and being in his room, mixed with that familiar heavy feeling in your chest because you know he isn't yours, and he probably never will be.

You enter the living room and see him leaning casually against the wall in his fresh shirt, tattooed arms crossed over his chest, biceps flexed enticingly, head tilted back, a bottle of vodka pressed to his lips as his eyes are once again on his brother and his girlfriend, who are dancing in the middle of the room.

You leave the party shortly after to go home and crawl into your bed, still wearing Sukuna's shirt, hugging your pillow to your chest, wishing it was him.

Is he alone in his bed, too? Does he yearn, too? Does he, too, think about the one he craves but cannot have?

The thought makes your heart throb painfully.

Another party, another evening of watching the boy you secretly love from your safe space across the room. His gaze is unsurprisingly on the girl standing next to his brother. Yuuji says something to her, and she laughs happily and hugs him tightly, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. And you see Sukuna's jaw tighten, see his Adam's apple bob as he gulps hard, see the burning jealousy and pain in his eyes.

You blink against the tears threatening to well up in your eyes. His pain is almost palpable to you, but no one else seems to see it. No one seems to care enough to really look at Sukuna. They all just see Sukuna's mocking smirk and the arrogance and roughness he wears like armor. They don't see the pain in those beautiful maroon eyes. They don't see that his heart is aching.

Maybe you only recognize the signs because you feel the same way.

Maybe it is this all too familiar pain you see on his face that makes you brave tonight. And after all, you have a good excuse to walk up to him and stop in front of him, tilting your head to look up at his beautiful face, and say softly,

"Hey, Sukuna... thank you for the shirt you gave me last week. I wanted to give it back to you."

You don't really want to give it back. You have slept every night in it since last week, snuggling into it, inhaling the faint traces of Sukuna's scent, dreaming about having him in your bed, hugging him, feeling the warmth of his body seep through the thin fabric of the t-shirt.

But you reluctantly put it in the washing machine yesterday, folded it neatly, and put it in your bag to return it to him tonight.

You hand him the shirt, and Sukuna takes it, his large hand with the tattoos and various rings brushing over yours, sending the butterflies fluttering in your stomach like crazy. You know how nervous you must look when you smile a shaky smile at him,

"Thank you again. That was really nice of you."

There is surprise in his eyes as if no one ever tells him he is nice. Maybe he isn't. Or maybe people just don't see the small, nice things he does sometimes. Maybe he doesn't want them to see.

"No problem, princess."

You lie awake that night, in your own shirt this time, but with Sukuna's low, velvety voice playing over and over in your mind, calling you princess. You know it means nothing, but it still makes your heart race and a giddy smile lift your lips.

You clutch your drink tightly as you watch the boy you secretly love from across the room, just like you do every weekend. If only you weren't so shy. If only you were brave enough to walk over to him without needing a reason like giving back his shirt.

You sigh longingly as your eyes trail over Sukuna's face. Longing is what you can see on his face, too, as his gaze is on the happy couple at the other end of the room. Your chest feels so tight that it hurts.

I want to take the pain away from you, Sukuna. I wish I could be the one to make you happy.

But you are standing here, and he is standing over there with his eyes on someone else.

A sad love song starts playing and the air in the room feels suffocating all of a sudden.

Maybe you should leave.

What are you even doing at this party, where you are surrounded by so many people but feel more alone than at home, where it is only you and your bed?

What are you doing, coming here week after week just to stare at a boy you can't have? Hurting yourself when you see him looking at someone else. Drowning in desperation when you realize week after week that he is just as alone in his pain as you are and that you will probably never be able to break through his walls.

He is in pain, and you are in pain, and nothing will change about that.

Might as well leave and never come back. Stay away from those stupid parties. Find other places to go to. Maybe after some time, you will be able to forget about pink hair and black tattoos and maroon eyes.

Right when you push yourself off the wall, Sukuna turns his head. That beautiful maroon gaze lands on you, and all you can do is stare back at him.

Time seems to slow down as you and Sukuna look at each other across the room. You are sure he can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the pain in your eyes, can recognize it for what it is because he carries the same pain in his eyes.

Maybe that shared pain is what makes him slowly walk over to you. He stops in front of you, his typical teasing smirk on his lips, but the same sadness still unveiled in his eyes.

For a moment, you think he will ask you to go to his room with him to fuck. And it fills you with dread because you know you would just be a rebound. You would just be someone he uses for sex to take his mind off the girl he really wants. It would mean nothing to him. And yet, you know that you would say yes. You would go with him, would lay down in his bed, would let him take everything he needs from you until you have nothing left. And in turn, you would take anything he is willing to give you, too, even if it was just meaningless sex. Because even if he just used you to distract himself, it would still be better than nothing. Even if it were just impersonal sex, without any feelings involved from his side, you would still go with him just to feel his skin on yours.

But to your relief, the question never comes. Instead, he says in that calm, low voice,

"You look like you aren't enjoying this stupid party either. Even the pizza tastes disgusting. I'll make something myself. Wanna join me?"

You follow him as if you are in a daze. Everything around you is blurred as you walk behind Sukuna's tall figure, following him to the kitchen, your head spinning, making you feel light-headed even though you barely drank any alcohol.

You sit on the kitchen counter while he cooks. Studying his beautiful face while he is focusing on the pan in front of him. The pain in his eyes is not as burning anymore while he stirs the vegetables and adds various spices. Maybe this is why he wanted to come here. Maybe cooking distracts him enough to ease the pain at least a little.

Those maroon eyes you love so much meet yours while Sukuna tells you how tired he is of those parties all the time and those people he cannot stand in his apartment. He doesn't say what he really means, but you know. How tired his heart is of the longing, of the pain, of having to pretend like he is ok.

You tell him he is a good cook when he hands you a spoon to try, and a smile flickers over his face. A genuine smile, not the typical smirk. And it makes you fall. Makes you tumble down an abyss that you know you will never be able to get out of again. As if you needed to fall even more for him. As if you weren't already too in love with him.

You know you are lost. Lost in everything that makes Sukuna Sukuna. You thought you knew him and already fell in love with what you knew about him on a surface level. But now you have caught glimpses of the boy beneath the surface, and it makes you fall even deeper in love with him. Makes your chest hurt even more. Makes your every fiber scream with longing.

He hoists himself up on the kitchen counter next to you, handing you a plate and grabbing one for himself, too. You sit in silence, eating side by side, while the sounds of the party dimly drift to your ears through the closed door.

You praise his cooking skills some more because you are too nervous to think of anything else to say and because you like the way his lips curl in a smile again and how the pain in his eyes is almost completely gone when he turns to look at you.

He tells you where he got the recipe, how he adjusted it over several weeks, and that he enjoys cooking a lot. The way he says it doesn't sound like he is simply doing small talk, but rather as if he is letting you in on a secret. As if this is a side of Sukuna that people aren't supposed to know.

And you smile softly at him, hoping it conveys that you are grateful that he lets you share this moment with him.

His thumb brushes over the corner of your lips to scoop up some stray sauce, making your heart beat so fast you think you will black out.

When you leave an hour later, you tell him that you really enjoyed yourself,

"Thank you for letting me try your food. It tasted delicious... and I..."

You want to tell him how happy it made you to spend time with him, just the two of you in the kitchen. That you will always keep those moments in your heart like a treasure. But you are too shy to say those words out loud, and so you trail off sheepishly, smiling nervously at him and nodding awkwardly.

"Bye, Sukuna. Have a nice rest of the night."

He watches you closely with those beautiful maroon eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face, saying nothing. But he holds the door open for you like a gentleman in those old movies.

You can still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin when you lie in bed with a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your chest for the first time after coming home after one of those parties.

You are standing in a corner, taking a sip from your drink as your gaze wanders to the tall figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tattooed face and arms, pink hair, and maroon eyes.

You are prepared to see his gaze glued to his brother's girl. You are prepared to see the familiar longing and pain on his face. But you frown when you realize Sukuna's gaze isn't staring at a fixed place but instead wandering slowly through the room, scanning it as if he is searching for something or someone, even though the object of his pining is right in front of him. And yet that gaze slips over her and continues to wander.

Until it lands on you.

It catches you so off guard that you spill your drink again. This time, only over your own shirt, but you cannot bring yourself to look at the mess. Your eyes are on Sukuna, watching wide-eyed as he walks toward you, brushing past the girl you thought he would look at without so much as sparing a glance at her.

He looks amused when he takes in the mess on your shirt. A raised eyebrow, a boyish grin lifting the corners of his lips, a long tattooed finger pointing at your chest,

"Need one of my shirts again?"

You are back in his room a few minutes later, changing into one of his clean shirts while he has his back turned to you, making your heart beat so fast that you fear he can hear it thundering in your chest.

He leans against his desk while you sit on his bed, finding it hard to breathe with how nervous you are. With how lovesick you are for him. The longing to hold him so bad that you feel dizzy from it.

And he talks to you, tells you about a new recipe he tried, about a cooking show he watched, about this and that. Like he wants to keep you here in his room. Like he wants a reason to stay here and not go out to the party again. Like you are his escape.

His shirt feels soft on your skin, his bed so tempting under you. You grab a small pillow to hug to your chest, and the butterflies flutter like crazy when you smell Sukuna's cologne wafting off it.

He jokingly asks you,

"Did you spill your drink intentionally so you could get one of my shirts again? Liked it so much, huh?"

And you chuckle and tell him,

"Well, the end justifies the means. That shirt you gave me last time was really comfy. I slept in it a whole week."

You feel your face heat up when you realize what you just admitted. But Sukuna just laughs, and those beautiful maroon eyes sparkle like two precious jewels.

He tells you to keep his shirt this time.

"So you have something to sleep in."

And your voice wavers nervously, but you still tell him:

"You are really nice, Sukuna. Do you know that?"

He scrunches his nose at that,

"That's something I've never heard anyone tell me before. Are you sure you got the right Sukuna?"

"Yeah. In my eyes, you are nice. At least when you want to. You give me your shirts, and you let me try your self-cooked meals, and you hold open doors and talk to me and... make me feel less alone on these parties."

The last part comes out in a whisper, your emotions threatening to choke you up as you are overcome by your feelings for him. Being so close to him, spending time with him, seeing him smile and joke around with you. Sharing those moments with him that seem like something special.

Sukuna's eyes widen, an emotion flickering over his face that you cannot place. Surprise, maybe, but also something else. Something much softer. He looks away for a moment, staring at his wall that is adorned with pictures of pretty landscapes and bright red shrines and an old man standing in the middle of two pink-haired boys.

When he looks at you again, there is a vulnerability in his eyes you have never seen before. His voice is soft when he tells you,

"You make me feel less alone, too."

Sukuna kisses you for the first time at a party two weeks later. And it is not a kiss in the middle of the party. It is not a kiss in front of his brother and his girlfriend. It is not a kiss meant for someone else. It is not a kiss to make someone jealous. It is not a kiss only for the show.

No, it is a kiss that is real. In his room, where he sits next to you on his bed. It is soft and slow. Sukuna's hand is cupping your cheek gently, his lips brushing over yours slowly as if he is scared to hurt you or hurt himself. As if he is scared that he is fucking things up. Or maybe as if he fears he doesn't deserve this.

It's a kiss that makes you fall apart and makes you whole at the same time.

You kiss him back as tenderly as he kisses you. Slow and gentle, your eyes closed, your hand landing on his neck and caressing the short stubble of his undercut. You kiss him like you are writing poetry for him with your lips against his, putting all the words you are too shy to say into this kiss, all your longing for him, all the tenderness you feel for him, all your love. And he kisses you like he is a drowning man who finally reached the saving shore.

You walk out of his room side by side. Sukuna holds your hand, tugging you along to the kitchen to cook another homemade meal he wants to share with you.

Your heart feels like bursting with happiness. No traces of pain are left in Sukuna's eyes when he hands you a plate of stir-fried rice. And that smile is lighting up his face again. He is so beautiful, and you tell him so without worrying that he will make fun of you.

He kisses you again when he walks you to the door, right there in the hallway where anyone can see, his lips lingering against yours before he pulls away as if he doesn't want to let you leave.

You smile at him and nod when he tells you to text him once you are safely home.

"I like you."

Sukuna tells you in a soft voice while you are straddling his lap, currently cleaning some food experiment gone wrong off his tattooed face with a wet kitchen towel.

Wide, terrified maroon eyes look at you as if their owner thinks he just handed you a knife for you to ram into his chest and twist in his heart. It makes your own heart throb painfully even as you feel elated to hear that your feelings are reciprocated. Seeing this rough boy so scared. Scared of his feelings, scared of admitting them. Scared what you will do with that confession. Because all he knows about love is that it is painful and that it hurts and never gets returned.

You want to cry for him. For the boy who, until now, only knew meaningless sex and hopeless longing for what he thought he couldn't have. For the boy who believed that love wasn't meant for someone like him.

The first tear slips out of the corner of your left eye as Sukuna's large hands sprawl over your waist possessively, and he repeats his words despite the fear so evident in his low voice, the words nothing more than a hoarse whisper,

"I like you so fucking much."

Your hand with the towel is hovering in midair, your lips twitch, and finally, you cannot hold back anymore, and the tears spill over, running down your cheeks in hot rivulets. A broken sob falls from your lips, followed by a choked-up sounding:

"I like you too."

Sukuna closes his eyes for a moment, long black lashes fanning over his skin, a beautiful image that makes you drop the kitchen towel and cup his cheek with your hand. Your thumb brushes tenderly over the tattooed lines on his skin when those beautiful eyes open again and look deeply into yours.

He is braver than you are. Adding more to his confession. Making sure you can destroy him fully, if you like,

"Do you know what I mean? I.. I think I am in love with you."

"Sukuna..."

Your voice is thick with tears, but you continue despite the fresh tears welling up in your eyes, despite how much you are trembling in his arms,

"I... I am in love with you, too. Have been for months. Or maybe I was in love with an idea of you back then. But now I know the real you, and I fell even deeper in love with you."

You can see in his eyes that he half expected to get turned down, and it breaks your heart for him, even while happy laughter bubbles out of your trembling lips.

You cling to him when he kisses you, never wanting to let go again. Filled with the need to show him that this love won't hurt. That it won't slip through his fingers. That love can be good and safe and give him peace. That he deserves love, too, and that you are here to love him with everything you have.

It's another Saturday, and you are at Sukuna and Yuuji's apartment two hours before the party starts, helping them with the preparations. Yuuji's girlfriend is there too. You feel a bit awkward, a bit uneasy when you see her. But she smiles a genuine smile at you and greets you with a hug.

You work next to her for an hour and realize that she probably never was aware of Sukuna's feelings. She might look at Sukuna, but she doesn't truly see him. She only sees Yuuji. Her gaze is filled with love when she looks at him with an expression on her face that lets you know she has found her person.

You turn around to glance at Sukuna, a mix of fear and hope in your heart. What you see makes your chest fill with warmth. Sukuna isn't looking at Yuuji's girl. He is looking at you. Looking at you with the same expression as Yuuji's girlfriend when she looks at Yuuji. And you know that Sukuna has found his person, too. 

You wake up in Sukuna's bed with his tall, firm body behind you, just like you do almost every morning now. You feel his lips against your skin, trailing gentle kisses up and down your neck. His voice is still hoarse from sleeping when he murmurs,

"Mine."

His arms tighten around you and pull you even closer to him. And you answer with a smile audible in your voice,

"All yours."

Your cheeks almost hurt from smiling so broadly when you feel Sukuna's matching smile against your neck and hear his whispered:

"Just like I am all yours."

I cried so much while writing this and listening to the song and looking at the beautiful fanart and the sadness in Sukuna's eyes. This version of Sukuna is my Achilles heel. I love this broken mess of a boy so much. I want to love him so bad and make him happy :(( This story hit me so hard, and the kissing scene is one of my favorite scenes I ever wrote. I am so emotional right now, but also so happy to share it with you.

Thank you so much to everyone who commented on the first part of this story, wishing for a happy end. I needed a happy end too, and I am so glad I wrote this!! This story is very personal. I could relate to Reader 100%, and I got the impression that a lot of people could see themselves in her, too. So I hope you could enjoy your happy end with Sukuna, just like I did 🖤

[keithyp00]

▄︻デ══━一💥Tension Is A Loaded Gun

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings/Tags: flirty banter, friendship with Sam, slow-burn tension, humor, light angst, found family, soft Bucky, teasing Sam, mentions of past trauma

(MDNI 18+): explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink, "pussy drunk", vocal, dom/sub, multiple orgasms, aftercare

Word Count:4.1K

Author Note: Hi guys! Sorry I took a hiatus without telling you guys... But I'm back with another spicy one since the last one did so good. So I hope you guys enjoy and I'll try to be back to my normal posting schedule since school is almost over so fingers crossed :)

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

It was too damn hot for Delacroix.

You stood with a rag in one hand and a beer in the other, watching the Wilson family boat bob gently in the water like it had all the time in the world. Salt clung to the air, thick and heavy like the humidity. Your tank top stuck to your skin, damp with sweat and engine grease, and the smell of fish was less offensive now than it had been when you arrived three days ago.

"Hey!" Sam's voice carried from behind you, teasing. "You look like you're about to punch the boat."

"I'm considering it," you muttered, swiping your forearm over your brow. "This damn engine is older than I am."

"Yeah, well, she still works," Sam grinned, hopping onto the deck beside you with the grace of someone who did this whole life. "Unlike some people."

"You're hilarious," you deadpanned.

He held up a hand, placating. "Hey, I'm the one getting shown up by a boat."

You might've flipped him off if the sound of boots on the dock hadn't pulled your attention. Heavy. Familiar.

You didn't need to look up to know who it was.

James Buchanan Barnes.

The first time you met him, you'd been bleeding mission gone sideways, snapping at everyone who tried to help. Except him. He just stared you down, calm and unreadable, before grunting, "You got guts," and stitching you up himself with surgeon's precision.

That was six months ago.

Now, he was walking towards you with his sleeves rolled up, hair messy and short, and a gaze like a loaded weapon.

"Afternoon," he greeted, nodding to you. His voice was always rough, like it had to be dragged out of him.

"Bucky," you returned, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped.

You weren't sure when it started- maybe during a mission, maybe in a stolen glance, or the time he handed you a towel after a sparring match and his fingers lingered on your like he didn't want to let go. It didn't matter. It built. Quietly. Relentlessly.

And now every time he looked at you, it felt like your bones remembered him.

"Sam," Bucky added, glancing over.

"Barnes," Sam said back with a grin. "Come to supervise or get your hands dirty?"

"That depends," Bucky muttered. "On whether you're gonna keep flirting with the engine or let someone else take a crack."

You choked on your beer and coughed once, hard.

Bucky smirked.

You glanced at him sideways. "You trying to say I'm bad at this?"

"No," he said, stepping closer- close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, "Just saying maybe you need some backup."

"You offering?" You raised an eyebrow.

His lips twitched. "Maybe."

There was something dangerous about the way he looked at you, like he wanted to ruin something and was just waiting for your permission.

Sam groaned. "Alright, alright- if you two are gonna eye-fuck each other again, I'm getting the hell outta here."

You whipped around. "Excuse me?"

"Don't 'excuse me' me," he said, already walking away. "I've got two super soldiers trying to out-stubborn each other in 90 degree heat. I'm going to find a fan and some peace."

You turned back toward Bucky slowly, pulse drumming in your ears. He was closer now. Still watching you. Still smirking like he'd won something.

"Wasn't eye-fucking," you said softly, defensively.

"Could've fooled me," he replied, tone low. "You gonna let me help or not?"

You handed him the wrench wordlessly. He took it, brushing your fingers- deliberate, measured, testing.

The two of you worked in silence. You watched his muscles flex under the sun, veins prominent in his arms, and a thin sheen of sweat highlighting every line of him. You shouldn't have noticed. But you did. You always did.

By the time the boat sputtered back to life, it was late afternoon and your patience had frayed into something wild and taut. You turned to thank him- and didn't expect him to be standing so close.

"I can hear your heartbeat," he murmured.

You stilled. "So?"

"It's loud."

"So is yours."

His gaze dipped to your lips.

"I've been thinking about this for weeks," he admitted, voice rough. "How you smell like sweat and steel, and how your mouth tastes like beer when you've been working out in the sun."

"Bucky-"

"Tell me to stop."

You didn't.

Instead, you surged forward and kissed him like you'd been waiting since the first time he stitched you up. It was filthy. Desperate. His hands- one warm, one cold- gripped your hips like he was afraid that you'd vanish.

"Inside," you whispered against his mouth.

He obeyed instantly.

~~~~~

The door slammed shut behind you in Sam's guest room. You barely made it to the bed before Bucky was on you- pressing, growling, teeth grazing the skin of your throat like he'd die if he didn't taste you.

You gasped when he pushed your tank top up, lips dragging down your stomach.

"Fuck, Bucky-"

"I know," he muttered. "I know."

He kissed you like he needed you more than oxygen. And when he pulled your shorts off, his breath caught.

"You're soaked," he whispered. "Already?"

You bit back a sigh, back arching into his touch. "It's cause I've been thinking about you. Every damn night."

He groaned like it hurt him. "You're gonna kill me."

You slightly opened your legs. "Then die happy."

His mouth was on you before you could blink.

It was devastating.

Bucky licked you like he was starving- slow and deep, savoring every reaction like it was a drug. When his tongue circled your clit, your hips bucked up, and he held you down with that metal arm, groaning against you like he was drunk off the taste.

You moaned, breath hitching. "Jesus, Bucky-"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled, tongue sliding through your folds again. "Could eat you for hours."

Your hands found the short locks of his hair, gripping tightly on what you could. "Then do it."

He did.

Again.

And again.

He didn't stop until your legs were trembling around his shoulders and you were sobbing his name like a prayer. And even then, he kept licking- like he needed every drop of you, like nothing else in the world mattered.

"Fuck, doll-" he slurred, eyes glassy, lips slick and swollen. "You're gonna ruin me."

You pulled him up by his hair and kissed him filthy, tasting your slick on his tongue. "Then let me."

~~~~~

Your mouth was on his, and he moaned into the kiss like he'd already forgotten what air was. His lips moved hungrily against yours, slick with the taste of you, and you drank him in like he was the last thing left in a burning world.

He pulled back slightly, panting, eyes dazed and dark.

"You're-" he cut himself off, swallowing hard. "You're gonna be the death of me, doll."

"You keep saying that like it's a bad thing," you whispered, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He let you pull it off- arms raised, obedient, exposing thick muscle and scars and sweat-slick skin. The heat radiating off him was unbearable. Gorgeous. Alive. He looked like something carved from war and temptation.

"You're shaking," you murmured, brushing your hands across his chest.

His fingers caught your wrist gently, reverently. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Then show me," you breathed, arching your back to meet his skin.

His lips found yours again, but this time slower. More intense. Like he was memorizing the curve of your lips.

When he pulled away, he looked down at your body like he couldn't believe it was real.

"Lie back for me," he rasped. "I need to see you."

So, you did.

He dragged his metal fingers up your thigh, over your hip, your ribs, your breast. Every inch he touched felt branded. Worshipped.

"You're perfect," he murmured, voice breaking on the word like it physically hurt him to say it. "I've never wanted anything this bad."

Then he was between your legs again- but this time, his hand replaced his mouth. Two thick fingers slid into you, slow and deep, as his mouth returned to your breast, licking and sucking until you let out a gasp.

"Bucky-"

"Fuck, your pussy has me gone," he groaned, curling his fingers just right. "You feel so good. So fucking wet."

You whined, clawing at his back. "Please- please just-"

He pulled his fingers out and stared at the slick coating them, then sucked them into his mouth with a low groan that made you clench around nothing.

"I'm gonna fuck you now," he said, voice shaking. "And I'm not going to last long. Not after that."

"Then don't," you whispered, hooking your legs around his waist. "Just give it to me."

He lined up and pressed in slow, inch by inch, like he was trying to savor every second.

You both moaned at the stretch- thick and deep, perfect and maddening.

"Oh my God," you gasped. "You're so fucking big."

"You can take it," he panted, gripping your hips. "You're already taking it so well, fuck- look at you."

He bottomed out and stayed there, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours.

"I'm so deep in you," he whispered. "I can't think. I can't fucking breathe."

You kissed him- needy, messy, lost- and then he started to move.

It was pure filth.

Bucky fucked you like he'd waited years for it. Like he was trying to memorize how you sounded, how you tightened around him, how you begged when he hit just the right spot. The room echoed with skin and breath and the soft, desperate noises he pulled from you.

"I'm never gonna stop thinking about this," he groaned. "How tight you are, how wet. I'm losing my goddamn mind."

"You feel so good," you cried, nails dragging down his back. "You're so deep-"

He grabbed your legs and pushed them back, deeper now, harder, his eyes wild.

"This pussy's got me fucking drunk," he hissed, kissing your throat. "What the fuck are you doing to me?"

You whimpered, high and wrecked. "Then come for me, Bucky. Come inside me. Fill me up."

His rhythm faltered. He buried his face in your neck with a broken moan.

"Oh, fuck- fuck, I'm-"

He came with a groan that sounded like your name and something holy all at once. His hips stuttered, grinding against yours, keeping you full and trembling.

When he finally collapsed on top of you, both of you were shaking- wrecked, breathless, clinging to each other like you'd found something world dying for.

For a moment, all you could hear was the fan whirring overhead and the rush of your heart in your eyes.

Then quietly-

"I wasn't kidding," Bucky murmured, voice hoarse and full of awe. "You've ruined me."

You weakly stroked a hand through his hair. "Good."

~~~~~~

You didn't know how long you stayed like that- entwined, skin pressed to sweat-slick skin, hearts pounding against each other's chests. Every time you shifted beneath him, you felt the slow, sweet drag of him still inside you.

Bucky didn't move.

His face was buried against your neck, lips brushing your skin with every exhale. Like he couldn't stop touching you, even in rest. His metal arm curled under your back, pulling you close with a protectiveness so instinctive it made your heart ache.

Eventually, he lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze.

"You okay?" He murmured, eyes still hazy with the aftermath.

You smiled, thumb brushing sweat from his cheek. "More than okay."

Something flickered in his expression- relief, affection, something unspoken and too big for the space between words. His gaze dropped to your lips. Then lower.

He eased out of you slowly, almost reluctantly. You shivered at the loss, at the soft spill of him, and he kissed your temple like an apology.

"Let me take care of you," he said quietly.

You didn't answer- you just let him go.

Bucky disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, he had a warmth cloth, a towel, and hands so gentle it nearly broke you. He cleaned you like you were something fragile. Like touching you too roughly would undo everything you'd just given him.

You watched him through heavy-lidded eyes.

No one had ever touched you like that.

Not like you were a body- but a gift.

After, he climbed back into bed, tugging you against his chest. His heartbeat was slower now, but not calm. Still wild beneath the surface.

Your fingers traced the lines of metal and scar along his arm, settling in the dip where synthetic met flesh.

"You always this intense?" You teased gently.

Bucky gave a hoarse laugh. "Not usually. You... you're different I guess."

You looked up. "Different how?"

He paused.

"I've had sex," he said slowly. "But I've never had this. I've never looked at someone and thought, God, if they asked me to stay forever, I'd do it."

Your breath caught. "Bucky-"

"I'm not saying it to scare you," he said quickly. "I just... I've never felt that hungry. That alive. Not even before the war."

You reached for his face and kissed him softly, slow and deep. Like a promise. Like thanks.

He rolled on top of you again, slower this time, cradling your jaw in your hand.

"Can I?" He asked, voice rough.

You nodded.

This time, he moved like he was making love to you. Like he needed to feel every inch of your skin, every breath, every tremble. The kind of slow that makes time dissolve. That leaves you wide open, aching, full of something deeper than just lust.

He held eye contact the whole time.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of this. Of you."

You cried out softly when he hit a deeper angle, legs wrapping around his torso.

He moaned- deep and low- and kissed you again.

No rush. No frenzy.

Just you and Bucky and the long, slow burn of something you could both drown in. When you came again, he held you through it, whispering your name like a prayer. He followed soon after, shaking, his face pressed to your shoulder, his body heavy with need and surrender.

When it was over, he stayed there, still inside you, breathing hard.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

You didn't need to.

He fell asleep with your fingers laced in his, his arm wrapped tight around your waist.

And when the sun rose over the city, Bucky was still there.

Still holding you like he had nowhere else in the world to be.

~~~~~

The first thing you felt was warmth.

Soft sunlight filtered through the window, casting golden lines across your bare skin. The sheets were twisted around your chest, warm and worn, and the smell of him- clean soap, sweat, and something deeply masculine- lingered on your body like he'd marked you.

Bucky was already awake.

He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you were a dream he didn't quite believe was real. His dark hair was messy, falling over his forehead. The stubble on his jaw looked more dangerous in the light.

But it was his eyes that made your breath hitch.

Soft. Reverent. A little dazed.

"Morning," you rasped, voice hoarse from sleep... and other things.

He smiled, small and crooked. "Hey."

You stretched, and he watched every inch of skin as it moved, the way the sheet shifted down your body to pool beneath your breasts. His tongue darted out, like he was physically stopping himself from kissing you again.

"You're staring," you teased.

He didn't even try to deny it.

"Can you blame me?" He murmured, hand drifting to your waist. "I woke up with you naked beside me, still warm and wrecked from last night."

You flushed, arousal stirring again far too easily. "You're not helping me recover."

"Who said I want you to?" His fingers traced circles on your skin. "I didn't sleep much. Kept waking up just to make sure this wasn't a dream."

You reached for him, pulling him down until his mouth brushed yours. "It wasn't."

He kissed you gently. Once. Then, again, slower.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked quietly against your lips.

Your heart ached at the way he asked it- so careful, so unguarded.

"No," you said, pulling him fully on top of you. "You made me feel... everything."

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing in deep like he needed to ground himself.

"Good," he said. "Because I don't think I've ever wanted someone this much."

You smiled, thumbing over his bottom lip. "Prove it."

That was all it took.

Bucky rolled his hips into you, half-hard already, his body hungry in that slow, aching way that came from deep affection. From the thrill of knowing you could have more, again, forever.

But before it could go further-

Knock knock knock.

"Hey!" Sam's voice cut through the room like a blade. "You decent or do I need to bleach my eyes out?!"

You both froze.

Bucky let out a groan so deep it could've shaken the bed frame. He buried his face in your chest like it might erase reality.

You bit back a laugh. "You didn't tell him?"

"I told him I was crashing here," Bucky muttered into your skin. "I didn't tell him I was doing it naked with the woman he told me not to flirt with."

You raised an eyebrow. "He told you that?"

"Oh yeah. First week I met you, actually."

"Was that before or after you imagined my legs over your shoulders?"

Bucky gave you a look. "Before."

You laughed, swatting his chest. "You're so dead."

"Only if he hears you moaning my name again." He kissed the corner of your mouth, teasing, smug. "Though if he busts in, we could just show him what he's missing."

"BUCKY!"

"What? I'm kidding. Mostly."

You grabbed a pillow and hit him with it, giggling.

From the hallway, Sam shouted, "If you two don't open up, I'll call Shuri!"

That sobered Bucky immediately. "Oh my god, get dressed."

You were both still laughing as you scrambled to throw on clothes, Bucky kissing your shoulder every few seconds, unable to stop touching you even in the rush. He looked happier than you'd ever seen him- wild-haired, grinning, flushed with affection.

As you pulled on your shirt, he stopped you.

"Wait."

You turned, breath catching at the softness in his gaze.

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

"I meant what I said," he muttered. "About staying."

You smiled. "So stay."

~~~~~

"So." Sam sipped his orange juice slowly, eyes flicking between you and Bucky over the rim of his glass. "Either you both got laid last night or one of you suddenly discovered how to smile."

Bucky didn't even flinch. He just cut into his stack of pancakes like Sam hadn't just called him out in the middle of a bustling cafe. You tried to hide your grin behind your coffee.

"We slept fine," you said, the most noncommittal answer possible.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Uh huh. And I'm Steve Rodgers."

Bucky's mouth quirked.

You gently kicked his shin under the table. Don't.

He kicked back. What? I didn't say anything.

But you could see it all over his face- how different he looked this morning. Relaxed. Confident. Still riding the high of having you fall apart under him twice. His hand rested on your thigh under the table, completely unapologetic.

Sam caught the way you shifted in your seat and raised an eyebrow. "You good?"

"Great," you said, supping your coffee.

Bucky smirked wider and you shot him a glare.

Sam leaned back. "Well, I hope you stretched first. She's flexible, but if you throw your back out again, I'm not taking you to physical therapy."

You choked on your drink.

Bucky, the bastard that he was, didn't even blink. "Appreciate your concern."

It was a miracle you made it through the meal without combusting.

But it didn't end there.

Under the table, Bucky's thumb traced slow circles on the inside of your thigh. Every time you spoke, every time you laughed at something Sam said, his fingers crept a little higher. Teasing. Possessive.

You leaned into him when Sam got up to grab more napkins.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

Bucky tilted his head, voice a soft purr against your ear. "Trying to remind you that I'm still thinking about last night. About how wet you were. How you were begging."

You inhaled sharply.

"If you keep touching me," you said, voice low, "I'm going to drag you into that bathroom and ride you until you forget your name."

His pupils dilated so fast you saw it happen.

"Be right back," Bucky said suddenly, standing so quickly his chair scraped the floor.

You blinked, stunned. "Wait-"

He grabbed your wrist as he passed.

"Bathroom. Now."

~~~~~

You barely got the door locked before he had you pressed against it, mouth on your throat, hands already under your shirt.

"This is insane," you gasped, fumbling at his belt.

"Uh-huh," Bucky agreed, dragging his hand up your thigh. "I need you, sweetheart."

You didn't even try to argue.

He lifted you effortlessly, one hand on your ass, the other steadying you as he lined up and slid inside in one deep, slick stroke. You moaned into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you again- so thick, so perfect, so Bucky.

"God, I missed this already," he growled, thrusting up into you. "Missed being inside you. You feel so- Fuck- so good, doll."

You clung to him, your body already trembling.

It was fast. Desperate. Raw.

You came around him with a rush, gasping into his shoulder, and Bucky followed with a strangled groan, spilling inside you with a shudder.

Afterward, he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard.

"We're so bad at brunch," you whispered.

"Worth it."

~~~~~

Back at the table, Sam returned to find your seats empty. He looked around and sighed.

Then texted you:

Both of you hydrate. You're not very subtle, you know. Unbelievable.

You never lived it down.

But judging by the way Bucky kissed you hand under the table when you returned- and the stupid grin that wouldn't leave your face- you wouldn't have changed a thing.

[villain-enthusiast]

TOUCH-STARVED HERO RAHH.

.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine, actually,” the hero muttered from their sloppy position on the ground, though the oozing gash slicing across their torso and the fresh bruises circling their throat said otherwise.

The villain arched a brow, crouching down so they were eye level with the hero. “Do you think I’m dumb?”

The hero glowered at them. “Seems like you're deaf, actually. I said I’m fine,” they snapped, even as pain shuddered through their battered body. “Now if you could just get out of my way—,”

“Darling, please. You couldn’t stand up even if you tried, let alone walk yourself halfway across the city to your apartment.” The villain smirked at the hero’s deepening scowl, but the teasing flair didn't quite reach their eyes. “Let me do you a small favor while I’m here, at least.”

The hero bared their teeth. “Fuck off. I don’t need your stupid healing powers. You'll probably turn this into one of your idiotic bargains—," A harsh coughing fit cut them off, rattling their chest.

They tasted blood on their tongue. Fuck.

“Gosh, so prideful." The villain sighed, tilting their head. "Oh look at that, you're bleeding." They lifted a hand and ran a thumb over their hero's lips, wiping away a smattering of blood that had spilled from their mouth.

The hero's breath hitched at the villain's touch, the smallest, most delicate of noises escaping them before they could stop themselves.

The villain paused, their brow furrowing as their gaze took in every little movement and detail of the hero's involuntary response.

The hero's jaw tightened. Every muscle in their body screamed at them to get away, but they couldn't move. Or was it that they didn't want to move? "Villain, I swear—,"

Then the villain’s hand was cupping their cheek, and the hero melted.

A desperate whimper tore from their throat, their head lolling into the cool touch of the villain's palm as all the pain and exhaustion radiating through their body suddenly evaporated.

They closed their eyes, feeling their face begin to burn with shame.

"Oh, sweetheart," the villain murmured. Their other hand swept through the matted strands of the hero's hair, working through the tangles.

The hero had to bite down on their lip so that they didn't make another embarrassing noise. So gentle. The villain's touch was so, so gentle. So at odds to their earlier opponent's strangling grip and blinding punches, so contrasting to gaping loneliness and helplessness of coming home to no one, of having to painfully stitch themselves up day after day after day...

The villain brushed away a tear that the hero didn't realize had fallen.

"Hey, look at me," the villain said softly, nudging their chin up. The hero blinked at them, fighting back a sob. "You need to let me heal you, okay? You're losing a lot of blood."

The hero swallowed, barely processing the villain's words, their brain entirely occupied by the hand still on their face—or maybe it was just the blood loss. "Yeah," they managed, voice hoarse. It felt like their vocal chords were coated in tar.

"I'm going to do your stomach first," the villain noted. "I need both my hands for this, alright?"

The hero nodded, ignoring the inevitable panic that shot through them at the sudden absence of the villain's touch, which returned almost immediately on the deep laceration on their lower torso.

The hero cringed, bracing for some kind of torturous, painful mending, but the villain's powers were warm, soft, like honey in a cup of hot tea or a crackling fireplace during a winter storm. God, how many years had it been since they'd felt so comforted?

A whimper escaped the hero once more. They tensed. Jesus fucking christ.

The villain cracked a smile as they worked. "Don't worry, love. You're not the first person I've healed that enjoys the feeling." They brushed a palm over the wound, weaving the hero's flesh and skin back together. "This is gonna scar, but at least you'll live to see another day, hm?"

The hero scoffed weakly, still drunk on the villain's magic.

The villain swept their hands over the hero's body, feeling for more damage. "Gosh, Hero," they hummed, "you get yourself into so much trouble, do so much for this pitiful city, and for what?" They placed their hands on the hero's battered neck, soothing the inflammation. "When's the last time someone took care of you?" they asked quietly, but the question seemed more for themselves than for the hero.

Several heartbeats passed before the villain pulled away, finished with their work. The hero couldn't stop themselves from chasing their touch, nearly toppling over.

The villain caught them before they hit the ground, chuckling. "Oh, what am I gonna do with you?"

The hero felt a lump form in their throat at the thought of the villain leaving. I'm not gonna make it home. Not without Villain. They squeezed their eyes shut, swallowing their pride. "Please," they whispered. "Take me home. All I ask."

"Don't need to ask me twice." The villain swept the hero up into their arms, smirking at their indignant (and exhausted) glare. "You're not walking, sorry. You're getting all my love and special treatment today." They winked, as if they were joking.

But as the villain paced their way to the hero's apartment, and as the hero began to fall asleep in their arms, they both knew it wasn't a joke.

[siriuslylantsov]

canine tendencies

pairing: sirius black x reader

description: in which, you put charms in sirius' hair and confront certain traits of his.

tags: fluff! fem!reader, mmm pining, cuddling, totally platonic activities going on here, r is muggle-born hence the vet and dog anatomy knowledge, sirius is a puppy agenda, pretty women from the 70s mentioned (dont pay much attention to it), flirting.

a/n: staying true to my username with more sirius black. wanna play with his hair for days tbh. happy reading!

wc: 1.7k

“you don't know when to give up, do you?”

you raise your chin indignantly, “i'm stubborn.”

sirius fixes you with a withering glare, it doesn't pack much of a punch but you can tell he's stalling. he finally relents with a long sigh, ever the dramatic. you squeal, walking over to his bed with a little pouch that jingled as you moved. you nudge at his shoulders to lean against the headboard and set yourself down beside him. he grumbles, muttering something along the lines of waste of time and how your neck is gonna hurt. you bite back a smile at his cause for concern: you. 

“complain all you want, but you know this is gonna look good,” you muse, with an air of smugness. “you’ll be singing my praises.”

he lets his head hang to the side, looking at you, up those pretty eyelashes of his. his eyes are indifferent, yet they crinkle at the corners, trying to not prove you right. pools of grey and blue, you could drown in them. 

your elbow is wedged between a pillow and the headboard, propping you up, knees curled, poking into his thigh. his legs are sprawled out in an obnoxious man spread, effectively making you move closer so you don't fall off the bed–that's small enough regardless of the space he's taking up. 

he's avoided you all day since you proposed the idea at breakfast: putting charms in his hair. what's strange is that you’ve done his hair plenty of times before sans protest. you ponder it quietly, simultaneously willing him to concede with squinted eyes, as he deadpans you.

if he could, he would've told you that he’s afraid to be alone with you. not that he hasn't been before, he has and he's been this close to you too (he constantly is). but something is different now, something about your hands in his hair that he can’t deal with. especially recently, you've taken to scratching behind his ear and it drives him a little crazy. he won't stop you though, on account of it feeling so good. usually, you're around the others so he can shift his focus elsewhere rather than think about how softly your fingers pad over his scalp, but now you’re alone and he's cursing lily for dragging his friends to some stupid baking endeavour that he stealthily got out of. 

you watch as annoyance passes over his features (directed to lily but you don't know that) and it instantly worries you. maybe he was serious about not wanting this, were you pushing him?

“sirius, if you really don't want me to do this,” you start, a nervous edge to your fast rush of words, “please tell me. i don't want to force you into doing anything-”

“hey,” he stops you with a hand over your arm and a small reassuring smile. “i'm sorry, i do. i just think you’re hot when you're irritated.”

“you must think i'm farah fawcett all the time then,” you mutter, rooting around in your pouch for the gold cuffs you thought would suit him. “and i'm not irritated, i have a surprising amount of patience for you,” you correct, inspecting the cuffs in your palm.

sirius sits up a bit to peer at them, chewing his lip in thought. “mmm not her. barbara carrera maybe,” he adds, looking back at you, his resistance fading away.

your eyebrows shoot up slightly, in mild shock. “she's pretty,” you remark to his comparison and the seemingly honest delivery.

“yeah,” he says, incredibly earnest, “so are you.”

curious and curiouser. “you think flirting with me is gonna get you out of this?”

“i don't know, is it working?”

“nope,” you say curtly, bring your hand back up to his face, this time with a few charms as well. “pick.”

he does, and sets them in your other hand held out. you begin parting his hair for the braids, you settle for placing them under the top of his hair, since his layers are short they'll peek through nicely. you tie a sloppy half bun to the unused portion of his hair so it's out of the way and section out a piece to braid. 

sirius dutifully holds the gold adornments in his hand as you work, suddenly quiet. he always gets like this, you've noticed. all quip remarks are silenced when your hands are in his hair. you make note to tease him about it later but for now you're content to stay quiet. 

he's humming something quietly, a tune you're unfamiliar with, it's ok he’ll tell you later. it fills the silence nicely. you pick the first charm, looping it into a strand of hair and continuing the braid to secure it. his hair is unbelievably soft, it's probably why you like touching it so much. you both know it gets greasier faster because of your constant contact but sirius makes no move to stop you, ever, simply muttering a spell to revive it. 

it goes on like this for about ten minutes, mostly because the charms were a bit more difficult to work with than you thought and also because you were extremely wary of trying not to tangle his hair. he stares at you diligently out of his periphery and you try not to meet his gaze. 

when you're done you lift the handheld mirror to his face. fuck, he looks beautiful. you have to look away, allowing him to assess everything on his own. 

he shoots you a blinding grin, looking exceedingly pleased with how it turned out, “thanks, dove!”

“you’re welcome,” you respond. “it looks good, right?”

he nods, looking into the mirror again. “really good. you did an amazing job.”

your heart flutters at the praise but you don't let it show, accepting his words with a smug smile. it doesn't last long though as he jumps you with a hug, winding you. arms wrapped around your middle, his head rests on your chest, just below your chin, squeezing you in appreciation. you wrap your arms around him in tandem and lean back against the headboard and the pillows, practically pulling half of him on top of you.

it's rough and tumble for a moment before he settles with a low hum, arms still circled around your torso. he knows they’ll go numb the longer he stays like this but he doesn't care. 

you trail one hand into his hair instinctively, like it's second nature. your nails lightly graze over that spot behind his ear and he’s done for. when you begin scratching, he melts, like truly melts against your body, letting out a long, pleased sigh. he makes note to kick himself later for acting like this. beneath his cheek, he feels you shake. are you laughing?

he lifts his head, a little incredulous. “what?”

you chuckle, seeing how he blinks away the blissful air to his expression. “nothing, it’s just-”

he looks at you expectantly as you contemplate your words.

you let out an amused snort before speaking again, “i don't know if it's, like, a subconscious response to your animagus form but dogs really like being scratched behind their ears.”

he gapes at you, affronted. “are you calling me a dog?”

“you are, padfoot.”

he whines petulantly before dropping back to your chest. he noses at your sternum, his own wordless way of getting you to continue. so you do. 

“dogs have a very concentrated area of nerve endings here,” you explain quietly, scratching his scalp again, just behind his ear. “when stimulated, it causes the brain to release endorphins, making them feel relaxed.”

he hums in thought though it sounds more pleased and it scarcely proves your point. 

“how’d you know that?” he asks, voice muffled by your shirt.

“my friend had to take her cat to the vet and i read one of those pet magazines to pass the time,” you murmur, your voice still quiet as you begin to feel sirius growing heavier over you.

“y’so smart,” he slurs, words trailing off in the beginning of sleep.

“don't fall asleep,” you whisper, though you make no effort to wake him up.

he mumbles something incoherent, nuzzling further into your neck but giving you a little grace by shuffling off of your body. one leg is still tangled with yours and his arms are still tightly wrapped around you but at least he's not crushing you. 

“tell me more,” he requests, words trailing up at the end in question.

you think for a moment, reaching to the depths of your brain to retrieve the dog facts you read about that day, perking up when you do.

“hmmm dogs have incredibly sensitive noses. they have up to, like, 300 million scent receptors, where humans have about 5 million and the part of their brain that processes smells is 40 times larger than ours,” you mumble, tapping a light finger to the tip of his nose. 

“cool,” he exclaims, though it's anything but. his eyes slowly flutter shut as you coil a piece of his hair, sealing your fate for the rest of the evening. that is until, much to sirius’ dismay, his roommates come bursting in.

flour scattered over their clothes and hair alike, they’re boisterous as they enter, chatting something along the lines of baking is actually kinda fun. he groans against your body, sleep stretching far and wide from his grasp. you stifle a laugh as he glares at them annoyedly. they pay no attention to the boy, instead making plans on playing quidditch. to this, he brightens. jumping from the bed at a speed you can't quite justify, not being overly fond of the sport yourself. you were more inclined to flying for fun, rather than competition. 

he glances back at you, tentatively, asking for your permission almost. you shrug indifferently, you were going to make your way down to the field anyway. he grins and leans down, pressing a quick firm kiss to your cheek before rushing after the dwindling voices down the stairs, his own broom in tow. 

you bite your lip to push down the giggle that bubbles up in your throat, maybe there are some innate canine tendencies.

reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list

[totheblood]

protective!spencer reid headcanons

a/n: this is a remake of one of my headcanons i did for ellie but i completely rewrote it cause yea... AI AUDIOS throughout, also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

spencer is extremely protective of you, more than anyone else in his life... he just doesn't know how to show it

he knows that the job entails danger and as much as he doesn't like it, there isn't much he can do about it

but that doesn't stop him from trying

when you partner up on cases together he always makes sure he enters first, a hand outstretched to make sure you're always covered

"it's clear, you can come on in now," he would whisper, gun still drawn. 

"spence, you don't have to do that every time."

"i know," he'd say with a small smile, "but i want to."

he tries not to coddle you. he has seen you take down unsubs twice your size(which he would be lying if he said it didn't turn him on), but sometimes his protective instincts just take over.

he'd rather put himself at risk than see you hurt. even after you're cursing him out, hands in a balled up fist banging on his kelvar vest. 

"what the fuck was that?" you'd yell, face getting hot, "i had him, and you could've gotten yourself killed,"

with an ice pack pressed to his forehead where the unsub got a punch in he closed his eyes gently, "i know, i know... i didn't even think, i just saw his hands on you and i just... look, i'm sorry for scaring you but i'm never going to be sorry for protecting you."

but when you get injured on a case, he just loses it

"what were you thinking, running in like that with no back up?" he'd scold while gently dabbing at the wound on your arm. 

"spence, I'm fine, it's just a scratch."

"just... be more careful next time, okay?" he'd say softly, looking around to make sure no one was watching before pressing a gentle kiss to your forhead, “i… can’t lose you.”

or if you were partnered with someone else and you came back with even a semblance of a bruise, he'd have his eyebrows furrowed, lips twisted into a scowl as he approached you, hands gently holding your arms, his face softening when you wince at the contact

"what happened?" he'd say voice tight, looking up at morgan who was trailing in behind you, looking guilty as ever. 

as derek opened his mouth to speak, you spoke up, "it wasn't his fau-"

"i didn't see him coming," morgan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "i got him off of her the minute he was on her."

"he shouldn't have had a chance to be on her," spencer spat back angrily.

"spence, it all happened in a matter of seconds," you say, voice sickeningly sweet as you tried to sooth his nerves, "i didn't see him coming either,"

"i know," he sighed, closing his eyes as he took a shaky breath in, "i know, but all it takes is one second and you could be..."

"i know," you pull him into a hug, his tall frame leaning down to wrap you in his arms, "but i'm here and i'm okay."

his protectiveness extends beyond the field too. 

the team would be out for drinks at o'keeffe's, you with a saltrimmed glass as you sat next to him. as you licked the edges, and drank your margarita with a satisfied grin, he would smile to himself, his smile dropping the minute a tall gruff man approached the two of you 

spencer's fingers twitch as the man puts his hand on the small of your back, taking notice in how your body tenses immediately and you laugh nervously. 

when he was in front of the team he wasn't your boyfriend spencer, he was your coworker spencer and as much as you planned on keeping it that way, spencer's patience was wearing thin each second the man's hand was on you. 

he'd cringe as you lean away from the man, mumbling some excuse like "i have a boyfriend," which made spencer's lips quirk upwards, just for a moment before he realized the man was still leaning into you, whispering, "he doesn't have to know,"

it's then that he steps in, getting up from his seat and stepping in between you and the man, flashing his badge at him with a quirked eyebrow and tight voice as he said, "i believe my colleague has made it clear she's not interested."

after a long case, one he knows hits you harder than the other's he is insisting you go to his apartment with him, his hands linking in yours the minute he's in the car and rubbing soothing circles into your palm

his voice is soft as he speaks over the radio, "everything okay, baby?"

"yeah," you would mumble, but he knows you too well and he knows that's not true. but he also knows you well enough to not bring it up again, choosing to distract you with your favorite songs on the drive or a warm bath when you get home, pressing sweet kisses all over your face as he bathes you

when you're sick, he shows up with:

homemade soup (his mother's recipe), herbal teas, and your favorite books which he reads to you, despite your protests for him to stay away.

instead he'd be telling you to open up as he fed you chicken soup while speaking to you gently, "did you know that chicken soup can actually help reduce inflammation? the chicken and vegetables in chicken soup actually inhibit the migration of neutrophils which can help you breathe better."

in public, his eyes always find you. especially at work he is glancing over at you from his desk, pen in his hand tapping the desk as he looks over at you for the thirteenth time that hour. 

"she's fine, kid. she's not going to magically disappear from her desk," derek teases, as he leans on spencer's desk, looking over at where your eyes finally met his and gave him a soft smile. 

"i know. i just like seeing her smile," spencer replies, voice soft as he smiles back at you. 

[stillalivebydemand893]

That Night, That Lie, That Fucking Kiss.

part 1

(Part 2 is up)

Story:A year of almosts. One lie. One kiss. One night where heartbreak spills over and nothing is left unsaid.

18+ angst,smut,kinda fluff ?!🫣

“Remind me again why you two are still fighting?”

Julia didn’t even glance up from her magazine. Just flipped a page like your slow emotional disintegration wasn’t unraveling right next to her.

You sank into the couch.

“Because he’s a fucking asshole.”

The second the words left your mouth, regret hit you in the face.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, love.” You rubbed your temples. “Forgot for a second he’s your brother.”

Julia shrugged without missing a beat.

“Don’t apologize, babe. I love him, but I also know he’s emotionally constipated and has the communication skills of a broken toaster. He growled at my boyfriend last week.”

You tried to laugh. It got stuck somewhere between your teeth and your guilt.

You hated this.

You hated the radio silence. You hated the tension.

You hated Erik for kissing someone else like he didn’t spend the last year calling you Peach like it meant something.

But most of all? You hated that you still missed him.

“So?” Julia raised an eyebrow. “What did my disaster of a brother do now? Give me a reason to slap the shit out of him.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I waited for him at the pub. For two hours. No text. No call. Nothing. I thought maybe he’d gotten mugged or died or choked on a goddamn vape cloud.”

Julia winced.

“And?”

You clenched your jaw, forcing the words out like they were shards of glass.

“I went to the studio. To check on him. And there he was making out with Jessica.”

Silence.

Julia blinked once. Twice.

Then:

“NO. FUCKING. WAY.”

She sat up so fast her magazine flew to the floor. “THAT MOTHERFUCKER”

She looked around like she was ready to summon Satan .

You shook your head.

“I’m not even mad that he forgot about me.”

(Lie. Massive lie.)

“I just… after everything that happened with Jessica last year? The crying, the spiraling, the ‘I don’t even know who I am without her’ bullshit?”

A memory hit you like a punch to the ribs,Erik drunk, sobbing into your lap while you held him like maybe if you were soft enough, you could put him back together. The way his lips crashed into yours that night. The way he never mentioned it again.

“You’re still in love with him,” Julia said softly, like she wasn’t kicking the already shattered glass of your heart around.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

She exhaled.

“Have you even talked to him since?”

“It was a screaming match,” you muttered. “And then nothing. I’ve been avoiding him.”

“I miss him, Jules.”

You said it like a confession. Like a sin.

She wrapped her arms around you, tight.

“You wanna go shopping? Sephora's got sales and I'm emotionally prepared to blow my paycheck on lip gloss.”

You gave her a weak smile.

“Thanks. But I think I’m just gonna go home and cry into my blanket .’’

You kissed her cheek and headed for the door.

Your phone buzzed as you stepped outside.

Erik:

“Peach. Please. Talk to me.”

You stared at the screen like it might burn a hole through your palm. Typed. Deleted. Typed again.

Nothing.

Buzz.

Erik:

“Please, Peach. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

Your heart felt like a fist.

You finally texted back:

“Busy.”

Then you threw on your headphones and drowned yourself in MCR like it was 2008 and everything still hurt but at least the eyeliner was good.

The Ghost of You played on repeat, and you welcomed the spiral like an old friend.

Why do I ruin everything?

Why wasn’t I enough?

He kissed you once. That meant nothing.

You thought it meant something because you’re desperate.

You’re a placeholder. A maybe. A convenience.

You’re never the choice.

Your chest felt like it was full of shattered glass.

You didn’t cry. Couldn’t. You just lay there on your couch,body stiff, mascara dried, your brain looping the same memory over and over like a cruel home movie:

His hands. Her mouth. That laugh. That kiss.

And then the knock.

Not gentle.

Not curious.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

You didn’t move.

But your body knew.

Only one person knocked like that.

Like he was ready to fight for his life,or rip yours apart.

“Peach. Open the door.”

You didn’t answer.

He opened it anyway.

He stormed in like a fucking hurricane.

Rain still dripping from his hair, jaw locked, chest heaving like he’d just run through hell.

Erik.

Wrecked. Wild-eyed. So goddamn beautiful you hated him for it.

“You’re not doing this.” His voice was sharp, breathless.

“Not again.”

You stayed under the blanket. Silent. Fragile.

He ripped it off like it insulted him.

“I’m not letting you disappear into your own fucking head again.”

You sat up slowly. Black mascara smeared under your eyes. Your fists clenched so hard your nails dug into your skin.

“What the fuck do you want, Erik?”

Your voice was cracked. Tired. Dangerous.

He moved toward you. And for a second, you thought he might back off.

He didn’t.

“I want you to scream at me. Hit me. Fucking do something. Just don’t sit there like I never mattered to you.”

You stood up, legs trembling but rage giving them fuel.

“I think we screamed enough, don’t you?” You turned away.

Headed for the kitchen like that would stop him.

“I’m done.”

Your voice cracked on that last word.

He didn’t move. Just watched you with bloodshot eyes, leaning against the counter like he was seconds from collapsing.

“I said I was sorry. I’ve said it, like, thousand fucking times. I can’t read your mind, Peach”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!”

You spun, shoving your palm against his chest.

Too close. Too hot. Too fucking much.

He grabbed your wrist.

His grip was firm, shaking.

“And why the fuck shouldn’t I? Why are you acting like a brat.”

He dragged your gaze back to his, voice low and mean and wrecked.

“You want me to stop calling you that? Fine. But don’t pretend you don’t still want me to say it like you’re mine.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Your body gave up before your mouth did,knees slamming into the kitchen floor like your grief finally dragged you down. You folded in on yourself.

And Erik followed.

Dropped beside you. Wrapped his arms around your shaking frame and pulled you into his lap like he needed you there to breathe.

Two broken people, tangled on a cold kitchen floor, ruining each other softly.

“Why would I stop calling you Peach,” he whispered against your hair, “when you’re the only good fucking thing in my life? The only thing I can’t stop thinking about. The only one who makes me feel like I’m not completely fucking lost.”

You looked up at him. Eyes raw.

“I love you.”

It fell from your lips like a wound.

“And it’s tearing me apart.”

You buried your face into his chest as your voice broke open.

“When I saw you with her, I shattered. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. How am I supposed to just be your friend when all I want is to hold you until everything stops hurting?”

You tried to pull away.

“You’ll be better off without me. You and Jessica.”

“Don’t say her fucking name,” he growled, pulling you tighter, refusing to let you go.

“That’s it? You say your pretty little heartbreak speech and run again?”

You froze.

His voice wasn’t soft anymore. It was breaking.

“I can’t do this, Erik,if you wanna stop being friends, then fine. I’ll figure it out. Just don’t keep showing up like you love me and leaving like you don’t.”

He grabbed your hand and slammed it against his chest.

His heartbeat was brutal beneath your palm.

“You feel that?” he rasped.

“You fucking own this. Every beat. Every goddamn day, I wake up thinking, Is she okay? Should I call her? And then I don’t, because I think you hate me. Because I think I ruin everything I touch.”

“Erik, I didn’t mean-”

“And then you say you love me?”

He laughed bitterly.

“You say that like it’s supposed to fix me.”

That one hit you like a slap.

You shifted in his lap, trying to crawl away,hide, run, vanish.

His arms locked around you.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done.”

His voice was rough, wrecked, devastating.

“You think I didn’t try to stay away? You think I didn’t try to protect you from me? Because I did. Every day. I kept thinking,how could I hold something this good? How could I be trusted with her when I can’t even trust myself?”

“Erik, stop-”

Your voice broke, hands on his face, desperate to shut him up before he shattered for real.

“But I couldn’t stop.”

His forehead pressed to yours.

“I couldn’t stop needing you. Wanting you. Hating myself for both.”

And then he kissed you.

Hard. Starved. Reckless.

You moaned into his mouth, clawed at his shoulders, kissed him like it was the last thing you’d ever get from him. He pulled you tighter, mouth hot and furious against yours, hands gripping your thighs like if he let go, he’d die.

You dragged your nails down his neck. He groaned against your lips.

This was war. This was grief. This was everything you’d swallowed, everything you didn’t say when you should’ve screamed.

His hand slipped under your shirt, rough palm on your waist, and it made you gasp.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he whispered into your mouth.

“But I can’t let you go. Not again.”

Your tears burned as you kissed him back, frantic, furious.

You shook your head.

“I don’t know how to do this.Us.”

“Neither do I.”

And then he kissed you again.

It was still happening in every breath, every drag of teeth, every desperate, bruising kiss that said I hate that I love you louder than words ever could.

Erik groaned into your mouth like the taste of you physically wrecked him. His hands were everywhere,sliding under your shirt, gripping your waist hard like he was daring you to vanish again.He was dragging you down harder into his lap.

You gasped, fingers fisting the collar of his soaked shirt, yanking it like it offended you just by existing.

He pulled away for a split second, panting,forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark and hungry and devastated.

“You ruin me,” he breathed.

Then he kissed you again before you could say anything back.

This time it was harder. Hotter. His mouth crashed into yours, tongue sliding past your lips with no hesitation, like he owned you,like he always had. Your thighs tightened around his hips as his hands roamed, palms rough, movements frantic like he was trying to memorize you all over again.

You whimpered into his mouth, and he growled,a low, guttural sound deep in his chest, possessive and way too full of want.

“Say it again,” he murmured, voice rough against your mouth.

You blinked, lips kiss,swollen and trembling.

“Say what?”

“That you love me.”

He said it like a dare.

Like a threat.

His mouth was on your neck before you could respond, biting, sucking, marking. You gasped, hips arching into him on instinct.

“Say it, Peach.” His voice dragged across your skin, hands under your shirt now, one dragging up your spine, the other gripping your thigh so hard it bordered on pain.

“Say it while I still remember how to stop.”

“I love you,” you whispered, wrecked and breathless, like you were admitting a crime.

“Erik, I love you.”

His mouth was back on yours before you finished the sentence, swallowing it like he needed it to live. Your hands tangled in his wet hair, pulling him closer, pulling him deeper.

Tongue against tongue.Heavy breathing. Moans caught between kisses .

The taste of him was still familiar,mint, cigarettes, and rain. But this wasn’t slow. This wasn’t tender.

It was needy. Desperate. Too late and not enough at the same time.

You rocked against him, friction building, your bodies locked in this furious rhythm of take and give and please just don't stop.

He pulled back just enough to look at you.

Eyes wild. Lips wet and red. His jaw clenched.

“I swear to god, you ever try to walk away again”

His voice broke.

You grabbed his face, kissed him again,hard. Messy. Tongue slipping into his mouth with a moan you couldn’t hold back.

“Then don’t let me.”

You were begging now. You didn’t care.

“Hold me here. Keep me. Please.”

His grip tightened.

“I’ll fucking ruin you.”

“You already did.”

And he kissed you again.

Like this was war, and you were both willing casualties.

Your clothes were a blur.

Fingers hooked under your shirt, Erik yanked it over your head. His mouth didn’t stop,pressing hot, open kisses along your jaw, your throat, your shoulder. Every touch was like a firestarter, like he was trying to burn you in with his lips.

You gasped, body arching into him, legs tightening around his hips.

“Fuck,Erik-”

He growled low in your throat, pulling you tighter against him until there was no space left. His shirt was next, soaked and clinging, and you tore it off ,you couldn’t stand the barrier.

Muscle. Ink. That little scar near his ribs you used to trace when he let you stay the night.

You pressed your mouth to it. Bit it.

He hissed through his teeth, grip bruising your hips.

“You’re gonna drive me insane.”

“You already did,” you whispered.

And then his mouth was on your chest, teeth scraping, tongue swirling over your nipple, hands dragging up your thighs and under the waistband of your shorts ,he had every right to be there.

You moaned, breathy, needy,and he swallowed the sound with another kiss, deeper this time, sloppier, your spit mixing, his hand slipping between your legs like it belonged there.

“So fucking wet,” he growled against your mouth.

“You’ve been like this for me the whole time?”

You nodded, biting your lip, forehead pressed to his.

“Don’t tease me, Erik. Not tonight.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

And he wasn’t.

He shoved your shorts down, fingers curling into your panties and dragging them aside, the pads of his fingers brushing through your slick, teasing your entrance,slow, deliberate.

“You still want me to stop?” he asked, voice so low it vibrated in your ribs.

You looked him dead in the eye.

“Touch me or I’ll fucking scream.”

He kissed you again,fast, messy,then slid two fingers inside you, curling just right, dragging a cry straight out of your throat.

Your nails dug into his shoulder. His mouth was back on yours before you could say his name again, moaning into the kiss as your hips rolled into his hand.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Just like that, Peach. Take what you own.”

You were panting now, body grinding against him, aching and so close already it was humiliating.

He pulled back, eyes wild.

“I wanna fuck you so bad it physically hurts.”

“Then do it,” you breathed. “Wreck me, Erik. I don’t care. Just,don’t leave again.”

His eyes went dark.

He lifted you,effortless,and laid you flat on the kitchen floor, pulling his jeans down with one hand, never breaking eye contact. His cock was hard, flushed, leaking at the tip,and your body clenched at just the sight.

He lined himself up and paused.

“Last chance.”

“Do it.”

And then he was inside you.

One brutal, delicious thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out,back arching, nails scraping his skin. He groaned like he’d been punched.

“Fuck,so tight,God, you feel like heaven Sweets .”

He started to move.

Slow at first, dragging every inch of himself out before snapping back in, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing off the kitchen tiles.

Then faster.

Rougher.

His hips smacked into yours as you held on like he might disappear again if you didn’t anchor him to you.

His hand found your throat,gentle, but possessive. His forehead rested against yours.

“Yours” he whispered.

“Mine’’

He kissed you then. Deep. Starving. Full of every word he couldn’t say.

You clenched around him, crying out again, hips stuttering.

“You gonna come for me, Peach?”

You nodded, tears mixing with sweat and spit and breath.

“Do it,” he growled. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you lose it.”

And you did.

With a broken cry, your body shook, walls pulsing around him, dragging him over the edge seconds later. He cursed, thrusting hard once, twice, then spilling inside you with a sound that wasn’t just a moan,it was a fucking confession.

He collapsed over you, chest to chest, heart to heart. Breathing like he’d just survived something catastrophic.

Because maybe he had.

Because maybe this was the beginning or the end or both.

And still,neither of you moved.

Because for once, it didn’t feel like someone was leaving.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙎𝙄𝙓: Spit-Roasting w/ Spencer Reid [ft. Luke Alvez]

a/n: y'all this one actually FLABBERGASTED me... my mind will never fail to surprise me, and if i'm going to be honest, i listened to metal/heavy metal music the whole time and it helped me to stay focused for the actual hour it took me to write this 😭

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

A perfect sandwich is what you’d like to call this.

Cradled between the bodies of two of the hottest Agents of your team is a sure fire way to spend your night, and you’re more than pleased.

Spencer’s lying below you, your knees settled on either side of his hips as your lips are met in a heated embrace. You’re as naked as the day you were born and he is too, his hardness barely poking at your full stomach.

You’re bent over him with Luke behind you, a heavy hand pressing down your lower back as he works you open with two big fingers. You’re moaning helplessly into the genius’ mouth, your nails digging into the pillows besides his head.

“Luke!” You pull away with a breathless moan, throwing back your head at particularly hard drag to your g-spot. “‘Feel good, sweetheart?” You can hear the cocky lilt to his voice, his nice, full lips no doubtedly pulled up into that familiar, cheeky smirk.

“Fuck – you’re such an asshole.” You swear and he just chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, say that to me when I’m not knuckle deep inside you, ‘kay?”

You grumble, but nevertheless reconnect your lips with Spencer’s who are pulled taunt in an attempt to hide his amusement. “Don’t –” You choke when Luke begins to draw circles tightly on your clit.

“Don’t encourage him.” Your words trail off in a whine.

“Sorry, baby.” Spencer says, but he doesn’t even sound all that sorry, but you’ll make him. You prop yourself on your right forearm while the other one trails down to grasp at his long cock, up stroking him just to hear that pleasurable sound of the air getting punched out of him.

“Shit!” He swears, his own neck extending back, and you connect your lips to the tanned skin there, nibbling relentlessly.

“So much for no marks, huh?” Luke pokes from behind you. “Don’t act like you didn’t get your turn.” You mumble just loud enough for him to hear.

You make sure that Spencer’s skin is painted red by the time you pull away, your strokes matching each time you roll the delicate skin between your teeth.

“Stop, stop. Not gonna last long.” He removes your hand, and you huff.

“Get back here then, Spence.” Luke sounds. “She’s had a real smart mouth all night, might have to put it to good use, don’t you think?”

Spencer raises a brow at his dominance but agrees, “Alright.”

Your skin heats at the implications of his words, and you’re dragged by your hips, Luke rearranging you so that he can step in front of you. You squeak and your knees burn at the sheets rubbing them, but it makes you shiver.

They settle into their respective places, Spencer’s lithe, long fingers holding your waist deeply contrast the roughness that is Luke Alvez.

Your eyes rest on Luke’s large cock bobbing in front of you, and you raise a brow. “Why hello, big boy.” You murmur with a small smirk. Your eyes flutter upwards to meet his, and he’s looking at you expectantly.

It’s clear you’ve gotten on his nerves, and you can’t help the feeling of sick satisfaction that spreads throughout you. Normally, Luke’s gentle during your encounters together, two men softly worship your body.

But not tonight. Nay, tonight, you wanted it rough, you wanted it mean, you wanted it hard.

“You’re no fun.” You pout but, open your mouth to engulf it over his precum covered tip, digging your tongue into the slit of it. He grunts, large fingers winding themselves through your hair to anchor you to him.

Spencer caresses the skin of your waist all the way down the sides of your thighs before trialing up to spread your ass, watching as his long cock sinks into you.

“God,” He groans, “You feel perfect.” His head is bowed downwards a bit, his eyes screwed shut.

You’re no better, now feverishly licking at the pulsing skin of Luke’s dick, taking him down as far as you can – which sadly isn’t very far considering the sheer girth of the man – but you pick up where you lack by jerking him off.

Luke hisses, eyes practically boring into where your mouth connects to him, and he gives an experimental rock of his hips. You choke for a moment, and you pull off of him, understanding what he needs.

“Fuck my throat please.” It’s a needy mewl, and you retake him into your throat, sinking, sinking, sinking, waiting for him to catch up. “You already know what to do if it’s too much.” You just hum, gripping him by his muscular thighs.

Spencer begins to set a pace, and every time he pulls out, so does Luke, until they’re met up in perfect harmony with one another, using your body as they please. You’re moaning, and the noises that are leaving the three of you are downright sinful. If this was a porno, you’re sure you would make millions.

Tears burn in your eyes and spit foams at the corner of your mouth, but that doesn’t stop you from relaxing your throat to take in more of him. Spencer keeps hitting your g-spot with coordinated ease. He pretty much knows your body like the back of his hand.

You feel the coiling of your gut signaling your end, and your walls flutter around the older male behind you. Your breathing stutters and your nails dig into Luke’s thighs.

He’s pulsing in your mouth, and Spencer’s hips are stuttering, growing less deliberate and uncontrolled as he begins to grind into you. You disconnect from Luke’s cock, your chest heaving. A dribble of spit draws a bridge from your lips to his tip.

“‘M close, fuck, ‘m so close.” You cry out, and your head falls forward to land on the man’s firm stomach. Spencer begins thrusting into you faster.

“I got you, sweet girl. Just a little more.”

You’re jerking Luke off as fast as you can, and your wrist burns, but you pay it no mind as you lean up.

Luke is groaning something guttural, feral, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head.

“Cum on my face. Please… I need it.”

“Anything you want.” Is his grunted response.

The three of you are frantic in your movements, desperate to meet your ends.

Luke comes first, cum shooting out and hitting your lips and chin, as well as your eyelashes as he trembles and shakes, the hand on your head holding a death grip of your scalp.

Spencer’s next to follow, and a hand finds itself between the two of you to find your swollen clit, and rubbing, rubbing, rubbing, until you gush all over him with a loud cry that could practically be considered a scream.

It’s silent for a moment and you fall forward, chest heaving and finding solace in the cool feelings of the sheet contrasting with what of Luke’s skin.

“Everyone alright?” Luke is the first to ask.

“Just peachy.” You hum, wiggling to get comfortable as Spencer pulls out of you.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @khxna @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[chrissv4mp]

invisible string theory ᝰ.ᐟ

wind whistles quietly through trees on sidewalks as you pass by them, the leaves rustling gently, loose ones falling to the patch of dirt where it was planted.

billie's beside you, fingers brushing yours every other second but not quite interlacing fully. your steps are in almost in sync, blurring together under the setting sun of los angeles. it's still warm even as the shining star lowers itself under the mountains, enveloping the city in near darkness.

you walk side-by-side in comfortable silence, legs occasionally brushing every now and then when you walk too close—though, neither of you mind. you'd morph into one human being if you could. just to be close to each other.

but something in your stomach twists that you can't name.

her hand snakes around your waist before you even realize it, a small gasp escaping your lips—before you notice that she's guiding you over the grass toward a small playground. not many kids were here at this time of day, probably scared of the dark or the dog that was always lurking around the block. you'd heard some rumor about him "eating someone's face off."

once billie situates herself on a park bench, you lower yourself onto the empty spot next to her. there's a small gap between your legs, the wood of the bench visible—and it feels so close yet so far.

but the distance was gonna be so much longer in just a couple of weeks, when billie kicks off the next leg of her tour. every time she left it felt more and more heartbreaking. the feeling of her lips on your forehead right before she left for the airport made your stomach twist, a frown forming on your lips that seemed to never go away until she came back.

but she's always made sure to call you—every morning, every night, even in the middle of the day while she was exploring the city sometimes—and that made you feel a little better. still, the space between you two always felt too much to bare. to you, at least.

you wondered if she felt that way too.

"...so, i have a question," you murmur suddenly, turning your head to look over.

billie glances over a second later. "what's up?"

you kick a rock on the pavement just below where you're sitting, eyes moving away and locking onto the plastic red slide on the playground.

a small smile curls on your lips. "why don't you hold my hand anymore—?"

"oh, here we go again," billie laughs, lips pulling up into an amused smile as she throws her hands up in fake exasperation.

you shake your head, talking over her as she complains. "no, i'm serious—i'm so serious."

billie meets your eyes again, pausing for a moment and tilting her head, hands resting in the pockets of her shorts. she nods over at you. "alright, okay—okay, continue, c'mon."

"i haven't held your hand in, like—" you start, but billie mocks you halfway through your sentence, tone high in a way to match yours.

you push her shoulder softly, knocking her a little off balance and nearly making her fall—the two of you fall into a mess of laughter for a few minutes. you try to seem serious after a moment, though your smile won't go away.

"dude, shut up—you're not funny," you say, punching her shoulder playfully. "i swear, you're not funny."

she clears her throat. "my fault. okay, i'm done, i'm done."

"m'kay," you murmur. "let me think."

billie tsks, shaking her head. she moves to grab her phone from her pocket, checking the time. "'bouta set a timer."

your mind wanders, trying to remember the last time she held your hand for more than just a minute—which was every single time. including yesterday, at the grocery store.

it was friday, so you knew it'd be busy—but not that busy. every time you moved, you bumped into someone, or someone's arm brushed yours. billie picked up on your discomfort upon seeing the way you practically clung to the shopping cart like it was your lifeline.

her hand had wrapped around your waist at first, then realized she didn't like the feeling of people brushing up against her either—so, her hand found yours, and it felt like you could finally breathe normally.

you hum. "it could—mm, it could've been yesterday."

"okay, yesterday, wow," she gasps fakely, mirroring your exaggeration from earlier. "i'm—i'm glad you remember that. really, i'm glad that—"

"yeah, thank you," you say, tone having that playful finality in it that it always had when you two were arguing over small things like this.

billie rolls her eyes, but she's not annoyed. far from it. she's just happy to be in your presence, even if it's not in the quiet, secluded safety of your home—she favored moments like this more than anything in the world. the stupid debates. the dumb rough-housing. the even dumber attempts at trying to fact-check the other knowing damn well both of you were wrong.

"alright, alright, i—i got a question for you now," billie states, eyes drifting back to yours, smile fading a bit.

you nod. "okay."

"why do you think we met?" she asks, tone still amused. but there's hint of seriousness it in. like she's genuine. "yeah, answer me that."

a nearby streetlamp illuminates the side of billie's face, the curve of her nose, the pretty color of her plump lips. it may seem like a hard question to most, but you didn't need time to think. you just wanted the words to linger a while.

wanted billie to think of—maybe predict—your answer before you even spoke. the look on her face never changed. that curious, amused look where her eyebrows were knit together just slightly, eyes narrowed.

"well, i think, personally—" you cut yourself off, pausing for a moment before turning to face her fully. then adding,

"have you ever heard of the invisible string theory?"

she looks puzzled for a moment—and you see the exact moment the memory clicks in her head. you'd told her about it a few years back, after the first year anniversary of your relationship. you hadn't expected her to remember, it was just a thought that came to you after you snuck off at an after party together and went to stargaze at a nearby park. similar to the one you were at now.

"oh, yeah," she nods. "yeah—yeah, you told me about it."

"mhm. so, basically, we met because we were supposed to meet," you say.

billie nods, interested.

you take a breath before continuing. "and, and we're connected because... we're supposed to be connected, y'know?"

"okay," billie says through a quiet chuckle.

"it's kinda like that, "i loved you before i existed, and i'll love you even when i die"," you add, then your voice goes quiet. the silence isn't tense or uncomfortable, it feels rather safe, the space filled with understanding.

she smiles after a moment, fingers creeping up your thigh, hand resting there warmly. "okay. guess i shouldn't have doubted my smart girl,"

"exactly," you tease.

"but, yes, like," you struggle for a moment before finding your words. "it's crazy, it's scary—it's, it's unpredictable."

billie nods again, eyes on your lap—her hand, in specific. your own hand comes down, fingers sneaking under her hand then locking between hers. you see her cheeks heat up, a light pink washing over her face.

"so don't leave me."

a beat. then billie looks up. eyes soft.

"please."

she huffs a laugh, nods. "yup, you got it."

"alright, alright." you giggle softly. but your heart's beating 10x harder than it was before, pounding against your chest nervously.

that comfortable silence envelopes everything again. the rustle of the trees is gone now, though the buzz of the light overhead replaces it. the playground is still, the woodchips dull, unmoving. billie's hand in yours, soft. warm.

"i love you," you say, voice not quiet nor loud.

the silence that comes after that is anything but comfortable. billie doesn't say anything, just sits still, eyes locked on your lap like a robot. it feels weird now—tense. but you're not sure if billie feels that way too.

maybe not. maybe she doesn't feel anything.

not the warmth of your touch. not the meaning behind your words. not the twitching of your fingers. not even the undying love you have for her.

so you try again.

"i love you."

and, this time, she looks up.

but she doesn't say anything. just stares into your eyes. it feels different though. because she's looking at you, but it doesn't even feel like she sees you.

and maybe that's what you've been feeling all along.

invisible.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @partyf4vor @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz

[shotmrmiller]

Ghost knew that declining any type of work in this industry wasn't ideal. He can do as he likes because Ghost is a name everyone knows, a porn actor no one forgets.

Unlike you, the newcomer. Still so green behind the ears.

So, with a downturn of your alluring lips, you inform him that the meeting to go over the upcoming threesome with Price would have to wait.

"My manager sent me an email this morning, very last minute, about a video I'm gonna shoot with Gaz."

The fingers that were tugging your hair still. "Oh yeah? Know wha' kinda scene your doin'?"

You softly hum. "He's to be my handyman neighbor. Gotta bat my eyes at him as I ask if he can come fix my kitchen sink."

Kyle's a decent bloke, a looker for sure.

He's an up-and-coming entertainer. The pretty boy next door, the brother's best friend type.

Face as if sculpted from marble, a smile to die for.

Beautiful, really. Not particularly Ghost's type though, he likes a little more meat on his bottoms. Not that what he thinks matters, of course.

"Tha's alrigh', love. We'll postpone it to after then, yeah?"

Ghost quietly sits behind Price with his arms crossed, never taking his sharp eyes off the small screen. Even though Kyle is there too, all he can see is you. Your rosy tongue tantalizingly licks your bottom lip as you give Kyle a once-over.

Smart fingers undoing the button on his trousers, hooking into the waistband, carefully pulling them down until they puddle at his ankles.

The way you gaze up at him through your lashes, with his cock in your pert mouth, taking him in until the tip of your nose grazes his trimmed pubic hair.

How your neck cranes back so beautifully, eyes fluttering closed as Kyle slides his expert tongue through your slick folds. Your soft thighs trembling as you buck into his mouth, the heels of your feet digging into his back. Ghost's ears catch the sound of your breath hitching, while his eyes feast on the delectable sight of your back arching off the kitchen counter as you reach your peak.

His fingers sink into his thick bicep when Kyle doesn't relent after; continues to lap away at your sodden cunt, pressing tiny kisses on your sensitive clit. Ghost's spine straightens instantly when he hears your pained whimper.

It's too much, Kyle needs to back off before he forcibly gets him off of you—

It takes less than a minute for you to reach another peak, squealing as you come.

Your airy laugh dissolves the tension in his shoulders and leans back into his chair.

Good.

He drinks in the euphoric expression on your face when Kyle slowly sinks into your wet heat— your sweet moan forever music to his ears. Ghost watches you jolt back on the counter with every sharp snap of Kyle's slim hips. He hears the breath punched out of you with each thrust. He can see your white, creamy release around the base of Kyle's thick length, strings of slick connecting you two.

Your hands curl around Kyle's forearms, your shaky legs wrapping around his waist.

Ghost's eyes narrow when Kyle leans forward to whisper something into your ear, and you mewl loudly. Ghost clenches his jaw so tightly that he hears a pop.

Kyle's got stamina, Ghost'll give him that. He fucked you through three orgasms until he finally pulled out and spurted thick cum over your mons.

Price calls it a wrap, and the crew begins to take down the lights and such.

Ghost doesn't move from the chair he's in, knowing that you'll come to him, even on unsteady legs.

And walk over you do, slowly but surely. "Hi, Ghost." He pats his thigh invitingly, gesturing you to sit.

"Hey, love. You did so well," he praises. "Looked a dream."

As you glance down in embarrassment, his dark eyes lock onto Kyle's, who stands with a cold water bottle in hand across the room. "Flatterer."

He holds Kyle's gaze a couple more seconds before flicking them to you. "Only tellin' the truth, pet. Alrigh', let's get outta here. Ya hungry?"

He places an arm around your lower back, the other under your knees, and lifts you off his lap.

"Don't even try to pull tha' dietin' bullshit on me either," he chides.

He huffs in amusement when you sputter.

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][friends to more?][porn mention][hr violations][bald jokes][asmr][brief oral (f! receiving)][fingering][semi public][workplace rendezvous]

"My job is done, I'm not doing anything wrong."

"You. Are watching porn in the workplace. That, alone, is a violation of so many HR codes."

The sigh that leaves perfectly plump lips is something that you can never get tired of, thick muscular fingers pinch the bridge of a strong nose and Lex let's out the kind of breath that you can only accompany with a man far too tired to deal with bullshit.

"Was I masturbating?" You question. "Because if I was masturbating, then it's an HR violation. And besides, it's not like I called anyone to my desk, now did I?"

Lex stares down at you, juniper gaze narrowing with annoyance at the way you keep bickering with him, arms crossed over your chest, your expression the very image of unbothered and right.

This is why Lex doesn't hire friends.

You and Lex go way back. Shared classes, science partners and the best of friends, but right now, he really wants to break that computer over your head. And Lex takes a deep breath, blowing it out through his nose.

"I can't believe I'm doing this but you're getting a porn blocker." Lex states.

"You can't make me do anything, Agent 47."

"Yes I can. I'm your boss and you get paid to do what I say."

You stare up at Lex, lips tugging downwards into a frown, and you let out a huff, manicured nails flying across the keyboard as you continue to download a porn blocker.

"Ever since you lost your hair, you switched up." You mutter and Lex groans.

"You're using company resources, to watch porn." Lex grumbles, a muscular hand dragging across his features before he stares down at the loading screen on your computer, and he sighs.

And he takes the time to look at your desk.

To take a really, really thorough look.

A monitor decorated with penguin-shaped sticky notes with important dates, numbers and details, a cup full of various gel pens that he just knows you stole from him when you two went stationery shopping, one of those aesthetic keyboards that sound, as you would put it, 'creamy', with rounded keys and satisfying clacks. And his attention moves to the pretty, bear-shaped frame on your desk. Cartoonish eyes with a picture being in the belly of the beast.

Lex doesn't have to look too long to know it's a picture from when you attended his graduation. The gleaming smile on your face is one he looks back on frequently, the way your glossy lips curled, the way you cheered so loudly because you truly, truly had faith that he'd make something of himself.

And without a thought, a second of hesitance even, Lex's hand cups your chin and he presses a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, strands of hair pressing against his lips before he lets out a hum.

It's a sweet action. A silent appreciation for that fact that you've stuck around this long, that you've been his rock in times of adversity and evilness.

"I'm gonna go get our lunch." Lex states softly. "Grilled cheese okay?"

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

"Big back, big back."

Lex ignores the way you taunt him, your voice an annoying sing-song as he takes a bite of his third grilled cheese sandwich, grease and stringy cheese on his lips before he licks the mess away, staring at you from beneath furrowed brows.

"Says the one who put away two sandwiches, as well as a tub of ice cream. Worry about your waistline." Lex insults with a huff.

"Worry about your hair. Out here, looking like One Punch Man's wide-eyed cousin."

Lex snorts, a fisted hand coming to cover his mouth as his broad shoulders shake with a mixture of laughter and coughing, the snowy fabric of his shirt straining against the muscle of his torso, crimson tie discarded somewhere and he stares at you, silvery eyes twinkling.

"Say what you want but I'm sexy regardless." Lex boasts, taking another bite of his sandwich and he chews, waiting for the quip that'll come after you stop that insipid and obnoxious slurping of your coffee.

He likes having lunches with you. The easiness of talking, the unpracticed habits that he allows himself to slip back into. The way you're so... Unashamedly yourself, even though you really should be.

It's a pleasant break from the circles he's found himself running in and Lex runs his tongue across his teeth, resting back in his desk chair.

"I'm waiting for the insult." Lex reminds you teasingly, dimpled cheeks rising into a grin that makes your palms the tiniest bit sweatier but you ignore the feeling that seems to bloom in your lower belly whenever Lex smiles.

"I'm trying to think of bald characters. Instead of just calling you the default businessman LEGO." You hum, reaching towards Lex's fourth sandwich, peeling back the parchment and taking a bite.

"You glutton. You said you only wanted two sandwiches." Lex's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching with annoyance as he watches your teeth tear away piece after piece of his sandwich.

And you continue to munch, simply staring at Lex with an expression that says there's not a single thought behind your pretty, doe eyes. Long lashes flutter as you lick the cheese from your bottom lip, and you take a sip of your coffee.

"Your hatred makes the sandwich taste better." You murmur, taking another bite.

"I hope it tastes amazing because I'm praying you choke."

"You don't even believe in God."

"I'll start believing if you choke. Fuck, I'll even build a church right now."

You stare at Lex blankly.

"You bald-headed demon."

"I might be bald but my hairline isn't crooked."

"You don't even have a hairline!"

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🐀་༘

It's relatively late when you finish your own work, slumped in your seat as you continue to log reports, scheduling Lex's extensive meetings ahead of time so that you at least have a bit of leisure time during the next week. Your manicured fingers type so gently, enjoying each individual click of the creamy keys, soft pastel coloured beneath your fingers.

And Lex's footsteps aren't heavy at all, soft pads of his socks on the carpeted floors of your joint office and he hums.

"You'd work a lot faster if you weren't obsessed with that ASMR bullshit."

Dropping into the seat beside you, Lex manspreads. Thick thighs causing the tailored fabric to stran across the sinewy muscles, his body slumped and he just looks so much bigger in the dim lighting of the abandoned office. His tie's discarded, the same as his jacket and his shoes, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and exposing muscular, veiny forearms and the silver wristwatch glitters.

"ASMR isn't bullshit." You frown. "It's tingly."

You spin your desk chair to face Lex, his elbows braced on the armrests and he stares at you, a perfect brow raised when he notices that expression on your face.

Like you're planning to prove him wrong.

And he limply raises his hands.

"Tingle me."

Lex spends about 15 minutes in the seat, his eyes closed as you trail your feathery pens across his face, the satisfying tap of your manicured nails (that he paid for) is something that he can't lie and say he hates. The way you trace over his features, the soft whisper of your voice as you whisper the most random shit and the way your breath fans across his face.

The corners of his mouth twitches, but you made him keep a straight face, and Lex's tongue traces over his bottom lip.

"And this shit helps you sleep?" Lex questions and you hum softly. "It'd sound better if I had my ASMR-y stuff."

Lex let's out a hum, his hands grasping the edges of his armrests before sighing.

"You know, it's not really getting to me. Maybe you should move—" Lex's hands bracket your hips and he pulls you onto his lap with ease, your thighs spreading to accomodate his sculpted legs. And Lex shifts a bit.

"That's better."

You go quite, lips pursed before you continue to trace his features with yet another puffball pen, soft faux fur tickling his features and you sigh softly.

"Not you trying to cop a feel."

And Lex's retort is instant.

"Not you letting me."

There's a silence that stretches almost uncomfortably between the two of you, your eyes locked on his for what could be considered an intimate moment of time, his thumbs brushing along the skin of your hips where your shirt was untucked. And Lex's gaze flits to your lips.

Full, perfect, rosy and soft. He's seen you walk around with Vaseline and an assortment of lipbalms like it's your religion, so he's not too surprised by the fact that they're literally perfect.

And you swallow.

And Lex swallows.

"Two best friends in a desolate office, they mi—"

Lex's lips are crashing against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you higher onto his lap, and you find yourself sitting atop a bulge that definitely wasn't there earlier on. Your arms encircle his neck, and Lex deepens the kiss, his head tilted up towards yours.

His lips press against yours in a way you've never felt before, shaky breaths and your fingers opt to sink into the hair at the nape of Lex's neck but your fingers keep slipping.

And Lex groans.

"Rub my thoughts."

And you pull away from the kiss, brows furrowed and lips tugged into a frown.

"Why would you say that?" You question, the corners of your lips threaten to curl upwards because you have to admit, that was funny.

"I thought I'd better say something before you did." Lex murmurs, a coy grin on his lips as he stares up at you, emerald gaze twinkling in the way you can only compare to the reflection of moonlit branches dancing on the surface of the a still body of water. And his tongue brushes across his teeth, coming to a stop at his canine.

"How women want you, I'll never understand."

That's a lie. You definitely understand.

Unless it's personality. Then it's a little trickier.

"It's because of my luscious locks."

Pffft.

The laugh that tumbles from your lips is as melodious as it is messy. Snorts and wheezes, your nails digging into the fat, meaty flesh of his bicep and Lex can only soak in the warmth of your body as he makes you laugh.

Before he hums.

"I'm just kidding. It's because I've got a huge dick."

You gasp.

"I wanna see."

Lex simply let's out a little sigh, amused as muscular digits undo the loop of his belt, leather snapping with each rough tug and you snicker.

"I'm gonna see the autumn trail." You boast, your palms rubbing together in the way that Lex can only compare to the sneakiness of a fly with a plan in mind.

"Prepare..." Lex lifts the edge of his shirt, as well as the waistband of his boxers, "for nothing!"

Not a single strand in sight.

"Looking like Jada Pinkett Smith." You murmur softly. "Alo-Peter."

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪩་༘࿐

"Lex, this—... This isn't what I meant..."

Your voice is a meek whisper, brows furrowed as Lex's fingers continue to stroke along the gummy walls of your cunt, the cool rings on his index and middle finger kiss either side of your slit with each gentle pump, his pudgy thumb nestled between your folds, circling your clit in that way that makes your toes curl with how oddly nice he's being about it.

Pulling sweet mewls from your plush lips, his body occupying your seat while you're perched on your desk, forced to be mindful of your monitor and keyboard.

"Shhhh." Lex's free hand moves to undo the buttons of your shirt, silver accessories glittering so prettily in the dim light. "Listen to my kind of ASMR."

And you remain quiet.

Listening to the lewd squelch of your cunt each time his fingertips press against that gooey spot, your toes curl in your hosiery and you find yourself focused on Lex's expression. So easy, a grin on his face like he's accomplished something.

Like he's cracked a puzzle that no one's ever cracked before.

And you need to ruin it. You have no idea why.

"You're one of many." You lie, but the way Lex's expression falls makes it worth it. Brows furrow and eyes narrow before he shifts closer.

"Can't you let me have anything?" He huffs in frustration.

"I physically cannot. It ails me to gift you things." Your lashes flutter, nails scratching along the wood of your desk and Lex let's out a huff.

"Shut up."

Lex's head dips between your thighs, muscular hands forcing your legs further apart to accomodate the width of his shoulders, and his tongue drags through your folds and it feels so...

Orgasmic until there's an abrupt shift in light.

And you meet Mercy's unwavering stare.

And she takes a deep breath.

"I'm taking my vacation days."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@starski 🌃

@5lxt4u 🎻

@pariahsparadise 🏝️

@ilove-nsfw 🖇️

@titchx0 🦆

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@allycat4458 🪻

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

[g4yforethan]

no fear

pairing: ethan landry x male!reader

summary: ethan puts on the ghostface costume for fun but reader has something else in mind

warnings: cursing, top!ethan, bottom!reader, 18+

a/n: list any horror charcters u would want me to write about next ;)

it was nearing halloween and you hadn’t decided what you were gonna dress up as. you laid in bed searching for ideas when you heard a knock at your bedroom door. “come in!” you yelled as the door slowly opened. “what’s your favorite scary movie y/n?!” the deep voice yelled as you looked up and saw ghostface standing in front of you. you gasped and punched him in the face. “ow y/n it was just me!” the individual took off the mask to reveal your boyfriend ethan landry. “ethan why the fuck would you scare me like that?!” you screamed as you sat him down next to you and massaged his face. "i'm sorry y/n i just wanted to prank you that's all! did i scare you?" he chuckled as he kissed your lips. "no. i mean when it's you...you just look really cute in that costume." you mumbled.

"see i knew you would like it. hey maybe we can have some fun with this before i return it huh? what do you think?" he smirked as he laid you on the bed. "i mean sure but what if chad walks in on us having ghostface sex?" you whispered hoping no one heard you. "relax y/n he's at a party with tara and mindy. now...what's your favortite movie y/n?" he touched your waist as he softly kissed your neck. "mhm sexy white boy fucks horny bottom!" you chuckled as he left a hickey on your chest. "that's my favorite movie too." he smiled and started unzipping your pants and turned you around. you felt the brush of the costume and his tongue on your hole. he smacked your ass as he devoured your hole and teased it by putting a finger inside. "ahh fuck yeah ethan. god i want your dick so bad." you moaned and ethan listened by slowly putting his tip inside your hole.

“just like that baby boy. fuck that hole is so tight.” ethan moaned as he entered you and kissed your neck. ethan took off the costume and left the mask on to please you. your hands went down his back and brought him closer to you. he turned you around and put in doggy position as he slapped your ass and re-entered you. “fuck my ass ethan!” you yelled as his dick hit your prostate and vibrated through your entire body. “fuck i love that hole y/n. feels so fucking good.” he said as he grabbed the back of your hair and made out with you as he slammed his cock inside you. "lemme ride your dick baby." you spoke in his ear and ethan responded by laying on his back and gripping your waist. you rode his dick and placed your hand on his neck as his eyes rolled back in pleasure. you jumped up and down on his white cock and felt your ass slap against his balls.

"fuck fuck y/n i'm gonna cum." he moaned as you stopped and put your tongue out to receive him. "cum in my mouth baby." you begged as his moans filled the room and his thick cum spread all over your face and mouth. you swallowed all that remained and laid down on his chest taking in each other's hot sweat that remained. "fuck that dick felt so good. ethan take the mask off you're scaring me now." you laughed as ethan removed the mask and threw it on the floor. "oh come y/n.you didn't seem scared when i was fucking you though." he teased you and he massaged your back. "oh come on i was really horny. there's a difference ethan!" you smiled and kissed his chest before putting on a movie. "now what's your favorite scary movie?!" you asked as ethan laughed and pulled you over and made out with you again.