#Pool Holograph

[lilacblvd]

[pokesanriostims]

Popplio

x/x/x x/x x/x/x for @objectcreature

[lovelynightmareperfectdaydream]

[tinyshyteacup]

• Words of Command •

Tw: Cussing, angst, mentions of blood and grime.

Words of Command - Part 1

The lobby of Stark Tower gleamed with too much glass and not enough warmth for your taste. Sunlight pooled through the towering windows, hitting the polished marble floors and refracting off the chrome detailing of the modern decor.

You sat behind the main reception desk, perched on a tall stool with your legs swinging slightly.

The desk itself was a sleek black curve, embedded with holographic displays and a touchpad that still didn’t always respond when you tapped it with freshly moisturized fingers.

A nameplate identified you only by your first name, the letters tastefully etched in a clean serif font.

At the moment, you were staring at the printer behind you like it had personally offended you. It made a soft whirring noise—then stopped.

A flicker of smoke puffed up from the feeder tray. You yelped.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., I swear, I didn’t even touch it this time!”

"Miss, respectfully, you did attempt to print a double-sided image from an incompatible file format.”

You scowled at the ceiling. “You’re not even here physically. How would you know?”

“I am connected to over 2,000 sensors in this room. Shall I list the ones currently monitoring your error?”

“Rude,” you muttered, grabbing the paper that had jammed mid-print.

You shook it like it was a bad dog chewing your shoes. “This is sabotage. You're trying to make me look bad in front of Mr Stark.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Stark has been made aware of your printer challenges. He found it... 'endearing.’”

Your cheeks flushed.

The sarcasm was biting, but the thought that Tony Stark had discussed you at all—even mockingly—made your stomach flutter in a way you weren’t proud of.

The lobby doors hissed open with that smooth mechanical slide, and you looked up automatically.

When Captain Rogers walked into a room, it was like watching someone pull the '40s into the present. He was tall, and looked slightly rumpled in civilian clothes—a dark blue hoodie stretched over broad shoulders and a plain T-shirt underneath.

He wore jeans like he didn't know what to do with them.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice gentle but somehow carrying in the echoey lobby. “You’re the receptionist, right, the wizz with phones ?”

You nodded quickly and smiled. “Y-Yes, Captain Rogers. Morning.”

He returned the smile, slower, steadier, as if trying to ease your nervous energy. “Please, call me Steve.”

Right. Like that would help.

You stood, still barely reaching his chest, and smoothed down the front of your cardigan. “What can I help you with?”

He stepped up to the desk, pulled something from the pocket of his jeans, and placed it on the counter. A Stark-Phone. One of the newer ones Stark had issued.

You tilted your head, eyebrows lifting.

“I, uh…” Steve scratched the back of his neck, clearly sheepish. “I pressed something and now it’s speaking Korean. I think.”

You gently picked up the phone and pressed the home button. “Oh. You activated the language cycle shortcut. Happens if you triple tap the lock screen.”

You tapped through the settings with practiced ease. “There. Back to English.”

Steve watched you like you were performing magic. “I don’t know how any of you keep up with this tech.”

You smiled softly, meeting his gaze with more courage this time. “Honestly? I mostly argue with the printer. J.A.R.V.I.S. does everything else.”

Steve chuckled, a warm, earnest sound that made your heart thump faster. “Well, you seem to be holding your own.”

As he turned to leave, he paused. “I like your necklace, by the way. It suits you.”

You looked down, brushing a finger across the tiny pendant resting at your collarbone. “Oh. Thank you. It was my grandmother’s.”

He nodded like that meant something to him.

“Thanks,” he says, when you’re done. Then adds, almost sheepishly, “It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m going to throw a shield at them.”

You laugh nervously. “You’re... not that scary.”

His grin is warm, boyish. You find yourself smiling back, unexpectedly grounded.

The elevator dings, and in breezes Tony Stark like a whirlwind in thousand-dollar shoes.

He’s on a call, two steps ahead of his own thoughts, sunglasses on indoors because of course they are.

"Yeah, just tell Fury he can bite me. In Morse code. Bye."

Phone snapped off, sunglasses up, and he zeroes in on you. “Sweetheart. You jammed the printer again.”

“I did not jam the printer,” you say quickly. “Jarvis is just being dramatic.”

“Jarvis is always dramatic, but in this case? He’s right.”

Tony leans on the desk, eyes squinting slightly. “Do you intentionally make the tech hate you? Is this like your rebellion arc Thumbelina? First it's the printer, then you’re reprogramming him to swear in Gaelic.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you murmur, looking down. Then pause. “Wait... JARVIS can swear?”

Tony smirks. “Atta girl. Knew there was a fire in there somewhere.”

He straightens up, hands in pockets, a half-laugh escaping him as he walks toward the elevator. “Keep her, Rogers!” he shouts over his shoulder. “She’s the only one who’s not afraid to talk back to Jarvis.”

You blink.

Captain Rogers is still standing a few feet away, watching the exchange with something between amusement and... curiosity.

Maybe even admiration.

The city never sleeps, but it sighs in the early hours of morning—hushed traffic, glimmering reflections on wet pavement, a lull between the pulse of nightlife and the rise of commuters.

Neon lights flicker overhead, buzzing faintly, casting long shadows that cling to him like a second skin.

He moves like he’s not sure he’s real.

Each footfall is heavy but hesitant, like the ground might reject him. His hair is a tangled mess, matted and unwashed, sticking to his face and jaw.

The stubble on his cheeks is rough, uneven, and clings to him like dirt. His clothes are soaked in sweat, grime, and old blood—some of it his, some of it not.

His left arm is bare and gleaming beneath a tattered coat sleeve, metal fingers twitching involuntarily, as though searching for a rifle that isn’t there.

He doesn’t remember where he’s been.

Only fragments, screams, commands in harsh syllables, red flashing lights. A corridor. Restraints. Cold.

Oh God that biting cold.

He walks past windows and glass doors, catching glimpses of himself in reflections—a shadow, a haunted smear of what used to be a man.

He doesn’t know his name.

Not truly.

Not right now.

But somewhere, deep under the static in his brain, there’s something.

Maybe he had a name.

And then he looks up.

It rises above him like a monument, gleaming even in the grey blue of pre-dawn. STARK in large, defiant letters. The light at the top pulses. He stops walking, just… stands there.

His breath fogs the cold air, erratic.

His chest heaves, ribs visible through the threadbare shirt beneath the jacket. His boots are worn to the sole.

Everything about him screams survival, but there’s a flicker in his eyes now—recognition.

Stark.

Mission report.

Howard.

December.

Blood.

Sixteen.

Comply.

1991.

Zimniy Soldat.

Soldat.

The words slam into him like gunfire, and he stumbles forward, metal hand clenching hard enough to groan under its own pressure.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He only knows the building is important.

And maybe... maybe someone inside can make the noise stop.

The automatic doors whisper open, parting slowly to let him step into the warmth of Stark Tower’s front lobby. Inside, the polished floors shine, reflecting the subtle glow of the early-morning lighting.

The scent of fresh polish, faint coffee, and recycled air fills the space. It’s clean. Too clean. Sterile like a medical wing, like some place where experiments happened.

He hesitates in the doorway.

The light overhead flickers slightly, casting a quick stutter of shadow across his face—an echo of something dark beneath the skin.

You stand behind the front desk, holding your phone in one hand, uncertain. His body is massive in the entrance, his shoulders squared like a soldier preparing for a threat. That left arm, slick and inhuman, gleams under the overhead light, fingers twitching like they have a mind of their own.

He takes two steps forward.

You don’t move, but your fingers close slowly around the base of your mug—some deep instinct reaching for something solid, something real.

"Hi… I—I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here," you say softly, trying not to let the nervous quiver in your voice show.

He tilts his head.

Not sharply. Not mechanically. Like a man trying to understand.

His lips part. You can tell it’s painful. His throat works around something—speech, maybe, or just the ghost of it. His voice comes like gravel, dry and shredded.

“Pomohgeet-yeh…"  Help.

Your brows knit. You don’t understand the words. But the way he says them makes your chest hurt.

He tries again.

“Gde… eta?"  Where… is this?

The effort it takes him to speak is visible.

He trembles.

Not with fear, but exhaustion. His whole body is strung tight like a stretched wire, ready to snap. One wrong move and he could bolt. Or lash out. Or break down.

You hold both hands up in that gentle, universal please-don’t-run gesture. “I—I don’t know what you’re saying. But I want to help. I can call someone. Or—I can get Mr. Stark if you want, or—”

At the name, something sharp flickers behind his eyes.

Stark.

He flinches like you’ve slapped him.

Suddenly, he shifts—too fast. That metal arm raises slightly, just a fraction. You freeze. Not because you think he’s going to hurt you—but because for a moment, he doesn’t look like a man anymore.

He looks like a ghost wrapped in combat training, forged in violence.

His eyes dart around the lobby—scanning exits, angles, security cameras.

His stance changes subtly, weight shifting onto the balls of his feet, as though he’s ready to take someone down.

And you—you’re just standing there.

He opens his mouth again, lips cracked and barely moving.

“Ne khochu… drat’sya." I don’t want… to fight.

You still don’t understand the words.

But you understand the tone.

Soft. Strained. Pleading.

“uh-huh,” you whisper.

You take a slow step around the desk. Not too close. But enough that he can see your hands, see your face.

You keep your voice low. “You look like you need help. Food? Water?”

He doesn’t answer. But his eyes track your hand as you slowly lift your bottle and offer it to him.

He reaches for it with his metal hand—but stops. There’s shame in the hesitation.

Holy Shit, is that metal ?

The faintest flicker of emotion across his dirt-streaked face. He switches to his right hand and takes it.

He drinks.

Not quickly. Like every swallow might be a mistake. Like he doesn’t trust it not to hurt.

As he drinks, you take him in quietly.

He looks... wrong in this space. The marble floor, the sleek design, the soft hum of Jarvis’ systems in the walls—it makes him look like something out of time. Like a soldier in a museum.

And then it hits you.

There’s something familiar about him. Not just the metal arm. Not just the way he looked at the building. But something in the jawline. The eyes.

You move slowly back to your desk, heart thudding as you open a file of security images.

"Who are you?" you whisper to yourself.

He doesn't answer.

He just watches you.

You move quietly to the comm panel, still keeping one eye on the man sitting stiffly in the chair near the lobby’s edge.

Tony had given you a comms piece to use in emergencies, is this a emergency ?

Stranger, built like a fridge, with a metal arm ?

Definitely.

The stranger in question hasn’t spoken since you gave him the bottle of water. His fingers—bare and bruised on one hand, cold steel on the other—grip it like it might disappear. He hasn’t drunk again. Just stares at the wall like he's trying to make sense of what a wall is.

Your voice is hushed as you speak into the receiver.

“Captain Rogers? I—I’m sorry to bother you. But there’s someone in the lobby. A man. I don’t know who he is, but I think… I think you should come down ... please.”

You don’t say that he’s filthy, trembling, starved.

You don’t say you’re afraid of how quiet he is.

You don’t say that even Jarvis, hasn’t spoken a word since he arrived.

As though the building itself is holding its breath.

You hear him before you see him—the heavy, purposeful footfalls of combat boots against tile. The automatic doors open with a whoosh, and Captain Steve Rogers steps into the lobby like a storm arriving with restraint.

He stops dead in his tracks.

You watch the expression on his face collapse.

From soldier to friend.

From Avenger to broken-hearted brother.

“...Bucky?” he breathes.

The name falls into the room like a thunderclap.

But the man in the chair doesn’t flinch.

Doesn’t even look up.

“Bucky,” Steve tries again, stepping forward slowly, cautiously, as though any sudden movement might spook him.

The man’s eyes track Steve—but only briefly. Recognition doesn’t register.

No emotion flickers. Just calculation.

The Winter Soldier, watches Steve Rogers like he’s a possible threat. Like a target.

You step back instinctively, not out of fear, but because the air has changed. Thickened.

Like the moment before a fight. Or before someone remembers something too painful to hold.

Steve is trying. You can see it.

“Bucky, it’s me. It’s Steve. Steve Rogers. Brooklyn. 40s. We grew up together.” His voice cracks.

But there’s nothing behind those eyes. Not the kind of nothing that comes from confusion.

The kind that’s been scraped clean.

Programmed.

Buried.

The man’s body tenses. A tic in the jaw. A breath held too long.

His fingers flex on the water bottle, crack—plastic gives under his grip.

Then, that guttural voice “Ne znayu tebya." I don’t know you.

Steve flinches. Not physically. Not visibly.

But you feel the break.

He kneels in front of him, ignoring the metal arm, the set jaw, the violence in his posture. His voice lowers to a whisper, so raw and aching it doesn't feel meant for anyone else to hear.

“I thought I lost you. I never stopped looking.”

The soldier’s gaze doesn’t soften.

His eyes scan Steve like he’s a file to be decrypted. A puzzle, not a person.

He shifts in the chair.

Not toward Steve—but away. Just a few inches. Enough to feel like a rejection.

The lobby is quiet again. Bucky? Or The soldier?—or the shell of him—sits in the corner like a statue draped in rags. His posture stiff, eyes half-lidded but never soft.

Like a soldier awaiting deployment, tension simmering beneath his skin.

Steve touches your arm gently and gestures toward the hallway off the reception desk. His voice is low, heavy with something that feels like grief soaked in guilt.

“That’s Bucky,” he says. “James Barnes. We grew up together. He enlisted before me.”

You blink up at him, trying to marry the image of the blank, cold-eyed man in the lobby with the idea of someone’s best friend.

Steve swallows hard. “But… that’s not who he is now. Hydra got to him. They—”

He stops. The words taste wrong in his mouth.

“They erased him. Broke him down and rebuilt him into something else. A ghost with a gun. They called him ‘The Winter Soldier.’”

A pause. His jaw tightens.

“They didn’t use his name. They called him Soldat." Steve whispers, making sure only you hear.

You murmur the word aloud without thinking, testing it, you feel disgust claw at your spine at the idea of someone being stripped so bare.

“Soldat…?”

The sound barely leaves your lips. Just a sound.

But across the lobby—the man moves.

Fast.

Sudden.

Mechanical.

The chair clatters backwards as he rises in one sharp, fluid motion. Spine straight, feet planted.

His metal arm clenches, whirring softly. His eyes, once clouded with the fog of confusion, snap into unnatural focus.

Like a trigger has been pulled.

His gaze lands on you.

Not Steve.

You.

Then, in that same guttural, rasping Russian:

“Gotov k vypolneniyu." Ready to comply.

Your heart lurches. You don’t know what he said—but the tone tells you enough.

Cold.

Obedient.

Trained.

Steve steps forward sharply, hand raised. “Bucky—no! She’s not—”

But Bucky isn’t listening. His head turns ever so slightly toward you, chin dipped in rigid respect, but eyes locked like a weapon sighting a command post.

Then, another word in Russian.

“Rukovoditel’" Handler.

Shit. SHIT

You freeze, mouth slightly open, eyes wide as you stare at the man before you.

He’s taller than you by what feels like a foot, broad-shouldered and imposing, hair tangled, blood on his temple not yet dried. But it’s not his appearance that terrifies you.

It’s how still he is now. How controlled. How conditioned.

Like someone flipped a switch inside him.

Steve’s hand is on your shoulder suddenly, protective, grounding.

“He thinks you’re his handler,” Steve says softly. His voice is tight, like he’s struggling to remain calm. “Hydra trained him to respond to words 'Soldat' must have triggered it.”

You glance at the Soldier—and feel a cold chill crawl down your spine.

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just waits.

As if he’s expecting you to give him an order.

You whisper, almost afraid of your own voice, “What do I do?”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t give him commands. Don’t say anything that sounds like one. We’ll get Bruce or Tony down here, maybe they can—”

The sound of polished leather shoes and the hiss of elevator doors heralds Tony Stark’s arrival.

He strides into the lobby like he owns every inch of it—which, of course, he does. A tailored charcoal suit, sunglasses he doesn’t need indoors, and a cup of coffee he’s already bored with. His tone, dry as ever.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Tin Man himself.”

Tony stops a few paces from the soldier, surveying him like a potential weapon. Or worse, a ticking bomb.

“You gonna sing ‘If I Only Had a Brain,’ or…?”

No response.

The Soldier—still as a statue—doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just stands in that unnatural way. Tense. Straight-backed. Alert. His metal hand twitches faintly at his side, barely noticeable unless you’re watching for it.

And you definitely are now.

You stand just behind Steve, hands clasped nervously in front of you like you’re trying to shrink into the floor. But you feel the weight of his stare. Not Tony’s. Not Steve’s.

His.

The Soldier.

His eyes, dark and unreadable, are pinned on you.

Tony raises an eyebrow and leans toward Steve. “So this is the guy you were willing to punch me in the face over?” He eyes the torn tactical gear and matted hair. “Charming.”

Steve doesn’t rise to the bait. His voice is firm but quiet. “He’s not well. Hydra programmed him. We think he… believes she's his handler”

Tony turns toward you, glancing you up and down, not rudely, just… curious. “She gets winded carrying a bag of flour.”

You open your mouth to protest, but then The Soldier moves.

Not toward Tony.

Not toward Steve.

Just… a slight shift. He angles his body protectively between you and Stark.

And then he speaks. Russian again.

“Rukovoditel"

His voice is hoarse, barely a growl.

Tony snorts. “Let me guess. That means ‘fearless leader’?”

Steve sighs. “It means ‘handler.’ I told you Tony, he thinks she’s his handler.”

Tony takes off his sunglasses, eyes narrowing. “Oh, great. We’ve got a murder machine who’s latched onto Thumbelina.”

He turns back to The Soldier, then tries his best Stark-brand sarcasm. “Hey, RoboCop. You like shawarma? Puppies? The Bee Gees?”

The Soldier doesn’t react.

His gaze stays locked on you. Like Stark isn’t even in the room.

“Gotov k vypolneniyu" Ready to comply.

Tony paces a bit, muttering to himself.

“Okay, okay… Steve brings in a half-feral Hydra brain bomb who only listens to the human equivalent of a cupcake, and I’m just supposed to—what—build him a bunkbed?”

Steve steps between them, voice low and serious. “He’s not dangerous to her. You saw that.”

“Oh yeah, I saw it,” Tony shoots back. “Saw him zero in on her like a guided missile with a crush. Only she’s not trained. She doesn’t even speak Russian. What happens if she says the wrong thing?”

You flinch a little at that, the weight of it finally settling in your chest.

Tony softens for a half-second. Just a breath. His eyes flick to you. “No offense. I’m sure you’re a lovely hostage.”

Then, toward The Soldier again. “You got anything else in that scrambled brain of yours? English? Stark tech? The weather?”

The Soldier’s only movement is the subtle tightening of his jaw. The slight widening of his stance—defensive. Watching Tony too closely now. Like he’s assessing threat levels.

But then… his eyes return to you.

You whisper, half to yourself, “He’s waiting.”

Tony raises a brow. “For what?”

You shrug helplessly. “An order. I think.”

The lobby feels heavier. Like a suspended moment, stretched too tight.

Tony watches the two of you, something calculative slipping into his expression.

“This is a problem,” he murmurs. “Because if she’s his focus, and we can’t get through to him otherwise—he’s not just broken. He’s tethered.”

Steve crosses his arms. “Then we don’t break the tether. We use it. Let her anchor him.”

Tony scoffs. “Oh, sure. Let’s just traumatize a receptionist, make her the sole translator for Hydra’s favorite murder puppet. What could go wrong?”

But even he can’t ignore the truth, the Winter Soldier isn’t reacting to threats, or commands, or charm.

Only you.

Fuck.

[pretzelwrites]

THE COLONEL'S INSPECTION .

summary: after being apart from caleb for months, you and tara visit skyhaven for the summer solstice festival. he has… concerns about how you spent your time apart.

warnings: nsfw (18+, minors dni), dubcon/noncon, caleb is very controlling and a little mean in this, pet names (pipsqueak, silly girl, and 1 singular ‘gege’), fingering, virginity testing, smut with plot, lowkey badafabanatomy101, extreme jealousy, inappropriate use of evol, pre-confession caleb & mc, manhandling, orgasm denial if you squint. 

characters: caleb from love and deepspace (post-explosion with some edits), afab!mc reader, and tara. everyone is in their twenties.

wc: 2.9k

author’s note: soooo this is my first fic in like ten years… i hope you all like it! i took creative liberties for dramatic effect (i.e. mc’s grandma gifting caleb her antique dining table pre-explosion.) also, this was originally written in present tense before i switched it to past tense so if you notice any typos or grammatical errors…. that’s why rip. if i missed any warnings, please let me know!

* link to part two.  

visiting caleb happened less and less often. between your work with the hunter’s association, and his work as a colonel for the fleet, there was not much room in either of your schedules to meet up. that’s why whenever you had a few days of freedom, the two of you made sure to make the best of it. this time, luck was on your side. not only did you manage to get three days off of work because a big case you were working on concluded a month earlier than expected, but it also coincided with the summer solstice festival in skyhaven— and caleb said he would be free for most of your visit. what were the odds?

being freed up from the case meant tara could tag along with you, and you immediately invited her after asking caleb. he agreed to allow this with only one condition: she could not sleepover. it was a surprisingly rude request from the typically friendly and accommodating caleb, plus it was extremely inconvenient for tara. afterall, it was the only summer festival in skyhaven. most hotels would be booked up by now, and what was leftover would probably be low quality or expensive.

and your efforts to persuade him?

“i’m not changing my mind, pipsqueak.” he said dismissively although his tone was still cheerful. his rich violet eyes remained fixated on the new model plane he was assembling while he spoke into the phone, “this home is open to family, and family only.” even if you two weren’t technically family, you understood exactly what that meant— and no amount of pleading or batting your lashes would sway him. so, you begrudgingly told tara she’d have to find a place to crash for the entire trip. your friend, always the optimist, took it in stride and even seemed to enjoy flipping through the listings of premium hotels in the city.

“ooh! Y/N, look at this one! it’s got one of those infinity pools on the roof!” she’d exclaim while shoving her phone towards you over your desk of files. a holographic 3D model of the swanky hotel popped up from her screen. it was sleek and clean, mirroring the aesthetic that decorated most of skyhaven. you smiled and nodded in an attempt to feign the same level of excitement as her, but you found it hard to. 

for some reason, there was a growing sense of dread in the center of your chest. 

two days passed by quickly, with most of the time being spent trotting through the festival with tara and caleb— then finishing the night off at the bar with tara. caleb would say he couldn’t stay long, that he had something to tend to early in the morning, but that meant you two could enjoy yourselves without him. things were going smoothly… perhaps your worries were truly irrational afterall?

the first night, you and tara had gone a little overboard and were too drunk to end up anywhere other than the hard couch in her hotel room. the second night, you were invited out to dinner by tara’s favorite artist from the festival, you couldn’t possibly say no to her desperate pleas to tag along. that meant you had to cancel dinner with caleb twice, but you swore you’d make it up to him later. 

on the third day, you all decided to conclude your last festival visit with something sweet. the local shops were selling all sorts of solstice themed foods, and this particular parlor had brightly colored frozen yogurt with the cutest sun-shaped cookie bites topped off with iridescent sprinkles. you and tara couldn’t bare to pass it up, even though caleb seemed worn out by the constant activities. 

as you stood in line to order, he leaned down to whisper at a level only you could hear, “don’t spoil your appetite, pipsqueak.”  

that sounded like a threat.

you found a small table beside the window, and the three of you settled in. you sat beside tara, and caleb took the seat across from you. right away, the table was loud with lively conversation and laughter between bites of creamy sweetness. you all exchanged jokes and tidbits seamlessly, there was barely a second to breathe between the chatting. considering both tara and caleb were social butterflies, it was no surprise they got along well. 

somehow, the flow of conversation brought you to discuss each other's silly childhood habits. tara laughed at the way you’d steal his t-shirts from the dirty laundry to mop up any spilled juice and coffee, and caleb brought up how he would send you at least ten check-in texts every time you’d go out with your friends when you were teens.

tara’s eyes lit up and she nudged her knee against yours under the table. “oh, just like that guy leonardo! there must be something about you that brings out protectiveness from guys.” she turned to face caleb, “it makes sense that you’d do that since you two are close, but i told Y/N before that it would be so weird if leonardo wasn’t cute!” 

it was like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. even though you and leo were just friends, his feelings for you were hard to ignore, and you had gone on a few dates with him. you had told tara plenty of times that your ‘gege’ was protective, and wouldn’t be fond of the idea of you casually dating someone he’d never met. regardless of how old you both were, caleb was unable to shake this role. you blinked at tara, a silent plea for her to stop— be quiet, take it back, anything other than continue talking. 

she immediately caught on to the pleading look in your eye and attempted to backpedal. “i- i mean, not that it’s- hah- he’s not anything serious, of course. h-he’s a good coworker, is my point.” she laughed nervously, and you joined her in it. the conversation at the table carries on to a new topic, thankfully, and for a moment you thought you were in the clear… until you looked over to caleb. 

it was something only you, someone who had nearly a lifetime of experiencing caleb’s personality, would be able to detect. as he listened to tara’s ramblings about the exhibit of her favorite artist at the festival, the same one you two had drinks with prior, you immediately notice the way his smile fails to reach his eyes. in fact, his typically vibrant gaze seemed to have lost every fleck of color it had. he was merely going through the motions to keep up appearances.

the feeling of dread you had managed to shake off earlier returned tenfold, and the colorful dessert in your bowl suddenly became incredibly unappetizing. it melted into a puddle of sugary goop and soggy bits of shortbread as the sun disappeared under the horizon.

it was tara who first announced she would be turning in for the night. your heart fell further from your chest when you realized that meant being alone with caleb for the aforementioned dinner you promised him, and absolutely could not back out on. dinners with caleb were always a treat, but this time…

“it was good to see you, tara.” caleb’s smooth voice interrupted your train of thought. tara smiled widely and nodded, “it was nice to see you, too! you two have a goodnight!” she turned on her heels to walk in the opposite direction towards her hotel, while you and caleb headed back to his place. 

the trip back was full of what could only be described as bizarre small talk; retreading old ground, repeating details you’d already told him over the phone months ago, and answering questions that felt pointless to you. you wanted to shrug it off, to reason that surely the man you’d known nearly your entire life didn’t deserve to be treated so suspiciously, but this wasn’t meaningless small talk. he was fishing for information, attempting to piece together just what you were up to during your time apart. when the realization dawned on you, you suddenly became concerned about how every detail would be interpreted, and your responses shortened to a handful of words at most. 

you stepped inside of the familiarity of caleb’s home, letting out a satisfied sigh when the scent of him enveloped you like a warm blanket. “mmm, it’s always nice to come back to—” your words are cut off with a loud ‘click’, the sound of the door being locked behind you. 

“i already have dinner from last night prepared in the fridge, it just needs to be heated up.” caleb muttered while pulling off his heavy bomber jacket to toss onto the couch. the fact that this was likely the dinner you two were supposed to have the night before felt like yet another bad omen. “i- uh, great! i-i’ll set the table.” it was a habit you had picked up on in your youth. a dining table full of plates, even if empty, made you feel like your family was bigger than the one you’d found. you swallow down your anxiety and quickly trot to the kitchen, walking past the old table that used to be your grandmother’s. 

when you return, arms heavy with a stack of porcelain, caleb is standing by the table with his hands planted firmly on his hips. furrowed brows and underneath that, eyes downcast and unfocused. he appeared to be locked in deep thought.

“cal—?” 

“put the plates down and come here.” 

his tone was authoritative and flat—  the same tone he used when you were caught in a lie all those years ago. that persistent dread fully consumes you as you carefully place the stack of fragile plates onto the table and walk to his side. you looked to him expectantly, fists tightly squeezed shut, waiting to get scolded for your flakiness during the trip. in a flash, he pulled you flush against his body by your wrists, wedging you between his large build and the table. “a-ah! c-caleb, what the-”

“do you have any idea how fuckin’ rude you’ve been? how much restraint i’ve had to use lately?” his bionic arm, with all of its unnatural strength, takes control of your throat and holds your back firmly against his body. your frantic wiggling only makes the feeling worse, the metal causing red patches of friction on your throat. you have no choice but to stay still.

detecting your reluctant submission, he chuckled in bitter amusement. “ah, so pips hasn’t completely lost her mind…” caleb whispered, his warm breath skating down the side of your face. “cooperate and this will be over quickly.”  his human hand snaked under the hem of your dress, traveling up your skin and leaving a trail of heat in it’s wake. his fingertips gracing the frilly hem of your panties makes you squirm automatically, despite your efforts to stay still. 

he seemed to hesitate for a millisecond before his fingers roll over your mound. “h-hey!” you gasped, your entire body freezes in shock. caleb stroked over your pussy, the only thing between his touch and your skin being the thin lacey fabric of your underwear. his breath deepens as he traces over your folds, dipping a single fingertip down the center to trace over your covered clit. 

“you know, i didn’t pull strings on that case just to share our trip with someone else, right?” there wasn’t even enough time for you to be shocked by this revelation, caleb was moving quicker than your brain could comprehend. his hand trailed from your clothed heat up your body to cup your breast, rolling his palm over your nipple and then firmly squeezing the flesh. it was hard for him to control himself for longer than a few seconds, made abundantly clear by the way he alternated between roughness and tender touches on your hardening peaks.

“and after all i did, you have the nerve to skip out on dinner with me twice in a goddamn row…”

“caleb, y-you’re being-” your voice was trembling under the pressure of his robotic hand. it didn’t hurt, but it was rough and unrelenting. 

“and who exactly is leonardo? why didn’t you tell me about him when i called? just what did you do to make him think he could check on you like that, huh? it’s my job to protect you- or are you trying to replace me?” caleb’s questions are delivered in rapid fire succession, leaving no room for you to respond or plead your case. his robotic arm released your throat, giving you a chance to glimpse the dark blue and red ripples out of the corner of your eye. a heavy weight crashes onto your back, forcing you to lurch forward against the dining room table, your face crushed into the cold antique wood by his gravity evol. you squeal in protest, but all that does is make him press you down harder. 

he quickly hikes up your skirt once more until you can feel the cool air on your rear, which only solidifies how impossibly vulnerable you are in the moment. there’s another beat of hesitation, or admiration, from him before he pulls your panties to the side to fully reveal your pussy. caleb pressed his hand to your warmth, rubbing his knuckles over your folds slowly, like he’s trying to memorize the feeling. “c-caleb, please think about what you’re doing. t-this isn’t right!” you whisper in desperation, as if he’d listen.

“i know exactly what i’m doing. i’ve just never had to resort to this.” he murmurs disapprovingly. “i used to trust that you’d tell me everything, pipsqueak.”

“i have told you every- unff!” your eyes widen from the sudden intrusion.

“hush. i’ll be the judge of that.” caleb’s middle finger, long and thick, slowly pushes it’s way deeper into your heat until it’s fully sheathed inside. “we promised to never keep secrets from one another, remember?” you are rendered completely speechless as his digit explores your most tender area, a place no one but yourself had. sliding along your walls slowly, rotating, prodding. it’s not like he was trying to give you pleasure, but rather inspecting you. sensing your shock and confusion, caleb answers the unspoken question on your lips.

“i’m just making sure you aren’t doing anything you’ll regret... there’s no reason for you to fight this if you have nothing to hide.”

caleb slowly drew his finger out and then slid back in with a second digit. the extra girth made you flinch and teeter on your toes. he watched your legs tremble from the unfamiliar pressure, your pussy fluttering and tensing around his fingers reflected both your discomfort and inexperience. “tolerate it for just a little while longer,” he urged sternly. his fingers pumped as slowly as possible, stretching your walls carefully.

caleb’s touch inside of you felt so right— blissfully so, despite it all. it was like every inch of his finger was created for your cunt, every ridge hitting you just right and coaxing out more slick from your core. shameful pleasure began to build in your body within a few pumps, which didn’t help how pathetic you felt being subjected to caleb’s control so easily. just as you were beginning to enjoy this bizarre sensation, it ended. he let out an approving sigh and pulled his fingers out with a wet ‘pop.’ 

your body was still his. 

despite not being able to see caleb’s face, his relief was palpable. his gravity evol lifted off of your body, but you still weren’t able to move. a different weight was placed on your back to hold you against the table. when two hands are planted on either side of you, you realize that he had practically collapsed on top of you.

“silly girl,” his head leaned against the back of your’s, nuzzling his nose into the depths of your hair. the cold silver of his apple necklace slid against your warm skin, sending a tingle down your spine. “you caused all this distress for no reason… do you enjoy getting a rise out of me?” caleb chided, but his voice didn’t boast that biting edge from before. his eyes fluttered shut as he took in a deep breath of your scent, attempting to still his rapidly beating heart. 

slowly, reluctantly, caleb stood up to free you from his crushing hold. your panties and dress are put back in place with a gentle touch, and although you wanted to slap his hand away, your head was spinning far too much to properly retaliate. he then turned you around to face him, revealing your flushed cheeks– one redder than the other due to the sheer force he had used when slamming you against the table, yet he didn’t acknowledge it or even look slightly regretful. 

his bionic hand reached up to fix your hair, like he often did. the artificial fingers felt strangely cold on your scalp, and not at all reassuring when combined with the heated ache between your legs. just barely in your line of sight, you caught a glimpse of his throbbing member through his denim. a wet patch of precum had formed at the tip along his upper thigh, saturating the already dark fabric with his sin. the sight of it sends a rush of forbidden excitement through you, but you quickly avert your gaze to hide your budding desire. caleb returned your timid expression with a warm smile, this time it actually reached his eyes. 

“now, we can eat.”

[heartlilith]

WHAT THE VENUS SIGNS REMIND ME OF

🩷Oddly specific things I think about when I hear ______ venus

Aries Venus: Summer, rubies, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, rollercoasters, fast cars, the color red, vampire fangs, Saturday nights, liquor stores and gas stations, fireworks, sour candy, cool bic lighters, “you’re mine”, Mario Kart, boys who wear nail polish, fuck it energy, oversized sweatshirts, middle finger emoji, cherries

Taurus Venus: Satin pillowcases, white candles, pearls, mirrors, hand holding, walking someone home at night, vinyls, red lipstick, full lips, fancy dinner dates, the wine and dine, old romantic movies, wallets and purses, hotels, French manicures, old money, “I won’t get on my knees for no man”

Gemini Venus: Driving around at night listening to music, reading to someone, comedy shows, mimosas, Samantha from Sex and the City, libraries, nerd kink, hot teachers/student kink, emerald green, laughter, swing sets, looking out of the window and just watching, untied shoelaces, dogs and puppies, dad jokes

Cancer Venus: Soft feather pillows, a bowl of warm soup, a bubble bath, tears and running mascara, babies and how babies laugh, poetry, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be”, hot tubs, hot coffee, teddy bears, heartbeats, soft hands & skin, lotion, bagels and cream cheese, doodling in your journal

Leo Venus: Lip gloss, mojitos, getting drunk at brunch, diamond tennis bracelets, drunk texts you regret sending later, the block button, lonely nights, shooting stars, blowing bubbles, piggy back rides, art museums, glittery eyeshadow, jumparoos, birthday parties

Virgo Venus: Taking a shower, Dove soap, smooth skin, symmetry, butterflies, the smell of books, getting a facial or going to the spa, chicken caesar salads, the good tasting water, chunky headphones, acoustic guitar, running errands, getting your eyebrows done, neat handwriting, neutral colors, sushi

Libra Venus: Blush, dimples, Y2K fashion, Hello Kitty, makeup skills, those little hand mirrors, princes and princesses, cupcakes, pedicures, Margaritas, taking pictures, art, castles, Disney movies, daisies, spin the bottle, cartwheels, soft hair, bubblegum, skincare, watermelon and pineapple

Scorpio Venus: Psychology, neck tattoos, “until death do us part”, Kings & Queens, snakes, sacred sex, chess, secrets, hickeys, the feeling after you stay up all night, the feeling of being at a concert, roses, knives, tequila shots, legs intertwined, dirty martinis, sparklers, Avril Lavigne, fantasy books, true crime and dark history

Sagittarius Venus: Clouds, rock climbing, rappers, Hip Hop and R&B, going on vacation, açaí bowls and fresh fruit, sun kissed/radiant skin, the color yellow, retreats, history, yoga and Pilates, spicy food, “it is what it is”, curly hair, the smell of weed, casinos, the last day of school, Las Vegas

Capricorn Venus: Leather, red wine, the cow pattern, cowgirl boots, the color brown, espresso, dark chocolate, briefcase of money like in the movies, the movie Scarface, whiskey on the rocks, bosses, owls, turtle necks, caramel, wearing suits, lingerie, business, New York City

Aquarius Venus: Lightbulbs, telescopes and microscopes, LED lights, hamsters, college parties, glitter, peace signs, 70s concerts, food trucks, skipping school, “fuck it”, diving in the pool, the beach at night, disco balls, getting detentions in school

Pisces Venus: Mermaids, kittens, cartoons and Disney princesses, champagne, Webkinz, little kid stories like Goldilocks, 3 Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel, clear glittery lip gloss, holographic, snowmen and icicles, swimming in the pool, flower gardens, glow sticks , picnics, bumblebees, sand castles, elementary art class, 3D movies

Book a Reading 🩷

Masterlist 🩷

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Creature Feature.

Yandere: Yandere!Miguel x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Mentions of Non-Human Anatomy, Obsessive Behavior, and Rough Sex.

You weren’t sure when you decided the man living in your house and fathering your daughter was not your husband.

It might’ve been last week, when you caught him sitting in his unlit study hours after he’d promised he would come to bed, his eyes glowing vaguely red as he fiddled with a device you didn’t recognize with tools you’d never seen him use, before. It might’ve been two months ago, when Gabi’s teacher called you into a conference to discuss your daughter’s worrying new obsession with spiders and superheroes and the holographic women that, if what she’s been telling her classmates is to be believed, read her bedtime stories when her father wasn’t home. It might’ve been that first night – when he came home from work hours late and doting a black eye, missing the glasses you would never see him wear again and too shell-shocked to do anything more than stand in Gabi’s doorway and let you fuss over him. You’d done everything you should’ve, kissed his cheek and begged him to tell you what happened and pretended to believe him when he said there’d been an accident at the research facility, but it hadn’t felt right, hadn’t felt like it would’ve if you’d been taking care of the man you’d loved for most of your life.

And, when he snapped out of his daze long enough to drag you into his arms and pull you into a kiss more forceful than anything your Miguel would’ve been capable of, you couldn’t help but shudder, but draw back when his hands started to drift lower and he proved to share your husband’s instability, if only that. That was what made the final decision, really. He wasn’t your husband, but it wasn’t as if you couldn’t see a glimmer of something you recognized when you looked at him.

Or, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t normally see a glimmer of something you recognized.

Right now, you knew the man on top of you was a total stranger.

He wasn’t Miguel. He couldn’t have been. Miguel would never hold you so tightly, never dig his fingertips so deeply into your waist, never be so determined to keep you so suffocatingly close to him. His nails would never be so sharp – pointed claws piercing your skin, drawing blood that dripped down your sides and pooled on the sheets beneath you – and he’d never been so massive, either, bulging muscle lining his arms, his defined chest heaving with every ragged breath and strangled moan, both a far cry from the borderline malnourished lab-rat that was the love of your life. His face was malformed, misshapen; curved fangs poking past his parted lips, distorting the shape of his mouth and leaking drops of luminescent venom that fell onto your chest and coated everything they touched with the same numbing, buzzing static. Even his eyes – the eyes you’d always loved, the eyes you would’ve known if nothing else of your husband remained – were gone, drowned out by the shadows cast over his face, the darkness you couldn’t seem to shake when he was around. What little remained was tinted red and bloodshot, pushed miles past the point of remote familiarity. You’d let this stranger, this thing into your home. You’d let him drive your daughter to school, look after her when she was sick.

You hadn’t let him fuck you, but he was fucking you, and you hadn’t been able to stop him.

The sounds he was making were awful, too. Your husband had been adorably shy, prone to biting his tongue and repeating your name over and over and over again, as if the feeling of your cunt milking his cock made it impossible to remember anything else. This Miguel was, in comparison, couldn’t seem to stop making those terrible noises; throaty grunts and airy moans spilling past his lips, only partially muffled by your skin as he buried his face in the curve of your throat. One of his hands fell to your thighs, curling around it and forcing your knee against your chest, making it so he could force himself that much deeper into you, so he could thrust into you with that much more raw strength. You were glad Gabi was staying at a friend’s, tonight. Her room was next to yours, and you would’ve been surprised if there was an apartment in your building that couldn’t hear your headboard beating against the wall, couldn’t make out every pitchy rise and fall of the drawn-out whine choked out of some deep, vulnerable pocket in your chest as he buried those pointed fangs in the crook of your neck.

You felt him force something into you, your vision blurring as the blood seemed to smolder in your veins. Suddenly, the feeling of his pelvic bone catching on your clit was unbearable, your own slick now burning as it dripped down your thighs. It wasn’t a whine you let out, this time, but a sob – ragged and broken, hitched as it emerged from uncooperative lungs and further fractured by the way his chest pressed into yours as he straightened his back, as he drew back just far enough to smile down at you, to let those cruel eyes go soft and half-lidded. “Oh, mi amor…” You didn’t notice you were crying until his hand cupped your face, until his thumb swiped over your cheek and came away wet. “I could fall in love with you all over again.”

Your husband would never say that. Your husband would never imply that there ever could’ve been a world where he wasn’t in love with you, that there ever could’ve been a life he would’ve led that wouldn’t feature you at its center. Your husband would never grow fangs and claws and force himself on you with all the care and tenderness of a rampaging monster. Your husband—

Your husband wasn’t here.

Your husband wasn’t here, and it didn’t seem like he’d ever be coming back.

You curled into yourself, sobbing unabashedly. Miguel (or, whatever the creature on top of you called himself) welcomed your devastation with open arms, leaning back and pulling you onto his lap, bouncing you on his cock as a low, reverberating purr sparked in the base of his throat and filled what little empty space was left in your bedroom. He watched on as you scrambled to wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a breathy laugh as he nuzzled into the dip of your shoulder and went on. “Fucking beautiful,” he groaned, his cock practically throbbing against the walls of your cunt. “I don’t know how I got by without you. I’m never—” A fractured moan, the tips of pointed teeth ghosting over your jugular. “I’m never letting you leave my side again.”

It was a promise, a threat, spoken with enough dedication to send a cold shudder up the length of your spine. You only realized your mouth had fallen open when you heard your own voice, distant and distraught. “Who... who are you?”

Some part of you expected him to devolve, for what was left of his disguise to fall away and reveal rows upon rows of jagged teeth that would tear into your skin, countless eyes that would stare you down like some trapped insect, half a dozen more arms and hands he could use to grab and grope and pull and maim. You expected blood to spill by the bucketful, flesh to melt away like candlewax, rough edges and broken anatomy and all the terrible monstrosities that had to be lingering inside of a creature like him. You expected all the worst things you could possibly imagine, but in the end, what you got was so, so much worse.

His manic grin melted into a softened smile. He pressed another open-mouthed kiss into your throat before pulling away, staring down at you with more love than anything human could’ve spared. “I’m your husband.” And then, again, as he settled so deeply inside of you, you could only pray you’d be able to forget the feeling of him, one day.

“I’m yours.”

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sex pollen!Steve Rogers x Reader

Here's a little oneshot I came up with! Word count: 3018

Y/N and Steve were on a mission to retrieve a rumored bioweapon from an off-group of Hydra.  There was very little information on what it was or what it did, but they had followed some leads to find the Hydra agent heading toward a resort in Malta to a big buyer.  They had arrived a few days prior to the agent, playing the part of a newly married couple on their honeymoon.  Y/N had enjoyed the vacation part of the trip, being by the pool, exploring the little island’s sights and selfishly indulging in the faux affection between her and Steve in public.  She had feelings for her Captain.  Who wouldn’t?  With that handsome face, which for some inhumanly ridiculous reason looked even more handsome with the beard he grew, the longer hair he’d grown out, looking sun kissed on the Maltese beaches and cobblestone streets, and those deep blue eyes that made her weak in the knees.

“The fun has arrived,” she said quietly, her sunglasses hiding her gaze.

Steve was laying on his stomach on the beach chair next to hers, his head lifting slowly when she spoke.  “Hm?” he replied.

“Two o’clock,” Y/N murmured.  Steve got up from the chair like he was going to resituate himself, subtly looking at the agent.  He stretched and took a drink of the beer he’d ordered, then sat next to her on her chair.

He leaned forward, caging her to the chair with his huge arms, and kissed her cheek, his lips traveling down her jaw to her ear.  “So who's our buyer?” he whispered in her ear.

Y/N tried to concentrate on the agent moving amongst the guests sitting around the pool, Steve’s lips trying their best to distract her.  The agent stopped in front of a couple of young men laying out on chairs, greeting them jovially with wide spread arms.  They all got up and greeted him equally, with one of them shaking his hand and speaking quietly to him.  “Frat boy number 3,” she whispered in his ear. 

Steve’s hands moved to grip her thick thighs, sliding his palms up to her hips as his head moved further down to her collarbone.  “Any others?” he asked.

Y/N watched the men from the corner of her eye as she leaned her head back, her hand moving up to run through Steve’s hair and the other gripping his shoulder, feeling down his muscled back.  “No, the rest are just the trust fund baby’s bodyguards,” she breathed, scratching his scalp.

“Good girl,” Steve replied, nipping at the swell of her breast before pulling away.  If she didn’t know any better she would have thought the look he gave her when he brought his face back to hers was adoring as he leaned in and nuzzled her nose.  “Let’s go plan our next move.”

Y/N smiled at him and nodded.  He stood and held his hand out to her, helping her stand up from her chair, then held that hand as he led her away from the pool and back to the resort.  They didn’t speak again as they rode the elevator up to their room, still holding hands, but the moment they were behind closed doors they let go and walked their separate ways.  Y/N quickly covered her swimsuit-clad body with a robe as Steve put on his shirt.  

“They’ll be at the resort ball tonight,” Y/N started, sitting down and pulling out the little screen from her purse.  The screen projected a holographic map of the resort layout, focusing on the ballroom.  “There’s multiple rooms they could go to just off the ballroom to meet in and do the exchange,” she said, pointing at the different rooms.  

“So we’ll just need to be paying close attention,” Steve said, sounding annoyed as he sat across from her, looking at the map intently.

“Or,” Y/N said suggestively, “I could cozy up to Frat boy.”

Steve’s eyes darkened.  “On our honeymoon?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “I won’t initiate it, just be in the right place at the right time,” she said.  “Don’t get jealous now, fake husband.”

Steve rolled his eyes.  “Just don’t wanna blow our cover, fake wife.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Y/N reassured him.  

***

That night Y/N headed towards the ballroom alone.  She wanted to give off the idea that she was alone at first, giving the Frat boy false hope.  She placed herself in his line of sight, sipping on a glass of champagne.  She’d gotten dressed and left before Steve was ready or could see her.  She had a feeling that if he’d seen this dress she’d have gotten a Captain-ly talking to.  The dress was blood red with curve-hugging ruffles that moved with her like waves as she walked.  It had a thigh high slit running up her left leg, and a low bust line that she had to use boob tape to keep in place, showing way too much cleavage.  The Frat boy’s eyes found her quickly, widening then darkening as he eye-fucked her.  She gave him a flirty smile, turning back to the bar and jutting her hip out, showing off the loose strapped-up back of the dress.

Within moments she felt fingers tickle up her spine.  “Hey beautiful,” the Frat boy greeted her, his fingers moving from her back to down her arm.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, keeping a smile.

“I’m Jack Malick,” he introduced himself, reaching out for her hand.

“Tess,” she replied easily, shaking his hand.

“No last name?” he probed.

“You’ll have to earn that,” she teased.

Jack chuckled and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles.  “Oh I plan on it,” he said.  “Though I could have sworn I saw you at the pool earlier today with someone.”

Y/N smirked at his reaching.  “Yes, my husband.  We’re on our honeymoon.”

“And where’s said husband now?” Jack said, glancing around.

“Oh, having a pity party in the suite upstairs,” Y/N waved noncommittally.  “Married squabbles.”

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack smirked, not looking the least bit sorry.  “How about I buy you a drink?”

“Thank you,” Y/N nodded.

She spent a good amount of time schmoozing Jack, and he brought her back over to his group of other frat boy-looking bodyguards.  She flirted with him, waiting for the Hydra agent to appear.  Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long, seeing him coming close with a small silver case.  “Ah, there you are,” Jack greeted him.  “Come on, beautiful,” he pulled her up and led her towards one of the side rooms, the agent following him while the bodyguards stayed put.  She followed him, taking a quick look around.  She saw Steve watching her from the bar, a scowl on his face.  She winked at him and saw him start moving along the edge of the packed dance floor.  Jack guided her into a conference room with the agent and locked the door behind him.  “You just stand over there looking pretty while I handle some business real quick,” he said to her.

Y/N nodded and stepped to the other side of the long table while Jack turned to the agent and talked to him quietly.  She tried listening but could only get snippets of the conversation before she glanced and saw the exchange of the agent’s case while Jack typed into his phone.  He took the case from the agent then shook his hand, the agent walking out and Jack locking the door again.  He approached Y/N with the case, opening it and pulling out a small vial.  “You up for a real party, Tess?” he asked, opening the vial.

Her eyes widened at how nonchalantly he handled the bioweapon.  “What is it?” she asked.

“The best aphrodisiac on the planet,” he replied.  He wound an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as he lifted the vial to her mouth.

“I don’t take random drugs,” Y/N said, trying to push away.  

“You’ll like this, beautiful,” Jack said, handling her more harshly.  “Pleasure beyond control.  I’ll have you sucking me off for hours.”

He shoved the vial to her mouth.  Y/N tried to keep her lips closed, but he was faster and forced it past her lips.  She yelped as the liquid in the vial hit her tongue while Jack held a hand over her mouth to stop her from spitting it out.  A loud wrenching sound came from the door and Steve barrelled in, a murderous glare on his face as he zeroed in on Jack.  “Get your hands off my wife,” he growled, nearly throwing himself across the room and tackling Jack away from Y/N.  She fell back, giving a wide breadth to Steve as he quickly knocked Jack unconscious.  She tried spitting out the liquid, but it felt like it was absorbed into her tongue, leaving a minty burning sensation.  

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, hurriedly moving to her, holding her face in his hands.

“It’s in me!” Y/N said frantically, her eyes wide as she gripped his wrists.  “He forced me to drink the bioweapon.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned.  “Fuck,” he swore.  He grabbed the empty vial and put it back in the small silver case, closing it and grabbing her hand, pulling her off the floor.  “Let’s get back to the room.”  

Y/N nodded absentmindedly.  She didn’t feel any different so far.  Well, she was feeling hot, but then again it could just be the rush of adrenaline from what had just happened, or her fear at what could happen to her from the bioweapon.  They knew so little about it that the information Jack had given her was all they had to go off of.

“He said it was the best aphrodisiac on the planet,” she said quietly once they reached the elevator.  Steve looked down at her worriedly.  “He called it ‘pleasure beyond control,’ and that he would have me sucking him off for hours.”

Steve’s frown deepened, his jaw ticking.  She stared at his jaw.  God thats so fucking hot.  “What?” he asked, looking surprised.

“What?” Y/N replied, looking at him confusedly.

“You just said…nevermind,” Steve said, shaking his head then pulling her out of the elevator to their room.  She stumbled to the couch in the main room of the suite, fanning herself with her hand as Steve double checked the vials in the case.  He walked over and kneeled in front of her, his hands going back to her face.  “How are you feeling?” he asked, looking her over carefully.

“Hot,” Y/N said, her breathing getting heavier.  “Is the heat on?”

Steve shook his head as he held the back of his hand up to forehead.  “Jesus, you’re burning up,” he whispered.  He went to the little kitchen area and grabbed the ice in the freezer of the refrigerator, bringing it back and holding it against the back of her neck.  Y/N sighed at the cool ice on her scorching skin.  The ice melted fast.  

“Fuck, I’m…everything feels like it’s burning,” she whimpered.  She shivered when the first wave of pleasure wracked through the lower half of her body.  “Holy shit!”

“What?  What’s wrong?” Steve asked, sounding more worried by the second.  

Y/N started shaking as what felt like a small orgasm rippled through her pussy.  “Oh my god,” she moaned.  Steve looked at her incredulously.  “Please don’t judge me,” she whined as she peered up at him.  He shook his head.  “I’m…fuck, I’m so horny it hurts,” she huffed as her pussy fluttered around nothing.

“You’re…I’m sorry, what?” Steve frowned.

“Steve!” she cried out as she nearly came again.  She laid back against the couch.  “Please, get this off,” she said, pulling at the straps of the dress, freeing her breasts that were feeling more sensitive and sore by the second.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Steve scoffed as he looked away when she started stripping herself.  “I…I don’t know what to do.”

Y/N started crying, a big, fat, ugly cry, heavy sobs making her chest heave.  She was panicking.  Steve helped her get the dress completely off, and as he helped pull down the positively soaked thong she was wearing his fingers brushed against her inner thigh and she moaned loudly.  He looked at her with a stunned expression.  “I think…I think you need to help me,” Y/N sniffled.  

“How?” Steve whispered, his eyes raking down her naked body hungrily.

“Touch me…please!” Y/N shuddered again as her pussy clenched.  Steve exhaled sharply.  “You’ve been good at it until this point pretending to be my husband.  Please just fuck me like a husband would.  God fucking dammit!” she yelled, the pain rolling in her belly.

Steve paused for just a moment then leaned down and picked her up off the couch, carrying her bridal style to the bedroom.  They’d been sharing the bed because it was a huge California King size, but never gotten much closer than they had while out in public pretending.  He gently laid her down on the bed, then stepped back and started stripping himself.  “Okay, honey,” he said lowly, using the pet name he called her as his fake wife.  “I’ll take care of it,” he huffed, kicking off his pants and boxers.  Y/N looked down and gasped.  He was huge everywhere, and she felt herself get embarrassingly wetter at the sight.  He climbed on the bed and hovered over her.  “One last time, are you sure about this?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and his lips tight.  Y/N nodded, reaching up and running her hands down his large chest.  “Words, Y/N,” he commanded, using his stern Captain voice on her.  

“YES!  Fuck!” she screamed, her voice sounding gravelly with how much she’d been grunting and fighting back moans.  “Steve please!”

Steve nodded and looked down at her pussy finally.  “Holy shit you’re soaked,” he breathed.  He gripped his hard cock and rubbed it through her lower lips, coating himself in her slick.  “You ready?” he asked.  

“Yeah…yeah yeah yeah yeah,” she begged, her hips itching to have him fill her.

Steve started to push in, moaning loudly at how wet she was and how easily he was able to slide in.  “Holy FUCK honey!” he grunted, fully filling her in one thrust. 

The pain in Y/N’s belly significantly subsided once he was inside her, and she sighed heavily.  “Fuck me,” she whined, her hands scratching down his back to his ass, pulling him into her.  

“Yes ma’am,” Steve chuckled, then snapped his hips.  Y/N was a moaning, babbling, incoherent mess, her tears finally stopping but her body shaking under him with each thrust.  Steve’s super soldier stamina came to play as he helped her cum once, twice, three times, each time as her pussy clenched around him making him shudder, but he refused to cum yet.  

After her third orgasm he moved her to lay on her side with both her legs perpendicular to his hips, entering back into her quickly.  He smacked her ass over and over again, pulling wanton groans and dirty words from her mouth.  Steve pulled her top leg up straight and hooked her foot behind his neck, creating a deeper angle to reach inside her.  His fingers expertly played with her pussy as he fucked her, flicking her clit then tapping it quickly before rubbing it gently.  The arm she had tucked underneath her moved to grip her own hair as her hand closest to him gripped his bicep holding her leg up.  “Steve…” she whispered, her eyes rolling back for the umpteenth time.

“That’s it, honey, give me more,” Steve growled, a sweat finally breaking on his brow.  “You can do that, right?  Just one more?  I’m so close.  God you’re so pretty,” he kissed her calf, nipping at her ankle.  “I’ve been wanting to do this forever, you know that?”

Y/N looked up at him in surprise.  “You have?” she panted.

“Yeah,” he smiled down at her.  He put her leg back down and leaned over her, kissing her arm and grabbing her breast closest to him, sucking her nipple into his mouth, making her keen.  He continued his kisses up her sternum to her neck, sucking at her neck and licking her jaw.  “Been wanting you for so long, honey.  Pretending to be your husband?  I wasn’t pretending,” he smirked at her.  “I volunteered to do this mission when I found out it was going to be with you.”

Y/N’s mouth was agape in shock, her brow furrowing as her pussy fluttered once again, warning about her next orgasm.  Steve shivered when he felt it.  “I wasn’t pretending either,” she whispered, looking at him hopefully.

Steve fully smiled.  “Will you be mine, Y/N?” he asked, his thrusts becoming hurried.

“Fuck yeah,” Y/N smiled back at him.

Steve repositioned himself so he could reach her lips and kissed her deeply, his hips smacking into her so his cock hit that spot deep inside just enough while his fingers flicked her clit just right and she came again, screaming his name against his lips.  Steve finally came right after her with a raspy, loud moan, filling her so much that his cum flowed from between them, making a mess on the bed.  The broiling pain and pleasure finally dimmed in Y/N’s body, and she slumped against the bed in exhaustion.  She almost passed out, and on the edges of her consciousness felt Steve kiss her cheek before pulling out of her.  He left for only a moment before she felt the bed dip and a warm washcloth against her core as he cleaned her up, wiping up what he could from the bed.  A few moments later he was climbing into the bed with her again, pulling the blanket up to cover her and him as he pulled her into snuggle against him.  “Rest honey…my wife,” he whispered in her ear. 

[bluefootedbooby]

Hmmmm what about jinx x reader with the hexstrap? 🤭🤭

Take it so well.

nsfw

Jinx was tinkering at her desk, hands fastening intricate leather straps together with rivets. You stride over, smile on your coy face before hugging her.

“Leather? Didn’t realize I was dating a leather smith.”

She chuckles, turning her head to kiss your jawline. “I’m a jack of many trades.” Jinx nibbles the angle of your jaw, kissing and licking your sweet spot. Your hand gently trails to her chest, softly caressing and squeezing her small breasts. Jinx grips your wrist with a smile. “Alright, I gotta focus!” She tilts her head back to her work. You take a moment, your chin on her shoulder, to observe her work.

Yeah… you recognized what it was, a strap-on, but more than that. The leather was embedded with runes, tubes and metal pieces. At the top was a small circular slot that protruded out similar to the one on her zapper gun. On the side was a pouch of glowing crystals, her hex gems that she stole.

“Man, I haven’t seen those since…”

The air seemed to suck out of the room, your mouth shutting immediately. Your eyes instinctively going towards the child drawings on Jinx’s mirror. Jinx twitched slightly eyes wide before her hand combed through her buzzed hair to get herself together. She kissed your hand holding it close.

“I was going over those notes from the Golden Boy. Lots of useful stuff in there. Some of these runes are really powerful. And ya know, a little combining and they make a whole bunch of new stuff! Pretty neat huh?”

She bounced back so quickly, but honestly it was for the best right now.

“Yeah.”

You smile, your hand touching the etched leather.

“So… it’s clearly a strap-on. But um… What does it do?”

And then… that wicked smile that meant you were in for a ride. Jinx grabbed one of the stones, holding it between her fingers a moment.

“Head to the bed, kay? Lemme suit up!”

Jinx laughed out picking up the leather strap-on. She whisked off to somewhere concealed from your view. While she was gone you made your way to the bed, sitting down on the messy surface and waiting for your blazing bluenette. Of course, Jinx always took too long just to tease you and after five minutes of you waiting and squirming in your own pool of excitement she came out wearing the strap-on, the shaft glowing blue with a holographic texture, pasties over her tits shaped like hearts, and high lacey stockings that she customized with her stripe pattern. Jinx held her hands behind her back as she made her way over, the strap almost looked flaccid but when Jinx got near you and your breath panted in front of the toy you swore you could see it twitching.

“Ya like? It’s special… I can feel it all~” Jinx poked the tip of the toy causing her to squirm a little at the sensation. “Whaddaya think?”

You pause, looking at the slightly erect toy in front of you. It’s almost an instinct but you lean in and kiss the side of it. Jinx whined, the toy lifting up more as Jinx grew more aroused. Your eyes raised in wonder seeing her get harder and harder until the toy pointed up in a slight curve twitching and throbbing demanding attention.

———

You barely prepped, Jinx was behind you with her hands kneading your ass as the tip of the holographic dildo kissed your soaked entrance. “Shit toots-- I can feel you —you’re so good…”

Slowly it eased in, Jinx gasped at the electric currents firing her nerves and causing an insane rush of pleasure. It didn’t take much effort for her to glide the toy deep into your core. It was so new, so tight and warm.

“That feel good?”

“Mhm…” Was all you got out before Jinx began to thrust her hips forward and back, rocking into you as her hand remained on your waist. Sure, you’ve used dildos before but seeing Jinx’s fucked out face as she got to feel how warm you were made the whole thing feel so much better.

Lewd and pornographic, their positions changed like a dance routine each second as Jinx wanted to feel you at every angle. Biting her lip as she stared down at your face as your eyes rolled back. “Oh look at you, look at this cunt! You take it so well.. fuuuck! Gonna make me nut in you, bet you’d loveee that.” Your head nodded, tears welling in your eyes as she put her all into you.

In, out, in, out. The slapping noises filling the room as Jinx got closer and closer. “Fuuuck… Fuck! Trinket, I-I’m gonna cum inside you..” It thrilled you those words, her cumming inside you. You didn’t know how that felt, you’ve only been with Jinx and you didn’t care to change that. But the thought did excite you so much that when you began to feel her throb harder inside you, you pushed over the edge first.

“Ah! Jinx! Mm— oooh..!” Your pussy tightened, heating up like the inside of an engine pipe as your orgasm washed across your body. Just feeling that… hearing that. You felt it, some sort of fluid shooting inside you. It didn’t matter what it was or where it came from, those questions you can figure out later. But she was cumming inside you. Her nails dug moons into your skin as Jinx moaned and bent over so her chest was pressed to your body before she pulled out to let her fluid paint your back and ass just because she could.

“Holy… fuck… toots.”

She panted out, bottom lip heavy and eyes tired. From your aching cunt white and slightly blue shimmering fluid dripped onto your clit and down to the bed. Your legs shook and eventually you collapsed down onto the bed. The toy was now soft and Jinx pressed a button and the holograph faded. Soft lips meeting your cheek before you felt a tongue slide across your back and ass as she licked up her ropes.

“Mm, gross.” You joked with your head in your arms. Jinx sat up before lying down next to you to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes. “You love me though~” She teased as her fingers pinched your red and sensitive cheek.

“I do,”

“Good, cause I love you too.”

—————————————————————————

💙🪿

[natsaffection]

heyy this is my first time making a request and idk if it's okay but what if reader is like an anti-hero or villian and when reader gets hurt she shoves up to Natasha's apartment thinking she would maybe help her? idk if it works but I've been thinking about something like this and it would be great if you actually write itt😭😭😭

Lines crossed. | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Gore and injurys

Word Count: 2,6k

A/N: These are the stories I like the most. 🙏🏻 And I feel honored, that I can write your first ever request! 🏆

The city of New York was no stranger to chaos, but in recent months, a new shadow had begun to loom over its streets. This shadow was not the kind of evil the Avengers were used to dealing with..This was different. And this, was you, a name whispered in fear among the criminal underworld, a vigilante with a taste for vengeance and a history stained with blood.

You had risen to the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list, a place usually reserved for supervillains and global threats. Your methods were brutal and unyielding, your sense of justice unwavering. To some, you were a hero. To others, a menace. But to the Avengers, you were a problem that needed solving.

“Another one,” Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, murmured as she stood over the lifeless body of a notorious gang leader, his blood pooling around him in a grotesque halo. “It’s her again.”

Clint joined her, shaking his head. “She’s getting bolder. This is the third one this week.” Natasha's eyes scanned the scene, taking in the familiar hallmarks of your handiwork. The precision, the brutality, the unmistakable sense of finality. "She’s not hiding anymore. She wants us to know it’s her."

Nick Fury appeared behind them, his expression unreadable as ever. "We need to bring her in. She's crossed too many lines, and now the media's starting to pick up on it. The last thing we need is a vigilante making us look incompetent."

Natasha nodded, her mind already running through the many encounters she’d had with you. Each one had been a battle of wills, fists, and wits. You were good, damn good. But Natasha was determined to be better.

You wiped the blood from your hands, your breathing steadying as you looked at the man you'd just eliminated. He had been a monster, a predator preying on the weak and innocent. You felt no remorse. In your eyes, justice had been served.

You knew the Avengers were close. You could feel their presence like a storm on the horizon. Especially Natasha. Your fights had become a dance of sorts, each trying to outmaneuver the other, each knowing that one day it would come down to a final, decisive confrontation.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced at the message: another target, another mission. Your work was never done.

Back at the Avengers' headquarters, the team gathered around a holographic display of the city, pinpointing the locations of your recent activities. "We need to be strategic," Steve said, his voice calm but firm. "She’s not just any criminal. She’s trained, skilled, and she's got a mission."

Natasha’s eyes never left the display. She knew you better than most. She understood your motivations, your drive. And she knew that stopping you would require more than just brute force.

"It’s personal for her," Natasha said quietly. "And if we’re going to bring her in, we need to understand why she’s doing this." The team nodded, each member resolving to bring an end to your bloody crusade. But for Natasha, it was more than just another mission. It was a challenge, a test of her skills and resolve.

You moved through the city like a ghost, your mind focused on the task at hand. You knew the Avengers were watching, waiting. You relished the challenge. Each encounter with Natasha had pushed you to be better, sharper.

But you also knew that the game couldn’t go on forever. One day, it would come to an end. One way or another.As you prepared for your next mission, you couldn't help but wonder: when that day came, who would be the one standing? You or Natasha?

The city was alive with the sounds of sirens and distant traffic, but your focus was razor-sharp. You moved through the shadows, your target's location clear in your mind. You knew the Avengers were closing in, but you thrived on the edge, where danger and adrenaline fused into one intoxicating rush.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your target, a corrupt businessman with ties to multiple criminal organizations. You slipped past his security with ease, your movements precise and silent. As you stood over him, your eyes cold and unyielding, you knew this would send another message to the underworld and the Avengers alike.

Just as you were about to strike, the window shattered, and Natash swung in, landing gracefully on her feet, guns drawn. "Y/n, this ends now," Natasha said, her voice a mix of resolve and urgency. You smirked, stepping back to assess the new threat. "You always know how to make an entrance, Romanoff."

The two of you circled each other, the tension thick in the air. You made the first move, lunging forward with a series of rapid strikes. Natasha countered, your fists and feet a blur of motion. Each move was calculated, each strike intended to find a weakness.

The fight spilled into the hall, your movements fluid and fierce. You were relentless, your skills honed by years of training and combat. But Natasha was no less formidable, her experience and agility a match for your raw power.

In a desperate bid to escape, you knocked over a set of shelves, creating a momentary barrier. You dashed down the corridor, but your path was blocked by Steve. "Going somewhere?" Steve asked, raising his shield.

You didn’t hesitate. You launched yourself at him, your attacks relentless. Steve defended himself with his shield, but your sheer ferocity pushed him back. You knew you had to move fast. Every second counted.

A blast of energy struck the ground near you, and you turned to see Tony Stark hovering in his Iron Man suit. "You’re surrounded. Give it up."

With a quick glance, you calculated your options. You grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, using it to create a cloud of smoke. In the confusion, you darted through a side door, your escape route planned to the last detail.

In the aftermath, the Avengers regrouped, frustration evident in their expressions. "She’s good," Clint said, rubbing his bruised arm. "We almost had her."

"Almost isn’t good enough," Tony replied, scanning the area for any sign of you. "She’s always one step ahead." Natasha looked at the ground, her mind replaying the fight. She admired your tenacity and skill, but she also knew that each encounter brought them closer to a dangerous tipping point.

"We need to change our approach," Natasha said. "She’s playing a game of survival. We need to make her see that we’re not the enemy." Steve nodded. "Agreed. We need to understand her motivations. If we can reach her, maybe we can end this without more bloodshed."

Weeks turned into months, and the chase between you and Natasha became legendary among the Avengers. Your reputation as a formidable adversary was solidified, but so was Natasha's determination to bring you in. Every encounter became a game of wits and skill, a deadly dance with an undercurrent of something more.

One night, Natasha found herself on a stakeout at a high-end nightclub. Her sources had tipped her off about a major criminal deal going down. She knew you would be there, drawn to the opportunity like a moth to a flame. Natasha blended into the crowd, her eyes scanning for any sign of her elusive target.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. "Looking for someone?" your familiar, flirty voice whispered in her ear. Natasha spun around to find you, dressed to kill and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Yes, you." Natasha said, her voice steady despite the surprise. "You're getting bold." You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you're getting predictable, Romanoff. I knew you'd be here."

Natasha moved closer, lowering her voice. "This ends tonight. You're coming with me." You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, or is this another one of your attempts to arrest me?"

Natasha couldn't help but smirk. "Depends on how you look at it." Before Natasha could react, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's ear as you whispered, "Catch me if you can." Then, with a swift movement, you disappeared into the crowd.

Natasha's heart raced as she pursued you through the crowded club. The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and she couldn't deny the electric connection between you. You were always one step ahead, leaving clues and taunts that kept Natasha on her toes.

The chase led them to the club's rooftop, the city lights sprawling beneath them. You stood at the edge, the wind whipping through your hair. Natasha approached slowly, her eyes locked on you.

"You can't keep running forever.“ Natasha said, her voice a mix of determination and something softer. You turned to face her, your expression unreadable. "I'm not running, Natasha. I'm fighting. Just like you."

Natasha took a step closer, her heart pounding. "We don't have to be enemies, Y/n.. Let us help you." Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Natasha saw the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior. "You don't understand. I've crossed too many lines. There's no going back for me."

Natasha reached out, her hand brushing your arm. "It's never too late to make a different choice. You can Trust me.“ You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for something. Then, with a sigh, you pulled away. "Maybe in another life, Romanoff."

Before Natasha could react, you leaped off the rooftop, landing gracefully on a fire escape below. Natasha rushed to the edge, but you were already disappearing into the night.

—

One fateful evening, you found yourself cornered by a gang of criminals. You fought valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming. By the time the dust settled, you were grievously wounded. Blood soaked your clothes, and every step sent waves of agony through your body.

Desperation set in as you stumbled through the dark alleys. You knew going to a hospital was out of the question. The police would arrest you on sight, and SHIELD agents were everywhere. You tried to treat your wounds in an abandoned building, using whatever you could find. With shaking hands, you attempted to stitch a deep gash on your side, but the pain was too intense and your vision blurred.

Realizing the severity of your injuries and your inability to treat them alone, you remembered, „You can Trust me.“ You had placed a small tracking device on Natasha’s shoe during one of your fights, anticipating you might need to find her someday.

The rain pelted the city in relentless sheets, washing away the grime of the day. You stood in front of Natasha's apartment door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You leaned heavily against the frame, your vision swimming. Despite the pain, you forced a playful smile onto your lips. You had to get inside. You had to see Natasha.

With a trembling hand, you knocked on the door. It felt like an eternity before it finally swung open. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"How did you find me?" Natasha asked, her voice cold. You tried to straighten up, wincing as you did. "Miss me already, Romanoff?" you said, your voice weak but carrying a hint of flirtation. "Couldn't stay away.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here. Why are you here?" Ignoring the question, you leaned against the doorframe, your legs barely holding you up. "Thought I'd drop by... see your lovely face," you managed, your vision beginning to darken around the edges.

Natasha's patience snapped. She grabbed her phone, her fingers quickly dialing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s number. "Enough with the games. I'm done with this."

Your heart sank, your body swaying. You tried to take a step forward but stumbled, your strength failing. You collapsed into Natasha, who caught you out of reflex. As your full weight pressed against her, Natasha's eyes widened in horror. Blood soaked through your clothes, warm and sticky, covering Natasha's hands.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her phone slipping from her fingers as she cradled your limp body. "Y/n, what happened??" Your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to stay open. "Guess I... pushed it too far this time..“ you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Natasha quickly assessed the situation, her mind racing. "We need to get you inside.“ she said, her tone urgent. She half-carried, half-dragged you into the apartment, laying you on the couch. Blood pooled on the floor, and Natasha's hands shook as she grabbed her first aid kit.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Natasha urged, tearing open your shirt to reveal a deep, gaping wound along your side. The sight of old scars crisscrossing your chest made Natasha's heart clench. "God, what did you do?!“

She worked quickly, her training kicking in. She poured antiseptic over the wound, her hands moving with practiced precision. Your body trembled with pain, your fingers digging into the couch. "God, that burns," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "F-Fuck, Natasha, it h-hurts..“

"I know it does," Natasha said, her voice softening. "But I need you to stay with me. I don't have any narcotics, so this is going to be rough."

Your eyes were glazed with pain, your breathing shallow. "Just do it…" you managed to say. Natasha threaded a needle, her fingers slick with blood. She began to stitch the largest wound, her focus intense. Your body shook with each stitch, your teeth clenched to hold back screams. The raw pain was almost unbearable, and low moans of agony escaped your lips despite your best efforts.

"You're doing great," Natasha said, her own voice trembling. "Just a few more." Your fingers clawed at the couch, your knuckles white. "Natasha... please, hurry," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Natasha's heart ached at the sight of your suffering. "I'm almost done," she said, her tone soothing. "Just hold on a little longer."

Your eyes fluttered, your strength fading fast. "Sorry... for your couch...and for everything," you whispered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. "I never wanted it to be like this.."

Natasha's eyes were full with understanding. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I need you to hold on." She finished the stitches, then bandaged the wounds as best she could. Your body relaxed slightly, your breathing still labored but more steady.

"It's done," Natasha said, sitting back and wiping her forehead. "You're going to be okay." Your eyes closed, exhaustion overtaking you. Natasha grabbed a blanket and covered you, then sat beside you, holding your hand gently. "I'm here," Natasha whispered. "You're safe now. Rest and we’re sorting everything tomorrow out, okay?"

You whimpered softly, your body shaking from the pain and the cold. Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, her expression tender. "I never thought I'd see you like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on Natasha with difficulty. "Guess... I can't always be the strong one.“ you murmured, a weak smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's heart tightened. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she said softly. "It's okay to let someone help you." You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting closed again. "Thank you, Natasha.“ you whispered.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, "You're going to be alright," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As she sat there, watching over you, Natasha knew that this was a turning point. You had come to her for help, and that meant there was still hope. She would find a way to bring you back from the edge, no matter what it took.

Part 2

[lyn31]

Good Morning?

Summary:

What else is better to start your day than a morning blowjobs? Well in this case, giving one instead.

Pairing: Zayne x MC CW: Blowjobs, Somnophilia, Established Relationship (dating)

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see is the gray ceiling of your bedroom, When did I get here? You think to yourself.

Yesterday, you had your day off—well, as much of a day off as a Hunter can get, of course—but there was no emergency. The same can't be said for your boyfriend, though.

For the past few weeks, it has been very hard to see each other, even under the same roof. Yesterday was the same—Zayne stayed at the hospital all day, and the only communication between you two was a brief message. He came home late at night, and you ended up waiting for him in the living room.  

Looking to your right, you see his sleeping figure, peacefully lying facing you. His hazel eyes are hidden behind his closed eyelids, his usually neat hair is slightly tousled, and his thin lips are just barely open, releasing soft breaths.  

You think to yourself, How can someone be this gorgeous? You’re fairly sure your current state is nowhere near as neat as Zayne’s. Reaching for his face, you gently touch his cheek—your favorite morning routine. And just like always, Zayne leans into your touch. You never know if he does it in his sleep or if he's awake and just doesn’t say anything.  

Sitting up slowly, you glance at the holographic clock on the bedside table. 4 a.m. No wonder he's still asleep.

Just as you're about to go back to sleep, Zayne stirs, nudging the blanket and making it slip halfway off his body.

You hold back a snort and are just about to fix the blanket when you notice something between his legs—his bulge, visible and definitely ready to burst. You freeze, staring at it, then back at his face. After a few seconds, you bite your lip. Closing your eyes, you think, I mean… wouldn’t that be a good morning? But is it technically non-consensual? Would this be okay?  

Before you can change your mind, you slowly crawl down between Zayne’s legs. Your mouth suddenly feels dry as you carefully reach for his pants, your eyes flickering to his face. So far, so good.  

Moving as slowly as possible, you begin to tug the fabric of his pants down, revealing more of his skin little by little. When they’re finally low enough, you pause, your fingers grazing the waistband of his boxers. Another glance at his face—still asleep.  

You do the same with his boxers, carefully sliding them down until his smooth skin is fully exposed. As you free his shaft, it springs up, standing firm against his lower abdomen. Your fingers unintentionally brush against it, making you swallow hard.  

Still watching his sleeping face, you gently wrap your fingers around the base, trailing them up along his length toward the tip. His breathing shifts—just slightly faster now—and that only excites you more.  

Your fingers tighten around him, moving slowly at first, barely applying pressure. But perhaps that lack of pressure is what sends a shiver through his body, goosebumps rising along his skin. With a subtle motion, you increase the grip, your strokes growing more deliberate. His breathing turns ragged, his chest rising and falling unevenly as your pace quickens, adjusting just the way you know he likes it.  

Slowing down again, you watch his brows furrow, a faint wrinkle forming on his forehead, damp with a light sheen of sweat. You pause for a few seconds, waiting to see if he’ll wake, but his eyes remain closed, even as his hips occasionally stir beneath your touch.  

Glancing down, you notice a glistening bead of his essence pooling at the tip, slowly trailing downward. Without a second thought, you lean in and run your tongue over it, licking it clean.  

Oops. 

Your eyes dart back to his face at the sound of his groan. Frozen mid-lick, you wait, heart pounding, to see if he’s finally waking up.  

But he doesn’t.  

You don’t know why you’re so nervous—if he did wake up, you doubt he’d be mad. Still, the thrill of touching him without his conscious permission sends a little zap of nerves through you, mixed with something even more exhilarating.  

Emboldened by the thought, you drag your tongue along the length of his shaft, from base to tip, deliberately avoiding the most sensitive spot. You always enjoy teasing him like this, loving the way he usually reacts with a heated gaze and that deep voice murmuring, Is this how you’re going to play it? But this time, there’s no teasing remark—only low groans slipping past his parted lips.

His hips shift again, almost as if urging you to take him fully. But you keep your slow, torturous pace, your tongue flicking over his heated skin, hands gripping his thighs to hold him steady. Then, finally, you take him into your mouth.  

“Ugh…”  

His groan is louder now, his body tensing at the sudden warmth.  

You feel him throb, growing even harder inside you, his breath hitching each time you quicken your movements. His body is so responsive—even in sleep. And then, just as you sense the familiar pulse, he spills inside your mouth.  

Swallowing everything, you gradually slow down, still keeping him between your lips for a moment longer. Even as you pull away, you savor the lingering taste of him.  

Glancing up at his face, you see his expression still slack with sleep—lips parted, brows furrowed slightly. But then, something shifts.  

His body tenses again.  

And when you look at his eyes, you meet a heated, hazel gaze staring right back at you.

Sweat glistens on his forehead, his breath still unsteady as a slight curve tugs at his lips.  

“Having fun, darling?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: My Masterlist ✨

[mystery-twin-mystery-bags]

STRETCH GOAL UPDATE #1

As always, Stan is getting himself in trouble again with the Mystery Bag and now Ford has gotta clean up the mess!Thank you all for the immense amount of support for the project; we have unlocked our first Stretch Goal! These holograph stickers designed by Kvdratas3, @cherryviolets, and Andyiguess505 will be entering the mystery pool for your own mystery bags! Keep an eye out for what future stretches will be unlocked.

Shop | Kofi All proceeds go to aid for Gaza. Preorders close January 15th!

How Do Stretch Goals work in a “Mystery” Bag? Stretch goals add items to the Mystery Bag item pool!

In the case of stretch goal pins, charms, or stickers, reaching this goal means the ones in your bag might be upgraded to a specialty charm/pin or a holo sticker!

In the case of other stretch goals, like notebooks and fake tattoos, these will be added to all boxes above a designated tier!

The only bag tier where you are guaranteed to get all items, including stretch goal items, is Tier 5!

Stan & Ford Chibi Art by @starryemeralds

Image Description: an animated video with various graphics while the Gravity Falls Theme song plays.

Image 1: The background is a painted background of the forest in Gravity Falls. In light yellow words is, "OH NO!" that bounces.

Image 2: Same background, the message now reading: "Stan spilled the Mystery Bag and is running off!"

Image 3: Same background, the message continuing: "Help Ford pick up what's been dropped and get the bag!

The image slides to the next.

Image 4: In front of the same background now has a trail, labeled "STRETCH GOAL CHASE!" On on end is a chili angry Ford; at the other end is Stan running with the Mystery Bag -- a navy blue pouch with Dipper and Mabel's zodiac symbols in the Palestinian flag colors. Spread out across the trail are various silhouetted items with a yellow question mark over them. Ford runs to the first one, which then enlarges to the center of the screen.

The image slides to the next.

Image 5: A graphic designed to look like a page from Journal 3 with coffee stains, ink splatters, and symbols. On a taped slip of paper in the top right corner reads: "100 ORDERS HOLO STICKERS 3 INCHES!" Below are 5 sticker designs. The first is of Dipper in front of a disco ball and holding a microphone that he sings into. The words, "Disco Girl" below him. The second is of Baby Bill with stars surrounding him. The third is of the infinity-sided deice. The fourth is of the unicorn, Celestabellebethabelle, and her hair blowing in the wind. The is fifth is of the crack between dimensions showing the nightmare realm, silhouettes of Bill's friends are on the other side.

Image 6: Same Journal 3 graphic. The title in the corner is, "Next Stretch Goal" Below is a fake tattoo with a star having two arms held out, the words, "Hey now I'm an All Star!" surround it. Below the image reads, "Fake tattoos. Unlocked at 125 orders"

The image slides to the next.

Image 7: The forest background returns, now with the "How Do Stretch Goals Work in a “Mystery” Bag?" message from above.

[ultravioletrayz]

hii, i hope your day/night has been well !!

i was wondering if i could request husband miguel who’s at the society with chubby/curvy wife where reader is just literally stuck to him like glue because she’s on her period and like also period horny and she desperately wants a lolipop qnd miguel is like totally taking advantage of it by straight up making reader give him a bj for her to satisfy her oral fixation

Holy shit that’s so hot.

Pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, oral (m. receiving), size kink (kinda), miguel and reader both being equally needy, public sex? (they do it in miguel’s office), miguel gets kind of rough so throat fucking ig, cum eating, awfully translated Spanish

Summary: following your husband around his workplace all day means miguel gets to take full advantage of your current… situation 🩸

A/N: someone give reader her lollipop :(

Word Count: 1.6K (unedited)

At this point, you couldn’t tell whether Miguel was genuinely clueless, or just being a dick. You’ve been following him around HQ all day, not wanting to get lost in the hustle and bustle of the Spider Society, all the while trying not to cry out in pain and discomfort from how bad your cramps are getting.

It’s like your body wants you to suffer. The dizzying combination of pain, exhaustion, arousal, and the desperate need to distract yourself with something, anything, is enough to make you scurry away from your husband in desperate search of any kind of relief.

You try to follow the signs and the memory of Miguel showing you around his workplace the first time he had let you visit, making your way into the cafeteria. A few Spider-People look your way, confused as to why Miguel wasn’t by your side.

Shyly, you make your way to a few food stands and counters set up throughout the room, asking around if anybody sells a lollipop or anything else that would satisfy your need for distraction. Unfortunately for you, nobody has anything to offer, causing you to smile politely and leave the room, despite how frustrating this whole situation is.

You’ve excused yourself to the bathroom an obscene amount of times, been caught clutching your midsection as a result of your more painful cramps (day 2 fucking sucks), and you’ve been biting and chewing at the collar of the cute little blouse you’re wearing, which was your first attempt to communicate to Miguel this morning that you are painfully horny. And yet, the man you married for his caring and observant nature was none the wiser.

“¿Adónde fuiste?” Miguel’s voice booms behind you, causing a startled yelp to leave your lips as you turn on your heels and look up at him. His expression isn’t one of anger, like you had expected, it’s more amused than anything. (Where did you go?)

“I wanted a lollipop,” You say softly, fiddling with the hem of your blouse as the mere sight of your tall, tan, muscular husband in that skin-tight, holographic suit makes your thighs instinctively clench together. “But nobody sells them. You should get onto that, Migs.” You joke, trying to focus on anything but the aching in your lower tummy and the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Why do you want a lollipop? If you’re hungry, get something real to eat, cariño, a lollipop’s not gonna fill you up.” Miguel raises an eyebrow at you, his sharp red eyes full of confusion as he tries to pin your unusual behaviour.

“Miguel, I'm on my period, you idiot.” You giggle, your suspicions regarding Miguel’s cluelessness towards your situation being confirmed. It was a bit annoying that despite how long you two have been together, he can still get so caught up in work that he doesn’t remember the important things, like when your period’s due and that your oral fixation worsens during that time of the month. But he’s too hot to hold a grudge.

Miguel’s amused expression drops and he lets out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his temples as he mumbles apologies for his negligence towards your feelings the whole day. “Lo siento, querida, I had no idea. Can I do anything to help you?”

You smile softly at Miguel’s apology, licking your lips and fighting the urge to suck on the fabric of your blouse as you look up at your husband. “I need something to distract me from my cramps. Is there anywhere here that sells lollipops? Maybe one of the kids has candy or something stashed in their lockers?”

Miguel tries to hide the devilish smirk that creeps onto his lips as he steps close to you. He rests one of his massive, calloused hands on the back of your head, leaning in to whisper against your ear. “¿Necesitas chupar algo, nena?” (Need something to suck on, baby?)

You blush, Miguel’s teasing comment making you weak in the knees and going straight to your dripping cunt. Your eyes dart around the area the two of you are standing in, terrified one of Miguel’s subordinates may have heard him. Once you’re sure the two of you are alone, you nod, the needy look on your pretty face causing Miguel’s dick to throb in his suit.

With haste, Miguel drags you into his office, your lips crashing against one another as he slams your much smaller frame against the wall, his tongue forcing its way into the warmth of your mouth. One of his hands is buried in the softness of your silky locks, the other cupping your dripping pussy over your jeans, the heel of his palm grinding against your pulsing clit and causing you to whimper against his plump lips.

“Fucking lollipop,” Miguel hisses against your lips, his tone dripping with teasing and dominance as he sits down in the nearest desk chair and gestures for you to follow. “If you wanted to suck my dick that bad, should’ve just said something, princesa.”

Miguel spreads his muscular thighs, and you take it as an invitation to kneel between them. Your head rests on his leg, causing his holographic suit to flicker at the contact. He can’t help but chuckle at the adorable sight before him. His pretty little wifey, desperate to feel his heavy dick in her mouth. With a grin on your face, you reach up to tap the glowing screen of Miguel’s dimensional travel watch, the bottom half of his Spider-Suit dissolving. His hardened cock springs up, pre already dribbling from his reddened tip just because of how needy you are on your period. It drives him fucking insane.

You wrap your hands around Miguel’s shaft, your digits barely enveloping his girthy member, causing him to let out a quiet moan. Your eyes remain glued to his sharp, red ones as your tongue darts out to lick a fat stripe from his swollen balls, along the veins on the underside of his dick, all the way up to his leaky tip. He groans as you plant little kisses against his moist slit, claws protruding from his fingertips and digging into the arms of his chair.

“Stop teasing, cariño,” Miguel whimpers, hips bucking against your mouth to try and force his cock inside. “I thought you needed this-” Miguel’s words are cut off by a loud moan as you unexpectantly give his tip a harsh suck, swirling your tongue around it as you savour the taste of his precum.

He knows that you’re overly sensitive and fragile when you’re on your period, but the second your moist, plush lips surround his cock, he loses all self-control. You wanted something to suck, something to distract you from your cramps? Miguel was going to give you just that. He grabs you by your hair and bucks his hips upwards, his cock slamming into the back of your throat and causing you to choke and cry. He fucks his dick into the depths of your mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he pants and moans above you. You hollow your cheeks and rest your hands on the thick flesh of his legs, trying to ground yourself and adjust to the way Miguel smears his precum all over the walls of your mouth.

“Lo siento– ¡mierda! Lo siento, cariño.” Miguel whines, his hold on your hair loosening as you start to bob your head up and down on his length, sucking him off properly now. He reaches out to wipe away your tears, whispering sweet praises to you to make up for his harsh thrusts before. “Doing so good, baby. Keep going.”

Saliva drips down your chin as you take as much of Miguel in your mouth as possible, your hands firmly stroking the bottom half of his shaft that isn’t inside the gushy warmth of your pretty lips. The weight of Miguel’s cock against your tongue, the way his veins pulsate and brush against your lips each time your head rises, and the sight of his head thrown back and his thighs twitching as he gets closer and closer to cumming makes your aching pussy drool, your panties surely ruined by how turned on you are.

“I’m- fuck! I’m gonna cum, bebé.” Miguel whines, the muscles in his thick biceps bulging as he grips his chair and lazily fucks into your mouth to reach his release. Feeling his twitching cock filling your mouth makes you moan, the vibrations of your pretty sounds sending Miguel over the edge. His cum coats the inside of your mouth, spurting against the back of your throat as he pants and curses to himself.

You release his softening member with a pop!, licking up the stray ropes of his release that coat his shaft and lap, swallowing his load and making sure to clean him up thoroughly. He chuckles breathlessly at the sight of you being so obedient and he lifts your chin in one hand to stroke his thumb against your cheek.

“Gracias, mi reina,” He whispers, enabling his suit once again, his heavy, moist cock disappearing underneath the digital strands of blue and red. “I’ll return the favour at home, okay?”

You giggle and nod your head in agreement, staring up at your fucked-out husband gratefully.

“Can you still help me find a lollipop to buy?”

Teehee :)

[aventurineswife]

“I'd do whatever I could do”

Summary: Aventurine undergoes a bizarre transformation, reverting to his child form due to an inexplicable force. In this new, vulnerable state, he is found by Boothill, and you, who instinctively offers comfort and protection. Together, you three form an unlikely family, as Kakavasha, now a child, grapples with his new reality, experiencing innocence and care for the first time. Amid the chaos of the universe, they find brief solace in their newfound bond.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader x Boothill, Platonic, Transformation, Family, Unexpected Bonds, Comfort, Childlike Innocence, Humor, Surreal, Reader is called Mother but not implied female. @lavenderlovekakavasha

Warnings: Transformation (age regression), confusion, mild existential themes, emotional tension.

A/N: I'm half asleep while writing this so plz ignore any mistakes 😪

The warm glow of the sunset outside the IPC headquarters bathed the sterile interior in a soft, amber light. Aventurine leaned back in his chair, his fingers tracing the edges of the holographic charts laid out before him. The evening had been unusually quiet—until the unexpected wave of dizziness hit him.

"Not again..." Aventurine muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as his vision blurred momentarily. He had always been one to trust his luck, but this felt… different. A strange sensation, something he couldn’t place, rolled through him like a tide. His body stiffened, a soft jolt running through his spine.

Before he could even register what was happening, the world around him began to warp. The walls seemed to shift, colors blending, and the floor seemed to fall away from beneath him. He gasped, feeling an overwhelming pull, and in a split second, his adult form began to shrink, his limbs dwindling down to a child’s size. His once confident stance faltered, replaced by a wobbly, unsteady posture.

Aventurine, now no longer the calculated and sophisticated man he had been moments ago, stood frozen in the middle of the room. His attire—elegant, composed—hung awkwardly around his much smaller frame, the fine materials pooling like a blanket on the floor. His golden-rimmed glasses fell from his face, and his typically calm and collected features now bore the unguarded innocence of a child.

The air was thick with confusion. Aventurine’s eyes—now large and wide—darted around in panic. His small hands trembled as he reached up to touch his now-short(?) hair. “What…?” he squeaked in a voice that was much higher than he had ever remembered it being.

Before he could further process what had happened, the door to his office slammed open, and in strode Boothill. The cyborg cowboy, tall and imposing, paused at the threshold when he saw what was unfolding before him. His mechanical eye whirred, analyzing the situation, his black pupils narrowing in confusion.

"Well, ain’t this somethin’," Boothill muttered, taking a step forward. His usual bravado faltered just a little as he looked down at the small, confused child now standing where Aventurine had once been. "Ain't no way I’m seein’ things right now..."

Aventurine—no, Baby Kakavasha—looked up at the towering cowboy. The child’s eyes were wide with fear, but there was also a glimmer of recognition. His lips parted as he searched for words, but none came.

Boothill stared at him for a long moment, his gloved hands hovering near his holstered guns as if unsure what to do next. “What in the galaxy is goin’ on here, kid?”

The air felt thick with tension. Baby Kakavasha took a hesitant step forward, his small voice trembling. “I—I don’t know,” he stammered, struggling with the unfamiliarity of his child’s body. “I didn’t do this. It wasn’t me.”

Boothill scratched his head, his mechanical parts creaking as he did so. “Kid, I ain't got the faintest clue what’s happenin', but one thing’s clear—you ain't lookin' like yourself. You a shape-shifter, or is this some kinda joke?”

“Please,” Kakavasha’s voice was softer now, more fragile than the usual sharp tone he carried as Aventurine. “Can you help me?”

Boothill exhaled slowly, his harsh features softening just a fraction. He wasn’t the sentimental type, but seeing this child—this version of Kakavasha—made his heart tug with an unfamiliar feeling. He took a step forward, crouching down to meet the small child’s gaze. “Alright, kid,” he said with a sigh. “Guess I’m gonna have to step up. I ain't got no clue how this happened, but you're not alone in this.”

Just then, the door to the room slid open again, and you stepped in. Your instincts kicked in immediately, and your brow furrowed at the sight before you. Aventurine, or rather, Baby Kakavasha, looked up at you with wide, uncertain eyes, his small body trembling in confusion.

Without hesitation, you approached him, kneeling beside the child. There was no explanation for why, but an overwhelming urge to protect him, to care for him, surged through you.

“Don’t worry,” you said gently, extending your arms to comfort him. “You’re safe now. I’ll take care of you.”

Boothill, watching the scene unfold, couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness welling up in his chest. “Guess that makes me your dad then,” he remarked dryly, scratching his head. “Ain't no way this is normal, but looks like we’re a family now.”

Kakavasha blinked at Boothill, still overwhelmed by the bizarre circumstances. “Father?” he echoed, testing the word on his lips. His expression was a mix of confusion and surprise, but also... curiosity. “You’re... my dad?”

“Yeah, you heard me right. I’m your old man now,” Boothill said with a smirk, though there was a softness in his voice that he didn’t usually show. "Ain't that somethin’, kid?"

Kakavasha took a moment to absorb the idea, his little mind scrambling to make sense of the situation. His usual sharp wit was clouded by the childlike innocence that had taken over his demeanor. “So, uh... does this mean I can have cookies for breakfast now?” he asked, his small voice high-pitched but filled with a strange, hopeful tone.

Boothill blinked. "Well, uh... sure, kid. Why not?" He shook his head in bemusement. "You're supposed to be some kinda stone-cold strategist, and now you're askin' about cookies."

Kakavasha grinned widely, the simplicity of the question almost making the chaos around them feel a little more manageable. “Maybe... maybe we can even get ice cream after dinner!” he added, his face lighting up at the thought.

Boothill snorted, leaning back on his heels. “This whole thing’s a mess, kid, but sure. Ice cream it is.” He shot a glance at you. “You’re okay with that, right? I mean, we're a family now... I think?”

You chuckled softly at the absurdity of it all. "Sure, ice cream sounds good. After all, you’ve got to ease into being a kid again, right?"

Kakavasha looked up at both of you, his expression shifting from bewilderment to something softer, warmer. Despite the situation being entirely out of his control, there was a sense of comfort slowly building in him. Maybe, just maybe, this odd, unexpected family would be able to piece together a bit of stability, even if only for a moment.

“Thank you,” Kakavasha whispered, his voice now tinged with gratitude. “I... I don’t know what happened, but... I feel like I’m not alone anymore.”

Boothill’s face softened, just a little, as he placed a hand on Kakavasha’s small shoulder. “You’re not alone, kid. No matter what happens, we’ve got each other.”

The improbable new family stood there for a moment, in the midst of the swirling chaos, unsure of how or why this all came to be. But for now, Kakavasha was no longer a vengeful adult filled with hatred. He was simply a child, embraced by a new, unlikely mother and a cyborg cowboy who, in this strange turn of fate, had somehow become his father.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, the chaos of the universe outside seemed to fade away as they stood together, a family of three, with Kakavasha’s small hand resting gently in Boothill’s rough palm. The game of life had thrown them a curveball, but for now, they would face it as one.

The dawn would come for them eventually. But for now, they had each other. And cookies. And ice cream.

Very lazily written and not edited lol

Art by @Senlly_2507 on X

[purplepleasureswritings]

Starlight - Rafayel x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3K

Tags: Gender Neutral MC pronouns used but AFAB terms for genitalia , No Y/N used, Pegging, Strap-ons, Bottom Rafayel, Gentle FemDom Reader, Oral, Submissive Rafayel, Bratty Rafayel

Link to A03 for easier reading: here

Preview:

After his birthday, Rafayel holds you to your promise of trying new things.

“What was so urgent that I had to clear my schedule for the night and come over?” You asked, entering the artist’s home.

You were slightly irritated that you had to cancel plans to go to a new ramen shop that opened up near your apartment with Xavier, but you couldn’t deny you were curious.

Rafayel put down his paintbrush and hopped down from the ladder with a mischievous grin, trying to lean in for a kiss. You stopped him and he pouted.

“I am just holding you to the promise you made.” Rafayel sang and you grew even more suspicious.

“What promise?” You asked and his pout grew further.

“It’s only been a few days since my birthday and you already forgot?” He whined and you blinked with the realization of what he was getting at.

“Ah. That one. What new thing did you want to try so desperately that it couldn’t wait until our next date?” You teased and the tips of his ears began burning red.

“I’m not desperate! Just excited! The stuff I needed came in today and I didn’t want to wait to show you!” He protested and you giggled, giving him a little peck.

“Alright, alright. Show me what you got.” You said and he eagerly sauntered away, reaching in between the couch cushions to pull out a black box with a red ribbon tied around it.

“A late birthday present? It’s not lingerie, is it? I would have worn some on the trip if you wanted.” You said, suddenly embarrassed and unsure.

“No, no. The trip was perfect, really. I just… it’s better if you open the box.” Rafayel said, his face turning pink as he looked away from you and held out the box.

You took it, examining the box. You shook it, hearing something slightly heavy moving inside, the noise causing Rafayel to blush and bite his lip, still avoiding your gaze. For all of his bravado and eagerness earlier, the fact that he was growing shy and embarrassed had you growing too curious to not open the box.

You pulled off the ribbon and took off the lid eagerly, before blinking and tilting your head as you took in what lay inside. Inside sat a long and slender purple dildo, with a bulbous, curved end. Folded beneath the strapon, seemed to be a pretty, shimmering holographic harness that reflected the light from the dozen of candles strewn about.

“Oh.” You said breathily, fire pooling in your gut as you felt yourself clench and grow wet.

“I… nevermind. It was just a passing whim. I’ll just take it and throw it in the collection room.” Rafayel said, trying to grab the box.

You thanked your skills as a Hunter as you quickly jumped back and hugged the box to your chest, safely out of his reach.

“Come on, now you’re just being mean. It was just a silly prank. I needed to see your face for my newest painting.” Rafayel lied, the tips of his ears still red.

“Good boys don’t lie.” You murmured and he stiffened, sucking in a breath.

“I enjoy this gift. Thank you, Rafayel. I am happy to share this new experience with you.” You said and he eyed you warily, a hint of hope and vulnerability in his eyes.

He must have seen some reassurance from you that you were being sincere and he sighed, looking away as he fixed his hair, his face red.

“Not exactly new… nevermind.” He whispered lowly under his breath before jumping as you placed the box on the coffee table and came up behind him, wrapping your arms around him. You kissed the back of his very warm neck before blowing lightly on his ear.

“I see why you were so eager to show me. I don’t think I can wait much longer either.” You purred, enjoying how he shuddered in your hold and let out a low whimper.

You released him, grabbing one of his hands and grabbing the box with the other as you began to walk backwards and pull him into the bedroom with a coy grin. His face was still flushed, but he gave you a tiny, excited grin in return.

Soon your knees hit the back of his rounded bed and you sat, pulling him down next to you. You cupped his face and kissed him gently, pleased when he sighed and nuzzled into you slightly.

“Did you prep yourself at all?” You asked, nibbling at his neck as he moaned.

“N-no… I wanted you to…” He said quietly and you grinned against his bare collarbone before biting it.

“Good. I want to spoil you more. As long as you keep being good for me.” You crooned, lifting your head to take in his face as he let out a loud whimper.

“Can you do that for me? Or should I be mean? You have given me quite the headache as your bodyguard. Maybe I should take it out on your ass.” You said as you slid a hand in the back of his pants to palm at his ass causing him to give an undignified squeak.

“Hah… do your worst. I am a joy to be around and the best employer.” Rafayel said with a false bravado that had you snorting.

“Mmmm… is that so? Then…” You said, standing and pulling down your pants and going to settle against the mound of pillows at the head of the bed.

“Why don’t you get me ready?” You said, spreading your legs and moving your damp panties to the side to show your glistening cunt.

Rafayel smirked as he turned and crawled up the bed to settle between your legs, gripping your thighs. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip and you watched with half lidded eyes, growing even wetter.

“You’re so wet already. That eager to fuck me? Not even the seas of Lemuria were this wet.” He teased and you raised an eyebrow, fisting his hair and dragging him closer to your cunt. His eyes rolled back and he gave a low groan, thrusting against the bed slightly.

“How can I not be when you make such cute little noises? Now be good or else I’ll leave you and go home to play with my own toys.” You teased and he let out a high pitched whine and pouted.

You huffed fondly, stroking his hair and he sighed, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Don’t go. I’ll be good.” Rafayel whispered with sparkling eyes as he tried to entice you into staying.

Not that you were actually ever going to leave, but it was always so much more delightful to make him pout and plead.

You spread your dripping folds, nodding down to your swollen clit. Without wasting any time, he kissed the vee of your fingers as he pressed his lips to your engorged clit, applying the slightest hint of pressure. You gave a tiny, frustrated exhale and he chuckled, sucking your clit into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it before flicking lightly. He pulled off with a wet noise and you keened as he dragged his tongue through your folds, flicking at your clit again.

You lightly gripped his hair as he licked and sucked at your cunt, applying a delicious pressure with his clever tongue. You began riding his face, moving your hand from your cunt to also fist at the bedsheets at his insistence and to give him more room. You let out a loud moan as his tongue darted into your hole, stretching it slightly before replacing it with two of his fingers.

Rafayel began pumping them in and out of you as he pressed his tongue against your clit, letting out pleased little noises as he devoured you.

“S-so good. Hnng.. You’re so good, Rafayel.” You moaned with praise and he whined, squirming at the praise and redoubling his efforts.

Soon you could feel your orgasm growing and you rode his tongue faster, clenching around his wet fingers as they pumped into you. With a crook of his fingers and a harsh suck, you were coming with a scream.

Rafayel held you as shook and arched your back, riding out the waves of pleasure. You panted, releasing his hair and collapsing against the bed, trying to catch your breath. Rafayel pressed tiny kisses to your puffy pussy before you hauled him up to kiss him, wiping at his wet face.

The two of you kissed for a few minutes as he ground his cock between your legs, his black pants becoming ruined. You drew back for air and gave him a delighted smile that had him blinking with a slight blush.

“What’s that look for?” He asked and your smile grew as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You’re amazing. But now…. It’s my turn.” You said, wrapping your legs around his waist and flipping him over and under you.

You grinned at his disgruntled but eager expression, rubbing your slick folds around his cock as you undid the top of your Unicorns uniform, tossing it to the floor behind you.

“You’re killing me. Haven’t I been good? Why are you torturing and teasing me?” Rafayel whined, kneading your hips.

“Shush, I’m not. Quite the opposite in fact. I intend on rewarding and spoiling you.” You reassured before lifting off of his damp pants.

“Undress yourself while I go find some lube.” You ordered and he gave a cheeky salute as he began pulling off his pants while you went over to the side table.

You pulled open the drawer, pleased to see the lube bottle was still decently full, even after last time. You tossed it in the air and turned around to see Rafayel completely bare and lightly stroking his cock.

You tossed the bottle on the bed next to him and grabbed the strapon out of the box as you came around the bed, tossing it as well as you crawled on.

“Have you touched yourself down here before, Rafayel?” You murmured as you pressed the pad of your index finger to his puckered hole.

His breath hitched and he grew scarlet.

“Yes… a few times.” Rafayel admitted and you cooed, spilling lube over your fingers and rubbing to warm it.

“Curious boy. Now lay back and let me take care of you.” You ordered, putting a pillow under his lower back with your clean hand.

Rafayel let out a breathy noise of excitement before whimpering as you bent and sucked his cock head into your mouth. You gently pressed your slick finger into his tight hole as he cried out.

You pulled off his cock with a wet, lewd pop, stroking his stomach.

“Shhh… just relax, Rafayel. I’ve got you.” You whispered and he blushed more, arm on his head but refusing to cover his eyes.

You pressed a kiss to his cock as you pulled your finger slightly out before pressing it back in. Rafayel whimpered and moaned and you swallowed his cock once more, slowly pumping your finger in and out of him as he became used to it. Distracting him by bobbing your head up and down his cock, you pressed another finger in, pumping both in.

Rafayel gave a shout, arching in pleasure as your two fingers pressed against a spongy spot deep inside of him and you worked your throat around his cock.

“Fuck… Please… I’m going to cum if you….” Rafayel thrashed and whined before you pinned him down with your arm.

You relented, pulling off his cock and easing up on his prostate.

You wanted him to come on your cock, afterall.

Rafayel gave you a teary look and you pressed a kiss to his inner thigh, scissoring him open. He gave soft little moans of pleasure as he wiggled slightly and you decided it was time to add a third, thrusting all three of them in and out.

“Come on already! I’m so ready for you.” Rafayel whined and you hummed, stretching your fingers out within him and causing him to gasp.

“So eager and desperate for me.” You teased, looking at his teary, flushed face as he pouted.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you. But come on. I’m dying for this.” Rafayel muttered and you chuckled, withdrawing your fingers and leaning over him to kiss him.

“Well, can’t have that, can we?” You murmured as you fumbled for the strapon and the harness. You finally managed to grab the harness when Rafayel twirled his tongue around yours, causing you to moan.

You drew back and began to buckle the holographic harness. You admired how it seemed to fit your hips and thighs perfectly, accentuating them nicely.

“Where’s my camera? You look divine under the starlight like this.” Rafayel whispered and you grew hotter and wetter with the praise.

“Flatterer.” You lightly said as you lubed up both ends of the strapon, Rafayel watching you hungrily.

You slid one end into yourself, moaning at being filled finally as you clenched around the soft, supple silicone. You nestled it snugly against your mound, securing it with a strap that ran between your folds and the cleft of your ass from the harness to help better hold it in place before feeding the other end through the metal ring. You didn’t really think you needed the harness with the strapless strap, but better safe than sorry, especially when you knew Rafayel would beg to be pounded hard and fast.

“Are you ready?” You asked, adding more lube to the strap, stroking it.

You didn’t want to hurt Rafayel, no matter how much he probably wouldn’t mind.

“Yes. Please.” Rafayel begged with needy eyes.

You shuffled forward, lining up the fake cock with his hole and gently pressing in. Rafayel whimpered as the blunt silicone breached his rim, his cock dribbling against his stomach.

“I rather like you begging.” You teased to distract him, gently stroking his cock as you sank deeper and deeper into him.

“Of course you do. Well, I’ll be sure -hah!” Rafayel cried out as you bottomed out, your hips pressing into his plump little ass.

He shook and you wrapped his legs around your waist, leaning over as far as you could to kiss him and press your forehead to his. The position caused him to whimper as the strapon sunk deeper into him.

“Good?” You whispered and he nodded against you, shivering slightly.

“Y-yeah. So good. Fuck. So deep. You’re all I can, hnng, ah, think about.” Rafayel said with a breathy grunt.

“Good, that’s all I want to hear, aside from my name on your lips and your cries of pleasure.” You whispered, kissing him as he gave a muffled keen.

You sat back slightly to admire your masterpiece, holding his upper thighs as you looked at his blotchy, trembling form, tiny patches of scales beginning to emerge.

Perhaps he was right about getting a camera for this moment, but for now, you would have to sear it into your memory.

You pulled out a tiny bit, watching Rafayel’s face for any signs of discomfort. He huffed and you shook your head, pulling out more before thrusting back in. He threw his head back as he let out a throaty wail and you repeated the motion.

Growing high with the sounds of his little mewls and whimpers of pleasure, you began thrusting in harder, deeper, and faster, using your grip on his thighs to help. You thanked your stamina from being a Hunter as Rafayel cried out for more, clinging to you and kissing at your neck as you bent over him to get a better angle.

“Fuck, right there! Please!” Rafayel cried out and you moaned, the force of your movements causing the strapon to slap against your clit.

You pounded into him, your hips starting to ache with the force of your thrusts.

“So good for me. So sweet and perfect. I’m so glad I found you.” You murmured in his ear, watching as a tear escaped the corner of his eye as he sobbed and tried to kiss you.

You kissed the tear away and nuzzled his face before kissing him properly, instead of the sloppy, desperate mess he was attempting.

“Are you going to cum for me, Pretty Boy?” You cooed and he whined.

“N-no, not without you.” He panted and you couldn’t help but kiss him again.

“There’s a, hah! Shit… fuck… fuck… fuck! There’s a button on the bottom that will make it vibrate!” Rafayel babbled and you slowed your movements, dropping one of his thighs to reach down in between you and feel for the button at the base of the silicone shaft.

You let out a squeal as it began vibrating deep inside of you, pressing against your walls and spot that had you seeing stars and thrusting erratically, the part going into Rafayel vibrating as well against your clit. Soon the two of you were a writhing, panting mess, giving each other sloppy kisses and trying to get the other to cum first.

Of course, it wasn’t like you weren't going to use some filthy, underhanded tactics in your little competition.

You snuck your free hand down between the two of you to begin stroking him in time with your thrusts.

“Hnnng. Not fair.” He mewled, clinging to you harder. You grinned and pressed a kiss to his temple before giving a hard thrust and flick of your wrist around his cock.

He seized up around you and came with a long wail that nearly sounded like whale song, his cock spilling over your wrist and against his stomach. You sobbed as you gave a few more desperate thrusts before stopping as you came, clenching around the vibrating silicone and shuddering.

As soon as you were able to move, you hastily turned off the strapon and pulled out of Rafayel who jumped and whined, his cock giving a weak spurt. You practically ripped off the harness and pulled the strapon out of you, almost at the point of overstimulation.

You crawled up and collapsed next to Rafayel, pulling him to you as you both looked up at the stars through the glass dome of his bedroom ceiling.

“So… new things?” Rafayel asked with a soft smile and you chuckled, kissing him.

“New things.” You agreed, your mind already brimming with all the new things you wanted to try with him.

A/N: I love interacting with readers in the comments and I promise I don’t bite so please let me know your reactions and/or what you liked in the comments/tags!!! Reblogs and likes greatly appreciated More pegging favorite characters to come hehe!

[seat-safety-switch]

"Hold on there, pardner. This here's a cognition hazard." said the holographic cowboy in the corner of my vision. He then took a series of poses that the designer must have thought looked heroic and protective, before flickering back to his original position and repeating the process. My artificial ranch-hand was not incorrect: the thing I was attempting to do would cause me unpredictable amounts of psychic damage, likely impacting my relationships with those around me and even my mental state at rest. Even so, I pushed the button and waited.

Software development used to be a sort of reckless task, undergone without care. Decades ago, hundreds of folks would cram themselves into a single building and then work hard on their computers to develop computer programs. Originally, these programs performed useful but difficult tasks, speeding them up dramatically for the varied needs of government and industry. At first, life improved. And then, as with every prior machine in human history, we looked for harder jobs for it to do.

A funny thing happens when a computer program gets longer than about a page of typewritten code. You have to hold a lot of it in your head. The best programmers could commit an entire system to memory, gliding through it like barracuda through a disreputable motel's swimming pool. We didn't know then how much trauma it caused. The doctors had no idea what was happening with all those isolated burnouts freaking out, moving into the woods, and hunting men for sport.

Watching the old newsreels now, seeing the 20th-century equivalent of coal miners delving willingly into fold-out charts of MFC inheritance diagrams, it's a little hard to stomach. It only took about twenty years of continued exposure to this kind of thing before the human mind rebelled, the manmade logical constructs providing a kind of sharp edge that ripped through sanity like a hot wire. Thing is, it still had to be done, and the folks who did it seemed to enjoy it up until The Void caught up to them too. So the government did what the government does best, and compromise. We'd all have warnings that what we were doing was insanely dangerous and life-shortening, and our employers would keep demanding that we heap more complexity atop ever-increasing mountains of irreducible cruft.

A good deal for all involved, especially the folks who got the contract to make the warning holograms about fifteen years ago. They must have loved their jobs, putting the little cowboy hats on them. You can tell in all the little complex details of his haunted face, begging me to turn back from my route to oblivion. One day I'd like to make something cool like that.