#also i got this done WAY faster than i expected to

[f-athr]

i promise i didn’t set out to be drawing his…. you know….

[improbable-outset]

📂 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭.𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞

𝐀/𝐍: So I got bored at work and done this. Some of these head cannons might contradict to the current fics I’ve written but who cares, this is fan FICTION. I did try to add both genitals here… but I’m used to writing fem reader when I write for Miguel so there’s heavy emphasis on AFAB reader.

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

📄 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I see a lot of people writing him as very attentive and soft when it comes to stuff like aftercare which is totally okay. But I like to put a little bit of angst in my writing and personally, I think these tender moments won't come naturally from him. Not yet.

This man has a lot of baggage and is fully aware of it. He lost his daughter and is living a post-tragedy. It’ll take some time to get used to being emotionally vulnerable with someone again, including giving aftercare.

The first few times you did it together, he’s still clueless about how to take care of things. At most, he'll probably hand you his shirt to keep you warm and give you some wet wipes to clean yourself up. You’re going to have to be patient with him since he is a little rusty and trying to relearn these intimate gestures. If you communicate your needs, he’ll do his best to fulfill them.

Tell him you want to shower together and clean each other off, cuddle with him, tell him to stay with you because he makes you feel safe. Sooner than you might expect, he'll be all over you when it comes to you and being attentive to your needs and desires.

📄 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Miguel really loves his arms and how big they are. Pretty sure I can recall him carrying an anomaly with one hand before dashing it through the portal. I could be wrong… Of course he’ll take advantage of his strength and that means picking your up with ease whether it’s over his shoulders to spank you, or bridal style to bed if he’s feeling extra romantic.

I see him as a thigh guy when it comes to his partner. He just loves feeling your thighs, whether he’s kissing you passionately with you laid beneath him, or would grasp onto them while going down on you and feeling how your legs tense around him as you fall apart.

If you’re a woman, he will delve into your breasts the second you take your top off for him. Whether you're small or heavy chested, he’ll adore it all the same. Especially when you’re lactating…especially when you’re lactating. Be prepared for him to gently suck on them, maybe even leave some bite marks.

📄 𝐂𝐮𝐦.𝐝𝐨𝐜

A man with his size, he comes a lot, and that's just from one orgasm. That being said, you can imagine how intense it can be when you suck him off and he comes inside of your mouth. It can get messy, very messy, and he can fill your mouth faster than you can anticipate so be prepared.

He likes to watch his cum leaking from your hole after stuffing you with his load. It gives him a sense of pride knowing that he’s capable of doing that to you. He’ll even give you kisses and praise you for taking all of him so well in the end.

On occasion, he does like to spray his cum over your chest and stomach. Though he’d prefer to do it inside so it’s less of a mess to clean up after.

Also might I add, I saw someone had a head cannon that his cum comes out as cobwebs/has a cobweb texture. That might spark some inspiration for future fics… we’ll see.

📄 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I don’t know what it is, but I have a feeling he’d probably jerk off to you pre-relationship. He didn’t know at the time what made you so enticing that he pleasured himself while thinking of you. Maybe it was the way you moved, the way you carried yourself and how smooth you were with everything.

It makes him feel absolutely filthy even thinking back to it, that he allowed himself to think of you in that way. But after a while, he just couldn’t get his mind off of you and reluctantly, he found himself doing it again.

He’s never admitted it to you though and would probably take it to his grave. He doesn’t want to creep you out or think of him as a perv, even after doing it with you several times.

He secretly wants you to use a butt plug on him too or call him a good boy but his pride will never let him admit to it.

📄 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Given the fact that Miguel is canonically a cheater, I think it’s safe to say that he has had his fair share of experiences lmao.

I haven’t read the comics but I can see him as the type to fuck around in his late teen years since he was a little rebellious according to the wiki page and supposedly cocky in bed too.

Most of them were probably nothing serious anyways.

If you have no experience and he’s your first, he’ll be as slow and gentle as he can, constantly reassuring you that you’re doing well ect.

📄 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Missionary: The classic I’d call it. I think it is obvious that this is one of his favourite positions to do with you: he can see your face and most importantly eye contact. It’s easier to feel your body too, gripping onto your waist and maybe steal a quick kiss in between before he continues to fuck you senseless.

Mating press: Same reasons as doing missionary but he can push himself deeper inside of you with your legs resting on his shoulders with better leverage. He likes to see your legs go limp on his shoulders after he comes inside of you and pulls out.

Doggy style: He loves giving you back shots. What more is there to say? He loves the feeling of your ass against his crotch and he has easier access to your hair to tug from time to time.

Prone bone: Same as doggy style in addition to seeing you bury your face into the pillow to muffle your moans. It’s more comfortable laying down on the bed on both of your parts too.

Lotus: On occasions when the mood is more sensual and romantic than usual and he wants to feel more connected with you, he’d stick to the lotus position. He might just want to do it after a rough day, and feeling your embrace without being on top of you will definitely lift his mood.

📄 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

You’re probably going to have to initiate anything remotely unserious during sex if I’m going to be honest. Just like the intimate gestures, it won’t come naturally to him.

Not saying that this man is stone cold, we’ve all seen how he smiled with his daughter and how she was smearing her ice cream on his face in the movie. I think he does have a funny bone deep in his body somewhere under the stoic demeanour. It’ll only take the right person to bring it out. And bear in mind, he doesn’t trust openly.

Maybe chuckling softly before he dips himself to kiss your neck and hearing you whine for more. He might throw a lighthearted witty remark to throw you off. Your reaction amuses him. A lot. Shock, what has he done to you? Definitely see him as a tease but we’ll get to that in a bit.

📄 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He chooses to keep himself trimmed but with his heroic duties and leading the Spider Society, it’s hard to keep up with his shaving routine

Though, you did mention how you liked his hair brush against your ass when he’s fucking you from behind, so there’s that…

📄 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Something that will take time as mentioned earlier. After the loss of his daughter and monitoring the multiverse, he’s had a hard time emotionally connecting with people. Most of the time it’s cause of him shutting everyone out.

Once his emotional barriers have cleared with you, he’ll become more open with his affection especially in bed. He’ll praise you and mumble a few ‘te amo mucho’ while kissing you everywhere and learning every crevice of your body.

📄 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Not as often now that he has you other than watching tapes of you. We’ll get to that in a bit.

But even before you got together, he never had the time to pleasure himself.

Whenever he does come around to do it, it’ll be from the stress and pressure he faces everyday. But he hates the mess he’ll have to clean up after, and there is a lot of mess.

📄 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Breeding kink: I think the majority of Miguel fans agree that he has a breeding kink. Whether you can carry a child or not, he will stuff you as he climaxes. If you do get knocked up and you start to show, he’ll be all over you, reliving the moment of the baby’s conception again and again while kissing all over your swollen stomach. Yes, he misses his fatherhood days and wants to try again with you.

Lactation kink: Just as we discussed earlier, he loves seeing you lactate. It’s one of the things he admires about how your body changes as you carry and grow his child. Catch him suckling on your breast midway as he kisses all over your body.

Bondage (with his webbing): It comes to no surprise that Miguel will use his enhanced abilities and powers to his advantage in bed. That being said, he will use his webbing to limit your ability to move. He might start off with webbing your hands together or maybe tying both wrists to the bedpost, depending on where you do it. It’s amusing to him watching you squirm from his touches while being tied up.

Sensory deprivation: According to cannon, he has enhanced vision and can see in complete darkness, since he doesn’t have Spider Senses, and he will be using that in bed with you. Maybe when you least expect it. He likes fucking you in the dark and watching your reaction while you, on the other hand, lay still in anticipation and react to his different touches. This also might awaken his interest in fear play with you but he won’t discuss that with you unless you're 100% comfortable.

📄 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Your shared bedroom is his safe place where he can let loose and lose himself in his desires with you.

He likes doing it in the kitchen. He doesn’t know why it excites him, but seeing you in the middle of either cleaning or cooking and watching how your hips sway with each movement, he can’t help but grab your waist and pull you closer so you can feel his hard on from behind.

On occasions when it is just the two of you in HQ, he’ll probably sneak in a quick fuck with you before a anyone comes in after their mission task and report to him, and he’ll act like nothing just happened between the two of you.

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

One of Miguel’s main motivations is watching you play with Mayday or just handling babies in general. It instantly kicks the breeding kink and baby fever on overdrive and he will take you to bed the minute you arrive home.

Another motivation, as mentioned earlier, is watching the way your body sways gracefully as you complete your domestic tasks. It’s even more enticing when you’re completely oblivious to how sensual you are in his eyes. You’ll be the death of him and you don’t even know it.

📄 𝐍𝐎.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Being called ‘master’ in bed. Though he does like being in control and taking the lead, being called that, especially by his romantic partner, is uncomfortable for him. Having said that, he wouldn’t mind being called ‘sir’ from time to time, especially if you were to use that sultry voice on him. It makes him weak in the knees everytime.

Collars and leashes are a big no too, it hurts his pride being used on him, and seeing it on his partner is…unsettling.

He refrains from using his venom on you too. It was you who initiated the idea but he refused. Physically, the furthest he’ll go is tying you up.

He tries to avoid shower sex, but if you coax him and rile him up enough, he might give in. Just try not to over do it otherwise he’ll stop doing it all together.

📄 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Miguel is fully aware how big he is so he wouldn’t expect his you to suck him off if you can’t handle it. But when you do, he’ll be driven up the walls. He loves watching his cock disappear inch by inch and fully engulfed into your pretty mouth.

He watches how your perky lips wrap around his length before you start moving. He’d have to hold back, using every fibre in effort to not grab your hair and start fucking your throat straight. The last thing he wants is for you to gag or chock midway.

He loves giving it to you though. He can’t get enough of how your legs enclose around him as he delves into your sex. He finds it amusing how you would buck your hips up for more friction especially when you whine for more, only for him to grip your sides and hold you down.

📄 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Depending on the mood. He’ll be slow and sensual if you want to take your time especially after a long, rough day at HQ and all he wants to do is unwind and make love with you and just pour all of his affection and appreciation in one night.

If you’ve teased him, giving him hints and the ‘fuck me’ eyes throughout the whole day, be prepared because he will not hold back. Since he does have a high stamina, not just in combat but in bed, he’ll rut for hours— and in different positions too.

I mean, you brought this upon yourself so you have to deal with the consequences. Should’ve seen it coming querida, hm?

Sometimes there’s room for both if you have more time together.

📄 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Definitely would want quick fucks in the morning before he starts his day, especially knowing that the fate of the whole multiverse is dependent on him as he always says to you.

He will be away from you the whole day and expect to be under a lot of pressure and withhold that responsibility, so a quick release inside of you will boost his morning before he has to get out of bed.

📄 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤.𝐝𝐨𝐜

He’s usually pretty sensible when it comes to having sex in a private space like your bedroom but for some reason, being with you awoken something in him. Maybe it was the way you were a tease.

He never thought he’d be fucking you in the middle of the day while on duty. He reluctantly let you suck him off while he was overseeing the multiverse once. He was stressing out and you insisted on assisting him relief some of that pent up frustration.

📄 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I don’t think I need to go into full detail here. We all know this man has superhuman stamina. His body releases less fatigue toxins than an ordinary human so he will use that in bed with you.

If you don’t have the same level of energy as him, he wouldn’t mind either taking a break or stopping all together. He’s aware that his high stamina is because of his DNA that not everyone can keep up with.

📄 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Other than the butt plug I mentioned earlier, Miguel doesn’t seem to see the use in toys. He’d rather do the work with his hands and his dick. Furthermore, he can always use his powers and enhanced abilities in bed too.

He does use a vibrator with you from time to time just to edge you a little.

📄 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

In time, when Miguel gets in the swing of things he will tease you, especially knowing how bad you want him (and vice versa). Whether it’s hearing you beg him to touch you or to reach your orgasm, Miguel will tease you when he’s in the right mood for it (or when you’re being punished).

Orgasm denial will happen often so don’t think he’ll let you come that easily. He secretly wants you to do the same to him too but, again, his pride will never let him admit to it. Give it time. Trust me.

It’s been a while since he had a connection like this with anyone and having someone want him this much will do things to him.

If he is planning on getting you knocked up, all the teasing goes out the window. He will please you all he can and prepare you before he spills his seeds in you, in hopes of you getting pregnant.

📄 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I can’t imagine him being the type to be loud in bed but I can definitely see him being vocal, especially when it comes to praising you or coaxing you to come. Sometimes you just can’t control your mouth in the spur of the moment.

He might groan and grunt from time to time when he’s focusing on reaching his climax or when he’s trying to hold back.

And those who want to hear him whimper….maybe try and top him and see how that’ll end up.

📄 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Been waiting to get to this! He gets off watching holograms sex tapes of you either pleasing yourself or squirting/ejaculating.

He’s able to watch from every angle and will rewatch it again and again until he’s finally alone with you and can see you come in person from his touches.

📄 𝐗-𝐫𝐚𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

We’ve all seen the fandom talking about Miguel fingers being 11 inches. Someone said that his hand is bigger than an A4 piece of paper (Don’t take my word for it lmao)

So it’ll only make sense if he’s dick is big too, same size as his fingers I’d say, maybe an inch or two smaller, because holy fuck he’d split you in half with just his dick!

Pretty girthy too so he’ll rub on every crevice of your silky walls, giving the best friction.

📄 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

It makes sense that Miguel has a high sex drive especially with his pent up stress. He would take it out on you in bed after a long day and grin as you beg for more.

He wouldn’t initiate anything for a while until he’s properly settled with you and once he’s comfortable enough, he’ll pull you towards him in the most unexpected moments.

📄 𝐙𝐳𝐳.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Miguel’s suffering from insomnia is one of my head cannons, so don’t expect him to drift off immediately after sex anytime soon. He battles haunting nightmares of the multiverse collapsing one day and sometimes his brain replays the image of his daughter fading away in his arms over and over again.

But eventually they do begin to relent. Listening to your steady breathing as you sleep, nestling in his arms or on his chest really helps calm his nerves.

Cum.doc please 😭

[barcaatthemoon]

act a fool || alexia putellas x reader ||

you make alexia jealous on a night out.

minors dni, 18+ only, smut ahead.

tonight had been a compromise. you had been begging alexia to take you dancing for weeks. she hated going out if she didn't have to. especially in the off season. she wanted to vacation and do other things. there were ample opporunities to go out in the season with the girls, and alexia reminded you of that each time you asked her. tonight however, alexia had come to you to ask if you'd go out with her.

you should have known that alexia's attention would be elsewhere the whole night. it wasn't the same if you were dancing while alexia sat through what was essentially a business meeting all night. you could have gone out on your own any night of the week, but you wanted alexia to spend time with you. that was where your brain had formulated its less than brilliant plan to capture her attention.

at first, alexia was sure that she was just seeing things. unbeknownst to you, alexia had kept a close eye on you all night. she felt guilty about not having any time reserved for you, but she had planned on making it up to you when the two of you left. all of that changed when she saw what you were doing as you darted off to the dance floor.

it wasn't hard for you to find someone to dance with. alexia hadn't been hanging off your side, so everybody assumed that you were single. you had met this girl at the bar, some college student on an abroad trip from america. she was cute, definitely your type, so you danced with her. the dancing had started as fairly innocent fun, but as the music changed, the mood did as well. you knew that you'd be leaving with alexia, but this girl obviously did not.

"come on, let's go. there are too many people here," the girl said as she tried to lead you away. you let her get you off of the dance floor and back over by the bar, where alexia asked you to wait for her when you wanted to leave. you weren't one for drinking on your nights out, a side effect of living with alexia for so long. you could have a good time, being one of the most fun players on the team, but you had also come into a watchful role on nights out, often keeping an eye on players like cata and claudia.

"i want to stay. you can go though," you told her. it was obvious that this girl was done with the club, but she didn't want to leave alone. she was smarter than you assumed because she quickly switched from trying to pull you out with her to clinging to you. that was when alexia ended her meeting to finally attend to you.

"excuse me," alexia said as she slid into the small space between you and this girl. "(y/n), let's go. my meeting is over."

"o-okay." you hadn't expected alexia to be in the rush that she was. she had promised you a dance when her meeting was over, but you knew that wasn't happening as she half-dragged you out of the club. you got the sense that you were in trouble, and that it was only a matter of time before alexia picked a time for the subsequent fight. "how did your meeting go?"

"it's stupid to hold a business meeting in a nightclub," alexia grumbled. you tried to lean into her side, but alexia only started walking faster. between the drinks and your heels, you had a hard time keeping up with alexia.

"ale, please slow down," you whined. alexia groaned as she stopped abruptly to let you catch up with her. you tried to hold onto her hand, but alexia brushed it away. "are you mad at me? i just wanted to dance, and you were busy. i'm sorry."

"stop apologizing," alexia told you. you took that as your cue to shut up. alexia was very obviously tense the entire way home, and all you wanted to do was reach out and soothe her, but you didn't. you sat there silently trying not to let your thoughts spiral out of control until the car stopped and alexia came around to literally carry you inside. "i'm not mad at you, okay?"

"okay," you mumbled sadly. alexia tipped your head back as she set you down on the bed. you looked up at her, almost immediately recognizing the look in her eyes. "oh."

alexia's facial expressions were fairly limited, and so you had a hard time gauging what she was feeling. however, you could always tell whenever you looked into her eyes. the way she was looking at you was lustful, with the slightest hint of jealous anger simmering beneath the surface. you knew that while you were probably in for some kind of punishment, things were still good between you and alexia.

"i'm going to make myself a drink, and when i get back, i want you stripped and bent over," alexia told you. she walked back into the living room, and you immediately got started. spanking felt like a fairly easy punishment for what had happened, so you weren't going to complain. maybe alexia was hornier than you thought she was and would go easy on you for the night.

you knew this position well, just like you knew the waiting game alexia was going to play with you. she silently entered the room, but you didn't dare turn away to look at her. you could hear alexia hum appreciatively just a moment before her hand came down to strike your ass. you bit your lip, holding in the grimace at the slight sting of pain.

"tough girl, hmm? it's okay, this isn't what i had in mind," alexia told you. this time, you did glance behind her with a look of confusion in your eyes. "after that little stunt you're not getting off this easy. you won't be able to walk tomorrow when i'm done with you. how does traffic look?"

"green lights all ahead," you answered. alexia cradled your cheeks as she turned you to look at her. there were no signs of hesitation, so alexia took it as a sign to go ahead. alexia started to move back a bit, which was when you felt the sting of her hand as it slapped against your cheek. "still green."

"of course it is you little pain slut," alexia teased. you couldn't deny the allegation, nor would you ever. alexia moved behind you, and as her hands spread your ass cheeks did you realize what your punishment was.

alexia moved slowly, giving you ample time to object. you kept still, refraining from pushing back the moment you felt her fingers press against your hole. you and alexia were no strangers to anal play, but it was generally used as something to push you a little further while alexia fucked you out. she had never really brought up wanting to just fuck you anally before, despite the knowledge that you would let her.

"i want to see what toy you have," you told her. alexia took your hand and guided it back to wrap around her strap-on. you had taken this before early on in your relationship. now, it was primarily used for the rare time that alexia let you top her. it was smaller, probably the smallest dildo that the two of you owned. it would definitely stretch you with the way alexia planned to use it, but you knew that it wouldn't be overly painful. "okay, i can take this."

"i know you can," alexia told you. she'd never give you more than wht your body could handle. even on the nights where you had gone to bed together truly angry at each other, she had still been looking out for you. at the end of the day, no matter what, alexia still cared about you. you could tease her relentlessly, and she'd always stop before you even had to ask.

the stretch of the toy burned more than that of her fingers. even absolutely coated in lube, you could feel every bit of resistance tht your body gave. alexia was still and patient, not really starting to do much more than ease her way inside of you until you started to seem like you were actually enjoying the feeling.

you felt like you were absolutely stuffed, and yet empty at the same time. alexia could see the confliction on your face as she tugged your head back. you were enjoying yourself like you always did when alexia fucked you, but something wasn't quite right. you wanted to feel some part of her in your cunt or at least on your clit.

"it's a punishment, mi cari. you didn't think i'd let you just get everything you wanted, did you? even if you didn't want to leave with that girl, you let her get close. we could have had a very different night, but you just had to act out, didn't you?" alexia's words were all punctuated with thursts that increased in their harshness. she was getting close to pounding into your ass like she did your cunt. still, you didn't feel like you were any closer to cumming than before. your body wanted to react like it was all normal, but it couldn't.

"ale, please, i want to cum. i need to cum. touch me baby, i want you," you whined. alexia just laughed, causing you to let out a completely pathetic whimper. you were a mess with your own arousal dripping down your thighs as alexia practically split you open from behind. you wanted something more, but it never came, and eventually, your body began to adjust a bit.

you knew that different stimulation would lead to different kinds of orgasms. your cunt spasmed and clenched around nothing as you pushed back against alexia. your orgasm wasn't quite ruined, but it definitely felt that way. the strain all of it left on your body felt like you had been edging all night. alexia stopped as your body started to go slack in her grip.

"what do you need right now?" alexia asked you. you laid flat on your stomach, not moving a muscle or making a sound. alexia discarded the strap-on before she crawled into bed with you. silently, you moved to lay your head against her lap, breathing in the comforting scent of her perfume. "te amo."

"i love you too, ale," you mumbled tiredly. alexia leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. you knew what was coming as you started to drift off, but you made no attempt to move away from it as alexia cleaned you up. you needed a shower, but you didn't have the energy to get up, so it would wait until the morning. in the meantime, alexia had no problem wiping your body down and getting you dressed in some warm pajamas.

[n3ptoonz]

mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react when you ride them

this broadcast is brought to you by getting inspired from @dirtymortalkombatconfessions tysm for fueling my raunchy mind 🙏🏾 outworld guys here

all the guys here are submissive in these hcs cause i don't see it enough!!! and reader is GN

Smoke

first of all it's his favorite position. nothing he loves more than holding his partner in his arms while they have power over him at the same time

HE. WHIMPERS. A LOT!!!!

CANNOT keep his hands still he's always massaging or caressing some part of your body

begs. he begs. if you stop moving? he will deadass start tearing up and whispering pleas all in your ear

hold his face while you do it. look him in the eyes and give him praise && give him kisses 😔 he's got enough shit from bi han and this the only way he properly relaxes 💔

Raiden

he's not very vocal at first, but he does sigh and grunt a lot

when he's vocal? he's not loud, but curses up a storm. his eyes get all hazy and glossed over too like you gotta tap him back to reality sometimes

he can get handsy but prefers to either keep his hands in place or have them restrained in some way

speaking of which if you do restrain his hands there's a good chance he'll start bucking once he's close and try to pull free. silly goose, we know how to tie knots around here!

if you get really close to his face like holding it or just looking at him he can and will just start mumbling about how good you make him feel/how you're the only one who makes him feel like this

Kung Lao

(turns on self indulgence beam) ahem taps mic is this thing on??

lao is a praise kink BITCH you understand??? and since he's full of himself he for sure will not shy away from whimpering and groaning loud as hell just to hear his own voice

you give him praise and BOOM suddenly it's upturned eyebrows and beads of tears at the corners of his eyes. he will ask you to repeat what you said over and over

once his pride wears out he's a begging mess like smoke. he's super handsy but in the way where he's acting like you're gonna disappear before he nuts. i cracking up at the thought of that

afterwords "did i do good?" or "was i a good boy?" AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHG hey im normal don't give me that look. ALSO PLAY WITH HIS HAIR he's a sucker for it (glad i can say that now he's not bald)(love you mk11 lao i swear)

Kenshi Takahashi

oooo this sensual romantic ass man. sensual romantic ASS man (he likes ass)

he's not a loud guy or it's just rare. his hands aren't gonna go anywhere but your ass though. MAYBE your thighs, but it's always back to ass!

less on whimpering more on grunting but there's occasional cracks in his voice when feels really good. he only full on whimpers if you go fast and gets closer faster from the pace

please for the love of god leave some sort of marks on this man's neck. it drives him CRAZYYYY he'll be cursing like he's never done before especially cause he WILL return the favor

like raiden if you give his face more love especially around his eyes it's up for him you're going to be told how perfect and how good only you can make him feel for the next 72 hours

Johnny Cage

BRAT. he's a brat. Johnny John Carlton Cage is a B R A T

you will have to physically shut him up and that was his mission accomplished. don't let his hands be free either cause he'll keep trying to take control (and keep failing every single time)(again, this was allll part of the plan)

when he's completely helpless at your disposal...bottom bitch alert! whiny whimpering grunting sighing giggling you name it CENTRAL. he the type to whine about being restricted when it was literally his own idea in the first place

he's a praise kink bitch too i mean come on THE johnny cage ik you weren't expecting otherwise. tell him he's a good boy but also call him your bitch oh how he loves it

and by the way... record. everything. he'll watch those tapes back like they're old school vhs memories

Liu Kang

how you got a god to submit to you is beyond anyone's belief. but who cares?! drain that mf (balls)

he absolutely positively loves loves LOVES eye contact. you look him in the eyes long enough it's like your souls are fuckin too (literally that scene with him and titan kitana except you're looking down at him everybodyshutthefuckup)

give him a bunch of kisses pls pls pls he craves it he adores it CARNALLY. very very handsy man there's no part of you that goes untouched.

he's too calm to be loud but he does grunt and will have dragged out moans that result in a higher pitched tone

surprise, even a god could use some praise every now and then!!! he blushes the most whenever you call him perfect or tell him he's doing great even with all that's on his plate on the daily <3

Sub Zero

this stubborn fucker. just pull his hair and give him the same look he gives everybody and he's all yours cause then he'll look like this (i cannot stop referring to this picture)

in the privacy of your shared room (idc if this is ooc this is tumblr god damn it) he's a stuttering mess and cannot keep his hands off your hips and thighs for anything so prepare for those areas to have frostbite

there are times where his hands slide up your back when he's close, and by this time his furrowed brows and sharp gaze are completely gone. he's looking up at you like you've descended just to give him the ride of his life (bc you did obviously)

if he whimpers it's raspy and deep. he generally grunts and groans and a lot of profane language coming from them lips

however comma it's rare he'll shudder and whine like a lil bitch if he can't touch you oooo and he's a bucker too

Scorpion

last but certainly not least this sexy mf. i fully fully believe that he would not hesitate to submit to someone he's in love with (you hahaha)

you don't even need to pull his hair just glide your fingers through it he's set for life. he sighs and just smiles, you're so good to him

he's not very vocal but he certainly whines and has shallower breaths when he's close. when he looks up at you he has to try his hardest not to bust right there cause damnnn you fine as hail

thigh man thigh man thigh man. oh, did i say thigh man? i meant to say HE'S A THIGH MAN. and neck, like kenshi don't even think about getting up off of him without a bunch of marks on his neck and shoulders if ya feelin freekie

if you pull his hair he will cum. and you heard that from me.

ask box is open! <3

[oneluckydumbass]

Well, hello and welcome to the madhouse. @sock-1574, your wish is my command, here's a quick _v2 for this short. I wrote it at 10pm and it's unedited, forgive me if you find mistakes. Also, f!reader.

In his sleep, Simon turned to wrap an arm around your waist to pull you against his body, a completely casual move that he had done so many times in the past. He just wanted to warm up a little in the chilly room, because despite the thick blanket you insisted on using, he could still use a little help. But his eyes opened when he realized you weren’t there next to him. It was odd. 

When he heard something break downstairs, he jumped out of bed, his instincts kicking in right away. It didn’t sound like a window breaking, more like a mug or a glass landing on the tiles. What were you even doing in the kitchen a little past two in the morning? He called out your name as he walked down the stairs several times, but there was no response. He heard a groan, then some soft sobbing, which made him believe something was wrong. 

By the time he entered the kitchen, you were sitting on the floor with your head between your knees, a hand gripping the back of your neck as you cried. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Nothing, you didn’t even look at him. “Hey, come on, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” you mumbled through your tears. 

“What hurts?”

“My head.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m dizzy, I feel like I could faint any second. I wanted to drink from your favorite mug and I broke it, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t give a damn about that bloody mug,” Simon said with a nervous sigh as he took your hand. “The hospital is ten minutes away, it’s faster if I take you there myself. Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He helped you up, but after only a few steps, he felt your body becoming heavier as you lost consciousness. Without thinking, he picked you up and grabbed the car keys from the table by the front door. The hospital was close to their house, he would get there sooner than the ambulance would arrive. It was a miracle that no cop stopped him because he drove like some maniac. He was in a hurry since you were still unresponsive, and deep down he was expecting the worst.

What if you wouldn’t survive whatever this was?

Once he got there and a doctor noticed what state you were in, they quickly took you from him to run some tests on you while someone asked him questions. Questions he didn’t really know the answer to. You seemed fine when you had gone to sleep, all he knew was that you had this terrible headache in the middle of the night. 

They didn’t tell him anything apart from the info that they were doing some scans. He bought a coffee and sat in the waiting room, his mind in overdrive from the events of the past hour. And then that hour became two, and just when he was losing hope someone would finally tell him what the hell was happening, a doctor showed up and asked for your relative. 

“I’m her boyfriend, what’s happening to her?” he replied when they asked him who he was. 

“An aneurysm in her brain. Well, two, but only one ruptured. We will take her to the OR now and see what we can do,” the doctor explained. “It will take a long time, you might want to go home. We will call you once we know more.”

“I’d rather stay. And I’ll call her parents, I’m sure they would like to be here.” 

The doctor nodded then left to focus on your surgery. This left Simon alone in the waiting room again with his face buried in his hands as he tried to fight back the tears. He had to be strong. He couldn’t fall apart. He was supposed to tell your parents that you were in there because of a damn aneurysm. He knew those things were deadly, but you were still alive, fighting. 

After talking to your parents, he sent Price a message, telling him that there was no way he would leave your side for god knows how long. He was considering writing to Johnny too, but in the end he decided not to. The two of you were friends, he would be worried for sure. At least one of them had to stay sharp, especially if he happened to go on a mission before you got better. 

What he wasn’t expecting was Price showing up a bit over an hour after he had sent the message. The Captain greeted him quickly then pulled him into a hug. Simon had no idea how badly he needed that, how much he craved physical contact at this point. It grounded him, made him focus on the present, not on the possible worst outcomes. Because his mind had been full of what ifs, like what if you died, what would he tell your parents and friends? It would mean he failed to do the one thing he promised to do–to protect you from harm. 

“You’re spiraling, Simon,” Price said as they sat down. 

The lieutenant nodded. “It’s hard to do anything else in this place. She’s been in surgery for two hours now, I don’t know how it’s going, her parents aren’t here yet. What will I tell them?”

With a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, Price took a deep breath. “You wrote me it was an aneurysm. Those things can be hidden for decades. No one knew it was there, there’s no warning sign as far as I know, and let’s not forget that you brought her here in time. She’ll pull through, don’t worry,” he said. 

They sat there in silence for quite a while, but it was the sort of comforting silence that Simon truly needed now. And then, just when he was about to go and ask someone if they knew anything, the doctor showed up again. “Mr. Riley? She is out of surgery for now. She will need a lot of rest here in the hospital, and it will take some time to see if there is any kind of brain damage. She is okay now, but I need you to understand that a lot of patients with this problem don’t survive for long. We will do everything we can, and it is a good thing you brought her in so soon after the first symptoms. I am… cautiously optimistic.”

“Thank you, doctor,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, a nurse will soon be here to take you to her, but you can’t stay for long.”

Price patted him on the shoulder after the doctor left. “She’s okay. She’s gonna be fine,” he said with a supportive smile. 

Simon nodded. Yes, you were alive. And he would do whatever it took to help you recover. 

[dixons-sunshine]

Holding On To You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite not being too keen on PDA, Daryl craved comfort too. He got that comfort by holding your hand in his. It wasn't always that simple, though. He had to work his way up to being comfortable with that. Luckily, you were a patient person.

Or, three different scenarios in where the archer shows progress in his comfort with you.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre-prison (on the road); pre-Alexandria; Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, migraines, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: @louifaith, the muse you are, feeding our Daryl obsessed minds with your beautifully crafted scenarios. I wasn't feeling well today (a migraine and I was pretty dizzy) and didn't get much writing done, but this idea deserved to be written. There's a bit of Eugene slander in this but it's because I don't really like S5 Eugene. He's way better in the other seasons imo. Anyways, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The cruelty of life seemed endless. With the stability and safety of the farm being something of the past, having to scavenge for scraps and having to move from house to house every few days, and with the impending arrival of Lori's little baby, everyone's spirits were diminished. Everyone longed for the comfort the farm brought for those few weeks you had all been looking for Sophia, everyone wanted a decent meal to satiate their hunger and although Lori's unborn baby was a reminder that innocence still existed, it was also a cruel reminder that you all needed to find someplace to plant some roots, and fast—especially if you didn't want to attract the dead with the baby's loud crying.

You sighed softly as you quietly followed behind Daryl, yours and his boots making clear tracks in the deep snow. The archer, as observant as ever, noticed your shift in mood and turned his head, eyeing you carefully.

“Ya alrigh'?” he questioned, turning his attention back to the tracks in front of him. Your relationship was pretty new, only having been "officially" together since the two of you had shared a kiss back after the fall of the farm.

You nodded, although he couldn't see you. “I'm fine.”

Daryl hummed, unconvinced. “Yer not fine. I know ya better than tha'.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile, walking a little faster to walk next to him. Daryl slowed his pace slightly to allow you to walk next to him at a steady pace, eyeing you as you adjusted your compound bow over your shoulder—a gift he had gotten you when you had mentioned wanting to learn how to hunt.

“I'm fine, I promise. I'm just tired, that's all,” you replied reassuringly, walking almost shoulder to shoulder with your partner.

Daryl shot you a worried look, fully prepared to head back. “If yer tired, we can go back. This trail ain't leadin' us anywhere, anyway.”

“I don't mean tired in the literal sense,” you corrected. “I'm just tired of all this moving around. Not knowing what our next meals going to be, if we even eat at all, not knowing when our current camp's going to be overrun with walkers, not knowing when Lori's baby's going to be here... It's mentally exhausting. We all need a break.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We could do with a couple' of days where we ain't gotta worry.”

Before you could respond, there was a snap of a twig ahead of the two of you. Instinctively, you and Daryl raised your respective weapons in the direction of the noise, expecting to find a walker staggering towards you. However, instead of coming face to face with danger, you saw a small deer walking over to something in the distance.

Daryl raised his crossbow, aiming to take the shot. However, your hand on his arm halted his intentions. He shot you a questioning look, but you only hushed him and beckoned for him to follow you. The two of you slowly crept closer, the scene before you becoming clearer. The small deer made its way to what was presumably its mother, nuzzling against her legs.

You smiled softly at the sight. Despite the fall of the world, beauty still remained. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl was thinking the exact same thing at that moment, but he wasn't looking at the deer. He was gazing at you, taking in your radiant smile, the sparkle in your eyes, just everything about you. You truly were beautiful to the archer.

Hesitantly, Daryl brushed his hand against yours. Your smile widened but you made no move to grab his hand, not wanting to scare him off. You moved at his pace, and whether he held your hand at that moment was his decision.

In the end, the only thing he did was link his pinky with yours, and it was a perfect moment for you. In your mind, that was really good progress for a man who wasn't familiar with giving or receiving comfort. You'd wait as long as you needed to for Daryl to be comfortable around you. You'd never push him, never.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The road seemed endless. You listened to the incessant yapping from one of your newest companions in your group of ragtag survivors, Eugene Porter, and had to resist the urge to tell him to shut up. Despite the euphoria and relief that came with reuniting with your group and having new members that could help you all, you were tired. Not just physically, but mentally, too. It was so much worse this time around than when you were initially on the road two years back. You were sporting a bruised cheek with deep cuts and scrapes littering the rest of your body, and you had a raging migraine.

And Eugene's droning wasn't helping matters at all.

As if sensing your deteriorating resolve at not biting the poor man's head of, Rick finally called for a break. “We rest here for now. We'll get moving again in an hour. Everything you want to do, do it now. Once we move again, we're not stopping until nightfall.”

Everyone soon dispersed, some heading to a nearby creek to refill the water supply, some starting a small fire to heat up some food and some even laying down on the hard ground to get some much needed sleep. You walked over to a tree and slid down against it, resting your head on your knees, willing the migraine away.

You soon heard a rustling next to you, before feeling a body sitting down next to you. You didn't even have to look up to know it was Daryl—the archer's presence was something you had grown used to and you could identify him anywhere.

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, loosely hugging his knees. “Ya alrigh'?”

You hummed, lifting your head to look at him. “I'm fine,” you replied. “I just have a migraine.”

Daryl nodded, his face showing sympathy for you. “M'sorry we dun' have anythin' fer yer migraine. I know how bad they can get.”

You smiled and shook your head, placing your hand on the ground beside you, right between you and Daryl. “It's okay. It'll go away eventually. It's not that bad, as long as Eugene's quiet.”

Daryl chuckled, eyeing the aforementioned man who was sitting near the campfire. “Yeah, he's quite annoying, ain't he?”

“No, he's alright. He just needs to learn to be quiet from time to time.”

Daryl hummed and quieted down, simply basking in the early afternoon heat under the shade of the tree while the two of you observed the survivors going about their chores. However, Rick soon called for everyone to regroup, and you and Daryl got up to follow behind him.

You and Daryl walked at the back, giving you some semblance of privacy, and some semblance of relief from Eugene's rambling as he was at the front with Abraham and Rosita. Slowly and hesitantly, Daryl moved closer to you and brushed his hand against yours, before slowly interlacing his fingers through yours.

You smiled up at him, and he returned the smile with a small one of his own. It may not have been the first time that you've held hands with the archer, but it was the first time that you've done so with people around. Although Daryl slightly manoeuvred the two of you in a way that your locked hands wouldn't draw attention if people weren't directly looking at you, it was still a big deal for you. He was starting to show you off publicly. Although people back at the prison knew you as "the hunter's girl" because of an incident where a guy flirted with you and Daryl put him in his place, PDA wasn't something they ever saw from the man. He preferred to keep that part of your lives private—so this simple gesture was a big deal.

You squeezed his hand, a gesture you and Daryl had come up with to quietly tell the other "I love you". Daryl smiled softly and squeezed your hand back.

You truly loved this man, and he had shown countless times that he loved you, too.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You guys should come over again. This was nice,” Eric told you with a smile, him and Aaron walking out onto the porch with you and Daryl.

You smiled at him and nodded. “We will, especially if you're going to be serving that spaghetti you made again. It was delicious. Seriously, thank you. It's the best meal we've had in a while.”

“No thanks necessary,” Aaron replied, waving you off. “It was our pleasure.”

Daryl nodded, moving to shake Aaron's extended hand. “Thanks. This was a hell of a lot better than tha' party at Deanna's woulda been.”

Aaron nodded and withdrew his hand again, allowing Eric to take his place before moving over to give you a hug. You returned it before giving Eric a hug too, and then pulled back.

“We should get going. Once again, thanks for tonight.”

“Once again, it's our pleasure,” Eric laughed. “Goodnight, guys. We'll see you around.”

“Goodnight,” you greeted them.

“Nigh',” Daryl responded, turning to you and subconsciously extending his hand to you.

You smiled at him but didn't say anything, not wanting him to change his mind about it. You slipped your hand into his and walked with him down the porch steps and into the relatively quiet streets of Alexandria, music from Deanna's party playing very faintly in the background.

You and Daryl didn't instantly go home. You simply walked through the streets, familiarising yourselves with the community. Daryl never let go of your hand; he had even brought your hand up to his lips once to kiss your knuckles, and your heart swelled with love for the man.

The two of you had run into a couple of the people in the community who were returning to their homes after the party, and you had suspected that Daryl would pull his hand from yours, but he never did. His grip on your hand seemed to tighten slightly during your interactions with those people, seeking your comfort around people he didn't know. It made you feel special, important. It made you happy to know that the man you met back at the quarry trusted you enough to bring him comfort.

Later that night, when the two of you returned to the empty house and retreated into the sanctuary of your shared basement, snuggled up together under the covers was when you finally addressed what he had done. Daryl was laying with his head on your chest, absentmindedly tracing shapes and figures onto your hand.

“You held my hand today,” you told him, softly threading your fingers through his freshly washed, brown locks, the shower having been courtesy of your skillful convincing.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed absentmindedly, nuzzling his face deeper into your chest.

“In front of people,” you said, eyeing his reaction carefully.

Daryl simply glanced up at you, his face not revealing anything. “Ya want me to stop doin' tha'?”

You shook your head. “No, I like it. It's just a little out of the ordinary for you, and it took me by surprise.”

Daryl was quiet for a few moments. “I always wanna hold yer hand when we're walkin' together. I jus' never had the courage to. Dun' want people to overreact when they see it. But, I dunno... I love ya and I'll be damned if I dun' hold my girl's hand 'cause of wha' people think.”

You giggled and kissed the top of Daryl's head. “So I can expect an increase in handholding?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

You smiled at him. “Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I love you, Dar.”

Daryl placed a kiss to your chest, before laying his head back down. “Love ya more, sunshine.”

[girlgenius1111]

adjustments + acceptance

Sol gets a new friend. Mapi... adjusts. pretty much entirely fluff. brief descriptions of a panic attack.

------

“Amor, are you sure about this?” Mapi asked, for probably the 10th time that morning. Ingrid just chuckled, looking sympathetically across the kitchen table at her girlfriend who had her black cat cradled close to her chest.

“María, you agreed already.” Ingrid implored, taking a sip of coffee to hide her smile at the older woman’s pouting.  

Mapi let out a heavy sigh, pressing a gentle kiss onto the cat’s forehead. “I don’t want a dog.” 

“I know, but Sol does. She wants one so badly she asked me if she could get one. You know what that means as well as I do, María.” 

Mapi threw her head back and groaned. “You’re very lucky I love your sister.” 

“I am very lucky.” Ingrid said, sending her girlfriend a soft, loving smile that the other woman instantly returned. Though after a second, she shook her head like she was pulling herself from a trance. 

“You Engens. You make a face and I give you whatever you want.” She said grumpily. “It is not fair.”

“Maybe you should grow a spine then, María,” Ingrid laughed. 

“You wouldn’t like it if I did,” Mapi teased, though she flushed red when Ingrid raised one eyebrow at her. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” She said matter of factly, and she was completely correct. Mapi wouldn’t dare. “Alright, I’ll go get her. Remember, María, this is a surprise. Don’t be weird, and don’t tell her where we’re going.”

“I know how to act normal, and I know how to keep a surprise a secret.” Mapi scowled. 

“You tried to throw me a surprise party last year and you were so weird, I thought you were breaking up with me.” Ingrid replied over her shoulder, leaving Mapi to sit and think with that one. 

The Spaniard couldn’t deny that Ingrid had a point. Mapi took a deep breath, putting on a smile that she hoped was normal, that certainly wasn’t, and waited for you to descend the stairs, soaking up her last few minutes with Bagheera as an only child.

------

Ingrid wouldn’t lie and claim she didn’t want a dog either. She absolutely did, and when you very timidly asked if it would ever be a possibility for you to get one, Ingrid had seized her chance. If Mapi had a soft spot for her, it was nothing compared to how she was with you. Ingrid wasn’t quite sure that her girlfriend had ever said no to you. 

You were confused as to where you were going, until Mapi pulled into a parking spot in front of a shelter, and you got out of the car faster than either of them thought was possible. Your excitement and hope was infectious as you waited impatiently for your sister and her girlfriend to get out of the car, too. 

“Are you guys being for real? You’re getting a dog?” You asked, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Mapi shook her head with a wry grin. 

“No, you’re getting a dog. I will play no part in the ruin of Bagheera’s life.” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes at her girlfriend, pulling open the door to the building and gesturing you inside. 

As Ingrid followed you into the shelter, watching the growing grin on your face, she couldn’t hide her own smile. At your excitement, obviously, but also that she was finally getting her way. As she normally did.

Her and Mapi had done some recon, and had a couple dogs in mind that the shelter said were friendly and easy going. They greeted the shelter workers, who had been expecting them, and began to lead you back to one of the first dogs they had chosen. 

You didn’t even make it to the first option they’d selected. Instead, you stopped in your tracks at the third cage. Inside was a black and white border collie, a dog that initially Ingrid had considered. Though border collies were a lot of work, they were energetic and active. This one was a bit smaller than a normal one was, so Ingrid wasn’t worried about the size. As she had talked with the workers, though, she learned that he wasn’t very friendly, and he hadn’t shown any interest in anyone that had attempted to get to know him. 

He’d been found abandoned on the side of the road, just outside the city. There were no signs of abuse, but he was, at their estimate, between 3 and 5 years old, so it hadn’t been an unwanted puppy. He had a collar on, which said his name, but the address and phone number had been scratched off. This, along with the place he was left suggested that he had been… just that. Left. This traumatizing event had clearly left a mark on the little guy, and he was now exceptionally distrustful of every human that interacted with him. 

Over the course of the preliminary visit Ingrid had made to the shelter, she hadn’t seen him move from his spot wedged in the back of the cage, his deep brown eyes sullenly and apprehensively watching anyone who walked by. 

So, Ingrid had ruled that dog out, knowing you would want a dog that would be up for doing activities with you. 

Now, though, he was looking at you intently, his ears perked up on his head. 

“Hi, buddy,” you whispered, crouching down in front of the cage. He didn’t retreat further into himself, like he had done when Ingrid had watched the workers interact with him. He didn’t get up either, but he did scoot himself just a bit closer to you. Ingrid and Mapi stopped, exchanging looks, before they turned to the worker. 

“That’s Scout. He is very shy, and isn’t very receptive to anyone.” She explained, looking at you with pity, knowing the look on your face was one that meant you were already attached to him. 

“Can I meet him?” You asked, not looking away from the dog. 

Mapi opened her mouth to get you to move on but Ingrid nudged her, shaking her head. There was something about the way the dog was looking at you. Almost hopefully. 

“Of course, but he probably won’t let you near him. He’s like that with everyone, so don’t be offended.” The worker explained. 

You moved out of her way as she opened the door, before you carefully stepped in, taking a seat just inside the door against the wall. You regarded Scout carefully, watching as he sniffed the air in between the two of you with interest. 

“Hi Scout.” You said, holding your hand out for him to sniff. 

Mapi and the worker expected the dog to recoil, curl back up into a little ball in the corner of the room as far away from you as he could get. Ingrid wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t what occurred. 

Slowly, Scout got to his feet, stretching carefully before he padded softly forward, still very tentative, and sniffed your hand. 

All three of the adults outside the cage watched, astounded, as Scout gave your hand a lick. They all jumped, startled, when he bounded forward and launched himself at you. All three women flinched, expecting the worst from him. Instead of a surprise attack, though, he planted his paws firmly on your legs, and began eagerly licking at your face. His tail began to wag, and he looked like a completely different dog as you began to run your fingers through his fur. 

You were laughing, trying to get him to leave your face alone, and the sound seemed to only make him happier, only make him more eager. 

“Scout, no,” you laughed, pushing his head away gently. 

The other workers had come over to watch, and they were in complete awe when Scout stopped licking your face, and plopped down on the ground next to you, resting his head in your lap. Scout was famous at the shelter for not listening. He knew his name, clearly, but the dog didn’t follow any instructions. Ever. They thought he hadn’t been trained, but it appeared he just had been waiting for the right person to tell him what to do. 

You continued to pet his head, smiling down at him as he let out a very contented sigh, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. Everyone in the building knew very well that there was nothing to be done, now. Scout had chosen you. And you’d chosen him. 

When you looked up at Ingrid and Mapi, the biggest smile on your face that they’d seen in a long time, neither of them could have even thought about saying no. 

You left the shelter that day with a very sweet new friend. He was perfect for you, truly. His breed was known to be energetic which was good for all the activities you liked to do. He was loyal, smart, and almost painfully adorable. You loved him instantly. And as Ingrid watched you both through the rearview mirror on the way home, she knew you’d made the right choice. There was something in his eyes that made our sister sure that he’d take care of you. Call her crazy, but dogs were weird like that, and she couldn’t help but think that this little guy had ended up in a shelter so he could someday be yours. 

-------

Scout was attached at the hip to you, having decided that you were safe, and though he slowly got used to Ingrid and Mapi, you were his person. 

And while Mapi understood that you loved him and he loved you, she wasn’t sure she could quite get over the change he brought to the house. He was slightly clumsy, always bumping into things and tripping her. He slept with his mouth open, and made little sounds as he snoozed, which bothered Mapi to no end. It grossed her out that he slept on your bed, and that he always tried to lick her legs when she came back from a run. 

Mapi wasn’t a dog person. She tolerated Scout, but she didn’t think she’d ever enjoy him, or be thankful for him. 

-------

Her biggest fear going into the whole dog thing, though, was that Bagheera would be upset. What actually happened was almost… worse, in Mapi’s opinion. 

The damn cat refused to hate the dog. No hisses. No well placed smacks to the nose with her paw. The first few days, Bagheera ignored him completely, though he was very intrigued by her. He wanted to be best friends, and she would have preferred to pretend he didn’t exist. 

After they spent more time together, though, it appeared that Bagheera warmed up to the clumsy dog, much to Mapi’s disdain. 

You and Ingrid caught her giving Bagheera a stern talking to one morning, after finding her curled up on the couch next to Scout. 

“You are not supposed to like dogs, Bagheera. It is against the rules. And you’re leaving me all alone here. I cannot be the only one that hates the stupid dog. He’s too big and too furry and too messy.” She ranted, scooping some food into Bagheera’s bowl. You and Ingrid tried to withhold your laughter from where you were standing in the hall just outside the kitchen, but were unsuccessful. 

A small giggle escaped you, and it was such an absurd sound that you and Ingrid burst even further into laughter, stumbling into the kitchen and right into the path of one very embarrassed, and very annoyed, Spaniard. She glared at you both, only sending you both into another fit of laughter, until you drew the attention of Scout, who clambered into the kitchen, wagging his tail like he always did when you laughed. 

“Oh perfect, now he’s going to make fun of me too.” Mapi scowled, crossing her arms over her chest in a very pouty manner. 

“We’re not making fun of you, María, I promise,” Ingrid began, avoiding eye contact with you so as not to laugh again. 

“You’re not?” Mapi asked, the crease in her forehead relaxing just slightly. 

And at the same time as Ingrid went to respond, Scout decided to use his voice as well. 

“No!” Ingrid said. 

“RUFF” Scout barked, his tail now wagging furiously as you collapsed to the floor, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. 

Ingrid tried to keep it together, really, but the prolonged eye contact with her furious partner proved to be too much, and she covered her face with her hand, body shaking silently. 

“I hate you all.” Mapi said grumpily, picking up Bagheera, who gave a disgruntled meow, and jumped right out of her arms. The cat walked slowly over to her new friend, standing right next to him, as if to make a point. “Traitor.” Mapi called, before storming out of the room. 

She shook her head at the loud laughter now erupting from the kitchen, and the occasional barks that joined it. She did wonder, though. Bagheera was a good judge of character. If she liked… him. He couldn’t be that bad, could he? 

-------

Ingrid was annoyed that Frido wanted to have a sleepover with you and not her. Mapi was annoyed because Ingrid was annoyed, and Scout was furious that you’d left him behind. He laid by the door for a solid hour, seemingly flabbergasted that you’d left with an overnight bag… and without him. Didn’t you know that he was supposed to be the light of your life? 

Eventually, though, he got tired of the doormat, and sulked into the family room where Ingrid and Mapi were watching a movie. He walked past Mapi, barely giving her a second look, before he jumped up on the couch without being invited, settling his head on Ingrid’s leg and sighing dramatically. Ingrid didn’t even flinch, just began to slowly stroke through the soft fur on the top of his head. 

“Ahem.” Mapi said, clearing her throat rather obviously. 

“Yes?” Ingrid asked, giving her girlfriend an amused look. 

“Dog. Dog on the couch.” Mapi said, looking exasperatedly at her girlfriend.“Without being invited. Ingrid, we have rules, the dog is not supposed to come on the couch unless he’s invited and I did not invite him.” Mapi whined, growing more annoyed when Ingrid just smirked at her. 

“He’s always invited when I’m up here, right Scout?” Ingrid cooed, smiling down at the dog when he began to wag his tail. 

Mapi rolled her eyes, but dropped the issue. She did scoot over, though, right up next to Ingrid, resting her head on the Norwegian’s shoulder, in an almost territorial fashion. Ingrid noticed, and smirked, but chose not to say anything. 

That one instance aside, there weren’t really any issues until it was time for bed, and Ingrid and Mapi were already under the covers, finishing the last steps of their nighttime routine. They had left your bedroom door open, expecting that Scout would sleep in there, as he normally did. 

He walked right in through their bedroom door, though, over to Ingrid’s side of the bed. He looked at her, then, his big brown eyes looking hopefully up at her. 

“No. Ingrid, no.” Mapi said, seeing very clearly what Scout wanted. 

“Mapi, he’s just a baby,” Ingrid said, unable to say no to the very adorable face staring at her. 

“He’s not a baby! He’s at least 3! That is 21 in dog years. A 21 year old does not need to sleep in our- INGRID NO.” 

Ingrid had very slyly patted the bed, inviting Scout up, though she made sure he laid at the very edge of the bed. 

“Make him get off.” Mapi whined, glaring at her girlfriend. 

“Oh, he’s fine, María, he’ll stay right there, won’t you, buddy?” Once Ingrid used the baby voice on him, Mapi knew there was no changing her mind. She sighed deeply, laying down and begrudgingly opening her arms for Ingrid to snuggle into, ignoring the grin on her partner’s face. 

“Goodnight, María, I love you,” Ingrid whispered into Mapi’s neck. 

“Love you too.” Mapi replied grumpily, causing a small laugh to fall from her girlfriend's lips. 

Scout remained at the edge of the bed for maybe 10 minutes before he moved a little closer to the women. 

10 minutes later, a little bit closer. 

When Ingrid and Mapi drifted off, he’d migrated up the bed, until his head was resting on one of Ingrid’s legs, and he had a paw on one of Mapi’s. 

And when Ingrid woke up the next morning? It was to discover a wide awake Mapi staring at her, and a very sleepy Scout still passed out. 

“Did you sleep well?” Ingrid tried, fighting back a smile. 

“Don’t even try. We are burning these sheets.” Mapi said, shifting just slightly in an attempt to dislodge the dog that was tucked perfectly under the covers up against her, his head resting on her pillow. It looked like they were cuddling, and Ingrid wished more than anything in the world that you were here to see it. “He is never allowed up here again.” 

“He’s sweet, María, really,” 

“Never. Again.” Mapi said, her eyebrows furrowed adorably. 

Ingrid knew that probably wouldn’t last, if the way Mapi was subconsciously petting the dog’s head was any indication, so she let it go for now, knowing it would just be a matter of time before Scout had Mapi wrapped around his finger. 

-------

And really, if there was a way to Mapi’s heart, it was through the two Norwegians in her life, that she loved very deeply. She tolerated Scout because he took care of her sol, and she’d come to love him, too, for the same reason. 

--------

You’d been doing so much better the past month or so. Knowing that you were here to stay had done wonders for your mental health, the threat of going back to Norway no longer hanging over your head. That didn’t mean that everything was perfect, though. 

You still had doubts, still sent yourself spiraling sometimes when you thought too much. Particularly about your mom. 

It was her birthday. Ingrid had assured you that you didn’t need to say anything to her, not if you didn’t want to. That had felt okay for most of the day. It was when you were left to your own devices, though, that you began to overthink, and began to doubt. 

She’d missed your birthday and she hadn’t cared. You pictured her face, though, everytime you closed your eyes. Not her face, but her face. Nice Mom’s face. The mom that loved you, the mom that cut the crusts off your sandwiches, and held your hand when you crossed the street. Maybe this mom had never really existed, maybe she had just been… doing the bare minimum. Still, though, you’d spent many years thinking that she’d loved you. And you spent many more years wondering how you could get Nice Mom back. 

It was Nice Mom you thought about that evening, while Ingrid and Mapi were off at a match. You’d stayed back, having an endless amount of homework to complete. This proved to be a mistake, and you knew that the minute you began to breathe a little too hard. The minute the thoughts started returning, the ones that told you that if your mother didn’t love you, no one would. The ones that told you that you were unwanted. Unlovable. Too much trouble. Not worth it. Bad. Bad bad bad. 

You didn’t notice that you were crying until Scout was licking the tears off your face, and you didn't notice you were shaking until you began to pet him and your hands trembled against his fur. 

It still felt unnatural to ask for help, to not just deal with it yourself. But in the time that you’d been accepting comfort and love from Ingrid and Mapi, it seemed that you no longer could deal with it yourself. You needed them, all of a sudden, which was a thought terrifying in and of itself. Still, you pressed the call button before you could think too hard, hoping more than anything that the match was over, and that your sister would answer.

“Hi Solstråle! We’re on our way home. What’s up?” 

“How far are you?” You mumbled, shutting your eyes tightly and gripping onto the duvet cover under you. 

“About 10. Is everything okay?” Ingrid asked, a touch of concern entering her voice. It was dumb, but she’d scored a goal today, which wasn’t a regular event, and the fact that you hadn’t commented on it when you were the first to celebrate her goals was slightly worrying. 

“No. I- I can’t-. No, please hurry.” You told her, biting your lip as it trembled, wishing you could just be strong enough for yourself for once. 

“Oh, honey.” Ingrid said sympathetically. 

“We’ll be there as soon as we can, mi sol, I promise.” Mapi said, hitting the accelerator until she was definitely speeding. “How bad is this one?” 

“Bad. Can’t breathe.” You whimpered, digging your nails into your leg in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. 

“We’re right here, solstråle, you’re okay, I promise.” Ingrid said, desperate to help in any way she could. 

Now, all that could be heard over the speaker was your rapid breathing, and both girls knew you were past the point of being able to respond. They took turns talking to you, with no confidence that it would help. When you got like this, you needed physical contact to bring you out of it, a fact they were well aware of. 

What they didn’t know, though, was that Scout had taken matters into his own…paws, apparently unimpressed with your grounding technique. Or, maybe he could just sense your distress, and did the only thing his rather small brain could think of. First, he put his head on your leg, a regular position for him to lay, and you barely noticed it. Then, though, he put a paw up as well. It wasn’t until he had both paws resting on your leg, licking your skin every so often, that you opened your eyes and looked down at him. He looked completely relaxed, and in a truly miserable shot in the dark, you began to run your fingers through his fur. 

It was soothing, the soft fur and the steady beat of his heart under you. Amazingly, you could feel yourself trying to slow down your breathing, feeling yourself calming down just slightly. Enough that you could try the techniques you’d learned in therapy, and enough that you registered when the front door opened downstairs. 

Help had arrived, but you weren’t quite sure you needed it anymore. 

Ingrid and Mapi rushed up the stairs, expecting you to be in a state they’d only seen a couple times, but hated nonetheless. Instead, they were greeted with the sight of you on your bed, Scout sprawled across your lap, though he was much too big for it, a much calmer look on your face than made sense. 

You gave them a weak smile, looking down at Scout, who, in turn, looked at them. He was just a dog, but his eyes were expressive, and Ingrid could swear he was judging them for leaving you home alone on such a day. Ingrid knew, almost instantly, how you’d managed to calm down without them.  

Mapi evidently came to the same conclusion, because when her and Ingrid took their spots on either side of you, pressing kisses onto your forehead, and wrapping you up in a tight hug, Mapi focused first on Scout. 

“Buen chico, Scout” she murmured, smoothing the fur on the top of his head. You and Ingrid exchanged smiles, while Mapi focused on the soft fur under her hand, and the protective way in which Scout laid across your legs. She decided, then, that maybe he wasn’t so bad. She could do more than tolerate him, if he was this effective. And tomorrow, she decided, you were going to the pet store and picking out a new toy for him. And maybe a couple treats. 

Anything for her sol, and apparently, anything for your Scout. 

------

:)

[itsnevercasual]

Uptown Girl

pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader

summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious

warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual

-

harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.

you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.

so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.

you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.

it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.

by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.

“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.

you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.

“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”

your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.

great.

“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.

“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.

that makes you feel a bit better.

“y/n, a word in my office please.”

you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office

the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.

“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”

“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“

“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”

you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”

“it better be.”

she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.

you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.

after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.

you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.

mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.

“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.

no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.

the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.

“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.

“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”

“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.

“what was that?”

your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.

“oh. uh.. i was just—“

“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”

“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”

“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.

“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”

you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”

“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”

“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”

he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.

“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“

“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”

at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.

“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”

“that’s the goal,” he nods.

“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”

diane looks ready to kill you.

mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”

your face grows hot.

“she’s a student,” diane sighs.

“a student?” he asks.

“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”

he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.

"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"

your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."

he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."

your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"

"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."

"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."

"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?

"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.

"you may," he eyes her skeptically.

"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"

he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"

you nod.

"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"

you nod again.

he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"

"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."

"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."

-

for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.

after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.

at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.

-

the text came three days later.

From: (Maybe): Harry

Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.

To: Harry Styles

Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?

From: Harry Styles

I'll let you decide.

To: Harry Styles

There is this one coffee shop named Maman?

Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY

From: Harry Styles

Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.

To: Harry Styles

You too!

-

you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.

you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.

you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.

harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.

-

really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.

he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.

so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.

sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.

"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.

"good morning. did you order?"

"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."

you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"

you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.

"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"

"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."

you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."

"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."

you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."

"oh, is it now?"

"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.

"lemme have a taste."

you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"

"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.

“that you are.”

“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”

he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.

“so, how long have you been designing?”

“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”

“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”

you nod. he grins.

“may i see the sketches?”

you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.

he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.

“..so?” you ask.

“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.

you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”

you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.

he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.

“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”

his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”

you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”

“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” you blush.

“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”

“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”

he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”

“i don’t think i’m that good—“

“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.

-

a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭

[erxxi3]

A Sloppy First With Carlos?

Pairings: Carlos Oliveira x Fem! Reader

Summary: You have been dating Carlos for quite some time and finally decide to let him claim you as his own, but it is more like some sloppy sex.

Cw. Smut (nsfw), p in v, praise, virgin reader gets their first time wit carlos, dom carlos?, some begging, needy/desperate reader, a bit body worship if you squint ur eyes just a bit, possessive & a bit of cocky carlos, relationship had already been established yet we skipping to the part of where he just gives u a sloppy first time just to enjoy every moment of him inside you! This man is gonna make you a milf after he’s done fr fr want u to be the momma to his kids. Some fluff at the end there is def aftercare but I got too lazy to write it….

A/N: I’ve never written for Carlos before, so this is my first time writing for him and feel free to give me feedback!

SMUT AHEAD!! MINORS DNI!

Carlos Oliveira is definitely a charming guy when it came to women, but that all changed when you came into his life. He became so tough and cocky around you and others that it made him the kind of guy who didn’t let himself be vulnerable in front of people. It also caused you to fall for him a little bit faster. That was exactly what you wanted. Someone strong, and not afraid of showing it. The only problem with your choice was that he wasn’t exactly someone to get along with very well and was even more of an asshole than he already was.

Not something you expected from a man like that. But if it meant you could feel secure in his arms, then so be it. You could live with any kind of attitude. If he just wanted to keep you safe then so be it. You wouldn’t mind at all, actually. You enjoyed being near him, even if it made your heart beat faster and butterflies flutter in your stomach. You thought his roughness was sexy, even if you were slightly scared of him sometimes. And as long as there wasn’t going to be too much violence in the future, maybe you would be able to handle things better. Just give him some time, yet It wasn’t like you couldn’t deal with the bad side of him.

I mean he could be a total dickhead at times, sure, but you could tolerate that, too. He still respected you, afterall, and that was what really mattered. As long as you were happy and satisfied in his arms. And you had been that all this time. All your years of dating with a guy like Carlos Olivera didn’t go wrong. He treated you right, despite your flaws and his ego.

His ego brings out the best in him wether it’s in bed or out of bed, so there is no doubt about what you saw with him in bed that night. He was absolutely gentle, but rough when he kisses you sloppily, his hands firm when they roamed your body, and he took his pleasure in making you squirm underneath him. His tongue is hot and insistent in licking every inch of your skin and his fingers are rough and warm when they caress your breasts through the thin cotton fabric of your tight dress. And his eyes. Oh, Carlos’ eyes looked as if they were dark pools filled with lust and possessiveness. Without hesitation he took off his pants dropping them to the floor, his erection already trying to poke out the side of his boxers. You tried to take his boxers off although he had prioritized in spreading your legs apart and placed his hard member between them, foremost, further apart.

Fingers had trailed straight under the waistband of your dress while his hands started ripping your dress off, and your bra followed. With quick movements he tore the straps and panties away leaving you bare beneath his gaze, completely naked from head to toe. His lips left yours. Carlos began to apply lube to his hardened and throbbing cock, before slowly inserting it inside you, setting a slow movement in and out of you in a way that was torturous in itself. You whimpered from the sensation, but his grip on your hips tightened making the pain go away momentarily. Sloppily beginning to thrust into you, his pace quickened until he hit a certain spot that made you scream with pleasure. “Oh, God...” you moaned breathlessly before closing your eyes.

You never felt that way with anyone else. This is not your first time to say the least, but definitely better than masturbation to say the least. It made you feel so incredibly sensitive that it left you weak, yet at the same time it made you feel powerful and desirable. “That’s my girl…” he growled in a deep voice, grabbing one of your wrists and positioning it over your head as he continued hitting your sweet spot with his thick shaft. You moaned again while tears filled your eyes from the intense pleasure he gave you.

Your breathing started becoming erratic as he kept slamming his heavy cock into you with such force. He held your face, placing soft kisses all over your exposed cheeks and neck, causing goosebumps to appear on your flesh. “You feel so good, baby...” he whispered against your ear. Soon following after with, “Fuck… I’m gonna cum if you keep this up...”

“Don’t stop...” you begged breathless, feeling a shiver go down your spine as Carlos continued pumping his stiffening cock inside you. He kept pressing harder, making you cry out and bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from begging for mercy. “Please don’t stop….” You could hear your own voice quiver slightly, almost like a sob. In a moment you lost your restraint, and threw your head back, arching your back as you screamed loudly. A loud moan escaped your mouth as waves of ecstasy washed over you, and your muscles started tingling from his relentless thrusts into you.

He was getting close, you could tell, and soon he won't hold himself anymore. “Carlos…” you murmured, unable to finish your sentence because your breath was short and labored, and your voice was hoarse from screaming out.

You needed him to get you to your climax and come, now, now, now, you thought.

“Please..please…” you whimpered, feeling your body shaking with both excitement and desperation. Suddenly, everything came rushing in.

The orgasm. Carlos.

Your surroundings. Carlos’ name coming out of your mouth, His scent surrounding your whole being. You felt as if you were being penetrated by a monstrous cock very sloppily, even though you were. His warm and hard cock rubbing against your inner walls in time with his frantic thrusts. “Almost there… ah- hold out a little longer, baby…” Carlos grunted out of breath, panting heavily, his entire body trembling. Your breathing was starting to come out ragged as well, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you climaxed once again. “That’s it, baby… Come for me…” The next few minutes passed by in a blur, each second passing with such intensity it was overwhelming you. Carlos finally stopped after a while, releasing his cum inside you.

Your throat was sore and raw from screaming and your muscles were tense and sore from all the stretching, while your back was arched which he forced you to do as your climax hit. Carlos laid beside you and pulled the sheets up around you as he kissed your temple. "Are you alright?" Your mind was fuzzy as you nodded and snuggled closer into his chest. "...Yeah," was your reply, barely above a whisper. Your eyelids were glued shut, as you struggled to stay awake.

Carlos chuckled softly. "Did I fuck you that hard?" You shook your head and mumbled in reply that you loved how wild he got. "Mmm...you're welcome." After a while you felt tired and sleep began creeping onto your consciousness. Carlos seemed to sense this and wrapped his arms tightly around you to keep you warm as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. "Get some rest, baby," he said quietly. You hummed in response as you relaxed into his hold, letting yourself drift off to sleep.

You were so tired that you were able to ignore the sound of heavy breathing, but it eventually woke you up when the covers moved slightly. Opening your eyes, and noticing your boyfriend staring at you intently. "Hey...sorry did I wake you up? Go back to sleep..." he whispered kissing the top of your head as he ran his hands gently through your hair. You buried your face deeper into his chest, and let out a small sigh as you cuddled up to his chest. Carlos laughed again, running his hand through your hair one last time before turning off the light with his other hand and lying down behind you, holding you tightly.

"I love you so much..." he said softly, kissing the crown of your head gently.

"Goodnight..." you breathed out before finally closing your eyes and falling asleep, enjoying the soothing warmth of his embrace.

[pumpkinologists]

Missing You

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer misses you and will do anything to distract himself from the feeling

Warnings: Smut, Phone sex (kinda), Self pleasuring

Notes: Here's a little something to kick off the end of my accidental year hiatus!

Crossposted on Ao3

Enjoy!

Spencer was tired. He was tired of being away from you for so long, and all he wanted was to be wrapped up in bed with you, watching some stupid show that was way too predictable. He missed your body heat against him and the way you sometimes mumbled in your sleep. 

The hotel room he stayed in seemed so cold and empty, no matter how much he turned up the space heater. The sheets of bed wrapped around his body; usually he wouldn’t even touch the sheets, but right now, he was utterly frigid. He was so cold, infact, that he swore he could feel his toes going numb. He wished you were there to warm him up. But you weren't. 

He was on the opposite side of the country from you, and you couldn’t take it right now. So, instead of randomly calling you, he texted you like a madman. He sent you text after text about how much he missed you and how much he just wished he could call you right now. He wanted to talk to you about the case he had just finished in person or over the phone, whichever came first, but really he just wanted to talk to you. He didn’t want to send measly texts anymore, and he wanted to see your face. But it was two in the morning, and he knew you probably wouldn’t respond.

Until you did. His face lit up when he got the notification; his expectations for your response were low, but he responded immediately after, and you did the same. Spencer was overjoyed that you had responded; he didn’t even stop to think about why you were awake. When he got your text asking him if he wanted to call, he couldn’t even respond before your caller ID screen popped up on his phone. 

 “Hi.” A wide grin was spread across your dimly lit face. “Hi.” If even possible, Spencer's grin was even wider than yours, and his heart pounded at the sight of your face alone. He couldn’t believe the beauty on the other end of the line was actually his girlfriend. He sat in silence, something he didn’t do often around you, and simply stared at the face he wished to hold. 

“What are you doing right now?” You started, snapping him out of his trance, “Oh! Uh, well, I was just thinking about you and also freezing my toes off.” You snorted and laughed, a longing look crossing your face.

“I miss you. Like a  lot." He sighed and nodded along to your words, “I miss you too. I can’t stop thinking about you.” Spencer could have sworn the room had gone up a few notches in temperature when he answered your call, but it still wasn’t nearly the same as when you next called him. 

“I miss you too. I wish I had teleportation powers or just a really fast method of transport.” He rambled, trying to get the dreadful, yearning feeling to leave his brain. His stomach was like a pit; he felt empty without your presence. Typically, cases would be done in a couple of days, but this particular one was stale and had just been finished, so he was gone longer than usual. 

He heard your sigh come from his phone. “I do too. I think that you should invent it; y'know, you probably could if you thought about it long enough.” Spencer loved when you added to his thoughts, even when his thoughts were just rambling. “Well, maybe I could think of it, but it would probably be really hard to get it passed and actually put into use.” 

You chuckled. “You don’t have to get it passed; you can just use it yourself. Besides, I think your jet is fast enough as it is; any faster and the force might make your face melt.” Spencer shrugged and nodded, looking around his room, searching for another distraction rather than talking. He hated this feeling so much that he considered leaving his room to get away.

“Hey, Spence Are you okay?” He looked at his phone; your eyebrows were furrowed, and concern spread thickly across your face. “I just miss you so much. Its like theres a huge, you-shaped hole in my chest.” He saw you frown as you thought of what to say: “I miss you too. Is there anything I can do other than talk to distract you?” 

He swallowed thickly and thought, “I’m not sure. Nothing really comes to mind. I mean, I could play online chess, but that wouldn't help. Or maybe I could.” Spencer was cut off by your words, “Or you could touch yourself.” 

It was a matter-of-fact statement. You had no doubts in your voice; it was a real suggestion. Spencer couldn't believe how forward you were. His mouth stayed agape as he stared at his phone. It wasn’t necessarily a bad idea, and it was actually a pretty good one, but he just wasn’t sure. 

“I could. But I think there might be someone in the room next to mine. I could get a noise complaint if I’m too loud.” He saw your eyes move in thought. “I don’t think so. Besides, you can just stay a little quieter than usual.” Spencer nodded in agreement and gulped. 

“It won’t be the same without you.” He pouted, and his hand reached to grab himself over his trousers. You smiled as you listened to him talk; you could hear the ruffle of his pants on the other side. “It’s not your soft hand or your mouth, for that matter.” He let out a small whimper as his hand traced the outline of his hardening cock. 

Spencer's voice grew higher, his heart starting to race. “I wish I could see your face in person; the real thing is so much better.” His voice was shaky, and his eyes squinted as they looked at you. His hand was now completely in his pants, and on his underwear formed a small wet patch of his pre-cum. 

His hand was fully wrapped around himself as he now slowly moved his hand up and down, not enough to fully stimulate himself but enough for him to take it slow. Spencer loved slow. He didn’t like rough and fast, but he loved gentle and slow more than anything. 

“I want to kiss you so bad,” he heard you say. Frankly, he forgot that you were also able to speak; he was more focused on your face, forgetting that it was actually a call and not just a picture, and when he heard your voice, he grew impossibly harder. “Keep talking, please.” 

You smiled and let out a breath. “You’re so cute when you’re touching yourself, y’know?” Spencer groaned, his naked cock hitting the cold air. Spencer had forgotten how cold he was in the beginning, but right now it feels so good on his blushing, hot skin. He whined, his lip in between his teeth, and he tried to stay as quiet as possible.  

“God, I need you so bad.” His voice was only a little above a whisper, and his voice was whiny. “I know, Spence; you’ll see me tomorrow.” He frowned and made a noise in frustration. “But it’s not the same; I want to see you now.”  

His hand continued to stroke leisurely, but he needed something more. He let go of his cock, raised his hand up to his mouth, and spit on it. The spit dripped onto him, and he whimpered in pleasure. “It feels so good.” You nodded and smirked. “I know, keep going,” you said, nodding with a pout on your face. “I just wish it was you doing this instead of me. You’re so much better at it.” 

The pout on his face soon dissolved into a look of pure pleasure as he rubbed his hand on the head of his cock. His mouth dropped open, and a moan slipped out. It wasn’t very loud, yet he still cut himself off by biting his lip. 

“You can make noise,” you said. He shook his head, still focused on his pleasure. “It’s embarrassing if they hear,” you pouted, “but I want you too.” It was whiny and persuasive. “Okay. Just a little.” You smiled at his response. 

Spencer's moans continued to fill the room, and the pace of his hand continued to get faster. He was getting close, and you knew it. “What are you imagining?" You decide to ask with genuine curiosity. “You.” He said it dumbly. "Yes, but what exactly?” He whined and spoke, “Your mouth.” He paused to let out another pleasured sound, “on my cock.” 

You giggled at his response and continued to watch the way his face twisted in rapture. He was close now; he spit on his hand again and stroked himself even faster than before. “I’m so close,” he muttered into the air. “You got it; keep going.” You encouraged him charmingly. With that, his breath hitched, and a loud moan left his mouth, followed by a cacophony of strung-out swears and noises. 

His panting was fast and in tune with the beating of his heart. Coming down from his high was always an amazing yet disappointing feeling. He swallowed the drool that pooled in his mouth and looked down at the phone screen. “I suppose I should clean myself up now.” He was still breathless. 

“I suppose you should.” You agreed. He rubbed his face with his now-free hand, the cum that was spattered all over his stomach somehow completely avoided it. “Did that help?” You asked, hopefully. “As much as I hate to say it, I really think that just made me miss you even more.” 

[kamaluhkhan]

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part vi of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city. 

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over. 

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade. 

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him. 

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted. 

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time. 

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off. 

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior. 

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?” 

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.” 

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch. 

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities. 

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world. 

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —” 

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips. 

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?” 

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth? 

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink. 

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done. 

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too. 

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

 “yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too. 

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside. 

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too. 

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears. 

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies. 

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories. 

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?” 

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:  

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you. 

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking. 

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together. 

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again. 

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army. 

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts. 

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back. 

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth. 

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before. 

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl. 

luke blushes. 

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you. 

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.  

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you. 

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really. 

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules. 

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further. 

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.”  with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care. 

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him. 

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind. 

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind. 

he’ll happily yield his power to you. 

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you. 

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue. 

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt. 

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit. 

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you. 

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist. 

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines. 

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin. 

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

[not-magdi]

-one too many / Pablo Gavi

Warnings: None, maybe Alkohol

Words: 835

Reading Time: 3min 20sec

A/N

Hey guys, long time no see huh. Well today was the first day I had really a free minute as I'm currently organizing prom so I'm stressed haha. Well I still hope you enjoy my story,

Love y'all Magdi <3

It was around midnight, and you were sitting on your couch, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket, watching some movie you found on Netflix. Pablo was going out with some friends tonight, and even though he asked you to tag along, you preferred to stay in today, wanting to get some things done for work. 

Pablo wasn't that happy with your decision, but he accepted it with a pout. He and his friends left around 9 o'clock, so you expected him to be home around one or two in the morning. You didn't mind him coming home late. Pablo is mostly really strict with himself, so you let him have his fun, and even though Pablo told you to not wait for him every time, you still stayed awake (or tried to) so you could fall asleep together. 

You were on your way to the kitchen, needing some caffeine to stay awake until Pablo came home. Your head is stuck in your pantry as you hear your phone ring. Confused about who would call you this late, you rush back to the living room, thinking it is an emergency. 

Your worry only grew as you saw the name of one of Pablo's best friends on your phone screen. You pick up the phone as quickly as you can. 

"Hey Ale, is everything ok?!" 

"Hey Y/N. Yeah everything is fine, your boyfriend just had one ... maybe three drinks to much." You heard him laugh over the loud music of the club. 

"Me and Fermín will bring him home now, he has been asking where you are for the past half hour." 

"Yeah, that's a good plan, I'll see you then. Has he fallen down somewhere already?" You ask, laughing to yourself. You see, Pablo had a bit of a habit when he had too much to drink. And that was totally ignoring where he was going. One time, the two of you were going out with some friends at a club near the beach, and at some point on your way home, Pablo just slid down the little bank that led to the beach. You didn't even realise he was gone until you heard his giggles from the beach.  

"No he hasn't fallen down anywhere yet, but we keep an eye on him." You heard him laughing over the phone.

Laughing to yourself, you say bye to Ale and hang up, starting to prepare a few things for when Pablo comes home, like aspirin and lots and lots of water. 

Half an hour later, you heard the doorbell ring and before said door stood Ale and Fermín, who held up a very drunk Pablo, who was smiling from one ear to the other. 

"Oh god, what did he do?" You ask his friends, who also have a smile on their faces. But as soon as Pablo heard your voice, his head whipped up. "Y/N!" 

He wriggled himself free from the grip of his friends and stumbled into your arms. 

"Oh, I missed you sooooo much!" He mumbled into your neck, his warm breath tickling your neck. 

"But you just saw me 3 hours ago, Pablito." You exclaim, laughing.

"I know, that's way too long." 

With the help of Fermín and Ale, you got Pablo inside, with a few little accidents on the way as Pablo kept running into every shelf you owned in this house. 

But now you finally have him where you want him to be, and after saying goodnight to Pablo's friends, you start the mission: getting Pablo ready for bed. 

"Come on Amor, you have to brush your teeth."

"But I don't want tooooo."

Sighing, you try to think of a way to convince your toddler of a boyfriend to brush his damm teeth. 

"OK Pablo, if you brush your teeth now, I will give you a kiss."

At that, his eyes went wide, and you never saw anyone grab his toothbrush faster than Pablo did at that moment. Giggling at his antics, you walk out of the bathroom into your shared bedroom to lay some pyjamas out for him. 

Surprisingly, convincing him to change into his pyjamas went more effortless than you thought. So now you were laying in bed, Pablos head on your chest, your hand stroking through his soft hair. Pablo's soft whisper broke the comfortable silence you were in. 

"I believed I was promised a kiss Querida." 

"Oh, were you now?"

"Mhm, yes." 

"Well, I can't break my promise now, can I?"

You grab Pablo's chin with your hand to make him look at you and place your lips against his soft ones in a quick kiss. 

"Happy now?" 

"Yup, as happy a ever." 

"Well then, goodnight Pablo, sleep well."  

You waited for an answer, but all you heard were Pablo's soft snores as he already fell asleep on your chest. With a smile on his face, you look at the aspirin lying on his bedside table, knowing he is gonna have the headache of his life tomorrow. 

----------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !!!!! ❤️

[unholyhelbig]

Part three of loan shark natty

Title: The Oversight [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 3465

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, guns, blood, death, sort of dark nat if you squint, horrible grammar

[A/n: If you guys haven't picked up on it yet, this will be slow-burn. Also, thank you so much for the positive response to this story, it means so much!]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

It had been two weeks since the incident that you had deemed ‘the business proposal’, though, if you were being honest, you knew exactly what it was. The bruising against the side of your face, fading from a deep dark purple to an ugly muddy brown reminded you of the encounter. The faster you healed, the more your nerves started to prickle dangerously.

Each time the brass bell above the diner’s door would ring, your eyes would flick to the entrance. With bated breath, you’d study the tired businessman, the English major running on nothing but burnt coffee, or the single mother just looking for some reprieve. Much like yourself.

Clint Barton was the last person you expected and wanted to see. He was certainly the last person you wanted to see, despite the sheepish smile on his face. There was shame etched into his features and a strange softness to his eyes that starkly contrasted the man who had nearly broken your jaw.

His hair was sprinkled with droplets of water, a sweatshirt dotted from the persistent drizzle that seemed to plague the city. He dutifully wiped his feet on the mat and made his way over to you. Instead of his usual booth, Clint sat on the last stool and scratched the stubble on his chin.

He glanced at the menu as if he were going to order something different than his usual. Maybe he wouldn’t order anything at all. But, you had a feeling you weren’t going to escape the conversation at the tip of his tongue, nor the obscenities at the tip of yours.

You poured him a cup of coffee and set it in front of him without being asked. Clint could swallow down a whole pot of extra caffeinated without a second thought. For now, you urged him to pace himself silently.

“You got a couple of minutes?” He asked behind the rim of his cup.

The diner was mostly empty. It was the middle of the workday and had been a slow four hours thus far. There was only so many times you could wiped down the same table and replace the salt in the shakers.

The cook made eye contact with you as he poured alcohol from his flask into off-brand orange soda. You got a short shrug in response. Otherwise, the place was empty. Clint had timed his arrival perfectly.

“Sure. You’re not going to beat the shit out of me again, are you? Those cameras aren’t hooked up, but this is still a public place.”

“Look, I wanted to apologize for that. Bad information breeds bad reactions. I was doing what I was told. You’ll learn that that’s the only way to get anywhere in this practice.”

He stated it plainly as if you weren’t silently inducted into a criminal ring. You weren’t exactly sure what they did but if it was half as bad as what they’d done to you, it was trouble. Clint could sense your unease. He placed his mug down and lifted a bandaged eyebrow.

“Hold your grudge, y/n. I sure would. Natasha simply told me to collect you after your shift. So, you can sit here and glower at me like a grumpy little monster or you can make conversation and we can become friends.”

You hated how good the second suggestion sounded. He was charming in an annoying type of way. You’d never clicked with anyone in the diner before, certainly not the only other employee that stood behind the grill.

Clint was staring at you like he knew you’d already folded. He covered his smirk with another sip of coffee. You wanted to wipe the cocky grin off his face. He had effectively taken a shot at you, that much was true, but you had crumbled just as easily under Natasha’s wishes.

“Friends is a stretch.” You sounded out.

“Acquaintances, then.”

You conceded with a small nod and Clint smiled in a way that could only be genuine. He swallowed off the rest of his coffee and made small talk with you as you hustled around the restaurant. There was a small rush after classes at the community college let out. But you were able to carry on a conversation, learning a little more about him.

He’d been friends with Natasha for a long time. That much was clear by the way his eyes crinkled along the edges when he’d recall memories that stretched past their current affairs and into childhood.  

“We met when we were twelve. I’d just moved to town and was this scrawny, awkward mess of puberty and acne. An easy target is what I’m saying. A lot of neighborhood boys would target me, but I was faster than them. It usually worked in my favor, but there was one day when it had just snowed and it was impossible for me to get any headway.”

Clint regaled you as you filled up his mug for the third time. You lingered behind the counter, chin on your hand as you listened intently.  

“Six of them cornered me at a construction site. I didn’t even know how to begin to fight back. I was beaten close to death and then I heard Nat. She ran head-first into danger, tried to take on every single one of them. Of course, she got the shit kicked out of her too, she was just a kid there was no way for her to win. But that didn’t’ matter because she got back up every single time. Eventually they got cold, or bored, probably both.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were impressed. “Shit, that’s quite the meeting.”

“She’s tough, y/n. Not someone you want to fuck with.”

“So, this is a warning, then?” You smiled.

He shrugged his shoulders “A cautionary tale.”

He drove a 1970 Dodge challenger that smelled like cherry leather polish. It was the nicest car you had ever seen, that is, until he pulled up the iron-gated mansion on the outskirts of the city. There was a brilliant view of the harbor, the water a deep and dark blue that seemed endless, an orange sun casting delicious shadows against the docks.

The house was brick, built in a southern style with a large wrap around porch and a stone fountain in the center of a circular gravel drive. It was three stories of decadence, surrounded by large oak trees and the deepest green grass. This was the home of a Politian, or of someone who had one under their thumb.

Three black SUVs were parked in tandem outside. An equally pitch Corvette Stingray was parked directly in front of the steps. You struggled to muffle the thoughts of Natasha in the front seat. The vehicle suited her, and while you most certainly were not a car person, you knew the value of a ride like that.

Clint squirmed with pride, that same smile on his face. It was one that often accompanied him, you’d learn. He took the steps two at a time and waited to open the doors until you’d caught up. He removed his jacket and draped it over the coat rack just by entryway. You, however, were preoccupied by the elegance of the home.

The floor was a checkered black and white, stretching all the way down a corridor to open storm doors, letting in a crisp spring warmth. Light danced against art that cost more than your entire apartment building. White stairs clung to the wall and curved to the second floor. To your left, a dining room. To your right, a living area that had the softest white carpet, and a cream grand piano that your fingers twitched to run over.

There was a sour scent of bleach that reached your nose, and it was only then, did you realize the blood. It was distilled, a quiet pink color, that had been diluted by diligent scrubbing. The girl, the one that was often at Clint’s side herself, was on her knees a few feet away.

She held a scrub brush that looked like the ones used to clean the grout at the diner. Her forehead was damp with sweat, a few stray strands of dark hair falling into stormy gray eyes. The front of her shirt was stained in the majority of the blood. You failed to see how she would have much to clean from the floor. Yet, the bucket of water next to her was a frothy mess of red.

“An hour,” Clint tsked, shaking his head “I left you alone for an hour. I specifically said that I was coming back with a guest, and it was imperative not to freak her out.”

“I’m not freaked out.”

You were absolutely freaked out. But you were quick to realize whose home you were in. The scrubbing of a crime scene was startling, and you wanted to turn tail and run. However, you had seen worse before and your life had been spared once. You weren’t going to get squeamish now.

“You sound freaked out.” Clint turned his attention back to the girl “And its bad manners. If I were the police?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten through the gate.” She stood, dropping the brush into the bucket with a defiant splash. She was taller than you thought, the deep red of her collar harsh against her skin. There was a smile on her lips, and she reached out a hand to you. “I’m Kate.”

“This is y/n and she’s not going to shake that.” Clint batted Kate’s hand away “Who was this?”

Kate rolled her eyes. It was an action that you yourself would never do. Clint may be a bit aloof, but you had seen him in action. Namely when he was three seconds from snapping the bones in your face. She had no fear of him, though. There was a cockiness, a charming attention, to her stance. He didn’t’ seem to mind, or he had gotten so used to her attitude that seeped into him instead.

“I don’t know. Yelena brought them in. If you’re so concerned about the mess, maybe you should take it up with her.” There was a grin that mirrored Clints. She knew she’d won. “I can go get her if you want.”

“No need. Where’s Nat?”

“Out back by the pool. It’s a lovely day.” She leaned close to you, smelling of cleaner, of tin and of the slightest bit of chewed mint. “It’s great to meet you, y/n.”

You were careful not to lose your footing on the slick floors. Clint nudged the bucket with his toe as he walked by, sloshing about the soiled water. Kate cut him a look that only you saw, but it was one that was almost playful. She shook her head and went back to her task.

There were two things you had picked up from the conversation; Clint was afraid of Yelena, and there was somewhere soundproof in this house that she had taken someone that had lost a lot of blood. You shoved both thoughts to the back of your mind when you exited onto the back porch.

Natasha was stretched out like a cat in the sun. She wore a black bikini that left very little to the imagination. You could feel the blush against your cheeks as you averted your eyes to anywhere else, though, you swore she arched her back from the chair at the sound of your footsteps.

Her hair, still slightly damp, was cascading down her shoulders. She wore a pair of sunglasses, a book that was marked halfway through rested on the table next to her. She had clearly given up on reading, instead fully devoting herself to the sun.

Clint didn’t acknowledge her current state, nor did he have an adverse reaction to it. Your mouth was dry, and you shoved your hands into your jeans to keep them from trembling. It was a mix of fear and attraction that caught you off guard on a mostly empty stomach.

She moved her glasses down the expanse of her nose as you approached. Her stare was a startling green, raking across your form. She quirked an eyebrow. The specter of a smile on her face. Clint had noticed something you didn’t, his body language changing into something unreadable.

“y/n,” Natasha purred your name. You fought back a shiver. “You’ve healed nicely.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“ma’am? What manners you have. That’s severely lacking around here.”

Clint rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. You did the same, partly out of fear. But mostly, you were distracted by the scars against her stomach, on her arms and down her back. It wasn’t something you had noticed at first, nor did you permit yourself to stare. Whatever had been done to you when they’d first taken you was nothing compared to what Natasha had been through. Her body told a story, one that you longed to learn.

“Hey sharpshooter,” She turned her attention to Clint “I think Yelena might need your help downstairs. Y/n. Stay.”

It was a clear dismissal, and one that he didn’t’ take lightly. He patted you on the shoulder before entering the house once more. You listened to his footfalls for a few moments, holding your breath until you started to feel your vision falter.

You’d been alone with Natasha before. But this felt different. Heavier. The questions that you’d had these last two weeks were meant to be answered. She gestured for you to sit on the opposite chair, which you did carefully, body tightened to make yourself as small as possible. She removed her glasses entirely, a strand of russet hair falling into her gaze.

“You’re going to quit your job at the diner.” She said.

“I can’t do that,” Your response was automatic.

Natasha sat up, placing her bare feet adjacent to yours. Her knees were pressed against your own. She easily could have pushed your own open and she stared at you as if she contemplated the fact herself. Instead, she lilted her head and peered at you.

“What I mean, ma’am, is that’s my livelihood.”

“Oh, I understand. I wasn’t perfectly clear. You work for me, now. You’re on my payroll. I’m sure it’ll be quite an upgrade.” She leaned closer. “Do you know what I do, y/n?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. There was an inkling. But it was just speculation. Someone with a home like this had a good handle on business. Natasha certainly conveyed fear, and commanded respect. So did the people who worked for her, willing to take a bullet in moment’s notice.

You weren’t there yet, but you were sure with a little persuasion, you would be. Part of you had felt slighted. They’d pulled you from your life, from your daughter, and threw you into this without any type of explanation.

“The harbor behind you is a center of trade. Whoever controls the harbor controls the city, and for generations my family has had a monopoly when it comes to what comes in and out. There is not a single freight that can dock here without getting past me. Recently, that’s been threatened.”

She sighed and worked a hand through her hair. Her stare flicked past your shoulder, focused on the expanse of water that had been a staple in your life. You’d walk along the docks, chat with the vendors on the way to work. It seemed like a friendly place.

“There are two prominent families in this city, Y/n. The Romanov’s and Danver’s. For the past three years they’ve been pushing back against the real leadership, getting creative. Looking for change. But we simply can’t allow that to happen. Things work as they are.”

You had a feeling that this was the core of her beliefs. Things how they were weren’t so bad. Each person had their own struggles but when it came to integral crime on the streets, in the boroughs, you hadn’t noticed anything and that was the way you liked it. Ignorant, maybe. But it was none of your concern. Not until now.

“A lot of people work for me, but my numbers are dwindling. It’s hard to find good help anymore. You know how it is.”

You didn’t.

“There’s something… in you that I admire. A perseverance to live and protect and you’re going to do exactly that for me.” Natasha stated this plainly. “The Winter Soldier will be predisposed. Not permanently. But I would like you to replace him.” 

There must have been disbelief written across your features because Natasha laughed, actually laughed, as your jaw fell open. It was a lovely sound; you must admit. Bucky was well known in the neighborhood. Even without being knee deep in mafia sludge, you had heard of him. You feared him. And the thought of stirring the same reaction seemed unattainable.

“I… what about Clint?” You asked dumbly. He seemed like the natural choice.

“He’s got his hands full with an heiress who, I’m sure you can tell, is a bit aloof. But extremely valuable. Much like yourself.” She quirked an eyebrow “if it’s experience, you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ll train you myself.”

She stood and tapped your leg with her fingers, arousal shooting straight to your core at the slight contact. Your body almost refused to move, but you were quick to snap out of it when she smiled wolfishly down at you. “Now, have you ever killed anyone?”

Your voice was pinched. “No.”

“We’ll have to change that, darling.” She started to saunter away, grabbing her silk cover-up from the back of a nearby chair. She slid it over her shoulders, and it hugged her form with just enough ferocity as the bathing suit. “Come, dear. I have just the person in mind.”

The basement was significantly cooler than the rest of the house, bathed by the sun. As you descended the stone steps, you fought the urge to smooth your fingers over your skin to quell the frigid air.

Natasha seemed unbothered. She led you into a large room that you assumed was soundproof. It was a fairly empty room, lit with artificial bulbs that reminded you much of the warehouse they’d kept you in for the weekend. This seemed more malicious though. Not something to extract information exactly. A form of punishment.

A man was strung up from a low hanging rafter, his feet barely touching the ground. Rope was tied around his wrists, his hands above his head. Blood dripped like syrup from his lips, from a wound against his side. His left knee looked unnatural and broken.

You fought back a groan at the sight, at the smell of him. One eye was swollen shut, his fingers curling when he noticed Natasha’s presence.

Clint’s back was to you, his fingers dancing over an array of tools. He hummed a Metallica song, stopping at a pair of pliers. Yelena had her arms crossed over her chest, walking a slow, predatory circle around the man.

“No,” Yelena took the pliers from Clint “He will need his teeth to talk.”

Your throat tightened. This was the same woman who had sat next to your daughter in the diner. The one who had complimented her art and your job at raising her. She was easy to have conversations with, charming in the purest sense.

She turned towards both of you. “Natasha, you shouldn’t wear open toed shoes here. It is unsanitary.”

The woman next to you was not admonished in the slightest. Not by the cold or the harsh words of Yelena. Instead, she studied the man in front of you. He was in rough shape. If he hadn’t talked yet, he wasn’t going to. That much was clear.

This felt like the first time you served without following around an older, more experienced waitress. Your fingers were trembling and there was a wild nervousness that was in the pit of your stomach. Eventually, you learned, and it was second nature. You wondered if that’s what Natasha wanted. For you to learn not to cringe away from things like this. Just like the Winter Soldier.

As if to prove your thought process, Natasha said “Which one of you has your gun?”

They both pulled them out of various places at the same time, without hesitation, to the question. It made sense that Natasha didn’t have a weapon on her, not with the outfit that she walked around in. The cover-up was too tight against her skin, too revealing.

Yelena was closer, so Natasha grabbed the weapon from her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

“I have.”

Your second foster father was a deputy sheriff in Minnesota. On half-frozen nights, he’d return home from the local bar reeking of sour alcohol and sweat. The door to your bedroom would creak open and he’d drag you from bed, barefoot and in your pajamas.

Most of the time, he had cans set up on an old picnic table that had rotted through. At first, it was your job to set the cans back up and fight off hypothermia. But after three or four sleepless nights, he taught you how to shoot. His body was warm against your back and the first time the gun kicked you had nearly broken your nose.

You considered yourself a good shot when it came to cans, wild turkeys, and even the occasional buck. This was different. This was a human being that was taking in heaving breathes and fighting to pull himself up to give his bad knee a break.

“Do you know how to aim?” Natasha asked.

“It’s been years.”

“Okay,” She breathed.

You flinched when she moved behind you. Her warmth was all encapsulating. She smelled of sunscreen, and vaguely of the salt of the ocean. Natasha’s fingers pressed against your hip, giving you a small squeeze, signaling for you to take a step back.

Her other hand dropped the pistol into yours, heavy and warm. Her hand trailed up your arms, giving you goosebumps, fingers tightening around your own until you held the gun towards the man. The stranger.

Natasha’s chin was on your shoulder, her breathe hot against your cheek. Her voice came out in a whisper. “Right there. When you’re ready.”

She’d aimed the tip of the gun directly between his eyes. You could hear your heartbeat in both ears, vibrating through your body. It wasn’t hesitation, exactly. In this moment, it was his life or yours. Clint and Yelena watched you carefully, with intent.

You took a deep, shaking, breath and clenched your eyes before pulling the trigger. You expected some sort of blow-back. The same throbbing pain that you recalled from shooting at the cans. The scent of gunpowder mixing with cold.

None of those came.

Instead, there was a small click. The safety was on, and though you had squeezed the trigger with the intention to kill, it simply did not fire. You inadvertently slumped back into Natasha and the hand on your hip snaked around your middle, holding you close.

“You won’t have to kill often,” Natasha explained “But it’s good to know you’d do it without question if I tell you to.”

“Oh, Natasha, do not play with her. It is not nice.”

Smoothly, Natasha worked the gun from your hand and switched the safety off before you could blink. She fired two shots in succession, not releasing her hold on you. Your ear was ringing and the man in front of you slumped in his bindings.

“Okay. Very effective. You owe me bullets.” Yelena took her weapon back. “You are cleaning this up.”

“That means I’m cleaning this up.” Clint said.

Natasha hummed in agreement, finally pulling herself away from you. “I think this a job for two, don’t you, y/n?”

There wasn’t room to disagree with her. Not when you could only hear out of one ear, your skin still buzzing from her lingering touch. You could have sworn you felt her own heartbeat against your shoulder blade.

 But you’d never bring that up.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toocreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos]

[artdcnaldson]

it’s evil art and stepcest o’clock !!!

stanford era art sending patrick videos of himself fucking pat’s stepsister!reader ,, your mom married patrick’s dad ago when all of you were still in high school. it was abrupt to say the least, one day pat walks into his family’s estate for the start of winter break and all of a sudden there’s a girl his age glaring at him in the kitchen. getting close to you was like calming down a feral animal, but eventually you and patrick reached a closeness no one expected. art has always been an extension of patrick, so naturally the three of you became a little trio, especially when you have a little saltburn summer together at one of patrick’s estates before you and art go off to stanford and patrick heads out on tour.

and the thing is, art is more perceptive than either of you give him credit for. he sees the way you two look at each other, the lingering looks and the touches that last a little too long. so he starts testing the waters. he flirts with you, gets closer to you than he needs to when you talk, takes you out on the tennis court early in the morning to “help him practice” so when pat wakes up he sees you coming back inside laughing together. patrick fucking seethes every time, but he refuses to say anything. art even teases him about it when they’re alone, runs a hand up patrick’s thigh and says things like “don’t you wish this was her doing this to you?” and of course patrick caves, admits his wants when art takes his dick down his throat, but he never makes a move. he never crosses the line. so, art starts trying with you, too. he’ll sneak into your room (usually after he’s done with patrick) and touch you slow, pinch your nipples, ghost his fingers over your clit. he never goes too far, just gets you worked up and makes you cum on his fingers. all while whispering, “wouldn’t his fingers feel so good in this little pussy?”

he spends the whole summer working both of you up and still nothing happens, so when you and him are alone at stanford together he decides to push again. selfishly, he knows he’s also doing this for himself. he’d be deluding himself if he said he hadn’t wanted to fuck you from the moment he laid eyes on you. honestly, him keeping himself from doing it every time he dipped his fingers in your wet pussy should win him a fucking medal of honor. now though, now he has you with your chest pinned to the bed, sobbing directly into his shitty phone camera, begging for patrick while you fuck yourself back on his dick. “go on baby, tell pat what you told me,” he pants.

“please- fuck— please come visit pat, want- want you so bad- ‘m sorry i didn’t say! ‘m sorry- ‘m sorry!”

patrick’s never booked a flight faster in his life <33

RAHHH RAHH RAHHHH

Art takes one look at you and Patrick’s sappy, lovebird expressions and your refusal to ever actually fucking do something and he just snaps. He’ll be a good friend, he’ll fix it for Patrick, just like Patrick helped him with so many of his crushes that weren’t going to fucking go anywhere.

Of course you think Art’s hot, you think he’s sweet, and he’s smart, and he gives you all the attention you could want. And the best thing is, your mom isn’t fucking married to his dad. So you don’t mind when he kisses you, when he has you pinned onto your bed and moves his hand under your shirt to play with your tits. His mouth tastes like Patrick’s sometimes, and you always kiss him harder when he does.

And he knows— you know he knows how you feel about Patrick, because he teases you about it, always when he’s got his fingers buried inside of you and you’re right on the brink. Don’t you think Patrick’s fingers would feel so good stretching out your tight little pussy? Don’t you wish he’d just fuck you the way you want? Just pin you down and claim your pussy as his own? Oh, fuck, I can feel you clenching around my fingers, you want him so bad. You want your step brother bullying this little pussy, he’s so mean for keeping his cock from you, huh?

It makes you cum every time, gushing around his fingers, mouth open and pink as you cry out with pretty moans. Art licks inside, kisses you hungry and desperate while you fist his cock in your hand. You always want him to fuck you, but he just tells you not tonight. A good friend wouldn’t fuck their best friend’s crush, would they?

Patrick tries to keep it from Art, but he never can. Art hears him fucking his fist in the shower after you’ve all been at the pool. Listens to the wet sounds of Patrick’s lubed up hand gliding along his dick until he gets frustrated and says, “Art, get over here.” Art takes over with his fist, with his mouth. Almost lets Patrick cum before he pulls away. “Admit you want her first.”

Patrick just covers his face with his arm, groans out a pained, “Art—“ Because he’s killing him. He’s actually fucking killing him. When did the Art he met at the tennis academy, the one who sang in the choir for his grandma’s church and wouldn’t even swear until Patrick goaded him to, become this mean. “She’s my sister.”

Art grins. “Your step sister, who you want to fuck.” Patrick doesn’t get to cum until he admits it. He’s rewarded by Art’s hot, perfect mouth and the rare opportunity to cum down his throat. For being a good sport.

He thinks that’s it, you both accepted it, you’ll both just get it over with and fuck, and hopefully still include him since he was kind enough to encourage it. But you don’t. There’s still sweet longing glances and lingering touches. He walks in on you and Patrick giggling in your room, tossing sour patch kids back and forth and seeing who can catch the most in your mouths. Sits on the bed when you curl up and rest your head in Patrick’s lap, while he pets your hair and lets his fingers trace along your face like a boyfriend would.

You’re so lonely at Stanford. Patrick’s gone to god knows where, playing in low level tournaments, losing and sulking without you to comfort him. He calls you almost every night, and you ask him about if he’s seeing anyone. He just kind of goes quiet and says, “C’mon.” You know how he feels, he knows you feel the same way, and that you’re both horribly, painfully stuck.

You show up to Art’s dorm teary eyed and needing comfort. He misses Patrick too, you know he does. He’s the only one who understands. It’s two in the morning and Art’s all disheveled from sleep as he opens the door. His eyes widen— you’re just wearing one of Pat’s shirts, and jesus, you can’t just walk around a college campus like that. He ushers you in, closes the door behind him.

“I miss Pat,” is all you say, and suddenly your lips are on his and you’re tripping over clothes and bags in the dark room as he guides you onto his bed. He’s a little slow, still waking up, but his hands are warm and feel a little rough like Patrick’s do.

His phone vibrates on the bedside table, but he silences it with the press of a button. “Sorry,” he mumbles, leans forward and kisses you slow and hungry. His tongue moves against yours as he slides a hand into your panties, rubs at your swollen clit so you moan into his mouth.

“You’re so wet,” he groans. You nod, grind down against his fingers. “For me or for Patrick?”

You whine, can’t even look at him. “Both.” It’s shameful to admit it, that you’d been wet the entire time that you and Patrick had been catching up on the phone, that you’d thought about slipping your hands into your panties and touching yourself to his voice. But that was… you couldn’t do that. But Art could help.

He slips your panties down your thighs, eases one finger inside your pussy, then another. He thrusts them slow and deep, brings pretty mewls from your lips. “What do you need, hm?”

“Patrick,” you whine.

He nods, noses along the side of your jaw, and sucks on your throat. “I know, baby. Pat’s not here. You want me to make you feel better? You can pretend I’m him.”

So you do. You beg for it, for Art to fuck you. He knows you’re not just thinking about him, that you’re across an ocean with Patrick just as much as you’re in his bed. So sweet beneath him, crying out for him, for Patrick in equal measure. Moaning about how you want your stepbrother’s cock, about how much you miss Patrick, begging for Art to fuck you harder.

At a hostel in Germany, Patrick just has to listen to it.

[imaginingbleach]

Random Assortment of Captains Proposing

Included: Shunsui, Suì-Fēng, Shinji, Byakuya, Mayuri, Rukia

Shunsui Kyoraku

One would expect this man to be over the top with his proposal, but you would be surprised to find out it's nothing like you would expect.

Even before becoming head captain, this still held true.

While he believes the world should know how special you are to him, he also wants certain things to be more personal and private.

He can shout how he feels for you to the high heavens, but he wants special occasions to be just between the two of you-- maybe a small group of friends and family at largest.

It would likely happen some quiet evening in the middle of winter when the snow is gently coming down just outside...

The two of you were snuggled up together next to a gently roaring fire.

You didn't need a blanket with how warm he was as he had his arms wrapped around you.

You were starting to lull off into a very soft slumber, struggling to stay awake between the comfort of you boyfriend and the warmth between him and the fire.

He had thought a lot about when and where he should ask you, but the way you looked snuggled up into his chest?

He couldn't stand it.

You were so cute and you looked so perfect there with him...

"Hey, sorry to wake you, but I wanna ask you something," he spoke gently, waking you from your faint slumber.

"Mmf? Wha's up?" You'd slur out, eyes not even managing to open at first.

It was when he didn't immediately respond that you would open your eyes, blinking slowly and looking at him.

"Will you marry me?"

A mix of something between a squeak and a gasp escaped you, his question definitely waking you up.

"I-" your brain was going faster than you could verbally reply-- but his calm demeanor helped relax you enough to manage the simplest and yet most important reply you could give him, "yes"

Suì-Fēng

She thinks she's being secretive about her plans to propose, but she's sorely mistaken.

Maybe in regards to you

However, her entire squad and the stealth force absolutely know.

In fact, they would be doing whatever they could to try to give her hints.

"Oh, yeah, Captain! I got a new ring from-" not very subtle, but he does like to wear jewelry and the ring doesn't look awful-

Maybe of the members would have casual 'conversations' while conveniently walking past her.

"The cherry blossom trees are beautiful in-" "There's a fireworks festival this weekend-"

The squad knew you well enough to know how to suggest things they thought you might like.

She's a bit too caught up in the moment to fully notice what they're doing...

When she does propose, she chose your favorite time of year or favorite holiday.

It doesn't matter how tall you are, she would position herself so she could wrap her arms around your shoulders from behind.

She would pull a cute little box out in front of your face and simply asks if you'll be hers.

You're shocked for a moment, but gladly accept and turn around to kiss her happily.

Some time after she finally proposed... She realized just what her squad had done.

She's a little annoyed but doesn't punish anyone so long as they don't bring it up. Omaeda.

Shinji Hirako

Okay... This man is so in love with you it's absolutely fucking ridiculous.

He has imagined and daydreamed about how he might propose to you and how your wedding might go...

It's always the same in his mind so he has idea of a perfect proposal and the most wonderful wedding and...

Something always seems to happen.

It could be big or small, but he just has never been able to get the timing right!

He had it all planned out, he had a ring, he had a spot, even down to what season he wanted it to happen in!

It would have been a beautiful little day together where he would propose at sunset! Or sunrise! That all depended on what happened 😉

Nevertheless!

Every. Single. Time! Bad weather, you were busy! He was sick! He had duties! There was a war going on!

So, when it finally does happen... It's not exactly the most romantic extravagant over the top proposal...

But it's extremely fitting for Shinji.

You had just woken up, the smell of food enticing you towards the kitchen to eat.

He was sitting there with a cup of tea, watching as you stumbled towards the table with your eyes barely open and hair an absolute mess.

To him; this scene was just pure perfection. It was so domestic... It filled him with warmth.

"We should get married," he would blurt out, smiling at you.

"W... Wha? I, wha?" You were so shocked you had dropped your piece of toast, whining as it fell buttered side down onto the floor. "Shinji... It's too early for jokes," you would grumble; now upset you had accidentally wasted food.

"I'm not joking," he would grin and pull out a little pristine box he had been carrying since the day he bought it.

He would sweetly say your name and open the box to show you the ring, his usual grin soon spreading over his features. "Will you make me the 3rd happiest man in Connecticut and marry me?"

"We're not in Connecticut!!!" You would exclaim through laughter, wiping the tears from your eyes. "Yes, stupid... You're also banned from the Internet."

"Hey, you know you love me~ and it made you giggle, so it's not all that bad." He would wrap his arms around you, cheek pressed against yours and gently putting the ring on.

You both made up a story about what happened because you didn't want to have to explain the layers of his stupid proposal. (You both think back on it fondly, though.)

Byakuya Kuchiki

One may think it would take him a while to propose, but that would be quite the opposite of the truth.

What takes him a while is allowing himself to open up to you enough to realize he has feelings for you...

He guards his emotions carefully, especially after the death of Hisana...

But when he's in a relationship with you?

He genuinely cherishes the idea of being called your husband.

He would tell you that when you are ready and feel comfortable with the idea, he would be honored to marry you.

He tells you this up front since it's taken him so long to even accept the relationship, so he already knows he can see himself being with you for the rest of his life.

Because of this, you don't get the whole 'surprise proposal', but you do get to do a lot of things together.

When you admit that the idea of marriage sounds like something you'd like, he takes you to get rings with him.

Though he's used to a more traditional Japanese style wedding, he is open to hearing your thoughts.

He likely puts in more work than you do planning, mostly because he wants to make it perfect for you.

A big extravagant wedding? Done.

A small wedding with only the closest friends and family? That's perfect too.

He wants you to be happy, since he's already decided a while ago that he wants to repay the happiness you've given him tenfold.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi

He is an interesting one to say the least.

His way of proposing is far from straight forward and even those closest to him who understand him might not see it as such.

Of course, being his partner means he comes to you with complaints about his subordinates or how his research isn't going the way he wants...

That's not unusual.

What is unusual, is how he gives you random little strange gifts.

Well, one wouldn't call them gifts so much...

You'll notice something interesting on his table and make a comment about it.

He'll tell you it was something from a failed experiment and they if you wanted it you could have it.

There was no experiment.

He got it because he knew you'd like it.

He can't say that though, right?

Anyway, through some long winded convoluted explanation you would end up with a ring.

You would end up unintentionally giving him answers to all the important wedding planning stuff and you wouldn't even know it.

You end up finding out because you snuck into his office one day to surprise him with something and you saw his calendar.

It definitely came as a mild shock at first, but somehow you weren't entirely surprised.

Instead you decided to continue to act oblivious up to the day of the wedding. You had to have some fun with it!

Rukia Kuchiki

Rukia's way of proposing is absolutely adorable and definitely reflects a lot of her personality.

It takes her a bit to decide on the best course of action...

She has been gathering all the important information she would need over the years, after all.

She knows your ring size, your clothing size, your shoe size, your favorite color-- the works!

So, the most important part of everything is the how she does it.

She decided on a date: whatever winter holiday is your favorite.

It just so happened to be snowing that day, which she thought was absolutely perfect.

Whether it was a gift giving holiday or not: she got you one and had it wrapped nicely!

When you opened it, it was a pair of stuffed animals hugging.

One was a rabbit and the other was your favorite animal!

They were velcroed in a way that they could come apart, and when you pulled them apart to see, a small box fell out from between them.

Rukia would kneel down and pick up the box, gently holding it up to you before opening it.

"Will you marry me?"

You said yes, but you also laughed and cried. It was so cute you couldn't help it.

[weallluvnilou]

.•°..BATHING.. °•.

diluc x fem!reader

—-

MINORS DNI! 🔞

—-

(smut)

It was a VERY, long day before you got home. When you originally started the day, you didn’t expect this much pain in your body from all the commissions the Knights of Favonius, gosh, now you feel like Jean.

As you slumped your way to you and your husbands shared bedroom, you somehow still managed to take off your clothes and prepare yourself for a bathe. You brushed out your hair, got clothes prepared and set them out, set up bubbles, etc. You turned on the hot water, not expecting much but waiting patiently for it to fill 75% of the tub until you hear heavy walking come through the doors. Knowing who it was, you were happy Diluc finally came home.

You missed him and not only that you were hopping he’d join you tonight. The water is finally at the top to your liking and you hear Adeline come by to check up on you and bring you towels, also alerting your husband you’re also home and settling in. She soon told you he’s coming by to check on you. You wait a while and finally hear him knocking on the door, “May I come in?” He asks before you hum your response loudly enough to where he can hear. He walks in through the door, first thing seeing is you in the tub waiting for him. He takes off his jacket and clothes, while putting them aside on the counter to his right. “Long day?” You asked. “Per usual. You yourself look rough.” He chuckles, not meaning that in anyway other than as a joke. He finally walks over to the tub and you move aside, waiting for him to step in. He moved right beside you as he kisses your temple with longing eyes. “I missed you.” You stare before responding “I missed you more.” You say teasingly before laying your head down on this shoulder. “Sit up, let me help you.” He says as he grabs the soap and puts some in his hands. He starts off with your upper torso, so good at the way he massages your longing areas that are in pain. He goes down to your chest, and under your breasts, making sure he can get every place he can to clean. “I can do it myself, you know.” You say while he moved down to your stomach and sides. “I know you’re capable of doing it, but I could tell you felt miserable. Let me help you.” Flushed by the way he moved closer, you only groan slightly by the way he looks at you. Moments later he’s done with your sides and moves to your thighs and ass, looking up at you for your approval. You nod and ask “Do you want me to do you aswell?” You wait for an answer and he responds with “It’s only fair right?” He teases. You needed this, you needed to feel his hands on you after a long day. Your core was aching for him as he goes further along with cleaning out. “Be patient, I’m almost done.” He says, as you’re overstimulated. “Please, Diluc.” You say, out of breath from the way he makes you feel massaging your muscles. “I need you, please.” He stares at you with his God awful handsome face, and says “Tell me what you need.” Him. You need him. “I need you to touch me, please. I want you.” You groan when he moves away and motions you to sit on his lap. You do as he places his hands on your waist, your back facing him, before he whispers in your ear “Tell me where you want me to touch you.” He says while his voice travels down your neck and sends shiver down your spine, causing you to jerk up slightly. “My pussy, please, I want your fingers inside me.” You moan while you’re aching in pain, thinking it was from today’s work, but instead your need for him. He drags his fingers down to your core, circling his fingers in a motion around your throbbing clit and folds. You moan loudly as he also kisses your neck and leaves soft marks that you can cover up easily, while continuing his pace. “Diluc-, please. Faster.” You manage to say as he slips two fingers in your tight hole. Moaning loudly, you feel his hard cock twitch against your near core. He fastens his pace, thursting into your hole each second while you moan his name. “D-.” “Be patient.” He says again, cutting you off, but now in a low raspy voice that sets you off even more.

Due to his movement, his voice, the way he held you, you finally came on his fingers. Feeling relieved of your arrival. He brings his fingers up to his lips, tasting your cum in his mouth. You’re still needy for him, waiting for him to express a response. “Turn around, I’m not done.” You do as he says, he slightly picks you up but your ass, “Fuck, Diluc.” You groan, “I know my love, I know. Let me take care of you.” He says while you allow him to guide you down on his hard cock. Your eyes roll back as you head gods up, he feels so fucking good. You slightly bounce yourself on his hard member, taking it in every time. “Look at me.” You look at him as he also slightly thrusts into your pussy, playing with your clit in the making. “You feel so good.” He says fastening his pace, while you burry your head in his neck letting him take control. You groan as you hold on to him, moving your hips with his as you moan against his neck. “I’m so close, Diluc.” You moan loudly as he goes even faster on you. Teasing you by playing with your tits, leading you close to your arrival. You’re now biting into his neck because of how painful, but pleasurable this sensation is. The sweat on him is making his hair stick to you as you finally cum on his cock as he’s still going. You move your hips even faster to help him reach this arrival, arching your back due to his movement. You finally feel his seed burst into you when you hear his last bits of groans turn louder as you continue and move back and forth. “You- You took me so well, ____.” He says, out of breath. You chuckle as he picks up your chin to look at him. He kisses your lips, your temple, your cheeks, everywhere he could love. You and him still stay in the tub for a while, help washing the suds of you and him when finally you’re both clean and ready for bed. Picking you up, after you’re done dressing, you say “You didn’t have to carry me.” You laugh a bit before he says

“Not after that, you could.”

—-

AHHH FIRST POST LMAO

This was weird to post bc I felt my diluc was out of character (he def was.) BUT this was a quick post and I hope you liked it <3!.