#oh god this is so dark turn your brightness up

[evansbby]

Would you ever write anything with major obvious size kink? like Steve is so big he barely fits inside you? Or it hurts when he fucks you but he does it anyways? Sorry, i just love the idea of Steve being so much bigger than reader.

OKAY BUT THAT SUPER SOLDIER DICK WOULD MURDER ANY POOR INNOCENT SOUL HE TRIES FUCKING PLS

i definitely wanna incorporate this in future fics, but here's a little something bC I CAN'T HELP MYSELF AND UGH

WARNING: DARK STEVE, DADDY KINK, NON CON UNDER THE CUT. ALSO STEVE HAS A CRYING KINK. IDEK. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

Steve never wants to hurt you. You're his delicate flower - so opposite to him in every single way. With how tiny, dainty, soft-spoken and innocent you are. It awakens something in him - he wants to keep you safe, protect you, take care of you.

Which is why it surprises him how much he's turned on by the image of you beneath him, crying in pain as he tries to coax his big dick into you.

"It's... It's so big, Steve." You weep, and he knows you feel ashamed, disappointed in yourself for not being able to take him. But he can't possibly blame you - he knows he's a lot bigger than average, and he's been through this with other girls he's fucked. It's always a tight fit - but none of those other girls have been as innocent and lovely as you.

"It's okay, princess. I know you can take it." Steve encourages you softly, trying to ease his dick into your tight, wet pussy. God, you're so slick, it's almost like you're weeping down there. And he's trying so hard to focus on your comfort, but your tight warmth is so deliciously inviting, so fucking tempting. "C'mon, baby. Just relax."

"I-I'm trying. I p-promise I'm trying!" You hiccup, looking up at him with bright, wet eyes. He's got you caged between the bed and his body, pinned down by his sheer size advantage over you - not to mention his power. Your tiny hands are clutching against his biceps and you're breathing hard, so obviously scared of how big he is compared to you.

"You're so beautiful, baby. So fucking perfect for daddy," Steve says to you softly, hoping maybe a bit of praise and dirty talk might get you to focus on anything apart from the pain. "You're gonna take daddy's dick like a good girl, aren't you? It's gonna feel so fucking good when I'm inside you, baby. Don't you want that?"

His dick is barely half way into you by this point, and Steve doesn't want to admit it but he doesn't know how much longer he can take this. You're so fucking perfect in every way, it's agonising to be so gentle, so slow, so coaxing. And one look down at your tear-stained face and it only gets him harder.

You're shaking your head, the burn of being stretched out by his sheer girth making you dig your nails deep into his skin. "N-No, Steve! D-Daddy, I don't think I can... OH! OH FUCK!"

And okay, so Steve doesn't completely mean to lose his patience. He doesn't mean to forget all about how big he is for you, how tiny and tight you are. He doesn't mean to snap his hips sharply, and with one hard thrust, completely impale you with his huge cock. He doesn't mean to make you scream bloody murder. He doesn't mean any of it - but it just feels so fucking good.

"Shh, shh, baby, it's okay." He says through gritted teeth, grabbing both your wrists in one of his hands and pinning you in place as you writhe desperately underneath him, your body instinctively trying to get away from him. But there's no escape - he's too big, too strong as he holds you down. "It's okay, princess. Just be a good girl and take it."

"P-Please, it hurts! Hurts so much! You're too big!" You cry, feeling like your body is being ripped in half by him.

"You can take it, princess, you can take it." Steve repeats, most of his focus is on how fucking good it feels to finally be inside you, how velvety soft and tight you are, practically constricting around his dick, squeezing him so tight and good like no other pussy has ever before.

"S-Steve..." You're so dainty and small in his eyes, like a perfect, fuckable little doll. You sound faint, like you're about to pass out from his sheer size and force of his dick - and the pleasure too, considering how you squeeze around him. And a small part of Steve is wondering why he won't stop: You're hurting her, Steve. Pull out. Slow down.

But he can't.

"I can't stop, baby. Your pussy feels too fucking good," He practically growls, increasing his pace, getting into this almost frenzied state because shit, this is the best pussy he's ever had and he can't believe he's waited this long to fuck you. He almost loses it all over again when he glances down to see the shape of his dick protruding at the bottom of your tummy. Fuck. He knows you won't be able to walk for a while after this.

He reaches down to roughly brush the tears from your cheeks. "Don't worry, baby, I'll make it up to you. I promise daddy will make it up to you."

He has all night to stretch you out. And that's exactly what he intends to do.

(a/n: LISTEN IDEK OKAY. idk what to say. i literally wanted to keep writing but i had to stop myself. anyways. um. ->requests are open<- lmao.)

[nsfwhao]

req ?? making out with minghao when he knows you're stressed and gives u oral,, haha 🤤

answering some old asks & this got a little longer than intended hehe also this is high key relatable bc i’m stressed about my exams and i’d love to get my puthy ate by this man rn

wc ✩ 641

warnings ✩ smut below the cut, female reader, minghao’s love language is eating ur pussy, that’s it tbh. also barely edited

minghao, ever the observer, is always quick to notice when something’s wrong – he knows it when he comes home and sees you hunched over your laptop, tapping away wordlessly at your assignment. it’s no unusual sight for you to be working hard, but it’s clear to him that you’re overdoing it: when you get up to greet him, you can barely manage a smile, and you say little before going back to your report (and if that wasn’t obvious enough, your dark, tired eyes were a blatant giveaway anyway).

it becomes clearer when you climb into bed that night. a few chaste goodnight kisses turn hot and breathless, and he feels how you’re pressing your body against him, hears how your breath shakes at even the slightest touch, how you moan quietly into his mouth.

you need to be taken care of, minghao muses, letting his tongue trace your bottom lip, grazing it with his teeth.

“minghao…” you whisper against his lips.

“yeah, baby,” he replies between your open-mouthed kisses. “i’m right here.”

“my poor baby – you’re all tense,” he says, hands resting on your waist. you feel hot, suddenly, letting his heavy kisses take your mind somewhere far away.

something about the way minghao handles you makes you totally weak, makes you abandon your lab report even though those 2,000 words won’t write themselves, you think. he’s so gentle but so assertive at the same time that you can’t even find it in you to protest him laying you down and snaking his hand beneath your nightgown.

you whimper when he starts to tug your panties down your legs, but he just shushes you, kisses your tummy. “it’s okay,” he whispers, spreading your legs with his big palms. “don’t need to think, baby. just let me take care of this pussy.”

at first, it’s too much – his mouth is hot against you, his touch is burning into your skin, and his tongue is laving over your clit over and over and over. your thighs try to close around his head, and he pulls away from your core, tutting.

you just whine again. “minghao,” you whimper. “please, please…”

“shh, baby,” he soothes your cries. “you’re too tense. i got you, just let me relax you, baby, that’s it…”

he buries face back into your core then, nose nudging your clit as he licks up your wetness. his tongue flattens wide against you, like he’s trying to taste all of you, savour you. his mouth is careful and calculated, licking back and forth, lips closing around your clit and sucking firmly. all you can do is sigh in delight, grip the bedsheets in your fists, say “haah, oh my god, minghao”, to which he responds with a muffled “mhmm” as he drags his tongue through your pussy.

when he finally parts from your pussy, his lips are sticky and bright pink, glimmering with your slick. the sight alone elicits a moan, which becomes a cry as his thumb replaces his mouth, rubbing firm circles onto your clit.

“fuck,” you arch your back with a broken sob, and he just watches, eyes hazy. “that’s a good girl, just let it out,” he coos, his thumb starts to flick your clit, fast and messy. “relax for me, baby, that’s it.”

you can’t stop moaning, fuck – “ahh, minghao, minghao,” you babble, like you’re losing your mind. every one of your nerves are tingling, like they’re on fire. mindlessly, you thread your fingers through his locks, grinding yourself against his face, and he just lets you.

“i know, baby, it’s okay,” he mutters against your pussy. “get it all out, there you go.”

you can’t even think, let alone form coherent words. his tongue turns your brain to static. certainly by now your lab report is long forgotten – knowing this, minghao smiles proudly to himself.

[honeycombstrawberry]

[comes to you like an old timey journalist]

Ay kid, I got something for ya..

Bruce Wayne intimacy, caring for him, washing the dirt and grime out his hair, helping alfred stitch his wounds and make him eat and sleep, reassuring Dick when things look bad, being there for him when he feels he has nobody…. ya know…. the good stuff

it's just a feeling

pairing: bruce wayne x reader (gn pronouns)

rating: t

word count: 4,296

one-sentence synopsis: bruce returns from a night out as the batman in gotham, and you remind him what it is to just be bruce, and to let himself be taken care of, for just a little while.

author's note: oh god the intimacy........... a hot scoop if ever i had one buckaroo

read on ao3!

You’re usually lucky if Bruce is home before dawn.

Tonight, you’re not so lucky.

The sun’s already started to spread back up into the sky, beams of dim grey light fighting through Gotham’s near-constant cloud cover. The curtains are drawn throughout Wayne Manor, however, keeping the palatial spread of Bruce’s home in darkness until he’s actually ready to start his day later.

Alfred joins you in the window, watching the trees outside the estate, waiting for the telltale flash of neon and the rumbling engine that promise the Batmobile’s back— that Bruce is back, that another night as Batman is over, that he’s survived long enough to come home to you once more.

When you see it, you visibly relax. The house is so silent that the distant purr of the engine seems like the loudest crash. When it skims underneath the property, vanishing into the bowels of Wayne Manor, Alfred sighs beside you. You glance over at him.

“Another night,” Alfred says. He doesn’t elaborate before he turns to make his way to the elevator that’ll take him down to the Batcave, and you follow after him. You don’t speak, either; there’s really nothing that needs to be said, right now. The two of you have long since fallen into a routine with Bruce. As the two (adult) people who live with him, who take care of him, who love him most, it’s difficult for you to see Bruce like this.

You hear pounding footsteps before the elevator doors close, and then a tiny hand is slamming in, stopping them from shutting. Dick stares up at you from the other side as the doors snap back open. He still looks half-asleep, pillow lines on his face, pajamas as rumpled as his hair, but he’s alert enough to glare at the both of you.

“Is he home?” Dick asks. His jaw cracks around a yawn in the next second, and you hold your hand out to him.

“He is,” you tell him as Dick comes to you, slipping his hand into yours. He leans into your leg sleepily, letting his eyes drift shut as he yawns again. “You, however, should be asleep.”

“I want to make sure he’s okay,” Dick informs you. It’s just an explanation, not an argument.

Alfred crouches, and Dick steps into the circle of his arms, letting him lift him up onto his hip. Dick refuses to release your hand, clinging tightly as Alfred keeps him close.

The elevator dings into place in the dark subterranean Batcave, the doors clattering open. You can see the Batmobile at the far end of the space, the lights still glowing as the machine cools down enough to be turned off again, and the shadowy shape of Bruce moving through the aisles of worktables and equipment. His cowl, cape, and armor are all still in place, though you can see a fray in the material near his eye, a tear along the left edge of the cape, a chunk ripped out of the armor covering one thigh.

You’ll need to make repairs today and patch together other armor for him to take when he goes out tomorrow night; the last thing you’d ever do is let him go out with less than perfect protection from you.

Bruce finally lifts his eyes, when he’s drawn close enough. You can see the bright glint of them as they hit you first.

In that moment, there’s no filter, no screen, no divide; the wall that Bruce likes to hide behind most often isn’t there, and he’s just looking at you, connecting with you, raw and exhausted and worn. Your lips part slightly; you’re not sure if you need a breath, or if you’re going to say something.

“Bruce!” Dick exclaims, wriggling to get out of Alfred’s arms. The both of you release him, and he sprints to Bruce, colliding with his legs. You don’t miss the way Bruce staggers backwards, catching himself against the worktable behind them.

He still wraps an arm around Dick in response. He bows to hold him for a moment before he lifts him.

“You should be asleep,” Bruce informs him. It sounds like he’s trying to be stern, but he’s landing at slightly concerned instead.

“I just wanted to say hi,” Dick says. He pulls at Bruce’s cowl, and so Bruce reaches up to tug it off, dropping it aside. He looks absolutely fucking exhausted, his face drawn, hair crushed flat, skin wan and split here and there. You can’t see the bags under his eyes, smudged as the space around his eyes is with impossible amounts of reflective black paint, but you know there’s going to be tired bruises there when his face is clean again

“Hi,” Bruce tells him. “When did you go to sleep?”

Dick immediately appears sheepish, and lies, “Eight o’clock.” Bruce looks up at you and Alfred for confirmation, and Dick hurries to correct himself, saying, “I meant ten!”

“You shouldn’t stay up so late,” Bruce tells him, moving to set him down again. “You need your rest. Go back to sleep, kid, okay?”

Listen to your own goddamn advice, you can’t help yourself from thinking. It’s different, you know that. And you can’t help being impossibly endeared by how deeply Bruce cares about Dick and his well-being, even if it’s offset by the obvious contrast in how little he cares about himself and his own well-being.

At least, you think, he has you. And Alfred, and Dick, you mentally amend, but mostly you, because Alfred keeps Bruce functional and the house running, and Dick keeps Bruce balanced and controlled and happy, but you keep Bruce alive. You care for him the same way he cares for Gotham: absolutely, without concern for yourself, determined to do this one job right and protect what matters most to you.

Dick is frowning, but Bruce says, “Alfred, would you?” anyway.

Alfred extends his hand, and Dick hesitates for a rebellious moment before he gives in. He must still be tired, and you wonder how long he waited up after you put him to sleep still waiting for Bruce. You’re sure he’s still lying about ten o’clock, but you’re not about to call him out on it, not right now. Later, you can try and convince him about the merits of a good night’s sleep, even when his father— or, father figure, or mentor, as they insist, but you know better— is setting a terrible example.

“I’ll return in a moment,” Alfred informs you both, but Bruce waves him off, already turning away to start unfastening the latches on his armor.

“No need, Alfred,” Bruce replies. “I’m all set tonight, you can go to bed. Thanks for waiting up.”

Alfred is obviously skeptical, hesitant, and he’s about to argue with him before the two of you make eye contact. You and Alfred have gotten excellent at nonverbal communication; it’s easy for you to talk about Bruce without Bruce ever hearing a word.

Now, Alfred lifts an eyebrow at you slightly. You incline your head. When Alfred’s eyes flick over to Bruce, then back to you, you shake your head slightly, a small furrow coming between your brows.

I can still come back, he’s saying.

No, you tell him, I’ll take care of him. I can do this.

“Get some rest, Alfred,” you tell him. Alfred nods, now, surrendering Bruce to your care. It doesn’t look like Bruce has been busted up in any major ways, no enormous lacerations or deep injuries that need immediate wound care from somebody trained under fire. When Bruce needs a different kind of care, it’s better if it’s only you there. He tries so hard to stay strong for Dick and Alfred, no matter how often you— all of you— insist he doesn’t have to.

You all love him, and he loves you all. The hard part is just convincing him that it’s as true in one direction as it is in the other. You have an unconditional love for him, as does Alfred, as does Dick— but Bruce is terrified that he’ll someday still find the one condition that’ll stop that love, the one thing that will leave him alone again.

He loved so deeply before, only to lose everything, to be broken completely. He’s always so terrified to love again— to lose again— but you know that he’s losing every second he’s not letting himself love.

When Alfred and Dick vanish behind the closed elevator doors, the machine carrying them up and away into the proper body of Wayne Manor, you return your attention more fully to Bruce.

With nobody here but the two of you, Bruce is starting to crumple. He grasps for the fixture on the cape, and you step up without hesitation, stretching to unclasp it yourself. You send the fabric slithering to the floor. It’s important; of course, it’s important. Everything Bruce makes for Batman is important.

Bruce, however, is more important, and takes precedence over his uniform. You unwind the wraps from his hands, freeing each finger in turn until his bruised hands are free. Each piece of his armor gets separated and set aside next, either placed on a worktable or dropped to the floor to join the cape. You’ll pick it up later, or Alfred will, or Bruce himself will; whoever gets to it first. Right now, it doesn’t matter. They’re just things, just clothes. They can be mended in time. Bruce needs mending immediately, needs care he can’t wait for.

When you’ve got him down to his tight black boxer briefs and his black undershirt— all soaked in sweat— you can take a better catalogue of his injuries.

Really, compared to other nights, it’s not that bad tonight. There’s a long cut looping near his hip that must’ve slipped through his armor; luckily, though it stretches for a fair length, it’s shallow. A slightly deeper cut is near his collarbone, and there’s a few fresh bruises, which you’ve grown horribly used to.

“C’mon,” you tell him, and take his hand to guide him. He grabs his notebook on the way, letting you take him upstairs into the proper house, through the dark, twisting hallways and up the stairs to his bedroom.

In the enormous bathroom attached to his bedroom, you sit Bruce down on the edge of the bathtub. You run the hot water, letting the rushing sound fill the room, steam thick with heat following after. In that roaring silence, Bruce scribbles in his notebook, his hand flying in his struggle to keep up with the pace of his own thoughts.

While he works and the bathtub fills, you start examining his wounds. His skin prickles everywhere your fingers drag. You make a soft noise when you see a little fresh blood around the injury near his collarbone, and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“I’m going to stitch this one,” you tell him.

He nods, then says, “Thank you,” his voice rough. You nod, leaning in to kiss his cheek, tasting paint and sweat and dirt and God knows what the fuck else.

Bruce keeps up his rapid scribbling while you dig out the massive first aid kit you and Alfred keep under the sink for him in here. You clean the wound on his hip first, then neatly close it with butterfly stitches. He barely seems to notice. When you move up to his collarbone, he switches to writing with his other hand. He only reacts once, when you first dab this wound; his expression tightens a bit, the muscles in his jaw jumping.

You move more carefully, cleaning out the deeper cut as tenderly as possible. He doesn’t respond again, still writing, mumbling softly to himself as he works. It’s a rhythm the two of you have long since established. In the beginning, he used to apologize a lot. It took you telling him many, many times that you’re here for him, not some changed and different version of him, for him to actually believe you, letting it sink in that he can sometimes just be quiet and think. You know he needs to process his time out as Batman when he gets home; this is just another part of the routine.

You finish cleaning Bruce’s injuries and stitching him up before he’s finished writing. You let the water run a little bit, letting a bit of it out so he can finish up. It’s only once he’s done that you finally allow the bathtub to fill up the entire way. He seems surprised, nearly as if he’s forgotten where he was, when you reach out to lay a hand on his wrist.

“Can I take that?” you ask, and he nods. Slipping the notebook from his hand, keeping his pen inside to keep his place, you tug him into standing again.

He starts to strip off his own undershirt, so you kneel to hook your fingertips in the waistband of his underwear and tug them down. His clothes end up in the laundry basket; the notebook is safely removed to the nightstand in his bedroom; the first aid kit is replaced to its home beneath the sink.

Bruce takes your hand, lets you lower him down into the hot water. His face screws up slightly in response to the heat. You watch Bruce start to sink back into his own body, bit by bit, coming back to you.

The physical sensations are going a long way towards dragging him up out of the trance he usually ends up in when he comes home on nights like these. You roll your clothes up so you can sit on the bathtub’s edge without getting anything wet, your own legs submerged in the water up to your knees.

You stretch to reach for Bruce’s bath sponge. He tilts forward obediently, and you reach down to soak the sponge in water before you bring it up over his back and squeeze it out, letting the water rush down his skin. It drags dirt and grime with it, leaving trails of slightly cleaner skin behind.

You take up Bruce’s soap and start working it through the sponge until there’s a lather. His eyes drift closed when you bring the sponge to his back again, starting to scrub at his shoulder blades, suds washing away the filth that’s gathered on him over the course of the night. You work over every inch of his back, taking care to make sure you don’t miss anything. You go back over it again, to loosen his muscles, and he sighs, his head hanging forward, shoulders slumping.

You take Bruce’s wrist in your hand, stretching out one arm so you can scrub it clean. You do the same with the other, and Bruce tilts his head back to watch you, his bright eyes hazily half-focused on your face as you work.

Every now and then, unable to resist him, you lean in and press a kiss to some part of his face. The corner of his mouth, the space next to his eye, the skin between his brows, the side of his nose. He smiles slightly every time, tipping just a bit into each kiss like he’s chasing after them with half a mind, slowly, drowsily returning to his own body.

While you’re focused on his face, you bring a washcloth up to scrub the paint and sweat and filth away. You swipe under one eye, sponging the paint off of him in sweeps to reveal pale skin and the bruises you knew would be underneath his eyes. You scour his entire face until he’s pink and raw when you bring the filthy cloth away. The thing is stained, but you just chuck it towards the laundry. It’s more important that Bruce is clean than the washcloth is.

You take up the sponge again to bring down between his legs, dipping into the creases near his hips, his thighs. His head tilts back against the rim of the tub, and he shifts. You let your hand glide over his cock once, but there’s no intent. He’s clean, he’s warm, he’s safe, he’s here. That’s all you want— right now, anyways.

Gliding to his inner thigh, you make sure he’s clean everywhere. You scrub behind his knees, along the fine bones of his ankles, winding around and back up the other side. You make sure he’s clean everywhere, not a drop of the night left on him, before you abandon the sponge and take up Bruce’s shampoo instead.

Bruce tips his own head into the water to wet his filthy hair, sweat-soaked and crushed flat to his scalp as it is. He has such beautiful hair, not that he seems to realize it.

You scratch your nails down to his scalp, working out every tiny bit of grit, every speck of dirt, every oil-slick strand. He relaxes under your ministrations, his eyes drifting open and closed and open again, slipping up to find your face. He flickers back and forth as he watches you, a small smile at the edges of his lips.

When his hair is completely washed, you rinse it, then start again. He gets scrubbed twice before you carefully condition his hair, even as he huffs a laugh at you.

“How was it tonight?” you ask, when he starts to engage with you again.

“Mm.” He shifts, the water rippling slightly against the sides of the bath. “It wasn’t bad. Nothing terrible. Just another night in Gotham.”

For Bruce, ‘just another night in Gotham’ can mean anything from stopping a couple of muggings to witnessing somebody’s death, so you’re not about to let him just blow off whatever happened tonight. However, you also know he processes in his own time, so you rinse his hair again before kissing him on the temple.

“Up,” you say. “Get in the shower, let me clean the bathtub.”

“I’m s—”

“Go,” you tell him, and he goes. A trail of dripping water is left behind in tiny puddles in his wake. Really, the bathtub isn’t so hard to clean; you rinse it out twice and it’s mostly fine. You find Bruce in the shower after, his forehead pressed to the tile, hot water cascading over the crown of his head to sluice down his body.

“Come on,” you say. You tangle your fingers with his, and he comes with you to stand on the rug in front of the sink. You stretch to towel his hair dry, combing it with your fingers before you twist to find his actual comb on the counter. He stands still as you comb his hair back for him, then pat him dry all over, kneeling to rub the towel down the backs of his thighs.

Small goosebumps are lifting on his skin when you finish, so you reach for his bathrobe to wrap him in it, soft, dark fabric sliding over his skin. He follows you from the bathroom to his bedroom.

When you’re sitting him down on the edge of the bed, sweeping his hair back from his face, there’s a soft knock at the door. You leave him there with a kiss on the forehead before you go to answer the gentle sound.

On the other side of the door, Alfred waits with a tray. He passes it off to you, asks, “How is he tonight?”

“He’s okay, I think,” you tell him. You glance over your shoulder, and Alfred does the same, the both of you watching as Bruce shuffles himself back against the pillows, still on top of the covers. “Just tired.”

“Aren’t we all?” Alfred asks, and you smile slightly. When you turn back to Alfred, he leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek. “You get some sleep, too. Don’t think your hours have gone unnoticed—”

“Goodnight, Alfred,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze before you balance the tray again. “You get some sleep.”

“Rest assured, I will,” Alfred replies. Raising his voice slightly, he says over your shoulder, “Goodnight, Master Wayne.”

“Goodnight, Alfred,” Bruce says. He looks up, asks, “Is Dick asleep?”

“Soundly,” Alfred replies.

Bruce is smiling when he says, “Thanks, Alfred.”

“Get some rest,” is all Alfred says. He eyes you, says, “The both of you. And eat that,” he adds, pointing at the tray he’s given you. “All of it.”

“Yes, Dad,” Bruce says from the bed. It’s a joke, but it’s not a joke, between them. Every time he makes the joke, the both of them get this smile that makes your chest feel tight, and you’re not even involved. It’s nice, to see Bruce, who sometimes feels like the most well-known orphan in the world, not be completely without a parent.

Alfred bids you both goodnight again before leaving to retire to his own room. You nudge the door shut gently, quietly, before taking the tray he’s brought to Bruce in bed, slipping the cover up and off.

It’s not much— it’s hot oatmeal, and warm water, and cornbread with butter melting in. It’s not food that Bruce makes himself when he’s being specific with what he eats; it’s what Alfred makes him to comfort him.

Bruce accepts the food without comment, leaning back against the pillows to pick at pieces of it. You tear the cornbread and bring a piece to his lips.

He smiles. “You’re feeding me, now?”

“It’s more for me than you,” you tell him. Leaning in slightly and lowering your voice, as if sharing a secret with a co-conspirator, you tell him, “I have a little bit of a crush on you, you know.”

Bruce laughs again, a soft noise that accompanies a bit of pink flushing on his sharp cheeks. You lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth before you feed him the cornbread. His tongue chases the shine of butter on your fingertip, and you smile, too, watching the sleepily joyful edge that he has as he nears sleep.

You can’t help but feel partially responsible for him, right now. For his contentment, for his happiness, for the way he’s stretching lazily and yawning when you know that, before you, he used to come home and lock his bedroom door and collapse in bed until he woke up the next day, if he slept at all. It’s difficult to keep Bruce home— impossible, actually— but you can at least make home a good place while he’s here, can make sure that he’s comfortable and safe and happy while he’s here with you.

Softly, unable to stop yourself, you ask him, “Bruce. Are you happy?”

Bruce looks up from where he’s scraping the last of his oatmeal from the bowl, his brow furrowed. “What makes you ask that?”

Your chest hurts a little bit. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Oh.” Bruce looks back down at his spoon, then sets it down, abandoning the empty dishware. You take it from him as he says, “I am.”

“Yeah?” you ask.

He reaches out, his long fingers encircling your wrist. You set the empty tray aside, joining him in bed again, bringing him painkillers from the bottle on the bedside table to take with the last of his water.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

He takes the painkillers you offer, then draws you in. You climb over him to get under the covers, bringing them up and around the both of you. Snapping off the light beside the bed, you throw the room into darkness, despite the fact that you know the sun must just be rising outside. For Bruce, this is the time to sleep, the only time. You’re going to make sure not a drop of sunlight comes in to ruin that before he’s ready.

Bruce twists to burrow into you in the darkness. You can’t see each other, but you can feel Bruce wrapping himself around you, burying his face in your throat. His chest is rising and falling steadily, but his face feels warm as he tucks it into your skin.

His lips move slightly, but you can’t hear what he says. Letting your hand drift up, you start carding your fingers through his damp hair, scratching lightly along his scalp.

You press a kiss to his hairline, then whisper, “What was that?”

Bruce takes a soft breath in. The inhale feels a little shaky, but you don’t have time to ask if he’s okay before he’s murmuring again, voice raised slightly from before, “Thank you for not… leaving me alone. Thank you for being here.”

He’s saying that, but he’s saying more, so much more. He’s saying thank you for staying when I told you to go. He’s saying thank you for knowing me better than I know myself. He’s saying thank you for caring for me when I don’t know how. He’s saying I love you and I can’t be alone if it means being without you. He’s saying nobody has ever loved me like this. He’s saying I never thought I had anybody before I had you.

You tighten your hold on him, and he does the same in return. Burying your face in his hair, inhaling the warm soap-clean smell of him, you smile through the burn in your eyes.

“I love you,” you tell him. “You don’t have to thank me for loving you.”

He huffs a laugh that doesn’t feel like it’s humored. You can still feel the smile against your skin, the hot burn of salt-wetness that soaks from his eyes, melting into you.

“I love you,” he murmurs back, voice warm like steam, absorbed by your skin. You kiss his skull, close your eyes, grounding yourself in the feel of him and in the knowledge that he’s here for another night, safe in his bed— your bed— your shared bed— with you, at least once more.

[doomsdaybby]

Five Pounds & Sixty Pence (steven grant x female reader)

what to expect/warnings: switch steven (whiny subby/slightly possessive), mutual pining, steven needs to shut his dirty mouth, squirting, fingering, developing relationship.

I slightly blue balls you at the end but don’t worry about it.

word count: 3.8k

!!EXPLICIT!!

You had been on a few dates with Steven Grant over the past couple of months. The shy, charmingly awkward, beautiful man that worked in the museum gift shop encapsulated you like no other had ever done before.

“That’ll be - uhh - five pounds and sixty pence” his warm eyes glimmered, a polite smile graced his kind face, and you just about melted into a puddle on the floor. You had visited the museum for the first time with some friends early February that year, and were stupidly close to veering away from the gift shop, when the alluring man behind the till caused you to almost trip over your own feet.

“Taweret,” he exhaled a jittered chuckle as you fumbled through your purse, pointing to the small statuette of the goddess whilst his other hand twitched as if he wasn’t sure where to put it, to then clumsily settle on the counter. “Excellent choice”.

You paused and lifted your lashes to gaze at him, his expression bright although he was far from comfortable. He always lost the very little nerve he had around divine women. “She’s pretty,” you said after humming in agreement. Truth be told, you didn’t quite care, your only motivation being that you had to buy something, so that you could linger around the shelves and marvel at the enticing gentlemen behind the counter without making it too obvious.

You smiled back at him when his grin grew bigger, his tousled dark locks bouncing as he nodded eagerly, and you could have sworn his pink cheeks deepened in rouge. ‘Pretty’ maybe wasn’t the word Steven would use, but be it that it was coming from your mouth had him blindly agreeing.

You could tell from the praising comment that he was holding back from explaining why he thought you made a good choice, and if you weren’t being beckoned towards the exit by your friends, you would have enthralled him. His eagerness, the excited glimmer that lingered behind his chocolate irises drew you close, and you wished for more time.

“Thankyou-“ glancing at his name tag that sat slightly lopsided on the pocket of his navy button up, “-Steven” you smiled, handing him the array of pound coins and loose change. “With a V,” he stuttered, pointing to his name badge as if you hadn’t already looked at it. The alluring stranger was now a little less strange, and you silently cursed him for turning your legs to putty for doing virtually nothing.

Steven. How could he make such a generic name seem so endearing?

His gaze scanned your flushed face, lids sitting slightly lazy as you witnessed him slip into a visible small daze. “Oh- uh, yeah. You’re welcome” he stood up straight in a rush, stunned and a little embarrassed upon the realisation that he had drifted.

From then on, you made every excuse to visit the museum every so often, spending days off you would usually squander in your one bedroom flat stealing greedy glances at Steven from between the shelves.

In your free time, with no one there to unwillingly drag you away, you would stand head in hands propped up on your elbows on the other side of the till, listening to him with undivided attention rivet spellbindingly on about the Egyptian Gods and Goddesses.

“Starting a collection, are we?” he grinned, and you recognised that same gleeful glint behind his eyes. You had sparked the conversation once another small statuette, of Isis this time, graced his palms over the counter. “Will you tell me about her?” you requested politely, your feet rooting to the ground beneath you when he began gushing about the major Goddess.

Two months passed before you worked up the courage to ask him out, having talked yourself out of asking him sooner too many times. His reaction to the proposal of drinks after his shift made your heartbeat flutter a little faster; his face automatically brightened whilst blinking at you in almost disbelief.

“Is… that a… yes?” you prodded, unable to stifle the schoolgirl-esque giggle that wormed its way out of your chest when he was rendered mute. There he was again, swimming in that ditsy daydream that he would often visit when he was around you, a far off gaze that made his eyes twinkle.

Steven shook his head, coming to his senses quicker than he would if you had drenched him in ice water, “Oh! Yes! -“ he cleared his throat, “Yes. Absolutely! Give me uhhh…,” he glanced at his watch, “Half an hour?”.

The first date was even more wonderful than you could have imagined, never tiring of his over enthusiastic gleeful voice laced with more delight than you had ever witnessed when you prodded him more about his knowledge on ancient Egypt, surprised that he wasn’t already a tour guide.

“You’re wasted at that place, they don’t deserve you” you told him with utmost sincerity, after becoming excessively annoyed by his heavy sigh once you asked why he was still working in the gift shop. Not at him, of course, but at his stupid boss. Why did they not see how wonderful he was?

Though it settled your heart when you practically saw the sunken purple under lethargic eyes bore a healthy glow to match the warm tan of his skin, realising that he probably didn’t have somebody to tell him how great he actually was. His lips curled into a small smile, settling there as his cheeks turned to that familiar rouge.

“Will I… will I be able to see you again?” he asked apprehensively as he helped you with your coat, stumbling slightly almost as if he expected a refusal. You turned to him, enjoying the way he would evidently allow intrusive thoughts to sway his body language and facial expressions, his eyes furiously scanning your face for some sort of cue, praying to every God that the answer wasn’t no.

You straightened the collar of his shirt, resisting the urge to run your hands over his strong shoulders that were hidden underneath the oversized geometric fabric, that you quickly caught on was one of his favourites.

And like a moth to a flame, you couldn’t resist.

So now here you were, two weeks later curled up on Steven’s grey fabric couch in his dingy London flat, chowing down on some noodles from the local Chinese takeaway. It was a battle within itself to wiggle your way into his flat in the first place, stunting the tried and true trusty puppy dog eyes and pouty lip that had him practically melting in front of you.

Glancing beside you, your stomach pooled with an overwhelming warmth. “God, this is amazing!”, the delight coating his words snapped you out of a trance you didn’t realise you were in, watching how his face would twist into gleeful smiles and theatrical gasps. Who knew a movie about hobbits and wizards would have him so enthralled?

He was so innocently sublime, overwhelmingly beguiling to every degree and beyond, and somehow he was interested in you. At least that’s what you would like to think, as every time he made the smallest move he would proceed to hastily back out at the last second.

If your hands touched he would allow his fingers to linger there for a moment, before whisking it away as quickly as it appeared amidst an awkward clear of the throat.

“What?” he laughed when he noticed you staring, cheeks stuffed full of noodles and eyes glittering with wonder. You clocked the steal of a glance at your lips, which only made your smile grow wider and your cheeks flush a deeper pink. “Nothing,” you replied, returning your attention to the film, relishing in the sensation of his gaze raking across your face.

You would kill to know what he was thinking at that moment. Hoping that he shared in your desire; as if he were to give you the green light, that god awful geometric shirt would be ripped from his torso and cast to the floor quicker than he could say ‘Hathor’.

But you wanted Steven to be the one to take it further, as you already felt that you had to step on his throat to even get past the first date, let alone hold grapple him in a chokehold to get through his front door.

You couldn’t be the one to hold the reins forever, and if either of you wanted there to be a forever, he would have to pluck up the courage to take it that one step forward.

There was a kindling fire behind those dark chocolate eyes that screamed for a spark; a match, a fan to the flame, anything, to transform into a raging inferno. You savoured the anticipation, relishing in the fact that at any moment, the embers would ignite.

You could cut the thick tense blanket that swallowed the atmosphere with a knife, the longer Steven stared the quicker your heart would beat, spiralling exponentially towards concaving in your chest. “You’re not watching,” you told him, pretending that you didn’t just want to pounce on him there and then.

“Yeah… yeah” he nodded dizzily, admiring the curve of your lips and the slither of collar bone that peaked out from under your cotton t-shirt. He audibly swallowed, a small shake of his head as he too returned even a morsel of attention back to the screen, having to unbutton the collar of his shirt.

And for the next two hours you sat in near complete silence, a comfortable silence at that, eventually sitting parallel knee against knee, two spoons shovelling into one bowl of raspberry ripple ice cream. You both shared the odd glance and smirk when the other gasped at the tv screen, cannily drinking in the look on Steven’s face when he was consumed with laughter.

Becoming slightly tired of dangling on the edge of expectation, you shuffled over towards Steven’s side of the couch and rested your head on his shoulder. You could call it a bold move, as his bicep clenched under your touch, but would soon relax when your arm snaked through his to curl into a comfortable link.

He smelled so good. Like coffee beans and that generic cedarwood aftershave every man on the planet would wear. But it was like new when it came from him. You found yourself leaning into him, heart fluttering and head promising sin. If your eyes could take the shape of hearts, then they would have done at this moment. It was almost too much to bear.

“This was fun,” Steven said sheepishly whilst leaning against the doorframe of his front door, another perfect example of the fact that he never knew how to place himself, always appearing so self-conscious and fuelled by unease. “I like spending time with you,” you admitted, the first time either of you had explicitly informed the other that you actually valued when you were together.

Another bashful grin, both rows of teeth on full display as he glanced at the floor. You had half expected him to lift a leg up behind him like the lead female role would do in a rom-com. “We should do something again soon, yeah?” his eyes connected with yours, and your ribcage splintered. You didn’t want to leave. Not right now.

But it was obvious he didn’t want you to stay, and you lingered there for what felt like an eternity, screaming at him in your head to let you stay with him a little while longer.

“See you soon, Steven with a V” you turned to begin your walk to the uber waiting outside of the flat block, the lack of offer to, at the very least, walk with you resonating a painful sting.

But you barely even took a step, having only turned your back before you felt a strong grip of calloused fingers along the nook of your elbow. Spinning around, you didn’t have a chance to utter a single syllable before his lips were on yours. You leant forward towards him again, hands flying to his curls whilst his glide over your sides, mesmerising every curve and dip of your padded flesh, twisting around your back.

One hand settles on the small of your back, the other pressing frightenglingy harshly between your shoulder blades. He held you there, rooting you to the ground and suddenly feeling fragile and small in his grasp, waiting to be consumed and devoured. If he pressed any harder you would surely combust under the pressure.

Every shared glance, every hover of delicate fingers on skin, and every heartfelt compliment shattered and swelled all at once within this kiss. You had wanted it from the moment you saw him, with his lopsided name tag and dishevelled brooding appearance.

Your stomach flipped, lungs knotting themselves together amongst the sheer disbelief that you finally got to touch him, possessively and obediently. From your shoulder blades his large palm skates to hook around the back of your neck, forcing you closer as your teeth chattered against one another.

As much as you could stand here forever with him, consuming his taste and touch in every way possible, you couldn’t fuck him out in the corridor. So mustering up the might to push him back, he whimpered as your lips disconnected, his pink tongue chasing your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep you sealed together.

With the fabric of his shirt wadded in the palm of your hand and his shaking breath brushing your nose, you walked him back and shut the front door, not wasting another second before tugging on his shirt to pull him right back in. Steven jolted against you, swiftly lunging himself forward as your tongues twisted together before your lips even had the chance to reconnect.

He tasted of raspberry ice cream, so sweet, and you felt the stretch of his lips as he smiled into you. His large hands found your hips, digging fingertips into the soft flesh underneath the sheer fabric of your dress to quickly smooth over the hurt when you winced.

The awkward, sunken-so-far-down-in-his-chair-he-near-folded-in-on-himself, unimpeachable Steven had been flung out of the nearest window. This new form of himself that held you with such ferocity was uncharted territory, and you liked it.

He was desperate. And so were you.

“Oh god… is this okay?” he questioned against your lips as his fingers fumble with the hem of your dress, returning to those stuttering words and unsure wandering hands that were crying out to explore your body.

“Fuck, Steven, of course it’s okay” your voice dripped with arousal, a twinge of annoyance simmering behind your tone at his apprehensiveness. “Do whatever you want. It’s okay. This-“ you seized his hands and brought them up to harshly squeeze the tissue of your breasts, “-is okay”.

His eyes widened in a spectacular fashion as soon as his clammy palms kneaded the tender flesh, again frantic when they flickered between your chest and your face, unsure of where to look but knowing exactly what to do next.

Green light.

“‘Do whatever you want’, yeah?” his lips curled into a blood curdling grin, every cell in your body crystallising when you physically witnessed his eyes transcend darker. “Oh, darling. I will” and your heartbeat skyrocketed, much did the second one south of your hips that thumped with wicked urgent intent.

His kiss-bruised lips latched to your throat, and you felt yourself titling your head back against the door to give him easier access. As he nipped at the sensitive skin of your throat, one hand suctioned to your breast, resonating an ache that paired with the brutish force of his palming.

He wasted no time to send the other prowling up underneath your dress; nimble quick fingertips ghosting over the skin of your belly, sparking an array of goosebumps in their wake, tracing over the rolls of your sides along your ribs, settling against the cushion of your naked bosom.

Steven groaned against your neck, the rumbling adding to the multitude of sensations that had your breathing latch and heartbeat frantic. The only thing you could do was to hang onto him for dear life, your hands grasping to the roots of his curls as he had you pinned against the doorway, belligerently sucking welts of blue and purple against your skin.

“Fuck, Steven…” his name rolled off your tongue with an embarrassing simplicity, ready to fall to your knees if he commanded you to do so. You tightened your grip on his tousled curls, enough so that you winced at the mere thought of how it felt, but Steven only omitted a delighted groan in return.

He wedged himself against you, rolling his hips against your thigh where you quickly became aware of his own arousal, cock straining deliciously in his jeans. “Poor baby…” you cooed, reaching down to glide your hand over his clothed erection. He whimpered, a needy sound you had never quite heard before, fingers digging into your skin again so harshly you were bound to be bruised.

He melts against you, dragging a hand down to tease the waistband of your panties as your palm flattens along his apparent bulge. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, hot trembling moaning breaths fanning along your collarbone and chest. From this angle you could kiss along his glistening hairline, travelling towards his temple as you allowed him to drift again, savouring every little touch and squeeze in between.

“That’s it, darling” he drawled in response when you opened your legs for him, right on cue for his fingers to dip below the cloth concealing your modesty. Drawing him closer, ragged breaths seared the back of your throat as thick fingers discover how soaked you are for him. Ready and waiting, utterly dripping, for him.

“Fuck,” he runs his fingertips over the mound of your clit, breathing out a laugh of almost disbelief when you squeak. He must have felt your heart skip a beat; pulling his head back now to peer at you with a new wanderlust daze of sheer awestruck and admiration, a smirk painting his stupidly perfect face when those same fingers slid down to your slick entrance.

As if your state of arousal wasn’t obvious enough, as Steven teased your folds over and over again, the sound of it was a dead giveaway. “So fucking wet for me…” that familiar delight lingered behind his words, as if he had been presented with a professionally wrapped gift on christmas morning, satin bow and all.

“All for you…” you made sure he knew it. How devoted you were to him, how you would do anything he said at the drop of a hat. You had been hooked since the beginning. His thumb pad finally began to circle your clit, clumsily at first but he soon found his rhythm.

Now it was your turn to melt against him, fighting clawing urges to both hold his gaze and also throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut amongst the pleasure. Just as you thought you were as close to heaven as you could get, Steven pushed a thick ring finger into your aching heat, catapulting you to a place otherworldly.

“Jesus! Steven!”, although you were more than prepared for him, the sudden sensation of becoming so full by just a finger was a jolting surprise within itself. He stared at you slack jawed, running his tongue absentmindedly over his bottom lip, watching you spurred with sacrilegious intent.

You ground down against him in a stupor, silently begging for more. Of course, Steven wouldn’t leave you hanging, as much as the thought of you pleading for him danced in his head, he wasn’t about to deprive this sweet sweet Goddess of the pleasure she deserved. There was plenty of time to practice those fantasies he pushed to the back of his mind.

He slips in another finger with ease, the initial shock of his presence within you settling, the familiar warmth pooling at the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, angel. Such a good girl” he cooed in your ear, returning his lips that glimmered with saliva to your reddened throat, purring buttery sweet nothings against your skin.

“Oh my fucking god,” you squirmed away from his touch, the firecrackers rippling along your spine teetering on the edge of too much to bear. But in this position, trapped between a wooden door and a man that was built as if chiselled from polished marble, you had nowhere to go.

And jesus fuck, you were glad to be caged.

Steven pulled his fingers back out of you again, and this time you whimpered in the same desperate tone he adorned only minutes ago. But with a shift of his posture and a curve of his wrist, he curled his fingers up into you at a new unrelenting angle that had you chanting with no cohesion.

He suckled at your flesh, the bulging arteries that pumped mercilessly with hot blood beckoning him like a siren call. “Oh god, Steven. Steven!” your whimpers became cries, cries became muffled screams that were stunted by the weight of his free hand that clasped rapidly over your mouth. The last thing he needed was a noise complaint from his shitty neighbours.

“Are you going to cum for me, angel? Such a pretty baby, falling apart all because of my fingers? You have no idea what my cock can do to you” the filth that stringed from his lips were enough to tip you over that edge, his voice as sweet as honey yet cold as ice. You never imagined such vulgarity to bubble from the throat of someone so… well, someone like Steven.

Your throat splintered under the weight of your cries, moan after moan ripping from your chest as you flooded the palm of his hands. You faintly heard what can only be described as rain in a thunderstorm hammering down south of your hips, head fuzzy and brain buzzing.

You noticed Steven’s bewildered and exhilterated expression as his focus dipped to his fingers that ploughed you through your high, slowing to a steady pace as your cries dwindled into soft moans. “Bloody hell, can you do that again?!“ his boyish pitch had returned, and it was when you fully came to your senses that you realised what had happened.

Titling your head down to follow his wide eyes, your chest began to cave in once again through the panic of realisation. You saw the front of Steven’s jeans first, splashed with the result of your orgasm, then; the tips of his fingers still aligned with your entrance, his palm and wrist dripping with your cum.

And the floor. God. The floor had become puddled with more arousal than you had ever seen. You knew you were capable, but goddamn, you had never squirted this much before.

“Oh jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“ but you were cut off by his lips sealing with yours in a flurry, quickly shutting you up and snuffing out any doubt that has risen in your head. “Don’t you dare apologise,” he warned, tone so buttery and genuine as he kissed away any shame or uncertainty.

“I'm going to make you do that again”.

—————————————————————————

woohoo! my first moon knight fic.

feedback is always appreciated! 💖

should I do a second part? I think that’s fair lmao.

[pinkanonwrites]

I humbly ask for an Azul x reader where octo-boy gets turned into an octopus (idk alchemy accident?) He’s immediately insecure and tries to hide from Y/N but they find him and immediately start doting on him and stuff and accidentally confesses to him and gives him a lil peck. And then he turns back in y/n’s arms bc true love’s kiss!

Bonus points if Azul also had a crush on y/n but was too scared to make a move and this is what breaks the ice.

This is so cute. I thought it worked better as a full scenario in stead of bullet points, so I hope you enjoy!

"Floyd... What have you got there?"

If the look on Floyd's face wasn't enough to get you worried, the lidded clay pot he carried in both hands definitely was. Especially since you could hear the slosh of liquid moving with each step coming from within.

"Shrimpyyyyyy!~ Wanna see something hilarious?" His toothy grin split his face in obvious, unrestrained delight as he shifted one hand to rest upon the lid on top. "There was a little 'situation' in Potionology today, and Azul's looking extra squishy and delicious! Take a peek." He moved to take the lid off, only for a pair of small purple tentacles to reach desperately from within, grasping at the edges of the lid and trying to wrestle it from Floyd's grip. Finally Floyd was able to pry it from the tiny arms, tipping the pot towards you to reveal the contents within.

Scrunched into the bottom of the pot, facing the wall, was a small purple octopus. It had folded itself up quite nicely within, arms tucked neatly beneath the mass of its soft, squishy body. When it finally turned around it looked up at Floyd with an all-too-familiar piercing glare.

"A-Azul? Oh my god. How did this happen? Are you okay?" You rested a hand on the rim of the pot to peer closer, which only served to have Azul squishing his little body even further against the bottom, rippling as his skin color changed to match that of the clay.

"He can't talk, Shrimpy. He's an octopus, remember?" Floyd shifted the pot towards you until you had no choice but to take it into your arms, peering down at the pouting Azul within. "I was supposed to take him to the headmage or somethin', but I've got shit to do. You can watch him, can'tcha? Sure you can!"

"Floyd, I don't think he wants me to-"

"Thaaaaanks, Shrimpy! Catcha later. Oh!" He elaned over the pot and grinned into it. "You're welcome, boss.~"

And with that Floyd practically skipped away, leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway with the pot cradled in your arms. Finally rising to the top of the water, Azul poked a small, slimy head out to peer over the edge and glare at him as he went. Then, almost sheepishly, he turned to glance at you.

"I'm sorry, Azul. I can help you find the headmaster if you want."

He nodded, though it was hard to tell if that was a nod or just the bob of him floating in the water, before quietly sinking to the bottom of the pot. Even without words, you could tell that Azul wasn't exactly happy about being seen like this.

"If it's any consolation, I still think you look pretty cute." There wasn't really much you could do about it by yourself, magicless as you were, but it wouldn't hurt to try and lift his mood a little bit. And judging by the way he jolted back up to the surface, staring at you with remarkably human shock, you guessed it was probably working.

"I mean it! You look so cute!" You couldn't help but smile as you reached a hand into the pot. To your delight Azul didn't flinch away again, letting you run your fingertip over the top of his vaguely slimy head. "I won't judge you, you know. Whether you're a man or an octopus or something in between, I like you just the way you are, Azul."

His skin rippled again, entire body turning a bright pink against the dark water. Could octopi blush? Was this a blush? Even if you could ask him, it's not like he'd tell you. So instead you shifted the pot to your other arm, pressing a kiss to the fingertips of your dry hand and reaching in to push it against Azul's head.

"Let's go find Crowley, okay? Maybe he can-"

POOF!

A cloud of mulberry-colored smoke erupted from the opening of the pot, engulfing you in its wake. It smelled like sunshine and salty sea air, and when it cleared you saw Azul, soaking wet in his uniform but very much human, standing across from you with his hands also cradling the octopus pot. His face was a brilliant shade of pink, eyeglasses askew and staring at you like you'd just been the one to transform before his very eyes, and not the other way around.

"Ah- You- You said- and then you did- and it worked?" He'd completely lost his usual countenance and charm, barely able to stammer through a sentence and not taking his eyes off you for a moment in a way that began to make you feel just as flushed. "It worked..."

"Are you, uh, feeling better?" It was hard not to feel awkward with the way you had just been coddling him a few moments prior.

"Yes, well, ah... Yes. Thank you." He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been in, moving to adjust his glasses and wring some loose saltwater from the corner of his jacket. "Though the dry cleaning bill will be dreadful, I'm sure."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "So what happened in potions today anyway? Floyd didn't exactly spell it out for me."

"Professor Crewel had us studying transfiguration curses and their effectiveness in potion dispersal, and things had been going quite well until Kalim started 'experimenting.'"

"Sounds like him."

"Without Jamil to stop him he's quite a force of terror in his own right, isn't he? So Crewel instructed Floyd to come and fetch me, since the curse could only be broken by-" Mid sentence he suddenly clammed up, the blush that was seeming to disperse returning in full force as he suddenly found himself incredibly interested with the water remaining in the octopus pot.

"What? By what?" You pressed, leaning in closer. He swallowed hard, turning his gaze back up towards you.

"By true love's...kiss."

Oh.

OH!

"OH! Well, I, um, that's uh... That's good! Good that Floyd found me then I guess, heh!" You began to ramble before you could stop yourself, no longer able to look Azul in the eye. "Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or anything, you don't need to like- reciprocate if you don't want to I just, y'know I think you're... Cool. And smart. And handsome. And... stuff."

"Oh."

"...Yeah."

"I wouldn't say... Rather, I'm not... I wouldn't go so far as to say it made me uncomfortable. Not... Not that in the slightest."

Your heart stuttered in your rib cage.

"Rather, as we've become acquainted I seem to find myself rather.. fond of you. Despite everything." The two of you finally made eye contact again, a determined glint in Azul's eyes despite the rosy color of his cheeks. "So if our interests align I see no reason why we couldn't come to a... mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Is that..." You bit your lower lip to hide a laugh. "Is that your way of asking me out?"

"Well, yes. Are you, are you not interested? I assure you though my aquatic form may be a touch off putting that if it concerns you I won't-!"

"What?! No! No no no, didn't you hear me? I like you just the way you are, Azul! Every way you are. I just... I thought it was cute, trying to ask me out with your contract lingo. You're adorable."

Though his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed, you could tell from the way his lip wobbled that Azul was doing his best not to smile. "I'm meant to be intimidating, you know. I've spent quite a bit of effort building that image. Adorable seems a bit... soft."

You beamed. "You'd better get used to it, cause you're gonna be hearing it a lot!"

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

i also wanna see things stuff gn!reader does that makes the greasers’ nervous and gives them butterflies (ex. flirtatious remarks and compliments, leaning in REALLY close and pulling back, ruffling their hair, etc.)

A/N: By popular request, our favorite greasers with a flirty reader! Now, this personality is like the opposite of me so I tried my best! Most of them actually came pretty narurally though? Other than Tim’s, don’t know why I struggled so much with him. But I hope you guys enjoy, it’s a new format so let me know what you think! It took a lot of effort to get this done <3

DARRY CURTIS

It normally takes a lot for Darry to get nervous or turn into a blushing mess; he’s a tough guy, he’s grown up adult

But when it comes to you? Darry turns into an absolute wreck, blushing and laughing nervously

He can handle a lot from you though, your flirty touches and looks, they don’t bother him too much, he’s gotten used to them

If you call him handsome though? Bam, he’s falling apart at the seams

Y/N plopped down on Darry’s lap, knees resting comfortably on each side of Darry’s thighs. They had a small smirk on their face as they let their fingers splay across his abdomen.

“What’s up with you?” Darry teased, looping his arms around their waist.

“Oh, nothing,” they said innocently, smirk momentarily disappearing. Y/N let one of their hands drift up so their fingers could tangle in Darry’s hair. “Just missed you, handsome.”

Darry’s cheeks flushed bright red and was suddenly very grateful that Soda had taken Ponyboy out to the movies.

Giggling, Y/N’s smirk reappeared as they brought Darry’s face closer to theirs for a kiss.

SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop likes to act like he doesn’t get flustered, he’s usually the one riling up everyone else

All the girls in Tulsa fawn over him, treating him like a movie star or a god and Soda loves all the attention

But what he loves even more is being showered with attention from you, he gets a little blushy whenever you devote your full attention to him

He’s not shy by any stretch of the imagination but you always sort of make him nervous

“Hey Y/N?” Sodapop called, leaning inside the DX to look for them.

Y/N was behind the counter, organizing the money tray in the cash register. The boys had a bad habit of just shoving in coins without caring about where they ended up. “Right here, Sode,” they replied, dropping a few nickels into the section.

“Hey,” he smiled, making his way towards the counter. “I was wondering if–,”

“Wondering if?” Y/N interrupted. They glanced up at him through their eyelashes, lifting their head just enough to look at him.

Soda blushed, gulping. He bit his lip and looked down at his shoes before lifting his eyes back to Y/N. “Did you maybe wanna go to the Dingo tonight? Get something to eat?”

Y/N nodded before bringing up their hand so they could rest their chin on their palm. “That sounds good!”

Still blushing, Sodapop nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously before leaning across the counter to press a quick kiss to Y/N’s cheek.

PONYBOY CURTIS

It really doesn’t matter what you do to him, Pony ends up blushing no matter what’s going on

Lean in close just to whisper to him in class? There’s a faint blush over his cheeks

You’re at the movie theatre and you let your head fall onto his shoulder? Pony is very lucky the darkness hid the color in his face

Nicknames absolutely kill him too, he can’t handle how sweet you are and it’s so very obvious, Dally teases him for it a lot

“Pony,” Y/N said, looking up from their textbook. They were both sitting in Ponyboy’s bed, Y/N stretched out along the foot as Pony sat cross legged up by the pillows. He looked up from his notebook at their voice, eyebrows raised in silent questioning.

“Do you have a map?”

Pony pulled his head back, confusion clear across his face. “Y/N, what-,”

“I think I’m lost in your eyes,” they finished with a playful smirk.

The words sunk in and Pony blushed, ducking his head back into his notebook.

“C’mon!” Y/N complained. They closed their textbook and crawled closer to him, gently pulling his notebook away. “That was a good one.”

Pony shook his head in disagreement, mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something to deny them. Y/N didn’t let him, letting out a small laugh before attacking his reddening face with kisses.

DALLAS WINSTON

Dally prides himself on not blushing, he doesn’t really blush ever

No pet names or touches are going to make him blush he’s just not easily embarrassed

That’s just not who Dally is, say whatever you want, but you have to really work to make him blush

That being said, he has a weak spot in his armour and it’s his St. Christopher

“C’mon,” Y/N coaxed. They were standing at the bottom of the staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms, trying to convince Dally to leave Buck’s party to spend some time upstairs with them.

“Doll-,”

Y/N let out a sigh, fingers looping into the chain of Dally’s medal to pull him close enough to press a heavy kiss to his lips.

When they pulled back, Dally let out a shaky breath, eyes much wider than they had been a second ago.

“Now,” Y/N said evenly, emphasizing their words with a slight tug to the necklace, “are you going to come upstairs so I can do that again? Or are you going to stay down here all night?”

Dally just gulped and nodded, trying his best to keep up with Y/N as they hopped up the stairs with a victorious smile.

JOHNNY CADE

My god, Johnny is the second most-likely to blush over anything you do, right behind Ponyboy of course

He’s just not used to all the sweet things you do? He’s not used to the gentle touches and soft compliments

And I know this sounds like I’m making Johnny into one of those uwu soft bois but I promise you I’m not

This is just the truth, he doesn’t get gentle touches and kind words at home, he’s not used to them and it’s very strange to him to receive them

Johnny watched as Y/N absently let their fingers trail up and down the length of his arm, tucked snugly into his side at the diner’s booth. Their head was turned into his chest, eyes locked on Ponyboy who was sitting on the other side of the table as her told them a story.

Y/N paused when their fingers reached the inside of Johnny’s wrist, letting the pad of their index finger tap against the soft skin a few times before continuing to let their fingertips drag across his forearm.

Johnny bit his lip and looked away, trying to control the color rapidly appearing in his cheeks. Pony noticed it and gave Johnny a look that had Y/N shifting in his arms to look up at him.

“Are you alright?” they asked, a playful look in their eyes.

Johnny was doing his best to ignore their hand on his thigh and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

They grinned, fingers tapping the same rhythm they had against his wrist onto the top of his thigh. “Are you sure?”

Johnny bit his tongue and nodded. 

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two-Bit is actually the least likely to blush and get all nervous over something you do

Any flirty remark you make is going to be replied to with another flirty remark, that’s just the kind of personality Two has

The best way I can think of putting this is that Two is very touchy so you ruffling his hair or getting in his face really isn’t going to affect him

It’s hard to make him blush, but it isn’t entirely impossible, you’ve just got to be super forward with him

Two-Bit was in the middle of a conversation with Steve when Y/N came sauntering up. They threw an apologetic smile towards Steve before tugging Two-Bit close enough so they could whisper in his ear. 

Because they had their back to Steve, he could only watch the expressions on Two-Bit’s face as Y/N said whatever they were saying.

Two’s eyes widened, glancing over at Y/N in shock before slowly becoming a little more excited. He grinned suddenly, hands finding Y/N’s waist as they gave a soft laugh.

“So, that’s a yes?” they asked, loud enough for Steve to hear as they pulled away. Two-Bit nodded enthusiastically and tugged Y/N closer.

They laughed again and pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping away.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Y/N said, looking over at Steve. “He’s all yours now.”

Two-Bit blinked, surprised like he’d forgotten Steve was standing there. He did forget. Blushing, Two looked away, an embarrassed smile on his lips.

“I’ll see you later,” Y/N murmured, squeezing Two-Bit’s hand before walking away.

Steve watched them go, giving them a small wave. “What was that about?”

Two-Bit blushed even harder. “Nothing!”

STEVE RANDLE

Steve-o! There is one sure-fire way to make him blush, it’ll never fail, I promise you that

Nicknames and terms of endearment only get him to blush sometimes, they don’t always work but sometimes they do!

You’ve just got to get in his face, get close enough that your lips are almost touching and then say something, doesn’t even matter what it is

Bam, you’ve got a blushing Steve on your hands (bonus points if you do it in front of Soda, Steve’s an absolute mess then)

“You alright there, buddy?” Sodapop asked, barely holding back his laughter at the love-struck on Steve’s face. Y/N had just stepped away from the counter, walking towards the front door of the DX. They had been talking with Steve, discussing the plans for their date the next night when Sodapop had walked in.

Y/N had been just about to kiss Steve, lips practically brushing over his when their eyes flitted over to Soda. They smirked and murmured that they would finish the conversation later before giving Sodapop a small smile and pulling away.

“Shut up!” Steve said, blushing becoming more pronounced as Y/N blew him a kiss before stepping outside, a wide grin on their face.

“Just askin’ if you’re alright! You’re lookin’ awfully red.”

“Go away!” Steve cried. He threw the oily rag he carried around when he was working at Soda’s face, trying to regain his composure. “Get out of here!”

TIM SHEPARD

Just like Dally, Tim does not blush easily, it takes a whole lot of effort to get him nervous

You’ve either really got to try to make him nervous or just don’t, just be you and see what happens

Tim is not a fan of cheesy pick-up lines, just putting that out there, he rolls his eyes whenever you give him one and does his best to kiss you in an attempt to shut you up

So yeah, pick-up lines aren’t going to get you anywhere with him; I mean, a few kisses maybe, but that’s only because he wants you to stop

“Scared?” Tim asked, eyes falling over Y/N as their fingers tightened around his arm after there was a loud noise from one of the dark alleyways behind one of the rows of houses. He was walking Y/N home from the drive-in, he always walked them home to prevent any problems.

“No,” Y/N said with a slight shake of their head. They leaned more heavily into Tim’s side as they passed the alley.

Tim scoffed. “Oh really? You’re not scared?”

“No,” they repeated easily, sending Tim a warm smile. “I’ve got you with me. I’m safe.”

It took Tim a moment but Y/N’s words slowly made their way to his brain and he pieced together what they were getting at. They felt safe with him, safe walking through dark streets while they held onto him. Tim smiled shyly, a rare expression for him, as he felt his face begin to heat up.

Y/N looked up, ready to ask him why he had suddenly gone so quiet when they noticed his flushed cheeks. Giggling, they reached up to brush their fingers over his cheekbones. “Are you blushing, Tim Shepard?”

“You stop that right now.”

CURLY SHEPARD

Touch his hair. Play with his hair. Compliment his hair.

I kid you not my dear friends, any attention you pay to his hair will be rewarded with a blushing Curly Shepard

His opinion on his hair changes, sometimes he loves his curls and other times he can’t stand them

So, just give him a few compliments and tangle your fingers in his dark hair and Curly is so red he’s practically a tomato

“You’re so pretty,” Y/N muttered, running their fingers through Curly’s hair. He had his head in their lap, looking up at them adoringly. Technically, they were supposed to be studying, there was a big test in their biology class tomorrow. But, the heavy textbooks were long forgotten, pushed to the side in favor of just sitting in each other’s company.

“Yeah?” Curly said, smirking. He was trying to play off how Y/N’s comment had made his heart flutter by putting on an air of confidence.

“Yeah,” they repeated. “I wish my hair looked like yours.”

Curly let out a noise, low and rumbling but not quite a purr as he turned his face further into their thigh.

Y/N was insistent and gently turned Curly’s face back so they could see his eyes, letting their fingers tighten slightly in his dark curls. “I’m serious. Your hair is so soft and silky. And the color, it’s so dark and it makes your eyes look all bright.”

“Y/N-,”

“You’re really pretty,” they said again. “Really pretty.”

Curly closed his eyes and turned his face away again, relying once more on Y/N’s thigh to hide the blush spreading across his face.

“Pretty,” Y/N repeated, leaning down to press a few kisses to Curly’s cheek. “Really pretty.”  

[bonky-n-steeb]

crescent

— bodyguard! bucky barnes x popstar! reader

summary || you cannot resist your mysterious, grumpy and sexy bodyguard, Bucky Barnes. (bodyguard au)

warnings || unprotected sex. car sex. daddy kink. dom/sub undertones. fingering. dirty talk. petname (princess). pining. PWP. — MINORS DNI

I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!

thank you for 6k followers! I love you guys!

The glitter on your eyelids and the sweat dripping off your forehead sparkled in the focus of bright lights as you bent down for a final bow.

The audience roared rowdily as you as you waved them goodbye and walked away from their eyes and into the darkness of the backstage.

You shut off your mic and discarded all the wires on your body before starting to jump around in excitement. “It was amazing! Everyone loved it!” Wanda, your manager, clapped with exhilaration.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Wan, I can’t believe this!” You hugged her tightly and you were both jumping on the spot with excitement.

“I knew you’d do it! I just knew!” Wanda wasn’t just your manager but your best friend and confidante too. And when no one else had believed in you, she had.

This wasn’t your very first concert, but still every concert for you was just as important. The thrill of singing in front of the mob of people who loved you was better than any drug.

“Come on! Let’s get you into the car before they come swarming in.” Fame came with pros and cons. The love of your fans was both, a pro and a con.

Sometimes it got a little too much and people forgot you were a real human with emotions rather than a part of your their fantasy.

You nodded to Wanda and your eyes search for one man specifically among the mass of people working backstage.

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked Wanda as you both started walking. “He’s waiting outside to escort you to the car.” Wanda informed as you two hurried past everyone.

You were wearing a short checkered skirt and thigh high boots. You paired that with a corset top which made you feel sexy as fuck.

You had defied expectations and marched to your own rhythm right since the beginning. And at this point, you didn’t care what people commented about your body.

You were tired and exhausted after performing for so long but the instant you saw Bucky, you quickly improved your posture and tried appearing energetic.

James Bucky Barnes code named the winter soldier, was a high profile bodyguard, you had hired. He previously worked for President Steve Rogers, and even you didn’t know till now how you afforded him.

He was broody and mysterious and mouth-wateringly handsome. His sharp jawline and steel blue eyes could make you dizzy with just one look.

You didn’t know much about him, but at the same time, you knew his weirdest little habits like how he listed down all the things he had to do in a day and that he owned a cute white cat, alpine.

He just gave a quick nod, and didn’t even say a word more as you walked besides him. He was constantly checking your periphery to see if you were away from harms way.

You sighed when you finally hoped into the limousine and Bucky followed close by while Wanda stayed back to ensure everything ended smoothly.

“Did you like the show?” You wiggled happily as you asked him. Bucky was in a grumpy mood 24x7 and today was no different.

“It was good.” He stated flatly as the car started. “Only good? Not excellent? Not outstanding? Not out of this world?” You always shamelessly flirted with Bucky and he resisted.

“It was really good.” Some days you wanted to punch Bucky, this was one of those days. “Okay.” You just grunted and turned your head away. But what you didn’t notice was the way his lips smirked up as you acted out.

Bucky wordlessly thrusted a water bottle in your hand and you greedily gulped down the much needed water with some droplets slipping past your lips.

Bucky’s eyes refused to move away from the stray droplets as they disappeared past your cleavage. He knew he should avert his eyes but he was just not able to.

He wanted to lick clean each of those droplets and fuck you until you begged him to stop. He always acted restrained and grumpy because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

You caught him staring and you didn’t know what was in the air, but you wanted nothing more than Bucky to just hold you down and fuck you into oblivion right in this car.

You purposely let the bottle slip out of your hand and spill on the floor. “Oops!” You you giggled and bent down to pick it up from the floor.

You knew Bucky was getting a great view of your ass from beneath the really short skirt, and that’s exactly what you wanted.

You wiggled your ass, pretending to be innocent, as you chased the bottle which was laying right in front of you.

Bucky’s hand was itching with the need of grabbing your ass. But Bucky was nothing if not professional. He folded his palm into a fist and clenched his jaw tight.

“Like something you see?” You teased as Bucky’s eyes were locked upon your ass. “Don’t tease me.” For the first time, you were seeing his professionalism slip.

“Or what?” You bit your lower lip as you asked and the next thing you knew, you were being pulled into Bucky’s lap.

“You gotta learn some fucking manners, princess.” His hands kneaded your ass and you let out an unholy moan at the slightest touch.

“Please…” your panties were dripping already. “Please what princess?” His hot breath on your neck was making you shiver with anticipation.

“Please fuck me..” you were breathless and pure lust was flowing through your veins. He swatted your ass and your eyes flew open, when you hadn’t even realised when you closed them in the first place.

“You know better than that princess.” You just knew what he was asking for and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“Please fuck me… daddy!”

“Now that’s my girl!” His lips were instantly on yours and he kissed you like a desperate man finally finding his elixir.

You weaved your hands through his short trimmed hair and held him close to your face as you both kissed passionately.

It was as if all that pent up sexual tension was poring itself out of the box you had both sealed it shut with. You could feel his hard cock near your core and you grind down on it.

“Fuck princess!” His fingers wrapped around your panties and ripped them right through the middle giving him access to your pussy. “Da… daddy!”

His fingers rubbed your arousal around before entering your dripping hole. You choked on your breath as his thick fingers stretched you.

He pumped them in you and you writhed on his lap as he pulled out and pushed them in. He placed his other hand around your waist to hold you steady.

You couldn’t stop the moans that spilled out of your mouth. All you cared about, were Bucky’s thick fingers fucking your cunt.

“Daddy I need more! I need you!” You panted as he continued his ministrations. “You are still too tight princess.” You shook your head and protested.

“I need you now! I need to feel you, please daddy!” You whined and Bucky pulled his fingers out. “Please please please!” You mumbled as Bucky pulled his cock out of his pants. It was long and curved slightly and thick with veins running down his length.

You stroked it before lining it up with your wet hole. You sighed when his head entered you, but then, Bucky gripped your waist and thrusted up in a single movement making you squeal out. “Daddy!”

“Shhh princess, you don’t want the driver to listen to your pretty moans, now do you?” The screen between the driver and you was down. Yet you both knew that by now he definitely had heard what was going behind his back.

The fact that you could get caught was making you drip with arousal. Bucky’s hand gripped your nape and the other held your waist as he thrusted up into you.

“Oh.. fuck..! Hnnggg..” you were reduced to a whimpering mess as kept hitting your spot repeatedly. You threw your head back in ecstasy and his lips attached to your neck.

He nipped and sucked on your neck and shoulders and that combined with his hard thrusts, was making you quiver. You just knew this was going to be the best fuck of your life.

“Harder Bucky! Please, I need more.” Bucky was an itch you just couldn’t scratch. “Yeah? God, princess, what am I gonna do with you?”

Bucky pulled out and you clenched around the air, pathetically begging for more. Bucky flipped you on your stomach on the car seat and swiftly entered you from behind.

“Is this what you wanted, huh? You wanted daddy to fuck you hard?” This time he was fucking you hard enough to choke on his dick.

You tried clutching the leather seats but they didn’t have any give to them. So you just laid with your face down and ass up, and took what Bucky was giving you.

“I… I’m….” You could feel the coil in your stomach was close to snapping. “You’re gonna cum?” Bucky could feel you clenching around his length.

“Yes! Yes please!” Bucky was getting off on you begging for him. “Cum for me, princess.” His words were enough to send you spiralling down the deep crescent of climax.

Bucky clenched his teeth as you squeezed his cock. Feeling you flutter around him, he couldn’t stop himself either and after a few desperate thrusts he was coming deep inside you.

“We’ve reached your house ma’am.” You both heard the driver speak through the speaker and you and Bucky, both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

You both were panting and sweating while Bucky was still sheathed in you and yet, you both couldn’t stop your laughter.

Bucky groaned as he pulled out of your heat and saw his cum dripping down your messy folds. The animalistic part of him proudly preened as he had finally marked you as his.

“Did you like it soldier?” You asked as you got up in a sitting position. You could feel his cum drip down your legs and your rubbed them together as you squirmed.

“I loved it princess. What do you think about a second round?” You almost gawked when you noticed that his cock was already half hard. “I’m always down for a second round daddy!”

[landhoehoehoe]

nervous - Arthur Leclerc

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize if the writing feels a bit stiff at times - lack of better expression 🤷🏼‍♀️ Arthur Leclerc x reader; In which they are both late for Charles’ dinner party and find themselves stuck in an elevator when the power goes out

“Wait! Hold the elevator!”, you shouted, sprinting towards the already closing doors.

Charles’ apartment was on the 8th floor and you were not planning on taking the stairs to drown in your own sweat once reaching his floor.

It was currently July, and the summer heat was still evident in Monaco even though it has started to get dark already.

Fortunately, you managed to barely squeeze through the doors before they shut completely, letting out a relieved sigh.

You were late to Charles’ dinner party anyway, but taking the stairs would have taken even longer.

“Oh great.”, someone commented from beside you, their tone clearly annoyed.

You turned around, looking at who you’d be sharing this elevator ride with.

Arthur Leclerc.

Charles’ little brother who despised you and vice versa. You didn’t know why, but Arthur somehow brought out a different side of you.

A rude, childish, short-tempered side. However, you couldn’t really think of a reason why the two of you hated each other so much. It had just always been this way since you’ve known him.

He’d always throw petty comments your way, making your blood boil and having you throwing something petty back at him.

“Oh..”, you could only reply, currently more focused on normalizing your breathing after the little sprint you’d just done.

You both broke eye contact, turning away.

“Late again, are we?”, he commented not looking at you, but you could see the smirk creeping onto his face from the corner of your eye, which had you rolling your eyes in annoyance.

“Oh fuck off, Leclerc. Mind I remind you I’m not the only one who’s late?”, you bit back almost immediately, regretting not having taken the stairs.

Since you weren’t planning on saying anything else to him, you turned away to pull out your phone and text Charles.

One: to avoid the awkward silence with Arthur and two: to actually let Charles know you’d be right there. But also to take your mind off the man standing a mere inches away from you in the small elevator.

You could smell his strong cologne from where you were standing, having to refrain from making a salty comment about it.

Frankly, you were already quite annoyed at him and the evening hadn’t even begun yet.

However this would hopefully be the last time you’d have to be near him this evening.

Just as you’d gotten a reply back from Charles everything around you suddenly went dark, the elevator coming to a halt with a rumbling sound.

Confused, you looked up from your phone, taking in the complete darkness around you, until you were met with a bright beam of light.“Ow, fuck!”, you winced, quickly shutting your eyes again, remembering you that you were not alone in this elevator.

“What the fuck, Arthur?!”, you growled, carefully opening your eyes again, only to see the driver’s stupid grin. He was holding his phone, having turned on his flashlight, showing no empathy for you.

“What? I thought we needed some light.”, he answered innocently, acting as if he didn’t just blind you on purpose.

However, his smirk gave his act away.

Out of all the people in the world, why did you have to be stuck in an elevator with Arthur? Was this god’s way of punishing you?

Because if so, it definitely worked. What you didn’t know in that moment was that it was in fact not god cutting off the power, but Charles Leclerc.

Charles had gotten sick of you and his brother’s bickering because he had caught Arthur staring at you multiple times when he thought no one was paying attention.

Charles didn’t know whether you felt the same, but he was sure his genius plan of locking you in together would at least help relieve some of the tension between you two.

“Well this is just great. No power AND no service!”, Arthur complained, holding his phone up in the air to get a signal.

After being stuck in the elevator for what felt like hours but really only had been five minutes, you’d let yourself sink down on the floor, mindlessly playing with a strand of hair.

You’d figured the best way to handle this situation was to just blandly ignore everything Arthur said until Charles noticed you were suspiciously late.

Plus, you’d have problems coming your way soon enough as you could not stand being in small spaces for too long. It helped a bit that the lights were still out so that you couldn’t see the walls, but Arthur’s constant shuffling around did not exactly help you relax.

So you closed your eyes, rubbing at your temple, drowning out the noise Arthur made.

It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be fine, it’s going to be-

“Y/n? Hello-o? I’m talking to you.”, Arthur interrupted, shining his flashlight at you once again, making you turn your head away.

“What do you want, Arthur?”, you asked and gave him an exasperated look.

Arthur let himself slide down the wall opposite you, still shining his light at you.

“I said that I think we’re not too far away from Charles’ floor. Maybe we could-“

“Climb out of the elevator and up the walls of the shaft all the way to Charles’ apartment?”, you finished his sentence, letting out a sarcastic laugh.

“What, are you Superman? That shit only works in movies, dumbass.”, you slightly shook your head, giving him a disapproving look.

Arthur scoffed.

“Classic y/n. Always complaining but never actually coming up with an idea yourself, are you?”, he replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest, finally taking his light off you.

“At least I’m using my brain to be reasonable, unlike other people.”, you retorted, mirroring his gesture.

You looked at each other from opposite sides of the elevator, neither of you saying a word but neither of you willing to look away and loose this battle.

This was the first time you had looked at Arthur longer than was necessary.

And for the first time you saw something else behind his eyes. His intense stare had you shivering, trying to hide your gulp and ultimately looking away. He let out a soft laugh, celebrating his small victory.

Your defeat bothered you, that was for sure.

But what bothered you more is that you found yourself liking the sound of his laugh. Liking the way his eyes slightly narrowed and his dimples became even more evident.

Before you could study his face closer though, his flashlight suddenly turned off, leaving the two of you in complete darkness again.

“Fuck.”, you heard Arthur curse in the dark.

“What happened?”, you asked, having forgotten that you were supposed to sound much more annoyed at him.

“No battery.”

Another five minutes went by, mostly filled with Arthur muttering curse words or the pair of you staying awkwardly silent.

You now fiddled with your bracelet, slowly growing a lot more anxious about the fact you were stuck in a way too small space.

Since the elevator wasn’t that wide, Arthur’s feet easily reached the wall you were leaning on, making you weirdly nervous.

You could feel Arthur’s presence in front of you, hearing his low breaths, wondering what he was doing on his side of the elevator.

Was he maybe looking at you? Was he thinking about how much he hated to be in this situation with you? Because you had certainly thought about that.

“How much battery does your phone have left? I’d feel more at ease having some light in here.”, Arthur suddenly spoke up, relieving the thick tension between you a bit.

You hesitated.

Because seeing how small the elevator really was would most definitely add to your building anxiety.

“I’d rather not..”, you answered with a raspy voice, trying not to sound nervous.

“Why not? We could actually see each other.”, he was swift to reply.

You played with the hem of your summer dress, squeezing the fabric tightly.

“I…I um..this whole…um, fuck..”, you stopped yourself before your voice got too shaky, resting your face in your hands.

Yep, it was certainly getting worse and there was nothing you could do about it. Because this was reality. You were stuck with nowhere to go, no one to call.

Just breathe. One, two, three, fou-

“Y/n?”, Arthur asked, the change in his tone not going unnoticed by you. It wasn’t as harsh anymore, rather worried.

“Y-yes. It’s just… I’m not exactly fond of narrow spaces..”, you managed to answer, pulling your knees into your body, hugging them close to your chest.

“Oh, I… I didn’t know that..”, he replied, and you could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Well we’re not exactly friends, right?”, you joked, forcing out a small laugh.

Arthur didn’t answer at first, suddenly making you overthink what you had just said. Did you say something wrong?

You were just stating the obvious.

“Can I sit next to you?”, he asked, his voice low and just as insecure as your thoughts were.

He took you by surprise with that question, but you were so focused on keeping your breathing steady that you found yourself agreeing to his suggestion.

You heard him shuffling in the dark, until you felt his body sinking down next to you, his leg slightly touching yours, but you didn’t pull away.

Instead, you reached out into the dark.

“Can I hold your hand for a minute?”, you asked breathlessly, feeling your breathing becoming irregular again.

“What?”, he asked, clearly irritated.

“Please, I just need something I can keep my focus on right now.”, you pleaded, not hiding the urgency in your voice.

“Oh! Yeah, sure, where are you?”, he asked, carefully reaching out his hand towards you.

However he completely misjudged where your hand would be and his hand landed on your face, coming down to cup your cheek, making your stomach flip from the unexpected touch.

“That’s not my hand.”, you stated, making you both laugh. “Wait, just-“, you said, taking his hand from your cheek, intertwining your fingers and squeezing his hand while taking a deep breath in.

You counted until 10, then loosed your grip on his hand again, but still held him tight. Then you laid your intertwined hands into your lap, repeating the process over and over again while Arthur stayed quiet.

Once you felt at ease again, you tried removing your hand form his, but he didn’t let you go, squeezing your hand tight.

“Are you feeling better now?”“Yes, thanks again. I really needed that.”, you replied honestly, being too tired to be mean to him.

You rested your head on the wall behind you, turning to look at him even though you could only figure out his silhouette in the dark.

“Do you uh.. get those often?”, you could hear the insecurity in his voice, asking that question.

“Sometimes. It gets worse in small spaces though.”, you answered honestly, surprised at how it was now possible to actually have a genuine conversation with Arthur without having the urge to strangle him.

“Why do you hate me so much?”, you asked, your sudden courage surprising you both.

“I…I don’t know, to be honest.”, he replied, still not letting go of your hand. But you didn’t bother. It felt different, somehow…good…

“I guess it was just easier to be an asshole to you than to….”, Arthur stopped talking, becoming painfully aware of what he was just about to say.

“Than what?”, you followed up, now more than curious to know where Arthur’s hatred came from.

“Um…..”, Arthur sounded nervous, so you reached out your other hand to rest on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me now. I just never really understood why we started hating each other..”, you told him, your hand leaving his shoulder again.

You felt him shift next to you, letting go of your hand.

“No, I.. I want to tell you..”, he insisted, his hand coming back up to your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

You almost wanted to lean into his touch, but resisted last second.

“I think…I like you, y/n.”, he spoke, his voice cracking slightly.

“But not like “like” you as a friend. I really REALLY like you. Like, a lot.”, he started rambling, too afraid of your reaction.

“And if you don’t like me I totally get that I mean-“, he continued, but you were quick to cut him off, leaning forward to connect your lips.

The moment your lips met his there was a firework exploding in your body, butterflies in your stomach and your heart pounding fast in your chest.

Arthur’s hand dropped from your cheek to your neck, tightening his grip on you and pulling you closer into him. You cupped his cheek, letting your hands wander into his hair while his tongue swirled inside your mouth.

As he was about to pull you on top of him, the lights miraculously turned back on and the elevator started moving upwards again. You looked at each other in surprise, then simultaneously started laughing.

“So that’s all it takes to get this thing moving? A kiss?”, Arthur joked, smiling at you in relief. Relief that you felt the same way about him. It was as if a giant weight was lifted off his shoulders because he no longer had to hide his feelings for you.

As soon as the doors opened on Charles’ floor you escaped that horrible tiny space, stumbling right into a worried Charles.

“Are you guys alright?”, he asked, inspecting you both. Arthur nodded, giving you a small smile.

Your stomach flipped once again today.

“Yes, everything’s fine, although I could really use a drink right now.”, you answered, running a hand through your hair.

Charles looked at you expectantly.

“Anything else?”

Suddenly you noticed Charles shifting from one leg to another. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out what was causing his uneasiness.

“Were you expecting anything else?”, Arthur asked, having read his brother’s body language as well.

Charles’ eyes grew wide for a second.

“What? Me? No! Why would I?”, he rambled, sounding increasingly nervous.

“I mean… it is suspicious that we were trapped together in your elevator for what seemed like forever…”, you thought out loud, waiting for Charles’ reaction to give something away.

“At first I thought it was pure coincidence that it’d be Arthur and me trapped in there…but, come to think of it…”, you continued.

“…it might not have been a coincidence after all..”, Arthur added besides you, also looking at Charles who was now definitely sweating.

“Charles..”, you knew it would not take much longer until he’d crack under the blank stares Arthur and you were giving him.

Charles began kneading his fingers, looking everywhere else except for your eyes.

“Um…no..I…”, he began, but came to the realization that it was too late anyway.

You could see the moment of him giving up on explaining himself as he threw his arms up in the air and let out a sigh.

“Did it work at least?”, he asked, his curiosity taking over.

Your mouth opened in shock.

“Fuck you, Leclerc.”, you said, but this time it was not directed at the younger Leclerc, but at Charles. Hiding your grin from him, you brushed past into his apartment without saying another word.

However, behind Charles’ back, you turned around once more and gave Arthur a wink. His shocked expression turned into his signature smirk, following you inside, leaving his brother standing outside his apartment.

[dior-and-dietcoke]

" CAUGHT RED HANDED!! "

PERV!SANZU + BIMBO!READER

18+, panty stealing, panty sniffing, masturbation (m), use of alcohol & drugs, sanzu is down bad as always, switch!sanzu, exhibition, degradation, praise, characters are over 18, readers skin color is not mentioned

Sanzu was in his room at his desk, staring at the bright screen in front of him, watching some boring Show as he gulped down his bottle of alcohol to wash the pills down.

He always called himself a pussy when he couldn't swallow the pills without a drink, but sometimes he would just choke on one if he didn't, he was lucky if it worked without a drink.

Sanzu cursed as he suddenly thought of you and immediately got horny, as always. You're just walking sex appeal, and so dumb too. Sanzu wouldn't say he's in love with you, he's just very perverted, you might say, but sanzu calls it passionate.

He turned the Show off that he was watching and searched up some porn with an actress that resembled you, but none made his cock as hard as you. "Fuck!" Sanzu stomped his foot on the ground and started walking around his room in circles with a slight tumble. He finally got an idea, you weren't home right now..probably out with your girlfriends or whatever.

So sanzu could go into your room and do whatever he wants, and he wants to jerk off to another one of your used panties. As he walked down the hall and reached your door your beautiful and girly smell hit him like a fucking train, you always smelled so sweet..

He opened the door and was met by your pretty and pink room, with your pretty bed and pretty plushies. And oh! Would you look at that, your used underwear just in front of your bed! Sanzu picked your bra and panties up before throwing himself headfirst into your fluffy bed,

sanzu groaned at how strong your scent was on your bed. He turned over on his back with his legs dangling off the bed, he lifted the panties up and inspected them..until he finally saw what he was looking for a dark pink spot on your light pink thong.

Sanzu ran his middle finger over it and— oh my god..it was still wet and sticky.

His jeans felt so fucking tight right now and he hated it, so the best solution was to take them off! He pulled them down along with his boxers to let them hang down his mid-thigh. Letting his long cock flop out and stand up proud and leaking, just for you.

Sanzu looked at the wet patch on your panties and slipped the fabric over his cock  along with his hand, and immediately started stroking his length up and down

"you're so wet-" he moaned throwing his head back and trying to stroke his cock as tight as he could thinking of how tight your pussy would feel around his cock, or your perky and soft tits. Sanzu saw them once or twice..obviously.

it's so easy to spy on you when you never even close the doors, you're so dumb. But sanzu loves it, it makes it easier picturing your tits being in his face as you bounce on his cock like a little slut. Sanzu knows you would probably never fuck him, even if he was the last man on earth. You could have anyone you wanted so why would you even think about choosing him? But that thought turns him on even more, if he would ever get to fuck you he knows you're desperate, just taking the nearest cock you could find.

But honestly, sanzu would find it just as appealing as if you would spit into his mouth or onto his cock, or even step on it. He would cum and make a mess on your pretty pink heels immediately. You're driving him insane.

Sanzu felt his high coming faster than he thought and shot his hot and sticky load into your now drenched panties. He laid there breathing heavily and grabbing the soft material of your bra, but oh he wasn't done.

As soon as he looked back down he was hard again and wanted to give you some more, maybe if you came home you could put these back on for him and go to sleep like this♡ the thought just made sanzu's cock twitch and beg for more attention. So he slowly started to stroke his overstimulated and sensitive cock again.

You stepped into your shared Apartment, took your pink fluffy coat off before walking down the hall to say hello to your roommate haru.

But when you approached his door you noticed it was open and low-quality moans were coming out of his room.

"Haru?"

You looked around his room but no one Was here. You looked towards his computer screen and were met by a pretty woman with huge tits getting jackhammered by a skinny guy.

You know you shouldn't be looking so you just exited his room and closed the door carefully. You then decided to just go into your room and sleep.

Sanzu cursed into your bra as his hips eagerly thrust up into his fist and your pink panties.

Sanzu needed you so bad, he could let you do anything with him at this point for him to just taste your pussy. But as he was lost in thought the door opened and sanzu almost died of embarrassment when his eyes met your wide once

"h-h-haru.." you asked looking at the mess that's called sanzu haruchiyo on your bed with your bra in his one Hand and your panties in the other. Sanzu was about to babble some excuses but you just got closer to him with your pretty pink heels clacking against the wood.

Sanzu started shaking when you stared down at him, he pulled his legs up trying to hide what he was doing but you already saw what a perverted fucker he is so it's no use.

"I-i-I'm so sorry—" "why did you stop?" You questioned with a slight smile curving your plump lips up sanzu's eyes widened at you asking him such a thing

"w-what..?" You grabbed both his knees with your hand and your pink nails slightly scraping against his skin.

"Keep touching yourself..don't get shy now!" You teased looking him in the eyes, sanzu just stared at you at first but once you lifted your leg and placed your heel on his thigh making it dig into his skin so deliciously, sanzu got a full view of your bare pussy from under your skirt that almost made him cum just from looking at it, sanzu was so glad that you're so dumb that you sometimes forget to put panties on.

Sanzu started fisting his cock again with your panties in hand ready to cum in it once more, "you're such a good boy~" you purred and ran your hand through his hair softly, sanzu immediately sped his movement up the moment he felt your pretty hands in his silky hair.

"G-gonna cum- c-can I?.." he huffed,

you smiled mischievously and got on your knees "not in those dirty panties." You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue "in my mouth" you said. Sanzu didn't even need to think twice before throwing the cum soaked panties onto the floor.

He continued to stroke his cock as your pretty mouth hovered above his tip so close that he could feel your breath on his cock. Once you placed your hands on his thigh and dug your nails into his skin he came into your mouth but he barely even felt your awfully painful lips.

You knew this would just make him more desperate, you looked up and swallowed the thick substance as you just smiled and licked your lips afterward.

"Wh-what now..." he asked, shyly looking up at you you tilted your head looking confused "what do you mean 'what now?'...you go back into your room." You said as if that was obvious.

Sanzu's eyes filled with tears of desperation and sat up "p-please- I just need a little more..l-let me make you feel good please"

you giggled and pulled him up from the bed my his sticky hand and pushed him out

"you're a dirty perv~"

you smiled as you shut the door in his face, sanzu knocked at the door for a little bit like a puppy but eventually got back into his room. You smiled down at the messy panties, and sat down on your bed, you will tease him some more tomorrow and maybe let him fuck you..but only because he's so cute.

[wint3r-h3art]

Sweetheart... | Frank Castle x Reader

Summary: A late night visit from Frank leads to a confession, that leads to something more.

⚠️Warning: TW: a brief mention of assault; some feels because I love “two idiots in love trope”, unprotected sex (remember to use protection!), fingering, oral (female receiving), body worshipping 

Word count: 3.4K

A/N: this is my first Frank’s fic, so I am very conscious about this ahah! I apologize in advance if he’s out of character. I’m slowly branching myself out into writing other Marvel characters. Any mistakes are my own. Please let me know how you feel about it! Comments and reblog are greatly appreciated!

Your eyes flutter open from the soft thud coming from your living room, rousing you from your sleep. With your half-woken state, you grab your phone that is sitting right on the small wooden nightstand. The light from the screen blinds you momentarily, making you squint from the sudden brightness.  It’s only 2:30 am. You’ve been asleep for 2 and half hours, and you’re awake. Thank God, it’s the weekend. 

Rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, you slowly get out of bed and make way to your living room, grabbing the wooden baseball bat that is sitting by your bedside. You know better than to just go out there empty-handed.

You slowly crack the bedroom door open, sneaking a peek into the darkness. The room is still silent. Glancing around with the baseball bat in hand, you’re slowly stepping out. Your eyes scan cautiously at your surroundings while you’re holding your breath. The silence is deafening, save from the sound of your heart beating heavily against your chest. The sound of grunting from the kitchen though makes you turn quickly, and you find yourself staring at him, leaning over the kitchen sink, with water running over his hand. 

Frank turns with his usual unreadable expression on his face, save for the slight quirk of his eyebrows watching you holding the baseball bat while wearing your PJ.  

“Jesus Frank, a call would have been nice,” you finally breathe as you lower the bat down on your small dining table. “You scared the bejesus outta me.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Lost my phone again,” he mumbles before turning back to the kitchen sink. You know he doesn’t lose them. He might have used the thing to kill the poor soul. You know not to question him, especially when it’s his business. You’re just here to provide for his cover and maybe patch him up if he allows you to. 

“Are you ok?” you ask as you slowly make your way to him, but as usual, Frank doesn’t answer you. Instead, he resorts to pouring hydrogen peroxide over the wound. He doesn’t hiss or show any reaction, which is a bit unsettling even if you’ve seen him do it so many times before. 

“Nothing that I can’t take care of. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“Frank…” you start, but he cuts you off. The usual.

“Look, sweetheart. I’m not in the mood to repeat myself right now. Go back to sleep.” 

Frank finds himself regretting saying these words out loud the moment they left his lips, and now he’s cussing loudly at himself watching your stunned expression. You’re the last person he wants to take this out on. You look so damn scared as he watches your little feet retreat back. 

He knows he’s not good at this–no, he’s not used to this–this kindness you’ve given to him. He doesn’t know how to respond, hell he doesn’t know how to behave around you. It’s like everything that is pouring out of him is just rough and gruff in contrast to your softness and light.

“Look, sweetheart. I–”

“Oh–Um, sorry,” you quickly cut him off while you’re slowly retreating, your head hanging low a bit. Frank notices it of course, and he hates himself for that. 

His words shouldn’t bother you as much since you practically have no relation to him whatsoever. You offer your apartment as his safe house because he saved you once from a bunch of gang members…If it wasn’t for him that night, you could have been assaulted–Hell, you could have been killed if it wasn’t for him. That night you learned that it didn’t take much force at all to crush someone’s skull in. 

From that night onward, you have offered your apartment to him if he needs a place to hide or a warm plate of food. He’s reluctantly agreeing to this of course. He’s always reluctant around you.

Despite his distant demeanor and what looks like his disinterest in you, you can’t help yourself but be attracted to him. There were times when you found yourself staring at his ass a bit too long when he’s hunching over the sink washing blood from his face, or that instance when you were trying so hard not to gawk at his body when you were stitching up his side. You’re not blind, and you don’t think he’s blind either to not sense the attraction you have for him either. It’s just that neither of you has acted upon your urges yet.

 “There should be more gauze and disinfectant and medical tape in a box under the bathroom sink if you need them. There’s also leftover pasta in the fridge too, so help yourself,” you say softly, follows by a sad smile on your lips. Frank can see your expression as you leave him there. Your awkward smile, and the way your hands are clasped together, the little glossy eyes you have going on right now definitely make him feel like shit. 

Fuck! He mentally cusses at himself to hurry by wrapping his hand up with the bandages before he strides toward you. 

A soft yelp escapes from your lips when you find yourself being pulled suddenly by the wrist. You stop and slowly turn. His massive form looks menacing in the dark, but you know damn well that he won’t harm you…

Frank has to compose himself a few minutes before he realizes what he’s doing. He eyes you first, searching for any sign of tears, because fuck, if he accidentally makes you cry, he’s gonna stab himself in the leg for it. 

To his relief, you’re not, but it still makes his heart ache just seeing you so damn sad. 

All because of him…

“Sweetheart, look I didn’t mean to say that…I just–”

“It’s ok, Frank…I get it. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you cut him off again with another sad smile that makes him definitely want to stab himself for doing that to you. “You had a rough night and want to be alone, so it’s ok. I’m a big girl. It’s not my place to worry over you.” You have said that many times before.

But he wants to…

Deep, deep down in the pit of his fucked up head, he wants you to care. He knows he doesn’t deserve that from you because his life is nothing but kind. Violence is all he ever knew, and he doesn't want his impurity to taint you…he just doesn’t want to ruin whatever small things you two have now.

“Fuck, I really don’t deserve you,” he mumbles lowly, so low that you almost thought he just grumbled some nonsense like he always does if it’s not for his gesture. His rough, bandaged hand is now caressing your face, making your body shivers slightly. Your heart beats frantically in his chest, deafening as the heat slowly crawls up to your face. Breathing seems to be harder than before as you look up to him. 

Without a thought, you clasp your hand in his. Your touch seems to shock him briefly as if he’s been doused by cold water, but that soon melts into something more entirely. His eyes seem to darken even if you both are standing in the dark. Time seems to stand still as your gaze lingers–not as his gaze burns into you like the heat of a thousand suns, making your body react in a way that you haven’t felt in a long time. 

You can feel the heat slowly pooling at the pit of your stomach and slowly making the area between the juncture of your thighs pulsate to your own heartbeat. You know damn well that you’re slowly getting wet just by looking at him, and you pray that he doesn’t know it. You wouldn’t know what you would do if he knew how you feel about him. You have imagined hundreds of ways you want him to take you, but that’s just fantasy, of course. You don’t think Frank is attracted to you, to begin with.

“Why would you say that?” Your voice comes out no more than a whisper that's loud enough in the silence of the early morning. 

“Because you’re too fucking good for me…” he says before dropping his hand away from your face. His words surprised you. 

“Frank…I don’t think that’s true.”

Frank wants to laugh. You just don’t understand the effect you have on him. It’s cute. “Oh trust me on that one,” he says as he slowly retreats back, but you follow him. Frank looks at you quizzically and now it’s your turn to touch him. Your touch is so soft, almost featherlike, and he wants more of it.

“I’m not better than you, Frank…”

Now he chuckles dryly, and whatever the fucking game the universe want to fuck him up with by having you looking at him like you want him to fuc–He has to stop himself because he’s not going to disrespect you like that by thinking about all the depravities he wants to do to you.

“Sweetheart, you don’t know that kind of shit I do to people…”

“I just know enough, and that’s all that matters. You’re not a bad man, Frank…at least not in my eyes.”

Frank chews the inside of his cheeks as he stares down as you slowly approach his larger form. Your smaller hand is now stroking his strong forearm…It is almost soothing.

“Sweetheart…” he breathes through his nose as every fiber of his muscles locked in. You can feel how tense he has become the closer you are to him. Frank can feel the slight tremor from your touches. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, clearly unaware of the way you make his cock strain against his jeans.

“Like you want me to fuck you or somethin`”

You swallow at the way he said those words out loud. 

“Maybe I do,” you quickly say it out loud for the first time. If he laughs at you, you can just go back to bed and pretend like nothing ever happened, but Frank just stares at you. “Maybe, just tonight…” you say shakily as it takes everything out of you to utter these words out loud. “It doesn’t have to mean anything…”

His throat goes dry when you take his hand in yours and guide him down to your aching core. You hiss softly feeling his larger hand press gently against your wetness. Frank hisses softly at the dampness.

“Fuck, you’re so wet…” he mutters lowly as his fingers slowly rub at your clothed pussy. “You’re practically dripping through your pants, sweetheart.”

You nod as you hold on to his forearm still, eyes fluttering from the sheer pleasure he’s igniting from just touching you with those thick fingers.

“Hmmm, is all you manage to say as he pulls you closer and his fingers push into you through your pajama bottoms, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “Oh God, Frank…feels really good.”

“Hmm, you ain't seeing nothing yet, baby girl,” he murmurs as he withdraws himself from you. You respond by whining softly, but that changes when he suddenly bridal-carries you to your bedroom. Your hand instinctively snakes around his neck, your gaze never leaving his face as he sets you down gently on your bed. You quickly discard all your clothes while Frank practically rips his shirt off of his body before he bends down to capture your lips in his. 

He kisses you slowly and gently at first, testing your reaction to seeing if you’re changing your mind. To his relief though, you’re kissing him back. That gentleness slowly melts into fire, consuming you from the inside. Frank practically devours you with the urgency and fever that you would expect from him. His tongue plunges into you, licking and flicking against yours, swallowing whatever noises he’s elicited out of you. His large, calloused hand gently palms your mound, squeezing it gently before his finger-twisting your taut bud.

Frank is more than hard as he slowly grinds the clothed cock right into your center, igniting more pleasure through you. The only thing between the two of you are his jeans, and you really wish he would just take the damn things off.

“Frank…” you murmur as your fingers graze at his hard back. You can feel the way his muscles move beneath your fingers as he rolls his hips against you. “Please…”

“Patient, sweetheart,” he grins before he trails his lips along your jawline, then down to your neck. He kisses and suckles at your skin there momentarily, relishing the way your pulse is breathing frantically. Then his lips travel down to your collarbone. He’s allowing himself to savor your soft skin momentarily there before he wraps his mouth around your breast.

You hiss softly as you watch him sucking and licking at your taut pud. His eyes lock in yours as he allows his tongue to flicker and circle around your nipple. Frank gently bites down onto your stiff peak just enough to make you squirm, but not enough to hurt you. He watches you writhe beneath him as you are at his mercy. 

Your hand instinctively clutches his hair, as it’s the only thing that keeps you afloat amidst his assault of your senses. “Frank…”

“Hmmm,” he replies with that low, rumbling moan of his that reverberates to your core as he sucks and nibs at your breast. He continues to do this to your other one, giving the same treatment while his fingers trail down to your aching pussy. His fingers are ghosting over your damp slit, gliding it along the folds but not enough to push himself in yet. The gestures make your hips tremble slightly as the need to have him is increasing. 

Frank has one hand wrap around your tit and squeezes it while his mouth suckling on your soft mound, while the other plunges into you. A strangling moan leaves your lips as the sensation becomes too much. He watches you closely, of course, his eyes never leave yours as he takes in all your expression.

Frank moans into your tit as his fingers pump in and out of you, tightening that coil that sits at the pit of your stomach tighter and tighter till—

You gasp as your body convulses and spasms beneath him. Frank continues to fuck you with those thick fingers of his even if he can feel your wall tightening around him. Even with your hazy state, you can clearly see a small smirk on his face as he watches you unravel beneath him.

“Frank…” you murmur softly as you watch him in a daze. Frank only moves up to kiss your lips gently before he moves down to the edge of your bed. He once again kisses your soft stomach, then down to your hips, then your thighs. His kiss is so gentle in contrast to the feeling of his rough palm stroking against your soft skin. Frank gently places your legs over his shoulders as his fingers once again find themselves stroking along your dripping wetness.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his tongue swiping along your slit. Your brain seems to malfunction momentarily when he licks you again, this time allowing the tip of his tongue to brush against your sensitive bud. Your hand bunches at your sheet as you arches your back. Frank has you pinned down against his mouth as he greedily devours you, slurping and lapping at your essence till your eyes roll to the back of your head. Once again, you find yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm the more he tongues you down like there’s no tomorrow. It’s not long till your body convulses around him again, all the while his tongue plunges in and out of your warm, sopping pussy. It’s insane how much he has made you shameless by the way you want him.

You barely have time to register of course because Frank is not done with you yet. He keeps fucking you with his tongue while his fingers are now digging into your hips. You seem to lose track of everything after your second orgasm the more he gives your clit all of the attention. You don’t remember anything except for the overwhelming burst of pleasure that coursing through you. Frank growls you once again as you cum right into his mouth.

After the third time, you end up gasping and clawing at the mattress beneath you. Frank watches you, satisfaction spread across his hungry features. His nostrils flare as he gets up from your bed and quickly removes his jeans off of him. You watch him half-dazed, the way his cock just springs out from his boxer briefs, or the way the muscles of his powerful thighs flicker and strain when he slowly climbs back on top of you, eyeing you like the predator.

There’s no protest from you, obviously. You’re more than ready to be taken by him, even if it’s just this once, it’s more than enough. You reach for his strong bicep. Your nails dig slightly into his taut flesh. Frank doesn’t even react to it. 

He kisses you once more as he gently brushes the head of his cock against your slit, coating it with your wetness. You can feel him smiling at the way your breath shudders against his lips. Frank presses forward, his cock slipping easily into your sensitive pussy. You stretch out to accommodate him. You can feel his girth pressing in just slightly past what deems as comfortable. You groan at the way he stretches you oh so agonizingly good.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. You’re so tight,” he growls the more he withdraws his hips back and pushes forward again, hitting that one spot that knocks the air right out of you. Frank seems to go slowly at first, trying to not hurt you too much by the way your pussy clamps around him. Once your body is accustomed to his size, you urge him to move, and Frank is more than happy to comply.

His movements become erratic the faster he fucks you. You can feel his balls slapping against your ass the more he moves in and out of you. Your nails are practically clawing at his arms, surely leaving your marks there, and hell that only makes him lost his damn mind even more with the idea of you claiming him. Your bed shakes as the headboard bangs against your wall. You’re quite thankful that you have no neighbor on the other side of the wall. 

Another orgasm tingles through your body the more he moves. This one feels deeper and harder every time he plunges deep inside you. Frank thrusts into you once, or twice, or perhaps thrice more, and you find yourself spiraling out of control once again as you reach your release. Your legs wrap tightly around his taut waist as Frank continues to move in and out of you, chasing his own climax too.

Frank lets out a snarl as you squeeze tightly around his cock, tightening it and milking it till he can feel his too. He growls lowly in his chest before he quickly pulls himself out as a spurt of hot, sticky cum paints your stomach. Frank watches you as he cums, squeezing his cock till the very last drop on you.

It takes him a moment to compose himself and realize that he has cummed all over you, covering you with his essence. The sight makes his heart swells. You shift slightly beneath him, and the soft noises that you make only make him feel like he’s in heaven. Frank moves to your bedside table and returns with tissues in hand, wiping you clean. At this point, you’re already tired and well spent. Frank can hear your breathing slowly steady as you slowly fall asleep. He doesn’t know what else to do except to crawl into the space beside you. He lays there and watches you briefly, taking in your features, before he cusses at himself. You’re too fucking good for him, and he knows tonight won’t be the first, nor the last time for the two of you.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

TOUCH ME, NOT FEEL ME- P.B PARKER

PART 2: HERE   PART 3: HERE

Pairing: Fuckyboy! Peter x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2.3 k 

Summary: you swore you’d never hook up with the infamous fuck boy peter parker ever again, yet here you were... in his bed... again.

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, bondage, blowjob mentioned, fingering, tit play, booze consumption, pet names, teasing, degradation and praise kink

Note: this was inspired by the song the hills by the weeknd! peter and reader are always of age in my fics. also i write for tasm ( andrews)  peter :)

It was fucking freezing. 

Your roommate had a terrible habit of leaving the thermostat cranked down to cold temperatures, even in the middle of winter. No matter how many times you scolded her, she’d lower it, and it got to the point you were wondering if she were straight up trying to piss you off. 

Fighting the urge to throw a pillow at her body fast asleep in the bed across the room, you shivered and held your converter tighter around your body. I swear, these are the warmest ones they have! your mother told you at the beginning of fall, when the two of you were shopping for new bedding for your colder months.

  You sure about that mother dearest?! you wanted to scream at her now, as your teeth chattered in the darkness. Not even the moon wanted to come out in this weather, its glow hiding behind dark rolling clouds. The snow fluttered down and stuck to your windowsill, and you knew you’d see ice there in the morning. 

Your roommate Luna had threatened so many times not to adjust the thermostat and you never ever did. Tonight though? Well, you hauled your ass out of bed and cranked it UP. Humming, content with your choice of action, you clambered back into bed. 

Luna’s quiet snores filled the silence of your room, and you knew she’d wake up pissed, but at this point you didn't care. You glanced at the clock, its red numbers reading 12:06. On a Saturday night, it was early. But the fact you had just finished exams yesterday made you exhausted, and you traded in your party dress for a pair of pjs.

 It was nice, sleeping earlier for a change- 

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! 

Your phone vibrated from the bedside table, it glowing faintly against the wood. Who the hell would be calling you right now? You could only think of your best friends Nat and Wanda, probably drunk calling you to scream at you for not partying with them. But you told them both you were going to bed early and skipping out on the beer pong action, which they understood completely. Unless they were completely HAMMERED, they shouldn't be calling you, they were respectful of your sleep schedule.

 You murmured sleepily, slapping your table to reach for your buzzing phone. The bright light made you squint as you grabbed it, and the name that flashed across it made you groan. 

Parker.

 Flashbacks from that night hit you like a transport truck, as you lay in bed, just staring at his name written across the screen.

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

Hot, sweaty bodies mixed everywhere, tightly packed in a frat house. You don't know how Nat and Wanda dragged you into this, don't know why you agreed. All you could think about was the alcohol buzzing through your veins, and how good you felt. 

You were on fire, swaying and dancing to the music, your hands coming up to wrap around someone's neck from behind as you grinded on them teasing.

 “ Why, hello there little minx.” Oh shit. You knew that voice anywhere. You weren't mistaken as he spun you around to face him, peering down at you. 

Peter Parker. 

The man had a reputation. The infamous fuck boy your year stood towering over you, a cocky grin on his face. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and he FUCKED. He fucked GOOD.

 You overheard a few girls in your dorm giggle about him- about how god he was in bed. You didn't know if it was the booze or if you were finally allowing yourself to act impulsively, but your thoughts turned south. Way south. You wanted to run your fingers through his tousled chocolate brown hair, wanted to kiss his plump pink lips until you lost oxygen. 

You stood dumbfounded at him as he smiled, tucking a strand of hair around your ear. With the number of people n the room, you were close. “ Hiya Parker.” you giggled, swaying to the music again. “ Hiya Y/N.” You cocked your eyebrow in confusion. “You know my name?”

 “Course I do. Been watchin you dance your pretty little hips all night long.” He was a smooth talker, that was for sure. 

“ Why don't cha say we get outta here for a bit kitty?”

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

It was the best fuck you ever had. You hated to admit it.

 It was in a random bathroom, over the sink of all places. But he fucked good. As the party went on in full swing, you were getting your back blown out by the hottest man on campus, his little praises spurring you on even more. 

You knew he probably said that to every girl. You didn't care at that moment. Drunk out of your mind, numbers were swapped.

 Ever since that party, he had called a few times. You tried your best to ignore him, knowing he was no good. But the truth was, you were addicted to him. Sometimes the thought of how good his cock felt clouded your judgement, turned your decision-making into a puddle that Peter would jump in with rubber boots. 

So yes, you'd admit, you have answered a few calls. And you had gone to his dorm a few times when his roommate wasn't there. You needed comfort. He wasn't looking for that, just wanting a fuck. But in some sick, twisted version your mind had created of the man, his touches were more than just touches. In your mind, he cared about you.

 Which is the exact reason your lonely, frozen ass decided to hit the accept button, bringing the phone close to your ear so Luna wouldn't stir. 

“Surprised you picked up.” His voice was deep and gravelly, and you heard loud pumping music and voices swamped all around him. “ Sorry we aren't all party people like you Parker.” you grumbled, sleep still evident in your voice. 

“ You're lame kitty. I miss you. You should be here.” Your heart doubled two sizes. He missed you. No Y/N! He doesn't! your mind screamed at you, and you urged your brain to stick with the plan of staying in your bed. “ Like I said, not a huge party person. Drinks n shit are only fun at certain times.”

 “That's not what you were saying two months ago kitty. When are the certain times?” he chuckled and you wanted to reach through the screen and choke the smile off his face. “ On blue moons.” you grumbled, knowing you were going to give in and sneak out to see him, whether it was logical or not. He laughed and sounded like the sweetest melody you had ever heard. 

“I'm coming back to my dorm, Matt isn't there. Come by in fifteen? Pretty please?” he begged and you sighed, slowly rolling out of bed to slip on your shoes. There wasn't any point getting all dressed up anyway. Clothes would be coming off, and makeup would be smeared and ruined. “Are you drunk?” you asked, jamming the phone between your cheek and your shoulder as you struggled to haul your boots on. 

“Who do you take me as kitty?”

 “A drunk.” you growled, opening the door slowly, not wanting the creaking to wake Luna. “ I was offered shots but declined thank you. I wanted to see you instead.” he replied as you shut the door gently behind you and made your way down the dimly lit hall. “ Bullshit.” He laughed, and you heard the sound of car keys jangle, the beeping from the car as he unlocked it. 

“ See ya soon little minx.”

 You were fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

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

Now, where were we? Oh-correct, you were fucked? Yeah, that…that was an understatement. 

You were addicted. There was no escaping the man. Especially not after tonight. You were expecting a quick, simple fuck. Not this.

 Not him tying your hands together to clamp over your head, fingering you relentlessly. He had already fucked your mouth the second you stepped in the door, instantly pushing you to your knees and slapping your cheeks lightly until you stuck out your tongue and obliged. 

He was rough, you couldn't breathe by the end of it- your tears still sticky and wet down your cheeks mixed with your spit. 

We have all the time in the world little minx. He cooed down at you as you took him deeper, wanting to please him more than anything. Now here you lay, naked and bared to him as his digits slid into with ease, your juices seeping down your inner thighs and smearing across his bed sheets. 

“ So pretty..” he cooed, his gaze sweeping over your quivering frame. “Please Peter I can't-” He cut you off with a slap to your cunt, making you buck your hips up. A firm grip was placed on your lower abs to help you in place as you squirmed. 

“ Wanna take my time with you, see you split open on my cock.” he smirked and you whimpered, his gaze turning predatory. “ You know you're my favourite right? My favourite girl.” he purred, stroking your folds with his fingers teasingly. 

“ I am?” you replied meekly, voice hoarse from the abuse your throat had received earlier. “ Mhmm. My favorite kitty.” he cooed, pinching your clit between two fingers gingerly. You squealed, emitting a chuckle from him.

 “ Please-”

 “Oh hush little minx I'll give you what you need. I’m always such a bad boy and play with my food first. Don't you remember?” he teased and your eyes widened as he pulled your thighs apart even further. Your glistening sex was revealed to him even more, and he growled at sight. 

“ Beautiful.” he sang, just before driving his cock home, causing you to scream. “Oh god!” you wailed as he bottomed out, his cock leaving you full and stretched. “It's not god makin you feel this good kitty it's Peter.” he winked, groaning as you clenched around him tightly. 

“Keep doing that minx and I won't be able to last long.”

 “Peterrr-” You wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through his long messy hair, and tug tightly. The ropes around your wrists prevented you from doing anything about your desires though. You were helplessly laid out for him like a feast in a banquet hall, and he marvelled at the sight.

 “So tight, you take my cock so good sweetheart.” he smiled, watching you swallow him up greedily. You sighed in contempt as he filled you fully, and you urged for him to move. He’d edged you endlessly, and you were so sensitive you felt as if you would shatter like glass if he didn’t move soon.

 “ Can I move kitty?” He read your mind. “ Please.” you whispered, smiling up at him as if he were an angel. 

He slowly began to shift his hips, picking up a rapid pace with each movement, He knew you liked it hard and rough, your moans bouncing off the walls as he continued to hit home. He watched you in awe as your tits bounced gently with each thrust, red marks starting to form around your wrists as the rope rubbed at your skin.

 Eyes wide and glossy, your mouth was open in a soundless scream as he rammed into you, hitting your g-spot. “ OH FUCK PETER!” you screamed, back arching as his cock brushed your spot again. “ That's the spot right there isn't it pretty?” he chuckled, leaning down to suck on your tit, his teeth brushing and nipping against your peaked nipple teasingly. 

You clenched around him hard as he sucked on your tit, tongue swirling around and flicking your nipple softly. He looked up at you, seeing your dazed expression, blissed out and completely in submission to him. 

“It's okay pretty girl, give in. I'm right here with you baby.” Those words were the sweetest things you had ever word, they rolled off his tongue like a blessing from the heavens above. You came around him so hard you saw stars, your eyes rolling to the whites as you screamed his name until your voice was scratchy and hoarse. 

Sweat pooled down your body as you shoke violently, his strong grip around your wrists with the ropes. “Peter..” you murmured, stuck in a daze as he continued to jackhammer into you. “ Please. In me please.” you smiled, feeling his thrusts become sloppy with your pussy clenching uncontrollably around his thick length. 

You already knew he was going to ask you where you wanted him to finish. He was sweet like that. Well, as sweet as fuck boys could get. He let out a possessive growl at your words, lips coming up to meet your as he came inside your heat. 

You swallowed his noises as teeth and tongues crashed, and he bit your bottom lip- tugging it harshly. You tasted a metallic taste as moaned, filling you up completely. “ You're so good to me.” he praised, smiling down at you as he slowly pulled out, watching his cum slowly seep out of your quivering cunt to mix with yours. 

 You blushed at his words, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You were a hot sweaty mess right now, makeup ruined and hair in tangles, but you felt beautiful under his sweet gaze. “ You're making a mess on my sheets silly.” he teased, hinting at the cum that had seeped onto the sheets. 

�� It’ll help you sleep better at night, having a piece of me with you at all times.” you winked as he slowly began to untie your raw wrists. And that was that. He applied some lotion onto your wrists, kissing them softly. Handing you one of his sweaters, he helped you slide it on with a quick peck to the top of your forehead. 

You were off to your dorm again, fucked out with slightly shaky legs. It was wrong, and it would hurt you in the long run. But you didn't care. 

Because the next time he called you in the AM, you’d pick up the phone with no hesitation.

[oswildin]

The Newbie {Steven Grant x F!Reader}

Summary: You start your new job at the museum, where you quickly become friends with Steven. He’s the only person you warm up to, and eventually feelings are aired out into the open…

Warnings: Depictions of anxiety/being overwhelmed. Just fluff. Pure fluff.

A/N: The reader is an anxious soul. This is just a little drabble on how I think Steven would gravitate to a fellow anxious person lol

Okay. Okay. You can do this.

First days suck.

You stood outside the museum, looking through the open doors as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

It’s just a new job. Stop getting so worked up about it.

The longer you stand here the worse you’re gonna feel. Just go inside.

Sighing, you clutched your bag strap that hung on your shoulder, trying to force yourself to move.

I can’t. I can’t do it.

Spinning on your heel, you prepared yourself to run away. To go home and cry about the fact you couldn’t even walk into your new place of work. However, you were stopped as you collided with something, causing you to fall backwards slightly, but something- no someone- managed to catch you before you could fully fall over. You looked up with wide eyes as you saw a man with curly dark hair looking at you in the same amount of shock.

“Oh- god! Im so sorry.” He apologised, seemingly embarrassed by the interaction. “I didn’t even see you.” He shook his head, before he realised his hands were still holding onto your forearms as he quickly retracted them. You gulped as you nodded at his words, going to excuse yourself. Well, now you were definitely overwhelmed. As you began to walk away, you heard him call after you.

“Wait!” He called, as you stopped, turning to look back at him. He peered down, seeing your name tag on your jacket as he gave you a frown. “You’re the newbie? Right?” He asked, pointing slightly at you. You pursed your lips, reluctantly nodding. He then began to piece it together. The fact you looked like you were about to vomit, the look of anxiety written all over your face. He gave you a small smile. “I’m Steven.” He pointed to his own name tag. “With a V.” There was silence between you both. “I can walk you inside if you like?” He offered, his brows raising ever so slightly. “First days. Always the worst.”

You thought for a moment.

Okay, walking inside with someone can’t be as scary as walking in alone, right?

You nodded as he gave you another small smile on encouragement as he let you walk beside him, not wanting you to feel left behind or forced to the front.

“Donna mentioned there was a newbie starting.” He began, trying to ease up the tension in the air. “Just to give you a heads up, she can be a little-“ He pulled a face, one you could only assume meant ‘I don’t really like her’. “But, don’t worry! It’s an easy enough job. And mostly everyone is nice enough.” He shrugged as you headed through the doors.

Oh, when did we get here?

See, all you needed was a distraction.

“Morning, JB.” Steven called to the man sat at the security desk, who only simply waved a small acknowledgment.

“Hi, Scotty.” JB replied as you saw Steven’s face falter a little.

“It’s- It’s Steven.” He sighed as you both passed into the main hall. “Um, have you been shown the staff room?” He asked as you shook your head. “No worries, follow me.”

As you headed towards the back area, you couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease with Steven. He seemed friendly enough, and the fact he was talking to fill the silence made you feel more comfortable. You had noted the sleepy look in his eyes, and the slumped posture he had as you deduced he was clearly unrested. But still, he was being as bright and welcoming as he could to you. You liked that.

“And here we are!” He gestured around him as you stood in a very dingy staff room. “Yeah, it’s not very 5 star, but-“ He drifted off as you bit your lip.

You should probably say something. The poor man has been chatting to you this whole time and you haven’t uttered a word.

“Could be worse.” You finally spoke as Steven peered over at you, a small smile on his face. “I once worked in a place that had rats crawling around it.” You blurted out.

“Well, no rats in here.” He reassured you. “Maybe the odd pigeon, which I never understand how they find a way in.” He furrowed his brows. “Pesky things.” He turned, making you quickly watch him as he approached a locker, putting his stuff inside as you stood awkwardly before pulling out a piece of paper from your bag, trying to remember your locker number.

25.

You pulled out your key as you looked along for your locker. Which to your surprise was right beside Stevens.

“Oh!” He closed his locker. “We’re locker buddies.” He watched as you placed your bag inside.

“Thankfully.” You sighed out. “Sorry I’ve been so… Y’know.” You began as he waved it off.

“It’s alright.” He told you softly. “We all have our things. And a new job can be scary.” You gave him a smile, nodding.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, for me, I find most things scary.” You breathed out as you closed up your own locker. “Thank you. For helping me.” He nodded.

“Anytime.”

-

“Woah, woah, woah-“

You heard the friendly voice of Steven from behind you as he quickly rushed towards you, rounding in front of you. You were currently carrying some boxes full of inventory, feeling your arms burning slightly from the weight.

“Let me-“ Steven instantly grabbed one of the boxes from your arms, easing the load off you as you breathed out, your arms grateful for the gesture.

“Thanks.” You gave him a small smile. “Donna insisted I took them both.” You mumbled as he furrowed his brows at your words.

“Oh.” His lips formed a tight line. “Yeah, that sounds like Donna.” He muttered as you both began walking with the boxes in your hands.

“Is she always like this?” You asked, peering over at him as he walked beside you.

“Um-“ He paused, looking like he was thinking on how to answer. “Pretty much.” He settled on. He couldn’t lie to you. “But I think she’s more bark than bite.” He shrugged slightly as you approached the giftshop, finally placing the box down on the floor as you stretched out your arms.

“(Y/N)!”

You winced at the sound of Donna’s voice as Steven stood back up after placing his box down. You instantly shrunk into yourself as Donna approached, chewing her gum.

“I asked you to take those boxes 10 minutes ago.” She raised a brow. “What was taking so long?” Before she looked Steven up and down. “Oh, I get it. Moving in on the newbie, eh?” She smirked at Steven as he looked confused, shaking his head. You could see him shifting on his feet.

“N-no.” He laughed nervously. “I was just-“

“Doesn’t change the fact there’s still more boxes that need moving.” She turned back to you, giving you a hard stare. You meekly nodded, as you quickly began to head back to the stock room.

Steven watched as you slunk away, before turning to Donna.

“You could be nicer.” He commented as he began to open the box in front of him.

“I ain’t paid to be nice.” Donna retorted. “Listen, just cause you have a little crush-“

“That’s not why-“

“Doesn’t mean you can tell me how to do my job, got it?” She looked at him, hand on hip as he sighed before nodding. “Good. Now get this stock out.”

-

“Hiya. I bought you some lunch. Thought you’d be hungry-“

Steven entered the stock room, holding two wraps in his hands, a small smile on his face, which soon faltered as he saw you. Upset. You were sat on a stool as in front of you was a smashed vase on the floor. He put the wraps down on a nearby table as he approached you.

“I broke it.” You sniffed as he looked down at the mess on the floor. “It fell, I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey, it’s ok.” He had a small smile on his lips. “It happens all the time.” He reassured you, leaning down to pick up the pieces of smashed vase.

“Really?” You asked, your eyes still slightly glossy. He nodded.

“Of course. You should’ve seen how many things I’ve broken in this room.” He added. “I won’t tell Donna. We can keep this between us if you’d like?” You nodded as you got off the stool, kneeling down to help him.

“Sorry. You must think I’m a big cry baby.” You scoffed, as Steven paused, shaking his head.

“I don’t think that.” He furrowed his brows. “And please don’t let anyone else tell you that.” Eventually you both had tidied the mess you had created, as Steven picked up the wraps he had bought for you both once again, turning back to you. “Now, what do you prefer-“ He began, lifting each wrap in his hand as he told you what they were. “Spicy Mexican Bean or Avocado and Brie?”

And that was how a friendship blossomed. Steven was the only person who really interacted with you at the museum. Except Donna, but she mostly just ordered you around and had very little patience with you. Which Steven understood completely. Donna was the same way with him. Over the next few weeks you found yourself often hanging around the giftshop when Donna wasn’t looking, just to chat with Steven.

“Who do you think would win in a fight?” You suddenly asked, leaning on the counter as you looked up at Steven. “Maahes or Donna?” Steven hummed in thought, the corners of his lips lifting slightly in amusement of your question.

“Now, that’s a tough one.” He pondered. “Because although Maahes does devour his captives, I think he would struggle to take Donna captive.” You nodded at his words, a small smile on your own lips. Truth was you often asked these silly questions just to hear him talk about Ancient Egyptian Gods. You loved the fact he was basically a walking Wikipedia page for it all, but he always spoke so passionately which is something you didn’t get on Wikipedia. “And the lions he had were tame… Something Donna is not.” He joked as you smirked. “So I think I may have to give this one to Donna.”

“I think you’re right.” You agreed, pushing yourself up from the counter. You hadn’t noticed you’d definitely been giving the poor man heart eyes the whole time he was talking. “All she would have to do is give that one look she does, you know the-“ You tried to imitate the stony glare Donna would send your way as Steven chuckled. “Are we sure she isn’t related to Medusa? Cause I swear I turn to stone every time she gives me that look.”

“You’re funny.” Steven complimented as you felt your cheeks grow warm. He turned away before he could notice your flustered state, as he began restocking the shelves. “Look at this.” He suddenly spoke again as you leant over the counter once again, looking down to see the opened box full of jelly sweets. “Of all the things we could sell, and we’ve been reduced to-to-“

“Gummies.” You finished for him as he sighed. “Could be worse.” You raised a brow as he stood back up straight, holding the sweets in his hands.

“Oh yeah?” He began to place the sweets in their correct place on the counter.

“It could be car air fresheners.” You pointed out as he hummed in agreement.

“Don’t give Donna any ideas.” He mumbled as you laughed lightly. “Egyptians didn’t exactly drive cars did they?”

“No, but the museum would find a way to market it like they did.” You told him with a point of a finger as he pulled a ‘that’s true’ face.

“Oi!”

Oh shit.

You quickly pushed yourself off the counter, almost standing to attention as Steven watched your demeanour change. Gone was your relaxed posture and smiling face, in return was almost a militant stance. Donna marched towards you, arms folded.

“Why aren’t you out back?” She narrowed her eyes, lips smacking from the gum in her mouth.

“I-I was just bringing more stock to Steven-“ You tried to tell her as she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t pay you to flirt all day you know.” She commented as you felt the same warmth from earlier rising to your face.

“Donna-“ Steven tried to cut in, but she held up a finger at him to stay quiet.

“I hope you’ve done what you needed to do in the stock room.” She pressed as you quickly nodded. “I also need you to do a stock count of the new lines in prep for next week.”

“Oh- I get off in half an hour.” You spoke meekly as she raised a brow.

“Better be quick then.” She gave you a false smile as she began to walk away. You felt your shoulders slump as you relaxed.

“If you need any help-“ Steven tried as you sighed, shaking your head.

“It’s fine.” You said defeatedly. “How many boxes can there be?”

Well, double shit.

You stood in the stock room with at least ten boxes filled to the brim of stock. All you wanted to do was go home on time, eat, shower and sleep. But it didn’t seem your evening was going to go that way. You grabbed a handset as you shuffled over to the first box, opening it as you began the tedious task.

An hour ago you were meant to finish. A whole hour. You could feel your eyes becoming heavy from the dim lighting and stillness of the room, the only sound you had become accustomed to hearing was the beeping of the machine in your hand. You’d managed to sift through 3 of the boxes, ensuring to scan and tick off each and every item, and yet you still had a mountain of boxes to complete. There was a knock at the door as you furrowed your brows, watching as the door slowly opened to reveal-

“Steven?” You raised a brow. “What are you still doing here? Didn’t you finish?”

“Well, y-yeah, I did.” You noted he hadn’t stepped in the room yet, and one of his arms was hidden behind the door frame. Suddenly the smell of something delicious filled the air. “But I thought you’d need some emotional support.” He joked. “And maybe some food to keep up morale.” He then revealed three paper bags in his once hidden hand as you let yourself smile.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You told him softly as he shrugged.

“I’m sure Gus won’t mind that I’m a little late home.” He commented as he began to walk towards you. “I’ll make it up to him by popping another postcard on his tank.” He set the bag down on the table in the room as he began to pull out boxes of food. “I wasn’t sure how hungry you were so- I kind of just bought a bit of everything.”

God. This man. Had he been written by a woman?

“Steven you must’ve spent a fortune!” You told him as you looked at the multiple boxes being placed on the table. He waved it off. “How much was it? I have some cash in my locker-“ He shook his head, frowning.

“No, no, no.” He told you. “This is on me. My treat.” He insisted as you bit your lip. “Think of it as me just… repaying you for putting up with me over the last few weeks.” He suggested, a teasing tone but somewhat a level of truth to his words. You almost frowned yourself.

“Steven-“ You began. “I don’t put up with you.” You said sincerely. “I enjoy your company. If anything I’m surprised you put up with me.” You laughed lightly as he gave you a small smile, shaking his head.

“Pleasure is all mine.” He did a small mock bow as you laughed. “Now, tuck in before it gets cold.” He then almost jumped. “Oh! Before I forget.” He patted down his jacket pocket as he finally found what he was looking for. “Voilà!” He exclaimed as he popped your favourite can of drink in front of you.

Yup. He was definitely written by a woman.

~

Why the hell did work events have to be a thing?

And why was it also fancy dress?

You stood, staring at yourself in the mirror as you wore a bad Cleopatra costume, wig and everything.

“This feels… Questionable.” You muttered to yourself, ripping the wig from your head as you huffed in annoyance. “I look… ridiculous. And definitely culture appropriatey.” You winced at it all. Suddenly there was a knock at the door, distracting you from your inner turmoil.

You headed towards the door, opening it as you saw Steven stood in a suit, looking rather uncomfortable. His eyes trailed down your form as he took in your attire. He raised a curious brow.

“Wow…” He breathed out. “You look…”

“Stupid.” You finished for him, stepping aside to allow him inside. “Why on earth is this thing fancy dress?” You muttered. “Speaking of, where’s your costume?” You questioned as he sent you a confused stare.

“Costume?” He almost spluttered out. “I-I didn’t get that memo.” You frowned, looking at him in confusion.

“JB said-“ You then put two and two together as you closed your eyes in frustration. Steven watched sympathetically. “What a knob.” You muttered as you sat down on your sofa.

“If it’s any consolation you kinda rock it.” He tried as you sent him a ‘really?’ stare. “I mean, you could rock anything. Even a bin bag and you would still look lovely.” He said absentmindedly as your stare softened.

“At least you look handsome.” You complimented him in return. “No point in wasting it, you may wanna go now you could still make it in time.” You told him as you learn back into the sofa. Steven furrowed his brows.

“You’re-You’re not coming?” He asked, taking a step towards you. You shook your head.

“Don’t really feel like it now.” You mumbled. “Plus now that I’m thinking about it, busy social environments aren’t exactly my favourite places to be.” Steven watched you momentarily, before removing his suit jacket, you furrowed your brows watching him. He placed it on the arm of the sofa as he sat beside you, clasping his hands together as he looked ahead. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Well, if you’re not going, neither am I.” He told you gently, shrugging. “The only reason I agreed to go is because you were going to be there.” He admitted as you felt your heart swell at his words. “Besides, let’s be honest it’s not really my thing either.” He let out a small breath as you smiled at him.

~

“Snap!”

You shouted in victory as Steven jumped at your sudden loud voice. You laughed as you grabbed the deck, adding the cards to your already large handful.

“How are you so speedy?” He shook his head, frowning a little.

“I used to play it a lot as a kid.” You shrugged in return. “I may not be great at monopoly but Snap is my game.” You narrowed your eyes playfully at him as a warning of sorts. You were now in some more comfy clothes, deciding the Cleopatra getup wasn’t it, and you would return it promptly when you got the chance. Steven had also loosened his tie and untucked his shirt from his trousers to feel more comfy. “I would take this over any fancy work event any day.” You admitted as you took a sip of your drink, placing your cards down. Steven nodded in agreement.

“I’ll cheers to that.” He held up his own glass as you clinked them together. “Although, I think you would’ve stolen the show with your costume.”

“Do you think?” You smirked, hearing his playful tone.

“Maybe JB just wanted to see you in an Egyptian getup.” He suggested as you pulled a face.

“He would be the last man I’d dress in that for.” You laughed. “Giftshoppists are more my type.” You froze.

Did you just really say that?

Out loud.

Steven also seemed to freeze at your words, stating at you with his mouth a little agape.

“I mean-“ You cleared your throat. “Well- you know-“ You kept stumbling over your words, feeling your hands beginning to get clammy. “For science.”

What? What the fuck does that mean?

You finally looked away from Steven as you downed the rest of your drink. Steven didn’t know what to say. He had taken a liking to you, but just assumed you saw him as a friend. He was somewhat oblivious to your signals. Well, not somewhat. Completely.

“I-I’m gonna get another drink.” You stood up quickly from your seat, disappearing out of sight as you went into your kitchen leaving Steven flustered, confused and nervous.

Shit. Maybe he won’t know what you said.

Come on, you basically just told him you fancy the pants off him.

Mentally cursing, you topped up your drink, dreading going back into the other room to break the awkward tension that had formed.

“Do you like me?”

You jumped, twirling round to see Steven stood in the doorway, his features soft as he looked at you, almost hopefully.

“Obviously you like me, but I-I mean, like…” He began to stumble. “You know?” You swallowed the lump in your throat, licking your lips nervously. You nodded slowly.

“I know I’ve ruined things.” You sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything- it was an accident- a-and we can just forget the whole thing-“

“No.” Steven furrowed his brows. “I mean, I don’t want to.” He shook his head, taking a step towards you. “I-I like you too.” He admitted as you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Oh.” You breathed out, surprise in your voice. Steven stood before you, as you both seemed unaware on what to do next.

“You’re lovely.” He spoke again. “You’re sweet, funny a-and kind.” He told you as you felt yourself start to relax once again. “And… and good for me.” He gave a small smile as you felt your own begin to form on your lips. “And honestly? Gus has been telling me to ask you out for a while now.” He joked as you laughed lightly. “So… Did you want to?” He paused. “Go on a date I mean.”

“Yeah… I’d like that.” You nodded.

“G-good.” He nodded also. “Good, good, good.” A silence fell between you both, but this time it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, until you broke it:

“Can I beat your ass again in Snap?”

[two-red-lungs]

May I request an imagine with Eddie Munson where reader girlfriend starts showing signs (Like the stuff happening to Chrissy before she died) of vecnas curse and he gets all overprotective and worried and dosent leave her side? Happy ending??

Oh man strap in y'all this one hurts. Ambiguous ending because I am EVIL.

Eddie + Vecna-Cursed S/O

You hide it from him, the first time. Successfully. The world only dropped away for a second, the room emptying of people and a warped, hollow metal clock chiming the far distance, and then bam, you were back and Eddie was giving you the side-eye.

"Everything good?" He asked you.

You just nodded vigorously and turned away to talk to Robin, an ice-cold pit in your stomach, feeling the ticking of the second hand crawling up your spine like a nefarious centipede.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to you. Not because it was you, but because Eddie, somehow, despite the recent shitstorm, had come to really fucking care about you.

And god, he'd been through enough grief, hadn't he?

So yes. For the first few precious hours, you hide it. You hide it and you spend extra time chatting the metalhead up, making him laugh, watching the way his adam's apple bobs in his lithe neck and thinking about how lucky you were in the first place to meet him before you died.

And then you... can't, anymore. Can't hide it. You feel sick. Nauseated, in a fugue state, flu-like. And finally, finally when you try and brush it off again, jacket wiping at your nose, Eddie catches your wrist with his surprisingly strong, broad hands, bringing it into the light.

Blood on the sleeve.

"Jesus." Is the first thing he breathes out. Looking down at you, back at the blood. At you again. "Jesus Christ. It's happening, isn't it. Isn't it?"

And you want to lie, pretend it's fine, but there are tears in your eyes and Eddie's sweet, angelic, perfect oval face is crumpling, lines appearing under his big black chocolate eyes.

The other members swarm you with concern. But all you can focus on is him. Just standing there. Helpless. Frozen.

"...Come on, man." He says in a choked voice. "Not you. Not you."

It hurts. Most of all it hurts because he's scared, fucking terrified for you. His fingers shake and he stuffs them in his pockets. He can't stop looking back at you over his shoulder, like he's convinced you're going to disappear.

You can't hide the increasingly long periods of time you stare, blank and cationic up at the ceiling, any better than he can hide the way his lip quivers.

And when you come back to reality he is always there, screaming your name in your face, big fingers cupping your chin or touching your forearms or just shaking you are strongly as he dared. And he's so scared. So, so scared.

Steve looks at his watch, licks his lips, and tells you you're down to twelve hours.

Eddie scrambles through his cassette tape collection, muttering to himself, talking over you about what bands you last listened to. He's constantly correcting himself and finding a song that he thinks is better, a song you told him you like more, because the last one he chose is never good enough. His room is a disaster zone.

When he cups the walkman headphones to your ears, his hands linger far too long. His eyes squeezed shut: like if he keeps touching you, keeps you here, Vecna can't reach into your mind and body and soul and snatch you away from him.

You press the play button on the walkman. Press a kiss, silky-soft and angel-sweet, to the furrowed skin between his dark brows. And when the rough electric guitar starts picking up, wild and bright, you tell him you're going to be okay. That everything is going to be fine.

And as you had out to join Max and Lucas in their little game-plan huddle out by the front door, Eddie digs his fingernails into the meat of his palms so hard it hurts, and prays, desperately, that you're right.

Because he's pretty sure losing you like that would break him in a way he couldn't come back from.

[sinner-as-saint]

Where I Belong

Hades!Steve x Persephone!Reader 

Run-through: The weather is starting to get cold in the mortal realm, and as much as you’d miss your mother’s home, you know it’s now time for you to return to your true home. To him. To the God of the Underworld. After being apart for half a year, it is time for you to return home to your Hades. 

Themes: hades!steve, persephone!reader, smut, possessive!steve, slight angst, fluff

a/n: i know it must be spring for some (or most) of you right now, but it’s just starting to get cold where i am and i’m in my hadesxpersephone feels, let me live!

Over the past many, many years you had discovered some of the most secretive entrances and exits of the Underworld. 

Sure, being Hades’ wife had something to do with that. Given that your husband made sure you knew your way around the Underworld just as well as he did. 

Over the years, you have used all of them. And yet, no matter which entrance you used, each time you stepped into your husband’s realm, it brought tears to your eyes. The mortal realm was your home too; the sun, the wind, the feeling of cool, summer rain on your skin, the velvety touch of freshly bloomed spring flowers. 

But this, the dark kingdom ruled by your husband, was more home to you than anywhere else. The giant castle, made of black stone and metal. The dimmed natural light which, courtesy to Hades’ magic, almost made it look like a peaceful twilight sky at all times. The blessed silence, save for the sound of the nearby rivers. Cerberus guarding the gates. The dense, misty and dark woods surrounding the castle. The garden which, thanks to your magic, flourished right in front of the castle. The fog. The cold, but somehow just the right temperature. 

And the quiet, gentle souls who also called the Underworld their home. 

This realm was truly home. And you couldn’t wait to meet its ruler. 

You took the shortest route into the castle. As much as you wanted to reunite with Cerbie, and others, you needed to see your husband more than anyone. You’d been away from him for half a year. Six months. Too many days. Too many hours. 

You smiled all the way into the castle, eager to see him. To touch him. To kiss him. You held on tightly to the little basket you always brought him whenever you returned from above. An assortment of flowers and fruits (which despite the magic unfortunately did not grow here), and your recent addition - a flower crown made of daisies and dandelions. You knew your grumpy husband would pretend to hate it. You giggled to yourself as you practically skipped and jogged to him. 

He must be waiting just as impatiently. You thought. 

Then you rounded a corner to step into the black and gold corridor which led to your private chambers. You had always loved this corridor. Ancient and dark pictures in gilded frames. The soft, golden lights, always dimmed but always bright enough to allow anyone to navigate around perfectly. Accents of black obsidian stone all over the walls, the sconces, the extravagant candelabras on each side of the hallway. The scent in the air; citrusy, something like amber, a wine-y aroma and somehow all very him. Each breath you took reminded you of where you stood, in his castle. In his realm. 

You heard him way before you laid eyes on him. 

“...I thought I said this place was to be spotlessly clean before my wife gets here,” You heard his deep, authoritative voice order around his poor workers as they did their best. 

Normally he was never mean or demanding regarding his workers, but he was rather impatient on days when he expected you back home. 

He had his back to you as he stood right outside your bedroom doors, so he didn’t see you as you approached. “She’ll be back anytime now and I need this entire castle to look-,” 

“Oh stop being such royal pain.” You cut him off with a smile on your face. 

He froze. Even the workers lifted up their heads to look at you. They all smiled and sighed in relief. Your husband finally turned around to face you with so much love and pain, and relief on his face that it made your eyes water. 

All of the workers took that as their cue to leave. And once there were only the two of you in the corridor, your husband finally moved towards you. “My love…” He whispered, coming to a stop in front of you, mere inches away from you. His hands itched as he forced his eyes to take you in first.  

You reach out to cup his face with one hand. “I’ve missed you.” You said quietly. 

He reached for you and wrapped his arms around you, bringing you closer to his warm body and pressing his lips to your forehead. You wrapped an arm around him too, pressing your face into him and breathing in his scent you’d missed so much. 

“Every time you leave, I tell myself that maybe this time would be easier. That maybe this time I wouldn’t miss you so much to a point where I would rather die a thousand deaths than be without you for one more day.” He sighed, tightening his arms around you. “And yet each time I’m proven wrong. And each time you leave me, it hurts more than all the previous times.” He whispered against your skin. 

His warmth, his body heat, his embrace - all of him felt like home, finally. You sniffled, letting the tears fall as you pulled away enough to look up at him. “It kills me to be away from you too.” You blinked and two hot tears streamed down your face. He reached out to wipe them away. “But I’m here now,” You whispered, “I’m home, with you.” You said and leaned in to kiss him. 

Your hand rested on the back of his neck as he pulled you closer, kissing you deeper as he pressed your bodies closer together. He let out a moan the moment you ran your fingers from the back of his neck to his hair.

He held you like he never wanted to let go ever again. The only thing that kept him sane was the fact that you weren’t going anywhere for the next six months. 

Six months. All his for the next six months, and like always, he’d be so selfish when it came to sharing you with anyone at all during that time. 

Lost in his kiss, you didn’t quite realise when or how the two of you managed to make it into your bedroom. The next thing you knew, he took the basket from your hands and placed it down before leaning in to kiss you again. Harder, deeper this time. 

His wandering hands made you sigh and moan into the kiss, his eager and impatient hands felt so maddeningly good against the soft fabric of the blush coloured gown you wore. His touch was making you feel all hot and bothered, and you must have mumbled something regarding it because he chuckled before pulling away from the kiss. 

He pulled away just enough to let his eyes roam your body from head to toe. From your hair, to the gown you wore, to the skirt of the gown as it pooled around your feet. 

You caught that look in his eyes which you knew all too well. “You don’t like this colour on me, do you?” You asked with a slight smirk as you looked up into his ocean blue eyes. 

He groaned under his breath. “My love, you look divine in anything, any colour you wear.” He answered. 

“But…?” You urged him to keep going, knowing he had something else to say. 

He sighed, “But I have to say, I prefer you in darker colours.” Then he pulled you closer by the waist, stared deep into your eyes and growled, “My colours.” 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this side of him. The territorial, commanding god. It excited you and made the flames of desire burn hotter and brighter deep within you. “Well then,” You said in a teasing tone, stepping away from him, “You should tear it off of me if you hate it so much.” 

Hades smirked. 

“If that’s what you want, my love…” He grabbed the neckline of your lovely gown in both his fists and tore it with ease. Like the gown was giving in too, knowing it was nothing compared to his strength. 

Less than a few seconds later, your dress was ruined at your feet. And you looked up at your husband with a coy smile. “Much better.” You whispered. 

He shook his head slightly, “Come here,” He grabbed you and pulled you close again. His lips found yours yet again as he urged you to lay down on the surface of the bed right next to you. 

You sighed in delight, feeling the cool, dark satin sheets under your naked body as he pushed you onto your back and hovered on top of you immediately. His kiss deepened, seeming much more passionate and hungry now.

His rough hands ran up and down your sides lazily, until one of his hands discretely slipped under you, pinching your butt playfully. You hissed then giggled as he did.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He whispered, his hands caressing your thighs and making you squirm under him. “I’ve missed this. Missed having you here with me, in our bed. Under me. I’ve missed your warmth, and the sounds you make when I touch you.” He said, kissing along your jaw, up and down your neck. 

You moaned under his soft, warm touch and caress. It’d been so long, you could barely wait. 

“Talk to me sweetheart, did you miss me?” he asked in a soft whisper, looking into your eyes. “Hmm? Did you miss this as much as I did?” 

You nodded as you looked up at him, his face hovering inches above yours. He was so painfully beautiful it made your heart hurt. His dark hair, his sinfully pink lips, his blue eyes. 

“I did.” You whispered, reaching out to trace his mouth gently. “I missed you so much, missed this.” You couldn’t do the whole slow, soft and sensual thing tonight. Not now. “Please…” You begged quietly, “I need you.” 

He smiled down at you as his hand immediately made its way up to your inner thighs. And his lips found yours again as his knuckles lazily caressed your folds.

“Is this what you want? Hmm? You just can’t wait, can you?” He smirked against your lips. “You desperately need me, don’t you, my darling?” 

You shuddered under him, nodding quickly as your heart raced in anticipation. You wrapped your arms around his still clothed body, caressing the nape of his neck lazily. 

Satisfied, he kissed down your neck while he pushed his fingers past your folds gently. You were already embarrassingly wet but you didn’t care. Not right now. His fingers curled and stroked your walls so perfectly, it made you spread your legs even wider and made your back arch off the bed instinctively as you let out a gasp, followed by a low moan. 

“Yeah?” He smirked. “That feels so good, doesn’t it?” He asked.

You whimpered, then nodded as you felt tingles erupting all over your body the moment he gently rubbed your clit. And another moan left your lips as you felt him kiss his way down your body; kissing down your cleavage, toying with your breasts and kissing his way down until he reached your core.

He pulled his fingers out of you, and then not even a second later, you felt his mouth on you. His tongue made its way past your folds instantly, and he looked up to find you whimpering under his touch.

“I’ve missed your taste.” He said, before teasing you with his tongue again. 

His arms wrapped around each one of your thighs and he pulled you closer and kept you open for him, pushing his mouth further into your dripping core. His tongue lazily circled your clit and you let out a loud moan. 

“Oh…” You whined. “I’ve missed your mouth so fucking much.” You said, moaning and whining as he took his time tasting you. 

He just smirked at the whines and moans which left your lips. He gently bit and teased the skin around your dripping cunt, just to mess with you. He loved how you tugged onto his hair each time the pleasure got too much. 

His tongue teased you until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. He held on to your thighs, keeping you in place as he feasted. But it wasn’t enough just yet, he wanted you to be delirious with pleasure so he slipped two of his fingers past your entrance while sucking on your clit. 

“Hmm,” His voice sent vibrations reverberating deep within you. “This is where you belong, wife.” He growled, mouth pressed against your throbbing clit as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you. “Here, with me.” He said while his tongue flicked your throbbing clit. 

You cried out in pleasure. “With you…” You sighed, feeling a familiar pressure forming in between your hips, and you moaned louder as warmth washed over you and took over your senses. You involuntarily bucked your hips against his mouth, chasing your orgasm. 

But he didn’t give it to you yet. “I’ve missed making you come every day,” He spoke, lifting his mouth off you for a brief moment - which made you whine in frustration. “Look at me.” He ordered. 

And you did, you lifted your body up on your elbows and met his stare, gasping for breath and craving your release. 

“You’re mine.” He whispered, his warm breath fanning your wet skin, making you squirm. “And you’re gonna come for me.” 

You nodded. And once you did, he smirked, leaned down and latched his mouth to your wet folds again, holding your stare as he teased you, ate you out until you could no longer hold back. So you came undone, all over his tongue. You came with a loud moan, moving your hips faster against his tongue. 

The god smiled and kissed your inner thighs, kissing his way up your body again. He briefly kissed your lips again before moving his mouth over to your ear. He kissed the shell of your ear before whispering in your ear. 

“You’re gonna spread your legs and open for me. You’re gonna take me deep inside you. You’ve been waiting for this, for me, haven’t you?” He asked, pulling away to stare into your eyes with his deep blue ones. 

You nodded again. He smiled and leaned down to kiss your lips again.

Your hands reached up to slip under his dark shirt. You smiled as you felt his smooth skin underneath the shirt. You sighed in delight as you caressed his hard body. You’d missed him so much. 

He pulled away from your lips briefly, unbuttoned and took his shirt off, throwing it somewhere around the room before leaning back down to kiss you. You moaned again as he nibbled on your bottom lip before pushing his tongue into your mouth, stroking the top of your mouth.

Meanwhile he lowered his dark pants and pulled out his erected cock. He wasted no time in aligning it to your still dripping entrance once you spread your legs wide open for him. 

The tip of his cock barely brushed against your wet folds, and just that made you moan out loud. “My wife,” He whispered fondly, guiding the tip of his cock up and down your wet slit, teasing you and it made you lose your mind, “My Persephone,” He said, kissing along your neck. “Mine,” He growled, finally pushing his cock deep inside you like he promised. 

Without moving his hips yet, he hoisted one of your legs up to his waist and settled better between your thighs. His cock stretched you out deliciously, and he watched how your face twisted in pleasure. 

You were panting and whimpering under him by the time he was fully in you. He pushed his face into your neck, letting out a satisfied chuckle against your skin at how good and warm you felt, now finally in his arms, in his bed. 

“Damn you for being so good,” He whispered, kissing your skin while ignoring the way you urged him to move. He smirked at the way you moved your hips up, trying to get him to fuck you already. “Impatient, are we?” He taunted. 

“Please…” You groaned. “Move, please.” 

He almost growled at how perfectly you begged. And he couldn’t wait to make you come undone around his cock either. But he needed this moment, just to reassure himself that you’re here. With him. 

You cried out again, unable to take the teasing anymore. “Please…” You begged with tears in your eyes. 

“I know, my love,” He placed his mouth on top of yours as he gently started moving against your hips, his cock slipping in and out of you gently. “I know, I’ve got you now.” He took his time, despite how eager he was, he gave you the time to feel all of him. And you did.

You felt his thick cock stretching you out, his warm breath tickling your skin, his heart beats racing like yours were. He thrust into you slowly at first, then he picked up his pace as he went. You moaned as he moved faster against you, whimpering and holding on to his broad shoulders as your entire body moved along with each thrust of his.

He leaned down to kiss you again as he groaned at how good you felt around his cock.

“You’re mine,” he said as he placed his forehead on top of yours. Your hand reached up to cup his face, and you nodded.

“All yours.” 

He gave you a quick kiss before quickening his pace once more. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he somehow pushed deeper into you, turning your mind into a foggy mess. His thrust got more and more relentless the moment you both felt your walls clenching around him. He pounded into you incessantly, making you cry out and moan because there was nothing else you could do.

“Oh you’re not leaving this bed anytime soon.” He whispered, “Gonna fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” 

You felt the pressure forming again, and the warmth washed over you once more. He interlaced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as his thrust got harder, animalistic, possessive. 

“Mine,” He growled. “Come for me, sweetheart.” 

You clenched around him violently and with a few more strokes of his cock against your walls, you came with a loud moan.

He slowed down, for a moment. He kissed you again as you came down from your high. But then before you could recover properly, he flipped you around. Got you on your knees, your face down against the cool sheets, ass up in the air. 

He grabbed you on either side of your hips and pushed his still hard cock deep inside you again, from behind this time. 

“Not done with you yet.” He whispered. “Gonna make you come again and again on this cock.” He bent over and fucked into you as he whispered dirty little secrets in your ear. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Gonna pump you so full of it you’ll feel it drip out of you with each step you take.” He pressed down on your lower abdomen as he fucked you harder, faster. “Maybe I’ll make you bounce on my cock after, and I’ll watch my cum drip out of you, huh?” He chuckled as you squeezed around him, moaning wantonly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, wife?” 

Tears escaped your eyes as the pleasure became too much to handle; and you felt the pressure forming at your base again. He pounded into you mercilessly, fucking you like an animal. You whimpered as both his hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him harshly each time, speeding up until he came inside of you. 

You came right after him, feeling him fill you up just like he said. He groaned softly against your cheek before dipping his head back into the crook of your neck, kissing your damp skin incessantly. 

“I love you,” He said. “I love you so much,” He whispered, kissing your body as he flipped you back around. 

You smiled up at him. “And I love you. So much.” You pulled him in, and giggled as he rested his whole body on top of yours, holding onto you like he’d never let go. 

–

He had some food brought in for you after a while. You sat up, leaning against the headboard, excited to finally eat. But then you remembered, “I got you something.” You said, reaching for the basket you’d brought. 

You pulled out the flower crown and placed it on top of his head, smiling so big at him that his heart melted and he almost didn’t frown at his own reflection when he walked over to look in the mirror. 

“It’s ridiculous.” He said monotonously, turning around and watching you as you reached out for your plate of food. 

You shoved a piece of bread into your mouth and rolled your eyes, “Oh shut up, you big grump.” 

Of course, he would never tell you that he secretly didn’t hate it. 

He walked back to bed, and rested his head on your lap, flower crown and all, and looked up to watch you as you devoured your food. Then he scoffed and shook his head. 

You looked down at him with a mouthful, frowning. You swallowed then asked, “What is it?” 

“Just thinking.” He murmured, stealing a piece of fruit from your plate and placing it in his mouth. 

You watched him as he chewed. “Thinking about what?” You asked again. 

Your husband sighed dramatically and said, “About how I should have fed you the whole damn pomegranate that one time.” 

[mcyt-peach]

closet bound

*:･ﾟ summary: a bee swarm leaves you and Quackity stuck in a rather small closet until someone finds you

*:･ﾟ pairing: cc!quackity x gn!reader

*:･ﾟ warnings: small spaces, mention of bee swarms

*:･ﾟ note: this may seem a bit more forward than Quackity's personality but I'm a firm believer that he's a huge flirt

*:･ﾟ series masterlist

“There’s my favorite minimum wage worker!” Somehow, Quackity manages to talk over the hum of the extractor, which impresses you since the machine can be heard down the street.

“We make the same pay, Q.” You retort, sticking your tongue out at him for good measure.

He gives his signature laugh and jogs up to you from the other side of the warehouse.

“Aren’t you supposed to be behind the counter right now? Ooooh, are you playing hooky?” He raises his eyebrows like he knows something he shouldn’t.

“Believe it or not, I’m on a break.” You say in a jokingly accusatory tone.

“And you chose to visit little ol’ me? I’m honored!” He smiles at you and you can’t help but giggle a bit at his tone and smile. He joins in with your laughter and you feel all the stress of the day melt away.

Maybe it’s cheesy, but you always feel this way around Quackity. He’s just so bright and sunny, always making your day better just by being around.

On days when Q’s working, you find yourself drifting to the warehouse, hoping he’s not too busy. Hoping he can spare a conversation or a couple jokes or maybe just a smile.

The creaking of the garage door catches your attention and both you and Quackity turn to face the opening door.

Oh no. No, no, no. This was going to be bad.

Rule #1 of harvest season, never leave the door open. No matter how hot the warehouse gets, opening the door is a disaster waiting to happen.

The smell of honey running through the extractor brings every bee in a 3 mile radius to the building and an open door is the perfect opportunity to wreak havoc on inventory for the season.

Distantly, you’re aware of Dream yelling at Punz to close the door, but you’re much more focused of the hoard of bees actively entering the building.

You’re not sure why, but you grab Quackity’s hand and tug him across the warehouse into a storage closet before slamming the door.

The wood of the door is warped by the heat and humidity, and the crack at the bottom is far too wide for your liking. God what kind of idea was this, trap yourself and your coworker in a closet full of honey surrounded by bees that were following the smell of said honey.

“Q your jacket.” You plead with him, trying to find his form in the darkness of the closet. He simply stands still, confused with your plan.

God, you don’t have time for this. You push through your nerves and embarrassment and slide your hands down to the bottom of his hoodie, lifting it up until he helps you tug it off.

“Geez, take me to dinner first.” You can hear the smile in his voice and you only give a huff in response.

You turn to the door and stuff the fabric under the wood, effectively plugging any gap the bees could fit through.

When you turn around to face Quackity, you become aware of just how small the closet is. Maybe he moved forward, or maybe you did, but you’re certain that both of your chests are touching now.

“You always pull your handsome coworkers into closets on your break?” His voice is so close now. It lacks its usual energy, quiet and soft to calm the nervous energy he must sense in you.

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe you should ask Sapnap?” You smile and lilt your voice, trying to see his reaction, now that he’s acting so strange.

“Oh Y/n you wound me!” You can hear his hand thump against his chest, holding his heart in mock anguish. “You know, you’re playing with fire here.”

His hands brush against your sides as he backs you up against the nearest wall. Your breath gets caught in your chest at his proximity. He’s never like this, no more smiles and jokes. His voice sends a shiver up your spine and a wave of heat to your face.

If he wasn’t so close, maybe you would’ve heard the footsteps growing closer to the closet or the door handle turning. But the glow filling up the closet lights up his face and you wish you could look at him a little longer.

Still, your head turns towards the opening door. There stands Phil, with wide eyes, who takes one look at the situation... and promptly shuts the door.

Looks like you won’t be visiting Q on break for a while.

taglist: @cultof-medusa @mooncaffeine @lemonedbeetle @patchesofwork @junebug-isunavailable @cryptidcritter @paradigmax @soot-and-co @alovestruck-fool @onehellofaweeb13 @stayacarat @ladylapize @satellitesunshine @hanaamara @nonetookind @tinylillx @jhinx-it @h0p33e @flowerguywashere @olibv @daydreamerwriting @mayempress @kaii-jpeg @msbonink @kkusuxa @oatnivison @crestentmoon5678 @nightmarefox15 @lous-blue @girlofthefandom @somethingsuperstupidsstuff @greatesthitz @thethiccestdaddy @hunneiuwu @megnotfound @missskyes @pressled @tokiyur @https-urwife @paranoia-agent11037 @cupidpebble @mhmelena @oatnivison

[dewdrop-writes]

Subject 2 saving you

Like I said, I’ve been thinking about fake/original albedo a LOT so uhh heres some imposter sagau contet featuring the nameless boi :(

cw: mention of injuries

length: 1.2 k

It had been an accident, finding you.

The winds howled angrily upon the peaks of Dragonspine, singing a song of rage as they whipped around, stirring up storms of ice and snow.

It didn’t bother him much - after all, he was not made of flesh and bone.

He’d been wandering around aimlessly, observing his younger counterpart no longer bringing him joy with the gentle presence of the Creator gone. He’d watched the alchemist slowly become undone, just as lost without your presence as he was.

The speckled gold droplets shimmering upon the blinding white snow caught his attention, however. Hesitantly, he followed them into the eye of the storm, watching in callous curiosity as the specks grew into puddles over time, still shimmering and bright even in the darkness of Dragonspine’s night.

Despite the wind cruelly rushing around him, a familiar warmth welcomed him as he neared the source of the golden ichor. One he’d only ever felt secondhand, while lurking in the shadows of his blessed and perfect brother. 

He stared at the trembling, desperate figure strewn across the white snow like slaughtered prey. Gold oozing out of their wounds with alarming speed. His footsteps were quiet, muffled by the storm brewing around the two of them, but somehow, the figure noticed him nonetheless.

With eyes so tired, a face so pale and sunken from exhaustion, you looked up at him with a resigned expression. Even with the snow breezing past you, he could make out the cracks in your lips and the snow coating your lashes. You trembled, the cold seeping into your very bones through your drenched clothes.

“Albedo?” you whispered, unsure of yourself. 

He could see the focus slipping away from your eyes as you tried your best to stay conscious, knowing full well that sleeping in such weather would lead to.

Perhaps you were already gone. 

A surge of recognition flashed through him. The Creator lay before him in the flesh, their life spreading on the snow beneath them. Quietly, he crouched beside you, and hooked his arms around your limp figure, lifting you into his arms.

He had no idea what had come over him, but he knew he could not leave you there. 

“Albedo,” you whispered again, a delirious smile on your blue lips as your bleeding hand gently brushed against his cheek.

Despite the coldness of your skin, despite the name you called him, he could not help but feel a tingle of joy in his chest as you oh so gently stared up at him as though he was another one of your beloved creations.

He wanted more, more of your touches, more of your voice, even if it was hoarse and desperate, holding no composure fit for a god. 

So, he did the only thing he could think of.

Carried your weakened body into a hidden burrow of a cave, setting you down on the ground. He bit his lip as he sealed off the entrance with the ice as cold as his lonely heart. before allowing himself to turn his attention back to you. You had long since lost your battle with consciousness, allowing yourself to sink under the tempting waves of sleep.

He sat beside you, hesitantly reaching out his hand and brushing your cheek, just as you had done to him. You looked ethereal, even in this disheveled and weakened state. He wondered if his brother had ever felt the strength of your presence to this degree when you’d used him as a vessel.

He hoped not.

With the unwavering patience and care of a creature that had seen centuries pass, as he had laid in neverending and bitter darkness, unable to live, unable to die, he removed some of your soaking clothes, taking in the sight of your gaping wounds. With clean snow, he methodically cleaned them and bandaged them with cloth ripped from his very own garments. It was crude medical care at best, but it was all he could do with his limited supplies.

Noticing the trembles wrecking across your body, he figured you must be cold. So, he began building a fire. It was strange how easily your presence affected him, commanding him wordlessly to care for your weakened state. He found himself questioning if this was something akin to being used as a vessel.

Still, his thoughts and actions were his own and there was no golden haze clouding his mind, so he ruled the possibility out.

Quietly he kept guard over your body, unsure what to do but wait. It must have been hours before you first stirred, a huff of pain escaping your mouth as you shifted. His eyes were glued to you, analyzing your presence in the far end of the cave.

Finally, your eyes opened. You glanced around hazily, taking time to adjust to your foreign surroundings.

“Albedo?” you asked again, voice still weak and strained from pain.

He turned towards you expectantly.

If this was who you wanted him to be, he would be that for you. After all, he had all but mastered the art of morphing into the alchemist like a chameleon. 

You smiled at him again, and his heart clenched at the sight. It was a tired smile, but charming in its own way.

And it was all meant for Albedo, no doubt about it.

Not once had anyone smiled at him that way.

Still, he wanted more.

So he approached.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you answered, chuckling dryly before a coughing fit overtook your body. He stroked the dirty, damp strands of your hair in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

Your hand rested on top of his and his breath caught in his throat.

Your eyes were focused now, staring into his and he felt as though his soul, if he even possessed one, was bared to you.

“You forgot the star on your neck,” you mumbled, a smirk weakly tugging up the corners of your mouth. He stared at you, his lips parting in surprise.

He expected anger, disgust - anything but you lifting yourself up by clinging to his clothes, only to wrap your weak arms around his body.

He was frozen still in shock.

“Thank you,” you whispered quietly, “for saving me.”

Tears he’d never been able to shed before, even with all the sorrows he’d endured in his life, came sprouting from his eyes as he hesitantly wrapped his own arms around you in return. Your warm aura enveloped him gently, melting away the walls he’d so carefully constructed. You felt like the home he had never had. 

Once more, you looked up at him and smiled.

And this time, he knew the smile was meant for him.