#then i realized how fitting it was for him ...

[thatonegrimm]

Hey there! I'd love to make a request! :D

We have the Saja Boys' reaction to the reader singing Soda Pop (loved it btw ^-^). But, how would they react (separately) if they heard them singing one of HUNTR/X songs instead? (maybe the ones about hunting demons?) Would they hate it? Be jealous? Hype them up?

(On another note, I absolutely love your writing! <3)

Thank you for the request! Honestly I'm so obsessed with this song. Here you go!💌

🌙Saja Boys x Reader Singing— How It's Done

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🧿 Jinu 

You were folding laundry and casually singing under your breath—except “casual” turned into full-on Huntrix mode by the time you hit the second chorus.

“Huntrix, show this, how it’s done, done, done!”

Jinu froze in the hallway with a mug in hand, mid-sip, watching you full-perform the last two lines with dramatic finger-pointing and some admittedly impressive attitude.

“…Wow,” he said slowly. “That’s, um… that’s not Soda Pop.”

You blinked. “What? It’s just Huntrix. I love this song.”

He cleared his throat. “I noticed. You—uh—growled at the sock pile.”

You laughed, still swaying. “C’mon, it’s empowering! Don’t tell me you’re intimidated.”

“No,” he lied. “Of course not.”

You sauntered up to him, leaning in just enough to whisper the “mirror mirror on my phone, who’s the baddest?” line into his ear.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, almost dropped the tea, and muttered, “Okay. A little intimidated.”

But later that night, you caught him trying to hum the chorus to himself. He denied it.

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💪 Abby 

Abby was in the middle of a workout when he heard it.

Your voice—from the other room—blasting through the verse with terrifying confidence:

“I don’t talk but I bite, full of venom (UH!)”

He paused his reps. Blinked.

And then you strutted in, mid-chorus, holding a brush like a mic and mouthing “Huntrix, don’t miss—how it’s done, done, done!”

He dropped his dumbbell.

“BABE!!” he beamed. “IS THAT HUNTRIX?!”

You blinked, slightly startled. “Yeah?”

He clapped like a proud stage mom. “OH MY GOD. DO IT AGAIN. From the top! I’ll do backup! Wait—wait—” He grabbed his water bottle like it was a lightstick.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” you laughed.

“C’monnnn! Hit the post-chorus!”

You gave in. He did your echo ad-libs with way too much enthusiasm.

You: “Run, run, we run the town—” Abby: “RUN, RUN, WE RUNNIN’!!” You: “Huntrix don’t miss!” Abby: “THEY NEVER MISS!!”

Later, he whispered, “I’m still your biggest fan, even if you do sound like you could assassinate a man in heels.”

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📚 Mystery 

You didn’t even realize he was there. You were alone in the common room, headphones in, body swaying as you sang under your breath… which gradually turned into a near whisper-growl by the bridge:

“Making fear afraid to breathe… ‘til the dark meets the light…”

Mystery stood in the hallway. Motionless.

He tilted his head.

You were beautiful, focused, glowing—an entire storm in soft clothes and sleepy morning light.

And the lyrics?

You were singing about ending people.

He blinked slowly. Stayed quiet.

Later that night, he appeared next to you on the couch, handed you a mug of hot cocoa, and said with a straight face:

“…So. You’d kill for fun?”

You laughed. “What? No! It’s just the song.”

He nodded. “It suits you.”

Then he quietly pulled out his earbuds and played the instrumental for you to sing again.

Didn’t even smile.

Just closed his eyes while you sang like a woman born for the throne.

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

💋 Romance 

You were getting ready in the mirror, singing into your lip gloss applicator with zero shame:

“Fit check for my napalm era—mirror, mirror on my phone, who’s the baddest?”

You turned and nearly ran into Romance standing right there.

He had his arms crossed, brow raised, and the most fake-offended pout on his lips.

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

“You’re singing a Huntrix anthem while I’m right here? No love song? Not even a sexy ballad?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not that deep.”

“Oh, it’s deep,” he muttered, fake-dramatic. “Betrayal. In stereo.”

You smirked and sang the next line directly to him, extra sassy.

He paused. Then sighed. “You’re way too hot when you sing that.”

He leaned in close, nose brushing yours. “But if you ever join Huntrix, I will seduce every member out of revenge.”

“Good luck with Zoey.”

He paused. “…Fair.”

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

🔥 Baby

You didn’t even see him at first.

You were vibing alone in the studio lounge, phone in hand, blasting the chorus:

“Huntrix show this, how it’s done, done, done!”

You nailed the flow. Full volume. Swag and all.

Then you turned.

Baby was standing by the fridge, sipping banana milk like he hadn’t just heard your entire concert.

You blinked. “How long have you been standing there?”

He shrugged. “Long enough to hear you say ‘you run the town.’”

You raised a brow. “Jealous?”

“No.” Pause. “But if I wrote a diss track and dropped it next week, it’s your fault.”

You laughed. “You’d lose.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I love you, but Rumi would eat you alive.”

He dramatically gasped. “Say that to my fireball.”

Later, he came back with a scribbled rap verse titled: “Fire Eats Glam.”

You asked if he was okay. He said, “I’m better than okay. I’m petty.”

You kissed his cheek. He blushed.

“…Still gonna finish the track, though.”

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

M-List

[callmenigma]

Could I request anyone one of the Saja Boys (whom you think fits well with this prompt): One of the boys showing reader (their girlfriend) their true form for the first time, and despite expecting reader to run away in fear, she’s actually quite excited by this new revelation, because you know, their boyfriend is a hot demon!! And while reader is practically jumping up and down in excitement, the demon just stares at her for a moment before kissing her with absolute desperation and love before taking her to bed to ruin her ;D

Change

Honestly I couldn't decide which boy should I write so.... I wrote all of them :') Pairings: Saja boys x Fem!Reader Tags:@bypanana, @heartmew, @healmydesires

*

ABBY

He hadn’t meant for you to see. The plan was to tell you—softly, eventually—once he figured out how to explain centuries of fire and darkness without sounding like a walking warning label. But things went sideways tonight. The glamor slipped just a moment too long.

And now?

Now he stood at the far end of your bedroom, breathing hard, eyes glowing molten gold beneath his furrowed brow, his broad chest heaving as his true form rippled across his skin.

His bluish-grey flesh shimmered in the low light, muscles carved in unnatural symmetry. Stripes of deep violet ran like warpaint along his arms and down the edges of his ribs. His hands—clawed, sharp and dangerous—hung at his sides, curled in tight fists like he was preparing to bolt.

But his eyes…

His eyes were fixed on you.

Waiting.

Waiting for the scream.

The flinch.

The step backward.

The confirmation of every fear he had buried under cocky smiles and flexed bravado. But you didn’t run. You didn’t flinch.

You took a step forward—then another—eyes wide with something that absolutely wasn’t fear.

“Abby…” you breathed, your mouth parting in awe. “You didn’t tell me you were this hot.”

His jaw dropped. Just slightly. You beamed at him.

“Oh my god—those stripes? Are you kidding? You look like a warrior god. And those eyes—holy hell.”

“You’re…” he blinked. “You’re not scared.”

“Scared?” you laughed—laughed. “Baby, I want to lick one of those stripes.”

His breath caught. And then, everything snapped. Abby moved, crossing the room in an instant, grabbing your face in both clawed hands—careful, but desperate—and kissed you like he’d been holding back for centuries.

It wasn’t soft. It was hungry. Open-mouthed and frantic and full of every emotion he’d tried to suppress since he first realized you were becoming his whole world. He kissed you like you were the only lifeline he had left. Like he didn’t deserve you, but he was going to worship you anyway.

“You should’ve run,” he rasped against your lips.

“I should’ve jumped you weeks ago,” you whispered back, your nails already curling around the muscles of his bare shoulders.

A sound tore from his throat—half growl, half groan—and then he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed with supernatural strength and careful reverence, like you were both fragile and sacred.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he said as he lowered you onto the mattress, golden eyes glowing brighter now, the tips of his claws teasing the hem of your shirt. “You’re gonna beg for mercy tonight, sweetheart.”

You grinned, heart pounding. “Then ruin me already.”

And he did.

He worshipped you like a man finally allowed to breathe. Marked your skin with gentle bites—carefully, reverently—along your neck, your collarbone, your thighs. His voice was a steady stream of low, filthy praise between kisses, his claws ghosting over your skin in maddening patterns.

And through it all, the one thing you could never forget— The way he looked at you.

Like you weren’t afraid of the monster. Like you loved it. Like you loved him.

And that? That made you fall even harder.

BABY

You’d been dancing around the subject for weeks now. The little tells. The heat in his skin. The way his eyes flashed gold when he got too worked up. How his grip on your hips would tighten just a little too much when you bratted back. You knew he was holding something back. And finally—tonight—he broke.

“I’m not like you,” he said, standing in your apartment with the lights dim, jaw tight, expression unreadable. “I mean really not.”

You tilted your head, arms crossed, calm as ever. “You mean demon not?”

His eyes twitched. A small flare of panic.

“I knew,” you added, softly. “I’ve always known something was… different.”

He stared at you for a moment, then exhaled slowly and stepped back.

“No screaming,” he said under his breath. “No crying. No running.”

Then the shift happened.

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t painful. It was power—rolling through the room like heat. His skin deepened into a smooth bluish-grey, muscles more defined, faint glowing purple stripes climbing along his chest, his forearms, his throat. His hands turned into claws—sharp, inhuman. His eyes glowed molten gold, fierce and unblinking. He was tall. Broad. Otherworldly. Deadly and beautiful.

And he expected you to scream.

You blinked once, staring. Then your mouth dropped open—not in fear, but in awe.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, stepping closer, eyes wide with pure excitement. “You’re gorgeous.”

He froze. “What?”

“Seriously—what the hell, this is what you were hiding from me?” You circled him once like you were inspecting a fine piece of art, reaching out to touch one of the glowing marks on his chest. “You look like the final boss in a video game and I want to lose.”

He just stood there. Staring. Silent. Because nothing in centuries of existence—nothing—had prepared him for this reaction.

And you weren’t done.

Your fingers trailed down the line of his chest, eyes gleaming. “Do these marks glow when you—oh my god do they pulse when you're turned on? Please tell me they pulse.”

Baby's claws twitched. His chest heaved. And then he grabbed you.

His hands—large, rough, still trembling from the shift—wrapped around your waist and pulled you to him, kissing you with a force that left you breathless. Not angry. Not rough. Just… overwhelmed. Desperate.

You kissed him back instantly, arms looping around his broad, inhuman shoulders, pressing your soft body against his new skin.

“You’re not scared,” he whispered against your mouth, voice deeper now, grittier, almost vibrating in your chest.

“Nope,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “I’m soaking.”

He groaned, like your words physically hit him, and next thing you knew, you were in his arms—lifted like nothing—carried to the bedroom with a growl rumbling deep in his chest.

“You wanted the demon,” he growled, laying you down, claws dragging over your thighs with maddening precision. “You’re gonna get him.”

And oh, you did.

He ruined you.

With those glowing hands pinning your wrists, fangs grazing your neck, hips snapping into yours with wicked rhythm, growling praises and threats into your skin:

“Look at you—still mouthing off under me. That brat mouth doesn’t stop, does it?” “You're mine now. Every inch. Every heartbeat.” "Call me a monster again, sweetheart—I’ll show you what monsters do in bed."

And every time your body arched and trembled under him, every time you whimpered his name like a prayer, those glowing stripes lit brighter.

Because you didn’t just accept him. You loved all of him. Even the part he thought you’d never survive seeing.

ROMANCE

He stood across from you in the quiet of his bedroom—backlit by golden light through sheer curtains, his body tense, jaw clenched like he was preparing for a war. But the only thing he was fighting… was himself.

“Don’t scream,” Romance said softly, eyes lowered.

You blinked, tilting your head. “Why would I scream?”

His voice came quieter now, almost a whisper. “Because I’m about to ruin everything.”

You didn’t understand—not fully. But you nodded anyway. Trusting him. Always trusting him.

Romance took a breath. One that trembled slightly.

Then it shifted.

His skin rippled with shadow and light, the illusion of his human form melting away like mist in morning sun. In its place stood something… divine and terrifying all at once.

His skin was a smooth bluish grey, marked with soft, glowing violet stripes that pulsed faintly along his arms and neck like something alive. His hands—larger now—were clawed, lethal-looking. His eyes were glowing gold, not just bright but blinding, like they saw too much.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Because you hadn’t said a word.

You were staring. Heart pounding. Mouth parted. Frozen—but not from fear.

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

His golden eyes flicked up. Still braced for it. For the flinch. The disgust. The rejection.

Instead, you took a step closer. And another.

Then—“Can I touch you?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I mean, you’re hot like this,” you said, practically bouncing on your toes. “Why didn’t you show me this sooner? The stripes? The claws?”

“You’re… you’re not scared.”

“I’m turned on,” you laughed, reaching for his hand, tracing the tips of his claws. “Romie, you’re literally hotter than hell right now.”

He stared at you like you’d just set his whole existence on fire. You were smiling. Touching him. Loving this.

Loving him. Even like this.

His breath caught. The tension in his body cracked. And then he grabbed you.

Not roughly—no. With desperate, breathless, overwhelming relief.

He kissed you like he hadn’t had air in years—lips pressing to yours in a rush, trembling slightly from the weight of everything he’d held in. His claws curved carefully against your back, pulling you in like you were everything he’d ever wanted and never thought he could keep.

“You weren’t supposed to stay,” he whispered between kisses. “You were supposed to run.”

“Well I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured, curling your hands around his shoulders. “And I’m dying to see what else those claws can do.”

That was all it took.

Romance growled low in his throat—possessive, reverent, unhinged—and lifted you off your feet, carrying you toward the bed with supernatural ease.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he whispered, voice dark and shaken with emotion. “You’ll never forget what I am now.”

You smiled against his mouth. “Good.”

MYSTERY

He stood at the far end of the room, motionless. It was the most tense you had ever seen him. Mystery—always quiet, calm, careful. Ghostlike in how he moved through rooms, through crowds, through emotions.

But not now.

Now, he was breathing like a man walking willingly into fire.

"You don't… have to," you said gently, watching the tight clench of his jaw. "If you're not ready, I—"

"I'm not," he said quietly, golden eyes flicking up to meet yours. "But I can't keep pretending. Not with you."

His voice trembled on the edges. "You deserve to know what I really am. And I need to see if you’ll stay once you do."

"Mystery—"

He held up a hand, and his entire body tensed.

Then… it began.

It was subtle at first—his skin seeming to shimmer in the dim light. Then, it deepened. Shifted. The warm human tone of him darkened into a smooth, bluish-grey. Purple markings bloomed along his arms, his collarbone, like tattoos that pulsed faintly beneath the surface. His fingers lengthened, sharpened into claws that flexed once before curling tightly into fists. His eyes glowed—a molten gold that didn’t look human anymore, not even close, you didn't see them clearly but you could see the glow.

And still, he didn't move. Just stood there—shoulders squared, braced for the impact of your rejection. Waiting for you to run. Waiting to be left.

You blinked.

And then, before he could say anything—before the silence could spiral into agony—you grinned.

No, beamed.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, taking a step closer. “You’re beautiful.”

Mystery froze, his breath catching.

You weren’t screaming. You weren’t crying. You were practically vibrating with excitement.

“Wait—those stripes?” You reached for his arm, then paused, unsure if you were allowed to touch. “Can I…?”

He nodded, stunned.

You ran your fingers along one of the purple markings on his forearm. “It’s like ink under your skin. It’s gorgeous. You didn’t tell me your demon form was this hot—oh my god, your eyes—"

“Stop,” he said hoarsely, voice cracking.

You stilled, blinking up at him.

“I thought I’d lose you,” he said, quieter now. “I thought this would be the last time I saw you looking at me like I was… loved.”

“You are,” you said immediately, cupping his sharp, clawed hand in yours. “This doesn’t change that. If anything, it makes you more you.”

He stared at you like you couldn’t be real.

And then, finally, the leash snapped.

Mystery surged forward, kissing you with all the desperation and obsession he’d tried so hard to bury. His claws cupped your face gently—so carefully, like he was terrified of hurting you, even now—but his mouth was anything but gentle.

He kissed you like he was starving.

You melted into him, moaning against his lips as he backed you toward the bed, hands already dragging under your shirt, touching you like he couldn’t believe he was still allowed to.

“Say it again,” he rasped between kisses, his glowing eyes burning into you. “Say you still want me.”

“I want you,” you gasped, fingers tangled in his hair, your back hitting the mattress as he hovered over you. “Always. In every form.”

His chest rumbled—a low, almost inhuman sound that vibrated against your skin as he pressed his body over yours.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, fangs grazing your throat. “Even now?”

“Especially now.”

Something in him broke at that.

He growled, low and guttural, then sank his teeth gently into your collarbone, leaving a mark. A promise.

You gasped, arching into him—and he lost control.

Mystery worshipped you that night with all the hunger of a demon and all the reverence of a man in love. His hands, his mouth, his words—everything said one thing over and over again:

You saw the monster. And you stayed. And now he’d never let you go.

JINU

He hadn’t meant for you to see it—not yet. Not when he was still learning how to believe that someone like you could want someone like him.

But the shift had happened so fast. His emotions—raw, tangled—had surged. His control cracked. One heartbeat of tension. One flicker of something dark and ancient rising behind his chest…

And then it was there. His true form.

Bluish-grey skin marbled with deep violet markings like jagged lightning across his shoulders and neck, down his chest and arms. Eyes glowing gold—bright, predatory, endless. Clawed hands that trembled with restraint. His mouth—still his, but sharper, darker, demonic.

He stood in front of you like a storm barely leashed. Silent. Rigid. Expecting screams. A flinch. A step back. Maybe even goodbye.

Because you were soft and human and so good, and he was everything a child is warned about in stories whispered under blankets.

You stared. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open.

Then—

“Oh my god, you’re hot.”

Jinu blinked.

You took a step closer. “Wait—is that purple on your skin? Oh my god. I knew you were hiding something.”

“…You’re not scared?”

“Scared?” you repeated, circling around him like you’d just been handed a new favorite toy. “Babe, you have claws. Do you know how many women would sell their souls for a boyfriend with this level of monster fucker appeal?”

Jinu’s mouth opened. Closed. He had no idea what to say.

You grinned up at him, eyes practically glowing. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

He finally breathed—something low and shaky, like he didn’t know how to hold it in anymore. “I thought you’d run.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you murmured, stepping into his space and placing your palms—delicate, warm—on his chest. “You really thought this would scare me?”

“I’m not… good.” His voice cracked on it. “I’m not human. I’ve done things—been things—you deserve better. But I can’t—” His hands hovered near your waist, claws twitching with the need to hold, to keep. “I can’t let you go.”

You looked up at him with so much tenderness it burned.

“Then don’t.”

That was it. That was the last thread of control snapping in his chest.

He kissed you—hard, desperate, almost shaking with the force of everything he’d held back. His claws dug into your waist—not enough to hurt, but enough to claim. Enough to say mine in every way that mattered.

“Say it,” he growled between kisses, lips brushing yours, golden eyes burning down into your soul. “Say you want this. Say you want me.”

“I want you,” you gasped, already breathless. “All of you.”

He didn’t bother taking you to bed.

He carried you. Fast. Cradled in his arms like you were the most fragile, holy thing he’d ever held. And maybe you were.

The second your back hit the sheets, he was on you—worshipping, kissing, devouring. His claws trailed along your thighs, your ribs, your wrists. Always gentle, always careful—yet trembling with restraint.

“Mine,” he whispered against your skin. “You said it. You said you want me.”

“I do.”

“I’ll ruin you for anyone else,” he promised. “Mark you up so good, your soul remembers me.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Jinu growled—low and guttural—as he kissed you again, burying his face in your neck, where your pulse pounded sweetly against his tongue. The place he always bit when he couldn’t take it anymore.

And this time?

He bit.

Because you weren’t afraid of the monster. You wanted him. And he was going to show you exactly what that meant.

[adventuretolkienlover]

LOL. Okay so I had this very early concept of how they met. And I don't know if I'll keep it canon, since it doesn't quite fit with some.new ideas I had. But here's what happens. Under the cut since it's long.

I imagine Blackout came across a town/village/whatever, and it was of course, Thunder Crash's hometown. At the time, she was grounded because she had taken a hit to the wing in battle, and couldn't fly. So she figured she could get the inhabitants to hand over supplies, since they didn't seem to be particularly well armed and were all much scrawnier then herself. So she SWOOPS into town, makes a BIG scary deal about it, and just before she can start threatening them into giving up any supplies...

T.C: Hey there gorgeous! :D💖

Blackout: *Looks around confused, WHO DARE ADDRESS ME IN SUCH AN UNCIVILIZED MANNER???*

T.C: Down here!

Blackout: *Looks down, sees tiny future husband* And who are you?

T.C: Name's Thunder Crash! So, what brings a beautiful woman like you here? *Leans against post, Raises eyebrows flirtingly, slips and falls on face* 💖

Background Rando 1: YOU'RE GONNA GET EATEN YOU DUMB AFT.

Background Rando 2: Easy now Dave. Don't get in the way of natural selection.

Blackout *Not listening, only thinking*: (Kidnapping one of them = Scaring them more = Them doing whatever I want to get him back = Supplies. Excellent.)

SOOOOOOO, she snatches up Thunder Crash, tells them that if they don't give up supplies, she'll take him out, and a huge army of soldiers will roll in. (Nonexistent ones ofc. Lol.) And she runs off into the mountains. While up there, she probably holes up in a cave or smth. And has T.C in a "Cell". (Smaller Cave) After Thunder Crash realizes that "NO" she did not just carry him off to go on a nice date, he insists that no one will come from him and that's fine, because they get can get to know each other better. :3 LMAO. Blackout doesn't believe him though, and thinks he's trying to trick her through flirting. So they wait. And wait. And wait.......... No one comes. :')

And TBH I only have a vague idea of what happens from here. I imagine somehow they begin talking. Maybe it even starts with Blackout interrogating him, on why no one came for him. Maybe she's suspicious and thinks they're planning an ambush? And from there she finds out about how he's not particularly liked in the village because of his clumsiness and seemingly useful skill set??? Maybe some sadness creeps into his voice and we see he's not okay actually??? Maybe he actually lands a decent pick up line and helps her get the means to fix her wing??? IDK. *THROWS UP HANDS* THEY'RE JUST DRAGGING ME ALONG IN THIS STORY. THEY GAINED SENTIENCE AND NOW I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY'RE GONNA DO NEXT. LOL.🤣🤣🤣

Ahem, anyways... So that's it. Since it's such a a rough idea, it might be scrapped unless I can figure out how to make it work better.😅 So we'll see.¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

You are a villain who kidnapped the smart guy on your nemesis team, they tell you that nobody will come for them and that the hero doesn’t care. You didn’t believe them at first but it been a month and nobody shows up and after once again hearing them cry at night you had enough.

[bistrocatxx]

dbf!toji x reader ⋆ ★

things heat up when you return home and meet your dad's new friend 18+ mdni 2.5k words

The first time you saw him, you were just stopping by. You’d forgotten something at the house and had to turn back for it. You were home for the summer after graduating college, taking a few months to relax before starting a new job in the fall. 

His truck was in the driveway, the bed filled with all kinds of tools and tarps and bags of soil. 

When you walked in the kitchen, he was there– beer in hand, laughing with your dad about something you probably wouldn’t understand, let alone find funny.  

Still, your lips curled slightly as you looked him over. Tall, built– his fitted black tee looked like it was about to rip in half. Sharp green eyes. A scar on the side of his mouth. No ring.

A hand slapped you playfully on the back, pulling you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize your dad had moved right next to you.

“This is my daughter, the one I was tellin’ you about.”

You introduced yourself politely, the way you were always taught growing up. Though you had a feeling this man wasn’t one to care for niceties. Everything about the way he was looking at you was telling you to run, but you couldn’t, or more like you didn’t want to.

“Name’s Toji,” he extended a hand out, which you took gingerly. 

He held on longer than he needed to, brushed his thumb across your skin. It wasn’t soothing, wasn’t comforting or innocent. It was sneaky, just out of your father’s eyeline. It was arrogant and presumptuous, something your dad would’ve been appalled by, had he seen it, but Toji didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

Everything about him lit a fire inside you, the space between your thighs burning the brightest.

You gave his hand a light squeeze. “Nice to meet you, Toji.” 

His cock twitched at the sound of his name dripping off your tongue, like honey, so sweet. A smirk spread across his face, complementing the glint in his eyes. You were going to be a lot of fun. 

“Friend of your dad’s. I’m gonna be doin’ some work in the yard this summer.” You were fidgeting, squirming under his intense gaze as his eyes shamelessly slid over your figure the second your father turned to open the fridge for another beer. 

Part of Toji knew he shouldn’t have been thinking about you that way. Forget the fact that you’re young, you’re his friend’s daughter for fucks sake. 

But then again, he knew you were thinking the same thing. He saw that same fire in your gaze, noticed the way you were shifting your thighs– fuck, your thighs. 

Those little cutoffs you were wearing, a sorry excuse for a pair of shorts, they should be illegal. And the crop top you had on, bikini straps poking out the neckline, belly ring shining under the kitchen light… he’d never been a fan of warm weather, nor was he a religious man, but he sent a prayer out to God that day, thanking him for the sweltering heat. 

Days passed since then, and soon weeks.

It seemed like Toji was always around– or maybe it just felt that way. You were looking for him when he was there, and thinking of him when he wasn’t. Secretly hoping you’d find him in the kitchen again, in the backyard, in the driveway when you got home. 

Your summer was made up of tension fueled interactions, riddled with lingering touches and stolen glances. The kind that made your core ache, but seemed innocent enough to anyone else. 

Only because they didn’t know. 

They didn’t know the way he’d undress you with his eyes. The way his hand would always find the small of your back, even when there was more than enough room to get around. The teasing lilt to his voice when it was just you two, like he was trying to gauge how far he could take your shared little game– and you loved every second. 

It was like you were starving and didn’t even know it until he started feeding you. And then, the craving was irresistible. You needed his attention, needed him. 

You pranced around in your cutest pajamas– the ones where the soft fabric would make the shorts ride up, and the top was cut just a little too low. You’d playfully lay a hand on his arm when he cracked a corny dad-joke, squeezing ever so slightly before pulling back. And, of course, you wore your skimpiest bikinis to go lay out, but only on the days when you knew Toji would be around. 

And that’s where you are now– laid out on a lounge chair by the pool, overlooking the lawn. Ice clinking in your glass, you sip leisurely on your lemonade as you admire the view, gazing longingly at the object of your desires.

Toji’s working hard. Dirt and sweat paint his tanned skin, muscles rippling whenever he moves. His white tank top is damp and clinging to his chiseled torso, bunched up around his abdomen. Faded jeans hang low on his hips, there’s a trail of dark hair poking out that leads your eyes down. 

It was unfair. Or, at least it would be, if you weren’t already driving him insane.

Every time he came over, he had to try to focus on his work while you were there, your mere presence taunting him. He can tell when you’re trying to get a rise out of him, but even when you’re not– shit– he almost can’t control himself. 

It’s a constant battle, with him fighting to subdue the feral side of him that wants to just bend you over the counter and fuck you until you’re screaming his name, your parents be damned. 

And he’s mostly been able to keep himself in check… But this? 

This little, black bikini you have on now, just barely covering your nipples. Your dewy skin, droplets of water from the pool making it shimmer under the sun. Your glossy lips closing around the straw in your glass. All he can think about is what it would feel like to have that pretty mouth closed around his cock instead.

Toji notices the way your eyes stalk him, tracking his every movement, like you’re daring him to do something, and the devil on his shoulder keeps reminding him that today, it’s just you two at the house.

You shift in your seat, sit up, and raise an arm to casually wave him over, a coy smile on your face. 

“Tojiii,” you sing-song when he gets close. “Rub this sunscreen on my back for me.”

He knows what you’re doing, you both know you’re being obvious. But he’s not going to pass up this opportunity– no, this sunscreen would have to be pried from his cold, dead hands before he lets that happen.

“Turn around, doll.”

Every time he speaks, the baritone sends a shudder through your body. But that pet name? He’d never called you that before. 

Your skin is so soft, warm from the sun. Not like the calloused hands gliding across your back, rough from age and years of manual labor. Every movement left a trail of goosebumps in its wake, small shivers sent through your body despite the temperature outside. 

The sunscreen’s already absorbed, but Toji doesn’t stop. Fingertips sliding under your bikini straps, dipping into your waistline. Light squeezes to your waist before traveling lower, to the swell of your ass, grabbing the flesh there and making your breath hitch as you arch into him. 

Toji lets himself roam further, wrapping his arms around you, trailing his hands along your hips causing your stomach to flutter. 

“Can jus’ tell me next time you want me to touch ya.” His voice is low, husky, as he speaks into your ear. “Been waitin’ for so long.”

“Didn’ know how to ask you.” All it took was a few light touches from him and you sound breathless already.

“S’alright doll, it’s easy. Say Toji, I want you to fuck me, please.” You hesitate for a moment, breath caught in your throat from the sudden crassness. “Go on, know a lil’ girl like you didn’ forget her manners.”

“Please, Toji, I want you to fuck me.” He groans, deep and gravelly at the velvety sound of your voice as you begged for him. 

“See? Now that wasn’t so hard.” Toji slides a hand in your bottoms, the other planted firmly on your hip. He descends further and further until he finds the wetness pooling between your thighs, rubbing gently up and down your slit.

“You’re drenched, baby, turns you on havin’ an old man touchin’ ya?”

You blush, embarrassed by his words, because it’s true, you couldn’t deny it but still you’d try. “You’re not that old…”

Toji laughs at that, “sure doll, whatever you say.” He’s old enough to be your dad, hell, he’s literally friends with your dad, but he knows you’re aware of that fact, just trying to make yourself feel better about being so into it.

His fingers gather your slick before moving to your clit, rubbing tight, punishing circles. It’s like he’s had years to study your body, to learn what makes you squirm, applying just the right pressure, the right speed.

You’re panting softly, a sheen of sweat returning to your forehead as he works you towards your climax. 

“Close already? Poor thing,” he tuts, “bet you’ve never had a real man touch ya before.” Your legs are trembling already, because he’s right, it’s been a while since the last time you’d been with anyone, and even then, no one had been as good, as precise, as Toji.

You reach back, thread your hands in his hair, gripping hard to ground yourself as you feel like you’re slipping away, getting lost in the familiar feeling tightening in your core.

“T-toji, gonna– ah!

He cuts you off when the fingers that were rubbing you move to your sopping entrance, easily being pushed inside. His thumb replaces them, circling your sensitive clit. You can hear it over the sound of your heavy breathing– the obscene squelching that comes with every curl and scissor of his fingers when he prods at that spongy spot inside you, when he spreads you open so you’re oozing down onto his wrist.

“Fuck- Toji, Toji–” You don’t last long before you’re clenching around his digits, moaning his name repeatedly as you cum all over his hand.

“That’s it, baby. Gotta get ya nice and wet so you can take my cock.”

You mumble a quiet mhmm as he slides his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth, groaning loudly as he swirls his tongue around, licking them clean. 

He’s been dying for a taste of you. He wants to eat you out, have you ride his face until your shaking thighs clamp around his head and he feels like he’s gonna drown in you, but later. Another day. Right now he needs to feel your tight pussy suck in his cock. 

Toji makes quick work of your bikini bottoms, untying the sides and letting it fall to the ground between your feet before moving to free his own stiff cock. It’s painfully hard, pulsing in his jeans. It feels like every drop of blood in his body rushed down to it the minute his fingers disappeared inside your puffy folds and he needs to feel some release.

You’re glancing over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of it, and you’re not disappointed. If anything, it’s intimidating. Long and girthy, there’s precum dripping from the flushed tip, and veins trail up the shaft– your mouth waters.

His signature lazy smirk returns to his face as he watches you admire his dick, pumping it slowly. “Gonna take it all, aren’t ya?” You swallow loudly and nod your head as you look back up into his eyes. “Atta girl. Now bend over f’me.”

As your shaky hands meet the cushioned lawn chair, your mind keeps replaying that image of his cock and shit, what have you gotten yourself into? 

Toji lines himself up with your entrance, one hand gripping his base. The other hand on your ass, he spreads you open for him and taps the tip against your folds, a loud sticky sound each time as your cum coats the underside.

You crane your neck to shoot him a glare which pulls a chuckle from him, though it morphs into a moan when he starts to sink inside you. “mmf-fuck baby– greedy fuckin’ pussy.”

You cry out, sharp and high pitched, when he snaps his hips forward, tired of going slow, he’d been nice enough to prep you with his fingers after all. 

“Sure you ain’t a virgin or some s-shit? Squeezin’ me so t-tight, doll, gotta relax so I can fuck ya the way you wan’ me to.” He’s stuttering, the words barely getting out as he grits his teeth together, his jaw clenched, breathing forcefully through his nose.

“Toji more, wan’ you s’bad.” More. He’s been ready to give you more. He was just waiting to hear you say it.

The pace he sets is nothing short of brutal. 

Borderline pornographic moans fall from your mouth as your poor pussy cries from the way Toji’s bullying it. Your arousal seeping out around his pelvis, onto his balls, the chair beneath you.

You let yourself get lost in him, surrendering to him completely, he’s giving you everything you didn’t know you needed.

His cock was made for you. Reaching that perfect spot inside you every. time. 

“So wet f’me. Such a naughty girl– moaning cause she’s gettin’ split open by her dad’s friend. Fuckin’ filthy.”

If only you had half a mind to care about what he was saying. All you could do was whimper in agreement because it was true. It was all true. 

“Pr– shit– pretty lil’ thing though.”

Toji’s voice is strained, his movements losing rhythm as he feels himself getting close. 

A hand slides around your waist, finding your clit again, he’s determined to make you cum again before he does. Not going to let himself cum before you like he’s some frat boy, he thinks you probably know enough about that.

The coil in your stomach winds itself tighter and tighter, your muscles tense, eyes shut and mouth frozen in the shape of his name, you feel yourself approaching that cliff, closer, closer, until– 

“C’mon, doll, wanna feel ya cummin’ all over my cock.” 

And you do. You cum hard, loud, messy, the kind of orgasm that leaves your lungs empty and your body tingling, and Toji follows right behind you. 

All ten digits now digging into your hips, he slams you back onto him with a loud grunt, one last thrust buried to the hilt, before pulling out of your slippery hole and decorating your ass with hot, white streaks. 

He drags a hand tiredly over his face as you both catch your breath– the reality of your situation setting in. The aftermath of weeks of pent up tension and flirting. You’re so fucked.

a/n: eee this was rotting my brain for a few days im so happy i finished it and hope yall liked it

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[webslinger-holland]

Can I request a Thunderbolts headcannon where the reader, platonic, (gn please) is a lot shorter than them? And they just give the reader a bunch of shit for it?

Prompt: The Thunderbolts dealing with someone a lot shorter than them

Warning: none just lots of teasing (all playful, all heartfelt)

You’re significantly shorter than everyone on the team—and they never let you forget it. No matter how badass you are, how many enemies you take down, or how hard you train: You’re getting teased constantly like you’re the team’s feral little sibling. Constant roasting. Unsolicited nicknames. Height-based slander. It's all love, though. For the most part...

Yelena: When it comes to Yelena, she lowkey adores you, but communicates that affection exclusively through bullying and head pats. She recently tried teaching you “short people combat tactics” for fun, even though you don’t need them and didn't find it funny.

Her favorite thing is picking you up without warning and just walking off with you. You don’t even see it coming. One minute you’re walking through the common room, the next Yelena is scooping you up under one arm like a shopping bag.

“Put me down,” you demand, arms flailing.

“No,” Yelena says casually. You just know she's grinning like the devil. “I like this. Very portable. I should carry you everywhere.”

“Yelena!” You shout in protest.

“Shhh. Little people need their rest.” She grins wickedly, ignoring your half-hearted punches to her back. “You are like angry squirrel. So tiny. So fierce.”

She eventually sets you down, ruffling your hair on the way. You glare. “You’re insufferable.”

She blows you a kiss. “I’m your favorite. Admit it.”

Bucky: Out of all of them, Bucky is the one whose most playful about the height difference. He never said anything, but you always wondering if you reminded him of Steve; at least, the Steve he knew before the super soldier serum.

Because you were quite smaller compared to him. He was almost protective of you for that. He always casually drapes his arm over your shoulder and drags you into his side just like how he used to with Steve.

His newest thing was resting his arm against the top of your head. Something that you made you wonder if he ever did that to Steve when they were kids.

You didn't hear him initially, but you felt him gently rest his vibranium arm lazily across your head like it’s a perfectly shaped shelf. Your shoulders slouch in slight defeat.

“Comfortable,” Bucky murmurs. You can feel the smirk without even seeing it.

“Barnes,” you growl, trying to get out from under him. “Seriously?”

“You’re like… travel-sized,” he says thoughtfully, as though this is a profound realization. “Convenient. Efficient. Fits in carry-on luggage.”

You finally manage to grab the mug and swat his arm off. “Keep talking and I’ll fit you in a suitcase.”

“Sure you will,” he teases, stepping back with a small grin. “Need a stool? Or should I just carry you around on my shoulder?”

The look you give him could kill a lesser man, but Bucky just grins wider.

John: You've known for as long as you've known him that he's a total asshole. The biggest frustration for your give height is having things be just out of reach. And it's something that John always uses against you.

You reach for something on the high shelf, fingers brushing the edge, when John snatches it first. He holds it above your head with a crooked grin, leaning just out of reach.

“Gotta be faster than that, champ,” John teases, waving the item like it would trick you into reaching for it. “C’mon, jump for it."

"Walker," you warn him. You hold out your hand with the thought that he'd just give it to you, but he didn't.

“Don’t strain yourself,” John chuckles, crouching slightly just to piss you off more. “Need me to lift you? Or I could bend down. Real slow. Make it fair.”

You swipe at the item and miss by inches. “Give me the damn thing.”

He finally hands it over but ruffles your hair in the process. “Relax, short stack. No need to get feisty.”

You shoot him a death glare while smoothing your hair. “I’m going to stab you one day.”

“Better aim up,” he fires back.

Ava: She's always acting like she can't see you when you're practically standing directly in front of her. She'll even go as far as calling your name and pretending she can't see the obvious. You always frown, which gets an even bigger smile out of her.

“Oh—didn’t see you there.” Ava jokes.

You give her a flat look. “Hilarious.”

You ignore her and head over to the couch. When you sit down, your feet don't naturally touch the ground. It's something that's never bothered you and something you don't even pay attention to.

But it is something that Ava notices. She can't hold back a smile as she watches you curiously.

“Do you… need a booster seat?” Ava wonders.

“I will end you,” you mutter it under your breath like a promise.

She makes her exit from the room, but not before calling out: “You’re lucky I like you, hobbit.”

Alexei: He always surprises you by coming up behind you, locking his arm around your neck in a headlock, and furiously rubbing his knuckles against your head. He laughs heartedly and you struggle to fix your hair.

He moves away to stand next to you. And you're eyeing his towering frame with narrowed eyes.

“Tiny Comrade!” Alexei bellows, slapping your back so hard you stumble. “So small. So deadly. Like… tiny grenade.”

You sigh. “I’m average height.”

“For child, maybe,” he teases. “In Russia, we grow them bigger. More sturdy. You? Very efficient. Minimal bones to break.”

He scoops you into an uninvited bear hug that lifts your feet clear off the ground. “You’re embarrassing yourself,” you mutter into his chest.

“I have no shame,” he says proudly, setting you down and mussing your hair once again. “But I am proud of my Tiny Comrade.”

You groan, but you can’t help the small smile.

Bob: He's always been so tall and awkward. It physically hurts your neck just talking to him. So Bob's constantly crouching down to be level with your height. Something you find completely unnecessary, but he finds somewhat amusing.

While you’re both reviewing schematics, Bob bends his knees so he's the same height as you. He's barely hiding a grin as you glare at him through the corner of your eye.

“Just wanted to… you know… get on your level,” Bob claims.

“Bob. I’m not that short.” You try.

He hums innocently. “You’re kind of… mini. Compact. Featherweight.” He smiles softly like it’s a genuine compliment.

“Not helping,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

Later, when you making food in the kitchen for yourself, Bob discovers that he needs to get into the drawer you're standing in front of. Instead of asking you to move or asking you to grab the utensil for him, Bob simply picks you up like you weigh nothing and moves you three feet to the left 

He sees your glare and holds his hands up: “You’re just easier to relocate, I’m sorry.”

You squint up at him. “I hate how nice you make this seem.”

[sukunacest]

cw:: incest/fauxcest, dubcon-ish?, noncon, (megumi is 19+)

i kinda love the idea of being the outlet for your family's frustration

like you're on your bed, laying down, studying and all of a sudden stepdad!toji comes in and he's so angry! :(

he doesn't hesitate to start yapping your ear off about how shit his day was as he's pushing your head into the book you're reading. with his other hand he's undoing his belt and pulling his cock out — not bothering to take his work-jeans off fully.

he doesn't bother to listen to you saying you weren't in the mood and that you needed to focus on studying for this big test coming up

no, he just pushes your head back down on the pages and tells you to "shut up and read your book" as he's yanking your shorts and panties down in one go

he'll spit on his hand a few times as a makeshift lube, rub it on his angry head, then shove his cock right in you >...<

you might cry a little but eventually you'll start to like it — you always do

toji will use you. as much as he wants, as rough as he wants. he had a long, horrible, day and it's the least you can do for your stepdad.

he'll have his way with you and because he does love you — you're his only daughter after all— he'll even promise to help you study afterwards :)

while toji's fucking you from behind, thrusting like a frenzied man, he whispers in your ear all the things he wants to do to you. the only good thing today is that it was his "friday" at work. which means he can fill you up with his cum for the rest of the weekend all he wants...

he loves having his own personal relief pussy <3

~~~~~

you could hear brother!megumi rage from his room when he lost a match on his video game. he didn't get loud often, but something about losing a match pissed megumi the hell off.

it got especially worse when he went on a losing streak.

he would get so frustrated he would start throwing his controller against the wall or punching his monitor. the ruckus would get so loud sometimes you couldn't concentrate on your phone call with your boyfriend.

you would knock on your brother's door, hoping he'd kindly lower the noise.

the second he flung the door open all megumi could see is red.

red from the lipstick on your lips as you were about to go on a date. red from all the "defeats" on his monitor. red from the cute little skirt you were wearing. red as he pulled you into his room and threw you on his bed.

the red on your wrist from him gripping too tightly. the red scratch marks on his neck when you started fighting back.

but he especially liked the red on your neck, the circular rings that brought you to submission. the red marks on your shoulder — temporary, but you'd have to hide them from your boyfriend later tonight.

your panties were red too. those, he decided to let you keep on.

megumi wasn't a complete asshole. he was just... frustrated. and who better to take that out on than his annoying sister?

megumi didn't even realize he was as hard as he was until he made you undress him. it was easy to pull your hair back and stick your mouth onto his tip. the red ring from your lipstick around his cock looked so cute, he thought.

although megumi knows he's technically "allowed" to use you, he still isn't sure if or when he wants to fuck you for the first time. but that's fine, he doesn't need to fuck you to get out his frustration.

after he has you gagging on his cock, he'll bend you down on his bed. he'll lift your panties up — ever so slightly — so he can fit. so fucking close, but not inside. he moves. back and forth against your (nearly sopping) pussy, all in between your panties. he fucks you like that until your creaming on him and he busts, hot seed exploding on your ass and dripping down into your panties.

he'll help you stand and give a small kiss to your forehead after he helps you redress. you're still his sister and he wants you to look good for your date tonight.

he just makes you promise to keep those same panties on all night — the cute red ones holding his cum against you.

a/n might do part 2 with dad!nanami and uncle sukuna? or should i do stepbro sukuna? or dad!kuna!? eeek! idk!

m.list

[noah-sim]

SCRATCHING AGAINST HIS ABS - HYUNG LINE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heeseung

You two were laying in bed doing pretty much nothing. The other members could walk in and think nothing of you two cutely cuddled up in Heeseung’s room. You leaning against Heeseung’s chest with your hand gently rubbing his stomach as he watches the random movie you have up on the tv. Heeseung who was also trying so hard not to get hard. The way your nails were scratching against him drove him crazy. You were sitting there, occasionally showing him a funny post from your phone, looking so fucking cute. He didn’t want to ruin this perfect, serene moment, but his composure can only be kept for so long. “You’re hard. You know that right?” You said it so sweetly. “Sorry, baby. But, to be fair you’re the one rubbing up against me.” You were so shocked. You did nothing at all. You sat up and tested a theory. Scratching against his stomach one more time and watching as he threw his head back and groaned. “Horny bitch.” “Baby, call me a bitch again and I might cum in my pants.”

Jay

So domestic. Ugh. Perfect. You sat at the kitchen island and watched as your cute boyfriend, Jay, did the dishes. You had made dinner and the deal was that he was to wash the dishes after you cooked. “Want help?” Despite the deal you still felt bad about sitting and staring at him while he did chores. “No, Lovey. You can go lay down while I clean. I’ll be right there to join you.” Always looking out for you. You stood up from where you were sitting, walked up to him, and wrapped your arms around his torso. “Hi.” “Lovey” You began rubbing against his stomach, simply admiring the perfect man in your arms. You hadn’t realized what you were doing to him. “Go lower” His husky voice shocked you a little, but you complied and let your hands wander further down his body until it stopped right at his belt. Jay had finished doing the dishes and turned around to face you. “Lovey, please. I need to fuck your face.”

Jake

Jake worked so fucking hard. Every single day. Then he would come home and be completely yours. Today, you decided to pick him up from dance practice and take care of him. You showed up to the practice room to him lying on his back in the middle of the room. Walking up to him, you noticed how cute he looked despite his current exhaustion. “Baby. Let’s go home so you can rest properly.” “Don’t wanna. I haven’t gotten this one part down.” You began to rub against his stomach to try and comfort him since he seemed clearly distressed. "Jakey, the move won't be perfect because you're exhausted." He was completely still in your arms. So much so, you almost believed he had fallen asleep standing up. When you peaked over his shoulder to look at his and your reflection in the mirror, you saw him staring at your hands against his stomach. Jake was in a haze. Mouth half open, eyes lidded, and just GONE. "Jake." "...Huh?" He was hard. Like hasn't gotten off in YEARS type of hard. "Princess, I'll go home... in a minute... could you just help me relax?"

Sunghoon

Sunghoon loves to take his favorite girl out shopping. Loves to spend money on her and see how bright her smile gets. During the time of your relationship, he's realized that the more money he spends on HIMSELF, the more you smile. So, he's here. In a random mall, having already tried on 500 different outfits and watching you struggle to carry the rest of the outfits you expect him to try on. "OMG! That is so cute." You flip up his shirt to see his belt and how the pants sit on his hips. You rub along the belt and his waist. Finger grazing the bare skin of his lower stomach. "Angel." Trying to get you to realize his dilemma. You immediately pout at him. A thousand questions rushing through your head. " Do you not like it?" "No. No, I love it. I was just wondering if you want to help me take it off?" "Of course. Was it hard to get on? So weird it fits perfect." You continue rambling as you pull his shirt over his head and move to unbuckle his belt. "Yeah, Angel. Just like that." "Sunghoon... are you hard?" He leans down. Gets all in your face. Breath grazing against your check as he talks. "Yeah. Why'd you think I wanted you to strip me in this tiny dressing room?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note -> Not my fav writing, but I started it months ago and decided to finish it before writing anything else.

[sugarhog05]

I got a few things.

“It’s a nice night for a walk, would ya mind if I joined you?” I don't know if this is a reference to a certain song, but I know it.

Why did Eclipse act like he kidnapped the Sweetheart? Would Moon get jealous or feel something from his past? How does Eclipse know this?

I love Moon. He is just a little guy and I want to marry him. How would he react to being proposed to? By his Sweetheart specifically.

It’s a reference to Devils Train by The Lab Rats. It fits thematically with Eclipse it’s just we haven’t seen that side of him yet.

He acted like he kidnapped Sweetheart because the position Moon walked in on was pretty suggestive, and how terrible would it be if you found out your deadbeat brother and the love of your life were getting “friendly” with each other? Sweetheart going with Eclipse, willingly, out into the woods in a burnt down house and NOT telling Moon about it is incredibly suspicious otherwise. Eclipse realized this and not wanting Moon to have another person “betray” him (and Eclipses relationship with Moon already almost nonexistent) he plays the bad guy so that Sweetheart can pretend that they were brought there against their will. Despite Sweetheart acting pretty oblivious most of the time, they’re actually pretty smart and caught on to what Eclipse was doing early on.

Now as for a proposal…

Bro went from sad to spicy REAL quick and all you had to say was i love you lol

[munsonify]

finally happened 𓂃 continuation

pairing. joaquin torres x fem!reader

summary. when you realize that you definitely have romantic feelings towards joaquin, it’s hard to keep them stuffed down and hidden

content warnings. fluff, mentions of r going to a bar and getting drunk, r in a small dress+heels, flirty!joaquin & touchy!joaquin, kissing, swearing. not proofread

word count. 3300

confused and frustrated 𓂃 part one

a/n. man yall really wanted a part two!!! here you guys go!!! and also i don’t care if this progressed fast, i can do what i want cause it’s my writing lol

———

maybe sam was a little right.

nothing about how you feel is truly just friendly. the way your stomach flutters when he compliments you isn’t friendly, the way you yearn for his touch isn’t friendly. it certainly wasn’t friendly the way you look at him, either, the way you admire him and gaze at him hungrily. you were a little naive to think this was anything but romantic, needy. this realization washed over you in a slow wave the week after you’d spoke with sam. it wasn’t quite love, though. it was an admiration, a liking, a stomach full of butterflies type of feeling you had towards him. you were sure that the more time you spent with joaquin, however, that liking would turn into a love. especially if you kept dwelling on the crush.

with how inseparable you two had become, it was going to be difficult not to dwell on these feelings. you lived together for christ sake, you saw him nearly every day. everything from your internship and the way you always run into him and shadow him, to eating dinner together and seeing his belongings scattered in the living room reminded you of him and your now unwavering feelings towards the man. it was like a sickness you couldn’t quite shake no matter how hard you tried. and, as much as you liked thinking about joaquin and being around him, you wanted nothing more than to just forget about it, even for a moment.

that moment, you thought, came two mondays later, barely a week after your realization. you’d gotten a call from a friend of yours practically begging you to come out to a bar with everyone. you were quick to agree. not only did this give you the chance to take a few steps away from the situation, you were just handed an excuse to dress up. you’d been switching between casual, comfortable clothes for class and ironed out, perfectly placed professional wear you wore at your internship for the longest time. you were beyond grateful for this opportunity.

you picked out a small, tight black dress to wear. it fit you perfectly, hugging all the right places, showing off everything you had to offer. you did your makeup, too. for a brief second thought you were overdressed, standing in front of your mirror as you took one last look at yourself. you remembered quickly that your friends liked to dress up like you did, so those worries washed away quickly. it made you feel nice looking like this anyways, especially now that you didn’t get to do it as often.

rifling through your purse, you walked your way towards your heels, grabbing ahold of them the moment you confirmed your id and some cash was tucked away inside. you began your way out of your room without a second thought, bee-lining towards the kitchen table. you began tugging on your heels, securing the straps around your ankles, totally oblivious to your surroundings. it wasn’t until you’d stood up in search of your phone that joaquin’s presence was made known.

he’d stopped in his tracks the moment he’d seen you, forgetting right then and there what he’d come out for. his round, owlish as he stares at you for a few moments, watching as you turn around to face him. his lips quirked up into a smile at the sight of your face, arms crossing as he composes himself quickly. you braced yourself for teasing, knowing full well what he was like sometimes. you weren’t sure he’d ever seen you dolled up like this, so you expected a string of lighthearted jabs.

“what’re you so dressed up for?“ joaquin asked curiously. you shrugged at him, shoulders tensing a little at his intense gaze. you began feeling a little exposed, realizing just how small this dress truly was on you.

“just going to a bar with some friends, the ones from class,” you told him, offering him a small smile as you spoke. your hand fumbled with your purse nervously, trying your best not to seem too awkward.

“well you look beautiful,” joaquin told you, voice dripping with sincerity. his gaze stayed put on your face out of respect, eyes soft as he looks into yours. his words knocked all the air out of your lungs, capturing your voice in your throat briefly. this was the last thing you’d expected him to say, let alone so genuinely. he’d never complimented you like this before.

“thanks, joaquin,” you mumbled out, trying hard not to fold under his stare. you must look pitiful, doe eyed and flustered at just one simple compliment. it meant a lot coming from him, especially now that you’d established your feelings for him.

“of course,” he told you, finally finding it in himself to walk the rest of the way into the kitchen. “if you need a way home you call me, okay?”

“yeah, yeah okay,” you nodded, words stumbling out of your mouth quickly. right then, as if sensing the tension in the room, your phone began to ring. it was your friend calling to alert you that they were there to pick you up. you bid joaquin a swift goodbye, waving your fingers at him, before pushing yourself out the front door. you were going to need to work overtime tonight to take your mind off what had just happened.

sam wasn’t helping you in the slightest. you’d been able to avoid confronting the situation with anybody so far. your friends were in the dark, and so was joaquin. you wanted to keep it that way for now, dodging every bullet hurdling towards you - which, by the way, was difficult to do when your very drunk friends were asking a very drunk you about your romantic life. despite that, it seemed to be even more glaringly obvious than before. it was just two days after joaquin’s compliment, an early wednesday morning. his words were rattling inside of your brain since.

the moment sam found you two, he dragged you guys into a room full of computers, desperate for some sort of help. with whatever information he had to give you, debriefing you on a mission he was preparing for, the three of you began typing away. it was an incredible opportunity to be able to work this closely with sam.

when the conversation fell silent - something that came on naturally, everyone’s focus falling onto the computers in front of them -, an argument could be heard a few rooms down. for a military base, you would think the walls would be a little thicker, more protective. much to your pleasure, they were not, granting you the opportunity to hear the tail end of a rather heated discussion.

“i have never met someone more frustrating than you!” was the last thing said before loud stomps echoed down the halls, diminishing into faint steps far away. while you were able to bite back smiles at first, it was hard to contain them when joaquin decided to pile onto it in a small, quiet whisper.

“do you guys think he’s frustrated?”

a spout of small, quiet giggles fell from your lips at his words, ones that were almost a little too giddy. you’d been tense and a little on edge all week, afraid that you were being obvious with your feelings. in turn, just by simply overthinking it, you were doing exactly what you feared. more than you would’ve if you just stayed out of your own head. thankfully, sam was laughing too.

joaquin had a proud sort of look on his face when you two laughed, head lifting up to look at you guys. his eyes lingered on you longer than they did on sam, something you hadn’t caught. you were too preoccupied with trying to contain your laughter to notice. this is another thing you admired about him. he never failed to make you smile, to raise the mood in any given room. even if the comment was silly, it always brought a smile to peoples faces.

a rather loud knock on the door stopped the laughter for good, the sound dying down as it opens up. it was someone who, again, needed joaquin’s help. he liked being of assistance, especially when he got to show off what he knows. that’s why he so eagerly got up and dismissed himself, occupying himself with whatever needed his attention. your eyes followed him out of the room, a small smile playing on your lips still as he walked away.

“no feelings, huh?” sam asked, breaking the silence as he stares you down. you blink a few quick times as you process what he’s said, head turning to look at him. you were going to protest again, to deny the feelings you now knew were there. though, as if he could sense it, he interjected before you could. “i’m just saying, you don’t look at anyone else the way you look at him. you wouldn’t have laughed like that if i made that corny ass joke.”

you still thought about denying it. you thought that if you tried to say no, to claim those feelings weren’t there, that they’d disappear. the way sam was looking at you, like he could see right through you, had you telling on yourself. “maybe there are feelings. just a little.”

sam smiled at your admission, small and proud, as he leans back in his chair. the two of you were facing each other now, the only thing separating you two was joaquin’s empty chair. you watched as he crossed his arms, seemingly deep in thought as he carefully treads forward with his words. this may not be his secret to tell, but he tells it anyway. he couldn’t quite help himself.

“he cares about you a lot,” sam starts in a quiet tone, as if handing you details to a top-secret mission no one else can know about. “he talks about you constantly, about how proud of you he is and how cool he thinks you are.”

“really?” you perk up slightly, eyes lighting up at sam’s words. you try not to hold onto them, to cling to something that may mean nothing. you try not to show your hopefulness, either, though you were never one to be good at hiding how you feel. “he says that?”

“yeah, all the time,” he affirms, heading nodding quickly. sam smiles again as he thinks some more, forehead creasing. “he wouldn’t shut up about how beautiful you looked monday night. i don’t think he realizes how much he likes you though, he’s almost as idiotic as you are.”

despite how casually sam says it, and despite the lighthearted insult he’d tossed your way, your heartbeat quickens at his words, heat rushing up to your face. joaquin wasn’t one to shy away from speaking up, from telling you what’s on his mind. so, sure, he’d complimented you on your way out of the apartment. and sure, you were still clinging to it. that didn’t change the fact that he doubled down on that praise to someone else, letting it be known what he thought of you. that’s when he’d decided to grace you two with his presence again, sam gave you that same knowing look he gave you friday, before turning back to his computer.

as he sat down, joaquin gave you a large grin, swiveling around to face you much like the man beside him had been moments before. he nudged his knee against your gently, eyes shimmering over at you. did he always look at you that way? or were sam’s words getting to you?

“movie night tonight? your choice,” he asked expectantly, waiting eagerly awaiting your response. you gawked at him the moment the last two words left his mouth, eyes widening at him.

“no way you’re letting me choose,” you say. “you always fight me on it!”

“i don’t always fight you on it,” joaquin defended quickly, jaw going slack for a brief moment in a fake sort of offense. “besides, i chose the last two times. it’s only right you get a turn.”

“what a gentleman,” you deadpanned, finally turning back to the computer in front of you to continue your research alongside sam. joaquin followed suit, rolling his eyes at your comment. still, there were small smiles on your faces, content yet desperately trying to hide.

“damn straight.”

joaquin stayed true to his words. he did, in fact, let you pick the movie. it’s not like he was able to backtrack, not when you looked so excited as you put it on. you had the biggest grin on your face as you cozied up on the couch beside him. only you would be so excited to watch a horror movie.

the two of you stayed on your respective sides of the couch for the first quarter of the movie, the same side you’d always sat on. there was practically a permanent imprint of the two of you against the couch, molded perfectly to your bodies. it was very rare you would deviate from these seats. one of those rare occasions just so happened to be tonight.

your frigid body didn’t go unseen by joaquin. he noticed the way you tensed up, a little nervous as you curled up further into the couch. his eyes caught the way you tried to shy away from the screen, even if you knew it wasn’t real. as much as you loved horror movies, they still got to you sometimes. his teasing manner came back to him for just a moment when he noticed.

“don’t tell me you’re scared,” he whispered, head turning to look at you fully. the glare you’d thrown his way was unmissable, eyebrows furrowed together, lips downwards in a very slight frown. you tried shaking your head no, denying your rather obvious scared expression, though it was no use.

as if it was the most natural thing in the world, joaquin opened his arms up, hands waving you towards him. he didn’t continue his teasing, he simply ushered you towards him. with hesitation, you obliged, slowly making your way towards him. the way you settled next to him, body tucking into his side with an arm slung around you, felt natural. your head found its way to his shoulder carefully, feeling him adjust a little more comfortably, before settling down fully next to you. you were quick to follow, finding yourself comfortable in his embrace much like you had last week.

joaquin was just as warm and smelled just as nice as you remembered. his body was steady and broad against yours. this certainly took your mind off of how scary the movie had become. at first, you were engulfed in your thoughts again. he was so close to you, breathing steadily and focusing intently on the movie. his kindness was overwhelming sometimes, endearing and all-consuming. everything he said and everything he did, even if unintentional, had you practically swooning for him.

even when you weren’t thinking about him, finally bringing your focus back to the movie, you didn’t feel nearly as scared as before. joaquin comforted you in a way you didn’t know was possible, even through your frustrating feelings. that’s why you’d found it so difficult to pull away from him by the end of the movie. you didn’t want to leave his hold - something that was new and welcoming -, a warmth you wanted to cling to for forever. it was a blessing he didn’t pull away quick. he simply exited the movies credits, arm still slung around you.

“was the movie at least worth it?” joaquin asked in a low whisper, teasing you again slightly. you turned your head to look up at him, chin moving to rest on his shoulder now. he turned his head, too, faces suddenly inches apart. you expected him to move away, to pull back now and realize how close the two of you were. you were once again proven wrong by him.

“yeah, it was worth it,” you whispered back, eyes locking with his as you spoke. while the movie was good, that’s not quite what you meant when you said it was worth it. if you hadn’t been such a wimp, there wasn’t a chance on earth you’d be in this situation right now, cozied up next to him. joaquin smiled small and happy, hand releasing the remote to reach up to your face. he tucked hair away from your eyes, smoothing it back away from your line of sight in the most gentle way. what happened next was simply instinct.

one of your hands found its way to the side of joaquin’s neck, cradling carefully as your eyes flickered down to his lips. and just like that, they’d fluttered closed, closing the distance between the two of you. your lips found his in a light, quick peck, realizing quickly what you’d just done. you weren’t sure where you’d gotten the nerve or the confidence from, and you wish you hadn’t found it.

“i’m so sorry,” you told him, words flying out of your mouth as you began pulling away. your feelings had bubbled up to something unbearable inside of you. you were rather horrible at keeping those things a secret, and it certainly didn’t help that joaquin was so kind. all of his compliments he’d been giving you, all of the sweet things he’d said to sam about you, had you all up in your head. you wanted to say more, to continue to apologize profusely, however, you were stopped just as quickly as you began. joaquin’s hand smoothed its way to the back of your head, cradling it as he pulls you closer again. your lips met once more, this time for a much longer kiss. it left you breathless, successfully shutting you up when he finally pulls away.

when your eyes flutter back open, you’re met with joaquin’s, barely open and looking at you patiently. giggles ripple through both of your chests upon eye contact, your body leaning back into his. his hand continued to cradle the back of your head, thumb rubbing against your hair soothingly.

“i should’ve done that on monday,” joaquin told you, leaning to rest his forehead against yours. “you looked so beautiful, it’s all i could think about.”

“you poor thing,” you whispered, fingers trailing down to mess with the chain for his dog tags. it was your turn to tease, something you were glad to finally get back at him for. “it’s all i’ve been able to think about for like a week and a half.”

joaquin thought back, eventually landing on that saturday you’d been a little off. it all started to click for him. you weren’t just tired from that week, and you weren’t just being standoffish for no reason. he cracked another smile at the memory, everything beginning to fall into place. all of the times you seemed flustered or nervous around him all made sense now. you weren’t simply hiding something you couldn’t quite communicate.

“how did you survive that long?” joaquin asked dramatically, eyes still gazing into yours. “i can’t even imagine. that must’ve been torture not kissing me.”

you let go of his dog tags just to flick his chest, eyes rolling as you pull away from him. he didn’t let you go far, arms wrapping around you and pulling you back close to his body. you let him, shaking your head at his absurdity. “don’t flatter yourself.”

all of your second guesses seemed a little dumb now. the banter you two had didn’t change in the slightest. your admiration and friendship didn’t suddenly disappear. and, while your relationship shifted romantically, it was still you and joaquin. nothing was going to change that.

———

tagging people who were wanting a pt 2 :). @still-scribblin @saintbusan @clonesdserveb3tter @fayxv

[zablife]

Made for Me

Harry Da Souza x petite reader

Summary: Harry's afraid of hurting his partner bc of the size diff, but little does he realize it's about to unlock a new kink.

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon.

Warnings: 🔞, size kink

The first thing you noticed about Harry was his hulking frame, broad shoulders parting the crowd as he stalked toward you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't intimidated by that first impression, even though you had a nagging curiosity about him.

He could sense your hesitancy when he introduced himself, deliberately softening his expression and voice so you wouldn't reject him. From that moment on you realized Harry was nothing more than a large teddy bear. When you learned about his dangerous work, you didn't need convincing that it was merely a job he could leave outside the door. You knew without a doubt he'd never lay a finger on you.

However, there were times when you wanted him to break that careful facade and show you just how rough he could be. Your curiosity reached its peak the first evening you pulled Harry into your bedroom. Lidded eyes, telling him everything he needed to know about your intentions.

As you undressed one another, your suspicions about his size were confirmed, his impressive cock springing free from its confines in all its glory. You couldn't help but gulp at the sight of him, hard and throbbing for you. And though you were far from a virgin, you found yourself inhaling slow, deep breaths as you considered taking all of him inside you.

After half an hour of his tongue against your clit and two thick fingers scissoring your pussy, you still weren't sure you could take him. As he lay hot and heavy against your thigh, you couldn't help but whimper at the thought of the painful stretch awaiting you.

But Harry had already guessed your concern, hushing your fearful cries with his plump lips. "Going to be a good girl and take it all, aren't you?" he coached, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"M not sure you'll fit," you answered, only half joking.

"Want me to show you?" he offered as you nodded dumbly in reply.

Harry's hand slid between your bodies, grasping himself at the base and slapping his length along your toned abdomen until the tip came to rest at your belly button. "You see that?" he asked, cupping the back of your head with his opposite hand until you were staring at your navel. "That's how far I'll be inside you. A perfect fit."

You bit your lip with uncertainty and confessed on a a quiet whisper. "I don't know if I can."

Harry placed a tender kiss to your temple as he proclaimed, "I do. I know you're going to take it like the good little slut you are."

You nodded pathetically, your whole body trembling at the thought of what was to come.

"S'okay," he soothed, pushing the hair from your eyes as he cooed, "Your pussy was made for me."

He wasn't sure though, he'd never seen such a tight cunt, your hole barely able to take two fingers. How would he ever breach you? But a primal desire stirred within him as he thought of it, eager to see you split wide around him and he felt a rush of adrenaline as he lined himself up at your entrance.

He held your chin as he stared into your wide eyes, needing reassurance you truly wanted him to ruin you this way. There was no part of him that wanted to inflict pain. "This what you want?" he asked, tapping the head of his dick against your clit until you were moaning for him, pussy leaking onto the bedsheets with obvious desire.

"Yes, yes, yes...I want it," you chanted, despite the fear of him tearing you in two with his massive girth. You found yourself holding your breath as he complied, guiding his huge tip into your entrance and stopping the moment you began to pant and claw at his forearms for respite.

"I-I didn't expect it to feel like this," you admitted as his eyes searched yours for approval. "Feel like a fucking virgin," you whined as he pushed the first inch inside you, causing a slight burning sensation. You couldn't imagine taking him further.

Luckily, Harry stopped to lean into you, his skilled fingers pushing up the hood of your clit to reveal the swollen bud underneath. His thumb caressed the sensitive nub, drawing tantalizing circles over it until your hips began to jerk. As the slick between your legs grew, he praised, "That's it, sweetheart. You're getting nice and wet for me. Gonna take me so well."

Something in the deep rumble of his voice, telling you how well you were doing made you want to take even more and you soon found yourself bearing down hard to accept a few more inches. And though your breathing grew erratic with the sensation of the biggest stretch of your life, you were quickly rewarded with a shuddered sigh from Harry's lips, proof he was enjoying this new adventure as much as you were.

"Good fucking girl," he moaned, remaining still though he was only halfway inside. Leaning over to press his lips to yours, his eager tongue began exploring your hot mouth, distracting you from thinking about the remaining length you'd yet to take. He allowed you a few more moments to adjust before sinking in further and your cries of ecstasy reverberated over him, making him throb inside your tender walls.

The sensation was tantalizing and you keened at every harsh pulse inside you. Back arching off the bed, you urged, "M-more."

"Such a slag, begging for it," Harry urged you on, sinking himself deeper into the velvet clutch of your cunt as his large palm pressed down against your lower abdomen to feel himself beneath you. "F-fuck, you feel so good!" he hissed, unable to believe the sensation of his presence inside and out at once. Looking down to watch himself disappear between your glistening lips, his hips finally met yours with a groan of satisfaction.

Your eyes squeezed shut at that moment, a strangled scream escaping your lips as you he pushed so deeply you could feel him in your stomach. The sensation of fullness was overwhelming.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, breath ghosting over your neck hot and insistent.

"Mmmm, just give me a minute," you gulped, hoping he would be gentle when he began thrusting.

After what seemed hours, you finally gave a subtle nod and Harry rocked into you slowly. The discomfort faded with every brush against your g-spot. In fact, you found yourself digging your heels into his lower back to spur him on.

"Taking me so well," Harry praised you as he pumped into you slowly.

You hadn't realized your eyes still remained shut to him until he urged, "Open your eyes, baby. Want you to watch.”

Your eyelids flew open at his insistence, instantly zeroing in on the way your lower abdomen swelled with his thrusts. You entered a hypnotic trance watching your belly rise and fall with his movements, heart hammering against your ribs as you realized how deep he was inside you.

Tossing your head back against the pillows, you felt nothing but delirious pleasure as he ruined you. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at your elated response, happy to know you felt as good as he did.

"Told you, you were made for me," he grunted as he continued to fill and empty you at a dizzying pace.

"Mmmm," you agreed, mind turning to mush as your body began to tingle with an impending orgasm.

"Say it," he demanded, fingers clutching at your hips until his nails dug into you with bruising strength.

"I-I was..." you struggled, breath coming hard and fast as he tipped you over the edge.

"Can't hear you," Harry stressed, a large hand squeezing your neck until you began to see stars.

"M-my cunt was made for you!" you finally managed in a high pitched squeal, pleasure overwhelming you until you cried from the force.

Harry came with a low groan moments later, struggling to hold his weight off you as he released ropes of hot cum deep within your body. He eventually collapsed by your side as he regained his breath, rolling onto his back so as not to crush your small form beneath his. He scooped you up with his left arm, bringing you to rest over his heaving chest as he asked, "Anyone ever made you feel that good?"

"Fuck no," you answered without hesitation. One thing was certain, once you'd taken Harry's cock, no one else would do.

Harry smirked to himself with pride, knowing he'd never want another cunt. And luckily, neither of you would have to worry because you married six weeks later, ensuring you'd never be without each other again.

[vviltrumite]

— comics and coffee ۶ৎ₊˚

⚛ mark grayson x you

wc :: 3,360 ( 16,640 char . )

rating :: sfw

synopsis :: it's your birthday!!! your superhero boyfriend sneaks you out out of school, to your favorite coffee shop and a comic book store to celebrate.

a/n :: my birthday is in a few days so this seemed fitting hurray!!!!! were gonna all pretend that you like the batman comics in this scenario, okay????? idk what books u guys like so I had to make something up and were just gonna roll with it

"My parents will kill me if they find out I'm skipping school for this." You state over the sound of the wind blowing through your hair as Mark holds you bridal style and zips through the sky above, wearing his typical sweatshirt and jeans instead of the signature blue and yellow of his superhero costume. But you're both high enough in the air right now to avoid the sight of anyone who might look up. Besides a passing plane, so as long as you steer clear of those, you two should be alright.

He rolls his eyes, smiling against the mock seriousness in your tone. "You'll be fine. I'll have you back at school before lunch is even over, nobody will notice." He explains his foolproof plan to you calmly.

You're the first person Mark knows who actually shows up on time to their classes on their birthday, besides maybe William, but that was only during middle school. He's since grown out of that phase. Most girls would be ecstatic about their superhero boyfriend who was literally sweeping them out of school to take them out to shop at a comic book store and coffee at their favorite cafè.

"We're just going to a café and a book store, surely it's not that far of a walk, right? Do we have to fly to get there?" You ask, looking down at the city below you.

It's a pretty view, sure, everything is just a speckled blur of red, blue, and yellow cars. All too loud busses and people fill the space between the city and the buildings, so its nice to be able to get away from all the noise. But sometimes you think Mark forgets how easy it is to drop someone from this high up. You know he'd catch you in an instant, but you also know how careless he can be sometimes, especially if he isnt paying attention. And that makes you only slightly nervous.

He takes a moment to glance at you in his arms before he replies. "Can't walk to get where we're going. Plus, have you ever been kissed above the clouds before?" He questions with a telling grin, and you knit your eyebrows together at his question.

Is he serious? "What? No, of course not, what kind of—" You're cut off when his lips meet yours before you can finish the sentence, taking them in a slow kiss that makes you lose the words on your tongue and the thoughts in your head dissolve instantaneously. He tastes of minty toothpaste and something else you can't quite place even as your tongue mingles with his, trying to decipher it.

You dont even notice your sudden descent until you feel the concrete of the sidewalk beneath your shoes as he pulls away from your mouth (and somehow nobody else does, either. how does he manage to do that?), and after a take-in of all the architecture around you, you're quick to realize that this area is completely and utterly unfamiliar to you.

"Mark, where are we?" You ask, folding your arms over your chest and looking around. The scenery has suddenly become all too tall buildings and crowded crosswalks paired with the names of streets you don't recognize plastered on the signs around you. He only gives you that boyish grin of his when you look back up at him in suspicion.

"New York, baby." He states matter of factly, and bites back a laugh when you go wide eyed in reaction to his words. Placing a hand on your shoulder, he spins you around to face a small, modern looking coffee shop that looks almost empty aside from the few people you can see through the window. "More specifically, this little café I found while fighting the Mauler twins."

"What? Don't act so shocked," He leans down to mutter in your ear as he pulls you towards the door, octave of his voice lowering just a pitch for only you to hear. "You're dating Invincible, remember? Or did you forget already?" He's teasing. Of course you haven't forgotten, how could you? You're reminded almost every day by news channels broadcasting his latest victories. Or... Defeats, when he hobbles through your bedroom window bruised and battered from a fight, limping his way to your lips for a kiss as if that could magically fix his black eye and bloody nose.

"No, just.. Wondering as to how exactly we got here so fast." You know he can fly at super speeds, this shouldn't be so surprising to you. Shaking your head of the thought, you both walk in and approach the barista behind the counter and order your drinks, but Mark ushers you off to find a table you like before you have the chance to place your order, leaving no room for protest.

You pick the table for two closest by the window, and watch as Mark walks over, both hands occupied with your drinks until he sets yours next to you on the surface of the wooden table and slides into the seat opposite of you with a complimentary warning of "Careful, it's hot." which you brush off by not waiting to sip from the cup.

Which you come to regret, eyebrows shooting up when you realize he wasn't exaggerating, and your drink is in fact hot. He smiles when he registers your realization, tilting his head forward as if to say "told you so" while he blows the steam away from his drink. But hey, as the liquid near burns your tongue, you realize that he at least took the time to remember your favorite drink and ordered it for you. So that was sweet of him, at least.

"Have you ever been to New York?" He asks, taking a sip from his drink as yours meets the table again with a quiet thud. You shake your head in response before correcting yourself.

"Well, once, when I was younger. But it was only for the holidays, and I've never been in the city before." You shrug, fingers drumming against the countertop as he leans in to what you're saying.

"Good, now you at least you can tell people that your superhero boyfriend took you to the city for a day." Really, he could take you wherever you want, whenever you want. This is just the first time he's thought about actually doing it. Remind him of why he hasn't thought about doing this sooner, again?

He pauses for a beat before speaking once again. "Kidding, by the way. Don't— Don't actually do that. I was joking." He rushes when he realizes his joke fell flat, but obviously you know that already.

His tone makes you shake with a small laugh, and you nod. "Y'know, I think if your identity ever gets out, it'll be your fault. You should start being more careful about when you talk about stuff like that... And where." Certainly not in the middle of a café, even though it is sparsely populated.

"Yeah, maybe.." He laughs awkwardly at your point, a sound that drops off and loses its volume when he leans back and runs a hand through his hair. He knows you're probably—Definitely right. He really does need to be more careful.

He clears his throat. "Anyway," Leaning in again, regrouping himself. "Happy birthday. I don't think I ever actually said it, so.." It's clear that he still gets nervous around you by the way he trails off at the end of his sentences, the way his knee bounces under the table without him even realizing it until he's hyperfocused on not bouncing his leg, and the way his fingers rake through his hair as if trying to neaten it even though there's no reason to. And it's cute, that wide-eyed puppy-dog look he gets when he sees you with your hair done, curled or maybe even tied back in an intricate braid, something you don't usually do unless on a special occasion.

You roll your eyes at his words. "Mark, you don't need to say anything. This," You gesture around to the city outside the window of the coffee shop, the drinks he paid for, and the sweetly decorated interior of the building that he clearly took exta care and consideration into choosing. "...Makes up for it."

"Well, I would still feel bad if I didn't. So," He retorts, mindlessly taking another sip of his drink after he watches you do the same exact thing. And again, another "Happy birthday." slips from his lips.

You laugh at his insistence, but it comes out sounding almost more like a scoff, and he smiles again in return. Not saying anything and instead looking like he's taking in the way your eyes glisten when they crinkle as your mouth lifts up into that half-crescent shape.

"Hey, you wanna get going? Finish these on the way? We've still got a book store to check out." He questions, but what he really means is that you have a book store to check out. In reality, he came here at least three times during his free time just to make sure you would enjoy it. And... also because he wanted to check out the Sèance Dog collectibles that he debated buying the second he saw them on the shelf.

"Yeah, sure." You nod, your chair scraping against the ground and pushing out from under you as you stand up, taking your coffee cup with you in hand. Mark follows suit, pushing his chair in before joining your side and taking your unoccupied hand as you make your way to the exit.

The store isn't too far of a walk from the cafè, and you occupy the ten minute walk with easy, casual conversation about what you plan on doing to celebrate when you get home. You tell him that you'll probably go out to eat with family, maybe spend some time with some friends, and of course enjoy a cake that you'll fill yourself up with too many slices of. The bookstore is fairly quaint and rather picturesque, with an outside window filled with books from renowned authors you don't actually know the names of on display for anyone who might be passing by to look at.

Mark steps forward and holds the door open for you as you walk in, and the small bell attached at the top rings out into the quiet of the medium-sized shop and he closes the door behind you before following you in.

"So? What do you think?" He prompts hopefully, peeking at you from over your shoulder to look at your face, clearly in awe as you take in all of the shelves and tables, all organized by genre and author, filled to maximum capacity with so many books that it's almost overwhelming.

The store is dimly lit with warm lighting from lamps that hang on the sides of walls, and on top of counters. It looks a lot smaller on the outside than it does on the inside. Almost like something straight out of Narnia, and you think for a moment that you might get lost in the maze of books and shelves.

"I think... How did you find this place?" You ask, skimming briefly over the genres on the bookshelves. Fiction, Non-Fiction, Horror—How are books scary? A smile tugs from the corner of your lips at the thought as it briefly crosses your mind—and Autobiographies, just to name a few of the many genres they have here.

He shrugs and follows slowly behind you. "Eh, I mean, being a superhero comes with knowing a lot of people. I just kinda... asked around, I guess?" Vauge, but you don't press him about it, instead enjoying your surprise.

You don't know how much time has passed by the time you find him practically buried in the comic-books section, specifically the corner completely dedicated to his favorite comic of all time, Sèance Dog, where he examines a white t-shirt with that magical anthropomorphic wizard dog on the front of it. Mark must've heard you approach behind him, because he suddenly turns to you and flaunts the shirt.

"Think I should get this?" He asks, but you really can't tell if he's joking or not when he holds it over his sweater, glancing down to see how it might look on him. After a moment, he folds the shirt back up and returns it to its temporary home on the shelf where he found it and begins to flip through the Sèance Dog comics on the shelf, still listening as you speak.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this," You start, glancing over his shoulder as he skims through the collection of comic issues on the bookshelf, probably looking for the newest release. "But I'm beginning to think we came here for you." You're only half joking, but he turns around just as your lips meet the edge of the coffee cup you brought from the café, sipping the still warm beverage onto your tongue.

"What? No way," He denies despite the comic books tucked away under his arm that contrast with his words, and that toothy grin of his, the contagious one that always makes you blush, decorating his features as he gestures to the book in your other hand.

"I mean, you did find something you like, right?" He has a point, you think as the coffee cup retreats from your lips. You did find something that you wanted—Or, something that looks relatively interesting, at least.

You smile as he points it out, gaze dropping to where you hold your selected comic book. "Yeah, I guess so. Who knows if I'm actually going to read it, though. I've never been big on comic books." You start, tone indifferent, and he takes the liberty of swiping it from your hand before you have the opportunity to react.

His eyes flit over the book, scanning over the cover quickly, reading the title aloud. "Batman, huh?" He looks up at you through his eyelashes. "Y'know, I've always wanted to know if the stories are acurate to the real Batman." He pauses to make sure you're listening, only to continue once you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I actually went to another dimension this one time, when I was fighting Angstrom Levy. You remember him, right? And anyways, so I was in this entirely different dimensi—"

He's cut off when he notices the look you give him, glancing urgently to the side where a woman and her child walk past you two, dangerously within earshot. His face pinks in embarrassment and he drops the topic, returning the comic to your hands. "I... I'll read it with you." He smiles.

"Yeah," You agree, glancing back over at the mother and her child who stares at you creepily. "Okay, either that kid heard you, or he really hates that I got a Batman comic.." You lower your tone to a whisper and Mark breaks the silence with a laugh, looking back to the child who wears a Spiderman shirt. He quickly grabs your hand and leads you to the checkout counter before the mother has the chance to look back at you both.

"Sèance Dog? Still?" You tease, watching as he slides it onto the counter where the woman behind the register scans it with a quiet beep. "Aren't you getting a bit old for that?"

He rolls his eyes, but doesn't seem truly offended. "Hey, why does everyone always say that? You're the one reading Batman, anyway. Don't harp on me for reading Sèance Dog." He mentions, jabbing you lightly in the side with his elbow just enough to make you jump in reaction to the movement.

"Anyone can read Batman. Sèance Dog is advertised for, like, seven year olds." You retort, slipping your fingers through the handle of the plastic bag where your comic books sit once the woman hands back your purchase.

"Doesn't Batman have a million kids cartoon shows? I mean, my mom used to put them on for Oliver to watch when he was a baby." The bell at the top of the stores entrance rings again when you open it, and he follows you out.

"Then Oliver must have good taste," You cast a quick glance down at your phone, pulling it halfway out from the pocket of your jeans just enough to read the time. "We still have two hours left until I have to be back." You mention, swiftly changing the topic and dropping your phone back into its reserved spot in your pocket.

"Yup, c'mon, I've still got some stuff planned." He says, taking your hand in his as you turn left on the sidewalk and make your way down the street. He only offers a knowing smile at you when you beckon him to elaborate, refusing and instead giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

By the end of your two hours left together, Mark has taken you to a handful of pop-up shops and stores he caught you glancing at, admiring the various clothes and accessories adorning the mannequins in the display windows. Working under Cecil as one of the many supers' he's got on his payroll actually has its perks, believe it or not. One of those perks being that he gets to spoil you, because by the end of your time together, once you're back at school, you have almost too many bags to carry all at once even though you had told him multiple times that spending all of this money was unnecessary. And of course his chosen form of protest was swiping his card through the scanner each time he caught you even looking at an item for a second.

"See? What'd I tell you? Back at school before lunch is over." He smiles, and just as your feet plant on the ground, the bell rings and people start flooding the campus and making their way to their next classes.

His grin is contagious, and you smile in return despite the sarcastic retort that falls from your lips. "Barely," You say, taking in the swarm of other kids who shuffle around you both.

His shoulders rise and fall in a careless shrug that seems to say "oh well," before he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek. "Well, I wouldn't want to make you late to your class." His hand reaches around to scratch nervously at the nape of his neck, tilting his head to the side.

"I— Hey, you expect me to carry these around all day?" You question, vaguely gesturing an arm where two bags hang. "I don't have unlimited backpack space, y'know." Your bag would certainly overflow if you attempted to shove all this extra weight into it, and you wouldn't be able to explain where you got all these clothes from, were one of your teachers to ask.

"Oh, right." He pauses just before he has the chance to take a step back, almost seeming embarrassed that he forgot. Quickly reaching forward, Mark steals another kiss from your cheek, this time more fleeting, before he withdraws. The bags you previously carried are now in his hands faster than you have the time to even realize.

A laugh escapes his lips at your shock. That's something you'll never get used to, you think. That Viltrumite speed of his nearly gives you whiplash each and every time he takes advantage of it. "I'll drop them off in your room, 'kay?" He says, but it sounds more like a statement than a question.

You nod, giggling softly at the nervousness he holds in his voice despite a date well done, and watching as he shoots off into the sky in a blur of blue and beige all too fast for anyone around the two of you to notice, but you swear you caught him say a quick "Love you." before he went. You'll hold it with you and bring it along to the rest of your classes, thinking of him until school let's out for the day and you're provided with another opportunity to see him.

[headcanon-everything]

is it ok if I request volt and eddie headcanons? (Sfw and nsfw)

Feel free to ignore this if u want, tysm

you never specified if it was romantic or not, so these are general headcanons. some can be interpreted as nsfw-applicable if you want

Eddie & Volt Headcanons

have you ever seen the shows/media where a stoic character has something that shows their true emotions? a wagging tail or a familiar that acts how they really feel?

that's Volt to Eddie

not that Volt doesn't mask his own emotions at times to keep up the charm, but he has a bad poker face about it

but with how Eddie feels about someone? If he likes them, Volt is dialing up the charm to 11. If not, it's a tight-lipped smile everytime he greets them

they have shared senses, to an extent. it's duller than their own, but they still share it

both run pretty warm, but Volt runs warmer

if you ever play a game with them, Volt WILL try and seduce you to cheat, regardless of friendship/relationship status

Eddie will play the game striaght

he might count cards

Touching Volt's hair feels like touching an old TV that has that static feel

both have a similar smell - something musky, rum, and a slight burn smell

Volt leans more towards the burning and musky smell

Eddie smells more like rum and the warm smell of old electronics

Volt is prone to accidentally giving people static shocks - the appliance/electrical objects jump the most

Eddie doesn't really like Tony and refuses to let him help out, even when he offers

Volt doesn't mind him, but does think he's a bit of a simpleton. Likes having drinks with him though

when they're not having live performances at the Breaker Box, there's an old jukebox in the corner that plays music

the speakers attached to it aren't the greatest, but it fits the feel

they invested the better speakers into the stage

certain objects have been banned from selecting songs at the jukebox

Jean-Loo was banned from the stage before he was ever on it. he keeps trying to break into it tho and jumping up there before someone drags him down

Eddie is more gruff, but Volt is more temperamental and has the worse temper

AKA Eddie's scary dog privilege and he doesn't even know

both have a hard time sitting still or resting

are adamant on the other getting rest if they're injured, but are terrible at taking their own advice

Eddie doesn't seem like it, but he likes when the bar is full and lively. the sounds of everyone talking and having fun are soothing to him

you can only see it happen if Eddie is EXTREMELY drunk and Volt has sweet-talked him, but Eddie has a good singing voice

terrible stage fright

Volt has a good voice too, but doesn't think about using it to sing too often. It just doesn't occur to him

Dorian has had to act as an assistant bouncer on an occasion or two, when people get too rowdy

Eddie actually really wants Beverly's bar to succeed, and often is seen talking tips with her when it's slow

Will deny it if you ask

You can headcanon it differently, but I think Eddie and Volt see her as a younger cousin type and want to help her with her business

Eddie built the stage platform by himself many years ago

Volt has been slowly adding to/updating the bar

Eddie never realized how lonely he was until Volt was in the picture - now he can't live without him

[buck-star]

linguine

pairing — sugar daddy!andy barber x sugar baby!fem!reader

summary — a drunken and unexpected confession. leading to silent treatments. angst. and another unexpected confession.

warnings — angst. daddy kink. dom!andy. sub!reader. fluff. slight smut. mention of fingering. mention of thigh riding.

wordcount — 3.200 words

authors note — part of the pasta collection. collaboration with @gremlin-girly. shout-out to @writing-for-marvel for proofreading! linguine for love confession.

pasta collection

“You know, we should talk about that, honey,” Andy murmurs as he leans backwards. His lower back rests against the counter behind him as he looks at you.

Intensely.

You huff slightly, shaking your head. Meanwhile, you poke your fork into the scrambled eggs on your plate.

Scrambled eggs he makes for you. Only for you.

As he always does. Making breakfast so you won’t just skip it.

“Honey,” Andy says with more authority in his voice. Low. Almost a warning tone.

Both of you know what he's talking about. And yet, you refuse to start a conversation with him. At least as long as he tries to bring up that topic.

Andy sighs. Heavily.

“So, you just want to sit here and ignore me?” Andy asks, clearly annoyed by your behavior and refusal.

He takes another deep breath, crossing his thick arms in front of his muscular chest. The action only causes the muscles to bulge, his t-shirt fitting tighter around him. Hugging his body just right.

He tries to stay calm. He really does.

But you're testing his patience. And even though he tries to stay calm, he can't help but feel his annoyance growing slowly.

Those special three words. They slipped past your lips last night.

First he wasn’t sure if he heard you right. But when the realization hit him like a freight train, he wanted to know how much you meant it.

If it was just in the heat of the moment. Or if those words meant more than emptiness.

“It was in the heat of the moment. I was drunk and I couldn’t think straight,” you try. Though, you know he won't buy it with how your voice shakes and you avoid eye contact.

Of course he won’t buy it.

Andy knows you. And unfortunately, he can read you like an open book.

In every other situation you would have loved it. But at that very moment, you absolutely hate it.

“Try again. Maybe more convincing,” he says, his voice rougher than before.

Andy watches your evasive gaze. The way you push the eggs over your plate but don’t even care about eating it.

He crosses his legs slowly, waiting for you to respond to him.

“I-it was the—”

“No,” he interrupts you. He can see straight through you.

You would come up with the same lame excuse. But you wouldn’t mean it.

Not when you’re unable to look at him. It doesn’t have to be eye contact, but you're not even glancing at him. Not even in the slightest.

“I said try again. Not repeat your words and give me that shit of an excuse again. Because I understood what you said. Damn well,” he huffs, shaking his head slightly.

Disappointed at you.

“Now. Try. Again.”

You stay quiet. Head lowering even more.

The scrambled eggs are way more interesting than anything else. Even if you just push them from one side to the other, off the plate or just poke at them.

As long as you avoid his stare, his disapproving look, you can’t feel bad. Maybe when you look away long enough he will just let it go and forget about the accident.

Andy hates being lied to. But you still did it. Over and over again, only to hide the truth behind your words. To not face the possible consequences of what you said to him.

“You're just sitting here, and pushing your food around? Giving me the silent treatment, now, honey?” Andy asks, pushing off the counter, leaning over the coutner you’re sitting at instead.

You shrug. Slightly. Almost invisible.

But you stay quiet. Still avoiding his gaze, as well as a conversation with him.

Andy takes a deep, dramatic breath. Holding it in for a moment. Three seconds to be exact. Then he exhales.

“Fine,” he says, pushing away from the counter completely as he turns to leave.

And then he walks away. Out of the kitchen. Out of your sight.

The silence stretches. Thick. Leaving you alone with your running thoughts and your heavy heart.

You swallow the lump in your throat, the food long forgotten. You’re not even hungry anymore, not since he tried to start a conversation.

You just want to run away. And hide from him for a bit.

Hiding all the feelings. All the words you said. And the ones you didn’t say. Maybe just act like it never happened.

You turn around in the chair. He really left the kitchen. Leaving you alone there.

Your thoughts become louder. Screaming. Running. It’s like shouting voices in your mind, trying to be heard. Trying to be the loudest.

Tears burn in your eyes. Slowly rolling down your cheeks as you try to blink them away. Though, they keep escaping the corners of your eyes, leaving wet trails down your cheeks.

‘Fine.’

It’s all he said. He didn’t even try harder to get you to talk to him. He just let it go.

As you wished. But not as he did.

Andy isn’t one who gives up on something. He would even force it out of someone. As long as he gets the answer he’s looking for.

And right now it’s the truth. And an answer.

A true answer. Not some lame excuse.

But maybe you fucked it up. Badly.

You push the chair back, slipping off it to walk around the counter. With one hand on the edge of the plate you slide it over the counter.

Throwing away all the scrambled eggs you didn’t eat, and placing the plate and fork in the dishwasher, you sigh. Heavy. Deep.

It’s quiet. Too quiet without Andy around.

Usually you would hear the television. Or Andy talking on the phone when he’s working from home. Or he would talk to you.

But it’s never as quiet as now. No voices. No noises except your breathing. And your heart is thrumming in your ears.

Guilt creeps to the surface slowly. Leaving your heart heavy and hurt. Broken into pieces.

Broken in a way only Andy managed to fix. With nothing but his presence. With his care and attention. The softness he’s showing you takes away all the fears and doubts, leaving you bare and happy with him. And especially for him.

“Andy?” You whisper into the room, too afraid to cut through the silence. Though, you know he won’t hear you when he's not in the hallway, and you're pretty sure he isn’t.

And yet, you try it anyway. Hoping to get a reaction from him. Or to get him to make a noise.

No response. Of course.

You swallow the hurt that bubbles up. The pain you caused him. Only because you’re afraid to say the truth out loud.

He might be the one for you. But you’re too scared to admit it to him.

Maybe you’re not the one for him. And if you say your feelings out loud, they will be real. They will make you vulnerable.

If you don’t say them out loud, he doesn’t know. He can’t reject you. He can’t push you away.

But Andy also can’t tell you the way he feels. If he even does feel anything except disappointment and hate toward you now.

But where did he actually go? You didn’t hear the front door opening. Not closing.

So he still has to be in the house.

Or maybe you were too lost in your thoughts to even notice him walking through the front door. Or the clinging of his keys, his shoes or jacket.

You stop in your tracks, holding your breath.

Then you hear it. It’s like a whistle in the air. But you notice it.

The faint movement of something upstairs. Footsteps. Quiet and careful.

It has to be Andy. Hopefully. Probably.

Then again. More footsteps. Louder this time, followed by a slight crack.

A crack too familiar. The door of your wardrobe sounds exactly like that when you open it.

Is he packing your stuff so he can throw you out of his house?

Andy barely walks into your room. He said it's yours. Your safe space. Your place.

At least for the time you’re living at his house while the apartment you were living it gets renovated after it got flooded. And since your arrangement with Andy, and the constant meetings, he offered you to move in with him.

His house is big enough. You both have your own spaces but still can do things together.

And he has you around for every meeting and dinner he needs you at. Plus, Andy can spoil you easier like that, taking you on shopping trips.

Sometimes he only has to walk past you or sit next to you and you show him things online. You don’t even ask for them, he gets them for you anyway.

You’re his. His honey. And he loves to spoil you as much as he can, as much as you allow him to.

It's because of the arrangement, is what you tell yourself.

But the truth is: the arrangement went further than you both thought when you started it.

At first it was easy. You go out with him for business meetings. A few evenings or afternoons where you were just relaxing with him. And he will pay for it.

As well as for your apartment. For your needs. And whatever you were looking at and wanted to have. He provided it, without any questions or judgments.

And then the sex sneaked its way into your relationship with Andy.

Late nights with romance movies or sometimes action movies. They led to cuddles and kisses until the two of you ended up in his bed.

It was still easy. It was just sex. No meaning behind it.

Andy even offered to see it as a one time thing.

Instead, the two of you just added it to your contract. More or less. Not officially, but you both agreed that having some fun isn’t bad.

Until it changed. Until it became bad.

Last night to be exact.

Last night when you came home drunk. After a party with your friends you sneaked back into the house, trying to get to your room before he noticed.

You were supposed to be home by one in the morning. But it was way past three when you came back.

Andy was waiting, though. That typical dad glare on his face as he sat on the couch with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Followed by a lecture of his and a glass of water, before he tugged you into your bed.

Or at least he tried.

Because he only managed to sit down on the edge of the bed with you straddling his lap. Rubbing yourself on his thigh, moaning into his ear and begging for him to make you cum.

To make you his good girl while he plays with you.

The continuous rubbing of your slick panties along his sweatpants left a dark mark on the fabric.

The grip on your hips was tight, trying to stop your movements but he couldn’t deny you completely. He never could.

And he probably will never be able to deny you anything when you beg in that sweet voice of yours.

Plus you weren’t drunk out of your mind. So, he let his hand slip down between your body’s so he was able to rub your clit in slow but steady circles.

And when he pushed you to the edge, over and over again, he stopped. Not allowing you to come, instead he left you begging. Like he’s used to.

You suddenly confessed something that made you both stop in your tracks.

‘Fu-fuck, daddy! I-I love you.’

You pushed yourself off his lap. Stumbling out of the room, you locked yourself in the bathroom until you were sure that Andy was already in bed.

Only then did you go to bed too. Knowing he would try to bring the topic up later. But you hoped he might forget about it or try to act like it didn’t happen.

Just, he didn’t forget, nor pretended that it never happened.

You walk out of the kitchen, slowly up the stairs. Your heart thrumming in your chest, your breath quickens when anxiety builds in your chest. In your stomach.

You’re not even sure how to approach Andy. But you need to. One way or the other. You need to know if he’s going to throw you out or break the contract. Maybe he’s even doing both.

When you hear him huffing and shuffling, your chest clenches. Fear grows in the pit of your stomach.

You shouldn’t have said all that. You shouldn’t have ignored him, but facing him with the truth wasn’t an option either.

“A-Andy?” You ask quietly when you stop in the doorframe.

You look everywhere but him. Too afraid to see the anger on his face. The disappointment.

Your fingers are shaking as you play with the hem of your shirt. Shifting from one foot to the other.

His head snaps toward you. His eyes widen for a moment. He didn’t hear you walking upstairs, nor walking into the room.

For a moment you let your eyes wander over his frame, still avoiding looking into his face, though.

Andy holds a pair of your panties in his calluses hands. Neatly fold.

You swallow harshly, shifting once more. The lump in your throat grows with every passing moment. The silence thick in the air.

Andy’s focus is completely on you. His ocean blue eyes roaming your face as he waits for you to speak up.

But you don’t. You only shift back and forth. From one foot to the other. Before you scratch your toes along the hardwood floor.

A habit you have. Especially when you’re nervous. It’s one of the first he picked up on.

He takes a slow but deep breath, taking in the furrow of your brows. And that cute crinkle that forms on your forehead when you’re concentrated, unsure or mad.

But this time it isn’t madness. Or any kind of anger. It isn’t even confusion or concentration.

It was concern. Worry. Maybe even fear.

“Yes, honey?” He interrupts your running thoughts and breaks the silence when he notes that you’re too lost in your thoughts to keep talking. “You didn’t come upstairs to say my name, did you?”

You shake your head slightly. Tears well up in your eyes. You try to blink them away before he notices them.

You don't want to look pathetic. Or get his pity because you're crying.

Andy shouldn’t comfort you if he doesn’t really want to.

“D-do you—” you take a shaky breath, pulling at the hem of your shirt. “Are you throwing me out?”

Andy’s eyes widen. Really widen in confusion at your words.

“What?” He asks, titling his head like he doesn’t quite understand what you said. He must have heard you wrong.

His blue eyes roam through the room, then back toward you and he shakes his head.

There’s no indication that he wants you out of his house. He didn’t mention or say anything like that, nor did he think about it.

Andy didn’t do anything that would give you a reason to think that he's going to throw you out of his house.

“You really have that little trust in me? Of course, not. How did you even get that idea?” Andy asks, as he sits down on the edge of your nearly made bed.

“Y-you just left the kitchen. And you-you’re in here and uhm—” you start, looking at your wardrobe and at Andy as you try to piece the puzzle together. “Taking my clothes out of the wardrobe?”

You frown further. There’s a piece of your puzzle missing. The most important: what is he even doing if not throwing you out?

“You ignored me,” he states, his voice soft as he keeps talking. “Doesn’t make much sense to push you. I know you, honey, you don’t talk, not even under pressure.”

You nod. He’s right.

Sometimes — most of the time — pressure only makes you shut out everyone even more.

“And you're not a case of mine. I might be enforcing and pressuring during work, but not with you. You’re my girl,” Andy explains, his eyes holding yours. His expression tender and loving as he speaks. “And I'm putting away your freshly cleaned clothes. I wanted to keep myself busy until you're willing to talk to me about what you said last night. Not some lame lies, but the truth.”

Andy pats his thick thighs. He hopes you listen to him, but also knows that you may refuse to sit down on his lap.

But you push yourself off the door frame after a moment. A moment that you needed to consider his words, let them sink in.

You take a few steps closer until you're standing in front of him.

When you’re about to lower yourself between his thighs he stops you by placing both of his calloused hands on your waist, shaking his head slightly.

“No. Not yet, honey,” he mutters, pulling you into his lap so you straddle him. “It’s not about dominance right now. Though, I might spank that pretty ass of yours later for lying and ignoring me. But right now I just want to talk about last night.”

You whimper at his words. You don't fear spankings, you love him. Even when he's delivering a hard spanking until you’re crying and begging him.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, shifting in his lap.

Andy’s hands remain steady around your waist to keep you from moving too much.

“I know. Did you mean it?” He asks, his eyes soft and holding a warmth only Andy can provide.

You nod. Your eyes moving away from him to not have to see the hate and anger in them at your admission.

“No… no, you don’t get to look away, honey,” he mutters, bringing one of his hands to your chin. His fingers curl underneath to tip your head back.

“I-I didn’t mean too. I’m sorry, I-I didn’t want to ruin anything,” you whisper, tears burning in your eyes once more.

If you could take those words back, you would. Maybe. Saying them out loud took away some of the pressure you carried around because of the feelings lingering in your heart and gut.

“Honey,” Andy mutters, his thumb brushing over your cheek to wipe away the tears. “You didn’t ruin anything. I just needed to know that the feelings aren't one sided.”

You gasp. Then you narrow your eyes.

Hope. Confusion. It all comes together in your mind.

Did he just say he loves you too?

“Huh?” You blurt out, earning a pinch to your thigh from him. “I-I… I don't understand, Andy.”

“I love you, too. I didn’t want to be a creep, but hearing you say that last night... I wasn’t sure if you meant it, I hoped you did,” he mutters, leaning closer until your lips are only a few inches away from yours. “It’s gonna be so much fun to spank that bratty little ass and get the surplus energy out of us.”

comment and reblog to support content creators. divider made by @/saradika-graphics.

taglist — @ballorawan740 @phineas-is-chaos @princesschyanne @sergeantbarnessdoll @thenameswinter99 @carlossainzapologist @multiversefanfics @rogersbarber (added cevans characters so if you don’t wanna be tagged in these please let me know)

[orellazalonia]

Hiii

Could I request a bucky fic with a reader who can knit or crochet and they make him some handmade garment and the vibe is all warm and fuzzy (in all possible ways ig) 🫶🫶🫶

Hello there! Such a warm request, I don’t exactly know how to knit or crochet. However, I hope you still enjoy some fluff! Thank you for the request and Happy reading!!!

Loops and Stitches

Summary: You surprise Bucky with a handmade sweater and matching mittens, wrapping him in warmth and love in a way he's never known before. As snow falls and your fingers stay laced together, he quietly realizes that your care is the softest, safest thing he's ever had. (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Word Count: 1.7k+

Main Masterlist

The first time Bucky saw you with yarn, he blinked like you'd pulled a gun on him.

Not because you were threatening, no. You were curled on the couch like a cat in sunlight, needles clicking gently in your hands, a ball of soft blue yarn unraveling across your lap but something about the image must have thrown something in him. Maybe it was the peacefulness. Maybe it was that he'd never seen something so quietly beautiful in his life.

You looked up and smiled.

“What are you making?” He asked, approaching slowly like you might vanish if he moved too fast.

“A surprise,” You answered, not missing a beat in your stitching. “But I’ll give you one hint. It’s something you’ll wear.”

He tilted his head, brow furrowing. “A hat?”

You shook your head.

“Socks?”

“Nope.”

“Gloves?”

You smiled wider. “I said one hint.”

That started it.

From then on, Bucky became hyper-aware of the yarn. The different colors and textures you worked with, the way your fingers moved so delicately, the tiny satisfied hum you gave when a row turned out just right. You started working on the mystery project more frequently, sneaking it out when you thought he wasn’t looking, only to rush to tuck it away if he walked into the room.

You teased him mercilessly with it.

And Bucky, he adored every minute.

He watched you work from the doorway some evenings, your hair messy and your face scrunched up in focus, yarn draped over your knees like you were made to be part of it. There was something therapeutic about it, he realized. Something grounding. You made each loop like it mattered, like care could be woven into every inch of thread.

Then, one chilly Sunday morning, he found a neatly wrapped package on the kitchen counter. His name was written in your handwriting across a tag shaped like a tiny mitten.

He opened it slowly.

And inside was a sweater, a handmade one. It was soft, thick, and blue like the sky just before snow.

It looked simple at first, but when he held it up, he saw the stitches weren’t uniform; they were human, imperfect in the way that made it beautiful. On the inside collar, there was a tiny sewn tag:

"For you, my love."

He didn’t say anything for a full minute.

You appeared in the doorway, a mug of tea in your hand, trying to look casual but watching him carefully. “It’s okay if it doesn’t fit…”

He slipped it on without a word.

It did fit. Perfectly. Like it had been made just for him because it had.

Bucky looked at you then, eyes soft.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever made me something before,” His voice was low and warm.

You stepped closer. “Well… now someone has.”

He reached for you slowly, pulling you in until you were pressed to the softness of the sweater, and his arms were wrapped tightly around you. You felt the faintest tremble in him, not from cold. From something deeper. Something like gratitude or healing.

“Thank you,” He murmured into your hair. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever owned.”

You laughed quietly, burying your face in his chest. “Good. Because I’m already planning matching mittens.”

He smiled, and for the first time in a long time, the world felt simple, safe, and warm.

A week later, the world outside the windows looked like it had been dusted with powdered sugar. Snow arrived quietly overnight and by morning, the rooftops were covered in white while tree branches were lined with delicate frost. You watched from the kitchen, coffee in hand, as flurries danced through the air like they had nowhere urgent to be.

Bucky came in wearing the sweater you made him, his hair tousled from sleep, expression still in that vulnerable place between dream and reality. He looked outside and blinked.

“Huh,” He muttered. “Guess winter’s here.”

You didn’t say anything, just reached behind you and slid something across the counter toward him. A neat little bundle, tied with twine and warm to the touch.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

He tugged the string loose and unfolded a pair of thick, knitted mittens; midnight blue with silvery threading woven in like tiny constellations. On the cuffs, you’d stitched small initials: J.B. on one, and your initials on the other. Just subtle enough that only he would notice.

He held them like they were breakable.

“I made them to go with the sweater,” You said softly. “Figured you’d need something warm if we went for a walk.”

For a moment, Bucky didn’t speak. He turned them over in his hands, thumb brushing the stitches. He cleared his throat before saying, “You, uh… you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” You said. “But I wanted to.”

You could tell by the way his jaw twitched that he was trying to hold something in, an emotion too big for words. He reached for you instead, cupping your cheek with his cold metal hand.

“I never really had this,” He murmured. “You know… someone who makes things for me. Just because.”

You leaned into his touch. “Well… get used to it.”

He huffed out a breath; half laugh, half something gentler, and then tugged the mittens on carefully. They fit snugly, molding around the curve of his fingers like they were meant to be there, even his metal hand.

You slipped your own gloves on and grabbed a scarf from the hook near the door. “C’mon. Let’s go for a walk before it all turns to slush.”

He hesitated only a second before grabbing your hand with his and nodding.

The air outside was crisp and clean, the kind of cold that pinched your cheeks and made everything smell sharper. Your boots crunched through fresh snow as you wandered through the quiet streets, fingers laced.

Bucky didn’t say much. He just walked beside you, shoulders brushing with his thumb occasionally running over your knuckles in the most absentmindedly affectionate way. He looked at the falling snow like it was new to him. Maybe it was. Maybe everything felt new now.

At one point, you stopped and turned to him.

“What?” He asked, blinking.

“You’ve got a snowflake on your cheek.”

He raised a mitten to brush it away, but you leaned in first and kissed it off, lips soft against his cheekbone.

Bucky went a little still.

Then he smiled; slow, small, but real. “You planning on knitting me a whole winter wardrobe?”

“Absolutely,” You nodded, proud. “I’ve already started socks.”

He groaned, but it was affectionate. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You beamed up at him. “That’s the plan.”

And for the rest of the walk, Bucky didn’t let go of your hand once.

By the time you got back inside, your teeth were chattering and your fingers felt like little icicles, even through your gloves. Bucky, on the other hand, looked annoyingly unfazed. His cheeks were barely pink, hands still warm, and snowflakes melting off his hair like nothing.

You kicked off your boots with a dramatic sigh. “I am never going outside again.”

Bucky shrugged out of his coat, smirking. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’re a walking furnace, Barnes. It doesn’t count.”

He had the audacity to shrug like what can you do? before carefully laying the mittens you made him near the radiator to dry. You were still shivering as you grabbed your favorite fuzzy blanket and made a beeline for the couch, wrapping it tightly around yourself like a burrito.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him watching you. Amused and affectionate.

You poked your head out of the blanket like a cold, grumpy turtle. “Are you gonna come sit with me or just stand there being smug and toasty?”

Bucky huffed a laugh and walked over, dropping onto the couch beside you with a soft oof. He didn’t even flinch when your freezing hand brushed against his leg under the blanket, just shot you a quick look, but let it happen.

“You know I don’t really get cold,” He murmured.

You burrowed closer, cheek resting against his chest. “Yeah, but I do and you’re warm. So this is theft of body heat. You should report me.”

He chuckled, low in his throat. “I think I’ll let this crime slide.”

His arm curled around your shoulder, pulling you closer without a second thought. The blanket was warm, but Bucky was warmer. Solid and steady. He rubbed gentle circles along your arm with his thumb, the metal of his other hand cool where it rested at your waist.

You sat like that for a while. No words, just comfort with the hush of snow falling outside, the soft hum of the radiator, and his heartbeat, slow and even, underneath your ear.

Eventually, he said, “You ever gonna teach me how to knit?”

You tilted your head up, surprised. “You… want to?”

“Maybe,” He said with a small shrug. “Not ‘cause I need it. But… I wanna make something for you, like you do for me.”

Your heart flipped over itself in the best way. “That’s really sweet.”

He glanced down at you, brushing a stray bit of hair from your forehead. “Well. I figure if you can turn some yarn into the best damn sweater I’ve ever owned… I can try to make something half as nice for you.”

You grinned. “You just want an excuse for me to sit in your lap while I show you how to knit.”

He gave you a smug little smile. “Is it working?”

You laughed, curling closer beneath the blanket. “Always.”

And just like that, the cold outside didn’t matter anymore. Not with the soft weight of Bucky’s arm around you. Not with your fingers laced with his. Not with the way he pressed a kiss to your temple like it was a habit he never wanted to break.

Because you knew the only thing that mattered to him was you, the one who filled his days with warmth and made his world feel safe. And the only thing that made your restless heart settle was him, the one who anchored your world and made every moment feel like home.

Taglist: @yasmin12312 @herejustforbuckybarnes @eeveedream @wingstoyourdreams @figtreesandmoonlight @happygalaxymilkshake

[neeeooon]

Isagi with a soft spoken and shy gf who he always encourages to cheer for him back in his highschool games, but all she could muster up was a small 'yay...' But then, come U20 when he was gonna make that goal she's suddenly the loudest voice in the crowd. Screaming "WOOOH GO ICHI GO!" and when he scored she became louder.

Then reverts back to soft girl shy girl mode when she meets with him at the end and gets embarrassed when he teased her on how much her cheering has improved.

cute cute cuteee thank you for requesting!

ichi means #1

isagi yoichi x shy fem!reader. fluff

“will you come to this game?” isagi asked into the phone. he hadn’t seen you since before leaving for blue lock, and since the upcoming u20 was an important one, the players had been given permission to use their phones and invite loved ones. of course, he had to call you.

you swallowed hard and anxiously twirled a strand of your hair between trembling fingers. “i will, but… won’t it be crowded? i heard the stadium sold out… you won’t even see me.”

“i’ll be happy as long as i know you’re there,” he encouraged, thinking back to when you cheered him on at his high school games.

you were always on the quieter side, and it had taken isagi months to finally work up the courage to ask you out. still, you went to every game, and though it took most of your energy to muster up your little, “yay..” isagi loved it.

when the day of the match finally arrived, underestimated how packed the stadium really would be. you had your little flag with isagi yoichi scribbled across it in sparkly blue pen, and even wore the jersey he gave you when you first started dating. thankfully, it fit you a little better after all the time spent in it.

your heart felt like it would burst the moment you spotted him on the field, eyes so focused it made you proud all over again. your isagi, the boy who worked so hard to make it here.

even with how loud the crowd was, you couldn't bring yourself to rival them at first. when he first touched the ball, you gave your usual soft, tiny, “yay..” barely audible over the roar of the stadium.

but then… something shifted as the game heated up. isagi was moving like he belonged on this field. he was fighting, pushing, playing the smartest you’d ever seen him. and when the goal was right there...

it just came out of you without thinking.

“WOOO!! GO ICHI, GO!!!”

you were standing, waving your little flag around like your life depended on it. “LET’S GOOOOO!!!”

the other fans around you jumped at how loud you suddenly became, as if they only just realized your presence. you didn’t pay them any mind. you were too busy watching your boyfriend.

when he scored, you cheered louder than you ever had in your life. clapping, waving your flag, calling his name like you were the only two people in the stadium. “YESSS!!! THAT’S MY BOY!!! HE'S NUMBER ONE!!!”

the game ended and you finally found him outside the stadium, sweaty and grinning ear to ear as he jogged right up to you.

“hey.” his smile turned into a smirk, stupid and boyish. “your cheering got way louder.”

you flushed so hard you had to hide behind your isagi flag. “i just.. got excited… i don't know. i wanted you to hear me this time.”

isagi leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours so no one else could hear. “oh, i heard you. me and everyone else on that field, babe.”

you pushed away to meet his eyes, desperately searching to see if he was joking with you or not. “don’t tease me… i’m embarrassed.”

he laughed, soft and warm, pulling you into a hug despite how sweaty he still was. you didn't mind one bit. “you shouldn’t be. i think it was cute. you’re always cute.”

you mumbled something shy and incoherent into his jersey. isagi just smiled and held you closer. “i’ll be expecting it every game from now on, okay? my number one fan’s gotta cheer the loudest.”

“… okay." your smile turned soft as you nuzzled further into his chest. "i’ll try.”

“no need to try. you already made me the happiest guy in the world.”

[thedaywillcome]

Teaser thoughts?

Controversial take no. 1: I love to see Will taking on so much pain.

Because this is where they finally see the immense strength he carries.

Will has been through arguably the most pain and suffering out of them all – the Upside Down, the Lonnie abuse, the loneliness of lost childhood, the broken heart, etc. – but the show made it very clear that his strength in pulling through is minimally noticed. There was compassion in season 1 and 2, tears of fear and joy, yes, but then his story just… diffused.

Because I have always been heavily standing behind the opinion that Will is the main character (biased? maybe. remorseful? never.), having the people around him experience that firsthand – the burden of a hero (as it usually is; ex. Percy Jackson, Hiccup Stoic, Katniss Everdeen, etc.) – seems to me like a good way to honor his character’s journey. Yes, I’d love to see him hunted by Vecna: he already has been when he had to survive him alone at 12 years old; yes, I’d love to see him faint in front of everyone: it is long overdue that they consider his importance seeing as he survived the Upside Down, possession, and still managed to fight for them all; yes, I’d love to see him screaming and struggling from Vecna’s hold: there is no character I’d love to see save everyone and the world more than him.

That is to say, only if there is comfort to his hurt. Of course.

Controversial take no. 2: I’m hoping El’s powers will not be of much importance.

Let it be the human and ordinary freaks that save the day this time.

I love El’s character. I love her entire journey. But I find the thought of her powers being the only successful weapon simply unappetizing by now. I have trust in the Duffers and their extraordinary storytelling, but I do think that after season 4 that was all about El trying to gain her powers back and then leaving before she could finish that goal completely, it would be the most rewarding for her character to just not have them be important anymore.

El struggles to understand people would like her without her powers – we see this with Mike, with her decision to leave her family to gain them back, with her inability to defend herself from bullies.

My opinion is such that having her powers mean little in defeating Vecna and the Upside down would give her the space to realize her worth as a person – not a superhero.

(Not so) controversial take no. 3:

Minimal Mike/Will footage? Please.

We’re getting Byler whether someone caresses another’s cheek or not.

For El, for Mike, for Will, for the Party – Mike needs to break free from the shackles he pulled over himself to “fit in” and “be as normal as possible”. He needs to take a hold of that which made him the Mike we all love and admire. And what was that? – yes, that’s right; Will.

Will was the one who said “yes”. The one that gave Mike the chance to be needed – not because Will was not enough, but because Mike made him believe that he wasn’t. Will was the one who gave Mike the space to not feel the need to prove himself (Will voice in comparison to how loud and commanding his voice is otherwise); the one who recognized him even when he could barely recognize his own mother.

Will is Mike’s home; his safety, his voice of reason, his understanding, his compassion, his determination.

My take is: Mike is not complete without Will.

Mike’s journey this season is supposed to be one of self-discovery. It seems blatantly obvious to me where that will lead him. His compass does not point to North; much like Jack Sparrow’s, it points to what he most desires – to Will.