#written fic for anon

[mr-m-murdock]

REQ!! jealous nat x flirtatious r ?? reader that makes nat jealous on purpose.

fuck around and find out

warnings: idk. possessiveness?

a/n: jealousy? god tier. thank you anon (free beefy!nat crumbs for ya too)

The drink that the bartender sets down in front of you is pink and yellow, and there's a pink straw and a tiny cocktail umbrella lolling against the edge of the glass.

"Uh..." you say. "Don't think I ordered that, thanks."

"It's from the lady at the end, blue dress," he replies. He shrugs. "I can tell her to back off if you want." He can probably see Nat glaring at you from across the room. Or maybe he saw her making out with you on one of the couches less than ten minutes ago.

You shake your head. "Nah, thanks." You lift the glass in the direction of the woman at the other end of the bar, and she watches you take a sip with a smile on her face. So it's gonna be one of those kind of nights. You've already made up your mind, anyway - Natasha's been irritating you all evening. Taste of her own goddamn medicine.

You take a sip as the woman sits down beside you. It tastes strongly of pineapple. “Fruity,” you say, and you look her up and down. Her dress is stunning.

She laughs. "I've got an intuition for that kind of thing," she replies, and she shifts closer to you.

"You come here with anyone?" you ask. You don't usually play it deliberately obtuse, and she gives you an odd look.

"No," she says. "All alone." She's tall, all legs, and she's looking at you like she wants to take you home. You consider, if this were happening four months ago, would you let her? She's your type: confident in her dominance and ready for anything the second she set eyes on you.

Maybe.

She's still looking at you, not perturbed by your silence, and loose hair has fallen from behind her ear. You take another sip of your gifted drink.

You can see reflections shift in the mirrored bar top - time's almost up.

"So where are you from?" you ask, leaning forward, forearm on the smooth bar top. The woman grins at you.

"Chicago," she says. A shadow rears in the reflective counter.

"Oh really? Is it cold there?" You might as well be batting your eyelashes at her, but you can see the exact second the woman realises who's stepped up behind you.

Natasha's hand lands on your shoulder firmly.

You tilt your head back a little and look up at her: you can see the gold of her necklace glinting against her collarbone and a curl of red hair, but the rest of her face is lost in the bright overhead lights. Her shoulders are tight. "Hey, babe," you say. You lay your hand on top of hers and squeeze.

"Hi," she says. Her voice is masterfully clear and casual. "Who's this?" You can hear her eyebrows raise.

"I'm making friends," you reply, cheerful as what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it can be. The woman, in the corner of your eye, looks like she's about to on-god pass out.

"The taxi's just pulled up," Natasha says. You look up at her and she looks down at you: undecipherable. She's so good at it. You have such an urge to make her crack.

You frown. "It's barely past midnight, I haven't even-"

"I'm tired." She cuts you off - not sharp, but firm. She's situating herself in control, where she always is. Up in her seat with your head on her knee.

The woman turns away awkwardly. Natasha thumbs at your cheek, and it would be a sweet touch if you couldn't feel the edge of her nail dragging against your skin. Oh, she's so bored of you getting on her nerves. You want to push her further.

You shrug and detach yourself from her grip, turning to the bar and taking a careless sip of your drink. "I'll join you at home."

She laughs, out loud: and she must not mean to, because it's quiet and restrained. But she takes it in her stride. "Don't be an idiot, you have to be up tomorrow morning." She tugs at your hair affectionately.

"I'm a big girl," you say, feigning annoyance, and you pull your hair out of her reach and take another sip of your drink. It's intensely sweet.

When you look up at her again, straw still halfway into your mouth, she's searching your face. It's possible that she can't tell whether you're being deliberately obtuse and annoying, or whether you're more drunk than you seem and are actually insisting on staying. She must come to a conclusion: her expression closes off.

"I'm going home, then," she says. A test. How exciting.

"Okay." You pluck the paper umbrella from your drink and reach up to tuck it behind her ear. Then you give her a smile and you pull the straw into your mouth and suck.

She gives you a murderous look that slides quickly off her face.

Then she turns away and walks out.

You give it ten seconds before you can't do it any longer, unable to stop from grinning to yourself, and then you slide off your seat and make after her, leaving your drink at the bar.

She's already in the elevator; fuck, but she's fast in heels.

"Nat!" you say, quickening your pace. For a second, as she turns in the elevator to look at you, you think she's not going to hold the doors. But she does, waving a lazy, reluctant hand between them, and they bounce back open. You stagger in, a little windswept, and she crosses her arms at you.

You wait until the doors slide closed again.

"Sorry," you say, not sorry at all. "I was joking." You're not even trying to hide your smile now. "Are you really going home?"

"You're really fucking annoying," she says, through gritted teeth. All pretenses dropped. "I was having a nice time, for once."

"You didn't have to storm out," you say. Your smile is splitting your face now. She's so jealous. You step up to her and link your arms around her waist. In her heels, she's taller than you, and you can feel the muscles in her back when you twist your fingers into her dress. She looks down at you blankly. "Did you get a bit possessive?" you tease.

Natasha doesn't answer for a while. She just stares at you, mouth working ever so slightly. Then she steps forward, so forcefully you have to move back, and she backs you up against the wall of the elevator without even putting a hand on you. You feel the whine of machinery against the back of your skull. She presses her forehead down against yours and sets her palms against the wall either side of your head.

"You're very brave," she says, "to be playing games with me." Her teeth flash. You grin up at her, holding her close, relishing in the excitement her voice elicits in your belly.

"You're such a big bad wolf, huh?" you say. You run your fingers down her back and feel her shudder in response, her eyes momentarily closing. "So big and bad you won't even let your girlfriend talk to other women?"

"I'm not stopping you from doing whatever you want," Natasha says. She kisses your cheek, the promise of something worse beyond her lips. "I'm just reminding you that there are consequences." Those last words are spoken directly into your cheekbone.

"Big bad wolf," you say again, a whisper this time. "Woof, woof."

Natasha's lips move from your cheek to your neck, kissing you over the chain of your necklace. She takes it in her teeth and moves it aside. She presses another kiss, open-mouthed, over your pulse, then laughs when she feels the quick-set beat beneath your skin. You can't help it. She drives you crazy. "Oh, baby," she murmurs. "Do you get such a kick out of embarrassing me?"

"Yes," you breathe. The chrome of the elevator is hazy now. "You're so pretty when you're angry."

She doesn't answer you. Then you feel her teeth on your skin. More, more, until it's painful. She's right up against you, and one hand drops to creep up your thigh, bunching up your dress.

You take in a huge breath of air, but the vertigo of the elevator and the feel of her mouth at your neck is dizzying. "Oh, fuck," you whine. "Nat, we shouldn't do this here." You make a reluctant attempt at pushing her away and she growls into your neck. The other hand pushes at your breastbone, pressing you hard to the wall.

The bell goes for the first floor and she pulls away, leaving you panting against the wall. She inspects the side of your neck, ignoring the pitiful look you're giving her. The side of her mouth lifts up.

The realisation hits you. "Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaim, as the elevator doors slide open.

Your head whips round. Tony Stark, with four other Avengers at his shoulders, stares at the two of you. "Oh," he says. He takes in your face, where you know a bright flush has spread, and the crumpled fabric of your dress, and the hickey Nat just gave you, and he starts to grin. "Romanoff, you dog," he says.

Words fail you. You're not sure they would have made anything better, with the way five superheroes are gaping at you. Bruce Banner is almost as red as you.

Nat takes your hand and tugs you forward. "Excuse me," she says, and she drags you right through the little crowd, purposefully shunting Stark aside, and into the bright foyer.

You follow, your burning face to the floor, and you wait until you're sat in the safe, dark confines of Natasha's passenger seat to turn and glare at her. You're still blushing, and that probably detracts from how angry you're trying to look.

"You look cute in that dress," she says, conversationally. The streetlights flicker over the smirk that's growing on her lips.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaim, your voice hysterically high. "You asshole!"

"I don't think I know what you mean," Natasha replies, making a smooth right turn.

"Don't know what I mean my ass," you growl. "You marked me up and then paraded me past all your friends!" She grins at the windscreen and you groan and sink your face into your hands. "Oh, god, that was mortifying." Bruce Banner's face swims in your mind's eye.

You feel her hand, warm, land on your thigh.

"You are so making it up to me," you grumble.

Nat's laughing at you, quiet, just a triumphant little snicker. She fingers the hem of your dress, then pulls her hand away to flick on her indicator. "I'm not making anything up to you," she says. You glare at her through your fingers, and she's grinning at you. "You started it, sweetheart. This is how it ends." And with deft hands, she makes another turn. True to her word, she doesn't make it up to you. In the end, you make it up to her: and you're not sure how that exchange happened.

But really, it was your fault. You should have picked a less sadistic girlfriend.

requests | masterlist

taglist: @when-wolves-howl @fayhar  @maggieromanov  @transbi-spidey @romanoffscottage @blackxwidowsxwife @lizlil @screechcat @maddess @mellxa @haeva @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @vicmc624  @strangegardentaco  @phantomvael @lorsstar1st  @blckrwidow @ima-gi--na-tion @paryl @picnicmic   @smalls-words @lainjupi  @d1s0nym @meimei-a @the-v01d @kqmui @s1ut4nat @btay3115  @natblackwidow2 @lokisjuicyass @mmmmokdok  @thorya22  @olicity-boo @iliketozoneout

[pathologicalreid]

could you write fem!BAU!reader x spencer, where reader finds out she’s pregnant while they’re on a case, like maybe she takes a test when she’s at the hotel and spencer hasn’t come back yet

(lack of) convenience | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader category: fluff content warnings: pregnancy, nausea, vomiting, spencer reid is unfortunately perfect. vertigo. fun pregnancy symptoms. word count: 2.04k a/n: and so, the spencer reid dilf agenda continues. this is my legacy.

It came over you just after Spencer and Rossi had left to investigate a lead. This case was going nowhere fast, and the morale in the FBI field office clearly displayed it. “Are you alright?” JJ asked from right next to you, blonde hair curtaining around her face.

You nodded tightly, enough to show the newly minted profiler that you were, in fact, not alright. Nonetheless, you were motivated to push through. People were being murdered, you could brave a little vertigo to bring their killer to justice, right?

“Hey, you look a little pale,” Emily said, walking into the conference room with Hotch trailing close behind her. “Are you feeling okay?”

Rolling your eyes dramatically, you huffed at both of your coworkers. “I’m fine,” you insisted while your head was spinning. You lowered yourself down into an office chair, hoping that being sedentary would prevent your dinner from coming up.

Emily looked over at Hotch before saying, “Maybe you should head back to the hotel, it’s been a long day for all of us.”

Furrowing your brow, you frowned at your colleague. “I’ll make it through, we have work to do,” you insisted, flipping open a file as your stomach churned.

“You’re no help to anyone if you’re sick,” Hotch told you authoritatively, and you knew from his tone that he was going to send you back to the hotel. “Get some rest, we’ll start taking breaks in shifts,” he instructed, turning back to the evidence board.

It didn’t feel like shifts, especially considering you were the only one being cast off. You mumbled an acknowledgment while you stuffed your things in your bag. JJ offered to drive you, so the two of you exited the field office.

The two of you spent most of the ride in silence, just the fuzz of the SUV’s radio as background noise while you tried not to hurl in the government vehicle.

Once you were in the hotel parking lot, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get your bearings before heading inside. “You know, I used to get sick in the evening when I was pregnant with Henry,” she said offhandedly.

It felt like a pointed comment, even if she didn’t mean it like that. You started fishing in your pocket for your room card, “But I’m not pregnant.”

“Are things good with you and Spencer?” She asked, looking for details on your relationship like an older sister. JJ killed the engine before turning to face you.

Sighing, you looked at her, “Things are great with Spencer.” You wanted to scold her for prying, but you knew it was an occupational hazard. It had been seven months, and all you had been telling anyone was “great” or “nice.”

The both of you knew that the more details you gave them, the more they’d want to pry. Penelope especially. “You know he wants kids, right?” She pushed.

You frowned at her, “Jennifer.” She put her hands up in surrender as you hauled yourself out of the SUV, “I just want to go to sleep, I feel awful.” That much was true, as you stood up outside the car, your stomach started to roil again.

“I’ll check in on you later,” she said, recognizing that she had begun to pry. “Let me know if you need anything,” she urged you, the mom in her coming into play.

Nodding, you shut the door before poking your head in the open window, “Thanks, JJ.” You said, turning around and walking to your hotel room.

Luckily, the team was already checked in, so you didn’t need to waste time trying to explain the whole ‘I’m an FBI agent’ thing to the front desk. Once you got into your room, you immediately dropped to your knees in front of the toilet, eyes burning as you upchucked into the toilet.

While you were digging through your go-bag for your toothbrush, you found yourself thinking about what JJ had said to you in the car. You couldn’t be pregnant. Well, you supposed you very well could be pregnant.

Sighing, you returned to the bathroom and started brushing your teeth, having needed to take the toothpaste out of Spencer’s bag. You made a mental note to buy more for your bag – you had been using his for the last four cases.

You silently cursed JJ for planting the thought of a baby in your head as you stared out the hotel window to a convenience store on the corner. At the very least, you could get some saltines and a Gatorade. At the very most, you could get a test.

Begrudgingly, you changed into more comfortable clothes and walked across the street to the convenience store. Grabbing a sleeve of crackers and a drink before stopping in the family planning section.

Why were there so many options?

Not wanting to draw any attention to yourself, you grabbed a digital test off of the shelf and tossed it into your basket. Your shoes squeaked on the linoleum floors as you elected to use the self-checkout, not needing to provide anyone with a front seat to your misery.

Other than the nausea, your trip back to the hotel was uneventful, and thankfully it didn’t look like anyone else on the team had made the trip to your lodging.

After you took the test, you set a timer on your phone, tossing it onto the bed before you sat on the edge of the mattress, sitting on your freshly washed hands. The timer scared you when it went off, not expecting the two minutes to go by so quickly before you returned to the bathroom.

Flipping the test over, the wind was knocked out of you as you read the results.

Yes +

You didn’t know how long you had stared at the test, but the sound of the lock on your door engaging pulled you out of your stupor. Thankfully, you had done the latch on the door, so you had a few extra minutes to toss the test in your go-bag before you went up to the door and let Spencer in.

“Hey, love,” he greeted you, dropping a kiss on your forehead. “How are you feeling?” He asked caringly, someone must’ve told him you weren’t well. You hoped that was all they had told him.

Humming, you leaned into his touch for a moment before he herded you to the bed. “A bit better, but not much,” you were slightly less nauseous now, possibly because there was nothing left in your stomach. There was a dull ache in your chest though, likely a result of the information you were now aware of.

He hooked a finger under your chin and studied your features for a moment, “Were you crying?” He whispered with concern-filled eyes.

You shook your head, “I threw up.” You informed him, the lack of oxygen had caused your eyes to water – similar to a yawn. Meanwhile, your head was spinning as the words balanced precariously on your tongue, I’m pregnant.

Spencer pouted sympathetically, smoothing your hair away from your face before he felt your forehead, checking for a fever. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced softly, “do you need anything?”

Pathetically, you gestured over to your Gatorade and saltines, silently letting him know that you were all good for the night. It was only about eight in the evening, but you were exhausted. Letting your head flop onto the pillows, you sighed before shutting your eyes.

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer spoke up in an unfamiliar tone. “What is this?”

Crinkling your nose in frustration, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking over at Spencer as he held up your test. Your positive pregnancy test. “Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t mine?” Clearly, in your panic to hide the test, you had tossed the blue stick in Spencer’s bag. Your subconscious must’ve recalled that you had gotten the toothpaste out of that bag, so you thought it was yours.

Any confusion fell from his face, and in that instant, he knew exactly what was going on. “You’re pregnant?”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, you couldn’t tell how he was feeling. “I-“ you swallowed thickly, the roiling in your stomach picking back up again. “Yes,” you answered in a small voice.

“When were you going to tell me?” He asked, there was no accusation in his voice, just pure curiosity and wonder. When you stayed silent, his eyes narrowed, “You were going to tell me, weren’t you?” He said, his volume raising from a whisper to a normal speaking level.

Pulling yourself up into a sitting position, you protectively crossed your arms in front of your stomach. “Oh my god, yes, I was going to tell you,” you clarified quickly. He didn’t seriously think you were going to hide this from him, did he?

He shook his head in confusion, “Then why hide it, angel?”

Shrugging, you thumbed the soft fabric of your sweatshirt, “I wanted time to think about it.” The admission hung in the thick tension of the hotel room.

“Okay,” he said slowly, walking over and sitting across from you on the mattress. It was clear to you that he was dealing with this situation delicately. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you about this, but I excel in thinking,” he told you.

His implications were clear to you, he wanted you to talk it out with him. “I want kids, you know I want kids. I know you want kids,” you blurted. It was something you had talked about early on in your relationship. Spencer had been very upfront with you about wanting children, he told you he needed to be with someone who also wanted that.

Spencer tilted his head to the side, “but?” He said gently, taking both of your hands in his, holding on to you.

“It’s too soon,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable on the bed with him.

He smiled at you softly, “Have I ever told you about the first time I knew that I was in love with you?”

The question left you understandably confused, “What?” You breathed, silently pleading for clarification.

Spencer nodded, “We were on a case in North Dakota, and there was this little girl who had just lost both of her parents.” The case did sound familiar, the more brutal ones involving children tended to stick with you. “We were waiting for a social worker to come stay with her, but they were stuck in a snowbank across town. Instead of working on the case, you sat down with her and taught her how to play cat’s cradle.” His voice was soft, almost placating you.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until tears fell onto your intertwined hands, “Spence, that was years ago.”

“Two years, nine months, and thirteen days ago. I fell in love with you while watching you put a smile on her face despite the fact that it was the worst day of her life,” he said, skimming the pads of his thumbs over the backs of your hands. “I fell in love with your ability to make people feel good when the world is against them,” he murmured.

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at him through bleary eyes, “What if we can’t protect them?”

Gathering you in his arms, Spencer let you tuck your face in the crook of his neck, “I’ll do whatever you want, Y/N. We can leave, I could be a professor and you could be a stay-at-home mom. If you want, I could stay with the BAU and you could stay home, or you can stay with the team, and I’ll stay home. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

Silently, you absorbed his words as you caught your breath, “I’m scared” you whispered.

“I know,” he murmured, “that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared.” He tightened his arms around you and rocked back and forth.

Allowing yourself to lean into him, you breathed him in, “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

He dropped a soft kiss on the crown of your head, “You’re already such a good mom.”

[winterrrnight]

reader x bsf!rafe when they have a small argument but make up with lots of cuddles :((

oh saying I’m in love is an understatement. I could NOT come up with any idea on what the argument can be about so I’m so sorry if this feels so vague 😭😭 imagine whatever you want LOL

bsf!rafe who just cannot see you mad… <3 listen to dreams, fairytales, fantasies by a$ap ferg, brent faiyaz & salaam remi, I heard it on repeat while writing this hehe <3 cw: suggestive content (no actual smut!), lots and lots of tension between them (when is it not there?!) <3 for: @viawritesstuff (I love you to the moon and back ml 🤍) <3 pictures are only for reference!

part of this little universe <3

“Oh come on I said I was sorry!” Rafe sighs as he follows your footsteps, as you’re rushing up the stairs of Tanneyhill. You don’t say anything, just quietly rush up the stairs with your back to him as he keeps on following you, him right at your heels.

“Come on, you know I’m sorry,” he sighs as he sees you enter his room. You’re about to close the door right at his face, but he jams his foot in at the right moment, causing the door to be just slightly ajar. You shut your eyes close and intake a deep breath, your back still facing him as you realise the door didn’t close properly.

You’re standing in the middle of the room, your body tensed and Rafe just simply watches you as he leans against the doorframe. The warm rays of the sunset outside glow inside his room through the flimsy, white curtains. He takes a deep breath and enters inside silently, letting the door close with a soft click. With hushed steps he makes his way to you, standing right behind you. You can feel him breath down on your neck, the warm air causing the hair behind your neck to stand up.

“Hey…” he whispers softly, one of his hands coming up to gently graze across your side. “Listen to me, yeah?” He breathes into the side of your ear, his lips subtly skimming across the shell of your ear. He can’t exactly see your expression, but god, if he can, he’ll see just how your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes fluttering momentarily.

“You know I didn’t mean any of it that way yeah?” He whispers, both of his hands now gently grazing your sides, his touch now becoming more firm, more… present. “I could never say anything like that to you and you know that…”

His arms now wrap firmly around your waist, and you can feel him gently pull you closer to him, your back now pressing firmly against his chest. He moves his head to the side of your face, resting his chin on your shoulder, his cheek pressing against your hair. He takes a deep inhale, letting his eyes close for a moment as he lets the scent of your shampoo and your perfume fill his senses and devour his mind completely.

You ever so subtly lean your head in the other direction, letting him rest his head comfortably on your shoulder. Your hands land on top of his; which are resting right on top of your stomach.

“Can never upset my favorite girl hm?” He whispers, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your head. “Can never see her sad… can never let her ever be upset with me…” he continues to softly coo in your ear. He slowly trails his lips down from your temple to the side of your neck, hovering over the soft skin for a moment.

“The…” kiss “sweetest…” kiss “girl…” kiss “ever...” kiss

His voice is reduced to dulcet tones, his kisses velvety against your skin. A soft gasp leaves your lips as the repetitive kisses are layered across your skin, your body automatically leaning back into him. Rafe brings his hands to the sides of your waist and gently turns you around so you are facing him.

Your eyes sink into his soft, blue ones, your mind starting to feel just a bit dizzy from the slightly amorous bubble you’re both fitted into.

Rafe only softly smiles at you as he lets his fingers slip into yours, your hands intertwining tightly as he leads you to his bed. He helps you sit down, and starts to take off your jacket, pulling down the zipper. You move your hand to remove it yourself, but he gently pushes your hand aside, saying something about how he’s making up to you right now. He takes the jacket off you, draping it on the back of his desk chair. He gets down on his knees and carefully takes your shoes off, gently placing them at the side of the bed. With a gentle push on your shoulders, he lets you lay down in his bed, covering you with the duvet.

He himself takes his own jacket and shoes off, and slips under the duvet next to you. He’s quick to let his arms wrap around your waist again, pulling your head onto his chest.

“You forgive me yeah?” He whispers softly, your own arm draping across his torso as you get comfortable against him.

“Yeah…” you mumble, nodding against his chest as you nuzzle your face into his chest. He smiles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His fingers gently thread to your hair, causing your eyelids to get heavier with each moment.

“My sweet girl…” is the last thing you hear him whisper to you before you’re pulled into a deep slumber.

— —

send me any of your thoughts for this specific universe if you have any! <3

[inmaki]

gojo fic dropping jan 3 (POSTED!) here is a sneak peek of whats to cum, if u wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!!!!

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn't just good at sex.

no — according to himself, he was some kind of sex god, to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with luscious white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he's done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you'd gotten together - going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn't blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn't initiated anything; y'know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know, your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

"bro, it'd be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!" flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

"everything'd be fine if you didn't pretend to be some incubus that gets girls to cum with a snap of his finger," geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he's resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. "that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. "how'm i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn't trust me anymore?"

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "you know y/n isn't like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow," he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she'll be begging for you in no time."

as usual, geto knows him too well judging by the way his last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. "ya think so?"

"hell yeah, man." the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a determined gleam in both of their eyes.

sorry this is short but i gotta leave the good stuff a surprise <\3 finally my kpop smut blog skills r coming in handy.. i may be rusty tho i apologize

[hellsite-hall-of-girlfriend]

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Call this an early birthday thought/gift

Chan and Pretty mirror sex

Like he gets to see a lot of pretty normally, but also getting to see her face while feeling her push back on him. He’s admiring her glorious everything and she just gets to soak it in and see her alphas face throughout the entire process.

But also a cute tender moment where their eyes lock in the mirror and Chan gets a shy little smile maybe a little blush🫠🥲🥰

-🥝

i read this a couple of days ago and i knew i wanted to write something for it, i just didn't have time to do it for my birthday sdjfskjdfhsf but close enough!

thank you kiwi for always sharing your big brain ideas and tickling the little lizard that controls my brain.

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series. you don’t really need to read any other instalment to understand/enjoy this piece). | Word Count: ~2k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · smut · established relationship · unprotected penetration [piv] (reader is presumed to be on birth control) · cum-eating · this was barely proof-read.

minors do not interact.

Chris knew you were smart, he’d never had doubts about it. But this… This was probably one of the best ideas you’d ever had.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you had taken what you were doing right now into consideration when you thought of this. He wasn’t even sure which option he preferred… for you to have known, or for you to be blissfully unaware of the potential such a purchase could have.

A new wardrobe for the spare bedroom of your shared flat was something you had been wanting for a while, and you’d finally gotten it a few days prior. As soon as Chris saw it in this room, after you’d so carefully put it together, he knew immediately what he wanted to do with it.

‘We need a big mirror in this room, considering we’re using it mostly to store our clothes and dress up’, you’d told him when he’d entered the room, and he agreed. A big mirror was a good idea, but not only to aid in the mundane activity of putting clothes on…

“O–oh, baby…” Your constant whines and moans always fueled him, but right now, looking at you through the mirror, they seemed to be affecting him even more.

“Mmm… That’s it, pretty. You feel so, so good, love. So good…” 

With your knees and chest planted on the floor, with your lower back arched just right, Chris had the absolute perfect angle to fuck you nice and good from behind. He was able to see your bum bouncing off of him with each thrust, he could hold your hips tight to pull you back to him, or place his hands on your waist to squeeze your soft sides. But, best of all, he could do all that and see your face through your shiny new mirror while he did.

The wardrobe doors were just two big mirrors, going from the very top, all the way to the floor. What an excellent add-on, in his humble opinion. It was perfect for Chris to see even more of you when he took you like this.

Whenever he was fucking you, he usually struggled to look at just one part of your body, there was just so much to see, so much to ogle, so much to worship and appreciate… That had never been more true than it was right now.

It was almost like his eyes didn’t know where to look. To what was right in front of him, in the flesh, or to what he could see in the mirror…? Any option was acceptable, honestly, but he just wanted to see it all.

Your hands weakly tried to hold onto something, desperately opening and closing over the tiled floor. It was an action that simply spurred him on, almost like he had his own personal challenge to fuck you as dumb as possible, to wipe you mind of anything that wasn’t him touching you, taking you…

Leaving one of his hands gripping the swell of your hip, Chris brought the other to your shoulder to keep you from moving away from him. He made sure to drag his hand all the way up your back when he did it, desperate to feel every centimetre of plush flesh. The motion had you furrowing your eyebrows, closing your eyes, and moaning his name oh, so sweetly, in a way that had his lower abdomen harshly flexing with need.

Holding onto you like this gave him even more leverage to go harder, and as soon as the strength of his thrusts increased, one of your hands found the one he had on your shoulder. His eyes zeroed in on the movement, looking away from the reflection of your face just in time to see you link your fingers with his.

The tender gesture had the pool of arousal in the pit of his stomach growing exponentially, especially when his eyes started to focus not only on your interlocked fingers, but also the skin right next to them, on the skin at the juncture of your neck and shoulder… Mindlessly, he stroked the area with his thumb–without letting go of your fingers, or slowing down his hips’ motions.

Oh, how soft it looked right there… just soft and perfect for him to sink his teeth into–

Shit.

He was doing it again…

He was thinking about marking you again. Not only that, but the thought was incessantly repeating in his mind over and over again. It was just impossible to ignore it.

Claim, claim, claim, claim… Mate, mate, mate, mate…

“Oh, fuck”, Chris threw his head back with a groan.

Your walls were squeezing him so tight, you were moaning so prettily… If he kept looking at that area he just knew his canines were going to enlarge on their own, he’d start drooling, and the need to bite you and mark you as his would just consume him whole, to the point where he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold himself back.

This had become a common problem. He used to think about it sometimes, but lately, especially when it was this close to a full moon night, the desire to mark you was absolutely unbearable.

Chris loved you. He hadn’t told you yet, he’d convinced himself that, in your human standards, it was probably too soon into your relationship to outright say it, but he knew he was absolutely in love with you. He knew, with zero doubts in his mind, that he wanted you all to himself for the rest of his life, and at moments like these, where you were both lost in your utmost primal needs, it was just hard to ignore his feelings.

But because he loved you, he couldn’t just let his instincts take over. He just couldn’t. Claiming you without a prior conversation and mutual agreement, without your consent, would be something he’d never forgive himself for. There was just no way he’d force himself on you like that just because of his idiotic dog urges.

So he tried to hold onto his humanity with all the strength he had, to keep his mind within the logical realm–or, at least, as logical as he could be while relentlessly ramming himself into you.

When he opened his eyes again, he diverted his attention to the mirror in front of you, and his hold on your shoulder tightened the moment your eyes found his through the mirror. The hand that had previously been on your hip moved, he wasn’t thinking, he just desperately needed to make you feel good.

Your eyes fluttered a bit when his fingers found your clit, and you bit down on your bottom lip to keep your moans somewhat contained. Even then, you didn’t look away from him, your gaze had him trapped right there, barely aware of the movement of his hands, focused solely on your blown pupils and your delicious warmth around him.

Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine…

Before he knew it, heat was pooling on his cheeks. He was blushing, suddenly overcome with his feelings for you.

“Fuck, baby, come here…” Chris’s hips stilled briefly, only to pull you back towards his chest.

Oh, he could see so much more of you like this. One of his hands found your tummy to knead the soft flesh, while the other found one of your breasts to play with your nipple, coaxing a quiet moan from your lips. You reached back and gripped his hair for stability before your lips pressed on his flushed cheek.

“You’re so cute”, you mumbled the words against his skin, and his blush immediately deepened.

“You’re cute–Shit–” His words caught in his throat when you started to push back against him, fucking yourself on his cock like you knew it was yours and yours only.

All for my mate, all of me, take it, take me…

“Chris”, you whined his name, and he was starting to truly feel lightheaded. “Don’t stop, baby, please. Fuck me, hm?”

His hips started to move on command, he didn’t even need to think about it. You wanted it? He’d give it to you. Whatever you wanted, he’d just give it to you. He’d give you the world if you asked him for it.

His lips attached to your neck, his pace increased, and one of his hands immediately resumed its previous motions on that precious nub at the apex of your thighs. “Like this, pretty baby? Is this what you want?”

You nodded, eagerly offering him an enthusiastic ‘Yes, fuck!’ that had his chest swelling with pride.

My mate, for me, mine, mine, mine… Claim, mark, all mine…

Chris detached his lips from your neck when his instincts started pulling his thoughts in all sorts of directions. Instead, he looked ahead, and focused on your face, locking eyes with you again through the mirror. 

“C’mon, pretty. Aren’t you gonna come on my cock? Wasn’t that what you wanted?” Chris rubbed quick circles on your clit, eliciting a string of swears from your lips.

You nodded once again, rocking your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. “Gonna–Oh, fuck!”

Your body started trembling with your release, your walls fluttered deliciously around his length, and Chris was sure he was about to burst.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking good. I’m so fucking close, love”, Chris mumbled the words against your cheek, he wasn’t sure if you were aware of what he was saying, but if there was one thing about him was that he wasn’t going to shut up about how good you always made him feel.

When he came, he did it deep inside you, and he started seeing white. He was sure he was ascending and this was how being in heaven felt like. Chris could vaguely hear himself repeating ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck…’ over and over again, just like he could vaguely hear your words of encouragement.

Love you, love you, love you, love you… My pretty mate just for me…

It was genuinely hard to hear anything at all over his instincts squeezing his mind and heart along each purposeful clench of your walls.

“You’re so good to me”, was the first thing you said that Chris could fully understand as the final spurts of cum filled up your cunt. “You’re so good, Chris, baby…”

If his cheeks hadn’t been almost permanently flushed for a while now, he was sure he would have blushed right then and there.

When all his senses returned to him, he looked at you through the mirror once again, finding you already looking and smiling at him.

A smile appeared on his face as well, and he kissed your shoulder, bringing his hand further down your centre as he pulled out. Only a few seconds passed before his cum started trickling out of your hole and onto his fingers.

He kept kissing your skin leisurely as he squished your soft tummy, and spread his cum all over your core. You giggled softly, caressing his arms tenderly while you let him play with your mixed fluids to his heart’s content.

Finally, he brought two fingers to your mouth. You simply let him in, suckling his digits, diligently cleaning them up and swallowing the remnants of his release.

“You are so, so good to me”, Chris mumbled against your hair, where he placed a soft kiss after.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, and you smiled at him once again. After turning around, you gave him a quick peck on the lips before you laid down on the bare floor. Chris, of course, immediately laid down next to you, and quickly shuffled so he could lay his head on your chest.

“This closet was an absolutely brilliant purchase, pretty”, he brought a hand to one of your knees, and started to massage it softly.

You chuckled, burying your fingers in his hair to play with it. “I’m afraid you won’t want to leave this room now”.

Chris further wrapped his limbs around your body, giggling mischievously at the thought, moving his hand to the other knee. “Can you blame me? I can look at my pretty girlfriend from so many different angles now. It’s like a dream, y’know?”

“Easy to please, aren’t we?” You chuckled, playfully tugging on his locks before you pressed a kiss to his head.

“You know me. I’m a simple wolf, with simple needs”, he mumbled against the skin of your chest, then placed a kiss on it. “Are your knees okay?”

“They’re fine. Don’t worry”, you hugged him tighter, and Chris all but melted in your hold.

You both laid down there for a while, just relishing the skin to skin contact, until you lightly tugged on his hair again, but this time just to get his attention.

“C’mon, babe. We need to actually pack our clothes. It’s my first time going to your monthly trips, don’t wanna forget anything”.

Ah, yes.

That was what you had originally come into this room for… to pack your bags for the trip. Chris definitely got carried away when he saw you here, wearing nothing but his t-shirt while you spoke about helping him and the rest of your packmates during their monthly run…

He couldn’t even bring himself to pretend he was sorry that he’d interrupted your task. And, surely, you already knew he wasn’t sorry at all.

In fact, he was certain you already knew it’d happen again.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

tagging everyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know ! If you want to be added to the tag list, you can fill in this form. be aware that you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

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General Masterlist

[theriverbeyond]

controversial opinion: lanky necro gideon is also hot but in a very different way. like a reckless wizard

reckless wizard is so Gideon, you are so correct. my headcanon is RD!Gideon would NOT be buff and also would NOT have any inherently signifigantly more powerful abilities vs a normally genius necromancer, but her gaiusblood WOULD prevent her from dying/automatically ressurect her if that does come to pass just like it (presumably) does in canon.

and so RD!Gideon is contactly overextending herself necromantically, bleeding out, going into hypovolemic shock etc, and then she just bounces back after passing out and convulsing for a bit. which of course results in her being able to push the envelope of necromancy signifigantly farther than anyone else. and at first the reverend parents et. al are extremely concerned about her but after like, 18 years of this they've sort of adjusted. Oh the necromantic heir is passed out in the library again. give her a blanket and she'll be fine in 3 hours, can someone help me get the blood out of these books.

and of course this means that when RD!Gideon arrives at Canaan house she's just. doing her normal thing, sweating, passing out, dying, reviving, etc, but no one at Canaan house has seen that happen before and theyre all like EXCUSE ME??? DO YOU NEED HELP??? CAN SOMEBODY HELP THE NINTH IS DYING OVER HERE!!!

Magnus and Camilla are doing chest compressions as Palamedes and Abigail putter around wringing their hands and Issac / Jeannemarie run around screaming. all while Nova stands there like 😐 (she will never say no to someone offering to break RD!Gideon's ribs)

[zosanbrainrot]

so some recs for fluffy zosan.... Say It Again by 8ball (classic author lol), Idiot Romance by sabershadowkat, and Can I Call You Mine? by IronicVeghead all on AO3. Let me know if you'd like more bc I've been keeping a pretty through read list of zosan fics <3

wow I instantly went and read the 8ball one and it was exactly what I needed!! the silliness levels were off the charts there lmao, had me giggling so much

Thank you very much for the recs, always happy to receive more 💖💖💖

[luvxiem]

ngl this is my first time asking in this app

can i request luca with 25 ‘ *this* is the guy? ‘ im starving for some overprotective luca 🥹

knight in cotton armor

[ INFO ]

✧ word count: 1.2k

✧ pairing: luca kaneshiro x gn!reader

✧ genre: fluff

✧ summary: a simple craving for ice cream turned into an eventful night when you're stuck with people with malicious intentions.

how you found yourself in a situation like this, you weren't quite sure.

it wasn't too late into the night—only barely past ten—yet the dim streetlights did nothing to help quell your nerves and give you the courage to finally leave your car. you've been sitting low in the driver's seat for almost fifteen minutes now, eyeing the group of drunkards loitering in front of the 7/11 you parked outside. feeling a subtle vibration coming from your hand, you checked your phone to see a message from luca.

'are you still in the car???' [10:07]

'yes ToT' [10:07] 'these dudes wont leave.. wtf do i do. i just wanted ice cream 🗿🗿' [10:08]

with a sigh, you dropped your hand back into your lap and let your head fall back with a small thud against the seat. 'whatever,' you thought. 'it's not like i'll get murdered.' with that you grabbed your keys and pushed open the door, already noting the turn of heads out of the corner of your peripheral. a low whistle filled the stagnant night air as four sets of eyes followed you into the store, a small chime signaling your arrival.

you made a beeline to the back of the store where they kept their ice cream, determined not to stay here any longer than you have to. unfortunately, the universe decided that tonight you were the one it wanted to pick on.

"hey cutie." sighing, you schooled your expression into one that didn't clearly show your discomfort and looked over your shoulder, giving the stranger a small smile and a 'hello.' a quick glance around showed that this one was all alone, most likely egged on by his equally drunk friends outside to follow you inside and harass you.

and you would think that turning your back on the stranger to look for your ice cream was a clear signal that you weren't interested in any further conversation yet it seems this dude couldn't get the hint. a tap on your shoulder prompted you to turn around again, this time a bit more visibly annoyed.

"can i help you?" the man gave you a rather (in your humble opinion) sleazy smile, tucking his hands into this stained hoodie pocket and licking his lips briefly before subjecting you to his inane thoughts.

"yeah, actually," he grinned, reaching up to wipe his nose before holding his phone out expectantly. you raised your eyebrow in contempt. "could i get'cho number?"

"i have a boyfriend, sorry," you replied, turning back to continue searching for your ice cream when a rough grip on your shoulder spun you around forcefully, shoving you into the clear doors lining the shelves. where was the clerk?!

the feeling of hot, moist breath that smelt distinctly of cheap vodka hit your nose and made your face scrunch up reflexively in disgust, your hands coming up to try and push your assailant away.

"he doesn't have to kno-WOAH!" suddenly you were freed from behind held against the cold coolers, shivering from both the chill and the lingering grossness of being touched by a stranger like that.

"hey, the fuck is your problem?!" he scowled, rubbing his neck where he was forcefully pulled away.

"seriously? this is the guy?" looking up, you're met with blonde hair and broad shoulders, the tiniest sliver of a tattoo peeking out from underneath the grey henley your boyfriend wore. his arms crossed rather menacingly over his chest, toned biceps in clear view with the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. across from him, the drunkard is now visibly agitated, however when he tried to approach, luca grabbed the front of his hoodie and lifted him clear off the ground. agitation quickly turned into nervousness as the guy lifted his hands in surrender.

"woah—chill dude; i-i wasn't gonna try anything, i swear," he stutters, scrambling to his feet when luca drops him rather unceremoniously to the floor, cursing under his breath as he fled the store. luca immediately spins on his heel, turning to face you with clear worry on his face. frantic hands turn you this way and that before settling on your cheeks as he rubs his nose against yours.

"are you okay?! no, of course you're not—jesus christ, what the hell! why didn't you just come over to my place if you wanted ice cream?" he moaned, pulling you into his chest in a tight hug. you could hear his racing heartbeat under your ear and you can't help but laugh at the situation. luca was so angry and intimidating not even a minute ago and now he's returned to the cute, cuddly golden retriever you fell in love with.

"baby, i'm fine," you grinned, pulling his arms off of you so you could give him a quick kiss. luca is still frowning when you pull away, however, and you could tell he was still upset with the situation. honestly, you were still shaken up about it too, so you decided to kill two birds with one stone and link your arms with his, staying as close as possible to ease both your nerves.

"c'mon, i still haven't gotten my ice cream," you say, opening one of the glass doors to grab a pint of salted caramel from the freezer. luca unlinks your arms to throw his over your shoulder instead, rubbing the bare skin of your arm with his thumb in an attempt to comfort both you and him (skin to skin contact always seemed to help).

"i still think you should've just come over to my place," he whined, watching the door as you paid with a tap of your phone against the reader. you pat his chest and hum in response, shooting a quick thank you to the cashier before you both exited the store.

"babe, all you have is cookies and cream."

"what—what's wrong with cookies and cream?!"

"i don't like it!"

you laugh as luca fumbles for an answer, mock offense on his face at your distaste for his favorite flavor. the night air felt a bit warmer than before, the comforting breeze easing your nerves. you look around for luca's motorcycle but the parking lot is empty except for your car and one that presumably belongs to the poor college kid inside working the night shift.

"hey—how'd you get here?" you ask confusedly. luca shrugs.

"i ran." you pause, turning to face him fully with disbelief clearly written on your face.

"luca."

"yeah?"

"you live like, five miles away from here."

"and?" you throw your hands up in defeat. of course your boyfriend ran five miles to come save you—he probably left the house the minute you first texted him about being too scared to leave your car. no wonder he asked which 7/11 you were at.

"you wanna come over to mine?" you sigh, watching luca immediately beam at the prospect of being able to sleep over despite having already hung out with you earlier that day.

you unlock your car and slide into the driver's seat as luca slips into the passenger side, placing your ice cream in between his feet.

"can we get back to the important thing here?" he asks as you pull out of the parking lot.

"which is?"

"why you don't like cookies and cream which is clearly the superior flavor-"

"LUCA!"

[ WRITTEN 230601 ]

500 follower event prompt list

[madame-fear]

Hello!! So Luke has a crush on reader and, while at school on Valentine’s Day, he decides to leave her little gifts in her locker throughout the day. Reader has no idea who it could be, but loves how sweet and romantic it all is. He leaves her favorite candy, a cute notebook, a little stuffed bear in her fav color, some paints she has been wanting, and other cute/thoughtful things that shows her admirer knows her better than she expected. She tries to catch this person putting stuff in her locker, but always just misses him. Before their last period, he leaves a note telling her that he will meet her by her locker after class. I wonder what readers reaction will be when she sees just who is standing there with a rose when she arrives ❤️

- Hands on Luke anon✨

and a 🌹 for you on Valentines day Amira!

꒰ 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐑 | 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄. ꒱

ೀ amira speaks!: hands on luke nonnie, I was missing you! this request was super sweet, I made Luke be readers friend in here 🤭 Thank you for requesting! 🥰 I hope you enjoy it my darling — and have a Valentine’s rose for you as well, my love !! 🌹 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above. ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 537

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : drabble, friends to lovers. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Modern!Lucerys x Reader

→ click here if you want to request a drabble for my followers milestone celebration! drabbles open from February 14th, to February 19th.

Valentine’s Day was just another day for you, never paying much attention to it — or, it used to be. This year had been different, much to your surprise, but it definitely was a surprise that you didn’t complain about at all.

A secret admirer filled your locker. In between class breaks, the moment you casually opened your locker, you stumbled yourself upon a shower of beautifully endearing gifts and notes. The first time it happened during the day, your eyes went wide — this person knew you more than you knew yourself. A smile quivered on your lips, feeling a heat creeping on your cheeks.

A box with your favourite candies, a small plushie bear of your favourite colour holding a big heart against it’s chest, and a cute notebook adorned the interior of your locker. Giggles spurred from your lips, you were certainly impressed. All the things that you liked and ever wished for, were all there — gifted to you by a loving secret admirer. Who could it be?

The gifts from your secret admirer managed to kept you enthusiastic. After each class, between breaks, you would go to your locker and find it exploded with pretty little things that made you blush like a little girl with a crush. Plushies, flowers, love poems, more treats — even paints that you had been wanting for a long time! This person knew too well, you had to find who this person was; but this person always sneaked away from your sight whenever you hoped to caught them.

Until, you simply received a small note before your last class. It said, that he’d meet you by your locker after classes. A surge of thrill washed over you, mixed between excitement and nervousness. But you managed to keep the perfect balance of it, until your last class finally arrived, and you would soon meet your secret admirer.

You anxiously walked towards your locker as your last period ended. Luke had been as nervous as you had been, perhaps more. On his hand there was a delicate rose, fidgeting with it as he stood by your locker. As you arrived, his gaze moved to stare at you, meekly grinning. You stopped on your place for a moment as soon as your eyes landed on him.

It was Luke. Not only your best friend, but as well, your crush. You felt pleasantly surprised, as your heart thumped loudly against your chest, smiling dumbly. You could throw yourself at him right there.

“You’re my secret admirer, then?” you chirped eagerly, with a smile that grew on the corner of your lips. His hazel eyes admired you timidly before gazing down at the rose on his hand, nodding. “I am, yes.” he retorted, managing to not stutter. You were too beautiful, and he didn’t want to ruin the occassion.

“Which is why, I was wondering if you’d like to be my Valent—” you interrupted him abruptly, approaching him, and pressing your lips too dangerously close to his own, feeling his silky skin. His breathing stopped briefly, melting under your kiss as your hands cupped his cheeks, longing to keep feeling your lips as you pulled apart slowly.

“Of course I will.”

♡ taglist : ♡

@jacesvelaryons @jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenya-reigned @maria699669 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

[mxtxfanatic]

Wei Wuxian would’ve never become Xue Yang, Jiang or no Jiang, and you wanna know why? Because Wei Wuxian had a moral code that he stuck to even as a street orphan, while Xue Yang did not and chose to kill innocent people as “repayment” for experiencing cruelty from one particular man in his childhood.

A Xue Yang found by the Jiang would experience one instance of mistreatment under Madam Yu and strive to destroy the entire Jiang and all affiliated in retaliation. A Wei Wuxian who stayed on the street would just be a good person under some other life circumstances (whether he would become a cultivator of another clan, a rogue, or just a businessperson in the civilian world).

[mr-m-murdock]

If your requests are open ....needy Nat? Maybe in "only pretty faces" . Something about Natasha being only weak/needing for r

only girl in the world

| natasha x reader | only pretty faces |

warnings: none :) CUDDLES

Now that you don't need to watch her every move, it's suddenly become extraordinarily easy to observe her. Ironically.

She's all straight spine and eyes constantly on the move. If she'd let anyone catch sight of her in a crowd, even a child would notice the danger on her. Like the smell of gasoline. The aura of an ethanol fire in the dark.

Her hands are strong just like the rest of her. You've traced sinew and scar tissue blindly with your thumb so many times you could map her skin in your sleep. And sure, she's attentive and prowling when you're out, but when you're alone...

Right now, in the dimly-lit sitting room with the shutters closed at the windows, Natalia's face is tucked into the curve of your shoulder. She's loose. The slackened muscles of a leopard observing the ground from a high perch, perhaps, but loose all the same. Her eyes are closed, the light of the TV flickers on her cheeks. With a gentle snuffle, she falls deeper asleep.

It's almost a miracle. But if you think about it hard enough, you're sure you can recall the heavy weight of her head on your shoulder just like this, twenty five years ago. And you know you remember waking up with your cheek crushed against her t-shirt when you'd convinced yourself you hated her. Maybe the two of you were always meant to crawl back to each other like this, bone-tired. Maybe she was made to fit against your side like this.

But you know the truth. You were shaped by men who'd killed gods, with their syringes and their blank white stares. You'd morphed yourself to lie here with Natalia. You'd each carved pieces out of yourselves, in the privacy of dark rooms and the solitude of those arrow-sharp minds of yours, to fit the other into the cavity.

There's no fate. You choose to love her. She's chosen to shut her eyes, one hand fisted in the thigh of your sweatpants, and fall into the place you made for her, be it jagged and imperfect. Just for you.

requests | masterlist

taglist: @when-wolves-howl @fayhar @maggieromanov @waitingroom-pb @romanoffscottage @blackxwidowsxwife @lizlil @screechcat @maddess @natsaffection @haeva @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @vicmc624  @strangegardentaco  @phantomvael @lorsstar1st  @blckrwidow @ima-gi--na-tion @paryl @aan-myouim @smalls-words @lainjupi  @d1s0nym @meimei-a @the-v01d @kqmui @s1ut4nat @btay3115   @idkjustliving2 @lokisjuicyass @mmmmokdok  @silentwolfsstuff  @olicity-boo @iliketozoneout

[half-bakedboy]

please write established (maybe married) buddie on a call and oblivious buck getting hit on, jealous eddie "excuse me, he is married. to me"

loooove your fics

read on ao3

Eddie's barely paying attention to the patients he and Hen are caring for. They're both fine, really, and were sitting on the sidewalk when the 118 got there so Hen and Eddie went to work while Buck and Chimney dealt with the fire. He's too busy watching Buck fight each car flame with expert efficiency. He's laughing with Chimney, head thrown back as they spray the chemicals with the precision of two firefighters who had a bond like brothers-in-law.

It's times like these where Eddie remembers exactly why he fell in love with Buck. He finds joy in any situation, good or bad, whether it directly impacts him or not. Even the two patients seem amused by his carefree joy, and who is Eddie to blame them? Buck won him over that way.

"Since I'm all checked out, can I go take a closer look at the damage?" his patient asks. She's only got a small laceration on her arm, presumably from a piece of shattered glass, but is otherwise unscathed. She's fine to walk, but he's a little confused about what she thinks might be left.

"Yeah, sure. Buck!" he shouts. Buck turns around immediately, the smile widening on his lips. "She--"

"Beverly," his patient interrupts with her own shout.

"Beverly wants to take a look. You good?"

Buck nods his head and puts the fire extinguisher down onto the pavement. Eddie should notice the way Beverly practically rushes over, somewhere between a skip and a saunter, but he's hyper-aware of how close the end of their shift is.

He's got Abuela cooking dinner at home and three off-days in a row to spend with Buck, their first since they got married a few months ago.

(Eddie wanted to take a honeymoon but Buck wanted to take a page out of Bobby and Athena's book and wait a little while. Eddie had to nix the cruise idea almost immediately, even though he can't believe Buck even asked.)

He just wants to clean up, restock the ambulance for the next crew, then spend the next three days with his family.

But of course, nothing is ever easy for Eddie. Not with a husband like Buck.

"Ugh, this is just my luck. My boyfriend broke up with me yesterday and my friend was just trying to cheer me up with a drive." Eddie can practically hear a pout of her lips and makes eye contact with Hen who rolls her eyes playfully in return. "I can't believe I'm single and carless, now."

"I'm sorry, that really sucks," Buck says. He sounds so authentic, Eddie's heart clenches.

"You might be able to help me with one of those problems," she shamelessly says.

Buck, the beautiful man he is, barely notices the flirtation. "We have a phone in the ambulance you can use to call someone to pick you up!" He's like a puppy in his response, and Beverly deflates instead of praising him like he clearly deserves.

"I can find a way home." She pauses like she's trying to think of how to get him back on track. Eddie snorts because he's been trying to figure out how to do that for almost a decade now. "So, do you live around here? There's a lot of really cool restaurants I can recommend for when you're done with your shift."

Eddie has to give her credit for some really solid attempts.

"Our station is actually on the other side of town and I live in the opposite direction, but I'll keep that in mind if I ever find my way out here!"

Beverly sighs and glances at her friend for assistance, who is next to no help since she's still in shock, like Beverly really should be.

"So, you're at station 118 then?" he hears Beverly ask. Her voice is so obviously flirtatious that Buck has to have noticed.

"Uh, y-yeah. 118, that's us," Buck mutters, tone laced with nerves.

Eddie glances over at the stutter and sees Beverly much closer than even Eddie would be to him on a call. His eyes narrow but he stays put. Buck can take care of himself.

"I bet you can lift that much, too, huh?" Beverly makes a dire mistake, and that's to reach out toward Buck. "I'm only 115, so it'd be pretty easy for you to... you know, lift me, right?"

Hen mutters, "Uh oh." It's loud enough for her patient to ask what's going on, but Eddie doesn't wait for her answer. He does hear Chimney's practically diabolical laughter, and Buck's awkward throat clear.

"I just weighed in at 190 and most nights he lifts me with ease, isn't that right, Buck?"

Eddie almost wishes he'd been recording. Beverly's mouth drops comedically open before her hand slaps it back up, Chimney and Hen break into maniacal laughter that seems to break the other patient from her shock, and Buck blushes a deep red that disappears under his turnout and as far down as Eddie's sure Beverly was trying to get.

Just because he can, Eddie adds, “Though, I’m sure after we take our honeymoon, you’ll gain a lot of muscle during our… workouts.” 

“Jesus–” Buck breathes out. “It was great to meet you, Beverly. You said something about having a way to get home?” 

“Yeah, I’ve got a ride…” She turns to Eddie, a delightful smirk on her face. “Though, it’s not nearly as pretty as yours.” 

Buck’s a mess as Eddie bursts out in laughter, and he’s positive his team’s about to file a complaint to HR, but something about being able to stake his claim over Buck so openly now makes him giddy inside. 

Yeah, it's times just like these where Eddie remembers exactly why he fell in love with Buck. 

[alilbitlesbian]

Im no artist but i had to draw floor getting her first hug

[sequencefairy]

do you have the extra scratch to bleach your pretty little asshole?

[ now available on ao3 ]

~~~

It's the second time that Shane goes blond that really does Ryan in. He'd been affected the first time, but who hadn't been? What a change! His friend, usually so conservative about his appearance even with the wild shirts and strange colour combinations, making such a change? Not something Ryan would have anticipated at all.

And then. And then Shane did it again. Went to the salon, asked for and received a colour treatment and Ryan just--well. He's lost the plot. He's not to be blamed for any of what happened after that, he's not. He can't be. Anyone would have done the same when faced with Shane and his blond hair and the attitude adjustment it came with.

So. Anyway. Not his fault, is what Ryan means. Definitely the ammonia fumes in Shane's hair colouring. Or something. Ryan doesn't know.

He should really stop thinking about this here, where he is balls deep in the hot clutch of Shane's body, his bare hand pressed against Shane's bare spine while Shane writhes under him, asking without asking for Ryan to move, to do something, to do anything. Ryan's not moving. He's already told Shane he won't. This is a non-negotiable part of the scene. Shane's gotta ask for it. He's gotta look back over his shoulders, pretty eyes wide, eyelashes clumped together, and open his mouth and ask for what he wants.

That's the deal.

Shane shifts and Ryan presses in, like he's not already all the way sheathed. The air goes out of Shane's lungs in a high wheeze, but he's nodding into the pillow so Ryan leans down further, covering Shane with his body, so he can put his mouth right next to Shane's ear.

"You want it, baby?" Ryan husks. "You know how to get it. You know all you gotta do is just tell me what you want. I can wait here all day, Shaney-boy, you and I both know it--"

Shane whines and squeezes his eyes shut tight. He clenches around Ryan, his body a ripple of sensation that makes Ryan have to bite his own lip and breathe through.

"Ry--" Shane starts, and stops.

"Come on," Ryan cajoles, sing song, "or I'll think you're holding out on me. Is that what you're doing? Getting off on the denial? Think you can come just like this? Keeping my dick warm in your pretty little asshole?"

Shane mutters something under his breath, but he hisses as Ryan shifts his knees. "Please," Shane says, finally, and it sounds like he's dragged it out from the soles of his feet. "Ryan--Da--" Shane stops himself and Ryan grins, wolfish.

"Who's gonna take care of you, baby?" Ryan asks. "Who makes sure you have the money for your hair appointments?" Ryan runs his hand down Shane's flank. Shane squirms both into and way from the touch. "Who gives you that extra scratch to keep your pretty little asshole bleached?"

Shane groans. "Fuck. Please, Ryan--fucking move, daddy, I need it."

"Good boy," Ryan says, leaning up and back and before snapping his hips. "Come on your daddy's cock, Shane."

And Shane does. Almost immediately.

[ladytauria]

If you're okay with prompts right now can I ask for jason and tim putting on relationship weight together

yes you can! <3

this ended up fairly short but i hope you enjoy it, nonny~

also i apologize for any mistakes <3 i was halfway done when my cat decided to sit in my face, and like? who was i to say no. so i wrote the rest on mobile lmao

Tim has gotten softer around the middle.

The realization hits Jason while he’s still half-drowsy from sleep, curled around Tim in their bed. They’d flipped during the night, with Jason now in Tim’s place as the big spoon; feathery strands of hair tickling his chin, his arm wound around Tim’s waist. And under his hand, splayed over Tim’s stomach… there’s more give than there used to be.

He can’t help but feel it; smoothing his palm over the padding over Tim’s ribs, the soft curve of his stomach. Something swells in his chest, made up of too many feelings for him to name.

It’s not that he hadn’t noticed, exactly. Something he’d insisted on, when they moved in together, was that, as long as they were both in Gotham, they should share at least one meal a day, out of costume. It had taken some time to find a rhythm, but… they had.

He’d noticed the extra weight he picked up pretty quickly. It was hard not to—especially with Tim constantly using him as his own personal pillow. Jason used to fake gripe about it, until he figured out that the surest way to make Tim sleep was to offer himself up as a bed. Even the most complex case wasn’t enough to keep Tim from drifting off, once he was resting on or against Jason’s thigh, chest, stomach.

After that, well. Even his most sincere attempts to bitch about it fell flat.

Anyway—between that and the adjustments he’d had to make to his armor, he’d definitely noticed his own weight gain. Tim— Maybe he’d noticed his cheekbones weren’t quite as sharp, or that there was something a little bit more solid in the punches he threw, but—

The rest of it slipped past him.

Until now.

Now… all he wants to do is explore. Spread Tim out on their bed and find all the parts of him that have changed. He wants to lavish them with attention, and affection, because by god, Tim deserves to be soft. Deserves to take care of himself, to indulge himself.

(And maybe—maybe—there’s a part of Jason that wants to lay claim to it, too. Because this is because of him. Not just the food he’s made, or the request to eat together but— It’s their closeness. It’s choosing a quiet evening together over going out or staying late at work or pouring over casework. It’s ending patrol at three or four am instead of five or six to get an extra hour or two in bed together. It’s not burying themselves in a case alone, stress eating away at them, because they have a partner right there to help.

It’s love and trust, safety and support, commitment and contentment.)

Jason resists the urge, though. The last thing he wants to do is disturb Tim’s sleep. God knows it will take a lifetime, maybe two, to repay the debt he’s stacked up, and Jason won’t get in the way of him shaving off what he can.

They have the rest of the day. Last Jason heard, Tim doesn’t have anywhere to be today, and he knows neither of them have any pressing cases. Maybe… maybe after breakfast, before Tim disappears to his study, when he’s still relaxed and a little sleepy. Coaxing back into bed won’t be hard. Neither will convincing him to let Jason take the lead for a bit. Tim is entirely too willing to indulge Jason—the power he has is almost overwhelming.

He supposes it goes both ways.

Mm…

He tucked his nose in the back of Tim’s neck, cuddling closer to him.

It’s probably about time to start breakfast, honestly. But Jason is warm, and comfortable. Maybe he can indulge himself, a little. Fifteen more minutes won’t hurt anything.

[ ao3 ]