#yes the cream markings on his ass make a heart shape

[mpreg-nouveau]

He pursued the young buck in fall and finally got to take a good shot in spring. Yes it is out of season for shooting deer, but can you blame him? Who could say no to having such a marvelous trophy in his gallery. And besides, the faun wanted a paternity shoot anyways.

A good square deal.

[kaijime]

hearts & hickies

includes. suna rintarou

cw. fem reader, hickies!! heart shaped hickies!!, pet name ‘bunny’, consented photos, spanking, fingering, degradation, vaginal penetration, size kink, bulge kink, breeding kink, nipple play, spitting, creampie

wc. 1.6k

a/n. happy valentine’s day u horny bitchie, love ya <33

intention. it was in the way he looked at you across the dinner table. it was in the hand that laid on your thigh on the ride back home, still lingering even when you’d already arrived at home and sat on the couch watching one of your favorite shows.

everything he did, he carried a reason behind it, and you were aching to find out what it was.

the sitting beside each other didn’t last long. i’m tired he said, so you offered him a place on your chest, close to you, and he was more than pleased to take it. his chin rested on your chest, eyes glued to your expression gazing at the tv. when you finally realize his piercing stare into your eyes, you wonder what has him so mesmerized.

“do i have something on my face?” you ask. he shakes his head no, and goes back to watching the show. for the next few minutes everything seems at peace, matching breaths against one another and a calm ambiance around the both of you. it was simple, but you wouldn’t ask anything else with him.

it’s these relaxed moments that spoke more than words, these serene hours he spent with your pretty tits as his cushioning, and the way he would feel so wholehearted when he heard your heartbeat. but he broke the moment again, his chin dug into your chest again while he stared into your face, taking in all your figured that shined against the bright tv.

“suna?” your legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close, and you patted his head. your digits toyed with the tips of his hair, soft strokes shifting his dark brown locks behind his ear.

“fuck, bunny...” he mumbled. suddenly he took his lips to yours, hungrily moving against you with your eyes wide in shock. you soon relaxed in his touch after his hand stroked your cheeks, gently, as if he could scare you away with something too quick.

“r-rin” you breathed his name into the kiss, simultaneously giving him access to your mouth with his tongue. you realized too late it was escalating into something else, only giving it away when he kissed down the corners of your mouth to your jaw. he poured his love into every kiss, every nip at your skin with his teeth, leaving marks you weren’t sure if you should cover up or not.

“rin” you repeat his name and this time he hums back, a small answer as if asking if you were ok with this “y-yeah” you mumbled.

“yeah?” he asked under his breath “can i?”

“please” you begged, it was shameful to be so needy when he hadn’t done anything, then again, the night felt like a buildup to this exact moment, you shouldn’t waste it on a stupid movie, right?

you remained breathless in his touch, letting him do whatever he pleased with the skin of your neck as he sucked at the skin, and despite feeling every edge of his teeth marking you up, he seemed to be focused, too focused.

“rintarou?” you asked between breathy moans, but he didn’t move from the crook of your neck, simply giving you a small hm.

after minutes of feeling him nipping shapes on your neck, he pulled away and took his phone out, snapping a picture of his work.

“look, how pretty” he said with a teasing smile on his face, showing you the photo he’d just taken. there, you saw a heart shaped cherry red spot, presumably what he’d been working on.

“rin!” you’re snapped out of your hazy state, his touch had made you numb but you quickly composed yourself when you saw the picture.

“what? you don’t like it?”

“it’s gonna be really hard to cover that up” you pout. handing him back his phone and crossing your arms across your chest while he straddles your hips. he shifts so he’s kneeling on the couch, with each of your spread legs on either side of him.

“then don’t” a few open mouthed kisses on your neck and you were gone, too dumb to care anymore, only thinking about your desire for him. it’s the small details he puts into every shift of his hips, making sure to grind perfectly into your clothed heat to make you a mess in a span of a few minutes.

he can’t contain himself, and he finds himself slipping your shorts down your legs too soon, but you don’t blame him, nor do you complain.

“rin?” he’d suddenly gonna silent at the sight of your pretty lace panties, so pretty and cute adorning your figure. such a shame he was going to take them off. “rin, please...” you said, bucking your hips and grinding onto him only to receive a slap on your ass, prompting a loud moan from you.

“such a desperate bunny, you’re so needy for my cock” his fingers prod at your underwear, taking them off to slide his fingers in your tight heat “just a few neck kisses and you’re already so wet for me?”

“mhmm” you nod, pleasure searing through your body with ever thrust of his fingers. he pushed at the spongy spot inside your walls, watching you hold onto the edge of the seat in ecstasy. “fuck- fuck rin, fuck me p-please!”

“‘fuck me’?” he humors you “i’m already using my fingers on you, isn’t that enough?” he knows it’s not enough. he knows you want his clock to be the one to make you cum, but he also wants to hear it from you.

“no- please! want your cock” you plead “want you to stretch me out and f-fill me up with your— fuck— your c-cum”

“that’s it, use your words like a good girl, good bunny” he said, amusement lingering in his voice. he takes his fingers out, positioning himself against your hole. he decides to tease you before giving it to you, rubbing the tip around your clit, mesmerized and pushed in the tip inside, watching you buck your hips and arch your back in an almost panicked state.

“rin! t-too big!” before you can keep moving he spanks your cheek again, so as to silence you and make you stop squirming so much. “a-ah!” you exclaim.

“awwe” he coos sarcastically, leaning close to your ear and making you shudder under his breath. “too big for this little pussy? you gonna cry?” yes. you did feel like crying, it was so overwhelming but he just kept pushing it inside until he was satisfied.

his hand sneaked from your hips to your tummy, pressing on the bulge he’d formed.

“is that me, bunny?” he knew the answer, who else could it be? “‘m so deep in this tight cunt, feels so good” he says as he watches you helplessly paw at the seat for relief.

adorable. he found it so cute to see you struggle to take him, the look of dispair on your face when you realized the regret of your previous words.

the pace he sets is rough, matching with the way his fingers grip your hips in efforts to ground you. it’s no use, your thighs are still shaking and you’re still bucking your hips against him. it’s addictive, and you shouldn’t be liking the pain he brings when he kisses your cervix with his tip, yet you can’t help but moan.

“fuck... you close bunny? you’re creaming all over my cock, do you like it that much?”

“yes- love y-your cock, just like th-that please-! f-fuck me rin!” you say, he’s more focused on the way your tits bounce everytime he thrusts into your tight cunt, almost hypnotized by the sight. he takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around one of the perky buds and making you scratch at his shoulders.

“yeah? you want me to cum in this tight pussy, want me to breed my cute little bunny, huh?” he asks, aggressive thrusts to your cunt leaving you speachless and unable to answer him, but he still squishes your cheeks between his fingers, looking to get a response out of you.

“yes please, want you to cum i-inside and breed me” you reply. it’s all foggy, his golden eyes fixated on your open mouth.

“want me to spit on you too?” you hum in response, he was always so good to you, attentive. always knew what you needed when you needed it, thats why he spit in your mouth and watched you swallow it with glee.

“fuck- fuck!” you curse in pleasure “‘m g-gonna cum, please! ‘m gonna- ah! rin”

“that’s it bunny, cum on daddy’s cock, atta girl” he holds the back of your head in comfort, pulling you into a kiss. hot and heavy breaths panting against one another while teeth clashed and tongues laced together. perfectly lewd, just what the wanted.

your choked moans only fueled him to go harder, helping you ride out your orgasm while giving a few last thrusts to finish inside of you.

“oh- oh fuck, bunny” you felt him come to a halt, and the soaring feeling of warm slick filled you. he kissed the marks he made earlier while painting your walls of white, pulling out and quickly searching for his phone.

he snapped one single picture, smiling at the screen and showing it to you with a smile on his face. there you saw his cum seeping out of your hole, swollen skin dripping with his white seed. and despite your blushing face, he knew you were as entranced by it as he was.

©️ kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[inkykeiji]

anonymous said: i would like to suggest, keigo having you on speed dial to call you up and use you whenever he's too pent up because his public girlfriend wont sleep with him. you feel guilty for being the other woman but you were such a big fan of his. you want to end this but keigo isn’t about to let his little bird get away

warnings: 18+, dubcon, rough sex, manipulation, minimal prep, cheating, mentions of caning, noncon photography, dacryphilia, slight degradation peppered with slight praise

words: 3.3k

Gentle vibrations coursing through your mattress and quivering softly against your skin rouse you from your half-conscious state, bleary eyes blinking slowly as you gain your bearings again. It’s late, the wall of full-length crystal windows allowing the moon’s beams to stream into your condo, weakened by the magnificent glow of the city below it, encased in halos of turquoise and jade and violet.

And then, the vibrations start again, and your heart drops.

You know who it is before you even glance at the screen of your phone. Only one person ever calls you this late.

You had been expecting it, to be honest. Crime has hit an all-time high, and it seems like every time you turn on the news, or scroll through your social media feed, there’s a fresh story about a new villain he’s just defeated, headlines in big bold letters, peppered with photos of windswept golden hair and an award-winning smile, or grainy footage of him zipping around, so fast he’s just a blur of gold and crimson, as he neutralizes the enemy, serif words chalk full of praise for the Number Two Hero. As always.  

It makes you sick, makes your stomach churn with a toxic mixture of guilt and revulsion.

Yet, in spite of this, your hand moves on its own, disobeying your brain as it screams at it to let it go to voicemail, just this once, thumb pressing that little green button before bringing the heavy electronic to your ear, quiet and groggy as you answer.

“I’m in the lobby,” his smooth voice, always laced with just a hint of cheekiness, flows through the speaker like melted chocolate, dark and decadent. “Let me in?”

You know he could get in on his own if he really wanted to—he chose this building for a reason, after all. He chose you for a reason, after all.

He could’ve had anyone—could still have anyone—he wanted, with a plethora of beautiful, adoring, devoted young women hanging on his every word, but he picked you. He picked you, because no matter how dedicated and supportive all of those other girls are, none of them have ever loved him the way you did—the way you do.

The feeling lingers, much to your disgust. It lingers when he gives you that gentle, private smile—the one the cameras have never seen, the one that he saves just for you, in the middle of the night after he’s filled you with cum and sucked his name into your neck; lingers when he murmurs sweet nothings into your hair, arms curling around you in the early morning sun; lingers when he fucks you stupid, until you’re a sobbing, drooling mess, until all you can think about is his cock.

The soles of your bare feet echo as they pad against the marble floor, powerless to stop the heavy sigh that slips from between your lips as you fiddle with the little keypad close to the front door, those soft beepbeepbeeps forcing chills to skitter across your skin.

Once, this condo had been everything you had ever wanted. Once, you had considered yourself lucky to be the mistress of such a well-known, distinguished, so-called good man. Once, you had dreamt of him, every single night, of lazy smiles and easygoing drawls, of wicked golden eyes and matching tousled hair.

Once.

Now, it feels like nothing but a cold, empty cage. Fitting, you snort to yourself, shaking your head a little.

Now, all of those extravagant items he had bought for you—the expensive coffee machine, the stupidly massive 4K TV, all of the shimmering dresses and lavish coats, the silk sheets outfitting your gigantic bed, the delicate Agent Provocateur lingerie—have bile rising in the back of your throat, coating your tongue in bitterness, dread sinking thick and heavy in your stomach, turning your blood to concrete in your veins.

Now, that golden gaze makes your skin crawl, those large, impossibly soft hands—protected by those ridiculous gloves, of course—make you want to scrub your body with scalding water until it’s raw, until you’ve ridded yourself of his stare, of his touch, of his scent—sickly sweet and sticky like toffee, blazing and spicy like cinnamon.

And yet, the feeling still lingers, taking root deep at the very core of your body, feeding off your soul like a fucking parasite.

Teeth clack against yours the moment your front door swings open, your body slammed up against the wall a second later as he skillfully kicks the door shut, producing an echo of tremors through the surrounding walls much too loud for three in the morning.

Hands, silky and smooth, are gliding up your bare thighs, playing with the hem of your lacy babydoll slip, lithe fingers tangling in it and pulling as he sucks on your tongue.

“Missed you,” he mumbles between kisses, catching your bottom lip and tugging on it just to hear you whine, a delicious chuckle vibrating against your mouth a moment later, inspiring a shameful, scalding heat to begin spreading in the pit of your belly. “So much,”

“Did you?” and you hate how breathless you already are, hate the way your head tilts and neck arches as his lips travel down the sensitive skin, nipping gently with his front teeth.

“You know I did,” he singsongs, but you can hear the irritation sown into his tone. Hands grip your shoulders, pinning you against the wall, a soft noise of surprise escaping your lips. “Mm,” he hums appreciatively, pulling back a little as lidded eyes scan your form, dark like thick caramel when they meet yours again. “You know this one’s my favourite,”

It is, composed entirely of scarlet lace that dips just below your sternum, the delicate material clinging to your body like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination.

His hands roam, taking the hem of the dainty fabric with him as he pushes it over your hips, up your abdomen and to your breasts, before letting the garment slide down your body again.

The softest, sweetest mewl of his name escapes your lips as the tip of his tongue flicks over a lace covered nipple, circling it once before taking it between his teeth and tugging slightly.

Another laugh, deep and dark, vibrates against your chest, while a hand slips between your thighs, a soft groan rumbling in his chest.

“Such a good, good girl for me, aren’t you?” Two fingers rub achingly slow circles into your clit, Keigo’s tongue darting out of his mouth to lick at a pert nipple again, drenching the lace in saliva. “Following the rules, just like I asked,”

A whimper catches in your throat and you nod, spikes of sharp fear shooting through your stomach as faded memories float languidly through your mind. You can barely remember it, brain so delirious from the pain that you hardly retained any of the experience, but the sound of the cane slicing through the air, mingled with the sound of your own wails echoing throughout the bachelor condo, the intense sting of its impact against your bare skin, the ache in your fingers from gripping the bedsheets that lingered for days later…Those you remember.

He had turned your backside into a brilliant piece of art, you remember him telling you, the morning after when gentle fingers were rubbing cream into your wounds, the obnoxious click! of his phone camera sounding a few moments later seared into your memory. Such a beautiful masterpiece, full of periwinkle and indigo, and it was all for him—because of him.

You couldn’t sit properly for a week and a half after the incident, and that you’ll never forget, either.

All because you had broken one teeny tiny rule, a rule you didn’t even know was a rule, a rule you thought he had been joking about—no panties when sleeping.

Two fingers pushing into your little hole snaps your mind back to the present, a whine falling from your lips as your hips push towards his palm, instantly craving more of him. Curved lips, formed in the shape of a sinful smirk, drag along your jaw as he murmurs to you. You like that, baby? Huh? Did you miss me as much as I missed you?

It’s only been a few days since you saw him last, but you find yourself nodding anyway, breathy little yeses exhaled through parted lips as his fingers pump in and out of you, knuckles curling with each pull out, catching on the spot that has you moaning out his name, that has you pathetically trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, that has you begging for more.

He’s always impatient anyway, barely takes any time to stretch you out—just enough so it isn’t uncomfortable for him, really, scissoring his fingers and grinding the heel of his palm against your clit until it’s throbbing, until he deems you wet enough to take him.

The drywall quivers as Keigo deftly spins you, shoving you against it, a low whine sounding in the back of your throat.

“I’m gonna fuck you in this,” he says decidedly, as if he’s just chosen what his lunch will be for tomorrow, big hands roaming over your ass, kneading and squeezing.

“Keigo, please, not here—”

“Shh,” he hushes you, and his voice is so gentle, so tender, gathering the delicate lace in his fists and pushing it up, up, up, until it bunches around your waist. “Be good for me, yeah?” sharp teeth sink into the back of your neck hard enough to break the skin, an alpha marking his territory, your responding cry muffled by the wall. “I’ve had such a long day,” he mumbles against you, licking over the bite. “Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you all day, y’know,” his hips grind against your ass, hard cock nearly slipping between your cheeks and accentuating his point, the thin fabric of his grey sweatpants being the only barrier between you. “And that bitch couldn’t satisfy me right even if her life depended on it,”

His tone darkens at the end, and you hate the way it still manages to send a flock of butterflies fluttering through your stomach, hole clenching greedily around nothing.

“So be a good girl—” a slap echoes throughout the empty apartment as his palm collides with your skin. “—and lift your hips for me,”

And then he’s tugging, hands wrapped around your hips as blunt nails dig into your flesh and hoist up, forcing you onto your tiptoes. You obey, of course, because you always obey, aiding him by pushing your ass towards him, chest and cheek pressed up against the wall.

A shiver courses through your body as he leans away for a moment, taking his body heat with him, the shutter of his phone camera click!ing a few times in quick succession.  

“Fuck,” he breathes, heat returning as he taps the head of his cock against your soaking cunt, reveling in the soft, wet little slaps. “You’re so beautiful,”

And he sounds so honest, so sincere, unexpected tears springing into your eyes and blurring your vision. Because his words shouldn’t, they absolutely shouldn’t inspire a deep warmth to bloom in your chest, but they do. It’s selfish, and pathetic, and derisive, sour shame taking root at your core a moment later, black and inky and rushing through your veins, eating up the warmth in an instant.

But Keigo shatters it all a second later with one quick, sharp thrust, burying himself deep within you, cockhead nudging against your cervix.

A yelp hitches in your throat at the sudden action, tears spilling over your lashline as your little hole burns, struggling to accommodate his girth. “Too thick, Kei, too thick,”

He doesn’t care, he tells you with a breathless chuckle, hips setting a punishing pace right from the start, refusing you even a moment to adjust. He knows you love it, he says to you, words growled into your ear with a sadistic smile, punctuated by the harsh slap of skin against skin that accompanies each of his thrusts.

Your nails scrape against the drywall, trying in vain to grip something, anything, to keep you upright as he pounds into you. A harsh gust of wind swirls around you, cool against your heated skin, and then his wings are caging you in, slamming against the drywall with such force that bits of it crack and crumble. Your hands fly out to grip them, little fingers curling around the edges as you try to keep yourself steady for him.

The sweetest moan escapes his lips, hoarse and whiny in the back of his throat as you clamp down on them, fingers slotting through the sharp feathers, hissing through your teeth as they leave superficial cuts along your sensitive skin.

It’s beginning to build, that familiar heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, coiling tighter and tighter and tighter with each snap of his hips, broken whimpers and airy little Kei!’s slipping from your parted lips as your legs begin to tremble.

A deep growl rumbles in his chest as he tells you to keep standing, damn it, the order spit through clenched teeth as his fingers grip your hips, spots of blue and purple blooming under them.

You’re trying, you want to tell him, words leaving your throat in the form of pitiful little sobs as your fingers clutch his wings, joints aching and stiff from being curled in the same position for so long.

The heat is rising, higher and higher and higher until your choking on it, scalding your tongue and blistering your throat.

“M’gonna—” you gasp out, the words garbled with spit as teary eyes roll back in your skull.

“Yeah—Y-Yeah,” he encourages breathlessly, hips gaining more speed with each piston into you, cock repeatedly dragging against that spot, the one that alights your entire body, that shoots tingling sparks up your spine and through your veins. “C’mon, baby, cum for me, cum—” a low grunt cuts him off, hips stuttering. “—Cum on my cock,”

It’s pathetic, really, how quickly your body obeys, knees nearly buckling as uncontrollable mewls of his name escape your lips, catching in your chest with his ruthless thrusts as you gush around him, cute little cunt clenching almost painfully on his thick cock.

“Good—Good girl. Now beg for it,” and he’s nearly whining, voice cracking as his movements begin to falter.

Pleads spill from your lips before you even know what you’re saying, voice absolutely wrecked as you beg for him to please, gimme your cum, please k-keigo, want it, I want it, I want it, fill me up, please, please, please!

Honestly, how can he deny you when you’re asking so nicely, so prettily for him, hips messily pounding into you three more times before he stills, the weight of his body crushing you against the wall as his cock pulses, filling you with ropes upon ropes of thick, hot cum.  

And he’s relentless that night, insatiable that night—fucking you over the arm of the couch, deep and hard and fast, cockhead slamming against your bruised cervix as a hand fists in your hair and yanks you up, snarling out the dirtiest words as his lips graze your ear, then praising you for being such a good little cockslut for him; fucking you in your giant jacuzzi bathtub, nimble fingers digging into your hips as he forces you to ride him, reinstating the fresh bruises from not long before; fucking you into your plush mattress, sharp hipbones signing his name into the soft flesh of your inner thighs in blotches of navy and violet as endless tears leak from your eyes, streaming into your hairline, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

The sun is just beginning to rise, peaking over the horizon and painting the city in a soft golden light. The buzzing of a phone on your nightstand rouses you from your half-asleep state for the second time, lifting your head to blink blearily at Keigo, who rolls his eyes without even glancing at the caller. It’s her—you know it is, calling to ask him where the hell he is, if he’s alright, if he’s coming home soon, if he’s safe—and acrid guilt settles on your tongue.

He lets it go to voicemail without a second thought.

“I hate her,”

“Break up with her, then,”

“And what, date you?” he snorts, and although you know he doesn’t mean for it to, it still stings. Rolling over, he turns to face you, his head propped up by his palm. “You know I wish I could,” he says softly, his free hand reaching out to cup your cheek, fingers grazing your cheekbone. “You know I would if I could, but…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to—you’ve heard it a thousand times before.

Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

But she’s the daughter of a world-renowned, established hero—you’re a quirkless nobody. But she’s good for his image, good for his brand—you’re not.

Sometimes, though, after he’s fucked you into a boneless mess, when he’s laying in your bed with a cigarette perched so artfully between his fingers, he opens up, allows you a tiny peak inside that gorgeous head of his.

Tonight it’s something you’ve heard before, but you don’t mind listening anyway, drawing nonsensical patterns on his bare chest, little fingers following the dips and curves of strong muscle, gliding under smooth skin that almost shines gold in the pale morning light, little blonde hairs catching in the beams as he breathes slowly.

It fucking sucks, he’s telling you, honey eyes trained on your finger’s movements, following its ministrations in a trance. He never wanted this—never asked for this, he admits to you, as he has so many times before, at four in the morning when the city is at its quietest, just before it begins to wake with the dawn of the sun. He hates it, all of the obligations and responsibilities that have been thrust upon him since he was a child.

“Sometimes I feel like my spine’s gonna fucking crack under all of it,” he laughs a little, though it’s wobbly and frail, looking away from you as he stubs out his cigarette.

“It’s just exhausting,” he flops onto his back with a deep sigh, staring up at the ceiling. And you can hear it, his voice heavy with fatigue, with the duties that have been forced upon him, the ideals he’s been forced to uphold, laced with a hint of melancholy.

It makes your heart ache, despite the derision you now feel towards him. You don’t know his struggle—never could, never will—but he looks so…sad, eyes desolate as they gaze up at nothing, lips pressed together in a thin line. And that spark of love, the one you repeatedly keep trying to snuff out, blazes with the need to comfort him.

Reaching over, gentle fingers card through his sweaty golden locks, soft and shining in the dim light. His chest rises and falls with the effort of another sigh, eyes closing briefly at your touch, nuzzling ever so slightly into you.

“But at least I’ve got you, right?” he rolls onto his side, hands finding your hips as he drags you towards him, pulling you into his embrace and crushing your body against his chest. “You’ll never leave me, will you, my little bird,”

And although it isn’t phrased as a question—because he already knows the answer—you respond anyway, swallowing thickly against the acid rising past the lump lodged in your throat. “No, Keigo, never,”

[plush-rabbit]

Play With Me

Request: hii can i request an nsfw of Leviathan and fem s/o with forced feminization and humiliation ( levi receiving) ??

Warnings: Light Humiliation, Usage of a Strap

Word Count: 2K

A/N: Echo from Bad Dragon is what I’m referencing!! I hope you like it!! I’ve been in a big er- power move lately!! Shigaraki will get one too so Gamer Simps, yall are getting fed these next few days!!

-

You stand in Leviathan’s room, the blue hue against your skin making you glow. You look at the bathtub, a frown on your lips. You have enjoyed doing this ordeal on something softer but a gaming chair will suffice. You’re sure those are soft and made for comfort given how long people must sit in them. You fix your strap, the cock in your hand feeling firm. Shadows move under the closet door. In the fish tank, a lone orange fish blinks at you before swimming away. Your face burns, the thought of a beloved pet watching what you’re about to do making you slightly embarrassed. The thought floats away as soon as it comes when the door creaks and out steps a demon clad in pink and frills.

Leviathan steps out of the closet in a revealing maid outfit. Your smile thins, glee coursing through your veins as he tries to pull down on the frilly fabric that wraps around his waist is laced at the ends with white, two white stain bows that pinch at the waist and pull the fabric together. The frilling hardly covers the beginning of his bulge hidden in pink panties decorated with lace at the edges and a white satin bow in the front. His chest is covered by a lacy bralette, his soft pink nipples peeking through the lacy fabric. Around his neck is a frilly collar, scrunched against his neck. He stares at the floor, hands bunched around the frills as he starts to leak at the tip of his cock.

“Already wet and hard, huh Levi?” You jest, your steps coming closer to him, the ends of your heel clacking against the tile in his room. “Turn around for me, sweetheart.” He nods his head, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he spins slowly, stopping until his bum is facing you. Against the tight underwear, a heart shape is pressed against the fabric. “Already prepped, I see.”

“Are you proud of me?” He asks, turning back around to face you, his steps coming closer to you. “I did a good job, right?” His smile is nervous, slowly becoming wide as he looks towards you for approval.

Your smile falls, a curl of your upper lip graces your features. You click your tongue in response, and roll your eyes. “So desperate for any amount of approval, hm?” You sigh, your shoulders slumping and gaze looking bored. “You reek of desperation, you filthy slut. Now hurry up and get on your knees.” He nods his head, walking closer to you until you stop him. “Ah, ah,” you lilt, wagging a finger in the air. “Crawl over to me. I want to see you work for my cock, okay?” You sit on Leviathan’s gaming chair, the leather cushioning your beck as you cross your legs.

The strap that rests is a soft blue and white mixed together. The tip is thick enough, the rest of the cock slowly expanding with a gentle curve and pushed against the lower base. A medial ring circles around the lower base, firm and expanding just before slimming down into a softer base. The strap circles around you, hugging at your hips as a smaller, and slender version of your cock rubs against your inner walls. You sit at his chair, barely able to contain your smile as Leviathan crawls towards you, his head held high as he keeps a heavy blush on his face.

“Beg for it,” you murmur when he rests at your feet.

“Please let me suck your cock. I’m gross and pervy and I need to have my throat filled with your cock. Please. I’m already leaking just by looking at it.” His voice cracks, a frown against his lips. He shifts his legs together, his hand going to clutch at the frills around his waist, his middle and ring finger extended to graze against the panties. You look down, his eyes glistening with tears and bottom lip trembling, and he gives you a look so pitiful it might have been cute if it weren’t on someone so disgusting. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll be your dirty otaku if you let me.”

Satisfied enough, you nod your head and let out a sigh, you smile softening. “Get on your knees, Leviathan.” You lean against the back of the chair, your legs spreading as the strap bobs with the movement. Leviathan rises onto his knees, his warm breath against your inner thighs, his soft, dirty hands holding you tight at your thighs. The smaller toy moves inside of you, your walls conforming around the false cock, your face tightens, the soft curve of the cock hitting against your sweet spot. “You’re gonna suck my cock and you’re gonna make it good. Do you understand?” He nods his head, his tongue, a soft pink that fades into a darker blue, peeks out to wet his lips. You raise your leg, the point of your heel pressed against his shoulder. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer in response.” He mutters a quick yes under his breath, his face leaning closer to your cock. His pale skin is marked with red, an indent pressed against his shoulder.

His lips wet the head of the cock, the tip of it shining with spit. The soft blue and white cloud-like cock drips with his saliva. His cheeks are a deep red, tears filling his eyes only to spill out and curve past his cheeks. With each bob of his head, he gags, eyes filling with sweet tears as he buries himself into you. You’re sure that if you could feel the sensation of his mouth, that you’d be quick to release into his mouth but all you have for now is the slender cocktoy inside of you, rubbing so pitifully against your gummy walls. He presses himself close, cheeks flushed red and hands now moving to grip onto your thighs, his nails pressing into your skin and you’re too consumed by him to even care that he’s touching you. Even with the strap-on, he gives it his all, burying himself to the base of your cock, his cheeks hollowed and a hand slipping from your thigh to palm himself through the thin fabric of his panties.

“Okay,” you breathe out, a pool of saliva under your tongue, “get up and bend over.” You want as he rises, a tent in his underwear with the light pink now soiled by his own pre-ejaculate. He bends himself over his desk, his abdomen pressed against the edge of the desk, hands cushioned under his chin. Your hands trace over his hips, edging around the frills and lace and slowly pulling them off. The pink is now dark as it lines his cock. You press your lip against the base of his spine, his skin rising with goosebumps. Your name is muttered as your hands cusp his waits, grabbing at the hem of the underwear. His skin is pale, freckled with scales that begin to bud around his pubic area. He waits with bated breath, his hands curling and scraping against the desk. Amber eyes glance to the edge of the desk where it meets the wall, his figures watching him with an unblinking gaze as his underwear pools around his ankles. He looks away, raising his legs to step out of them carefully with his head lowered. He says something too low to be heard and he can’t be bothered to repeat himself.

You pull the heart plug out of him, his taint leaking with shining lube that spills out. Your hand curves over his bum, the fat of it soft under your palms. You’re quick to strike, hearing him yelp as red spreads around him. Your smile stretches thinner as your hand once again strikes him, red blooming across him as he whimpers, his legs tensing and muscles pulled taut. He counts under his breath, steadily and by the time he reaches twenty, his cock is erect, pressing against the desk as it dribbles out arousal.

You teeter at his rim, circling him with every breath, dipping a finger inside of him. It’s wet inside, thick, heavy cream that shines against your finger and he pushes himself out to you, a hand slipping to grab at his own rear. His nimble fingers press into the fat and he spreads himself. With only a loving touch against his wrist, you press your cock head against him and enter him slowly. You hiss as the toy inside of you rubs against your walls, edging deeper into you, pressed so firmly against your walls as the base of your toy presses deep inside of him. He coos, his back arching upwards and his hand faltering to the front of himself, wrapping around his cock and pumping it rapidly.

Your nails leave red crescents against his skin. He’s pitiful under you, needy and huffing like a bitch in heat. Your hands grip onto him tightly, brows furrowed and the creases deep. Sweat beads at your brow and despite his noises of pleasure, it still isn’t enough.

His head is pulled back, your hands knitted into his purple hair, pulling him backwards. He lets out a yelp- more out of shock rather than pain given how his lips almost upturn into a smile. “Are you actually enjoying this?” You spit out, slapping your hips into his rear, tightening your hold on his hair. Anger seeps into you, your words holding more poison. You aren’t sure if you’re angry out of embarrassment at the lack of true power that you have over him, or if it’s anger disguised as lust, so desperate to hear his moans that you’re willing to call him anything vile as long as he shows you his pleasure. “You’re fucking slut, Leviathan.” You curse at yourself. You’re unable to find anything truly original.

“More,” he gasps out, leaning forward, his hair pulled further. “More, please,” he says in a high pitched voice. “I’m a slut, just fuck me, please.” His hand pumps himself, the clicking in the room becoming sharper the longer he continues.

Your cunt leaks, dripping onto your inner thighs. Your other hand hooks into his mouth, brows furrowing as his teeth scratch the outside of your finger. “Third-fucking-powerful,” you hiss out, slamming into him. “All you are is a bitch in heat, begging and pushing your ass deeper onto my cock. You’re dressed in pink and frills-” your hips still, burying yourself deep into him, and you think you can feel his muscles twitching around you- “dressed like a whore and clenching on my cock like one.” He mumbles around your fingers, drool slipping past his lips and onto his chin. “How cute, you’ve resorted to babbling. Are you so desperate for cock that you’ve lost all sense of communication? Hm?” Your lip curls, your hips pulling out till the tip remains inside and you push back inside of him. “You’re pathetic Leviathan- so horrid that I’ll have to go and wash myself to rid myself of you and your stench but damn, you make for a good fuck.” You lean close to him, your breath faint against him. “Much better than the others, at least.” He goes rigid, his body tensing and he cries out your name- broken and full of cries. It’s repeated until it’s a whisper, your own name foreign to your ears.

You pull out of him, your face flushed and heart racing as you stare at the demon below you. He’s limp, legs spread as semen runs down his thigh. His taint gapes, and you frown. Your finger traces around the rim, ignoring his whines and the bucking of his hips.

“Next time,” you whisper, your finger edging into him, “I think I’ll get something to properly fill you.” Your finger edge back out, your hand gentle against the curve of his bum as you soothe the red skin. “How does that sound? Does that sound like something the princess might like?” He nods his head, turning slightly to look over at you. You give a curt nod. “All right-” your hand rests at the bottom of his back- “I’m going to go get you a snack, stay here, okay?” You step away from him to kiss at the front of his head, his hair sticking to his forehead and eyes heavy with exhaustion.

[babyflossy]

long overdue | l.dh

pairing: haechan x reader

requested: yes! sorry this took so long :(

summary: when you move back home after a few years apart, haechan starts to see you in a different light, and eventually the tension between you overpowers your worries about ruining your friendship.

genre/warnings: bestfriend to lovers au, smut (dirty talk, slight overstim if you squint?), fluff

word count: 4k

since your first day of elementary school, donghyuck had been your best friend. on that very first day, he had shared his animal crackers with you on the playground bench when you'd dropped yours, and you'd been inseparable ever since. even when your parents moved you away for the majority of middle school, you talked over the phone, you'd even sent each other handwritten letters through the post until donghyuck got his first phone.

the summer before high school started, your parents decided it was best to move back, and suddenly things were different between you and donghyuck. for one, he'd adopted haechan as a nickname, which you couldn't deny suited him more than you'd ever admit, but those four years had seen a lot of changes in the both of you. changes you couldn't ignore.

that stupid smirk he was always wearing was one. the growth-spurt and the jawline and the attractive shape of his shoulders had just been the things you noticed first, let alone the flirty humour he was so comfortable with. nevertheless, the two of you fell back into your old best-friend ways since elementary school; ice cream on fridays, although now they were at two in the morning instead of the afternoon, burgers at the diner on wednesdays because wednesdays are the worst day of the week.

these thoughts cross your mind once again as the boy in question slides into the chair opposite you in the cafeteria, pushing a tray towards you. "they had fries," is the only thing he says to you before he turns to jaemin and starts talking quietly about how they're going to cheat on their chemistry test. you murmur a thank you, picking a few up and stuffing them into your mouth as you continue your conversation with mark, your replacement whilst you were gone, as hyuck had so elegantly put it.

"are you coming to lucas' party tonight?" he asks, stealing some of the fries in front of you before you can swat his hand away. opposite you, haechan has blocked jaemin's voice out of his head so he can hear your answer, hating the way his heart skips a beat in anticipation. these parties were nothing new, you went to almost every single one, but haechan never got used to the clothes you wore, so much more revealing than the ones you to school. it was undeniable in those moments the way his cheeks flushed at the sight of you.

when he had first noticed these thoughts about you, he had been terrified. you were his childhood friend, how could he think of you as anything more than that? surely it would break the two of you apart if he so much as mentioned it to you? over the years since you moved back, however, the two of you had fallen into a comfortable state of flirtatiousness. he would say something suggestive and you would simply laugh and retort with a quip equally as witty. it was second nature, now; the longing glances, the way your hands brushed together when you walked side by side, the way his heart fluttered whenever you stole his hoodies, but only the ones that still smelt of him. your voice brings him back to the present.

"as if i would miss a party," you laugh, and the sound seems brighter every time to haechan, "are you driving everyone?" when mark shakes his head you raise your eyebrows in question and he nods to jeno, the dedicated sober friend for this week. the one good thing about not having your driver's license is that you were never denoted to that role.

as the school day comes to a close you meet haechan outside the back entrance, ready to walk home. the proximity of your houses meant it was always convenient for you both to walk home together, and it made haechan feel better to see you get home safe, he would never tell you that, though. he stands to the side of the crowd streaming out the door and waves you over when he spots your head in the sea of pupils. you shoot him a sunny smile that has his heartbeat pumping in his eardrums.

"you ready, princess?" the familiar smirk is present and you roll your eyes at the nickname, not allowing him the satisfaction of knowing how much it affected you, "you going home after tonight?" he asks as you break out the school car park and onto the pavement, steps falling into rhythm.

"i'm not sure yet, i doubt i'll be able to sneak back in," you scrunch your nose in contemplation, weighing up your options, "i'll probably tell my parents i'm staying at yeri's or something."

you miss the frown that settles on his face, "and stay at lucas'? alone?" haechan tries not to show how much he doesn't like that idea. lucas was a good person, he knows, but he would worry about you no matter who's house you would stay at. it was just part of your relationship at this point.

"yeah?" you stare at him in confusion, oblivious to the way his eyes flicker away when you try to meet his gaze. "what, you want me to come and sleep with you?" as soon as the words left your mouth you realised the second meaning to them and tried to ignore how your face blazed. it was your turn to avoid his eyes as you tried to pretend you had meant that word choice.

"if that's what you want, babygirl," a wink punctuates his words and heat spreads through you. you roll your eyes at him again.

jeno had, as promised, come to collect you from your house, laughing as you ran through your garden to avoid being spotted by your parents. jeno's car is smaller than mark's, all the seats already taken, but before you can ask where you're supposed to sit he presses on the accelerator. hands come to brace you as you nearly fall and your placed onto someone's lap. you can tell it's haechan from the expensive cologne that overwhelms your senses, the warm hands on your waist maintaining their position even after jeno's driving at a normal speed again.

the drive to lucas' house is short but bumpy and you grasp the seat in front of you to stop the jostling. when the car speeds over a bump haechan's fingers dig into your sides, his forehead falling onto your shoulder. you try and turn around to face him but his hands dig in further, stopping you from moving anymore. just as you're about to ask him what's wrong you feel a hardness pressing against the inside of your thigh and your eyes widen.

the flirty jokes you always exchanged meant something, you knew, but the feeling of him underneath you makes you heat up. you're frozen for a moment before a wave of smugness washes through you. haechan was always the one to make you flustered, and to know you had the same effect on him was something you wouldn't forget.

when the car finally stops in front of lucas' house, the others pile out before you two and you face him, raising your eyebrows. you open your mouth to tease him but he beats you to it, "fuck off." is all he says before he stalks towards the front door. you have to jog to keep up with him.

"really? in the car?" haehan rolls his eyes but the blush on his cheeks and the darkness in his eyes is obvious.

"if you weren't wiggling your ass, this wouldn't have happened–"

"i was not wiggling my ass, it's not my fault you're just needy," he stops walking at your words and spins around to face you, eyes narrowed in a look you assume is supposed to be intimidating. it's kinda hot, though, you think.

"i am not needy!" the laugh you let out only seems to upset him further and he takes a step towards you, "i can show you what needy is–"

"are you guys coming or what?" jaemin shouts from the doorway and haechan’s eyes flicker away from you to glare at him. before you can get another word out he’s walking as fast as he can away from you, shoulders squared of defensively. you can hear the pounding music from the house and you decided to forget about his attitude for the night and have as much fun as you can.

five drinks in and haechan is the last thing on your mind. the harsh liquid had burned at first but as lucas offers you a sixth you don't feel it slip down your throat. he grins and you match it, head spinning and vision blurring, the bassline of the music pounding in your ears. lucas has always been a great host, and he laughs at the way stumble from the kitchen counter he sits on. litres upon litres of free alcohol fills the table in front of you and you reach for a colourful blue bottle that fizzes when you twist the top off. he passes you a red plastic cup and the drink spills over the sides as you try and pour it, lucas' laugh piercing through your head which starts throbbing with the beginnings of a headache.

as if he can sense the state you're in, jeno appears in your line of sight, head shaking disapprovingly. you put up a fight when he takes the cup out of your hand and tips it down the sink but give up quickly when jeno shoots you a stern stare. lucas has already slinked off back to his living room where the rest of the guests reside, hands waving at people as a pretty brunette pulls him to the corner of the room. "you're already drunk, y/n."

"no i'm not," you insist but you can hear the way they slur together. the sound of them is foreign to your ears and they make you giggle, the sixth shot you had taken moments before starting to take effect. when you try and walk towards the drink's table your knees buckle under you and jeno has to catch you to stop you falling to the floor.

"this is why i hate being the sober friend," he mumbles as he sets you down on the floor to prevent you from hurting yourself, pulling your hands away when they reach to pull on his hair, muttering about his hair colour.

"now that, i whole-heartedly agree with," the new voice belongs to johnny, who frowns in amusement at the position you're in, giggling hysterically at jeno's hair. "hyuck's in a similar shape, we just put him upstairs in the spare room."

"can you help me take her up? she can't walk properly." their conversation falls on deaf ears to you and you're staring at everything in the kitchen and yet nothing at all as they both take one of your arms, hoisting you into an upright position. standing up, you last all but five seconds on your own before you put all your weight into them and allow yourself to be carried up the stairs.

true to johnny's word, haechan is sat on the edge of the bed, head between his knees whilst jaehyun crouches to talk to him, rubbing his back with a sympathetic smile on his face.

you call out when you see him, "haechannie!" and his head shoots up at the sound of your voice, all the darkness of his eyes from earlier dissipated.

"y/n!" johnny and jeno place you carefully on the bed next to him and meet jaehyun by the door to watch you. haechan's arm is already around your shoulder, your head planted on his shoulder, unclear if you're passed out already or not.

"where are they staying?" jaehyun asks, eyes not leaving the pair in front of him, grimacing when you bump heads with each other.

"i think here?"

"you really wanna leave them alone like this?" johnny questions as he watches you press kisses to the side of haechan's neck, turning to face him.

jeno considers his options for a moment. leave the two of you alone drunk and clearly ready to omit any rational thoughts, or stay here and try to keep you off each other. or, he supposes, he could bribe someone else to do it for him. yes, that's what he'll do. he'll find jaemin.

once the others leave and you're left alone, hands are immediately on your waist, pulling you into a kiss. haechan rubs his thumbs into the exposed skin of your middle, pressing his lips to yours in such a desperate manner you can do nothing but sit and kiss back. the hands pull you onto his lap and you waste no time threading your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, subconsciously grinding your hips down onto him.

"i've wanted to do this for ages," he moans into your neck, fingers hastily skimming over your skin, trying to touch you everywhere at once.

"i told you you were needy," the reminder does nothing to halt his actions, accepting your words with nothing but a hum, hands now making their way up your shirt to the clasp of your bra.

just as he's battling with the article of clothing, the door shoots open again and you fall off his lap and onto the matress. jaemin walks in, snickering at nothing and plops himself in between you on the bed, head falling onto haechan's shoulder.

"hi guys!" the tone of his voice gives away just how much he's drunk already, and you eye haechan over jaemin's mop of blue hair, pouting in disappointment.

a pounding head greets you in the morning and even though you and haechan both remember what had happened the night before, neither of you can stop blushing for long enough to bring it up. so you don't, the fear of ruining your friendship too great a risk for you.

it's a hot summer day and you meet haechan and jeno along with jaemin and renjun at the ice cream shop near your house. it's a brightly decorated new place that offers a mammoth selection of different toppings, which is partly the reason you get bullied when you choose an ice lolly instead. in your defense, it was boiling outside and ice cream is dehydrating.

haechan is cursing every god he knows of as you sit opposite him in the booth, lips wrapped so prettily around your ice lolly. he blinks harshly when you lick the side to stop the juice dripping onto your hand, still talking to renjun. in front of him sits the tub of ice cream he previously been so excited to try and yet now he can't seem to eat it, thoughts elsewhere.

in his head, he curses himself for thinking like this, for thinking about how amazing your lips would feel wrapped around his–

"dude are you okay? you're staring at your ice cream like it holds the secrets to the universe." jeno's laugh cuts through his mind and his cheeks burn. he nods wordlessly, searching for something, anything, else to think of, instead of the blood rushing straight to his dick.

later that same day, when he's back in his bedroom alone, you're the only thought that crosses his mind. he thinks about that night at lucas' party, how you had both been so ready to forget anything holding you back, he thinks about the car ride there, how cocky you had been when he got hard from you sitting on his lap. it was clear you felt the same way, at least, he hoped you did.

in your own bedroom, you're having a similar crisis to your best friend. it hadn't been easy to ignore to way he was staring at you earlier, you had even exaggerated your eating just to tease him. you wondered if he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him. maybe you should ask. no, that was too risky. you needed something less obvious.

"you wanna come over to watch that new movie? i'm bored."

haehcan reads the words over and over again, trying to decipher any ulterior motives you might have, yet again that may just be him wishing for some. he takes a moment to reply, choosing his response carefully, even though he knew immediately he would be saying yes.

"sure, when?"

"tonight?"

once you had confirmed a meeting time, haechan had but two hours to compose himself. he didn't know what to expect, after all, you could have invited him over simply to watch the movie, however much he hoped that was only a cover. a cover for an empty apartment, and some suppressed desires.

when you open your front door, you're already worked up enough. it takes all the self restraint in you to not pounce on the boy in front of as soon as he steps into your hallway. he seems to be having a similar internal debate and you feel the air shift as he drops his bag next to your door, stepping towards you.

neither of you want to make the first move, the tension growing until you can’t stand in anymore, reaching towards him, knotting your fingers behind his neck and pulling him down to you. he closes the gap between you, lips smashing against yours in such desperation you would tease him if you didn’t feel the same way.

“where?” he mumbles against your lips, hands gripping up and down your sides.

“bedroom.” is all you reply before he wraps his arms around your waist, shuffling the both of you into your bedroom and shutting the door with his foot. he pushes you onto the bed and you let yourself fall, hair splaying out underneath you in a way he likes maybe too much.

his body follows yours and he slots between your legs perfectly, hands reclaiming their grip on your middle, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. wherever his fingers slide over, goosebumps rise in their wake, sending shivers through you at their coldness.

your lips return to his and you tilt his head up to deepen the kiss, only breaking away to press open-mouthed kisses to the space under his ear, relishing in the way his breathing hitches in his throat. the kisses trail down his neck to his collarbone, biting down before sucking the area into your mouth. haechan lets out a sinful moan that goes straight to your core.

as soon as you pull you lips away from his body he pulls your shirt over your head, cursing at the lack of underwear, gaze locking in on the swell of your breasts, nipples hard in the cold air. “you had such a hard time taking it off last time,” you reason into his ear, pulling the lobe into your mouth and pulling before continuing, “i thought i would save you the trouble.”

“fuck, baby, you’re so hot,” his words are silenced by the moan you let out when his fingers come to toy with your nipples, rolling one between his digits. you can’t help but arch into him, legs closing around the thigh spreading them apart. it’s clear you’re already so turned on that haechan almost pities you as you grind against his thigh. “so hot, and needy it seems.”

“haechan,” you moan, hands coming to tug on his own shirt, pulling the material over his head and throwing it somewhere else in the room. “i need you so bad.”

“i know, baby,” he cooes, dropping his mouth to envelope your nipple in between his lips, “i’ll take care of you, don’t worry, princess.” the filthful nature of his words make your body heat up, the coldness of fingers now toying with the waistline of your shorts so much more noticeable.

the shorts are removed quickly, your panties following quickly. before you can process what he’s doing, his fingers are spreading your lips apart, lips blowing on your clit to watch the way you clench around nothing. you shiver, hands moving to grip his hair.

after admiring your pussy for a moment, he licks a thick stripe from your hole to your clit, stopping to suck the bud into his mouth, hands coming to press you into the matress when you buck up into him. his tongue laps over your most sensitive spot and he rubs your wetness over his fingers before pushing one into you, moaning at the tightness of your walls. the vibrations of his moan travel straight through your clit and you let out a shameful whine.

after working his finger in you for a few moments, he adds a second, closely followed by a third as he continues his assault on your clit. your moans are loud and non-stop, only stopping to warn him how close you are.

“cum on my tongue, babygirl,” the dirty words dripping from his tongue push you over the edge and you let go with a cry, tugging on the strands of haechan’s hair so hard it nearly hurts him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” is all you can say as haechan makes his way back up your body, pressing his lips back to yours. on his tongue, you can taste the sweetness of your own cum and you move away from him only to tug his bottom lip in between your teeth, pulling then sucking on it to numb the pain.

you make quick work of his jeans, helping him out of them and chucking them to the floor, shortly followed by his own underwear. from his view, you look stunning, eyes hooded and blown out with lust, lips red and wet from kissing, bruised almost.

he doesn’t say anything as he lines himself up with your enterance, rocking his hips forwards and filling you completely. the pleasure is almost too much for you, still sensitive from your orgasm only minutes prior, eyes rolling back at the way he fills you so well. haechan’s head falls to your shoulder as he gives himself a moment to calm down, biting into your shoulder when he pulls out to the tip.

“you take me so well, baby,” the words are hot in your ear, his breath fanning down your neck, “look at you, all spread out for me.”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself as he pushed back in, moaning into your shoulder at the feeling of you around him, tight, wet, hot. he can sense he won’t last long as he sets a fast pace, chasing his own high.

to make up for his fast-approaching orgasm, he takes your ankle into his hand, pulling your leg up to rest over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit every sweet spot possible. the feeling leaves you paralyzed in pleasure, unable to do anything but chant his name.

“i’m gonna cum,” you mumble against him, whining out when his thumb comes down to rub fast circles on your clit.

“fuck,” haechan’s eyes are screwed shut and the sight is so other-wordly beautiful it almost makes you tear up. “i’m cumming.”

his hips stutter and the feeling of his cum filling you, some leaking onto the tops of your thigs, pushes you over the edge. your back arches as you cum over his cock, his hips still easing the both of you through your highs.

when you’ve calmed down, chest heaving as the aftershocks of your second orgasm ripple through you, he pulls out, wincing at the first flicker of overstimulation. he turns and presses a gentle kiss to your ankle, rubbing the fingers of his other hand over your cheekbone, relishing the fucked out expression on your face. he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, so exhuasted underneath him, sweat glistening over your skin.

“that was–”

“long overdue.”

he laughs an agreement out, falling next to you on the bed and lacing your fingers together. “we should watch movies together more often.”

a/n: the only thing i have to say is yikes at this point.

[hops-hunny]

ok now you got me going with the size kink stuff

AND I DEMAND A BLURB WITH POTHEAD NEV, SIZE KINK NEV, DOM!NEV, SPANKING KINK, but like the reader is sweet and act "innocent", and neville gets more turned on than he already is

PRONOUNS: SHE/HER

;_; yall fr treat me huh? IM FINNA TEAR THIS ONE UP. I'll do you one better, reader IS innocent. Not even as an act

Neville knew he was playing with fire when he first asked (Y/n) out. They were different in so many ways. While Neville was experienced in all sense of the world, she was untouched. Didn't drink, didn't party, barely left her dorm, hell she didn't even smoke before she started to date him. At first, he thought her whole innocent thing was an act or that it was at least a lot less than it came off originally. However when he went to touch her for the first time and she took the time to turn each of her stuffed animals around, he knew he was screwed.

It was like the world was tempting him, holding the metaphorical candy in front of his face. He'd be damned if he didn't eat it. Although they hadn't gone all the way yet her reactions from what he had done were more than enough. The way she'd moan and buck her hips onto his tongue as he tongue fucked her, begging him to stop because she was so sensitive but whining when he pulled away. The way he'd finger her in the common room, in the great hall too, whispering about how naughty she was for letting him touch her. It was all so addicting. He found himself being absolutely devoted to eliciting those noises from her whenever he could, loving how even when she was deep into it she'd still go as far as to cover her own eyes claiming it was "too lewd".

"N-nev. Can I ask you something?" she mumbled, walking up to him as he sat with his friends. He glared at them as they went to say something, standing up to grab her hands.

"Of course. Everything okay, petal?" he asked, stroking her cheek as he tilted her head up to look at him. He noticed how her eyes were bloodshot, pupils slightly blown out. "Are..are you high princess?" he asked in a shocked tone. It wasn't unusual for her to be high, just unusual for her to be high without him. She never did it alone, usually opting to wait for him. He ignored his friends' giggles, walking her away to a secluded corridor. "What is it you needed to ask me?"

She looked both ways before grabbing his hand, guiding it between her legs. His eyes widened at how wet she was before another wave of shock rolled through him. She wasn't wearing underwear?

"Petal just what do you think you're doing, walking around the hall with no knickers under your skirt? Only sluts do things like that, are you a slut?" he teased, rubbing his fingers between her folds slightly. He smirked as her legs begin to shake, a whimper falling through her lips as she clung onto his shirt.

"Wanted..no needed you to touch me. I wanna feel good." she said, burying her face in his chest. He drew back his fingers slowly, holding them to her lips. His cock twitched at her confused expression.

"Open." he commanded, sticking his slick covered fingers into her mouth as she opened. "Yes, just like that pretty. I'll make you feel good. But first I've gotta teach you a lesson." he began to drag her off towards his dorm, ignoring her protests.

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

When they got to his dorm, Neville sat on the edge of his bed pulling the smaller girl towards him. He pushed her down over his lap, pulling up the back of her skirt. His pants tightened at the sight of her slick covered cut, spasming around nothing. "Fucking hell.." he muttered, rubbing a large hand over her ass. Without warning he brought his hand back down, a loud smack echoing around the room. (Y/n) whimpered, gripping onto his pants leg at the action, bits of her arousal sliding out.

"N-nev! Hurts..." she squeaked out as he repeated the action, massaging her sore cheek. She ground her clit against his pants leg, whimpering at the minimal amount of friction. "B-but feels good."

He let out a soft groan, landing a hard spank on her cheek once more. His eyes darkened at the sight of her red cheeks, marks in the shape of his hand. "Yeah? Bet it does. You're such a slut for me, bunny. Look at you, getting all messy and I've barely even touched you." he chuckled as she whined, moving her hips down onto his thigh. He continued with his ruthless actions, growing more and more impatient from the little noises she'd make, begging and begging him to touch her.

"Alright. Think that's enough darling. Want me to make you feel good?" he mused, laying her back on the bed as he removed her shirt. He felt his cock twitch at the sight of her. Her lips were all puffy from his relentless kissing, hair tousled as her hard nipples poked through her frilly little bra. Normally he'd remove it, but she looked so pretty that he hardly wanted to ruin it. He moved her skirt up once again, going to slide a finger inside of her but was surprised when it went in with ease.

"W-wanted you so bad earlier so I...I tried...I can't say it!" she cried out, covering her face. He felt his heart swell at her adorable actions, every bit of his patience was being tested and he was sure if he didn't keep going, he'd fail.

"Go on bunny, say it. Tell daddy what you did, hm?" he cooed, rubbing at her clit slowly. He watched as the girl tensed, hips bucking to meet his small movements. He stopped, pinching at the small bud when she shook her head no.

"T-touched myself. Thinking of you, wanted you so so bad." she said, looking up with him with big sad eyes, bottom lip jutted out. She was so pretty, so delicate and pure. His sweet little flower.

"Oh petal, bet your cunny is begging to be filled then. Don't worry, I'm gonna take good care of you." he muttered, freeing his cock from the restraints of his briefs. He rubbed his swollen tip against her entrance , pausing briefly as her small hand reached out to wrap around his wrist. His eyes locked with hers, softening at her expression.

"I..I don't think it's gonna fit. It's just...it's so big Nev." she whimpered out, tears springing in the corner of her eyes. He felt himself began to throb at the question, eyes trailing down to look at the sight. The size of her hole was impossibly small compared to his massive member. He knew it'd take forever to even fit half way but it was sure to be worth it. He'd just have to take his time, find some inner patience to do this in the best way possible.

"It'll fit, don't worry dove. You wanna be my good girl don't you?" he asked, watching as the girl nodded, her face relaxing some. He gave her a soft smile, leaning down to press a soft peck on her lips. He pushed in the tip slightly, hissing at how tight she was. An insufferable warmth grabbing him and pulling him in. He took both of her hands in his, intertwining them above her head. He couldn't help but admire how small she looked under him, tiny hands being swallowed by the grip of his larger ones.

He began to push in, letting out a groan at how tight she was, clenching and unclenching around him frantically. "You okay, bunny?" He asked, checking in at the halfway point. He opened his eyes, looking at her expression surprised to find her deep in her own pleasure, drool dripping down the sides of her mouth.

"S-so big Nev! M-ore more please! Need it." she begged, peaking up at him through weighted lashes. He bit his lip, resisting the urge to drive himself deep into her.

"As much as I want to love, I don't wanna hurt you." he reasoned, leaning down to peck her nose gently, halting the movements in his hips, he was surprised when she leaned up, capturing his for a longer period of time. He took back control, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he savored the of cannabis and ice lollies. He let out a groan of his own, tugging her bottom lip as he pulled away. He watched as she looked away, avoiding eye contact.

"But..I..I..I like it when it hurts!" she said louder than she probably intended. His eyes widened as he sat there, stunned at her words. His little princess saying such dirty things to him? He rammed the rest of his cock in, groaning at the feeling of her tight muscle engulfing him completely. The squeeze was so tight that he barely fit. His eyes traveled down to sight of her hot cream trickling out of him. He chuckled some, looking at her embarrassed expression. "Couldn't help it, feels too good!"

He sped up his movements, hitting his thrust deeper. "What does princess? Use your words." he gazed down at her as she babbled, hot tears rolling down her face as he continued to pound into her abused hole. With each thrust he could feel her stretching open more and more but no matter what, his cock was still far too big.

"C-cock so big! Oh Neville, please! It's too much." she wailed, back arching off the bed as he continued his relentless pace. She let out a chorus of moans, bucking her hips forward slightly to meet his thrust.

"You look so pretty like this baby. Give me one more, one more good one and then I'll stop." he moaned out through her. His moans began to grow frantic along with his sloppy thrust. Gripping both of her hands in one of his, he moved a finger down to rub at her clit, desperate to draw one more out of her. As her eyes rolled to the back of her head, he knew she was wrecked. Shortly after, her high came as she began to flail, moaning and sobbing out for him in a desperate choked out voice.

All of it was too much. Not too long after with a few more rough thrust, Neville came deep inside of her whimpering as he buried her head in her shoulder. He groaned as he collapsed beside her, pulling her close to his chest. As he looked down at her, he felt himself twitch at the sight of her glossed over eyes, cum spilling out of her swollen cunt.

"T-thank you. Can we do that again sometime?" she asked, eyes full of the innocence they always held.

Yeah, Neville may have been fucked but she would be harder.

[jovnie]

PRETTY LITTLE THING| Namjoon

Requested

Summary

He loved every part of your body, however, he couldn't keep his hands off your ass when he saw the view in the reflection of the tv

Words 1.5k yes ,I'm teasing you here

Namjoon established relationship!

Warnings; PWP, Smut, Slapping, griping, Roping, marking, riding, dirty talk, Big dick joon, creaming,

With the blinds in the apartment turned open, you straddled on your husband's lap tightly. With your head laid on his shoulder, you looked out the blinds to see the thunder rawr out the window. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply. Meanwhile, namjoon moved his hands around your back hugging you softly as the two of you sat in silence.

Kissing your neck softly, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked in the reflection of the tv in front of you two. With the view of your ass arched softly, he smiled looking more at the view. You had on gray panties that fitted snugg around ass, giving it the perfect shape as it protrudes out. His eyes lowered seeing the way it looked with his plain black boxers that roade up his thigh. With a quick breathe out, he moved his hands to cup your ass and give them a big ole squeeze. With his warm hands on your ass you giggled slightly in his ear.

"What's so funny now?"he asked, squeezing each cheek gently.

"Nothing besides the way your hands feel on my ass" you informed, leaning up to look him in his eyes. Grinning, he looked up and moved in for a kiss. Kissing back you brushed softy.

"Well there's a lot more I can do with that, of you want of course. Like grinding up against it" he told, leaning back a big and moving his up into yours as he grinded softly into your heat. Moving your arms around his neck, you looked down at him bitting your lower lip.

"I could do a lot for you want me to" he mentioned, flashing that smile of his to simply catch you off guard. Looking down, you thought about it and looked back onto his deep.brown eyes.

"Tell me as you do it" you agreed, as your heart began besting a bit faster. Nodding, he rubbed your back and pushed your legs wider apart with his own thighs.

"I could grope it" he smirked, taking your ass into his hands roughly ss he gripped and kneeded his gaint hands onto them. Nodding, you closed your eyes enjoying the feeling.

"Spank it" he added, taking his palm and back it far away to slap it hard enough to make you squeal.

"I like that one" you told, laying back down on his shoulder. Huffing out a laugh, he agreed.

"Well I can smack your ass till you cum if you want, but I can't my cock deep on you of deciding so. I wanna feel your bare ass too" he suggested waiting for an answer. Humming in thought, you nodded. With immediate response, he took of his underwear and then helped you slip out of yours.

"Mind if you grind on you to get us in the mood?" He questioned, spanking your ass softly with his right hand. Nodding no, he continued by moving your hips back and forth on his limp cock. As your hips pushed softly down on his length, he looked back in the reflection of the mirror to watch another view of your ass softly jiggling as he spanked you. With a lick of his lips, he took your ass and bounced it softly in his hands gripping his nails onto the meaty part of his ass.

"The shit I'd do to see my cum drip down the sides of your ass baby" he grunted, slapping your ass before you decided to just shake it for him as he watched your cheeks smack against the other one.

"Fuck!~" he moaned aloud, feeling his length hardened and push up not just against your slit but your cheeks as they bounced against it. The more you pushed up against hsic cock, the more he grabbed and slapped your ass as you dripped down on his cock.

"Please namjoon~" you whined, throbing softly on top of him as his hands spanked you hard enough to watch your ass jiggle in response. Sore to the touch you whimpered in his ear, holding onto his shoulders.

"You know the drill" he smirked as you nodded in his shoulders. Holding onto him, you closed your eyes hissing in slight pain as he slowly entered your pussy. Moaning on Que to the stretching, you bit his neck gently to single to keep going. Grabbing your ass he softly moved you up and down his length letting it coat the fee inches he was able to fit in before trying to push for more. Kissing your neck to stimulate you more to increase your arousal on him, you moaned in your mouth closing them harder as you felt him stretch you out.

"That's daddy's girl, keep taking more of me" he moaned in pleasure, whilst feeling you take another inch making it 7. biting your lip as he said that your soft moaning in his ear made things feel so much better. He found it cute how you held in your moans, but not your breathing. Rubbing your back again, he allowed you to adjust to his size. Meanwhile, he came to your ear to say a few things.

"There you go baby, you're making my cock so well. Fuck your ass feels so good in my hands" he grunted, slapping your ass to grip it. Moaning, your body softy shook as you pushed your body to take another inch, making it 8 inches.

"Is so big!~" you cried, gripping on his shoulder tightly as you moved your hips up and down him some more.

"I know baby, you're squeezing my cock so much, baby. Fuck!" He cursed, taking your ass and squishing it together and letting it go to bounce. Watching your ass bounce in the go-to reflection, namjoon laid back and let your pussy grip and clench on him as cries of pleasure filled his ears. Moving his head back in pleasure, his eyes closed shut and hands placed on your ass.

"Yes, like that baby. Go faster on me baby!" He asked, hearing your breath fastened on him as you bounced up and down. Groaning in repose, he opened his eyes to see in the tv mirror that you were starting to cream on him. Watching your ass for the millionth time, he simply moved his face to your neck and began kissing that one spot on your neck that drove you crazy when he did suck on it. Hearing you cry his name, your thighs became weak as he kissed, sucked and marked that once spot.

"Namjoon, you're making me weak..please~" you moaned. Chuckling softly, he held onto your back and legs and tried lifting you.

"Then let's take this into the bedroom" he suggested, carrying you off.

[toukenramblings]

Modern AU: House Husband!Kasen Kanesada

I WON’T LIE THAT I THOUGHT ABOUT HOUSE HUSBAND KASEN A LOT DURING WORK LMAO. ENJOY

Warnings: Sfw+Nsfw, BAD POETRY

SFW

Kasen is no doubt an early riser, but more so along the lines of reluctant riser. He values his sleep no doubt, and will mumble and grumble as he slowly opens his eyes and wakes up. Kasen is also a kind of man who needs caffeine (tea or coffee, depends on what he’s feeling like at the time and his coffee has to be extra sweet with a cute little whipped cream swirl on top, don’t ask) to fully function. He’s sluggish when he wakes up. A kiss will be just as nice as his morning drink too! He will flush when you give him a morning kiss but will happily kiss you back before telling you to go brush your teeth.

Kasen is also pretty damn good at cooking. Will also stylize his dishes and post them to social media. But he is also posting poetry, aesthetically pleasing shots, and hes that one aesthetic blog on social media or something. His captions on food pics aren’t flashy or anything of the sort, it’s just a mere post and maybe a lil haiku in the description of how proud he is to have made it, or something of the sort!

Most of the posts on his social media are beautiful shots of you, framing your gorgeous self and of course the caption is just a poem that spans like 50 pages of how much he loves you.

When he gets up, he’ll help you chose your clothes for work! Most of the time it’s done the night before, set out on your desk or something.

Your lunch always has a little note tucked into it, most likely a poem of encouragement. 

Date nights are always consisting of book reading, poetry writing, or dance nights! It doesn’t have to be out of the house but if it is, damn right is Kasen going to look BEAUTIFUL. Will make sure you two have matching outfits. Also adores it when you two match, wittingly or not!

Is not shy about sharing clothing with you. Sure perhaps it’s smaller/bigger for him to wear but who the hell cares???? He loves you and damn right he will show it off! Flushes when you wear his clothing and will shyly admit that he adores it. 

Kasen is a bit of a shopaholic. He also has a bit of a habit of impulse buying things: stuff you like, stuff he likes, matching items for you two to wear together. Hell shopping dates are common between you two! Sure Kasen will try to steal the bags from you and forbid you from holding his stuff but it's just showing that he cares. You're his muse after all, don’t be surprised if he suddenly stops at a random store with clothing he thinks suits you! He will drop everything and drag you inside to see if anything will suit you! 

Will 100% show up at your workplace to bring you lunch personally, your coworkers cannot help but be enamored with your husband, his elegance, how he walks, how he is cordial with everyone he meets but almost lights up when he sees you. Everyone teases you at work that you have such a cute husband who always leaves you with a peck on your cheek and lunch - Kasen probably has a side business of making poems to help people confess/make their partner happy! 

The only PDA you’re getting from Kasen is hand-holding and cheek kisses, that’s that. Ain’t no one allowed to see your happy little face when you two kiss. You surprising him with PDA on the other hand will end him, flushed face, turns away, mumble something that it’s inappropriate before diving in to give you a taste of your own medicine.

NSFW

Shibari. Lingerie. Whatever the hell. Kasen adores a sense of beautiful elegance and will not hesitate to pick out some lingerie for you, taking in how your body is made/shaped, colors that suit you, material, what you like, so on and so forth! He’s...a regular at this one sex shop. The cashier knows Kasen by name and they regularly have debates on what kind of stuff you should wear.

Though if you surprise him with picking out something yourself Kasen will be just as happy to see you like that! Not before wanting to make you into a sobbing fucked out mess but he loves it when you have something underneath your clothing!

Sexting consists of nothing but long ass poems of EXACTLY what Kasen will do to you that night. It’s like 60 pages long but it’s WORTH IT. If you’re lucky, you’ll sometimes see HIM in lingerie, sending you naughty little pictures of what he’s wearing. And then there are audio clips that are like just him reading his naughty poetry to you. He won’t send videos often but when they do, HOOOO BOI. 

“Your lips are of liquor, for even a glance at them gets me drunk. A flush against your cheeks, roses cascading down your form, dipping under the twine and silk that dares to bar my way. 

“Forever let me stay within your heart, your breast, your soul, they beat as one. Our hands collide, fingers seeking with earnest, I never want to leave you.”

“Paint your body white, forever with my dear love, I am enamored.”

Nothing but body worship here my friends. Kasen will draw out paintings and poems with his tongue on your skin if he must. Hickies are placed only in the most intimate of places. He doesn’t mind marking up your neck, oh no! It’s fine but this is an art piece that only he is allowed to see. 

And then we get to his tongue. He is a poet, he has a silver tongue, he knows how to use that damn thing. Will adore it when you two suck on each other’s fingers. 

You two are fucking in the bedroom, that’s it. You two can tease each other all you want around the house, but the bedroom is a sacred place. He won’t lie that he hasn’t thought about fucking you in his studio/office but is also worried of making a mess. So that’s more or less off of the table. 

Your wedding night was nothing short of slow and lovely, Kasen wouldn’t even initiate the act until much later. You two would just lie there in a bed, kissing and tracing each other’s forms until you are satisfied. Oh so slow languid kisses shared, hands tangling in hair. Kasen would be slow, taking his time with you. He wants to savor that moment, when you two have sex the first time as a married couple; wanting to etch that into his body and memory. 

Yes Kasen might have a slight oral fixation, but you look me in the eye and tell me gagging Kasen wouldn’t be a cute as fuck sight. He never wants to be blindfolded though, he has to see you!! No way are you hiding your beautiful form from him!

Aftercare is so tender and sweet, his hands would massage every joint and every inch of your body, pressing sweet kisses and whispering praises. A bottle of water, and of course, making sure that you two are clean - bed sheets too. Gonna change those no matter how tired he is. 

[i-need-air]

Bakugou Katsuki – The wait before the promise.

Summary: He just doesn't understand make-up but for once he sits and waits because tonight is the night. Grown up Bakugou.

Notes: Here to throw something that's been in my BNHA folder for a month now and wasn't sure of it. I'm kinda MIA because I'm lowkey [but not so lowkey] obsessing over Haikyuu now so I might just throw some volleyball in my blog, who knows, who knows! Ty for reading this mess! [What is proof reading? Hah! We die like men here!] ♥ ♥ ♥

He really didn't understand it, although throughout their relationship he always did his best to at least try to. It has been his mother that had to slap [literally] some reality in his head after one big argument, just after they graduated. If he wasn't willing to put work in their relationship, visibly, not just assume everything is alright and/or it'll fix with time, they'd crash and before he'd know it he would've lost the love of his life.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't much of a talker in terms of feelings but it didn't take him long to realize she was, without a doubt, made for him and vice-versa. And over the years the now man learned to communicate things through. Well, at least he's getting there.

What his brain couldn't wrap around is why in the actual fuck was she taking one [1] hour to do all her make-up. For a simple double date with Shitty-Hair and Racoon Eyes, or so she thought. And beyond that, what baffled him the most when he inquired about it was that she was looking to perfect the Natural Look™. [Y/N] said it so casually while applying that weird ass skin colored cream over her face with a literal sponge, ignoring his shocked face staring her down in the bathroom mirror.

Was she seriously trying to put make-up on her face just to have it look like her normal natural face? For once in his life-time Katsuki was at loss of words, choosing to bite his tongue and sit like a good boy on the couch and wait. He was already dressed, ready to go, the scent of his new cologne was annoying the hell out of it and overall he was getting impatient although not with her. Other things were on his mind too and maybe, just maybe, he was having this beauty product existencial crisis because he needed to calm down.

He started muttering to himself, tapping his fingers on his knee while seriously trying to figure out his partner. Or women in general. Last time they had a chat about a similar topic she just informed him that not everyone has his genetics, meaning his perfect skin, which made him roll his eyes but grin, conversation forgotten because he's a sucker for her compliments.

Getting up to grab a beer while checking the time, he saw her make weird faces in the mirror, applying god knows what and he couldn't help but make a face himself. Undeniably, she was cute, something he'd never ever say out loud, yet he couldn't help but stare from the hall, beer now in hand as she winked at him in the mirror. With a small smirk, he took a gulp and just observed in silence.

Why was she hiding her beauty marks though? Or that small scar she got from that mission they kicked ass together? He loved that about her, the small details on her face and body that he not so embarrassingly learned by memory at this point. And seeing her hum to herself proudly after throwing some brown powder under her cheekbones, somewhat and very slightly making them more pronounced, small smile of victory on her bare lips, he smiled with her.

It would've been weird to have someone lean against a wall watching you do something in basically another room but even if she felt his eyes on her, it seemed she didn't care. Maybe after all these years the woman got used to his intense eyes on her figure. Oh, how he loved watching her. From the first year in UA until now and without a doubt until forever. Yet here he was, admiring her, picking up her habits, such as the small squint of eyes when she was concentrating, slight pout on her lips whenever she didn't get the eye-make-up or whatever that light pink color was for not working how she wanted, her beautiful eyes shining when catching his.

And that's when he started noticing how her [e/c] orbs popped out more, complimented by the main color adorning her eye-lids. Her lashes, now longer, gave them a more cat-like shape. Those lips he kissed many times looked fuller yet he knew that sticky transparent gel on them was a pain in the ass. But he got it, finally, because until now he never watched her transform herself like this. Yes, he saw the before and after, and she was beautiful with and without make-up on, but has never stayed to watch her do a not so Natural Look™ and found himself letting out a chuckle because even after... how many years passed already? Eight whole years of knowing each other, of being by each other's side, he still found solace in observing her.

So when she let go of her hair, ruffling it a little to go along with her theme for the night and turning towards him with a smile, catching him already sending a smirk her way.

"I think I'm ready." she said, jumping a little then proceeding to adjust her summer dress.

"Whaddaya mean you think?" he said, giving her a mock-incredulous face. With a last sip of his beer, he headed towards the kitchen in an exasperated sigh, leaving her giggle in the hallway. Her soft pats walking away probably towards their bedroom gave him time to take a deep breath and check the time again.

They had reservations at nine sharp. Well, the restaurant wouldn't mind since they were the only ones scheduled in the premise for the night.

Checking his phone, Kirishima send him his good lucks [as if he needed it, pft] while Mina spammed him heart emojis and... fairies and butterflies? Disgusting. Whatever. It's not like it made him smile or anything.

"You're awfully smiley today. Did Izuku get down in ranks or something?" she joked, catching a glimpse of his features. Of course, their rivalry/friendship got much better over the years yet somehow they still had this dumb competition about whoever will be the number one. So childish and Men... would be what she'd comment whenever those two big idiots competed.

But no, tonight was about her, about them.

"I swear, woman, can't I smile without you interrogating me, hah?"

"You know I didn't mean it that way, Katsu!" she said with an exaggerated pout. "I love it when you smile, that's why I say." He almost choked on his saliva when hearing that.

"You'll see, dumbass." Smooth Bakugou Katsuki will always remain smooth. "Also, what the hell does Natural Look means? Isn't that make-up on your face, woman?" he inquired, changing the topic of the conversation while grabbing his and her jackets, house keys, all while waiting for her to put her heels on.

"What do you mean, does it look bad?!" her head snapped, eyes shooting daggers at him. He couldn't said something before?

"That's not what I meant!" his stomach suddenly decided to adopt a zoo, give all the animals some crack and put heavy metal on the highest volume. They were leaving. "You look good, I just don't get it why you'd—"

As he opened the door for her, rolling his crimson eyes at her fluttering eyelashes, over-exaggerated towards him while she gave an explanation, Bakugou knew that he didn't care whatever she wore that day, either face or body, because all he cared was about the little box in his pocket, the vacant restaurant they had their first date at, the catering crew he hired just for them and [Y/N] just being there. Oh, and the small detail of her saying "Yes".

So they left, echoes of their voices arguing like an old married couple, her teasing, his smart ass remarks and a promise in the air. The next time they'd cross the door of this apartment, she'd be bounded to be his, forever and always.

Oh. The dawning sun hit her highlighted cheeks softly, giving her an ethereal vibe. Yeah, he definitely gets it now. She looked even more breathtaking.

[softbiker]

Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: talk about body image/dysmorphia, past ED’s, veganism (idk if that’s a warning???)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This is...very self-indulgent. But oh well. A continuation of the Agent 14 series, in which Steve finds another diet he wants to try and he needs some help getting started. As always, let me know what you think! 

Sam finds him one afternoon, staring into the glow of the open fridge, in full superhero stance with his feet planted wide. Nothing abnormal about super soldiers looking for a snack; those boys can really put it away. But this one looks like he’s conducting an interview with the refrigerator contents - in his hand is a small notepad, a worn down pencil stub poised over it, and Sam can see little scribbles and tally marks covering the page.

“Uh…Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve doesn’t turn around, but Sam can see his deep-set frown in profile, harsh refrigerator light illuminating his lowered brows.

“What’re you doing, man?” Sam takes a couple steps closer and peers around those massive shoulders into the offending appliance. “That your grocery list?”

Steve finally looks up, blinking. Absently, he taps the end of his pencil against his chin.

“No, not a grocery list,” he frowns. “I’m just…taking stock, I guess.”

“We do inventory of the fridge now?” Sam sidesteps him, reaching for the orange juice. He still drinks straight from the carton and Barnes can just kiss his sweet ass.

Steve ignores him, sparing only an eye roll in response.

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, in a way only Steve Rogers can sigh about groceries. “Just got an idea, that’s all.”

Sam sips his orange juice as he watches him leave the room, more worried by that phrase than anything else Steve could’ve said.

**********

“I’m sorry - you want us to what?”

Steve crosses his arms and gives Clint his most authoritative frown.

“I’d like us to try a plant-based diet,” he repeats, looking at the faces scattered around the common room. This little “family meeting” didn’t warrant using the conference rooms on the upper floors; he had let everyone get cozy after dinner, helped dig through the couch cushions for the remote, and then made his little announcement.

“That means vegan, right?” Natasha says from her armchair, eyes on her phone in her lap. She’d started googling as soon as he proposed this little challenge.

“Woah, woah - hold up,” Sam raises a hand, sitting forward on the couch. “I know you’re not asking me to quit eating meat, Rogers.”

“And dairy,” Steve confirms.

“Eggs, too,” Wanda adds helpfully.

“No meat?” 41’s fingers curl into her baggy bacon-print PJ pants. Her lower lip wobbles. “No-no ice cream?” She looks to Clint, who immediately folds his hand over hers.

“There are plenty of plant-based alternatives-” Steve starts, his tone soothing.

“Is this because of that documentary you watched?” Bucky grumbles. He’s leaning on the back of the couch, eyes narrowed at his long-time friend. “What was the name…the one about the athletes who don’t eat meat…”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Steve glares back at him. “There’s plenty of evidence to suggest it gives them an edge in athletic performance, so why not-”

“Oh my god, Steve, we’re literally a team of superheroes,” Sam groans. “Earth’s mightiest heroes, and all that jazz. We’re already mighty! We don’t need this! I don’t need this!”

“That so?” Steve raises an eyebrow. One hand digging into his pocket, he produces the little notebook he was scribbling in a couple days before. “I’ve been making some notes-”

“Oh boy, here we go,” Clint mutters.

“In our fridge, the percentage of animal products is a little over 60% - that’s crazy high, guys.” Steve licks his lips, glancing at the skeptical faces around the room as he flips a page in his notebook. “Not only that, but as a whole, our consumption of takeout and highly processed foods has really gone up lately; the team ate a total of 23 meals from fast food restaurants in the last 2 weeks.”

“You’re monitoring our food, Rogers?” Natasha is looking at him now, though he almost wishes she weren’t. Her undivided attention is not for the faint of heart. Steve musters himself and pushes ahead.

“Look - let’s just try it, give it our best shot and then, in a month-”

“A month?” 41 cries, clutching Clint’s hand. “A whole month? But…but what about Bite?”

Oh. He’d forgotten. Sam and 41’s cherished food festival, held every July - a whole park full of food trucks, unlimited samples, live music. One of their photos from last year’s Bite was proudly displayed on the door of the fridge: 41 and Sam each chowing down on a massive bacon cheeseburger - a cheeseburger with Krispy Kreme donuts as the buns.

“Well…” he hesitates

“No. Uh-uh. No way.” Sam folds his arms across his chest and sinks back into the couch cushions. “There is no way you’re making us miss the best event of the year for another one of your health kicks.”

“Sam-”

“Besides! You and Tin Man can eat as much pizza as you want and still outrun a car,” Sam huffs.   “No reason to make the rest of us suffer through another one of your diets. Not to mention that I’m not interested in just eating salad and broccoli…that’s depressing.”

Shoulders falling, Steve sighs and drops his notebook in his lap.

“Okay, well. Sam has spoken,” he says, quirking an eyebrow. “Anyone else?”

“Mm, I’m with Sam on this one,” Bucky shrugs, unbothered by Steve’s answering look of betrayal. “Sorry, pal, I guess I just don’t see the point…and besides, we had to go hungry for half our childhood. I’m not gonna live on rations now.”

Steve folds his hands in his lap, staring down at his knuckles with what looks for all the world like a pout. Maybe he should’ve made the team watch the documentary first…that would’ve gotten them excited. Hell, even he was inspired - after all, if a non-enhanced guy could train to carry over a thousand pounds, surely there was some kind of benefit to this lifestyle.

“Alright, how about this,” he pulls his last card, his last idea. “If I can make a meal that will convince you vegan food is actually good, would you agree to try it for a little while?”

Sam and 41 turn towards each other; he raises an eyebrow, she responds with a shrug.

“We can accept these terms,” Sam agrees. “But you’re really gonna have to wow us.”

“Yeah,” 41 nods, settling in next to Clint. “Bring out the big guns.”

From his place behind the couch, Bucky’s shoulders quake with silent laughter.

“You really played yourself on this one, pal,” he chuckles, shaking his head. Reaching across the cushions, he gives 41 a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, squirt. Your ice cream isn’t going anywhere - I’ve known Steve for a long, long time…” He smirks at a now exasperated Steve.

“…and Steve Rogers can’t cook for shit.”

**********

Steve Rogers, in fact, cannot cook for shit. But he’ll be damned if that will stop him from trying.

He’s swiping through recipes and grocery lists on his Stark pad, wondering if baking his own bread would be as easy as it seemed, when the text comes through.

Hey soldier. I heard you were going on a diet. That true?

Steve snorts and chews his lip, thumbs hovering as he thinks over his reply.

Yeah, it’s about time I got in better shape.

Feeling a bit silly, he watches the little dots in the text bubble as she types back a reply, and tries not to feel too pleased with himself at the cluster of laughing emojis she sent.

Well, listen. I’ve been vegan for a while, actually, so if you need any help I’m here!

An eager leap in his heart, and his thumbs fly over the keyboard once more.

Oh, really? In that case…I’m not sure if I can really handle cooking by myself. I have a terrible track record in the kitchen.

Another laughing emoji. They didn’t teach you that in the army?

Shockingly no.

Someone (Wanda? Peter?) may have told him something about double texting, but he can’t help himself as he quickly follows up his text with another.

Anyways, I’m desperate. And the team is desperate for me to not burn down the tower, haha. Can you help a guy out?

Waiting for a reply, his knee bounces under his desk and he clicks the pen in his hand over and over, hardly hearing the annoying little noise as his thumb reflexively twitches on the button. When her response buzzes on his screen, he almost flinches.

Tell you what. Today is my day off, and I needed groceries anyway. Trader Joe’s in an hour?

**********                                                                                                   

“What on earth are those?” Steve stares incredulously at the basket. “And why are they…not orange?”

“They’re called Hawaiian sweet potatoes and they just grow that way,” 14 laughs as she reaches for a display of squash next to the potatoes.

“That’s not a sweet potato - I know what a sweet potato looks like,” Steve says, obstinate brows crowding together. Shaking her head, 14 just turns away from the squash towards the avocados on the opposite side of the produce aisle.

“Oh boy, you’re gonna learn a lot being vegan…” she sighs. She squeezes a couple of avocados, testing ripeness and feeling the size before she chooses two and adds them to one of her produce bags. With a satisfied nod, she settles her hands on her hips. “Okay, next on the list: tahini.”

Looking at the cart, Steve can’t tell what his dinner is going to be.

“Tahini? What are we gonna do with that?” He wonders what it is, too, but doesn’t ask.

“Eat it, Rogers.” Smirking over her shoulder, she grabs the front of the cart and pulls him along towards the condiments aisle. “What on earth would you do without me?”

“Die a carnivore, I guess,” he shrugs.

“Hm. Tragic.”

 **********                                                                                                  

“It’s practically foolproof - all you have to do is cook this, roast the sweet potatoes, and then we’re gonna throw it all in together.”

“Never underestimate my ability to totally ruin a meal.” Steve says, stirring the quinoa. An adorable scrunch wrinkles his nose as he turns to where she’s dicing the avocados. “Ask Bucky. Even army rations taste better than my cooking.”

“You must be very confident in yourself to admit that,” she smiles back. Cheeks warm, he turns back to the pan with a shrug.

Silence stretches between them for a few moments, the quiet of shared work - from the other room, they can hear the TV playing, occasional laughs from Sam and 41 as they catch up on episodes of Brooklyn 99. Outside the windows, the summer sun sinks steadily lower, golden hour glow illuminating the skyline and filtering into the kitchen. She’s barefooted, chipped blue polish on her toes, and her feet pad lightly across the tile floor as she moves her bowl of avocado chunks over to the island. The little sound makes his heart hungry.

“So,” he clears his throat. “How long have you been, uh, plant-based?”

“Hmm. I guess about 6 months or so?” She taps her fingers absently against the marble countertop as she thinks. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

“Wow. Why did you start?”

“Someone dared me,” she winks at him. “No, but really. A friend challenged me to do it with her for a month…and then I realized I felt great and didn’t miss the animal products so much.” She shrugs. “I had more energy, I felt stronger, my skin looked amazing - trust me, after a week, you’ll practically be glowing.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder with a melodramatic flair, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, a playful smile dimpling her cheeks.

He laughs with her, shaking his head. “Oh, thank god. My skin is a nightmare.” His sarcasm sparks her laugh again, and it inflates his chest even more. He feels light, easy, weightless as the dust motes floating through a sunbeam between them.

Her giggles die down when her phone timer buzzes, signaling her to check the roasting potatoes in the oven. Sidestepping him, she leans down carefully in front of the open door, waves of heat assaulting them both as she pokes and prods the vegetables with a spatula. “Perfect,” she closes the oven door with a satisfied nod. “Just a few more minutes. And it looks like that’s almost done, too.” She gestures to his pan and hands him a lid to cover it. “You can go ahead and turn the burner off - the water has cooked out, so we’ll just need to let it sit.”

With the rest of their ingredients prepped and waiting in a neat row on the island, they slide onto a pair of barstools as 14 sets another short timer on her phone. Steve takes a sip from his beer, leaning an elbow on the counter as he turns to face her.

“Have you always liked to cook?” he asks. In his mind, there are a million questions - they roll over each other, constantly trying to push their way out of his mouth, his overwhelming curiosity wishing he could crack open her shell through sheer force of will. Instead, he drums his fingers against the counter, picks at the label on his beer bottle, scratches his beard, and waits for her to speak.

“Oh, no, not at all,” she laughs at the question. She’s not facing him, but she smiles, fingers lightly tracing the stem of her wine glass. “Actually I used to hate it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Surprised?”

Steve is surprised - her kitchen confidence certainly impressed him. Not once has she consulted a recipe, or googled how long to roast potatoes in the oven, how to make lemon tahini sauce. Things that would’ve left him completely stumped and likely going hungry.

“A little. You really seem to know your way around a kitchen, that’s all.”

“Well…” she takes a deep breath, and he can see the shape of it forming in her mind: whatever it is she’s about to tell him, whatever she’s preparing to say - it matters. With a fortifying gulp of wine, she knots her fingers together and forges ahead. “I used to have a lot of…um, body image issues, you know? Super critical of myself, low self esteem…it got pretty bad for a while.” She doesn’t elaborate, because he doesn’t need to know and how could she even begin to tell it? Too many cups of coffee and too few meals, the feeling of a toothbrush in the back of her throat. It hurts her now, the memory of that girl who thought that making herself less would somehow make her enough. She reaches for the wine again. Steve stays quiet, his eyes watchful and soft. It hurts him, too.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

“Yeah.” Glancing at him, she licks her bottom lip, before turning her eyes back down to her hands. “Anyway - cooking helped me learn how to actually take care of myself.” A half-hearted little shrug, a self-conscious smile. “That’s really all there is to it.”

He nods, holding her gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between her own. Her shoulders curl where she sits a little hunched at the stool, bare feet tucked up on a bar that ran between the legs of the stool, one knee bouncing rapidly. A minute ticks by, then two, the kitchen gone quiet and warm, hazy with the smell of a good meal.

“You know, a long time ago, before I was…this-” He gestures to himself, his big shoulders and tree trunk thighs, the massive everything of him. “- before the serum, well, I’m sure you’ve seen the pictures. Or a documentary,” he smirks, a little rueful. “I was less than half the size I am now - short, skinny, no matter how much I ate my ribs stuck out. Buck used to try to help me train, doing pushups or learning how to box, but I was still so weak. A strong breeze could’ve knocked me over, probably - plus, I had asthma, and I was always getting sick with one thing or another…honestly, it’s a miracle I didn’t die before the army got me.”

It coaxes a mirroring smile from her, one elbow propped on the island. She shuffles on top of the stool, turning to face him fully.

“I thought…I don’t know, I thought I’d feel…different. Better, once I was stronger.” He shakes his head, chuckling at himself. “But it was more like…I was just in the wrong body. I kept bumping into things, hitting my head on doorframes; I took up more space than I thought I should.” Letting go of his beer, he spreads his hands in front of him, turning them over alternately and staring at the broad palms, the strong fingers, crisscrossed with veins and scars. “Drove myself crazy trying to sketch. I kept breaking my charcoal, snapping pencils…it was like trying to draw with another person’s hands.”

“Did you get used to it?” she asks. The hand not occupied with her wine glass reaches out to gently take hold of his wrist. A delicate thumb drags across his pulse, and she looks down at the lines of his palms, still uncalloused and pink. Her hand cradles his large one as she brings her eyes up to his own.

“More or less,” he shrugs. “Sometimes I still pass a mirror and do a double take.” More often than he would admit, in fact. He thinks of all the mornings he comes home from a brutal run - double marathons, barely sweating - and sees himself getting into his shower, a god he doesn’t recognize staring back at him.

She nods. She understands.

“Taking care of yourself helps. I think - it never quite goes away, but…” her smile is sweet. Hopeful. “The little things. They help.”

Turning his wrist, he grasps her hand with his own. Her skin is soft and warm; smaller fingers slide between his thick ones. Once, a long time ago, their hands would have been the same size.

Just as he opens his mouth to speak, her phone buzzes, vibrating against the counter and startling them both. As she withdraws her hand, she grins up at him.

“You hungry, Rogers?”

“Starving.”

**********

They take their bowls into the living room, joining Sam and 41 on the couch. Steve does his best with the chopsticks at first, but he still hasn’t gotten used to it. In the name of efficiency, he switches to a fork so that he can shovel the food into his mouth faster.

“Woah - what is that?” Sam leans over to get a better look. He sniffs the air. “Damn, it smells amazing.”

“It’s called a Buddha bowl,” 14 says, politely covering her mouth to conceal the sweet potatoes she’s still chewing. With her fork, she strategically arranges the next bite, collecting a little bit of everything: quinoa, potatoes, tahini sauce, avocado, greens. “Because it’s pure bliss,” she adds, before neatly shoving the next forkful into her mouth.

Steve hums in agreement, his own cheeks stuffed full. His bowl is half empty already. Peaking around 14’s shoulder, Agent 41 licks her lips and makes eye contact with Sam.

“I mean…maybe, we could try making some?” she shrugs her shoulders. “With a little Yum Yum sauce, too, I bet that would be good…” Sam is already nodding in agreement, pulling out his phone to look up a recipe.

“Don’t worry,” 14 smiles, patting her friend’s thigh. “I made plenty for everyone.”

As the other two scramble up from the couch and into the kitchen, she catches Steve’s eye and winks.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH16

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warning: NSFW

WC: 4065

SERIES MASTERLIST

At first, Dean had wanted her to leave her car at the Roadhouse but she’s not going to make the same mistake again. Not having a car to get away, that is. Not that she wants to but she’d rather be safe than sorry. 

She wants to call Linda, ask her about Meg but it’s way past 3AM, she doubts that Linda is awake or would be happy for her to call and wake her up. So she kind of pushes it aside, making a mental note to call Linda first thing in the morning. Has to try to find a way to do it. 

Oh my god.

The thought just hits her now. She’s going to sleep at his place. Again. And this time she’s sober too. And he might wanna do things. She’s not entirely opposed to doing those things but still… fuck, they’re gonna spend the night!

*

They park and take the elevator and Dean’s trying to be good, she knows because he can’t stop himself from not touching her. It’s those subtle little touches, on the small of her back, on her hips, her arm, fingers brushing against her cheeks, and they’re good. So good but also it’s pure torture it’s what it is.

She stands back and lets him unlock his door. 

“You hungry?” He asks, as he pushes in. Hands flying to the light switch. And she takes off her jacket. Dean had taken off his suit jacket before they drove off, his sleeves folded back over his forearms.

She takes off her shoes while he unlaces his. They’re there in their socked feet and it feels very… normal? 

She shakes her head no at his question, “Are you?”

He stands up and pins her to the wall, slides a knee between her thighs and his tongue between her lips. 

It builds up so fast too, her hands claws at the back of his neck, her cunt grinds against his clothed thigh. 

He breaks for air, because that’s what it is between them. They can never catch a breath. “Could eat you alive.” 

Dean picks her up all of a sudden, throws her over his shoulder and she shrieks and laughs. He walks her over to the couch, drops her down before sitting down himself, pats his thighs, “Come here,”

She goes in willingly. Of course she does. Drapes her legs over his, her skirt rides up but honestly, she doesn’t even care anymore. 

He hugs her around her waist, presses his lips to her neck, sucks at the place where he left a mark this morning which she didn’t care to hide. She was aware of the people staring when her shift starts and kind of blushes a little at the thought that they all now know where she got it from. Whom she got it from.

She grinds down on his bulge, actually wants to keep it classy, and doesn't want to come across as needy when that’s all she is right now. She’s a mess, held together by the grinding of her pussy on his clothed dick. Thin layers of fabric separates them.

Dean leans back when he’s satisfied with his work on her throat, looks up at her, his eyes dark and it’s really as if he wasn't lying to her. As if he indeed could eat her alive if she’d only let him. 

His one hand is on her hip helps her grind herself on him, his other hand pinches at her nipple through her top and bra and she arches her back at that.

He sneaks the hand that’s still on her hip further down past her bunched up skirt, until he’s kneading at her ass cheek.

“God, your ass,” He starts to say but doesn't get any further, instead he spanks it and then she feels both of his hands on her bottom. 

Y/N yelps up a little, it’s a good kind of hurt but not nearly enough to still the want in her. 

“Do you like to be spanked?” His voice is deep and dark and he’s panting. 

“Uh-huh,” She nods, leans down to kiss him and she breathes into his mouth.

“Yeah?” He grins into the kiss. 

“Yeah.” Wow, she can form words. “Again. Harder.” Words but not whole phrases, apparently.

He chuckles at that. And she sits up again, looks down to see him watching her. “Harder?”

Before she could say yes, he brings both his hands down on her ass and it stings, fuck does it sting. He kneads her cheeks then, helping her grind. Helping her reach her climax and shit, she’s close.

“More,” She probably sounds desperate, she doesn’t care.

Dean raises an eyebrow, “More?” 

“Ye—” She can’t finish the word, feels the impact of the sting.

He spanks her twice more, hard and fast.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” He says, his hands kneading her ass.

“Shit,” 

“Come baby, come for me.” He has one hand inside her shirt now, his finger twists at her nipple, and that’s it, she comes with a moan and her legs start to shake. 

She buries her face in the crook of his neck as she writhes above him, Dean has to hold her still until she’s down from her high. 

Pushing herself upright again, she looks at him, her head’s still spinning. “Oh my god,”

“Fucking amazing, is what you are.” Dean smiles and pulls her down by her neck, kisses her hard, dirty and so fucking sloppy. It’s the hottest thing.

She has to break up for air, resting her forehead at his throat. “I think I wet your pants.”

Dean laughs at that, stands up with her still wrapped around his body and walks over to his bedroom. He drops her on the bed. And it’s only now that he sees the dark patch with her slick and cream. She blushes because it’s really embarrassing.

He sees that she’s uncomfortable, pushes his finger underneath her chin and makes her look up at him. “Hey, look at me,” He waits until her eyes focus on him. “Don’t worry about it alright? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She nods and he pecks her lips before he proceeds to take off his shirt. He turns to her as his hands work on his belt buckle. “You wanna take a bath with me?”

“A what?”

“You heard me.” He laughs.

“I never thought you’d be a bath person.”

“I’m not but I just feel like taking one with you.” He drops his pants, takes the belt out from the loops and throws his pants into the hamper along with his shirt. “Come on, you can start the bath, Imma go see what the cat needs.” He signals to the bathroom with a jerk of his head before he walks out of the room.

“It has a name, you know?” She calls out to him and he sighs. She knows that he’s rolling his eyes.

*

Y/N slips into the bathroom, leaves the door to the bedroom open. She takes a look in the mirror by the sink. She truly looks like she’s been fucked. 

Ignoring her reflection, she walks to the bathtub in the back and turns on the faucets. There’s a bottle of bubble bath sitting at the edge so she pours some of it inside. It’s a big tub, could probably fit six of her inside.

She walks back over to the sink, puts her hair up in a bun, secures it with the tie from around her wrist and cleans the mascara stains from under her eyes. 

Looking down, she notices a comb, some beauty products in a little basket. Her brand of deodorant, make up remover, some more hair ties. She turns around, sees the shower, her brand of shampoo, conditioner and bodywash sitting next to his things. 

My god.

He must have seen the products she uses in her bathroom and now he went out of his way to get the things for her. 

That’s a first. 

No guy ever did that for her and she doesn’t know if she should be freaked out by that. 

She takes off her shirt, slips her skirt off her hips. There’s no mirror big enough to inspect her rear but she has the feeling that Dean left a mark in the shape of his hands there. Not that she minds. 

Taking off her bra, she slips off her panties and they’re sticky wet with a tear at the seam. Ruined another pair, didn’t she? Should maybe pack another pair next time.

There’s a trail of her clothes along the way from the sink to the tub because that’s just how she is. She noticed that Dean’s very clean and neat. And she’s just… less neat. She rather clean up after but she needs that state of chaos because she already has to keep every aspect of her life in order. 

*

Dean comes in when she’s already in the tub, the water slowly climbing up. She didn’t notice him with her eyes closed, as she’s enjoying the warmth.

“Move, sweetheart,” he says with an amused look.

“No.” She grins and holy shit, it hit her then that Dean’s naked. She doesn’t dare to look, thinks she’s probably all shades of red so she just tilts her head down and looks at the bubbles in her bath but still dares to mumble, “It’s my turn to be the big spoon.”

“Jesus,” Dean sighs and she knows that he must be rolling his eyes, can hear it in the tone of his voice. But he doesn’t say anything, instead he steps into the warm water, turns off the faucets and leans back between her legs until his head is on her shoulder. “Sometimes, you can be really bratty, you know that, right?”

She hugs him from behind, rubs along his chest, his stomach, doesn’t dare to go down further. “Don’t you like it?”

“Love it,” He says, closing his eyes as he lets her stoke along his body. “This feels good.”

“Hard day?” She massages his head, getting his hair all wet but he doesn’t mind, even closing his eyes.

“You have no idea.”

She kisses his temple, and thinks that he’s right. It feels really good to unwind in the bath after a long night. She’s back on stroking his body absentmindedly, didn’t notice that her hands are now on his thigh, only notices as she feels Dean hitching his breath.

He places his hands on hers, guides her along his thighs and her heart races the closer he gets to his cock. She’s sure that he can feel it beating with his head resting just above her chest.

Dean sits up a little now, and all she can see is a wall of shoulder but she still has her arm around him. Dean Winchester has cute little freckles on his shoulder and back.

She kisses between his shoulder blades. Spread kisses on his back. On a freckle. On a scar.

He jerks when her lips touch a particular scar. “That one is sensitive.” 

Y/N kisses it, softer. 

“Still feel it when it’s raining,” He adds.

He guides her hand onto his dick, and holy cow he’s really big. She doesn’t think it’ll fit, to be honest. He’s hard and thick, she can fit two hands around him and they still wouldn’t cover the whole of him.

She rests her cheek on his back as she strokes him slowly up and down, twists at the tip when she reaches it, doesn’t know if it feels good but she’s read about it, so she hopes that the magazines she read wasn’t shitting her. Apparently it’s the truth because Dean is biting back a groan. It comes out as a choked cute little sound. 

“Fuck,” He says, his eyes fly open. “That’s a bad idea.” The voice makes his back vibrate under her cheeks.

“Is it?” 

Wow, what a great thing to say to hurt a girl.

“Shit, no, not like that. I mean,” He pauses and there’s a sound he makes in his throat. “Fuck, I mean that I’m so fucking sensitive because I didn’t get myself off for a couple of days and I’d rather not come in the bathtub after a couple of strokes. Because that would be really embarrassing.”

“Oh,” She stops stroking, giggles a little too.

“Come on, let’s get out.” He slips from her grip, stands up and gets out to get the towels, wraps one around himself before she spreads one out for her to step into and wrap her in with.

He carries her into the bedroom, drops her into his bed carelessly, making her laugh before he shuts her up with a kiss. He loosens his towel before he tugs at hers, and it’s the first time that she’s truly naked before him.

Dean sits back on his heels, takes her in and call it instincts but she wants to cover herself up. Her hands are already flying down to protect her modesty but he knows and says, “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

She hesitates but then she lets her hands drop around her.

“Good girl.” He praises, and kisses her, his hands are everywhere at once and she wonders how he does it.

He sucks down her throat, his scruff rough against her skin but she welcomes it, loves how it scratches. 

Dean seals his lip around her nipple, nibbles at the peak as his hand strokes her down there. “You’re always so responsive, so fucking wet.”

She hopes it’s a good thing.

“It’s the best.”

How? Did she say that out loud?

He kisses her, his tongue licks into her mouth the same time as he breaches her pussy with two of his fingers, making her yelp out a little into his mouth.

“Shit,” Dean exhales and she kind of knows it’s because she’s tight and he probably imagines pushing his cock in instead of his fingers and honestly, she’s been thinking about it too.

He rests his forehead on her and is panting hard just from fingerfucking her. “You okay?”

Always so considerate. She wonders if that’s in his nature or if it’s because he’s truly afraid to hurt her. 

“Yeah,” She chokes out as his fingers twist inside of her. 

“Good, I’ll try three, alright? Can you take that, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” She nods.

He pushes a third finger alongside the two and she moans out loud.

“Fuck,” Y/N grits her teeth.

“Okay?” He asks,

“Uh-huh,” She nods, “Just so… full.”

“Jesus, you feel so good around my fingers.” He’s breathing so hard. 

The sound of his fingers inside her, of the wetness around her when he moves his hand just right — it’s loud and obscene. And very very embarrassing. 

He curves his fingers, makes her fist one hand in the sheets and she clasps the other hand over her mouth.

“Don’t you dare cover your mouth. I wanna hear everything.”

Okay, hands off face, noted. She’s so fucking far gone.

“Shitshitshit,” She shouts, because there’s a pressure building in the pit of her stomach. Her walls flutter around his fingers and the wet sound gets even louder. “Too much. Dean, too much.”

“Come on, baby.”

“It’s too much. Fuck…Dean!” Her whole body shakes. “I feel like I need to pee.” The feeling in her stomach grows, it’s like someone is squeezing her guts. She’s never felt anything like it before in her life.

“No, no, keep going. Let yourself fall, baby. I got you.” He’s panting hard as he fucks his finger into her as if his life depends on it.

And she did what she was told, let herself fall, that is, because there was no way she could have turned back anymore, was dancing dangerously on the edge. 

She comes with his name on her lips and then there’s just nothing. She sees fucking stars and then everything went white.

Opening her eyes again, she sees Dean hovering above her, his nose almost touching hers and he has his lips curved into a grin. She can feel that she’s embarrassingly wet down there where Dean is still rubbing her clit lazily soft.

“Oh my god, what was that?” She asks, too out of breath but her head’s light and there’s a feeling of happiness cursing through her body.

He chuckles, kisses her softly once then twice. “You just kinda squirted all over my bed.”

“I didn’t.” 

There’s no way she did. She’s never squirted before, thinks it’s a myth.

“Duh,” Dean holds out his hand for her to look at. It’s dripping wet.

She feels her cheek burning up, clasps both hands over her face, and wants for the ground to open up and swallow her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, look at me.”

When she takes her hand from her face, she sees Dean sucking on his fingers, like it’s the best thing he’s ever had. It’s like yesterday when he went down on her because he really enjoyed it, and it’s weird, isn’t it? He got nothing in return and like now too. It’s as if he doesn’t mind it at all.

He smiles, “Stop apologizing. It’s the hottest thing, I swear.” His hands are back at rubbing her down there, making her jump a little because she’s grown sensitive from two orgasms. And then he tucks at the towel beneath her. “Good thing the towel was here. But I think I need to go get some plastic cover for the mattress. You’re messy, even without squirting. Which—“

He kisses her nose. “—is amazing. Fuck, baby.” 

Dean gets on his knees, his hand scoops up her wetness between her legs and strokes his cock with it. She can see that it’s leaking a clear liquid, the tip of it a shade of angry red and all of a sudden, she feels so empty inside, needs something to fill her up.

She’s wriggling, there’s an unrest in her, a need she never experienced before.

He kneels between her thighs, rubs his lengths between her pussy lips. His breathing is strained and there are deep noises coming from his throat. 

“Not enough,” She whines and moves her hips. His dick is coated in her slick. It’s good. Perfect. But not nearly enough.

Dean’s gaze is intense. He watches his cock rubbing against her pussy, almost slipping in when the head of it catches her rim. 

“Please,” Y/N says, she knows that she sounds desperate but she doesn’t care because all she cares about is to be filled, to still the emptiness inside of her pussy. 

“..Dean.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

Oh, he’s going there, isn’t he? He’s really a little shit and he knows.

“Your cock.” 

His hands are on her legs, spreading her more and moves closer. “And where do you want it?”

He rests his cock at her entrance and, being the little shit that he is, doesn’t move. “I know what you want, baby. I just need to hear you say it.”

She rolls her eyes, moves her hips, trying to somehow get him inside but he holds her legs firm. 

“Shit. I need your cock in my pussy, ple—“ The air’s punched out of her chest has his dick breaches her.

He works in slowly, pulling out, sinking in, a little more every time. 

“Fuck.” She says as he works in the last couple of inches. 

And there’s the thought of a condom, of course there is, but she’s overwhelmed and she knows that Dean’s probably thinking the same too, but she trusts him and oh god, since when is she so naive.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” Dean grits his teeth and there’s one hand that leaves her leg to rub at her clit. It should work as a distraction to make her feel pleasure while he fills her up and it helps. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She swallows, “yeah.”

He nods before he bites his lips, works the rest in and oh fuck, he’s so fucking deep.

Dean leans down, both elbows on either side of her head as he kisses her. She rests her legs on his lower back. 

He doesn’t move, stays still while he plasters her face with kisses. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. So full.”

He chuckles, and then his breathing picks up, so much that he has to lower down his forehead on her shoulder as a way to calm himself she guesses. 

“You okay?” It’s her turn to ask.

“Yeah,” He exhales. “You feel so good, Jesus Christ! It takes everything in me not to lose myself right now.”

She kisses his cheek. Waits a few minutes until she feels impatient. “Can you please, please move! You’re killing me.”

“God, such a brat.” He says in a playful voice and begins to move and has to stop for a breather after two pumps. “God dammit, you’re amazing.” He kisses her, his tongue dances in her mouth and now she feels full on both ends. 

He fucks her, slow and deep and while every push hits her so good, she wants him to move more, to truly fuck her. 

“More, Dean.” She whispers, “Please. Harder.” Her brain’s incapable of forming phrases apparently.

“I can go a little harder but I won’t go all the way.” He pushes himself up on his hands but still hovers above her. 

“Because I’m tight?”

“That too, yeah.” He says, his hips moving a little faster, it’s not as deep anymore but harder, thankfully. “Go on, touch yourself.”

She sneaks a hand in between their bodies, rubs at her clit while he fucks her and Dean’s right. It feels fucking amazing and it doesn’t take long for her to get to that edge again.

“Shit, you just got tighter.” He kisses her once before he pushes up in his hands again, he wants to still be close to her, she knows it. “Come on, come for me, baby.”

Y/N’s not usually the one who likes to be bossed around by men but holy shit the way he says it in his deep voice gets her. She comes with a moan, she thinks her eyes crossed at the pressure and it just got a lot wetter down there. 

“Holy—” Dean sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.  Fucks her a little harder than before but she knows that he could go harder if he wants to. “Quick, where do you want me to come.”

She hasn’t thought about it but she knows that she doesn’t want him to pull out at all. Not now, not ever. Feels perfect when he’s inside of her, wants him to stay like this. 

So she says a thing only naive and dumb people would say. “Want you to come in me, to fill me up.”

“Jesus fuc—” He slumps down, teeth biting into her shoulder and he’s heavy on top of her but it feels good. She feels safe with him. 

He’s panting, and she hugs him, buries her face in his chest, smells him. Fresh soap and sweat. He tilts his head to look at her. “You can’t say shit like that when I try to be good.” It makes her laugh. And he adds in the next breath, “‘M sorry, should have pulled out. I get checked regularly. I’m clean, if it helps.” 

She grins and kisses him. She never had a doubt about him and it should scare her, she knows, because she basically puts all her trust into one man. One Dean Winchester, the one she should be keeping an eye on (which she basically does). “I’m on birth control, if it helps to calm you down.”

“Wouldn’t mind if you weren’t.” He shrugs and kisses her. 

She snorts out a laugh because she’s sure that he means it as a joke.

He kisses her forehead before he pulls out with a squelch. She cringes her nose at the noise and whines at the empty feeling.

Dean walks into the bathroom, comes out with a wet cloth and stops short before the bed, his gaze is on hers and it’s intense. She feels exposed and wants to bring her knees together when he speaks, “No, don’t. You’re beautiful. Can I take a picture now?” He get back on the bed, grinning cockily, “Make it my home screen?” 

CH17

[crewhonk]

Only Happy Accidents (epilogue)

AN: This is it! This is the end! Thank you everyone for being so patient, and allowing for me to write when I’m inspired, letting me give you the best content I can. Thank you @nomadsgrogers​ for being the biggest fan and best friend I could ask for and supporting me in every facet of my life even though you're a huge pain in my ass. Grateful. Blessed. 

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

Summary: All loose ends are tied up. 

Songs: “Crystals”-- Of Monsters and Men

Masterlist

_______________________________

August 4th, Charlie is four weeks.

YN was nervous. For the first time in a full month, she’d gotten a full nights sleep, had time to do her makeup and hair and pick out her favourite outfit and actually had time to take a full hair-washing, body-shaving, rolling out your back muscles in hot water shower. This was bliss. Sure, she really, really loved her baby. She loved his eyes and his little birthmark on his bum and she loved how whenever Steve spoke he would kick his feet and smile. She loved how he would sleep for four hour intervals over the night, and she loved the she never had to package away breastmilk in the fridge because Charlie was nothing if not his fathers son. Neither boys had a bottom to their stomachs and it showed. 

But, when YN looked in the mirror, and saw her non-pregnant body, and nice hair and nice makeup and hairless legs, she didn’t recognize herself. In the best way, obviously. 

It had seemed she’d been waiting so long to meet her son, and even when she did, she continued to wear sweats and sweatshirts as to stay as comfortable as possible while she and Steve navigated the trials and tribulations of new parenthood and healed. This was the first time in ten months that she felt like herself and felt as if she could be normal for a while. 

“Baby?” Steve piped up as he climbed the stairs towards their room. “Charlie’s down for a nap while we wait for Nat and Buck to get here, so I’m going to shower— woah.” He cut himself off once he caught sight of his wife. 

“What? I something wrong?”

“You’re— you’re so gorgeous.” He breathed, leaning against the door and unabashedly checking his wife out as she turned to face him. Under the heat fo his stare, YN’s face lit up red and she shifted from one heeled foot to the next. 

“Yeah?” She whispered, peeking at him through her lashed. He pushed himself off of the doorframe and strolled over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and bending over to mouth lazily at her exposed shoulder. They were going to dinner and ice cream— a simple date, but frankly, neither of them cared what they would be doing tonight. It was their first ever real, no baby date and they were thrilled. 

“I’m half tempted to cancel our reservations and just keep you here all to myself.” He half-growled into her ear and she scratched the back of his neck as her breath caught in her throat. 

“We still have a few more weeks before we can have sex, baby.” She reminded and he groaned. 

“We don’t have to have full sex. Kinda just want to eat you out until you can’t see straight.” He crooned, catching the skin of her throat between his teeth briefly. His hands wandered down her back and cupped her bum, squeezing her cheeks in his big, rough hands and making a thrill shoot through her body. 

“Later, Stevie.” She whispered, breathless. 

“Why?” He whined, raising his head to pout at her. She giggled and kissed his nose, patting his cheek gently. 

“Because if we don’t take this opportunity to get out of the house, I will go insane. And not a good insane.” She smiled and he straightened after kissing her lips sweetly. 

“Fine. But when we come home—“

“You can go down on me until I’m cross eyed and stupid, yes.”

“Nice.”

_____________________

YN was fiddling with her fingers in the passenger side seat as Steve drove to their dinner reservation. She’d been quiet the whole way, and not only were her fingernails ripped down to the bed, but her leg hadn’t stopped bouncing. 

“You okay, baby?” Steve asked, turning down the music to the lowest hum and looking over at her. He placed a hand on her bouncing knee and she offered him what could only be a shy smile. 

“I’m nervous.” She mumbled, avoiding eye contact. A flutter erupted in his chest and he repressed a smile by biting his lip. 

“For our date?” Steve asked, only so be answered with a tiny hum. “Sweetheart, we’re married. You don’t have to be nervous.”

She placed her hand on his, and he could feel her fingers shaking against his. “I know, I just— what if you don’t like me without a baby around me?” She looked up at him with wide eyes and he stopped the truck at the red light, turning in his seat to look at her full on. His huge palm caressed her cheek and she leaned into it, turning her face to kiss his wrist gently. 

“I married you for the baby, but I didn’t propose to you because of the baby. I didn’t drive across New York for your cravings because you had a baby. I didn’t lose my mind when you went into the Operating Room because Charlie was in danger. YN, baby, I love you. Sure, Charlie is my world but you’re my sun. Two very different reasons for my survival, but essential in their own right.”

“I’m your sun?” She whispered and he leaned forward until the tips of their noses were touching. 

“Brightest star in the whole damn sky.” He mumbled against her lips, kissing them lightly and making her shudder. “If it makes you feel better I’m nervous too.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll make me a nervous puddle of mush for as long as we live, baby.” He smirked at the flush the erupted over her cheeks while he sat back and pressed his foot to the gas, hand still an anchoring weight on her leg. 

“I’m so in love with you Steve Rogers.” YN whispered and he grabbed her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing her knuckles. He pressed the back of her hand to his chest and she could feel the rapid thundering of his heart. 

“I’m so in love with you, YN Rogers.”

_________________________

“You okay, Sugar?” Steve asked, walking beside her down the streets of downtown Brooklyn, pulling YN close as to avoid a group of funny looking teenagers from careening into her on their tiny skateboards. YN hummed to herself, and licked her bright pink ice cream cone, eyes unfocussed in front of her. 

“What’s up?” She asked, snapping out of it and looking up at him, furrowing her brows. 

“You seem irritated.” He stated and her eyes widened and she begun to shake her head rapidly back and forth. 

“No I’m not irritated! I’m having such a good time!” She said, eagerness dripping from her words. Even so, Steve could tell his wife was nervous about something. 

“But…” He urged her to continue and she slumped, wrapping her arm around his waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“It’s weird being without Charlie. You carry a guy around for nine months inside of you and you get a little attached.” YN joked half heartedly and Steve smiled, nosing her hair and kissing the crown of her head. 

“I’d like to think so.” He snorted, and grabbed her wrist, pulling her ice cream up to his lips, as he had finished his own within two minutes— the hot weather making him feel less guilty over it. YN only rolled her eyes and shook her head as she watched her husband bite half the cone off with his front teeth, making her shiver. 

“I hate when you do that.” She grumbled, glaring down at her half-gone cone. 

“I know.” He smirked, angling her face with his hand, ducking down to kiss her quickly with his cold, strawberry flavoured lips. “I do like this though— just us.” He whispered, and effortlessly skirted her around another group fo people, barely sparing them a glance. 

“I love this too.” She blushed, and walked in front of him, stopping him and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a longer, thorough kiss, barely noticing the grumbled of pedestrians and the plop of her melted ice cream on the steaming sidewalk behind Steve. Steve’s hands gripped her waist tightly, pulling her closer to him and sighing. 

“What time is it?” He asked, pulling away from her and looking at his watch, raising one eyebrow and smiling. 

“We have five hours until we need to pick up Charlie from Bucks, how about we go home, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and she snorted, pushing his chest, but pulling him the way they’d come nonetheless. 

_______________________

They crashed through the front door, leaving a doorknob-shaped dent in the plaster behind it. There was no time wasted, Steve shut the door without pulling his mouth off of YN’s neck, marking her with his teeth and tongue. He pushed her into the house, pulling his own shirt over his head and meeting his lips with hers once more, walking her over the the couch. 

“Steve.” She whispered and he cooed, cupping her jaw and moving his mouth needily against hers, undoing the buttons of her loose blouse and pushing it down her shoulders, groping her tits with rough hands, making her gasp. 

“Not too rough, I’ll lactate.” She moaned, and he snorted against her. 

“Nice one.” He joked and she smacked his shoulder, pulling him on top of her as she lay down back against the couch. He sat back on his heels, unbuttoning her skirt and pulling the down her legs, kissing the insides of her knees before hovering against her once more. 

“I love you.” He hummed, kissing her nose an making her giggle. 

“Get inside me, Rogers.” She laughed and he nodded, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down to his knees. She was already soaked— the idea of having her husband buried deep inside her for the first time since she’d given birth was making every inch of her body ache with need. 

“Soaked.” He commented brainlessly, pushing her underwear aside and rubbing two fingers over her core, gathering her slick and using it as traction to enter her. 

“Steve, please I want—“

“I know baby girl, I know. Need to stretch you out for me— it’s been a while, Sugar.” He husked and she threw her head back and moaned in frustration, but rolling her hips into his hand, breath catching in her throat when her clit caught the rough skin on the heel of his palm. 

“Come on, baby.” He urged, rubbing his palm against her as his fingers pushed inside of her quicker than the last stroke. “Lemme see you come for me, please.” 

YN needed no further encouragement, letting her eyelids flutter as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, mouth agape in a silent yell and back arching into his body. Her thighs clamped around his forearm, but he worked her down, slowing his motions until she stopped shaking around him. 

She gasped a breath, looking up as him and giving a breathless smile up at him. 

“I missed that.” She whispered, pulling his face down to hers and hooking one leg around his hips, making him grind against her through his boxers, making him grunt. “Missed that too.” She crooned and his eyelids fluttered and his forehead dropped into her neck, huffing a breath against her collar bone. 

“Forgot how much of a fuckin’ tease you are, Doll face.” He grunted, rolling his hips again, teeth snagging against her throat, making her gasp eagerly. 

“You’re the one humping me.” She replied and he growled, grabbing her leg and hooking it in the crook of his elbow, opening her up for him. 

��You wanna be fucked, huh, Ma?” He growled and YN’s brain stopped— no thoughts ran through her head as he raised a challenging eyebrow. Instead of making her brain sputter out gibberish, she nodded feverishly, and he pulled his hard cock out, using his soaked fingers to lube himself up and brushing the tip of his dick against her slit. 

“Words, baby.” He crooned and she made an inhuman noise in the back of her throat. “Come on, Sugar.”

“Steve, please, please, please I need— I want— please.” She sputtered, nails digging into his biceps, making angry red presents appear on his skin, only to disappear seconds later. 

He kissed her sweetly, before muttering ‘good enough’ and sliding himself into her. They both gasped, swearing into the others ears as he slowly stretched her out, feeling everything the other partner had to offer. 

“I love you.” He gasped, shoulders shaking with the effort to not plow her into the couch and make her shake for the rest of the day. 

“Steve, fuck me.” His wife begged and something in his chest snapped, all restraint going out the window as he pulled back far enough to exit her, and with well practiced precision, buried himself roughly in her to his hilt, pulling back and snapping his hips again relentlessly. She mewled into his shoulder, sinking her teeth into the muscle of his neck and cried out as he hit the spot inside of her that made her see stars when she closed her eyes. He took her other leg and mirrored the other, folding her nearly in half as he rut himself relentlessly into her, grunting like a feral beast. 

“You doing okay?” He checked and she huffed a moan, nodding and smiling. 

“Close.” She murmured, hand reaching down and circling her clit desperately. He nodded, sucking another mark into her neck, licking at it and soothing the beard burned area with kisses as he pounded into her harder and deeper, making her body jolt with each pass. 

“Where do you want me.” He grunted, thrusts growing more and more sloppy. 

“Inside.” She moaned, working herself harder before she snapped, pussy clenching down on him and making him moan loudly, blast tightening as he bottomed out, coating her with his ropes of come. The two shot for minutes longer, and shakily, Steve pulled the throw over their bodies, pulling out from her and letting her legs down slowly. He wrapped his arms around her middle and buried his face into her chest and the bra they’d both forgotten to take off. 

“Holy shit.” She snorted, and he laughed tiredly into her chest. HE set an alarm on his watch, and curled his arms tighter around his wife as she tried to get up and clean herself. 

“Nap with me, please, we still have three and a half hours.” He grumbled and she struggled for a few more seconds for dignity sake before she collapsed in exhaustion and ecstasy, curling her arms around her guy and running her hands through his damp hair. 

“Three an a half hours.” She nodded, and giggled when all she was met with was a snore and a huff of breath. 

__________________

August 10th

Bucky Barnes was a nervous person. He jumped at small noises, and he knew the positions of every person and animal in a room at any given point. He thought he was a nervous person until he fiddled with the thin band in his hand, and he came to the conclusion that he may just be a little bit cowardly. 

He couldn’t do this— not today, it wasn’t right. The breeze was wrong, and Natasha had woken up before him and showered alone, and maybe just maybe if the breeze was right and she waited for him to shower with her tomorrow morning, then he could propose to his girl tomorrow. 

Then, YN’s words filtered through his mind— ‘You are worthy of the love you receive, James.’

Damn her. Damn her. 

So he fisted the ring and curled his arm around his god son who gave him a seemingly encouraging gummy smile, and maybe, Bucky could do this. 

He walked out of the back of Peppers house— there was a small party being thrown for Morgan soon, and Natasha, being the lover of all things planning, was there earlier than anyone else. She was dressed in a dress that made Bucky almost drool and fall to his knees— it was nothing too crazy— and she would never tell him but the reason why she even considered buying it in the first place was the look on Bucky’s face when she’d walked out of the change room. 

But she was placing out closed food trays on a small table, turning her head when she heard Bucky’s heavy footsteps on the grass behind her. 

“Hey, you.” She smirked, turning and kissing her boyfriend lightly before turning to her god son and peppering kisses all over his face as he giggled and squealed loudly. “And how’s my number one man? Huh? How’s my guy?” She cooed, tickling his fat tummy and making his legs kick. She didn’t even think to read the words on his once before turning to her Bucky. 

“Can you pass me the napkins from the box, свет моей жизни?” She asked absently and he blushed slightly at the pet name. 

“Sure, can you hold Charlie for a second, though?” He asked, passing the baby off to her and turning around, moving slowly and waiting for her to stop him. He thought she’d never notice the onsie until he was just at the box of supplies. 

“James Barnes what the fuck is the kid wearing.” She asked, and he whipped around. Her eyes were wide as they stared at him, tracking him with her eyes until he was half a foot away. She curled her arms tighter around Charlie, his ‘Will you marry my godfather’ onsie getting crumpled in her grip. 

“Natalia, мой ангел. I can’t imagine my life without you. I’ve been holding on to this thing for long enough that I’ve almost called you fiancee out loud. I’ve tried to work up the courage to do this for almost a year, waiting for the right moment to ask you. But, someone I like quite a bit got mad at me about a month ago now, and I realized that maybe, there’s no such thing as the perfect moment, but the perfect person. You’re that perfect person Natalia— you know me inside and out and in a way nobody has ever known, and I cannot see a future where you’re not in my life. You don’t have to say yes right now, but I would very much appreciate it if you entertained this old man and said yes when I ask you this next question.” He murmured, not bothering to get down on one knee, but pulling the ring from his hand and holding it up for her to see. It was a thin band of golden vibranium— the same kind which was made from his arm. It was nothing special, but it was a part of him he hoped she would welcome. 

“Ask the question, James.” She whispered, voice low and thick with emotion. She clutched Charlie tightly in her arms and he squeaked happily. 

“Will you be my partner in crime for as long as we live? Will you marry me?” He whispered, voice breaking with nerves. His hands shook as he waited— an impossibly long minute passed before Natasha unfroze herself and looked up at him, a small smile blossoming into a beaming grin. 

“Finally. Yes, I’ll marry you.” She rushed, cupping the back of his neck and pressing her lips to his, sandwiching Charlie between them. 

“Wait, finally? You knew?”

“I’m the best spy in the world, Barnes, of course I knew.” She chuckled, her own hand shaking as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Plus I found it in your jeans when I was doing laundry.” She shrugged and he almost face palmed, only stopping because her lips were on his own once more. 

“I love you, James Barnes.” She mumbled against his lips, and he returned the phrase, wrapping his arms around the two people he cherished the most. 

Steve and YN watched from the back porch, YN’s hand gripping Morgans as they watched on with delighted eyes. Steve wrapped his arm around his girl, kissing her temple and leaning down to whisper in her ear. 

“I love you, Ma.” 

And maybe, one simple happy accident, one little miscalculation, one little lapse in judgement was the very best thing YN Rogers could do. Her life was nothing she’d imagine it to be— beautiful, kind, loving husband who gave her a healthy, happy baby and a group of best friends who became family quicker than she could have ever imagined. She never thought she’d be able to find peace, but peace came to YN Rogers when she wasn’t looking for it. 

One beautiful, simple, spontaneous happy accident. 

_________________

Tag List (send me an ask, ONLY. must interact with the fic more than a like): yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose /  laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot/ vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema / mmyepic / multifandommandy / tommyhoe / lostdarksoul6 / crist1216 / taeeemin / jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory / feelmyroarrrr / teller258316 / mrsdeanwinchester19 / qrangr / mariswritingforfun / nerdypinupcrystal / kittycatlover18 / laucontrerasv / printedpeterparker / @dumblani  / @captainomad / eversonaive / rainbowkisses31 / i-think-i-am-adorable / rainbowkisses31 / smalltintedgorl/ geeksareunique / jennmurawski13 / clutteredmind-emptythoughts / venezuelaanklemayonnaise / manuosorioh / stupendousshepherdloverpony / disaster-rose

[psychewithwings]

Hiiii! For your event (congrats!) Could you do Kurapika + impact play please? 😘

Ummm ALWAYS!! I see him as a switch but more on the side of receiving a good smack, but if you want him to beat your ass just dm me and I’ll write that too xx

NSFW 18 + : Impact w/ a crop, dirty talk, fem-dom! sex 

 “Well don’t you look so pretty,” you praised, eyeing your boyfriend. The maid outfit looked amazing on him, his long legs peeking out of the short fluffy skirt. “Come here,” you command. He advances slowly and stands before you, head down. “You’re behaving so well for me baby,” you take your hand and run it up his thigh. His breath hitches and he trembles slightly from your touch. He moves, pressing himself closer to you, the fabric of his maid dress crinkling against your form. “Uh oh, you know the rules... you’re supposed to stay still.” He moves back to his original position, smoothing the skirt of the dress. He pauses but doesn’t lift his head. “May I have permission to speak?” You lift his chin with your index finger. “You are already speaking, my love, but you may speak further,” you place a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do not mean to move Miss, it’s just that- your touch is so wonderful and I want more, I need more, Miss.”  A sly smile spreads across your lips, “well aren’t you greedy today.”  You reach and pinch the flesh of his thigh, he whines in response, “Thank you for your touch Miss.” Kurapika was a good boy after all. You moved closer and placed your hands on his hip, massaging his hipbones with your thumbs through the fluffy fabric of the dress. You pulled him into you and kissed his lips gently. He leaned forward, his head tilting to the side and he deepened the kiss. You took his bottom lip in between your teeth, and he whined once more. You smiled against his lips, hearing his sweet sounds of delectation. 

You wound around so that you were behind him. You kissed and nipped at his neck while rubbing up and down his back. You pressed against his shoulder blades and he responded obediently by bending over and placing his palms flat against the bed. “Such a good boy,” you praised. You left Kurapika in his position and walked to the closet to retrieve the riding crop. 

You lifted the skirt of his maid outfit and smoothed it over his back. His ass was bare, just like you’d told asked him for. You kneaded the globes of his bare ass with your hands. He whimpered at your touch. “Do you have something to say?” you questioned. He didn’t say anything but mewled once more before falling silent. You could see he was fighting his instinct to press his ass into your hands. You removed your hands and walked around to the other side of the bed. “Look at me.” Kurapika met your eyes, his face flushed and his mouth parted in anticipation. You held the crop in your hand and tapped it against your hip. “What is your safe word?” you questioned him. “It’s red,” he responded. You smiled, “good boy, now open up.” You placed the crop on his tongue, “now suck.” His mouth closed around the crop and he suckled the leather, seeming almost grateful. You pulled the crop from his lips with a slick pop, and walked back behind him. You stroked his exposed skin with the now wet leather of the crop. You landed a single smack on his ass and listened to his sounds of pleasure.“I grant you permission to speak, I want to hear how this makes you feel.” You smacked him again, admiring the forming welts on his ass. “Ah! It feels so good Miss, I am undeserving.” You hit him harder this time, as a warning. “You’ve been good for me today, being my pretty little maid, I’m doing this because you deserve it.” You smacked him again and watched as his hands gripped the sheets. “Th-thank you Miss,” he stuttered. 

You smacked him harder this time, just to hear his pretty sound. You found a rhythm to your assault on his ass and watched in delight as his ass began to glow red, his cries turning to weeping. “Please don’t stop Miss, I love it,” he begged and then softer said again, “I love it.” You continued your beating with the crop until he was shaking in pleasure and pain. “Miss, may I please- ah, may I cum please?” Your eyes widened, he could cum just from this? “You have permission,” you said, eager to see him cum just from the impact of the crop. Kurapika convulsed and cried out, his nails digging into the comforter on the bed as he collapsed down on top of it. You undid the zipper of the dress and coaxed it over his head. You peppered his back with kisses. “You’re so good for me my love, but I’m not done with you yet. You flipped him on his back and had him move up the bed. His stomach was sticky with his cum. “You made a mess of yourself didn’t you?” You kissed down his chest and traced his ribs with your tongue. “Do I need to clean you up?” His face was pleading as he looked down at you. You lapped up his cum, “you taste so good, my love.” His face flushed and you stroked his already sensitive cock head with your tongue, before enveloping it fully in your mouth. “Oh th-thank you Miss, your mouth is s-so good.” You moved down his length slowly, before pulling back and sucking hard on the head. He gasped at the overstimulation from having just cum but he was hard again much quicker than you’d expected. His body always begged for more. You toyed with his cock, massaging the underside of it with your tongue flat. You pulled off his cock with a pop, then undressed and climbed to straddle him. 

You sat on his hips, grinding against his cock. His eyes glowed scarlet with desire. You stuck two fingers in his mouth and he sucked them, humming with pleasure at your movements. “Sit up,” you commanded. Kurapika did as he was told and sat up, his hand gripped your waist in a plea for more of you. “Please Miss,” he begged against your neck, “please let me feel you.” He was breaking rules by begging but you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed seeing him so desperate for you. You obliged him by slowly sliding down on his cock. He gasped and buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Oh thank you Miss, thank you.” You pulled back from him to look at his face. His eyes were still scarlet and his cheeks were stained with tears. His hair was plastered to his forehead, sticky with sweat. “You’re so pretty, my love” you admired and he gave you a smile in return. “Open,” you commanded and he opened his mouth obediently. You spat on his tongue and then began to move up and down on his cock. He groaned and his arms encircled you, instinctively pulling you closer. His cock was hitting deep inside you already, but Kurapika began thrusting up inside you too. He reached up your back and held your shoulder, pulling you down onto his cock with each thrust. You gasped, “you’re so fucking deep, love.” He said nothing, just fucked into you with a ferocity that you hadn’t seen from him before. “I just need you so badly Miss,” he said between his panting breaths. His other hand moved in between your bodies and his fingers rubbed against your clit. “Need to feel you cum,” he said. You would have scolded him, given him another punishment, but he was servicing you well, even though he was boldly breaking rules, touching you without permission. With each thrust he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. The next time he thrust into you was particularly hard and you cried out as you came around his length. Your cunt squeezing against him, propelling him closer. “Please Miss, can I- ah- inside?” He was fucking you through your release and begging you for his. “Yes, cum, cum inside me.” His grip on your shoulder tightened, you were sure you’d find half moon marks from his nails imprinted in your skin later. Your name fell from his lips like water as he shot his cum inside of you. 

Kurapika held you against him, his breathing ragged. He fell back against the bed and brushed his hands up and down your back. “You did so good, my love,” you praised, brushing your hands through his hair. “I love you,” you said and kissed his lips softly. “I love you too,” he returned, the fucked out expression still on his face. He held you against him and eventually you coaxed him to follow you to the bathroom. You turned on the shower for him, making sure that it wasn't too hot for the fresh welts you’d given him. You washed him off with a lavender scented soap and tepid water, before rinsing yourself off as well. Once out of the shower you dried him off with a clean towel and then gently applied a healing cream to his welts. He winced only once and a pang of guilt shocked your core. You only liked giving him pain when he wanted it. You lead him to bed and gave him a glass of water and a bowl of frozen grapes. “You want me to feed them to you?” you offered but he laughed and shook his head softly. Kurapika laid his head back on the pillow and you wrapped your arms around him protectively. “This,” he said, “I just want this, you holding me.” You held him against you, feeling his breath rhythmically rise and fall. Your fingertips stroked along his arm and he moved his head onto your chest. “I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispered. You felt the wet splash of tears on your skin and looked down on him with concern. “It’s just so beautiful,” he said as he clung onto your frame. “And you know what? That sound is yours, my heart belongs to you, it beats for you... you are my life Kurapika.” With the kindness of your words, he broke down, weeping into your chest. “I love you,” he whispered as he began to calm. “Here,” you handed him the water glass and he drank. You placed the glass on the bedside table and turned out the lamp. He pulled you back closer to him and you wrapped your arms around him once more. Your finger tips drew patterns on his back and to try and call his mind from the dark places you knew it was visiting. “Hey, what am I drawing,” you asked, trying to get him to focus on something else. “I don’t know,” he grumbled. “Guess, love” you said again. You drew the shape once more and then he asked, “is it a flower?” You kissed his forehead, “yes, okay, what about this one...”

The game went on a little while, and he seemed to be pulled from his dark place and was eventually lulled into sleep with the gentle movement of your fingers. You swore to yourself as you held him against you, that no more bad things would happen to him, that he was safe and protected in your arms. What you did with him was simply play, and yet you had a job to keep him safe, to let him know that he was loved by you, beyond anything. You kissed his head once more, your heart aglow with love for him, before you yourself drifted into sleep. 

[serzhantkris]

Rebel Yell- 1

Summary: Let’s get something straight: he does not love you. He knows that for sure, because he doesn’t want to scream at you and he doesn’t want to get married, and that’s the only things he knows for sure about people who are in love. And he was doomed to kiss with his fists and scream and be angry and blame everyone but himself for the rest of his life. So, no. Billy did not love you. Billy Hargrove x Hopper!Reader

Word Count: 2079

AN: Hey all! Just a forward for this series, it does follow s2 kind of. Also, I have 8 parts currently written and it’s... it’s gonna be a long one, ya’ll.

It’s snowing, inside the trailer. The fluttering, gentle flakes kissing the furniture and disappearing against fabric and wood. Above, the colorful strings of lights twinkle to the distorted tune of Santa Claus is Coming to Town. It’s quiet, dark, peaceful.

Why, then, are you so afraid?

The lights flicker, the electric buzz bleeding into something far more sinister. A hiss. A growl. The snowflakes aren’t snow at all, but ash. The smell of gasoline replaces any hint of gingerbread. The growling grows louder, the lights match the speed of your racing heart. The lights fall like a rainbow on your face, but everytime they flash off, a dark shadow lingers over you. It stretches up the wall and ceiling, until there’s nothing left but long, crooked limbs and a blossoming head, it’s mouth open and hungry.

You better watch out

You better not cry

You better not pout

I'm telling you why

You jerk awake, snapping like a rubber band back into reality, where the only flickering light is the alarm clock by your bed. It takes a second for you to catch up, breathing the stale smell of the trailer- no gasoline or gingerbread or fear- and look at the clock. It’s 5:22, and the world is still asleep.

Shoving the covers off, you sit up, rubbing your palms in your eyes like you can blur away the nightmare. Stuffing your feet into your boots, the laces drag the ground as you shuffle quietly to the back door. The October air is welcoming on your skin, wiping away the sweat stuck to your forehead and shushing away your fears like a comforting kiss. A cigarette in hand, the smoke drifts towards the west, where your back deck overlooks the lake, and disappears into the night sky.

Always darkest, you think. Just before dawn.

It takes three cigarettes before the sun starts to rise. Birds begin to stretch their wings, chirping from the woods beyond the lake. Smothering the butts on the deck railing, you flick the last one over the side and slip back through the door. When it closes behind you, the sounds of morning are replaced by the sounds of sleep.

The snoring is muffled by the pillow over his head, held there by a limp arm. His legs stick out over the other end of the couch, all of it sinking under his weight. There’s a bottle, hanging limply in his other hand, two more on the table. Sighing, you reach toward him and tug gently on the pillow.

“Dad.” Your voice is a harsh whisper, no louder than his snores, and you clear your throat to swallow the remnants of sleep and smoke. “Dad, get up.”

He hugs the pillow tighter, a dragonesque snore pulling from his lips. You let go, frowning down at him, and grab the curtain on the window overhead. Pulling it open, the light spills over his sleeping form and the literred table.

“We’re both gonna be late,” louder this time, you grab up the empty bottles and clang them together. The snore turns into a groan turns into a sigh, and he throws the pillow onto the floor as you move toward the kitchen. “It’s Monday, Dad.”

“You’re insufferable,” he mumbled, the couch protesting loudly as he pushes himself up. “Who taught you to be so damn responsible?”

“Must’ve been Mom,” you shrug, turning the knobs on the stove as he lumbers toward the bathroom. 

“Must’ve been.”

Seven thirty, the world is brighter and you’re both climbing into the car marked ‘Hawkins Police Dept.’ Warm air floods the vehicle as he pulls onto the road, driving straight toward the growing sun. 

“You ready for that chemistry test?” One hand on the wheel, his eyes flickered over, trying to read your expression in the reflection of the window.

“Test was last week,” you said. Jim Hopper looks back at the dirty windshield, tapping his thumb on the wheel to the faint music coming from the dash.

“Really? How, uh, how’d it go?”

“Got a C.”

He doesn’t know if he should be disappointed or proud, but he nods anyway. “How ‘bout everything else? Grades look okay?”

“They’re fine,” you answer, tracing shapes on the car window. Even with the heat on, the windows fog over and it feels like winter. “Nancy wants to go to this Halloween party tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? A party, huh?”

“Yeah,” you breathe on the glass, blurring out the frowning doodles. “We were thinking I’d spend the night with her after.”

Jim flicks the turn signal, pausing at a stop sign. “Just you and Nancy?”

“Yes, Dad. Just me and Nancy.”

“Where’s the party?”

“Tina’s.”

Jim frowns. Which one was Tina, again? Was she one of the ones he liked? “You’ll call when you make it to Nancy’s?”

“Yeah, okay. Does that mean I can go?” The car stops outside of Hawkins High School. Groups of students make their way toward the doors, books in hand and bags over their shoulders. Jim puts the car in park as you reach for the handle. 

“Just don’t forget to call.”

The door slams shut behind you, your eyes already looking for a familiar BMW as you cross the gravel lot. A flash of blue, a dash of pink, and you recognize Steve and Nancy standing out of the car. Nancy spots you first, raising her hand to get your attention as you skid down the hill toward them.

The purr of a hot engine and squealing tires makes you pause at the edge of the lot. A midnight blue Camaro separates you from Nancy and Steve, blaring a song you’d heard a million times on your own stereo. It parks and the doors swing open. A red headed girl hops out of the passenger’s seat, points a skateboard for the middle school, and is gone. 

The driver moves slower, one boot out and then the other, and when he stands tall, he’s nothing you had seen at Hawkins before. You would have recognized the denim-on-denim, steel-horse cowboy if you had seen him before.

The stranger pauses to look around, surveying the area like a wolf searching for prey. He turns on the spot, just enough for you to get a good look at his face. His jaw is square, a barely-there stubble over his cheeks and above wine red lips. He’s soft, with rough edges and sharp blue eyes. And when he walks away, he swaggers like a rockstar on stage.

“Who is that?”

“I have no idea-“

The moment passes, and you skip across the lot toward Nancy and Steve.

“Sorry I’m late,” you sigh, shifting the weight of your backpack. “Overslept.”

The three of you start for the school, following the steady stream of students through the halls. You shoulder pressed tight to Nancy’s, slipping through a doorway where Tina was handing out bright orange fliers for her party. 

“Y/N,” Nancy pauses where the hall splits in three directions, tugging your sleeve. “You’re coming tonight, right? We can’t cancel again.”

You nod, moving toward your locker. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Satisfied, Nancy allows Steve to drag her off, the two of them disappearing into the flood of students. Turning back around, you twist open the lock on your locker and start unloading your books on the shelf, shoving the backpack to the bottom, on top of a pile of forgotten homework and clothes. Glancing up, you catch sight of the photograph pinned to the inside of the door.

You’re smiling, in the photo. A Polaroid taken at a carnival, you’re holding an ice cream cone and making a peace sign. Nancy holds her own cone, that cotton candy smile plastered on her rosy cheeks. On the other side of her, Barbara Holland is laughing.

It’s overcast when the last bell rings and students begin pouring out onto the asphalt. Leaves crunch under your feet as you weave between huddles of teenagers and their cars, searching absently for a familiar BMW. The click of wheels on the pavement behind you caught your attention, and you turned to see the redhead standing on the board, heading toward you as you passed by Tommy H’s car. The tail lights of the car flashed, and before you could warn the preteen, the car backed up and knocked her flat on her back. The skateboard slid under the car and came out the other side, hitting you in the foot as Tommy slammed on his brakes.

“Watch it, little twerp!” Carol leaned out the passenger window, sneering down at where the girl sprawled on the pavement. She clamored to her feet as you grabbed the skateboard off the ground.

“Shove it up your ass, Carol!” You hip checked the back of Tommy’s car as you rounded it, jostling her, and ignored the middle finger she sent you as you helped the middle schooler to her feet. Tommy backed up as soon as you both were clear, wheels churning dust as they peeled out of the lot.

“You okay, red?” She nodded, face flushed as red as her hair as she took the board back from you. “Hey, you’re the new kid, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I guess. It’s, uh, I’m Max.”

“Sorry, Max. Small town, word gets around. You can call me Hopper. Everyone does.”

Max flashes a quick smile before turning the board over to inspect it. “Crap, one of my bearings broke.”

Following her line of sight, you peer at the cracked piece of metal attached to the wheel. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t think Melvald’s carries anything like that, but I bet you can get them to order one.”

“Melvald’s? Where’s that?”

“Downtown, right by Radio Shack. It’s near the Palace Arcade, too, if that’s your kind of thing.”

Max smiles, tucking the board under her arm. “Thanks,” she says. Her smile vanishes, her eyes trained somewhere over your shoulder. You turn, spotting the familiar blue eyes watching you from beside the Camaro. “I better go before I get left behind. Can’t skate home without a board.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, adjusting the backpack on your shoulder. “What’s he, like your brother or something?”

Max snorted. “Or something.”

Max waved a half-hearted goodbye and you watched after her a moment as she neared the car before you continued your search for Steve or his notoriously loud BMW.

“Who were you talking to?”

Max rolled her eyes, yanking the passenger door open. “Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

The doors slammed and the car came to life, music blaring from the radio as the car reversed and swung out of the lot. “Just some girl.”

Barbara’s parents welcome you, Nancy and Steve into their home, each week, with hopeful smiles. All of you, seated around the flowery table with your plates loaded with take-out chicken, chatting lightly about things that don’t matter. The table behind you is decorated with various mismatched frames, all of them photos of Barb, and you keep looking at them like her eyes, all pairs, some behind thick glasses, others young and carefree, all watching you. Like they know the secret that you, Nancy and Steve have been keeping the better part of a year.

Barbara Holland was dead. You knew this. Steve knew. Nancy knew. Others, too, but it was still somehow something that was guised under Missing. There was nothing ‘Missing.’ There were no footprints to follow. Barbara Holland was dead, but her parents still held the door open for the three of you, still held out hope that someday their daughter would come home.

“It means we’re going to find our Barb,” Mrs. Holland was saying.

You stuck your fork into the macaroni and cheese. Nancy and Steve exchanged looks.

“For the first time in a long time, we’re hopeful.”

Nancy slipped away from the table, disappearing into the bathroom. Steve cleared his throat, trying to retain a semblance of normalcy with the Hollands. You didn’t look up, staring hard at the barely-touched plate in front of you.

Hawkins had not been the same since last November. Things had changed, forever tainted by the things that had happened. Will Byers disappeared and seemingly came back from the dead. Barbara Holland was taken and did not come back. Monsters proved themselves to be very real, and not the kind you had seen under your bed and in your closet in your youth. In short, life in Hawkins, Indiana, had been completely turned upside down.

Tags Open

@mattysheelies @william-hargroves @killer-queen-xo @sallyp-53 @cloverrover @scud994 @nighttwingg @yaidothat @abiwebb12 @camillewester

[heli0s-writes]

Surprises

Summary: You and Bucky babysit the Barton clan. Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Silliness, little angst at the end. TW: Mentions infertility.

Bag of Tricks One-Shot Masterlist

You are surprisingly good with kids.

When you visited the Barton farm for the first time, all of Clint’s kids loved you. After the initial excitement over Captain America, Thor, and Auntie Nat, they always came back to you. You’d be plopped down on the couch, flipping through the channels, and Clint’s daughter would find her way into your lap with a picture book.

To be polite, you had read it to her the first time, accidentally becoming very invested in the Lorax’s plight for environmental justice and the next thing you knew, your voice was loud and booming, rising and falling with the cadence of each line. The boys had shown up, too, clapping and cheering at the end and requested another book.

Clint never let you live down reading his kids four books that evening. And building a blanket fort. And rolling yourself up in the blanket and hobbling after them.

The next time you returned, Lila had moved onto chapter books, and you were happy to help her read those as well. She had a lot of questions about volcanoes and dinosaurs, and you would answer them to the best of your ability. She knew quite a lot for a 2nd grader, so you ended up asking her quite a few questions about volcanoes and dinosaurs as well (who the heck knows how to pronounce Deinonychus anyway?)

At the end of the night, she was curled up in your lap while you braided her hair. You were glad she fell asleep because it was quite honestly a travesty that all 7 braids were different sizes and shapes.

“You ever think about raising your own kid?” Clint asked later that night. “In this business? Pfft.”

So, you settled on being the Barton’s babysitter when they needed one. And on one dark October night, you enlist Bucky Barnes’ help.

-

“Can you braid my hair while we watch the movie?” Lila asks as she settles in next to you on the couch. Cooper and Nate are down on their bellies in front, squished pillows underneath them to soften the hardwood flooring.

“Lila,” You sigh, “You don’t remember this, but last time I braided your hair… you looked terrible.”

“It’s okay.” She giggles, “It just feels nice!”

Bucky is on the other side of the couch, gaze attached to the slasher movie you had been told specifically not to put on for the kids. With a slight kick to his knee, you ask him for help with your eyes. Lila doesn’t know, but you can’t braid worth a shit—most of what happened to her hair last time had a lot to do with sheer dumb luck. And it was still a travesty.

She might say that she doesn’t care, but you know any eight-year-old girl cares about what their hair looks like. Even if it’s just a night in with her brothers.

He sends you an annoyed look back, because you dragged him to bumfuck middle of 80 acres of nowhere and he’s watching Planet Terror with a bunch of children. Barton is going to skin his ass when he gets back.

“Bucky, can you braid?” You whisper as Rose McGowan fires her fucking machinegun leg and the ricochet shudders through the T.V.

“Yes.” He replies.

“Help a girl out, man.” You motion to Lila, who has now covered her eyes as red sprays from an enormous wound. Bucky grimaces at the way your fingers have separated three locks. Already it is a tangled mess and you haven’t even started.

“What are you trying to do? Give the kid dreadlocks?” He scowls, slapping your hand away and scooting over so that she’s now mostly in front of him and you are squished and diagonal, pushed away by his shoulder. In mere minutes he makes short work of the herculean task you had tried to take on.

It’s a perfect fishtail braid, and he’s even used strands of her hair to wrap around the elastic neatly. You stare open-mouthed at him as Lila pats the back of her head and happily squeals at what he’s done. Bucky grunts in reply and then sinks back into the sofa, crossing his arms.

“I gotta turn this off. This can’t be good for the kids.”

--

“EARTHQUAKE!” You scream, grabbing the edge of the dinner table and rocking it so hard all the pieces of the board game fall over. Cooper is out of his seat, throwing his hands up in the air as he yells, “CHEATER!” And Nate looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

Lila could care less, still enamored by her beautifully weaved locks.

Bucky puts his face in his hands as you expertly dodge the metal dog and thimble piece Cooper is throwing at you. It’s bad enough that you had been massively in debt to the bank but shaking the board because you were losing is a new level of low. The kids chase you around the house and throw pillows at you when you climb too far out of their reach. Pastel strips of Monopoly money lay scattered all over the house.

Bucky hisses your name as you perch on the hutch in the dining room. “Get down from there! Christ!”

Nate tosses a cushion up that you swat away easily. Cooper throws a cookie that you catch in your mouth. “I’ll die before I come down.” You mutter, “Stupid, capitalist, Monopoly-monocle’d, pocketwatched motherfu—”

A pillow to the face muffles the rest of your complaint and Bucky points at you in a silent scolding. Thank God he has good aim because if the Bartons come home from date night and little Nate was calling someone a motherfucker, Laura would skin his ass.

“You are terrible with children!” He whispers when the kids leave the room to find something else to do.

Slowly, you climb down and pat his shoulder. “My favorite part about kids is the part where I give them back to their parents.” You admit. “I didn’t think they’d take this long.”

From the corner of the dining room, Nate and Cooper rush forward screaming at you. Pillows are raised high above their heads as they leap and pummel you with the fluffy squares. You shriek and fall down and make a huge show about it—something about melting and turning green and flying monkeys. It’s all too much, but the kids love it and tell you it’s what you deserve for being a cheater.

But then Nate and Cooper yelp as you snatch their ankles in your hand and stand tall, holding them upside down. It’s easy to forget that you have super-human strength because you certainly don’t look like it. But it’s on display now as you spin around on your heels and take the boys circling with you.

Nate’s head misses the corner of a wooden chair by centimeters and Bucky thinks he might fucking faint. Lila takes this opportunity to try and jump on your back to save her brothers, but she’s just a fraction too slow and your arm crashes into her instead, sending all three siblings tumbling and you as well.

Bucky sighs severely as he stands over the mess in the kitchen. One adult (tentatively labeled), three children, rubbing their heads and limbs, pouting like babies. There is a swelling mark underneath Nate’s hairline and he rubs it gingerly, whimpering when his fingers touch it.

You run to the refrigerator for an icepack before he can burst into tears.

-

Forgiveness is earned after three hurriedly made root beer floats—extra whipped cream piled so high that it overtakes the entire glass and the kids stick half their noses in it to try and lick some off. You slump heavily in a chair and dig a spoon into your own glass of fizzing cream and soda.

A single cherry is plopped on top of the bubbles. Bucky peers down at you, licking the syrup off his finger with a smirk.

“I guess you’re not so bad with kids.” He says, glancing over at where the three previously dour Bartons sit, now giddy with cheer as they slurp their desserts. Cooper has stuck his finger in his glass, scooping up the last remnants of sweetness before turning over and eyeing Nate’s half-full container.  

You throw the cherry into your mouth and grin, “Yeah. I’m kind of a miracle worker.” And then your tongue pokes around in your mouth and you shut one eye as if in intense contemplation. When you stick your tongue out again, the cherry stem has been tied into a little knot, glistening with spit.

“Woah!” Lila yells, “How’d you do that?”

“I wanna learn!” Cooper rushes forward, peering at the stem between your fingers, and then all three kids are screeching, “me too!” and jumping in circles around the table. Bucky puts both his hands up when you start explaining what to do because he—an actual, reasonable, adult—does not think teaching three kids to tie a cherry stem into a knot is a good idea.

Before he can do much else, the Barton children are shoving each other and arguing. Then they break out into laughter and take off into the living room. All Bucky hears next is screaming and the sound of six feet jumping on every cushion there is. They tumble, wrestle, run, and in general act like little hazards. Nate screeches at the top of his lungs—just because, apparently.

Bucky takes your spoon from your mouth and scoops a big chunk of ice cream for himself, resigned to getting skinned. When Clint and Laura come home and find their kids cracked out on sugar at—he checks the clock—good fuck, half past midnight, they are going to kill the both of you.

The spoon is still in his mouth when he mumbles, “You are terrible with kids.”

--

“Huh.” Clint says when he enters the living room and finds all five of you settled in comfortably with the children sound asleep. Laura’s cheeks are a bit peachier than you remember and there’s a lazy little smile that graces her features as she peers down at her children.

“Sorry—they fell asleep during the movie and I didn’t have the heart to wake ‘em up.” You say with a sheepish grin, tilting your chin up and watching him upside down.

“That’s okay, kid.” Clint grins, hand on his hip. “Jeez, you really wore ‘em out. What’dja do?” He gives Bucky a curious look but doesn’t say much else. The two of you are sharing a blanket in the middle of the floor, heads propped up by one couch cushion. Lila is to your left with her head on your arm, fishtail braid bursting apart, strands of hair flaying about around her head like a halo. Cooper and Nate are on the other side of Bucky, mouths open and snoring softly.

They’re even changed into their pajamas, teeth brushed and everything.

Slowly, Clint picks up Lila and Cooper and Laura does the same to Nate. They go upstairs to put the kids to bed while you and Bucky peel the blanket off, quietly making your exit.

Before you can reach the car, the front door swings shut and Clint is stepping out with his hands tucked in his pockets. “Hey.” He calls, “Thanks for the night. Laura and I haven’t been out alone in months.”

“Don’t mention it.” You beam. Behind you, Bucky scoffs just enough for you to hear.

“You sure you don’t want any kids? You’re damn good with ‘em.”

Bucky snorts louder, kicks the dirt beneath this boot and puts his hand on your shoulder, “Her favorite part is giving ‘em back.” He announces before you clamp your hand over his mouth. His eyes twinkle under the moonlight as Clint waves goodbye and retreats into his home. The screen door clicks quietly, and you watch the yellow glow of each room turn off until the cabin is just an afterimage against the darkness.

“You think brushing twice was good?” You mutter with a sigh as Bucky pulls out of the dirt driveway.

“No, which was why I suggested mouthwash.”

A silence passes before you suck on your teeth and say, “Hey, check it out.”

Peeling your lips back, you show him the cherry stem from earlier in the night, now neatly tied with another knot next to the first one. Bucky scoffs and snatches it from your teeth.

“I swear to all fuck, how you got them fooled is beyond me. Fuckin’ Planet Terror, then shaking the goddamn Monopoly board, and then teaching fuckin’ kids how to tie--” he throws the stem back in your face, “and then ice cream at midnight.”

“Hey! They had fun!” You cry, dodging him.

“They threw up!”

You cackle, because they did all throw up, and it was really funny. Bucky groans and rolls his eyes because you would absolutely be the worst mother. Your kids would grow up in the most chaotic household. But, he thinks, they’d be loved. So maybe you wouldn’t be the worst. You also had them help you clean up the house and were firm with them when they didn’t want to. Bucky feels a smile grow on his face. Maybe you are good with children.

“You’re pretty responsible, Buck. You think you’ll ever have kids?”

It’s a quiet question. Suddenly your demeanor is sullen as you turn to gaze out the window, peering at the full moon and he knows where your mind has wandered to.

Clint has something the rest of you can only dream about. You might crack jokes about being terrible with children, but it’s no secret that domesticity is something you long for. A baked apple pie in the windowsill, running under summer sprinklers, hanging the sheets up to dry, dancing through the living room barefoot, kind of life.

There are mobiles of stars and paper airplanes in your dreams, swaddling cloth with giraffes and moons. Gerber Baby food jars and baby-proofed corners. There are nights when you think about what the gene experiments did to your body and all you can do is stare silently.

The irony of you being so good with children is not lost on him.

A warm hand clamps itself over yours. Bucky links his flesh fingers through your smaller ones, holds onto the wheel with his metal hand.

“Nah.” Bucky says, “My favorite thing to do with kids is give ‘em back.”

A short laugh escapes as you grip his hand tighter, letting the moment pass on by like it always does. Usually you ride the wave on your own, crash on your own, and awaken the next morning in disarray on your own. But this time, his warm hand is holding you steady as the pain crests and ebbs away.

“Hey.” You say, rubbing your thumb over his in a surprising show of affection. Bucky feels his heart pick up a faster beat as you worry your lip with your teeth. Then, because you’re always full of surprises, you stick your tongue out where the cherry stem has collected another knot. “Check it out.”

He laughs, a deep, rumbling, genuinely joyful sound as he squeezes your hand. “You’ll have to teach me that some time.” He jokes-- anything to keep you from looking so sad.

Your lashes flutter as you blink slowly in contemplation. Bucky’s heart picks up again when you turn to him and shyly say, “If you pull over, I can teach you right now.”

[jbbuckybarnes]

Time Stops

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Desc: This is for @ussgallifreyfics​  #gallifreys500 writing challenge. Not beta read. Prompt: “They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true.” - Big Fish Warnings: FLUFF

MASTERLIST

They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true. You’ve seen it with friends that had met their soulmates the day they were ready to. They stopped aging. When you turned 18 you could find your soulmate and never age again. While that was beautiful, it also put a lot of pressure on you and a lot of pity on people growing old. Usually people would just feel who their soulmate is, but there also were soulmate marks. They weren’t big or anything to brag with, but yours was a little heart-shaped darker spot on the back of your right hand. Right between the thumb and the pointer finger connection. Definitely a space you massaged a lot when you got nervous.

Right now was one of those situations. You were waiting in line to get onto a plane to New York City. A trip you made once or twice a year to meet your friends. While you loved New York, you hated flying. The many alien attacks and whatnot of the last decade weren’t helping with your anxiety. The plane being delayed on top of that was even worse for your mind going in circles. A big man sat down next to you, putting down a duffle bag and getting out a book with the title, “Love, Simon.” Wasn’t that a book about a closeted teenage boy? Didn’t match up at all with the giant frame the man had, but you smiled to yourself. You scrolled through Instagram, created a new collection for cute cat pictures and went on about your anxiety soothing. When you were finally boarding, your anxiety went through the roof again. Thankfully you had downloaded a whole documentary for the flight, otherwise you’d go insane. When you were situated in the plane and had gotten out your headphones, the giant man found his seat, the one which just so happened to be next to you. It was about to get cozy, but you weren’t complaining. You’d rather have a giant man with a good taste in books next to you than a creep or a family with a newborn baby. After your heart almost jumped out of your chest while you took off you finally could relax and start watching your space documentary. Every now and then you felt him flip a page in his book very delicately. Your hand landed on the little table your phone was situated on to give him more space, which is when you started to feel the stare on you. Well, now it WAS a little creepy. He tapped your shoulder and you stopped the show and looked at him. Woah, wait, you knew that face. That was Bucky Barnes, wasn’t it? “Sorry for interrupting, I just...I saw you like space and, uh, could you tell me what documentary that is? It looks awesome.” he gave a shy smile before looking away, right hand going through his beard. Wait a damn second. “Huh?” he looked back at you confused. “I said that out loud.” you stated to yourself and closed your eyes. “Yes, you did.” Now he was grinning at you, eyeing your slightly flustered face. “Uh, your soulmate mark. Are you…?” your eyes went from his eyes to his hand. “What makes you think that?” “You didn’t really age but you also were in cryo a lot, so it’s quite difficult to tell.” you grinned. He smiled wide and looked down on his hand before shaking his head, “No, haven’t found them. I don’t think I ever will. 70 years is quite a lot-” He saw your right hand come into his field of vision and his eyes went wide and back up at you. You were amused at the weird situation you had just put each other into and you couldn’t deny that you liked how he turned into a soft dorky man. But maybe that was just him outside of the news. “So...uh...wow.” Another time that he went through his hair. “Yeah,” you looked up at him with shimmery eyes. You respected the man in front of you so much for what he went through and that he was still here. But that giant dork that looked illegally good was your soulmate? That must be a dream. “So...would you like to go on a date anytime soon? I’d love to get to know you.” he got a little confidence back and gave an unsure smile to you. “Of course, I know this really great brunch place in the Upper West Side.” you smiled a little giddy. “Spring Natural Kitchen?” he asks. “Spring Natural Kitchen.” you nodded chuckling. “Wanda told me about it. She loves testing new places whenever she’s not on call.” “Sounds like I’d get along great with her.” “So...why are you flying to New York? You live there?” he finally asks and you shake your head. “I live near Denver and come here sometimes to meet friends and have a good time for a week or two.” “Which city’s better?” he smirked. “I like both, but I have a job back in Denver that I love. I’m working in a very laid back modern restaurant, café kinda establishment.” you explained. “Well, if you’re my soulmate, you might as well open up a second one of those in New York City, cause that sounds great.” By now he was so deep in your flirting battle that he totally forgot that he just met you. “You just want that cinnamon cupcake goodness.” you laughed. “I’d never say no to any food, I think that gets very clear when you look at me.” he looked down on himself. “Hm, yeah, a little.” You grinned, “Hungry giant.” “Oh, we’re already starting pet names, huh?” his brows went up. The giggle escaping you widened his big smile. ___ *You ready to get picked up and judged by Sam Wilson?* *Why not by Wanda? Or literally anyone that’s not Sam?* *I ask myself that every single day, darling.* *I’m ready by the way...and ready to fight Wilson if I need to.* *Sure, darling.* you could practically feel him grinning at his phone screen. *And by that I mean, if he dares to, you’ll defend me anyway, cause you’re cute like that.* Not too long after the AirBnB’s doorbell rang and you ran to the door in your comfy outfit. It was a brunch date, not a fancy gala. When you opened the door you were met with his audacity to wear a leather jacket. “Aw, come on. Really? A leather jacket? Like you don’t know that it’s super hot?” you pouted and were pulled into a hug. “You look cute. Is that Totoro on your sweater?” he held you and looked down on you. “Old man knows Totoro, check.” you grinned. “Hey, I’ve been catching up for 4 years. There needs to be SOME stuff that sticks.” “Could the lovebirds that both can’t drive please move their asses a little faster?” you heard out of a car behind Bucky. “Could the angry bird please chill?” Bucky answered without even looking at him. “C’mon, let’s go and give the man a break.” you chuckled before taking his hand and dragging him towards the car. “So, tell me about yourself. Anything that I don’t already know from social media and our chats.” he grinned. “I stress bake, my favorite shows are all documentaries, I’d love to have a cat, I’m into astrology, I love to draw and paint, my music taste is a literal dumpster fire and I really like sneakers.” you counted a few that you found to be relevant to yourself. “I’m still learning to cook new foods. I actually have a cat, her name’s Alpine, she’s an absolute whirlwind but she’s the most loyal little thing ever.” he smiled. “What kinda cat is she?” you asked excited. “British Shorthair and white.” he beamed. “I already love her. I’d love to get a completely black cat.” you leaned onto your hands. “We could.” he squinted with a cheeky smile. “You’re already thinking about moving my ass to New York, aren’t you?” you chuckled. “You’re my soulmate, why not? It’s not like you’re a shot in the dark or anything like that.” That made you feel warm inside, very very warm. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” you looked at the table flustered. “So, assuming you would stay here…” he got your attention back and god were his eyes sure of you staying here, “...would you actually open up a cool place like this?” “I’d love to but...renting a place like this in New York City? Making it look nice and advertising it? That’s so hard.” “Hi, you’re sitting in front of the longest prisoner of war. If you think Sam didn’t sue the shit out of the military to get me paid for that, then you’re wrong.” he grinned accomplished. “Bucky, you can’t-” “I can, tell me what you’d want to do.” he smiled at you softly, grabbing your hand. After a few moments of grasping the moment you continued, “Well, similar to this place, but with cakes, pies and cookies. And with a completely different color scheme. Very bright, like white and some pastel colors. I’d try to find tons of recipe’s online and let you try them until I have like 12 good and special ones that work. I’d always have a jar of triple chocolate cookies and a chocolate bomb cake. Maybe even sweet ice cream in summer? I’d have chessboard tiled wall behind the counter and hang nice art work in the rest of the place. I’d probably have someone bring in dog cake every week so they also get some good food. I’d make milkshakes, have a barista working and would create some special hot chocolate mix. Maybe I’d do something themed after you. Like little cookies with the- wait, do you hate the red star on your old arm? I know it’s very much a connection to the Sowjets, but I don’t really look at it like that.” “I’m neutral about it. I write autographs on cards with red stars all the time.” he shrugged. “Then there will be red star cookies. Maybe something themed after your bird friend?” you grinned. “He needs to work for it.” he laughed. “I make a mad cinnamon banana milkshake. That would sell very well.” you mumbled before taking a sip from the drink in front of you. “Cookies with red chocolate melted into it...that’s a good one for Wanda, isn’t it?” you smiled shyly, trying to not misjudge his friends. “I love that idea. Maybe something egg based for Sam, you know, cause he’s a falcon. I’ll shut my mouth…” he grinned and watched you snort laugh. The waffles you ordered were set down in front of you and you continued talking about the interior of your dream place. “I don’t know if I’d do it in Manhattan or Brooklyn. I mean Brooklyn literally has cute food places as its elevator pitch.” “I guess it depends where you’d find a place.” “Yeah, forgot, we’re in the ultimate place of renting stuff.” you grumbled and heard him chuckle. ___ “Finally!” you jumped around in the empty space that was about to become your own little store. You’d been with Bucky for three months now and your old boss was more than happy to have a new venture. And you were more than happy to have gotten such a great soulmate. He even got his driver's license to drive you around and go on little trips with you when he wasn’t working. Brooklyn Heights, right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, with an apartment right above. “Let’s measure and buy a nice kitchen for you to bake cupcakes in, darling.” he grabbed you close. “You just wanna eat, honey.” you pouted. “Of course, I eat everything you make.” he planted a kiss onto your forehead. “Hm, okay, let’s measure and drive to Home Depot too.” you smiled content and got another kiss. “You know, I think I found you at the right time. I like how you look. Not a day too young or too old.” you mumbled. “I would have loved you at any age I could’ve found you.” he hummed. “Yeah, that’s because you’re a hopeless romantic.” you giggled. “Only for you, darling.” “Love you,” you mumbled before pressing your lips against his, “so much.” “Let’s get your dream kitchen,” he said while lightly slapping your ass. “Hey! Watch your hands, Barnes.” you playfully scolded him. “Yes, ma’am.” he rolled his eyes before picking you up and carrying you to the damn car himself.