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yndrgrl · 10 months

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katsuki bakugo is the only man who can help bunnygirl! you during heat.

established relationship. normal! au. first time as a couple.

warnings: nsfw, lowkey angst ngl, fellatio, praise, slight degradation, creampie

if you're here for the nsfw part, i marked it >:)

a/n: dude, idk why my last fic has that "mature" label 😭 also is this a hypersexual comfort fic? yeah.

---

"are you okay? you look hot?"

"your forehead is on fire!"

"you look red. drink some water."

you've been hearing that non-stop all day. of course, you know that everyone has good intentions, but it was so annoying.

no, you didn't feel fine, nor did you feel sick. it was a strange, embarrassing thing to admit. in a world full of truly remarkable quirks, you just had to get a basic one. your quirk was rabbit. you know mirko? yeah, well you two are in the same boat.

you have floppy bunny ears the same color as your hair, a puff ball of a bunny tail, & muscular legs. all so cutesy & alright to deal with. the behavioral traits were what got you though. increased hearing, jittery/easily scared, & most annoying of all, the heat that came with it.

though it wasn't unusual to have heat, it was definitely not something you mention in a passing conversation. heat made it hard to focus on anything except for breeding & sex. your senses are enhanced, making clothes feel itchy at all times. your train of thought always derailed to live making. that's why you were prescribed heat repressant.

no side affects & it worked like a charm.

however, this month you forgot to stock up on them, & you just so happened to run out. you would've just skipped school to get some, but it was midterms, which comes with tests & presentations that simply could not be made up. it was either fail your classes or bite the bullet.

"oi! what's your deal?" someone barked at you. ah yes, your boyfriend of six months, katsuki bakugo.

"nothing," you said with annoyance. another thing about your heat is that you get irritable because of the overwhelming feeling of needing to do a certain activity. "don't worry about it."

taken aback, katsuki reached out for you & spun you around. your eyes welled with tears of frustration & utter embarrassment, the tips of your ears were red, & every thread of your clothes made your skin crawl. "hey, what's going on?"

"i-it's nothing, just leave me alone. class is about to start." you understood how much katsuki prides himself in his academics. you're not gonna be the one to drag him down; that's not very amazing-cool-awesome girlfriend of you, after all.

he wanted to say that he didn't care & let's just ditch class, but you both knew you couldn't. the exams were too important. luckily for the both of you, the last period of the day was study hall. most kids just skip it, starting their free time early.

just a few classes, then i can go get medication, that's not bad at all, i've been through worse, you thought in attempts to calm yourself.

yeah, but imagine how could it would feel to be absolutely railed, oh fuck, imagine katsuki-

you had to cut yourself off, he was standing right beside you after all.

your relationship with katsuki has been slow, healthy, & true. the most you two have done in the span of six months is make out, grind, & grope each other clothed. both of you saw a future together so having sex didn't have to happen right then & there. if it happens, it happens, but there was no need to have it to connect.

you didn't want you first time with the love of your life to be because of your current circumstances.

"did i do something?" he asked, making your ears twitch.

"no, it's not you," you reassured, "there's nothing going on." you both entered the classroom, & you could feel katsuki's worried stare focused on you the entire time.

you took exam after exam, which, in of itself, is a long, stressful process. the bell rang throughout the school, & your classmates shuffled out of the room to go to their last period. finally, it was study hall. you threw everything into your backpack without a care. you were practically panting.

throughout the school day, the pressure building inside of you only gotten worse. you couldn't stop thinking about katsuki. his god-sent body, his perfect face, his rugged voice. god, he turned you on so much-- too much, actually.

you felt bad for ignoring all of his texts throughout the day. if you didn't, however, you had a feeling you would've sent some embarrassing messages.

as you exited your class, someone grasped your wrist, dragging you out of the school. their touch lit you on fire. you knew exactly who it was. "let me go, katsuki."

"no, not until you tell me what i did!" he growled at you. he doesn't even realize how wet i am for him-

you had to shut off your thoughts, but that's easier said than done.

"i told you already. you didn't do anything."

"well something is going on with you. tell me what's happening," he raised his voice, a vice grip still hanging onto your wrist. you were getting overstimulated & overwhelmed. once again, you couldn't help the angry tears from forming. you couldn't help but hyperfixate on your panties brushing against your sensitive clit. you couldn't help that your nipples were painfully perked.

you can't just admit that though. it's such a stupid problem to you. you felt so wrong & disgusting for thinking about sex all day. "you wouldn't understand!" you finally yelled back. "you wouldn't get it."

he didn't respond. katsuki continued to drag you throughout campus, leaving you with your thoughts.

god, i made him mad, you mentally cried out. hopefully he'll hate fuck you then-

you want to rip out your own brain & throw it on the concrete. it was a constant cycle of that the entire walk.

a few moments later, you realized you were in his dorm, sitting on his bed with him across from you in his desk chair. both of your hands were in his as he brushed his thumbs against your knuckles. that alone gave you goosebumps. "please tell me what's wrong, baby," he said in a hushed near-whimper. "i'm worried about you."

"you really wouldn't get it, katsuki," you whispered, finally letting a few tears roll down your cheek.

he placed his index finger underneath your chin. he gently raised your head, your gaze following suit. the two of you locked eyes, his swirling with worry & yours sprawling in uncertainty. "then make me understand."

"it's my stupid quirk," you exasperated. you tried coming up with ways of how to say what you want to say without scaring him off.

"what about it?" he asked.

"you have such a nice quirk, you know," you started, avoiding his question. "it's just so much flashier & cooler than mine. there's already a rabbit hero!"

"what are you talking about? you do have a cool quirk."

"i'm a bunnygirl. nothing more. people already know what to expect-"

"what is this really about? you brag all the time how you get to come up with new ways to make your quirk yours," he countered, not convinced with your answer. "there's something more, isn't there?"

katsuki was so good at reading people-- at reading you. the other times you've confided in him, your voice lacked clarity, stability. why would it be different now? it wouldn't, that's why.

"yeah, there is," you admitted, tugging on his hands so he'd get closer. "i just don't know how you'll react or how to even say it-"

"it's fine. just tell me, i won't get mad or judge you or whatever," he assured. you began to cry even more, staining his dress shirt.

he smelt so good, i can feel his muscles through his shirt, he's so sexy-

"i need you," you muttered into his chest.

"what was that, baby?"

you glanced up at him, eyes glossy, lips pouted. "i need you."

katsuki's breath hitched, "what are you talking about?" yes, he's had theories about your quirk & its drawbacks. was this it? was his theory correct?

more tears of frustration rolled down your cheeks as you tried to explained, "i have... you know."

his cock stirred, scolding himself mentally for getting hard during a time like this. "have what?" he wanted you to say it, confirm his suspicions.

you took a deep breath. "i have this thing every month or so, & it just makes things so much harder."

"tell me." his stern voice sent shockwaves through you.

it made you obey him automatically, robotically. "i'm going through heat." a silence followed. "it's normal for people with quirks like mine to go through this. i usually have repressants! & i know this probably makes you so uncomfortable; i understand if you don't want to be-"

-- nsfw starts here --

katsuki cut off your rambling, almost offended. "don't ever say that. i want you, all of you."

"p-please don't say such things," you begged him as you felt your pussy throb. "i'm r-really trying to hold back-"

"let me take care of you, princess," katsuki purred, finger tips ghosting over your exposed thighs. he buried his face into the crook of your neck. "do you want this, y/n? because i want you right now. if you tell me you don't want this, i'll stop."

all you could do is nod, your breath turning uneven.

"say it, y/n."

"i need you so bad. please, katsuki," you cried out as you rubbed your legs together.

he smirked into your neck before he started kissing your neck. you couldn't help but whimper. he noticed you holding back, so he bit your neck. he sucked hickeys all over your neck. your unsteady breathes turned into needy moans.

"t-take off my shirt, please-"

katsuki took in your demand by ripping it off your skin as if it were poison. he unhooked your bra, throwing it on the floor. "ah fuck," he groaned, cupping your breasts.

"are they o-okay?"

"you're fuckin' perfect, baby."

with one, he replaced his rough, calloused hand with his mouth. you grinder against his thigh as flicked your nipple with his tongue. "k-katsuki~"

he switched to the other one, giving it the same treatment. "all mine," he growled in between. he nipped at the skin around your nipples. your neck & chest were soon littered with purple marks & bites.

"let me touch you," you begged & you began to fidget with the buttons of his shirt. "take this off~"

"so needy, aren't you, princess," katsuki teased, yet he gave into you. he threw off his shirt, looming over you. goosebumps pricked at your skin, all over your arms down to your legs. you found yourself trailing your hands all over his abs, his muscular arms, around his back. it was like your hands had a mind of their own.

you flipped the two of you around, so now he was under you. "c-can i please mark you?"

he let out a laugh of amusement, making your face turn a deep red. "you don't have to ask, baby," he told you. as a response, you mimicked his actions from earlier. your lips kissed all over his neck, leaving marks in its wake. you trailed down to his chest, then his abs then his v-line until you reached the band of his pants.

the entire time, he was groaning, feeding you praises that shot straight through your core. when you stopped, he looked down at you, & there you were, staring back at him with eager, wide eyes. he could read you so well. "go ahead, y/n. pull them down."

to which you did. you hands hooked both his uniform pants & his boxers. you pulled them down, & your mouth watered when his cock sprung out. "i-it's so big," you moaned; you meant to only think that, but you couldn't help it.

his mushroom tip beaded precum, his veiny shaft twitched in anticipation. "you see how hard i am for you? all for you," katsuki told you, watching your eyes dart to his then back down to his cock.

you started licking him to test the waters. you saw as his eyebrows furrowed together, his mouth agape, narrowed eyes. your licks evolved into you sticking his tip into your mouth. your tongue flicked around his cock. you crossed your eyes & whined when you tasted his precum. thanks to his quirk, it tasted almost sweet, salty, & god, was it addicting.

you bobbed your head up & down his thick rod. the tip hit the back of your throat while spit flooded your mouth. it was hard to breath, but you didn't care. having katsuki inside of you was more important than breathing. "slow down. you're gonna make me cum, good girl."

that was enough inspiration for you. you needed his cum. you forced your head all the way down his cock, your nose buried in his pubes. your eyes watered (for the fifth time today), & you stared into katsuki's eyes. both of his hands tangled themselves into your hair. "i'm gonna fuck that slutty, little throat, okay? just tap if it's too much," he informed, but he had a feeling you were going let him do whatever he wanted.

you moaned as a way to let him know that you heard him. the vibrations quivered his tip. "mmm, fuck. you're doing so good," he praised, jutting his hips forward the drawing them back.

his thrusts at first were small, in fear he was hurting you. however, as he looked down at you, your eyes rolled back, drool spilling out of your mouth, rubbing your aching clit for some sort of release, he couldn't hold back. he started using your throat as a fuck toy.

fast & rough, & all you could do was take it. take it, even though you're crying & it's hard to breath. "i'm close," he uttered out in between moans. his sultry voice turned a pitch higher in a humiliating tease, "you want my cum, baby? huh? c'mon, tell me you want it."

you choked out muffled, "yes please" & "cum down my throat please." he laughed at you trying to form sentences with your mouth stuffed. "such an eager bitch. fine, i'll give you what you want."

he thrusted his hips forwards, keeping your head in place. you face smushed against his hips. his cock twitched as he unloaded spurts of cum down your throat.

he pulled away, & strings of saliva mixed with his semen leaked onto your skirt. you looked back up at him, finding his cock still erect. "you look so surprised," katsuki said as he caught his breath. "i'm still so hard for you. after all, i told you i was going to take care of you."

"p-please have sex with me," you barely even whispered.

"what was that?"

"please-"

"i still can't hear you," katsuki told you, stroking his dick. he really knew how to push your buttons

"please fuck me, katsuki! i need it, i need you so bad~ i need your big cock inside of me," you blurted out. you finally let you stupid, nasty fantasies get the better of you.

judging from katsuki's smug expression, he wanted you to indulge in them. "alright, alright. you've been such a good girl for me. it's the least i could do," he shrugged before flipping you over so you were trapped under him. even in your most intimate moments, he was cocky. & god, did it make your pussy wet.

as he started to pull your skirt down, your hands shot to grab his wrists. "no, fuck me now, i can't wait. it hurts too bad," you whined, your glossy lips pouting.

"of course, princess," he said with a smirk. "whatever you want." katsuki's fingers dove under your skirt to push your panties out of the way. he held your legs up, placing your calves over his shoulders.

he lubed the tip of his dick with your juices by running it through your folds. "you're so wet for me, good girl."

"it's all for you, katsuki~" you purred, anticipation practically killing you. you felt pride as he turned his head to kiss the meat of your calf in approval.

"can't let it go to waste," he told you. he lined his thick, heavy cock with your entrance. something must've taken over you because, the moment it lined up with your hole, you shoved your hips forward with your entire body.

you let out a squeal of pleasure, your pussy stretching to accommodate for katsuki's lengthy cock. "shit, baby, you almost knocked me over," he chuckled as he readjusted. both of his hands were on your hips.

"shut up & fuck me," you growled at him. his cock twitched, brow raised in amusement.

"yes ma'am," he replied, "but remember you said that." from the get-go, his thrusts were powerful, immediately finding the cervix. your nails dug into his biceps down to his wrists. moans, whimpers, & screams spilled out of your lips.

katsuki took his fingers to your mouth & demanded in a low voice, "suck."

the action made you quiet down. he found your g-spot soon after, & you felt lightheaded. with his fingers down your throat, his cock abusing your most sensitive spot, & katsuki whispering dirty nothings into your ears, you shut your eyes & released all the tension building up.

"f-f-fuck, i-i'm cumming, katsuki," you rasped, voice having a small lisp thanks to his fingers. you squirted all over his abdomen, breath heavy & uneven.

he didn't stop though. he still rammed his big fuckin' dick in & out of you, not letting you calm down from your euphoric high. in fact, his hand that you slobbered all over found their way to your clit. he drew small circles around it. "ah, katsuki!" you moaned. "it's too much!"

"you'll be a good girl, & take it, won't you? i haven't cum inside you yet," he responded while his other hand pinched your nipples.

"i-i-i'll be a good girl, katsuki~" you slurred, speaking on beat with his thrusts. he made you cum three more times then you felt as his hips became more robotic, shorter, uncalculated.

"i'm cumming," he groaned through gritted teeth. "i'm cumming. fuckin' take all of it." thick jets of hot, white cum stained your walls. his dick pulsated inside of you. you came again; who could blame you?

he took a few deep breaths, collapsing on top of you as he pulled out of your pussy. cum spilled out of you & onto his sheets. he embraced you, whispering, "round two?"

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luveline · 10 months

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𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you and miguel have different definitions of the same word. he finally gives in to temptation —featuring a cranky but lovesick miguel and a flirty, head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

This has to be your favourite song in the whole world.

You sit in the hall beside the entrance to Miguel's office (this week, you're thinking you might call it The Bedroom, on account of all the magic happening inside), headphones on, a bottle of lemonade beside you.

Today has the makings of a great day. You're at the Spider Society headquarters and not at home, for starters, and one of the Peter Parkers you'd made friends with in the med-wing saw you this morning and recognised you, which is brilliant because he looked super similar to every other Peter Parker you've met. He offered to help you fix your rinky-dink headphones, and now they're working again and loud enough to cover the sound of Spider Chatter, even with your enhanced senses.

What's more, Miguel has finally emerged from his dormitory, and he's walking toward you looking confused. That's a step up from unhappy.

He asks you something.

"What? I can't hear you."

He says something else. You shake your head, music too loud to catch even a hint of what he's saying, and Miguel eventually crouches down to push your headphones around your neck. He's surprisingly gentle.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Waiting for you, what did you think I was doing?"

"Why are you sitting on the ground?" He gestures backward to a red-lit control panel. "Chair right there."

"I think that's someone's desk."

"It's really not."

Miguel stands up and doesn't hesitate to grab your arms and help you up too. It means more to you than it should, because it's not necessary and a few months ago he wouldn't have bothered. Which isn't to imply that Miguel is a mean guy, Lyla says he used to be a loser (code for sweetheart), and you get flashes of it every now and then in chivalry and kind smiles.

He's not mean, he's cranky.

"Don't sit on the floor," he says. "Just– just go inside if I'm not here."

"Well, The Bedroom doesn't come when I call."

Miguel's lips part in confusion for a second. Lyla appears at his shoulder, and says, "She can't get the platform to come down without you, genius."

"Put her name on the command list," Miguel says.

Your eyes widen. Lyla flashes to his other side, closer to you, and smiles playfully. "Done."

"Stop sitting on the floor," Miguel says, turning around. He walks a few steps and pauses when he realises you're not following. "Are you coming with me?"

You jog to catch up with him. Music plays against your collar, a slinking, indie sound that makes Miguel wrinkle his nose. You turn it up a little bit and smile when he glares at you.

You enter the atrium that houses The Bedroom. Miguel hops up onto the platform because he's too tall to see sense while you struggle, but you're pleased when he takes your hand and pulls you up properly. All these familiar touches today, anyone might think Miguel liked you.

He definitely does.

You sit down in the spinning chair near what you've decided is your desk but certainly isn't, again pleased beyond words when you find your sketchbook from last time still there, cleaned away carefully, pencils in a pot and a brand new pencil sharpener by the side of it. It matches your spider suit. You look over your shoulder, your face lit up with thanks, and Miguel swiftly looks away from you.

"It's electric. Tell me when the battery's dead, I'll charge it."

"Thank you," you say, flipping your sketchbook open to the last entry.

You aren't Picasso, but most members of the Spider Society are somewhat artistically inclined, considering the suit-making rite of passage they must all endure —if you don't know how to sew before you start, you will by the end.

Or like Miguel, you could cheat and make the suit out of nanotechnology.

You haven't really been designing any suits lately. Spidering is tiring, you need to relax, and your reluctant friends are the easiest subjects, though Miguel's face is painstakingly difficult to get right. He's very angular, high cheekbones with that divot that needs kissing stat, and his nose… He's really pretty, but you almost wish he wasn't so your sketches of him held a better likeness.

He's the only one of the regular crew that stands still long enough to be drawn. Jessica doesn't like you (or maybe she does, it's hard to tell, but she hasn't forgiven you for asking if her baby was like a maraca bead when she fights) so she doesn't let you draw her. Lyla will stand very still if you request it, but after a few portraits she got bored and started changing her hair or glasses, and after a few more she gave up. Margo is hard to focus on because her blue light makes everything else seem super orange, though she does stand in one place usually. She takes up a lot of pages, but it's Miguel you've drawn most of all.

You go around the Spider Society sometimes asking people if they'll sit for you, but again your skills aren't impressive, so it's awkward when they want to see how you've done. There are drawings of all kinds of Spiders, including yourself, between Miguel, and Miguel, and Miguel.

His back, the side of his face, his hands ungloved. His pointy bottom teeth mid fight. The naked stretch of his arm and his Rapture injector positioned over it. He might not appreciate that one. You rip it out and toss it in the waste paper basket under your desk, where it incinerates, paper smoke curling up toward the extractor fan on the atrium ceiling.

"What are you doing?" he asks without looking at you, his gaze on one of his marigold coloured monitors.

"Drawing." You're not drawing so much as sitting there with a coloured pencil in hand, trying to think of conversation starters. "What are you upto?"

"According to the program, there are no Canon events today at risk of disruption," Lyla chimes in, "so Miguel's doing chores."

"What, not one bad thing is gonna happen today?" you ask.

"Nothing we can predict," Miguel says.

You swap your pencil for your drink, unscrewing the lid of your lemonade to sip at it leisurely. Today is your favourite kind of day. No fighting, lots of time with Miguel, and music to go with it. You're so happy you could melt.

Miguel turns to you and sees your stickying smile.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just happy to be here with you," you say.

"Don't say stuff like that," he says, turning back to his screen.

"Scared you'll actually experience sincerity?" Lyla asks.

"Lyla," he warns, as though Lyla might be afraid of any consequence he had the power to inflict.

"Sorry," you say, not very sorry, but not wanting him to be uncomfortable, "it's just nice, being friends with you."

"We aren't friends."

You're not quick to take offence with Miguel. He can be cruel. He's hurting, he's unhappy, he has a lot on his plate. Oftentimes he's so tense with apprehension his neck locks up and you hear it clicking as he turns one way or another, or if he isn't apprehensive he's disappointed, furious, upset. You give him the benefit of the doubt because you know him, but you don't know the tone of voice he uses now. It's like he's offended at the insinuation. Like he would never, ever be friends with you.

You put your lemonade on the desk and don't know what to do. His insipid floating platform is too high now to leave without causing a scene. Maybe when he's busy you can web down and go home. All you know is that you desperately don't want to be near him. But home sucks, and the dormitories are worse. You're stuck.

"You can be so mean," you say softly, turning back to your sketchbook and pencils.

You're thinking you might draw him with a bunch of bee stings, or find a previous sketch and cross his eyes out.

"What?" he asks.

Your hackles rise. "You're mean. Don't talk to me."

"What?" Miguel stands very still. "Y/N, what?"

"What do you mean, what? I said something nice and you said something cruel. I get it, okay, we aren't friends, so don't talk to me."

"I've upset you."

You stare at your blank page. "It doesn't matter."

"No, I've said the wrong thing."

"Miguel, don't bother. What else could you mean by that?" You laugh with little humour. Crestfallen doesn't begin to describe how you feel. "I'll be quiet. I just don't want to be at home."

"What's wrong with home?"

"Is there ever much right?"

"Did something happen?"

"We aren't friends, so why ask me?"

You bite the inside of your lip as Miguel approaches, his footfall hushed over the lightweight metal flooring. You turn to him in your chair, head tilted back to meet his eyes, arms crossed over your stomach defensively.

"That's not what I meant when I said that." He speaks slowly, firmly, to avoid any misunderstanding. "What's wrong with home, mi cielo?"

You tap his ankle with your shoe, looking away from his gaze. You don't want to tell him, and if he keeps looking at you like that, you will.

"¿Qué pasó?" He bends at the waist slightly, bringing his face closer to yours, dark hair falling into his eyes.

"I don't know what that means," you murmur.

"Did something happen?" he asks.

"Nothing happened, it's just– it's lonely there," you say, squirming under the weight of his gaze, his sudden caring. "What's with you? One minute you're not my friend, the next you're worrying about me? You're giving me whiplash."

He stands up, and his face falls back into a more typical emotionlessness. He's clearly feeling something, but he's wiping the slate clean.

"When I said we aren't friends, it didn't mean–" He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you were staying in the women's dormitory?" he asks, frustrated.

"I am, but I'm useless, and they don't really respect me because I'm–"

"Eccentric?"

"–not as experienced," you finish, eyes flaring.

"Oh, my god," Lyla says, appearing in front of him to make sure he sees her delight at his slip up.

Miguel bats her hologram with an annoyed grunt. She disappears again, her tinkling laughter cut short.

"It's a good thing," Miguel says quickly.

You stand up. "It's not the point."

"You should feel at home in the dormitory, and if you don't, I'll find you somewhere else to stay here, you don't have to be in there if you don't feel welcome."

"Miguel, you're sounding awfully friendly right now."

"We aren't friends," he says again, stepping closer to you. "What's so hard to understand about that?"

"But we spend time together. We have fun. You like me, Miguel, you do, you tell me jokes sometimes, you make me things for me. You… you do like me, right?"

"You know that I do," he says, his eyebrows pinching together.

"You like me, like, you want me," you say, just to make sure.

His fist clenches hard enough to make an audible sound. Miguel's voice is fraught, and through barely parted lips, "If you know that, what's the problem?"

You don't know. Maybe it was silly to worry about how he sees you, because you do know that Miguel likes you, but you also know he hadn't wanted to like you. His attraction to you was reluctant, you're not stupid enough to miss that, and it was important to you that whatever tension sexual or otherwise lingering between you had bloomed into mutual affection.

"I want us to be friends, too," you say.

"I thought we were more than that."

It's such a quiet admission. He isn't afraid to say it, and he isn't reluctant like you feared.

"Miguel," you say. "I want you to like me. I know I can be off-putting, I know I tease too much, but I don't want you to like me despite those things, I just want you to like me. So, when you say we aren't friends…"

"I've never heard you say three serious sentences in a row," Miguel says, reaching out for your hand. He pulls you toward him slowly, his fingertips gliding up the length of your arm. "Then again, it's the same nonsense as usual."

"Miguel–"

"Of course I like you. How else do you need me to say it? I like you and I want to kiss you, I like you and I like that you're irregular. You want us to be friends? Then let's be friends." Miguel's hand closes around your bicep. His thumb presses against soft fat and muscle alike. "But not just friends."

Relieved, you sigh. "So you're saying we really weren't friends?"

Miguel leans down until his face is the only thing you can see. His smooth skin, his dark eyes, their darker flush of too-long lashes; it's unfair how pretty his eyelashes are, how they curl, how they bunch in triangles you have to fight to resist touching. His eyebrows so often slightly set, giving him an unhappy expression even now.

He brings the hand that isn't clasped at your bicep to the hill of your waist. It's hot as a brand, and it pulls you closer, your neck craning with every inch he steals from between you.

"We can be friends," he says.

His fingers twitch against your arm, and his hand begins to climb. It's not as slow as it feels, conquering the curve of your shoulder, your neck. His hand is big, his thumb pressing into the column of your throat gently.

He looks at you for a measured lapse of time, and you know, finally, that you're on the same page.

"What you said before, 'mi cielo?'" You hold his elbow. "What does that mean?"

"My sky," he says. "My… my heavens. It's saccharine. It's something teenagers say, when they're," —his voice dips, the hand at your waist squeezing tight like you might slip through his hold— "infatuated."

"Just teenagers say that?" you ask.

"No," he allows. "I always thought it was too much."

"But you–"

"Yeah. I did."

The first kiss is surprisingly sweet. On the tail end of words, Miguel presses his lips half-parted to yours, slowly, softly, like the brush of a downy feather. He lingers, and it's your own movement that spurs him on —you shudder up into his lips and he loses control.

The sound he makes is a shock. You try to pull back to check he isn't hurting, and he lets you until he realises why it is you're pulling away. "It's fine, it's okay," he says quickly.

Assuaged of your concern, he pulls you back in and he kisses you, he kisses you, his hand squeezing too tight and his nose bridge sliding up against yours from the force of it all. Your chest feels like a pit and you need Miguel closer if you're ever going to fill it, your hands snapping up to his face like magnets. There's no need to pull him down to you, he's already wading in, not wading —crashing, kissing you so hard your lips burn.

You make a sound that says, hopefully, This is really fun, but don't give me a bruise.

His tongue is a heat at the seam of your lips. Your weight bends, your chest leaning into his front. He doesn't hesitate to ease his hand behind your back and prop you up against him as things get heady, and the only thing you can feel is him.

All those times he almost kissed you, all those times he couldn't cross the gap. He poked and prodded and provoked you into getting into his space and each time you called his bluff. You wanted Miguel to give in, and now he has, it's the meltiest, most stickying warmth you've ever felt.

Voices sound far away, off the platform and down the hall. Jessica and someone else, approaching fast.

Something sharp snags your bottom lip as Miguel pulls away. You press your finger to your sore lip. When you pull it away, blood spots your skin.

Miguel takes your face into his hand and angles your face to a glowing screen carefully, in total juxtaposition of the grip he'd had on your waist.

"Sorry," he mumbles, the tip of his fangs catching the light. His adrenaline must be high.

"Excited?" you ask him breathily.

He wipes your lip with his thumb. The other hand pet's your cheek. You feel suddenly and smotheringly adored, all his attention on your pinprick wound.

"Everything okay up there?" Jessica calls.

Miguel drops your face like he's remembered himself. You turn to your newfound company, Jessica Drew and an unhappy looking Gwen Stacy. This high up, there's no way they can see the state of either of you, mussed hair and Miguel's blushy cheeks, but they'll see you eventually. And Miguel might like you, might want you, might be your more-than-friend, but he's a stickler for appearances, and being found kissing your subordinate dizzy when you're supposed to be working would mortify him.

"I cut my lip on a lemonade bottle," you call cheerily, waving at grumpy Gwen. Her lips perk up. "Miguel's trying to tell me it's my fault. Is lemonade usually sharp?"

His hand flattens subtly at the small of your pack.

"Thanks," he murmurs.

"Welcome, handsome. Is it bad?" you ask, turning back to hip with your lip pouted.

His eyes visibly soften at the sight of you. "Not that bad."

"Alright, good. You'll have to let the platform down, I need to go."

"What? Where are you going?" he asks.

"If we're friends now," you say, lilting, performing a half spin in front of him just to watch his eyes narrow, "I'm going to have to make us bracelets. Friendship bracelets." He clearly doesn't like the idea of being friends still, so you amend with a softer tone, "Friends and whatever that was. Come on, you'll love it. I'll make it match your suit."

He rubs the space between his eyebrows.

"Will you bring your stuff here?" he asks, the platform beginning to lower under your feet.

"Duh. I need to take lots of measurements. I'll be in your hair all day, you'll hate it."

He nods like he agrees. "I'll hate it," he says, deadpan. When he's sure Jessica and Gwen aren't looking, he gives you a smile you've never seen before.

You and I have a secret, it says.

Lyla appears by your shoulder to instantly tell him otherwise. It goes without saying that she's mildly disgusted and extremely smug. "Don't match it to his suit, Y/N. Mr. Heartthrob here needs something soft. How about some baby pinks, hm?"

Miguel sighs, but you barely hear him over your excited gasp. "Yes! Pink and white, for sure, that would be so nice."

"Great," Miguel says. "Perfect. Thanks for that, Lyla."

"You're so welcome!"

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D please reblog if you have the time ♡

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strang3lov3 · 6 months

Text

Halloween Special

Summary: You dress up as Joel for Halloween, and Tommy helps you enhance your costume. Joel fucking hates your costume. God, you're annoying.

Warnings: smut, arguing, oral (f receiving) male masturbation, joel jerks himself off while eating u out, southern phrases, unprotected piv, rough sex, Joel stuffs your mouth with part of his costume to shut you up, creampie, secret Ron Swanson (Joel dresses up like a pirate the way Ron Swanson does), yee haw mothafuckas

A/N: This story absolutely can be read as a standalone, but if you like these two and would like to see more of their antics, they the Mall Rats and you can read more about them in my masterlist ! thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️❤️ btw it is my birthday🎂🎉🥳i'm 21 today! And if you were feeling so inclined i wouldn't say no to some birthday wishes <3

“Why do all of these women’s costumes look like they’re from Victoria’s Secret?”, you ask as you and Joel rifle through the pile of twenty year old Halloween costumes. You’ve just gotten back from an old Spirit Halloween store with Joel, and now you’re sorting through costumes for the people of Jackson at his house. Some are salvageable and in good condition, some are old and moldy.

Halloween doesn’t make much sense post-apocalypse. If there’s any candy left, it’s all rotten. It’s not practical for kids to trick-or-treat for baked goods and apples, the few sweets Jackson has to offer. So instead, Maria and Tommy are hosting a Halloween potluck at their home. All are invited and encouraged to dress up, bring food. The party’s tonight.

“Who knows,” Joel mumbles, “Just how it was.”

“Did you dress all slutty too?”

“‘Course I did. Turned all kinds of tricks back in my prime.”

“Then here–”, you toss Joel a nurse costume, “Be a slutty nurse for the party.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

You snicker to yourself as you sort the piles. You’ve got girls’ and boys’ costumes sorted by size, and along with mens’ and women’s. “What are you gonna dress up as, then?”

“I dunno. Do I have to?”, Joel asks, “I don’t even wanna go.”

“Too bad, you have to. And you have to dress up, too. It’s mandatory.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What are you going as, then?” you shrug in response. Joel tosses you a costume, the guy in the picture seemingly wearing a sort of hat shaped like a thumb. “Knucklehead’, it reads. So fucking stupid. “Get it?”

“Ha-ha,” you throw the costume back in his direction. The costumes are all sorted now, so Joel bags up each pile to take to Maria. “Do you want any help with those bags?” you ask.

“Nah, I got it. Thanks, though.”

“Will I see you tonight?”

“Depends. How slutty you dressin’?” Joel opens the door and grabs the bags of costumes.

“You know, the usual. Lingerie and cat ears.”

“Mmm. Definitely stayin’ home, then. Get the door for me?” Joel asks as he’s standing in the doorway with the bags in his hands.

“Sure,” you nod. And as Joel leaves and you shut his door, his flannel draped over a chair catches your eye. You have the best costume idea.

–

You get to Maria and Tommy’s around six. Tommy greets you at the door, hair slicked back and wearing a cape, his usual toothy grin enhanced by plastic fangs. There’s red makeup resembling dripping blood from the corners of his mouth. “Hey you,” he says. “What do we have here?”

You clear your throat and speak in a lower affectation, “Shut up and quit smilin’,” before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Tommy laughs too. “Joel?”

“Bingo,” you reply. You’re wearing Joel’s flannel and a simple pair of jeans, with an exaggerated scowl.

“Costume is spot on, ‘cept for one thing,” you raise your eyebrows and Tommy continues, “You’re much easier on the eyes than he is.”

“Oh, stop it,” you blush and smack his arm. “Speaking of, Joel here yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Off in the kitchen or something. He’s gonna hate your costume, darlin’. Absolutely fuckin’ hate it.”

“Good, that was the plan,” you smile mischievously.

“I like how you roll, sister,” Tommy drawls. “An’ in fact…” Tommy looks around himself before moving a hand to your waist and stealthily guiding you to a nearby bedroom, his baby’s nursery.

“What are we doing, Tommy?”

“Shh, be cool, be cool,” Tommy tells you. He loves your costume, but he’s got an idea. A great idea, a way to improve it. He picks up a bottle of baby powder from the changing table and sits you down, then sprinkles some in your hair and combs it through with his fingers. “Now we’re cookin’,” he says. “Gotta get you that silver fox look, like Joel.”

“Ahh,” you hum in agreement. Should have thought of that one. That’s good.

“And–” Tommy continues, “You gotta talk like him too. You know how to do that?”

“Sure,” you clear your throat and speak in a low tone again, mocking Joel. “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you–”

“Oh, very close,” Tommy laughs, “Nah, you gotta get southern on his ass, sweetheart. You know what I’m sayin’?” you shake your head no. “That’s okay. M’gonna teach ya.”

Tommy spends the next ten minutes running through a list of southern words and phrases, teaching you how to speak in a southern accent. At the end, you’re both in a fit of giggles. “God, sweetheart, I love ya. Joel’s gonna shit a brick.”

You come out of the nursery with Tommy and make your way into the kitchen where Joel’s sitting. He’s at the counter, alone, snacking on some carrot cake. You’re still trying to compose yourself, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Howdy, pardner.”

“Uh, hi,” Joel eyes you and Tommy suspiciously. He does not like the way you’re both smiling, definitely causing trouble. “The hell are you two so happy about?”

“Nothin’.” you say, looking at Tommy. He subtly nods in approval. Don’t pronounce the ‘ing’ at the end of those words. It’s ‘In’. Nothing, nothin’. Fucking, fuckin’. Something, somethin’. “Uh, Joel, what’s your costume?”

“What’s it look like? I’m a pirate,” he grumbles. He’s got an…interesting take on a pirate costume. He’s wearing a plain button down shirt, striped pajama bottoms, and a long red tie tied around his tummy. You’re pretty sure there was a men’s pirate costume in the pile that you had sorted from earlier.

Tommy brushes your hair from your ear and whispers something. You smile, then speak to Joel. “Well, don’t you look cuter than a dimple on a bug’s ass.”

“Did you just have a stroke?” Joel squints at you, “Wait a fuckin’ second–that’s my shirt.”

You look down at your shirt in mock surprise, “Well slap butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! I guess it is your shirt, Joel!”

Joel’s blushing, redder than a tomato. His flannel is ill fitting, but to Joel, it looks perfect on you. He swallows thickly. You’ve got one less button closed than what he wears, and he’s fighting the urge to let his eyes fall lower. “Where did you even–never mind. You - I told you - God dammit, this ain’t–”

“This ain’t funny,” you interrupt, matching his tone perfectly.

Tommy’s giggling like an idiot next to you, then faces his palm up by his hip for a high five. You slap his palm and this enrages Joel, who glares at Tommy. “Don’t encourage this. The fuck is the matter with you?” Goddamn little brothers.

“What, don’t y’all like my costume? I’m you.”

“‘Course you are,” Joel grumbles. “Though a witch would be more fitting,” He looks at you closer, “What the hell is wrong with your hair?”

“I’m a silver fox just like you, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do not call me that. I can’t even look at you right now. Jesus Christ.” He eats the last of his cake, then stomps off, away from you and Tommy.

“You,” a voice interrupts. It’s Maria, dressed as a black cat. She’s so cute. “You two are playing with fire. Tommy, leave this girl alone. Joel’s gonna wring her neck.”

Tommy shrugs. “It was her idea.”

Maria doesn’t care. She smacks Tommy upside the head and ushers him towards the living room leaving you all by yourself. Tommy turns back to you, busted, he mouths. So you look for Joel.

You make your way through the living room, check the porch. It’s only when you’re in a hallway that you feel a strong hand grip your forearm and drag you to the guest bedroom that you realize where Joel stormed off to. “What in tarnation?” you exclaim, and Joel locks the door. “This bedroom ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Shut up and take off your pants. Do it now,” he grunts. You smirk and begin unbuttoning your - Joel’s - shirt. “Pants,” he scolds you, annoyed. “You keep my shirt on for this.”

You quit unbuttoning the shirt, “Thought you don’t like my costume?”

“I don’t,” Joel replies. You can see the tent in his pants, how achingly hard he is. You smirk. He’s all pissed off and worked up, a brutal combination. Your favorite combination. All because you’re wearing his shirt. Not really, though. You know the gray hair and the southern accent are what’s really pissing him off. You wearing his shirt is just fine.

In a fit of giggles, you can barely get the words out, “You’re hard as a match–wait,” you pause, unable to control your laughter. You catch your breath before continuing, “Shit fire and save matches, you’re hard as a r–”

“Don’t have time for this,” Joel grumbles. In one fell swoop, he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them and your panties down your legs, tossing them elsewhere. He shoves you on the bed before kneeling at the edge, pulling you by your hips. The cold air has your skin erupting in goosebumps that are then soothed by his hot breath on your thighs, as he presses sloppy kisses into your skin. “You have no–” he kisses your other thigh, “Fuckin’ idea,” then drags his tongue up your soft flesh, “What you’re doin’ to me, wearin’ my shirt like that. M’gonna devour you, sweetheart.”

Joel startles you by licking a long, fat stripe right up your hot and slick core, groaning as he tastes you, “Fuck,” you moan, fingers carding through Joel’s hair. You know this is getting tired. Seriously. Time and place. But even with his head between your thighs, you can’t stop. You struck gold. “Heaven to Betsy, it seems I have a visitor!”

Joel sighs as he pulls away from your core and stares at you, unimpressed. “You done yet?”

“Darn tootin’,” You get no reaction from Joel. “Yes...I’m done.”

“So fuckin’ sick of you. S’not funny. I don’t talk like that.”

And he’s right back where he was. First he’s inhaling you, your sweet scent, he licks another long stripe up your pussy, his tongue soft and firm against your core. He drags his tongue through your folds, moaning into your skin and savoring the way you taste. He keeps one arm wrapped around your thigh while the other is pulling down his striped pajama bottoms just over his cock, the waistband resting beneath his balls. Joel spits on your pussy, then drags his thumb up and down your core, collecting the mixture on his fingertips before spreading it on his cock. He grips himself tight, stroking himself up and down as his tongue teases your entrance, exploring your sex.

You can feel his shoulder jerk with every movement of his hand on his cock. You wish you could see it, his shaft shiny with your slick and the head red and swollen.

“Good lord,” Joel whispers against you. He eats you like he’s starved, eyes closed and lips wrapped around your clit. His fingertips dig into your thighs at a bruising pressure, his nose is buried in the coarse hair that covers your mound. “Fuckin’ good…so fuckin’ good,” Your skin, your musk, your arousal. He’s addicted to it, addicted to the taste of your pleasure. And Christ, the way his flannel drapes over your stomach, peeking over the tops of your thighs. He could die a happy man right here, between your thighs.

“Joel,” you cry, rocking your hips against his face. You’re moving too much. He bites your thigh and holds you firmer, his bicep flexing against you under the soft fabric of his shirt.

He alternates between lapping at your dripping core, sucking your sensitive clit, and fucking you on his tongue. Whatever he wants to do to you, because this is his treat. His.

“Yeah Joel, right there,” you whimper. You can feel it in your thighs, your gut, that familiar closeness is back. Under Joel��s tongue, you’re unraveling, coming undone for him. “M’so close.”

“This ain’t about you,” he growls. “Y’got yer kicks already, didn’t you? Teasin’ me in your little getup. Pokin’ fun and bein’ mean t’me.”

“No, Joel, I wasn’t–”

“I don’t care, sweetheart,” Joel says softly as he works himself. You hear the slick sounds of his fist slapping against his skin. “I don’t care. This ain’t about you. M’doin’ this f’me. Don’t you dare come.”

But you do. Not out of defiance, not to piss him off further. You just can’t help yourself. The way he purrs and growls into your skin, the way his arm holds you in place so firm. And his tongue, working pure fucking magic against you. Your orgasm ripples through you violently, taking you by storm. It feels hot and electric, intense and overpowering. Generously, he works you through it, licking and lapping at you, pulling every ounce of pleasure from your body that he can get. Static rings in your ears and you’re limp, pliant on the bed, eyes closed in pure bliss.

When you finally open your eyes, you realize Joel is standing above you, breathing heavily. Cock still achingly hard in his fist. “You weren’t supposed to do that,” he breathes.

“It was an accident,” you reply.

“Accident, my ass.” You bite your lip to hide your smirk. Joel knows that look on your face. Mischief. He reads you like a book, knows that you’re not done with your little act as you pull him onto the bed, flip him on his back and mount him. He knows exactly what you’re planning. Something about saving a horse, riding a cowboy. Of course you are. God, you’re exhausting.

You reach between your bodies and line his head up with your entrance, then sink down on him. Slowly, savoring the way he stretches you out. It hurts. He didn’t use his fingers on you. But you’re committed to what you have planned.

“Joel,” you breathe, rocking your hips slowly against him. “I have something to tell you.”

“What could you possibly need to tell me now, motormouth?” That devious smirk on your face…he knows what you’re about to say, answering his own question. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, “For the love of god…Go on, then. Get it out of your system, numb nuts.”

“YEEEE HAWWW!” you squeal, and Joel lunges forward to wrap a hand over your mouth. He did not think you were gonna be that loud. The party’s loud, but not that loud. “Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “The fuck is the matter with you? You cannot scream like that…Christ almighty.”

He flips you over, pulls out of you and rips the tie off of his belly. “My fuckin’ turn, now. Drivin’ me to drink,” He stuffs it into in your mouth, “Can you breathe?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he retaliates. He wraps your legs around his waist and lines up with your entrance once more, burying himself to the hilt in a quick shove with his hips. You gasp, your voice muffled by his tie.

He finds his pace quickly, pistoning into you at a devastating pace. Hard and fast and deep, like you love. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he pants. “You’re impossible. You know that? Impossible.”

You can’t smile, can’t speak. With your mouth stuffed full you can do is look at him with wide eyes, and all Joel can think is god, you have no business being so pretty and so fucking irritating at the same time. Joel’s shirt is buttoned halfway up your body and he watches your tits bounce under the fabric with every thrust of his hips. Your nipples taut and hard, the shirt falling away from your torso and framing your body just so, like you’re a painting, just for him.

“God,” Joel grunts. You wrap your legs tighter around him, hold his forearms that cage your head. You look into his eyes as he fucks you, his usual sparkling brown eyes nearly black with lust. And it might get you into trouble, but you need more. Need to feel him, taste him. Pulling the tie out of your mouth, you lift your head, kissing and sucking up his neck and all the way to his jaw and his cheek still slick with your own arousal. You taste yourself on his skin as you kiss his face, lips just centimeters away from meeting his own.

Joel makes all sorts of strangled noises as he pounds into you. His muscles tense and you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen inside you, and with his last few strong and deep thrusts, he spills into you. He comes hard, painting your walls with rope after rope of his hot seed.

He catches his breath on top of you as you trace lazy patterns into his back and his scalp, his head resting against the mattress. Completely drained of his energy. You can feel him going soft. “Joel, I need a rag or something before I make a mess on this bed.”

“Oh, yeah,” He looks up, raising his eyebrows when he sees his tie in his peripheral vision. He takes it,

“You weren’t s’posed to take this out of your mouth,” he says, “Least you stayed quiet for once. Maybe you could be quiet the rest of the night, hm?” he mumbles as he pulls out of you, wiping you down gently with the tie. He folds it up to keep the mess of his spend contained. “You do that for me?”

You smile. If only you weren’t all out of the sayings that Tommy taught you anyway. Joel helps dress you in your pants and underwear again, straightens out the buttons on your flannel. He tells you that you don’t have to give it back to him as you comb your fingers through his hair, taming it. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“You really didn’t like my costume?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiles for the first time tonight, and exaggerates his own southern accent. “Bless your heart.”

You tilt your head, confused, “What’s that one?”

“What, Tommy didn’t teach you that one?” You mumble a no and Joel hums. “S’a classic.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Well, I’d tell you to ask Tommy but you’re not allowed to hang out with him anymore,” Joel says. “Fuckin’ corrupted you. An’ it’s a shame, ‘cause I was startin’ to like you. God, he’s an asshole,” he complains, “And you are too, for that matter.”

You smile to yourself, then kiss Joel’s cheek before getting up to leave. Before you open the door, you turn to Joel, “Your costume sucks, by the way. Not even close to a pirate.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he replies. “Now get lost, you.”

When you leave, Joel adjusts his clothes. He clutches his tie in his hand, then leaves the bedroom, crashing into someone. It’s Tommy, wearing a shit-eating grin. Joel sighs, “What’d you teach her now?”

Tommy smirks. “Nothin’,” then slaps Joel on the ass, and Joel turns beet red. “Yee-haw, cowboy.”

Please please please reblog, send me asks, comment, let me know what you thought! Love your thoughts. It keeps me going and motivated to write for you all.

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #mall rats #mall rats!joel #mall rats joel #halloween special #joel miller fic #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

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wannabespiderman · 3 months

Text

Instructions unclear, sent a bowl of chocolate cereal.

Bucky Barnes x reader

You get your grumpy old man a smartphone. Chaos ensues.

Bucky suspiciously inspected the black rectangle between his fingers. “That’s not the phone I had in mind.” Of course, he had probably been thinking of a damn rotary phone when you suggested he needed something to keep in touch with people. You knew he had this weird relationship with modern technology, he was very wary of everything electronic and if he didn’t get the hang of it immediately he would just get frustrated. On the other hand, if he was able to figure it out himself he was openly proud of it, telling you how easy it was. You always had to walk the fine line between something enhanced enough that it was actually useful these days and simple enough that he wouldn’t become grumpy and pout about it while talking your ear off at how ‘the simpler times’ were called that for a reason.

A Smartphone was very very risky. Sure, you could’ve found an old flip phone or a Nokia brick but those things just hadn’t survived the test of time and according to your very professional opinion as his partner and self-proclaimed emotional support nuisance, this man desperately needed to stay in contact with the few people he would call his friends.

Despite your worry you put on your most supportive smile and turned the phone in his hand so he held it right side up. “Try it at least, okay? It’s cool.” You tried to assure him. He didn’t have to do a lot, you already set it up for him and downloaded all the apps you deemed necessary, helpful or fun, you even turned on the accessibility option so he could navigate his phone with one hand since the metal one wouldn’t work on a screen and would probably also leave scratches, so all that was left for him was to explore his new toy. You guided his pointer finger to the side of the phone and let him press the little button which made the screen turn on. Bucky gave you an unsure glance before turning his attention back to the phone in his hand and just kinda…stared at it until the screen turned off again. For a moment you didn’t know what was going on until you realized that with Bucky, specificity was key. You shook your head to shoo away the previous confusion his behavior caused and shuffled closer to him. “Do it again.” You encouraged him. Bucky’s brows furrowed slightly.

Oh no.

You held your breath, waiting for him to potentially hand the phone right back to you and suggesting that writing letters would be enough. After what felt like a minute he finally pressed the button again and you quietly released your breath. “Great! Now you just need to drag your thumb gently over the screen and you’re good to go.” Bucky slowly followed your instructions and you could practically feel the pride radiating off him, his eyes lighting up. Still, he tried to play it cool. “Huh. That was easy.”

Not specific enough.

You looked at your phone and tried to make out what exactly Bucky had sent you. It must’ve been a picture of his face, right? You thought you could see the brown of his hair in this blurry mess but on the other hand it could also be…maybe a bowl of chocolate cereal? Some Chili, maybe? No, there was definitely too little red for it to be Chili.

The man recently learned how to text like a normal person, more or less, but you didn’t know he also kind of figured out how to send pictures. His picture moved upwards when another blurry mess appeared in your chat. You squinted your eyes at the new picture, it was mostly white with some grey stripe in the middle. You gave up, no way you could figure out what the hell that one was.

Bucky…what is that? You typed out. The next message he sent you gave you move questions than answers.

I need a new phone. That was impossible, his smartphone was less than three days old. Sure, it could’ve cracked but you were sure he would’ve told you about that.

What’s wrong with your phone? Maybe I can help? You suggested. You didn’t have to wait for an answer too long.

Yes, please. You quietly chuckled to yourself, half amused by his struggles, half compassionate of them. You decided it would be best to talk to him face to face so you raked your fingers through your hair a few times to hide the fact that you’ve been hanging around in your bed for the last few hours and clicked the video call option on your screen. It rang and rang and…rang…until finally your screen lit up, or dulled down because all you could see was darkness with a touch of a chestnut color. You should’ve known that this would happen.

“Bucky, it’s a video call.” You informed him and watched as he pulled the phone away from his ear and instead looked at his screen, his brows furrowed like he always did when he lost a fight against technology. “Oh…” He grumbled.

“So, what’s wrong with your phone?” Bucky pressed his lips together, his eyes looking anywhere but at his phone.

“Bucky?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Bucky let out a sigh and wiped his face with his right hand but you could see the slight blush forming on the apples of his cheeks.

“Was anyone going to tell me that there are two cameras? Why the hell would anyone need two?” You saw him lean against the headrest and turn his head to the side with an annoyed expression. Your heart melted a little bit, you couldn’t help but find it endearing at how clueless he was when it came to things that were common knowledge to you.

“James, stop pouting.” There was a tone of amusement in your voice even though you tried to feign sternness. Bucky’s head shot back towards where he could see you on the screen in his hand and blinked a few times as if he was trying to comprehend what you just said. You never really called him by his first name and his reaction made you clench your jaw and hold your breath so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You asked innocently and batted your lashes towards your camera. Bucky narrowed his eyes but couldn’t suppress the little smile that was tugging on the corners of his mouth. You grinned triumphantly, happy that you could at least lighten his mood a little bit. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” You finally said and playfully scrunched your nose. “So was that it? Did you have a problem taking pictures because you tried to take them with the outer camera?” Buckys smile slightly faltered but he chuckled nonetheless.

“Yeah, I guess. Sorry to be a bother with all the…you know, modern stuff, I-“ You cut him off immediately. “Don’t you dare apologize for that, you’re still learning and I’m happy to help. Hey, I’m very proud of you for making it work with the phone.” Bucky rolled his eyes good-naturedly but you could see his eyes soften. “I try.”

You continued talking to him for a while about nothing in particular until you decided that you both needed some rest and hung up. It was merely twenty minutes later, you just settled down and closed your eyes when your phone vibrated. A message from Bucky. You curiously opened the message to see if he had any more problems but instead your lips curled into a big, bright smile.

He sent you a picture, this time you could fully make out what it was, a photo of a shirtless Bucky laying on his couch, his eyes crinkled as he wore a proud grin with the caption I figured it out!

__________

Tag list: @lunaroserites

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #boyfriend!bucky

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

Text

request; omg can we get one where it’s like that one trend on tiktok where the girls wearing lipstick n it goes to her bf w kisses on his face😭😭😭 PLEASE I KEEP SEEING IT EVERYWHERE

warnings; fluff, maybe suggestive

pairing; jj x fem!reader

authors note; i’ve seen the tiktoks too my fyp is obx and couples rn :,) love this, thank u for sending this in. after the day i’ve had i enjoyed writing something small and pure. and i accidentally posted your ask when trying to save to drafts i ended up posting it so i hope u still see this <3

lipstick tiktok (example)

“The red lipstick is new, baby.”

JJ’s voice was raspy, having sat in that same criss crossed position for around an hour, on the carpeted floor beside you, whilst you brushed makeup products gently to your skin. Detailed review of the products you typically use, and that deep rouge lipstick was not one of them.

You were sat at your vanity, preparing for a party at the boneyard. It was the last get together for the summer, so you were tedious in being sure that this makeup look was one to remember.

He resembled that of a small child, the way he’s been beaming up in astonishment. Admiring every move you make to enhance the impeccable beauty you already had to start with. And reminiscing at the fact that you were his, truthfully his in every way.

“Mhm,” you breathe, deciphering wether or not you should take the risk of wearing the color or not. Typically sticking to nudes and neutrals, this was something out of your comfort zone.

“You gonna’ wear it?”

“Should I?”

He gives you a ‘you would look perfect wearing a fucking trash bag, did you really just ask me that’ look. His hand grasps your thigh, thumb reassuring you against your flesh, with small circular motions. Replacing his thumb with his chin, you feel the bone dig into the thick skin— this required a better view than the one he had.

“Course’ pretty girl,” he batted his eyelashes with promise. “Now put that shit on, m’waiting.”

At that, you hesitantly take the top off of the black capsule. Twisting it up for more of the substance, revealing an untouched dark bloody shade of deep red— the most powerful shade. Divine femme fatale, if you will.

JJ could’ve sworn he shattered into a thousand bits, bursting at the seams. The way your mouth parted open delicately to apply it, so intimate and sensual.

Being that it was pigmented you merely needed a few strokes. To JJ’s dismay though, he wanted to rewind that moment, bringing it in closely to store in his brain for the long run.

Open at an angle so sacred he could sob from the sheer euphoric look.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” he can’t help the words that spill past his lips. Nearly in a trace, and he swore he felt drool leave his mouth.

“Yeah?”

You snap the cap back on, standing from the stool, sliding it inward, and JJ follows suit. Someone that was melting moments ago is now towering over you.

“Definitely baby.”

Sort of repaying him in a way, you flash a toothy grin at him, lipstick effortlessly lining your plump lips— you lean forward cupping his jaw with your palms. JJ happily obliged, not caring about the stains the redness would leave on his features. He couldn’t have asked for anything more, actually.

Your lips pucker softly, pressing kisses to every inch of skin you could reach on his face. From the small freckles that littered his jawline to the top of his forehead that was fanned by the tufts of his blonde tresses. Everywhere.

His heated cheeks. Kiss.

The button-like tip of his nose. Kiss.

His chin. Kiss.

His longing lips. Kiss.

Your mouth shape reflected on his tanned face, intricate lining of your lips, every crevice. Fragile and slow with each and every kiss.

Catching your breath, both you and JJ peer into the vanity mirror. He pulls you into his side chuckling at the reflection. His pretty face, painted in the marks of your lips. Yours, lipstick smeared with swollen lips.

This was when JJ strongly believed in the saying of ‘ruin her lipstick, not her mascara.’

“Gotta wipe it off now, J.”

You reach for a makeup wipe, not wanting your boyfriend to embarrass himself at the event to come. But he forces you into his chest to peer up at him, causing your eyebrows to knit together.

“Leave it.”

He adored the lingering sensation of your lips to the subtle skin. Wanting every part of him to be a reminder of you.

So that anyone that walks pass him could clear as day see, he desperately belonged to his lover.

“Really J, let me wipe-“

“I said leave it, baby.”

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angularbean · 2 months

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Swollen [Alastor x Reader]

A self-indulgent piercing fic d: ⋆⋆

Alastor lounged on one of the velvet couches located in the lobby. He often found himself here. A mug of black coffee in his right hand, and a newspaper in the other. While there was clearly more modern ways to indulge in the news of hell; but there was comfort in the within the black and white paper.

Even then, he couldn't focus on the article before him. Through the corner of his eye, he watched you. There you sat, prettily. Animatedly conversing with two other patrons of the hotel. Husker and Angel, mostly Angel, eagerly listening for every detail of your story. The deer demon didn't understand it. Why was it that no matter what he was doing or how busy he was, his eyes always found you. Watching everything you did. Was it the way you almost always smiled when you talked? Eyes and nose crinkling as you did.

How cute.

It must of been the way you laughed, the angelic noise falling from those puffy lips. He mentally shook his head, refusing to accept his inner turmoil, angelic it was not.

Obnoxious. Yes, that was it.

It was the boisterous laughter and conversation that caught his attention. Not you. Definitely not you.

Your laugh echoed through the lobby.

His eyebrows furrowed, how annoying. The quiet, tranquil atmosphere he longed to indulge in quickly fading. He could leave and make his way to his room, or even his radio station. Yet, he made no effort to leave. He already made himself comfortable, Alastor convinced himself he could tolerate the noise. Eyes scanning your form one last time before shifting their focus to the paper before him. Determined to finish the article he had been reading before you oh so rudely disrupted.

"Holy shit, toots. Yer' lip piercings, they're bleedin'."

Alastors ears perked up, his eyes shooting over to where you sat at the bar. You accepted the napkin Husker offered to you, dabbing your lips. From afar, Alastor finally noticed the change in jewelry. Instead of the studs, your lips adorned silver rings.

The first thing Alastor noticed upon meeting you was the jewelry you adorned. Silver rings cluttered along your fingers. Necklaces stacked around your pretty neck. The red jewel reflecting light, catching Alastor's gaze. He loved that necklace you always wore; how it coincidentally matched him.

Red looks perfect on you.

He noticed how your ears adorned several pieces of jewelry, and how every once in a while, a new piece would be added. Your cute nose defamed by the needle as well. A septum and nostril piercing, that's what you called them anyways.

Alastor couldn't help but roll his eyes at the amount of needless punctures in your body. He didn't understand it, not that he really tried to anyways. You claimed the so called piercings were there to enhance your favorite features, but what was there to enhance?

You were already absolutely divine.

He remembers when you arrived back to the hotel with the new addition to your growing collection. Swollen lips grinning up at him. His heart fluttering every so slightly, fluttering out of annoyance of course.

"I got too impatient and changed them a little too early. But I absolutely love the rings better."

You grinned at Angel sheepishly.

"I'll admit, sweets, snakebites look amazin' on you. But if you ev’r want spiderbites, I'm 'appy to oblige."

Angel winked. Earning a laugh from you and a roll of the eyes from Husker. Unbeknownst to everyone else, the radio demon’s smile tightened.

“It does make me wond’a though. You got any we can’t see?”

Your face flushed as Angel cackled, Husker immediately scolding Angel at the same time.

Something within Alastor snapped. His clawed hands tightened around the newspaper, causing his fingers to tear through the poor paper. The noise catching the of attention the other three, your eyes meeting his.

He crumbled the newspaper as he stood, quickly regaining his composure. The stag made his way towards the spiral staircase, flashing a bigger smile and bowing his head slightly as he passed you. He only hoped you didn’t notice his quick stride.

But you did.

Your eyes followed Alastor as he ascended the stairs, not looking away until he was fully out of view. You noticed the slight scowl in his endless grin as he stalked away. You, however, did not notice the look Husker and Angel shared.

"Ay, you got a thang fer smiles?!"

Angel jumped from his seat, shaking your shoulders demanding every single detail. Your denials fell upon deaf ears, the flustered look on your face spoke for itself. Husker watched the scene before him, he pitied you. Having romantic feelings for the Radio Demon had to be the ultimate punishment. He wondered what you did in life to deserve that.

Alastor found himself in his radio tower, hunched over his desk. After the lobby fiasco, he decided to keep himself busy scripting his next broadcast. He refused to acknowledge what transpired or even why it had the way it. Why should he? He's a heartless, murderous demon after all. Feelings mean nothing to him. They're simply just a waste of his time.

Despite all efforts, his mind still found its way to you. Irritated, he ran a hand through his hair. Grasping tuffs of red as he inwardly groaned in frustration.

Oh how he hated you and the unusual feelings you caused him.

He'd make you pay for it later; his grin painfully widened at the thought.

He stood from his seat, making his way out of the radio tower. The hotel eerily quite, most if not all the patrons retired to their rooms. As he made his way down the endless hallway, his ears perked up at the sound of soft music. Continuing his way down, the music grew louder. He slowed his pace as he passed by an open room. Soft jazz music emitted from an run down radio in the corner of the room, and there you lay on another velvet couch, surrounded by bookcases. Charlie must have a thing for velvet.

Sensing a presence, your eyes met his. You shut the book you had been reading, a smile dancing on your lips. Your attention fully on him. Just how he liked it.

"Couldn't sleep, darling?"

He strolled into the room, causing you to sit up.

"Yes and no. I just wanted to indulge in some alone time."

You shrugged. While you love and appreciated the new friends you made during your time at the hotel, sometimes you needed time alone to recharge.

"My apologies, it seems that I have interrupted."

Alastor turned to leave, causing you to jump to your feet.

"No, you're totally okay! Feel free to stay!"

You cursed yourself for how desperate you sounded. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but you stood your ground.

You missed the way he grinned, gums exposed, upon hearing your desperation. Turning on his heel, he made his way over to you. Stopping only inches in front of you; causing you to crane your head upwards.

"If I didn't know any better, sweetheart, I would think you have a soft spot for me. Hm?"

The demon all but purred. Your heart jumped, eyes darting around. Looking at anything but him. Excuses fell from your lips but he couldn't be bothered to listen. His focus on your lips. How swollen they were. How the bottom of the rings were caked in dry blood. How the rings hugged your bottom lip, something about it drove Alastor mad.

His gaze moving to the rest of your face. Eyebrows furrowed and face flushed. For a minute, he decided to indulge in himself. Alastor placed his microphone like cane under your chin, using it to slightly guide your eyes to his. His other hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind your decorated ear. His body seemed to have a mind of its own. Face inching closer to yours, agonizingly slow. Maybe it had been the way you looked at him, or the way your jewelry shone in the soft lighting. You looked so regal.

So vulnerable. So fragile. His lips met yours. Oh how he loved the feeling of the cold metal against his lips. It drove him crazy. His tongue swiped your bottom lip; reveling in the metallic taste. He didn't know if it was the jewelry or the dried blood. Frankly he didn't care. Pulling away, his eyes found yours. As they always did. Your eyes filled with desire, he couldn't help but swell up with pride. He had you wrapped his finger. You both knew that. While Alastor refused to acknowledge his feelings, he wouldn't mind dragging you along until he did. His gazed flickered back down to your decorated lips, thumb swiping along your bottom lip.

"Now, I believe I understand, pet."

#alastor x reader #alastor imagine #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader

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bindeds · 3 months

Text

⋆。 °⛧ Willy Wonka headcanons ! 🖇️✩ ₊˚

gif is by @thisgameissonintendo <3

do lmk if you’d like more posts like this!! I’m planning to write a wonka fic soon so stay tuned ;)

requests are open ! mlist. wonka nsfw hcs.

he’s good at lockpicking & pickpocketing, so he’d make a very good thief but he doesn’t do it because he knows he was taught better by his mother and he doesn’t want to disappoint her

he is only a workaholic when it comes to his chocolate. This man would find the easiest and fastest possible way to do most other tasks

one of the only tasks that are an exemption of the above are clothing. He’s particular in what he wears, not that he has high standards but he wants to dress unapologetically like himself, and that includes deep shades of purple, red and pink for his overcoats, and more mute colors for anything below that

LOVES to read now that he can. He often visits the library and even started a mini book club with Noodle and the rest of the gang (Piper, Larry, Abacus and Lottie) but they assign themselves more than one book per month sometimes because the rest are not as fast to read books as the two of them

He is IN LOVE with Alice in Wonderland, especially the Mad Hatter.

He loves poetry too, and learned how to write his own pretty quickly and always reads it out to Noodle when he writes new poems

his guilty pleasure for books is definitely romance. He likes the thought of devoting yourself to one person, because he knows how it feels like to devote himself to chocolate, and imagining a whole other person to share everything with just fills him with so much hope and light.

this man smells just like vanilla and chocolate, and he wants to keep it that way so he learned to make his own perfume that has the unique smell of his own chocolate (this headcanon partially inspired by this fic! I love the writer sm)

definitely looks up and says ‘sorry mama,’ if he does something questionable, even if he has good intentions

unaware of ‘gender norms’ because he lived by a river with his mother as a child then stayed on sea for seven years with roughly the same group of people, so those things weren’t imposed on him especially since he was mostly raised by only his mother.

following the headcanon above, he knows both the female and male parts of the waltz and other ballroom dances and has no problem wearing skirts or dresses (though prefers pants because he’s used to wearing them and it’s easier to move around in)

and because he was raised with only a small group of people around him almost his whole life, he lives life ‘unfiltered’ which is why he is seen as eccentric and wild, because his mother found it endearing and the boat crew saw how brilliant he was and never told him to ‘tone it down.’

loves shopping with Noodle, and they have an especially good time trying out clothes together

if the Barbie movie came out around the same area and time period, him and Noodle would have definitely dressed in all pink and only Wonka would have bawled his eyes out while Noodle begrudgingly consoles him

definitely goes back out to sea for a whole month once a year, and with the same crew he was first seen with in the beginning of the film. He misses them dearly, and always shares his chocolate with them free of charge

this man has chocolates for everything—chocolates to sleep better, chocolates to enhance focus and even chocolates to calm down (either from panic attacks or intense emotions like anger)

he probably even sells chocolates with vitamins inside, mostly also for children who don’t remember or don’t want to take their vitamins, but he was careful not to make it too good so they won’t take more than the necessary daily amount

he learned to cook after the events of the movie, finding that knowledge in that area would help enhance his skill in chocolate-making. He’s good, but of course he’s not a sous chef

#timothee chalamet #wonka 2023 #wonka headcanons #wonka movie #willy wonka #timothée chalamet #willy wonka x reader #headcanon #.wonka bin #.wonka hcs #( ࿈ archived. )

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r-is-typing · 2 months

Text

red | s.r

summary: in which red was their color

request: Hi lovely I saw your requests were open and was wondering could I please request for Spencer Reid - your part of the BAU and Spencer is in love with you but thinks nobody knows but ofcourse they all do. And one day when you’re working a case an officer flirts with you and jealous Reid comes out. Also welcome back to the world of writing I can’t wait to read your works ❤️

requested by: @justpeachy46

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

category: fluff with a little bit of sadness/jealousy (reid being a sad jealous man)

content warnings: spencer jealousy era, the bau being a bunch of teases

word count: 1.5k

send in your requests here!

Red. Red was the color of some of the cardigans in Spencer's closet. Red was the color of his favorite coffee mug in his kitchen. Red was the shade of lipstick he loved on his coworker (and the woman he had been pining over for the last 10 years) the most. Red also happened to be the color his face turned when he was faced with something he had experienced for the first time only weeks prior; jealousy. The team was in Buffalo, New York for a case. Typical serial abductor, nothing the team hadn't seen before. The case had wrapped up in a pretty decent amount of time - the Unsub being caught within a week, which the team felt relief when that happened. Not only could they get home as quick as they could, but it was a huge relief knowing that the horrible person who committed these crimes was locked up and people felt safe because of them.

Y/N was helping Emily pack up some of the case files and other things necessary for them to take back to Quantico for their evidence lockup. A door opened, Spencer walking through with two cups of coffee and a hot tea. "One coffee with light sugar, extra creamer, and one green tea with honey." Spencer gave the cups to the respective people.

Y/N took the tea eagerly, looking up at the man. "You, Spencer Reid, are a lifesaver. The New York air nipped at their skin, so the three who were left to pack up everything at the police station had the brilliant idea of getting hot drinks to warm themselves. "O-Of course, I know it's your favorite." Spencer awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked at her, not missing the smirk and knowing glance that one Emily Prentiss gave to the both of them.

"Did you know that green tea is not only good for boosting your energy level, but is also helpful in controlling blood sugar levels by enhancing insulin sensitivity and glucose metabolism?"

Y/N looked at Spencer as she took another sip. "Huh. Interesting. Is there anything you don't know, Genius?" She looked at him with a playful smirk, putting a manila folder into the cardboard box.

The door opened again and the three of them looked up. It was one of the local officers there in Buffalo. "So, I was thinking.." The man had walked over to Y/N, starting a conversation. Spencer stared at them as he held one of the folders, his knuckles turning white at how hard he gripped the folder.

He couldn't hear anything the guy was saying, but that didn't matter to him. What mattered to Spencer is what he could hear. Y/N's laugh as her head was thrown back, looking as if she was giggling up to the ceiling.

What could possibly be so funny?

Spencer definitely didn't miss the not-so-subtle pass of a piece of paper from the officer to Y/N. His best guess? His phone number. The only real question Spencer had; Would she even reach out to him or did she just take his number to let him down easy?

"Hotch just texted. Wheels up in 20."

Spencer had never been happier to know Emily than he felt in that moment. He was even thankful for Hotch that because of them having to board the jet so soon, Y/N snapped out of conversation and helped him and Emily finish packing the stuff to take back to the FBI building.

Once they boarded the jet, Y/N sat on the sofa that was normally Reid's spot, but everyone knew that when it came to her, he didn't care if she took it. Anyone else? Tough luck. Soft giggles and whispers took him out of the trance he was in when reading. Again, what could possibly be so funny?

Y/N stared intently at her phone, and Spencer couldn't help but notice the small blush that painted her face, where there usually was nothing.

"Kyle and Y/N sitting in a tree..."

JJ began to sing as she sat down next to Emily and across from Spencer and Morgan. "Sorry?" Spencer looked confused, but the other two just laughed at the blonde. "You didn't hear? That officer back in New York asked Y/N out. He's driving to Quantico this weekend and taking her to dinner, I think."

Spencer's fists turned white again as he gripped the book he was reading. "You alright there, genius?" Emily raised an eyebrow looking at Reid who just nodded. "Just fine." He spoke bluntly.

Before they knew it, Friday had rolled around and Y/N was getting ready for her dinner with Kyle when her phone buzzed. The text read:

From: Penelope Garcia

Hotch needs everyone back for final paperwork. Sorry, dollface.

Y/N sighed, sending her date a quick text as she walked to her car, making her way back to where she was just days ago. When she walked in the door, Penelope was quick to wrap her in a hug. "I'm so sorry about your date.." Spencer heard what the two women were talking about and couldn't help but smile.

His smile quickly disappeared seeing the familiar man walk in moments later, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Spencer watched as Y/N gasped, walking over to him and taking the flowers, hearing her give thanks to the man.

Spencer could feel his face heating up. He made a confused face mostly to himself. He didn't know what he was feeling but he didn't like it. The slow but building anger, the heat in his face, his fists instinctually curling into balls, and his eyebrows furrowing.

Before he could stop himself, he got up and walked to the pair. "Nice flowers." Spencer started to speak, the anger evident in his voice. "But, her favorite are daisies. I mean, do you even know her?" Spencer scoffed. Y/N looked up at him with a mix of confusion and shock in her eyes.

"Rei-"

Spencer held his hand up to Derek who tried to stop him from talking. "I mean, really. You meet her for maybe all of five minutes and decide she's the one you want and you don't know a single thing about her?" Spencer paused to take a breath and continue.

"Do you even know what her favorite color is, or her favorite song to listen to when she's sad, or her favorite movies depending on the mood she's in, or-or-"

"Reid." The stern voice of Hotch speaking would usually quiet Spencer down, but everyone could see how escalated his emotions were when not even Aaron Hotchner's voice could quiet him.

"Listen, if you want to ask out someone in the BAU, fine. Go right ahead, but not her. Okay? Anyone but her. I've been in love with her for years now, and this... I can't see this working out because you don't know her like I do."

Y/N couldn't help but giggle making Spencer turn to her quick. "Spencer..." She began. "This is Kyle. My best friend from high school. We haven't talked to each other in years, and so when he saw me in New York he gave me his number so we could catch up."

Spencer felt a mix of emotions was through him. Relief, embarrassment, and an emotion he could only describe as "How stupid could I be?". "But, JJ said-" Emily cut him off. "We knew Y/N couldn't hear us so we made a bet to see how fast it would take you to get jealous."

Spencer felt as if he had just seen a ghost for the first time. "I'm so sorry." He apologized profusely. Kyle shrugged it off, saying he understood the confusion. "And, listen, I got her these flowers because as far as I knew, they were her favorite." Kyle said, laughing softly.

Spencer looked towards Y/N who just stood there, staring at him and smiling. "I like daisies a lot. I, especially started liking them when you started to give them to me. They became my favorite because they were the first flowers you ever gave to me, Spencer." Spencer stood there in shock.

What?

"Oh, and for the record. Two things." Rhyan looked at him. "One, I like you too. Always have." Spencer looked at the girl in adoration.

"Two, jealousy is a really nice shade of red on you, Spence."

But, more importantly, red just so happened to be the color of the dress Y/N was wearing when she reciprocated Spencer's feelings; their color.

r is typing...

so, i'm gonna be honest... wasn't thinking i was gonna love this as much as i do! one of my new favorites for sure. thank you for the request! <3

r is signing off...

join the taglist here!

#requests open #reqs open #spencer reid x reader #request #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #r-is-typing #criminal minds x reader

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weebsinstash · 3 months

Text

So like, in the finale there's that shot where the Vees are in Val's section in the Vee Tower, and there's VERY OBVIOUSLY AN OLD PHOTO OF VOX AND ALASTOR

and obviously i have some thoughts and ideas about that BUT I was listening to the song again and I couldn't help but have my eyes drawn to the top left corner... zooom... enhance.... rotate...

VALENTINO SELF PORTRAIT SPOTTED? Because even though I think that's Vox's handwriting, I definitely don't think it's his art, because we've already seen his art and uh, yeah it's definitely not on this level of detail

kinda just sitting here now thinking about... you go up to Val's office at the studio to drop off something someone else asked you to deliver, but he's not there, so you set it down on his desk and can't help but find your eyes drawn to a notebook sitting on a side table with a bunch of pencils next to it and... you can't help but take a peek... and it's surprising how many different drawings are in there and you find it actually pretty impressive, but as you keep flipping the pages, it's like "OH, a drawing of me! That's... kinda weird but it looks so nice! And another of me! And... another... and another... and another... and why do these all have so much detail..."

You basically catch him with the equivalent of Miles Morales' sketchbook full of Gwen and OF COURSE when you close it to turn around and leave, OF COURSE he's behind you and he's SO EMBARRASSED because oh my GOD, you can't just look in an artist's sketchbook without asking?! That's private! He's just, red in the face, flustered, frazzled, squeaking, shouting at you asking what you think you're doing. I just picture you try to calm him down, "I didn't mean to look but your sketches are really good! I'm sorry, I got curious 🥺 I promise it won't happen again" and he's crossing his arms and his antenna are twitching and he's just pouting and grumbling, "just don't fucking do it again" and you avoid being maimed because, aw you complimented him he loves that ❤️

that awkward moment when you open a random sketchbook full of drawings and it turns out to be full of like straight up fucking FILTH, of YOU. Like maybe you're doing PA stuff in Vee Tower and Vox lost a journal full of contact info for something and you're poking around in Val's tower helping look for it because, well, Vox asked you for help! It's kind of an honor! This guy's an Overlord and you got the go ahead to poke around his house to help him look for something! So you're glancing at papers and finally picking up The Sketchbook, and... it's everything from just doodles of you chilling just sitting doing normal shit like being on your phone or asleep in the limo, to potential outfit ideas like DETAILED CUSTOM outfit ideas with TWO different sets of handwriting in the margins, to just straight up PORN. Sketches of you in bondage, tied up, gagged, in spreader bars, on your knees with your mouth gaping open with painfully familiar pink cursive handwriting in a speech bubble where 'you' are begging to taste the viewer, mouth open, tongue hanging out with a trail of spit connecting both of your lips--

AND THE BOOK IS SNATCHED OUT OF YOUR HANDS AS YOU SPIN AROUND TO SEE VALENTINO and he's all but like INFLATED with embarrassment, fur bunching up, antenna flailing, at a loss for words as he looks between you and his sketchbook like he is CAUGHT IN 4K. He would probably completelt deflect and try to act like you snooping is the bigger deal meanwhile you're like "hey dude was that like a full color fully shaded drawing of me in a custom coat that matches your wings and we're making out--" and you wind up having to just scurry away as he becomes incoherently angry and flustered and maybe even threatening you if you don't get out of his room RIGHT FUCKING NOW--

The next time you go to work your shift serving him drinks, he's shoving an outfit at you that you recognize from the sketchbook, a new uniform, and you can't help but notice Velvette looking you over as you serve the Vees drinks, almost as if she's admiring her handiwork...

#hh #yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #sinprompts

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boldlyvoid · 6 months

Text

Scare Tactics

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: Surprisingly, Aaron agreed to a darker roleplay this Halloween.

Warnings: Ghostface role play, scene planning and negotiations, taking about safewords and limits, CNC, stalking, stalker phone calls, fake break-ins, handcuffs, oral (male receiving), deep throating, rough sex, degradation, name calling, slight pet/owner kink mentioned, begging, vibrators, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, domdrop, aftercare

Word Count: 6100

When he gets in that night, it’s late. Pushing midnight, late. That’s not really a shock to her, he’s always got something going on. Between driving his son everywhere he needs to be, working on the PTA and teaching night classes at the local college, Aaron Hotchner is a busy man. Always has been, and always will be.

She’s in bed, scrolling through things on her phone as she waits for him to arrive. She is just catching up on the newest trends and celebrity gossip when she hears his heavy feet coming up the creaky old steps of their century home. While it is a beautiful place to lay low in the middle of nowhere, the sounds it made— especially at night— were insanely creepy.

The TikTok she’s watching doesn’t help either… she’s been listening to creepy Reddit stories and looking at home footage of spooky happenings. The videos she’s seen the most tonight, however, are ghost face videos. Be it thrust traps or couples going to the store to buy a mask to enhance alone time later that night, she’s seen them all.

There’s one on her screen as Aaron opens their door, she quickly locks her phone and looks at him with a guilty smile.

His old profiler ways clock in on the awkwardness right away, “What were you doing?”

“Nothing,” she presses her lips together and shakes her head, pretending she doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Wait… were you watching porn?” He asks. Eyes narrowed in on her, waiting to read her reaction.

She laughs, “no? Oh my god? I mean…. It’s not, but it definitely does something to me.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, “well, now you have to tell me?”

She sighs, thinking how she’s going to explain it to him of all people. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”

“Too late,” he teases.

She shoves him, “Seriously, it’s weird… I don’t even like the movies but—

“Oh, you were looking at thirst traps again?” He’s only recently learned that term.

She can’t help but smile, “Yeah… do you know the scream movies?” He nods. “There’s a trend right now where couples are having sex while the dominant partner has the ghost face mask on.”

“It is like a full role play? Breaking in? Phone calls? Knife play?” He asks as if they’re setting boundaries already, planning a kinky scene is something they’ve done a few times. He likes to know all the limits, the expectations and what turns her on about it before they agree to anything.

“Wait, you’d do it?” She asks, sitting up straighter. “Seriously?”

He nods, “if it’s something that’ll get you off, why not?”

She tosses the blankets back and gets to her knees, he pulls her into his lap and holds her by her hips. She cups his face and presses a quick kiss to his lips, “so you don’t think it’s weird?”

He shakes his head, “Not at all… mask kinks are incredibly common.”

“And if I did want you to pretend to stalk me and break in and overpower me…”

“I’d need some prep time, I’ll have to have a free day the next day and Jack can’t be in the house that night,” he explains his boundaries. “I’ll, of course, give you aftercare right after and when you’re okay, we can switch?”

She pets his hair and nods, “Of course, my love. I’ll take the best care of you after. I appreciate everything you’re willing to do for me.”

“You just have to get the mask and maybe we can talk about the specifics of a script or series of events for the night,” he whispers, brushing his nose against hers. “Maybe you can get something new to wear during it?”

She likes the sound of that, but she just has one question. “Black or red?”

—

He gets a burner phone a week before the scene is set to happen. He doesn’t tell her thats what he’s done but when he’s getting ready to leave for work one night he smirks from the closet and says “if you get a phone call from an unknown number… be sure to answer, okay?”

She knows he has a class tonight, he has Introduction to Legal Skills from 6-8 and then Trial Advocacy from 9-11:30. Jack goes to bed around 10:30, so she knows he’ll call sometime after Jack's in bed. Otherwise, he could hear the conversation and either be scared for life knowing his parents had kinky sex or grow concerned that his stepmom had a real stalker after her. And he’s been traumatized enough for a 17-year-old boy.

Sure enough, her phone rings at 11:45 while she’s in the living room, on her phone with the TV on in the background.

“Hello?” She answers, a fake sense of nervousness in her voice.

“What are you watching, Y/N?” He asks, his voice deeper than usual. Almost scarily deep.

“Excuse me?” She can’t believe he’s really doing this. “Who is this?”

“Have you never watched a scary movie before? You should know asking that is a death wish,” he teases. “But you never answered my question.”

“How do you even know I’m watching TV?” She asks, it’s not like the sound is up. She looks out the window to make sure he’s not out there, completely forgetting that they have security cameras inside and he can access them on his real cellphone.

“You’re on the couch, in a cute little black tank top and shorts… aren’t you cold? It’s October.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know a lot more than you think,” he taunts.

“Then shouldn’t I know something about you too?” She asks, turning it back on him. “Don’t you think that’s fair?”

“Hmm… I suppose it would, but isn’t part of the fun all in the mystery?”

“You must know my husband used to be an FBI agent so—

“Ah yes, agent Hotchner,” he laughs. “Retired, haunted, old man, Aaron Hotchner.”

“He can still kick your ass,” she assures. Both scaring this character and stroking his ego at the same time. “And enjoy doing it.”

“We’ll see about that.” He says before hanging up.

It makes shivers run down her spine and all the hair on her body stands tall. If she didn’t know this was actually him, it would be incredibly terrifying. Yet for some reason, she’s more turned on right now than anything.

When he gets home that night, she’s still in the living room. Waiting for him. He puts his bag down, kicks off his shoes and hangs up his coat before making his way over to her and crashing down onto the couch. He lays his head into her lap and she brushes his hair back, “tough class?”

He nods, “they asked so many questions. It’s literally not even that hard.”

“Awe,” she sympathizes. “Not everyone is as smart as you, handsome.”

“How was your night?” He looks up at her with a smile.

“Good, Jack drove us to get some ice cream tonight and he was actually really good at it this time and then I got a weird phone call…”

“Huh,” he raises his brows quickly. “Weird… do you know who it was?”

“No idea.”

“Well, just keep an eye on it,” he advises. The profiler in him wants to say don’t answer the phone again but the game was too fun. He wanted her to answer again, he wanted to tease her, he wanted to make it as real as possible.

This was going to be a fun week.

—

She gets a call every night that week. The calls last anywhere from a minute to 10, depending on how long she can keep him talking in his sexy deep voice. She switches into a cute little night dress before their next conversation and she sits on the couch facing their security camera with the hem of her nightgown pushed up a bit too high… giving him a show.

“So…” she asks, wishing she had an old corded phone to twirl around her fingers. “What do you look like? Are you cute at least?”

He snickers, “That’s your question today? Really?”

“Yep, I mean if you’re going to stalk me and find me and make me yours, you better be hot,” she teases him.

“I’m… average, I guess?” He struggles to compliment himself.

“I figured you wouldn’t be as handsome as my husband…”

He sighs, “I’m going to make you pay for all these comments.”

She laughs, “okay… I’m sure.”

“Taunting a psychopath is never a good—

“That’s a lie, I know from my husband that sometimes taunting them is what they need. Sometimes they’re such losers that this is all an act, pissing them off makes them slip up and expose themself… so is this all an act? Are you secretly a loser who needs attention? What, did your mommy not love you enough growing up? Or was it daddy beating you that made you this way?”

“You’ve got two days,” he reminds her. “I’m going to get you.”

He hangs up and she smirks, she loves riling him up like this. She knows that once he gets his hands on her, once he has that mask on, she’s in for the ride of her life.

—

Sure enough, the Friday before Halloween, Jack heads out to a party and says he’ll be sleeping over at a friend's house that night. His phone is charged, his costume is on and his ride is about to pull up to their driveway.

“You remember you can call either one of us, at any time of the night, and we will come get you,” she reminds him. “No matter what state you’re in… I understand that drinking is something you’ll probably do tonight, and I won’t tell your dad, but go easy. Have water between beers and don’t drink from a cup you didn’t pour yourself or one you left unattended no matter how much time passed. And if you feel weird, uncomfortable or you just want to come home, you call me.”

“I know, Mom,” he assures her, looking at her with that annoyed teenager look.

“And drugs… please, please be careful. Peer pressure is real, being curious is okay, but don’t do anything intense. Smoking copious amounts of weed before the age of 27 can stop your brain from fully forming and other drugs can literally kill you because you have no idea what they’re mixed with—

“Mom, I’m not going to do drugs tonight,” he cuts her off, looking as serious as his father can.

“Okay,” she lets out a deep breath just as the headlights shine through their stained glass front door. “Give me a hug,” she says, arms open and waiting for him.

He steps into her space and holds her tight, “I love you, be safe.”

“I love you too, I’ll text you when I’m on my way home tomorrow.”

“And before you go to bed too, please? Even if its just a heart emoji, I want to know you’re going to bed, I don’t care what time it comes in,” she stares him down before letting him pull away. “I love you.”

“Okay, okay,” he smiles. “I’ve got it, I’m going now. Have a good night.”

“Oh, I will,” she smirks.

“Gross!” He calls out as he heads out the door, skips down the stairs and heads out to his friend's mom's car. She waves at them, gets a wave from the driver back and then they’re gone.

She locks the door once he’s gone, turns off the lights downstairs and heads up to her room where she changes into the new lingerie she bought at Aaron’s request and she lights a few candles around her room. She grabs the mask from her closet as well as a black silk robe and black boxer briefs and she lays them all on the table in the entryway downstairs with a note that says “Wear me.”

She goes to the kitchen and gets them some snacks for after, a couple water bottles and his bottle of scotch with a glass in case that’s what he wants after. He needs to be able to relax and unwind and know he did a good job and he’s not a bad guy for divulging in this role-play for her. If anything, he’s the best man in the world being able to do this for his wife.

And she waits in her room.

The first call she gets is from Aaron, 10 minutes after his class ends.

“Hey baby,” she answers quickly.

“Are we still on for tonight?” He double-checked, making sure nothing had changed between his leaving for work and now.

“Mhm, I’m waiting for Mr. Ghostface to arrive,” she whispers, voice low and dark. Making sure he knows just how ready she is.

“And you remember the safe word?”

She hums again, “I do, and we can both use it, remember?”

“I will if I need to,” he says and she can hear the smile on his face. “Did Jack leave okay?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago,” she assures. “We’re all good to go unless he calls and needs to come home.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” Aaron’s positive. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Sure?”

“You put my mask downstairs?”

“I did,” she smirks. “And an outfit…”

“Oh, okay,” he sounds so excited. “Can you put my handcuffs down there too?”

“Are they in the safe?” She double-checks, cause the last time she saw them they were in his bedside drawer…

“They are…”

She gets up from the bed, goes into their closet and presses her thumb to the sensor, he could probably hear the lock click as the door swings open. He has 2 guns and his cuffs right there, sitting on top of their important documents and her most expensive jewelry.

“I’ll leave them downstairs for you,” she says as she takes them out and shuts the safe once more. “Anything else you want?”

“Just you,” he teases.

“okay well, I’ve got another phone call I’m expecting, so I should let you go,” she says while heading back down the stairs.

“Can we just pause for a sec?” He asks.

“Mhm, what’s up?”

“So you still want me to pretend to break in? We’re still doing everything we talked about?” He asks again, obviously nervous.

“Hey, we don’t have to do any of it if you’ve changed your mind?” She assures. “I mean it, we can just do something vanilla tonight, we don’t have to do a scene.”

“I want to make you happy—

“I won’t have fun if you don’t,” she resets the boundaries. “You tell me what you want to do and that’s what we’ll do.”

“I’m going to call you from outside, I’m going to make my way in and I’m going to sneak up the stairs and find you in the bedroom where I’m going to restrain you by cuffing you to the bedpost and have my way with you,” he lays out the series of events. “We’ll have sex, I’ll free you, I’ll take care of you until you calm down and then I would like some cuddles.”

“I have water and snacks in here waiting for us to be done, would you like a bath after?” She asks.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” he says and she can hear him smile again. “Okay, good. Good, we’re ready to go.”

“I love you,” she whispers. “I’m so excited to try this.”

“I love you more,” he reminds her and then he’s off. They say their final goodbye and she heads back upstairs to her room to await her hell prince.

—

She sees his headlights as he pulls into the driveway but she doesn’t hear his door shut, they just go out. That’s when her phone rings again.

“You again,” she teases right away. “Let me guess you know I’m home alone and you just wanna ‘talk’?”

“I just wanted to hear your pretty voice one last time,” he says with his deepest voice, it’s almost a growl.

Chills run down her spine once more. He’s way too good at this.

“What?” She asks, fear on her tongue.

“I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere?”

“You’re right… I’m coming to you.”

The line clicks and all she’s left with is the sound of her heartbeat in her ears… and her panties. Well, lack thereof. This set didn’t really leave much to the imagination. It was perfect to tear off. Easy to cut if need be. And currently, soaked.

Her ears feel like they’re on fire as she tries her hardest to listen to what’s going on downstairs. Either he’s being extra quiet or he’s not in the house yet. But he will be. He’ll change and he’ll climb the stairs and push her door open and take her. And she’ll take him. She’ll take him so good he’ll want to wear this fucking mask all the goddamn time.

And then the stairs of their century home creak, one by one as he climbs them ever so slowly. Slower than ever before. They creek and pop, they whine and echo down the hall towards her bedroom. There are only two times that these stairs sounding this awful are so helpful and it’s during role-plays like this and when their teenager sneaks out at night.

He makes his way down the hallway, towards the bedroom door and he looks through the crack. Mask on, that classic screaming, white face shines through the dark. He pushes the door open, making it squeal on rusty hinges. They really need to fix those.

“Aaron?” She calls out.

“Think again,” he teases, voice muffled behind the mask but still deep.

She scoots up the bed, drawing her knees in closer to her body as she cowers away. Checking him out in the meantime. The way he’s hard in his boxers, how his robe opens to show off his cute tummy and salt and pepper treasure trail… he’s delicious and all hers.

He creeps forward, “Don’t you know the rules to survival in a horror movie?” She shakes her head in fear. “Rule number one, sex equals death.”

“I wasn’t—

“But you were ready for it,” he points at her with his free hand and she notices how he’s gripping his cuffs with the other. He starts to twirl the cuff around his finger while chuckling deep from within. “What a shame he leaves a sexy thing like you home all by yourself most nights…”

“He’ll be home any—

“No, he won’t,” he taunts, and she can hear the smirk on his face. “I’ll be long finished with you by the time he comes back.”

He pounced on the bed, struggled with her to get a cuff on her one wrist and bring them both up to the headboard so he could loop the cuffs around the bars and trap her there. “You’re mine.”

“Please don’t do this,” she begs, trying her hardest to stay in character.

“Boo hoo,” he says, really not giving a shit what she wants or doesn’t. He straddles her waist and walks on his knees until his junk is right there near her face. “You’re going to take what I give you.”

She can’t help sticking her tongue out, wetting the fabric of his boxers as he presses his bulge against her face. Mouth watering, she can smell him under the fragrance of their detergent on his boxers. “Cock drunk already? You’re such a good little slut, no wonder that old man loves you.”

She whines, “Please Mr. Ghostface…”

“Say it,” he growls.

“Let me suck your cock, please? I need it,” she begs this time, watching him pull his boxers down just enough to expose his cock.

It stands tall, he grips himself by the base and taps it against her tongue a few times and she moans before licking at the head and taking him into her mouth. She drags her tongue along the pulsating vein on the underside of his perfect cock. He’s uncut and thick and her mouth is watering by the time she takes him between her lips. She relaxes her jaw, avoids her teeth, and uses her tongue around the head… all things he’s asked her to do for him in the past. This is the only cock she’s sucked and actually enjoyed doing it in her whole life.

The man above her grips her hair tighter and groans, “sweet christ… such a good little slut for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.”

She hums around him, so content already but the praise mixed with the degrading words… fuck, was it ever good? She gains more confidence, sucking this man's cock like her life depends on it. Wet and sloppy, she gets drool all over her chin and it drips down her neck to pool at the pillows but she doesn’t give a fuck. She takes him deeper, letting the man fuck her throat, breathing through her nose with her eyes shut, she gags slightly but it’s bearable, she likes it… Mr. Ghostface really likes it, too, if his moans behind the mask are any indication.

He drags his hand from her hair, down the side of her face and he cups her cheek as he pulls out, hearing her whine. “If I’m going to fuck you, I’m gonna need this back,” he teases.

She whines again, “but, but?” Her voice horse and her breathing heavy.

“But nothing, you’re going to sit there and you’re going to take it like a good little whore I know you are,” he taunts.

Getting off her and the bed, he lets his boxers go and he tosses off the stupid little robe he was wearing to complete the fit. Now naked except for his mask, he pulls her beside drawer open and pulls out her vibrator and the pocket knife she keeps there for… reasons like the time she couldn’t get the knots undone when she restrained him once.

He tosses the vibe on the bed and flips the blade out of the pocket knife. She squirms, “What are you going to do with that?”

“Cut these new panties off you… never saw these in the drawer the last time I was in here,” he says, building the story more.

“You’ve…you’ve been in my home before?”

He nods, “many times.”

“You’re a sick fuck,” she spits at him.

“Mhm and you’re going to love it,” he says as he climbs back between her legs.

He drags the tip of the blade from her stomach to her hip, down her thigh and back up. “Look at the way you quiver for me, how eager you are to spread your legs… don’t tell me your FBI boyfriend taught you to just give it up like this?”

“Husband,” she corrects him.

“Boring,” he taunts. “Husbands are useless, you get boring sex and boring conversations and then they die.”

He slips the blade under the elastic on her hip and starts to cut it off. Slowly, she feels the fabric snap apart and exposes her to him. He grips the hem on her other hip and pulls her panties off the one leg he didn’t destroy. He flings them off and tosses the knife onto her bedside table but he tosses it too hard and it slides all the way off, behind the table and almost takes the lamp out with it. “Oops,” he laughs from deep within.

He takes the vibrator back in his hand and turns it on, “I can’t eat you out without showing you my face, so I guess I’m going to have to make you cum a few times with this…”

“Fuck,” she whines, legs spread as she arches closer to the sound of the buzzing.

On the lowest setting, he drags the head of the vibe over her inner thigh and over her hip bone. Up her stomach and then onto her hardened nipple. She whines again, “please? Please Mr. Ghostface?”

He hums, “Be patient, slut.”

He runs it over her other nipple, watching as she tosses her head back and bites her lip, hard. She tugs at the cuffs, making them click against the metal bed poles as she soots down the bed, trying to get closer to him, begging for some friction where she needs it most.

He slowly brings the vibe back down her body and presses it to her clit a bit roughly, he presses the button to speed it up, putting it on the second speed and hearing her yelp. “oh my god?” She grinds against it, “holy fuck.”

“Don’t be afraid to make some noise, we’re all alone here tonight,” he assures. “And if we’re not… if your husband walks in on us I want him to hear how much of a slut you’ve been for me. Let him know what you want can’t be achieved by him.”

She moans again, it’s oddly hot pretending to cheat on him… he leans in closer to her, holding the vibe to her clit as he hovers over her. She leans forward, wanting to kiss him even though he’s in a mask, she whines, “Need you,” she whispers. “Please?”

“Cum for me first,” he says, shaking his head. “I want you soaked and trembling when I slip into you. And if you’re good, maybe I’ll un-cuff you for it.”

“Oh god,” she arches her hips again, pressing herself against the vibrator even more, “Oh please?”

“Close already?” He teases, pressing the button again so it can go as fast as possible. “Go on whore, you can do it. Cum for me.”

Her thighs are absolutely trembling as she gets closer. With her eyes tightly shut and her jaw dropped, she lets out breathy moans and rides the head of the vibrator. He’s so close to her, pressed to her side with his hard cock resting on her hip, “you’re doing so good, baby, come on, it’s right there,” he praises her, letting his character slip a bit.

She accidentally says his name as the dam breaks, she cums with a quake, “Oh my god, oh fuck,” she whines as he keeps holding the vibrator to her clit and she can’t pull away from him.

He snickers, “There she is, I love that noise you make when you cum on this thing.”

“How—

“You keep asking stupid questions,” he cuts her off. “What part of I’ve been stalking you can’t you get through your thick skull?”

“Please, please stop?” She begs. “S’too much.”

He pulls back just for a second, causing her to sigh and then he presses the vibrator right back to her. “You really thought I’d let you stop at just one? When I know you like to cum at least 3 times… that’s why you got this toy, isn’t it? Cause that old man you’re shackled to can’t go more than one round without getting tired.”

“Fuck you,” she spits, whining and grinding against the toy in her overstimulation.

“Oh, you will,” he whispers. “I’m going to get you all pliant and dumb and then I’m going to flip you over and fuck you senseless like the little pet that you are. Maybe I’ll even keep you forever? Get you a cute little collar and a leash and make you mine.”

She moans again, bucking her hips towards the feeling, he knows it takes her a bit longer to get to the second one sometimes. So he keeps talking. “I know just how much you like that, being fucked in doggy. You like being held down, feeling my balls clap against your ass while I fuck you deep and hard. When I push my weight against you… and when I wrap my hand around your throat to draw you in for a kiss.”

She doesn’t give any warning, she just comes right then and it’s clearly a shock to her too. She shakes like mad and not a single coherent sound leaves her mouth. She’s completely wrecked, cock-drunk and ready for more. He turns off the vibrator and lets her relax for just a moment, he runs his hand over her stomach and up to her boobs, cupping it and rubbing his thumb over her nipple, making her twitch again. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you…”

She just nods, trying to catch her breath, she can’t find any words to say.

“If I un-cuff you, are you going to run away?” He asks, watching her shake her head. “Didn’t think so… not like you could with your jello legs.”

She smiles, full of euphoria, “yeah…”

He heads over to his own nightside table, the key is in a little dish where he puts his watch and ring at night. Although, his ring is downstairs tonight, to add to the ambiance that this is a stranger fucking her and not her husband in a mask.

He’s quick to get her out of the cuffs and he soothes over the ache in her wrists. “You okay?” He asks, his voice soft and low, breaking character slightly.

She nods, “you? It’s not too hot in there?”

“It’s fine,” he nods too. “Ready?”

She lets him roll her over, he gets her on her knees with her ass in the air and pushes her face into the pillow. “It’s time for the ride of your life.”

He taps his cock against her ass cheek, making it jiggle. He loves her curves and her flub and the way she shakes and jiggles and how he has all this skin to hold onto while he fucks her like this. He grips her cheeks, spreading them apart to see how much of her cum has slipped down from one hole to the other, she’s glistening and wet and so, so ready for him to fuck her. He grinds his cock between her folds, using her slick to coat himself and glide back and forth, teasingly, before he sticks it in.

He doesn’t give any warning, he simply rams his cock into her, making her gasp. “Oh, you feel better than I imagined…” He pulls out slightly and slams back inside again and again, not giving her any time adjust to it. “Been obsessed with the idea of fucking this pussy from the moment I first laid eyed on you. Knew you’d take me so well.”

She whines into the pillow, reaching her hand back, he holds it and goes to reach for the other. Holding both her hands, making her hold herself up with her core muscles as he fucked into her. Her tits dangle and shake with the force of his thrusts, she makes the most whorish moans and gasps. When she gets tired, she pushes her face back into the mattress and arches her back even more.

She mumbles into the pillow and he grips her hair, pulling her back, “what?”

“Harder!” She eggs him on.

Chuckling, “Such a good whore…” he teases. He reaches for the vibrator and turns it on. He slips it underneath her and he pushes on her back so that she can grind against it as he fucks her harder. Absolutely ramming into her, she goes feral for it. Making noises he hasn’t ever heard from her before as the bed hits the wall at a jackhammering rhythm.

She grips the sheets like her life depends on it, drooling into the mattress where her face is pressed, she screams as he hits her cervix hard. She’s so close, he can feel it by the way she clenches and sucks in him deeper, the sounds she’s making and the way she trembles. It’s intoxicating. He’s fucking addicted to it. He’s going to need to do this to her more often if she likes it this much…

She feels so good, but it’s everything else that’s got him so close to cumming deep inside of her. His rhythm changes as he gets closer. He ruts against her faster, making her ass shake even more as he chases his high. He’s breathing heavily, at a loss for words, but he knows how much she gets off on his voice. “Right there,” he pants. “Right fucking there, take it. Take it, whore. Oh, fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good for me.”

She says his name again, chanting it this time, “Aar!” She screams as she cums for the 3rd time tonight.

He fucks her through it, right there with her. He can feel her getting wetter than ever before like she’s managed to squirt and that gets him. He starts to cum, feeling it rush through his body as he fills her up. She lets out another moan, feeling him fuck his cum deeper into her a few times before he drops down onto her. She’s strong enough to push herself up and scoot up a bit so she’s not trapped on top of the vibrator and they both sigh. He takes off the mask and throws it to the side, slipping out of her, he lays on her side with his arm slung around her. She turns to the side, crawls over him and cups his face in her hands. She kisses him, hard. His hands roam her back as she swipes her tongue over his bottom lip, silently asking for more.

She’s always been a kisser during sex, it really killed her to not be able to kiss him during that. It was so hot… it was everything she wanted and now it was her turn to thank him. She pushes his sweaty hair back and hums into his mouth, she kisses the side of his lips and then his jaw over to his ear. “That was everything…”

“I did good?” He asks, fucked out and dropping slowly.

“So, so good, baby,” she praises. “I loved every second of it. You’re so good to me, you always do what I ask for. I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispers back, holding her closer with his big hands cradling her back. She kisses his neck once more and goes to sit up but he wants to cuddle just a little longer. “Stay.”

“Okay,” she rests against him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “We’ll clean up when you’re ready.”

He runs his fingers up and down her back, she traces a heart over his chest with her nail and smiles. She’s so relaxed, so tired and so, so happy to be with him. “You’re amazing, Aar-bear.”

“You’re… you’re everything,” he says at a loss for words. “I can’t believe how loud you got?”

She laughs, a little embarrassed, “well, we usually have a kid in the house so I can’t get like that… and if we hit his wall like that at night he’d lose his mind.”

Aaron laughs, “Yeah, I’ve gotta check and see if we chipped the paint…”

“When he goes to college we’ll have to put some foam on the back of the headboard,” she teases. “We can fuck like this all the time next year.”

He lets out a sigh, “Yeah… we definitely need to do more role plays.”

“And you can pick them too, you know?” She says, sitting up to look at him. “Anything you want, we’ll do that next.”

“Right now I just want to have a bath with you and then change the sheets and go to sleep,” he says with a smile.

“Okay,” she agrees. She gets up carefully, a little sore and she’s definitely going to be feeling it tomorrow… she takes the vibe off the bed and finally turns it off, throwing it back into her night table to worry about later. There’s a huge wet spot on the bed where it was. “Did I…”

He smirks, “I think you did… it was hot.”

“Wow,” she’s shocked and amazed.

“You go start the bath, I’ll strip the sheets,” he offers. “Put in whatever you want.”

“Do you want a drink?” She asks. “I brought your scotch up, too.”

“You really are the most perfect woman,” he praises with a smile.

She picks up his mask from the floor, it landed pretty close to where her underwear ended up. She gathers all their clothes and tosses them into the dirty laundry, but his mask… his mask goes into the closet where it will stay until they need it again.

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch

Ghostface Hotch

@hotchsbookshelf @hotchsdoormat @emberfrostlovesloki

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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see-arcane · 1 year

Note

Jokes aside Jonathan must have felt so very vulnerable after that night. Getting both scared and horny for the first time in his life aside, now he realized that the Count 1. Has claimed him as his own 2. Has moved from touching/grabbing/pulling him to taking the liberty to undressing him 3. Yet is the least dreadful thing here and the one he can go to seek protection and safety from

Points 1 through 3 have already been picked to death so I won't beat them any further into the ground. But the 'Mark me down as scared and horny!' of it all is something that legit has me going back and forth, so I'll hop on that.

Jonathan does state outright that he finds the Brides attractive, or, specifically, that he wants them to kiss him.

"All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips. There was something about them that made me uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips."

The most straightforward read on this and his ensuing ~dreadful anticipation~ is that Jonathan is A) Naturally attracted to the hot vampire ladies and/or B) Having natural attraction being enhanced on a supernatural-hypnosis level. I can see either being in play. But I don't think it's the most interesting--or terrifying--read.

The first thing I want to nitpick here is that this almost definitely is not him feeling lustful for the first time in his life (we'll learn more on that point later in the novel ala his relationship with Mina being A Lot 👀). Jonathan knows what attraction is, emotionally and sexually, from being a staunch Minasexual. Which is a not-quite-exaggerated way of saying I personally see Jonathan skewing more towards the demisexual and biromantic side of the scale. In that lens, he has the potential to be attracted to anyone regardless of gender, but first they have to win his interest/heart before he even starts connecting any sexy dots.

Minor spoilers, but through the whole novel, Jonathan does not refer to Mina with any physical descriptors when he gushes about her. It's always a reference to her character, to her actions, to Mina being Mina. Which I think is interesting when put in context with his fixation on describing Dracula and the Brides' appearances, be that in attracted, repulsed, or frightened terms. Because the vampires are the only ones who get that reaction out of him. And I think the former, the automatic physical attraction, is its own unique red flag to him; though he may not have the language for it. It's not just him being ashamed to feel attraction or to write it down when Mina might see it someday.

It's because that attraction is probably not even his.

He doesn't know these women. All beautiful, certainly. But strangers. They haven't spoken with him, haven't endeared themselves to him, haven't done one (1) single thing to provide an excuse for his highly reserved libido to pay attention. And I doubt he's gone his whole life blind to any pretty people in his vicinity. Hot people have happened to him before and he has not cared because for Jonathan, care has to precede lust.

What the Brides have done is introduce a wholly alien sensation to him--an instant arousal that was injected rather than awoken from some natural place in him. It makes me think of Toxoplasma gondii, that fun little parasite that switches off rodents' natural predator response to cats and makes them docile when the pretty kitty creeps up with their mouth open. And while the Brides' and Dracula's trance effect does get the basic job done of Keeping the Victim Still and Compliant, having the side effect of forcing a bodily reaction on that intimate of a level is a violation in itself.

Though it does have a purpose too. Because the very first thought Jonathan has upon seeing them turns out to be the most dangerous one: He wants them to kiss him.

The One Thing that will see him bled to death, then undeath. Which has its own super fun parallel in things like, say, the fucking Cordyceps fungus that turns ants into zombies forced to aid in their own and others' slavery/destruction.

And while Stoker wasn't in on all the scientific lookalikes in the animal kingdom, I doubt that Jonathan's mesmerized fixation on wanting to be kissed first and foremost, running on in a written stupor about lips and teeth and breath, was an accident.

Just like a mouse holding still as the cat scoops it into their maw.

Just like an ant crawling up to the sun so it can burst with spores and share its half-life demise with its fellows.

Hold still, dear. You want to hold still for us, don't you? Of course you do. Good boy. Here. Have a kiss.

#in which Jonathan is having the worst kind of bi time imaginable #brides of dracula #jonathan harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily #dracula spoilers

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hey-august · 5 months

Text

[Headcanons] Buggy reacting to you getting piercings

Description: How Buggy reacts to you getting pierced in general and how he reacts to specific types of piercings.

Warnings: Probably NSFW? Mention of genital piercings, but nothing explicit. GN!reader. (Edit: Replaced language that wasn't gender neutral that I missed when first posting - so sorry!!)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The guy has a few piercings of his own, so he’s supportive of any that you want to get!

Buggy would accompany you to the appointment. He’ll act like it was a last minute decision and he’s only going because you seem too nervous to go alone.

“Look at you, you’re shaking in fear.” “I’m not shaking…and I’m not afraid!” “You’re delirious, I should probably go with you.”

Disconnects his hand so you can squeeze it. Buggy’s not squeamish by any means, but knows better than to get in the way.

He’ll talk the whole time, wanting to keep you distracted. He’ll be quiet if you asked, but not for long.

Tongue piercing(s)

Buggy is pleasantly surprised that you’re getting a tongue piercing. Something about a sorta-hidden piercing really suits you.

Stands behind the piercer so he can make faces at you. He’ll wink and waggle his eyebrows when you stick out your tongue. He’ll also make fun of the face you're making by sticking out his own tongue in an obscene way. You’re glad the piercer can’t see and end up having to look away so you don’t laugh.

Since kissing is off-limits for a few weeks (along with other kinds of oral fun), Buggy decides to get his tongue pierced also. He startles the piercer by popping out his tongue after it’s pierced and acting like the piercer did something wrong.

Nipple piercing(s)

Gives you one of his billowy button down pirate shirts to wear to the appointment.

He adores how the piercings look and how they enhance your chest (which he already loved enormously).

You picked barbells with spiked ends which kind of remind Buggy of his throwing knives. Which is exactly why you picked that jewelry to start with.

Since these have a pretty long healing period, Buggy also lets you raid his personal closet and the costume closet for loose clothing to wear during the healing period. If you don’t find anything suitable or run out of options, he will bend over backwards to get* you more clothes or find a personal seamstress for you.

*Whether he’ll buy or steal the clothing is unknown.

Genital piercing(s)

Buggy is extra comforting because he also has a genital piercing (maybe more than one…)

Also goes out of his way to make sure you have access to comfortable clothes - baggy pants, skirts, dresses, etc. He even offers you his favorite red and white striped boxers. Definitely not because he loves seeing you wear those, no matter what.

Is extra scrutinizing of the piercing studio and the piercer even though you did all the research already.

If you get woozy after it happens, Buggy will comfort you and tell you that you’re so strong. He’ll wait patiently until you feel better.

If you pass out, Buggy would yell at the piercer at first. Thankfully Buggy’s reputation precedes him and the piercer doesn’t take any shit, so he lets Buggy express his misdirected fear before telling him to knock it off.

Ear piercing(s)

Maybe it’s because you’re getting an ear piercing, but this guy could not stop talking the entire time.

He tells you stories about how the crew on the ship he grew up on would pierce their ears with fishing hooks and thread. Buggy offers to take over and pierce you himself. Even though it was a joke, the piercer feels compelled to remind you both about how unhygienic that would be. The response takes Buggy down a notch and he grumbles for a few minutes before moving on to another anecdote.

Since these piercings can have a long healing period, he says you can sleep on him and rest your head on his shoulder. It’s a kind but empty gesture because Buggy moves too much in his sleep for that to work. Still, you won’t turn away a chance to fall asleep while cuddling.

Nose piercing(s)

Buggy is supportive but is in a weird mood until you get the piercing, which you expected. He doesn’t understand why you would do something that would draw attention to your nose.

Afterwards, he’s in awe of how the jewelry enhances your natural looks. Even though it draws attention, it looks great.

When you use the mirror to see how things look, you notice your nose is turning red from the irritation. You make an off-hand comment about how you two match. Behind the scowl on his face, Buggy absolutely melts. He wishes he could have some of the confidence you have.

Other piercings (facial, oral, belly button, dermal, etc)

Buggy is your number one cheerleader no matter what piercing you get. He’ll talk you up beforehand, telling you what a great idea it is and how flashy you’ll look.

He’ll tell you how the oral / facial piercing(s) suit your smile, especially when the jewelry catches the light and shines.

He finds the belly button piercing so enchanting. The way he looks at it before raking his eyes over your whole body got you blushing hard.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A/N: If you want to get a piercing, please go to a certified piercer and research the location beforehand. Don't use fishing line or whatever. Be safe! ♡

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #buggy headcanons #buggy the clown headcanons #x reader

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littlexscarletxwitch · 9 months

Note

Hi!!!!! I hope you’re doing well!! I really like the way you write, I was hoping to request a fic with either Wanda or Natasha, or both if you vibe with it, and F! avenger reader with a whole bunch of pining. Maybe they go on a mission and one of them runs into like a sex pollen/ aphrodisiac that really makes them crave their crush and enhances preexisting feelings for that person. You can totally ignore this if you’re not comfortable with the idea, I appreciate you either way!!

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

paring: wandanat x fem!avenger!reader

tag(s): nsfw, smut with no plot, sex pollen, insatiable r (or at least I tried), wanda and nat doing whatever r needs

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit smut, wlw sex, vaginal fingering (r receiving), mouth riding (r receiving) thigh riding (r receiving), tit sucking, slight blood kink (?), kinda dom!reader, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.2k

note: Half way through writing this fic I was like "Wait, is this supposed to be smut. I mean it's sex pollen so it has to right?" and I'm still not sure but I just went with it lol. AAAAH, my first wandanat fic, I'm so excited you guys. I really hope you guys like it. It was quite a challenge writing a threesome and some parts I feel like they are bad but meh. Just go with it. Thank you, nonnie, for this request. I appreciate you just as much. I hope you like it. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love y'all <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

The moment the intoxicating honey-like scent filled your lungs you felt as if your whole body shivered.

Your eyes clouded for a few seconds, your body losing balance as your legs trembled. The whole room felt like it was spinning and your thoughts were getting louder and louder. Images of red hair, tangled limbs and short black nails rushing through your mind.

“Y/n, everything okay?” you heard Steve’s voice through your earpiece, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“You have been silent for quite a while now, detka,” you heard Wanda say.

“You’re still alive, right Y/n?” Nastasha joked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. All clear, let’s head back,” you said, trying to ignore the way your body was starting to feel different in every conceivable way possible.

As you made your way back to the quinjet you felt your heart rate increasing, you blamed it on the adrenaline of the mission, the nerves of getting out in the field once again and decided not to think too much about it, pushing everything back deep inside of your mind.

“Okay, good job everyone!” Steve congratulated all of you. “Fortunately for us, this Hydra base was empty, but it’s not always going to be like that…” he kept on going with his speech but you weren’t listening anymore.

You took a seat, feeling as if your legs would give out on you any second. It felt as if someone was hammering your poor brain, you felt your skin on fire and you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. You felt as if your senses magnified and you felt everything ten times stronger, no matter how hard you tried to stop feeling anything at all.

“Y/n, you okay?” Clint said while placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you said as you gently shrugged off his hand off your burning skin, not wanting him to notice it.

Okay,” he said, sitting next to you, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

You did the same, in hopes that getting some rest will make it all go away. As you drifted off to sleep, two pairs of eyes were watching your every move. Taking down mental notes of your body language, something they would usually do. But this time they could clearly tell that something was off with you.

“Something is up with her,” the redhead mumbled, squinting her eyes at you.

“Something’s definitely wrong,” the brunette concluded.

“Can you like, check on her?”

“You want me to go through her mind?!” Wanda hissed in disbelief.

“Oh, come on. Don’t act so innocent now, Wan,” the brunette's eyes opened wide in realisation, of course Natasha knew about that. “I know you do it all the time, it’s like your little hobby, isn’t it?” the redhead teased her.

“No, I do not. Those things are private,” Wanda scoffed.

“It’s okay, I’m judging. I mean I think I would also do it if I could,” she had a grin plastered on her face.

“It’s not funny, Nat,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, right. Just do it,” Natasha nudged her.

“Okay, okay,” the brunette mumbled some Russian curses and a second later her eyes were turning red.

“What do you see?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, getting lost in your mind. “Everything’s a blur.”

“What do you mean ‘a blur’? It can’t be right.”

“I’m just telling you what I’m seeing, Tasha,” her brows furrowed as she tried to concentrate even more.

There had to be something that could tell the both of them what was wrong with you. You barely talked to them when you got in the quinjet, that was so not like you. You were always trailing behind them, that was one thing they liked about you. Wherever they went, you followed them like a lost puppy.

They also found it cute that even though everyone was aware you had a thing for the two of them, you never dared to do anything about it. So the two of them would tease you, making you flustered, loving the way your cheeks would go crimson red. They liked you, they really did, that was why Wanda and Natasha were so eager to know what was wrong with you. So they could make you feel better.

“Wait a second…”

“What? What is it? Tell me.”

“I think she’s in pain, but she’s not physically hurt. No, this is deeper, quite strange really. Oh, Nat, I think she’s—”

“Okay, everyone you are free for the rest of the day. See you all at dinner. First round is on me,” Steve said, as the quinjet landed. His loud voice woke you up in the process and distracted Wanda.

You groaned in annoyance, sleeping did nothing for you, everything felt ten times louder and you felt like tearing your skin off your body.

You got up quickly and made your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“The fuck’s wrong with me?” you mumbled to yourself.

You felt your tummy sinking, a fire starting in your lower area. You closed your eyes as the pain became unbearable. But closing your eyes only made it worse somehow. Your mind was filled with thoughts of them, their hands, their lips, their kisses, their scents.

“Fuck,” it came out as a moan.

The only thing you could think about was Natasha and Wanda. And that was when it hit you. You needed them, you always had, but this time you needed them or you felt like you could actually die. They will know what to do, they could help you.

“Detka!” you heard someone banging on your door.

You gasped in relief at the perfect timing.

“Y/n, we know you are not okay. Just let us inside,” the redhead shouted through your door.

Once you open the door, they realise how bad this whole thing was for you. With just one look at you they could tell you were a mess. Your breath was uneven, your cheeks were as red as ever and a thin layer of sweet covered your whole body.

“I, I—,” you tried, but your voice simply wasn’t cooperating.

“We know, baby. We know,” Wanda cooed, as Natasha closed and locked the door behind her.

“This is bad, you shouldn’t be here…”

“It’s okay, malyshaka. We are here to help you.”

“I don’t think I can control myself…”

“We don’t want you to,” the redhead said as she stood behind you.

You could feel her hot breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine.

“It hurts,” you almost cried. “I need it to stop… I need you… Make it stop,” you said breathlessly.

And that’s all it took for Wanda to connect her lips with yours and for Natasha to kiss your neck. You swear you could come undone just by the feeling of their lips but it wasn’t nearly enough. Moans escaped from your mouth repeatedly, gasping for air.

Somehow the three of you made it to your bed, Wanda’s lips never leaving yours and Natasha firming her grip on your waist. Soon enough the three of you were stripped out of your clothes, and your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as soon as you made skin to skin contact with them.

“Fuck,” the word rolled out off your togue onto Wanda’s lips the moment your exposed core touched her thigh.

You felt a wave of pleasure washing over you, clouding all your senses and just focusing on the overwhelming feeling. Your head fell back as it hit Natasha’s stomach and she seized the moment in order to finally have a taste of your lips.

As Natasha took care of your lips, trailing her rough hands all over your torso, you started rocking your hips, Wanda’s thigh hitting the right spots on your core. It soon all became too much and you started riding her thigh at a much faster pace, knowing you were closer to your relief.

The coil inside you finally snapped, a wave of immense pleasure washed over you as you cursed over and over again, their names slipping out of your lips. You were a sweety horny little mess, you had a first taste of them and now you needed more. It was a hunger that was yet to be satisfied.

As you catched your breath, you got up from Wanda’s lap and gently pushed Natasha over the bed.

“What are you—?” she raised a brow at you, confused at your behaviour.

They have studied you before and they knew for a fact that you were no leader, you were a follower. You were also a people pleaser, everybody’s needs coming before your own. So you taking the lead in this situation got her off guard.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, before getting on top of her, straddling her head with your thighs.

Without a warning you let your weight fall on top of her, her lips getting immediate access to your cunt. Natasha wasn’t able to resist you, she started licking, sucking, biting, getting moans and whimpers out of your pretty lips.

Her hands found your thighs and gently squeezed, her nails digging into your flesh. You felt Wanda getting behind you, rocking herself onto Natasha’s abdomen. She kissed your neck, leaving love bites all over your sensitive skin.

The room was filled with your moans and whimpers as Wanda and Natasha took care of you. You didn't care how loud you were being, you felt in cloud 9 with the two Russians hitting all the right places.

Your head fell back on Wanda’s shoulder, her hands trailing up your body pinching and massaging your nipples. All while Natasha worked her tongue in and out of you, her nose hitting your clit making your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You felt your second orgasm getting closer, you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long if they kept on working their magic on you.

“Shit, don’t stop,” you gasped.

Natasha moaned in your cunt as she felt your hips rocking even faster, and wanting to help you out, she did her best work on you. Wanda didn’t trail behind and she kept on teasing your breast and sucking on your skin.

“I’m— I’m—,” a loud moan cut you off as you came undone on Natasha’s lips.

She helped you ride out your high, getting as much of your juice as she could. She moaned at the taste of you, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull getting confirmation you were as sweet as she had always imagined. The moan she let out sent a shiver up your spine, making you squirm.

“How are you, malyshka?” Wanda whispered in your ear, as she helped you get off of Nat.

You throw yourself at her, feeling the fire inside of you starting back again, as your lips seek for hers. You kissed her roughly, biting her lower lip so hard that some blood came out. You tasted her blood on your tongue as you licked the small wound you had caused her.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled on her lips, breathless.

“It’s okay,” she whispered on your lips.

You didn’t mean to be rough with her, but it was out of your control. The fire inside you was too strong to keep it under control.

“I want your fingers… I need your fingers,” you said, reaching for her hand and putting two of her fingers inside of your mouth.

Wanda moaned at the sight before her, she swore she was soaking wet. But right now it wasn't about her, it was all about helping you. Poor Y/n, suffering like a bitch in heat.

Once you were done sucking, you guided them to your aching cunt, letting her take care of you. Even though you had already come two times, you were still as wet and as needy. She easily pushed two fingers inside of you, her eyes closing at how warm you felt.

“She’s so tight, Nat.”

“Really? I guess we’ll have to work on that,” you heard the redhead chuckling, but you were lost in your pleaser. Through your hooded eyes you watched them kiss each other, making you even hotter and wetter. Wanda knew you needed this really bad, so being the lady she was, she quickly picked up her pace. She felt you clenched around her fingers and that only made her thrust her fingers even faster.

Natahsa loved the scene unfolding before her eyes but wanting to take part, she got closer to Wanda, her lips reaching out for the brunette’s breasts, sucking her nipples.

“Shit,” she gasped at the feeling, her finger stopping for half a second.

“Wanda…” you moaned out annoyingly, making Natasha chuckle.

“So– sorry,” she breathed out, getting back to her work.

Your hands travelled up or body, pinching and massaging your own breast, as you watched the redhead sucking violently Wanda’s nipples. Getting whimpers out of the two of you.

“Wan, I’m close,” you whispered.

“We got you, moya lyubov.”

The moment the pet name reached your ears you felt the wave of pleasure washing over you, coming for the third time.

“Fuck!” you manage to say, short of breath.

You felt the fire inside you finally being put out as Wanda’s fingers helped you ride out your high.

“You finally had enough?” Natasha joked.

“Maybe,” you shuddered, still trying to recover from the activity.

“Well, you better have, it’s our turn now.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her, a small smile forming on your lips.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x fem reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x y/n #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader x natasha #wanda maximoff x reader x natasha romanoff smut #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #requests by lovely anons ‘๑’

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thegatorsgoose · 1 year

Text

Mourning Dove notes, batch #1

So since I am a very visual thinker, whenever I post my ideas (that aren't in-the-moment rants, that is) I like to draw something for it. It's the closest thing I can get to transferring something directly from my brain to yours. Unfortunately, I have a lot of thoughts, which means I have a lot of drawings I want to make to help get my points across. And since it's easier to write my ideas down as they come to me anyway, I'll be posting Mourning Dove stuff in batches, drawing + notes = a batch :)

Speaking of the drawing part, this is actually a redraw of fanart I did for Wayne's Haunted Mansion I drew a while ago, so you can actually use the bear as a size reference! He's bigger than Bearwing now, but to be fair the bears not that big. Danny, at 14, is 5”2 at most, probably closer to 5’0. He's still a small king.

I decided to have him be 14 when he becomes a vigilante because 1. That seems like a reasonable amount of time for him to have recovered mentally and physically enough for him to be able to handle unfamiliar environments and have the training necessary to be cautious and know when and how to step in (at least 4 years of training + his powers make him a tiny terror).

2. Yo Danny Phantom he was just 14

This batch is going to be dedicated to why Danny is this au has autism and ADHD, and how that affects him. The why will come from the original fanfic this au is based on, Wayne’s Haunted Mansion by @tathartiel (which you should definitely read if you enjoy dp x dc!). How it affects him will mostly be part of the au. Ok? Ok. I tend to ramble a bit but I tried to make it easy to follow.

First of all, Danny enjoys knitting! He's already sewing, it's only the natural progression for him to find out about knitting, and the family would definitely try to encourage the hobby with less sharp tools. It gives him something to do with his hands, and at the end of the day he has something he made all by himself, something he can be proud of. He loves making stuff for people he cares about, he likes knowing he can do something to keep his loved ones warm, whether by making a blanket, scarf, sweater- you name it. He's definitely not great at first, but he does practice a lot. Whenever he's nervous or fidgety, it's nice to do something with his hands.

One of his favorite parts of knitting is the yarn itself. Specifically the texture and feel of certain yarns. The Waynes are rich so they have no problem supplying him with extremely soft yarns to make the softest sweaters and blankets. And you know how he loves pillows? Well I'd imagine that he’d also love the extremely thick, pillowy yarn. He uses it to make a huge blanket that enhances his pillow nest 10 fold. The day he got a giant roll of thick fluffy yarn he spent all day making a giant fluffy blanket out of it, and the following night shoving it in the birds and bats faces so they can experience the bliss that is the feeling of his new soft, pillowy creation.

Speaking of textures, Danny loves hoodies, especially his Batman hoodie(s). Not only so that he can physically show his appreciation for his family, but that they are warm and soft on the inside, and make him feel secure. His siblings have all gotten him their merch at one point or another, but it wasn't until Jason got him Red Hood merch in the form of a leather jacket did they realize that texture could be a problem. The inside was just not working for Danny, but he was happy to have merch so he tried to ignore it to make Jason happy. It lasted until dinner that night, Danny had a breakdown because the uncomfortable feel of the jacket was agitating him and suddenly the klinks of silverware on plates was to loud, the scrapes and stabs of forks hitting the plates felt like he was physically being hit on the head, and the vibration of the table when someone moved felt like pins and needles going through his arms that were resting on the table. It all became too much for him and he excused himself from the table with a wobbly chirp before promptly disappearing.

It wasn't until later that night, before Jason left, that he reappeared in front of him, tears in his eyes, and handed back the jacket with a guilty chirp. It took Jason some prodding to get Danny to explain why he was handing it back, and then when he finally understood it took a lot more convincing to get Danny to understand it's ok to not like the jacket, no i'm not mad at you, its ok. After he got Danny to calm down he left the manor and informed the rest of the group chat of the new development… and then got Danny another, comfier Red Hood jacket. Bruce, having autism himself (i'm not even sure if that's a headcanon or canon at this point), helps Danny in making sure he knows its ok to feel that way about certain textures and asks what textures he likes and doesn't like, even writes them down so when buying something online or getting something tailored, they can make sure it won't be uncomfortable. His siblings 100% take advantage of this list and start a sort of unspoken competition of who can buy Danny his favorite piece of merch.

Speaking of merch, he has a hoodie of every single Gotham vigilante and wears one almost 24/7. The media was given the vague explanation that Batman saved him from a physically abusive household at 10 (or whatever his age ends up actually being, they don't reveal his existence to the world until he's 12, where by that point he can change back into his human form comfortably. I'm making the assumption he eventually can for the au cus I don’t know everything) so they just assume it's hero worship from that. His siblings however know that it's because he loves them and thinks they're the coolest people ever. Everyone thinks he's adorable anyway. When he first saw Mourning Dove merch he was super excited, until he realized it would be too uncomfortable to wear. Later that week when Bruce gives him a tailor made Dove hoodie, he cried. (Bruce totally won the competition for it, the kids are just a little bitter about it)

Merch was made for him because Gotham does know Mourning Dove exists, mostly from eye witness accounts of the baddies he took down, but also from the literal one blurry video of him that exists. It shows Dove holding onto Batman's cape as Red Robin talks. This was taken on his first official patrol, so he was a little nervous. At first Gotham was mad at Batman for bringing yet another child into the fold, until all the criminals Dove brought in came back terrified. They realized they really should have learned their lesson from the latest Robin, and now just respect their funky shadow child.

However Dove doesn't actually come out all that often. He started his vigilante career because he got wrapped up in the supernatural side of Gotham, at first it was just helping the occasional stray ghost find their haunt, but you know how dangerous magic and the supernatural world can get in just the blink of an eye. Think Jujutsu Kaisen, he was able to see Gotham spirits causing and feeding off of citizens misery, and he just can't not help. When the Batfam realizes what he's doing, he's fully committed to helping the spirit of Gotham deal with her curse. They know there's nothing they can do to stop him, so they do the next best thing and give him armor, a mask and a weapon. They also up his training, which they had been doing before because… it's Gotham. So Mourning Dove doesn't actually come out as often as the others, just either when they're down on members, there's an emergency and need his powers, they want to teach him something, or when he just asks.

… Anyway, back on topic. Another way his autism affects him is making him mostly nonverbal/selectively mute. I'm making the assumption that they eventually do get his voice back, but at that point he can adequately communicate without his voice, using chirps and gestures. He knows now that if he needs to talk (talking to a stranger, needing to explain something more complicated, etc) he usually can. Usually. If he's stressed or uncomfortable in any way, he often finds that he can't talk. Thankfully he's been learning sign language for a few years now and can get across simple ideas and feelings just fine in a pinch. And sometimes, he doesn't even feel bad. And yet still, he can't find it in himself to speak. In those cases, if he needs to explain something complicated, he can write it down. He's gotten a lot better! And if he ever trips up, he can always look it up or use autocorrect if it's over text.

Another thing his trama definitely made a lot worse is that he has episodes of hypersensitivity. An analogy I once heard is that most minds are like doors, and most people can choose to shut the door on small pieces of information that are deemed unnecessary. Like the ticking of a clock, or the scratching of pencils around a classroom. But people with adhd can’t choose to closes those doors, and the flood of information can easily overstimulate us. With his super hearing this definitely becomes a problem, and I can only imagine it gets worse when in crowds. I actually already talked about this, with bad textures. Often we can ignore the extra sensory input and go on with our day, but when faced with something that agitates us, it opens the floodgates to make everything agitate us. The sounds of dinner don't usually annoy Danny, but with the extra bad sensory input that he just couldn't ignore, it made it so he couldn't ignore other pieces of input like usual, and it became too much for him. I usually counteract overstimulation by wearing headphones or earbuds, and while I know Danny definitely has noise canceling devices made for the supers with him 24/7 just in case, I think he deals with it, again, by controlling the texture of the cloths he’s wearing and using it to fidget. He counteracts the negative input by surrounding himself with positive input. If he's not in public or that doesnt work, he’ll curl up into himself and rock back and forth, countering the input with a soothing motion and clenching onto his skin like a stress ball. Of course, that's if Cujo, his service dog, isn't there to help him through it.

One thing that carries over into the future is his short attention span. curse you ADHD! He has trouble sitting still and concentrating on a task that doesn't interest him. However he still LOVES space, and often hyperfixates on it. He’ll sit in front of the tv or a tablet and watch documentaries for hours without moving an inch. The first time this happened the batfam where scared something was wrong, maybe he's having an episode and can't move? But when they approached him to see if he was alright he started wildly flapping his arms and letting out excited chirps, till he noticed the look on their face and got out his phone. An hour later he sent them a poorly written, excited and long text about his favorite star in the galaxy to the family group chat. Suffice it to say, space is his special interest. Since then they started using it as a way to get him to sit still or to distract him. Often it helps to play a documentary in the background while he does a task that doesn't interest him so he won't get so bored he up and leaves.

Last but not least, he has trouble understanding social cues. This is absolutely not helped by how sheltered he is in the social department. Danny's part ghost, and ghosts don’t really lie. It's just not a thing they do. They are loud and honest with their intentions, no beating around the bush. Danny just doesn't understand why people aren't straightforward as well. Danny is very honest and says exactly what he means. I always find this ironic when reading the actual story, that the one person in the family (minus Alfred) that's good at communicating can't talk. This is something that becomes an issue with Bruce and his habit of not using his words to talk. I'd like to imagine that, in trying to set a good example for his youngest son yet, he’d realize the importance of communication, and how he communicates.

You could argue that a lot of these traits come from his trauma, and you're absolutely right. It definitely contributes to making some of these traits a lot stronger than before in this au as well. However, I don't want to just make it all a trauma response because then it sort of implies something is… wrong with him. That there's something to fix. And I don't want him to be treated like that. There's nothing wrong with him liking hoodies. There's nothing wrong with him not wanting to talk. There's nothing wrong with him loving space so much. Those are just a part of who he is. Everyone has quirks, and those are his. I don't want the batfamily to obsess with fixing him, or try to make him “normal.” I want them to accommodate his needs like they do for everyone else in the family. I want them to accept him, and his flaws, like a normal person. Not look at him like he's broken. After everything, he deserves a family who accepts him, chirps and all.

Tldr of the last paragraph: making everything a trama thing makes people sad and want to help “fix” him instead of treating him like a normal person. I aint having that in my au so even if he wasn't hurt the way he was, he would still act like this. There's nothing wrong with Danny, he just needs to be accommodated for and treated like a normal person.

Bonus: close up and flat colors (idk if you can even see them but I am way more proud of those eyelashes than I have any right to be)