Latest Posts by soft-vainilla - Page 7

nicknames <3!!

Boys who call you love as his fingers thrust into your abused cunt. His fingers rubbing onto your clit as you let out sinful moans that are music to his ears. “Yea? you like that, love? ya love the feeling of my cock sinking into your needy lil’ cunny?” “fuck, squeezing me so tight love, gonna make me cum.” His mouth is so filthy. Such an innocent nickname that gets you so wet just by the way he uses it.

Haikyuu: tsukishima, osamu, suna, mattsun, bokuto, iwaizumi!!

attack on titan: reiner, jean, bertholdt, zeke !!

tokyo rev: mitsuya, izana, ran, smiley, kokonoi !!

naruto: naruto, kakashi, kabuto, pain, gaara, rock lee !!

Boys who call you angel/angelface because you are indeed their angel. So sweet and loving. Them coming home watching you bend down in your cute little apron as you put dinner in the oven. He can’t help but come up behind you and wrap his arms around you, humping your ass and kissing down your neck. “mfph, angel, need you so bad. fuckin’ miss you and your sweet tasty cunt.” “angelface fuck- just like that. yea, mhm.” “ngh- angel, ya doin’ so well gon’ make me cum.” He’s so obsessed with the nickname and he loves to tease you with it <33

haikyuu: oikawa, atsumu, sakusa, terushima, tendou, kuroo !!

haikyuu: oikawa, atsumu, sakusa, terushima, tendou, kuroo!!

attack on titan: eren, reiner, connie, armin, erwin !!

tokyo rev: hanma, mikey, draken, angry, sanzu, kazutora !!

naruto: sasuke, itachi, hidan, obito, shikamaru !!

intentional

summary ─ “fuck him,” you muttered. “fuck him sideways.”

pairing ─ avenger!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, a/b/o dynamics, mutual pining, flirting, kissing, light choking (:d), rough sex, getting together, heat/rut sex, scenting, idiots in love

a/n ─ blame seb for that ig story picture. it made me do it. but seriously, can he choke me. anyway sfjdsjf hope you like it! leave a comment if you do! thankl youuuu <333 (italic is bucky, bold is reader) enjoy this 5.6k monstrosity. 

You and Bucky had been flirting for some time, but it was more of a friendly flirting rather than something more. He would call you cute pet names and let you play with his hair on movie nights, and you would let him cuddle or hug you whenever he needed touch. You liked spending time and having a lot of fun with him.

Sometimes you scented each other, too.

Seguir leyendo

serendipity || captain allen x reader

for @thedevianthunterrk800 who unknowingly dragged me into the pits of hell dau. now i can’t play or watch footage without focusing in on this man. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am but no press are allowed on the premise without strict permission.”

The accusation nearly stuns you at first, before you realize in fact that you never quite shed your work clothing before venturing out. Not that it did much good now that you were caught red handed, you plucked your badge from you neck and offered a placating smile to the receptionist android.

“Sorry, I’m here on personal business not journalistic ventures.” As if to prove your point, you rose the hand clutching the bag of take out. “Just a wife bringing dinner to her husband.”

Seguir leyendo

we were absolutely robbed of this chaotic duo so here have some messy doodles

“ dating hcs ” [ hawks ]

→ summary: the mandatory, cliche what dating keigo takami would include hcs

→ pairing: hawks x gn!reader

→ word count: 2,001... oh my god i am very sorry.

→ warnings: gn!reader, reader's picked up at least once, nothing much- just a bunch of fluff, mentions of food and eating, reader's picked up, mentions of necklaces ??. i've been working on these for so long T-T pls be nice i'll cry. also @call-me-ko ily

• Keigo is a caretaker by nature, an innate little part of his brain screaming to look after you. Giving you attention and pouring all his extra time and energy into you gives him an outlet. He's always considering you, paying attention to you and notices every minuscule expression.

• He trusts you to a fault. Trusts you with his life. There's nothing he has that he wouldn't give you, that he wouldn't entrust in you. He refuses to keep unnecessary secrets, everything and anything is shared between you. Hates feeling like he'll make you feel like he doesn't trust you and wants you to be able to rely on him for anything.

• He's insanely protective of you, circling back to his need to look after you, even though he knows you can handle yourself. No matter if you're a fellow hero, a sidekick, or a civilian- he is always going to worry about you. Keigo always makes sure to leave at least one feather with you at all times, stashing it away in a coat or bag you carry often. He is also very prepared to drop patrol at even the slightest inkling of you being in danger.

• Keigo makes sure to send you a minimum of twenty texts a day and calls you at least twice, when he's leaving in the morning and when he's on his way home. They're never too involved, pictures of pretty leaves or flowers he sees throughout the day and make him think of you or his melodramatic anguish over the weather whenever it rains. Send you little reviews of the lunch you'd made for him, always glowing even if you're an average cook.

• He's also one of the nosiest people you know. Loves to hear any and all gossip you have, even if he has no idea who it's about. He just likes talking about people. Whenever you're on the phone with a friend and he knows that you’re complaining about someone, he presses himself against your side and listens in. He does it so often you've just started to have them on speakerphone. He likes hearing about less complicated problems and is an oddly amazing problem solver when it comes to petty issues.

• Keigo is completely shameless with affection and encourages you to be the same. If the urge to wrap himself over your shoulders or kiss you overtakes- he's acting on it. If you seem flustered he'll just curve his wings over you.

• He constantly has some sort of touch on you, your hand in his, playing with the rings on your fingers, or you tucked under an arm no matter where you are. Anytime you are sat down or laying down, he's draped over you with your hands in his hair. He'll also decide when you're standing beside each other to just drop all his body weight onto you and lean against you with his chin hooked in your shoulder. Loves to do it when he's bored at an event or you're cooking dinner, he likes to have all your attention on him.

• His favourite forms of affection are the ones that you don't expect. He'll hook a finger under your chin so he can sneak a kiss on your cheek or wrap his arms around you when you're in the middle of something else. If he ever finds out your ticklish anywhere, he will take advantage of that in the worst times.

• Keigo insists on sharing food. It doesn't matter if it's a full meal or piece of chocolate- he wants to split it. If you ever offer for him to taste something you're eating or drinking he always bites from the same spot and wants to eat off the same utensils.

• He's a hopeless romantic at heart, spent too many movie nights watching cheesy rom-coms, and gets overwhelming urges to shower you in any affections he can think of. He sends roses to you for a week straight for no reason and leaves small gifts all over the apartment for you to find. Keigo will come home some days and start waxing poetic and kissing the back of your hand.

• Goes beyond and above for any birthdays or anniversaries. Plans elaborate picnics on a rooftop, always with the best view of the sunsets, and builds your bouquets. He always manages to know the exact kind of gift you'd want.

• Loves having you wedged between his legs with your back to his chest while you watch movies. Wraps arms around your waist and drapes his wings over you. Always hooks his chin over your shoulder so he can nose at your jaw and neck.

• Keigo loves skin-ship so much and will take every opportunity to get it. He values any skin on skin contact he can get from you, nosing into your neck or letting you run your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He refuses to fall asleep if he can have his hands on your stomach under your skirt and his face in the crook of your neck.

• Keigo looks after you physically, too- preens you. He'll always fix stray hairs your correct anything that went awry on your clothing. He doesn't even notice he does it, hands moving on their own to straighten your necklaces or turn your rings. He keeps your hair ties on his wrist so he can put your hair up.

• He's always used his wings as an extension of him and when it comes to you- it's no different. Whenever you're cold, he tucks you into the crook of a wing and pushes you against his side or he'll press his chest to your back and tuck both wings over you. When it gets hot outside he'll lift one over your head to keep you out of the sun or to keep you dry when it rains, you always feel bad after it rains so you preen them for him. He uses them to keep you from the paparazzi too, using them to envelop you and hide you from the situation- especially if they make you anxious or uncomfortable.

• He's a menace when he sees you out while he's on patrol. You could be grocery shopping or coming back from lunch with your friends but the moment he sees you, he has his arms hooked under your knees and arms. Always comes from behind and laughs when you shriek and cling onto his lapels.

• Also anytime he sees you walking around and he decides not to pick you up or you spot him first, he refuses to let you be. Follows you around, hovering a foot above you, and talks the entire block. No amount of telling him "he has work to do" will get him to leave. Claims he's just "doing his duty- ensuring the safety of a civilian." He's not.

• Keigo loves to sweep you off your feet. He'll find the worst times possible to sweep your legs with a wing so he can catch you in his arms. Princess carries you for twenty minutes afterwards, boasting about being your hero.

• Thrives off your praise. He's having his best day whenever you're admiring him or complimenting the smallest little details about him. Takes advantage of the days after shoots or he exhaustively preens his feathers- spreading their entire wingspan so they catch the light or wearing tighter shirts and purposely flexing when reaching over you.

• He loves giving you gifts so much. Not just expensive stuff- though he definitely does that too. He'll see something when out that makes him think of you, how pretty you'd look in it, and gets it without thinking. Jewellery is probably the most common expense gift he gets, mostly because he likes clasping necklaces onto you and letting his fingers trace the back of your neck. 

• Adores flight dates- and not just the impromptu ones- but softer ones. Always knows when the sky will look its prettiest and which buildings give the best views. Bundles you up in a scarf and jacket, though he does tend to under prepare you for the cold so you can nestle into him, and tucks you into his arms. He knows the skies over your apartment like the back of his hand. Could probably navigate it with his eyes closed, which with how much he spends staring at your awed and sunkissed face he does.

• Keigo despises working nights because night shifts mean he has to leave you alone. He hates feeling like he's neglecting you, which he KNOWS you don't think he is and tries his best to avoid them. When he doesn't have a choice, he'll spam you with texts and calls- talks you to sleep. Away missions are the worst, though, he's barely able to fall asleep without your heartbeat under his ear and hands in his hair. He just loves you and being without you feels like he's lost a limb.

• Uses hugs to recharge every night, even more so after he's been away, pulls you flush against him and tucks his face into your neck. His fingers digging into your back and wings crushing you to him. Rubs his nose back and forth on your neck and presses your foreheads together. He spends so much of his day worried about not being able to come back to you that having you in front of him is the only way to calm down.

• Keigo is an incredibly loyal person, destructively so, and he loves SO hard. So much about his life is stressful that having you to come back to, someone to be calm and soft with, matters more than anything. Having someone to love and support him unconditionally for the first time.

‧₊˚✩ taglist + masterlist ✩˚₊‧

🏷: @izukus-gf , @dinodumbass , @tipsyangels , @uwuthatshit , @akaakeijii , @hirugummies

— attack on titan masterlist.

｡｡ ʚ Little things about what a relationship with aot characters would be like

｡｡ ʚ Mornings with aot characters

｡｡ ʚ Things they do when they have a crush

｡｡ ʚ Attractive things aot characters do

｡｡ ʚ Domestic moments with AOT Characters

｡｡ ʚ Kisses with AOT Characters

｡｡ ʚ Moments that made AOT Characters stare at their s/o and go “damn, they’re so pretty”

all rights reserved © veenxys. All fanfictions belong to me, please do not copy, translate or repost any of these fanfictions without my permission. Thank you for understanding.

⩩ pov: they're developing their first dirty thoughts about you ( part 1 )

including: eren, armin, reiner, bertholdt, jean, levi, miche, erwin

warnings: smut, nsfw, a bit of chocking, shower sex, mating press position, mention of giving head, creampie, neutral gender reader, mdni ( 18+ only )

a/n: Thanks for your request! I'm kinda nervous because it's my first one, hope you'll like it! :D

⟳Eren :

- I think Eren knows what he's doing ngl--

- When he will develop his very first dirty thoughts about you, his eyes will literally devour your body💀

- He'll think of the way you'll squirm under his touch, finger grazing against your heated flesh while his shaft will pound into you, hitting that sweet spot of yours again and again until you'll become a cumming mess.

- He will not be the type of man to tell you about his thoughts, he'll rather be the type to admire you from afar.

⟳Armin :

- HEAR ME OUT HE'S EVIL DRESSED IN SHEEP CLOTHES--

- As your friend, you probably think of Armin as a cute little guy, always willing to help others, giving bright smiles and being so quiet.

- BUT THERE'S A REASON WHY HE'S SO SO QUIET 💀

- Since a couple of weeks, he started to think of you in a different way a friend should think: in his thoughts, you're no longer his sweet friend but the sexiest person he ever met.

- He'll try to take a glance of your breast/chest whenever your shirt is slightly opened, or his will insist on the way your short hugs tightly your thighs. But unfortunately, he will not tell you about this 😔🤟

⟳Jean :

- This cocky mf--

- Whereas Eren and Armin will hide their thoughts aways from you, Jean will try to make an approach.

- It all started one night, when he surprised himself waking up from a dirty dream he had about you. you were pinned down under him, on his bed, folded in a mating press position as Jean ruted against you, shoving his cock deeper each time he trusted into you.

- So as I said, he'll try to tell you about it, but oh boy he'd be so shy about it-- 💀

⟳Bertholdt :

- dbdhxjdk baby <3

- when he had his very first dirty thought about you, he was intensely looking at you while you were doing your work, slowly imagining how you would feel around his cock and how your tongue would feel against his.

- when he realized what he have just imagined, he turned as red as a tomato, thinking that it was a really bad thing </3

- Ofc he will not talk about what he imagined to you, but everytime you'll walk past him, he will become a sweaty mess 😔

⟳Reiner :

- HAS A DIRTY MIND FOR SURE. He's just better than Berty to hide it, sorry not sorry-

- he will start to think of you in a dirty way after a long session of training, when he sees your skin covered with a thin layer of sweat, wishing you were in his bed, sweat covering your body with a mixture of both his cum and your arousal.

- He'll think that this is weird, but this thought will hunt him at night.

- As for Jean, Reiner will try to talk to you about that, but he will keep on losing his words and just knock it off by pretexting a call from Bertholdt.

⟳Mike :

- ANOTHER DIRTY MIND, LIKE 100% IDC.

- Y'all think he is just a serious man who sniff people fromt time to time, but he's more than that. 😩

- You'll be in his mind since a while, and he got interested in you, especially since he got his first dirty thought about you.

- It started one time when you had to reach something in the fridge, bending over to grab a bowl of strawberries. It was a quick action, but it was long enough for Mike to imagine a lot of things he could do to you when you'll be alone.

- As his eyes lingered over your exposed thighs, he would think of the way they would circle around his face while he'll pleasure your clit/cock.

- He would eventually try to tell you about this when he'll be sure nobody will disturb you.

⟳Erwin :

- I think he's not dirty minded, but that's what he wants you to think of him. 🤡

- Behind his serious behaviour, Mr.Smith hides a lot of desire when it comes to you, especially since that day when he almost saw you completely naked.

- You were heading out of the shower, and Erwin needed to drop some papers in your bedroom, and unfortunately, he came across you, his eyes glued on your body, glistening with drops of water.

- Since that day, Erwin couldn't stop thinking of taking you in his shower, your poor little body pressed against the shower glassed-wall. ( does it even make sense?? )

⟳Levi :

- HE'S ERWIN'S TWIN, BUT PUT A LITTLE BIT OF SPICE 👁️👄👁️🔥

- You know Levi as someone who's a bit cold, you never had a concrete talk with him, but whenever he have the chance to see you, he develops little scenarios when he clearly sees himself fucking his loads into you, his middle and ring finger deep in your mouth, avoiding you from making noises that could alert the others.

- One time, Erwin had to call his name multiple times before bringing him to earth.

- but still, he will not talk about his little thoughts with you.

fanfictions aren’t enough i need this man to fuck me

For the challenge…

Alpha Mechanic Steve / Broken Down Car

Title: Spark Plugs

Pairing: Alpha!Mechanic Steve x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: FLUFF, Anxious Steeb, A/B/O dynamics, Brief non-descriptive smut but smut nonetheless

A/N: This is my entry for the wonderful @syntheticavenger‘s 5k follower challenge! (Congrats again, by the way❤️) I love, love, love this prompt, so thank you! I hope I get another one because this was so fun. get ready for tooth-rotting-fluff. 

🚗

How it started: 

 Sunflowers. The scent blooms around him and Steve lifts his head so fast he bangs it on the undercarriage. He’s slid all the way underneath old man Fury’s buick, and all he can see are your ankles. 

They’re the prettiest goddamn ankles he’s ever seen.  

Another deep breath, and all he can smell are Omega and sunflowers and suddenly he’s dizzy, dropping the wrench loudly to the floor as he scrambles out from underneath the clunker he’s convinced not even he can fix. And then there you are—at first he can’t see you, silhouetted by the bright sun shining through the open garage door behind you, your curly hair set aflame by its rays. 

 He wipes the back of his hand through the sweat on his forehead. “Can I help you?” 

 “H-hi.” Your voice is so small he almost doesn’t hear you. “I, um, my car…” You step forward a little, and the first thing Steve thinks—when he can think—is by God, I’m gonna marry that girl. He sits up too fast again, and bangs his forehead on the open door. It’s while you’re dabbing up the blood with a damp cloth, your tongue poked out between your lips as you concentrate, that Steve decides he’s going to call up Bucky’s mother and ask her for the ring his own mother gave her for safekeeping. 

 He’s leaned against the tool bench, watching as you dip the cloth into the bowl of warm water, wringing it out before bringing it back to the gash on his forehead. “I’m sorry. You came here for me to fix your car, and you end up fixing me instead.” 

 You laugh, and it’s like bells. Beautiful and soft and light. “Do I get a discount, now?” You joke shyly, that little pink tongue darting out to wet your lips.

 Steve chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. “That depends.”

 “On what?”

 “Whether you’ll go to dinner with me or not.” 

How it’s going:

 “It’s okay, man, you’ve got this.” Sam claps him on the back, and Steve swallows nervously, looking up at his friend. “Seriously man, it’s beautiful.” 

 Steve turns the ring over in his fingers. “What if she doesn’t like it? What if she says no?” The only thing he wants to see more than this ring on her finger is his mark on her throat, and suddenly he’s not sure if she wants either. Bucky scoffs at his uncertainty. 

 “Stop stalling, I think Natasha’s starting to get a cramp.” He jerks his chin up at the other Alpha, who is currently waving urgently for Steve to come up while the moment was right. You were sufficiently distracted by the sun setting over the majestic mountains, and Steve had slipped away to prepare. If he waited much longer, though, the perfect moment he’d been waiting for would pass, and the trip would be wasted. 

 He hurries over to the steps to join you on the observation deck. You’re always so aware of him—like you could find him in a crowd of a million people with a blindfold on, he just knows it. You turn and see him instantly, and Steve thanks whatever forces are watching that he’s stowed the ring safely in his pocket. 

 “There you are. I was wondering when you were going to come look at this with me,” You say softly, gesturing at the magnificent view. Steve tries to calm his racing heart.

 “I’m sorry. I was, uh, busy.” Your eyebrow quirks. 

 “Busy?” You frowned a little. “But you asked to come here.” 

 “I had to help Sam with something.” This is not going well. “But it’s all taken care of now.” 

 “Oh. Well, you’re here now. Do you want to take some pictures?” You ask, brandishing the camera on the strap around your neck as you beam up at him. “It’s the golden hour.” You joke, snapping a picture of Steve’s carefully composed casual expression. He backs up against the railing, his sweaty palms almost slipping on the metal. You’re so beautiful in your little white sundress, and of course you’re wearing the locket he gave you, the one with the goofy picture the two of you took at the mall. 

 “Do you love me?” He asks suddenly, and you stop in the middle of taking another picture. 

 “What? Steve, of course.” 

 “And you want to be with me, right?” 

 “Of course! Steve what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all night.” You lower the camera, your gaze concerned. Steve catches sight of Natasha, standing innocuously in the crowd, her cellphone raised as she records. She gives Steve a thumbs up, which only serves to make him more nervous. 

 “I, um.” He clears his throat and drops down to one wobbly knee. “Goddammit, I want you to marry me, doll.” He gropes for the ring in his pocket, and for a panicked second he doesn’t feel it, until his fingers brush cool metal. He pulls it out with trembling fingers, almost dropping it. He licks his dry lips as he looks up into your shocked face. “Sugar?”

 And then you tackle him. 

 It almost sends both of you and the ring flying over the edge of the observation deck and into the trees below, but Steve catches you breathlessly. It takes his brain a moment to sort through the adrenaline of the moment, and then he can finally make out what you’re saying—

 “Of course I’ll marry you—love you so much—thought you’d never ask—” All between peppering his face with soft kisses, your own cheeks wet with happy tears. 

 You barely make it back to the room before he’s tearing at your clothes, his mouth hot on your throat as he feverishly slips the sundress from your body. When his hand dips between the soft flesh of your breasts after kissing you breathless, he finds you wet already. 

 He lowers your mewling form to the bed, and when he slides inside you, he whispers that he loves you. How much he’s always loved you, right from the beginning. “Dammit, knew you were made for me, sugar.” 

 You’re a sloppy, panting mess on his knot by the end of it, blissed out and yet still reaching for him as he pulls you flush against his chest. His teeth rasp over your skin, and there’s no hesitation when you tip your head submissively to the side, and let them slide into your flesh. You whine and clench around him again—he’s lost count of how many times he’s made you fall apart tonight—and he spills into you again, his knot throbbing inside you. 

 The two of you are panting in the dark and Steve treasures the sight of your face, illuminated by the moon. “Do you like your ring?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

 “I love it.” 

 “Good. I can tell Sam to return the others,” He breaths, his chest unknotting. 

 “Others?” You pull away to stare at him. “Steve, how many rings did you buy?” 

 “…Four?” 

 Fin

insomnia + bf eren headcanons

cw: fluff, clingy eren, smut, cunnilingus.

he isn't the type to kiss you first thing in the morning with "morning, beautiful" in fact, you wake up first to find him wrapped around you, his head would lay on your chest with strong arms snaking around you, brown hair spread out covering his face while he tries to collect your warmness

that's how eren really is in the relationship, he holds. he cuddles you where ever and whenever. you both arent good at showing emotions so touching and holding are your ways of showing love.

he is very quiet, when you first met he whispered his words to you -he found you absolutely beautiful and you took everything out of him- even when you started a relationship it still seemed he was shy, but when you saw how he was with his friends you realized he showed a lot more to you then he did to anyone

you love him so much, he has deep purple eye bags that you find handsome with shoulder-length chocolate brown hair he rarely ties up, he is surprisingly built -you find cocky guys with his body but he is anything but that. later you'd find out that working out helps him sleep better-

sleeping. eren has been diagnosed with insomnia, going on medication tho he says you're his remedy, you'd laugh and say you're flattered and that you'll never leave his side but it wasn't until you were sick you realize how much of that was true

when you had the flu he took care of you, brushing your hair with his fingers as you rested against the couch, making you soup and getting you medicine while watching bad movies with you all day, but night fell around and he retreated to your bedroom. an hour passed and you were still up thanks to coughing and a sore throat, you watched as he slowly came into view, sleepy eyes and his fingers loosely holding his pillow

"'m sorry…I can't sleep-" he got caught off guard when he saw you sitting up while opening up your blanket, a smile on your face as he walked over to snuggle with you

"you'll get sick" you warned as you softly played with his hair "I don't care"

you guys shower together. always. he gets pouty when you shower without him, making you have to cheer him up with kisses and hugs. he needs to wrap his arms around you as you both stand in the shower, he needs to kiss your neck while rubbing your body, he needs to wash your hair and he needs you to wash his.

eren loves it when you play with his hair, too shy to ask for it directly -you learned to read his mind after a couple of weeks- he'd dangle his loose hair so you'll just have to play with it

another thing he loves, is sex. it doesn't seem like it from his shy personality but the man loves some hot sticky sex with you. his favorite position is you riding him because you get tired too fast so he gets to ram into you, he loves it because you grab his hair and dig your face goes into his head while his goes into your shoulder. another favorite is missionary when he is feeling a bit calmer, he loves watching your face contort into pleasure as his cock drags in and out of your drooling hole.

another thing! cunnilingus. he loves the taste of your pussy and tries to get in between your thighs at any chance. he usually has his hand going up to grope your boobs as his tongue fucks its way into your hole, and when you cum he will lick it all up and do it again because it tastes so good.

kinks. if it wasn't obvious already he isn't so much of a dirty talker, he mumbles things like "you feel really good" and "I love you so much" tho…he does have a few kinks. hair pulling, obviously. voice, your moans bring him so fucking close. praising, you make him feel so special when you say he feels good. and surprisingly enough, breeding.

yes, once and a while when you have completely hot sex, when he is holding your legs up and fucking you like your some whore he mutters "mm, wanna get you pregnant" he isn't ready for a baby and neither are you but in that moment. he is getting you pregnant no matter what. "wanna fill you up and have a baby" "want you to have my babies"

and most importantly, eren is so deeply and so fucking in love with you.

an: i love this eren sm

thank you for all the support on this! here is the full fic I made for insomniac eren! <3

𝐵𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎 𝐵𝒶𝓇𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 🖤 ᴅᴀʀᴋ 🤍 ꜱᴏꜰᴛ!ᴅᴀʀᴋ ❤️ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ 💖 ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ❤️‍🩹 ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ 😂 ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅʏ (ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ꜱᴀʏ, ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴊᴏᴋᴇ) 👻 ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ

☼ 🖤❤️ ᴛɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇꜱ (ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ

☼ 🖤❤️ ꜱᴏɴɢʙɪʀᴅ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 // ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 (ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ

☼ ❤️😂💖❤️‍🩹 ʜᴇʀᴇ’ꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴋɪᴅ (ᴄʜᴇꜰ!ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ x ᴀꜱᴘɪʀɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴇꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ—ᴏɴɢᴏɪɴɢ)  ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1// ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2// ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3

☼ ❤️💖😂 ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ (ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ᴛʀᴀɪɴᴇʀ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ᴘʟᴜꜱ ꜱɪᴢᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

☼ 🖤❤️ 👻 ᴀʟʟ ᴅᴀʀᴋ, ɴᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ (ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x “ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ”!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ

☼ 💖❤️ ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜰɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ

☼ ❤️💖 ᴄʜᴜʙʙʏ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ)

☼ ❤️ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ (ᴅᴏᴍ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʙʀᴀᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ

☼ 🤍❤️ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴀʜᴏʟɪᴄ (ᴅᴀʀᴋ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ

☼ ❤️😂 ᴅᴀʏʟɪɢʜᴛ ʀᴏʙʙᴇʀʏ 1 2 (ᴛʜɪᴇꜰ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ

☼❤️💖 ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ꜰʟᴇꜱʜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ (ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ! ɢᴀʀɢᴏʏʟᴇ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ᴀᴄᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴏɴɢᴏɪɴɢ

☼ 🤍❤️💖 ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ (ᴛʜᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ

☼ ❤️‍🩹 ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ (ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴏɴɢᴏɪɴɢ

☼ 🖤🤍❤️ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ, ᴛᴏᴏ (ᴅᴀʀᴋ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ) ᴏɴɢᴏɪɴɢ

✨𝒮𝓉𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇✨

☼ ❤️🖤❤️‍🩹ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ʙɪʀᴅ (ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ!ᴀᴜ ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ) ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ

🎀  𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈  🎀

⭐️❤️💖❤️‍🩹 ꜰɪʀᴇꜰɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ) ᴏɴɢᴏɪɴɢ

⭐️❤️💖😂 ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ᴛʀᴀɪɴᴇʀ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ᴘʟᴜꜱ ꜱɪᴢᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ 1 || 2 ||

⭐️❤️😂 ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ/ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ: ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⭐️🖤🤍❤️ ʟᴀʙᴇʟᴇᴅ (ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴅᴀʀᴋ! ᴍᴏʙ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

⭐️🤍❤️ ᴛʜɪɢʜ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴏʙ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ (ᴍᴏʙ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

⭐️❤️💖 ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜʀᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ (ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

⭐️🖤🤍❤️ ʜᴏᴡʟ (ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Come back :(

SEBASTIAN STAN via Instagram stories

Howl’s Moving Castle (2004) dir. Hayao Miyazaki

Heyy, hope you're having a great day!

I just watched 'Animals' mv by maroon5 and was in my dark!Steve feels so...may I please request a serial killer dark!Steve stalking the reader, killing others & hiding it in his basement and seducing reader by acting like a nice golden boy 🙈👉👈

Thanks🖤

Title: Judge, Jury

Pairing: Serial Killer!Steve x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Everything he’s done, he’s done for you.

Warnings: descriptions of violence (non-graphic), dubcon, stalking, mentions of past sexual assault/rape and trauma, mentions of past child-abuse, manipulation, dubcon, unprotected sex, overstimulation, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, dead dove: do not eat for the love of god—

A/N: WHEW!!! so firstly, i loved this request, and i’m so sorry it took me so long to crank it out! this one’s clocking in at just under 9k words, so i hope it was worth the wait! i got OBSESSED with the idea of yandere!Steve trying to right all the wrongs in reader’s life, and, well… this is what came of it. PLEASE let me know if i’ve missed any warnings or tags! This is a work of FICTION, and it is Dark, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk! MINORS, DNI!!! 😘

🩸

“Shhh. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” his voice is a whisper, barely audible underneath the clanging of the pipes, and the muffled whimpers making it through the gag. “You’re not asking anything new, you know.” he says, his eyes sad, almost sympathetic as he regards the middle aged woman cowering before him.

Her hands are tied to one of the rusty pipes behind her, and when she continues to whine, he grabs her face. “I said quiet.” she silences herself with a sniffle. “Thank you.” he leans away, resting his hands on his knees as he squats down. “You’re asking why you, right?” the knife in his hand moves easily between his fingers as he plays with it idly. “Why you’re here, what you did.” he cocks his head. “But you know what you did, don’t you Marilyn?”

Her eyes widen at the sound of her own name, and her struggles renew themselves. Steve presses the blade against her cheek, hard enough for blood to well along the blade. “You know what you did.” he looses the gag, knowing the moment he does the pleas will start. Steve doesn’t mind that so much—after all, he’s the one sending them to meet the God of their choice, he doesn’t mind acting as the priest to their confessor.

“P-please, I d-don’t know what you’re t-talking about,” she blubbers, and it makes the anger swell rapidly in his chest. He nicks her other cheek with the knife.

“Don’t lie to me, Marilyn.” he spits her name like a curse. “I know you remember.” He tilts her face up with the flat of the blade, wanting to see the recognition bloom in her eyes when he speaks your name. And it does. “You remember now?”

“I d-don’t, I d-d-didn’t—” she blubbers, and Steve knows by the guilty look on her face that she did, and she does. “P-please, Steve—”

“Oh, you remember me now, Mar?” he asks. “You remember how you took her from me?” he growls. “How you treated her?” he’s holding her throat now. “Foster home to foster home,” he growls, his grip tightening until she’s sputtering. “And every time she came home to you, the fucking men you never watched close enough? They got to her.” the curses slip from his lips unbidden, and Steve squeezes—and then regains control, releasing her. Marilyn coughs, and looks up at him fearfully.

“Please.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll jog your memory some more, we’ll remember it all together.”

🩸

The first time he sees you, he doesn’t really believe you’re the same girl he used to pick flowers for. You’ve grown up so much since he’s last seen you, and he knows you don’t recognize him either. He was so small then, so skinny and fragile, he knows you won’t reconcile that memory with the man who’s just happened to be at the coffee shop at exactly the same time as you for the past three weeks.

Or at least, that’s what he thinks.

“Steve?” your voice is tentative, questioning. His heart is pounding—you hadn’t noticed him before, your eyes glossing over him as though he was just part of the scenery. He’d been intending to come up to you soon, to re-introduce himself, but it seems like the wires have finally untangled, and you see the boy he used to be in the face of the man he is. “Steve, is that… is that you?”

He flicks his eyes up to yours, widening them in faux surprise. He says your name softly, slowly, like he’s drawing it up from the depths of his memories. You can’t know he’s been saying it every single day since you left, and thought of you just as often. “I can’t believe it’s you.” he says, allowing a small smile to grace his lips.

“I just moved back for work,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just, well I saw you, and I couldn’t believe it was you.” you gesture at him. “You’re huge!” you say, and he laughs. He doesn’t tell you that he had to get big, that he had to get strong—so he could find you. So he could protect you.

So he could hurt everyone who hurt you—and that was quite an extensive list.

“I couldn’t let Buck keep calling me punk forever,” he says, and pats the seat next to him. “Do you have a minute?” he asks, knowing that you do. It’s Tuesday—you always get a late start on Tuesdays.

“Totally.” the collar of your t-shirt slips down a little as you move to sit, and Steve sees the shiny flesh of your scar poking out from underneath it. He forces his face to remain neutral, but he can’t stop his fists from clenching angrily at the memory of it. You see his eyes dip, and your own follow their path, your hand coming up to lightly touch the skin before adjusting your shirt. “Still have it,” you joked, though your voice was strained, just a little.

Steve remembers that scar—and the man who gave it to you. His eyes go dark for a moment at the memory. I should have made her scream longer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay. Not like you weren’t there, right?” you shrug, as though unaffected—but Steve knows you. Knows you better than you know yourself—knows you won’t use a curling iron anymore, not after that. He hears the ice clink in your glass as you lift it to your lips, and his eyes follow the delicate movement of your throat as you swallow. “But enough about all that. How are you? I…wow.” you gesture at him again, that sweet smile back on your face.

He loves that smile.

“Well, I went into the service, but you already know that.” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in a show of nervousness. “That toughened me up pretty quick.” It was only when he came back to find you gone, and Marilyn’s next foster-paycheck already set up in your room that he regretted ever signing up. “And now I do security work.” your eyes light up with interest.

“Wow. Like a bodyguard? That’s really cool, Steve.” you punch his arm lightly, the way you used to when he was six inches shorter than you, and ten pounds lighter, like the years hadn’t separated you at all. “I told you you’d have a cool job one day.” your mirth sparks his own, and he laughs with you.

“What about you?” he asks, though he already knows the answer.

“Well, you know I still paint,” you said, lifting up your hands. He could still see the paint staining the cuticles of your nails and the pads of your fingers. “But I’ve got a day-job at the Met, so not too shabby.” you reply, dusting off your shoulder jokingly as you giggle. “Sometimes they even let me see the art before it goes out to the exhibits.”

“And you said my job was cool.” his chest feels full to bursting, and he’s so happy he almost doesn’t remember how hollow he’s been without you. “I can’t believe it’s been eight years.” he wants to touch your hand, wants to feel your soft, warm skin under his palm, but he knows it’s too soon. It isn’t for him—he’s been thinking about this day for eight years—but it is for you. His hand twitches with the effort of not touching you, and you smile at him obliviously.

“Ditto. It feels like just last week I watched you get on that bus.” your coffee is long cold by now, but Steve can see you’re not thinking about that, you’re thinking about him, and it’s perfect because that’s all he wants. He grins at you, and makes a show of digging his wallet out of his jeans, holding up a finger. He opens it, and slides out the faded polaroid he’s kept there all these years. You gasp. “No way. You do not still have that.”

“Oh, I still have it.” he hands it to you, and watches your eyes get just a little glossy as your fingers trace the image gingerly. He’s seen the picture so many times, he doesn’t have to look at it to see it perfectly in his mind’s eye.

It’s you and Steve, in a cheesy photo booth at Coney Island, your cheeks blown out like a goldfish, and your eyes crossed as you make bunny ears behind Steve’s head. He hadn’t been ready for the picture, and the flash had caught him staring adoringly at you, his lips slightly parted. It was the same day he’d left—you’d dragged him on that long subway ride down to the beach, saying he needed good memories to take with him.

It’s his favorite picture.

You hand it back, your voice thick with the tears he knows you won’t shed. “I can’t believe you kept that.” you wipe at your eyes, before laughing. “That’s a shit picture of me.”

“It’s the best picture of you.”

You look as though you’re going to say something else, when your eyes stray to the clock behind his head. “Crap. I gotta go, I shouldn’t have stayed this long,” you lament, slapping your palm to your forehead. Steve wants you to stay, wants to spend all day with you like this, but he knows he can’t, not yet.  He’s been patient so long—he can wait just a little longer. He watches you dig your phone out of your pocket. “Give me your number so we can hang out again?” you ask, and he nods, tapping it in and saving it. You call his phone, waiting for it to ring and then ending it. “There, now you have mine too.”

You smile as you get up from the table, and Steve’s chest aches. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“It’ll be just like old times,” you say, waving at him as you head for the door.  It won’t be, though.

He won’t let it.

🩸

Steve loves the choked gasp of fear they always give when they wake to find themselves not at home. It’s always the same—people are so predictable, he knows that now. Paul peers up at him with the same terror that Marilyn did a month ago, and Steve relishes it.

He deserves to be afraid.

“I’m sorry you had to wake up like this,” Steve replies nonchalantly, because he really isn’t. “But I’m afraid this really couldn’t wait any longer. It’s already been years, so I figured it was time for you to pay the piper.” Paul was easy to track down, not like Marilyn, who moved three states over to continue her foster-mother racket. He’s stayed in exactly the same place, like he was just waiting for Steve to find him.

He says something, but it’s muffled by the gag. “Speak up.” Steve replies, tugging it down.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asks hoarsely, and Steve grins.

“That’s a good question, Paul. I want you to think.” he says, watching as the older man flinches uncomfortably as hot steam rattles the pipe he’s bound to. “I want you to think about what you did ten years ago.” his eyes widen, panicked.

“I didn’t do anything! I’m a good man, a good father—” Steve brings his heel down roughly on Paul’s knee, pressing hard until he hears a satisfying crack. Paul screams, his cries dying down to whimpers as Steve kneels in front of him. He’s brought props this time, purchased especially for Paul. He watches Paul’s eyes widen impossibly more and his chin begin to tremble as he removes the curling iron from its place on the table. “What—”

“Good men don’t do what you did, Paul.” he twirls the curling wand between his fingers. “Good men don’t do that to little girls.” he reaches behind Paul to plug in the iron, and then places it in his lap. “Good men don’t force themselves on teenage girls in the bathrooms of their own homes, Paul.”

“She wanted it—” Steve knows he’ll regret his lapse in control later, but he can’t stop his fist from connecting with Paul’s jaw, and he wonders how many bones he’ll break before he gets to the real punishment.

“She still has that scar.” Steve snarls, his hand tangling in Paul’s greasy hair as he forces him to look up at him. “Still fucking has it. Because you wouldn’t even let her unplug the goddamn thing.” Paul shifts uncomfortably, trying to dislodge the heating iron in his lap, but if Steve is good at anything it’s knots, and his struggles prove fruitless. Steam rises from his clothes, and then the smell of burnt cloth begins to permeate the room.

“Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything—” his pleas devolve into screams as Steve stands up, dusting his knees off. “PLEASE!” Steve ignores him as he heads for the stairs.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Let’s see if you’re more honest then.”

🩸

“Steve!” your voice soothing to his soul, like cool water on a hot day. He turns, schooling his expression into one of surprise. He turns, a smile already on his face. Seeing you in your work clothes makes his throat a little dry. You still looked like the young woman he remembered when you were wearing your casual clothes; shorts, a t-shirt—but in your form fitting pencil skirt, your blouse with just one button undone, and your hair swept into a knot on your head… It was making him think unsavory thoughts.

Like whether you would cry if he ripped the buttons on your blouse to palm the perfect tits he knew were underneath. Whether you’ll scream his name or sob it—he wants you to scream it. “You told me you worked at the museum, so I figured I should come take a look.” he replies with a bashful smile.

“Checking in on me, eh? Think I need a security detail?” you joke, and he nods.

“Of course. The pretty ones always do.” your eyes widen a bit at the compliment, and he watches you bite your lip the way you do when you’re embarrassed. “I was thinking maybe we could do some catching up when you got off?”

“Oh totally! I’m actually done here in like thirty minutes or so, if you don’t mind waiting…?” he watches you glance back at the info-desk worriedly, as though you’ll be penalized for leaving your post.

“Of course.” He’s so excited to see you, the time passes without him even feeling it. “Dinner?” Steve asks when he meets you back in the main lobby at closing time. “You must be hungry.”

“Starving, honestly.” you admit, holding your belly. “I didn’t get a lunch break today and I’m pretty sure my stomach has turned itself inside out.” Steve grins. “What about you?”

“Famished.” Most of the restaurants near the museum are fancy, with at least an hour wait for a table, something he already knows. “Why don’t we just hang out at my place? We could order takeout.” he suggests, knowing you still feel safe enough with him to go. The thought makes his chest clench, because it’s all he wants, all he’s ever wanted. Because he’s the only person you’re ever really safe with, the only one who can protect you.

“Okay, why not. Where d’you stay nowadays? I’m assuming you’re not staying in the ass end of Ridgeway anymore.” you say, laughing. It’s a joke, but it’s also a way of gathering information. He knows you want to know if he’s living close to the old neighborhood still, so you can steel yourself against the memories. Steve wishes he could take that pain from you—but it’s the one thing he can’t save you from.

So he just punishes the people that gave you the memories instead.

“No, no,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I’m in Bed-Stuy now.” he makes a show of checking his watch for the time. “There’s a good Thai place, and if we call now, it should be ready by the time we get there.” you grin at him, disbelief written plainly on your features. You can’t believe he still remembers your favorites.

“God, how do you still know me so well?” you ask, jiggling his arm playfully with your elbow as the both of you head for the train station.

“I never forgot you.” he says, watching your face contort as you try to reign in the surprise. He knows you don’t want to remember, but that you can’t forget either.

“I didn’t forget you, Steve.” you say softly, grabbing his hand. “You were the one who showed me I could… that I could leave.” he wants to shout that you should have waited for him, should have trusted that he would come back for you, that he was going to—but he doesn’t. He swallows the anger and the betrayal because he knows it isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stayed in that hellhole, not without him there to protect you.

You’re back now, and that’s what’s important. He squeezes your hand reassuringly. “I know you didn’t.”

The train is crowded, which he doesn’t mind, because it forces you to stand close to him, letting him inhale the scent of your skin, which is different and still oh-so-familiar. He’s reminded of all the train rides he’s taken with you prior to this moment, how they led him, inexorably to the now, where he’s standing in front of you, so close to finally having you the way he needs. The way he deserves.

They way you both deserve.

He was right, the food is ready by the time you arrive, and he insists on carrying it, ignoring your protests. His heart pounds as he leads you up the stairs. You’re trailing behind him, looking up at the large brownstone with no small amount of awe.

“You… rent?” you ask tentatively, and he shakes his head.

“One good thing about the army, I at least got paid enough not to have to worry about housing when I got back.” he knows you’re too sensitive, too fragile to know just what he did while he was gone—all the blood on his hands—but he’d do it again, and gladly. Because he needed to do it, needed to learn how to take a man apart with his hands so he could do it to protect you. He doesn’t mind, because it’s for you. So that you can be safe.

You kick your shoes off in the entryway, and Steve heads for the kitchen, putting the food down. You poke your head into the kitchen. “Bathroom?”

“Down the hall, it’s the second…no, third door on your right.” Steve replies. It’s like a dream—you’re finally here, in his home. You’re finally back where you belong, and he’s…happy. For the first time in a long time. He’s known the pleasure of the hunt, the satisfaction of doing the right thing, but he hasn’t been happy. Not like this.

“Thanks. Smells amazing!” you reply when you return. You’ve opened up your blouse to reveal the tank top underneath, and he quickly admires the ripe, round curve of your breasts through it. God, he wants to touch—he won’t, he knows better, he can wait, he’s nothing if not patient—but he wants to. “Can I help with anything?”

“You can sit right there,” Steve replies, pointing to the seat across from his. “And you can watch me work.” he winks at you, and you laugh. I’ll never get tired of that sound. You curl and uncurl a lock of your hair around your finger. Steve dishes out the food, laying out the appetizers between you so you can share. “How’s work at the museum?”

“Good! I mean, it’s pretty boring, but good. I gave a couple of tours today, so that was fun, but the best part is honestly getting home to paint.” you reply. You sound like you’re admitting something, and there’s a flash of guilt in your eyes. Steve’s not sure why you feel it—you’re an artist, not a tour guide. You shrug, clacking your chopsticks together. “At least I make enough to live, you know. Inside the city.”

Steve is content to just… let you talk. He prods when it’s necessary, but you’re fine on your own. He’s already followed you back to your Alphabet City studio, sat on the fire escape while you slept and changed and painted.

He even knows what your face looks like when you cum.

In fact, that’s what he’s thinking about as you tell him about college. When he asks if you want some wine, he’s thinking about the way your toes curl and you keen like you’re crying. You bite your lip—the same as you do when you’re soaking that stupid plastic cock, a poor imitation if he’s ever seen one—and then nod.

“Why the hell not?”

He goes for the glasses, making sure to fill both of them up equally. You don’t know he can’t get drunk, you don’t know what they did to him to make him so big and strong for you, but that’s okay. You’ll feel safer if he drinks too, he knows that. So he does, pouring himself a refill every time he offers you one.

“And—hic—what about you?” you ask, covering your mouth cutely as you hiccough. “I’ve been rambling forever. Did you… did you like the army?” you ask, cocking your head sweetly at him from across the dinner table. Your eyes stray to the dog tags at his neck, and he pulls them out for you to see.

“It was hell at first,” he says, leaning in as though he’s making an admission of his own. “And… honestly, I’m surprised they even let me in. Maybe somebody saw how bad I wanted to protect the people I cared about.” he looks pointedly at you. You look away bashfully, but he knows his point is made.

“Is that why you went?” you ask a small smirk on your face as you waggle a finger at him. “Really?”

“I saw… I saw some horrible things while I was away.” Steve replies—and this, at least, is true. He volunteered for the experiments, volunteered for the missions, and he’s seen the worst in people. There are monsters, but the worst ones, he’s found, look just like everyone else. They smile, they go to work, they pay their taxes. “You have no idea.”

And then they go home and do unspeakable things.

The best thing he ever did was go into the army—because they gave him the power to fight them.

“I think you’re really brave, Steve.” you say after a moment, and he sighs, shaking his head. “No, you are.”

“More wine?” he asks, knowing your head has to be positively buzzing after the entire bottle. You shake your head, sighing.

“I probably shouldn’t. I’ve already had too much, and I still have to take the train,” you lament mournfully. Steve stops the slow grin from spreading across his face. “And I have to work tomorrow.” he makes a show of checking his watch, eyes widening.

“It’s already pretty late,” he says, shaking his head. “You could just stay here, I have a washer. I promise, no one will know the difference.” he winks at you, and you laugh. “Besides, I haven’t given you the tour yet.” you’re too drunk to question why he isn’t slurring, why his movements are so steady and sure as he clears the table. “I wouldn’t feel right letting you take the train all the way uptown by yourself.”

“I guess… I guess I could stay. It’s not like anyone’s waiting on me.” you shrug. “Lead the way.” Steve knows you won’t make it through even half of the house before you’re too drowsy to continue. He’s counting on it.

“Follow me.” you make it through the first floor easily, but by the time he’s leading you upstairs, your movements are sluggish, and even sloppier than before. You almost knock into the bannister, but Steve catches you. “Maybe we can do this another time, when we haven’t had a whole bottle of wine,” he chuckles, and you grin at him sheepishly.

“Usually I have a higher tolerance,” you mutter, leaning on him heavily. “Ugh, sorry.” he shakes his head at you, clucking his tongue.

“Don’t be. Let me get you a shirt to sleep in.” the thought of you wearing his clothes is enough to make his cock strain against his pants. “Let’s get you into bed.” he leads you not toward the guest bedroom, but his own, something he’s surprised you notice when he settles you on the edge of the bed.

“Steve, s’this your room? I don’t wanna put you out of your bed,” you whine, and he chuckles. You won’t.

“Shh, doll. I don’t have sheets on the other bed. This is fine.”

He tosses you an old t-shirt, and heads into the bathroom while you change. It’s only the illusion of privacy, but he watches with rapt attention through a crack in the door as you strip off your work clothes with clumsy fingers. He’s going to map every inch of your creamy skin with his fingers and tongue, going to know your body better than you know it.

So fuckin’ perfect.

🩸

It’s easier to stage the body than Steve thought it would be—Paul’s wife left him years before, and the sad little apartment he rents above the bodega on their old street is as good a place as any. Paul can’t just go missing, not like Marilyn. He’s an example, a gift.

And he has to make sure you see it.

He deposits Paul on the bathroom floor, dropping his body like a sack of grain. He leaves through the fire escape, and waits. That’s the hardest part, waiting. Steve is patient, he knows how to wait, but that doesn’t ease the agony, not until he flicks on the news almost a month later, grinning as his handiwork is finally recognized.

“The victim is an elderly man, Paul Mazzano, fifty eight, who was pronounced dead at the scene. Here, I have detective Ford to share some details.” The newscaster points the microphone towards a disgruntled looking cop with a handlebar mustache. Behind him, Steve watches people parade in and out of the apartment building, as onlookers murmur just off-frame.

“Uh, yes. Well. Neighbors reported a, um, a smell. And when the landlord investigated, he found Mr. Mazzano in the bathroom.” Steve knows they won’t describe the scene, not really. They won’t say that they found him draped over the sink, a hot curling iron pressed to his chest. “We have several leads on a suspect, but as of right now no one’s been taken into custody.”

They have no leads, of course, but he knows they can’t say that. He turns off the television, almost giddy. He doesn’t have to wait much longer for you to hear the news yourself, and when you call him, sniffling, he’s ready.

“S-Steve? I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know who else to call.” The two of you had been spending a fair amount of time together, and he’s pleased the fruits of his labor have paid off—it’s him you’ve called, not one of your other friends.

Him.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” he asks, knowing full well you’re not. He hears you take a deep breath.

“Somebody killed Paul.” your voice shakes as you speak. “And God, I don’t… I can’t… I don’t want to be alone. Can I come over?”

“Of course. Do you want me to pick you up?” he asks, and you sniffle.

“N-no. It’s alright, I’ll take the train.”

You only knock once before he’s at the door, tugging you into his arms as you sob. For a moment, Steve worries that you’re actually grieving as he helps you into the house. You’re still clinging to him when he seats both of you on the couch.

“It’s okay to be upset,” he says gently, stroking circles on your back as you cry. You look up at him with red-rimmed, watery eyes, and shake your head.

“I’m not sad,” you reply, roughly wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I’m…I’m angry. I’m angry someone got there first. Jesus, isn’t that fucked up?” you laugh tonelessly as even more tears threaten to fall, welling up as you look up at him. “I wish it had been me.” Steve’s never felt closer to you than in this moment.

“It’s not fucked up.” he never would have let you, doesn’t want you to live with the blood on your hands the way he does, but it makes something hungry unfurl in him to hear you say it. “He’s a piece of shit who deserved to die for what he did to you, and it’s not fucked up to want justice.”

“You know what’s fucked up?” you hiccup. “I never told anybody. I never said a goddamn thing. I should have. And I never did.” you’re sobbing again, and Steve holds you tightly, pulling you into his lap. You curl against him, pressing your face into his chest as you cry yourself dry. You’re so small and vulnerable in his arms, Steve almost wishes he could bring Paul back and do it all over again, just for making you suffer.

“Well, now he can’t hurt anyone else.” Steve replies firmly. “He’s gone.” you lay there, sniffling against his chest until your breathing evens. “You can stay here today. I don’t think you should be alone,” he says, and you chuckle.

“Alone’s my middle name,” you joke, wiping at your runny nose and puffy eyes. “God, I bet I look awful.” You’re trying to lighten the mood, to distract from the real, heavy feelings he knows you’re shouldering. He wishes again that he could take this from you, that he could hold it for you the way he holds the weight of the justice he knows no one other than him can dispense.

“You look beautiful. Like you always do.” Steve replies, making sure to let his hand linger on your thigh. You’re vulnerable right now, easy to manipulate. He doesn’t feel bad about it, no—you need him, you just don’t know how much.  You mumble in response, shaking your head.

“I look like I got stung in the face by a bee. Probably several.” you dismiss him with a wave of your hand, and before he can preach patience to himself again, he grabs it, his eyes hard. Your breath hitches at the contact.

“You don’t know how perfect you are,” he says tightly, like he’s trying to force you to understand it. “How good.” you’re practically straddling his lap now, your expression anxious and unsure.

“Good people don’t celebrate someone’s death,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“Then don’t be good.” Steve replies, and your eyes flash up to his. Your lip trembles. “Good people watched him hurt you. Good people ignored you, let you slip through the cracks.” he brings a hand to your cheek, and your eyes widen a little at the gesture. “Don’t be good.” he repeats it as he brushes a thumb across your bottom lip. Your tongue follows the motion, and you pull back suddenly, as if he’d struck you instead.

He’s worried he’s gone too far as you scramble off of his lap, your pulse thundering. You glance up at him with worried eyes, and he sees it for just an instant—desire. “Sorry, I just, um—bathroom.” you say lamely, shuffling awkwardly out of the living room and leaving him alone. You’re alone and adrift with only Steve to anchor you, and he knows you’re fighting hard against letting him be more than a friend. But you’d come to him for comfort when the news broke about Paul, you let him hold your hand—you’d slept in his bed.

You just need another push in the right direction.

Steve waits patiently for you to return, and when you do, your eyes are still red and puffy, but your face is clean and dry. “Sorry for barging in on you like this,” you say, scuffing your foot against the floor. “Shitty way to spend your day, listening to me blubber about the past.”

“Nonsense. You’re always welcome here,” he replies, dismissing you with a wave. You’ve always been overly concerned with others to the point of neglecting yourself, and Steve just wants you to feel as valued as you make everyone else feel. “Did you call out of work today?” he asks, feigning curiosity. You won’t be going, not in the state you’re in, but Steve knows it’s easier to convince than to command.

“N-no, not yet.” you reply sheepishly, rubbing your puffy eyes as you sit back down next to him, careful to put an extra few inches of space between you. Steve closes it by widening his legs, scooting closer under the guise of being interested in what you have to say. “I wasn’t… I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t, right? It would be stupid to call out because some guy who was shitty to me died.”

Steve feels the rage flare up inside him at your callous dismissal of your own trauma. He knows it’s what you’ve learned to do, to shrink yourself, to minimize. He won’t allow it. “Shitty to you? He raped you.” Steve knows you avoid using that word like the plague, and you reel back violently as he says it. Tears gather again in your already wet eyes, and your lip trembles. He clenches his fists against his thigh and sinks his teeth into his lip. “And I couldn’t do anything.”

He remembers what it was like to just… watch as all of the people in your life failed you over and over. Ignoring the signs, ignoring the bruises, ignoring everything, pretending it wasn’t happening. Steve remembers you climbing up his fire escape, still shaking, the burn mark fresh on your flesh.

He’s never forgotten it.

“It’s not your fault.” you place a tentative hand on his shoulder, and then rest your head against him instead. Steve’s heart is threatening to pound out of his chest. “We… we were just kids, you know?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” he apologizes, shaking his head. “I just can’t… I can’t stand you being upset that he’s dead. Feeling bad that… you don’t feel bad.” he looks down at you, his gaze softening. “You’re too sweet for your own good.”

“Guess that means I should call out, then, huh?” you ask, and Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, I think so.” he knows you’re hurting now, that the scab on the wound of your childhood is open and bleeding. He hates that he had to do it, to make you see that he was your safety, your security, but you’re here now, so he knows it’s worked. “You hungry?” he asks, and you let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Why do you always take such good care of me, Steve?” you look up at him, doe eyed. “It’s… it’s like you never left.”

“Somebody’s got to, doll.” he drags his hand affectionately down your arm, reveling in the feel of your skin under his palm. “Somebody’s got to.”

He makes sure you call your boss to let him know you won’t be coming in, frowning at you sternly when you promise to make the hours up. You shouldn’t even be working at the museum, Steve thinks scathingly. It’s your work that should be gracing the walls. He watches you stow your phone before stretching across the couch, the hemline on your little shorts riding up to expose more of your smooth skin.

Steve’s so close to having you, so close to finally crossing the line between friends and more than friends, and he’s acutely aware of it as you recline next to him. “Maybe it’s dumb,” you say, looking up from the television to fix him with a nervous smile. “But I… I feel better being here.” you sound like you’re admitting something to him, like you’re confessing. “I always felt… safe with you. Even when we were little.”

Steve chuckles. “Even when you had to fight my bullies for me?” he asks, remembering trying to defend the two of you with nothing more than his skinny arms, his will, and a trash-can lid. You laugh too.

“Looks like you can beat up your own bullies now, though.” you patted his leg. “I don’t think you need me anymore.”

You have no idea, sweetheart. “Why wouldn’t I need you?” he asks, watching your eyes widen at his bluntness. You gape at him embarrassedly.

“I, well, I just meant—”

“I always needed you.” your whole body tenses at his words. The legs you’d platonically thrown over his own twitch as he places a heavy hand on your knee. “Even when I wasn’t here, I needed you.”

“Steve…”

“I thought about you every day over there, you know?” he says softly, focusing intently on the patterns his fingers are drawing on your skin. Neither of you are paying attention to the soft droning of the television anymore.

“You… you did?”

“Every day.” he repeats, his blue eyes resting heavily on yours. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” he asks, his brow furrowing. “I told you I was coming back for you.” a choked sound leaves your throat, and you try to withdraw your legs, but Steve holds them there, his eyes on yours.

“I… I didn’t…” you drag your hands down your face. “I didn’t think you really would.” you admit, hugging yourself as you look away. Anger makes him see red for a moment, and he snarls.

“I promised.”

“Steve, I was seventeen. I didn’t… no one had ever kept a promise to me before. And I didn’t—fuck, this is hard. I didn’t think I was worth keeping. I didn’t want you to come back for me because you deserved more than to come back to… this.” you gesture at yourself. “I’m all fucked up, Steve.” you give him a watery smile.

“I wanted to come back to you.” he doesn’t remember pulling you into his lap, but you’re there, your breath puffing across his cheeks as he cups your face. “All I fuckin’ wanted was to come back to you.”

Your mouth is softer than he thought it would be, your lips more yielding; Steve is positively drowning in you—and he doesn’t want to come up for air. He drinks the tentative sigh you release into his mouth, his hands traveling feverishly up and down your sides. You pull away, gasping.

“Steve, Steve w-we should stop—” he’s not listening, leaving a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your temple as he strokes your trembling thighs. “I—oh—!” his fingers skirt underneath the loose hem of your t-shirt, stroking the skin of your belly. The scent of you is addictive—he can smell the laundry detergent on your clothes, the lotion on your skin, but underneath it, his enhanced senses can pick up your true scent.

He runs his nose along your throat. “Smell so fuckin’ sweet, doll.” he can’t resist the urge to run his tongue along the same path, and your little hands fist in his shirt, tugging on it. “Still want me to stop?” he attaches his lips to your pulse point, his teeth worrying the flesh. Steve sits back to admire his handiwork, the purple and yellow bruise blooms like a flower on your skin.

“I…no,” you admit in a small voice, and that’s all it takes for him to drag your mouth back down to his. It feels like he’s dreaming—he’s dreamed this before, after all, so many times—but this is real, you’re really here and God he’s not fucking letting you go. He groans against your mouth at the first tentative grind of your hips.

“Waited so long,” he pants against your mouth, one hand finding it’s way to your back to undo your bra as the other steadies you on his lap. You’re mewling as he finds your nipple with his calloused fingers, twisting it. “Always loved you, you know that sweetheart?” Steve’s already hard, his cock throbbing  as he thinks of all the ways he finally gets to have you.

All his.

It’s a heady thought that makes him sink his teeth into the soft, supple skin at your collarbone, and you whine for him. It’s so delicious that he has to do it again. “Ow! That hurts, Steve!” you whimper, and he chuckles against your throat.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Got carried away.” it’s too much for now, he knows that, but eventually, Steve knows you’ll let him mark every inch of you. You’ll beg him for it. “God, just want you so bad.” he grips your hips harder, guiding you over the bulge in his pants. You moan softly at the pressure, and he looks up at you through his lashes. Your lips are parted, your eyes lidded. “Feel good?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good. You deserve to feel good.” his thumb finds the button on your shorts. “I want you to feel better, sweetheart. You’ll let me, right?” he asks, his thumbs drawing heavy circles on her hips. He can’t stop—indulgence after indulgence; you’re hell on his self-control. It’s strange, now that he has you, the desire is almost worse, because now he has to keep you, he can’t go back to watching. Can’t.

You look a little unsure, so Steve helps you along, slipping your t-shirt up to take your nipple into his mouth. You let out a strangled moan, and nod. “Y-yes, Steve.” the words have barely left your mouth when he pushes your back down to the cushions, pulling hungrily at your shorts. He remembers the sounds you made when he watched you, and he hopes you’ll make them now.

Maybe even better ones.

He exhales a sharp breath at the sight of the white lacy—racy—scrap of fabric adorning your hips, his nostrils flaring. All the times he’s dreamed of this moment, wished for it, he never pictured you wearing white. It’s fucking perfect. It’s in that moment that Steve knows he’s going to ruin you. Ruin you for anyone other than him. He tears frantically at the lace, and the elastic snaps against your skin. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says hurriedly before attaching his mouth to your drenched folds.

Heaven.

He knows he’s not going to see it—maybe ever—but this is as close as he’s likely to get. You whimper and shake above him, your hips undulating against his face as he laps at your core. Your thighs are trembling, soft sounds falling from your lips as he circles your clit with his tongue. He’s relentless, his fingers circling the tight, clenching entrance of your cunt longingly. Steve knows you didn’t wait for him—but you’re so tight and soft inside that he can almost pretend you did.

“Dreamed about this,” he murmurs against your thigh as he thrusts a thick finger into you. You hiss, your hips bucking.

“Y-you did?”

He curls his finger inside your pussy and a loud, broken moan tears from your throat. “Every fucking night.” Steve adds a second finger to the first, scissoring you slowly open. “They tried to bring women in for us, but fuck all I could think about was you.” a wet gush answers his words, and Steve’s other hand finds it’s way back up to your breasts, testing their weight and marveling at their softness. “How I was gonna ask you to be my girl when I got home, how I was gonna take care of you.” You’re bucking and moaning, and Steve steadies your hip with his hand, looking up at your face from between your thighs. “How I was gonna save you.”

He licks his lips. “But you didn’t need me to save you, did you?”

“Steve, Steve please, fuck, oh—“

“Not like you need me now.” Steve stretches you around his fingers, laving his tongue against your clit with a long, wet lick, and then you’re coming apart. You soak his chin and the couch cushions beneath you, that wail that he knows so well escapes your throat as you shudder against him. He stares at you in awe,  drunk on the taste of you as he watches you shaking from the pleasure he’s given you. “Say it. Say you need me.” your eyes are bleary and wet from your orgasm when they meet his, and his hands tighten on your hips. “Say it.”

“I-I need you, Steve,” you don’t sound sure, but that’s alright—he’s got you now, and he has time to make sure you know exactly what you need. The words make him groan, tearing at the button on his jeans as he eagerly frees his cock. He’s taking advantage of your grief, he knows it and he’s planned it that way, but you’re moaning and writhing underneath him just like he’s always wanted, so it’s more than worth it.

He’s not like the others, he’s not going to leave you, not now, not ever. Steve rips his shirt over his head, a growl escaping him at the sight of the slick mess at the apex of your thighs. Your scent is bearing down on him with the intensity of a speeding semi, and he has to have you, he can’t stop, not even if you wanted him to. He settles over you, caging your head in with his arms as he stares down into your eyes. Steve drags his lips across your own as the head of his cock slides wetly through the folds of your cunt.

“Ste-eve,” you whine, panting against his mouth. “Fuck, I need, I need—”

“I know, baby.” he sheathes himself inside of you in one glorious thrust, the wet noise of his entry ringing in his ears. He groans loudly, watching as your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open. You’re so hot and wet and tight, he can’t not move. He knows he should give you time to adjust, time to get used to the sheer size of him, but his hips are pushing against you before he can grab for the reigns of his self control. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re squeezin’ me so good,” he pants, pulling out until your cunt is sucking hungrily at the head of his cock before slamming all the way back in.

Every time he bottoms out inside you, a hoarse sob falls from your lips, and he presses his forehead to yours, breath puffing across your sweaty face. “Look at me.” your eyes flick open, and he growls as they meet his. “Good girl.” he knows he worked you open with his fingers, but you’re still squeezing him so fucking tight, wetness seeping out of you and soaking his thighs with every thrust. “My good girl.”

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he lays into you. Your words have failed you, though Steve occasionally hears a please or even better, his own name among your pleasure addled babble. He rocks his hips into yours, peppering your face with lusty kisses.

“God, Steve, please, gonna cum, fuck!” you’re crying again, tears leaking down your hot cheeks. He licks their salty trails and groans, burying his face against your throat. “Fuck, fuck, fu-uck—”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it all to me.” your thighs dig into his sides as a keening cry leaves you, your back bowing up off of the couch cushions and pressing the softness of your breasts into his chest. You’re squeezing him so tight he almost can’t move, his cock trapped by the velvety wet walls of your cunt. He presses your thigh to your chest, opening you up deeper even as the aftershocks of cumming again roll through your body.

“Steve, Steve, Steve—” his name is on your lips like a prayer, and as his cock bottoms out inside you, he gasps.

“Taking me so good, sweetheart,” he leans back, mesmerized by the sight of your slick, puffy folds being spread open by the thick length of his cock. “Fuck, like this sweet pussy was made to fit my cock.” Steve knows he’s going to cum soon, and just the thought of finally filling you up is almost enough to make him bust as soon as it surfaces. He reaches between your bodies, his rough fingers rolling your clit between them.

“Ah! Fuck! Steve, Steve I can’t,” you’re sobbing hysterically, shaking your head and dragging your fingers down the sweaty, muscular planes of his chest. “I can’t again!” the sloppy, wet noise of your cunt is like music to him, and he groans. He knows you can, though, knows you can take it, knows you can give him one more before he lets himself follow you into sweet, blissful oblivion.

His touch is relentless. “Shh, pretty girl. One more. One more time, you can do it. It’s okay.” he’s not even really paying attention to the assurances that leave his lips as his head lolls back. God, he’d kill a million men just to do this.

Just to have you.

You scream as you cum again, and Steve feels his balls constrict as he falls over the edge immediately after. The slick evidence of your pleasure coats his cock and his thighs, and Steve holds you still as he empties himself into your pussy. He doesn’t release his hold on your hips until his cock stops jerking inside you, finally spent. You’re boneless as he pulls away from you, one leg tossed over the back of the couch, toes twitching. The sight of his cum dribbling down from the puffy, abused hole of your cunt makes his cock throb with the desire to repeat the activity.

Steve admires his handiwork, the bite marks littering your shoulders and throat, your messy hair, and the dazed, dreamy look in your eyes as you float slowly back to yourself. He kisses you again, and you wrap weak, trembling arms around his shoulders. He’s content to lay there with you reveling in the feel of your heartbeat under his ear. He’s reluctant to let you up when you wiggle impatiently underneath him, but he does, allowing you to scamper to the bathroom.

When you return, Steve sweeps you into his arms, carrying you up to the bedroom, where he deposits you, giggling, onto the silken sheets. “I’m not going to ask where you learned that,” you say, cuddling into his chest when he lays down beside you. His fingers trace shapes on your hips and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s me who should be asking that question,” he replies, grinning at you. His eyes flash as thoughts from earlier return to plague him. Not her first. He wasn’t angry about it then, but thinking of anyone seeing you the way he’s just seen you… it makes him want to rectify the situation as best he can. He can’t fault you, of course, it’s not your fault, but… “There aren’t any boyfriends I’ve got to worry about looking for me, right?” he jokes, though he knows there’s not anyone who could give him trouble, not really.

You scoff. “Please. The last relationship I had was like three years ago.” you wave off his concerns, and place a tentative kiss on the corner of his mouth. Steve returns it eagerly, but when he pulls away, there’s a darkness in his eyes that he can tell makes you nervous.

“Got a name for me, sweetheart?”

The end.

“what are you doing?”

your heart just about bursts from your chest as you spot suna through the bathroom mirror. he’s standing there with a few tufts of hair that appear to have developed minds of their own, and you can see subtle red creases on one side of his face.

“jesus, we need to get you a bell,” you mumble—to yourself more than anything. your eyes gloss over his reflection before focusing back on your own, and you resume your nightly routine without a second thought.

“why are you getting ready for bed without me?” he questions, leaning his head against the doorframe as he gives you the blankest of stares.

“rin, you were sleeping. i know better than to wake the beast from his slumber,” you laugh.

“tch, i’m not that bad, am i?” he feigns a frown, pushing himself off the frame and shuffling over to you. the warmth of his bare chest engulfs you as he snakes his arms around your torso, pressing a kiss into your shoulder. “besides, i was resting my eyes, not sleeping.”

you feel him smirk against your skin—both of you knowing damn well those are his famous last words.

“does it really mean that much to you?” you ask, emphasizing the sarcasm in your voice to hide the fact that you actually want a genuine answer.

you don’t get one—at least not at first. instead, he tightens his grip on your waist, just enough to allow him to spin you around to face him. he pulls upwards, a silent invitation for you to sit on the countertop.

“be an angel and sit still,” he says, more than aware of the effect that little nickname has on you. his fingers delve into the cream that now sits in your lap—bringing a small amount to your face.

he stares for a moment, love and admiration swirling around in his pupils as he embodies the definition of heart eyes. he wipes his fingers onto each of your cheeks, using a hand on either side to rub the moisturizer in for you.

“yes,” he blurts out.

“yes what?” you tilt your head at him. he exhales, tilting your head back to its original position so he can finish working in the product.

“it does mean that much to me,” he responds, delicately running the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone. he battles the grin forming on his face, but the one that you’re wearing right now is so perfect—it’s not even worth the fight. he finds himself leaning down, possessed by his love for you, chasing that euphoric feeling of your lips against his.

he kisses you—so hungrily that your back presses against the mirror and you have to place a hand behind you for support. he pulls away with a pant, giving a few more quick pecks to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. there’s that look again—love, admiration, and—mischief?

before you can so much as blink, he’s dipping his entire hand into your beloved moisturizer, taking out a huge clump, and smearing it onto your face with a devious smile.

“wake me up next time, okay?”

Ugh I just love mob Bucky and biker Bucky so much

Summary: Your biker neighbor invites you over for his birthday party. Just you and him. 

Pairing: Biker Bucky x reader

Word count: 1K

Warnings; Smut, Minors DNI, 18+,

A/N: Hastily written, will correct mistakes later. 

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘢’𝘥, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵)

Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories.  

Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed 

The loud bass from his music shook your window, your blinds swaying back and forth, casting dancing shadows across your bed. Despite holding your pillow tight around your ears, the indiscernible lyrics bounce around your dark room. 

Four hours. 

Four hours of his god-awful music. To be fair, he warned you he was having a party, but this was ridiculous. You have so much stuff to do tomorrow and damn it; you need your sleep. Flinging your pillow at the wall with a frustrated scream, you turn over on your side. Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, you tap the screen. 

1:16

You push yourself up, muttering about inconsiderate sexy bikers while you shove a pair of shorts on. You’re straightening your t-shirt when the song ends and for a brief moment, you can hear yourself think, it’s so quiet. Quiet for the first time in forever. 

“Finally,” you sigh, resting your elbow on your dresser. You rub the back of your hand across your face and move towards your bed. 

Before you can touch the sheets, another song starts. Louder than before, now you can make out the lyrics. Kurt Cobain crooning “come as you are,” so clearly he might as well be next to you. 

“I’m going to rip his head off,” you grumble, stomping out of your room. “No, no, I’m going to shove your bike so far down your throat, I swear to God,-” 

You stop in the hallway, one hand on the wall, as you pull your shoes on. You fling your door open, looking around the block, all the other homes are still and dark, but not Bucky’s. Every single one of his lights is on, the music getting progressively louder by the minute. 

You slam your door shut and jog down the stairs and head to his front door. You’re so upset you fail to notice that only his bike is in the driveway. No other cars or bikes. 

You bang on his front door with your fist. “Bucky!” you scream, “Bucky!” 

The music cuts off and you can hear rummaging inside; you hit his door one more time. He opens it mid-knock, catching your fist with his large hand. 

 “Damn, you look good, happy birthday to me,” he grins, holding your hand close to his bare chest. He lifts your fist up, looking you up and down, “bout time you showed up,” 

“Wh-what?” you splutter, surprised at the sight of your neighbor wearing only a pair of tight black briefs and a brilliant smile 

Bucky chuckles, “yeah, I was running out of songs, I’ve been waiting hours for you, I would have started with Nirvana if I knew that was going to be one to bring you over,” 

“I-I uh,” You try to speak but then he kisses the back of your hand, his blue eyes flashing up at you. 

“Cmon in,” he says, caressing the inside of your wrist with his thumb. 

His skin is rough and calloused and the small circles he rubbing around your pulse feel good, for a second you imagine him doing to your clit. You drop your eyes to your feet, ignoring the growing throb in your cunt. Nope, no, you’ve avoided him since you moved in, you will not break now. 

You shake your head, “I can’t Bucky, I’m only here to tell you to turn it down and you can’t play loud music to get me to come over to your house,”

Bucky smirks, “it worked didn’t it,” he laughs softly when your faces drops. He lets go of your wrist, cupping your chin in his large hand.

 “It’s my birthday, don’t make me spend it alone,” his voice, deep and smooth, his bottom lip poking out in a faux pout. You fight off a grin, but he catches it and wrinkles his nose at you. 

He pulls you to his broad chest, tilting his down, “there’s only one thing I want for my birthday, gorgeous,” 

“What?” 

He arches his brow, “you know what I want,” 

Bucky has been after you since you moved in next door, his tough reputation preceding him. It’s at odds with the man who mows your lawn and fixed the drain in your sink.

Then again, he has refused to put up curtains, and he walks around naked too often, maybe he catches you peeking once or twice but you can’t help yourself.

He calls you gorgeous, but Bucky is stunning. And big. And thick. His eyes are captivating, those lips of his drive you mad sometimes.

“I think you want it too,” he murmurs, watching how your gaze drifts down to his groin. Your breathing is shallow, and it hastens when a tent forms the longer you stare. 

“Sleep, I uh-,” you clear your throat, bringing your eyes up to his six-pack. “I need to go to sleep,” you would think looking at his stomach would be better, but then you see a thin vein going down his shorts and you’re back to staring at his bulge. 

Bucky has an arrogant smirk plastered on his lips. He’s been wearing you down for weeks now, and he’s not giving up that easily. All he needs is one chance, and he doesn’t intend to blow it. Taking your chin again, he lifts your head up, lowering his mouth down, his stormy blue eyes locked on yours, “gorgeous, I will fuck you to sleep,” he promises, inhaling your gasp, 

He brushes his soft lips over yours until your lips part. “Ah, that’s a good girl,” he says, kissing you so passionately you melt into his chest. He wraps his arms around you, walking you backward, kicking the door shut. 

He guides you down the hallway, ripping your clothes off between kissing you until you’re half delirious with need. You barely get to see the inside of his room before he has you planted face down on the bed. His large hands lifting your hips up as you grip the sheets in anticipation. Bucky teases your folds with the swollen head of his cock until you’re writhing and soaking him with your slick. 

“Please, Bucky,” you whine when he strokes your clit gently, “I need you,” 

He loses control at the sound of you begging for him, “I’m right here, gorgeous, gonna take good care of you,” he swears, grabbing his shaft as he pushes into your hot, silky walls. An explosion of pleasure making him grunt when you grip him. He knew you would feel amazing, but this is beyond anything he imagined, “fuck gorgeous, you’re so tight, never leaving this sweet pussy,” 

You push your head in his pillow, mewling his name when he hits a soft spongy spot in you. His fast, steady pace pushing to the brink with every stroke, filling you completely until you can only moan. 

The symphony of skin slapping and your sloshing echoing in the room. Bucky lifts his leg up to go even deeper, making you deepen the arch in your back. He smacks your ass, “fuck baby, give it to me, cum for me,” he pants, pulling your hips back. 

He reaches down, rubbing his palm over your swollen bud, “that’s it, that my good girl,” he groans when you try to jerk away, needing a small reprieve from the barrage of pleasure he’s drilling into you, your stomach tensing as your arms give out, “don’t run baby, you can take it” 

He follows you down to the sheets, pumping in and out of you, his palm pressing down harder. The sensations surging through you, his hot heavy body caging you in until the coil breaks in you. 

“Bucky,” you cry out mindlessly as he fucks you through your orgasm, hot white pleasure washing over you. Bucky kisses your shoulder, taking your hands in his,, your walls holding him so tight he can barely move.

“Fuck, fuck, shit I’m gonna-,” he bites down on your shoulder as he nears his release, a few more frantic thrusts until you fill warmth in your throbbing core, his body relaxing on top of you. 

“Happy birthday,” you yawn. 

He hums contentedly, pulling out of you gently. He rolls onto his side, his hand rubbing your back, “Gorgeous,” he says kissing your damp forehead, “that was everything I ever wanted, but now that I’ve had a taste, I want more,” 

You smile drowsily as he kisses you again. “Now go to sleep so I can fuck you awake in a few hours,”

So, I recently smacked my knuckle against a cart at work. It immediately bruised and swelled (I'm fine, that's not the point of this). It got me thinking how any of your Bucky AUs would react to reader coming home with a minor injury like that.

Chubby Alpha Bucky: So he felt your flare of pain through the bond and the only reason he wasn't already busting down the doors at your job to get you was your phone call reassuring your alpha that yes you're okay, yes you're going to finish your shift, yes you're sure Bucky.

So he turned the truck around and waited for you, ice packs, snacks and lotion on the coffee table. Grumbling the entire time, making sure that you knew through the bond that he's not going to be happy until he sees your injury.

Your car is still in drive when he flings open the door, he puts in park, unbuckles your seat belt and hoists you into his arms. You shouldn't laugh but he's so adorable when he's cranky and worried over you.

You show him your swollen knuckle and he vows to kick the carts ass. By the time you're actually in the house, you're crying from laughing so hard.

Bucky plops you on the couch, puts a snack on your belly and orders you to let him take care of you. He ices your hand and then massages it gently, his large fingers rubbing soothing circles over the tender skin.

Beefy alpha Bucky: yeah, you couldn't convince him to stay away. He alpha commanded your boss into giving you the day off and then he took you home and pampered you. He keeps scenting you, coating you in his pheromones until you're dizzy, limp and happy. You don't even feel your finger after a while.

Mafia Bucky: He knew about your injury the second it happened, your bodyguard reports everything to him. Not that you mind because by the time you got home, he paid for personal spa services to make you feel better. So now you're getting couples massages in your living room while being fed strawberries by Andy, the masseuse.

TFAWS Bucky: He can't stand even minor injuries, part of him wishing he could somehow absorb your pain. So he does the next best thing, he hauls you on his lap, puts on your favorite movie and massages your hand while you rest your head on his shoulder.

Chubby Baker Bucky: He’s kissing your knuckles, icing them and then whipping up a sweet dessert to take your mind off the pain. You’re getting the full treatment tonight. Whatever you want, you’re getting and he doesn’t care that its a little injury peach, its not the point. He’s going to take care of you, so shush and let him. 

So now you’re being spoiled.

Chubby librarian Bucky: He’s not good with injuries so he distracts you until you’re feeling better, he has movies, comics, he’s making you and he’s even willing to sing(but that might hurt more than your finger) and after he sees you’re okay, he decides an orgasm or two will take away the pain. And who are you to argue with that logic?

Beefy Biker Bucky: Bucky is more than capable of taking care of injuries because of his time in the army, so he knows how to wrap and ice your hand so you feel better. A few motrin and one massage later you feel great. But now he has to check your entire body for injuries. Inch by inch until he's sure you're okay. "And that means all of you gorgeous so go on and take your panties off."

“ attractive things they do ” [ bnha ]

-> pairing: separate, bakugou, deku, kiri, shouto, denki, tamaki, hawks, dabi x gn!reader

-> a/n: mentions of food/eating, part of hawks' eludes to reader having longish hair- but that should be it !

— BAKUGOU:

katsuki has such attractive hands- all large and warm. he wears rings whenever he’s not working, usually silver. he rests a hand on your thigh anytime he’s sitting next to you. it’s become second nature to him, cupping the flesh and rubbing lazy circles with his thumb. he definitely grips the back of your headrest while he reverses and grips your thigh with his free hand. smirks at you all the time, without any real reason- flashing perfect white teeth and sharpened canines. When he laughs, a real laugh, around you he always throws his head back and exposes his throat. if it’s cold outside he layers his clothes onto you, throwing his worn-warmed jacket over your shoulders and winding his scarf around your neck. his fingers always brush against your throat as he ties a knot.

— MIDORIYA:

izuku stretches all the time and he makes such soft sighs, face all scrunched and revealing his abs. he bites the inside of his cheek and kisses his teeth when he’s annoyed, which shows off how sharp and strong his jaw is. he always opens doors for you, like the gentleman he was raised to be, guiding you over the thresholds by the small of your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple. he wears headbands or hair clips to move his bangs out of his face, displaying the freckles that splatter the entirety of his features. If he ever sees something off about your appearance, no matter how small, he fixes it. whether that be to straighten your necklace, smoothing flyaways, or removing extra lipstick; mindlessly running his fingers down your hair, straightening the charm against your collarbones, or running his thumb under your bottom lip.

— KIRISHIMA:

eijirou is just so casual in his affection. he’s always pulling you into him, hugging you tight and long, presses both greeting and departure kisses to your face and tosses a heavy arm across your shoulders- pulling you into his side. he loves comparing hand sizes, always intertwines your fingers together and pulls you into his chest by them. kiri wears really tight shirts, both the dress and casual variety, they stretch taught over his broad shoulders and cling to every muscle. you will never carry anything as long as he’s in a five-mile radius of you, no matter how heavy it is, he is carrying it. insists with an easy smile and laugh on doing it himself, still managing to keep a hand empty so he can hold yours. he’ll also carry you around. if he thinks you’re tired, he’s turned his back to you and offered to carry you. hoists you up so easily and keeps steady hands on the underside of your thighs- grip a little high and firm.

— TODOROKI:

shouto always greets you with a kiss. he’ll softly cup the side of your face, content and attractive smile on his lips, “hello, my love.” he also expects you to return the gesture, tilting his head towards you subconsciously so you can litter kisses wherever you please. he always gives you so much of his attention when you talk, head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed, eyes locked on your own- he wanted you to be able to tell that he’s listening to you. whenever you’re walking next to each other, he always makes sure to have a hand on you, either on your waist ot intertwined with your own. he helps you undress and dress, wrapping a soft scarf tightly around your neck and letting you lean against his shoulder as he takes off your shoes.

— DENKI:

denki really likes wearing jewellery and he’s nearly always wearing at least one piece of it- layered chain necklaces, sterling silver rings, and studded earrings. he has a little dangly earring with your first initial on it which he wears all the time, no matter if it goes with the rest of his outfit or not. he stretches every time he gets up, lifting the shirt he’s wearing up to show off sharp hipbones and his muscled stomach. denki winks at you all the time and he makes a little clicking noise when he does it. anytime you pass by him while he’s sitting down, he will pull you onto his lap, hands slipping up your shirt and grinning against your neck.

— TAMAKI:

tamaki leans against you all the time, his head pressed into the curve of your neck or his chin resting on your shoulder as he looks up at you, watching the way your lips move around words. when you’re in public and he needs to tell you something, he leans down to whisper in your ear- lips brushing the back of your ear. he hums into every form of affection- sighing into kisses and tight hugs and moaning as your fingers comb through his hair. anytime he’s eating something and you want to try it, he hand feeds you a piece, using his thumb to wipe your bottom lip clean.

— HAWKS:

keigo makes very intense and purposeful eye contant whenever you talk to him, you can always see his eyes moving between yours as he leans closer to you. He also takes a lock of your hair and twirls it onto his index finger while you tell him a story, winding it and unwinding it around his fingers. he’s very casual in the way he touches you all the time- an arm on your shoulder, hand on your waist, brushing hair away from your face. he has to constantly be touching or holding onto the small of your waist. he keeps a palm firmly planted there no matter what, people can walk around you.

— DABI:

touya’s eyes always flick between your eyes and your lips when you talk to him, he nods slowly so you know that he is listening. even if he gets a little sidetracked. he tilts your head up with a crooked finger when he wants to kiss you, staring you down for a second before finally pulling you up to meet him. he has a permanent smirk and hooded eyes- he always looks bored and hot. If he ever sees you anywhere near a wall, you will be pinned against it- at least twice a day. he smirks down at you if you get flustered, running his thumb over your bottom lip. if he’s even a centimetre taller than you, he’ll use you as an armrest just to see you huff and punch his shoulder.

SOAP MAKER! KIYOOMI AND FLORIST! Y/N AU

he goes to you to get ingredients for all his soaps because he knows how well you take care of all your plants.

he knows you don’t use harmful pesticides to keep insects away, you’re smart in your craft and use natural plants to keep unwanted bugs from your precious babies.

you always smile when sakusa comes in, asking you for your best picks of the day, blushes when you throw in an extra bundle bc he’s always there to support you.

he repays you with soaps he crafts specifically for you, it knocks the wind out of you when you inquire about the ingredients and he says he thought long and hard about you,

points out that you have very pretty skin, so he used everything with care.

he’s tedious and hardworking, you can see his love language through these gifts.

just as you care for your plants, taking care and loving them,

he does the same for you from afar.

Fancy Asra~✨

The Witcher’s fate

Summary: Stumbling across a girl in need Geralt must break his adamant rule to not get close to an omega.

Pairing: Alpha!Geralt of Rivia x Omega!Reader

Characters: Jaskier, Ofc (unnamed)

Warnings: angst, language, Geralt being a douche, blood, A/B/O dynamics, scenting, smut, unprotected sex, claiming, all the odd stuff coming with A/B/O stories, a hint of voyeurism (unintended)

A/N: As my friend didn’t stop bugging me to finally write an A/B/O story for Geralt here we go. Please consider, I never wrote Geralt before.

Cold panic lets you freeze to the spot. All you wanted was to get some herbs to make it through your heat. Now you will never have to worry about heats or an alpha taking advantage of you ever again.

The monster circling you like prey will end your life and it’s your fault. You can almost hear your mother scold you from her grave: ‘how can you walk into the woods in the dead of the night’? 

“Listen, I do not taste good, beast,” you laugh to yourself whilst you try to negotiate with a beast, a monster without a heart or wit. “I know I look delicious at first but believe me, I am a chewy little thing.” The beast’s eyes darken and if you did not know better, you would believe it just smirked at you.

You try to outstep the large wolf, but he steps closer, snarling before he pounces on you. Eyes closed you sniffle as the beast sniffs at your neck, drooling onto your face, making you scrunch up your nose in disgust.

“I know you love omegas, but I am not tasty…” The wolf growls, sniffing at your neck.

“Do not move,” a deep voice bellows, making you go stiff underneath the beast. The wolf looks up, snarling into the distance. “If you move, it’ll bite you and it’s over. Lay stiff, close your eyes, and even your breathing, omega. Do not talk either…”

Holding your breath, you follow the man’s orders, not opening your eyes you lay stiff onto the cold ground, praying the beast will just lose interest.

“If you want meat, try me,” you can hear the man get closer, talking to the beast now not you. “I bet she’s boring and plain.” If not for the life-threatening situation you would give that man a piece of mind, but not with a hungry beast on top of you, ready to devour your body.

The wolf grits its teeth, almost as if he tries to mock the man with a dark grin. More drool ends up on your face when the wolf places one large paw onto your chest, to dig his claws into your skin.

Whimpers leave your lips feeling blood soak your cloak, but you try anything to remain silent, even though it’s hard to not scream when a beast laps at your neck, demanding submission.

“You know,” you’ve got no clue if the man is talking to you or the beast now but you listen closely, hoping he can free you before the monster feasts on your flesh, “ages ago wolves were the rulers of this forest. People feared this place, trembled at the mere memory of those beasts hunting them down.” 

Something warm splashes onto your face and chest when a pitiful whine leaves the creature’s lips and it drops onto your body, taking your breath away. 

“Nowadays, they are weak, only go after tiny girls like you.” Now you blink your eyes open to look up at a man with silver hair and odd eyes.

Hoping he will help you up you search his stoic face, but he doesn’t show any emotion and your heart drops.

He is not holding out his hand or checks on you. Rather interested in the dying beast he kicks the monster off your body with his heavy boot to end the wolf’s life with one precise blow of his sword, decapitating the monster’s head.

“You shouldn’t run around the woods in the middle of the night, omega,” he spats the last word, pushing some strands of his mane out of his face. “Wolves usually feed in packs. Luckily,” he kicks the wolf’s body, looking at you, “that one is an alpha, girl. The stronger one’s hunt alone, sometimes.”

“I guess I got lucky that not ten or more wolves wanted to kill me but one,” you spat, glaring up at the man who doesn’t react when you hold out your hand. “Not a gentleman, I see,” you struggle to get up, still you manage to go on your knees to grasp for the nearby tree.

“Never said I came to your rescue, girl. I came here for the prize,” now he dips his head to look at your blood-soaked cloak. Oddly, he steps closer now to touch your cheek, smearing the wolf’s blood over your skin. “You’re pretty dumb to walk around that late at night to meet a wolf.”

“Do you want to scare me or wait for me to pay you for my rescue,” you toss a coin at the man, now pursing your lips. “I know who you are, Witcher,” this time you spat the last word. “You only help people for money. I hope this is enough, I got nothing else worth your strength with me.”

“This will be enough,” he grits out, glancing at your neck, feeling a pull toward you he never felt before. “So, you do know who I am.”

“Heard stories about a silver-haired man with glowing eyes. I heard you hunt monsters for money to feel anything but the emptiness in your heart,” you wrap your arms around yourself, lifting your chin. “Is it true Witcher’s can’t feel anything?”

“I don’t think you deserve more than I already gave you, girl,” you nod, eyes dropping to the ground to look for the herbs. 

“No…” The snow ruined your herbs, turned the useful ingredients into nothing but rotten memories of something you picked up hours ago. “Those were the last…” You fall back to your knees, feeling dizziness take over. “I’m lost now…”

The world turns black when you hit the ground with a loud thud. One last word catches your attention before you lose consciousness. “Fuck…”

“Fuck wake up. I don’t have time all day,” the man, the Witcher curses watching you blink your eyes open. “You’re not dead, congratulations.” He mutters, giving you an angry look. “I could’ve been back at town to get my coins, but you had to sleep.”

“I did not sleep,” you whine, feeling odd close to the angry man. “I’m sorry to keep you busy. I’ll pay more for your time.”

“Leave it,” he sighs, walking toward his sword and bag on your table. “I ate some of your bread and drank wine. You should rest, your heat is due any day.”

“I know,” whispering the word you cover your eyes with one arm. “That’s the reason I was out there. I tried to find herbs to stop my…heat.”

“Still, it was stupid, girl.” He looks at you, expecting another snarky comment but you sigh, nodding silently. “You should find an alpha and let him mate you.”

“Says the man not feeling anything. I…I am not like other girls or rather omegas. I like to read and learned how to fight. I punched a boy’s nose at the age of five. None of the alphas wanted me, except for my husband…but he’s gone…”

“Left you for another omega,” the Witcher turns around, raising his eyebrows. “Tragic love?”

“He died in a war that wasn’t ours,” you grumble, turning around to not show your tears to the foreign man. “We barely got married. He didn’t have the time to claim me before he had to leave. I was alone since then and kept it that way. I loved once and that’s enough, I guess…”

“Listen, you should find a mate. It’s not about love but safety,” he steps toward the door, grasping for the door handle. “An alpha will protect you.”

“No, he won’t. He will leave and die just like my beloved…,” it pains to speak his name, so you remain silent, closing your eyes when the alpha leaves your house. 

“You left her there, alone?” Jaskier clears his throat, ready to help an omega in need. “Where does she live? Maybe I can help her.”

“No,” Geralt grits out, still not knowing why you made him feel unease. “She doesn’t want an alpha. Leave her be. We have to be somewhere else by tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you will make it far. Snow is coming, along with a blizzard,” the publican smirks, hoping for more coins to fill his pockets soon. 

“I have something to take care of. Stay here,” not wanting to leave the cozy tavern Jaskier nods, still thinking of you in heat. “Forget the girl, Jaskier. Look for the local whorehouse…”

Heat spreads through your body and you crave nothing more than an alpha to take care of your primal needs. You cry out when another cramp let your body tremble in pain.

You can hear the wind howl, proclaiming winter finally arrived; not that you will survive the cold time. Too many heats spend without an alpha weakened your vulnerable body. Now you can only pray the heat will end you soon.

“Maybe the wolf would’ve been the better choice,” you laugh, feeling another painful cramp bubble up in your belly.

“Ungrateful, girl,” you shriek, watching the silver-haired man enter your house. “I should’ve let you die then…”

“Why are you back?” Watching the Witcher lock your door you try to hide the pain shooting through your body. “I thought you hate to waste…” He’s placing his bag and sword back onto your table, still that stoic look on his face,” your time.”

“I think, you have something to offer I cannot decline, girl,” confused you watch the man take off his cape, followed by his boots. “You smell divine, omega.”

His intentions suddenly too clear you try to scramble away when he kicks off his pants. You dare not to look away when the Witcher reveals his body, looking divine himself when he steps closer.

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” he dips one knee into the mattress, surprisingly gently stroking your cheek. “I think you are mine.”

“Witchers don’t have mates,” you squeak when he rips the blanket off your body to reveal your nakedness to him. “You have to go.”

“You’re mine, girl. I smelled it the moment I passed the forest. I had to find you, had to save what belongs to me,” he purrs now and your eyes round. There is something in his eyes you didn’t see before. “Be good, tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” you choke out, feeling his hands grasp for your flesh, kneading it roughly. “What’s your name?” He rolls you onto your stomach to cover your body with his large frame. “Please…”

“Geralt of Rivia, girl. Now be good and let me take what’s mine,” his voice so deep you barely catch his words, only the vibrations against your ear, he lifts your butt to press your flesh against his crotch. “Feel this, girl? This is all for you.”

“I…I don’t know how I can be yours,” you whine, feeling the tip slip inside of your welcoming heat. You can hear the alpha groan behind you, almost sounding like the wolf which tried to kill you not hours ago.

“I don’t care, Y/N,” he snaps his hips, filling you completely. 

“Oh, holy…” Senses filled with the alpha, his scent, his skin, his cock, you let yourself fall, not caring about anything but the feeling of his shaft sliding in and out of you.

“You’re mine, I can feel it. It’s odd, you know,” he cradles you in his arms, holding you to his heated body. “I don’t feel anything but you. My senses are filled with you, just like my mind. I couldn’t go to the whores, I had to have you.”

If not for your painful heat you would yell at the alpha, throw insults at him but the way he nuzzles your cheek has you on the edge of an orgasm. 

“I felt it too,” you fist the cheap sheets when he slowly starts to rock your body. 

His hold on you possessively, his lips tender against your throat Geralt moves his hips, always bottoming out after every hard thrust. 

“You take control over me like an enchantress,” Geralt curses, speeding up, rubbing his thick shaft along your walls with every long stroke. “I can’t help it. Roach almost died in the snowstorm, but I kept on going to come here and make you mine.”

“I can’t be yours,” you cry out, feeling your walls clench tightly around the man you barely know. “This is not…”

“Silence, girl,” he snarls against your throat, teeth grazing your skin. “I’ll make you mine,” you don’t understand the meaning of words any longer.

Only the warm feeling of your approaching release and the way the alpha behind you groans your name are on your mind.

“I can’t…please,” your body shudders the moment you fall over the edge, squeezing Geralt tight enough to trigger his knot to expand. “Knot me, alpha.”

“Such a good girl now,” he laps at your neck, rutting into you at a pace taking your breath away. “Let me feel this again.” Warmth fills your belly, and you whine low when he pushes his knot as far as possible into your womb to release his seed into your body.

“Alpha,” a sting lets your body shudder again, forcing another orgasm out of you when Geralt does something he never wanted to do. He claims his omega…

“Thank goodness,” Jaskier gasps, stumbling toward your house. “Roach, I feared you two got lost.” Unimpressed Geralt’s horse looks at the hay his owner gave him hours ago. “Is he still inside?”

If Roach could talk the horse would tell Jaskier not to enter your house, but the mare can’t talk so Jaskier stumbles into the house, turning pale at the sight of his friend holding you down, one hand in your hair, the other at your hip the alpha ruts into you again.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Geralt would be ashamed if he could feel anything but he’s determined to let you feel pleasure and doesn’t have the time to take care of his nosy companion. 

“You will not come back,” watching Geralt grasp for his sword you look at the man who can’t feel anything but the connection, the bond between the two of you. “I guess I should pay you for your help.”

He looks down at you, a frown on his face at the feeling spreading through his body. “I’ll be back in a few days. This place is mine now, you are mine,” he snarls before you are pinned to the wall. “Four days, be ready for your alpha by then…”

“Four days,” you whimper, returning the bruising kiss he forces on your lips. “I’ll be waiting, alpha….”

Four days and a half later…

You waited for four days, always hoping he will return but with every fading hour you know – he will not come back to you, just like your husband.

When another day turns into night, you sit in front of your house, carefully touching the mark Geralt left on your neck. Tears threaten to fall when you hear someone stomp toward your house, yelling orders at Jaskier.

“Girl,” Geralt grunts, tossing his bags at Jaskier. “I want food, wine, and,” he grins, which is unusual for the Witcher, “my omega.”

“I will sleep in the barn,” Jaskier must watch his companion pick you up to carry you into the house, slamming the door shut with his foot. “I’ll just wait for the next hunt or something then. I am good, Geralt. Don’t you worry…”

All works Tags

@yolobloggers​​

@shikshinkwon​​

@miraclesoflove​​

@mogaruke​​

@shatteredabby​​

@soryuwifeyxx​​

@letsdisneythings​​

@i-love-superhero​​

@psychicforest​​

@thevelvetseries​​

@deanmonandnegansbitch​​

@sabascio​​

@goodgodimaweirdperson​​

@that-place-called-middle-earth​​

@trumpettay​​

@zxph-yr​​

@belovedcherry​​

@matsumama​​

@rynabarnesrogers-reading​​

@emoryhemsworth​​

@buckybarnesplumwhore​​

@wonderlandfandomkingdom​​​

@kitkatd7​​

A Touch Too Far

Summary: Alpha Steve has had enough of his two omegas playing games with him. Now he’s going to show them who’s really in charge. AKA you learn why its a bad idea to listen to omega Bucky. 

Pairing: Alpha Steve x Omega Reader x Omega Bucky

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Omegaverse dynamics, mean/dom Steve, smut, 18+, edging, overstimulation, bratty omega Bucky. Subby 6'5" Bucky. Steve’s taller 👀.

a/n: Sinday drabble #2

Steve is always eager to come home after a long day of work. While you each have jobs, you’re an upcoming writer and Bucky teaches self-defense to omegas and betas, Steve is the main provider for the household but it’s the two of you that make it a home.

You turned his brownstone into the epitome of warmth and comfort, your nests in the living room and bedroom, something always cooking in the kitchen, music playing throughout the first floor, it’s always a little messy and chaotic and he loves every aspect of it. 

Providing for you two makes the long, tedious hours worth it. it’s not usual for either you or Bucky waiting for him while the other one gets dinner ready. Although last week he had to ban Bucky from answering the door since he doesn’t like to wear clothes inside the house and Steve was tired of him flashing the neighbors. He’s still dealing with the fallout from that, it’s amazing how pouty a 6’5” omega can be.

Steve knew it was getting closer to your upcoming heats but he had one final merger that required his presence and so he reluctantly left the two of you alone in your nest. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy on you but he promised he would hurry home. And he pointed out when you both begged him to stay that unlike other omegas at least you had each other. He knows you can use each other to take the edge off until he’s finished work. So neither of you are suffering without him.

But you brats made him suffer all fucking day.

Seguir leyendo

It was supposed to be the answer to an anon ask “Can we see Asra as a parent ?” but I accidentally deleted it ^^;;;;

I drew the first (Proud Asra carrying his bb) then I got carried away a bit XD

Anyway, I hope you like it anon (=｀ω´=)

Roses and snapdragon commish

Mafia Ari 👀 angry? sexy! hot 🥵

Pairing: Mafia!Ari x reader

Warnings: Rough smut, oral (fem receiving), choking, size kink, praise kink, primal play, housewife kink, mentions of canon level violence (not towards reader), protective Ari. Ari is 6'6".

Word count: 1.8K

a/n: Written on my phone, I'll edit it later. Unbeta'd.

Music filters out of your phone on the counter. Dancing in front of the stove, you shrink back from the heat pouring over your face when you open the oven door. The fragrant scents of your garlic roasted chicken drift up, you inhale it with a smile. Ari is going to love this. You’re pairing it with a few of his favorite sides and you can’t wait for him to try your new recipe.

You chuckle softly, remembering the last time you tried something new, he ate every last salty, burned bite of the dish despite your insistence that he didn’t have to.

Closing the door, you turn down the heat, letting everything simmer. All you have to do is finish setting the table and grab his beer out of the fridge. His meeting should be almost over..

You take a step back, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress. He bought it for you a week ago; it fits you perfectly, enhancing your curves and the color is beautiful.

You take two steps away from the stove, turning towards the fridge when a loud bang startles you. It coming from the front of the house. A second loud boom travels throughout the halls, a shriek snakes up your throat, your heart pounds in your chest. You look around frantically, fear slivers down your spine, freezing you in place. Then you hear the rapid rhythmic stomping of something, someone coming down the hall.

You’re about to dive for the gun he has hidden under the table when you hear your name, growled, low and dark in his throat.

You recognize that voice.

You recognize that tone.

Ari.

He storms into the kitchen, and he sucked all the air out of the room with his domineering presence. Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes raking up and down the disheveled man. You’ve seen Ari when he’s angry, but this-this is something different. More primal. His large hands grab the sides of the doorway, his upper body leaning towards you as if he’s physically holding himself back. Small splatters of crimson pepper his white shirt, the stains spreading across his collar.

Ari cracks his neck, the low crunching noise as he rolls his shoulders makes you take a step back. Deep blue eyes travel up your body, past your bare feet to your calves, his lip twitches and his grip tightens, the wood creaking faintly. He continues his perusal of your trembling body, sweeping back and forth cautiously, thoughtfully, as if he’s searching for something.

His solemn gaze land on your face, lingering on your lips before finding your wide eyes. A flash of relief crosses his face before more rage seeps in, enhancing his stunning features. “Run.”

Your brows furrow, licking your dry lips, you scoff out a confused “what?”

Ari stands up straight, his head brushing the top of the doorframe. His deft fingers grasp the front of his shirt and he rips it open, buttons hitting the floor with sharp pings. “Run. Now. Sunshine.”

You can’t.

He’s blocking the only way in and out of the kitchen.

You can’t run.

You study his hands, watching as his shirt flutters to the floor, he pulls off his belt in one swift motion. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to run.”

Your eyes flicker up to his face and your belly drops. He knows you can’t get out here. He knows, and he’s doing this on purpose. Heat, arousal, and anticipation swirl in your fluttering belly before settling between your thighs. Your panties cling to you, drenched.

You take a step back, he follows. Every small step is met with his long, measured stride, slowly unbuttoning his pants, he smirks down at you.

“When I catch you, I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go Sunshine.” His voice is low, gravelly, and taunting.

A predator hunting down his prey.

You keep moving, your chest rising and falling rapidly, unable to tamp down your growing excitement. His bulge getting bigger and bigger every second.

He’s caging you in.

You’re running out of room.

Ari’s purposely advancing on you, his darkening eyes never leaving your face, full pink lips twisted into a devious smirk.

Your foot slips.

“Oh shit Ari-,” you gasp, reaching out to steady yourself. The back of your thighs hit the edge of the table. He crosses the remaining space in two long strides, standing so close you can feel the heat radiating off the large body.

“You really should have run, Sunshine.” His voice deepens, the warning in his tone goes straight to your aching pussy and you clench down. Ari reaches inside his boxers, your knees almost buckle at the sight of his long, thick cock, hard and leaking, a bead of precum rolling off his swollen head.

There’s no time to think, to react. Not with him so fucking close, his cock brushes over your belly, his masculine cologne filling your nose. Ari seems even bigger than usual, towering over you, making you feel petite. Without another word, he spins you around, your hands hitting the table, knocking over the plate you set down earlier. He’s treating your body like it belongs to him, hooking his hand under your thigh, spreading you open.

“Ari-“ his name ends in a soft moan. “Oh fuck-“

Normally he eases you into, takes his time with foreplay, doesn’t fuck you until you’re on the brink of begging. But right now, he can’t wait any longer, twisting your panties to the side, he sends up a silent thanks that you’re so wet for him, he could feel your slick coating your thighs when he grabbed you.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, lining his throbbing cock up with your hot, drenched pussy. And he pushes into with one firm stroke, your velvety walls clamping down on him, Ari’s broken groans drowning out your own soft sobs.

Pleasure laced with a sweet burning sensation pulses up your spine. You take in a breath, your hands forming fist as he languidly eases out of you, inch by inch. He slams back into you; the wet sloshing sound resounding in your ears as you stretch to fit his thick cock. He angles up, moving deeper and deeper until he’s in your belly.

“Oh god, oh god oh fuck,” you moan, your chin dropping to your chest, unable to support your own weight as he pounds into you. The fast, controlled pace lets his cock hit that sweet, sensitive spot until your vision blurs with unshed tears.

“It ain’t god making you feel like this sunshine,” Ari states, breathlessly. He stares down at your writhing body, his gaze flickering between your head lolled to the side, mouth slack, and his cock disappearing in and out of your tight cunt. He bends down, his large hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you up until your back is flush with his chest.

“Who’s making you feel good?” There’s a desperation in his voice that you’re not used to, it’s as if he needs to hear his name on your tongue.

“You are-Ari, only you, oh fuck” you breathe, digging your nails into his wrists. This new angle is letting him go even deeper, his hips grinding into you. “Ari, don’t stop, please don’t-“

“I won’t, not until you cum for me. “He drops his head along the curve of your shoulder, nipping your skin

You’re unaware that you’re chanting his name, you don’t think you can take anymore; it feels too good; shards of exquisite sensations swirling up, the pleasure enhanced by the pressure on your throat, you’re getting lightheaded, all you can feel right now is him-Ari, his warm, firm chest through the thin material of your dress, a rough, scarred hand moving up your thigh until the pad of his fingers circles your swollen clit tenderly, a direct contrast to the rough, way he’s fucking you. “I got you, just take it Sunshine, lemme feel you cum on my cock, there ya go.”

You clench down around him, his strokes falter as your orgasm unfurls inside you, an endless sultry white-hot wave of pleasure surges up, rushing across your body. Your body tenses, a thin gasp escaping your lips. Ari fucks you through it until you go limp around him. You would collapse to the tiled floor if he weren’t holding you.

He circles his hips erratic thrusting, once, twice then he groans your name as he spills inside you, relishing in the feel of your fluttering walls around his cock, murmuring soft praises as you pant. He slips out of you, turning your pliant body around and placing you on the table.

“What the fuck was that?” Dropping back, you rest on your elbows, he tears your ruined panties off, putting them in his pocket. “I’m not complaining, but you haven’t gone all cavemen since that night-“ you gesture with your fingers.

A rueful smile tugs at his lips and for a minute he stares down at you, his eyes watching his cum drip out of your swollen pussy. He sighs, carding his hand through his damp locks. You don’t think he’s going to answer; he pulls out the chair and sits in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs. “Some punk thought he could threaten you," he responds quietly.

“Oh,” you respond, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.

That explains it.

Ari barely tolerates people looking at you. He always says you’re the only light, his sunshine, in his dark, merciless world and he refuses to let anyone take you from him.

You don’t bother to ask what he did to whoever was stupid enough to mention your name in front of your man.

After all you were there when the Drysdale heir thought his legacy could shield him after he smacked your ass at a party.

You didn’t know Ari could toss another grown man through a window until that night.

It was impressive and you thanked him very throughly for protecting you.

"Did you toss this one off a roof or something?" You laugh, raising your eyebrows playfully.

Ari glares at you, but all the heat and rage in his blue eyes are gone, only the possessive love and neediness you’re accustomed to seeing remains. “I may have overreacted.”

You laugh knowing he's not going to tell you what he did, so you turn your attention to charred food on the stove. “Ya think? I hope you weren’t hungry because I’m pretty sure our dinner is burned by now”

“That’s on you for not running.” His sharp retort makes you laugh harder. Ari grumbles under his breath, something about eating until he's full, his hands moving under your ass, lifting you until your pussy is in his face. “I got something better right here.”

“Ari-“ You squeal, his tongue sliding through your messy folds. “Oh you’re filthy.”

“Not my fault your pussy tastes so damn good,” he mumbles, sucking your clit into his mouth, a burst of sensations takes you off guard and your elbows slip, your back hits the table with a soft thud. “Now lay there and let me enjoy my meal.”

like or reblog

|Main Masterlist|Mafia/Biker Masterlist|Library|

𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼

Split You In Two

Drown In You

𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼

Biker Series: Like You Mean It

Cuddling with Ari

On the tip of his tongue

Get to know Ari

Teasing Ari

Mafia Series: Queen Takes Night

Hours

Protective Ari

Pin Up

Oral Fixation

Arguing with Ari

Arguing with Ari II

Shopping Trips

𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼 & 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼

Thigh Riding w/ DBF Ari

𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓕𝓲𝓬𝓼-Coming Soon

𝓐𝓼𝓴𝓼

𝓟𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

i think my type is wizards

earrings at Dolce & Gabbana fall 2012