❝ 𝑾𝑬 𝑫𝑶 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 𝑨 𝑫𝑰𝑭𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝒀 ❞
summary: you’d give bucky barnes your whole heart. he’d take it, and rip his chest open just to press his into your hands right after.
word count: 1.6k
⁀➷ thea’s note: hi again, wow, guess someone is in their active era. anyways, it’s bugy’s bday today :D unfortunately he did not get me for his bday today but we’ll fix that in the future. happy birthday, old man !! you’re still a fine shyt AND a kind shyt. lowkey noticing a pattern of me going crazy over a man that it becomes psychotic, so don’t mind that. cannibalism as a metaphor for love or wtv bs tiktok said. also alsooo, decided i have free will and that i don’t have to write 6.7k fics and wow, i didn’t know life could be like this. spent the whole night writing this and im not even kidding, “im gonna go to sleep at 10pm” my ahh. lowkey have 0 regrets, surviving on pure rage and hatred for myself. also also alsoo, this is not trad wife propaganda or anything of that sort, i was just inspired by the song that im gonna leave below so don’t even start PLEASE
❝ check me out: bitch ❞
a hot new reader has entered the chat.
toxic!reader x toxic!simon riley. cw: afab+f! reader, mild misogynistic language, semi public sex. little bit of :( at the end
it's late. dark. almost freezing. and still you hesitate, thumb over his contact as you stand on wobbly legs outside the pub. a few drinks too many and a bailed ride and you're in an all too familiar situation.
you look down at his name on the screen - and the caveat attached:
simon riley (do not fucking call)
you ignore your own warning. it's almost pointless that it's still there next to his name. and? you know he'll still be awake this late.
You’re in ghosts phone as “DO NOT FUCKING ANSWER” and he’s in yours as “DO NOT CALL EVER” and everyone assumes it’s because you’re messy exes that keep falling back into each other’s toxic orbits but the truth is that like every time you call ghost while he’s deployed you end up crying about how you miss him and it totally breaks his heart and makes him sulk for the rest of the mission because he wants to go home so bad. So every time he’s home you’re like “okay I promise I won’t call anymore” and he’s like “I promise I won’t pick up if you do” but guess who keeps calling and guess who keeps fucking picking up anyways
Simon Riley’s the type of guy who would think you wanted to hold his hand when you were actually telling him to hand you some of the shopping bags he’s carrying. When you reach yours out and gesture to give you some, he would just move all of the bags onto one arm and grab your hand instead.
“No— let me carry some of them.”
“Why? I got ‘em.”
And he would just keep walking with all those bags on one arm and holding your otherwise empty hand.
— heat.
jack abbot x fem!reader
summary: a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone, right? you've been on jack abbot's mind a little too often lately and he's starting to suspect the feeling is mutual. after a late night out at the bar, you're determined to show him just how mutual that feeling is.
content/warnings: age gap, inappropriate work crushes, i don't even bother pretending like i know how a hospital works, jealous!jack, masturbation mentions, garsantos crumbs, alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, reader wears a dress/heels/make up, soft dom!jack, dirty talk (jack's got a filthy mouth), kinda degradation if u squint, praise, oral (f + m receiving), jack abbot is a munch duh, fingering, unprotected piv, some breath play, cream pie? NSFW + MDNI! 18+ ONLY!
wc: 7.5k (got away from me lol)
notes: this is like the first proper thing i've written in several years and probably my first real smut ever, but i couldn't stop thinking about jack abbot's tits. purely self indulgent because i know for a fact that he talks you through it lol he's just so yummy. enjoy my old man brain rot
credit: gif taken from this set by ho-ii :)
—
Jack hasn’t been able to focus since you joined the night shift.
Don't Let This Pass
Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist
Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, friends to lovers, humor, forced proximity, fluff, smut (oral f and m receiving, p in v sex,), light angst, love confessions
Summary/Warnings: Dean is your best friend, and nothing more, no matter how much you want that to be different.
But he's trying to tell you something. And when you get trapped together for a week, he finally gets the chance.
Author's Note: Request from an anon! I lost my goddamn mind.
Word Count: 17.7k
“Are you smelling this, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, wrinkling your nose as another blob of something drifts past your feet. “We’re standing next to each other, Dean.”
Dean points his flashlight up, enough for you to see his grin in the dark. “You remember when Sammy farted last month, then pretended it was my Baby leaking something?”
You snort, kicking away something strangely hard that you don’t want to think about. “Yeah?”
“Least this still isn’t that bad.”
You look up to give him a flat, amused look, and freeze.
“Dean-“
“C’mon, he’s not here-“
“No, Dean, fuck-“
18+ mdni simon riley is a horrible lay, everyone says.
that’s what you’ve heard around base, from men and women alike. he’s too fucking big, apparently, fucks like the mean bastard that he is. hurts. apparently, he’s so cold he doesn’t even care for his partner. and apparently, every time anyone’s tried to sleep with him, they’ve always stormed out of his room, pissed off at him because his room is a hellhole.
apparently. it’s all word of mouth, but you believe it.
but after the end of the month drinks at the local spoons, you can barely get simon off you, he’s pawing at you with his big hands. the two of you split a cider in two, and he looks at you with his big brown eyes, “y- you’re really fucking hot.” he blurts out, kissing your nose with chapped lips.
his face is red, blushing deeply as you try your best to not flush the same. “and johnny told me you can’t ever think about the pretty lass on floor 3 with the filing cabinet, but guess what, i can.” he kisses you on the side of your head this time, and you’re enjoying his affections.
it’s only back in his room on base that he fumbles with his belt, before he looks at you again, “s-sorry, it’s just, i don’t really get to spend the night with pretty women like you-“
you want to hide your face in his pillows, his room is really fucking nice. he has plants, actual plants growing from gaz, sketch drawings from johnny, photographs of him and the captain.
his cock is huge, hard and leaking, slapping against his stomach, but he still looks at you with his sweet brown eyes, “love, it’s okay if it’s too big…” he sounds dejected already, but you just shake your head, it’s nowhere near as big what the word around base was.
“it’s fine simon-“ you whisper, licking your lips and placing kitten licks on his length, feeling the taste of him coat your tongue.
“no no no-“ he shakes his head, pulling away before his hands touch your wet panties, “fuck, you’re so wet love.”
and then he dives in, tugging them off, before licking at your cunt with a sloppy tongue, he doesn’t have a technique down but whatever the fuck he’s doing it’s good, your legs are shaking as his tongue dips inside you.
“gotta make sure it’s good for you-“ okay, what the fuck was anyone talking about?
he slides into you with ease, and thrusts into you? his hands above your head, his eyes still looking at you. “you’re very fuckin’… mmmph… hot.” he says, with a grin on his scarred face that would look terrifying if it wasn’t for the way his brown eyes shone with sweetness.
it wasn’t long before his cock twitches inside of you, and his eyes roll back, “oh fuck love, right there— fuck!” he was filling you deep, his cum thick in your stomach.
“love?” he asks, whimpering, his head on your chest, “love, did you find it good?” he’s desperate for your fucking approval.
you kiss his head, his soft curls growing out of army regs.
“yes darling.” fuck the word of mouth, did anyone even try this with him?
“th-thank you dove-“ he pants, his cock deep inside you as you keep stroking his hair, feeling his breath even out.
__
Firefighter Steve Harrington is called in with his team to help out a guy who cuffed himself to his bed and now can't free himself.
It's not the first time they get a call like that, but Steve gets the air knocked out of his lungs once they arrive at the guy's room because, Jesus Christ, that's his high school crush, Eddie Munson, right there, cuffed to the bed.
And he's stark naked.
And his vibrator is still on.
No, but you don't understand. I keep thinking about this scenario and like, Steve recognizes Eddie right away, and of course Eddie also recognizes Steve too. But Steve's team doesn't know about Eddie, or that he was Steve's crush all through high school.
So Hopper, Steve's captain, asks him to take the vibrator out of Eddie so they can turn that thing off because otherwise they'd have to do their work while it's still inside and buzzing and making everything even more awkward than it already is.
And Steve can't say no because what the hell is he even going to say? "Sorry, cap, but I've been crushing on this man since I was a teenager, so can't you ask someone else?"
Yeah, that won't do.
So Steve swallows dryly around the lump lodged in his throat, and positions himself between Eddie's legs, apologizes profusely as he parts his legs apart a little further so he can grip the base of the vibrator and pull it out.
Eddie's red all the way down to his chest, from mortification but also arousal because, holy shit, Steve Harrington is in full firefighter gear and it feels like a fucking wet dream and a horrible nightmare were mixed together into a single surreal experience Eddie never thought he would go through.
The nightmare side of it all ends up being greater than the rest when Steve finally pulls the vibrator out and Eddie shivers and cums with a strangled, pained moan.
coming home to you - sam (warfare)
Sam (Warfare) x female! wife! reader
Summary:
Sam is heartbroken to leave his pregnant wife home when he’s deployed - but he doesn’t expect things to go quite so wrong.
Warnings:
Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m receiving), movie spoilers, pregnancy, war, gore!, death, serious injuries
Word Count: 6.1k
A/N:
I’m really excited to write my first Sam fic! I hope you guys like it. If details are wrong, I’m so sorry, I know nothing about the navy but I did rewatch the movie and research as best as I could. His last name is O’Brien in this. Endless thanks to @glassbxttless and @peachyproserpina for answering a million questions, reading over this, and hyping me up, and @getaapologist for feeding us with screenshots!! Also ignore that I hit the image limit so the dividers stop :))
Anonymous
sent a message
50 for whoever it ends up fitting best!!
TRACK 50 - can i leave me too? by the greeting committee (steve harrington x fem!reader)
a/n: so naturally, to keep the universe in balance, here’s some angst with our boy steve harrington. (also this song just screams to his abandonment issues)
“if you leave me, can i leave me too? i’m afraid that i might need you.”
“You don’t love me anymore.”
It’s not a question - it’s a statement.
He’s staring at her from across their shared bedroom, and he can see his answer written across her face. Her eyes nervously focus on the ground, refusing to meet his, and her lips are pressed painfully shut, avoiding saying anything she might regret.
Angsty and kinda cheesy fluffy ending, Simon Riley x reader
Most of the 141 wouldn’t really understand why you still have any stuffed animals as an adult. They have grown well beyond their phases of childhood where they cared about such things. These are adult men who find comfort in adult men ways. They wouldn’t exactly say something to you, but you can see it in their faces. They think it’s silly.
Simon Riley, however, would be very kind about you having stuffed animals. Or even one just particular one that means a lot to you.
He didn’t get to grow up with soft things like that. No toys, no stuffed animals, bare and boring walls. His childhood was far from the best. He could take comfort in his brother and mother, but that had it’s limits.
When he sees you cuddled up with a stuffed animal, he doesn’t think it’s embarrassing or childish or anything negative at all. He can’t even exactly put into words how he feels about it.
He knows the story, you’ve had the stuffed animal for years. It’s got heaps of sentimental value and memories attached to it. It’s brought you comfort in ways he quite literally cannot imagine. Even begin to imagine.
He appreciates that something so simple, so seemingly nonfunctional, can help you so greatly. After a bad day, there it is. During a scary movie, there it is. After a nightmare or an argument, there is it. When you’ve just woken up, your hair is a mess, and there’s sleep in your eyes, there it is.
He wishes he could have an object to bring him such comfort.
He’s lucky enough to have you instead. Laying next to him, holding your stuffed animal. You’re in his arms and it’s in yours. He knows that if he’s not there, you have it. You know that if you don’t have it, you’ll always have him.
One day if you were ever to get him his first his own stuffed animal, maybe as a joke, maybe sincerely, you’ll have to excuse him for looking at it silently for a while, gripping it so tight in his hands you worry it might rip, and having to take a moment to collect himself before any tears involuntarily roll down his cheeks.
Poaching [this] nonny ask from @total-killer-brainrot
Imagine ghost crying when he sees the pregnancy test. He swore he never wanted a baby, the thought alone terrifies him.
There's a small part of ghost that's worried he'll be just like his father, that he'll drag you to the ground with him, that he'll ruin his child's life.
He almost refuses when price asks for his help in an op knowing damn well you and ghost are expecting. But your urge him to go, reassure ghost that you'll be there when he gets back, it's only a month after all.
A month turns to two, turns to four, and ghost is starting to regret ever agreeing to this forsaken mission. He just wants to go home and see you, he wants to be there when his son is born.
Except...he gets home a month before your due date, expecting to find his very pregnant partner to chew him out, and instead finds what can only be described as the smallest baby he's ever seen.
"Premature, simon." You tell him, and ghost can't stop the tears that spring to his eyes. Because you look exhausted. Because you needed him and he wasn't there.
Because he missed his little son's birth, then missed giving him all the support he needed.
"Hold him, si. Hold him." You urge, coralling simon onto the couch. You can't stand to see him tearing himself up.
Baby is tiny, and hardly moves. Ghost can cup him in one hand, he's so small. He has to hold back sobs in fear of disturbing the little thing, but his eyes are wet when he tucks baby to his chest "...he's so small. He's tiny, love. Tiny."
"I know. Three pounds and two ounces." You lean your head against ghosts shoulder, reaching across him to smooth over baby's hair with your thumb.
"...I'm done. No more missions, no leaving. Not anymore." He whispers, and you smile because you knew simon would do this "I'll send price my forms tomorrow."
And he means it. How could anything else matter with you by his side, with his tiny son in his hands?
Anonymous
sent a message
Ooh, what about ditzy reader putting together matching battle outfits for her and Steve as they get ready to go into the Abyss?
hope you like it xoxo — moments before the end of the world, you make steve play dress-up and he realizes he wants to marry you (established relationship, slight hurt/comfort | 0.9k)
“Alright…” Steve huffs as he steps out from behind the folding partition and out into the bustling basement, where the gang readies itself for the final fight. His arms are heavy beneath the protective layers worn beneath his brown leather jacket when he splays them at his sides. “How do I look?”
Dustin grins from the other side of the lamplit room as he shrugs on his fluffy green ghillie jacket. “Well, I think you look perfectly handsome, Harrington,” he quips.
Steve’s dark eyes narrow into thin slits. “I’m not talking to you, Henderson—”
You spin in your swivel chair by the desk at the sound of his voice. You’re already clad in your battlewear, a more feminine version of Steve’s attire — heavy boots, green cargo pants, and camo outerwear. You push your bandana back up your forehead when it slips down your eyes, smile fading when you find the boy missing the green garment that’s meant to go over his jacket.
“Wait, where’s the vest?” you pout. “The vest is important— It has so many pockets! And it ties the camo shirt with the brown jacket!”
“Yeah, Stevie,” Lucas jokes, snapping his wrist rocket as he saunters by. “It ties in the shirt and the jacket.”
“Don’t encourage her…” Steve grumbles under his breath.
Anonymous
sent a message
I have a baby blurb request if you like the idea! Eddie just being really touchy and clingy on the reader for no particular reason but he literally won’t let her move rooms without following her like a puppy/hanging off of her like a koala. We love our lovesick boy!!!
ty for your request ❤︎ 0.4k, fem
“Oh, Eddie, my sweet angel from heaven.”
You’re kidding. Mostly kidding, voice soft and quiet as Eddie races back from his trip to the bathroom. There are perfect wet prints on his thighs where he’s dried his hands in a rush. The bed wobbles under his sudden return. He gets his arm around your waist and shuffles up to hook his chin over your head. “Wha’dyou say?” he asks.
“I said you’re heavy.”
“I don’t think you did.”
You smile. Eddie smiles the same, his mouth catching the side of your forehead, lips warm and a little chapped.
“Was there something scary back there?” you ask.
“In the bathroom?” He sighs dramatically, and manhandles you further into his arms. It gives you a jolt in your tummy of pleasure. “You weren’t there, so. Totally horrifying.”
“Oh.”
“Oh…” He turns your head to kiss your eyebrow. “Yes. Very scary stuff in there.”
“Did you clean it up at any point while I was gone?”
“It’s usable.” He spots your disgust and nuzzles your head. “Usable for you, so I cleaned it on my hands and knees. You doubt me. You hate me and you think I’m disgusting while I love you enough to get bleach on my good jeans–”
“Shh,” you murmur, raising your hand to curve around his face without moving from your spot below him. You stroke his cheek, shushing him quietly. “Shh, baby. I love you.”
You do it because it’s corny and it’ll make him melt. He acts like such a character, always loud and brash when he’s so sweet in his centre. Baby talk makes him cringe but he loves it simultaneously, and you love to tease. Better when he goes like warmed taffy against you, all his energy turned to clinging.
“I love you,” he murmurs, almost embarrassed.
“And you’re not disgusting. I could never hate you.”
He scoffs weakly. “Yeah, I know.”
“Yeah, you know. Thank you, sweetheart.” You’re laying it on thick, now, but it’s not not real. You love him. You don’t mind babying him. “You’re so good to me.”
It’s like glue. He’s stuck to you from that moment on, all day long, cuddled to your side as you make dinner, barely parted while you eat. When you need to take a bath, he holds your hand over the tub’s lip, stars in his eyes as you shave your straggly knees.
Fade In / Fade Out - Benny Miller x f!Reader
POV: 1st (f!Reader POV)
Rating: Mature - Blog is 18+
Summary: Benny Miller returns home to say goodbye to his dad, and learns how to carry him forward.
Word Count: 4.4k
Content/Warnings: Parental Loss, Grief, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Adult Humor, The Millers Ruin Toy Story, Postpartum, Dad Benny, Benny Holding a Baby, Ovaries Might Explode, Domestic Fluff
A/N: Heyyyyy. I have no idea why I’m hurting Benny…again. It all began when my husband and his brothers ruined Toy Story at Thanksgiving. It made me think about a holiday with the Miller, and @musings-of-a-rose, as usual, encouraged the chaos and told me to write it down. I've also been wanting to write a story about Benny losing his dad inspired by the song "Fade In/Fade Out" by Nothing More for ages. This finally felt like the perfect way to mash all that emotional devastation together. Happy holidays? I'm not sorry.
Benny pushes through the front door of his parents’ house, and I’m right behind him. The cold Colorado air still clings to my skin as I step inside, but it’s the heaviness in the house that steals my breath. It’s thick, unmoving, like the walls themselves are holding it.