fawny.

Rafe pulled his swimming shorts down enough to free his hard, leaking cock. The tip was angry red, begging for attention, slit glistening with pre-cum. He groaned, pumping himself once or twice before wrapping his hand around the base. 

His blue eyes lowered to your wet pussy, the thought of him fucking you here had aroused you more than you wanted to admit. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty like that. Fuck, if you could see yourself.” Rafe cursed and you sighed, pushing your hips backwards to feel him. He rubbed his bulbous head against your slick folds, parting them just to gather wetness onto his tip. “Rafe, please—” You whined at him, then. 

But instead of listening to you, he slapped his hard cock against your cunt, creating skin-slapping-skin noises that were eaten by the ocean. You gasped each time his cock slapped back against your folds and clit, squirming under him due to the feeling. Rafe’s free hand moved to your ass, squeezing a cheek in his strong palm just to push it to the side, giving him a better view of your pussy.

“M’going in now, okay? Going to fill that pussy up.” He said and you didn’t have time to reply before feeling his tip press against your slick hole, giving the muscles a push before entering you. “Fuck! Ah, yeah… S’good.” You hummed, your hands moving into the sand, mindlessly playing with it. Rafe hissed as his cock slowly pushed inside you, stretching your gummy walls apart. 

You relaxed your body for him to go deeper until he couldn’t reach more, his tip almost kissing your cervix. You gasped, eyebrows furrowing in a mix of uncomfortable and pleasure. Rafe waited for you to get used to the intrusion before he lowered his upper body to press against yours; his torso and your back meeting.

“Y’feel so good, baby. You’re squeezing my cock so good.” He groaned in your ear. His arms moved to rest in the sand near your face. 

His cock throbbed inside you, pressing against your slick walls and making you pulsate. “Rafe, please, move now…” You said, fist closing and relaxing a few times. Your boyfriend hummed, his head coming closer to yours just so he could move his arms under yours and his hands moved to your chest. You felt the fabric of your bikini top being pushed to the side, the two triangles not hiding your tits anymore. “Let me see you. You’re too pretty. You couldn’t even wait home for us to fuck, uh?”

You didn’t reply but gasped when Rafe pushed his hips away and back against yours, how cock sliding back and forth. His pace was slow at first but he did go deep. His warm palms groped your chest, squeezing the fat of your tits, fingers rolling around your perky nipples. His breathing hit onto the skin of your neck, giving you goosebumps. 

He was so close that you could smell his perfume; mango, vanilla and a hint of cigarette from the ones he smoked. The sensation of the sun hitting down on your skin, the sand sticking to your humid body and how Rafe was fucking you was almost too much for your brain to keep up, but your boyfriend had a way to tether you to Earth. “Speak to me, baby, feels good, uh? Knowing anyone could see us right now? Walk by to see me fuck you into the sand?”

His words made you moan, not afraid of the volume of your voice with the waves hiding it. Rafe’s cock slid inside you, his mushroom tip rubbing against your g-spot due to the prone bone position he had you in. Your thighs shook, hips pushing backwards to feel more of him. Your inner-thighs were a mess—juices coating the skin, making sand stick there.

“Please, fuck, it feels so good… Rafe, keep going.” You replied to him, your head rolled backwards which gave him the opportunity to kiss your neck. He groaned while picking up the pace, your body melting into the ground with the force of his hips. 

A gasp left your mouth as your boyfriend’s fingers kept rolling around your hardened nipples, and then, he decided to pinch them. Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. “Oh God, yes! I love that—Do it again!” You voiced at Rafe and you heard a chuckle leave his mouth.

Another pinch, another gasp. “You like that, baby? Like me taking care of you?” He said, his pelvis slapping against your ass as he fucked you both harder and faster.

Your brain had muffled all background noises since the sexual activity started, but you could clearly hear the music from the party happening not far away and the laughter of your friends who were probably under alcohol substances.

A rather hard thrust made you break out of your thoughts, crying out Rafe’s name when he rutted his hips against your ass, creating loud skin-slapping-skin that mixed with the squelching of your wet pussy. The hands you had in the sand moved to grab at Rafe’s biceps, nails burying inside his strong muscles. He hissed, another chuckle leaving him. “That’s it, baby. Show me how much you like when I fuck that pussy. You love it, don’t you? Such a good girl.”

You moaned, nodding your head without an answer to give. Your boyfriend’s fingers pinched your nipples again, tugging on them just to roll the bud with his fingers. 

“Please! P-Please! I love it so much, Rafe!” You voiced, tits bouncing against the sand due to the force of his thrusts. You could feel the warmth coursing through your body, that inevitable sensation of an orgasm showing the tip of its nose. The grip you had over Rafe’s biceps tightened which made him hiss quietly into your ear. “Coming! I need to come!” You added, mouth wide open.

Rafe’s balls slapped against your ass as he took more support on his knees after your words, his hands moving away from your tits just to press flat against the sand. He groaned, head falling against your shoulders.

“I know baby, I know. Come for me, yeah? Be a good girl, I know you are.” He said, making your ass bounce with the force of his thrusts. His bulbous tip rubbed against your g-spot and you could only cry out when the orgasm took over your body.

“Yes, fuck! Coming!” You gasped at your boyfriend, eyes wide. Muscles contracted, body squirmed, toes curled. 

Rafe’s cursed as your gummy walls clenched around his cock, your juices coating his length and sticking to his base and balls. He only needed a few more thrusts to bury himself all the way inside you, shooting his creamy, thick load into your pussy. A raw moan left his throat as he came, sweaty forehead shifting to your nape. “Fuck… Fuck, she squeezed me so good I couldn’t stop myself.” He spoke after a moment.

You both stayed in that position for what seemed like hours (even if it was only seconds) before Rafe slowly pulled out of your sloppy hole. Semen leaked out immediately, thick globs disappearing in the sand before your boyfriend helped you up on your feet. 

Rafe had a smile on his face, one that usually meant trouble and after what you had both done, you didn’t even question it. “Want to get cleaned up in the water?” He just asked, one hand lifting to brush sand away from your sweaty cheek. You bent to grab your dress before nodding your head at his question. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to go back to the party all sweaty and smelling like sex.” 

Rafe didn’t reply but suddenly grabbed you by the waist, throwing you on his shoulder before walking toward the water. You laughed loudly, slapping his back. “Get me down, you asshole! I don’t want to ruin my hair!”

“Nah, don’t care. Should have thought about that before letting me fuck you in the sand.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

✦ his head always thrashes side to side, chest heaving, and forehead sweating. he lets out huffs time to time, sometimes a whine slipping through.

✦ he’d shift, unknowingly kicking his blanket clean off and onto the floor. he’d always end up on his stomach, erection pressed firmly into the mattress. each thrust into you in his dream meant a rut into his bed.

✦ sometimes he’d moan your name, desperate and pathetic. it’d come out in a broken whisper tied with a firm grip on his pillow.

✦ after waking up, he’d curse at himself in shame. then, of course, deal with his raging erection.

✦ he’d flip onto his back and lower his sweats. his cock would spring out against his lower abdomen, coating it in a sheer layer of pre. he’d grip himself, letting his thumb run over his tip in attempt of holding off.

✦ but of course, sam was never a patient man. so, he’d begin to pump himself furiously. his head would fall back, and his jaw slacked open.

✦ still, all that flood through his mind was you. your name left his lips like a prayer. he imagined it was your hand around him, pleasuring him while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. he envisioned your eyes narrowing on his throbbing cock before letting out a giggle. it made his back arch.

✦ he would start to rut up into his fist with his eyes screwed shut. he’d moan and whimper, “oh, f-fuck!” the pleasure was always too much for him to bare.

✦ his hips would stutter when he was close, then speed back up after he released over his stomach. he liked to keep going for just a moment, letting himself tense up in discomfort before finally relaxing against the bed.

✦ after cleaning up, he’d lay in bed again with you on his mind. he’d check his phone, hoping one day a notification would come from you, but alas it never did. so instead, he settled on dreaming of you.

dex gives you six months.

in his mind it’s more than enough time for you to adjust to life without him, but you knew him well enough to know that he was incapable of leaving you alone. in his mind it’s more than enough time for you to get re-adjusted to your life without him lingering feet away with his eyes trained on your every move, but his absence still lingers on your mind and your heart no matter how much you try to bury your thoughts and feelings. it’s on brand for dex to take advantage of the distraction; you’re too caught up in pretending you’ve moved on that you don’t realize he’s been hiding in plain sight across the street from your apartment every single day, because there’s no way that he would forget your routine overnight.

benjamin poindexter was a contradiction; it’s what simultaneously drew you to him and kept him at arm’s length. the same brain that would overthink your every move could list off a million reasons why he would give you the moon, the stars, the entire solar system. the same hands that would kill with no hesitation would cradle your face like you were the most fragile thing to exist, or make your morning coffee just the way you like it to compliment your favorite breakfast. the same arms that would pitch perfect strike-outs in baseball to learning combat training in the army would hold you close to him while you slept or found their way around your waist while you were getting ready for the day or cooking dinner for the two of you. your warm presence complimented his cold and calculating demeanor, but you would take the empty feeling in the pit of your stomach that dex left over laying next to him every night and still feeling alone.

it’s been six months since the fight and six months of not knowing when or if you’d ever see dex again, but you’re getting to a point where you’re close to making peace with it. you’ve accepted the breakup for what it is but you know him and you know it’s only a matter of time before he makes his presence known in your life again, both literally and figuratively. you should be used to the way he randomly pops up in your apartment after arguments because he doesn’t like to be on bad terms with you, ever, and you have to remind him for the millionth time that you never gave him a key to your place. you’re at a point where you can get ready for the day without breaking down into tears and you’re no longer drowning out your sorrows in ice cream cartons every night, but some of his clothes are still hanging in your closet and his favorite coffee mug still sits in your cabinet. you’re almost convinced it’s a deliberate excuse for him pop in when you least expect it because he doesn’t drink coffee out of any other mug, so it’s unlike him to just let his belongings sit in your apartment for half a year.

dex gives you six months before he decides that it’s been long enough without you.

he waits for, in his mind, the perfect moment. the moment where he knows you’re most vulnerable and your guard is low, but not completely down. he knows that you’re expecting him to pop up randomly so he had to give you enough time to think that ‘maybe we’re done for good this time’ before he inserts himself back into your life again, this specific time waiting until you head downstairs to the lower level laundry room to make his move. dex makes that familiar trek through the lobby of your apartment building, keeping track of every second it takes to get to your apartment door from the descent of the elevator to the walk to your apartment door — two minutes and thirty seconds, exactly — before pulling out the key that he had made for himself without realizing and letting himself in.

you have the inkling that something’s off as the elevator brings you up to your floor but you’re too tired to entertain the thought with how fleeting it is, simply focused on getting out of your clothes and letting the stress of the day run down the shower drain. maybe pour a glass of wine and dissociate with whatever trash reality tv you could find, even slipping ini a sweet treat before fully calling it a day. that sounded like a perfectly solid night to you.

the only problem was that as soon as you slipped your key into the lock and stepped into your apartment, there was another layer of stress waiting for you in the form of benjamin poindexter, who had taken it upon himself to get comfortable on your couch with a plate of whatever he managed to cook up in your kitchen.

you have to blink a few times to register that it’s actually him.

dex’s eyes meet yours.

he clears his throat. you inhale sharply.

a pause.

“you didn’t call.” dex breaks the silence yet continues to keep eye contact, taking in your features. he didn’t need his accuracy skills to tell you were fatigued and that you didn’t want him here, especially after six months of radio silence on both ends. a part of him wonders if that one guy at your job is still getting on your last nerve; that’s something he puts in a mental pocket for later.

your eyes narrow at him as that layer of stress only grows thicker, a scoff escaping your lips before responding. “neither did you.”

“got me there.” dex throws his hands up in defense and it takes everything to not slap the shit-eating grin off his face, but you know better than anyone that he’d actually get some enjoyment out of it. instead you roll your eyes at him as you head towards your bedroom, shedding off your purse and jacket to the bed before heading to the bathroom.

dex was nice enough to let you turn on the shower before he pushed himself off your couch and followed the invisible trail to your bedroom, the running water only getting louder as he got closer. he watched intently as you peeled off your shirt before locking eyes with him in the mirror, tossing it to the side before unbuttoning your jeans. dex’s eyes raked over your frame as you kicked them off and stepped under the running water, that shit eating grin crossing his face as he watched you disappear into the steam, shaking his head as he peeled his jacket off.

large hands find your shoulders as you relax under the combination of the warm water and dex’s thumbs working through your tense skin, eventually relaxing your back against his chest with a sigh.

“you’re not gonna fight back and try to kick me out?” dex’s lips are near your ear as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him as the warm water runs over your bodies. you shake your head at him before letting out an exhale.

Today had started like any other day; scrubs on, patients after patients, trauma rooms being a mess after intervention and jokes shared with Trinity near the nurses’ desk. You had both started gently teasing Dennis after he had been accidentally splattered with vomit (no blaming the poor patient that was nothing but sick) and had to change to another pair of scrubs.

It reminded you of your first shift with him last year, when you met and slowly fell in love after a few months.

Trinity had laughed, using the famous Huckleberry nickname she had been giving him for a year now and all you had done was repeat it in a mocking tone, mischief in your eyes. “That’s a funny nickname, don’t you think so?” You had said to your boyfriend, slowly seeing the change of expression on his face; the one that warned you gently. You could have stopped that, letting it go; but no, that wasn’t truly your style.

And all day long, each time you saw Dennis, you threw a mocking sentence his way, calling him Huckleberry, sticking your tongue out at him. And each time, his expression closed—not in anger, never in anger, but in a yeah, laugh now, you won’t be laughing later expression. 

And yeah, true; you weren’t laughing anymore.

You had both finished your shift around 9pm, grabbing some burgers on the way home and talking about the day. You had expected Dennis to forget about your bratiness with the way he was joking on the way home or with how he held your hand. But that was your first mistake; because he helped you take your coat off when you got home, smiling at you with his awkward expression before he spoke. “Take your pants and panties off and go stand at the couch.” The words made you shiver, because you knew you were in for a punishment.

You decided to not push his buttons more, and slowly pulled your scrubs and panties down as he watched you; his eyes focused on your body and the movements of your hands. His arms crossed on his chest, the biceps he had worked for at the gym bulged with his actions and you felt your hole clench around nothing. “Come on, to the living room.” He simply said, once your lower half was naked.

You followed after him without a word, even though your steps were taken with no hesitation, you felt the goosebumps on your skin when your boyfriend sat down on the couch; his legs spread to give you space to stand between them and so, you did. The curtains were closed and you were glad; showing your naked buttcheeks to your neighbors wasn’t on your wishlist. You moved, standing straight in front of Dennis as he moved a hand, extending it to turn a lamp on; the low and warm light illuminated the room, making your skin glow for his eyes.

“Spread your legs, let me see you.” His voice was quiet but you heard it, moving your feet to spread your legs like he had asked. With the height difference, his face was right in front of your cunt and you knew it was definitely what he wanted. “You were a really bad girl today, right? Mocking me and calling me this stupid nickname.” Dennis voiced, which made you pout.

You liked being a brat, you didn’t like the punishment that followed. His eyes looked up at your face when you didn’t reply, his expression telling you it would be better to answer.

“I was just having fun with Trinity.” You said back and he hummed, nodding his head. “Yeah, I saw that too. But I thought you liked being a good girl? Good girls get rewards, not the bratty ones.” He added while his hands lifted up to rest on your inner-thighs, so close to your pussy that it made you clench again. “Dennis…” You whined at him, but he only shook his head. One of his hands shifted and his index finger pushed between your puffy folds, making you gasp. His finger rubbed around, parting your pussy lips just to gather wetness that had leaked from your hole.

You tried to not move, standing still as your boyfriend teased your cunt with his finger. He rolled the pad of it around your clit, smearing slick there before pushing his digit back between your folds. “Such a wet pussy. You like being punished?” He asked and you shook your head, another pout on your face. “No, I don’t. I like when you touch me and make me feel good.” You replied and Dennis chuckled, eyebrows raising up on his forehead like he was surprised by your answer.

“That’s a lot of fucking words for someone so bratty all the time. You think you deserve to feel good?” You wanted to say yes; because duh. You deserve the pleasure and to feel good all the time, but you knew that’s not the answer Dennis was waiting for, so you thought better than to say yes. “No, I don’t. Not right now, at least.” That made him smile and you then felt another finger meet his index. “That’s a good girl. So smart, aren’t you?”

His fingers teased your wet pussy, spreading your folds apart while you tried to not move away or thrust your hips toward him. A third finger was added just to press against your clit and Dennis shifted on the couch to sit at the edge, just to be closer to you.

He didn’t say anything else as his attention was taken by your sloppy cunt. His index and ring fingers were spreading you apart while his middle finger pressed and rubbed at your clit, smearing more wetness around. You sighed at the feeling, your hands closing into fists.

“That feels good, uh? Your pussy likes it.” You heard your boyfriend say, and you nodded. “It feels so good, Dennis, mmhfph.” It was getting harder to not move or react to his touch, but you knew he would stop if you did anything to show the pleasure you were getting. 

Dennis’s fingers moved, exploring your pussy before you felt them at your leaking hole; two fingertips were pushing against the muscle there. “If you move, I stop, got it?” He said, looking up at your face and you nodded at his words. “Yes, yes… I got it. Please, touch me.” The impatience in your words made him chuckle and he licked his lips before pushing his fingers inside you. His fingers slipped inside you with ease with how wet you were being, but a slight burning sensation still took over your walls. Dennis waited a second before curling his fingers.

“Fuck, ah!” You cried out, closing your fists tighter and thighs shaking slightly with the sensation. Your head rolled to the ceiling, and you tried to think of something else so your body wouldn’t move.

“Good girl, being so obedient. See? You don’t have to be bratty all the time.” Dennis’ words echoed in the room before he started to thrust his fingers in and out of your sloppy pussy; his fingers already coated with your wetness. He held your hip with his free hand, pulling you closer while he fingered you; slowly at first, just to make you adjust.

Then, his palm rested flat against your folds, the heel of it tapping and rubbing against your slick clit each time he thrusted his fingers inside you. “Please, God, it feels so good…” You whined, head falling back down just to look at your boyfriend. “Feels good, pretty girl? You like having my fingers inside your pussy?” He asked, looking up at your face while fingering you. The tip of his fingers curled against your gummy walls, feeling the spongy texture as he searched for your g-spot.

Everything was sticky and slick as your juice leaked to his knuckles and to his palm when he pressed it flat against your folds once more. The heel of his palm rubbed your clit on purpose, bringing another layer of stimulation to your body. You did your best to not move your hands and rest them onto Dennis’ shoulders, or to not thrust your hips toward his face for more.

“Your pussy is squeezing my fingers, fuck. I want to bury my cock in here but you have been bratty all day, you don’t deserve it.” Dennis groaned the words.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you bit your lips before voicing back. “I’ll be a good girl, please… Can I have your cock?” Your boyfriend chuckled at the words leaving your mouth and he suddenly fastened the pace of his fingering. Loud squelching noises were heard, created by the amount of wetness at your cunt. “Fuck no. That’s what you get for being so fucking mean all day long. You take what I give you, got it?” You nodded your head, thighs shaking and mouth wide.

The pleasure coursed through your body, a pool of warmth laying at your lower-belly. “Yes, Sir! Yes, fuck! I’ll take it!” You replied, then.

The heel of his palm slapped directly onto your puffy clit, your wetness splashing onto your boyfriend’s hand and knuckles as he finger-fucked you faster. The feeling of the carpet under your feet was overwhelming; and so was the slight buzzing noise of the TV, even though it was off. Your toes curled from the pleasure, your nails buried inside the skin of your palms and you cried out.

“Feels so good! Please! Please, I want to come!” The words left your mouth suddenly, and Dennis went even faster with his pace; skin slapping skin echoed in the apartment as his palm hit your cunt each time his fingers buried back into your warmth.

“You want to come on my fingers? You think you deserve it after being a fucking brat all day long?” He spoke, voice rough due to the efforts he was doing to finger you, his head tilted up to look at your voice. “Look at me.” The words made your eyes lower to lock onto his own, shame coursing your body and mind at that moment. You nodded your head. “Yes, please, I want it so much! I want to come on your fingers, Dennis.” 

You felt your orgasm getting closer and closer as your boyfriend thrusted his fingers inside you. It was close, so close that your mouth fell open and your eyebrows furrowed—and then, it was gone. “No, no, please!” You gasped loudly as Dennis suddenly pulled his digits out of your cunt right before you could come; your thighs trembling and a feeling of deception filled your body.

You whined and squirmed but all Dennis did was grab your hips and pull you onto his lap, making you straddle him. 

Your pussy pulsated, your face was sweaty and warm as you sat down onto your boyfriend, almost searching for friction. He stopped you, hands tight on your hips. “You don’t deserve it, remember? Bratty girls don’t get rewards, I told you.” Dennis said, and yet, leaned his face closer just to press a kiss to your sweaty forehead. You took a deep breath after that; you should have known better than to think he was going to let you come. You nodded at his words, hands resting on his shoulders, digits playing with the fabric of his hospital scrubs. “I wanted it so much.” You still replied.

Dennis kissed your cheek, and then, the tip of your nose. “I know, but it’s the rules. You don’t get to come if you are a brat.” Your cunt pulsated again, you wanted to rub it off but stopped yourself from moving anyway. The sensation of Dennis’ hands on your waist made you feel warm and you relaxed, trying to forget about the denied orgasm.

You watched his face as he spoke again. “If you are a good girl tomorrow, I’ll fuck you, how about that? I’ll take you on the couch, on the kitchen counter and on the bed. I’ll fill you up with so much come that you won’t be able to think about anything else but me for days.”

The words leaving his mouth made your hole clench around air and you nodded. “I want that.” He nodded, leaning his face closer just to kiss your lips, before speaking against them. “All you have to do is be good, then.”

One of his hands gently tapped your waist after a quiet and comfortable moment of kissing. “Why don’t you go and take a shower while I heat up the burgers? Today’s shift have been insane, I just want to watch a movie now.” You smiled at his words before standing up from his lap, walking backwards toward the bathroom. 

“Okay, sounds like a plan to me!” You heard Dennis chuckle when you entered the bathroom, his voice louder when he added. “Bet you’re going to fall asleep in front of the TV, anyway.”

thembo!reader plays into their reputation. they let people think they’re shallow, silly, clueless, because it keeps them safe. expectations stay low. no one pressures them. no one demands brilliance. but behind closed doors, they think a lot. about life, about love, about pain, about softness, about why the world feels so sharp sometimes.

thembo!reader always smells edible. vanilla gloss, strawberry shampoo, sugary body mist, sometimes coconut lotion layered on top—a soft, warm cloud that follows them everywhere. when they hug you, it clings to your clothes for hours.

thembo!reader is devastatingly affectionate. they hold hands in public without thinking, link arms while walking, lean their head against shoulders, press absent-minded kisses to cheeks when they’re happy.

thembo!reader is academically brilliant, and they are emotionally devastating. they read moods the way others read books, catching the smallest shifts in tone, the slightest changes in posture, the microexpressions people don’t even realize they’re making. they always know when someone is lying, hurting, or hiding, even if they pretend not to.

thembo!reader lives in soft chaos. their room is a maze of tangled fairy lights, plushies stacked on every surface, half-empty iced coffees, lip gloss tubes rolling across the desk, leopard-print throws draped over chairs. nothing is organized, yet they know exactly where everything is.

work for thembo!reader . . . leopard nurse with dennis whitaker ♡ flirting over shots with dennis whitaker ♡ my sweetest girl with frank langdon ♡ what are you up to? with dennis whitaker ♡

best paired with . . . any characters in the tags.

request . . . open.

taglist . . . @userhotd @avasarchve @ravensreadingrecs @i-t0ld-ya @chronic-fangirl-222 @blondewhoresworld @nerdypinupcrystal @filthgf @blessorte @amourflores @antlerlove @aconstructofamind @cosmosnkaz @voidsuites @qardasngan @aerangi @itspbjellytime @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @agustd202204 @deansdeer @fangirlcentral1 @pervyangelz @rafs127 @222col @dreamersentity @cup1dssorrow @mimisitaugu @bitemysin @priyesstuff @s4yuriii @lover-of-books-and-tea @puppyinlace @4ria790 @m-angelou @doll2kiss @nr1-apple-lover @prismozo @esmeraldalopez0 @meetmeatyourworst @m4rk-ofcain @legalmente-loca-blog @kill3ill @beausling @starr-jazz @ohtiramisuu @blasianbarbiedoll @rh1nestcned @buckysrighttit ( to be added )

deadpool!reader. . . is twice's biggest fan and won't hesitate to blast their the feels song during fights.

deadpool!reader. . . is a walking headache. no one knows whether she's technically a mercenary, an antihero, or just someone who keeps stumbling into world-ending events. she accepts jobs for money, refuses jobs that involve hurting true innocent people, and has somehow become a name whispered equally by criminals, heroes, and the people at her favorite taco truck. half of New York swears she's insane but the other half is too busy wondering how she survived getting hit by a truck yesterday.

deadpool!reader. . . has her appartment looking like chaos. katanas lean beside shelves overflowing with comic books, plushies wearing tiny superhero capes, stacks of vinyl records, motorcycle helmets covered in stickers, and fake flowers stuffed into empty bullet casings. don't even ask her how many weapons she's hiding in here.

deadpool!reader. . . is a softie at heart. she secrelty loves when people are worried about her getting killed, even though it's not happening any time soon.

deadpool!reader. . . is the avengers' unofficial problem. she accidentally interrupted them during a mission while jumping off of a building and instead of introducing herself like a normal person, she knocked off the villain they were chasing and yelled, "don't worry, background characters! the protagonist is here!"

work for deadpool!reader . . . incoming.

꒰ best paired with . . . any characters in the tags.

cowgirl!reader was born and raised at her papa's ranch and that's where she works now; during rodeo season, during summer. that's probably her favorite place on earth.

cowgirl!reader doesn’t trust forecasts but she trusts the wind. she’ll step outside, squint at the sky, smell the air, and say, “storm’s comin’,” while everyone else is still checking their phones; and she’s never wrong.

cowgirl!reader knows how to be alone without being lonely. long drives down empty backroads with just the radio and her thoughts don’t scare her. in fact, they settle her. the silence, the space, the sun-drenched nothingness; it’s where she remembers who she is.

cowgirl!reader can gut a fish, patch a tire, and drive stick better than most men who’ve tried to impress her.

cowgirl!reader doesn’t do slow with her feelings, she just hides them well. she’ll fall for someone in a heartbeat and spend the next six months pretending she hasn’t. acts like nothing’s serious, like every kiss is casual, but her heart is riding shotgun every time. she’ll bring you coffee before your shift, remember your dog’s name, fix your busted taillight; and never once call it love.

work for cowgirl!reader . . . lost boy (rafe cameron) : hold my beer (dennis whitaker) :

best paired with . . . any characters in the tags.

requests for cowgirl!reader . . . open.

taglist . . . @userhotd @avasarchve @ravensreadingrecs @i-t0ld-ya @chronic-fangirl-222 @blondewhoresworld @nerdypinupcrystal @filthgf @blessorte @amourflores @antlerlove @aconstructofamind @cosmosnkaz @voidsuites @qardasngan @aerangi @itspbjellytime @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @agustd202204 @deansdeer @fangirlcentral1 @pervyangelz @rafs127 @222col @dreamersentity @cup1dssorrow @mimisitaugu @bitemysin @priyesstuff @s4yuriii @lover-of-books-and-tea @puppyinlace @4ria790 @m-angelou @doll2kiss @nr1-apple-lover @prismozo @esmeraldalopez0 @meetmeatyourworst @m4rk-ofcain @legalmente-loca-blog @kill3ill @beausling @starr-jazz @ohtiramisuu @blasianbarbiedoll @rh1nestcned @cakeofhorrors @buckysrighttit ( to be added )

eater!reader who grew up at the very edge of town, where the cornfields swallowed the road and the house paint peeled in long sunburnt strips. kids at school thought she was just quiet and teachers called her sweet. nobody noticed how she never ate at lunch.

eater!reader who tried to starve it out at first; skipped meals, chewed ice, bit the inside of her cheek until it bled just to focus on something else. she thought maybe if she denied herself enough, whatever lived inside her would shrink but it never did, it just waited.

eater!reader whose aesthetic looks soft but feels untouchable: thrifted cardigans, sun-faded denim, long lace dresses, boots worn thin at the heel, hair that smells like wind and gasoline, a silver cross under her collarbone, a silver ring she twists when the hunger starts creeping up.

eater!reader who loves deeply but carefully. she memorizes the shape of someone’s hands before she memorizes their face, she pays attention to the way they laugh, the way they sigh when they’re tired. she tries to store those details somewhere safe inside her, separate from the hunger.

eater!reader who grew up in a house where love felt fragile: her mother started double-locking doors after the first incident, and her father turned his eyes away from her. he never called her a monster but he looked at her like he didn’t know how to save her.

work for eater!reader . . . bones and all (dean & sam winchester) ♡ the memories (art donaldson) ♡ the dynamics (bucky barnes & sam wilson) ♡ little red thing (peter parker) ♡

request . . . open ﹏ best paired: characters in the tags.

taglist . . . @userhotd @avasarchve @ravensreadingrecs @i-t0ld-ya @chronic-fangirl-222 @blondewhoresworld @nerdypinupcrystal @filthgf @blessorte @amourflores @antlerlove @aconstructofamind @cosmosnkaz @voidsuites @qardasngan @aerangi @itspbjellytime @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @agustd202204 @deansdeer @fangirlcentral1 @pervyangelz @rafs127 @222col @dreamersentity @cup1dssorrow @mimisitaugu @bitemysin @priyesstuff @s4yuriii @lover-of-books-and-tea @puppyinlace @4ria790 @m-angelou @doll2kiss @nr1-apple-lover @prismozo @esmeraldalopez0 @meetmeatyourworst @m4rk-ofcain @legalmente-loca-blog @kill3ill @beausling @starr-jazz @ohtiramisuu @blasianbarbiedoll @rh1nestcned @cakeofhorrors @buckysrighttit ( to be added )

Royalty!Reader was raised not behind locked doors, but with open gates.

Their parents believed a ruler should be known, not feared—and so the future crown was allowed to wander the city streets, attend village feasts, learn names instead of titles. They were taught diplomacy and history alongside empathy: how to read people, how to listen, how to weigh justice with mercy.

They learned early that power was not command but responsibility.

Growing up, they were clever and curious, quick to laugh, quicker to defend others; never cruel, never careless. The kind of child who slipped bread to beggars and argued with tutors about fairness and now the kind of adult who still does.

Growing up, Patrick was never just a knight’s son to them. He was the one who ran beside them through fields, who held their hand when they climbed too high, who stood between them and trouble long before he wore armor. To them, Patrick was safe.

So they fell in love with him quietly. Not all at once; no grand moment but slowly, over years of shared glances, shared laughter, shared silence. They never said it because they assumed wrongly that there would always be time.

When their betrothal with King Art was announced, it felt like the ground shifted beneath their feet. Because they hadn’t chosen it, they hadn’t been warned. And suddenly, the future they never dared name was gone.

They never told Patrick: not because they didn’t love him, but because they believed it would only hurt him more to know they could never be together.

royalty!reader never quite learned how to stand still. even in council meetings, their fingers fidget with rings or fabric, a restless need for motion that only truly fades when they’re outdoors, running or dancing or riding with no destination.

royalty!reader feels deeply, but carefully. they learned young that emotions are dangerous when you wear a crown, so they fold their feelings inward, carry them quietly, and let them shape their kindness instead of their words.

royalty!reader dances barefoot on tables during feasts when the music grows loud and the wine flows freely. they laugh with their whole body, clothes gathered in their hands as they spin. the crown is nowhere to be seen, forgotten among empty cups. common folk cheer, nobles stare in disbelief, and the night feels weightless. somewhere at the edge of the hall, knight!patrick watches; amused, fond, aching and ready to catch them if they slip, even when they look the most free.

royalty!reader is braver than most realize. they don’t charge into battle swinging a blade—but they will stand between soldiers and civilians, speak when silence would be safer, and refuse to look away from suffering, even when it costs them sleep.

royalty!reader and patrick move around each other with an ease that only comes from a lifetime of knowing. they don’t need to look for one another in a room; patrick already knows where they are, and royalty!reader always knows where he’ll be standing.

best paired with knight!patrick or king!art but open for any other characters from the tags.

work for royalty!reader : headcanons (x knight!patrick) :

taglist . . . @userhotd @avasarchve @ravensreadingrecs @i-t0ld-ya @chronic-fangirl-222 @blondewhoresworld @nerdypinupcrystal @filthgf @blessorte @amourflores @antlerlove @aconstructofamind @cosmosnkaz @voidsuites @qardasngan @aerangi @itspbjellytime @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @agustd202204 @deansdeer @fangirlcentral1 @pervyangelz @rafs127 @222col @dreamersentity @cup1dssorrow @mimisitaugu @bitemysin @priyesstuff @s4yuriii @lover-of-books-and-tea @puppyinlace @4ria790 @m-angelou @doll2kiss @nr1-apple-lover @prismozo @esmeraldalopez0 @meetmeatyourworst @m4rk-ofcain @legalmente-loca-blog @kill3ill @beausling @starr-jazz @ohtiramisuu @blasianbarbiedoll @rh1nestcned @buckysrighttit ( to be added )