#HELP... i guess i really just needed to draw something not human to get out of my art block 😭😭😭

[lightbroughtinbuckets]

julance day 2 /// "Curse"

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There's the faint din of the party in the distance, alien bugs chirping off in trees somewhere. Light from this planet's two moons shines down across the gorgeous slopes of hills and the points of gently swaying trees. And yet, none of it compares to the raven-haired man who sits besides Lance, hand threaded through his, expression soft and open in a way that isn't seen often.

There's a slight furrow to his brows, a remnant of the brief but intense episode of overstimulation he'd experienced earlier. Despite it all, he looks as handsome as ever. Lance wishes he could trace every jagged line of Keith's body and commit it to memory. Better yet, draw it into the sky, a brilliant constellation he could point out to their kids one day���assuming they live through the war.

The thought clouds Lance's mind, a sudden hurricane brewing beneath the surface.

It slips out before he help it, before he even really registers his lips moving or the ticklish vibration of his vocal chords.

"Do you ever feel like we're cursed?"

It's a hushed whisper, a quiet admission that wasn't meant to hold any space in the universe.

As if on instinct, Keith's head swivels, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. His gloved grip tightens its hold on Lance’s hand, flexing mindlessly.

Then, he scrambles, frantic to explain the thought, capture it in his grasp before it spirals out of control. "You know, don't you ever feel like who you are like on fundamental, foundational level, is just wrong? As, like, a human being?"

Shit. He's just digging himself deeper into this hole of self-loathing.

Something flickers across Keith's face—confusion momentarily, then concern settling into his features. "Why would you think that?"

"I, uh, I dunno," he waffles, gesturing vaguely. "The way I was raised... the things we've done... don't you ever feel like you've been cursed to suffer every line of this pathetic existence?" He tries to play it off with a laugh, but Keith's grave expression doesn't falter.

There's a brief hesitation, then, "I guess I can understand where you're coming from." A sharp inhale. "But you, Lance, of all people? You aren't a curse, and you aren't cursed. You're just human. Our greatest privilege in life is to hurt endlessly and love so deeply. Without the suffering, we wouldn't know joy—or, at least, we wouldn't appreciate it as much as we do. Isn't that... sort of beautiful? Or, uh, that's what I have to tell myself."

"Yeah, I mean, I get it," he sighs. He doesn't really, but he can contemplate that another time. "But isn't it unnatural to feel wrong on a fundamental level? Like there's a stain on my soul and no matter how much I try, no amount of scrubbing, of blood, sweat, and tears, can erase it. I'm unfixable and knowing that hurts so badly." He stops abruptly, hands frozen mid-gesture.

"Lance," exhales Keith. Lance is pretty sure he can hear the cartoon sound effect of a small fracture traversing the surface of Keith's heart. Velvety fingers find his cheek, brushing his skin gently. Keith's eyes are a vast storm of emotion, one that Lance wouldn't mind getting lost in.

"Lance," he repeats, as if he's afraid not saying it once more will let Lance venture too deep into the whirlwind in his mind. "How could you ever think that? You are every star in my sky and every burst of sunlight I could ever be graced with. You matter so much to the people around you."

In spite of the torrential downpour that's occurring within the confines of his mind, one age-old belief slips past.

"I don't deserve them. The others, I mean. Our friends. My family." His voice cracks with emotion at the hushed admission, and his eyes sting with unshed tears.

Keith pulls Lance into a firm embrace, his grip tight on Lance's frame as if to reassure him that he is in fact needed. He feels Keith's breath warm against his shoulder, the rise of his chest pressed against Lance's.

"You do," he says, hushed, just loud enough for Lance to hear. "And even if you didn't deserve them, you don't have to. You just have to let us love you."

His words are a poignant shock to Lance, a ten-foot wave of icy water startling his entire system. And Lance lets himself give to the tides, lets the water crash over him and wash away the pain and the doubt from his rocky shores.

Involuntarily, he grips Keith tighter, afraid if he lets go now that he may be pulled away by the tide, too. Afraid that he'll lose sight of his lighthouse if he looks away for even a moment.

"I don't deserve you," is what slips past his lips.

Guiding his chin with one finger, Keith presses a gentle kiss to Lance's mouth. "Well then, it's a good thing I love you. And I promise you, Sharpshooter, that will never change."

Tears spilling down his cheeks, Lance pulls Keith into a deeper kiss that's equal parts sweet and salty.

And for the first time in his years spent on the ground and in the sky, with Keith’s steadying arms around him and the night holding its breath to allow them a momentary respite, Lance lets himself believe—if only a little—that maybe love is more potent than any curse.

[starflungwaddledee]

some rather strong first impressions were made.

required reading for the magical "voice" headcanon and another for starstruck's signature in particular. asked by @trainerbob23 !

[uhlillie]

i usually dread rendering backgrounds sooo much but something snapped inside of me after looking at beautifully painted stucky fanart that i locked in immediately... 😭🔥

[bigfatbimbo]

Silly request but imagine helping Bill "groom" his triangle self. Gently wipe him with a cloth. Carefully dip it in the little space between the bricks, can't leave that zone unclean! Alternatively, a classic soapy bubble bath. Silly straws included, what the hell, he's probably drinking the bath water and listing the chemical ingredients back at you while you gently rub him clean. Fun times

The Bug Collector

1.1k words,, Bill Cipher x reader

a/n — Procrastination killed my soul during this, I think it turned out okay, though! Sorry for typos, your girl is tired.

warnings — SFW, post!weirdmaggedon, as ‘fluffy’ as you can get with Bill cipher, he is his own warning, kinda toxic relationships, fluff and bill being pathetic

summary — Reader assists a recently fallen Bill Cipher in self care, despite his general all-mighty asshole-ness.

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, a water-tight barrier most commonly known for muscle attachments, and its use to shelter and protect the insects gushy insides from its harsh environment. 

The exoskeleton of a triangle was for mostly for aesthetics, as the underneath was far more horrifying than anything in the harsh environment around it. Or so the triangle claims.

You dipped a soapy sponge into the bucket in front of you, as bill propped his feet up on the bathtub. 

“You conquer worlds and destroy planets, but yeah, why not draw the line at cleaning yourself.”

“Please, what better way to make use out of my new human pet— partner, than this?” He corrected loudly and purposefully. Then looking to the side, he mumbled, “And besides, kid, you have no idea how hard it is to clean between the bricks. Euck— So many blind spots.”

The first part was a throwaway reminder that he had far more power than you in this dynamic, something you’d picked up on Bill casually doing in his time with you. 

Being roommates with a butt-hurt demon, given the ending of weirdmaggedon, allowed you the privilege of being more cautious than previous humans were with Bill. For example, you’ve taken to keeping track of his repeated habits and patterns. 

On of which, just so happened to be reminding you how small you were compared to him. 

You jabbed the sponge in-between on of the bricks, “Ow!” He narrowed his eye at you, “Watch it, pal. I’m starting to think you’ve never cleaned a triangle before.”

“I’d hate to give that impression.” You softened your hold on him, “Delicate work, I always say.”

And it was delicate work. After his defeat, he’d been roughed up a surprising bit, powers even weakened. 

Weakened.

“Not too delicate,” he shot you glance. Guess he’d heard that thought process. 

Although, most days he’d seemed to be in a thought process of his own. Weird.

You cleared your throat, “How often does this even need to be done?”

He blinked, “Well, let’s see. Once every—“ he waved his hand around “—few hundred years. Very high maintenance, do not recommend it.”

High maintenance, yeah. At this point, Bill had taken to talking about some other topic, you hadn’t been really listening, something about intergalactic food joints.

Every once and a while he’d bring up something that happened with one of his ‘henchmaniacs’ before getting slightly irritated at the lack of presence in his life now, and changing the subject. 

Bill was interesting to study, you couldn’t lie. His eyelashes curled away from each other, like the mangled legs of a recently dead spider. His hands were very present when he talked, like most people of business. His body flicked side to side slightly at certain moments. 

You became more gentle naturally, taking care of every crevice, and for some reason Bill becomes gradually quieter.

“Something wrong?” You asked, not stopping.

Bill blinked, “Eh, been a minute since i’ve had a human servant. Maybe, I was thinking of other things you can help with!”

You sigh, “Yeah, because i’m your servant. As if.” In your mind, your thinking do the fact he was your roommate, in your house, eating your food. 

“Hey, don’t get all butt-hurt. You’re all ants to me, buddy, nothing to be ashamed of!” His eye flicked back and forth between you and the room.

Then you stop scrubbing, “Bill, I might as well be your landlord.” You know he can read your thoughts, so you make a point to justify yourself. Already weakened from his failed apocalypse, anything other than vague respect for you would land him homeless. Most likely, his response to this would be killing you, but there’s only so much he can do afterwards. 

He’d have a place to stay, but with no electricity or heating, and in his damaged physical form he actively does need those things. And trying to get a new human would be a hassle, and unlike you, no guarantee they’d let him stay there without calling the authorities.

“Yeesh,” Bill remarks, “Buzzkill… You are still a bug compared to me, though—“

You drop the sponge in the bucket, “I think you’re done.”

He looks taken aback when you pull away, “What? Come on, over the bug comment? Jeez, buddy—“

“No I mean you’re actually done,” you gesture to his body, now shining and slick with soap suds. “I got everything, there’s nothing else to do.”

You go to turn around before you feel a small hand grabbing for the back of your shirt. 

“Wait, wait!” He breathes, eye flicking from side to side, “… You have to dry me off first.”

He looked slightly panicked, like if you stopped taking care of him now, you’d leave and never come back. Your thought process earlier couldn’t have helped. 

The way he scurried and gasped for you was reminiscent of panicked earwig and a rock is lifted up. The comparison should have grossed you out, but it kinda just made you feel a little bad.

If he was paying attention to your thoughts, he didn’t show it. This would have usually given you the impression he’d wanted you to be thinking the way you were, but he seemed a little wrapped up in his own head. 

“Come on, kid. Don’t tell me you’re gonna kick me out because I asked you to dry me off. One last thing and then you don’t even have to talk to me the rest of the night! Sounds like a good deal, right?” 

His slightly desperate looking sales pitch was met with a sigh, you picked up a dry towel and began to pat the soap suds off of him. His body slowly breathed in, making it look like he was sighing, but no noise came out.

You wondered then if he was actually touch-starved, but cut your thoughts there because this time he had nothing better to do then pay attention to what you were thinking. 

“Ouch, i’m not that desperate, pal.” But he was.

His exoskeleton was dry, but you didn’t stop patting him down. His eyelid shut slowly, and the spider-legs on them curled into each other once more. 

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, but one of a triangle seemed to simply be for aesthetics. 

However, on some rare occasions, it possesses the same desire for love as human bodies. Only, when very desperate, of course. 

[rainebelowzero]

Steve Harrington x Male Reader

not a request

notes: I think this is the first time I've written something where you're explicitly dating the person, yippee 🥳 also this is supposed to take place between S3 and S4, I think it's kinda vague but that's what I was thinking of when I was writing this

♡ blowjob (reader receiving), multiple orgasms, facial, nipple play, a few mentions of angst but nothing serious ♡

.....

..Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen…This isn't helping. You think, staring up at your ceiling in the dark, trying to tire yourself out. It had been...exactly 4 days since you've slept a full 8 hours, and the people around you have been starting to notice.

After everything that's happened, it was hard for you to sleep, so you normally stayed in bed, unable to close your eyes. What made it worse was that you were home alone. Your parents respected you as a responsible adult, which was good but you really didn't want to be home alone.

You had considered calling your boyfriend or one of your friends, but it was late and you didn't want to wake them up. You felt guilty asking one of them to come over.

So you lay there. Dealing with it on your own. You'd fall asleep eventually. Hopefully.

That's until a faint sound comes from downstairs. You try to ignore it. Maybe it was from outside, it happens sometimes. Or maybe the house was settling. Or maybe-

The sound happens again. The creaking of the wooden floor downstairs. Your parents weren't supposed to be home until later the next day, so it couldn't be them.

You stayed still for a second, hoping, praying you weren't about to be taken by some kind of monster. You think about the others. You'd be gone without a trace. Alone. You refuse to go out that way.

You reach out into the darkness, knowing exactly where your bat is. You creep down the stairs, seeing the vague shape of a figure moving in the almost pitch black of your living room.

As you get down the stairs, you notice that it's pretty..human shaped?

You lean towards a lamp, yanking the chain to turn it on. You and the figure jump seeing each other, the man spinning around to face you. Your eyes need to adjust to the light, though it's faint, but you squint at the man.

“Steve?”

He grins sheepishly. “Hi.”

You let out a relieved sigh, dropping the bat down next to you. You didn't realize, but your hands are shaking, Steve drawing your attention to it as he notices and grabs your hands, squeezing them. His hands are warm, very warm, and he looks at you with guilty eyes and a frown.

“I'm sorry I scared you, I just..I couldn't sleep and I wasn't really thinking about how that would scare the shit out of you. I just needed to see your face.” He apologizes profusely.

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He returns the action immediately, and you take in his weirdly super soft sweater and his warm, inviting scent.

“It's okay. I couldn't sleep either.” You respond, your voice muffled as you stay close to him. You pull away a little bit, suddenly confused. “Wait, but, how'd you get in?”

You knew he had a thing for crawling in through windows, but none of yours were open.

“You gave me a key, remember?” He says, pulling out his bundle of a bunch of keys, jingling it a little bit.

You nod. You genuinely forgot you did that. Pulling fully away from him, you drop down onto the couch, sliding closer to him as he does the same.

“Is there a reason you couldn't sleep?” You ask. He shrugs, running a hand through his hair.

“I'm not sure. I've just been pretty restless, I guess.” He looks away from you, and in the dim, warm light of the still, silent living room, you can tell there's something he doesn't want to tell you. Maybe it's the same way you feel. Like you'll close your eyes and suddenly one of your friends will end up missing. Like you won't be there in time to help.

You slide a hand over his and give it a squeeze the way he did for you. He looks back to you, smiling softly. You glance over to your TV, before standing, stretching your arms a little bit. You grin at Steve.

“Let's watch a movie.” You say. You pick a random comedy to lighten the mood and slip it into the VCR, sitting back on the couch. The two of you stay snuggled together, enjoying each other's presence. The faint sound of rain against the ground comes from outside, and you feel way better than you did before with Steve there.

A little further into the movie, you feel the urge to be closer to him, so you hold him tighter, your arm around him and your other hand on his arm, gently running your fingers along it. You can feel the muscle underneath his sleeve, and you give his bicep a small squeeze.

He glances over at you and you laugh softly. He gives you a grin and goes back to watching the movie as you lay your head on his shoulder. Throughout the movie, your hand moves from his arm to his chest, running your hand along his body. He doesn't mind, just turning to press a kiss to your temple and letting you basically feel him up. You slip your hand under his sweater and the shirt underneath, and he jumps a little bit before laughing.

“Your hand is so cold. What are you doing?” He asks playfully.

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Nothing. I can't touch my boyfriend?”

He gives you a suspicious eyebrow raise and looks away, back to your TV.

You move your hand up a little bit underneath his sweater and shirt, and he shudders a little, but doesn't acknowledge it. You pull your hand back, and he sits forward, lifting the sweater over his head. His shirt rides up a little too, and you can see the start of his happy trail, eyeing his body as he tosses the sweater aside, then pulls his shirt off too and sits back down.

You go back to touching him, and he laughs a little bit as you give his chest a soft squeeze. He turns towards you, kissing your forehead. He raises a hand, gently cupping the back of your head as he presses kisses to your face.

You lean forward, kissing his shoulder. Sliding into his lap, you place your knees on either side of his legs, kissing up his chest and then to his neck. His hands go to your waist, holding you as you kiss up to his face, purposely kissing everywhere but his lips. He gives you a fake pout when you pull away.

“What?” You laugh, and he laughs with you, dropping the facial expression.

“You missed a spot.” He responds.

“Did I?” As you say that, he pulls you closer, capturing your lips in a needy kiss. You hold his face gently, Steve kissing you like it's the last thing he'll ever do, like he's dying of thirst and you're the only thing to relieve it.

Your other hand rests against his chest, and your fingers run over one of his nipples a few times, making him groan into your mouth. You knew how sensitive they usually were, and you keep flicking your fingers against his nipple as the bud starts to harden and perk up. You do the same for the other one, switching hands. You pull away for a second, taking a breath before going back to kissing him, rolling his nipple between two of your fingers.

His hips buck up a little bit, and you roll your hips against him to pull more desperate sounds out of him. He gently puts a hand over yours to stop you as he catches his breath.

“Can I suck you off?” He asks, his voice almost a whisper. You grin and nod, climbing off of him. You shove your pants down eagerly while Steve gets on his knees in front of you, hands resting on your thighs. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart a little bit. One of his hands strokes you through the fabric of your boxers, and he gently pulls your cock out, pressing his lips to the head. His lips wrap around the head, tongue gliding along it as he slowly strokes at the base.

You run your fingers through his hair as he takes more of you into his mouth. He lowers his head more and more, until you're fully into his mouth. He pulls your cock all the way out before swallowing it down his throat, bobbing his head and using his tongue to lick against the underside of it. He gags a little, but keeps going, his eyes tearing up a little. You thrust into his mouth, pushing his head down lightly, still letting him do it himself for the most part.

His lips are slick with his spit, dripping down his chin as he releases muffled moans around you. You groan, holding his head in place for a moment, and he lets you thrust yourself into his mouth roughly, staring up at you. The eye contact makes the heat in your stomach grow, and you pull out before you can get to your release. Steve catches his breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He grins up at you while you calm yourself down.

“Getting excited already?” He asks teasingly. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Shut up.” You respond in a joking tone, leaning down and kissing the man on the lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. He sits back on the couch, and you're instantly back on him, kissing his neck and squeezing his thigh.

He sighs in pleasure, and he pulls his pants off, dropping them on the floor. He turns onto his stomach, pushing his hips back against your dick. You grab his hips, grinding yourself against him a little before pushing his underwear down, revealing his plush, hair covered thighs and thick ass. You spread him open, showing his tight hole, already slick with what you assume is lube. He lets out a soft whimper that he tries to cover.

“Did you already prep yourself?” You ask, kind of surprised.

He turns his head back a little to look at you, half nodding. “I tried to make myself tired, but it didn't work and then I was super..” He trails off, looking for the word.

“Needy?” You finish, giving his ass a squeeze. He moans softly.

“Yeah. For you.”

You giggle lightly, grinding your cock against his hole as it clenches and unclenches around nothing desperately. Steve lets out a few soft gasps, burying his face in his arm as his heavy cock hangs between his legs, tip rubbing up against the couch. You notice and pull your shirt off, sliding it under him so he doesn't ruin the couch. That'd be really hard to explain to your parents.

You almost want to stay like this forever, watching this gorgeous man beneath you grind his ass back against your cock, hole slick and ready to take all of you. You hold him still, guiding yourself into him. Steve groans as the head pops in, and you slowly, almost painfully slow, slide your cock into his ass, his walls inviting you in, holding you snugly.

He has to resist the urge to whine, your dick stretching him out so good, nothing like his fingers. It was exactly what he was craving, legs shaking as you push in to the base and pressing so deliciously against his prostate.

You start to move, thrusting in and out of him before pulling out to the head and slamming yourself back into him. He moans loudly, back arching. His fingers claw at the arm of the couch as you pound into him, your thick cock bullying its way into the man's tight hole each time, pounding against his prostate.

Steve is practically seeing stars, and you have to reach forward to cover his mouth, not wanting your neighbors to hear how loud he's being. He moans loudly into your palm as you dig the nails of your other hand into his hip. He fucks himself back on you and you feel him tense up as he cums without warning, spurting all over the shirt you placed under him. You don't slow down even a little, completely abusing that sensitive spot inside of him and making him twitch and whine from the overstimulating pleasure.

You keep stretching his hole wide, and Steve swears he can feel you in his stomach, knowing he definitely won't be able to walk afterwards. The sound of skin against skin fills your living room, Steve's muffled moans bordering on full on yelling sounding like absolute music to your ears.

He lets out a loud, heavy sob as he tenses again, squeezing tight around you and cumming again. His eyes roll back before his head falls against the arm of the couch. You stop covering his mouth, the only sounds he's letting out being soft, breathy whimpers and desperate gasps for air.

You pound into him a few more times before pulling out and getting off the couch, pumping your cock as you grab Steve by the hair, yanking his head back. He looks so thoroughly fucked out and he sticks out his tongue as you jerk yourself off over his face, groaning as you shoot your hot load all over his face. He moans weakly, swallowing what he could catch in his mouth and dropping his head back down when you let go of him.

He pants heavily, as do you, catching your breaths, when you notice that he's still hard, cock rubbed red against your bundled up t-shirt. He lifts his head enough to look at you, and wiggles his hips a little, silently begging you to keep going. You get back up. You had a lot of time before your parents got back, after all.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtyNine

prompt from @mugloversonly @after-the-end-times @spectrum-spectre

It’s a little odd having a birthday banner hanging across the Christmas Tree, but everyone was pretty determined that this is Eddie’s birthday, and that’s a totally different thing to Christmas Eve. So everyone is here; Joyce even baked a proper birthday cake, and now they’re doing the thing where they bring out the cake and everyone sings.

It feels bittersweet to Steve; Eddie’s first birthday. It was a year ago today that Steve pulled Eddie out of the pool. A year ago today Eddie came back to him. He remembers vividly struggling to get Eddie up the stairs. Cleaning all the filth off him. How he’d looked, with no hair at all, all skin and bones, wobbling his way down the stairs. The noise he’d made the first time he ever tried bacon; the startled look on his face the first time he’d ever hiccuped.

Eddie stays where he’s been put, sitting at the head of dining room table, proudly wearing a Birthday party hat. Eddie’s been to a couple of birthdays this year, mainly for the kids, so he knows what’s coming. He looks fucking delighted at the sight of the cake, but he still checks, “I can blow out the candles?”

“Yeap,” Steve tells him.

“Make a wish first!” Joyce calls.

“I wish-”

“Nooooooo!” probably half a dozen people yell, “keep it a secret or it won’t come true,” Robin adds. Eddie stares hard at the candles for a long second, and then he looks up, finding Steve. Steve can see the moment Eddie settles on his wish.

He’s still staring at Steve when he blows them out.

“So...things with Eddie are good then?”

It’s a little uncomfortable, but all the stuff that happened feels like it was a long time ago now. Nancy has definitely been making an effort to build a fresh friendship, and Steve can’t fault her for it, not really. Steve finds Eddie, he can see him through the doorway into the kitchen, making something with Robin and Chrissy, “yeah everything is...great. Like really great.”

“I was...a little surprised, you know?”

“Yeah that’s...understandable,” and it is. Eddie is literally a creature from The Upside Down; he didn’t even look remotely human to begin with, half of him was literally a fish. Plus Steve’s never really been interested in guys before, but he guesses there must have always been a little something there for him to take to it so easily. Granted the circumstances forced his hand a little, and he’s still had a couple of things to work through but...he feels pretty good about it. Besides, Eddie still isn’t even really human, so it probably doesn’t exactly count. Not with his lack of nipples and his downstairs situation anyway; you can’t exactly try to stick Eddie into a category...he’s Eddie, a unique and perfect thing all his own.

In the kitchen, Robin spills something, Chrissy shrieks and Eddie manically dashes for a cloth, cackling. The chaos of it makes Steve smile at them; everyone is at least a few drinks deep, Steve’s sure.

“You really care about him though?” She presses a little. Nancy’s never been able to just let it go, especially if she doesn’t understand it. She always needs to know, Steve’s pretty sure it’s not a nosiness thing; more an understanding thing.

“Yeah, yeah I love him,” Steve tells her unabashed, it is the truth, “he loves me too.”

“You’re sure it’s not just...I mean you did rescue him, plus, where would he even go if you weren't together-”

“Are you suggesting Eddie has some sort of-of-of Stockholm syndrome?” Steve can’t help but laugh, a little incredulous at the suggestion.

“Well no, I just. Think you should both be sure-”

“How are you and Jon then?” Steve cuts her off. He chooses to lean into the spirit of Christmas and assume that Nancy’s concerns all come from a good place. Even so, it’s not a good intention Steve has to tolerate if he doesn’t want to. He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting.

Nancy draws breath, like she’s not done, but then clearly rethinks it and chooses her battle, Steve can see the moment when she decides not to pursue it, sipping her drink before she replies, “yeah, really good,” over her shoulder, Eddie, Chrissy, and Robs have their heads together, the conversation clearly turned serious.

“That’s good Nance,” Steve chooses to be the bigger man, “I’m just really glad you’re both happy,” he tells her pointedly. In the kitchen, Eddie’s turned to find Steve, watching him back. Steve can’t quite decipher the look on his face, but Robin’s clutching his arm, on her toes, speaking urgently to Eddie. She looks kind of panicked, which immediately worries Steve.

“Well, I mean, obviously I want you to be happy, I mean I’m glad, really glad it all worked out for you.”

Eddie has a look on his face that Steve’s pretty certain he’s never seen before. He can’t quite work out what it means other than...Eddie’s pissed. Like, really fucking angry. And he’s marching closer, shaking off both Robin and Chrissy in the process.

Steve has no clue what’s happening as Eddie approaches, pushing Steve away from Nancy to press him against the wall and then...kisses him. Steve has his eyes open, not sure what to make of Eddie’s rage, but he soon lets them slide closed. He melts against the wall. Eddie’s kissing him like he’s got something to prove. He’s almost bitey as he sucks at Steve’s lips, leaving little scrapes that don’t quite break the skin. The passion is surprising, but so fucking hot Steve leans into it fast, matching Eddie’s energy and he sucks on Eddie’s tongue, curling his fingers around Eddie’s hips to pull him closer, no longer wanting to stop to question Eddie’s motives.

Eddie pulls back, pink and flushed, an inch of space between them, panting for breath Eddie asks, “you and Nancy used to be together?”

“I-” Steve can’t help his gaze flicking side wards to Nancy, and then back to Eddie, Eddie’s eyes narrowing at the sight, something flashing in the depths, “yeah?” Steve confirms weakly.

Eddie presses closer, his claws pricking Steve’s skin through his clothes; Eddie’s never been possessive like this before, and Steve is...well they’ve had a lot of sex, and Eddie pressing himself against Steve like this, kissing him like that...Steve’s body is only reacting the way it always does, which is a little mortifying in a room full of people.

Eddie leans his face closer again, his hair brushing Steve’s forehead, his breath warm as he growls, “you had sex with her?”

“Eddie!” Steve splutters, but apparently even that is too much, Eddie has him by the wrist, not quite painful, but very harsh compared to Eddie’s usually gentle nature. Eddie turns, pulling Steve along and he...bares his teeth at Nancy, actually hissing at her on the way past.

“Eddie!” Steve starts again, shocked, this time a reprimand, “be nice!” That’s no way to behave, and Nancy is unnerved enough that she takes a big step back. Steve is dragged along behind Eddie, ending up locked into the downstairs bathroom together. Eddie pins him against the door with his body, kissing Steve soundly.

“Baby,” Steve starts, his words broken by kisses, “what’s gotten into you?”

Eddie just growls. It’s not a sound Steve’s ever heard before, and he can feel it, rumbling in Eddie’s body where their chests are pressed together, “need you.”

Eddie starts nipping at Steve’s throat, stinging kisses that makes Steve’s hips roll, looking for friction against Eddie’s thigh. His brain feels like it’s going a little mushy, Eddie’s being unusually forceful, and Steve’s vaguely aware that everyone is still out there and, probably, are now very aware that they’re shut in here together but...as Eddie’s questing fingers find the button on Steve’s jeans, he’s struggling to care about that stuff.

“We’ve got to be quiet,” Steve breathes out, a final token protest, giving in to what's about to happen. Eddie huffs dismissively, tugging down Steve’s jeans and underwear together, Steve angling his hips away from the door to help. Eddie abandons them there, bunched around Steve’s thighs, surging up for another possessive kiss. Eddie grabs Steve’s bare ass with both hands, his claws digging into the meat a little as he squeezes, pulling Steve against him.

“She not touch you again,” Eddie growls against Steve’s mouth, words choppy, “promise.”

“I...I promise baby, of course,” Eddie stares into Steve’s face, their warm breaths mingling as Eddie inspects him from inches away, like he’s searching for any hint of a lie, “no one else ever again, I swear it.”

Eddie nods once, sharply, before spitting into his palm and grabbing Steve's now, very hard cock. He had no idea he’d be into this, but possessive, bossy Eddie is lighting him up in a way he didn’t know he’d like, his brain turning to mush a little as Eddie touches him. He feels too warm, flushed and sweaty already, the world narrowed down to Eddie’s touch on him, hard and fast, intent on getting him off.

“And you,” Steve’s mouth is insisting before his brain catches up, he needs it, needs to make Eddie feel good too. Eddie doesn’t stop jerking him, but he does slow it down, leaning back a tiny bit, giving Steve space to reach past the bend of Eddie’s own arm to get to the button on his jeans.

Steve sees the fabric move. He can see Eddie’s cock desperately wriggling for freedom beneath his zipper. Eddie’s told him before that it gets real uncomfortable real fast, and Steve tuts quietly, “baby.”

Eddie’s cock forces it's way free before Steve even has the zipper half down, already having found it’s way through the slit in Eddie’s boxers, it rushes into Steve’s fingers, greeting him eagerly and tangling itself firmly there. Eddie groans, shuffling close again. The head of Eddie’s cock opens, setting sucking kisses on every part of Steve’s hand and fingers it can reach. They arrange themselves as Eddie’s hand speeds up again, “fuck, baby, yeah.” Steve’s cock is leaking, making Eddie’s hand slick, but Eddie still stops to spit again, landing the glob on the exposed head of Steve’s cock. It’s red already, and Eddie squeezes, forcing Steve’s foreskin up to roll back up and partially cover the swollen head.

Steve’s guts are tight already, the muscles in his ass and legs tensing, he can’t stop the shift of his own hips as he works his thumb in circles across the head of Eddie’s own cock. Eddie jacks him again, slow and so firm, forcing a massive dribble of pre come out of the head of Steve’s cock. Steve groans again, “baby, I’m gonna’-”

“Wait,” Eddie uses his free hand to push Steve’s hand off himself, letting his cock to wriggle free between them. It stands tall, searching, the black petals rippling.

Eddie angles Steve’s cock out, pulling the head down and towards himself, and Steve instantly knows what Eddies planning, “oh fuck baby, yes, yes please.” They’ve never done this before, but just the idea of it makes Steve hips shift, his balls going tight, the orgasm bubbling at the base of his cock, “please, now,” Steve vaguely aware that he’s whining, loud and desperate.

People can hear; he doesn’t give a fuck. He wants this.

Eddie’s cock latches to the head of Steve’s, the black petals stark against the dark pink spongy head. The fit is perfect, the slit of Steve’s cock, the head, being suckled and gently rubbed by all those little bumps, the sucking pulse feels like a mouth, the texture incredible. Eddie drags his hand upward, forcing Steve’s skin up again, his foreskin sliding over top of the petals. Eddie makes a choked noise, his free hand scrabbling again at the meat of Steve’s ass. Steve desperately locks his knees to stop himself from falling. The pulsing, sucking, pulling sensation is relentless.

Eddie moves his hand again, dragging Steve's foreskin back down, revealing the filthy sight of those jet black petals cupping the head of Steve's cock, the body of Eddie's cock writhing. Steve’s head thumps back against the door, his hips wriggling now, unable to stop himself moving in tiny little thrusts, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve groans, “baby-”

Eddie leans up for a kiss. It’s messy, uncoordinated, both of them groaning and panting into each others mouths, and Steve cries out against Eddie’s lips as he comes. The pull is sharp, the stimulation on the head of his cock turning frantic as, just like with Steve’s spit on his cock, Steve’s come works to push Eddie into his own orgasm. Eddie accidentally catches Steve’s lip with his teeth, and the sting is delicious. His orgasm seems to go on forever, Eddie's cock suckling fiercely, and Eddie’s hand working him so perfectly.

Eventually, Eddie slumps forward onto Steve, Steve using his back to the door to keep them both up. “That was…” Steve starts, but doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t know how to describe what just happened. It was maybe the best orgasm of Steve’s life.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, muffled where his face is smushed into Steve’s shoulder. The head of Steve’s dick is suddenly cold, and he figures Eddie’s dick has gone back in. They stand there for a few minutes, Steve rubbing Eddie’s back, gathering themselves. Eddie clears his throat, lifting his head so he can look Steve in the eye, “I’m sorry.”

Steve frowns, brain still a little flooded with happy chemicals, “what?”

“For before. I just...I found out about you and Nancy and I got...I got so angry. It,” Eddie makes a motion between them, a churning of his insides that he can’t express, “I’ve never felt like that before it was...like I hated her. And I needed you and I don’t understand-”

“You were jealous, baby?”

“I...yeah, it was horrible. And stupid- I didn’t – there’s no-” Eddie huffs, struggling for the words.

“How you feel doesn’t always make sense. There’s no...rules, you know.” Steve frowns, remembering, “should probably say sorry to Nancy though, you like, hissed at her which, kind of funny but still.”

Eddie looks a cross between horrified and mortified, “I don’t even remember.”

“Wow,” Steve can’t help being smug, “got it bad for me, huh?”

Eddie limply slaps at Steve’s chest, sighing through his nose, “shut up.”

Steve hums, “uh huh. We should get cleaned up.”

“Probably.”

They peel themselves apart, Steve leaning to grab for some tissue off the roll as Eddie starts to pull his pants down a little, but as Steve investigates, his finds his cock dry, “huh, where did it go?” He wipes up a little, the skin tacky with spit and precome, but otherwise everything is clean and dry, “uh...is my come on you? I can’t, uhm, find it?” He tucks himself away, pulling everything up so he can help Eddie.

“I don’ t think so?” Eddie replies, touching himself, his slit, the crease of his thighs, when Steve goes to wipe at him with the tissue, since Eddie usually makes a lot of come, there’s nothing, “I’m clean,” Eddie tells him.

Steve frowns, “did you come?”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, “I definitely, definitely did. That was…”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “but you’re dry?”

“Yeah,” Eddie scissors his thighs together, something he normally does when he’s spreading all the jelly like come about, “nothing there.”

“This is weird, where'd it all go? And why haven’t you, you know?” Steve feels for himself, running two fingers gently along Eddie’s slit, pushing in to part him the tiniest bit, Eddie makes a breathy little noise as Steve pulls away, “you sure you came?”

“Steve,” Eddie replies flatly, pulling his pants up and buttoning them.

“Right right it’s just...weird, right?”

Eddie shrugs, “makes it easy?”

“Yeah...don’t look a gift horse in the mouth I guess, considering we now have to go out there and face everyone.”

Eddie grins, “I like that they know.”

“Of course you do,” Steve sighs, fixes his hair in the mirror, and opens the door.

It’s after midnight; Eddie’s birthday is officially over. All the kids have gone home with Hopper and Joyce, and before everyone else heads home, since it’s Christmas, they’re going to exchange gifts now.

Steve had been, mildly mortified after they came out of the bathroom, not really wanting to face Joyce's raised eyebrows or the girls giggling...Eddie however, has been strutting around like a proud peacock, so Steve hasn't been feeling too ashamed about the whole thing. He is however, glad of the distraction of the gifts.

All the gifts are stacked under the tree, and Steve has been voted to distribute. A lot of the labels have been made from cut up magazine letters so that the hand writing won’t be recognized; to Steve they vaguely look like ransom threats.

They go around the room, opening their gifts one at a time, trying to guess who got them. They mostly work it out. Steve isn’t that interested in his own; he’s more interested in what Eddie got. The box is actually kind of heavy, and it’s pretty big.

Eddie opens it happily, pulling out a record that Steve knows he’s wanted for ages. And then...a denim jacket with no sleeves that Steve knows he was eyeing at the thrift store. Steve watches with mounting suspicion as Eddie pulls out a book he's talked about. The box, now Steve’s thinking about it, is wrapped with very familiar wrapping paper.

“Eddie, you got loads, they definitely didn’t stay on budget. Who got Eddie? Steve, was it you?”

“No, no it wasn’t me,” Steve quietly chuckles to himself. He half listens as Robin goes around the room, and every single person denies getting Eddie.

“Whoever pulled your name must know you pretty well, huh Baby? They got you exactly what you wanted.”

“Yup,” Eddie grins happily.

“Steve, come on, it must have been you, it wasn’t any of us.”

Steve just shakes his head in denial before turning back to Eddie, “baby...it’s kind of against the rules to pull your own name.”

Eddie frowns, “no it isn’t,” the whole room erupts into laughter around them.

Steve tries to clear up some of the aftermath, but it’s nearly two in the morning and he can’t be fucked really. He collapses on the couch, finishing his now warm flat soda. He can hear Eddie pottering, “we should go to bed!” Steve calls. He’s not loud, not much above speaking volume really, but he knows Eddie will hear him.

“Can we do our gifts now?” Eddie asks from the doorway.

“Sure Baby, if you want to. We’re going to be out most of the day tomorrow anyway,” they’re spending Christmas with the Hopper-Byers brigade, and Steve is kind of looking forward to it. Eddie’s second ever Christmas.

Steve heads off to his hiding place in one of the spare rooms to get Eddie’s gifts, Eddie does the same; Steve knows his are stashed out in the utility.

He’s been pretending not to know.

“Okay, me first,” Eddie says, sitting and pulling out what Steve knows is the record. Steve eyes the gift he has from Eddie; just the one, but it’s fairly big looking. Square. Steve has no idea what it could be.

Eddie likes the record; he absolutely loves the book of Metallica tabs and almost leaves to get his guitar right there and then, but Steve stops him, “tomorrow baby. We really need to sleep after this.”

Eddie laughs at himself and his own excitement, agreeing. When he opens his final gift, the guitar pick necklace, he puts it on immediately and swears he loves it so much he’s never going to take if off. Steve’s glad to hear it, even if it makes him feel, momentarily, a little weirdly possessive.

“Okay, this first,” Eddie pulls over the box, “Chrissy helped me,” he admits as Steve unwraps it, carefully pulling out the frame inside. It’s wrapped in soft packing paper, and Steve pulls that away to reveal his crown. It’s been artfully arranged behind the glass, all dried now, the tufts of grasses stand tall, still twined up with all the little flowers that Eddie had included. Clearly someone spent a very long time carefully setting it out, and it looks beautiful. Steve had carefully stored it away in a shoebox, so he hadn't even noticed it was gone. He’s...touched, by the memory of them in the woods around Hopper’s cabin. Eddie had told Steve he loved him for the first time not long after.

“Thank you...it’s so thoughtful. Thank you. I can hang this up and remember it forever, I love it.” Eddie smiles, slipping off the couch to kneel in front of Steve. Steve sets the frame down.

Eddie pulls a little velvet box out of his pocket, “I didn’t understand what it meant,” he starts slowly, “when you put this on me,” he lifts his left hand, rubbing at the ring with his thumb. “I didn’t know what being engaged was, or weddings or...any of it. I didn’t know, but you loved me anyway, and I’ve never taken it off,” Steve swallows thickly, he knows, he knows in his bones where this is going, but he lets Eddie speak. If Eddie’s saying so may words in one go, it means he’s really thought about, and Steve won’t interrupt him. “But I know now. I understand all of it, and I know I’m a guy, and...we can’t get married, but I...wanted to show you that I know. I know now, and I love you too.”

Eddie opens the box, it’s a simple silver band, thicker than Eddie’s but still, it matches. Steve isn’t sure he’d be able to speak, his eyes already feel wet, so he silently holds his hand out for Eddie to slide the ring on; it fits perfectly.

Steve feels like he’ll crack open if he tries to talk about what he feels right now, it’s too big, too much, “you measured my finger didn’t you. Before the mall? So sneaky.”

Eddie nods, his own eyes looking suspiciously misty, smiling and biting at his lip, clearly nervous, “do you like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I love it, thank you. I love you.”

Eddie smiles, sitting up for a kiss, “love you, too.”

Part FortyOne

[fuctacles]

<< 12 | 0 | 14 >>

There's thunderous knocking on the door and it startles Eddie out of his sleep.

He needs a moment to readjust, but Robin isn't the type to give anyone even a second, so his brain catches something about a nut before it's quiet again. He blinks at the white ceiling above him.

"What."

"She said she's gonna grab some bread and doughnuts from the bakery," Steve murmurs next to him so he turns his head, suddenly remembering that he's in his friend's bed, and it's the day of their little party. 

He immediately snatches his gaze back up. 

"Why the fuck are you naked?!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry," Steve rolls in the sheets to cover up some of his body. He doesn't sound very sorry. "Must have shifted in my sleep."

Eddie eyes him with curiosity. 

"You weren't naked last time."

"Huh?" 

Steve lays on his side to listen to him, and with his bare chest and tousled hair, he looks way too relaxed for the circumstances. It is his bed, duh, but he's looking at Eddie all naked and sleepy and it feels... not wrong per se, but it makes his stomach churn in a new way. 

"When you slept over at the trailer, you had clothes."

"Oh," Steve frowns, trying to remember that day. "I guess I changed to use the bathroom and didn't bother turning back."

Eddie raises his eyebrows. 

"So you draw the line of doghood at peeing outside?"

"Don't call it doghood," Steve scrunches his nose in distaste. "I couldn't open the front door with my paws anyway. Otherwise, I do pee in Dinkleberg's garden quite often," he admits. 

"No way," Eddie grins at the information. "Do you shit outside too?"

Steve makes a face. 

"I did once. It felt too weird not being able to wipe, but his face was worth it."

Eddie bursts out laughing.

"You're so gross, man!" he says, pushing at Steve's shoulders so he loses his balance and falls against the pillows.

"You asked!"

"What if we—" a snort interrupts him and he falls forward, pressing his temple against his friend to find his bearings. "We can install a pet door for you? Wait, no, you're kinda big for that. If I wrap some rope against the handle, could you open it? I have a neighbor who really deserves some urine in his slippers."

Steve groans, pushing Eddie away.

"Well, who's being gross now?"

"I'm still not the one who shits in my neighbor's yard!" Eddie protests, but Steve is already leaving the bed with an indignant huff, and his body is suddenly on full display. "Dude!" he squawks, shielding his gaze from his friend's naked butt.

"Oh come on, we have the same parts!" Steve turns to him, but his dick moves along, making Eddie disappear under the covers.

"It's not about the parts, It's about human decency!" 

"Well, I'm not fully human, so..." Steve points out, but it does sound like he's opening his wardrobe. "And I walk around naked all the time."

Eddie thinks about it for a second. 

"Well, yeah, but then you're not—"

He cuts himself off. 

But then you're not attractive. 

"I'm not what?"

In his scramble for a comprehensive answer, Eddie escapes the confines of bed covers, hoping he'll provide more oxygen for his brain this way. But with his terrible timing, he emerges at the perfect moment to catch Steve's naked, bent-over ass just before it gets covered by a pair of boxers. 

Lord have mercy. 

"Not human," he finishes lamely, all coherent thoughts suddenly gone. 

Steve scoffs, turning around with his dick finally out of sight. 

"Yeah, I'm not," he agrees easily, way too easily, before grabbing a pair of jean shorts. "You can take whatever you want to wear," he motions to the open closet, already walking towards the door. 

"And for the record, I didn't shit in Dinkleberg's yard, I did it on his doormat," he adds before leaving the room, leaving Eddie to stare at where he disappeared. 

Eddie's glad their mismatched group includes people who know the basics of barbequing and he doesn't have to get involved. There's also the card of "I helped with preparations so fuck off" that he can pull anytime anyone gives him the stink eye. This way, he can keep his distance and just observe. His scheming seems to be paying off and the seeds he planted in the little goblins and the dog-man himself, had taken root. 

Steve sits on the warmed ground while Robin's hand is in his hair, and El feeds him whatever she didn't like from her skewer. He's heard Dustin praise the burgers. Dustin. Everyone has been contributing to making Steve feel more appreciated, either with words, physical touch, or even small gestures, like Max bringing him an extra Coke from the cooler. 

So that was all great. But among his observing, Eddie notices some new things too. 

Like Steve's hairy chest. How his muscles move with each movement and how he absentmindedly rubs on his scars. The way the moles on his cheek jump when he smiles and his shorts fill out when he bends. 

Has it always been there?

Or more importantly, has Eddie always been interested in his friend?

He'd entertained the idea of fancying men ages ago but shoved it aside at the way easier, less problematic prospect of women, their tiny skirts, and the wild rocker chicks. So the gay thing isn't the scariest part, but rather the fact that he wasn't aware. 

Now he can't help but think that his whole 'helping a friend out' thing had ulterior motives behind it, conceived deep in his subconscience. Getting closer to Steve, spending time with him, touching him, oh god he's been touching him so much. He'd look at his hands in betrayal if he wasn't holding food. 

He takes a bite out of his hot dog but finds it cold and dry, which makes him wonder how long he's been people-watching instead of interacting with his friends like a normal human being. When he looks up again, he meets Steve's gaze and suddenly realizes he's making very unattractive open-mouthed movements with his jaw. Eddie clicks his mouth shut and forces himself to swallow, but thankfully, Steve seems to find it more amusing than disgusting. 

Not that it would matter if Steve found him unattractive and repulsive or anything. 

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

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@ravenfrog

[paracosmicka]

might be a somewhat awkward question, so feel free to ignore, but how do you usually go about drawing stuff like kissing and cuddling? i would be curious to know your process, because you always manage to portray that stuff as incredibly soft and.. vulnerable? if that makes any ounce of sense. sorry if it doesn’t TvT

No you’re all good this isn’t an awkward question at all! Actually this is kind of a fun ask to answer bc I wanna know if any other people have similar experiences to how I draw lol.

First off, wanna say that there’s a one specific song I’ve listened to religiously for the past 3 years, and it's also the song I listen to most often while drawing sonadow. I feel like it’s encompasses almost the entire range of human emotion while somehow also being able to match exactly to any single specific emotion on that range.

Typing this out now my feelings and experiences with the song might be a little biased because it’s part of the OST for Signalis (which is such an underrated game and especially the soundtrack), but I feel like even if you haven’t played the game it can still give you this melancholic atmosphere. But really it feels like….I feel like there are words to describe what i’m trying to say but I can’t think of any other than like, … an “ethereal comfort”.

Okay sorry about that ramble I just really wanted to give you some context and also I need more people to play Signalis. But anyway to answer your question:

My “Creative” Process: featuring symptoms of autism and insomnia

I like that people use words like “soft”, “intimate”, “tender” in the replies and stuff of my art because (while that is the intention behind a lot of my art) it makes me think about the actual process that took place while I was drawing and if that in anyway impacts the viewer interpretation.

I might have talked about this before on my blog, but if so I can’t remember. So I wanna ask any other artists (or actually just people in general) if they do this too or if it’s something Not Normal because it does concern me sometimes lol. Like it’s probably not that uncommon, but I’ve just never seen anyone talk about this before:

I always (like 90%) fall asleep while I draw, it’s never usually for long, sometimes I just doze off for like 5 minutes, but more often I get a lot of half-hour naps in. It most likely, probably, definitely, literally guarantee is because I do things that, maybe don’t encourage, but definitely make it easier to not stay awake. I listen to more calm music while drawing, all of my canvas templates absolutely cannot be white and instead have to be a warm color with both the saturation and brightness really toned down so it’s like a comforting hazy-yellow. I also have all the lights turned off in my room, especially in the day, because I hate the light-reflection on my iPad screen while I draw.

I know I just listed all those things I do like they were intentional but I only just recently realized I do this because someone pointed out how my background colors are always like a soft-yellow which is apparently not common and I was like “oh yeah I guess you’re right”.

So, to be honest, I’m not really sure how I do draw sonadow kissing and cuddling other than…I just do? I’m sorry I know that’s not very helpful 😭 Like, literally the only tip I can think of is “try to be really eeby and neebies to sleeby” while drawing soft gay hedgehogs, 10/10 doctors highly recommend and another cool perk: no nightmares (at least so far, I always get warm and nice dreams 💖)

I definitely like to use references tho lol. Kids, if you run out of Heartstopper clips or any other cute kissing scenes in your favorite movies and shows, don't be embarrassed to go on Youtube and search “makeout scenes” and watch almost all 300 videos in a playlist that definitely seems like it was created like a bot, because sometimes those are the only references you’re gonna get for kissing animations.

Well, I think that concludes this edition of Unnecessarily Long Dissertation Papers by Paracosm, thank you for the ask anon!!

OH ACTUALLY sorry for promoting another Spotify playlist but I made one specifically for Soft, Vulnerable, and Intimate Sonadow Vibes™️ because as much as I love using my regular sonadow playlist I needed one for pillow and blanky time. It’s got The Red Gate and a lot of other songs with similar vibes so here’s that if you wanna listen :3

WAIT SORRY ALSO???? A friend said that my playlist is the most liked sonadow playlist on Spotify apparently 😭 but I actually don’t know if that’s true I’m just surprised that people actually save it to their libraries (970 likes last time I checked I didn’t even know that many real human people were on Spotify) bc it’s like a million hours long and there is no consistency at all like the music genres will switch from borderline-hyperpop MGNA Crrrta to soft instrumental OSTs to the loud unidentifiable noises of Nero’s Day at Disneyland/Lauren Bousfield’s music.

Okay actually done talking now, I love answering asks because everyone is always so fucking nice and sweet I have teared up at times but because they make me feel so many things every time I sit down to answer one I probably use a good hour or two writing everything out and then quickly proofreading so that my one coworker that follows me on here won’t bully me in public for being an idiot.

But seriously tho, feel free to send me any asks you might have, you are literally never bothering me I love reading you guys’ messages 😭💖!! I wish I had more time to answer all of them but just know I check my inbox at least once a week and try to read all the new ones. My goal is trying to answer at least one a day, which doesn’t always happen but at the end of the week I always make sure to put myself in a Saw trap to answer at least a couple 💖 Seriously just thank you for all the support I feel like I don’t say it enough I love you guys and I love talking with you guys and I love how everyone here is so nice and we can all be cozy and enjoy our gay hedgehogs ☺️

[revelboo]

hey, im the anon that originally asked for bluestreak content and i wanna thank you- reading what you've written for him has gotten me through so much these past few months. i picked up some scans of mtmte awhile back and was looking through some for drawing references of the scavengers and i! didnt!!! know that he dies!!! and when i say it hit me really hard it hit me ufckin hard and just. i asked about him not knowing much about him outside of him liking movies nstuff, initially, and you fleshed him out to the point that my chest physically ached for awhile after finding that out last night. hes come to mean a lot to me in a short amount of time and ALL THIS TO SAY: TLDR: your grasp on character writing and world building is impeccable, its made me want to create- like REALLY create, drawing and writing both- for the first time in awhile- like picking it back up i mean. thank you, and take care of yourself this holiday, alright?

He’s a character that I’ve always liked. The chatterbox sniper that can’t stop talking. I’ve always figured the nervous chatter was a stress thing for him.

I’m glad you like my writing and if it makes you happy to create, please do

Where I Belong Pt 9

Bluestreak x Reader

• Anxiety cranking through him as he leans on Smokescreen and tries to keep his other hand on your legs where you’d perched yourself on his shoulder, he makes his slow, careful way to medbay. Wishes you wouldn't sit up there, because it spins him tight with the fear that you'll fall, and he won't be able to catch you in time. Especially now. You never seem to realize how small or breakable you are and it amazes and terrifies him. “Your human’s scary,” Smokescreen whispers and you make a noise suspiciously like a laugh. He’d never seen you so angry as when you'd demanded Smokescreen come back and take him to medbay, but scary? No, just worried for him and it means so much to him. A warmth that spreads through him and twines about his spark. Because that anger had been fear for him. Trying to protect him the only way you could.

• One hand braced on the side of his helm for balance, you're half tempted to lean out and shoot a dirty look at his buddy. The feel of Bluestreak's servos pressing against your legs and thighs convinces you not to, though. Most likely he'll think you're going to fall and grab for you, so you behave as he limps to medbay with his friend's help. But it drives home how small you are compared to them, how little you can actually do to help if Bluestreak really needs it. Maybe he could have made it here without the other Autobot's help. Maybe not. And if he is hurt worse than he's letting on, if Smokescreen had left him, you wouldn't have been able to get help. Too small to even get down from his berth or to work the massive door if you could find a way down. Helpless and you hate it.

• "I'm not going in there. Doc's been cranky about anyone waking his human," Smokescreen says as he stops shy of the door. Thanking him, Bluestreak lets himself in and slowly limps inside. He can't blame Smokescreen for not wanting to deal with Ratchet in a mood. But he's not expecting to see Ratchet sitting on the side of a berth, big frame curled forward and servos brushing a small form curled on its side. That gentle touch almost feels like something private he shouldn't have intruded on. Head lifting, the medic's optics are tired when they meet his. Like he's not recharged in a while. Growling as he pushes away from that small shape to point at an empty berth. "Do I even want to know?" Ratchet asks.

• "We ran into Skywarp. Prowl said the Cons were patrolling out there, but we had it timed to miss them. Guess they changed their routine," Bluestreak says, hand reaching to grab you and move you to the top of the berth so he can sit on the side. "It's not really that bad." Somehow the more he insists he's fine, the more you're sure he isn't. That he'd always play it off no matter how badly he was hurt in favor of worrying about others. "I mean, it's barely a scratch," he adds, wincing when Ratchet examines his shoulder. You have no idea who Skywarp is, but you can guess that he's not friendly. One of the Decepticons. For being so talkative and distractible, Bluestreak seems to make an effort to not talk about whatever's going on except in frustratingly broad strokes. You know the Autobots are at war. That the Decepticons are their enemies and that both are here on your world. That they're likely all that's left of their species and yet they still can't stop fighting. The why they're fighting to begin with, though? You haven't figured that out. Climbing up onto his chassis when Ratchet makes him lay back, you ignore the look the medic shoots you and sit with your legs against the mesh of his neck. Watching him tuck his chin to be able to see you and smiling for you. Not scared like the last time you were both here, not as lost.

• Ratchet's digging around under his plating to repair the damaged lines and it hurts, but he keeps his attention on you. The warmth of you distracting him from Ratchet's servos. "You're not allowed to get hurt," you tell him, and he smiles despite himself at how serious you sound. "You're just going to have to be more careful." Ratchet snorts softly as Bluestreak reaches up his undamaged hand to slide a servo against your cheek. Realizing you really are serious. Worried for him. Spark warming as you catch his servo and hold it to you, wrapping your arms around it while you stare up at him. And he doesn't want you to have to worry over him, to feel like you need to protect him when he should be protecting you. Doesn't want to see the shadow of fear in the back of your eyes that he can see now ever again.

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[saerins]

PREV: #005 THE ICE SURRENDERS 𖧧 #006: COMFORT IN FAMILIARITY 𖧧 NEXT: #007 TWO STUBBORN ꒰ series masterlist ꒱

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — there’s a lot going on in life. there’s a lot expected of you. both of you. sometimes love is all it takes. and sometimes, love is not enough.

content: itoshi sae x female reader. smut/fluff/angst. tw: making out, dry humping, oral (male receiving), profanity, they tiptoe around their awkwardness, lots of being needy, clingy, sae’s a little shameless & so are you. word count: 7.5k

༝༚༝༚ it’s finally here !! the next chapter haha to whoever’s still reading & waiting for this , thank you for still being here :’) i appreciate you more than you’ll ever know <3 also yay !! finally you’ll find out whether sae & bianca fucked :p (psa about taglist at the end of the chapter !!)

there’s something very foreign about waking up in peace. very foreign, but very welcome. 

sunlight filters nicely through the half-closed blinds of the guest room. the paint on the walls don’t chip, don’t leave anything for you to stare at, can’t wonder whether the paint job would come undone first before you.

the bed is soft. doesn’t have those annoying noises the springs make when you get up and stretch. the room is cold from the air conditioning, but the slight warmth of the sun that bounces on your skin is a nice contrast.

you feel light.

the events of last night leave much to your imagination. you have no idea if last night was too much, if asking for a kiss was too much.

but sae kissed you himself—it shouldn’t be, right?

you find you never quite know with him. you really should get out there and deal with it.

it’s 7am but something tells you sae should already be up. he’s a soccer player with a tendency to make the best of his days, there’s no way he’s not up and ready yet.

true to your guess, by the time you awkwardly peek into the living room, there’s a note waiting for you on the coffee table.

got a photoshoot till night, help yourself to anything in the house.

his penmanship leaves much to be desired, unlike the other parts of him. an indication of how little he actually writes.

sae could’ve just texted you this, but you guess even he’s feeling at a loss after last night.

which both of you think must be stupid; it’s just a kiss.

work is already settled for you. sumi offered to help you speak to mr tatsuji. the interview with sae early on really does work miracles. it’s so easy to curry favours now.

a three-day break from work because sumi thought you might need more time off so she conveniently told your boss that you’re nursing a fever.

where do you find friends like her at work nowadays?

you plop yourself down on sae’s leather couch, rife with the kind of comfort that’s alien to you. you definitely owe sumi one. sae, too. 

you’ll figure out ways to repay sumi soon. there has to be someone else on the team that you can convince for an interview under her name. you’re already calculating possibilities between oliver aiku and shuto sendou.

but as for sae, you find yourself drawing a blank.

what can you do for someone who already has everything? what kind of benefits can you extend?

you’re feeling even worse as the clock continues to tick, realising that you’d probably never be able to measure up to someone like him.

your feet carry you to the balcony before you know it, the chilly morning air hitting your face like the wake up call you need.

sae’s not really like anyone else you’ve known before. he’s a normal, sane-enough human—nearly the polar opposite of how eita is, though, so maybe that’s why your head’s devoid of ideas.

you groan, elbows perched on the wooden railing lining the edges of the balcony, palms pressed against your cheekbones as you desperately try to manifest an idea in your head.

he can lend you his shirt. he can extend a space in his house. he can give you that kiss he remembers you wanted.

but you can’t think of one measly idea of what to do for him in return.

you can think of one idea of how to get there, to get your answer, but you can’t shake the notion that it’s kind of stupid and kind of shameless. 

you juggle the degree to which each attribute bothers you and ultimately decide to just go ahead with it anyway.

“what is it, idiot?”

eita’s as friendly as always, on the other side of the line, voice a low rasp, obviously stirred from a deep sleep.

“can i ask you for your opinions?”

a sigh from the other line, as if he expects something completely stupid.

“yeah, sure.”

“and promise not to lecture me!”

eita pauses. you hear rustling on his end, probably getting up because he’s gotten curious and invested in the conversation now.

“depends, what the fuck did you do?”

he acts as if you’re the only one out of the two of you that does stupid, stupid things.

“nothing stupid, thank you very much.” (yet. possibly.) “but… do you have any idea what sae likes?”

it’s a long shot. a really long one. eita would probably have a better chance at guessing an AV star’s favourite dish. wouldn’t hurt to try, though.

eita makes a loud, confused noise. warranted.

you think.

“uh… i don’t know, bianca?”

a pause.

“i’m joking.”

it still hit your sore spot. the nagging reminder that there’s more to sae and bianca than meets the eye that just gets sprung back into the forefront of your temporal lobe.

“well, i’m serious!” you choose to ignore it.

another sigh from eita. you can practically envision him on his bed, duvet carelessly discarded to the side, scratching the back of his head.

“look, all i know is that he hates french fries and loves his routines, and oh, the only girl he’s ever admitted liking is momoko sakura.”

eita says it all in one breath and waits for your response like you’re supposed to appreciate it. the last one nearly made you vomit before you realise it’s a fucking tv show.

if you’re going to get help, you’re not going to get it from him.

“oh, he’s more of an ass guy than a boob guy, if you need to know.”

“what? eita!”

“i’m serious.”

you don’t really know whether you can trust him. even if you do, what the heck are you supposed to do with that information? jiggle your ass randomly in front of itoshi sae?

“thanks, eita.” you’re evidently bummed out. that doesn’t cancel out your actual gratitude that eita didn’t just hang up on you. you consider it a big enough surprise that he even tried.

“wait, why do you ask?”

his voice comes out all rushed, like he’s just now waking up and realising it’s not like you to ask him something like this out of the blue.

it’s probably not the greatest idea to tell him where you are and why you’re there, but you don’t actually like lying to your friends so you cough up the information without much persuasion.

“so what, are you guys a thing now?”

it’s fair of him to ask. you conveniently left out the kiss though, so maybe eita’s jumping the gun here.

“no, we’re just… getting to know each other.”

“uh huh.”

it sounds almost accusatory.

suddenly you don’t know what to say to the one you’re always talking around.

“well, if you need me, call me,” he says, more laconic than you’re used to. still, all things considered, you guess you can’t really blame him.

the discontent in his voice is apparent, the lack of intonation eating you up with guilt.

you retreat back into the living room, into the warm embrace of the single-seater, hoping that the softness of it would swallow the tornado in you up whole.

the rest of the morning is spent on your phone and laptop, between brainstorming ideas on what you can do for sae and replying to any of your colleagues who have no respect for the aspect of a time off.

after eventually deciding that nothing you think of can actually be good enough, you settle for just asking him straight.

yes, you’ll ask him later when he’s back and just be straight up with him about it. that way, you won’t waste your efforts on something vapid and sae would actually like it.

come afternoon, you dare yourself to fish out another shirt from his closet because you opened his fridge only to find absolutely nothing inside but a few bottles of salted kombucha. (which is absolutely not a qualifying substitute for lunch.)

it also won’t do for you to be wearing sae’s national jersey out to the supermarket and bringing more attention to yourself than necessary, so you tiptoe into his room even though he’s not there, in pursuit of a completely plain (or at least a more vague) t-shirt.

freely traversing his apartment like this makes you feel more than what you are, but you shake that thought away.

and there you were thinking eita was the one jumping the gun.

by the time the sun gives way to the moon and sae trudges his way back home—with a small spring in his steps that he can’t ignore—he walks into the apartment, reminding himself to say he’s home in the process.

it’s his first time coming back home to an apartment that’s not empty. it’s not something he thought he’d want to get used to. but knowing who’s on the other side of the door, he thinks it might be nice.

“hey, you’re back!”

there’s the usual uplifting lilt in your voice that he can’t ignore, can’t forget.

the sound of bounding footsteps that he can usually hear from the other apartments are infuriating but the ones that come from you makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker.

“hey,” he greets, the dull of his voice nearly being betrayed by the light in his eyes.

three seconds and you’re right in front of him, peering at him with inquisitive eyes. you do that cute head-tilt thing you always do when you have questions.

“what’s that?”

you point your finger in the direction of his neck, and he cranes his head toward the mirror hung on the corridor to see what you mean.

a big red lipstick stain on the side of his neck. or mauve, as the makeup artist calls it.

sae sighs to himself. so that’s what his assistant meant when she tried to call him back saying they’re not done with him yet.

“are you too eager to go home or something?”

that’s what she asked when he ignored them and left the set the moment everything was over.

“oh, uh, photoshoot.”

it’s always simple, his answers. what’s not simple are bianca’s natural reactions. he can just envision her face if she was in your position instead; the slight twitch in the corner of her lips, the pout that comes after to mask her disdain, the questioning to come.

that’s why it’s a built-in reaction for sae to elaborate.

“it was—”

“i see.”

you both speak at the same time. sae doesn’t know what to think.

the slight confusion on your face is represented by the raise of your brows, before it quickly gets replaced by a giggle, and then your fingers find the box of tissues and hand one to him.

“wanna wipe it off?” you ask. a simple question that makes him question a lot, actually.

only because he’s been conditioned to think all girls are a carbon copy of bianca behaviour-wise and you just happen to prove otherwise.

“oh! or did you want to wash up first?”

how long has he been standing there idly again?

sae just blinks as he stands in his doorway, stupid and dazed. he gets his bearings a few seconds later when you do that cute head-tilt thing in the other direction. he can’t stand seeing anymore of it or he’ll get an untimely reminder of how you tasted last night.

“yeah, i’ll go wash up, we can eat after.”

he still takes a piece of tissue without using it. he assumes you haven’t eaten dinner and only remembers he probably should ask first but he’s already closing his bedroom door behind him, his person of interest on the other side.

this idle state of confusion, of questioning his every move and every word; it’s not an experience he’s ever had before and he thinks it isn’t very pleasant.

on the field he never has doubts. always plan after plan, carefully crafted by the milliseconds. when something doesn’t work, he tries another. dribbles it past the troublesome one, pass it to one of his forwards. the one that can score.

it’s easy on the field.

easier than it is in front of you.

it still proves the same when he gets out of the showers, mind refreshed and vitality rejuvenated, only to come face to face with home-cooked dinner.

foreign, all alien, very welcome.

you’re rambling on about the three dishes you made and how you’re not sure if he’d like it. sae’s all in his head trying to think of excuses so that you can keep staying here.

for someone who’s spent most of his adulthood keeping people at arms’ length, your presence in his life now is half-exciting, half-concerning.

if he’s heard correctly from his assistant who nags him constantly about a possible budding love life at the height of his career, it’s how people get screwed over. how their plays get fucked up.

if she’s any reliable.

sae used to think he wouldn’t let anything come in the way of him and his career, because his career’s the only relationship he ever thought of having. until now. until you’re sitting on the side of the dining table that used to always be empty because he refuses to let anyone in.

until your smile paints the dull bland walls with colour for once and your food tastes unsettlingly like home. the kind of home he hasn’t visited in a while. the kind where it’s out of sight, out of mind that people don’t realise what they miss.

“how is it?”

you’re grimacing, like you’re expecting something bad. as if sae’s some sort of food critic. as if sae’s ever been anything but subjectively nicer to you.

“it’s not bad.”

really, he has nothing to compare it to. the last time he ever had home-cooked food was probably before he even started playing soccer. everything’s a blur when he tries to recall it, just the vague imagery of him and rin side by side with their legs dangling in the air of the high stools while their mother plates all the food he didn’t bother to memorise when he was, what, six?

he wonders if his brother remembers anything.

it’s enough strain on his mind that he’s finding this type of humdrum fascinating, when it’s with you. it doesn’t help that your hips brush when both of you wash the dishes together.

sae doesn’t really know what he’s doing and he only now realises that you went out earlier and got the groceries. he hasn’t thanked you yet, has he? should he?

everyday courtesy is lost on him.

it’s only after the dishes are washed and the countertops are wiped down that sae thinks maybe he should just express his gratitude.

“tha—”

“thank you, by the way.”

the both of you really need to stop saying shit at the same time.

you got it out first. sae’s such a loser. sae lets you continue.

“i know i’m imposing on you a lot, but…” your words get lost on you, and sae can sense the lack of explanation on your circumstances is a choice.

he wants to know you. there’s a stinging irritation in the back of his head knowing that otoya knows you better than he does.

it’s selfish. he knows. but sae’s always been selfish. in a sense.

“you can stay here as long as you need.”

it’s just sae’s pathetic attempt to ride on what you’re saying, to hopefully keep you here a little longer because somehow the walls don’t seem to suffocate when he comes back to you. the air seems clearer and the house becomes more like home, if he dares to say he knows anything of what that’s like.

he tries to gauge your reaction, trying not to crane his neck too far to the side to make it so obvious that he’s staring.

you’re comfortably perched on the couch, right next to him. there’s an annoyingly small gap in between you. he nearly misses the contact. your feet are on the cushion, hugged close to your chest, your eyes gazing at the little space of nothing between the air in front of you and his coffee table.

normally, he’d think that if someone extends an offer that they know you’d like, it’ll be taken without question. so he wonders why you still need to think.

his first guess is that you have a penchant need to not owe anyone anything.

his mind strays to how good you look in his other shirt. whenever you happened to take it. he’ll probably give you his entire closet if you ask for it.

half exciting, half concerning.

“thank you.” but you hesitate. you’re not looking at him yet. sae takes full advantage of that to look at you. at every smidge of movement in the muscles of your face. how your brows furrow half-heartedly, how your lips are pressed into a firm line.

he really wants to see your lips. want to taste them again. even if it means he has to go to bed and groan into the pillow instead of your mouth.

you give him what he wants when you start to speak again.

“is there anything i can do to repay you?”

there’s really no need.

sae shakes his head. “it’s fine, you don’t need to do anything.”

there’s a crease between your brow bones that beg to differ.

“no, really, i mean it. is there anything you need? anything you want me to do?”

there’s a really long, awkward pause as sae struggles to process your simple question. his adam’s apple bobs up and down. the walls and his glass windows start their suffocation game once more.

sae’s not sure you want him to tell you what he wants. he’s a visual thinker; and his mind isn’t anywhere but in the gutter.

between having a long day doing a photoshoot that doesn’t even interest him and having a female model as his partner when he keeps comparing her to you, sae can’t really keep it together after more than twenty years of keeping to himself.

he already has one of the couch pillows on his lap, just in case.

it’s already coming in handy thanks to what he’s thinking about.

sae shakes his head. “really, it’s fine.”

he’s half praying that you’ll just let it go so he can go back into the confines of his own room, feeling guilty that he’ll have to help himself to the thought of you but soothing his frustrations anyway.

the other half of him is praying for just you.

and that’s the part that’s alarming to him.

he nearly loses it when you shift, your elbow resting against the back of the couch, body turned to face him as if he hasn’t had a good enough look in his imagination that you have to bring it in real life.

yeah, he’s blaming you. because his brain’s short-circuiting and his synapses are failing him and he can’t seem to get his fucking eyes off of your lips.

he feels nearly shameless for staring at you point blank.

sae doesn’t know what expression you’re wearing now. he’s not sure he wants to know. are you offended or do you feel the same way you felt last night?

feelings can change like the season. or so he’s heard.

your voice is murmured; his thoughts are in the foreground. you say something along the lines of “what do you want, sae?” and he doesn’t have any of the carefully constructed self-control he’s had over the past few years.

so easily undone just by your mere presence.

“you.”

sae says that without thinking. it’s a chore, thinking. he keeps bouncing between shoulds and should-nots and it’s really fucking irritating.

“kiss me,” he tells you, more outright.

if you can tell him such a thing, you won’t punish him for saying the same, right?

here’s the spoiler: you don’t.

another spoiler: you feel like you’ve been waiting for him to tell you that all night.

barely a second into his request and you’re already fulfilling it. sae’s hand curves behind your neck, his calloused palm delicately placed on your skin. the other hand that’s free decides to pull you in, make it so you’re straddling him.

fuck, when did he get rid of the pillow?

your groan is enough indication that you feel him under you. the way he’s so stiff right now is nearly painful, only because the need it feels him with surpasses any sort of need he’s ever had.

both of you are half kisses and half pants. sae has no choice but to tip his head backwards as you roll your hips against his.

“shit,” he hisses, the hand on your neck crawling upwards to grab a fistful of your hair and tug it downwards. it doesn’t affect your hips in the least. why would it?

his other hand grips onto your waist, like he has to do that to make sure you stay there, make sure you keep moving against him. his eyes practically roll into his head, the sounds he’s so shamelessly making betraying any sort of stoic that he used to have in front of you.

a soft chuckle escapes you, and he pries his eyes open just to stare. the tilt of your face, the way your eyelashes brush against each other, that bite of your bottom lip—you’re a delicacy wrapped in his dreams.

“you’ve been thinking of this, huh?”

there’s a blush on his cheeks that he doesn’t let you see, releasing your hair and immediately letting his lips land on your neck. 

it feels nice to make you sound as undone, as needy as he is.

your chest pressed against him doesn’t do much to ease the tightening in his sweatpants. you still haven’t stopped rolling your hips.

right now it looks as if you’re the one with the better stamina.

his teeth latches onto your neck, head bowed, leaving a mark while you have to tell him to ease up a little on it. he’s learning.

he tries again.

better this time, from your lack of feedback.

“i hate what you do to me.” he sounds so stupid, so lost. it’s the vulnerability that’s annoying.

you try to catch your breath as he leans back against the backrest, both of you a bundle of nerves all out in the open. his hair’s mussed, but so is yours. sae’s still hard as fuck, a wet spot already formed on his regrettably light grey sweatpants.

maybe it’s your instinct that tells you to ask him your next question.

“have you ever done this before?”

you fail to clarify what this is, but if sae’s adept enough, you mean making out, and whatever else could happen after. humping. blowjobs. sex.

they’re all the same to sae either way.

“no, never.”

he’s still breathless.

you were halfway to catching your breath, but his admittal takes another pocket of air out of your lungs.

to sae, the silence that follows is painfully awkward. he’s good at guessing what players think on the field, but he’s an absolute goon at trying to guess what the girl he’s interested in is thinking when he just basically admitted he’s a virgin in all romantic aspects.

the only person that came close was bianca. and even then all they did was kiss.

this is the first time he’s ever wanted more.

“i don’t,” he pauses, his eyes momentarily fluttering shut as he thinks of ways to express this animal need to have you. “i don’t want you to repay me with anything.”

you settle your forehead on his, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. your breathing’s even. it helps him even his out too.

“but if you ask me what i want.” sae takes his time to shift his gaze towards you. your lips, your eyes. you’re so pretty it should be an insult to everyone else. “i want you to be my first.”

it sounds so fucking corny that a small part of him is shrivelling inside. it can’t believe he said something like that. he would’ve cringed if he heard it in movie theatres.

see how pathetic you make him feel?

“your first… what?”

he wants to chuckle. he knows you know. you’re probably being a little shit by asking him to admit it. but even so, he’ll give in to you.

because it feels right.

“everything.”

it could be that you don’t know what to say. it could be that you’re too eager. sae wouldn’t know.

but the way you kiss him next, the way you guide his hands under your shirt (it may as well be yours now), it knocks all wind out of his lungs, all the sense out of his brain.

for the first time, sae finds his hands on your bare chest. it makes a noise come out of him, one that’s equally greedy and needy. he gives it a squeeze, make sure you pay him one back.

your lips are on his lips but by now you’re barely kissing, more open panting and desperate hands pawing at each other.

he takes your nipple between his fingers, giving it a light pinch. your back arches, a sinful sight in front of him, one that he’ll probably have to use for a while if you’re not around.

how can one person have this much control over his desires? that’s a foul.

your hips resume their rolling just for a little bit only for them to stop when you pull back. your hand is on his chest, lips shiny from being subject to his mouth. sae already wants to touch you some more, both his hands relegated to his sides.

“i wanna suck you off.”

you say that so casually that sae’s doing the blushing for you.

if it’s even possible, he gets even harder, and you take the twitching you see as a yes.

you get on your knees in front of him, sat in the spot between his legs, knees folded against the cold floor. sae grabs your wrist before you can pull his pants down, committing himself entirely to the moment.

“take your shirt off first.”

yeah, that request—demand?—shouldn’t roll so easily off his tongue. yet here he is, letting it. the wet patch on his pants is shameful enough. what else does he have to lose?

he finds it near endearing that you don’t hesitate to pull his shirt off over your shoulder. sae’s eyes drag shamelessly over your breasts as he takes in the view. he nearly fails to stop himself from telling you to suck his dick already because it’s getting harder to ignore the wanton need it has for you.

nothing else has to be said.

you divest him of his sweatpants, his cock hitting his shirt as it springs free, near the spot around his bellybutton, the wet patch spreading on his old jersey. you’re looking at his cock, then looking at him, then back at his length—it makes him nervous.

the moment you wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft, he sucks in a sharp breath, head tilted towards the ceiling. it’s different than when he touches himself.

your fingers are smaller, more delicate than his. it feels good. feels even better when you give his tip a little kitten lick, and he’s almost sure you’re just experimenting now, just checking how he’s reacting to every single gesture.

sae’s doing everything in his goddamn power to keep it all together.

he can’t even look at you. that’s a sure fire way to end everything the moment he does.

a strained groan leaves the back of his throat as you pump his cock painfully slow. he doesn’t know if this is the norm. if it is, he hates it.

then comes what he’s been imagining: your tongue flat on his length, licking a stripe up his cock, your hand around it pumping a little bit quicker, still as gentle.

“shit, that feels good,” he finds himself admitting without much thought.

is he supposed to have any thoughts when you’re blowing him so impossibly good like this?

you don’t say much, and you can’t, not when your mouth slowly wraps around his cock and his tip starts hitting the back of your throat. your rhythm is steady at first, like it’s a tease, like it’s just a hell of an opening act.

sae’s hips start to buck upwards into your mouth, and you take it expertly. he dares himself to look at you when you start moaning around his cock, the sight of you so saccharine, so indulgent.

and then yep, there it is, the way his self control gets shredded into pieces, in the form of thick white ropes of cum in your mouth as he groans in resignation.

his eyes are still on you, this time he doesn’t want to look away anymore. he watches you as you swallow his cum, licking his tip just to watch him shudder in pleasure as he gets subjected to the slight over sensitivity.

your breasts still look beautiful. he still wants to play with them.

sae finds that maybe his courage got lost with his cum. it takes everything in him to pull you up onto the couch, this time back in your original position next to him. he kisses you, a blatant disregard for tasting himself on your tongue.

it catches you by surprise, he can tell. if the little squeal in your throat is any indication.

“i’m starting to feel like we’re in one of those landlord-tenant situations.” you’re probably joking. just like you always like to when there’s an awkward silence.

sae doesn’t really feel awkward though. so maybe this is something else.

“well, i mean, if that’s what you’re into.”

you playfully shove him away, rolling your eyes as you tug his shirt back on over yourself. a smirk finds its way onto your face.

“you’re still horny?” a rhetorical question. it’s only asked because sae’s still hard.

his walls are wider than it’s ever felt. than it’s ever been. than it’s ever allowed to be.

sae pulls his pants back on, eyes on you as you take mini steps towards his side of the apartment.

“what do you expect when that’s the best i’ve felt in my life?”

you stifle a laugh when even with his pants on, his tent is still so obvious.

you must be feeling a little bold, because you open up his bedroom door by yourself, giving him a look that he can only equate to come hither.

oddly, he doesn’t feel any sense of shame when his feet carry him to you. when his hands tug you into his room, when your feet tumble against one another’s and you end up on top of him on the bed.

he feels no shame letting you blow him again. he feels no shame letting you swallow all of him for the second time tonight.

there’s only a split second of bashfulness when he asks you to sleep with him. in the literal sense.

but you don’t see anything wrong with it. you don’t say anything. you don’t agree, you don’t reject. you only give a weak laugh as you lay beside him, his hair messed up to fuck and laying there questioning where all his stamina went.

you fall asleep within seconds, just laying there on your side of the bed.

sae takes one more chance at being shameless, wrapping his arm around your torso, letting himself fall asleep.

sae’s a winner.

he has a track record of all wins in all matches. he’s excellent at what he does. the calm and composed one. the one who has his shit together.

but right now he feels like a total loser.

sae brisks out of his bedroom, wondering if you treated him like a one night stand. even if he didn’t stick it inside you. even if he barely got a chance to help you.

jumping the gun, maybe, but he’s already thinking of ways to convince you that it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.

his brisk walk turns slow when he realises you’re just washing up in the guest toilet, an embarrassment hanging over his head at his slight overreaction.

when you waltz out of the bathroom, sae’s quick to act normal. can’t let you see any of his shortcomings just yet.

you spend yet another day at his apartment. this time, sae’s right there with you. doesn’t have to conform to any schedules, doesn’t have to wish the girl he’s spending time with is you.

because it is you.

turns out you also want to get to know him.

you open the windows and try meditating with him. the morning yoga comes right after.

“you really do this every morning?” you ask him while your body tries to adjust to the downward dog.

sae tries not to laugh.

“mhm.”

he runs slower than his usual speed later in the park. doesn’t want you to quit on him before you’ve even begun. you can only make it half his usual route and he acts like it’s normal, tells you you’re already very good.

sae squeezes in questions whenever he can.

slowly, at first. stuff pertaining to you and otoya’s friendship. stuff like university and middle school and how you slapped otoya he nearly quit being your friend.

you’re an open book when it comes to friendship.

you admit what you had with otoya was just physical, admit that you’ve never tried anything more, that it was a stupid phase and he’s really just a friend.

sometimes sae can’t help but wonder whether you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

he starts to ask about stuff you like when you’re preparing lunch together. he learns a little more about you the same time he’s learning how to chop vegetables right.

it’s harder than he thought.

both of it.

you used to like baking. you made some money with it. you love the smell of home cooked food and you’ve always wanted to try that bar you’ve heard about that serves killer sushi and is housed at the top of a skyscraper.

by the time sunset hits and the river that’s sold as part of his apartment’s view starts shimmering with the orange hue, he touches on the topic of your family.

that one, you’re not so keen about.

sae can tell from the drop of your smile and the light fading from your eyes. he tries to ignore it but he’s curious. aren’t they fundamentally who made you what you are?

he can’t help himself.

between the silences, all either of you can think about is what is this thing, between the two of you? but neither of you have the balls to ask.

the day is almost perfect.

sae doesn’t feel like he is who he always thought he was. he doesn’t feel like the revered soccer player that nearly everyone knows. he doesn’t feel like he has any larger-than-life obligations.

if this is what a normal day feels like between normal people, then he thinks maybe this is what he wants. the feel of you by his side, doing things together or even just existing.

there’s a calm you bring that he can’t find in anyone or anything else.

it’s different than the kind of serenity playing soccer gives him, but it makes him addicted all the same. his mind chants the same mantra the whole time—he wants you. just you. only you.

dinner’s ready and sae’s hungry. your stomach’s growling too, just as it was about half an hour ago. he’s placing the dishes on the dining table while you excuse yourself to check on your messages.

something about how your colleagues have no sense of personal space. something like that.

he expects to see you bounding out of the corridor as usual, a little hop in your footsteps. a hum to a tune he thinks you make up.

instead, what he gets is the heavy trudging of the heels of your feet, the same kind he gives oliver when he’s weary and groggy and just wants to go home instead of getting another drink.

sae’s a quick learner. he really is. he learned how to talk to you, learn more about you. he can learn how to tiptoe around subjects you don’t feel up for talking about.

but there’s this mulishly desperate part of him that aches to know more about you. especially when your expression shows a side of you he’s never seen.

he feels on edge. he feels out of the know. he feels like he has to know.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

your bag is looped around your shoulder, the frustration on your face eking into every part of your body. your movements are erratic, your arms swing by your side. it takes you too long to find your shoes in the genkan.

“nothing, i have to go.”

your voice quivers like you’re trying not to break. sae’s heart doesn’t know how to feel about that. his hand reaches out before he can consider alternatives. it wrestles to take hold of your wrist but you pull it away before he can get a firm grip.

“y/n, tell me.” he’s nearly pleading with you this time, his feet heavy in the entryway.

all he knows is that he doesn’t want you to go. doesn’t want you to feel however you’re feeling alone.

but he doesn’t know a thing about you when it comes to whatever this is. and where the walls expanded, they crash down all over him the same. you’re shutting him out, a punishment that he was pardoned off all along until this moment.

when you don’t say a word, just stand with your back facing him as you struggle to put your shoes on right, sae tries again.

his head doesn’t know when to tell him that enough’s enough. doesn’t know the little nooks and crannies of you that prefer to be left alone sometimes.

“oh my god, what do you want?”

this time, you turn around and face him, and he’s not quite sure how to process the fact that there are already tear streaks on the side of your face.

“tell me what’s going on, let me help you.” sae’s not sure either how he managed to say that without choking on his words. he’s a mix of fear and concern. like if he says a single thing wrong and you’ll slip away forever.

his words make your heart ache. they do. because you want to believe that. you want to believe he means it. but the excessively distrustful part of you, the one that remembers baring your heart out to your partner only to have it flipped around on you is the one that’s ruled your mind since the relationship ended.

protect yourself. even in the wrong ways. just leave them before they get to leave you. disappoint them before they get a chance to do that to you.

a scoff leaves your throat, more harsh than you intended it to be.

“help me? itoshi, you barely know me.”

your heart drops. you’re sure sae’s drops further. the words come out of you uncontrollably.

you’re sorry. very sorry.

“what can you help me with, huh?” the slight upturn on your lips is all sneer and vile and nothing nice.

sae only hears you out.

you wish he somehow hears the words you’re thinking instead of what you’re saying.

you’re sorry.

“listen, you’ve been very nice to me, thanks. i’m pretty sure there are lots of other girls out there more deserving than me, so really, i’m grateful that you wasted a couple of days on me.”

sae’s expression doesn’t change. a subtle mix of confusion and heartache and you want to kill yourself for being so stupid.

“but we’re nothing to each other, okay? we’re barely even friends! you don’t need to concern yourself about me.”

it’s like you can feel the effort that’s waiting to pour out of him. the kind that would threaten you to take a step back and pour your heart out instead of letting your sharp tongue loose.

you can’t risk that. you don’t think you can.

“the jig’s up. i tried making friends with you so i could get more scoop, okay? it’s easier for you to approve it if you like me. that’s all there is to it. so please, i’m begging you,” you pause, the words catching in your throat because you could never mean them. “please just leave me alone.”

that seems to do it.

the effort that was waiting to pour out feels like it stopped. sae doesn’t have any other words to say. he doesn’t waste his energy on stopping you as you leave the apartment, letting the heavy mahogany close behind you naturally.

you don’t look back.

sae doesn’t look away.

it’s foolish of you to think that an escape with sae could help. it puts things off. it doesn’t help. nothing does. you should’ve known better by now.

you rush out of his building, a haze of gormless mixed with desultory. you don’t notice anything or anyone else. not even the figure that stares at you in shock as you exit the lift.

these two days were the best days of your life.

now it’s time to wake up.

she’s both the reason and the bane of your existence. 

your mother desperately points towards you when you make your way towards your front door. she has absolutely no qualms about giving you up just so she can see another day.

there’s multiple men by your front door. big, burly men. a lean, muscular one stands in the middle, his hand holding a fistful of your mother’s hair.

it’s the first time you’ve seen them. you’ve lost track of how many loan sharks your mother knows.

it takes nearly half an hour and half a million yen to shut them up and get them on their way. not without the leader among them giving you a kiss on the cheek and a warning that you won’t get to save your mother so easily the next time.

pervertic. that’s what you think his thoughts are.

usually you’re magnanimous. you’d let your mother get a word or five in before you give up on listening. tonight, you’re not so.

she’s just ruined your perfectly constructed dream day with someone who seems so foolishly earnest you nearly feel bad for him having to associate with someone like you.

someone with problems like this.

you walk the same path. you lock your own door and slump onto your own bed. you can hear the annoying springs and the chip of the paint surrounds you. right now you’re coming undone faster than the paint.

it isn’t raining but you wish it is. maybe it’ll be easier to drown out the noise of you crying. right now you’ll have to settle for burying your head in your pillow, the only comfort of your earlier time spent with sae arrested in the confines of his shirt you wore home.

a call comes in and you forget to check who it is. you pick it up without much thought.

if it’s sae you’ll just hang up. he shouldn’t have to associate with someone like you. someone who’ll only bring him problems.

but it’s not sae.

“oi, idiot.”

you’d recognise the voice of your best friend anywhere, through any medium.

you don’t say anything. you can’t, really. not when both your nostrils are blocked and if you open your mouth you’d just make an insufferably pained noise.

eita doesn’t say anything for a while either. he only hears the slightly muffled sound of your sniffing. it takes him only a second to extend himself.

“spare key still under the vase?”

you let out a noise of acknowledgement. he’s your best friend. he knows how to tell apart your responses by noise. he should understand.

he does.

you hear the familiar sound of his kawasaki revving to life.

“wait for me, okay?”

you do. only because you can’t sleep and eita likes to speed. he’s good at riding his bike so you’re never worried. he makes it there faster than you think he ever did.

there’s no shrill nagging when he unlocks the door. your mother must either be asleep or she’s already off trying to make your life more of a living hell. either way, it’s good she’s not here.

fuck her.

when he comes through your door, his own set of keys for your room nestled safely in his keychain, he doesn’t say a word. he only takes his place behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder, resting his chin on your head as you involuntarily sob into his arms.

he doesn’t say a thing. doesn’t need to.

his arms are a comfort in itself.

it’s familiar. never foreign. never scary.

re: taglists — since it’s been a while, i’ll discontinue the old taglist & start a new one :) it’s cool if you don’t want to be tagged anymore ! if you still do, just let me know !! but please make sure you are 18+ and have your age somewhere obvious & visible on your blog <3

[pancake404]

Thoughts on Chapter 4 of Poppy Playtime

This isn't a drawing like I usually do but since I managed to play Chapter 4 blind without any spoilers, I felt inclined to share my thoughts about Chapter 4.

Right after I first played it, I, of course, a fan of the game, thought it was the best chapter in the series. But after the excitement died down a little, I put some more thought into it and read others' reviews on Chapter 4.

So here are my totally serious opinions you should absolutely think are facts as I am never wrong.

Insane Spoiler Alert for Chapter 4!

Pretty much the Chapter:

The Doctor bullies you and everyone else throughout the whole chapter.

Doey, the ally turned enemy as he tweaks out after we might've caused the Save Haven to blow up.

Every Smiling/Nightmare Critter watched JJK apparently because all they do is JUMP YOU.

We continue the trend of almost every toy we've encountered dying indirectly or directly by the player.

Prototype makes fun of everyone as he pulls the most epic prank and reveals he's been Ollie for presumingly a long time now(who would've guessed) so every plan Poppy discussed should be thrown out the window because he already knows about it.

Huggy is back to give us a warm reunion hug after we kind of unintentionally dropped him fifty stories.

Now starting with the central characters:

Player Character:

At this point, they are without a doubt, questioning their existence as all they came for(presumingly, I'll get to later) was to see if their coworkers were still in the factory by an unknown, vague note. Now, they're tied up in a conflict between the toys and they're helping out Poppy(semi-forcefully as there weren't many options) by killing the Prototype and freeing the..."still alive" human Orphans(X to Doubt) kept asleep by the Prototype.

Their name is still unofficial, where they worked in the factory is still not confirmed though hinted to be one with the lab coats, and even Dr. Sawyer is questioning why they even returned.

I do like how the Doctor questions the player's morals and reasons for coming back since these questions have been lingering in some people's heads as well. It's also been explicitly clear that there's something different about the capabilities of this unknown employee as the Doctor states that he was trying to figure out what made the player so different.

Speaking of the Doctor, Harley Sawyer.

I liked him.

He was a really cool villain with interesting dialogue and his views on the Player as he constantly tests them. His voice, the TVs, his behavior, it all made him terrifying and strangely attractive to certain people in the fanbase.

However, I do agree that there could've been a little more done with the Doctor and the concept they went with. The TVs could function like cameras alerting Yarnaby if we get spotted such as the trailer of Yarnaby implied, we can have optional dialogue from Harley depending on our actions throughout the game(or just more of it), or we could have one main controlled TV robot that Harley uses to defend the system holding his consciousness.

I also do agree that his death was a little sudden and underwhelming compared to the chase leading up to it. You just press a button after running a bit and he screams. Then no more.

But overall, a nice addition.

Yarnaby:

I like Yarnaby as well, it was a shame he died halfway through the game as I would've liked to see Yarnaby try to defend Harley when we tried to shut him down rather than him getting caught/stuck/bit on some chains and randomly combusting into fire...I think we may need some more visual clarity on how that happened unless I wasn't looking closely enough.

But the way he moved and functioned always put me on edge and it fit well to what he was described in the ARG.

Is it bad that I wished the Doctor killed Yarnaby instead to mirror the Prototype killing Catnap?

Pianosaurus:

Dude got cheated so hard.

Like actually, it's kind of funny.

I can see why people were disappointed when his one shot in the trailer was literally his whole screen time before Doey killed him a second later. I think most, myself included, would've preferred if Pianosaurus, someone they've hyped up to be an antagonist for Chapter 4, had an area where we have to survive from him and when he backs us up in a corner, then Doey would've saved us from death. Similar to Miss Delight except Doey is the executioner instead of the player.

Doey:

He was decent.

I have to admit, I don't often get attached to characters such as allies like Dogday, Kissy, Poppy(absolutely not), and Doey is no exception. In other words, I didn't care much when he died.

His story was objectively tragic and he was overall a cool character with cool concepts. The fact that he became hostile to the Player by snapping after the Save Haven was wiped out was also an interesting and yet another tragic twist where the only option now is to kill Doey.

Not surprised he died. I did notice that like Dogday, a lot of the fanbase wished to save Doey as well and some may have been angry about this turn out on him. My response to that would be...it's a horror game, killing characters you like would be the go-to move to ensure it is tragic, disturbing, and scary. It would also show that you can't hope for the best in anything because the game can kill anybody.

Advice: If you like a character in a game like this, just expect them to die...or make a fanfic of saving them as coping.

Baba Chops and the Nightmare Critters:

Clearly, they have a vendetta against the Player if they're this. Fucking. Hostile.

There are hardly any moments with them when they're not just jumping you. But I think a nice edition since you have to use the flare gun more. I had a neat idea where they climb on top of each other into a large mass like a hivemind to make a big monster made up of mini critters but that could still work with Chapter 5, we'll just have to see.

Kissy Missy:

I was kind of surprised she was alive but I do like how despite her survival, she was still badly injured and couldn't help much...not that she helped much in the previous chapters without injuries. But she did try to help the player proving her to be generally a good person trying to help us.

Then again, that also relates to how good of a person the Player is and/or something we don’t know about her.

I'm expecting her to die in Chapter 5.

But first, I was to see a fight between an injured Huggy and an injured Kissy.

Poppy:

So....she wasn't that helpful. She pretty much told us what to do, we did it, then we get blamed for it by Doey because someone(Prototype) screwed over the explosives, he tried to kill us, and we killed him, Poppy then blames us for things we both did and didn't do, Prototype call, and she runs off.

I think in one of the VHS tapes(there are two about Poppy), we see a conversation between her and Ollie which shows us directly that she isn't exactly a cunning, evil betrayer but more of a scared experiment like the rest of the orphans with a very... tunnel-visioned plan and mindset. Or very, very desperate to blow stuff up.

She does run off and abandons the player and Kissy because the case must've sucked that badly which is weird because I would rather prefer being asleep in the case than being anywhere outside of it where toys could rip me to shreds. But hey, it's her opinion I suppose.

I am surprised not a single character had not mentioned or tried to drop-kick her. Killing her shouldn't be that hard...right?

Right...I'm guessing the reason why is because she doesn't stick around enough near the player to even encounter any of the big villains.

Ollie/Prototype:

Let's face it. We all knew it. The only person who was surprised was Poppy herself.

I actually enjoyed the reveal though, I think it was intense but very funny on how it was done.

Poppy blames us and then Ollie calls, the first thing he does is do the Playtime Equivalent of doxxing our location. Dude might as well just said our address over a COD lobby.

Then he pretty much makes fun of Poppy by telling her she needs to stop pretending to be stronger than she actually is(which is true).

Then he makes fun of the player by saying, "I got the bombs, thanks for getting them for me BTW!" as we hear beeping sounds below us.

Does a whole speech before Poppy bolts, abandoning us and he proceeds to make fun of that.

Then the floor explodes and we're in the Labs now.

Either the Prototype is a (10/10) funny character or maybe my humor is broken.

Long Story Short:

It's an improvement in many ways from previous chapters but I, like many others, think there could've been just a couple of additions to make it Peak but there were some good moments. Some good lore drops and information that may or may not have screwed over a couple of Au's(depending on who's in it) but it could be worked around.

They dived way deeper into how terrible Playtime Co. in the inside from both the perspectives of the workers as well as the toys. I love that.

I will still say that Chapter 3 is my favorite even with all of this considered(Because I love Catnap) but I do hope that they truly take their complete time on Chapter 5 to make it the best possible.

Anyhow, I can't wait for Chapter 5 to bring back Catnap(yes, I AM coping), totally bring him back, if Huggy could survive a fifty-story fall, Catnap could either be shocked back alive and/or survive a stab to the head. These toys were able to tank bullets in tapes, they could survive a bit of brain damage(or piercing) and burns.

Man...the Player might not be an "angel”.

[raayllum]

a/n: set after 6x06 and heavily references 6x03 bc they were blessings

Sometime after they stop kissing — alright, they don't really stop, but languid silences, soft giggling, and sweet nothings fill some of the space in between kisses as they curl up together on his bed in the Starscraper — Callum asks, "So, what were you crying about on the Ray of Illumination?"

The sun is rising above the sea of clouds outside their bedroom window, and for a moment he regrets bringing up anything potentially sad, both of them happier than they've been in years, honestly. They have everything they need for her parents, his connection to Aaravos has been severed, the light and truth of her love filling the cracks in his heart, instead, and finally, finally she knows that his heart has always belonged to her. That it always will.

But he's always been curious, and he's always wanted to sooth whatever's troubling her, fix whatever is breaking her heart, and she'd had a good deal to cry over just a couple weeks ago — maybe even something from the last two years apart — and... he wants to know. He wants to help.

And, slowly, he thinks she's getting to a place where she wants him to be able to, where she'll let him.

"Oh, um..." Rayla averts her eyes, fingers tangled with his, but her smile doesn't dim. She sticks her tongue in her cheek. "It's a bit silly, really."

"Still." He uses his free hand to brush his thumb over the curve of her cheek, the blue bend of her marking, where he knows the tears would've fallen.

"Just an old diary written by the captain. Esme something. Stella pushed it open." Rayla scoots a bit closer and Callum lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her, more than happy to give into her desire to be held; he never feels more at peace than when he's holding her, now more than ever.

The bump of the tip of his nose against hers as a gentle prod. "And?"

Rayla turns her face down, his lips brushing her brow, but he can still tell she's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He wants to angle his face down and kiss that worry away, draw her lips to his, but refrains. They have plenty of time, after all. To kiss, and rest, and prepare for their journey. It's close to dawn now, and Callum knows they won't leave till the day after tomorrow at least — they need supplies for the journey to the Nexus, recover from their trials, and to say goodbye to their new friends here.

Finally, Rayla explains, "She was writing during the last days of her life, on that ship I guess. About a man she left behind. Her one true love, Conrad."

"Oh." Callum pulls her further into a hug on instinct, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Just... resonated with me," she nearly sniffles, laughing weakly, but her smile is real and reaches her eyes when he glances down to check. "I'm sure you can imagine why."

"Lots of stuff about what she would've said if she saw him again?"

"Mmhm."

"Think I can relate to that too," he hums, giving her forehead another kiss. "I love you, Rayla," he repeats for what might be the millionth time that day, but he already knows he can never say it enough. He's always known that. "I'm so glad you came back."

She wraps her arms tighter around his torso, cuddling in closer, tension ebbing out of her and face half pressed to his scarf. "I'm so happy you're here, Callum," she sighs warmly.

"Always." He strokes her hair, wondering if she'll fall asleep like this—it always got her a little drowsy in the past—or if she'll let him weave her braid for her one of these days, musing, and then... "The Captain's name wasn't Esmerelda Skall, was it?"

Rayla lifts her head, brow furrowed adorably. "Er, yeah, it was. Why? How do you know that?"

"She was a famous explorer in the Human Kingdoms. Charted out a lot of our maps up north. My Dad—King Harrow—took me on a diplomatic mission once to Del Bar, where she's from, when I was eleven or twelve." There's a warm, content feeling blooming in his chest that he'll get to give her closure on this, too, somehow. "Conrad founded a town near the capitol and served as mayor. He named it after her. He loved her all his life—put a grave marker for her next to his when he died and everything."

Rayla's "Oh" comes out choked and small, but her smile is wide as she blinks back tears. "That's—that's beautiful. I guess he really—"

"—loved her?" Callum finishes, curling two fingers under her chin to lift her face for a moment. Then he brushes away the real tears trickling over, drawing her further into his snug embrace. Her breath is beautifully warm as it fans over his lips before he kisses her, soft and firm. "Yes. I really do."

[fandomfics]

Anything for You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Reader

Description: undercover jobs are always risky, but when you're caught going against the gang you and Dean have fallen in with, Dean is forced to do something drastic.

Masterlist

A/N: I love Dean. That is all

⚠️Warnings⚠️

18+ MDNI

Past/memories in italics. Canon typical violence, language, use of restraints, alcohol use, drunkenness, dark themes, human trafficking, murder, talk of vamps, no actual vamps appear. unprotected p in v, oral F receiving, angst, fluff, smut. The whole 9 yards. Not proof read.

Smut under the 🔥

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You are on your knees on the hard concrete, sitting on your heels, blindfolded. The rope that binds your wrists behind your back digs into you, the friction burning your sensitive skin. The smell of blood invades your nostrils, you can only hope it's not Dean's.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"This could take weeks. We need to make sure that we don't blow this before we find the nest. " Dean sighs putting his head in his hands.

"We'll be fine. As fucked up as it is, them using a shelter as a cover will help us. My intel says they mostly pose as volunteers, they just hand the people off, No kidnap or torture at this stage. We pass the info to Sammy when we get it," you gesture to him across the table, "and he'll let the other hunters know the drop point."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You curse yourself under your breath as you remember those words, you should have been prepared for the unexpected. Your sense of time is distorted, your body is weak, you just want to fall to your side and pass out. You resist the urge and continue straining your ears to hear anything outside of the concrete room you are in. Nothing. Every pair of shoes you have are modified to carry a blade of some sort, You take the silence as your que to remove it and work at the rope. Periodically you stop to listen for any indication of footsteps, when you are satisfied by the silence you continue.

After what feels like an eternity, you're finally able to free yourself. When you draw up the blindfold you see the bare concrete room with a single light dangling from the ceiling and a door in front of you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The shelter you stand in front of is quiet and unassuming, the sign above you flickers momentarily, 'Hope's Haven'. Your gut clenches, places like this are supposed to be safe for the less fortunate. You're spurred on to take out this threat and move forward, duffle slung over your shoulder.

Dean is hot on your heels as you enter the building, "We're the new in-house caretakers." You say plainly, looking over the receptionist, wondering if she's part of this whole game.

"Door at the end of the hallway." She considers you and Dean for a moment before returning to her computer.

You pass several doors, every one marked, men's and women's dorms, family dorms, restrooms, showers, cafeteria, rec room. The door at the end of the hallway is marked volunteers only.

Behind the door is a staircase that leads to the small volunteers dorm, a few individual rooms and bathrooms, and a door marked 'Do Not Enter.' each door of the dorms has a white board on it with the names of the occupants, you quickly find the one marked with yours and Dean's chosen alias'.

"I'm surprised you let me pick the names. No protest either. I expected more from you Dean." You chuckle as you start to unpack your things.

His eyes narrow as he realizes he's missed something, "what do you mean?"

"You know," you stiffle a full on giggle before continuing, "Stevie Nicks is a woman right....and Lindsey Buckingham is a dude."

"Really?" Dean says Incredulously. "I guess it's a good thing no one ever thinks twice when we give our cover names..."

You can no longer keep your laughter in, bursting out in a fit as you fall back into the bed. "Right, no one EVER second guesses them." The sarcasm in your voice evident as your laugh dies down.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You hear footsteps approaching outside the door and reposition yourself to sit against the wall, replacing the blindfold, hands behind your back with your small knife in one.

The creak of the door causes your muscles to tense, but then you hear his voice.

"Fuck, are you okay?" You can hear Dean making his way across the room to you as you quickly bring your hands up to remove the blindfold. He drops to his knees next to you and cups your face in his hands waiting for your reply. When you don't respond quickly enough he lightly taps your cheek with his hand, "Hey!"

"I-I'm fine." You look at him in shock, "Dean...why are you covered in blood?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I told you to fucking wait for me!" Deans exasperation was clear, "You think they really believe that you weren't in that office snooping?"

"Would they let me go if they didn't?" You plop down on the bed in your shared room and start to take off your shoes.

"Maybe not, but you still should have waited dammit." His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. You pause briefly before continuing in a totally different direction.

"Come on, it's the fourth night we've been here, stop sleeping on the floor. I'm not gonna give you cooties." You say playfully trying to change the subject.

"Fine, I guess that's a suitable punishment for making me worry."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You've barely slept, huddled with your back against the wall, Dean takes up most of the bed. As much as you would love to just cuddle up to him, he's your best friend. You've harbored a bit of a crush on him for years, but you know he doesn't feel the same, you've accepted that.

You're letting your mind wander until he begins to shift beside you and suddenly his face is inches from yours.

"Dean." His name a hoarse whisper. When he doesn't stir you try again, this time louder, "Dean!"

His eyes open slowly, "hmm?" When he is finally able to focus he realizes how close he is. "I told you this was your punishment. I'm not moving." You push his chest trying to get him to move but he doesn't budge.

"I can't sleep, you're taking up the whole fucking bed." You whine, exasperated from your exhaustion.

He wraps his arm around you and pulls you a bit closer as his eyes slowly close again. "Come on. We're friends, you don't have to be afraid to touch me, get some sleep." He turns away from you and gives you a bit more room. You follow suit, turning to your other side to face the wall and finally drift off.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When the alarm wakes you in the morning you feel the heaviness of Dean's arm draped over your waist. He stirs behind you and swings his arm back to turn the alarm off before leaving it back where it was.

"Mornin'" His voice is groggy

"Dean...what are you doing?"

"Shit, sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?" He starts to move away but you catch his hand before he can, keeping it firmly planted where it lays on your stomach.

"No, it's nice." You are emboldened by his touch and allow your fingers to trace over his hands.

You feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear, "Yeah..." He quietly agrees before lightly kissing your cheek. Your heart swells and flutters and you have to stop yourself from overthinking this. He isn't confessing his love your you, he's just enjoying cuddle. It doesn't mean anything.

You wait a couple minutes in silence, enjoying a little taste of domestic bliss with Dean before reluctantly pushing his arm away and speaking again, "Come on, we gotta get up." You sit up and stretch, turning to Dean, "Come on!" He turns to lay face down, the pillows muffle his clear rejection at the thought.

"We've got shit to do. Come. On." You stand on your knees and push at his body again, trying to roll him out of bed. When that doesn't work you begin to poke and prod at him.

"I don't wanna." He groans.

As a last resort you stand up and start bouncing up and down, it's childish, but you're having the time of your life annoying Dean until he turns and sits up. You stop your antics, standing above him within arms reach, out of breath and giggling. His face softens and he smiles.

"You're a god damned pest, ya know that?" He chuckles and finally swings his legs over the side of the bed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"We can talk about it when we get out of here." Dean says as he helps you up from the concrete floor.

He checks you over before grabbing your hand to make a run for it. Everything is oddly quiet and you meet no resistance on your way to baby. In an instant your on the road making your way out of town in silence.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You've barely slid out of the bed when you hear the door open. Some of the bigger goons of this operation stand on either side of the door as the woman you assumed to be the receptionist in your time here walks in with a look of disappointment on her face.

"You can't just barge into-" Dean starts protesting before one of the men point a gun at you. He stops and keeps his eye on him with a glare. "What do you want?" Dean says harshly.

"Her." The woman states rather plainly.

"Why?"

"She violated my privacy, caught her snooping through my things."

"What? No I didn't!" You try desperately to lie.

"Honey, I got you on camera."

Deans face drops as he looks to you, his face contorted in surprise and anger.

"Oh," she feigns pity, "you didn't know what she was doing without you? Wonder what else she gets up to behind your back?"

You're both too stunned for words as she turns with one last statement, "lock her up, don't torture her too much. She may still be useful. And Stevie, you'll need to work extra hard around here if you ever want to see her again." She snaps her fingers and the men drag you off to the room.

"Just do what they say, help them finish the job. don't worry about me." You try and tell Dean as he calls after you.

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An eternity passes in silence and night falls. A neon sign in the distance advertises a motel with a 24 hour diner across the street, you sigh in relief knowing he'll stop.

When you've showered and eaten you both lay in your respective beds in the dark. Dean has still barely said a word to you, the tension has made you anxious. You fade in and out of consciousness, your thoughts never ceasing. You remain restless.

You look to the clock on the nightstand. 3:17am. You run a hot bath, hoping it will help to ease your tense muscles, you pour the lavender shampoo in the running water, hoping the calming scent will ease your mind.

You let out a sigh as you sink in, your thoughts still lingering on the question you've pondered since leaving. What did Dean do that would cause him to be so distant?

Your snapped out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door. The water has grown cold and you're unsure how long you had been in there. "How much longer you gonna be? I need to piss." You hear Dean's gruff voice from the other side of the door.

"I'll be out in a sec." You quickly dry yourself off and dress allowing Dean the restroom. You sit on his bed, lights on, waiting for him to finish. He doesn't seem surprised, but he still doesn't want to talk.

"Dean, tell me what happened."

"I saved you, end of story." His climbs back into his bed and turns away from you. "Get the lights will ya?"

You scoff, "if it's that fucking simple, why can't you talk to me about it?"

He remains silent, no sign of any change. "Fine." Tears sting your eyes as you move back to your bed, turning the lights off on the way.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You sit in the kitchen of the bunker with Sam. Same thing you've done a million times before.

"It's been three months Sam. Has barely talks to me. It fucking hurts."

"He still won't tell me anything about it either-"

"Yeah, but at least he doesn't treat you like the worst thing that ever happened to him, like a plague. We used to be so close, now we're practically strangers. I don't know if I can keep living here like this. I don't want to."

You hear footsteps retreating away towards the library and look to Sam.

"Well go tell him that. I don't want you to go, but I don't blame you either."

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You walk into the library to see Dean sitting at a table, hunched over a book, deep in thought.

"I'm leaving, I can't live here anymore." You say matter of factly.

"Okay. Have a nice life." Dean doesn't look up from his reading.

You march over to where he sits and fling everything in front of him off the table in a rage.

"What the fuck happened to you Dean? You have made these last few months an absolute living hell for me. We were best friends, we shared almost everything with each other." Your tears fall freely as you scream, he avoids your eyes.

"You can't even look at me. Like whatever happened is my fucking fault, but you're too chicken shit to say what it was."

You start to pace around as he stands up to leave.

"You're gonna run away from me again?" You stalk forward and shove him back, "Just tell me you hate me, you don't want to be near me, you don't want anything to do with me anymore. Something, anything. Give me some god damn peace Dean Winchester." You try to push him again and he catches your arms before they can make contact with his chest and you struggle to free yourself from his grip.

"I wish you left sooner. I thought maybe you woulda got the hint sooner. You're making this whole thing harder for both of us." He finally looks into your eyes after months, you're clearly in pain. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief of his words, as a sob shakes your body and your legs stop working. He catches you and sits you in the chair he was occupying.

You feel as though the man you thought he was is dead, and you sit in front of a facsimile of him, mourning the loss of someone who was once dear to you.

His hands slam on the table and you flinch at the sudden noise. "You want to know why I don't talk to you? Cause I killed five people. People, not monsters. I didn't think twice about doing it. I did it to save your sorry ass."

You sit in stunned silence as he leaves the room. You're heartbroken, you never would have expected him to be so cruel to you of all people.

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Torture? Absolutely the fuck not. Dean is going to take down every one of them before they can touch a hair on your head. He gets dressed and opens the door to find one of the large men guarding it.

"What? You supposed to follow me around?"

He nods solemnly. Without warning Dean pulls a small knife from his pocket and stabs the man right in the neck. As he begins to fall Dean catches him and drags him into the room before holstering the knife and continuing on.

His rage bubbles in his gut, consuming him entirely, his body moves without a second thought. His mission to rescue you is clear, damn the job, damn these fucking people.

One by one he finds each of the other people and puts them down without hesitation.

Something snaps when he finally releases you and is running for the exits. He just murdered five people. They weren't good people by any mans, but they weren't monsters in the literal sense.

The entire ride to the motel was silent, his mind was overwhelmed with the thoughts of how far he went to rescue you, how much it scares him that he was willing to take these humans out, for you. The fact that he would do it again a hundred times over if it means you're safe.

As much as he doesn't want you to leave, he is afraid of the lengths he will go to, the things he will do for you.

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Sam finds you in the library an hour later, hunched over the desk, still crying. He kneels beside you and puts a hand on your back to sooth you. You immediately turn into him and engulf him in a hug as you explain what happened. Your ever dutiful friend listens to every word as he allows you to cling to him, rubbing your back.

"I'm so sorry," he says as he squeezes you tightly. "I understand if you still want to leave, but you need to rest a bit now." You nod into his shoulder and he helps you up, guiding you to your room and laying you in bed. As he leaves you turn to face the wall and cry yourself to sleep.

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In the middle of the night you find yourself in desperate need of hydration. On your way back from the kitchen you turn a corner and collide hard with Dean. The glass in your hands drops to the floor and shatters sending water and sharp shards across the hallway. You're about to berate Dean, take all your anger out on him until you realize he's been crying.

He turns and makes his way back to his room without a word and you follow close behind.

"What the fuck do you have to cry about Winchester? Huh? You tore me to pieces like I didn't mean a thing and you're crying?" You scoff.

He ignores your words and you keep going. "Still don't want to talk? You killed those people. Not me. I told you to finish the job, not to worry about me. You decided to do all that yourself. So stop taking it out on me you selfish prick. Hate me all you want, but that was your decision."

He stops in his tracks just as he crosses the threshold of his room and finally turns his head to address you. "I don't hate you."

"Unbelievable."

"You're not going to leave me alone are you?" He turns to you fully now, "You aren't getting it. I killed those people because the thought of them touching you in any way was terrifying to me. The thought of losing you forever filled me with blind rage. You were careless and got yourself caught and I couldn't deal with it. The fact that I could do that for you fucking scares me. I was the monster."

His door slams in your face and you are left speechless. You have no idea how you feel, your thoughts are jumbled and you want nothing more than to quiet them down.

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You and a bottle of rum occupy the kitchen for the remainder of the night. You talk to yourself, to the bottle, to imaginary Dean as you play out how future conversations may go. You're emotions are scattered to the winds and you just want to drink until you're numb.

Half the bottle is gone and your head lays on your folded arms at the table. You hear someone walking in but all you can do is groan pitifully. Your vision is blurred and your head is fuzzy but you recognize Dean's voice through it it.

"Jesus Christ," you hear the bottle being picked up and unceremoniously slammed back down. "This isn't going to help."

"Yeronetatalk" your words slur together.

Without another word he lifts you from the chair and takes you to your room. As much as you want to protest, you can't, you're too drunk. He lays you in your bed and leaves for a few minutes. He returns with a gallon jug of water, a cup, a trash can, and some aspirin.

He pulls a chair up next to the bed and puts his head in his hands. He spends hours there with you, mostly asleep, but taking care of you when you're not, holding your hair back, urging you to drink water.

"I'm sorry." You hear him whisper when he thinks your asleep. "I didn't want this."

Your heart hurts. So does everything else. Your eyes open and he urges you to drink more water and take the aspirin.

"Dean," his eyes meet yours. "I'm sorry...for being reckless. I should have waited for you. You're right. But don't you dare blame me for what you did."

"I'm sorry too. I know it wasn't your fault that I did it for you. I just wanted you to leave so I wouldn't have to worry about losing you in the worst ways imaginable. I wanted you to run off and find a nice normal guy to settle down with and live a nice normal life. I've been....selfish. "

Again you're left speechless at the vulnerability that Dean is showing. He's finally talking to you again and dropping his innermost thoughts, it's dizzying.

"You're one of the most important people in my life, my best friend, I love you."

"Dean, I love you too, I never wanted to leave, you just made me feel like trash. Like nothing. I don't know what this means for our friendship, but you really fucking hurt me. Im not going anywhere though."

"I don't just love you as a friend. That's not what I meant." He whispers "but I understand, I wouldn't want to even be my friend after what I've done to you."

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The next day him and Sam leave to go take care of a simple haunting. They should only be gone a few days, a week at most with delays. You take the time to try and do things you enjoy. You relax. For the first time in months. Now you know everything, it still hurts, but you aren't in the dark anymore.

You use the time to think about what you want. You think about Dean saying the words you've wanted to hear for so long. Even after all that you are still in love with him too.

You spend the next four days mulling everything over, weighing all of your options, going through every scenario in your head. Every outcome.

This is the first time in the years that you've known him that Dean has ever done anything to purposely upset you. You understand why. Can you forgive him?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You hear them return and rush to Dean's room to wait for him. You play with your fingers nervously as you sit on the bed, it feels like time slows as you wait.

"Oh, Hey." He says somewhat suspiciously as the door opens.

"Hey," a small smile graces your lips. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah....yeah. " he drops his duffle in the floor and sits next to you on the bed, suddenly finding his hands very interesting.

"I forgive you. You should forgive yourself too. Those were terrible people. They knew what they were sending those people into. They knew they would die."

He looks up to you in surprise, "They were still human though."

"They've led hundreds of people to their deaths, knowingly. Fuck them. I know you Dean. You wouldn't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it."

"I did though... I hurt you."

"Okay, but you usually don't." You place your hand on his. His eyes meet yours before you continue, "That's why I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"I think you do, so get over it and accept it because I'm in love with you too. You're never getting rid of me now."

"You can't be serious." You cup his face with your hands and pull him in for a gentle kiss which he eagerly returns.

"I am," you say pulling away, "get some rest, you're taking me out on a date later. And I want something fancy. Pick me up at eight."

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At exactly 8pm, Dean knocks on your door. He extends a single red rose when you open the door, a wide goofy grin adorns you face as you look him over in his suit. You take the rose and place it in the glass of water at your bedside before returning to him.

"You look beautiful. You always look beautiful." You look down as a blush comes to your cheeks.

"Thank you," you reach up on tip toes and kiss him on the cheek. "You look handsome as usual." You smile up at him.

"So, where are you taking me Mr. Winchester?" He extends an arm and you take it as he leads you to the garage.

"It's a surprise." He winks and your heart flutters.

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"Truth or Dare?" Dean asks you, it's your first night at the shelter and you and Dean are passing time with a game.

"Uhhhh, truth."

"What's your ideal date?"

"What an odd question from you," you laugh, "a picnic under the stars, dancing slow in the moonlight, maybe a bit of wine."

"That is so fucking sappy." Dean laughs and you stick your tongue out at him playfully.

"Whatever. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What's your ideal date?" You chuckle maniacally.

"Whatever gets me laid." He laughs heartily and you roll your eyes.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Close your eyes." Dean holds you hand as he drives, after about 15 minutes of driving the car comes to a stop and Dean takes your hand. Your confused when you step out and feel the crunch of gravel beneath your feet, after a short walk it turns to grass.

"Okay, open your eyes." Dean drops your hand and leans down to press play on a. Old boom box and Lady by Styx begins to play. You stand on a hilltop, a tree before you is covered in fairy lights, on the ground is a blanket that's been laid out, he sets a basket on the ground and gestures for you to sit. The moon is full, the sky is littered with stars, everything is perfect.

"I know it's not fancy like you said... But-"

"You remembered." You whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Of course I did." He smiles. You enjoy a charcuterie board, conversation, wine. You spend a while just enjoying each other's company, laying on the ground staring up at the stars. The tape that was playing finally ends and Dean switches to a new tape before standing up and extending his hand to you.

Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley begins to play and you take his hand. He helps you up and pulls you close, "dance with me?"

You nod your head, one hand clasped in his as the other rests on his chest. His other hand pulls you by the waiste, impossibly close. You sway slowly, looking up into his eyes. "You're so fucking sappy." You grin.

"Anything for you." He looks deep into your eyes before continuing, "I want to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"Before I ask, I want to promise that I will always be honest with you from now on. I won't ever hide anything unless it's a really cool surprise for you."

"Okay," you giggle

"Will you be my girl?"

"Abso-fuckin-lutely." You bring him in for a kiss. It's soft and sweet, you feel a warmth flood through your body. "And I promise to try and not be so reckless."

He smiles and plants a quick peck on your lips before pulling away to get a velvety rectangular box out of his jacket pocket. He opens it in front of you and you can't help but laugh boisterously at his cheesy gift.

A dainty silver chain with a "D."

"You hate it." He says looking down.

"No, it's the cheesiest fucking thing and I absolutely adore it. Help me put it on!" He moves behind you and clasps it around your neck before snaking his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder. You rest one hand on his and cup his face with the other.

"I'm never taking this off." He gives you a little squeeze and sways with you to the next song that plays. "I love you dean." He hums contentedly.

"I love you too." He says softly before kissing your neck. A small moan escapes your lips and you feel him smirk into your neck. You tilt your head and allow him to continue and he takes the invitation with no hesitation. A shiver runs down your spine when he hits your pulse point and you turn in his arms tilting your head up just as his lips crash into yours.

🔥

This kiss is deeper, voracious, his desire is evident in the way he holds you to him, and you're returning it right back to him.

"Dean," you pant after breaking the kiss, "do you think we'd get caught for public indecency out here?"

His eyes widen as he takes your meaning, "Babe, it'd be worth it even if we did."

You giggle as he backs you up against the tree and kisses down your body, when he's on his knees he looks up to you, "Tell me. Tell me what you want."

"I want you. I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to claim me."

"Fuck." He moans out before pushing his hands through the slit in your dress to remove your underwear. He shoves them in his pocket, "Those are mine now." He winks before hiking one leg over his shoulder, displaying your dripping cunt to him.

He immediately dives in, the obscene sounds of him devouring you mixed with both of your moans cut through the silence of the night. His hands gently caress your legs leaving a delightful tingle that causes you to shiver as the bark of the tree digs into your back with a pleasurable pinch of pain. He moves his focus to your clit as he allows a finger to prod your entrance.

"Yes, please, Dean..." You whisper breathlessly. He hums, sending a vibration through you and you can't help but buck into it. Your hands weave into his hair, gently pulling as you continue to roll your hips into him. He fully inserts his finger and curls it right against your sweet spot, eliciting a squeak of surprise from you that quickly turns to a moan.

He adds another finger and continues pumping them into you, moaning every time you pull his hair and grind against his face.

"Dean...fuck, just like that.... I'm gonna cum." Your cunt tightens, pulsing as your release hits and you cum hard on his fingers as he helps you ride it out. He immediately laps it up and removes his fingers. You moan as you watch him lick them clean. The lower half of his face is covered in your slick, igniting your desire to feel him again.

You grab the lapels of his jacket and yank him to you, his mouth finds yours again and you taste yourself on him. Your hand travels down his chest to the hard outline of his cock. You gently run a finger over it, teasing him until he's a shivering mess.

"Babe please." He whispers into your mouth. You make quick work of releasing him, he hikes your leg up, keeping one hand on your thigh as he lines up to your entrance. He slowly rolls his hips until he's fully inside of you.

He continues languidly rolling his hips, his free hand cups your face as his forehead rests against yours, his eyes firmly gazing into yours. The connection you feel is deeper than just the physical way your bodies are melding.

You call out his name in a breathy moan and his hips move a bit faster, "where?"

"Cum inside me, please Dean. I want to feel you."

"Fuck, you drive me wild. Cum with me." Your hand finds your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. Your eyes close involuntarily in bliss, "Eyes on me beautiful."

"Almost...."

Another wave of pleasure washes over you, you pulse and contract around Dean as you both cry out in pleasure. You feel him spill inside you with a few final languid thrusts. He stays there, cradling your face in his hand, catching his breath.

After his breathing steadies, he releases your leg and puts himself away. He takes one of the extra cloth napkins he brought and pours some water on it before getting on one knee in front of you. His hands guide your foot to rest on his leg to open you up to him once more and he cleans you up, lovingly planting kisses to your inner thigh.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Crack idea Danny using the Lazarus pit ends up finding about Nanda Parbat and Ra al Ghul deciding to use his ghost King abilities decides that he's charging Ra al Ghul rent for the use of the Lazarus pits by living with him

He was kicked out by the Phantom parents at 15 for being a half gifts and the de-age half ghost Ellie and Danny needs a place that's safe for them

So Danny becomes a League of assassins definitely a not human roommate sometimes it's like Danny's not even there but out of nowhere you can just catch a pair of blue or green glowing guys standing in the room wouldn't even tiny your pair of green eyes in bundled up in Danny's arms

Or sometimes Danny will just come out of nowhere and hand Ra al Ghul Ellie in a baby sling and then in front of everyone can open a portal to the internet realm because he has something to go do as their King and he can't take Ellie

Danny stayed there until he was 19 during all this time he was a family like figure to Damien and the one that helped Jason with his brain deadness after getting up Lazarus pits

Jason and Danny also someone had a little bit of something going on but never were able to pursue it as Danny terrifies Ra al Ghul even if the immortal assassin will never admit it so he does not let them get into the business of the legal a lot

Danny also be using them like free babysitters hey Talia you're free hope my daughter real quick I got to go hunt some man named John Constantine down for his soul contracts don't hurt her

The Bat Family does not understand that Danny is terrifying because Danny to them act like a normal 19-year-old teenager a daughter that he had a young age while Damian and just knows Danny has his grandfather terrified of him

I hope you like my stupid crack idea of Danny just being terrifying to the League of assassins

I like the headcannon that even though Ra's is a piece of shit he's actually pretty good with/likes babies, and I think that's the only way Danny would hand Ellie to him. But I think this is funny! The assassins don't really know who Danny is and rumours abound because no one else treats him like that, just walks in hands him a baby and leaves. They even wonder if that's Ra's kid or something but if anyone ever asks Danny he reacts in such violent disgust that oookay clearly not! So grand child??? Something???

Ra's won't talk about it because he's embarrassed and also thinks it's probably best not to draw attention to this and just go for the ~mysterious vibe~

Danny's there to see Jason crazed and glowing dragging himself out of the pit and he's twirling his hair around a finger like "Omg being unhinged and creepy all by yourself handsome?!"

When Jason's ready to leave Danny's like "Hell no! You're not leaving without me, my kid, and your kid brother >:( If you try I'll drag you back into hell myself!"

"Well shit. I guess I'm a family man/crime lord now?" says Jason

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

What about Defy with an s/o who's more artistically inclined? That sounds like an interesting scenario. (Or at least just AK-15)

(GFL) AK-12, AN-94, AK-15, RPK-16, and Angelia with an artistic S/O

12 understands human art. She is able to decipher if something looks pleasing, but not exactly what makes it beautiful.

Though not because she couldn't process, it's mainly because she didn't really care or find it interesting.

Being a state of the art combat T-Doll doesn't exactly leave much room for appreciating anything else other than efficiency or lethality.

And yet, not only was 12 able to even have a significant other, but to appreciate their drawings. Mainly because they were of herself.

Peeking her eyes open at their sketchbook, smiling and handing it back to them as her closed again.

(AK-12) "You do a pretty good job drawing by hand, all things considered."

S/O chuckled, leaning back into their chair.

(S/O) "Think you could do better?"

(AK-12) "Naturally. I can draw a perfect circle, to start. But, I think I'd lack that 'human touch' that a lot of people seem to care about."

(S/O) "Psh, don't seem to be that broken up about it."

(AK-12) "Meh. Listen, if you wanna get some interesting drawings, I could always-"

(S/O) "I already know what you're going to say, and my answer is no. You aren't going to get a rise out of me that way."

12 just hummed in acknowledgement, genuinely admiring their little sketch of her.

Though she pouted slightly at the small note of "needs to look more smug" by the side of her face.

94 grasps the concept of art, to a certain extent. She understands what is human art, but she doesn't get how it is made.

Although her question of what is art was just an attempt at small talk, it ended up getting into a deeper discussion than she intended, just lying in bed with S/O as they attempted to explain it in a way she could understand.

(S/O) "Art comes...I guess both from the mind and heart, so to speak."

94 leaned onto her side, facing S/O with her face beaming with curiosity, her voice raising above her usual monotone into something warmer, and admittedly cuter.

(AN-94) "Is it human imagination that allows you to create your paintings?"

S/O ran their hand through her hair idly, nodding in response.

(S/O) "Yeah. Things like grief, happiness, all sorts of emotions help me envision something to paint. Like a landscape, or a person."

(AN-94) "But what makes a painting good to others? Is it the passion alone?"

(S/O) "Hm...Well, yes and no. It has to be pleasing to the eye as well, or maybe standout."

(AN-94) "Isn't that subjective?"

94 wants to understand, but has trouble actually doing so, surprising neither of them.

To 15, lots of human customs never made sense to her, like believing in Santa, for example.

And human art is especially lost on her, both not understanding and not particularly caring.

That is, until RPK-16 and S/O tried to get her to broaden her worldview, introducing her to many things.

And S/O was playing a piece on a piano they had found, slaving away to repair it and hear its beautiful notes once more.

15 stood near S/O as the keys of the piano rang out a lovely melody, or at least she assumed it was nice.

(AK-15) "...You're smiling."

(S/O) "Hm? Oh, yeah. it's a song I heard from my childhood. I think it's a rather beautiful song!"

(AK-15) "I'll take your word for it."

(S/O) "Do you not like music?"

(AK-15) "I have no preference. I tend to prefer the silence rather than any noise."

(S/O) "But surely there must be something you like. It's kind of hard for me to imagine that there's absolutely nothing you care about."

(AK-15) "I can't say that I've had much experience listening to music in my downtime at all, S/O."

S/O smiled, gently grabbing her hand to sit down near them.

(S/O) "Then maybe we can start with mine? You;re not annoyed by what I'm playing, right?"

(AK-15) "I am not. And I suppose we can start with that."

Scooting over to give them room to play, AK-15 simply sits in silence, watching as S/O played, the music registering in her ears but not reacting all too much.

Though, overtime she began to get used to the sound of S/O's music, able to go into resting mode with it in the background.

16 was fascinated by human art, asking just as much questions as AN-94, if not even more.

Though she was startlingly very well adept at interpreting human art, to the point it was uncanny.

Almost as if she were an actual human herself.

(RPK-16) "This painting is rather...haunting, wouldn't you say? The expression on the woman's face is full of sorrow."

(S/O) "I'm...surprised you can tell that much just by looking at it."

(RPK-16) "It's obvious to anyone who cares enough to pay attention. I'd like to hang it on our wall."

(S/O) "Hah, m-maybe not this one. It sort of creeps me out."

(RPK-16) "Why? It's just a picture. Does it remind you something out of a nightmare? Or something here in reality?"

(S/O) "More of the former. Just not the kind of thing I'd want to look at first thing in the morning."

(RPK-16) "Then what would you like to see in a painting? What is pleasant to you?"

(S/O) "...You just wanna see my reactions to a freaky painting, don't you?"

(RPK-16) "Well, yes! But I'd still like to hear your actual answer."

Angelia didn't care too much about art, considering her line of work. No time to appreciate how pretty a picture is or whatever when bullets are whizzing by your head.

But at the very least, she glanced at whatever S/O was doing.

(Angelia) "You're typing up a storm there, and something tells me it isn't a report."

(S/O) "Ah! Sorry if it's distracting, just writing something for my novel."

Angelia let out a small titter, putting her tablet down momentarily to look over at her S/O.

(Angelia) "You write fiction?"

(S/O) "Yeah! Got lots of ideas after being with you and the rest of the girls."

(Angelia) "Nothing classified, I hope?"

(S/O) "Of course not! All purely fiction in a medieval land!"

(Angelia) "Hm. I don't seem to recall you ever mentioning that you published anything."

(S/O) "Well, that's what I save up a chunk of each paycheck for. Hopefully I can find someone to publish it en masse. I would hope that I'm not fighting forever. Heck, might even be a nice cushion for us, we could even get a nice house!"

Angelia shrugged, but she had a small smile form on her lips.

(Angelia) "It'd be impressive if a book could land us something in the Green Zone...Remind me to read one of your works if I ever get the time, I guess."

(S/O) "Hah, so never?"

Angelia rolled her eyes playfully, but her expression softened ever so slightly when she turned to S/O.

(Angelia) "I can't promise it'd be anytime soon but if it's for you? I'm sure I could make time."

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

I want you to touch me there

"I want you to touch me there. Make me feel like I am breathing. Feel like I am human." A little Death

Synopsis: Choso feels less as a lover being a half curse; sweet love making.

Content: fem!reader, sensual sex, p in v, riding, unprotected, baby (for reader and choso), kissing, slight bj, body worship, fluffy smut, anxiety, crying

Wc: 1k

“Baby?” You ask softly, your fingers drawing cute patterns on Choso’s chest. You’d been doing this for the past five minutes and usually he’d try and guess what you were drawing. Shared giggles whenever he’d guess completely wrong. This time, however, he was silent. “Choso.” At the sound of his name, he blinked, looking down at you. “Sorry, what’d you say?” Your brow furrowed, pulling yourself up until you were resting on your elbow. “Are you okay? It’s not like you to space out like that.” You felt him lock up, eyes slowly shifting to a small piece of lint on the bed.

“Choso,” you say again. Lifting your hand, gently cupping his cheek. Your thumb softly brushes against the apple of his cheek. Almost instantaneously, a few tears rolled down.

“Am I enough for you?” He asked softly, misty eyes peering into yours. What? You opened your mouth to say how ridiculous that was but you quickly shut it. That wouldn't help him. He was obviously struggling with something inside. "What makes you ask that?" You ask carefully, your thumb still brushing against his skin. Choso nibbled on his bottom lip, quivering. You could tell he was struggling with how to word this. What to say. “Take your time,” reminding him gently. Resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him, still softly brushing his cheek.

“Sometimes…I don't feel like I'm enough for you. That you deserve someone who's more…” He hesitated.

“Human?” You answered softly, making him nod his head.

“Oh, baby.” Shaking your head softly, you reach for his hand, pressing kisses to the back of it. “You're more than enough for me. I love you and only you. No one could replace that for me. You're who I want.” His lip wobbled more, arms slowly wrapping around your midsection. He tugged you to him.

“I know you love me…I just see you with the other sorcerers and I get..” he sighed, pressing his nose to your hair. “Can't help but think you fit better with them.”

Your heart twisted. How long had he been feeling like this? Was it all the time?

“Choso..” you remarked softly, sitting up now. “Can I show you? How much I love you? How human you really are?” His eyes widened, a small dust of pink on his cheeks. “Please…touch me. Make me feel like I'm human.” You didn't need any further discussion, climbing into his lap easily. Hands pressed to his shoulders as you claimed his lips, tasting his chapped lips mixed with the salty tears that fell earlier. His body shook, hands tentatively resting on your hips.

Warm tongues and sweet kisses were shared. Your body's slowly pushing against the other, heart beats increasing as they try to match rhythm.

You pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips. “Let's get this off,” you pinched the fabric of his shirt, lifting it over his head. Open mouthed kisses were pressed to his chest, you made sure to kiss every inch. Slowly making your way down his body, giggling when you saw how his tummy muscles tensed with each press of your lips. “I love you,” you murmured. Hooking your thumbs into his shorts, tugging them down his legs. Then you kissed over his pretty bulge, making his dick twitch. “I love your cock, always makes me feel good.”

“Please..” he softly breathed out. His eyes misty, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he watched you.

You kissed over his clothed erection a few more times before you slipped his underwear down too. Resting it around his ankles as you wrapped your hand around his dick. Nuzzling against the thick length, pressing kisses there too. On the tip, near the base, on the veins. Every inch. His body shuddered, big hands being placed in your hair. He didn't grab, lead, or push. Simply rested his hand there, petting you every so often. You could tell he was getting restless, thighs tensing and releasing each time your tongue touched him. “Patience baby, I want to show you.”

“M'trying,” Choso sighed out, his hips itching to thrust upwards. To push himself deeper into your pretty mouth.

You smiled. Swirling your tongue, dipping into the leaking slit at the top. Making sure his whole length was covered before crawling back up his body. “What are you-” you pressed your finger to his lips. “We're going to make love, Choso. Sweet, loving; I want to cherish your body and you till you understand that you're perfect. Perfect in how you give me pleasure and love me.” Before he could say anything, you pushed back a little, sliding him in between your thighs. Your sex consumed him, swallowing him until his tip brushed against your g-spot. His blunt nails dug into your thighs, whimpering as you clenched.

And slowly, you moved. Rising and falling, his cock slipping in and out. Dragging along your sensitive walls, covered in your arousal. Building both orgasms as you placed your hands on his shoulders, steadying yourself.

“Cho..” you moaned, feeling the steady build in your tummy. “Baby…you feel so good. Oh-” He choked on a groan, his head falling back onto the pillow. His pretty hair fanned across the fabric, red dusting his cheeks. “I love you s'much baby, so damn much.” You panted, leaning forward a little to rest near his ear. Telling him over and over everything you loved about him. How he makes you feel, how your heart only beats for him this way. Over and over as both orgasms steadily built until they spilled over the edge. Your sticky bodies pressed together as you kissed his shoulder, riding him through his orgasm.

His harsh breathing slowly settled, holding you close to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. Pressing his own kisses to your sticky skin. His big hands rubbed your back. “Anytime you feel that way, tell me, okay? I'll do everything I can to remind you; you're human, and I love you.”

"I love you too, so much."