#I know that’s not mark’s real birthday

[rockermybuddie]

Surprise

Buck x Eddie

A/n: In honor of Ryan Guzmans birthday :) here is a buddie smut fanfic :)

Summary: Buck wakes up early and has a whole day planned out for Eddie for his special day. But ot all changes when Eddie just wants to stay home and fuck.

——————

Buck quickly turns off the alarm going off at 4am so it doesn’t wake up Eddie. He looks over and sees Eddie peacefully asleep spread out across the bed. His chest rising and falling with each breath. Buck smiles and snaps a picture real quick. Forgetting to turn off the flash he throws his phone down quick hoping it didnt wake Eddie.

Buck sat still as a statue when Eddie moved pulling the blankets up over his face. Buck waited a few moments before moving again, just to make sure Eddie was actually asleep.

Buck made his way off of the bed and opened the bedroom door turning the knob to quietly to shut the door.

Buck went into the kitchen and started to bake a cake for Eddie and to make a good breakfast for him.

By the time he was done it was 6:30am. They had the day off but Buck had lots of plans. First they were going to eat breakfast then they going to go to their favorite park and go for a hike, then they are going to get lunch at their favorite diner on the pier, then they are going to the mall to find new outfits for dinner at their favorite date restaurant.

Buck walked back into the bedroom wearing a party hat and streamers with a party blower in his mouth.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” He yells turning the light on and blowing the party blower making a scratchy loud noise. Eddie sat up quick in the bed confused by the loud commotion all of sudden.

“What the hell Buck.” He says rubbing his eyes from the bright light with streamers hanging off of him from Buck tossing them in the air.

“Its your birthday!” Buck says with a joy. A smile ear to ear. “Yeah, i know.” Eddie says pulling the streamers off one by one. He looks over at the clock. “Oh come on Buck. Its 6:30 in the morning.” He says kind of annoyed but hes happy to see the smile on Bucks face.

“Yeah its early but we have a busy day!” Buck says. “Come on i have breakfast ready in the kitchen.” He grabs Eddies hand to pull him into the kitchen but Eddie pulls him onto the bed, the sudden movement causing the party blower to fall to the floor

“Mmmmph.” Buck is startled by this as he is now laying on top of Eddie. He lowers his mouth to his as Eddie feels his back muscles tense to his touch.

Buck lowers his mouth to Eddies as he takes it in for a kiss. Eddies hands move up to Bucks head as he rips off the party hat tossing it to the side and pushing his head down for a deeper kiss.

Buck begins grinding his hips against Eddies as the sexual tension grows between the two. Eddies hands move down Bucks slick back down to the seam of his underwear as he slips them down onto the floor. He lifts his hips so he can remove his.

Buck begins moving his hips faster now that they are skin to skin. He keeps his balance as its slippery from the sweat and pre-cum.

Buck starts kissing and sucking down Eddies body leaving little marks down his neck and around his nipples.

He makes his way down to Eddies v-line and traces it with his tounge then licking around the tip of Eddie grabbing the base of his cock with his hand.

“Buck….” Eddie moans out after a few minutes of teasing. Buck smirks at Eddies begging as he licks the tip one more time before taking Eddie into his mouth.

Eddies toes curl and his head falls back on the pillow with his ehes rolled back at Buck sucks his soul out. He grabs a fist full of Bucks hair just so he could touch a part of him.

Buck wraps his hand around himself and rubs himself as he sucks Eddie.

Eddies taps Bucks head letting him know hes about to finish. Buck is too so he kisses himself back up Eddies body landing a deep one on his lips when he reachs his mouth.

Buck grinds his hips against Eddies as his hips buck up a little in the heat of the moment. His hands gripping onto Bucks thick thighs as Evan grips the bedsheet with one hand keeping him up and steady as the other is wrapped in Eddies hair.

Their breathing slows a little when they both release themselves on one another. They smile against each others lips ignoring the sticky slimy mess they have going on down there.

Once they caught their breath Buck got up tonget a towel and wipped each other off.

“Come on we have to hurry, we are behind on schedule.” Buck says noticing the time. It was 7:30z they were supposed to leave at 7.

“Buck.” Eddie says patting the bed motioning for him to sit down. He obeys.

“Buck i love you. And i love that you have a whole day planned out just for me. That is so Buck coded, and i love you for that. But can we just stay home? Together? Thats what I really want.” Eddie asks taking Bucks hands in his looking at him with his big brown puppy dog eyes.

Buck looks at Eddie and cant help but smile at his adorable loving boyfriend. Even though he really wants to treat Eddie on a day out he cant say no to his request.

“Thats fine. We can stay home, do what ever you want baby.” Buck smiles, his cheeks still red from before.

“This is where I want to be, here with you. Only you.” Eddie pulls Buck towards him as they lay back down in the bed. He pulls Buck close to him as they drift back to sleep.

——-

A/n: I hope you liked the story! I accidentally deleted like half of it so i had to re-write it so its not the same as the original i typed because i didnt remember what i wrote lol. But hopefully this is good!

Happy birthday Ryan Guzman!

[katvara]

Fnaf Birthdays

William Afton, Fnaf 2: November 11

Michael Afton, Sister Location Custom Night update: December 1

Elizabeth Afton, Sister Location: October 7

Crying Child, Fnaf 4: July 23

Henry Emily, Pizza Sim: December 4

Charlotte Emily, Fnaf 2: November 11

Charlie and Sammy Emily, The Silver Eyes: September 27

The One You Should Not Have Killed/Cassidy, UCN: June 27

Gregory, Security Breach: December 16

Vanessa, Help Wanted Halloween Update: October 23

Markiplier, Fnaf VR ad: November 25

[inkskinned]

we were the liminal kids. alive before the internet, just long enough we remember when things really were different.

when i work in preschools, the hand signal kids make for phone is a flat palm, their fingers like brackets. i still make the pinky-and-thumb octave stretch when i "pick up" to respond to them.

the symbol to save a file is a floppy disc. the other day while cleaning out my parents' house, i found a collection of over a hundred CDs, my mom's handwriting on each of them. first day of kindergarten. playlist for beach trip '94. i don't have a device that can play any of these anymore - none of my electronics are compatible. there are pieces of my childhood buried under these, and i cannot access them. but they do exist, which feels special.

my siblings and i recently spent hours digitizing our family's photos as a present for my mom's birthday. there's a year where the pictures just. stop. cameras on phones got to be too good. it didn't make sense to keep getting them developed. and there are a quite a few years that are lost to us. when we were younger, mementos were lost to floods. and again, while i was in middle school, google drive wasn't "a thing". somewhere out there, there are lost memories on dead laptops. which is to say - i lost it to the flood twice, kind of.

when i teach undergrad, i always feel kind of slapped-in-the-face. they're over 18, and they don't remember a classroom without laptops. i remember when my school put in the first smartboard, and how it was a huge privilege. i used the word walkman once, and had to explain myself. we are only separated by a decade. it feels like we are separated by so much more than that.

and something about ... being half-in half-out of the world after. it marks you. i don't know why. but "real adults" see us as lost children, even though many of us are old enough to have a mortgage. my little sister grew up with more access to the internet than i did - and she's only got 4 years of difference. i know how to write cursive, and i actually think it's good practice for kids to learn too - it helps their motor development. but i also know they have to be able to touch-type way faster than was ever required from me.

in between, i guess. i still like to hand-write most things, even though typing is way faster and more accessible for me. i still wear a pj shirt from when i was like 18. i don't really understand how to operate my parents' smart tv. the other day when i got seriously injured, i used hey siri to call my brother. but if you asked me - honestly, i prefer calling to texting. a life in anachronisms. in being a little out-of-phase. never quite in synchronicity.

[bi-writes]

i'm a big fan of your writing! can i ask what made simon want to mail order a bride in the first place? thanks <3

mail-order bride

he's tired of staring across his dinner table and seeing nothing but empty space.

it isn't something he had thought about in the before. he's spent a long time shifting between different cots, collecting sand from faraway places and counting the bodies he dropped with tally marks against his boots.

there's a picture he keeps tucked into his vest, but he won't take it out. it sits heavy there, an invisible wall between himself and the outside world, a reality that he chooses not to believe. if he doesn't look at them, he won't think of them, and if he doesn't think of them, maybe he can pretend they were never even real.

they all have something outside of here. his sergeants are too pretty and too outgoing to stick around; they're social butterflies, and simon has seen the shuffle of pictures of some pretty girl that gaz can't stop staring at, and soap never shuts up--whenever they have a signal, he's somehow got a phone call with his cousin's stepfather's little sister, or it's his second cousin's brother-in-law's birthday, and he's got to wish him well since he missed his art exhibition last month.

even price has a pale circular shadow that is stained onto his ring finger.

it's not his fault, is it? it's not his fault he was dealt the worst fucking hand. it wasn't his fault he was born already two feet into the grave; it couldn't have been his fault that he can only get a good night's sleep when there's screaming in one ear or the rattle of a battlefield over his head.

it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault.

the cigarettes taste bland today. they're old, stale, and he can taste the bitterness already, but he lights it anyways, flicking ash into the ground, scrunching his nose until he gets used to the bite of it.

there's a shadow at his side, and he turns to snap at them, assuming it's johnny and his incessant nagging, but he holds his tongue when he realizes it's his captain.

he's got a warm cigar in one hand, and he leans against the concrete wall beside him, sighing deep, the kind of pensive weight that only a captain can bear.

price looks tired. he needs to go home.

"boys invited y'out, didn't they?" price asks, and simon chuckles lowly.

"'m olready 'ome," simon murmurs. "'n i can get piss drunk oll on my own 'ere."

price shrugs.

"ya haven't taken leave since you joined my team, simon," he says low. "can't have that. you know it."

simon shrugs.

"can try and make me go," simon tells him. "but y'know i won't leave."

"i'm not asking, simon," price says firmly. "'m telling."

"doesn't matter," simon takes a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in for a second too long before letting it out slow. "got nowhere ta go."

his captain is not blind. simon's on a one-way road, and the end of it stops at the end of someone else's gun. men like simon, the ones who have nothing to lose, they're dangerous. they clear rooms outnumbered thirty to one because no one thinks they can. they hit targets from thousands of yards away because it's the only place that never changes. they kill and sleep peacefully because the blood of a stranger is far cleaner than that of someone they know, of someone they love.

they'll never leave because war is familiar. they don't want to go home because home isn't something they know. they're nomads, taking with them only what they can carry, because the rest is baggage and an emotional weight that they aren't strong enough to carry.

but it doesn't mean men like simon don't want. it doesn't mean they don't wish for more. it doesn't mean they don't think about using their teeth for something other than baring them to show their dominance, their aggression, their insecurity.

simon's a protector. the way he shoves his men behind him says so. the steadiness of his voice over comms when the op goes to shit. the ease of his hand when he ties a tourniquet. the split second that simon never wastes, the way he uses his body as armor and the look he gives his men when they're scared. simon's died twice before, and the look in his eyes tells them that this isn't it, that this isn't death, because he'd fucking know--he'd recognize it if he saw it.

simon's unrelenting. his past, his trauma, it's tried to beat him into a shape that will bend and snap, but its obvious simon is not made of lead--fuck, he's an entire block of unmovable steel. he does not give when compressed, he does not crack when the strength of him is tested. simon's fought too hard to live to let a gun terrify him, he's endured too much torture to flinch when someone sinks a blade into his chest.

but he knows, simon knows, that there is something missing. he fought hard to live, but for what? he's endured, but what the fuck is there when he lays his head down at night?

simon's a lover. he tries so hard to convince himself that he's always been this way--alone, drifting, lost, but it's a lie. simon knows what it's like to want. he knows what it's like to look into a crowd and hope you see a familiar face. he understands wanting to pull that string taut, but he also understands what it can do to you. what it can take from you.

he understands what you can never get back.

he thinks this is a bad idea. he crumples the note paper in his hand that had the address scribbled onto it, tearing it, staring up at the house in front of him. it's quaint, a lovely little house in the outskirts of london, with a red chimney and overturned planters in the yard. there's a weathered wooden door, a porch step that needs fixing, and when he kicks open the door, he grimaces seeing a carpet that need's replacing.

"the fuck am i doin' 'ere?" he whispers to himself, sliding his mask off, running a hand over his face. his heart is pounding, but he's not sure why, but he catches his reflection in the window. what looks back at him terrifies him--he can't do this.

he makes his way back outside, rummaging through his pockets for a cigarette. he takes a seat on the steps, lighting it, and as he takes his first frantic drag, he sees the torn pages of the note still on the ground. he picks up one end of it, running his thumb over the crumpled paper there, smudging the pencil scribble there.

she needs you

it's written in price's ugly handwriting, letters all tilted to the side and barely legible, but he still can read what price didn't write--and you need her.

but simon doesn't need anyone. he barely needs himself, barely can take care of himself. this won't help him--he can't help anyone, he isn't the kind that can be this kind of thing for anyone. he's stayed in the service because at least this way, he can die with honor, he can prove them all wrong, he can at least be remembered for what he could do and not by what was done to him.

his touch is ice. his heart is buried too deep under his ribs; no one has seen it since he could finally register a memory. his face, the skin he wears--he's not a pretty man, he's a forgettable one. he isn't gentle, he isn't capable of it. he can't forgive. he's so quick to anger, likes to snap his teeth, and he cannot be the kind of thing that they all expect him to be.

he does not love himself. he will not love himself. so he cannot love another.

there is a certain kind of satisfaction he feels when he fixes the porch step. once abandoned, once a nuisance, and now it functions as intended. he feels the same kind of thing when he rips up the stained carpet, and he feels it again when he watches the seeds of the thyme leaves grow as they rest in a pot above the sink.

things once forgotten serve a purpose. with effort, they can be used again. they don't have to be replaced, they can be open anew, they can live again and breathe deeper and see through the lens of a different perspective.

when you climb the porch steps the first time, he thinks about the board that doesn't wobble any longer. when the door shuts behind you for the first time and you take off your boots, he thinks about the new carpet that warms your toes now.

and when you lay next to him for the first time, under the covers of the bed he's made, he reaches over and slips a few fingers around your wrist, thumbing at the base of it and swallowing hard when he feels the pulse of your heartbeat. it beats, warm and steady, to a beat familiar, one he knows. his heart has not been hiding under thick bone and the tar of his own blood.

it's here now. under your skin. and now it's home.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki’s masterlist ♡ !

lil blurbs ! ( i'm just talkin'):

katsuki likes to make you laugh

katsuki's love language

katsuki is so dramatic

katsuki likes to bite you

childhood bodyguard! katsuki

katsuki x popstar! reader

katsuki is fun to mess with

katsuki really likes the way you smell

hockey player! bakugou

sleepy kisses w katsuki

katsuki and compliments

katsuki doesn't give a fuck

goodnight kiss (or the one where katsuki isn’t good at asking for, well…anything.)

suck up katsuki

could've fooled me ( or the one where you peel your orange yourself and katsuki is not happy)

katsuki and your naps (or the one where katsuki hates kaminari)

katsuki is a big baby

katsuki and (non sexual) hickies ! more !

no good thief ! (or the one where katsuki finds out who’s been stealing his clothes)

sleeping on the couch

katsuki and petnames…kinda

katsuki in a suit

katsuki is dramatic again (or the one where katsuki isn’t worried..really.)

katsuki and ice cream

katsuki and changing

katsuki doesn't give a fuck, again !

your almost boyfriend katsuki

baby suki

lil fics ! ( i ramble a little longer) :

katsuki is in trouble

katsuki's extra clingy when he's sleepy

from the start (or the one where you've been katsuki's for as long as you can remember)

you are not the father ! (or watching the maury show with katsuki)

katsuki hates seeing you cry

unchanged apologies (or the one where katsuki's childhood habits remains the same)

fire-breathing roommate chronicles (or living w dragon bkg)

baking cookies with katsuki

can't love anyone more than you

katsuki can't say no to you (not that he wants to) (or the one where katsuki takes care of you after you get drunk) part two !

déjà vu : a french term that translates to "already seen." It is a phenomenon where an individual feels a strong sense of familiarity or recognition with a current situation.( or the one where katsuki thinks about you) bnha manga spoilers !!

the bet (or the one where your classmates make a bet.)

this night has opened my eyes (or the one where katsuki cleans up your injuries)

valentine's day troubles (or the one where katsuki's friends help him out for valentines day )

boyfriend for sale ! (or the one where your boyfriend forgets to ask you to be his valentine) feat. shoto todoroki !

ewww, katsu's got cooties ! (or the one where katsuki is too cool for cooties)

two of hearts (or the one where katsuki wakes up) bnha manga spoilers !!

31 days (or the one where katsuki surprises you)

habits (or little habits katsuki's developed ever since he's met you) slight bnha manga spoilers !!

while i search for the way to your world, leave a mark on your way (or the one where katsuki has his first real fight with you)

jealous, jealous, jealous girl ! (or the one where your boyfriend gets too much attention)

longer fics / mini series ! ( get comfy 'cuz this one's a multi-parter !) :

♡ fire-breathing roommate chronicles !♡ when an injured, mysterious, and incredibly handsome dragon man blasts through the wall of your apartment, you decide to let him stay with you until he's fully healed. despite the struggles of co-habitating with a mythical beast, his mysterious past and annoyingly sharp tongue, you find you can't help feeling drawn to him..

♡ fire-breathing boyfriend chronicles ! ♡ some short ‘n sweet little extra’s following the events of fbrc starring our favorite now dragon boyfriend bakugou !

ring pop proposal ♡ 1 2 3 ♡ the three times where mitsuki realizes that her katsuki is in love with you (and she realizes you love him back)

♡ ring pops, chocolates proposals ! ♡ katsuki loves you throughout the years.

an explosive birthday (collab event for the days leading up to katsuki's birthday !) see masterlist

shadows of affection : orphaned at a young age, katsuki knows nothing but endless violence and the feeling of his bruised and bloody knuckles. until he gets taken in by a mob boss and is tasked to become his daughter's bodyguard..

and then some more ! ( extra's !)

the morning after : katsuki confronts you about what you told him the night you got drunk

♡ fire-breathing boyfriend chronicles ! ♡ some short ‘n sweet little extra’s following the events of fbrc starring our favorite now dragon boyfriend bakugou !

♡ ring pops, chocolates proposals ! ♡ katsuki loves you throughout the years.

[elytrafemme]

sometimes i wonder if things would be better if klavier was the host of this system. 

[gojonanami]

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 - 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

summary: it's gojo's birthday, and he can't help but reflect on what birthdays have meant to him over the years, especially the year you decide you don't really want to do anything for his birthday (but it turns out you do).

contents: angst then fluff, i promise there's a happy ending, you just have to earn it, shibuya does not happen in this timeline, instead we celebrate gojo, slightly angsty, reflections on events of jjk 0, crack, all of gojo's students (aside yuta and hakari and rirara make an appearance), mentions of sex/pregnancy, innuendo

word count: 2,821

December 7, 1989. 

A day that had changed the balance of the jujutsu world irrevocably — the day Satoru Gojo had burst onto the scene. 

But to Satoru, the anniversary of that day had meant nothing to him for most of his life. It was another day in the calendar — the caretakers from the Gojo clan cared not for his birthday, as they did his development as the head and face of the Gojo clan. He had received the best of everything — the best foods, the best training, the best room in the compound. 

At least, the strongest sorcerer had. 

Satoru Gojo had barely received anything more than reverent bows, averted gazes, and hushed whispers — and he saw them all, with the six eyes he never had asked for. And Satoru Gojo had grown up without affection or anything of the sort — to the point where he had thought he was simply beyond that — love, compassion, or friendship — no, the only thing he had was duty. 

And birthdays only served as a marker that he had lived another year. 

Until they meant something more — when he had met Suguru, Shoko, and you. And then it had meant something for a little while. It meant a celebration with his friends — with a cake that you and Suguru had hastily made after a mission, while Shoko hung decorations (with the help of one of Suguru’s curses reaching the high points). It had meant forcing Nanami to wear a party hat against his will (Shoko and Haibara’s doing), and Satoru inevitably smearing cake on your face to start an all out food fight (which only ended with Satoru getting scolded and smacked on the head by Yaga, even on his birthday). And it meant you, Suguru, and Shoko giving him his first real birthday present — something he had never received in fifteen years of living. It meant something more. 

Until it didn’t, again. 

Because, now, it was another year he had spent without his best friend. Another year he watched other sorcerers die. Another year he had to spend apart from you and Shoko because you or he had been sent on missions while Shoko was stuck in the infirmary or the morgue. 

And now, this year it was the first time he had a birthday that Suguru wouldn’t age. He would never age again. He would stay 28 forever, and Satoru — he didn’t know what age he’d turn. He hoped he would die before old age or disease took him — he rather not live long enough for that. Although you and Suguru always joked that he would be even better looking as an old man. 

But all Satoru could think about was growing old alone — without anyone else around him. He was the strongest after all, how could anyone else survive? People around him were killed off one by one — and he was left all alone. And maybe that’s why he didn’t like birthdays — it was just another year, another year older — another year marking who had left him. 

And so many did. 

And how many birthdays would pass until he lost another? Would it be one of his students? Would it be Nanami? Would it be Shoko? Would it be you? 

You…you were someone he couldn’t bear to lose. He had already lost you once. Pushed you away after Geto defected, pushed himself into work until he was burnt out, and pushed away any thoughts that he had of you. It didn’t last. It wasn’t a year until you had battered at his walls and his actual door, forcing your way back into his life. 

And he was thankful you did, because he didn’t know if he would have found his way out of the hole he had dug himself in — before the dirt covered and buried him. 

You — you would never let his birthday go. You never let him go a year without making him feel special, in one way or another. Last year, you had baked him his favorite cake, took him on a trip to a hot spring, and made arrangements to make sure the two of you weren’t disturbed the entire weekend (which was a feat of miracles on par with his six eyes and limitless itself). 

“C’mon, just tell meeeee,” 

And the strongest sorcerer’s snatching your gradebook out of your hand for the millionth time, and you surely look unamused, brow knit together, as you rub your temples, “You know living with you is worse than a child,” 

“Wanna test your theory? I could fill you up right now and nine months—” 

“I’m going to murder you,” and he only shrugs, all too smug. 

“You’d miss me too much,” and he adds, “plus I know you’re strong, but you couldn’t—” 

“Finish that sentence and you’re sleeping on the couch all week, I don’t care if it is your birthday tomorrow,” and he meets your gaze, and you’re unwavering, as he sighs, and hands over your grade book. 

“We really aren’t doing anything?” your husband asks, raising a single eyebrow curiously, “you always have something up your sleeve, sweetheart,” 

You frown, setting your grade book aside, “I just thought with everything going on — Yuji’s appearance, the special grades running around — I don’t think we should be away right now, and I thought we could do something small, just you and me,” 

He nods slowly, a smile shoddily crafted and pasted on his lips, “Yeah, bet if I leave, the higher ups may try to pull something on Yuji,” he sighs dramatically, leaning his head back on the couch, “what a curse to be the strongest,” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” you press a kiss to his forehead, “you sure you’re okay with not doing anything?” 

“Of course,” he finds your lips in a kiss.  

But why wasn’t he? 

He wasn’t one to care for things like this. He thought he was beyond caring about things like this. But all he could feel was the festering urge of disappointment seeping into his thoughts. Even the next day, the universe seemed to be against him, sent on a wild goose chase mission to hunt down a supposed special grade only to find two grade A curses that he took care of with ease. 

He trodded back home to you — lips still in a pout that he couldn’t even enjoy his morning with you on his birthday. He didn’t even get to enjoy cuddling with you — woken up to travel across the country to deal with some curses he didn’t need to handle. 

It didn’t used to be like this — sent off to do missions alone. Again and again. Heavy was the head that bore the crown, but no one had mentioned how lonely it was. Lonely even surrounded by those who tried to understand him — and he had you, he had you, but how could anyone truly see him for who he was — when he didn’t feel like he knew who he was anymore. Suguru’s question still rang in his ears — was he the strongest because he was Gojo Satoru, or was he Gojo Satoru because he was the strongest? 

And all these years later, he still didn’t know the answer. He didn’t know if he would ever know the answer. 

But he didn’t have time to linger on his thoughts as he spotted his home in the distance, but that wasn’t all he saw — there was a lot more cursed energy at home than usual — multiple people in his home, and his lips curled. 

He sneaks up, diminishing his presence to nothing, as he pressed his ear to the door, and he could hear them — 

“Too high, Itadori, lower!” Nobara barked, and Yuuji groaned, “come on, how long is it gonna take you to do this?” 

“Then why don’t you get up here and do it?” he snaps back, and Nobara scoffs. 

“I’m supervising, that’s why,” 

“EH? Who else are you supervising besides me?” 

“Stop messing around you two, and get the banner hung,” Megumi sighs, and Satoru could imagine him scowling, “Inumaki-senpai, do you need more balloons?” 

“Salmon,” 

“Maki, hurry up with cutting those strawberries, Nanami is almost done frosting the cake,” Satoru could hear Panda chewing and then a distinct THUNCK. 

“THEN STOP EATING THEM YOU DAMN ANIMAL!” 

“Alright, alright, stop fighting guys,” Satoru heard you sigh, “Nanami, I hope the frosting and cakes I baked were decent — I followed the recipe you gave me to a tee,” 

“You did a good job from what I could tell, but I’m pretty sure you could feed that idiot a plain cup of sugar, and he’d like it just the same,” and Satoru pouts, hearing Shoko laugh as well. 

“Especially if it’s from you,” Shoko teases you, as you scoff playfully, “can’t believe you two got married still — won’t be long until there are little Gojos running around, if Satoru has his way, with the way he’s been railing you,”

“Can we change the subject?” Nanami asks, disgust evident. 

You only chuckle, “Well, he’s insisted that we start trying once things settle down, saying it never hurts to practice, but—” and then your phone chimes, “Yaga said Toru’s on his way back for a while, he should be close.” 

There’s a mad dash and scramble as they put everything in its place, and Satoru leans against the side of the house — they even put up a curtain to hide their cursed energy on the inside, prioritizing invisibility. 

And Satoru grins  — all this for him? 

“Let me video call him and see where he is — I think I can distract him enough,” and he teleports down the road from his home, as your phone call comes through, “hi birthday boy, are you almost home?” 

“Almost,” he hums, “need something, sweetheart?” 

“Just my lovely husband home so I can cuddle him,” you smile, and he can see you’re walking into your shared bedroom now, sound of the door closing behind you, “got a surprise on for you under this dress,” 

And he’s pausing, “is that right?” And the party ebbs away from his mind, as your fingers slid the straps of your dress down, and teasing the baby blue and white lingerie set underneath, “my perfect birthday gift — all ready for me to unwrap?” 

“As soon as you get home,” and all blood flees his brain and heads southward, “I’ll be waiting,” 

And you disconnect the call — and he’s rushing now, party be damned. He would have you in bed, even if he had to sneak away with you upstairs for five minutes. 

He unlocks the door, and hears several bangs from poppers, as all of his students, colleagues, and friends shout “surprise!” And he smiles, glancing around at the birthday decorations, the birthday cake precariously balanced in Yuji’s hands, and you — grinning right at the front of the group, holding a bouquet of red roses. 

Everyone is stepping up to wish him a happy birthday, even grumbling happy birthdays from Megumi and Maki, as his arms curl around you after, “did I fool you?” 

And he only smiles, “I’m always a fool for you, sweetheart,” and his lips find yours, only yielding disgusted groans from most of your students, “and don’t think I forgot about my present,” he whispers, while pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, “I have a feeling I’ll be tearing off the wrapping soon enough,” he winks. 

You roll your eyes, “Party first, presents later,” your hand finds his as you take him to mingle. 

Satoru doesn’t get his wish of a secret rendezvous with you — but he does get several other gifts from his students — a blue ray of Human Earthworm 4 from Yuji, Crocs from Nobara (“they’re as tacky as you are”), Megumi gives a gift card (Yuji: “No creativity,” Nobara: “Seriously how boring,” and Yuji earns a fist to the head from Megumi). The second years’ pitched in and bought him a book on ‘how to date’ (“it was Yuta’s idea — he’s not sure you know how to date even after getting married”). 

He’s being pulled over to cut the cake that Yuji miraculously only dropped once (but Maki had luckily caught), you at his side, as everyone crowds around for him to cut it, and he thinks, maybe he doesn’t need to be understood as the strongest — maybe he can just be understood as Satoru Gojo, and that can be enough. 

And he blows out his candles, as your fingers interlaced with his, and he’s cutting a particularly big chunk to feed you, nearly smearing it over your lips, “What did you wish for—umph—” and he’s kissing you, the sweet frosting didn’t compare to the sweetness of your lips, your fingers finding his shoulder, and he barely hears the groans of his students, parting as you softly pant, beautiful smile spread on your face, “Toru—” 

“I have everything I could wish for,” and he’s pressing his forehead to yours, before you kiss his nose, only to drag some frosting across his cheek, “oi!” 

“That’s for smearing cake all over my face,” you brush the crumbs from your chin, and he only grins wider. 

As he’s pulling you close with an arm around your waist, his breath warm against your lips, “Will you help clean it off?” and you roll your eyes, as his students grimace at his words, booing him. 

You only give a small smile, and kiss his cheek, whispering, “...after they leave,” and they do soon enough, after everyone enjoys their slice of cake and a few drinks (Yuji sneaking a glass of wine when Nanami isn’t looking), they leave to go back home. 

Satoru collapses on the couch first, and then you toss yourself beside him, throwing your legs over his lap, “Tired?” you curl yourself against him, your head finding his shoulder, nose brushing against the warm nape of his neck. 

“Was that mission earlier your doing?” 

“Well how else would I get you out of the house with all your pestering? And knowing you, you would have kept me in bed all morning,” and he laughs, as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you properly into his lap. 

“How’d you see my birthday wish list?” and you scoff, as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “you still have one more gift to give me, one that you teased me with earlier,” and his fingers are creeping up your bare thigh, squeezing teasingly at your flesh. 

“Two more, actually,” and he’s tilting his head, as you grab the bouquet of flowers from the coffee table where he had left it, “you missed something in here,” 

And he’s smiling, as he pulls a small box nestled in the middle of the roses, “What’s this—” and his fingers are too quick for his question, as he’s met with your gift. 

Positive. 

He stares — stares if it would disappear before his eyes, that somehow the six eyes were wrong this one time — the one time it mattered. 

“Are you really surprised with all the practice we’ve been getting in?” and he gives a brief chuckle, shaking his head, as you chew your lip at his relative silence, “wow, have I rendered the great Satoru Gojo — the man who never shuts up even when he should — speechless?” he still says nothing, “Toru? Say somethin—” 

And his arms are wrapping you in a hug, pulling you fully into his lap, as he engulfs you in his warmth, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “Are you sure I’m the father?” 

You snort, “Satoru, I swear to god, I’m going—” 

And his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, palms cupping your cheeks, as his blue eyes swim with a happiness you’d rarely seen before, as he presses kisses all over your face, until he’s kneeling before your stomach, pressing a sweet kiss to it. 

“You better look like your mom or I’m going to demand a re-do,” 

You huff, “Satoru, we aren’t having another kid for at least three years—” 

“We didn’t mean to have a kid right now, but we are,” he gives a devilish smirk, before you cross your arms, unamused. 

“I swear, we have another kid before three years are up, and I’m sleeping in a separate bedroom,” and his arms are looping around your waist to pull you close. 

“You can’t resist me for that long,” and he’s pulling into a kiss again, your arms wrapping around his neck, as your lips part. 

“Try me,” and he pouts before you laugh, tugging him to the bedroom, “come on, birthday boy, I believe I owe you one last present,” and his lips are curled again as he follows you eagerly, your dress over your head and on the bedroom floor before he’s two steps into the room. 

December 7, 2018. 

A day that changed the balance of Satoru Gojo’s family life — for the better. 

a/n: this was supposed to be pure fluff but turned into angst / fluff - as always. i can't write anything w/o angst.

tag list: @merzel69695, @senseiigojo, @forest-fruits-jam, @forest-hashira, @amanemisamisa, @ririthedevil, @a1is0n-png, @chosomoso, @hawkwithsocks, @aliyalala, @icecubesaredelicous, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @acewoo, @sodoney,

[pinkgic]

tw: smut (mdni), drinking, casual car sex.

dean was never “relationship material.” blame it on his “hunter life” or his “mommy-daddy-and-family-in-general” issues. he couldn’t hold down a committed relationship for more than two months—and that would’ve been a new record.

so, instead, he’d stick to flirting with women in bars, making them feel really good, and then forgetting about them. love ‘em and leave ‘em!

this was one of those nights, after a long, brutal case, where he just needed to blow off some steam. and there you were, laughing with your friends, celebrating your birthday, looking sweet and carefree in your sparkly outfit, with that goofy birthday hat that made you look fucking cute. twenty-one.

he watched you downing shots like a pro. he wasn’t stalking you, of course—don’t get it twisted. he was just waiting for the right moment to make his move.

when your hips swayed their way to the bar where he was taking his whiskey, feeling bold (though it wasn’t like dean winchester needed alcohol to feel bold), you leaned against the bar with a big, bright smile. he knew that was his winner moment.

“happy birthday, sweetheart,” he smirked, nodding at your birthday hat as you gave him a puzzled look like, how does this guy know it’s my birthday?

you laughed, pulling the hat off awkwardly. “oh, right. thanks.”

“enjoying yourself?” he sipped his whiskey, watching you nod.

“yeah, i didn’t want anything too big...” you shrugged, a tipsy habit of yours—oversharing with strangers. “my boyfriend ditched me for someone else two days ago, awesome, right?”

what kind of idiot would leave someone like you? he needed to show you what a real man felt like—at least for tonight.

and that’s how he ended up with you in his lap, your ass jiggling with every spank he gave it, while his other hand gripped your hip to help you bounce on his cock. “there you go, pretty girl.”

baby’s windows were fogged up, streaked with the marks of your fingers as you struggled to match the rhythm of his hips thrusting up into you, the impala vibrating with the heavy metal blasting from the speakers mixing with your moans and dean's deep grunts.

this was easily the best birthday present you got this year. a welcome change from your lame ex, who didn’t even know what a clit was, and this man knew what he was doing, flicking your clit with his thumb, making your legs tremble just the right way.

a loud moan slipped from your lips as your back arched, your nails digging into his shoulders while he slammed the head of his cock against your g-spot. a smirk appearing.

“just like that, fuck,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, your hips moving faster. your hand slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

“mm, baby, ridin’ me like a fuckin’ cowgirl, huh?” he muttered against your lips, tugging lightly on your bottom lip with his teeth. “bet you’ve never had dick this good, all to yourself.”

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

The Birthday Blurb

I think we all just really love Jason Todd and he definitely makes me feel things. Anyway, Happy Birthday, Jason Todd and Alfred Pennyworth! (Vaugley suggestive, as a treat) ~1.4k words

Jason doesn't care much for his birthday. You're slowly changing his opinion on that. It's not that people haven't celebrated his birthday, it's just no one's celebrated it the way you have.

He wakes up a little later than normal, and frowns when he notices your side of the bed is cold. He clambers out of your shared bed and stumbles to the kitchen.

You're there. Dressed in his shirt. It's a sight to see, probably one of his favorites, he decides when you look over your shoulder and offer him a bright smile.

"Happy birthday, Jason! I made breakfast, did you want coffee?" You ask as he walks behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his chin against your skin.

"Breakfast?" He asks, voice heavy with sleep as he presses a kiss to your neck. Breakfast is nice, but the fact that he knows he has a whole day with you is even nicer.

"Mhm," you answer idly, shifting slightly in his gasp to reach for the plates. He beats you to it, keeping you firmly against his body with one arm.

You laugh a little and thank him. Jason determines then and there that it's the best present he's ever gotten.

"C'mon," You tell him, and he lets you pull away so you both can sit and eat. The food is great. At least he thinks it is, he's a little distracted by how pretty you look this morning, every morning, to really taste the food.

He smiles blissfully at your stories, how your voice tilts when you're excited, "So, I was thinking we visit that bookstore you like? And maybe that cafe we had our second date at? Then we can head over to the manor for your party."

He hums fondly and reaches over to brush invisible strings from your shoulder, "It's just dinner. Not really a party."

You grin and lean into his touch, "It's kind of a party. Your family's gonna be there. And your friends. Roy's bringing Lian."

Jason matches your smile, "That'll be nice."

"It will," You say eagerly, and grab his plate to clean up before he can take yours.

He pouts a little, standing up to try and grab the dirty dishes, "I can do that. You cooked."

You laugh a little, teasing and avoiding his hands, "It's your birthday."

"Doesn't make me incompetent, you know," he protests, lazily following you around the kitchen.

"Sure," You agree, turning to meet him and reaching out to brush his hair out his eyes, "But it does mean I want today to be special for you."

His eyes light up, and a sly smile spreads across his face, "Every day is special with you."

You make a face and laugh, "Cheesy. I walked into that."

He laughs with you, grabbing your hand as you lead the way back to the bedroom, "You did. You know I can't help it, not when it's right in front of me."

"Yeah, yeah, you're real funny," You drawl, letting go of his hand to get dressed. He only gets you a little distracted when his hands start to trace your bare sides. But hey, it's his birthday, he figures he can be a bit selfish.

When you both finally make it out of the door of your apartment, Jason doesn't bother to hide the smug look on his face. He tucks you under his arm, admiring the marks on your throat you couldn't quite hide, "You're pretty."

"You're a menace," You answer, but even if you try to sound annoyed, your eyes look nothing but happy and playful, "we're seeing your family later. Alfred's going to be there."

He nods, eyes trailing from you to watch your surroundings as you walk to the bookstore, "Well it's not like they don't already know. Remember during that Christmas party when they walked in on us–"

"Hey!" You cut him off, embarrassment painting your face, "We agreed to never mention that."

He smiles wickedly, "Mm, I don't think I agreed to that. Besides, I thought I could do whatever I want."

"Anything besides talk about the most mortifying moment of my life," You correct and nudge his side as he pulls open the bookstore door for you.

"Fair enough," Jason chirps, content with the look on your face as you wander the shelves.

You both pick out a handful of books, he gets to kiss you, tucked behind a row of bookcases, and he doesn't think he's stopped smiling since you've settled in the chair next to him. The coffee shop is quiet, sweet smelling, and full of memories between the two of you.

He traces patterns over your thigh idly as you sip your drink, "This is where that kid dropped their cupcake all over you."

You smile, "Yeah. Ruined my nice shirt. You gave me your jacket."

He trades your drink for his, and takes a sip. He grins when you try his before trading cups back, "I was freaking out."

You raise an eyebrow at him, "You were freaking out? I was the one that had frosting everywhere."

"Yeah, but you looked sad. You were nice to the kid and said it was fine. But you looked sad and I didn't know how to make it better," he admits.

"You did make it better. You make lots of things better. Besides, it wasn't all bad, I got to wear your jacket. I didn't realize how soft they are," You say fondly, leaning a little into his side.

Jason pulls his hand from your thigh to drape his arm over your shoulder, and presses a kiss to the side of your head, "You make things better too. And I liked seeing you in my jacket."

He melts a little when you smile up at him, "Now we're both being cheesy, Jason."

"Nothin' wrong with that," he murmurs as you laugh, idly reminding him that you need to leave for Wayne Manor soon.

It takes some convincing to get you on his bike, you're worried over Alfreds present, but your helmet is on, and your arms are around his waist soon enough. Having you hold onto him while he drives down Gothams roads is another strong contender for his favorite birthday gift.

The ride ends too soon for him. But he can't complain, he thinks as he helps you off his motorcycle, there's still the ride back. And maybe you won't notice this time if he takes the long way home.

There's more people than he expected, once they're inside, and Jason thinks he masks his surprise well. It's a nice party. He watches you kiss Alfred on the cheek and hand him his present. He plays with Lian and pretends the Tamerianian pistol Kori got him isn't actually super cool and he's definitely not itching to try it out. (Yes, he sneaks you away to the batcave to shoot it. Yes, you end up making out. You dressed up and you look beautiful, sue him.)

He smiles when he blows out his candles and smiles even wider when Alfred blows out his.

You don't mention it when he takes the long way back to the apartment, only trace your thumb back and forth over his stomach. He drives a little faster when you do.

The whole day was perfect. He doesn't know how it was, his birthdays are never perfect. But as he lays down in the bed that you share at the end of the day, he realizes that he feels good. Just, he's content, happy. And it was you, and the people who love him, who made it that way.

He sighs softly, looking forward to cuddling with you and getting some well-deserved sleep. He doesn't have patrol tonight, after all.

"Jason," You call out as you step out of the bathroom. His eyes dart to you and he sits up immediately.

He breathes out your name, takes in every inch of you. You're wearing lingerie, and it's in his color. "It's that– baby," he stumbles over his words, every thought flying from his brain at the sight of lace and ribbons against your skin, "is that for me?"

You smile shyly at him, and he's over the moon, pushing off the bed to get closer to you, "Do you like?"

"I love it, I love you," he says firmly, eyes never leaving you. You giggle, echoing the words, as his heart practically sings in his chest and his hands find your waist. He knows he looks dumbfounded, and any thoughts of going to bed leave his mind.

Who needs to sleep? Not him, not when he has a few more hours of his birthday to enjoy with you. Not when he needs to make it clear, you're the greatest gift he could ever get.

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛ NOT THE EXCEPTION . yan! isagi yoichi / gn! reader

you were the fool for thinking that he'd be the only sane one in a team full of batshít crazy athletes. now he has you cornered, and the look in his eyes tells you that you should have never underestimated a wólf in sheép's clothing.

+ happy happy belated birthday to the love of my life bbg (who shan't be named) AND happy new year to everyone!!

( HOW DO I WRITE KISSING SCENES????, forced kíssing, dúbcon, n/sfw mentions, mánipulation, hárem mentions [bc it's not yester without a hárem] )

You don't know why you thought he was the exception.

Maybe it's because, in a team full of egoists, Isagi seemed to be the only one to treat you like his equal. Shidou drapes himself all over you and leaves you icky with his séxual comments, Rin cooly glares at you and barely acknowledges your existence, you could nearly faint at the mere glare of Kunigami, and Bachira likes to play rough with your body as he clings and begs for your attention.

That's not even the complete cast. Even people like Nagi, Reo, and Chigiri came with their own set of problems. But not Isagi. You had thought it would never be Isagi. Sure, he had a tongue and attitude on the field, parading around his victory with a smug smirk and spitting poíson at opponents and teammates alike. Yet that side of his seemed to completely disappear whenever he stepped out of the field, his prédatory gaze softening into a fond look whenever you bounded up to him to congratulate him on a well-earned victory. He never tried your boundaries or let his touch linger like the others did.

He was a gentleman through and through, and thinking that was your first mistake.

Your second mistake was being alone with him in your living room. He's still wearing that soft expression and kind smile, but his hands are gripping your wrists too tightly.

"[Your Name]." He says your name in a hushed whisper, bringing up your trembling wrist to his lips so he can press a kiss on a new bruíse. You watch with wide eyes as those plush lips touch your skin and permeate an icy feeling of doom through the veins. His gaze meets yours.

"Don't you think I did well today?"

Though your gut is telling you that something isn't right, you're still a fool smitten with the gentle image Isagi had portrayed himself to be. You find yourself slowly nodding, entranced by those blue eyes that never look away from you.

"Why do you think so?" He presses another kiss on your wrist, before loosening the bruising grip so he can trail kisses up your arm.

"... Your metavision is still as keen as ever," you whispered. The television screen is reflected in his eyes, news of Japan's newest victory flashing on the screen. You can't look away. "You expertly led the others to victory; you instigated all the right chemical reactions for the perfect shot." You lick your dry lips. "... You were amazing."

He huffs a laugh into your shoulder, massaging your bruised wrist like he wasn't the one who left that mark. "You're not echoing Ego's words, are you? I want to hear your own thoughts, not that slimy bastard's."

"M... Maybe," you admit, tense with his grip on your shoulder tightening. "I don't know much about soccer, but I meant every word. You were amazing, Isagi, you really were."

His grip softens, you're still tense, and he hums contentedly. "Right. I was amazing. I devoured every single bastard on that field and left them gasping." Your hair tickles your ear as he pushes them back. "So, don't you think it's a bit unfair?"

"... What is?"

"That I have to share my trophy with the others." His hand feels cold on your neck. "Can't I have one thing to myself? [Your Name], look at me."

You follow. He smiles that gentle smile again. He thumbs your lower lip like a lover.

"Kiss me."

You read romances all the time. They had always described it as hot, passionate, fiery. But maybe you took fiction too seriously. Real life is always different, and the ice in your veins is proof of that.

You draw closer, breath hitched, and mustering all the courage and swallowing down the unease in your heart, you press your lips on his.

There is no fire like the ones described in the books. There is a heavy pit in your stomach. Is this what they call butterflies? You tremble under the scrutinizing gaze of Isagi, eyes still open even with your lips on his. Soon, he closes his eyes too and you feel his lips smirk against yours.

Returning the kiss, he pulls you in closer and takes your everything in deeply. You can't pull away, you don't pull away. In this very moment, he's devouring everything you can offer— for now, physically; soon, mind and spirit. You wince when he bites down on your lip, not even trying to be gentle about it. You flinch backward from the pain, but his hand on the small of your back allows you no escape.

"Kiss me back, baby," he whispers between kisses. "You're my trophy for the night."

You kiss with less passion than him, too nervous about making him happy. You match the softness of his lips with yours, lapping at his tongue like how he does. He laughs when he pulls away, finding amusement in the blushy and nervous look on you.

"Gosh, you're so cute," he sighs, grinning at you. It's no longer friendly, those lips. A bit swollen from your kitten bites, the way he's smirking at you feels too... smug. "Too cute. Those bastards won't have any chance now that I've devoured you."

You gasp when his hand tightens on your hip, and you shoot him a nervous look. "I– Isagi, what are you...?"

"C'mon, [Your Name], how could you possibly not have seen it?" He chuckles. "Bargin' into the locker room every time we're half naked, in those cute shorts, and you think that not one man in that room would think about taking you on the fuckin' bench? Think, cutie. But you've always been wary of them, good thing. They think they can devour you by intimidating and belittling you? Those fuckers don't know shit."

He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and laughs at their stupidity, vibrations buzzing your lip. "First, you gotta sweeten the trap with honey, you know?"

You are reflected in those captivating blue eyes, fluorescent lights illuminating your paling features. Taking you in again, he devours your lips once again, caring only for the taste of victory on his lips and your sweet sounds on his tongue.

Another victory snatched.

[shushmal]

steddie request! pre steddie during a pool day eddie feels cute aggression and bites the back of steve's shoulder and surprises him

It should be ILLEGAL, Eddie thinks, for Steve Harrington to allowed out into polite company, much less in a community pool where innocent eyes could gaze upon him. Objectively, sure, Eddie knows that those little pink swim shorts aren't any more scandalous that what anyone else is wearing today. Ted Wheeler is knocked out on a lounge chair with only a speedo. But it's Steve. And Eddie's doing his best to rehab his image in Hawkins, so drooling after the local Harrington prince wasn't going to help.

Never mind that it was Steve who drug Eddie out into Satan's crack that is Indiana summer in August. He'd made a good case about it, too—something, something, being seen doing good in front of all the moms at the community pool, something, something, Holly's birthday party, yada yada. Honestly, Eddie didn't hear most of it, lost in Steve's stupid, beautiful brown eyes.

What was Eddie going to say? No?? Be for real.

That was how Eddie found himself sat on a deck chair (thankfully one with an umbrella), in his jeans next to a cooler, handing little girls juice boxes and snacks when demanded of him.

Holly Wheeler must befriends with the entire elementary school, Jesus Christ.

Steve himself, in his aforementioned pink swim trunks, was playing as pool jungle gym and had kids crawling all over him. It helped a lot to keep Eddie from drooling after him, but didn't do a lot for Eddie's heart.

Worse than Steve being hot, was Steve being cute. Eddie couldn't take it. He was going to die.

Steve had one of the smaller kids perched on his hip, held safely up out of the splash zone, while the rest of the hoard took turns climbing up onto his shoulders and using him like a diving board, his free hand guiding them safely into the water as they jumped. It looked like hell to Eddie, but Steve was grinning ear to ear, rating each jump with a booming cheer that had all the kids screaming around him with each splash.

"Um, excuse me," snaps a little girl in front of Eddie. He glances down and feels like he's looking at a mini Erica Sinclair, her hands on her hips and scowling. A chilling sight.

"Whatcha need, shrimp?" Eddie sighs, flipping the cooler lid up to take another order. "We're out of red barrels, and our stock of blue is going fast."

She eyes him skeptically for a moment before her little shoulders slump. "Fine, I guess I'll take the blue."

"Here you go," he says, pulling the foil off for her since little wrinkled baby fingers have yet to manage it all day. "Now be gone with ye."

Treating him with another incredibly bitchy look for a third grader, she bounds off just as a shadow appears over Eddie. A wet arm hooks over Eddie's shoulders, just as Steve crashes into the deck chair beside him, too small for two nearly full grown men, the plastic creaking ominously. Steve is practically in Eddie's lap.

"Harrington, what the fuck," Eddie squawks, cold pool water soaking into his clothes because Steve is dripping wet.

"What the language, Munson," Steve says, still grinning, looking at Eddie with those brown eyes. His face is round and a little pink, and he's so close that Eddie can see the faint trail of summer freckles across his nose. He's so beautiful, and he looks so happy and excited to have Eddie's attention. "There's little ears—OW WHAT THE FUCK!"

Eddie opens his jaw and yanks his head back, almost as shocked with himself as Steve. He can taste pool water in his mouth. There's a line of pink teeth-marks on Steve tanned shoulder.

"Uh," Eddie says.

"Did..." Steve starts. He leans back a little, still half in Eddie's lap, to gape down at him. "Did you just... bite me?"

"Y-Yeah," Eddie breathes. "Whoops."

"Whoops?" Steve repeats, brows high on his forehead. "Why the hell did you bite me?"

"You're very bitable." Eddie's going to drown himself in the pool at this rate. "You're too cute. I had to bite you."

He watches as Steve's eyes narrow, watches as Steve begins to suss him out. Eddie's still too shocked with himself to do anything, can't even panic, because he's that much of an idiot and his brain has gone completely offline. Because Eddie bit Steve Harrington and then called him cute, Jesus Humphrey Christ.

Then Steve leans down, slowly, until his face is right in Eddie's, and an insane thought goes through Eddie's brain. I bit Steve Harrington, told him he was cute, and now he's going to kiss me.

Except Steve bypasses Eddie's face and lands his lips against Eddie's neck, where he then tries to take his own pound of flesh.

Eddie screeches.

Distantly, he recognizes what a weird blessing it is that they're at the community pool, surrounded half the elementary school, all of them screeching and screaming and splashing. Everyone is completely oblivious to whatever homosexual nightmare is happening to Eddie right now.

"You're pretty cute yourself, Ed," Steve says into the small space next to his ear. And then he's up and standing between one breath and the next. "We really gotta teach you some manners though," he says, grinning, before he turns and dives into the pool.

"Y-Yeah," Eddie says weakly in his absence. He can feel Steve's spit on his neck, rapidly drying the summer heat, the bite mark aching with promise.

[astrophileous]

A little fluffy piece of reader who normally takes her coffee black vs Spencer having a ton of sugar in his? The two of them getting their drinks mixed up and almost spitting it out at the pure amount/lack of sugar? 🤭

OMG I was actually planning to include a similar scene in one of my upcoming oneshots, but you know whattt!!! I'll write them again here anyway bcs it's such a cute concept 🥰

Warning(s): gn!reader but reader wears lipgloss, profanities, fixation over lips, bashful spencer bcs he's my babygirl <3

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

"What the fuck?"

Spencer strode over just in time to see you spitting something out into the kitchenette sink. There was no concealing the disgust on your face as you eyed the cup in your grasp suspiciously.

"Hey." Spencer's voice tore through the air in a shaky ball of nerves. It sounded meek amidst the buzzing busyness of the BAU bullpen, yet still, you snapped your head up as soon as the single syllable left his mouth.

Your eyes instantly melted when they flickered towards his face.

"I think our drinks got switched," Spencer added, a little louder this time.

Your gaze played a tennis match between the identical cups in both your hand and Spencer's. The grimace you rewarded him in the next second was possibly the cutest thing Spencer had seen in the past few months.

"This is yours? That explains so much. Ever heard of diabetes, Dr. Reid?" you joked as the two of you returned each cup to its rightful owner. "What the hell is in that, anyway?"

"Um, coffee?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "I may know practically nothing compared to you, Doctor, but I know for a fact that was not coffee. Tell me, how many sugar canes had to be chopped down to satisfy your abominable preference of sweetness?"

"It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Do you even know what real coffee tastes like?"

Before he could produce a reply, you suddenly thrust the cup of coffee in your hand right in front of Spencer's nose. The man staggered rearwards until his back met the wall with a thud.

"What are you doing?"

"Try it," you said sheepishly.

"What?"

"Try the goddamn coffee, Reid."

Spencer didn't actually need to try the goddamn coffee. After all, he knew your order like the back of his hand: iced americano with an extra shot of espresso, maybe one pump of syrup if you were feeling adventurous. He could already imagine how revolting the drink would taste.

But as you continued to peer at him behind your lashes, eyes twinkling with mischief and lips glossy from your favorite cherry lipgloss—the limited edition one that you had proudly boasted about in front of the entire team—Spencer could feel his IQ depleting in a rapid descension. He accepted the cup without a word and took a courageous sip.

"Well?" you questioned expectantly.

"Please don't force me to do anything like that, ever again."

Laughter exploded deep from within your chest when Spencer shoved the coffee back into your awaiting hand. He didn't have a lot of time to mull over the nauseating bitterness, however. Not when you proceeded to wrap your own lips around the lid—the same one he was just drinking from—and downed a generous sip.

Spencer averted his gaze away.

"Hey." JJ peeked into the pantry area, unaware of the rush of blood and inner turmoil that Spender was battling. The blonde waved the file in her hand before gesturing at the conference room. "We've got a case. Hotch wants everyone in five."

You skittered away after JJ's announcement, leaving Spencer dumbfounded and pathetically bothered by the image of your enticing lips. He followed after your footsteps, leading himself towards the conference room where the rest of his team was gathering. He drank a large sip from his own coffee to calm his racing heart, unaware of the reddish stain in the shape of your lips marking the area around the lid of his cup.

For the rest of that day, Spencer could taste traces of cherry on the tip of his tongue.

[barleyo]

Daddy's Girl.

Step Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: Don't like? Don't read! Either way, READ THE TAGS. I'm starting to get pretty weird on this blog, so expect more stuff like this! A girl has to feed her fetishes, so feel free to tag along with me and enjoy what my sick little mind thinks up. Thanks for reading!

Tags: stepcest, step-dad/step-daughter relationship, cream pie, daddy issues, use of "baby girl" and "daddy's girl," daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), swearing, infidelity, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, LARGE AGE GAP (legal), 2nd person POV

Word count: 2.1k

As far as your mother was concerned, your father was worth less than the sum of his parts. He was fleeting idea, a mere concept in both of your lives ever since you could remember. Sure, you remembered a few odd Christmases with a surplus of gifts, all tagged "from Daddy," and a few daddy-daughter dates here and there, but that wasn't enough to make up for his true absence. 

It wasn't a surprise when your mom eventually left him, scooping you up with her. Just you and her, and the rare postcard that your sperm-donor decided to ship off once a year or so. It was good enough then when it was just you two finding your way in the world, but it went downhill when your mom found a new boy toy. 

Leon.

He wasn't a bad guy, by any means. Wasn't pushy, didn't make you call him "dad" or try to impose his will onto you, but his presence made the absence of your real father that much more obvious. You tried to ignore him for the most part, letting your mom have her little relationship with him to tide her over. 

But then they got married. Leon became a more permanent fixture. That was no bueno. 

You toughened it out, being cordial with him until you finally hit that mark of independence: sweet, sweet 18! The big one-eight, your ticket to freedom! 

Everything was planned out for your big day. Mom and Leon made a cake, presents were given, and all birthday wishes granted, except for one. What you really wanted, was for your dad to show up for just this one day, just this once, to have him and not just his money. 

You could never get that lucky, though, and that thought was cemented in your head when you found yourself waiting for him outside of your house. The driveway was empty, not even your mom's car was out there, she still had to head off to work. The world couldn't pause for a birthday girl, it seemed.

Stepping back inside to the house, you slammed the door behind you, practically throwing yourself onto the leather couch in the living room. The tears started faster than you could contain them, and quite honestly, you didn't want to contain them. It was your party, damn it, and you would cry if you wanted to!

"You okay, kid? I heard the door-"

Fuck. Him.

Leon's heavy footsteps made their way down the stairs, leading to his place in front of you. "(Y/N), are you crying?"

You sucked back a breath of air, steadying yourself as much as you could before speaking. 

"No, 'm not, just-- go, just leave me alone." You let your face drop into your hands, staining your sleeves with tears.

Leon, being just the right amount of pushy, took a steps next to you a placed his hand on your shoulder. "Can we talk about it? I mean, I probably know what it is, but we could- you could say whatever you need to say." His face cringed a bit at his own words, feeling like he was already fucking this up. "No judgement."

You kept your face covered but obliged, knowing that talking about it, even with Leon, would make you feel a little better.

"My dad isn't here. He's been promising for weeks that he'd show, but he isn't here."

"Oh."

Your step-dad bit his lip trying to figure out how to make you feel better. He knew you weren't exactly fond of him, but he felt a twinge of responsibility.

"Fuck 'em," Leon finally decided on. "He's a liar and you don't need him. So, fuck 'em. Why would you want a deadbeat to bring you down on your special day?" 

"Because, he's my dad," you said, like it was the most obvious thing. He was right, of course, but the absence still hurt you.

"No dad would stand up a sweet girl like you on her birthday. You only turn 18 once. A real dad wouldn't miss a birthday this monumental for anything. What's he worth, if he can't keep to his word?"

"I guess nothing." You sat up straighter, trying to make yourself calm down. "D'ya think it's, like, my fault? Why doesn't he want to see me?"

He suddenly got really serious, making his grip on your shoulder firm.

"Not at all. You are a wonderful girl. Your mom thinks so, and so do I. You are brilliantly smart, kind, responsible, sweet, gorgeous-- you're perfect and if that scumbag can't see that, then he's beyond saving." 

He loosened his grip, letting his hand fall down to your lap, a bit close to the crotch of your jeans. You didn't look down, trying to convince yourself it was an accident, but he didn't move his hand either.

His other hand came up to your face, holding your cheek and to your own surprise, you leaned into his hand. His big, calloused, confronting hand.

Fuck him.

Something snapped in you when he leaned in for a kiss. God, it was wrong, so wrong, but you were so conflicted. Is this what a father's love really felt like? Hell if you knew, this was close enough in your book.

"Hmph-! Leon..." You pulled away from the kiss, wiping at your mouth roughly to get rid of the salvia strings connecting the both of you. "This is wrong, this isn't okay, my mom-"

"Is not here." 

He placed another kiss on your lips, this one chaste and sweet, so unlike the passionate one you shared before. 

"Just you and me. I know your dad isn't here, but I am. Let me make up for him, baby." His whispers pricked goosebumps over your body, lighting a fire deep in you. "Let daddy love you. Can I show you?"

His big hand looked nearly comical resting against the small button of your jeans, pawing desperately at them. So, so, so wrong. So fucked up, so not okay, so....

"Yes," you said breathily. "Okay, I-I want you to show me. Just be careful please, 'cause.." you trailed off a bit, feeling the pop of your pants opening. 

Leon yanked them down, tossing them away quickly. "Fuck, that's good," he said, pressing his tongue flatly on your mound through your panties. 

The fabric slowly grew a wet patch that clung to you, getting sticky. He placed a soft kiss on your clothed clit, then rested his head on your soft thigh.

"Anybody ever touch you here?" he asked, running a finger over your pussy. 

You softly shook your head, mumbling out a 'no.'

"Mm, more for daddy, yeah? Gonna make you feel so good," he said, slipping your panties to the slide. His mouth made quick work, tongue already gliding up and down on your clit. 

Your face was already twisting up in pleasure, eyebrows knitting together tightly.

"That's cute," he blew cool air over your cunt, keeping his eyes on your face. "You like it? My mouth all over you like this?"

"Mhm, please- don't stop. I wanna feel it again." 

You reached your hand out to hold his head, wanting to push it down before bringing your hand back nervously.

"That's right, push my head down if you want. 'M here to make you feel good, so you use me. Just a wet mouth for you today, sweet girl."

You nodded eagerly, running your hands through his blond hair and taking taking firm purchase of a section of it. Your hands greedily pushed his face into your cunt. The feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit while his tongue dug into your tight hole made you feel fuzzy inside.

Leon was so vulgar with his noises; he almost enjoyed it more than you were. Slurp after slurp came from his mouth, accompanied by a moan or two while he tried to get himself off by palming himself through his pants. 

The sight of him was just as good as the feeling of him. You had never been taken care of so thoroughly. Leon was opening a whole new world to you, a world where you could be selfish and take, because your daddy would provide, no questions asked.

"Lemme try somethin', yeah, baby?"

He shook your hand off and spat directly on your clit, spreading the fat glob with his fingers. Tight, fast circles were traced over your bud, back and forth. It felt like hypnosis, the way he reeled your body in closer to an orgasm. 

"Daddy, please, 'm gonna cum," you said, face flushing of all color. "Your mouth, want your mouth," you shot out quickly, already obsessed with the feeling of his hot mouth tonguing you down.

He obliged, of course. How could he turn his princess down? Leon's lips again wrapped around your clit, sucking on the bud like it gave him life. 

You came soon after. You seized and convulsed and the feeling of his eyes taking you in made the waves of pleasure crash down that much harder over your body. 

"If he knew what a sweet fucking pussy you had," Leon said, licking a final stripe over it, "he'd never wanna leave."

"Wha--?"

"I said," Leon pulled away from your pussy, lifting his head to your ear, "that even your dad would wanna be tongue deep in your sweet, tight cunt. But it's all mine, isn't it?"

The sound of his belt unbuckling made you wetter, if that was possible, but it also sent a sense of realization through you.

You had your pussy in your step dad's mouth. And you liked it. And now, you would let him fuck you. And you would love it. 

"I know you're a virgin, but fuck, baby, you're so tight." His voice was grumbly and strained while he tried to push into you. "Maybe I need to eat you up a little more," he teased.

"No, I need you inside, wanna feel it now." You let yourself go completely. Here you were, whining like a brat while Leon's fat cock stretched you. The pain with sharp, but immediately worth it. He fit inside perfectly, easily hitting your sensitive spots with a few thrusts.

He hissed, feeling you clamp down on his length. "Shh, come on, gotta get used to it baby. Don't want me to cum too quick, do you?"

"Yes, I do," you whined, desperate to know for certain that you were making him feel good too. 

Leon's laugh softly rang in your ears. "No, I wanna make it worth your time. Wish I could take you all night long," he muttered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. 

He swallowed all of your moans, slipping his tongue into your mouth while he rocked into you. He tried to find a rhythm, but he was too lost in pleasure to be neat about it. 

He'd fuck you nice and orderly another day, but for now? He just wanted to feel you gush around him, and feel your cunt get sloppy while he took you.

Your breathless moans caught his attention. He found the angle that made you get oldest and stuck with it, lifting your hips up with his hands so he could piston into your g-spot.

"Oh my god, right there! That feels-- oh my god."

"I know, baby," he said, thumbs digging into your hipbones. "Feels good f'me too. You're so good for daddy."

Your heart, and cunt, pounded the more he spoke. You were close and you knew it, you just needed him to keep talking you through it. "I am?"

"Yes, baby, you're perfect. Daddy's perfect little princess, taking my cock so good." His cock twitched, so he clenched his jaw, refusing to cum before you did. "You know what good girls get to do?"

"Hmph?" Your face was red and hot, mouth hanging open while he continued to fuck into your spongey walls.

"They cum hard on daddy's cock. Can you do that for me? Cum all on me?" He traced his hand over your cheek, letting his thumb land on your bottom lip while he egged you on.

Your body had never reacted faster, immediately creaming on his length. Your hole milked him, each contraction gripping his length and sucking the cum right out of him. 

Leon let a shaky breath out before pulling out of you, scooping the mixture of your cum in his fingers. He rubbed it between two fingers for a moment and popped it into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

You came down from your own high and looked over at him, feeling guilt pull at your chest.

"Leon."

"Hm?"

"What about mom? She's gonna freak if she ever finds out. Did we fuck up? What's gonna--"

"Hey," he said, shushing you with his finger over your lips. "She's not gonna find out and she doesn't need to know. I might be married to her, and I get why you're stressed, but what we have is different."

He pulled his finger off of your mouth and pressed a kiss to your forehead cheekily. "You're daddy's girl. That makes you special."

[eddiesxangel]

(legal age btw m not weird 😞)

dilf!eddie knowing he shouldnt be messing with a younger girl (18+ ofc) but he js needs relief after his wife left him

also may i please be 🎈 anon if not taken? ty <3

HIIIIII 🎈this got away from me

Omg ok he’s like late 40’s maybe 50. He’d be in the bar with Steve, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, you know the guys, having a celebritory/depressed drink bc the divorce had been finalized that day. Maybe you’re there for your friends 25th birthday and somehow you start flirting with Eddie and he would 100% think you’re pulling his leg bc that’s what he’s use to.

His ex was really the first relationship he had been in, they got married younger bc they were head over heels but then real life gotten in the way and they grew up and apart.

He cannot believe this hot younger girl is talking to him, he’s so out of his wheelhouse, but Steve is there to talk him up.

You “awe” when they tell you he’s newly single but that only makes you want him more. So when you suggest you take the party back to his place he’s fumbling for his keys at the opportunity. He hasn’t had sex in over two years, bc his ex wouldn’t let him touch her.

You rest your hand on his upper thigh on the short car ride back to his new home. He has a small bungalow, seriously a bachelor pad. He was not expecting company so the place is disorganized but you don’t care because your lips are attached to his neck the second he closed the door.

“Holy shit” he lets slip because is this really happening? Yes it is, he feels your hands slip up his thighs to where his hard on is starting to take form.

You run your hands all over his body, his thick arms, his small beer belly, his tense shoulders.

“You should relax, let me help you” you lead him to the couch after he takes off his leather jacket for the first time of the night and you can see more of his tattoos. You bite back a moan when he takes a seat, man spreading just inviting you to take a seat in his lap.

Your lips find his neck, you try to leave a mark but there are so many tattoos you can’t see the bruising.

Eddie still can’t believe he is with you in his house but he’s going to take advantage of every second of it. So unexpectedly he picks you up and walks you over to his bed.

With more confidence in himself he tosses you on the bed and you land with a giggle. He has you naked and on your need for him within minutes of entering the bedroom.

After he thinks you’re about to suck the soul out of his body he pushes you off and spreads you open needing to taste you. Your young tight wet pussy is like a drug. You feel his large lips sucking your clit into his mouth. He loves the feeling of your long nails gripping his hair taught. He lets out a growl into your pussy and your cumming on his tongue instantly.

He fumbles for the condoms he thankfully just bought, and when he finally penetrates you your holding him so tightly to your body you e become one.

His hips are rocking into you so good, he’s pounding into you, you can’t think. You’re so fucking. Happy you chose to come home with him, never have you had sex this good. How did his wife give this up? You don’t know but you’re sure glad because you get to experience him now.

“Eddie please!” He loved hearing his name fall from your lips. He wasn’t even sure you remembered it, he’s having trouble remembering yours if he’s being honest but he didn’t care. Your pussy was magic.

“Fuck babygirl, this pussy so tight so good” you feel his hand gently wrap around your throat, holding you in place as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust.

Your pussy is getting tighter and tighter as your orgasm creeps up on you. He needs you to cum before him, he be damned if he comes first.

The praises falling from his lips has you clenching down on his cock, and Eddie can finally let go. His cum fills the condom as he continues to fuck into you until he’s satisfied.

Once you’ve both caught your breath you get up to leave, Eddie feels sad when you start getting dressed but you insist he gives you his phone band maybe you can do it again sometime.

His stomach did a little summersault when he sees the text from the unsaved number with your name attached, and he doesn’t think he will ever forget your name again.

[gutterfuuck]

Can I request a mark drabble w/ breeding kink 👉👈 I'd love either bff mark or sinister mark but if you go the sinister route can I be a bit of a coward and ask that he be a little. Softer. Maybe specifically for the reader bc I am a little pansy and I get unrealistically offended when I'm condescended or treated like property, and while it would be hot if this man talked down to me I would also be inclined to punch him in the baby maker and then we'd all suffer bc no smut would ensue 😭

Sorry, I just dumped a bit of unwarranted baggage on u there but you come off as really sweet in all your posts so I hope it didn't bother you too much! Thank you for all of your posts btw your writing is delicious! Also your English is very good, you have a great grasp of the language and I respect and appreciate all the effort you must put into making all of your writing so articulate. English especially is said to be very hard to learn so I immensely respect the effort that goes into it, regardless of any/how much help you require/accept to do so. Manifesting a mild inconvenience to that anon a while back who accused you of faking for some reason I hope they step on a wet kitchen tile while wearing socks or something and rethink how they choose to speak to people online. 😊♡

hello anon!! thank you so much for your considerations, maybe it is because i am emotional since i get very choked up when it is birthday season but this had made me cry happy tears 😭😭 also, i agree!! if anyone was to talk to me like i am disposable in real life, i think that i would break down and disintegrate haha!! it is not cowardly to ask for things, do not be swayed!! baggage is never unwanted here, i am the baggage 😂!! i will do the upmost of my best ability, as i have been waiting to write for s!mark again 🤭🤭 also, i do agree people should be more mindful about what they say to others! you never know what anyone is going through, just because you can hide behind a screen mask doesn’t mean you should or can be mean to people!! i do not judge those who do though, they will learn as months and years pass, people do learn and change!!

cw: mdni, smut, breeding kink, just a little drable to warm up my fingers hehe!! minor injury, reader patches him up

you could hear your husband come crashing through the juliet balcony of your bedroom, bumping into the bed and waking you up fully. you bolted up, scanning the darkness of the room and staring at the silhouette of your lover, crouched over in the shadows. “mark?” you peep, eyes still adjusting as you clicked on the bedside lamp, your eyes instantly closing when the brightness took you by surprise.

he looks back at you, pulling his mask with its flimsy broken black goggles off of his face and discarding it to the floor with a heavy sigh. mark always found it so cute how you’d gasp with your hands flying to cover your mouth when he returned with an injury, your worried eyes looking him over as you jump out from under the covers, hands flying up to cover his cheeks and observe his cut nose bridge, one of his eyes squinted due to the budding bruise on his upper cheekbone, “gonna nurse me back to health, baby?” he asks, smiling down at you and placing a kiss to your forehead. he listens to you lecture him about being careful when visiting other planets, rolling his eyes like he’d really just die like that. you knew he was tough, but it didn’t hurt to be concerned.

he sits on the side of the bathtub in the bathroom, tilting his face to the side so you could rub his injuries down with antiseptic solution, mumbling something about how he was still half human so he still had to be a little careful. he didn’t know how many times he’d had to tell you that even though he was still half human everything else was 100% brutal alien. each time he told you, you ignored it. maybe you liked patching him up, placing cute bandages on his face to stop his bleeding. he was hardly injured but he’d be damned if he didn’t let his cute little wife dote on him like this, the sleeves of your fluffy gown he’d bought home for you rolled up your arms as you fiddle with the first aid kit.

“y’know what’d me me feel better?” mark says, taking your hands into his. god, he could just crush you right now, you were so adorable. you hum in response, intertwining your fingers with his as he brings them to his lips, trailing kisses up your arm and pulling you closer, inching towards you slowly. your mouth hangs open with a breathless silent mewl as his lips stop just by your jawline, finding it hard to hold himself back from nipping your skin and marking you up. you nod at his earlier question which draws a chuckle from him, hands moving down to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, “let’s go to bed, then.”

you’ve got your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto his back as he pistoned his hips in and out of your tight heat, never being shameful of your moans. music to his ears, he thought, letting you cry out so desperately into the night. if you had neighbours you’re sure they’d complain. he groaned when he felt you clench around him, muscled thighs stuttering for a moment as you suffocated his cock within your walls. “oh, babygirl-“ he tilts his head back, holding you firmly as your legs wrap around his waist, practically bouncing you up and down on his dick himself, “m-mark..-!” you squeal, voice raspy and throat dry when you feel him buck up into your g-spot, weeping head poking at it repeatedly, trying to pull your orgasm out of you. you whine loudly, holding onto him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

“shhh, s’okay, hold onto me like that, there we go.” mark comforts you, such a strange comparison from when he’s out causing mayhem to now. if those who opposed him were to see him right now, they’d think he’d be a different person. he was so soft with you, treated you like you were made of porcelain and you loved it. you were glad that you’d somehow tamed him in a way, molded him into your perfect husband as he made you into his perfect wife. domestic bliss.

you stifle your noises with his shoulder, softly biting on it as he snapped his hips up into yours vigorously, his own orgasm approaching hard and fast. you could feel the way his cock throbbed inside of you, the way he slowed his hips a little before trying to keep up his pace. “so tight, always so perfect n’ tight f’me, aren’t you?” you nod brainlessly into his shoulder and he coos at you, eyebrows furrowed together as he gasps lightly.

“i’m gonna cum, princess.” he says breathlessly, humping against you for his own orgasm, “inside…” you whisper to him and he almost loses it right there, almost falls over when he thinks about the implications it might have. “inside? yeah-fuck, gonna let me cum inside, just for me?” mark pants, pussydrunk figure caging you in under him as he chases his orgasm, “gimme a kid… f-fuck, gimme a baby, wanna make you a mama… g’na look so perfect— fuh-uck..!” he babbles, vision blanking as he cums inside of you, wave after wave of his warm seed spilling into your cunt, seeping into your womb. he canted his hips a few more times, almost fucking himself into overstimulation as he continued talking, “..gonna give me a mini me, huh? complete our little family?” he asks as you nod in agreement, too fucked out to even process what he’d said to you just now.

[hysteria-things]

english isn’t my first language so i probably wrote something wrong

but

can u write smut with matt or chris (i don’t care who) where it’s readers first time receiving oral

WOULDN'T MIND

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve been talking to this kid from your school, and the first hang out with him will be something to remember.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, marking if you squint, titty playing lol, fingering, oral (female receiving), masturbation (male)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 907

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hello <3

being in the talking stage can be scary. on your birthday a few months ago, you got a notification on snapchat that read: chris sturniolo wants to be your friend!

you heard his name get thrown around all over school, so it wouldn’t hurt to add him back, right? what you don’t know is that this is the kid you’ll be almost dating.

the two of you lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and discussing whatever your minds think of. this is the first time you guys hung out outside of school, and you can sense that something’s there. even though your friends told you the talking stage is the most dangerous.

his head rests gently on yours, some strands of hair tickling your face. “you never had a boyfriend, right?”

you chuckle, solemnly from embarrassment, but nod. “nope. i haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

he only lets out a hum, and then it’s silent. your mind races with a million negative thoughts.

he is so going to kick you out of his house. he’s never going to want to speak with you again. he thinks you’re a loser—

“i wouldn’t mind being the first.”

eyes widening, you turn your head to see chris already looking at you. he smirks, taking his thumb and rubbing it over your bottom lip. “relax.” he mumbles, leaning in to kiss you soft and slow.

he rolls on top of you, depending the kiss before he starts running his hands under your shirt. he hesitates, but when you don’t protest, he gently cups your boobs and plays with them.

his lips travel to your neck. after a few pecks, your breath hitches, and that’s when he knows he found your sweet spot. squeezing your legs together, wetness starts to pool.

biting down, he sucks a mark carefully into your skin. a purple bruise forms as his fingers start to enter your waistband. “is this okay?”

“more than okay,” you answer out of breath.

when he gets your consent, his middle finger moves up and down on your folds, coating it with your slickness. you moan lowly, arching ever so slightly. you’re a straight-up virgin, but it’s not like you’ve never fingered yourself. alas, his fingers are much better than yours.

“m-more.” you beg. “please.”

the chuckle that leaves his throat tickles your neck. then, he takes his ring finger and circles your clit while putting the other one into your hole.

a high-pitched sound escapes your lips, mouth open with your eyes crossing. you rut your hips on his fingers, the tips of them brushing at all the right spots on your bud and walls. “f-fuck, yes.” you gasp.

the sound of arousal coating his fingers fills your ears, only making you moan louder and squeeze around him. “you like that, huh?” he whispers.

you nod frantically, moving your hips faster only for him to take his digits out. “want to feel my tongue, instead?“

a shiver runs up your spine, the softness of his lips grazing down your body as he also removes your shorts. despite it being dark and the only light in the room is his lamp, the glistening of your pussy is as clear as day.

to tease you, he licks the arousal stuck to your thighs. so close yet so far from where you want him most. you squirm, but stop once his arms wrap tightly under your knees and hold you in place.

you wince at the sudden contact with your clit, his mouth sucking on it with force. then, his tongue licks strands up your folds.

eyebrows furrowing, you pant uncontrollably. this just doesn’t feel real, but it is; and my god it feels good. his muscle goes into your sopping cunt, causing a whimper to leave your lips. “o-oh, fuck. oh-oh my god, chris.”

your hands have a mind of their own and run up your body to your tits, kneading them and toying with your nipples to get even more pleasure. he groans, the vibration having your eyes roll back.

he takes one of his hands and inserts it in your pussy along with his tongue. however, the other one finds its way into his underwear.

his palm wraps around his aching cock, pumping it quickly to the speed of the way his tongue and finger fuck you.

“don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you repeat loudly, gripping his hair harshly.

the moans that come from him don’t help with the way your orgasm starts to build. the way he’s moving at different angles inside of you has your legs shaking, squeezing tight around his head.

chris’ thumb twirls around his tip, pre-cum leaking from it as he whimpers into your pussy. your moans gradually get louder and higher, before the knot snaps and you smear your cum all over his face.

he removes himself, resting his cheek on your leg. you’re catching your breath, but he’s still groaning and whimpering while his hand moves rapidly.

nuzzling his head more into your flesh, his knees buckle together as he moans. his hot, sticky cum spurts out and makes a mess on his hand. dripping so much that it lands on the floor below.

in silence, you guys stay in the position to catch your breath. what you do know for a fact is that this wouldn’t be the first or last time you hang out with chris sturniolo.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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