#Joy fold card

[queenbcreations]

Take to the Sky Joy Fold Card

Hey, Stamper! Today, I’m excited to share a masculine fun fold card featuring the stunning Take to the Sky Designer Series Paper. While this paper has a coordinating bundle, I didn’t pick that up. I wanted to show you how easy it is to create an airplane-themed masculine card using just the DSP. The base of my joy fold card is made from Old Olive cardstock, while the inside layer features Night…

[wraithee]

I actually love magic tricks and corny jokes so I totally get why Crowley is painfully in love with Aziraphale.

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (consent somno)

Sleeping with Simon means you might wake up from the tingling yet comfortable feeling coming from your breast, still disoriented from the slumber, letting out a sleepy whimper as the pleasure keeps coursing through your spine like tiny lightnings.

“Morning.” Simon doesn’t even detach his lips from your nipples as he greets you, lapping lazily and rolling the little peaks with his hot tongue.

“Simon…” Your fingers card through his locks to encourage him, he’s always extra horny in the early morning, but the eagerness in his movements is more evident now than the other days, practically burying his face in your breasts. “What got you so worked up today?” you ask him between the moans caused by his antics, his intentional sucking on one of your sensitive buds makes you unable to hold back a whiny cry of bliss.

“Wake up and see you sleeping in my arms, safe and sound…” Simon huffs out a laugh when he gives your nipples a nip, eliciting a yelp on you “You wearing my shirt, leaning against my chest, just the right angle for me to peek in the collar and see those cute nipples of yours…”

“It’s not my fault, you told me to wear one of your shirts last night.” Your pouty facade can’t be kept on for long, not when he finishes taking good care of your now fully hardened nipples, peppering kisses on his way downwards, as if memorizing your body and claiming his territory again with those pink love bites.

“And you’re the one who chose the thinnest and loosest shirt, ain’t you?” Taking your clothed clit between his lips, he smirks as he dart out his tongue, pressing down forcefully at your core and toying it skillfully, so you’ll throw your head back on the pillow and grind your needy pussy against his lips, begging for more with those sugar-coated pleas. “Fuck, all greedy and soaked just from me worshipping your tits, sweetheart? Who’s the eager one now, eh?”

“Just…Just pull down the panties already, god…” Not enough, your mind screams for more, yearns for his lips directly touching your wet folds.

“Bossy.” He chastises you, like you’re an impatient girl craving for candies, but he won’t deny you—or deny himself, from tasting what he’s been wanting since he woke up this morning.

Pulling down your panties and let it pull around your ankles, not even sparing time to take it off properly, he dives back between your thighs, wet tongue gliding through your core, drinking down those nectar as you reach out and push his face down further, the crook of his nose nudging your clit so good that you roll your hips to meet his consistent onslaught.

“Bloody hell, princess…smells so fucking good.” He groans, a low and half-growling one which only worsen your insatiable desires. Even when he lifts his head slightly to speak, his hands immediately move in, sliding two thick and long fingers into your dripping cunt, pumping and pressing the correct spots to make you scream out his name.

“Trying to wake the neighbors up with those cute moans, huh? ‘m not sure if they’ll feel grateful.” Thumbs spreading your pussy lips, he latches onto the now-exposed clit, bringing you another level of joy by sucking that twitching little thing.

“Simon! Si- oh, gonna…” You try to warn him before you get pushed over the edge abruptly, liquid gushing out and smearing his face, only for him to moan contently and make sure not to miss any drop.

“What a sight…” Straightening up and looking at the pool of mess staining the bedsheets, before his gaze travel to you face, eyes still blurry and cheeks tinted with rosy red, panting and quivering after squirting so hard for him, Simon smacks your pussy teasingly, earning another delectable whimper from you. “Squirting all over the sheets, will have to change it later.”

“Can’t go another round, baby…” You look down at him the moment his lips touch your puffy folds once again, big eyes meeting his dark ones with satisfaction and tiredness, but your protest is cut off by a soft smack on right on your trembling clit, and further words are replaced with moans when he ducks down to resume devouring his favorite meal, pressing a reassuring kiss to your pussy and croon. “Won’t stop until you squirt again for me, you can do it, love, and you will do it.”

[fics-lovebot]

jujutsu kaisen fic recs pt. 1

main masterlist - jjk fic recs pt. 2 - jjk fic recs pt. 3

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

these are my personal favs, so pls reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

gojo and geto are rich besties and they coax you into a poly relationship - ( @ramonathinks ) smut

you slap their ass - ( @gojoux ) reaction

slut him out - ( @satoruhour ) gojo, geto, nanami and toji version. y'know what,,,idek what to say about thi- IT´S NASTY FILTHY JUST PORN, reader is a whOre (not my words), read at your own risk bc i was SHOOk

bimbo bunny - ( @merakidoll ) smut, choso, toji and nanami version, the vISUALs I GOT FROM THE NANAMI ONE LAWDDDD

break up - ( @yanderenightmare ) angst, bullying, toxicity, I KNOWW this is sukuna

oops! - ( @gumiiiiezzzz ) text, crack, fluff, the 1st and 2nd year boys accidentally confess they like you (fellow student). THIS IS SO FUUNNAYSFJFSDF i love it, inumaki again on sum weird shi

dont scare me - ( @sweetsugarine ) text, crack, fluff, in which you text “we need to talk”. LMAOOO this is too good

fever fever fever - ( @tonycries ) smut, pwp, sex pollen curse. this is crraaazzzzyyyyyyyyyyyyYYY THE TOJI AND NANAMI ONES HAD ME SCREAMING OUT LOUD I CAN´T EVE- wow just wow

accidental nude - ( @satoruhour ) gojo smut, AAND HE SENDS A WHOLE VIDEO!!

gojo tried to give himself a haircut - ( @enkvyu ) this is fuNNY ksksks, I love the banter

trying to break up with yandere!gojo - ( @peachsayshi ) yan!gojo. yep, we´re talkin about lovesick toxic obsessed type of gojo, LDKJSDFJDJFHL

too much - ( @risuola ) ANGSTTTYYYY, fluff too, reader and gojo are in a situationship kinda thing where they live together and love each other but nothing has been said yet, they get into an argument bc gojo has a big mouth and says a lot of hurtful things, they´re both just so exhausted

dorm room escapades - ( @satoruhour ) smut, dad´s bestfriend!nanami, age gap, GAWWDD DAMNNNN, daddy kink, this is some good stuff

swear it´s just right for you - ( @slttygeto ) smut, fluff, hubby!nanami, I´m weaaaak, he´s so husband material

stressed after work - ( @arminsfavoritepookie ) boyfriend! kento, a cute lil drabble bc he loves your mere presence

labour of love - ( @s4lv4tions ) fluff, vanilla smut, lowkey angst if you´ve been keeping up with the manga/anime, loving hubby!kento, SO DOMESTIC, love making, :(

tie my tie, marry me - ( @kenananamin ) fluff, slice of life, "the moment nanami knew he never wanted to tie his tie by himself ever again and wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side" please just do yourself a favor and READ THIS

unprecedented reveal - ( @spideyyeet ) smut, fluff, mma!toji, journalist!reader, lowkey angst, "photo leaks of toji going down on you in public is suddenly exposed for everyone to know about the infamous fighters girlfriend" wELL dssdfh that´ll do it

due date - ( @sleepymarimo ) fluff, big scary dad!toji, UGHHH LOVE ME SOME FLUFFY TOJI

a day at the beach - ( @sttoru ) fluff, slice of life, dad!toji, baby!megumi, wife!reader. this is so cute :33

gimme, gimme more - ( @omgeto ) rich!geto x stripper!reader, lots of plot and build up, he is misteriousssss and fucking filthy and so cuTE??????? wtf, the wating game is real, he knows how to play his cards very well, LAWDD HAVE MERCY i would have folded too

gripping the headboard with one hand - ( @satoruhour ) geto smut, “what a slut.” hELP

picture perfect - ( @ramonathinks ) smut, photographer choso, he´s lowkey a perv, jacks off to oc´s pictures

type of husband - ( @tonycries ) fluff, hubby!sukuna, this is so cute omgggg

bad boy - good toy - ( @yuujispinkhair ) smut, sub!sukuna (YUPP), campus frat boy/fuckboy/bad boy! sukuna, dom!reader, college au. this,,is literally one of the BEST sukuna smut pieces out there, TRUST. I´ve never read anything similiar, it has it ALL I- please, if you want to be horny and entertained, go ahead and read this (may not be everyones cup of tea so pay attention to the warnings). Part 2 is where is at for sure, it deserves many more notes imo

[sugarwarachan]

Hi hi!! So tomorrow is my birthday, and I REALLY liked your Izuku x reader, I was wondering if maybe I could get an Izu x reader bday fic? If not- totally cool! Figured I’d ask <3

first of all, happy birthday!! i hope it's lovely and that this short little fic adds some joy to your day! <3

pairing: izuku x reader (all characters 18+)

cws: fluff, nfsw, smut, suggestive, afab!reader, fingering, izuku being teeth-rottingly sweet

Izuku is physically incapable of being calm about your birthday. It’s the first birthday you’ve celebrated together as a couple, so he wants to have everything go right.

Which means he might go a little overboard on birthday prep.

He sends you flowers every day the week before, each one bearing a card counting down the date. T minus 3 days until my baby’s birthday! Your friends tease you mercilessly, but you actually find it sweet. It’s so Izuku, so cute and anticipatory.

He consults everyone you’ve ever known to determine what presents are suitable for you. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was Izuku you were talking about (and that he played Bakugou’s voice memo OUT LOUD), you’d be a little suspicious at how often his phone is lighting up.

When the day of your birthday arrives, you nearly expect him to have a balloon arch over your bedroom doorway. But no, it’s just Izuku in the kitchen making coffee, sweats hanging low on his hips and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He’s needed them more as he’s gotten older, and you think they’re the sexiest thing he can wear.

"Hey, handsome." You hug him from behind.

He cranes his neck to peer down at you, smiling widely. "Morning, birthday girl. Made you your favorite coffee." His hand spans behind him to drag you in front of his body, cradling you between the countertop and his chest. He presses a mug into your hands and kisses your cheek. "How do you wanna start your day?"

You lean into him, a sharp little thrum of arousal slicing through your stomach when your ass brushes against his groin. He’s not hard yet but he’s always sizable, and the idea that he could shuck your pajama bottoms off and bend you over the counter suddenly has your head spinning.

"Whatcha thinking about there?"

There’s such an obviously pleased smile on his face that you can’t help but roll your eyes.

"You know what I’m thinking about."

His hand tightens on your hip. "Put the coffee down, honey."

It’s amazing how quickly you spark desire in the other, how one subtle shift of your hips will make Izuku grind his hardening cock against the meat of your ass.

"You don’t have a schedule we need to adhere to?"

He laughs. "That’s for later. I want you all to myself this morning."

You’re already sensitive and swollen from how good he fucked you last night. His fingers gently caress your folds, thumb rubbing over the hood of your clit. You groan, need already climbing in your lower belly.

"Let’s use just a little bit of lube, huh, baby? Help make sure it’s good for you? I did get a little rough with you last night." He kisses a path in between your shoulder blades. "I’ll try and warm it up a little in my hands, I know you hate how cold it is."

Your hands grip the counter to steady yourself. "Izu, you’ve got to stop being the sweetest fucking guy I’ve ever dated."

"Why’s that?” His fingers pry you apart again, nudging your entrance. He swirls the pad of his thumb over your clit while his fingers gently suck into you, eased in by the lube. it helps the gentle ache left behind from yesterday. "That would ruin my plans of eventually convincing you to marry me."

A little pulse flutters in your stomach.

"Oh. Do you like that, baby? That I wanna marry you one day?”

Your head drops when two of his fingers slide inside of you.

"Of course I like it," you gasp. "The hottest pro hero in Japan wants to marry me?"

"Pretty sure that title belongs to Todoroki—"

"Could we please not talk about Shouto right now?"

"Right, right. Sorry, baby.” He takes his fingers out of your pussy and licks your slick away with the flat of his tongue, smiling when he sees the look on your face. "That’s my title in your eyes, right? That’s all I care about.”

You blush so furiously it makes your ears burn. It still takes you aback how sweet Izuku can be.

"We’ve got hours, birthday girl. Let's go put them to good use."

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works. masterlist here. cute divider by @bronzewasp

[soluversworld]

HEY GIRL so I was stalking fantasias page and looked at her NSFW alphabet for Sol with a wild card being "He thought about getting a Frenum piercing to see if you'd like it/feel the metal"

Idk if I already asked abt this or not😭

I GOT YOU BESTIE, NO YOU DIDN'T REQUEST THIS BEFORE!

(Edit, Wrote this because, I'm stressed out)

Genre : Smut

Sol x GN!ReaderContent Warnings: Piercing kink (frenum), first time, Sol, praise, soft dom/sub energy, possessive undertones, oral (M receiving), heavy blushing, Sol, mutual yearning, mild teasing, general smuttiness

It's been a while.

You found a place for yourself in this Uni- Not among Crowe's group.

It's with these idiots.

Hyugo and Solivan Brugmansia...

Hyugo's your best friend....

Solivan....

He's your boyfriend! Soulmate!

You trusted him so much after that incident. He made sure, you're safe! You trust him, Oh! You trust him so blindly!

You trusted him so easily, as if his devotion was a promise that would never falter. His presence was comfort, his words gentle, but there was a weight in his gaze you never noticed, a possessive hunger masked by sweetness. Every smile you gave, every laugh you shared, only tightened the invisible chains around you, binding you to his obsession. He swore to protect you, to keep you safe, but you didn’t see the way his hands trembled with the secret he held—how his love, though tender, carried the shadow of something darker. And maybe that was his plan all along: to make you feel so cherished, so adored, that you’d never suspect the madness lurking beneath his every word.

He's a sweet sweet rotten saint soul! You trust him. You trust him so easily, so wholeheartedly, as if his quiet words and tender gestures could never harbor anything but sincerity!

You trusted him, Oh, you trusted him, And maybe that was his plan— To have you so wrapped up In his sweetness, In his tender words, That you'd never notice The madness wrapped behind them. He loves you so much. And you— You just think he’s being kind.

Now! You made desserts for your boyfriend, sadly Hyugo thought it was for him! You giggle at Sol's cuteness how he pouted.

Hyugo’s voice is all joy as he clutches the dessert you made like it’s a family heirloom. His teeth are already sinking into it before he finishes the sentence, glitter practically beaming from his eyes.

You laugh. “I’m glad you like them.”

“They’re perfect. Sol, do you want a piece? They're really good!" he gestures toward the plate, eyes wide with expectant brightness.

Sol’s voice answers before he even fully looks at you.

“Of course…”

It’s low, smoky, almost reverent. He speaks like a cathedral whispering back a prayer. Then his gaze flickers upward—those red-orange eyes glowing beneath his lashes, already flustered just from the attention.

“But…” he pauses. “Ain’t that the schoolteacher you’ve been lookin’ all over for?”

You frown. “Who—?”

Sol's lips curve—barely—and Hyugo whips around before you can fully process it.

“Really? Wher—?” ” Hyugo whips around with a mouth full of cream and sugar.

Gone.

Sol’s fingers slide over the edge of the plate, slipping the last of the dessert while Hyugo’s back is turned. He takes a bite. Then looks directly at you with a flush crawling high up his neck.

“It is good…” he murmurs, cheeks pink as spring petals. “But… you taste sweeter.”

Hyugo turns back too late. “You ass!” he laughs, mouth open in faux betrayal.

Your heart stutters. The words come out so softly, so poetically ruined by his shyness and confidence folded together like mismatched origami. He says everything like it’s secret and sacred.

You should leave it alone.

But you’re not going to.

Later, your fingers are tangled in the soft cotton of his black-and-green striped shirt, the smell of old books and clean soap and something uniquely him wrapping around you like fog.

You pull him closer—close enough to feel his breath catch.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you whisper, smiling against his jaw.

Sol stares down at you, flushed as ever. “Like what?” he says, voice barely holding itself together. “Like you're something I've spent my whole life dreaming up but only now dared to touch?”

You blink.

He bites his lip. “Too much?”

“No,” you say. “Not enough.”

He exhales, trembling. Then, hesitantly, he brings your hand to his chest.

“You make me feel like my ribs aren’t big enough to hold all the things I feel,” he says, breathless. “Like I’m gonna spill all over you if you stay near me too long.”

You kiss him.

He melts.

He’s trembling when you lift his shirt off, his chest kissed by shadows and silver—his nipple piercings catching the soft lamplight. His skin is warm, trembling under your touch. He always blushes when you stare too long, but he never looks away.

"You wanna stop?" you ask softly.

He shakes his head. “No. I wanna keep going.”

His pants come off slowly, reverently. And then—

You see it.

Nestled at the base of him, delicate and gleaming: the frenum piercing. A single bar of metal glinting like something sacred. His cock is flushed, hard, leaking slightly, twitching when he sees your eyes lock on it.

“You weren’t joking,” you murmur.

He swallows. “Was thinking about it for weeks... Did some research. Watched too many videos. Wanted to see if you’d… feel me differently.”

Your fingers trace up his shaft, slow and featherlight. He sucks in a breath when you brush over the piercing.

“You did this for me?” you ask.

He nods, cheeks darkening to crimson. “I wanted to be unforgettable.”

“You already were.”

Your hand wraps around him, stroking with delicate precision. Sol groans—quiet, desperate, his hips twitching into your palm. He’s leaking more now, eyes fluttering shut.

“Can I taste you?” you ask.

He whimpers. Nods.

You take your time.

Your lips kiss his inner thighs first—then the curve of his hip, the hollow where his body starts to tremble the most. His hands grip the pillow beneath his head like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.

Then your mouth is on him—your tongue tracing that silver bar, letting it drag across your tongue as you swallow him deeper. His hips buck.

“Oh f-fuck—” he gasps. “Y-you feel—You feel like—”

Like heaven. That’s probably what he meant to say. But Sol loses language in moments like these. Instead, he whines. Cries your name. Moans in breathless little sobs as you take him deeper, then back off—licking, teasing, letting that metal bar roll against your lips again and again.

He starts trembling—legs twitching, body arching.

“P-please,” he begs. “Please, I can’t—I’m gonna—”

You pull off, stroking him gently now.

“You can come,” you whisper. “Wanna see how pretty you look when you do.”

His hands clamp over his face. “You c-can’t say that—”

But it’s too late.

His body jolts—his back arches—his cock pulses hot and thick in your hand, twitching as you stroke him through it. His cum spills over your fingers, thick and messy, painting his stomach.

And Sol sobs your name into his palm like it’s the only thing he remembers.

Afterward, he clings to you like he’s starved for your presence. His cheeks are still pink. His arms wrap around your waist, keeping you locked in place like you might vanish if he even blinks too hard.

“I didn’t think I’d survive it,” he murmurs into your neck.

You run your fingers through his hair. “You liked it?”

He makes a sound—half whimper, half laugh. “I liked it too much.”

There’s a pause.

Then: “You’ll ride me next time, right?” he whispers, already breathless. “I want you to feel the piercing. I want— I want to hear what it does to you. I want to watch you fall apart on it.”

You bite your lip, pulse skipping. “Yeah?”

He nods into your shoulder. “I’ll blush the whole time. But I’ll survive it… for you.”

"Why not now Sol?"

"What?"

“I want you to kiss me.”

The words slip out of your mouth before you can fully process them, hanging in the air like a promise that’s been waiting for too long.

Sol’s eyes flicker. They’re bright, full of emotion, but also guarded—a beautiful storm. You see the hesitation, the vulnerability beneath his usual cool façade. The kind that only you seem to draw out of him.

His lips part, almost like he’s going to say something, but instead, he pulls you closer—slow, deliberate. His hands rest on your back, light, almost reverent, as though you’re something delicate he’s afraid to break.

And then, his lips meet yours.

It’s not rushed. There’s no frantic hunger in it, not yet. Instead, it’s soft, a slow and tender exploration of warmth and yearning. His lips press against yours with a quiet intensity that feels almost like a promise—like he's telling you everything he’s been hiding behind those shy smiles and hesitant glances.

He tastes like cinnamon and the sweetness of your shared dessert, his kiss a slow burn that builds with every soft touch. His hands trace the small of your back, his fingertips brushing over the curve of your spine as if memorizing the feel of you.

You let out a small breath, your own fingers threading through his hair, tugging him deeper. He responds instantly, pressing his body against yours, as though he can’t get close enough. Sol’s hands slip to your waist, his touch a little firmer, a little more desperate now, as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re the one I can’t stop thinking about. I—I don’t want anyone else.”

He loves you..

It makes your heart race in your chest, a beat that matches the rapid thumping of his own heart as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in slow, deliberate motions.

Your body responds instinctively, your hands roaming over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. His breath is shallow, his whole body trembling under the weight of the kiss.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a mix of awe and something far more primal. “You make me feel things I can’t explain,” he whispers, his voice shaking just a little. “I—I never thought someone could make me feel this way. You make me weak.”

“You’re not weak,” you say softly, tracing his jaw with your fingertips, smiling when he shivers at the touch. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

He blushes deeply, his head dropping just a little, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he breathes. “But I need you.”

You lean in again, brushing your lips against his—soft, slow, like savoring the moment. His body leans into yours, his hands coming to cradle your face, holding you close, as though there’s nothing in the world but the two of you. His lips move with an aching tenderness against yours, as though he’s pouring everything he feels into this kiss.

“Don’t say that,” you murmur, pulling back to look at him, your fingers gently brushing the hair from his forehead. “You deserve every bit of this. You deserve to be loved like this.”

Oh you fool!

The words seem to settle around him like a warm blanket, and for a brief moment, his guarded expression softens completely. He closes his eyes, his face flushed, his lips parting slightly as if the warmth of your touch is all he needs.

Then, without warning, he pulls you back into a kiss—deeper this time, harder, as though he’s been holding back for far too long. His hands roam, tracing the contours of your body, and the kiss is everything—longing, need, affection, all tangled up together. You give yourself to it completely, letting the intensity of the moment sweep over you.

He pulls back, breathless. “I don’t know what I’m doing to you… but I need to feel you closer,” he admits, his voice rough with desire, but still carrying that poetic tenderness.

Your fingers slide down to his chest, feeling his heartbeat in the soft heat of his skin. You want him—now, more than ever. “Then make me yours,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his once more.

Sol’s eyes flicker, a slow smile curling at the corners of his lips, and before you can blink, he’s lifting you—gentle but firm—his chest pressed against yours, heart pounding, body shaking with anticipation.

“I’ll take my time with you,” he murmurs. “I’ll make you feel every inch of me. But you need to know—when I kiss you, you’re mine. When I touch you, you’re mine.”

His hands trail down your sides, soft and exploratory, making you gasp every time he finds a sensitive spot, every time his fingertips graze the edges of your skin.

His lips move to your neck, kissing the soft skin just below your ear, and you can feel him smiling against you, his breath hot and steady as he whispers against your skin, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted… everything I never thought I could have. You make me feel—” he pauses, his lips trailing lower, “—like I’m home.”

Why is..Sol so possessive?

Why..?

Wait, It doesn't matter-

You don’t ask how you ended up on his lap. You don’t need to.

Sol's fingers trail reverently up your back, ghosting over fabric like he’s scared to touch skin too soon, as if you might vanish before him. He looks like a fever dream—shirt unbuttoned at the top, collarbones adorned with silver chains and the faintest mark you’d swear wasn’t there yesterday. Maybe it was. Maybe he wanted you to notice.

“I’ve thought about this,” he whispers, forehead resting on your shoulder, “so many times I’m not sure what’s memory and what’s fantasy anymore.”

Your fingers toy with the silver around his neck, gently tugging. “What part, Sol? Kissing me like this?"

“Yes. And—" He swallows. “Everything after.”

You tilt his chin. He blushes again. It’s violent this time. His cheeks are lit like fire—contrast against the dark room, against the green in his hair, against the faint, nervous tremble in his fingers.

“You’re so red, Sol.”

“I always get like this… when something I want becomes real.”

"Sheesh! Solivan, We just met 2 months at our art class..Hehe....You're cute.."

If only you knew, He knew you before

You kiss him before he can say more—soft, slow, and unhurried. He moans so quietly it’s almost a hum, his hands flying to your waist as though they belong there.

You move together gently at first—layers shedding like old poetry, piece by piece, until he’s bare beneath you. Beautiful. Huggable. Laced in silver and trembles.

You press your palm flat against his stomach. “I’m thinking about it right now.”

He looks like he might combust. And then—

“Use me,” he whispers. “I— I don’t care how slow or rough— just let me give this to you.”

You kiss him again, and then guide him inside.

He cries out—quiet and broken—when you sink down fully.

You feel everything. Not just the stretch of him, but the press of metal. The sharp contrast of temperature, the way it catches perfectly against your inner walls like a secret only the two of you get to share.

“God,” you whisper, “I feel it—”

His hands fly to your thighs, gripping tight. His eyes roll back, and for a terrifying second, he stops breathing.

“You okay?”

“Perfect,” he gasps. “Perfect—oh my god, you— you’re perfect—”

Each roll of your hips sends another jolt through him. His head tilts back, hair falling like ink across the pillow, the light catching the glint of metal on his lip, his ears, and now—there.

You take your time. Let him feel every inch. Let him blush and sob your name, the sound soft like a hymn being offered to a god he doesn’t believe in—only you.

His voice is breathy. Poetic. Delirious.

“Your name tastes better than every poem I’ve swallowed... And you— you feel like fire wrapped in silk. I can’t—I can’t last—”

You grind your hips, and his moan breaks off into something desperate.

“You’re allowed to finish, Sol,” you murmur. “You’ve been so good for me.”

That’s what does it.

His body arches, and he clings to you as if drowning, crying out your name like a prayer. His release is overwhelming—hot, thick, filling—and the pulse of it makes you shake.

You ride the waves together, tangled in breath and silver and sweat.

Later, when your breathing slows and you’re here, you glance at him again.

He’s watching you. Still flushed. Still blushing.

“Did it feel good?” he asks shyly.

You kiss his temple. “It felt perfect.”

Sol hums, eyes fluttering shut.

You raise a brow. “What if I change my mind?”

He turns, one arm wrapping around you, his voice low and possessive:

"...I won't let you."

[not-rigel]

The Draw

rating: M

Warnings: drinking, alcoholism tendancies, SOFT sevika, sevika comforts you

what if you're having a bad week and sevika comforts you

WC: 670

It's Tuesday night, the slowest night of the week at The Last Drop. Tuesday nights were when the crew would hang, laughing and drinking over a game of cards. But you were in no mood. Your week was horrible, bad news combined with sore muscles and minor inconveniences stole every bit of joy from you. You would've skipped out on “hang out night” but you didn't want to be questioned over your absence. So you decide to still make an appearance. 

Most of the crew doesn't notice anything off about you when you beeline for the bar. Most of them. It doesn't pass Sevika's attention that you don't wave in her table's direction. Sevika exhales the smoke from her cig and folds her hand. 

She strides over to where you're sat at the bar, “Gonna join us later?” she asks. 

You don't want to snap at her, so you take a sip of your drink before answering, “Just came for a drink. Not really in a chatting mood.” 

Her brow raised, looking you over. You look like shit, bags under your eyes and slouch to your shoulders. Beyond that, you didn't look like yourself. Your eyes held no brightness. Sevika doesn't like it. She considered going back to her game, wanting to give you the space you wanted. But it felt wrong to leave you alone. 

“Drinks on me,” she said. 

As you stare down your glass, trying to zone out from the world. But Sevika standing over your shoulder was making that impossible. You hadn't noticed but your breathing grew heavier, frustrated sighs between sips of your drink. The alcohol is not taking effect yet so you down the rest of it in one go. Sevika recognized that action. Something she's done countless times. 

“Alright, you're cut off,” she commands, talking your glass and handing it to Theiram. 

“What the fuck, Sevika?” you growl, hands clenched into fists. 

“You're not alright.” 

“Obviously,” it's mean and cruel but you can't stop the words. 

Sevika frowns. She would've been offended if she didn't understand exactly what you were going through. You didn't need to say a word to her. She just needed to be sure you didn't drown yourself in alcohol tonight. 

Guilt simmers inside of you, much less than your frustration. But its enough for you to apologize, “Look, I'm not in the mood tonight and I'm sorry for being bitchy right now. But you can't cut me off!” 

Sevika still stands over you, her stubbornness is infuriating right now. But your infuriation doesn't boil into anger. As the alcohol begins to cloud you mind, it instead cools into sadness. You feel pathetic and ridiculous and sad. You yelled your friend for fuck sake. The guilt takes over your frustration completely. 

Sevika sees the very moment you break, your eyebrows pinching and tears welling in your eyes. She needs to do something. 

“What's your favorite song? she asks. 

It's so out of place that you stop feeling sad for a moment. You answer her with a confused tone, unsure as to why she wants to talk music as you start to have a breakdown. 

“Good one. One of my favorites too.” 

“Bullshit,” you huff. 

“It's not,” she chuckles, not at you but because you know she doesn't lie. “One sec.” She pats the bar and walks over to the jukebox. When you hear the beginning notes of your favorite song, it begins to settle in that she only cares. She wants to know why. When you begin to feel the draw, the urge to pull away emotionally, you look at her. Looking for a reason to not retreat. 

So you don't verbally attack her when she walks back to you. You don't pull away when she draws you in for a hug. But you do cry when her lips press against your forehead. You cry as she pets your head, whispering “you're okay” and “I've got you” into your hair. Sevika won't go anywhere, not until you know you're okay. 

[beefcakekinard]

They're halfway through the world's most grueling game of poker - seriously, why bother to teach himself how to whistle The Good, The Bad and the Ugly when all his coworkers are so bad at this - when Buck's phone starts buzzing. And buzzing. And buzzing.

Buck breaks from staring at his cards to check the caller ID, and his face melts from constipated-and-or-in-thought to something obnoxiously smitten. He tosses his cards down and folds himself out of his seat, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Tommy," he says. He ducks his head, grinning, and blushes.

Intent on making fun of him, Chim turns to Hen - just in time to catch her trying to sneak a peek at his cards.

-

"You know, the other day, Tommy said-"

Happy for him, happy for him, happy for him, Chimney repeats in his head. He grunts as his shovel hits a rock too hard, sending an ache radiating up his bones. The air is hot, dry, and suffocating, and they've been digging this line for hours - god only knows where Buck is finding the energy to keep talking like he is.

Happy for him. Happy for him.

Buck launches full-throttle into another anecdote. Chimney bites his tongue.

-

Buck doesn't seem to notice Tommy until he's standing right beside the pub booth they're all crammed into.

"Tommyyy," Buck says breathlessly, drunkenly, dragging out the final syllable like he's forgotten to stop. Judging by the dumb joy on his face and the way his eyes are all but literally sparkling, Chim would put his money on Buck forgetting he was saying anything at all.

"Hey," Tommy says as he insinuates himself closer into Buck's bubble. He cradles Buck's upturned face in his hands and kisses his forehead. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah," Buck sighs.

Maddie jabs him in the stomach with her elbow. Tucked into him, her eyes bright in the low amber lighting and her cheeks flushed in a way identical to, well, something he shouldn't be thinking about in public, Howie feels his heart do a loop-de-loop.

In the corner of his eye, Buck and Tommy are still wrapped up in each other. Yeah, okay, he gets it.

[supernotnatural2005]

Hey love! Could I request Dean and wife!reader who have been trying for a baby and reader is finally pregnant and then during some celebratory sex, Dean has a moment where he realizes that he might have a tiny (massive) pregnancy kink? Maybe we can traumatize Sammy with it a little too just for fun

Burning for You

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You're pregnant and it's awoken something feral, something instinctual in Dean.

Word count: 4.7k

Prompt: "But you said..."

Warnings/tags: Smut (18+), Canon divergence, 'fix it fic', fluff, pregnancy kink, established relationship. Kind of spoilers?

AN: Okay so I've done a 3 in 1 one with this one!😅 What originally started as inspiration from this gif 👆🏻 by @heytheredeann, then turned into writing up this prompt, which then felt like it would work well with this request too! 😂 This is set during and after the events of 'Carry On'. Yes, another "fix it fic" because, why not? 😂 I hate that ending! But, I hope you enjoy this one @sir-thisisadndserver and also excited to kick off my second @jacklesversebingo card 😁

Main Masterlist

JVB Masterlist

“But you said…”

“I know, baby.” You sighed, pausing as you folded a shirt into your duffle. “I promise, once this case is over, we will. Okay?”

Dean didn’t respond right away. When you glanced over at him, you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing. He sat on the edge of the desk, head bowed, fingers fidgeting in his lap—like a little boy who’d just been told Disneyland was off the table. No tantrum, just pure, pitiful disappointment.

It was tempting to give in. But this was a decision you both had made—one final hunt, one last job, and then you were done. No more blood-soaked motel rooms, no more chasing monsters in the dead of night, no more wondering if you’d make it back alive.

Just a normal life. A real future. And maybe, just maybe, a family.

You, Dean, Sam—even Eileen—had all agreed. It was time. Let the next generation of hunters take the wheel. You’d earned your way out.

Of course, the universe had a sense of humour, because your last job wasn’t just any hunt. It was pulled straight from John Winchester’s journal—a cold case, buried since 1986.

Akron, Ohio. A family torn apart. The father drained of blood, the mother’s tongue removed, and the kids—vanished. Classic vamp MO, the kind John had chased for years but never managed to put down. Now it had circled back, like some twisted full-circle moment. And it was up to you three to finally put it to an end.

You sighed, taking pity on him and crossed the room, stepping between his legs. You let your arms slide over his shoulders, fingers curling at the nape of his neck, and his hands instinctively found your hips, thumbs stroking the skin just beneath your shirt.

“Look,” you murmured, tilting his chin up. His pout was as ridiculous as it was endearing. “I’m all for trying, I am. And if this is really it, our last hunt, then we’re gonna have all the time in the world to, you know…” You smirked, voice dipping suggestively.

Dean’s eyes lit up instantly, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Oh, hell yes.”

He leaned in, pressing a firm but chaste kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to study you. His fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, then skimmed down to your cheek.

“It is the last one,” he said, voice rough with conviction. His hands squeezed your hips like he needed you to feel it. “I want to stop. I want to do life with you.”

One of his hands then slid lower, resting over your belly where, for months now, he’d been dreaming of something more. A future. A family.

“I wanna make a baby with you.”

Your heart swelled, and your hand came to rest over his. “I want that too.” It left you in a whisper, but the second the words were out, Dean lit up—equal parts awe and that boyish joy that melted you every time.

“So…” he grinned, already pulling you in closer, “why not start now? We’ve got, what—” He flicked his wrist dramatically to check his watch. “Fifteen minutes before we hit the road. And technically, this is our last hunt…”

His eyebrows waggled as his hands slipped down to squeeze your ass, all charm and mischief.

You closed your eyes with a quiet sigh. “You’re impossible.” You huffed humourlessly as you pulled away. “I am not potentially conceiving our child during a quickie, Dean.”

He’d been pestering you for days to ditch the last layer of caution, but you’d held the line. You wanted to be sure—really sure—that this was the end of the road. No more hunting. No more living out of duffels. Just you and Dean, grounded in something real.

“Hey, some of our hottest moments have been on a time crunch, and you know it.” He pointed at you as if daring you to argue.

And honestly? You couldn’t. He had a damn point. Your wedding night, for instance—sinful, passionate, right there in the chapel, until an angry Elvis had chased you both out onto the Las Vegas strip.

But that was beside the point.

“C’mon, I’ll make it worth your while,” he coaxed as he stepped up behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist. His lips ghosted over your neck, trailing to that sensitive spot just below your ear, the one that had you shivering in his arms.

Goddamn it.

Twenty-five minutes later, you slid into the backseat of the Impala, cheeks still warm and hair slightly out of place. Dean climbed behind the wheel, looking like the cat who got the cream—smug, satisfied, and grinning like the devil himself.

Sam was already in the passenger seat, arms crossed, jaw tight. The moment Dean turned the key in the ignition, Sam glanced between the two of you, narrowing his eyes.

First at the faint, fresh bruise on Dean’s neck.  Then at you, subtly tugging your rumpled shirt into place.

And it clicked.

“Guys. Seriously?” Sam exhaled through his nose and shook his head like a disappointed parent.

You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh. Dean didn’t even try.

“What?” he said, full of faux innocence. “I can’t show my girl a little love, but you can have phone sex with Eileen?”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “I—what? I wasn’t—”

“‘Course you weren’t, Sammy.” Dean smirked in triumph, looking far too pleased with himself. He may have accidentally overheard his little brother’s, not-so-innocent, conversation with Eileen over the phone as he passed by his room on the way to you. 

To further prove his point, Dean continued, in a terrible imitation of Sam’s voice, “I can’t wait ‘til I can see your—”

“Dean!”

“Dude!”

You and Sam shouted in unison, cutting off whatever he was about to say. Dean just burst into laughter, the sound echoing as the car pulled out of the garage.

You shook your head, fond and exasperated all at once.

In all the years you’d hunted together—fought monsters, cheated death, faced down the end of the world more times than you could count—some things never changed.

This. Your family. And now, another chapter awaited. One you were looking forward to the most.

All it needed was for the three of you to make it out in one piece. Then, finally, that dream could become reality.

Three months later…

You couldn’t stop picking at the skin on your thumb, nerves fraying with each tiny tear you made. Your leg bounced restlessly, the stiff white paper beneath you crinkling with every tremor, filling the quiet exam room with a sound far too loud in the silence.

It smelled like antiseptic and latex gloves. That sterile scent that clung to medical offices, mingled with the chill of the air conditioning and the hum of fluorescent lighting above. Your palms were clammy and your mouth tasted like metal.

The door was closed, but every creak in the hallway made your breath catch in your throat.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, willing your heart to slow down, to stop pounding against your ribcage like it was trying to escape. It didn’t work. It never did. Especially without him.

The gentle knock came a moment later, and you startled slightly before forcing a smile as the nurse reentered the room. Her scrubs were a soft lavender, her badge clipped to her chest. Julia, RN.

“Sorry about the wait,” she offered, voice light as she moved toward the counter to update something in the chart. “Dr. Harlow’s busy with another patient. So I’ll be doing your ultrasound today.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. Her practiced small talk filled the air like a balm—something to distract you from the gnawing anxiety. You let her ask the usual questions: last menstrual cycle, any spotting, morning sickness. You answered automatically, a little detached, but you caught her eyes flickering to the empty chair beside you.

You saw it—the subtle flicker of sympathy before she masked it again with professionalism, and you cleared your throat trying to stay composed.

“Will I... will I see anything yet?”

“Depending on how far along you are, yes,” she said gently. “We will be able to detect the heartbeat, too.”

You hesitated. “Can you tell if it’s a boy or girl?”

She gave you a soft smile, probably used to all these questions. “Not until around 18 to 20 weeks. But if you’re about twelve weeks, we should get a good look at the gestational sac, yolk sac, and your baby.”

Twelve weeks. You’d done the math a dozen times already. Calculating to the day you’d left for your last hunt three months ago. Where Dean had seduced you right before. Ironically, you’re certain that ‘quickie’ is what knocked you up in the first place. 

Dean.

Your eyes drifted to the door and you blinked quickly, instead focusing Julia’s instruction to unbutton your jeans and tug your top up beneath your bra line. You did as she asked, shivering slightly as the cold of the exam room kissed your skin. 

“This’ll be a little cold,” Julia warned, twisting the cap off the bottle of coupling gel.

Just as she lifted the tube, the exam room door clicked open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” came a breathless voice—his voice. “Damn roadworks blocked off half the street. I had to park three blocks away and run the rest.”

Dean was flushed, chest rising and falling with each breath, a faint sheen on his forehead. He moved straight to your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple before easing into the chair beside the exam bed.

Your hand reached for him instantly and he caught it without hesitation, wrapping both of his hands around yours, lifting your knuckles to his lips for a quick kiss.

Julia paused, arching a brow as she looked between the two of you. “I take it this is the father?”

Dean gave a crooked grin. “Well, I sure hope so.” You smacked his arm lightly, and he let out a playful hiss.

Julia chuckled under her breath and resumed her position beside the ultrasound machine, gliding the gel tube across your belly and dispensing a generous amount on your skin. You hissed slightly at the sudden chill, muscles tensing.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” she murmured, lifting the transducer probe and pressing it gently against the gel.

The machine beeped softly as she began her sweep, shifting the probe at various angles, the monitor flickering with black-and-white static before resolving into grainy anatomical structures. She adjusted the gain and depth on the control panel with quick, practiced movements, her eyes scanning the screen.

Dean leaned in instinctively, his brow knit with quiet intensity, both of his hands still wrapped tightly around yours. His thumb stroked over your knuckles—slow, nervous, steadying. You could feel the tension vibrating through him. Neither of you were breathing properly.

The room stilled.

Just the soft hum of the machine and the rhythmic taps of Julia’s fingers on the keyboard filled the silence.

Then—

“Right there,” she said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She angled the screen toward you both, her hand still steady on the probe. “That’s the gestational sac. And see that little oval inside? That’s the yolk sac.”

You both leaned forward, eyes locked on the image, as she adjusted the probe slightly, changing the angle.

“And here,” she continued, pressing a few more keys, “is your baby. Measuring around 12 weeks. Everything looks perfect.”

Dean’s grip on your hand tightened as if grounding himself. You could feel him trembling ever so slightly.

Then with a few more taps, the sound came—soft and crackling at first, then unmistakable.

Womp womp womp.

“There’s the heartbeat,” Julia said with a warm smile. “153 beats per minute. Nice and strong.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

There on the screen was the tiniest flicker of life. A rhythm. A pulse. A flutter of motion in a shape no bigger than a lime, with arms and legs now starting to form—so tiny, but so perfectly human. A miracle, unmistakable, undeniable. It was real. Yours. A heartbeat separate from your own, yet part of you. A miracle forming inside you.

Your chest ached, breath caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

Dean was completely still beside you, his thumb frozen on your skin. When you looked over at him, your throat tightened.

His eyes were wide and wet, his jaw clenched as though he was holding back everything he was feeling—but it was there. Every ounce of emotion was written all over his face. He looked like he was seeing the world for the first time.

Julia printed the sonogram photos and gave you some paper towels to wipe the gel from your stomach, all the while murmuring about your follow-ups and OB appointments before she stepped out for a moment.

Silence settled over the room again, and you both looked down at the black-and-white strip in your hands. Dean reached for it first, holding it so delicately between his fingers like it might crumble if he breathed too hard.

“That’s… ours,” he whispered, voice cracking around the edges. “We made that.”

A tear slipped down your cheek with a quiet sniffle and before you could wipe it away, Dean turned to you, cupping your face gently in both hands. His thumbs brushed across your cheeks, catching the tears before they could fall any further. His eyes shimmered with unshed emotion, the vulnerability in them something you rarely saw—raw and unguarded.

The moment was made more intense for the fact you’d almost lost him on that hunt. A few more inches to the left and he would've had a rebar shaped hole in his heart. Could you imagine how ridiculous that would’ve been? 

“I love you,” he breathed and your heart swelled to the point of pain, your lips parting on a breath. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice thick and trembling.

Dean leaned in and kissed you softly—slow, reverent, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that one touch. Your hand tangled in his flannel as you kissed him back, your foreheads resting together as the kiss broke.

Then you both looked back down at the sonogram again. Two pairs of eyes locked on the tiny life that was half him, half you. A piece of each of you growing into something whole.

Excitement blended with your nerves for what came next. For the journey you were about to take—together.

By the time you made it back to the bunker, the emotional buzz hadn’t worn off. If anything, it had only deepened, sinking into your chest like warmth after a long cold spell.

Sam and Eileen were already up, rounding the corner at the sound of you and Dean descending the steps. Miracle was right behind them, tail wagging like he sensed the joy radiating off you both.

Eileen’s face lit up as soon as she saw you, her hands already moving. “So?” she signed eagerly, her smile wide with anticipation.

You couldn’t help the grin that pulled at your lips as you reached into your bag and handed both her and Sam their own copies of the sonogram. Your fingers trembled slightly, the moment sinking in all over again.

Eileen gasped softly, lifting a hand to her mouth as her eyes scanned the blurry black and white photo. Tears welled in her eyes almost instantly. She looked up at you, her gaze shining. “It’s real,” she signed with a shaky laugh. “You’re really having a baby.”

You nodded, lips wobbling as you fought back a fresh wave of tears—only to lose the battle completely when Sam looked up at you, his eyes already glassy.

“This is… wow, I don’t even know what to say,” Sam breathed, laughing a little as he shook his head. He then pulled you into a careful hug, one arm around your shoulders, the other hand cradling the back of your head. 

He kissed your hair before stepping back, visibly choked up. “I’m so happy for you both.” He said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Then he turned to Dean, and the brothers embraced briefly, but it was more than the usual back-pat—it lingered, unspoken gratitude. Dean’s eyes looked a little misty when he pulled away, but he just cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck.

Eileen was already pulling you into her arms, sniffling softly against your shoulder. “You’re going to be amazing,” she signed when she stepped back, voice trembling as she spoke it aloud.

The celebration that followed was cozy, full of soft laughter and teasing. Dean poured a round of whiskey—apple juice for you—and you couldn’t help but grumble about your temporary drinking ban. But truthfully, you didn’t feel like you were missing out. Not tonight.

By the time the excitement had settled, it was late and you were exhausted. You and Dean said your goodnights, and headed down the hall to your room hand in hand. But the moment your bedroom door shut behind you, Dean turned and pressed you gently against it.

His mouth was on yours before you could catch your breath, his hands threading into your hair, tilting your head just right as he kissed you deep, slow, like he needed you to feel what words couldn’t say.

Your surprised squeak turned into a soft sigh, your hands finding the back of his head, fingers curling in the short hair there. His mouth moved against yours with aching tenderness, stealing your breath as easily as he always did.

“You’re really pregnant,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with awe. Like seeing it on the ‘big screen’ solidified it. “We’re really doing this.”

You nodded, heart thudding as you cupped his scruffy jaw. “We are.”

He kissed you again—softer this time—and then, without warning, bent to lift you into his arms. You gasped and instinctively clung to his shoulders as he grinned, carrying you across the room like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He laid you down like you were something delicate, something precious. His lips brushed your forehead, your cheek, and then he kissed you again—slower, but with simmering heat.

Then he trailed down. Along your neck. Across your collarbone. He pushed up your shirt, his rough hands gentle as they skimmed along your skin, and pressed soft kisses down your stomach.

There was the faintest bump, only a hint of life growing inside you, and he paused at your navel, hands cradling your hips, thumbs moving in slow circles.

“That’s our kid in there,” he whispered, voice rough and reverent. “Our baby.”

Your fingers threaded into his hair, heart pounding as you looked down at him. The look on his face nearly undid you—pure awe, disbelief… and something else. Something darker. Needier. Hungrier.

Dean froze, staring at you like the air had been knocked clean out of his lungs—eyes wide, pupils blown.

“What?” you whispered, breath catching in your throat.

He let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh and dragged a hand down his face. “I don’t know, I just—” He shook his head, voice dropping, eyes darkening. “The idea of you carrying my kid? It’s so damn hot.”

You blinked, caught off guard for a second—then grinned. “Yeah?”

“I’m serious,” he rasped, voice low and rough as he slid back up your body, his gaze locked on yours, all heat and hunger. “You’ve always been sexy, sweetheart, but now?” His hand came to rest on your belly, possessive and tender all at once. “Knowing you're mine… and that you’re carrying my baby? That’s—fuck, that’s next level.”

He groaned as he kissed your jaw, your cheek, your mouth—like he was trying to devour you piece by piece.

Your breath hitched at the sheer intensity in his voice, the look in his eyes like you were something holy. Then your mouth met his in a crash of heat and urgency, and he answered with equal fervor—like something inside him had just snapped loose.

You tugged him closer, breath hitching as his hands gripped your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t stand a second of space between you.

You were both surprised by it—that sudden, burning need. But the more it sank in, that you were carrying his child, something primal flared to life in him. It rewired everything. Made him want to claim you all over again.

It wasn’t just lust—it was need. Raw, instinctive, protective. It was a part of him he hadn’t even known existed, But now, now it was fully awake.

And it had only just begun.

One month later…

You and Dean were curled up on the couch in the ‘cave’, the flickering images of an old action movie dancing on the TV screen, but neither of you were paying much attention to it. 

Dean’s body was pressed flush against yours from behind, the heat between you simmering as he slowly moved inside you, his large hand splayed possessively across your belly—now rounder, more pronounced as your pregnancy progressed.

Your leggings and panties were long forgotten on the floor. Dean’s jeans and boxers were shoved haphazardly down to his knees, giving him just enough freedom to move inside you with that torturous, maddening pace—slow, deep, controlled. His cock dragged against your walls in that way that made your toes curl, made you arch back against him for more, always more.

“Fuck,” he rasped against your skin, voice low and reverent, “you feel so fuckin’ good like this. So full, baby.”

His lips grazed your neck, then your shoulder, kissing and nipping every inch he could reach while still moving inside you. His breath was hot and uneven, his mouth trailing along the shell of your ear as he rocked into you again, the thick heat of him stretching you open like he belonged there—because he did. God, he did.

And still, that hand never left your belly.

It was possessive. Proud. Worshipful. Like he couldn’t quite believe you were his—like he needed the physical reminder that you carried something he’d made.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your fingers digging into the couch cushions for purchase as your body trembled. You could feel him twitch inside you, thick and throbbing, pushing deeper with every roll of his hips. His other hand slid beneath you, rough and greedy, cupping your swollen breasts, teasing your sensitive nipple with a practiced touch that made your back arch and a strangled cry escape your throat.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he whispered, grinning against your skin. “You love when I fuck you like this, don’t you? Wrapped around me, nowhere to go…”

“Yes,” you breathed, whimpering as your body tightened around him again, helpless to the sensation. “God, Dean…”

You pushed back against him, chasing that edge, chasing him, needing it—needing him. The friction was heaven, his cock dragging slow and hard inside you, until you were right on the verge of—

The door creaked.

“Hey, I grabbed those chips you were—OH MY GOD.”

The sound of Sam’s voice cracked through the haze like a gunshot.

You both froze. For one hilarious, horrifying second, and then with a gasp, you scrambled for the blanket Dean had kicked to the floor after his wandering hands had convinced you to let him fuck you right here on the couch. 

“Are you serious?” Sam exclaimed, hands flying to his face in an attempt to block his view, but it was clear he’d already seen far too much.

Your face went up in flames. You scrambled to yank the blanket up over you both, heart hammering in your chest. Dean didn’t even flinch—he just let out a low, unbothered scoff like his little brother had interrupted a commercial break, not mid-fucking.

“Don’t be jealous, Sammy,” Dean drawled with a smirk, voice thick with satisfaction. “One day you’ll knock up Eileen and then you’ll get it.”

“Dean!” you gasped, horrified, smacking his thigh as your eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh my God.”

Dean just chuckled, the sound deep and smug, like he was proud of getting caught. You practically shrivelled into the couch, trying to disappear into the cushions as Sam let out a dramatic groan, turned on his heel, and slammed the door behind him like he’d just witnessed a crime.

Dean snorted. “Damn kid needs to learn to knock.”

You covered your face with both hands, mortified, still curled up in Dean’s arms as the aftershock of the interruption pulsed through you. “Dean,” you groaned, voice muffled behind your palms. “This is the communal room.”

Dean just shook his head, utterly unbothered, and gently peeled your hands away from your face. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes soft with amusement as he looked down at you. “You weren’t complainin’ a minute ago.”

You tried to glare at him, but it faltered when he leaned in and kissed your burning cheek, then your jaw, then your lips—slow and deep, like he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

“Whose side are you on, sweetheart?” he hummed against your mouth.

You opened your mouth to retort, but it turned into a shaky breath when his hand slid down again, settling right over your belly with that same heavy, grounding pressure. Possessive. Reverent.

And then you felt him.

Still hard. Still inside you. Still twitching.

The heat flooded back like a wave, washing out the embarrassment and replacing it with a low, simmering ache. You shifted, breath catching as you clenched around him involuntarily.

Dean felt it too.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah... I’m definitely not done.”

And just like that, your argument disappeared. Along with any thought of Sam—or the damn chips.

You couldn’t help it.

Sam had become an unfortunate, unintended witness to this very new phase of your relationship with Dean—one that involved a whole lot more skin, a whole lot less shame, and a very inconvenient inability to keep your hands off each other.

Since finding out you were pregnant, something had shifted in him. Desire had always been a part of your relationship, but now… now it was constant. Insatiable. Like some primal instinct had flipped inside him. He touched you with a reverence that bordered on obsession. It wasn’t just sex anymore—it was possessive, protective, feral.

This wasn’t some generic “pregnancy kink.” No, this was Dean losing his mind because you were carrying his child. The thought alone seemed to short-circuit something in him.

And honestly? You were just as wrecked. Yes, you’d been mortified more than once—especially by Sam’s increasingly bad luck—but at the same time, it turned you on beyond belief. The way Dean made you feel, like you were the most beautiful, most desired woman in the world. It made your body hum.

Unfortunately for Sam, that devotion came with side effects.

Take a couple of mornings ago, when you were making pancakes, for instance. You’d opted for a pair of loose shorts despite the bunker’s steady chill, thanks to another hot flash, but it was enough to drive Dean out of his goddamn mind. Your body was changing—hips a little wider, breasts heavier, ass just a little more plush—and Dean worshipped every new curve like it was the first time he was seeing you.

He’d come up behind you at the stove, his hands spreading over your stomach with that now-familiar, possessive touch. His hips pressed into your backside, already hard, already needy. His mouth found your neck, and his fingers slipped beneath your waistband, teasing your soaked folds like he had all the time in the world.

You’d barely gasped his name when Sam walked in—right as Dean slid a thick finger inside you.

Poor bastard hadn’t even gotten to the coffee pot.

And then there was the library. After dinner. Dean, completely unprovoked, hauled you up onto the nearest table and sank to his knees, muttering about wanting ‘his dessert’. You’d barely managed to stifle your cries when Eileen walked in, book in hand, and promptly turned on her heel like she'd never been there.

You tried to be discreet. Truly. But Dean didn’t care. Hell, he seemed proud when someone caught a glimpse of just how thoroughly he worshipped you.

And as mortifying as it all was, deep down… You loved it.

You loved him.

This time in your life could’ve been scary. Lonely. Uncertain. But Dean had made it something else entirely. He made it intimate. Raw. Beautiful. He made you feel like a goddess, like you were his whole damn universe—and he wanted the world to know it.

So maybe Sam had to suffer through a few mental scars. Maybe Eileen was avoiding eye contact for a while.

But as Dean curled around you again on that couch, hand warm and protective on your belly, still deep inside you, his lips brushing against your cheek like he’d never get enough—

Yeah.

You figured it was a price worth paying.

AN: Okay, so this was a new one for me, I've never been pregnant so most of this is research or from my friend. Plus shout out to all you moms out there, I know this isn't entirely accurate, but if I had me a Dean like this 😮‍💨. Let me know what you thought, and again thank you for the ask @sir-thisisadndserver, I hope this is what you were hoping for ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in this series or my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith

@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse

@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

[queenbcreations]

Meandering Meadow Joy Fold Card

Hi, Stamper. Thank you for stopping by my blog today. You’re in luck, today is our monthly Fun Fold Blog Hop! I was so excited about my joy fold card that I made three! I’m showcasing some new Designer Series Paper that will be released as Online Exclusives on November 7th. Melon Mambo Joy Fold Card The Meandering Meadow DSP was so pretty, I couldn’t stop playing with it! My first joy fold card…

[navstuffs]

DO IT FOR HIM

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: Leon catches a particular item on your stuff.

Warnings: cute, two idiots in love, FLUFFY FLUFF, comedy, domestic!leon

Author's Notes: inspiration for this came from The Simpsons obvs and this amazing artwork from @emahriel. thank you so much giving me the honor to use it for my little fic! you should all check her blog, she has amazing artwork! i hope this fills your day with joy as much as i had fun writing it!

my leon's masterlist

"What is that?"

You and Leon have been cleaning your bedroom. The idea came from you: to let the energy flow around the house by donating and throwing away old items. Well, you were, at least. Leon is lying in bed, still wearing pajama pants and a shirt, although it is 4 pm. He deserves his rest, he says, and you agree. Because only Leon looks gorgeous in simple grey pants and a white shirt with a hole in the armpits. No complaints on your side.

"What is that?" Leon asks as you sit on the floor, surrounded by old stuff "That. Right there," Leon points, and your eyes follow. It is just your old collection of mangas.

"This?"

"No, behind it. That small little glass frame. What is on it?"

Small little glass…oh, crap. You immediately realize what it is, your stomach twisting. You thought you threw away that long ago before you and Leon moved together. It was a cute piece you made for yourself when you met him, feeling like a teenager in love again. It was never in your plans for Leon to see it.

"No-nothing. It's probably an old art project of mine," You try to place the frame with its face down, thinking of a way to get rid of it, before Leon, faster than you, is at your side, pulling from your hands. "Wait, Leon!"

When Leon turns the frame around, he paralyzes. It is his face. There are numerous pictures of him smiling, looking seriously at the camera, and even admiring the background scenery. There were a few of his younger self as well. And behind it, written in your handwriting in big black bold letters, DO IT FOR HIM. Leon looks at you, a smile appearing on his face, and he feels his cheek heat up.

You don't see that, your face hidden behind your hands. It was just a silly thing you did to help you during work. You placed it on your table to remind yourself to stay strong, even when things got hard.

You peek between your fingers to see Leon isn't in there anymore. Well, there you cringed the man of your life, and he probably regretted marrying you. Or, knowing Leon, he left to give a good laugh without embarrassing you.

Leon comes back, his wallet in his hands. You wait until he sits by your side and hands you the wallet.

"Open it."

You do as you are told, feeling Leon's gentle stare. You hadn't seen anything special in his wallet before besides cards and ID. You look up, and he motions for you to open his wallet. You do it, finding a small folded piece of paper.

"What is this?" You ask, cautious.

"Unfold it."

You wrinkle your forehead, opening the paper and looking at him surprised. It is one of the first pictures you took together after Raccoon City, and you just started dating. Although it was supposed to be a selfie together, Leon accidentally cut himself almost entirely out of the picture, focusing on you and your big happy smile. The paper seemed to have been folded and unfolded plenty of times. When you look at Leon, his face visibly red now, he confesses, his voice low.

"Helped a lot in dark times, believe me."

"Why this one specifically?"

"It was the first time you told me you loved me. I like to remember that."

Without being able to control yourself anymore, sniffling, you throw yourself in Leon's arms, hiding your face on his neck.

"Are you crying?" Leon wonders with a smile. When you don't answer, he rubs your back, whispering in your ear, "I still love you as much as that day."

[klausysworld]

(I’ve made this story so that Y/N is a blind girl. I had this idea in my head for a while and I hope that people who aren’t able to read my stories are able to hear them ☺️🩷)

To Feel Is To See

Klaus had found solace in admiring her.

He could tell she was blind, it’s not something one could really hide and she didn’t want to hide it anyways. In a twisted way he enjoyed knowing that she couldn’t see him.

It meant that he could watch her from afar without her knowing. He could see how effortlessly she glided through the busy streets of New Orleans, people would move out of her way whether she had her mobility cane or not. 

Her hair was always perfect, never a strand out of place. Her skin glowing and her outfits always complimenting her day in and day out.

There was just a comfortable air around her which he was drawn to. She seemed so light with each step, it put him at ease.

Safe; she seemed safe.

Klaus would sit quietly at his table, sketching away whilst systematically glancing up to check Y/N was still typing away on her laptop with her headphones in.

It took a good few weeks but eventually he started ordering the coffee she liked and having it sent over to her. 

He loved how she’d smile and he’d wonder where all his usual arrogance and confidence would vanish to when it came to her. 

Klaus hadn’t been paying attention when she approached him, her hand resting on his shoulder making him jump a little and quickly turn his sketch pad over only to look up at see her sweet face facing him. 

“Hi.” She greeted, a small smile on her lips, “You’ve been sending me drinks?” She asked, though it was quite clear that she already knew the answer. 

Klaus pushed himself out of his seat to take her hand from his shoulder and squeeze it gently.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’ve been sending them.” He admitted, a small lump forming in his throat as he fought the urge to touch her face. 

“And you’ve been staring?” Her head tilted and her tone was a little more accusatory. “In the streets.” She added, her hand pulling away from his as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Well-” He cleared his throat. Klaus was ever so slightly thankful that she couldn’t see his cheeks getting pinker. “How did you..” His brow furrowed and she huffed.

“Just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean I can’t feel those eyes of yours.” 

“Right, of course.” He muttered.

Klaus felt a little embarrassed with himself. 

Thankfully for him Y/n didn’t mind.

Luckily she wasn’t creeped out. 

Somehow, with a couple stumbles, Klaus managed to ask her on a date.

On his way home he only sighed to himself with slight humiliation.

Perhaps knowing that he couldn’t charm her with a simple smirk.

Most women would fall at his feet from the way he looked at them, they’d find him perfectly handsome and be all over him but with Y/N he had to show her build an attraction. 

Now after a thousand years Klaus had gotten very good with his words and his ways but it was harder to say them than it was to write it down. Usually a love poem would make a lady swoon but he couldn’t expect her to read a handwritten letter. 

So instead he studied braille and mimicked it by sticking push dots onto a sheet of paper to express his words. The paper was then cut into the shape of a heart and carefully transferred into her eager hands.

His cheeks practically glew red as he watched the joy paint her face as her fingertips ran across each letter. 

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” She beamed, the card was clutched tightly in her hand as she hesitantly opened her arm out a little. Klaus stepped forward quickly to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her into embrace. 

Y/N remained there for a moment before pulling back a little and smiling, “You smell nice.” She commented shyly and he grinned, his wolf almost purring as he fought the urge to nuzzle into her neck and hair. 

“So do you, love. You smell sweet like vanilla.” He murmured to her, his voice low near her ear making her shiver a little and reluctantly pull from his grasp. 

From there Klaus pulled the menus out and passed her one, he’d been too focussed on making the letter to remember that not restaurants were considerate enough to make braille menus. His expression dropped a little as he opened his and saw only words, he looked up quickly but Y/N hadn’t even bothered to open hers, she knew it wasn’t there. 

“Sorry,” His voice uttered, the lump in his throat back as he gently pulled her closer round the booth. “I’ll read it to you.” He insisted, his hand rubbing her arm comfortingly.

“It’s okay, I can just have something simple.” She brushed it off but he wouldn’t allow it.

He wouldn’t let her feel embarrassed that he had to read the dishes aloud to her, he took his time to explain each one until she was sure on the one she’d like the most. 

Apart from that the date went smoothly, they spoke a lot and enjoyed their meals before Klaus walked her home and up the stairs in her apartment block. He would worry with every step, the few little trips of her feet made his heart leap but the elevator was out of order, he almost bought her a bungalow as soon as he got home but he had to remind himself that he couldn’t scare her off. He needed to be normal.

As normal as a thousand year old original hybrid could be. 

Going out for lunch and dinner was taking the easy route, Klaus had realised.

He needed to be more creative.

Which was how they ended up in a pottery class for beginners, his hands guiding hers as they tried to create a heart shaped bowl. Klaus smiled to himself as he watched her trace the rim, checking the shape while he rested his chin on her shoulder. 

Over the weeks they went back a lot, ending up with a cupboard full of bowls, cups, plates and shelves of cute little ornaments. 

A couple times they’d tried baking, Klaus learnt after the first time to be on the lookout for any holes in the flour bag. 

They’d cooked together and Klaus quickly learnt that Y/N had exquisite taste, always being bang on when it came to flavours. Klaus would always be grabbing her taste testing spoon for her to check the sauce.

He couldn’t ever stop himself from gazing at her and she’d always remind him that she could feel his eyes. He hadn’t really thought too much about how she might see him until she asked.

“How…how do you look?” Y/N had asked, her voice almost hesitant when she did so.

Klaus looked down at her, they’d been led against each other and watching tv when she’d spoken up.

“My face?” He questioned, shifting a little to face her as she nodded. Klaus tried to explain his features but his words were clumsy and unclear, eventually he just sighed and tried to think of another way to show her. 

“You can feel” He mumbled faintly, his eyes glancing to her fingers before his hands gently grabbed her wrists and brought them to his neck.

Her head nodded and her hands pressed to his skin, fingertips gently gliding over the little moles making her smile as she followed up to his jaw. Klaus filled with warmth as he felt her hands feel across the stubble of his cheeks, her index finger slide along the slope of his nose before both hands following the curve of his eyebrows to pinpoint his eyes. Klaus’s gaze softened completely when her eyes seemed to look right into his.

“You said they’re blue?” She whispered, “Like how cold feels?” 

“Yeah…” He mumbled faintly, leaning into her touch as she traced across his forehead, giggling at the lines in his skin making him chuckle softly too. 

A small hum left him as she brushed his hair back, combing the curls between her fingers. 

“Blonde? Like how the sun feels on my skin?” She asked and he nodded, his head moving between her hands as she felt the shape of his ears. 

Slowly her hands slid back to her lap and her eyes drifted away from his as she smiled. 

“You’re beautiful.” She told him and he cupped her face, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“I wish you could see how perfect you are, but you’ll just have to make do with my words.” He murmured and she laughed softly.

“You tell me every day, how could I forget?” 

“I’ll make sure you never do.” He mumbled, his lips finding her jaw and neck with ease. “Your beauty is everlasting, in your face and in your soul.” 

In response Y/N pushed her face into his chest, making him cup the back of her head. “Don’t cry sweetheart.” He whispered, his other arm pulling her onto his lap. Klaus nuzzled into her hair and breathed out through his nose. 

Often her senses could overwhelm her a little but Klaus’s words always managed to push her over the edge. He always had such darling things to say or to write, to show her.

He’d show her every inch of the world in as many ways as he could manage.

He’d do anything for her.

[judasgot-it]

lol, Hello!

You’re writing is truly one of a kind. I rarely make requests but I couldn’t help.

Can I request-

Hunting dog s/o who hides stuff between her breast? Like literally “oh is there a flash card needs to be in safe place until we reach the headquarters? Okay. *puts it between her boobs like it’s nothing*

Tecchou, Jouno, Tachihara plz?

I love you and your brilliant mind. Also, I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to give reader rather massive honkers.

Scenario: Hiding things in your honka-donka's (Tecchou, Jouno, Tachihara)

Tecchou

The mission had been more casual, just an investigative part of what your daily job was.

These were more fun, at least for you - you had freedom to do whatever you want to people. Within legal reason, obviously.

Tecchou was not always the biggest fan. But it was either you go alone with Jouno, who you would not stop from torturing innocent people, or you go alone with Teruko, who you also would not stop from torturing people.

In fact, you only instigated them. Tecchou didn't say much, but his side eyes were enough for you to know his disproval.

Today though, you could see his joy. A near bounce in his step. After all, there was no torturing innocent people with him around. Maybe you would annoy them with your ability, but that was it.

So it left only the both of you together. Finding one man in a fancy suits and instruments. Because with your luck, they worked on the day of an Orchestra.

It left the both of you waiting just on the edge of the curtains, waiting for the end of the performance. After all, if this man saw that he was getting interrogated in the middle of his show then he would either run or mess up.

Tecchou would hate that. Appearntly he's a patron of the arts. How nice.

"Do you have his photo? I want to double check his identity,"

"Sure, it's here somewhere,"

Feeling in the space between your bra and boob, you pulled out a folded paper - so small it fit just between your finger tips like a cigarette.

It was a little warm, soft in the way paper gets on a humid day. You waved it to him, not thinking twice about it.

His hand didn't seem to move. You looked at it, where it was frozen in place by his side. Taking initiative, you picked up his hand, placing the now unfolded photo inside of it, giving him plenty of time to see it how he would like.

So slowly. Like he had lost frames in the movie he was animated in, he slowly brought the paper closer toward himself. His fingers barely touched it, still cupping it as if it were a small kitten of sorts.

"Are you...okay?"

Tecchou didn't seem that different, but his face was non committal. For once, you could tell he was thinking.

Strange. Maybe he knew this man.

It left the both of you in relative silence. A social kind, one that was broken only by the beautiful score played by the musicians around you. One that happened to be related to a terrorist - strange world.

"Do you keep things in your bra often?"

"Yea? It's free storage, dipshit. No one is gonna steal my wallet if it's in my tits,"

The logic was pretty simple. It's as if he had never experienced fighting a robber. Although he probably didn't, given he was the type to wear his uniform 24/7.

"Do all women do this?"

"...is this your first time seeing this?"

"I don't have boobs."

"That's a lie. You have a huge rack,"

His face flushed at that. It was small but noticeable - he always had a funny reaction to your jabs. You said he looked edible and he nearly giggled, which just wasn't a thing Tecchou did. It was kind of cute.

"Thank you." He said this with the stupid smile he had, one that was so small you could lie to yourself that it was even possible.

"Also to answer. No. I'm just blessed,"

"Blessed with what?"

His voice was laced with actual curiosity, but his face still stayed directly at your target. He was Lazer focused, and it gave you the chance to look at his ridiculous eyelashes. His jawline was a sin - he was so beautiful but instead joined the military.

"Huge honkers,"

"What?"

"Titties. Boobs,"

It was at this point he stopped acknowledging you. He was either done with your game or embarrassed that you were talking about your boobs so much. Probably the latter - you weren't teamed up often for a reason.

Then there was applause.

Tecchou moved ahead of you, not even waiting for the man to finish receiving what he had earned. You followed dumbly, since you unfortunately found that teasing Tecchou was more important than your job today. Oops.

Jouno

"Can you walk quieter?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your chest is so loud. Hold it or something, it's so loud."

He looked peeved, as if your mere existence annoyed the hell out of him. Knowing Jouno, it most likely did. He was annoyed by the air molecules moving, typically. God forbid you breathe either.

"Why don't you hold them? Since it bothers you so much?"

The face he pulled made your day so much brighter. The joy you felt was only comparable to when you first received a black belt. His nose scrunched up, with his cheeks red in embarrassment.

Jouno was embarrassed. Like a man in a lingerie store.

Adorable.

"Pervert."

"You like it."

"Gross."

He walked ahead of you, shouldering the corner of the wall as he struggled to have his thoughts in order.

Just to be a little bit of a cunt, you strutted forward, making sure you had maximum bounce as you walked.

You could hear Jouno's footsteps fall back, just close enough for him to be considered part of the pair you both were. It wasn't as if his uniform didn't make it obvious, but the two of you were walking through closed hallways - he needed the key in order to enter them.

Not unless he pulled out his ability. He could, but he always saved his stupid "oh wow you can't cut through me at all" trick for the last minute.

"We're nearly there. You should get ready."

He jogged a few steps to catch up with you. He hit the back of your shoulder with his palm, looking away as if it were the wind.

"I am ready, asshole. I was born ready!"

"I don't think you are. You're walking like a stripper."

This was in the list of things Jouno says and you are left to question everything. The uptight and 'best hunting dog' Jouno.

He was a grown man but a lame one, there was no way he actually knew.

"...how the hell do you know that?"

His face was unchanging as you asked this. If he opened his eyelids you were sure that he would roll his eyes at you.

"I can tell by the way you walk. It's the same."

"Do you go to strip clubs often?"

A person passed by you. They didn't look like your guy, given this man was balding in his 40s and had a hunched-over shrimp-like back. But he gave you a look, the kind of judgment that came with bringing these topics out loud in public.

You smiled and waved back at him; as if you never said anything.

"That is not the topic of this conversation. Also, not your business."

"No I just have questions. Like, how the hell are you going to enjoy that? Can you hear my bra too?"

Another one you wanted to ask was when and where he even went to a strip club, but that sounded like you were too invested in his life. You're only coworkers anyway.

"I'm not telling you that,"

You grabbed his belt, keeping him walking right next to you. His body helped warm your fingers, starting to freeze from the strong AC in the building.

"I regret taking this mission now. I hope you get shot,"

His footsteps were longer than yours. Not by much, but you had to force yourself to walk just a little faster so you could keep your hold on him.

"Give me the key."

His hand was grabby, not even bothering to look back at you as he stared uselessly at the keypad and lock.

"I can just do it for you." Jouno turned back and gave you a look. His shoulders were rolled back, making him appear taller as he looked down at you. Fucker.

"No. You should stand back, you suck at blocking bullets."

"Nuh-uh."

"Just give me the key."

Sighing, you pulled back your shirt and searched inside of your bra. You knew exactly where it was, hiding underneath one of your tits and squeezing the little plastic corners into your skin. But there was the natural sweat that built up from having something so large on your chest, making you have to move your hands around your chest slower than it really should be.

You handed the card to him, feeling how his fingers were rather cool in comparison to the card.

Jouno didn't even acknowledge it. His face had scrunched a little, breaking the shield he kept up there for so long.

It didn't matter anymore though. He was close to opening the door, and you only had to step back and give support. You could harass Jouno later.

Tachihara

"Y/n. I need you to put this in a safe place,"

You hadn't worked one-on-one with Tachihara in forever. You missed him a lot - in the time he had been on a secret mission to infiltrate a child trafficking group, you had learned that his presence meant more to you than you had initially thought.

"I know this is weird to ask, but I trust you."

He put a Solid State drive into your hands - it had a sticker on it, only stating a date from a few months ago. When he originally entered the gang, you assume.

"Can I ask what it is?"

"It's from my mission. I found a lot more than we anticipated."

What the hell can he find more when it comes to child traffickers? They were basically doing the worst a person could do.

It made you a little terrified of the contents, honestly.

"So after this do you want to give it to Fukuchi or.."

"Yeah. Or we can all look over it together. It's awful stuff, so I need to make sure that it gets back to HQ safely."

Great way to make you even more terrified of what was inside.

"Why didn't you bring it back when you left?"

Seriously. This was unnecessarily complicated. Tachihara was the type of man to take precautions but this was kinda annoying.

"I hid it behind a baseboard here. They have an ability user who basically has x-ray vision. So I didn't want to take any chances until he was gone."

"Is that the guy Teruko is fighting?"

You both could hear her laughing somewhere in the building. There were also screams of pain and thudding sounds with no real pattern. She definitely got him subdued, you were sure.

"Yeah. Just put it somewhere it won't fall out. Or would be hard to reach. I trust you more than myself."

"You'll be fine."

Rolling your eyes, you unbuttoned the top of your shirt, just until you could see your bra. You made sure to put it as close to your body as possible, so it wouldn't fall out or be destroyed. Hiding it underneath your boobs added extra protection anyway - if you got punched in the chest. it would still be safe.

"What are you doing."

"Isn't it obvious? I'm putting it in my bra."

It felt a little uncomfortable having it on your skin, and it kept trying stab you by making the wire in your bra scratch your ribs. You regret wearing this one, because now you kept trying to adjust everything so you didn't have to feel that annoyance.

"...I can almost see your nipple."

"You shower naked with the rest of the guys. Is one nipslip going to kill you?"

You started to button your shirt back up, deciding that you had done good enough of a job. You would just have to ignore it.

"That's different! We don't even look at each other."

His face was red, hiding behind his fingers as he tried to look anywhere else but you.

"Then look away."

With that, you patted his chest, heading back to your mission. Whatever was on the drive could be shown to you later, but right now, you needed stab some people with the sword that kept slapping against your thigh.

Sorry for this both being late and for it rather being short. I'm trying to write more, so hopefully I'll be posting more. The end image is relevant I promise.

[twice-inamillion]

The Company

Red Velvet

Smut (anal, creampie, caught during sex, first time sex, mentioning of virginity)

Chapter 10

1935 Words

(OC wants to claim his prize for debuting Irene’s group. Not everything goes according to plan, and sacrifices are made.)

“Unnie, we’re excited to debut! Can’t believe it’s actually happening!”

“You girls deserve it.”

”It's all because of you, unnie,” say the members in unison.

”How are we debuting earlier than the other girl group?” asks Wendy.

“Irene unnie has pull with the CEO, that’s why, haha,” says Joy jokingly.

”Shhh, don’t even joke around; if the other trainees hear you, they are going to complain.”

”Don’t worry about what people say, you girls deserve it. As the oldest, it's my responsibility to take care of you girls.”

”How about we celebrate later tonight?” asks Seulgi.

”That sounds like fun,” replies Wendy.

”What about, unnie?” asks Joy.

”I wish I could, but I need to get some things done. You girls celebrate without me. Here, order some food with this,” Irene gives Seulgi the company credit card.

“Haha, we are going to eat!”

Irene then exits the room and pulls her phone out to see the text message she got during the gathering. “What does he want now?” She reads the message, “IU is out abroad, so get cleaned up; I’ll be stopping by your place later tonight.”

Later that evening, the members celebrate their upcoming debut by ordering some takeout and participating in around of round karaoke. Everytime they take a selfie they send it to Irene but get no response. “We should take some food to unnie. I don’t think she has enough time to cook food after working so late these past few days,” says Wendy.”

”You’re right, let’s surprise her.”

”Yes, maybe we can bring some party streamers and surprise her, haha,” says Joy.

The members pack some food in tupperware and head to Irene’s apartment. They try to be as careful as possible not to get caught by the staff who look for trainees violating their curfew. They exit the elevator and turn towards the hallway to find her apartment. Standing in front of her door, they try to remember her key code from the time they visited her a while back.

The door unlocks, and they all enter her apartment and place the food on the countertop. They look around, but there is no sign of Irene until they hear some noise coming from the room at the end of the hallway.

Curious, they slowly tiptoe and see the door slightly open and look through the little slit and are shocked at the scene. They see Irene, their oldest member and the mother-type figure of the group nude, getting pounded on all fours.

“I’ve missed this ass so much,” as you give it a nice smack. You spread her ass cheeks wide open, giving you a nice view of her pucker hole.

Irene whines,“Just get it over with.”

You align your cock to her pucker hole and slowly press it into her hole, causing her to grunt. She tries to hold her composure but can't when you grab hold of her hips and slam your cock all the way inside.

“Oh fuck! You're being too rough!”

You don't pay any attention and begin to thrust rapidly. Irene buries her head onto the pillow to muffle her expression. You slap her ass continuously, leaving your handprint on her ass.

Minutes pass, and you pull out and say, “How about I claim my present right now?”

Irene lifts her head and turns to you, “No, please, I'm not really yet. Just give me some more time to prepare.”

“Why should I? Remember the deal we made a while back?” as you trace your thumb against her folds.

“Yes, I remember and I'll do it, but just not today.”

“Then when?”

“How about after our debut? Give me a few more days.”

You rub your thumb against her lips and say, “Alright, but this is the last time I'm going to wait.”

“Okay.”

“Be thankful I'm patient with you; someone else wouldn't have done the same.”

“Yes I know, thank you.”

“Now raise up your ass; I want to cum inside.”

Irene positions herself a bit better and raises up her ass. With one hand, you spread her ass cheek and insert your cock back inside, “Fuck, to think that you offered your own virginity for the sake of your group, haha.”

Irene groans as she feels your cock stretch her ass completely and buries her head into her pillow to prevent herself from moaning.

On the other side of the door, the members watch as the oldest gets fucked from behind. They come to the realization of Irene's commitment to them, even at the cost of giving her own virginity.

Joy then whispers, “Unnie, let's go; I don't want to see what happens next.”

“Same here; I want to go.”

Seulgi responds, “Let's be quiet,” and the three of them turn around towards the exit.

Suddenly, they hear a loud smack and a shout, “I'm going to cum inside you!” They hear Irene yell out loud and try to cover their ears. The members rush back to their dorm and try to take in what they just saw.

“I can’t believe Irene unnie and the CEO were doing it” says Joy.

Wendy responds, ”I know; Irene said she was busy, so I thought she was working.”

”Maybe it was an excuse,” says Seulgi.

”I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like she was doing it because she liked it. I always thought Irene unnie liked girls and hated men.”

”What if she’s being forced by the CEO?” asks Joy.

”You have a point; he said something about a deal in exchange for her first time,” says Seulgi.

”Do you think she made a deal so that we could debut first?” asks Wendy.

The members look at each other in disbelief at the idea that Irene could do something like this. “We should try to talk to Irene about it. Tell her that it’s not worth it, we can always debut later.”

”How do you think we should bring it up? Are we going to tell her that we walked in on them having sex? There is a reason why she didn’t tell us” says Wendy.

”All I know is that we should do something about it” says Joy.

“Let's try to talk to her tomorrow morning before our schedule,” suggests Seulgi. The members agree and nod their heads.

The next day, the members are woken up by a sweet smell and make their way to the kitchen. They see Irene wearing an apron and holding a bowl of pancake mix, “Good morning! Take a seat, I’m making some pancakes.”

The members sit on the stools and look at each other, trying to figure out how to bring up what they saw yesterday.

“Sorry I wasn't able to join the three of you, I was so busy with work that I ended up falling asleep when I got back. How was your celebration?”

“It was good. We ate a lot and even saved some for you.”

“Aww, thanks. Maybe we can celebrate after our debut!”

“We'd love that. They try to find a way to bring up the subject, but instead Irene leads the conversation.

After eating, they arrive at the dance room and practice one last time before their debut tomorrow. “Alright girls. This is our last performance as a trainee group. Tomorrow is our big day, so let's call it a day and rest a bit. I'll see everyone later today.”

“Okay!”

Irene leaves the practice room and meets up with the managers to talk about tomorrow's schedule. The other three discuss their plan for the day when Wendy asks, “What are we going to do about Irene unnie?”

Seulgi responds, “I don't think we should get involved; maybe we didn't get the whole picture.”

“Seulgi is right; what if they were role-playing, and we caught them in one of those moments,” says Joy.

“Remember when we asked if anyone had a person they liked? Irene said she couldn't see herself liking a man but blushed when we asked if it was a possibility with a girl.”

Yeah, I remember.”

“I can't see her doing it with anyone, especially a guy.”

“Let's just wait until she tells us herself, we don't want to get involved in her personal life, especially if it's with the CEO. He can disband us if he wants to.”

“You're right, we don't want to get kicked out just moments before our debut.”

Exhausted with the situation Wendy replies “Okay, I won't bring it up anymore.“

The four members wait behind the main stage as the MC gets ready to introduce them as the new girl group. They hold each other’s hands and hope for the best before heading onto the stage.

”Give a big applause to the new group. Let’s welcome, Red Velvet!”

The audience applauds as the four of them walk on stage. They give a warm smile and wave, “Thank you! We are so glad to be here.”

They each look at each other and nod, “Happiness! Hello- We are Red Velvet!” The music starts and they begin their performance.

”Thank you, everyone for your support! We'll perform much more” as the members wave goodbye. They bow and watch as the stage light goes dark.

“Good job everyone. You all did so well. Let's keep it up!”

“Thank you Irene unnie.”

“Let's go celebrate!”

“Yes, let's get some food!”

After a night of celebration each of the members are back in their rooms.

Everyone is asleep except one, she makes her way to her closet and grabs her bag and a trench coat before heading out. Her mind is set; she can't let her unnie care all the burden while the rest enjoy the easy life and exits the apartment.

You're going over at some last-minute documents when you hear the doorbell go off. Curious about who it might be, you get up and check the security screen. “What is she doing here?”

You open the door and ask, “What brings you here this late?”

“I came to take Irene unnie's place.”

Surprised, you respond, “I'm not sure what you mean.”

“Like I said, I'm here to take her place” and opens her trench coat, revealing her nude body. “What do you think?”

”Not bad.”

“You can do anything you want as long as you don't bother her anymore. Just let her keep her virginity, and you can have mine.”

Not being able to contain yourself, you place your hand on her soft and tender breast, giving them a faint squeeze. Wendy's eyes squints, adjusting herself to being touched by a man for the first time.

“Are you sure you’re willing to take her place?”

”Yes, I’ve made up my mind.”

That’s all you got to hear as you grab her hand and let her into your apartment. You stop at the living room and say, “Let’s get you comfortable and take off that coat.” Wendy slowly lets the coat go, revealing her whole body but still trying to cover her shaved cunt.

“Move your hand, I want to see everything.”

”Okay.”

You walk around, inspecting 360 degrees, before grabbing her hand once more and lead her into the bedroom. She walks into the neat room and sees the large bed in the center of the room. Wendy takes one last breath before shutting the door, preparing herself for what she’s about to do.

[machveil]

alright I know we’ve all talked about how johnny is a bush guy and honestly. bars. but it got me thinking about the why (the smell, obvi) and the how and the nitty gritty details.

start off with the facts: he didn’t ALWAYS know he was a bush guy. I love my beautiful pathetic man but I also strongly believe that part of his gym behaviors and simp tendencies stem from being a Loser in his youth. man was terminally bitchless. and that means, of course, that he watched truly SO much porn. and thanks to that influence, he spent much of his early adulthood thinking body hair on a woman or man was gross.

his path to enlightenment began in his first threesome. he proudly brags about the time he banged two chicks at once to his army buddies— and he did! but the reality might do less for those guys than it did (and still does) for johnny. some femme top and her pet butch took him home for the night, a little three person party to satisfy the craving for some strange. he’d planned for SOMEONE to spend the night face down ass up, just didn’t think it’d be himself. ariana and len had taught him the joys of pegging, body hair, and pad thai that night. he still sends them christmas cards.

from that day on it was him and his love of pubic hair against the world. fascinatingly, he isn’t as committed to other forms of body hair— whatever state of shaved or not his partners come to him is fine, so long oral involves him diving face first into bliss. he likes chest hair on a man, but he won’t weep the way he does when he sees a naked twig and berries. women with armpit hair? cute, but shave it if you want. just don’t leave his poor kitty out in the cold 🥺

and when he finally settles down with his girl (gonna go cis afab on this one bc it’s wish fulfillment for yours truly), best BELIEVE he is involved in that grooming routine. not in a controlling way (or not without prior consent, anyway). but as soon as he had the green light , hes buying the mildest hair oils, cotton underwear, the most unscented soap he can find! he wants his best friend to be comfortable and cared for!!!!! also you ig, whatever. he’ll even help with trimming every few months if it’s ABSOLUTELY necessary. just be prepared for him to pout the whole time. gently massaging his “favourite forest” (that one got him a kick to the head) is his most beloved pastime. he views cotton as the cleanest canvas for an artists masterpiece, folds his darlings panties with the care and admiration of a craftsman with the tools of his trade. there’s a special sort of hum in his chest as he tucks them into their shared intimates drawer, knowing he’ll see them on the other side when they smell musky and used and perfect.

AUGH i just live for Johnny being an absolute dog when it comes to being a munch+!!!!! (the plus is the hair). him coming home from a stressful day and peeling his sweet thing out of her knickers just so he can’t put his face down and kiss and smell and nuzzle. and half the time it’s not even sexual, he just feels so CLOSE to his partner at this, the most essential part of them. short of cracking open their ribcage and climbing in, it’s the best he can get to satisfy the part of him that craves the safety and closeness and comfort of them being one. FUCK he’s such a freak I wanna match it!!!!!!!!!

anon, I’m kissing your cheek, my Johnny thoughts have been loud lately and this scratched my brain just right. I don’t even have any notes, it was just a stellar take. shoutout to Ariana and Len, iconic