#baby-droll

[coricomile]

oooh for the fic rec asks: 👍🏽 a fic you bookmarked recently, 👀 a fic that you love a normal amount & ✨ a fic you wish you could read again for the first time <33333333

Fic I bookmarked recently: Distraction Management by @sinsensory Semantic Error, Sangwoo/Jaeyoung Idol AU.

Their characters mesh so well with the trainee/new debut group feel. Helps that I'm in a SKZ rpf spiral and enjoying the- surprising lack of- "canon compliant" fics dealing with Idol Issues. But also. Very lovely, very in character. Wanted to kick my screen when I hit the end because I wanted more. How dare.

Fic I love a Normal Amount: Hawks and Hands by @dsudis due South, Fraser/Ray K, hockey AU.

Not kidding when I say this fic changed my life. It's a great story through and through because everything Dira writes is gold from the plot to the prose, but this is the story that made me look into hockey, which gave me my love of the Pittsburgh Penguins, which gave me the drive to join a roller derby team to Make Sid Proud, which saved me from offing myself during some dark times.

Fic I wish I could read again for the first time: Cheating because it's a series, but The Windhovers - sarcasticchick

Torchwood, Jack/Ianto.... so many things happening I don't want to say because the surprises are the story. (I'm not into Phil/Clint so I have not read the third part. Don't think it's necessary to love every moment previous). I stayed up for over 24 hours to read the whole thing and woke my ex up gasping while reading in bed. I am not a visceral reader. I enjoy but I don't usually physically react. This made me react out loud.

[tenderembrace03]

[h0ttestgrlinm0urgu3]

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔟𝔬𝔴

𝖍𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

summary [henry let's you play with bows and you get carried away]

warnings [smut, mouth stuff🎀, bimbo~ish ig, no p in v, pet names, soft dom henry🎀]

being the type of girl you were you loved ribbons and bows. they weren't something you indulged in often as a child, growing up in the country and all, but once you got older you feel in love with them.

you'd put them everywhere, in your hair, on your clothes, there's even some on your walls and others tied around stuffed bears.

Henry had recently gotten you these really cute ribbon bow clips and you were currently sitting beside him putting them in his hair. he's not really paying attention to you, he's used to this kind of treatment and just sat scrolling on his phone. you dropped one of the clips from his hair and in to his lap. as you go to reach for it a thought flashes in your mind. 'can I put a bow on your dick?' you ask your boyfriend after retrieving the clip.

you see the way henry freezes and hurriedly say 'not these, like ribbon' you clear up. he lets out a breath and laugh before looking at you 'I was scared for a sec baby' he says tucking a peice of hair behind your ear making you smile. he returns your smile and leans in for a kiss. 'of course I'll let my pretty girl dress me up' henry says sitting back up with the clips still in his hair.

so excited you jump up and let out a squeal 'omg yay' you scream about to go into you and Henry's shared room for some ribbon. turning to him before you go saying 'don't get hard' which earns you an eye roll as you leave 'you wanna do it or not' he mumbles as your walking but you hear.

in the room your trying to figure out what color ribbon you wanted. you got it down to pink and purple, so you bring them out to henry. 'which one do you want?' you question, you sit beside him on the couch, getting comfortable with your upper half mostly on his lap. 'whatever matches my hair' he says as he scrolls through something.

you go with the pink since he had pink in his hair. unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out your really happy to see the he wasn't hard. it might sound odd but you liked playing with his soft cock. cutting the ribbon to length before throwing everything on to the floor. you start to tie the ribbon at the base of his dick, humming to yourself as henry continued on his phone, you could care less.

looking down at the pretty pink bow you made your so proud in your self. you let out a giggle in excitement and notice the way Henry's cock twitched when you laughed. your mouth begin to water. trying something else you lightly blow making it twitch again.

you mouth became the ocean and you desperatly needed to taste him. opening your mouth and letting droll drip onto the head of his cock before lowering your head and licking it up. 'ohh fuck baby' henry moans out at the unexpected pleasure, finally placing his attention on you.

you take the tip of this cock in your mouth savering the taste of him. opening your mouth wider you take his full soft length in. feeling the bow brush against your lips. feeling him swell you come up for air letting out a little whine at the fact that this is the first time he's ever fully fit in your mouth, and it's because hes never let you suck it soft. and it's not gonna last much longer, but you'll enjoy having him in your mouth either way.

looking up to meet his gaze he grips your jaw and squeezes your cheecks together. sticking out your tounge he roughly brings you up for a sloppy kiss, gripping the back of your scalp. he breaks the kiss to leave kisses all over your face before letting you go back down to his cock, which is now fully hard.

bow intact.

you lick from the base to the tip repetadly. bringing your focus more to the head of his cock you bring one hand to the base and the other to his balls. 'fuck baby you know daddy likes that' he moans out as his hips buck forcing the tip of his cock all the way into your mouth. you gag a little before you adjust to it returning to your pace.

henry looks down to the ungodly display infornt of him. you desperatly sucking his cock, pretty hands playing with his balls with a pretty pink ribbon rapped around his cock, your eyes are watery, the floor beneath you full of droll and pre cum. your looking up to him eyes glossed over moaning every so often telling him just how much you love his cock.

'ahh- fuckk, baby im gonna cum' he moaned out. forcing the rest of his cock into your moth and down your throat henry couldn't hold back any longer. his cum being forced down your throat and falling from the sides of your mouth around his cock getting your bow all dirty. removing him from your mouth with a giggle and a smile so happy that you grew into loving bows.

[a/n: this randomly came to me and I wrote it right away so if it's bad blame it on that. 🎀]

[bnhaobssesed]

Thinking about husband!Bakugo and wife!reader

Katsuki always pictured himself as a hero, yes. But when that became a reality, his life had no other purposes than to be the number one hero. Bear with me, he still wanted to be number one. But as he grew older he saw people around him settle and have a compromise between hero life and their private life. And by that I mean building a family. Kirishima was the first one to do so with Mina, soon followed by a lot of his friends. Even Deku at some point. And even if he sometimes loved being 'uncle Kats', he sometimes wishes he could hear that small laugh looking like his, or small eyes sparkling like yours.

For the first time ever, his wishes took another turn. He wanted to be father as much as he wanted to be the number one hero. If not even more.

And even if it took a while to get it off his chest, he wouldn't regret it for one second just to live this moment.

~

He was coming home after a long day of work, expecting to hear little screams and be met with the vivacity of his house. No, pure silence. It seemed strange to not hear small runnning footsteps towards the entryway and a little excited 'daddy !' coming from the living room.

He got his shoes off and started his investigation on where the people in his house was hidden. He first thought of one of their endless pranks which soon got denied by the sight next to the couch.

You were there, sleeping on the carpet with a little boy in your arms. His son, his first born of now three. And your hand rested on the edge of a rocking crib where his daughter of a little less than five months was sleeping peacefully too. She was sprawled out just like him when he sleeps and beneath her closed eyelids she shared the same red irises as him and her brother.

His son had his head nuzzled in your shoulder, being always so clingy to you in such a vulnerable state. And your cheek was smudged against the top of his spiky looking hair. You were drolling a little, your hair slightly messed up but right now you looked like the most beautiful creature that he got the whance to marry somehow. And that shimmering band on your finger was the proof of it.

He crouched down, carefully putting his gauntlets away. He studied you three for a very long time, never getting sick of it. He had build this... After years of only wanting to be a hero, he had build something greater. Something to go home to, to live for, to not be reckless for, to protect with all his strength. Because when he left in the morning, it was to those smiles and those faces he was fighting to come back to. He gently took out his phone, already filled to the brim with other frozen moments like this... of his family. He took a picture, his smile extending as he heard you mumbling his name in your sleep. He obviously put it as his new lockscreen, a new vision of his motiviation.

He'll bleed and fight for this and make all those streets sure for these three persons right in front of him. He kissed each of your faces carefully before silently going to cook dinner. Not without glancing at the baby photos hanging on the wall on his way out.

They were his copy, a fact you would often complain about. Being the one who "carried them for 9 months and got no credit on the appearence" as you liked to say. But he knew part of you adored to have little versions of him running around. And he was jealous of it, he wanted to have a mini you too running around.

But that would be for another day. Closer than you might know.

[aegonstradwife]

obsession | aegon targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested: aegon being obsessed with his new wife, but stuck in council meetings all day. when he finally sees you at night he's always trying to impregnate you and give you as many babies as possible.

warnings: established relationship, smut. (oral, handjob, piv, creampie, impreg.)

a. note: link to the original request.

You and Aegon have only been married a week, and already even a day away from him feels dull and empty, like a world stripped of all color and joy.

Though you didn't know him well before your betrothal, you've found your new husband to be doting and sweet and quite handsome to boot. To be married to a Targaryen - much less the king - is any highborn girl's dream. They are the rulers, the protectors, of the realm.

But that's hardly what matters to you, when it comes to Aegon.

He may be king, and you now queen, but you find yourself believing you would love your husband even if he were a lowly pauper from Flea Bottom.

And that's why you're now hurrying up to your bedchamber after a long day of entertaining the keep's guests from the riverlands. You've taken tea and other small meals with the visiting lords and ladies all godsdamned day.

All you want now is to see your husband after many long hours away from him.

On his part, Aegon himself has been busy with small council meetings and petitions throughout the day and has been eagerly awaiting your return since he got back to your shared bedchamber and found you still absent.

He's right behind the door when you push it open, stumbling back in pleasant surprise, a flushed grin on his face. "There you are, my sweet," he mutters, taking your hand and drawing you close to him. "I heard your footsteps in the hall...."

You grin, falling against him with a sigh and kicking the door shut behind you. "Did you now? And you were so sure it was me?"

You slot your fingers with his and squeeze, gazing lovingly up at him.

"I would know your footsteps anywhere." He pulls you flush against his chest, arms wrapping you in a tight embrace. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, relishing in the scent of your hair, your skin, the day's exertion still clinging to you in a damp, cloying sweat.

He mumbles against you, words ushered against your skin, "I missed you."

"I've missed you too, my king." Finally, wrapped in his arms, everything is right with the world. "And how was your day? Meetings went well?"

Aegon is already half undressed, his tunic laying loosely over his unlaced trousers; you take the opportunity to slip a hand underneath his top and trail your nails lightly over his back.

His eyes slip closed in obvious pleasure at the feeling of your fingers on his spine and he shivers under your touch, a soft moan escaping him. It takes him a moment to respond.

"Mmm, my day was long and tiresome. I spent the entire day in the small council chamber, then moved along to the throne room to listen to petitions and resolve asinine disputes. I couldn't wait to come back here to you.... to have you in my arms, finally." His lips are seeking your neck again, his favorite place, laying soft kisses along the skin there.

"I'm sorry, love," you sigh contentedly. "You know I feel much the same - all this droll highborn talk puts me to sleep, it always has."

You roll your eyes, intensifying the scrape of your nails over Aegon's back. "But at least there was tea."

A full body shudder rolls through him this time, back arching under your hand as he groans and grabs wantonly for your hips.

"Tea?" He murmurs, lips brushing your ear. "You and your damned tea. Sometimes I think you might love your tea even more than you love me...."

"Oh, how could I?" You gasp, aghast, as you pull back to look at Aegon. Both hands now planted on his shoulders, you give your husband a studying look. "I love nothing more than you, my king."

A gentle hand comes to stroke at his soft cheek, thumb brushing back and forth beneath the dark circle ringing his eye. "You look exhausted, Aegon. Shall we to bed?"

Aegon leans into your touch, closing his eyes again only briefly, savoring the feel of your sweet touch against his skin. He draws a deep, steadying breath before meeting your gaze with a weary smile.

"You're right," he concedes, hushed, "I am exhausted.... but I don't think I could sleep just now.... "

The timber of his voice dips lower, and his bright blue eyes darken as he takes hold of your waist again. "Do you know what's been on my mind all day?"

You press against him, loving when he gets like this. So desperate and needy and all for you, secreted away from everyone who have had him all to themselves all day. Now meant only for your eyes.

"I'm sure I could guess, but.... Why don't you tell me?" Taking his hand, you lead him slowly toward the big bed in the middle of the room.

Aegon follows your lead, willingly, letting you guide him to bed. His gaze devours your figure, watching the way your hips sway with each step. Such nice, child-bearing hips, he thinks. He can't help but admire the way your silken gown clings to you as you move.

As you reach the bed, Aegon is there behind you, arms around your waist, holding you back against him. "All day, I've been thinking about holding you just like this," he murmurs, his lips at your ear. "Your body pressed to mine.... the sound of your labored breathing as I make you mine.... as I breed you...."

With your back pressed to his chest, you can feel him through his trousers - already deliciously hard for you. His hands prowl over your body atop your gown, and you turn in his embrace to start plucking at the already half unlaced top of his tunic. "Aegon.... I need that. I need you. Please."

His breath hitches. The desperate tone in your voice, the way your body responds instantly to his touch.... it makes his head spin.

"I know," he growls, his hands never relinquishing their hold on your hips as he kisses your neck. "You don't know how much I've wanted you, darling.... how hard I've been all day." He grinds himself into you, his erection straining at his trousers.

Wanting to see more of him, to have more of him bared against you, you urge him to raise his arms, ripping his top off over his head.

Your small hands travel his chest, brushing his pretty pink nipples, palming at his belly. "I think I have something of an idea. Because I've been wet all day at the thought of retiring here, to do this very thing."

His eyes flutter shut and he whimpers wantonly at the feeling of your hands on his body. No one had ever touched him this way before you.... He is completely at your mercy, putty in your hands to do with as you wish.

"Is that so?" He gasps, voice trembling, abdomen tensing under your touch. "Did you spend the whole day thinking about this.... thinking about me?"

He sounds surprised.

You tilt your head. "Of course, my sweet. I spend every day thinking of you. When I'm taking tea or practicing my Valyrian, you're always in the back of my mind. And I do mean always."

While he's preoccupied with this thought, you let your hands stray to his trousers, undoing those the rest of the way as well.

You slip your hands past the waistband and he gasps, his body shivering against yours.

"And what thoughts do you have of me, my darling?" He murmurs huskily, the timbre of his voice dropping an octave. "Tell me. I must hear them."

Aegon is already half mad with desire, with the way your body fits so easily against his.

With one of your hands seeking his hardness, the other brushes a lock of fine hair lovingly away from his face. "I think of your lips, the sweet kisses they give. I think of your hands, and what pleasure they bring me. Of your tongue...." Here, your fingers brush over his plump lips. "But mostly I think of your cock, and how one day soon it will give us an heir...."

Upon saying this, you grab it, and start to stroke slowly.

Aegon groans aloud, a guttural sound of need and desire that reverberates through his chest. He buries his face again in the crook of your neck, laboured breathing hot against your skin.

"Oh gods, yes...." He gasps, hips jerking reflexively into your hand. "Keep talking.... don't stop.... I know.... I know I'm not worthy, of any of this. But gods, when you say I am I actually fucking believe you...."

You welcome him against you with your hand cupped behind his neck, holding him close as you continue to stroke him inside his trousers. You soothe his little shakes and trembles with a kiss to his shoulder as you mutter softly, "Think of how many times you've given me your seed in just the past week. How many times more you're going to in the coming years. You're going to give us such a big, beautiful family. I love you, Aegon...."

You know your king likes hearing this, and that his favorite thing in this world is finishing inside of you. As such, your words have the desired effect - Aegon is now throbbing against the palm of your hand.

Close to your ear, his breath stutters. His body follows shortly after with a tremor, and he clings onto you, fingers grappling at the back of your gown. Your words, your touch, your presence - it's all he needs. And he's completely at your mercy, a mess of desperate desire and need.

"I'm yours.... I'm all yours...." He sobs into your neck. "You're the only one who makes me feel like this. The only one who makes me feel even remotely alive."

His hips buck his cock into your hand, the friction driving him mad. "Please don't stop.... I need you."

"Shh, Aegon...." You soothe him further, more kisses pressed to his warm skin. And though he's asked you not to stop, you do, only temporarily.

Doing your best to ignore his whimpers at the loss of your hand, you turn and offer your back to him. "Undo my dress, my love. Or shall I call my handmaids in to assist instead?"

Behind you, Aegon stumbles forward. "No," he growls. "No, I'll do it."

You know he hates the thought of anyone else seeing you in any state of undress, which is why you'd said it in the first place.

His hands are clumsy and shaking, but he manages to undo the buttons of your dress, revealing more and more of your skin. Every inch he exposes is like a revelation, a small taste of what's to come.

He pushes the dress from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric at your feet.

Clad now in only the sheer, white shift worn under your gown, you step out of the folds of your dress heaped on the floor and back toward the bed. You offer a hand to Aegon. "Come, my king. Join me. Or haven't you been thinking about this all day?"

His eyes rake over you, the thin material of your shift leaving little to the imagination. Aegon swallows hard, his throat suddenly very dry.

"Gods, yes," he rasps, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the bed. "It's been maddening to be apart from you all day. To think of you, only a few corridors away, while I was trapped in ridiculous meetings and listening to petitioners...."

"Petitions are important," you sigh, sinking back against the veritable mountain of pillows adorning the head of the bed. "Meetings less so, I'm sure. But.... nothing more important than doing your husbandly duty to your wife."

You laugh softly, spreading your legs as your shift rides up around your thighs, letting Aegon settle between. "My dear Aegon.... you know you do deserve this, don't you? All of this.... all of me?"

He admires your splayed legs, gaze dark and intense. Then he reaches out, letting his hands travel over the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

"I think you give me far too much credit, my love," he begins, pausing to press a gentle kiss to your leg, lips skimming over your sensitive skin. He moons adoringly up at you, raw desire written plain over his face. "But when you say it.... I almost believe you."

It's so hot these days, you typically decide to forego any smallclothes under your shift. Tonight, you're especially glad for that - Aegon's mouth is dangerously near your thighs. No doubt he can see your sex glistening beneath the shadow of gauzy material stretched between your legs.

"It's true, my king. All the love you have for me.... I want to return it tenfold."

With that, you start to pull the shift up further, so that slowly, your bare lower half is made plain to Aegon in the dim light of the bedchamber.

His mouth goes dry at the sight of you, bare and exposed to him. His breathing quickens, and he takes you in like a man thirsting for water.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands twitch with restrained need, aching to touch you, to feel you. "If I could, I would spend the rest of my life worshiping this body, and never go even a second without stopping.... "

The shift slips up even further, over your breasts and off, as you shake your hair loose. "You look like a man who wants a taste, Aegon.... Why don't you indulge?"

You encourage him with a hand at his shoulder, pulling him down.

He can't resist you, not that he'd ever dream of trying. He leans in, hands grasping your thighs, gentle kisses laid in their wake, his lips a mere preview of what's to come.

"You're so wicked," he murmurs, his breath coming in scorching pants against your thighs. "Always so eager to drive me to such desperation...."

Painstakingly slow, he inches higher, his lovely mouth trailing up toward the center of your heat, lips pressing soft kisses over the sensitive flesh.

You hook a leg over his shoulder, keeping him close with that hand now in his hair.

"You were already hard when I was still wearing my gown," you giggle, pressing your thumb to the corner of his plush lips. "Don't act like you need any tempting.... "

"Gods, not when it comes to you," he mutters, his lips now hovering just above the most intimate part of you, the anticipation driving both of you mad. "You're like a drug, my love - so very addicting. Once I have a taste, I can't get enough...."

His tongue darts out, tasting you delicately, barely enough to even feel, and he positively howls. "You taste so sweet.... my favorite meal."

The second lap of Aegon's tongue over you is also gentle, almost innocent. "Please, Aegon.... I need you."

You press that thumb harder, parting his lips and making him suck on your thumb.

He takes it eagerly, tongue swirling around it, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he tastes you.

"You know I can never resist you, my love," he mutters around your finger. "I'll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it."

He kisses your thigh, your hip, your stomach, working his way back to the place he wants to be most.

Once he's released it, you smooth your wet thumb over his cheek, leaving a streak of spit. Then leaning back, you grin. "I think you know what I want."

He smirks up at you, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You know I do," he murmurs, tongue delving between your slick folds. He grunts against you, the taste of you sending his mind spinning. "Heavenly.... I could spend all night right here, just like this."

Your thighs tremble beside his ears, and Aegon pets his hands soothingly over them.

"A-Aegon, gods.... your tongue always feels so good. It's not too late, we can keep at this for a while before we have to sleep, don't you think?"

His words are muffled, but the meaning clear; "I have no intention of stopping any time soon, my queen.... I plan on having you scream my name before the night is through."

Aegon's tongue swirls in lazy circles against your clit, hands gripping your trembling thighs to anchor you to him.

Aegon loves to tease, you know this. And yet, it still takes you by surprise and leaves you breathless how slow and lethargic those sweeps of his tongue really are.

"Aegon," you moan loudly, head thrashing, fingers plucking at your stiff nipples. "Aegon, I love you...."

"I love you," he says, pausing to flick his tongue against your clit, teasing it relentlessly. "Gods... I love you so much... so much... "

His mind is hazy with desire, lost in the taste and scent of you, the feel of your body under his touch. He can't get enough of you, craving more and more until he's completely satisfied, which he knows will take hours at the very least.

Aegon is gazing up at you with a mix of desperate desire and heartfelt love. The fire blazing in his bright blue eyes is intoxicating, drawing you in.

"I know.... I know you said you want to do this all night, but.... don't you want to put a baby inside of me instead?"

His breath stutters, eyes flashing with heat at your words. He presses another kiss to your hip, his hands roaming over your skin.

"A baby...." he muses, the thought sending a thrill through him. "You'd give me an heir, my love? Our child.... growing inside you...."

"Of course," you chuckle, carding a hand through his hair. "Isn't that what we've been trying for every night - and some afternoons - this past week....?"

He chokes on a laugh, his hands moving to rest on your stomach. "Every night and afternoon.... and some mornings." He looks up at you with a cheeky smile. "I've been a very.... thorough husband, haven't I?"

You nod, grinning down at your handsome husband. "Some might say too thorough. We've both been neglecting our royal duties, somewhat, to try and conceive. Tonight could be the night...."

He chuckles, hands moving over you, palming gently. "And if not tonight.... then we try again and again and again. Until we're successful."

He trails kisses over your stomach, his mouth wandering over the soft skin. "I'm not going to stop until I get you pregnant, love."

"We should start now, then...." Your cunt is dripping onto the bedclothes, all Aegon would need do is take those confounded trousers off and slide right in.... "Get me pregnant, my king. Give us an heir."

Aegon needs no more prompting; he kneels up just long enough to kick his pants off the end of the bed, then crawls over you.

"As you wish, my dear." His body presses close against yours, the heat between you searing hot. He bends to press a kiss to your neck, hands gently caressing your body. "You'll give me heirs and spares?"

You brace yourself with your hands on his arms, running over his heated flesh. "We'll have so many princes and princesses running around, we won't know what to do with ourselves," you reply quietly.

Aegon's cock is red and leaking, bobbing between his legs. "I want it," you mutter, staring hungrily down at it.

"That's the plan," he mutters, eyes darkening as he follows your gaze down between his legs.

"You're just as wicked as I am, aren't you?" His voice is strained with need. "I want to tease you more.... make you beg and squirm.... but you're making it so hard for me to hold back now."

You swipe a hand between your own legs, gathering slick from your folds to bring to Aegon's length, easing the way as you stroke him.

"Am I making it hard? Am I making it so hard, my king?"

Your touch sends a jolt of pleasure through him, a grating cry falling from his lips. He nods desperately, his hips bucking into your hand.

"So... gods, so hard... you're going to drive me mad, woman," he groans, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "If you keep this up, I'm going to lose all control..."

"Lose it, then. Fuck me, Aegon. Fuck me so hard the entire keep can hear me scream your name." You're trying to pull him forward by his cock, but the slippery grip of your fingers is making it hard.

Aegon growls, grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him roughly. His cock slips from your grasp, pressing against your entrance as he stares into your eyes.

"Is that what you want, my love?" he croaks, voice breaking with longing. "Do you want me to take you like a savage…. make you mine completely…. until there's nothing left of us but the echoes of our screams along these stone walls?"

He doesn't wait for your answer, pushing into you in one swift motion. You're tight, so godsdamn tight, and it's all Aegon can do to keep himself from losing control entirely. He begins to move, slowly at first, relishing the sensation of your body gripping him selfishly.

Gods, he makes you feel like some lowborn whore when he talks like that, and you love it. "T-Take me, Aegon," you stutter, a moment too late. He's already inside, moving, pushing past that tight ring of muscle that is always so hells bent on keeping him out.

One hand comes down to rub hard at that little button, the one that sends such shocks of pleasure through you. The other braces itself on Aegon's hip, where you can feel his muscles moving beautifully beneath the skin, driving him on.

Aegon growls, feeling your body react to his touch. Your tight walls pulse around him with each stroke, driving him ever closer to completion.

"By the gods, you feel so good," he pants, his fingers digging into your hips as he quickens his pace. "So fucking perfect…. just for me…."

He can feel himself getting close, a fire building inside him that he knows will consume him entirely. But he can't stop now, not when you're writhing beneath him, begging for more. He moves harder, deeper, angling his hips just so to hit that sweet spot inside you.

You find yourself digging your heels into the mattress, helping him to change that angle to the one that makes you see stars.

You truly are screaming his name now, your voice echoing off the walls. Surely those in neighboring chambers have no trouble hearing you now.

"That's it," Aegon grunts, his hold on your hips bruising. "Let them hear you, love. Let them all hear their king getting their queen pregnant."

Your body tenses, pleasure building inside you to a fever pitch. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to topple over into ecstasy at any moment.

"Gods, Aegon!" You cry out, gripping the sheets beneath you as he pounds into you with abandon.

"Yes, yes…. let them hear it…. let them know you're mine…."

And then it's there, that rush that consumes you entirely. You shatter around him, every muscle in your body clenching as you scream his name. It's enough to push him over the edge too, and he follows you with a hoarse cry, spilling into your depths.

Your entire body feels overheated, the candles on the bedside tables guttering as you cry out with abandon. There's a soft layer of sweat over your entire body as you lie panting underneath your husband.

His cock is still spasming and twitching inside of you. You have just enough energy to wrap your trembling arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a kiss. "Do you feel that, my king? Do you feel your queen's cunt milking all of your strong seed out? It's going to take this time, I just know it."

Aegon whines, his body shuddering with the aftershocks of his release. He collapses onto you, panting and sweaty as he pulls you into his arms.

"Gods, yes," he gasps, his voice ragged with pleasure. "I can feel it…. you're so tight…. so perfect…. I've filled you completely…. you're pregnant with my child…"

He says this like the saying makes it so, and you love him for it.

He nuzzles your neck, kissing you feverishly as he continues to thrust weakly into you. The thought of making you carry his child ignites a fire in him that refuses to be quenched.

The feeling of Aegon still trying to fuck his softening cock into you warms your heart. Your king wants so badly to always be inside of you….

Letting him rest his fair head on your chest, you take a steadying breath. "Aegon …"

He looks up at you, eyes softening as he takes you in. "Yes, my love?" He asks, still panting heavily.

You run a gentle hand through his hair, feeling the damp strands sticking to your fingers. "Do you really believe that I'm pregnant with your child now?"

Aegon nods firmly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "Of course I do. My seed has filled you completely, my queen. And soon enough, our child will be growing inside you…. a true heir to the Targaryen name."

He pauses, taking a moment to adore you. "And when that day comes, my love, we'll be unstoppable. Together, we'll conquer all of Westeros and make the world bow to our will."

[blackdykegirlblogger]

a/n: i'm so terribly sorry for what you're about to witness. happy 2025 whores! may this new year grant you love, light, and tons of great sex (manifesting this for myself too) <3

abby who loves loves loves fucking your lights out. you were always such a good girl for her, always using your head to think such big thoughts and ideas, showing off your intelligence in every way you could.

and she loved that for you. trust me, she did. you never failed to make her so ridiculously proud of you.

but she also hated it. as delusional as it sounds, as disgusting as it sounds, she liked you best when you didn't have a single thought in your pretty head at all. when your skull was so empty that you could roll your eyes back and see absolutely nothing, think absolutely nothing. her cute lil housewife, pampered and adored and without a care in the fucking world. loose, pliable....just begging to take whatever she offered to give you. crying for it. drooling for it. pure, heartfelt devotion to the one who took such good care of you, who always made you feel so so good :(

she can't have you like that all the time, she's well aware, and has mostly accepted that her little...fantasy was going to have to remain just that. but while abby was never one to daydream, she still thinks about it a lot more than she'd ever like to admit. and it's times like these, like right fucking now, that makes her imagination run wild.

"feel good, pretty?"

she knew you were too dumb to give her an answer, and relished in that fact. she was holding up your thighs with her calloused hands, pushing your knees up to your chest as you reclined flat against hers. she had been pumping her cock in and out of your sopping hole for what felt like a millennium, the white ring around the base of her strap so thick that it dripped off the silicone and onto the mattress below you, adding to the already preexisting puddle. your senses left you several rounds ago, your knees locking and every part of your body going numb. you couldn't hear, couldn't think, hell you could barely even see through the tears clouding your vision. but that's alright. none of it mattered anyway.

truth be told, her stamina has always scared you, the countless hours she spent at the gym never failing to haunt you in bed. but this? this was just fucking cruel. you were ready to stop ages ago, cunt too achy and sensitive to keep going. but she had pleaded and pleaded with you, hitting you with the puppy dog eyes that always never worked as she circled your clit absentmindedly, knowing damn well it never took you long to get all worked up. "had such a long day, baby, was worked to the fucking bone. just one more round, yeah? for me?"

that was back when she still had you in missionary, legs wrapped around her waist as she took what she pleased on top of you. you had agreed because of course you did, but she didn't say jack-shit about having you in a full fucking nelson for hours at a time.

"thaaaattt's it. being such a perfect girl for me, huh? fucking amazing." her tip kissed your g-spot again and again, making streams of droll loll out of your mouth unconsciously as your eyelids fluttered. "good god, this pussy's amazing, doll." and in another life, maybe you would've responded to her praise, would've moaned or whined or did anything but babble mindlessly as her girth stretched you for all you were worth. but, that clearly wasn't now. suddenly, you felt her hands leave the undersides of your knees, instead choosing to wrap the rest of her bulky arms around them as she used her hands to push your head down. you were now forced to stare at the bump in your tummy (well, as much as you could cross-eyed), right underneath your belly button. shit, she was so deep.

she planted her feet firmly into the bed, her hips picking up speed once again as she abuses the drooling cunt between your legs. you couldn't run, you couldn't hide, you could do nothing but lay there all stupid and cockdrunk and take it. just like she wanted. her girl, greedy and grateful and helpless.

"well would you look at that? looks like mama's got herself her own little fleshlight."

[uravitypng]

incubus satoru gojo x chubby reader

KINKTOBER: somnophilia + possessive

word count: 950+ words / mdni ! 18+ reader is completely unaware of gojo's existance, she's either a heavy sleeper or takes sleeping pills, your choice sdfgahjkfcvgmbah

this isn't what he should be doing. he knows it. incubuses don't obsess over one women, yet satoru is here again watching you. it's been months since he's feed of of anyone else, no one can sate his appetite like you can.

he's been with plenty of women and men before who he used to deem worthy but now the idea of feeding from someone else leaves a fowl taste in his mouth. he craves you. whenever gojo isn't with you he aches for you.

there are some things he'd never voice out loud but he wishes one day to hear you moan his name. previously he's been able to get people to whine and moan is name when invading their dreams or just playing with them but you're such a deep sleeper he can't get any words out of you, no matter how hard he tries and how many times he'll push his cock into you, the best being a few, close to silent, whimpers. he wants to hear you. but he also worries, what if someone came in and you didn't wake up... what if he didn't show up one night but another incubus did, lured in by your scent, what if they hurt you, not caring about making you feel good.

he'll make you feel good though. he'll touch you and groan, making sinful noises and comments, it doesn't matter that you won't hear them. satoru loses himself in you.

tonight you're wearing only a nightie, nothing else, 'such a sweet little thing, always so good for me, knows who she belongs too and who makes her feel good.' he's never had such possessive thoughts before, he never cared if whoever he feed from was single or married or dating, it didn't concern him but you're his.

rubbing the head of his fat cock against your pussy lips he groans and sinks his fingers into your wide hips before sinking into your pussy, cursing when he's fully into you and he can feel you fluttering around him. his blue eyes are half lidded, mesmerised, watching your breathing increase and your mouth to partially open. satoru moves slowly, working the both of you up. he rocks into you gently and squeezes your hip dips making you stay where you are and not move too far up on the bed away from him.

his pace soon quickens as he feels you get wetter and wetter and it becomes harder not to thrust into you hard and fast. satoru starts panting and lifts up your nightie, staring at your breasts move freely and bounce with each thrust.

"you take my cock so well sweetheart, you were made for me. you're so wet baby it's dripping down on the bedsheets and covering both of our thighs. you're just so messy aren't you baby? so soft. so pliant. such a good girl." he groans louder than he has all night and grabs both of your breasts with his hands, "this pussy is mine isn't it baby? don't ever keep it from me." his hips stutter and he knows he's close, he never lasts long with you but it's okay with his stamina because he can keep going again and again all night long.

satoru wants to feel you come around before he comes in you. he brings up his tail and flicks it against your clit, with every flick your body trembles slightly and your breath hitches pitch, unnoticeable to most but not to gojo as he commits every movement and sound to memory that comes out of you.

he kisses you everywhere he can, some innocent and some less so. kissing your round cheeks and nose, before taking advantage of your mouth being open, playfully kissing your bottom and top lip before pressing his mouth against yours and moves his tongue against yours, kissing you until his cheeks are pink and his lips are swollen. the kiss so messy that droll and spit make its way down to dripping down your soft jaw.

he pouts when he remembers that he can't leave marks on you and hopes to change that soon but he lightens up as he feels your pussy flutter around him, getting closer and closer. his pout turns into a grin as he looks at you, you look ruined, a perfect picture for him, swollen lips, hard nipples and trembly thick thighs.

as you come you stay asleep still. a little body tremor and voice louder than he's ever heard from you before. from anyone else satoru would tease and say it was a small, almost pathetic, whine but from you? he's basking in the noise, and coming in you immediately after hearing you, moaning loudly and praises you for how good you were and how you made such pretty noises for him.

he presses his sweaty forehead against yours, and places a kiss. "round two, sweetheart."

some nights when your windows and curtains are closed and you're wearing more clothes than normal, covered in blankets he won't touch you, not in the way incubuses should. he wouldn't want his precious human to get cold. on those nights he'll lift up the covers sliding in next to you and holding you close. incubuses can't feed off just any physical contact it has to be sexual but he feigns ignorance to that pretending to himself that he still can feed off you like this.

on those colder nights he'll drape his arm around your chubby stomach and cover your body with his black wing, shielding you from any draughts from your poorly insulated home. he'll press his cheek to your back and nuzzle you, while curling his forked tail around your ankle. those are some of his favourite nights.

[jupipedia]

— so anxious. - m. o'hara. warnings : nsfw [ minors, do not interact. ], degradation [ reader gets called whore, cumdump, etc. ], sex in various place [against the wall & on the bed ], rough sex [ biting, groping, cervix kissing, dumbification, hair pulling, etc. ], overstimulation, plot? don't know her, google translated spanish, size kink, unprotected sex [ wrap it up, people! ], slight dom/sub dynamics, aftercare, etc.

"mi-miguel, please! ah~ sl-slow down," you panted, tightening your grip around his neck as he pounded into you with no restraint. he didn't slow or soften his pace as he adjusted you higher onto the wall, allowing himself to enter you deeper.

"puedes tomarlo, chiquita. you always do," he whispered into your ear as your head fell to rest on his shoulder. his thrusts caused the tip of his generous cock to press into your pleasure point, causing your strength to weaken a bit. he was pushing you closer to your third release of the night, having pulled the first two from you with his mouth and fingers.

tonight, miguel was feral.

you weren't exactly sure what brought it on as he didn't give you a chance to ask for an explanation, walking into your shared apartment and ordering you to strip as he removed his suit. you assumed that something set him off during a mission or at headquarters as he wouldn't let you out of his reach, pulling you impossible closer as he fucked you.

"i'm gonna cum," you moaned out, your volume increasing as he grabbed your braids at the roots to gain access to your neck. using his fangs, he nibbled along the length of your throat, fucking into you wordlessly. you let out a pleasure yelp as you reached your climax, legs around his waist. it didn't take long for miguel to reach his climax as he came inside your spent cunt as your insides throbbed from your own release.

he maneuvered you so that both of your legs were over his arms before carrying to the bed, not removing himself from your core as he walked. he laid you on the bed, frame covering yours as he trapped you under him. he pressed your legs to your chest and pulled out until it was just his tip before pushing back into you pussy, coming in direct contact with your cervix.

"fuck, miguel! i can't- i can't! 's too mu-much," your voice wavered as he fucked into you deeply, repeatedly hit your cervix.

"you're my cumdump. yo decido cuándo terminas. eres mía y solo mío, ¿entiendes?" he growled out into your neck, increasing the harshness of his thrusts.

"i understand! mmh~ please, i'm gonna come again~,' you drawled out, eyes rolling back as he bit harshly on the crook of your neck, littering your neck with dark hickies.

miguel loved to see you like this, your smaller frame withering under his large body with droll and tears covering your face. he couldn't get enough of your swollen lips as they released babbles when he rubbed the deepest parts of your pussy. he loved the feeling of your full breasts pushed against his body, the peaks hard as they raked against his abdomen.

"look at me when you come, whore. ¿dónde está mi agradecimiento, bebé? hmm? forgot your manners?" he muttered, grabbing ahold of your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze as you came. your convulsing orgasm triggered his own as he pushed himself as deep as he could before stilling, releasing his seed at the entrance of your cervix.

he relaxed his tense body for few seconds, allowing you both time to catch you breath before loosening his grip on your face.

"come back to me, mi vida. you did so well. always so good for me, hmm?" he whispered to you, observing as your eyes focused back on him.

"hi, baby," you sighed out, closing your eyes and letting your head fall onto your ruined comforter.

"no puedo dejar que te duermas, cariño. gotta' clean you off before you can go to sleep, okay?" he hummed, pulling you up in his arms and carrying you to the bathroom.

"yeah, yeah, whatever," you mumbled, arms wrapped around his neck as you rested your face in the crook of his neck.

"hablo en serio."

"lo sé que eres. now please, shush."

puedes tomarlo, chiquita. - you can take it, little one.

yo decido cuándo terminas. eres mía y solo mío, ¿entiendes? - I decide when you finish. you are mine and only mine, do you understand?

¿dónde está mi agradecimiento, bebé? - where's my thank you, baby?

mi vida. - darling.

no puedo dejar que te duermas, cariño. - i can't let you fall asleep, sweetheart.

hablo en serio. - i'm serious.

lo sé que eres. - i know you are.

[correct me if they are wrong!!]

© JUPIPEDIA. all rights reserved.

[zepskies]

Love, By Any Other Name

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: You want him. Castiel can’t help but crave you. Dean sees both of you and wishes you’d stop being idiots.

AN: This is my first ever commission! Written for @girlsforpjm, who requested "mutual pining" with Castiel. Here you go, lovely! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 💜

**Also, this is set during season 12.

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, blood and injury, (contains events from 12.12), fluff, some spice, implied smut.

“Achooo!!”

Sam grimaces while he watches you wipe your nose against your bare wrist. You shake your head and frown at the dusty tomes piled high beside you. You and Sam have been organizing the library for two hours now.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” you lament. “I need a break. My sinuses need a break.”

Sam’s lips twitch at a smile. “It’s okay. I got the rest of these.”

You aim a lazy salute at your friend and continue to sniffle as you leave the library. You circle this labyrinth of a bunker for a while, but you can’t seem to find the trench coat-wearing angel that’s supposed to live here too.

You end up in the garage, where Dean is tuning up his Baby. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and he’s got a grease stain across his cheek.

“Hey, you seen Cas?” you ask.

Dean barely perks up from under Baby’s hood to answer you. “He went out this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

You pout at that, leaning against the side of the car near where Dean is tinkering.

“Is it too much to ask for him to leave a note or something?” you mutter.

Dean finally glances over at you. His lips edge at a smirk.

“What, miss your little boyfriend?” he teases.

The insinuation manages to take you by surprise. Your face starts to warm in embarrassment, but you cover it with a scoff.

“You should know. He was your boyfriend first,” you volley back. Dean’s expression flattens in annoyance.

“Don’t you have anything better to do right now?” he snarks.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “P.” But you have mercy on him.

Instead of pestering him further, you just tip over the screwdriver he had balanced on the car’s frame. He makes a sound of protest as it falls somewhere between the gears inside his precious car.

He barks your name, and his angry voice echoes on the walls to magnify his frustration, but you’re already hastening back into the hall and down to the kitchen, trying to stifle your laughter.

You’ve slipped into the kitchen to escape. Yet that’s where you find the bunker’s resident angel, washing his hands of what looks like breadcrumbs in the sink.

“Hey,” you greet him jovially. He treats you with a small smile. “Where were you?”

“Oh, nowhere really. Just stepped out for a bit,” he replies. You get the sense that he’s hiding something. You smile and step closer to him, leaning a hand on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Where?” you ask. Your eyes gleam with amusement. “Another ‘mission on high?’”

He sends you a droll look. “No.”

You tug on his sleeve. “Come on. Tell me.”

He smiles in return, and he gives you his own version of teasing.

“Childishness doesn’t become you,” he says.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been gone all day,” you reply, tilting your head. Your stare is unyielding, and familiar; Cas knows how stubborn you can be when you want something—especially information. Sometimes he finds it annoying, but in moments like these, it’s tempered by your playful, endearing smile.

“I was on a walk,” he finally admits.

You raise your brows. “A walk? Cas, it’s winter. Like 20 degrees outside.”

“I enjoy nature,” he shrugs. “The cold doesn’t bother me much anyway.”

…Well, he is an angel. You suppose it makes sense that he doesn’t feel the frigid weather like a human would. Your brow quirks with another curious thought.

“So you were washing your hands because…?” you ask.

Castiel’s face becomes a little more bashful. “I was feeding the birds some bread.”

At that, your smile grows. Here he is: Castiel, warrior angel of the Lord, Feeder of Pigeons.

“Well, if you ever want a walking companion, I’d be happy to join you,” you offer.

Castiel gives you a certain look, like he doesn’t quite believe you. 

Your lips purse. “What?”

He sinks his hands into his pockets as he leans his slightly hunched form back on his heels.

“Nothing,” he claims. “It’s only, I seem to remember you forcing Dean to kill a spider in your room. You claimed, and I quote, bastard things that crawl don’t belong indoors.”

You cross your arms and stare back at him narrowly, even though you try to stifle a smile.

“What’s your point? Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” you reason.

He raises a brow. “You also claim to have a vendetta against birds.”

“Pigeons, Castiel. They’re rats with wings.” Even Dean would agree with you on that one.

Castiel gives you a dubious look, however.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your supposed love of nature,” he says drolly.

You want to argue more, but Sam enters the room with Dean on his heels. Both men seem to sense they’ve interrupted something. You clear your throat and turn to them.

“What’s up?” you ask, more nonchalant than you feel whenever you’re near the angel beside you. Castiel glances at you, before he too silently addresses Sam and Dean.

“Uh, we’ve caught a case,” Sam says. “It’s not far. Three dead, all with their hearts, and most of their internal organs ripped out.”

“Ech,” you reply with a grimace. “Sounds kind of like a ghoul. Maybe a werewolf on steroids?”

“Well, they were fresh kills, and it’s a full moon. So more than likely we’re looking at werewolves,” he replies.

You smile thinly. “Great.”

You hate werewolves.

Correction: you really hate werewolves.

The thought hits you yet again as you lay on the floor of a dusty old hunting cabin.

The irony.

Dean hefts you in his arms, after slicing his silver blade through the heart of the yellow-eyed bastard that tore you open with his claws.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, hating how your voice trembles. Dean doesn’t answer you at first. He holds his hand to the oozing gash in your side.

“Nah, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” he says. Blood quickly covers his palm. He curses inside his mind.

“Cas!” he calls out roughly.

The angel had been fighting in the other the room with Sam, but after he burns out the eyes of the last werewolf and its body falls to the ground, he hears the undercurrent of alarm in Dean’s shouting. With Sam on his heels, he returns to the living room to find you and Dean.

Castiel’s steps halt in the doorway when he sees you. His face slackens for a moment, but then he hardens. He moves forward swiftly.

“Move,” he says to Dean in order to come to your side. Dean’s eyes widen, but he does as he’s told after laying you down to the floor. 

Castiel stares down at your face, offering you comfort with his eyes. You stare up at him in pain, but also with hope, and trust. You’re able to curl your fingers around the edge of his trench coat.

Then he presses his hand to your cheek. He closes his eyes in concentration while he heals you. 

Though he expels more power than he should to heal you completely. He knows it when his body sways a little after he’s done. Dean grabs his shoulder to keep him steady.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods; he’s more focused on the way you’re catching your breath. You marvel at how your wounds, your pain, and even your blood is gone—completely washed away. He helps you sit up with an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Then he gathers you tight against him, so he can help you stand as well. He wavers again on his feet, just a little, but you’re too perceptive not to catch it. You realize he did too much to save you.

You still chide at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to use up so much of your energy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Those are useless words, but you don’t bother arguing with him anymore. You just sigh and hold onto his strong arms while regaining your balance. You know for a fact that you’re blushing when you glance up at him.

Biting your lip, you soon turn away to grab the knife you’d dropped in the fight.

Without you or Cas noticing, Sam and Dean share a knowing glance. It’s subtle, in the way the brothers have perfected. Dean barely curbs a smile as he leads the way back to the car. 

You settle next to Cas in the backseat and try not to glance at him too often. You don’t know that he’s trying not to do the same to you.

Dean glances back at you two in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head.

Idiots.

Mary Winchester has been a welcome return to the family…when she’s here. Ever since Amara brought her back, she’s been distant with her sons. You don’t understand it all that well, but it’s not your place to say anything, you don’t think.

You do think Mary is a badass hunter. You just don’t know her that well.

About a week after the werewolf hunt, Mary drops in with Wally, a fellow hunter in need of assistance with a demon problem. You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel are all game. While you haven’t had to deal with demons too much in the past, you know that they’re…something of a specialty for the Winchesters. 

But of course, it quickly goes to shit.

The demon lives alone, in some shack by a river where he likes to fish. The group of you wait until he’s stepped out of the house before you go inside and case the place, looking for a good spot to spray a Devil’s Trap or two and try to trap him.

When the demon returns, he’s far stronger than any of you anticipated. The Devil’s Trap breaks with little effort (the demon’s just laughing). Then he flashes yellow eyes. You and Castiel share a look of widening shock. Mary takes a preemptive step back.

And when the kitchen door is about to close on the three of you, the angel pushes you into the next room before you can turn and fight. Sam helps you back onto your feet, though you stare at the door in horror. He and Dean try to break the door down, but it’s no use. It’s supernaturally sealed. 

You felt useless standing there. You wrack your brain for a solution, and you glance out one of the windows. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen!

“Guys! What if we go around?” you suggest.

With that idea taking root in each of you, Sam and Dean follow you outside. Before you guys can even make it around the house, Wally flags you down. 

“We’ve got incoming!” he says. And you realize what he means. A group of black-eyed demons are bounding toward the house.

Aw, shit. You’re grateful to have Sam and Dean beside you, because the demons nearly overtake all of you. You manage to hold your own, along with the brothers. Wally isn’t so fortunate. His body hits the floor after his own blade sinks into his chest.

A pit begins to form in your stomach as you scramble toward the Impala. The plan is to catch up with Mary; thanks to Cas, she’d been able to flee the demon strong enough to snap a Devil’s Trap like a cheap trick. But she’d then taken Cas with her to safety. 

Now, Dean drives the Impala down the road at breakneck speed. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks his mother through the phone. The car is silent enough for you to hear Mary’s reply.

“…No.”

When you step into the barn, the first thing you have to focus on is Cas covered in his own blood. He’s been stabbed by one of the demon’s strange and powerful weapons, and he lies on an old, dingy couch. You hurry to Cas’s side and take in, your face filled with horror, though you try and fail to mask it. 

You reach out a hand, but you hesitate to touch him. Suffering is written across his face. He tries to stifle sounds of pain out of habit.

Tears are fresh in your eyes as you look down at him in dismay. You chance laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Can you heal yourself?” you ask.

“No,” he answers eventually. “I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I think I’m…”

No, your lower lip trembles as you shake your head.

“No,” you repeat aloud. “You just need time.”

You turn to Dean, who’s approached from behind you. But you quickly turn back to Cas, as if you’ll miss out on precious few moments. Castiel’s furrowed gaze tells you he’d rather not have you see him like this, but you don’t care. There’s no way you’re leaving his side. 

The weapon that was able to do this to him was the Lance of Michael, you all discover, when Crowley suddenly appears. He also informs you all that this is no ordinary demon. It’s Ramiel, Prince of Hell. You don’t give a shit about the specifics of how Crowley is wrapped up in this.

All you care about is if there’s a cure to Cas’s wounds. Crowley’s only words of wisdom are to leave the angel behind and run as fast as you can. 

He disappears before you can spit at him. 

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asks, after the King of Hell predictably makes a run for it. 

Castiel opened up his shirt collar to reveal a spiderweb of black crackling across his clammy skin, slowly breaking down his vessel. 

“Crowley’s right. You should go.”

Your hand tightens on his shoulder. “Cas—”

“No, listen to me,” he says, staring into your eyes. He continues with difficulty. “Look…thank you. Thank you. Knowing you all, it’s been the best part of my life. The things we’ve shared together, they have changed me… You’re my family, and I love you.”

His gaze had fallen on you, making your breath hitch. But his dark blue eyes travel to Sam and Dean next, and even Mary. 

“I love all of you.” The angel is the closest to tears and heartbreak that you’ve ever seen him. He struggles to hold himself together, in more ways than one. “Just, please, please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run, and save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes the sentence. Tears pour down your cheeks in silent streams, but you still hold him down when he tries to force his body to sit up. He doesn’t have the strength to resist you encouraging him to lie back down. 

Dean voices what you’re all thinking.

No. None of you would cut and run and leave him to die, no matter what Cas says. 

“Like you said, we’re family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Ramiel comes for all of you, specifically for his stolen weapon. Killing the rest of you would just be an added bonus.

But while the four of you manage to pin down the demon with holy fire and a good fight, it’s Sam who manages to stab the Prince of Hell with Michael’s Lance, killing him in flash of brilliant light and rendering his body to ash. 

Of course, that’s when Crowley arrives once again, late holding his proverbial Starbucks. In this case, what would’ve been a mocha frappe is actually the Lance—and Crowley breaks it in half. It somehow reverses the curse of the blade, and therefore frees Castiel. 

He’s able to heal himself back to a full recovery. 

But also, rather predictably, Crowley disappears again before you all can recover yourselves. 

Sam and Dean help the angel back onto his feet. His clothes are still covered in blood, but his skin is clear and no longer clammy, his eyes no longer bloodshot. He’s shocked to still be alive, and you can barely contain yourself. Tears stream down your face as you surprise him with a hug.

Cas releases an oof, his body wavering just slightly before he plants his feet and wraps his arms around you. His hold tightens around your smaller frame, and he chances resting his chin on the top of your head.  

“So…you’re good?” Mary asks incredulously. 

Castiel raises his gaze to answer her. “I guess I am.”

You’re quiet for the rest of the drive home. Mary had taken her own car for the hunt, so it leaves you once again in the backseat with Castiel.

He finds your silence perturbing, though he doesn’t have the courage to ask you what’s wrong. Despite his full recovery, you still seem upset somehow. 

Part of him wants to reach out to you…but he stops himself. He also reminds himself not to stare at you. Instead, he turns his head back out the window. You felt his gaze on your profile, but you resolve to keep yours stubbornly out of your own window. 

The only one who notices the exchange, yet again through the rearview mirror, is Dean. His lips firm into a thoughtful frown. 

Home, sweet home, you think wryly when you enter the bunker. 

You give into the urge to beeline straight for your room without even turning your head. 

Sam and Mary follow suit, which leaves Castiel hesitating in the hall. Dean takes pity on him and claps his shoulder. 

“You okay, man?” he asks. Cas is staring after you like a man who’s lost his way.

“She’s…upset,” he replies, both confused and bothered by that fact.  

Dean’s lips twitch humorlessly. “Yeah, well, you almost died.”

“Yes,” Cas gives a wry nod. “But she seems upset at me.”

Dean has to smile for real. It’s plain as day what’s on his friend’s mind, and why. Just like it’s obvious as hell (at least to him) why you’re probably “upset.” As always, Dean takes up the role of wingman. 

“Why don’t you just go talk to her then?” he suggests.

Castiel hesitates. He’s not sure if he’d be intruding on you. The emotions of human women are foreign to him. They always have been, even when he was human, not so long ago. But he trusts Dean’s advice on these things.

So, he eventually nods. He means to follow you, but Dean stops him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Maybe after you, uh, wash your clothes. Take a shower. Maybe shave a little,” he says, brushing his fingers over his own chin. “But uh, keep a little scruff. Some chicks dig that.”

“Shave my facial hair, but…keep my facial hair?” Cas tries to clarify. 

Dean blinks at his friend. Christ.

 “Okay, look, just clean yourself up,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

With one last clap on the back, Dean disappears down the hall to his room. It leaves Castiel feeling somewhat unbalanced, but he treks the other way.

Normally he would restore his clothes with his powers, but he’d used up his reserves just to heal himself. There was a time when his connection to heaven was enough to do more than heal his own injuries. Now, however, both he and heaven itself are in a lesser state. 

Shaking his head, he goes down to the laundry room. He still remembers how to wash his own clothing. 

He unintentionally finds you there in the laundry room. You’ve peeled away your jacket that had been stained with his blood, and you’re tossing it into the machine. It leaves you in a thin shirt and jeans.

Castiel finds himself admiring your form; the familiar curve of your face, the shade of your hair, the outline of your bra through your shirt (which he tries not to notice), and the other curves that he has to often felt guilty for tracing with his eyes…and imagining with his hands.  

You look up when he enters the room.

He knocks himself out of his thoughts and freezes, a bit uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers.

You just shake your head. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes roam over him then, from head to toe. It makes his face feel a bit warm.

“You want me to throw that coat in with mine?” you ask, pointing over to him. Cas examines his bloody trench coat.

“I’m not sure there’s any saving it, but we can try,” he says. He peels off the coat and allows you to throw it into the watching machine along with your bloody clothing.

“Your shirt’s white, so you should wash that separately,” you advise.

“I know,” he says, with a faint smile. “I, uh, I remember.”

You begin to regain some of your normal self, glancing at him with more warmth in your eyes. 

“Do you ever miss being human?” you ask. Cas draws closer to you. He rests a hand near yours, where you lean on the dryer. 

“There were some enjoyable aspects. Food, in particular,” he admits. “Now if I try to take a bite of a sandwich, it’s just…molecules, really.”

You wince in sympathy. “God, I don’t know how I could go through life without being able to enjoy another Snickers bar.”

He nods in agreement. He remembers chocolate well.

“But it wasn’t just the taste. It was the feeling of satiety. Sometimes, being uncomfortably full was quite satisfying,” he says. That makes you smile. 

But it soon drops when you take in the disgusting state of his shirt. Unbidden, it reminds you of every horrific thing that happened tonight. You really can’t bear it. 

“Okay, give me that,” you gesture at the shirt.

You start to unbutton it before he’s really ready for you, but he tries to get over his embarrassment by removing his tie. Meanwhile, you undo the buttons of his shirt while trying not to think too hard about what you’re really doing as you start to see flashes of his skin, from chest to sternum.

He takes a peek at your face. 

“Are you angry?” he asks. 

Your brows are furrowed, but this time more in confusion when you look up at him. 

“No. Why?” 

Cas’s brows furrow. “It feels like you’re angry…at me.”

The hasty motions of your hands calm at that. You consider him with a frown. Maybe you are a little upset at him. It’s not really fair, you know, but it’s how you feel. You blow out a sigh. 

“I just… After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done for us, how could you think for one second that we would leave you there alone? Alone to die?” you ask. It renders Castiel a bit stunned into silence. 

Your grip tightens on the now open edges of his shirt.

“Look, that situation was bad enough. But if you ever try to push me away like that again…”

You’re unable to finish that thought. You become waylaid by your own tears as emotion clogs your throat and threatens to choke you. 

Castiel raises a hand to touch your face, tentatively at first, then more comforting. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, catching the tears there. 

“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he confesses. “I was trying to save you…because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, even as I lay dying.”

You hold onto his hand. Biting your lower lip, you find enough courage to meet his eyes. They’ve lowered to your lips, you realize, though maybe Cas doesn’t. He seems a bit surprised when you lean up towards him.

You go more slowly. Your hand falls on his warm chest. For God’s sake, do something, you tell yourself. 

You don’t know if he can pick up on your thoughts as well with your bodies touching this close, but he seems to have an internal battle of his own. You each make a decision at the same time.

It has you leaning up the rest of the way, and Castiel bending down to meet your kiss.  

He gathers you closer; one hand finds its way into your tangled hair, while the other grasps your hip and brings you flush against him. Your hands move up his chest and wind around his neck. He holds you tightly against him as his lips claim yours, over and over with increasing urgency. 

He turns you in his arms and hefts you up onto the dryer machine. There he gets even more leverage to kiss you the way he has secretly imagined, to touch you the way he’s too often craved, with his hands warming up and down your thighs.

You utter a moan of longing as you hold his face. You like the scrape of his stubble against your palms. You can almost imagine that delightful tingling against otherplaces down your body. Places you’d like him to explore when you have more privacy…

Or maybe here is privacy enough.

You alternatively tangle and tug your fingers through his hair. And it’s his turn to moan when you take his lower lip between your teeth, scraping just hard enough to be both painful and delightful.

He squeezes your thighs in retaliation. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer. Your dirty boots cross behind his back.

But soon, his touch gentles, more tender than demanding as he slows the kiss. His lips veer from yours and burn a path across your jawline, down the smooth column of your neck.

It allows you to catch your breath, but the feeling of his gentle lips and rough cheek just turns you on even more. You card your fingers through his hair and close your eyes. 

“Cas,” you breathe in content. 

He hesitates, with his lips on your neck. “Yes?”

You blink for a moment, but then you have to giggle. You twine your arms around his neck and hold him close. 

“Nothing,” you reply. Your smile says it all though. Cas sees it when he pulls away a bit, turning his gaze back to you. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“I didn’t think feelings such as this…desires like this, would affect me after I became an angel again.”

Your smile brightens, even as you blush. “Does that make me special?”

“Yes,” he replies, with a soft smile. “But for many more, and far better reasons than that.”

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. You bite the edge of your lower lip, but Cas’s thumb swiping across encourages you to release it.

“When you said that you loved me,” you say, a little shakily, “did you just mean…in the family sense?”

Castiel meets your eyes, and there he finds his courage. 

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

With another one of those smiles he’s come to love, you bring him back in for a kiss. All too soon, it becomes hungrier, rougher, born of passion and secret desires finally spilling free. 

“Wait,” you pant against his lips, taking his hands in yours. “Come with me.”

Anywhere, his heart says.

But after you jump down from the dryer, you tug him by the hand out of the laundry room. After a quick scan of the hallway, you give him a playful little smile and lead him down to your room.

Castiel can’t help but smile in return. He follows your lead in more ways than one when the door to your bedroom shuts behind you both.

You help him shrug off his tattered shirt, and he helps you out of yours next, followed swiftly by the belt buckle on his slacks. 

In that moment, and many moments after, you’re grateful for door locks. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t dumb enough to interrupt what you have planned next for your angel…

Because it might just take all night.

AN: I haven't written for Castiel in a long time, but I had fun with this. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. 😘

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[gojoshooter]

hewoo! sorry for bothering u, but I'm just really into sukuita and humm... maybe u could write something about how sukuna loves to have his little brat yuuji sitting on his lap? just if u want of course! god I love those two so much😭💕

Suku-nii's Best Boy

an. with my returning sukuita fever i present you this lil hybrid fic ;) hope you like it @wukxon

Tiger!Cub Yuji in his big brother Tiger!Hybrid Suku-nii ’s lap, all sobby and snotty as he complains of his ongoing teething process.

-

The little Tiger!Cub Yuji had been found by his aniki on the kitchen floor, whines spilling out his tiny babbling mouth out of discomfort when Sukuna comes to check up on him.

Big brother Sukuna wasn't the type to hoist a little cub up on his hip and coo to lul him quite, instead just propping him up on his feet by his underarms so his little yuji stands in front of him instead. The action reduces the cub's sobbing into sniffling, as he peeps up at Suku-nii with big watery golden-brown eyes.

Sukuna bends his knees to come closer to his tiny brother's height, inspecting while pulling his cheek “Huh, what is it little snot?”

“...hurts” Yuji pouts, water brimming the brink of his doey eyes again when he projects baby arms towards his big brother, making grabby hands. “Chuku-nii... uwp” his pout too big for a more coherent sound.

Now—Tiger!Hybrid Sukuna knows he's a tough man, but he would rather die than not scoop his little brother Yuji who pleads his comfort so purely, which he does a moment and a sigh later. Sukuna saunters to the couch, bothered Yuji clutched to his side.

“Where does it hurt,” the little cub now seated in his lap, Sukuna wipes the tear streams off his little brother's fluffy-soft fat cheeks “tell me brat?” his tone softer than his words.

“Aa!!” Yuji opens his tiny mouth, an acusatory finger pointed towards his small buccal cavity. The bigger feline hums, taking the smaller one's face in his palms—thumbs pushing on the cheeks to pry open his mouth wider. Little pointy canines could be seen halfway out into joining the cub's set of teeth.

Sukuna frowns, gently pressing on one of the cub's canines causing Yuji to flinch away with an angry whine. The elder hums again in confirmation, cupping Yuji's sulky face and dragging it closer. He's teething—Sukuna concludes. The elder bounces his seated tiny body on his knees for distraction.

He brings a finger near the younger's mouth, pushing it slowly on the cub's lips for him to take. “We will get some toys for your sore jaw, 'dori.” he grins watching his troubled little Yuji who depends on him so much.

Tiger!Cub Yuji nibbles on his Aniki's finger, leaving small tents of his canines and droll on the skin. His tiny palm forgetting to loosen the grip to his Suku-nii's shirt.

Sukuna might have a hunch or so for why his little brother has gotten more attached to him rather than their any other relative or friend—who comprehensibly wanted Yuji's attention more than him,, but he never really understood.

Whatever the case... he has already grown affectionate to the stinkingly adorable and clingy brat in his lap for life is what he knows.

masterlist! sukuita hcs!

an. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AAAAA😭 hope y'all like it, thank you for reading, likes & rbs are appreciated <333

tags. @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @ruins-posts @dianagracesworld @pupkashi

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

it's the next best thing - part one

part two || part three

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson || ~22k, complete || phone sex || accidental love confessions || there was only one bed || getting together || mutual pining || porn with plot || smut || wet & messy || friends with benefits || oral sex || rimming

This is my gift for @eyesofshinigami for @steddieexchange! This is part one of three, as it got a little long for a Tumblr One-shot. I hope you like it!

It’s been hours since Robin clocked out, and Steve’s barely hanging on. He misses spending entire shifts sitting behind the counter as Robin threw balled-up receipts at the back of his head, squabbling like children over who gets to pick that night’s movie. But Keith’s all up in a tizzy over their labor numbers, and so he’d split their dynamic duo right down the middle.

They’re like ships passing in the night now, and Steve’s bored.

The stupid bell on Family Video’s stupid front door hasn’t jingled in long enough that Steve’s begun melting into the front counter, head pillowed on his folded arms, legs barely keeping him upright. Mondays have always been the slowest night of the week, and as winter sinks its icy claws into Hawkins, fewer and fewer customers are showing up past six p.m.

Robin’s going to be mad when she opens tomorrow and finds all the tapes he’d been supposed to rewind still stacked by the TV in the back room, but sue him—the shine’s wearing off real quick on this entire job without her at his side.

When the phone rings shrilly in his ear, it’s almost a relief. He’ll take Mrs. Carruthers nagging complaints on the state of kids’ movies these days over another moment of this endless, lonely, monotony. He doesn’t raise his head as he reaches fumbling fingers across the counter to snatch the phone from its cradle, pressing it to his ear.

“Thank you for calling Family Video,” he drones out in the customer service voice he’d learned at Scoops and perfected during Friday night rushes, made worse when the new releases hit the shelves. “How can I help you?”

It’s silent for a moment aside from the staticky sound of an open line. But then there’s laughter drifting down into his ear, alternating between braying and giggly—Steve would recognize that little donkey snort anywhere.

He’s already smiling into the meat of his forearm when another voice, deeper than it usually is, asks, “what are you wearing, big boy?” before dissolving into peals of elated laughter, mixing perfectly with Robin’s own hiccuping giggles.

Steve straightens up. He catches sight of his own face reflected back at him from the dark windows and for the first time that night, he’s glad no one else is here. It’d be hard to explain the force of his grin and the way his cheeks have turned splotchy and pink even in the cold air.

Steve dutifully waits for a break in the laughter to answer Eddie’s question. “White sweater, green vest, blue jeans, white sneakers,” he lists out, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fights against himself to maintain that same droll tone.

The laughter starts up again, spurting like a sprinkler on the fritz. Something crashes over the line, and Steve knows without having to ask that it was Robin as Eddie’s laughter takes on a hysterical edge. Steve’s smiling again, face hurting with the strain of it. He wishes he could be there, sitting between the pair wherever they are, but if he can’t, this is the next best thing.

“That’s so cute, baby,” Eddie replies when he finally gets a handle on things, that same deep tone telling Steve that the bit is still going on. It doesn’t stop warmth from pooling low in his stomach as he bites his lip, the term of endearment ringing through his ears.

“Thanks,” Steve says, wincing when it comes out all breathy. He clears his throat and diverts the topic of conversation. “You stealing my best friend?”

Eddie gasps, sounding almost affronted as he replies, “of course not! We’re leaving a space right in the middle, just for you.”

“You were the tie-breaker for the movie pick, dingus!” Robin calls, voice faint like she’s a little too far away to be properly picked up by the receiver.

“You always side with Robin, Stevie,” Eddie sighs. Steve can picture it—Robin and Eddie on separate sides of the Munson’s couch, passing a joint back and forth, pausing long enough in between each hit like his ghost might want to have a pull of its own. “It’s enough to make a guy think you don’t like him.”

“I like you,” Steve blurts, wincing and closing his eyes when the words register.

The silence rings louder than any response Eddie could have given, deafening Steve in the quiet of the abandoned video store. It’s all too much, made worse by Eddie finally responding with a stilted, “I—oh.”

Steve rubs at his closed eyes, suppressing the groan creeping up his throat. God, why can’t he just stick with the joke? Why does he have to spew his stupid feelings all over everything?

“Well that’s—” Eddie starts when it becomes clear that Steve’s not going to be saying anything to make this moment any less awkward. But suddenly, he just…doesn’t want to hear what Eddie has to say.

“Uh, customer,” Steve interrupts, hoping the lack of ringing bell isn’t obvious over the phone. “Got to go, bye,”

“Oh, oka—”

Steve slams the phone down hard enough that the plastic creaks. Now, alone with his racing thoughts and poor life decisions once more, Steve drops his head down on the sticky counter with a groan.

It’s going to be a long, lonely night.

*** 

As Eddie listens to the dial-tone filter down the line, he smacks his head into his kitchen cupboard, the shitty door rattling loosely on its hinge as he tries to strangle himself against its plywood surface.

“Why did you let me do that?” Eddie whines, even though “let” is a strongly misleading word. Robin, ever the shit-stirrer, had dialed the number herself and shoved the ringing phone into his fumbling hands just before Steve’s tinny voice had come through the phone’s speaker.

Robin hiccups, and it sounds wet enough that Eddie finally puts the phone back on the cradle and turns around, limbs loose and uncoordinated from the pot brownies they’d burnt to a crispy charcoal but eaten anyway. She’s on the floor where she’d collapsed mid giggle-fit and been unable to get back up. But she’s all out of smiles now as tears trail down her freckled cheeks.

“’m sorry,” she cries, rubbing her closed fist against her streaming eyes, hair haloed out against the dirty linoleum of the trailer’s small kitchen. “Just missed him.”

“You saw him this morning,” Eddie snorts, but lays down next to her, resting his head against her stomach. Her clumsy hands paw at his head, fingers catching in every knot as she tries to sooth him.

“But it’s Steve,” she says, like that will explain everything. And really, it does. He is Steve, and he and Robin were surgically disconnected in the womb or something. They’re going to grow old and die together, and Eddie’s only a little bit bitter about not fitting into that same equation. 

“Yeah, Robby, I know,” Eddie sighs, blinking up at the flickering fluorescent lights drilling through his skull. He can’t seem to get up, though, thoughts swirling around themselves, making useless patterns in his brain that are impossible to follow.

They’re quiet aside from Robin’s waning sniffles, her heels kicking rhythmically against the tile like she’s keeping count, fingers tapping against the top of his head like she’s practicing her fingering for one of the songs in marching band. Eddie loves her so much. He should have known to never, ever give her drugs.

“Is it just me or did he sound sort of flustered?” Eddie asks, and Robin’s fingers drop back to his head, clutching at the roots of his hair hard enough to hurt as she dissolves into cute little giggles again, knees pulling up as she curls into the fetal position around his head.

“Uh, customer, got to go, bye!” she calls, rushing it all together in her haste to mock her best friend’s fumbled sign-off.

Eddie laughs right along with her, but there are butterflies fluttering around in his ribcage, rabbiting his heartbeat up to an alarming gallop.

Steve drops from the conversation after that, and it doesn’t come up for the rest of the night. Not when the munchies get the best of them and they order a pizza, or when Robin shoves one of her stupid subtitled French films into the VHS player and they both squint at the screen, too out of their gourds to follow the confusing plot.

Robin might have forgotten the entire thing; Eddie does not.

It lingers in the back of his mind, creeping over him like mold until he finds himself in front of the phone the next night right around the same time, hand hovering over the number pad, fingers damn-near shaking with the desire to punch in the number he’d had to scour the phone book for. The one he’d written down and stuck onto the fridge with a magnet, hoping Wayne wouldn’t ask any questions when he inevitably catches sight of it.

And that’s the thing. He couldn’t even claim it was spur of the moment this time. It was premeditated. And it feels that way as he finally dials and listens to the line ring.

“Thank you for calling Family Video. How can I help you?”

“What are you wearing?” Eddie asks. It comes out of his mouth on a raspy whisper, rumbling deep in the recesses of his throat.

Steve laughs, sounding downright delighted as he asks, “Robin put you up to this?”

Eddie can almost see the smirk that must have crept across his face. He twirls the cord round and round his finger, wishing desperately he could see it in person.

“Uh, no,” Eddie says, voice three octaves higher than it had started out, feeling hot all over as he jumps up onto the counter and settles his head back against the cupboard. “Your better half has fled the coop.”

Steve laughs again, and Eddie wants to drown himself in it. Instead, he clacks his heels against the cupboards behind him, trying to keep from blurting out something stupid.

“So, it’s your idea this time?” like he knows Robin well enough to know she’d dialed the number and put the phone in his hands. He’d be jealous if he wasn’t in love with both of them in his own special way.

“All the better to make you laugh, my king,” Eddie replies, cringing at the stupid little voice that comes out of his mouth. “I would be failing in my court jester duties if I didn’t perform at my king’s behest.”

“You think you’re that funny, do you?” Steve asks around a laugh.

“Well, at my count, you’re at three laughs already, your highness.” Eddie counts them out on the fingers still tangled in the phone cord, like Steve will somehow be able to see them from miles away. God help him if he can, with the way Eddie’s twiddling his fingers and blushing like a schoolgirl on her first date.

Steve scoffs, but there’s another laugh hidden beneath it, so happy and warm that it lodges itself in the recesses of Eddie’s chest. He presses the phone hard enough against his ear that the cheap plastic creaks, unwilling to miss even the smallest of sounds Steve might make.

“Fine, fine, you’re funny, Munson,” Steve says, voice lilting up like he’s still fucking smiling. “You can call your king anytime.”

“How gracious, your majesty.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, snorting at Eddie’s antics. “Now what’ve you been up to all day? Preparing your material to call little old me?”

“You’re just jealous that some of us aren’t forced to be capitalist monkeys,” Eddie replies.

“Monkeys?” Steve asks, laughing again—Eddie’s count is now up to five.

“Yeah, you know, with the whole monkey suit you’re forced to wear.”

“It’s a vest,” Steve huffs before putting on a voice that’s soft-spoken and sultry. “With how often you ask what I’m wearing, it seems like you would’ve remembered by now.”

Eddie sputters as Steve’s sibilant whisper slips down his spine, making him shiver. Steve isn’t supposed to turn the flirting back onto him. There are rules, goddammit.

The conversation segues into Steve complaining about the absentee parents barely paying attention as their kids smear candy all over the VHS’s on display, really only proving Eddie’s corporate monkey crack right. Eddie doesn’t mind—anything to get Steve not to use that voice again.

It goes on for minutes, Eddie hanging on every word, every laugh, every sound, like this is something they do. Even though this is the first time they’ve ever talked on the phone without Robin back-seat talking behind one of them. Even though they don’t even really hang out alone, always sequestered in groups.

All the better to keep Eddie’s stupid, ridiculous, hopeless crush from exploding out of him and killing everyone in the line of fire.

But, as Steve hangs up with a rushed, “customer, sorry!” this time with the accompanying sound of the bell on Family Video’s front door, leaving Eddie to listen to the staticky dial tone instead, he can’t regret calling. Not with Steve’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

He stands there clutching the dead line to his ear for an embarrassingly long time.

*** 

Steve means to tell Robin about it the next time they share a shift. Really, he does. But then she spends the first thirty minutes of their two-hour overlap talking about her most recent one-on-one hangout with Vickie, and Steve spends the rest of their time before the after-work rush hits, hyping her up to finally make a move. By the time Robin’s punching out, Eddie’s name hasn’t come up even once.

He can feel his window of opportunity dwindling as Robin grabs her bike from where she’d stashed it in Keith’s office that morning, wheeling her dirty tires toward the front door.

“Hey, Robin?” Steve asks, just as her hand settles on the door, ready to swing it open.

“Yeah?” she says, focused on rifling through her pockets, making sure she has her house key after one too many times making it all the way home to find her house locked up tight, and her keys dropped somewhere between Family Video’s shelves.

Steve watches her, and feels the moment pass him by. “Want a ride to work tomorrow?” he asks instead of saying, I really like Eddie, or, do you know why he keeps calling, or, do you think I have a chance? It feels more like a bathroom conversation anyway, and if Keith catches them both in there again while the front of the store remains unmanned, he’s going to fire them.

“Always,” she says, waving half-assedly toward him without turning back around.

And just like that, she’s gone, none the wiser to Steve’s inner turmoil, spiralling into full-blown anxiety the closer it gets to what he’s beginning to think of as Eddie’s usual call time. It’s just—they don’t do this. They don’t call, they don’t hang out without Robin or the kids, and they sure as hell don’t ask each other what the other is wearing in that deep, wanting tone of voice.

At least, that’s what Steve had thought two days ago. Now, he’s not so sure.

When the phone rings at exactly eight p.m. that night, Steve knows who it must be on the other side of the line.

“Eddie?” he asks, forgoing his usual customer service spiel. He’s rewarded with a bright, happy laugh that hits him straight in the sternum.

“Is that how you greet all your paying customers?” Eddie asks, smile audible in his voice.

“As if you ever pay.”

“I have!” Eddie cries indignantly. “Wait, no you threw me off! What’re you wearing?”

“This again?” Steve asks, groaning as if the question doesn’t send his guts squirming every single time Eddie’s voice drops into that suggestive register. He shouldn’t answer, should nip this whole thing in the bud before it spirals entirely out of his control.

But Eddie doesn’t break the silence—Steve can’t even hear him breathing, and Steve’s never been that strong-willed. “Striped polo, jeans, sneakers, work vest. There, you happy?”

“I don’t know, Stevie,” Eddie replies, and Steve can practically see the teasing smirk on his face as he asks, “what color are these stripes?”

“Grey and blue,” Steve says after looking down to double check. It’s his only long-sleeved polo and the store’s a bit too cold for anything else.

Eddie whistles, shrill and sharp through the phone like he’s catcalling Steve from across the street. “Jesus,” Steve cries, yanking the phone away from his ear until he can’t hear it anymore. When he presses the phone back to his ear, Eddie’s cackling. “Prick.”

“Sorry, hot stuff, just couldn’t help myself.”

“You could try,” Steve replies dryly.

“You’re not supposed to change for a relationship, Stevie.”

Steve’s breath stutters in his lungs. It’s a joke. He knows it’s a joke, but that doesn’t stop his fingertips from tingling like he’d set them on fire. The other side of the call’s gone dead silent, the words settling between them with more weight than Eddie could have meant.

So, Steve mutters, “this is more like a hostage situation,” and wonders if he’s just imagining the relief he can hear in Eddie’s answering laughter.

Steve’s heart’s always been a little too easy to snatch—Nancy and Robin perfect attestations of that. But it’d worked out okay with Robin, shifting seamlessly into platonic soulmateism as soon as the name Tammy Thompson had come out of her mouth.

Maybe he can do that with Eddie, too. If only he’d stop calling; if only Steve would stop answering. He’s off shift tomorrow, so if Eddie calls anyone, it’ll be Robin.

As their conversation ends, Steve tells himself he’s fine with that.

*** 

When Eddie calls Family Video like usual, it’s Robin that answers the phone.

“You’re not Steve,” he says, without thinking, cringing when that makes her snort. “Not that you’re not a delight and a treasure to us all, Buckley!”

“Mmmhmm,” she cuts in, sounding even more droll than when she’d droned out her canned customer greeting.

“It’s just that Steve’s always the one that answers, so I was starting to think he was super glued to the front counter, you know?”

Silence rings down the line long enough for Eddie to let his dangling heels smack noisily into the cupboard three times, but then Robin says, “he’s at home,” and continues before he can respond, “you do this a lot then, huh?” she asks around whatever pilfered candy she’s snacking on.

Eddie’s entire body freezes as he runs what he’d just said through his head and comes to the startling realization that Steve hasn’t told her.

“Uh, no?” Eddie asks, hating the way his voice cracks with the lie. “I mean, sometimes I want to call before making the long trek up there. Check if you’ve got anything good on the shelves, you know?”

“Mmmhmm,” she says again, sounding even more doubtful now. They both know it’s a measly six minute drive, but she doesn’t call him on it. “Well, what are you looking for tonight?”

He almost blurts out Steve’s name before remembering his stupid lie. “Uhhhh—um—what about The Fly?” he asks, wincing as Robin scoffs.

“That’s not released yet, dingbat,” she replies, like Eddie doesn’t already know that. It’s just the first movie he’d thought of, having seen its name lighting up The Hawks marquee just this morning.

“Well, call me when it is, okay bye!”

He hangs up the phone on Robin’s indignant sputtering. Because he’s the bane of his own existence, he immediately flips through the white pages and dutifully writes the number he finds listed beside Steve’s yuppy parents' names on the note beneath the long-since memorized number for Family Video.

He doesn’t hesitate to dial.

“Harrington residence,” Steve greets because he’s a bit of a yuppy himself. Eddie hates that he finds it charming.

“You always answer the phone like that, big boy?”

“If I’d known it was you, I might not have picked up at all,” Steve replies, but he sounds like he’s teasing, so Eddie just clutches the phone tighter, smiling around his empty trailer, glad that Wayne’s at work. “Now, did you actually want something?”

“Just wanted to know what you’re wearing.”

Eddie shoves his fist into his mouth and bites down to contain the whine at having said such a god awful, stupid fucking thing for the fourth god awful fucking time.

“Sweats, an old gym shirt, and some socks,” Steve replies, like that’s not enough to rewire Eddie’s whole fucking brain.

Eddie’s never seen him anything other than entirely put together—jeans stain-free, shirt pressed, not a hair out of place. He’s a man after Eddie’s own heart, curating an aesthetic with all the careful consideration that he’d use picking songs for a mixtape. But, unlike Eddie, Steve looks so put together that the thought of him messy has Eddie’s heartbeat ratcheting up.

Are his sweatpants stained? Is the gym shirt stretched out? Is his hair all fucked up? God, Eddie would kill to know, but he can’t think of a normal way to ask, so all he says is, “oh, yeah?” wincing when it comes out embarrassingly squeaky. He clears his throat and continues, “no work today?”

“Nah, it’s my day off,” Steve says, and then there’s the sound of furniture settling, a sigh, the rustle of fabric. Did Steve just lay down? Does he have a phone in his goddamn bedroom? Is he splayed out on his bed, cozy and warm. Eddie’s never seen Steve’s bedroom and god, suddenly he wants to so badly it hurts.

He wants to lay down beside him, wrap him up in his arms, see how fucked up his hair gets by the early hours of the morning. He just—wants.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, sounding frustrated, like he’d tried to get his attention a few different times. “You there?”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says before closing his eyes and bashing his head into the cupboard. Sweetheart? Lusting after Steve was one thing, but fucking sweetheart? This is rapidly becoming dangerous. “Wayne just got home, so I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Oh, oka—”

Eddie hangs up the phone. He stares at the empty trailer, heartbeat rabbiting away in his chest like he’s back in gym class trying to run the mile.

He should stop this, throw Steve’s number away and go cold turkey—hide his heart deep within the recesses of his ribcage and keep it safe.

Eddie’s never been that smart, and he knows, no matter what his stupid brain thinks, he’ll be picking up the phone again tomorrow night. And besides, he’s already got both numbers memorized.

*** 

It’s still Steve’s day off, but he drives Robin to work, just like he always does. She stuffs her bike in the trunk in case he’s not around to pick her up after her shift’s done, and then she climbs into his passenger seat, still looking half asleep as she pulls down his visor and uses the small mirror to messily apply her eye liner. Steve drives slow, careful of potholes and speed bumps, a part of him always terrified she’ll stab her own eye out.

She doesn’t talk to him until she’s finished both eyes and stashed her pencil securely into her bag.

“So, Eddie called yesterday,” she says, and when he looks at her sidelong, hands clenched on the steering wheel, she’s looking back, smirking as she watches her comment land. He jerks his gaze back to the road.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, relieved when his voice comes out even.

Robin knows him though, so she just snorts, and when he looks back toward her, her arms are crossed and she’s got one eyebrow raised bitchily in a way he knows she learned from him. And now here she is, using it as a weapon against him.

Steve clears his throat, glancing away again as he pulls into the vacant Family Video parking lot. “He… calls sometimes.”

“I’ll bet he does,” Robin replies with a snort.

“Robin,” Steve whines, all sense of decorum lost as he drops his forehead down on the wheel hard enough that his horn honks, sharp and loud in the quiet morning. “It’s not like that.”

She reaches over to pat his back, all dripping condescension as she asks, “for him or for you?” before hopping out of the car and going to unlock the front door, switching the Open sign on.

Steve loiters in the parking lot for an embarrassedly long time, her words running through his head. He hits play on his tape deck to drown it out, peeling out of the parking lot like a demo-dog is on his heels.

Metallica’s Orion drills through his head all the way home.

Steve fritters away his day, wandering around his big, empty house, scrubbing floors, dusting shelves he hasn’t even glanced at in years, reorganizing the pantry, lest his anxious energy shake his organs right out from beneath his skin.

He loses himself in the monotony of scrubbing, wiping, and pilfering through cupboards until he comes out of it, covered in dust and smelling of chemicals with the little hand of the clock in the kitchen pointing damningly close to the eight.

Steve takes a shower, scrambling with shampoo and conditioner, rubbing his bar of soap roughly down his body, trying to get the smell of bleach off his skin.

When he hears the phone ring, Steve rushes out of the shower, dripping water all over the tile as he slips his way into his bedroom to snatch the phone off his desk before it rings out.

“Harrington residence,” he replies breathlessly. He tries to tell himself it’s because of his mad dash to grab the line but as he holds his breath, waiting for that familiar voice to filter through the speaker, he knows it’s a lie.

“What are you wearing?” Eddie asks.

Because he hasn’t lied yet, Steve bites his lip before hesitantly replying, “uh, I just got out of the shower, so…”

Eddie gasps, breath stuttering dramatically, and when he asks, “so, a towel?” his words come out high pitched, almost squeaky, like he’s doing one of his little voices for his nerd game. But, an idea is growing in the back of his head, infecting his every thought with a nagging sort of hope he thought he’d sworn off years ago.

Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing isn’t just a bit at all, no matter how it had started. Maybe this is Eddie’s ridiculous way of starting something. If it is, Steve can’t bear to pass it up, even if all Eddie wants is the sound of Steve’s voice whispering dirty things in his ears.

There’d been a few girls back at Hawkins High who’d liked to call Steve up, have him murmur sweet nothings into their ears as they giggled, doing things to their own bodies that they were too shy to ask Steve to do himself. 

If that’s all Eddie wants, Steve will give it to him. He’ll give Eddie anything he wants. 

“Steve?” Eddie asks, still like his breath has been punched out of him. Steve wants to hear how breathless he can make him. 

“You actually called mid-shower, so I didn’t have time to dry off,” Steve says, voice low so he can catch any little noise Eddie might make. “I didn’t even grab a towel.”

Steve’s not disappointed—Eddie whines, high and strained before the sound cuts off abruptly enough that he can almost picture the way Eddie must’ve covered his own mouth, nails digging into his cheek to keep himself from letting anything else slip. Steve grins, blood heating up even as the water begins cooling against his skin.

“I’m dripping,” he continues, voice low and suggestive. Eddie doesn’t reply aside from the haggard edge his breathing gains. Steve hasn’t even done anything yet, and Eddie sounds like he’s on the knife’s edge of coming. “And it’s all your fault.”

“Steve,” Eddie whines.

“What?” Steve asks, “you started this, Eddie.” Eddie moans as Steve says his name. God, he’s easy. 

“It was just a joke,” Eddie argues, but his breathing’s still hitching, and he doesn’t sound like he wants Steve to stop. 

“I thought you’d enjoy me playing along.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Do you want me to stop?” Steve interrupts. He will, if Eddie asks, will stop playing this little game and ask him how his day was, wait for Eddie to ask him in turn. They can go back to the way things were before, no matter how much Steve doesn’t want to. 

“No, don’t stop,” Eddie replies, quickly, desperately 

“Oh, are you just selfish then?”Steve asks, gratified when Eddie hisses like Steve had touched him. “Don’t you want me to enjoy myself, too?” 

“No, no, no,” Eddie replies in that same high-pitched, stuttering voice that he’s rapidly becoming addicted to, so desperate to please Steve. “Not selfish, not—”

“I don’t know, this is starting to seem a little one-sided,” Steve cuts in, Eddie’s protestations sputtering out into nothing. “You haven’t even told me what you’re wearing.”

“Jeans and a t-shirt!” Eddie answers so fast he can’t have even thought about not replying.

“A little overdressed, aren’t you baby?” Steve asks, making note of the way Eddie moans at the slipped term of endearment. “Why don’t you take your shirt off for me?”

“But, I’m in the kitchen,” Eddie replies, whispering like he’s imparting a secret. It snakes down the line and sends a shiver up Steve’s spine. He’s been to Eddie’s trailer before, settling on one side of the couch, Eddie on the other, with Robin playing buffer in the middle.

He can picture the Munson’s small kitchen, barely cordoned off from the rest of the trailer, the separating wall just enough to block the fridge and sink from view.

“Is Wayne there?” Steve asks.

“He’s at work, but—”

“Then what’s the problem?” Steve asks. “Afraid he’ll come home and figure out what you’re doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Eddie whines, but Steve hears the sound of him rearranging the phone followed by the rustling of fabric. “There, happy?”

Steve pictures it: Eddie, standing shirtless in the kitchen, phone clutched to his ear as he pants down the line. Is his face flushed with embarrassment? With arousal? How far would the pink go down? He wants to follow it with his tongue, trailing over tattoos and into his dark happy trail.

“Good boy,” Steve praises, and Eddie moans, dark and guttural.

Steve strains his ears, swears he can hear the rustling of clothes, the metallic clinking of what must be Eddie’s stupid handcuff belt that he’s dying to get his hands on. There’s a hitch of breath a moment after before it evens out. After having heard him be so loud, Steve’s got his own suspicions about what activity he’s trying to cover up.

“I thought you weren’t doing anything?” Steve asks teasingly as he finally settles his shower-damp body into his clean sheets.

“I’m—I’m not,” Eddie replies, voice still higher than he’s ever heard it.

Steve grins, settling more comfortably into his pillows, phone cord stretched just a bit in order to reach. “So that wasn’t the sound of you sliding your big, strong hands into your pants?”

There’s a clatter on the other side of the line, like Eddie’d dropped the phone before hastily picking it back up to reply. “I—Steve, I wouldn’t—”

“You’re easy,” Steve says, cutting off Eddie’s lie before he can commit to it. “Just the thought of me naked and you had to touch yourself, didn’t you?”

“Steve—”

“Or have you been doing this every time?” Steve asks, just to hear Eddie’s protests. He knows he hasn’t, would have heard the hitching breaths and stifled moans. “Calling me up at my job just to fuck your hand and listen to my voice, baby?”

“I didn’t,” Eddie protests again, but his breathing’s gone ragged.

“Was Wayne sitting in his recliner so you had to be quiet, listening for any movements from the living room while you shoved your hand in your pants, too desperate to wait?”

“No.” Eddie asserts, but he’s panting now, like just the thought of getting caught in a compromising position is getting him there. “I wouldn’t, not—not with Wayne home.”

“But he’s not here this time is he?” Steve asks. “And you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Steve.”

“I bet you look real pretty like that.” Steve’s own arousal is making itself known, dick hardening as he listens to all the delicious sounds Eddie makes. “Hand moving in your jeans, all hot and bothered as you take what you need.”

Eddie’s not talking anymore, just gasping wetly down the line as Steve speaks. He doesn’t mind, he can conjure up enough visuals to work with as he grasps his own shaft and gives it a tug.

“Sound pretty too, don’t you?” Steve asks, getting an affirmative grunt that has his own hand moving quicker. “Moaning for me like you just can’t help yourself.”

He’s not even thinking about what he’s saying anymore, spewing garbage out of his mouth as he strips his dick, now lubricated enough by precome and lingering shower water to ease his way.

“I might have to stuff something else in there just to shut you up,” he grunts.

That’s apparently all it takes because Eddie’s whining turns high and reedy, muffled like he’d stuffed his own fingers down his throat on Steve’s command.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve says, talking him through what must be one hell of an orgasm with the way he’s panting. “Bet you look so pretty when you’re coming, making a mess in your stupid tight jeans.”

Eddie moans again like even when he’s spent, the sound of Steve’s voice is almost enough to get him there again. Then he’s back to panting. Steve listens to his wet, staggered breathing, closes his eyes, and pictures what Eddie must look like, collapsed on the floor of his kitchen, hand stuffed in his now-stained jeans, bangs matted to his forehead.

Steve wants to smell him, wants to lick him, wants to brush his bangs back and kiss his sweaty forehead. And that’s all it takes to send Steve over the edge. He bites his lip, suppressing any noises from spilling out of his mouth as he shakes through the aftershocks.

Embarrassment begins curdling in his gut as soon as he comes back to himself. Not at what he’d said, or the noises he might’ve let slip, no. Eddie’d liked it—he had. But, that’s not what had been Steve’s undoing. No, it was the tender, domestic thought of kissing his forehead. Horrifying.

But then Eddie starts laughing, manic and gleeful the way only the best of orgasms leave you, and Steve elects to leave that particular panic for after he’s off the phone.

“Same time tomorrow?” Steve asks, like he hadn’t just listened to one of his closest friends jack off to his voice.

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie says, sounding downright shy now that he’s coming down. Steve can’t handle it. “Yes? Yes.”

“Talk to you then,” Steve replies, hating how soft his voice comes out. “Night, Munson.”

“Night, Stevie.” Eddie whispers.

Once the phone call ends, Steve gets up to shower off more than a little dust this time.

part two

[ilovemyladboyz]

Starlight, Star Bright (MDNI)

Xavier (LaD) x Reader

Summary: He lifts you to your feet and turns you and pushes your front against the wall.. jutting your ass against his front.

Warnings - Smut, mentions of p&v

★·.·¯`·.·★ ·.·¯`·.·★·.·¯`·.·★ ·.·¯`·.· ★·.·¯`·.· ★·.·¯`·.·★

Xavier looks at you, eyes hooded and full of lust. His hands travel down your waist and to your thighs.. you feel his rough palms squeeze around the fat. “You’re gorgeous, bunny..” He whispers as he leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth.. down to your neck, pinning you to the couch. He lifts you to your feet and turns you and pushes your front against the wall.. jutting your ass against his front. He sighs and his hips buck into the plush of your ass. “Xavier..” you breathe his name. “Shh bunny.. let me just take care of you..” he turns your head to him and kisses you. Xavier kisses down your neck once more.. now leaving marks behind.. claiming what’s his. “This will show Charlie..” he mutters against your shoulder and marks you.

You feel Xavier’s hips buck against your behind one more time before he picks you up once more, he sets you on the arm chair and kneels down. His hands trail from your ankle to your thigh and under your silk dress. He tears his eyes away from your legs and his eyes are laced with lust. “I’m gonna show you who you belong to, name.” His hands go to your waist and tug you down a bit- unzipping the back. He slips the dress off your shoulders.. you boobs bouncing free and the cold air making you shiver. Xavier rolls your hardened bud between his fingers before taking a nipple in his mouth. You moan out softly and thread your fingers in his soft hair. “Mmm, baby..” he pulls away with a pop and stands straight.

Xavier starts to unbuckle his belt and he pulls it off, unbuttoning his slacks and tugging both his pants and boxers down, letting his cock spring free. You feel droll pull in your mouth, and his fingers hook your panties and pull them down. “Gorgeous cunt.. she’s so pretty..” he gilded a finger through your folds and stuffs his fingers in, curling them and hitting your g-spot. You moan out your hand flying to Xavier’s wrist- holding it there. He fucks you with his long fingers until, you feel the string snap and your walls clench around his fingers. You pant and your grip loosens on his wrist.. “Now.. i want you to do that on my cock, bunny..” Xavier strikes his length once, twice then swipes his tip between your folds. “Fffuckkk..” he groans as he inches his way into your warm cunt. You gasp and wrap around his neck- nails clawing at his bare back. “X-Xavier..” you moan out as he starts to move his cock in and out. “Fuck.. say my name- scream it.. i want to make you forget everything else, bunny..” Xavier starts to rut his hips faster and rougher- the arm chair starting to scrap against the floor. “Ahh- ah! Xav.. slo-slow.. ah- down.. mmmah..!” The heat in your core starts to build up.. “come on baby.. cum on my cock..” he mutters and leans down to kiss you. You feel his fingers start to rub your clit, that’s what makes you snap. You see stars as your release racks through you and you soon feel Xavier’s hot sticky cum fill you up.

He slumps against your chest and pants, you feel his cock twitch as it softens inside of you. Xavier’s strong hands cup your ass and lift your off of the arm chair and carries you to the bedroom. He tosses you on the bed and pins you down.. “I’m not done with you yet, bunny..”

★·.·¯`·.·★ ·.·¯`·.·★·.·¯`·.·★ ·.·¯`·.· ★·.·¯`·.· ★·.·¯`·.·★

© ilovemyladboyz. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work with out my permission.

[on-leatheredwings]

any hc for male reader x yandere batfam?? any of them will work. also the batboy didn't know he was bi at first (unless you're doing Tim). and the reader is dealing with internalized homophobia?

somethin short n sweet :]

Soft! Older! Yandere! Damian Wayne / Male Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: internalized homophobia, references to violent homophobia > word count: 723 > a/n: just something short and sweet... > male reader can be cis or trans

"Study with me," is what Damian Wayne says, before placing a pile of books on your already-crowded table.

His clean cut appearance contrasts with the hipster, rustic interior of your favorite cafe. It’s not really his scene, as far as you’re aware. Both the decor and the abundant crowd. 

You lean back in your chair, narrowing your eyes. "Wayne.” You have to try not to sneer.

You are acquainted with him, after all. His marks are always top of the class, and yours are always seconding. You’re at Gotham U entirely on scholarship, just having transferred from community college. You’re first in your family to go to college, period, and they were risking everything for you to be here. You had to be top of your class if you wanted to pursue your post-grad plans. 

Always being second to this nepo-baby billionaire is a bitter knock to your self-esteem. You wince, feeling sharp pain on your ribcage. One you don’t need with all the other bitter knocks your classmates already give you.

You stare up at the man, wishing he hadn’t caught you in your seat. You blink, realizing that he isn't moving. "Wait, what did you say?" you ask.

“... I said, 'study with me.'" He elegantly lands in the seat across from you at the all-too-small table. "I’ll be sitting here.”

You gape at him.

“But– y-you don’t even like me…?” Damian had never spared you the time of day until … this day. You assumed you were a gnat to him at best. Just some brokie who managed to sneak his way into his school.

How utterly wrong you were.

Damian Wayne hadn’t expected to end up with anyone other than a woman, he supposed. It had been assumed of him during his childhood and he hadn’t questioned it. From a young age he had been aware of homosexuality, and that men could be attractive, but he hadn’t considered it for himself in any serious capacity. 

Even Timothy coming out didn’t spur any curiosity from him. Despite his siblings teasing, his closeness to Jon was entirely platonic. So Damian just assumed, like the majority of the world, he was heterosexual. Until you had transferred into one of his classes and stole his breath away.

Damian’s eyes narrow and, if you can believe it, glimmer with interest. “I don’t recall ever saying that. For all you know, I could be quite fond of you.” His eyes lower to where your lips lie. “... Or at the very least, interested.”

You cheeks heat rise to your cheeks, before you flinch. There's no way. He didn’t mean it like that. Yet despite discerning his expression… Oh fuck, maybe he meant it like that? You panic, head snapping away from his. No– no. You are not going to be weird about this. You could have a friend here. 

The last time you misinterpreted friendliness from your peers as romantic advances... Those bruises are still healing, still aching when you stretch and bend. Your stomach roils with hurt, fear, and betrayal – no. You weren’t going to repeat the same mistake this time. You’ve been ostracized from most of your peers by now. ‘Pervert’ and ‘predator’ they named you. But maybe… you could have a friend here.

In your silence, Damian finds tendrils of curiosity churning in his stomach. He wants desperately to talk to you. To hear you speak. To listen to you talk at length about the lectures he finds so droll, but you find rapturing. Test scores meant nothing. He may be better at memorizing the text, but he’s read your essays. He clears his throat, lifting his chin on instinct to feign confidence.

You look up at him shyly, before realizing you’ve been mulling in silence like a freak for the past few minutes. Damian doesn’t mind, having been able to openly admire you.

You cough, trying to ease the confusion thrumming in your veins. “... Well, fine. I could use a sounding board.”

“Shall we start with the next test review?” Damian offers, flipping open a book.

You perk up, having been about to suggest lighter reading rather than the dense, metaphysical chapters your professor recommended. You nod fervently, lips curling to Damian’s delight.

“Yes, please,” you say, metaphorical tag wagging.

New friend, new friend, you inwardly cheer. 

Damian’s thoughts run considerably more romantic.

[makethemhoesmad]

fuck the hurt right outta you

hahahahahahahaha i got bored and have a headache

read at ur own risque.

bbg @lucespeaks was an advocate

—

my head had been pounding all. day. long. i don’t remember why, i just know that all i want to do is lay facedown in my bed, in silence.

obviously, that didn’t last very long. 

“ugh, paige, get off, my head hurts so bad”

hearing the obvious annoyance and pain in my voice, paige rolls off of me and takes my face into her hands.

“are you hurting baby, hmmm?” i shiver at her words, nodding, then wincing.

“want me to take your mind off of it for a while? give you a break?” i whimper in agreement, allowing her to slowly inch her hands under my shirt. i feel the tips of her long fingers ghost my nipples, prompting me to pull her down against my body, so i can rotate my hips against her rock hard stomach. she giggles at me while she pulls my shirt off, lapping at my tits while fumbling with the waistband of my sweats.

“how’re you doin up there ma? head still hurt?” i can barely comprehend the words she’s saying, and she hasn’t even been near my pussy yet. scratch that. my back arches completely off the bed as she flicks her tongue on my clit.

“yeah, that’s right, cmon baby.” 

i grind down on her face, her words vibrating through me. i feel tears starting to leak from my eyes, and droll drip from my open mouth. i whine loudly as paige draws an orgasm from me with only her tongue.

“such a good girl, drooling for me even when you don’t feel good” paige tells me while she crawls up my body and pulls me close to her, my skin to her clothes. i tug at them, prompting her to discard the sweats and t-shirt. she does so, then lays down so we are face to face. 

“well baby?” she says, looking at me expectantly.

“well what,” i reply. the only thing i can think about right now is her tits pressing against mine, and the way her tongue darts out of her mouth to wet her lips.

“how’s your headache feeling darling? did i fuck the hurt right outta you?” i moan again at her vulgar words. i’d go again, but the crease between her neck and shoulder is a little too warm to pass up right now. she says something else, but i don’t hear. she really did fuck it out of me.

[squoxle]

Can u do a short ff where y/n came from the gym and she’s looking hot as ever. And heeseung is home while he talks to his gamer friends . And when he sees y/n he’s flabbergasted.

Can I? Hmm…I can try😏🖤 (you probably didn't read this b4 you asked. no worries tho...i was itching to start writing for EN- again anyway)

𐙚Heated~L.HS ff 18+𐙚

💋pairing: Heeseung!fwb x Reader!fm | 💋wc: 1.3k | 💋summary: Do I really need to explain this??? basically, you came home after working out, and Heeseung couldn't keep his eyes off your sexy, sweaty body. |💋cw: 🔞MDNI!! unprotected sex, cumshots, fingering, clit stimulation, sexual jokes, pet names [daddy, good girl, baby]=heeseung coded Enjoy :)

"Dammit," you swore as your phone fell out of your pocket. You slid your headphones down to wrap around your neck as you kneeled down to pick up your phone.

"Hey," Jake said as you flipped your phone around, checking for any scratches or cracks. "How was the gym?"

"Ehh nothing too special," you shrugged before lugging your bag over your shoulder. "There was this one guy who kept flirting with me. He even tried giving me his number," you laughed under your breath.

"A guy? Flirting with you? What else did this guy do?" Heeseung spat. It seemed like hearing that pissed him off a bit as his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"It really wasn't all that. I don't know why you're getting upset anyway. We're just friends. It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything," You said before taking a sip from your water bottle. It was the kind you can use your teeth to yank open, though that may not be the intended way of doing it.

"How'd you know she went to the gym?" Heeseung asked, looking at the other guys as he took his dark eyes off you.

"Uhh...well if I was an asshole--which I'm not--I would say that anyone with a fucking brain could tell by what she went to the gym just by looking at her," Jay said sarcastically as you stood by the door wearing compression tights and a cropped hoodie that covered your sports bra.

"Yeah, that and she told us before she left an hour ago," Sunghoon added.

"Oh," Heeseung said as he went back to staring at you.

You flashed him a puzzled look as he licked his lips before biting on the lower one as he scanned your body up and down. You couldn't believe the bipolar attitude this boy had at times.

"Yo dude! What the fuck was that?" Jay laughed as he saw the way Heeseung was practically drolling over you. "Don't tell me that she's turning you on that easily," Jay continued as he shook Hee's shoulder. "She's literally like a sister to us."

"More like a step-sister," Sunghoon chuckled. "You can see it all over his face. He wants to fuck her just as badly as that guy at the gym," He smirked before turning to look at you himself. He could see how Heeseung could like the way you looked with your hair stuck to the sides of your face from the sweat. Especially when you took off your hoodie, revealing your breasts that were also decorated with sweat that dripped from your collarbone.

"What?" Heeseung shook his head. The thoughts in his mind caused him to go completely blank.

"Woah! Even his little buddy thinks so," Jake threw his head back laughing. Heeseung looked down to see his hard-on bulging in his sweats, before looking over at you.

"Dude you're freaking her out," Jake continued as he looked over to see your flushed face.

"Uhhh...I'm just gonna go," you said awkwardly as you walked to your room.

"Hey, if I were you I'd just be honest and tell everyone how bad I wanna fuck her," Sunghoon smirked.

"Fuck off, man," Heeseung spat as he left the room following behind you.

"What do you want?" You said as you rummaged through your drawers looking for an outfit to put on after your shower.

“I think you already know,” Heeseung said as he closed the door behind him. The thought of your sweaty body bouncing on his cock was enough to get him started.

“Right now? You’re joking…” you said as you placed the stack of clothes on your bed. You were in no mood to engage in some sexual activity with him right now for two reasons. One, it's literally the middle of the fucking day, and two, the guys are still awake sitting in the living room down the hall.

“How do you expect me to react after seeing your hot sexy body covered in sweat?” he said cocking his head to the side as if you could read the horny thoughts running through his mind.

“Umm, disgusted. Like a normal person,” you folded your arms. You were indirectly trying to hint to him that this wasn't a good time, but by the look on his face you could tell that wasn't working.

“Hmm, well that would probably be the case if we didn’t have our little side thing.”

“Okay, you’re either desperate or stupid if you think we’re gonna have sex right now.”

“What if I’m both?” Heeseung said before reaching down to grip his dick through his pants. “I’m aching for you and I know how bad you want me. You just hate to admit that I’m right,” he continued as he walked up to you, placing a delicate yet sensual kiss on your cheek while holding your chin.

“You’re sick,” you spat ripping away from his grip. “And when you’re horny, you’re a fucking dog,” you said picking up your clothes before walking to the door.

“Ah ah ah~” Heeseung said as he held the door shut with his hand. “You know I always get what I want,” he smiled before kissing your neck.

“I said, not right n—“ you were cut off by Heeseung gripping your ass. His fingers reached through your thighs to your pussy. You perked your ass up to give him a better shot as he rubbed against your pussy through the tight fabric.

“What was that you were saying,” Heeseung smiled before sucking on your neck, biting a bit of your skin hard enough to cause you to let out a small moan.

“What if they hear us?”

“Who cares?” Heeseung said as he pressed his dick against your ass.

“Heeseung,” you sighed.

“Relax, just stay quiet and we should be okay,” he pulled down your tights, exposing your ass to him.

You covered your mouth with your hands as Heeseung glided his dick between your folds before pushing himself in.

“Mmph!” You gasped. Heeseung let out a soft chuckle from behind you as he began pounding into your slimy hole.

He gripped your waist with one of his hands while the other he used to stimulate your clit. You braced yourself against the door that slightly knocked from your movements.

“H-Heeseung! A-ah,” you moaned as your walls clenched around his throbbing cock.

“That’s it baby. Take all of Daddy’s dick like a good girl,” he said pumping into you so hard that you were on your toes at this point.

Just as you reached your climax, Heeseung pulled his dick out of you. “What?” You said turning around to see his dick still twitching.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded. “And turn around,” he continued as you dropped down into doggy position.

He didn’t waste time to slam his dick into you, fucking you hard and fast as his thighs slapped against your ass.

“Ah!” You moaned a little too loud.

Heeseung pulled you back, shoving two fingers into your mouth as he kept fucking you. Before you came he shot his cum on your back before getting up to leave the room.

“Wait. Where are you going?” You asked as you pulled your tights back up.

“I’m finished,” he shrugged. “You can go take your shower now. I’m done being a pervert,” he winked before walking down the hall.

“Wh-heeseung?!” You shouted. "Ugh," you huffed, picking up your clothes before walking to the shower.

"What was that all about?" Jay asked as Heeseung plopped down on the sofa next to him.

"Nothing," he smirked. "She's just being dramatic as usual."

"Mhm. Sure," Sunghoon smirked before sitting back.

"Soooo, can we get back to the game now?" Jake asked.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @hoyeonheeseung @nikisdubblchococake @hynjinnn1 @mrswolfhard3 @laylasbunbunny @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae @lovesickxmina @urfavberry @urauntiefaye @breadlover01 @taehyunsfavmoa

[tarafilmz]

‘BUT I JUST WASHED THE SHEETS?’

Paring: Innocent!Reader x Possessive!Chris

Warnings: Smut (P n V) being tied up, degrading kink, SIZE KINK. Breeding Kink, Backshots, and thats all c:

The bedroom was quiet other then the sound of ruffling sheets, Y/N was delicately pulling the freshly washed sheets over the mattress. The white and baby pink floral sheets fitting perfectly over the frame of the bed.

She hums softly to a song from a movie she had watched the night before with Chris, the bedroom door was heard creaking open. She plops down on the bed looking over a soft smile growing on her face seeing Chris.

“Hey doll”

Chris’s voice was soft yet so rough at the same time, he strides over as she grins wider her feet dangling off the bed. He leans down pressing a firm kiss on the top of her head, making her heart flutter.

“i like the pink”

Chris smirks gently tugging the baby pink sweater that hung loosely on her small figure, her cheeks flush as she smiles shyly. Her shyness only making Chris want to fuck her dumb, he couldn’t help himself… from her innocent gaze, her soft skin… perky tits….

“Chris?”

Lacey spoke softly pulling Chris out of his trance, her nods before she smiles softly. Before she could think Chris shoved her down on the bed she let out a shocked little gasp, Chris grins at the sound. Chris’s hands reach to the top of his shirt’s collar taking it off smoothly, Laceys breath hitching at the sight.

“But i just washed the sheets?”

She hums softly trying to sound annoyed, but only coming out as a innocent little plead. Chris lays down over her placing a gentle kiss on her nose.

“Well we can always wash them again right baby?”

Chris spoke in a husk undertone, she shivers at his words before nodding her doe eyes looking up at him. He suddenly stood back up her eyebrows furrowed as she sat up, Chris walks over to her dresser grabbing her favorite baby pink ribbon she always put in her hair.

“What are you-“

Before she could finish Chris interrupted her..

“Strip down for me doll”

Her cheeks flush before she slowly peels off her baby pink sweater tossing it beside her leaving her in some white lacey underwear, Chris bit his bottom lip as he felt his pants tighten at the sight. Her small yet curvy body in nothing but white lacey underwear and her eyes… her eyes…

She grew more flushed under his gaze before her grabs her flipping her on her tummy making her let out a shocked gasp, Chris grabs her arms firmly yet with so much care. He held her wrist together with one hand he gently ties the pink ribbon around her wrist tightly but not so tight it hurt her.

Chris patted her thighs mentioning for her to get in doggy, she did as he asked. As she shuffles she heard his pants unzip and hit the floor, she shivers as the sound before a soft moan left her lips feelings his long finger trail over her aching heat only the thin fabric blocking it off.

Her face pathetically hits the pillow bellow her, Chris’s fingers hook her lacey white underwear tugging them down to her knees. Chris practically drolls at the fight of you silk puffy folds, she lets out a soft gasps at the contact from the cold air.

“Imma fuck you till you only remember my name”

Chris says, his voice darkened almost low and possessive. You whimper at his words you feel Chris’s hand secure around the pink ribbon that tied around your hands holding your arms behind your back.

Before you could think another thought you felt Chris’s thick tip slowly push inside you, she lets out a soft whimper at the stretch.

“mhph-… Chris”

She mumbles so softly into the pillow as a pathetic whines leaves her mouth, Chris groans feeling her tight walls around him. Before she knew it Chris slams his thick length fully inside hear making a loud moan leave her lips from the unexpected contact, Chris’s began pounding into her from the back at a godly pace. Pathetic Whines and Whimpers left her throat, Chris was a lot bigger than any guy she had fucked in the past… so even though they had been together for a year she still wasn’t used to the stretch.

“Your taking the dick like such a good girl huh?”

Chris Grunted as he tugs on the ribbon wrapped around her hands making her bounce on his dick meeting him, her jaw hangs slack against the sheets as another moans rips from her throat. Chris groans slowing down before coming to a stop making her let out a soft moan, Chris’s firmly slaps her ass.

“Your mine…”

He leans down pressing a kiss on the back of her shoulder before thrusting his hips roughly as she let out a loud moan into the pillow, Chris couldn’t help but grin knowing the effect he had on you.

Chris began slowly shifting his length out before slamming it back into you, the action making your body flinch toward the bed frame, Chris kept a hold on the bow on your wrist keeping you in place. You felt your walks tightening around him, pathetic whimpers and whines left your mouth. The moment Chris felt your wrapping around him he gave a firm slap to your ass.

“You gonna cum doll? You gonna cum on my big dick”

Chris groans before picking up the pace pretty quick the sound of your ass hitting his balls slapping filling the room with her loud muffled moans, she felt the not in her stomach tighten. Chris felt himself also getting close, he began going even faster chasing his own high. Broken moans left her mouth as her mind went blank.

“Who do you belong to”

Chris spoke with a ruff tone sending a firm slap on her ass, another moan left her mouth from the contact.

“Y-you…-“

You were practically fucked dumb, another pathetic whimper left your mouth as Chris groans from her answer and pretty voice.

“Fuck- imm fill this pussy up doll”

Chris slaps her ass again, large red spots from his large hands covering her plump ass that shook against him as his pace never stopped or slowed. With one last final thrust you were both left, Groaning and whimpering your were chanting Chris’s name. Chris thrust into you a few times earing a loud whine from how sensitive you were, Chris slowly pulls out groaning at the sight of his and your own cum leaking out of your folds.

He practically felt himself getting hard again, you were left breathless as your face was still in the pillow your body falling slack on the bed from how weak your legs felt. Chris walks over to the bathroom getting it in some hot water as he gently taps her thighs mentioning for her to spread, she does as a soft moan leaves her mouth as he cleaned her up her legs threatening to close but Chris kept them open.

“You did so good for me doll”

Chris was praising you, he gently untied the pink ribbon as he gently wraps his arms from behind her, she sat in-front of his now back pressed to his chest. She tilts her head back to look at him, she looked fucked out making Chris grin placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“Lets get your beautiful ass to bed”

Chris spoke as you nodded, he walks over throwing the blankets and pillow on the bed that you never got to finish putting on, you snuggle into the softness of the warm blanket wrapping around your naked body. Chris threw on a pair of grey sweatpants along with grabbing the baby pink sweater you wore, he sat beside you helping you put it on a light giggle escaping your throat.

Not so far after you two fell asleep in each other’s embrace… but tomorrow you would have to wash the sheets again.

(Oh my goodness, i lowkey love a good smut with some plot 😋 anyway this is my first time writing smut so if your have any advice im open! And i hope you cuties enjoyed)

Tags: @matthewsroses