#be-the-hero-you-can-t-find

[thepersonalwords]

Kindness is universal. Sometimes being kind allows others to see the goodness in humanity through you. Always be kinder than necessary.

Germany Kent

[clegfly]

Puter au Plot basically. Based off of this

[oh-meow-swirls]

it's kind of weird to me that they didn't bother releasing sushi and tempura internationally at all but at the same time i'm kinda glad they didn't cuz like. yo-kai watch was financially failing in the west by the time 3 released. i feel like if they had released sushi and tempura the franchise would've completely tanked before we got sukiyaki which would've sucked. honestly if anything i feel like it's more surprising that we got all three versions of 2 instead of them just releasing psychic specters but tbf i think yo-kai watch was doing well in the west when 2 released. 2 is just inexplicably what killed the franchise despite being a masterpiece-

[kurooh]

☆ THAT’S BED CHEM ! — MHA

⊹₊˚. featuring midoriya izuku, bakugo katsuki, kirishima eijirou, kaminari denki, & takami keigo showing you their habits in bed.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, squirting, dirty talk, handjobs, fingering, overstimulation, facesitting, mirror sex, cunnilingus, riding, creampies, rough-ish sex, not entirely proofread.

MIDORIYA IZUKU + begging

izuku’s easy—it doesn’t take much to get him keyed up, especially when it comes to you. there’d been a shift in the air that morning, and yet he still headed to work, where he helped to apprehend villains alongside other heroes. he only pushed himself to clean up more on his own so he could stop popping so many random boners. even thinking about all might wouldn’t make him go soft.

so, when you decided to surprise him during your lunch break with a hot bag of his favorite takeout, he shut the office door behind you and immediately pulled you into a kiss. izuku swears it isn’t his fault—his dick is partially to blame—and before you know it, you’re perched on the edge of his desk with your hands wrapped around his cock and two thick fingers buried deep inside you.

“uh huh, that’s perfect,” izuku swallows a loud moan and chews on his lower lip, doing his best to keep quiet despite the very public predicament you’re both in. “mmngh, squeeze me a little tighter—yeah, baby.”

a subtle adjustment in your grip and placement of your fingers makes all the difference, and izuku’s lips round around a moan. it’s loud, even when it’s only halfway out of his mouth—you move fast, pressing a hand to his cheek as you kiss him hard.

he shifts, back arching off of the rolling chair with a squeak! he hates having to be quiet, especially when he’s pulling apart at the seams like this. heady, slippery squelches fill the spaces between your bodies where the moans can’t; glossy slick spills onto the papers beneath your ass as izuku maintains a sloppy rhythm, doing his best to keep you satisfied.

“w-we can’t make any noise, ‘zuku. we’re in your office, remember?”

a gooey string of saliva connects your lips to his when you pull away, and izuku finds himself going cross-eyed as he follows it to your mouth. you’re talking to him, breathily whispering something that he should probably listen to, but he’s too caught up in the way your thumb hits the sweet spot on the underside of his cock with every upward motion of your fist. oh, and then there’s the way he can taste the smeared lip gloss at the corners of his mouth in conjunction with the minty gum you were just chewing.

your sweetness turns sour with a light but deliberate slap to his freckled cheek, and it certainly gets his attention. izuku’s looking at you with wide green eyes, shocked not by the roughness but by how much he wants you to do it again.

“i’m sorry,” you say, grinding your hips on his fingers, “izu, are you hearing me? as much as i want you right now, i don’t want you to get fired and blacklisted—”

the word blacklisted bounces around in his head, but at no point does it actually land. “i jus’ wanna make you cum,” he says, feeling his cheek grow hotter under your palm, “i need to—ugh, it’s all that matters to me right now.”

izuku says it with enough fervor to catch you off guard, but it’s his fingers that really make the small speech on your tongue disintegrate. thick and strong, both digits pump into you without missing a beat—you inhale, feeling like the air’s escaping your lungs, and he pushes deeper, until he strikes gold.

“izuku!” you’re the one getting loud now, but with the way he’s hitting your sweet spot like a bullseye, it can’t be helped. “i don’t wanna get it all over your desk . . wait, the papers—right there, ohmygod.”

hearts swell in his pupils as he over-analyzes your reactions. your fist on his cock is much slower now, because of the major distractions, but it doesn’t matter, not when he could cum just from seeing you like this. your nice blouse is a little disheveled, but that’s nothing compared to the shredded pantyhose and soaked underwear he hastily tugged to the side.

had you not insisted on making him feel good too, izuku would’ve put you on your hands and knees on his desk and had his way with you, with the skirt still on. “let me make you cum first, baby. g-god, i wanna watch you fall apart on my fingers.”

you nod, biting down onto your fist. exhilarating euphoria is hurtling at you fast, and everything fizzles into static when it finally hits you, knocking the world off its axis. izuku’s fingers slow as he watches you ride the high, pussy squeezing him too tightly to pull out or away.

a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead catches the light once you come back to yourself, mind hazy with insatiable desire. izuku bites back both a groan and a whimper when you slide off the desk, leaving a glistening trail of cum shining on the wood. “what’re you gonna do to me?” he asks, feeling himself throb when you seat yourself on his bare lap, “‘m sorry, but i won’t last long en—”

in lieu of a verbal response, both of your hands envelop his cock and start to move smoothly. up and down, gently twisting from side to side—izuku’s head drops back, hanging off the edge of the chair. a litany of moans flows out of his mouth, and your eyes follow the bob of his adam’s apple in his throat.

“oh, you have no idea how good you look right now, ‘zuku. i’ve never seen someone look this perfect just from a little—”

“keep talking,” izuku suddenly gasps, and you can feel his cock thickening in your hands, “tell me everything. whatever it is, don’t stop.”

he’s gotten so desperate it’s cute. like always, it never takes too long to get him like this, all hot and heavy and vocal. izuku might be shy sometimes, but even so, he’ll always tell you what he wants and how he wants it.

“yeah, you’re doing so good. i love to sit here and just take care of you, my sweet boy. god, it’s such a treat to love you.”

“oh fuck,” izuku’s chest heaves as it works to breathe, and his body abruptly straightens, allowing the viridescent green of his eyes to meet your own. “tell me you’re mine, baby,” he begs, voice breaking like he’s on the verge of sobbing, “p-please, i can’t get there without it—”

“you know i’m all yours, izuku. you’re all i want.”

with that, he cums hard, letting out a series of whiny moans of your name and desperate gasps for breath that are only silenced when you press a cum-stained hand over his mouth. between you, his cock is still shooting white ribbons of cum, all over his undershirt and onto the front of your blouse. you only notice the mess when he tugs his cock back and his eyes widen at the sight, a mix of guilt and arousal seeping into his expression.

“don’t touch it,” he catches your hands at the last second before you can investigate and get more on the fabric, “kick my pants over here, there’s a napkin you can—shit.”

izuku just watches in awe, jaw dropped, as you tilt your head down and lick the cum off of your skin, all while looking directly into his eyes. as much as it embarrasses him and makes him want to avert his eyes, he can’t—you’ve got him under some kind of spell, and he’s definitely going to cum again just from seeing this. wait, did something more leak out of his cock just now?

“gimme a kiss,” he sighs, closing his eyes as he tastes himself on your tongue. it’s bittersweet, mixed with the mint gum from earlier, and he pulls you into a hug, the cold takeout forgotten on the other side of the desk.

BAKUGO KATSUKI + torturing you

he’s generous—but only if you tell him exactly what you want, and in excruciating detail, much to your impatience and embarrassment.

“i’d keep that attitude problem in check if i were you,” katsuki smirks, seeming proud of himself as he looks at you through the mirror, “i could do this all fuckin’ night, babe.”

an ultra-hot mixture of frustration and humiliation simmers in your cheeks when you push yourself to stare back at him, stubbornly holding your ground. he’ll end up breaking you down, but it can’t hurt to be a brat for a small while—who knows, it might piss him off enough to fuck you like he hates you.

“oh, i could too,” you hiss out in reply, biting back the moan that nearly slips out of you as you feel the head of his cock grazing along your inner thighs, “you’re so greedy, aren’t you? drawing it out like you haven’t been making eyes at me all day.”

“you say that like you weren’t doing the same, if not worse,” katsuki’s tip lightly nudges against your soaked pussy, and he has the audacity to act as though he’s pushing it in, only to pull back less than a second later. “any chance you’ll stop being a fucking brat and use your words instead of grabbing my ass at every turn?”

you scoff, but the sound of disdain fizzles into a gasping breath, and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. looking into the mirror, you see his chin tilted downward as he teases you, each movement more agonizing than what came before. “yeah, you just like being annoying, don’t you? lose the sass or i’ll fuck it out of you.”

“really? you’re not just saying that to sound all dominant?” at your sarcasm, his crimson eyes dart from his hands to your face. he just stares at your reflection crossly, half-turned on and half-pissed that your snark is getting to him. “not sure what to say, huh? if you’d stopped teasing me earlier, maybe you could’ve shut me up—”

in an instant, katsuki’s looming over you, sculptured chest pressed flush against your back. a hand snakes beneath your chin and angles it so that you can look at him in the mirror when he talks, his voice shifting to a low, commanding rumble. “oh, i’ll shut you up. you’re going to sit here and watch me wreck you.”

your hand threads into his soft hair, and you tug hard, enjoying the way his adam’s apple bobs with a barely held-back moan. “so make it fit, katsuki.”

rough palms navigate the planes of your back as katsuki positions himself behind you, lining up his aching cock with your hole. fuck, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s been dying for this—it’s evident in the groan of relief that escapes him when he sinks into your cunt, sliding in easily. his eyes crinkle at the corners as he fully notices just how wet and ready you’d been to take all seven inches of him; you’re wrapped around his cock and pulsing, too tight and velvety for him to handle.

“gonna move yet?” you taunt him, chin propped up on a fist while you watch him in the mirror. he’s got his lower lip flat between his teeth, and he practically spits it out with a huff, glaring at you.

“i thought i would’ve fuckin’ taught you to be a little more patient by now,” and katsuki goes from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds, his veins singing with adrenaline. he sounds genuinely irritated now, but you could’ve probably gleamed that from the harsh smacks of his hips into your ass. “can’t ever listen, huh? all i was askin’ for was for you to—shit—to tell me what you wanted . . you knew i’d give it to you, like i always do, and yet you chose to mouth off instead.”

you weren’t prepared to feel his tip french kissing your cervix with each and every powerful thrust of his hips; it makes you squeal and try to run away, but to no avail. katsuki’s grip on your waist is bruising and leaves no room for any more resistance, especially after so much pettiness. “w-wait,” you stutter, pushing a pathetic hand between your body and his to curb the intensity, “‘m not ready yet—”

“keep crying,” he snaps, closing his fingers around your wrist. without missing a beat, katsuki tosses your hand to the side and keeps going, eyes burning into yours through the glass. “isn’t this what you wanted? seems to me like you should shut up and savor it, sweetheart.”

it’s cruel and merciless. just the way he’s being rough tells you you’ll be sore all over by tomorrow, but you simply can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop, not when it’s starting to feel like heaven.

a breathless mewl of his name tears out of your throat, and the cracking of your voice is like music to katsuki’s ears. earthquake-like shudders rock your entire body, and he can’t help but coo at you, swiping two fingers through the mess spilling along your skin.

“go ahead and look at yourself, girl,” sticky fingertips press past your parted lips and you start to suck, eyes rolling back at the taste of yourself. “yeah, who’s fucking you like this? tell me whose cock you’re going dumb on.”

you whimper sweetly, keening just as he expected you to. “yours, katsuki. ‘m all yours.”

laden with muscle and taut with fatigue, his chest heaves as he drags in huffs of air. he’s flushed from head to toe and grinning, undeniably proud of his handiwork. you must be drunk on him now, your easy admissions of being his a far cry from your attitude earlier. “keep your arch—ngh, you got it. shit, that’s my girl. taking it like a fuckin’ champ.”

as katsuki watches himself fuck you, no less primal than animals on a safari, amusement strokes through his body. why can’t you just tell him what you want to begin with? maybe the little arguments are part of your fun, he suspects. but, if you want him to be rough and mean, all you have to do is simply ask.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU + #munch

“if you don’t just sit down and use me, i’m gonna red riot—”

“eijirou!” you whine, embarrassment working its way into your tone, “i’m really not sure about this. can’t i just lay on my back instead of risking breaking your neck or something?”

with a breezy laugh, eijirou shakes his head and lets his palms comfortingly circle your hips to keep you in place. since he’d suggested it in a rush during the ritual of undressing and positioning, you didn’t think too far into it until you found yourself hovering above his face. even with all of his insistence, you are unwilling to break your boyfriend’s neck or nose by sitting on his face—what an embarrassing explanation to deliver to the doctors in the emergency room!

“if it’s absolutely necessary, i’ll lift you up, okay? please, just sit down,” his ruby red eyes are wide and pleading; not even your nervous glare deters him. with a toothy smile, he adds, “c’mon, baby. you’re the one who’ll be in control anyway.”

you almost don’t notice the way he’s tugging you down, closing the gap between your soaked cunt and his mouth. eijirou tries not to get too excited—it might make you think he’s suffocating when he goes quiet—even though his feet are kicking happily at the end of the couch. thankfully, you’re facing away from the lower half of his body, so you also can’t see his dick trying to push out of his sweats.

“ei, oh my god.” the very first slurp of his eager mouth against your pussy takes your breath away and makes you squirm, rocking your hips forward and back. eijirou’s watching your every movement and sorting them by category for his spank bank, all while letting out low, incomprehensible groans.

“oh, this is—it feels so good,” and it does, much more than anything he’s made you feel before. before long, you’re more comfortable on his face and scantly riding his tongue, quickly growing drunk on the way he uses it. “eiji, y-you can’t stop.”

“baby,” he mumbles wetly, before raising you up to stare into your lidded eyes from between your thighs. a red flush has made its way across his cheeks and nearly matches the dyed shade of his hair, but he looks cute like this. “‘m all yours,” gravelly and devoted, eijirou’s voice reaches your pussy before your ears and makes it all the more messy, “you’re the boss now, babe. ride me, choke me, i don’t care. i only wanna keep tasting ya.”

swallowing a whimper, you settle back onto his face and unsurely plant your palms down on the couch for support. you’re a breathless mess, shaking on his tongue as you ride it to get off—eijirou just slurps and slurps, drinking you in without any care in the world. he loves to spoil you, even if it means making you do a little bit of work instead of just laying back. maybe you’ll cum so hard you only ever want to sit on his face again, and then he’ll never ever have any bad days if this is what he can come home to.

“eiji, you’re getting all messy,” you mewl, shameless eyes sweeping over the sticky wetness coating his face. you can see it glinting on his cheeks and even his forehead; he just moans out something like i know, baby and makes a show of winking before diving back in to lap you up like a creampuff. “hah, you—you’re so sloppy, fuck.”

in the moment that you’re trembling, positioning yourself to ride his tongue like it’s the first time you’ve ever had it, eijirou chooses to let his playful streak bubble to the surface. very lightly, his teeth nibble at your swollen clit and this sends shocks of electricity racing up and down your spine like an active power line.

earthquake-like tremors rock your entire body as you roll your hips, focusing on the stars streaking across your vision and the building pressure in your lower body. “ei, ‘m gonna cum pretty soon,” you squeal, digging a hand into his hair while your thighs unconsciously squeeze around both sides of his head. “h-holy shit . . cumming, ‘m cumming eiji!”

eijirou’s absolutely got the best seat in the house. your pinched expression melts into one of pure, unadulterated euphoria as you gush all over his mouth and completely forget about your worries about suffocating him. he helps you grind your hips harder when you chase the high, freefalling over the edge until the sensitivity eventually sets in.

“mmm, that’s it, sweetheart,” lapping at your sobbing folds with renewed vigor, eijirou holds you in place when you try to squirm away, complaining about it’s too much, when in reality is isn’t enough. he could devour you for hours, and you want to be done after five minutes. “you deserve all this and more, don’t you think? can’t you just sit here while i get my fill of this pretty cunt? i’m just not done yet.”

KAMINARI DENKI + too greedy

if you were good house guests and even better friends, you probably wouldn’t be pinned under denki and working your hips along his cock in a bed that isn’t even yours! this isn’t a hotel, it’s hanta’s flat, and you’re defiling the place by being split open like a pomegranate while your friend is off on a grocery run (at least, that’s how hanta had described the whole incident involving some other friends—he walked into his living room after returning from a run to two people going at it doggy style on the carpet).

but it’s okay, right? it’s not like you’d been waiting for hanta to leave so you could have sex; it just happened naturally, stemming from an innocent cuddle session on the bed while you scrolled through instagram. this is different from the incident because you’re in your own guest room and denki set towels down in case of emergency.

“a-again, i’m gonna cum again,” you wail brokenly, manicured nails digging into his biceps for purchase against the sweeping euphoria, “denki, oh my god—”

“lemme feel it, c’mon. hah, don’t hold back, ‘kay? let it allll out—be a good girl.”

oh, and you do. all it takes are his filthy words in your ears to spark your high and send you right off the edge. denki swallows, feeling lightheaded, but drool still spills past the corners of his lips and runs down his chin in gooey trails.

“aw, sweets,” his chuckle dissolves into a ragged breath, and he tries not to sound too disappointed when he tells you, “looks like you pushed me out.”

denki’s exhausted, covered in sweat, and pink in the cheeks. between your thighs, he’s fumbling with his dick—which is probably purple with overstimulation by now—and trying to push it back inside of you, but to no avail. though you’re leaning back on the pillows and trying to catch your breath, you notice his lower lip wobbling just the slightest bit.

“i’ve got it, denki. there’s no need to cry, i’ll—”

“i’m not crying,” he corrects you immediately, but he sounds like he’s about to start when you grab his cock. your hands are soft and oh so warm as you handle him with care, loosely stroking his length to keep him hard. inch by inch, he watches himself disappear inside you, unable to stop letting out embarrassing noises that you just giggle at.

“on your back. i-i’ll take care of you for a little while.”

changing positions really shows you how sensitive he is, the way he’s barely holding onto his composure by a thread. all of the movement on the mattress makes the wiry bedframe squeak, high pitched and a little unsettling. there’s probably no chance of it breaking, but if it did . . to say the least, hanta would never let you stay over again.

“goddamn. look at ya, you’re so sexy.” you roll your eyes as you sort yourself out on his cock, flattening your palms against his chest for stability. clearly, a moment of respite has allowed him to regain tons of energy again; he squeezes the fat of your ass and whistles lowly, a nasty grin forming on his lips as he does so. “maybe you ride my face after this.”

“shut uppp, i liked you better when you couldn’t talk.”

denki scoffs, pretending to be affronted. “heyyy, that was rude. i don’t see a problem with catching a—nghh, shit . . o-okay, shutting up now.”

a creamy mixture of his mess and yours drips from your sloppy cunt, puddling all over his pelvic bone. he should definitely wipe it away with the nearby towel to prevent so much as a single drop from spilling onto the bed, but his quirk is going a little haywire and zapping his brain like he’s got a defibrillator pressed to his forehead. tiny yellow sparks fly off of the ends of his hair, harmless and faintly tingly against your skin.

“that good, huh?” you smirk, starting to ride his cock, and denki reaches for your bouncing tits with stars in his eyes. a bunch of slutty, debauched thoughts suddenly fly through his head and out of his mouth before he can control it.

“s-so soft. ooh, can i cum inside?” his golden eyes follow the glossy fluids pouring down your inner thighs, a clear hunger shining in them. despite the fogginess that’s set into every corner of his body, he can still form one coherent thought that trumps the others: more more more. he whines your name, nearly choking on it, and strokes his thumbs over your nipples eagerly. “please, can i fill you up?”

you suck in a shallow breath, mentally deciding that this is the final round. splotches of dried and drying cum are smeared across every inch of your naked body, with the most of it being between your legs. at some point, you’ll have to stop and clean up, preferably before hanta gets home. “just one more time,” then you smirk, leaning in close to see him explode. “ngh, fuck a baby into me, denki. flip me over and make me yours, won’t you?”

with a drawn out moan, he does as you ask and slots himself on top of your body, as if he’s trying to melt into you. he’s trembling, unsure of where to put himself in this moment, so he presses his forehead against yours and shuts his eyes. “t-this is supposed to be the best position for makin’ babies. oh, oh fuck, you’re so tight on my—haah, ‘m cumming.”

denki collapses on top of you, sparking and spasming in your arms. he’s still running his mouth, babbling out incoherent praises and whining your name so loudly his throat will be hoarse by the time he’s coming down.

“nobody’s answering their fucking phone!” a voice rings through the thin, shoddy wooden door and sounds both angry and flustered. “i came over here to ask for help with all the groceries and then the door was wide open. i’m never trusting you two alone in my apartment again.”

wheezing against your chest, denki takes it upon himself to speak out . . even though he’s just fried the hell out of his brain. “dude, hanta, it’s not that serious—”

“easy for you to say!” on the other side of the door, hanta blanches, feeling nauseous and awkward, “i had the misfortune of seeing you short circuit outside of battle.”

TAKAMI KEIGO + gets extremely pussydrunk

maybe it’s your smile, or the way your eyes light up with mirth when you touch him innocently. keigo thinks it may even be more than one thing—he’s just hopelessly in love with you and unable to find fault in anything you do. by the time you’re sitting down on his cock right after having sucked his soul out, a switch flips in his brain and everything completely shuts off.

all that matters is you; your presence commands his attention and silences his thoughts, even the ones that stress him out so badly his feathers start to itch. what will he eat for lunch tomorrow? can he finish the assignments dumped on him by the time they’re due? none of that matters now, not when you’re grabbing his chin and pulling him into a hot kiss.

“ugh, fuck – you drive me so crazy,” keigo mumbles as your lips crush against his own, effectively silencing anything else he had to say. and then, with his face in your hands, you start to bounce on his lap, fucking your hips down onto his cock at a pace that is astonishingly fast . . for you.

your lips part to let out a faint moan into his mouth, and he eagerly swallows it, making a similar noise once your tongue finally slides against his. wet and warm, it carries the bittersweet taste of his previous orgasm, the one that actually made you choke—keigo had cum so damn hard you could barely hold all of it in your mouth, and it just kept coming until it spilled down your chin in milky streams.

on either side of his body, vermillion feathers flail like flags in the wind, unrestrained in any way. you’re setting your clammy palms upon his shoulders to hold yourself up against the unstoppable barrage of his cock, the tight squeeze as you work it deeper.

“s-so good,” you babble dumbly, barely able to hear anything over the sound of your heartbeat, “ooh, kei! i love you, i love your cock—”

nodding furiously, keigo takes measures into his own hands—literally. trembling palms circle your waist, and once he gets a stable hold on your squirming body, he starts to move you up and down. he hisses impatiently, but continues to properly warm you up for what’s about to happen.

one particular stroke makes your back arch, akin to the shape of a banana, and keigo immediately knows what this means. he emits a low, breathy chuckle and pulls your hips down again, particular in the way he does so. “found it, babygirl.”

“right there,” you gasp sharply, and it feels like the air is being continuously punched out of your lungs when he moves you in a purposeful rhythm. it’s efficient and a lot less sloppy than what you had executed, hitting directly into your sweet spot every single time.

keigo draws in a breath, relocating one of his hands to your lower tummy and firmly pressing down. the pressure makes you tighter, and makes him go deeper—shockwaves resonate through both bodies. “yeah? right there, angel? you feel me here?”

collapsing into him allows you to tuck your face into his neck and breathe in his personal medley of natural scent and high quality cologne, which has faded over the course of the day. your arms are draped over his back now, fingertips brushing lightly against the downy fluff at the sensitive base of his wings, where feathers coalesce into skin.

your teeth are chattering and tears are starting to overflow past your eyes, “ah, kei, ‘s like i can feel you all over. i think – i think ‘m pretty close now.”

keigo grunts, applying more pressure; it’s enough to make you squeal with what sounds like delight. arousal burns through your body and pools hot and heavy in your gut, much like magma before a volcanic eruption. because his wings constantly show off his true emotions around you—especially in more vulnerable situations such as this one—the pinions at the apexes of each individual wing start to wiggle.

if he wasn’t being fucked to death—or using you to fuck him—he’d probably be a little more embarrassed about the blatant display of joy. a smile or laugh is one thing, but his feathers wiggling back and forth is another. without even the smallest shred of concentration, stopping the movement is impossible.

“make a mess for me,” molten gold eyes meet your own, crinkling at the sides as the inflection of desperation pushes through the words, “shit, i need to see you cum—” keigo cuts himself off with a hoarse groan, struggling to move your hips over his lap as the full-body tremors set in. “ngh, angel. be a good—goddamn, s-so tight—a good girl and cum all over this cock, ‘kay? you have to go first, it has to be you. i can’t, fuck, hold it much longer. just lookin’ at you makes me want to—!”

a feeble squeal cuts through the air like a knife through butter and you are temporarily frozen in place when you cum. sweat gleams along your skin, shimmering around your knitted brows, and your parted lips are sticky with a mixture of spit and drool. keigo wishes he could just see you cum like this again and again, going stiff on his cock—then the rush hits you like a freight train.

you start to cry as cum spurts out of you in copious streams, wetting the entirety of his pelvis. there’s so much all at once, and the spasming clenches of your cunt around him are enough to send his high crashing down over him like a tsunami wave. keigo’s wings instinctually wrap around you in a snug hold when he spills inside you, moaning your name until his voice breaks. his balls don’t feel quite as heavy any more, now that he’s filled you up with everything he had to give.

“relax, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing tears away from your cheeks. stars and spirals flash across his vision and he’s slurring his words, but the comfort feels better when he’s dazed like this. then he looks down, and his jaw audibly drops open. “wow! we . . made a mess, didn’t we?”

sharp and urgent, your nails dig half moons into his bare shoulders the second he starts trying to move. “not yet, kei. can’t you just stay inside me?”

keigo wants to make a pregnancy joke, but fortunately, he refrains. however, you see the idea pass through his mind—his flushed cheeks darken ever so slightly, and he smooths out an almost smile, fighting against its tug on his lips. “whattt? can’t a chef taste what was made with his recipe?”

warm embarrassment licks at the tips of your ears, but you try not to avert your eyes. “that makes no sense, keigo.”

his fingertips doodle obscure shapes into your skin, his touch featherlight. keigo hums meaningfully, allowing his hand to move just a centimeter closer to your ass. “all i’m saying is bend over or lay back with your legs open.”

as tantalizing as his suggestion sounds, your pussy still throbs with soreness. “kei,” you sigh out his name like you’re actually tired, “i don’t – i think i’m way too sensitive for that.”

the thing is, keigo doesn’t actually care if you end up cumming too hard or too fast, or if you cry from overstimulation. he intends to devour you not only for your pleasure, but for his own—he needs this in order to feel satiated. “please, angel? i think i’ll die if i’m not between your thighs in the next two minutes.”

you bite your lip, feeling hot and heavy all over. he feels you tighten around his cock and knows he’s successfully convinced you; he unintentionally matches you by twitching once or twice against your cervix. “fine, kei,” you relent, giving in as if you could’ve ever refused, “but only if you’ll let me mess with your wings while you eat it.”

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS TOXIC TRAITS / RED FLAGS + GREEN FLAGS ── .✦

a/n: the thing is, they all aren’t like problematic when it comes to relationships but they do have some things and flaws which when heard sound “oh okay that’s fine” but may be like super annoying in a irl relationship also this was a request by anon (here)! (Tags: batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Chronic People-Pleaser: Will prioritize everyone’s needs over his own (or yours), leading to burnout… and you having to remind him you exist.

Flirty by Nature: He’s not trying to flirt… it just happens. That waitress? Nope, not on purpose, but yeah, you’ll roll your eyes a lot.

Hero Complex: He always has to “save” people, including you, even when you’re perfectly fine handling it yourself. “I got it, babe.” No, you don’t, Dick.

GREEN FLAGS:

Emotionally Intelligent: He can read your mood like a book and knows exactly how to make you smile (with pancakes shaped like hearts).

Physical Affection Expert: Hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses—you’re basically his personal teddy bear.

Supportive King: He’s your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up in the most genuine, heartfelt ways. “That’s my girl.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Anger Issues: He’ll throw hands for you at the slightest provocation. Guy looks at you wrong? Jason’s already removing his jacket.

Emotionally Guarded: Good luck getting him to open up. He’s more likely to tell you his deepest fears after you’ve fallen asleep.

Reckless Behavior: He’ll drag you into the most insane situations and act like it’s no big deal. “What do you mean this is dangerous? It’s fine.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Loyal to a Fault: He’ll defend you with his life, no questions asked. “You mess with her, you mess with me.”

Soft Romantic: Beneath the tough exterior, he’s writing you sweet notes and remembering the little things, like how you take your coffee.

Protective (in a good way): He won’t smother you, but he’ll make sure you always feel safe, even if it’s just crossing the street.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Workaholic: He’ll forget to eat, sleep, and sometimes text you back because “the case was just getting good!”

Overthinks Everything: Spends hours analyzing your last text to figure out if you were mad or just tired. “Was that period passive-aggressive?”

Terrible Self-Care: You’ll have to force him to drink water and go to bed like a mom with a rebellious child.

GREEN FLAGS:

Incredibly Thoughtful: He remembers every detail about you, from your favorite flower to that obscure hobby you mentioned once.

Adorably Awkward: His shy smiles and fumbling over words when you flirt back are endlessly endearing.

Problem Solver: He’ll find solutions to all your problems, from fixing your computer to making your bad day better with tea and soft music.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Insanely Jealous: He glares daggers at anyone who looks at you too long. “Why is he breathing near you?”

Judgmental: He might critique your taste in music, books, or anything else with his usual bluntness. “This… is what you listen to?”

Control Freak: He likes things done a certain way and will try to “help” you by micromanaging your life.

GREEN FLAGS:

Devoted Partner: Once he’s in, he’s all in. You’ll never doubt his commitment because he’s always showing up for you.

Loyal Beyond Measure: He’ll defend your honor to anyone, even Bruce. “She’s perfect, Father. You simply lack taste.”

Surprisingly Gentle: Despite his tough exterior, he has a soft side that only you get to see, like the way he pets animals—or you—so tenderly.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Emotionally Repressed: He’s basically a human brick wall when it comes to expressing his feelings. “I’m… fine.” No, Bruce, you’re not.

Work Comes First: He’ll disappear into the Batcave for days unless you drag him out by the cape which becomes quickly annoying.

Overprotective: He’ll want to track your every move, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he worries too much. “It’s for your safety.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Quietly Romantic: He may not be overly expressive, but he’ll show love through subtle gestures—like a bouquet of your favorite flowers left on the table.

Ultimate Provider: He makes sure you never want for anything, whether it’s emotional support or physical comfort.

Unshakable Devotion: Once you’ve captured his heart, he’s yours forever. There’s no halfway with Bruce—he’s in it for the long haul.

[enigmaris]

A continuation of this post:

There is a teenager in the Watchtower.

Scratch that, there is a teenager that Bruce doesn't know in the Watchtower. The boy, maybe around Tim's age, is wearing worn blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a pair of tennis shoes that had seen better days.

He is wearing no mask, no suit of armor, with no weapons on him. He's just sitting in one of the seats in their larger meeting room, quite literally twiddling his thumbs. He hadn't noticed Batman standing in the doorway.

Behind him, he heard Clark coming round the corner, Bruce lifted up a gloved hand which made the man stop.

"What is it, Bats?"

Bruce sent the man a look before motioning to the boy, who had definitely noticed them now.

He waved at them.

"Who is that? Don't you normally require all your new kids wear costumes up here?" Clark asked.

"Unknown." Bruce said before giving his friend a look. "He's not mine."

Why does everyone assume it's his kid? Just because this boy has dark hair and blue eyes does not mean he belongs to Bruce. Clark has nearly the same looks as Bruce, and he had two kids, why couldn't this one be one of his?

"He's not mine either!" Clark said before frowning. "Not that I know of."

Bruce lifted up an eyebrow, knowing his friend could see it beneath his cowl. Clark rolled his eyes.

"Let's be honest if he was one of mine, you would know before I would."

Bruce grunted and turned back to the teenager. The kid was clearly listening in on them while looking away from them. Bruce watched as he tapped on the table in front of him, making little staccato noises of anxiety.

"Why are we waiting out here?" Barry asked, appearing right in a blur of red and yellow right as he did. Clark pointed at the unknown in the meeting room. Barry grinned widely beneath his own cowl, making the rubbery material crinkle.

"Batsy! Another one? You sly dog, where'd you find this one?"

"He's not mine." Bruce growled, Barry actually froze for a moment, shock slowing him down to normal speed for a moment.

"Nice joke, Bats. If he's not yours, then whose is he?"

Bruce clenched his jaw, Barry looked between the two of them, head flipping rapidly until he realized it wasn't a joke. In the corner of his eye, he could see that the unknown was openly staring at them with a smile forming on his face.

"We are in space." Barry hissed. "How'd a random kid get in here?"

"Excuse me?"

Behind the three hero pile up, Arthur arrived. The King looked less than pleased at having his way impeded.

"I come to these bi-monthly meetings due to their importance. I have an entire kingdom to manage, so if we could all move?"

"Bats has a new kid!" Barry nearly shouted.

"He's not mine!" Bruce growled while Arthur looked up and over Barry to see the unknown.

"Do we have a security breach?" Arthur asked.

"He's not yours yet!" Barry said at the same time, lifting up a finger and pointing it right at Bruce's face.

"We don't know who it is or how they got here." Clark said. "He doesn't seem hostile."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Superman." Arthur said , pursing his lips. Bruce turned to see that the boy had now waved in greeting at Arthur and Barry. Barry waved back.

"Are we having a hallway party or something?" Captain Marvel asked. "A party sounds waaaay more fun than a meeting, no offense Batman."

"We have an intruder, Captain." Arthur said pointing directly at the kid.

The kid's eyes widened and he looked behind himself before pointing at his own chest in surprise.

"He doesn't seem like an intruder?" Marvel said with a frown. "What if he's lost?"

"The watchtower is a secure facility, people don't get here by accident." Bruce said.

"I dunno, Batman." Marvel shrugged. "We have aliens, magicians, and time travelers on our team. He could be lost."

Bruce refused to admit the genial man had a point, the unknown could be from anywhere or anywhen. From further down the hallway, John and Diana appeared, walking together. Diana was holding a glass filled with one of Barry's chocolate protein shakes. John nodded in greeting at the group.

"We have an intruder Wonder Woman." Arthur said.

Diana looked through the crowd before shaking her head.

"Nonsense. He has permission to be here. Come, we should sit for the meeting."

Diana muscled her way through the crowd, still carrying the glass. She walked directly over to the unknown. The boy perked up, smiling widely as Diana held out the glass for him

"Thanks, i was getting hungry." The boy said before taking a large gulp of the shake, Diana smiled down at the boy, resting her hand in his dark hair.

"Woah. Plot twist." Barry whispered.

"Come on, let's get to the bottom of this." Clark said walking into the room, following the path Diana took.

The rest of the League followed suit, taking their assigned seats around the table. Bruce wasn't surprised to see that the unknown was sitting in an extra chair right next to Diana.

"To start the meeting." Diana said onc everyone was seated. "I do have some news to share."

"Yeah, I sure hope so." Marvel said in that strange, joking tone he used as if he were quoting something, not that Bruce had ever been able to recognize the quotes.

"I would like to introduce the Justice League to my son, Daniel of Themyscira." Diana said, putting her arm around the unknown and squeezing him to her side.

"Hi." Daniel said, waving at the group, his cheeks a bit red.

Immediately, there was an uproar from most everyone in the League. Questions and shouts of confusion, shock, and denial. Diana only allowed the noise for a few moments before she slammed her fist onto the table hard enough to crack it.

"Enough!" She shouted, quickly quelling the group. "I will not allow my decision to bring my son here be questioned."

She glared at them fiercely, still holding Daniel to her side. The boy had ducked down a bit with the shouting but was now looking up at Diana with adoration.

"This entire team, aside from Captain Marvel, has brought their young charges to the League." Diana continued, looking at each of them. "Superman has brought up two Superboys, Aquaman introduced to us Aqualad, Flash has both Impulse and Kid Flash, Martian Manhunter came to us with Miss Martian. I do not believe we even have time to list all of Batman's brood."

Barry had the audacity to snort at Diana's last point. That actually eased the tension and people relaxed. Diana leaned back into her seat.

"I would think that my team of many years would trust my judgment in bringing my son here. I assure you he is well into his training and more than competent. I will allow you all to ask your questions now."

Bruce cleared his throat near silently and spoke up first.

"What does he know?"

Diana didn't look impressed at his question. Daniel looked at her face before frowning at Bruce, clearly following his mother's lead.

"I have spoken at length about the League and how we work together. I assure you that i have not revealed any identities shared in confidence with me." Diana's tone made it clear she was offended that Bruce would accuse her of revealing their identities. He barely kept from wincing.

"Uhm. How did he... come to be?" Clark asked, clearly not wanting to ask any truly intimate details.

"In the way all children do." Diana said, giving Clark a look of his own.

That answer was not very helpful given that Diana was formed from clay by her mother. Had she taken a pottery class when he wasn't looking? Unless the boy was much older than he appeared, there was no way Diana had hidden a pregnancy from them 15 or so years ago.

"Why haven't we heard of him before now?" Arthur asked.

"Daniel was training with Pandora, one of the elders of Themyscira, she sent him here when he learnt all she had to teach. He joined me in the world of man only a few months ago." Diana answered simply.

"Uh. Excuse my ignorance." Barry said in a tone that made it clear he was about to say something very ignorant indeed. "But I thought your family only had women in it?"

This time Daniel answered, looking nervous.

"I'm. I'm trans actually." he answered, while rubbing his arm nervously.

"Which is completely fine and something that will not leave this room." Diana said, her voice comforting towards her son while her eyes promised hellfire to the heroes in the room.

Everyone made noises of agreement until Daniel relaxed, going back to smiling.

"Excuse me Wonder Woman, will Daniel be wanting to join any of the other, younger teams?" Captain Marvel asked, sounding excited at the idea.

Which of course he would, he was still acting Den Mother for Young Justice and loving it.

"That is up to him. For now I would like to keep him to myself for a while longer, but once he is further trained by myself I think it would be a splendid opportunity."

"Yes!" Daniel agreed before clearing his throat. "I mean, that'd be cool or whatever."

"We can discuss it in the future." Bruce allowed, knowing that it would probably happen sooner than Diana would want knowing how both the Teen Titans and Young Justice were. Danny nodded eagerly at that.

"Finish your food." Diana told Daniel before looking back up at the rest of the team. "Are there any more questions?"

"Does Daniel have any health requirements or powers we need to be aware of?" John asked. "Or is his physiology the same as your own?"

"His powers are vastly different from my own. It is one of the reasons Pandora had taken on his training in the beginning." Diana answered easily. "The facilities and resources we have here should work well for him in case of injury."

The knowledge that Daniel's powers were so different from Diana's that she didn't feel comfortable training him herself was worrisome. Amazons, as far as he knew, had relatively similar powersets. Although he had not heard of Pandora before, perhaps she was specialized?

"I do have, what's it called? An enhanced metabolism. Most stuff here doesn't work on me."

"Don't worry son. We have plenty of medications designed with metas in mind." Clark told Danny. "If it works on me and your mom, it willl work for you."

"Cool."

"What all can you do?" Captain Marvel asked.

Daniel turned to look at Diana who nodded. The boy then looked back at them and started listing his powers.

"I can fly. Not as fast as mom's invisible jet but pretty fast. I'm super strong. I can turn invisible and intangible."

"Intangible?" Clark asked.

"It is an ability similar to Martian Manhunter's density shifting." Diana clarified. "The mechanisms are different."

Magical, most likely, instead of John's more science based power. Bruce would have to come up with more contingencies to compensate for that.

"Yeah intangibility is pretty cool." Daniel told them. "Althought when i first got it, it was pretty scary. I kept falling through stuff. I was almost afraid I'd start falling through the whole planet by accident. I totally have it under control now though."

"I would be interested in comparing our abilities, Daniel." John said, nodding his head towards him. The boy beam excitedly.

"Yeah!"

"Not in the Watchtower." Diana warned, voice stern.

Yes, that was probably sensible. Danny agreed with his mother, and John clarified that he would be happy to meet up planetside at their convenience.

"Are those all of your abilities?" Barry asked, Daniel shook his head.

"No there are a bunch more. But I'm not supposed to use them for a while."

"Why?"

"My son is powerful, but he has relied on his powers far too much in the past." Diana said, sounding porud enough to make her son blush. "Right now, I am training his melee abilities, we have agreed to a temporary pause until he has met my standards."

"It's been super tough. Mom's making me practice with her sword all the time." Danny added on.

"My mother will be sending on your own weapon soon." Diana soothed. "Hephestes does not like to be rushed."

"I know mom."

Diana reached up and ruffled her son's hair. Daniel leaned into the affection with a smile.

"Are there any further questions?" Diana asked, when no one had anything immediately she nodded. "Good. Is there any further business? If not, I would like to take my son home for a proper meal."

Everyone looked at each other. Bruce had wanted to discuss some of his findings, but with Diana's reveal, it hardly seemed important any longer. Bruce was going to need to do a lot of research and planning. He wondered if he should get Tim involved or if he should hold off. The League agreed to end the meeting early, Diana stood.

"Come Daniel. We should get to the jet."

Daniel scrambled up and followed his mother out of the meeting room, his worn sneakers squeaking a bit on the flooring. The rest of the League sat in silence for a moment taking in what Diana had told them.

Wonder Woman had a child. A child with powers beyond her own.

Daniel popped back into the room before anyone could speak.

"Gosh, I am sorry I almost forgot. Mr. Batman, I have something for you."

Daniel walked right over to Bruce, who stared at him from underneath the cowl. The boy was not nearly as confident as his mother when it came to his glare. He cringed a bit, but reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny, silver and green flash drive. He placed it on the table and stepped back.

"What is that?"

"Mom told me you like to make contingencies for everyone. In case they go crazy or whatever. So..." The boy motioned to the drive with his hand. "I mean, it'd be weird if i made my own plans, but like, you could do it. That has all my powers and weaknesses and stuff."

Bruce grabbed the flash drive and the boy looked pleased.

"Okay! I gotta go. It was awesome meeting you guys!"

Daniel turned on his heel and ran out of the room. Bruce looked down at the flash drive, doing his best to hide his shock. No one has ever just handed him a list of their weaknesses before.

"I dunno Bats, are you sure he's not yours?" Barry asked.

[dc-posting]

Young Tim who makes kandi/friendship bracelets for Robin and Batman (mostly Robin, he just doesn’t want Batman to feel left out) and leaves them in the Bats’ most common brooding/surveillance spots.

He does this for years, perfecting his craft. He makes bracelets with multiple chains, his beads get higher quality, his finishings improve (he learns that gluing the knot and trimming down the string is better than just tying it off and cutting it down.) and he loves to make bracelets for the two Robins, and for Nightwing, when Robin I eventually becomes his own hero.

When Jason dies, Tim sneaks over to leave kandi at his grave, nothing that would incriminate him as Robin, just things Tim thinks he would like. Kandi strung in his favourite colours, a cuff with a quote from his favourite book, intricate designs woven with pieces of Tim’s heart and his sorrow for his favourite Robin, his hero.

They’re cleared away often, but Tim replaces them with new kandi diligently.

He also turns Robin II’s favourite gargoyle into a mini shrine, bracelets and kandi chains decorating the stone high above Gotham’s streets, dedicated to his hero.

When Jason arrives to the tower, ready to break his replacement’s wings, he instead finds a sixteen year old boy sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by boxes of beads. He has a tray in front of him, a design laid out that he is carefully transferring one by one onto the elastic string.

“Stupid Bruce clearing the stupid grave.” He mutters angrily, tying off the bracelet. “Have to replace these every other week.” He adds a dollop of glue, ties the string again, adds another bit of glue, and then sets the piece down to dry. Jason watches as he carefully manoeuvres the glued knot to rest in one of the beads, ensuring that’s its secured to itself as well as to the bead.

He would be impressed by the attention to detail if he wasn’t currently processing that Tim fucking Drake is Robin’s stalker.

He thinks back to his room at the manor, at least fifty bracelets for Robin II found on rooftops (and once, on the passenger seat of the Batmobile. God, the look on Bruce’s face.) stored securely in a plastic box at the very back of his closet. His most prized possessions. He knows Dick has one just like it.

Whatever plans for revenge being enacted through the vessel of his replacement are immediately scrapped.

“Those for me?” He asks, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms.

Tim whips around, beads clattering off the bracelet he was carefully stringing together.

“Not unless you’re my neighbour’s dead son.” He shoots back, tone aiming for joking, scrambling for his staff. Play cool, play cool.

Jason barely thinks for a moment before he removes his helmet. He peels off the domino mask, wincing as it pulls slightly.

“Uh…” Tim stalls, staff at the ready.

“You left me bracelets, all around Gotham. For years. For Nightwing too, and the Bat.” Jason tilts his head. “You said those were for your dead neighbour. You make them for me out of the mask too?” Tim nods wordlessly, stepping aside so that Jason can rifle through the pile of bracelets waiting for their glue to fully dry.

He finally finds his words as Jason starts trying on various pieces.

“I started leaving them after you- after everything. At your… grave. B and A clear them away every few weeks, I don’t know if they keep them, but I replace them.” He sounds unsure, Jason thinks that’s reasonable.

“You don’t even know me.” He says, he knows why someone would leave gifts for Robin, but Jason Todd? No way.

“You were my hero. You are my hero.” Tim responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Guess we gotta break into the manor and see where he’s hiding those bracelets then, eh?” Jason pushes through the warm feeling in his chest. He doesn’t have time to analyse that now.

“Only if you agree to let me run tests in the cave.” Tim still holds his staff in an iron grip.

Jason would expect nothing less from his Robin.

It’s only a small price to pay for those kandi after all.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Could you do Dom! Yan teacher and Yan Bully fighting over a himbo reader?

Yan teacher vs Yan bully x male reader imagines~! ໒꒰ྀི˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ꒱ྀི১

Taglist: @yyuinaa @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives

── ✦ ──── ✦ ──── ✦ ──── ✦ ──── ✦ ──── ✦ ─

Jus imaginin you bein a star football player- bein all handsome N’ fit but a total dummy— as oblivious to your surroundings as ever and boy if the captain of your team didn’t let you know jus how stupid he thinks you are!…oh he’s plain O’l cruel, makin you stay after practice slapping you for your mistakes grabbing your ass N’ groping you secretly on tha field like he owns you- he loves havin you to himself N’ making jokes bout you infront of everyone else but boy if he isn’t totally smitten by you…he’s full blown infatuated to the point where it’s insane? I mean he beats you bloody jus to see you look at him all pathetic

Jus imaginin bein a total pet for your college professor, I mean all tha extra tutorin has you close with him is all? That’s just it right!..? But oh no he’s dead set you’re his pretty boy- his pretty baby N’ all you can do is sit wide eyed like a pursed puppy before him, gosh he’d eat you alive if he could- he’d squish you N’ grab you like a lil boy toy but he can’t with that big O’l meanie who’s always by your side, but boy if your professor doesn’t like playin your hero, swoop in an Savin that pretty jaw from his blows.

Jus imaginin your bully givin up bein sweet on you, he starts bein all mean again, punching you N’ gripping you tight makin your big eyes swell up jus so he can angrily try N’ make out with you— poor you bein all confused not even protesting when his flushed cock is in your face, his tip all mushroomed and leakin all over the shaft N’ pressing into your inner cheek— he loves the way you pout, all sloppy with your drool on the ground sitting on your knees is a picture perfect sight to him. Of course your professor finds out, he won’t even look you N’ your eyes after that!

Jus imaginin your professor givin you the silent treatment- gaslighting and tearin your pretty boy status down til your needy and apologetic practically beggin for his forgiveness- these two men were ruinin you- a once happy go lucky man bein twisted into a toxic relationship between two big O’l meanies…N’ why was riding your professors cock the only way to get his forgiveness? “Mh, sirr- are you sure there isn’t a’nother wayy~” your voice is whiny gripping onto his desk with lewd plaps fillin up the room havin his hand on your hip with your lips pressing together forming an ‘O’ shape while his hands rest on your hips liftin and droppin you on his cock havin your insides squished to his size.

Jus imaginin your bully findin out about you and your professor— seein your flushed face and your limp when you show up for practice, it doesn’t take a genius to see you jus took the fuckin of a life time an’ he was full of rage that he wasn’t the man that gave it too ya. Oh how your poor body never catches a break- you’re bent over in the locker room grippin for dear life while he jus grunts and huffs angrily in your ear like a upset dog, your rim burns from bein stretched too long N’ your inner walls are all bruised N’ slick still from your professors cock- he can feel it and he knows you can too.

Jus imaginin the two men tryin to be at each others throats when you turn away N’ playing all nice when you’re around, your bully bein all ruthless T’ you jus so your professor can swoop in N’ be your savior, jus thinkin your bully tryin to be nice f’ once when he sees how close you are T’ the professor—maybe if he sweetens up he can have ya. Your bully bein mean to you until he sees you tuck tail and runin to Him..oh boy if that didn’t make his blood boil seeing you all clingy to that dumb old man—

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, doggy style, creampie, blowjob, rough s*x

Summary: you and Bakugo went camping, and you couldn’t believe your new shorts were enough to turn the big guy on so quickly

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

As the golden hues of dusk began to settle over the campsite, the thrill of a shared adventure coursed through your body, amplified by the excitement that Katsuki, your usually so gruff boyfriend, had agreed to this escapade into the wild. 

It wasn't his idea of a perfect getaway, but the hint of adventure and the rugged trails appealed to his untamed spirit, and that was enough to tilt his decision.

Preparations for the trip unfolded over several days. You meticulously selected a new tent, sleeping bags, and all the essentials needed for survival in the embrace of nature. The excitement bubbled within you, and each item was a promise of the memories you were about to create together.

Upon arrival at the campground, a place chosen for its variety of trails, Bakugo’s eyes - those intense, crimson orbs - surveyed the land with a tactical gaze, as if plotting each step he would conquer on the morrow. 

You began setting up the tent, fumbling slightly with the steel profiles. "Kats, could you help me with these?" you asked, trying not to get distracted by his scrutinizing look.

With a gruff nod, Bakugo joined you, his hands adept and sure as he assisted with the tent. "Why don't you start on the fire?" he suggested, his tone brusque but not unkind. "Seems like something you can handle, babe."

You set about gathering dry wood, arranging stones in a careful circle to cradle the fledgling flames you would soon coax to life.

When Bakugo watched you light the fire with practiced ease, a rare smile broke across his face. "Well, well, look at you. I'm starting to think you're a pro at this," he remarked, the rough pad of his thumb brushing a smudge of dirt from your cheek as he approached you.

His compliment warmed you more than the fire, and soon you were searching through your backpack for marshmallows, a sweet treat to end the day. "Hungry?" you asked, glancing back at him.

Bakugo's eyes lingered on you, particularly drawn to the curve of your hips and ass accentuated by your new shorts. “I like your new shorts,” he commented casually, completely skipping the question you asked.

Your cheeks heated under his gaze, and you turned to face him fully. "Do you? They're just material shorts."

"Which hug your ass so nicely," he growled softly, his hand finding its way to your lower back and pulling you closer. 

You gasped, turning fully to face him, arms looping around his neck as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips for stability. "Did my shorts turn you on that much, babe?" you teased, feeling his breath against your ear.

His only response was a husky, affirmative grunt as he carried you towards the tent. 

Soon, you lay back on the sleeping bag, Bakugo hovering above, his lips tracing a path along your neck. His hands slipped under your t-shirt, discovering with a pleased murmur that you weren’t wearing anything underneath. "Aren't you being a naughty little shit today?" His voice was rough with arousal.

"You know I like it when you put me in my place," you murmured back, rolling your hips against his, your hands deftly working to remove his clothes.

Bakugo responded with equal fervor, his movements urgent as he shed his layers. 

Overwhelmed by a primal urge, you found yourself driven by raw desire, pushing him off yourself and kneeling between his spread thighs. Your tongue darted out, tracing fervent circles around the swollen tip of his penis, the taste of the faint bitterness of your boyfriend’s arousal causing you to moan in delight.

Katsuki began to guide the rhythm, his hips gently grinding forward. The motion coaxed your lips apart, accommodating him fully as he nudged against the welcoming gate of your throat. With each advance, you adjusted, your throat opening to invite him deeper, your initial gag reflex swiftly giving way to a consuming need to take him all in. The feel of his throbbing length, coupled with your swirling tongue, sent vibrations along his shaft, and Katsuki rolled his head back.

You yanked one leg around his one leg to improve your position and started grinding your slick pussy against his knee.

“Fuck, yeah,” the man growled. The sensation was nearly unbearable. Known for his fiery temperament and fierce control, here he was, surrendering to the pleasure you elicited with your little expert ministrations. His pace quickened. The sensation of sliding in and out of your snuggly throat, the slick, rhythmic tightness you provided, pushed him to the edge.

The build-up was intense, his body tightening, a crescendo of raw energy that demanded release. With a guttural cry, he reached the brink. Bakugo’s release was rich, a surge of warmth that he felt from the base of his spine to the tip of his cock while his creamy essence spilled forth in a rush of exhilarating release, filling your mouth and dripping from its corners to your naked neckline.

With a swift motion, he yanked your head off him by your hair and pushed you flat against the sleeping bag. He knelt behind you, spanked your ass a few times, and cupped your cheeks, spreading them to watch your gaping hole, slick with your juices. “Such a whore you are,” Bakugo mused, and aligned himself with your entrance, and the world fell away as he entered you with a single powerful thrust. His presence inside you was overwhelming, a perfect fit that stretched you deliciously.

Your breath caught in your throat, the sensation overwhelming. "Katsuki..." you gasped, your fingers digging into the sleeping bag.

He set a rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last, his groans mixing with your gasps. "I love fucking my sexy girl raw," he confessed, his voice barely above a growl as his hips pistoned in yours. His rock hard cock plunged deep into you with a relentless rhythm. 

You met each of his thrusts with an eager push back, your vaginal muscles clenching around his cock in a delicious squeeze that drew a low groan from his lips. Each movement you made was synchronized with his, a dance of desire that had you both teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You played with the limits of sensation, allowing the tip of his dick to nearly escape your snuggly pussy before sliding back down, pressing your ass against his abdomen tightly. Your hips gave a gentle, teasing twerk, enhancing the friction and intensifying the pleasure that thrummed through every nerve of his.

Each powerful thrust forced a sharp gasp from your lips, his rhythm unabating, as if he were carving his desire into your very being. His movements weren't just fervent - they were meticulously measured to break down every barrier you possessed. Each retreat was only a brief prelude to another overwhelming advance, sending ripples through you. The slick, warm precum trickled out of your abused, swollen pussy whenever he pushed back.

Each thrust stole the breath from your lungs, reducing your voice to ragged gasps and involuntary whimpers, as you were rendered pliant under his commanding touch, your body moving with his like a leaf caught in a storm.

“Fuck yeah, just like that, I’m gonna cream your sweet cunt, bitch,” Bakugo's voice was a husky growl, vibrating through the dense air of the tent. His hand landed with a resounding smack against your ass, the sting blooming across your skin.

His words were crude but thrilling, spoken with the certainty of a man on the brink of conquering, his every word as impactful as his movements, promising a culmination that would leave you both shattered.

When the climax overtook you, it was with a shout of his name, your world bursting into a kaleidoscope of sensation. Even as waves of pleasure overwhelmed you, a part of your mind remained acutely aware, sensing the potent surges of Katsuki's climax deep within your abused pussy. You discovered muscles you never knew you had - working on your boyfriend’s cock, pulsing, squeezing and milking him dry.

His muscles ripped and his thrusts became sloppy. Soon, Katsuki shuddered and expelled bolts of thick, warm semen, giving you one of the best creampies you had ever had. “Take all of my seed, bitch,” the man growled, massaging the meat of your ass. “Such a good, little whore.”

After he withdrew, he once again spread your ass, observing your mixed cums leak out of your reddened, swollen entrance. A satisfied, almost wicked grin spread across his face, reflecting a raw, triumphant pleasure.

Afterward, as you both lay catching your breath, Bakugo's arm wrapped protectively around you, his voice was tender. "I love you, Y/N."

"Love you too, Kats. I think I should wear these shorts more often if this is how you react."

Bakugo’s laugh was a sound you’d treasure forever. “Just wait until I get my hands on you again. You’re mine, Y/N, and I'll show you just how wild I can get.”

@pixelcafe-network

[tomboy014]

But if Batman won't adopt Danny... who will?

Starfire, and she is all over her new little brother!

Shortly after establishing the Teen Titans, Robin (Dick) introduces “Phantom” to the group, because seriously, he’s not introducing him as “Danny.”  Kinda defeats the purpose of a secret identity when you use your name in your superhero moniker.  And shows Phantom his room.

Robin’s actual goal is to get Phantom to join the Titans, but even taking short cuts through the Ghost Zone, Jump City is still a good ways away from Amity Park, and he has parents, so… It’s still a nice gesture and all, and Phantom will come visit, but no.

Still, he’s never met other teens who are heroes in their own right like he is, so he’s excited to meet Robin’s new team.  The other Titans think it’s a little weird for this not-member to have his own room in the Tower, but the place is huge, and Robin trusts him, so it’s fine.  It’s a bit awkward at first as they’re all still getting used to each other, but Phantom quickly makes friends with all of them.

But it’s his friendship with Starfire that grows first and fastest.  As soon as he finds out she’s an alien from another planet, he latches on and must know everything.  Starfire more than welcomes the attention. While she knows the Titans care for her, they’re not always… receptive to the traditions and customs of her culture. Phantom, on the other hand, is enraptured as she tells him about her culture, her holidays, the planets she’s been to, everything.

So she asks if he’d be interested in learning Tamaranean? Yes! 100%! Absolutely! Phantom picks up the language quickly and returns the favor by helping Starfire with her English. While the ability to absorb language through lips is handy, it’s by no means perfect, and Phantom helps her with things like contractions, slang, idioms, etc.

It also helps that after a couple sparring sessions with each other, Phantom and Starfire realize just how durable their partner is.  For Starfire, the people and things on Earth can be so delicate. And for Phantom, if he doesn’t watch himself and hurts a human too badly, it’s just more justification to call him an “evil ghost” that should be ripped apart molecule by molecule. Both are thrilled to finally be able to fight all out again without worrying about the consequences if they lose. And Starfire also uses it to teach Phantom some Tamaranean martial arts for aerial combat so maybe he’ll stop crashing into so many walls.

But what really changes the relationship is the Body Swap incident (not to be confused with the Freaky Friday incident). Similar to what happened with the Puppet King in Switched, Phantom and Starfire switch bodies while fighting an enemy.  Unlike what happened in Switched, Phantom and Starfire and two teen powerhouses with green energy powers triggered by emotions. And the emotional triggers they use are in the same ballpark. Starfire’s “unbridled joy of flight” to fly is very similar to how Phantom revels in the pure freedom of flight he feels. Both get angry when they use blasts. It’s very much a “if you believe in it, you can do it” kind of power set. Starfire can’t really figure out Phantom’s more ghostly abilities like invisibility or intangibility, but they very quickly adapt to each other’s shared powers on the fly during battle.  But there’s one power Starfire wants to use against the hordes of minions that Phantom won’t share the trigger for: the Ghostly Wail.  He tries to tell her it’s not a good move, that it’ll use up too much power, it should only be used as a last resort, it’ll cause too much collateral damage, etc., but Starfire wants to know, and eventually he tells her.

“T-terror… and desperation.”

Starfire rushes to give Phantom the biggest hug ever because those are such horrible feelings, and she doesn’t want to imagine what conditions must have led to him developing such a power because no one should have to feel such feelings. He is right; and that is not a power she needs to use to win this battle.  The minions are defeated, the villain is forced into a temporary retreat, and the Teen Titans return to the Tower to regroup and plan.

However, Starfire doesn’t know how to power through and hold onto Phantom’s ghostly form, and as soon as the adrenaline from the fight wears off, rings of white light spread out of her middle, and Phantom turns back into Danny in the middle of the living room.

But more importantly, everyone needs to get out of the way RIGHT NOW because while Phantom can ignore his biological needs for days, Danny can’t, and Starfire has never had to pee this badly ever in her whole life and everyone needs to MOVE, PLEASE! as she rushes into the nearest bathroom.

Phantom/Danny is now panicking, because even as an alien, he’s pretty sure she’s bound to notice that some bits of male anatomy that should be there are… missing.  He’s begging her, through the door in Tamaranean, not to tell anyone about his secret.  He’s not ready to come out yet, and he’s honestly pretty scared he’s about to lose her friendship, too.  Starfire doesn’t really care. So long as you’re a strong warrior, Tamaraneans don’t care what’s going on in someone’s pants, and she’s just relieved she didn’t have to figure out different plumbing while in his body.  Starfire opens the door.  While she knows that the people of Earth are not always as understanding, Danny need not fear her.  She will not tell anyone he's trans until he is ready to tell them himself and supports him and goes in for a hug.

Except you haven’t washed your hands; gross!  They both laugh it off, but when Starfire goes to wash her hands, the water freezes.  The cold energy in Danny’s core is building, and Starfire doesn’t know how to let it out.  They need to switch back to their own bodies soon, or Danny’s body, and Starfire, might not survive.  A little more training so Starfire can turn back into Phantom, and the Titans are ready for the final act, take down the final villain and Starfire and Phantom are back in their own bodies. 

But after that, Phantom is no longer Starfire’s friend.  Danny is her little brother, and she tells him her name is Koriand’r, or Kor’i for short.

<<Prev Next>>

[cyber-skeletons]

Imagine a timeline where instead of safely descending them down the chute to sublevel 50, Darkwing just throws D-16 and Orion down.

For Orion, it's okay. He's used to jumping off buildings, he knows how to fall. But it's dark, and desperate, so all he does is spread his frame out and scramble to grab anything and everything that can slow his descent, and it works.

He and D-16 land with a sickening crunch, and he's injured, and winded, but he's laughing. "D! We made it!" he giggles, looking over at D-16's still form. "Oh, Primus! You okay?" Silence. "D?" No movement. He starts crawling over towards his still frame, watching it fade into a sickly monotone gray. "No, no, no no no D talk to me! D! D! D don't do this, please wake up, please don't do this..."

B-127 meets a mourning mech in shock that his best friend was just murdered.

Days pass where Orion just sits with D-16's sparkless frame, hollow-eyed. B-127 tries to help him feel better by sitting D-16 at the table with Steve and AAtron. That's when the emergency transmission is found. A way to find the Matrix. Orion latches onto it because maybe, just maybe, the Matrix can bring D-16 back.

They go up to the surface with Elita-1, who willingly follows them because Sentinel's begun working the miners to death. They learn the truth. B and Elita are in shock, but Orion? Something dark and ugly grows inside Orion. Sentinel was D's hero, second only to Megatronus Prime. And he killed him. But what's worse? He's the reason the Matrix was destroyed. The only way to get D-16 back. Sentinel may as well have killed him all over again.

Orion's optics slowly tinge purple.

By the time he rips Sentinel Prime in half in the middle of Iacon, his optics are red, his colors faded and matte. And when he takes Megatronus Prime's T-cog for himself, his colors turn black and purple. A mask grows to cover his face, leaving only hateful optics burning like hot coals. The Matrix does not appear. And D-16 is still dead.

But Optronix Prime rises.

Til All Are Gone.

[lacobus]

nsfw ; mark & his favorite cam streamer

tags: reader is afab but not really explicitly gendered, kind of exposition heavy, reader is a cam girl/cam boy, light discussion of porn, and masturbation

it's not really surprising mark jerks off. he's just a person, not a paragon of saintly attitude and disposition.

he can be mean, he can be pretty disgusting sometimes, it's what most people are occasionally. in the normal ways— like forgetting their manners from time to time or cracking an insensitive joke.

he's not innocent, not really anyway. he knows his way around the internet. knows which accounts on twitter to look at. its all part of the routine he's developed over the influx of hormones simmering within himself.

mark knows what he likes and what he absolutely can't stand. he always skips videos with excessive moaning, and refuses to watch hardcore kink videos because he's not really ready or interested.

he skims through couple videos sometimes and gets a little miffed at the fact that he's getting off to kissing and missionary. other times he just browses. it feels more like a chore than an outlet. he's probably gone miles and miles by just clicking and browsing. scrolling, if he's on his phone.

eventually he comes to find cam sites— they're pretty straightforward and in-your-face generally speaking. he's not even that far from the banner and almost a dozen of people are scantily clad or naked.

your video is somewhere down the line. you're not really in lingerie, just in an oversized t-shirt and panties. they hug your figure nicely, and you're just groping yourself.

mark is early, he learns, and you usually like to stretch out the teasing foreplay part of your streams. taking your sweet time to remove your shirt, and either peel or kick off your panties. moving slow like molasses.

part of what mark enjoys seeing in porn is probably authenticity. there's always a form of vunerability in porn. in the way people grind and moan and keen. he likes to see someone who's honestly enjoying themselves and you do exactly just that.

flick your nipples and laugh, muttering that it doesn't really do anything for you, but that it probably turns someone on. it's charming, and incredibly attractive in a way mark isn't very familiar with.

he's half hard when you finally decide to use your toy— tentatively, just one. set aside usually, just within reach so when you decide you're sick of preening for the camera you can finally get off.

the show isn't fancy, but mark cums anyway. he's satisfied when he does. you're still writhing and mewling when he tucks himself back into his boxers.

he likes things simple, that way they're easy to understand. mark commits your username to memory and drops by whenever he feels like it.

mark learns that you like to interact with your chat sometimes. a swarming insatiable mess of horny idiots all vying for your attention no matter how short it might be.

he usually forgets about the chatter. he isn't paying attention to random people comment about how pretty your ass is or how they want you to stick your tongue out when you cum, all he focuses on is fucking his fist to the rhythm of your bucking hips and cumming in sync.

it usually goes that way, until he's watching you entertain questions from viewers. you get a few strange ones that you don't really pay mind to, but someone starts the conversation of people you'd fuck.

of course celebrities make the list, but mark doesn't expect the conversation to talk about heroes.

"immortal?" you laugh, a little out of breath as you slowly work your way up and down a dildo. "too old, and he's not cute!"

mark grimaces, the mental image isn't cute either. a selfish and sick part of him refuses to share, but he doubts immortal even knows how to look up pornsites. he probably pages through magazines or something.

you go quiet for a bit and squint at the screen, "of course! why wouldn't i? invincible is ripped like hell."

mark's face grows hot, incredibly flattered. he gets hard when you spout out little comments about how you'd lick his neck and let him fuck your throat sore.

mark's liking for you had been mostly out of how pretty you are and how easy it is to watch you come apart. but now he knows how big of a fan you are for invincible, and he's never gonna pass up on watching you ever.

[cosmopretty]

꣑୧ Head cannons of Poly Bakugo and Izuku who catch feelings for the sweet new side kick at there agency

Poly!BKDK who realizes when they’re already pro hero’s together that they want a third in their relationship when they meet you. Both of the men have gotten taller, stronger and bigger since they graduated UA and started their own agency.

Poly!BKDK who can’t help but notice the new younger sidekick who had joined there agency.

Poly!BKDK Bakugo can’t help but smirk every time he notices Izuku staring at you as you train. He can’t help himself when he sees you training so he always “helps” you. By helping he just yells at you and finds every excuse to hold you and spar so he has a reason to touch you.

Poly!BKDK Izuku who realizes you the one for them when you’re able to make snarky comments at Bakugo without getting fired or hurt. Who smiles to himself when he realizes Bakugo has taken a liking to you.

Poly!BKDK who subtly starts finding more reasons to be around you. Deku who sometimes makes you work longer so he has a reason to take you out to eat since you missed lunch. Bakugo who drives you home at night because it’s “dangerous for sweet girls like you to be out so late” and who walk you to your apartment so he can get a sneak peak inside your home.

Poly!BKDK who constantly try’s to stay around you at work and keep you safe. By keeping you safe they try to make sure at-least one of them goes out with you when you’re doing any sort of hero work.

Poly!BKDK Bakugo who flirts with you constantly and calls you “his best girl” during training.

You kick Katsuki in the stomach and grab his arm trying your hardest to twist the muscle behind him. He smirks and flips you over onto the floor straddling your waist “Nice try kid you almost got me” he states still holding you down. You can’t control the blush that heats up your face at the pro hero’s words and position he has you in.

“T-thanks Dynamite” You mumble looking anywhere but at his face.

Izuku walks through the door stopping at the scene before him. He smiles to himself seeing how flustered you seem to be and how cocky his boyfriend looks on top of your body.

Poly!BKDK who one day after work decided to just ask you out.

After changing out of your hero suit you get your stuff together about to leave the room before Bakugo walks in “Ready to go?” he ask walking up to your grabbing your bag from your hands and leading you outside after hearing you say yes.

He opens the back door for you and you get in a bit confused on why he demoted you to the back until Izuku turns around in his seat “Hey how your day sweetheart?” he asks his big green eyes looking you up and down.

“It was good nothing really happened today it was one of those quiet days ya know” You express leaning back in the seat as Bakugo starts driving. You and Izuku talk for the whole drive just gushing about other hero’s you two admire while Bakugo listening a smile adorning his features.

Once the car stops you grab your stuff thanking the two boys for the ride but before you can open the door for yourself Izuku has already opened it. You look up noticing both hero’s staring down at you “H-hi?” you ask confused as you notice the Izuku hands start fiddling with one another.

“Go out to dinner with us Friday” Bakugo demands only making you more confused.

Izuku groans slapping the blondes shoulder “You can’t ask her out like that Kacchan” he expresses. The two boys start arguing with one another on how to ask out a woman as you stand there confused.

You grab both their arms making them look at you “You two? Want to go out with me?” you ask the two of them before letting go of their arms stepping back.

Poly!BKDK who takes you on the best date of your life, treating you to the best dinner you could imagine. They bring you flowers and then take you out to walk through a park looking at the nature and the stars.

Poly!BKDK who admits they’ve liked you since you first got hired at the agency. Who have been together for years and only until you showed up realized they were missing something or someone.

my hero academia masterlist

Please repost for me and send some requests in I love getting the new ideas to inspire me

ALSO DO WE WANT A PART 2?????

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Should have cleaned the pipes

(Dean Winchester x female reader)

Summary While on a case, you nearly get hurt. Despite the fact that nothing happens, Dean is pissed - apparently he's the only one allowed to be a stupid hero. So you teach him a lesson about his actions having consequences. CWs Dean being kind of a dick and therefore getting blue balled. Dean eating ass and needy, desperate fucking. Good times all around. 18+. 8.7k words

Dean Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

As you come to, you groan, quickly followed by the sound of metal clanking. You distantly feel that your shoulders are hurting, the muscles in them burning and then you move your leg, hiss in pain.

“–your weight off your arms,” you hear a voice and you blink your eyes open, groan again. Your feet move under you, scratching over the ground, and finally you find purchase and some of the burning pain disappears from your shoulders.

It’s dark in the room you’re in. It looks like some sort of decrepit basement, including the dirt floor and - you see with a swallow of your dry throat - all types of horrifying tools straight out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre attached to the wall. 

“You hear me?” the voice behind you asks, and now that you’re a little back to yourself, you immediately recognize it.

You shuffle your feet, making yourself slowly turn around and let out a deep sigh when you see him.

Dean’s equally hanging in chains from the ceiling. His body’s longer than yours, so he’s not dangling and swinging as much as you. You close your eyes at the slight dizziness the movement has caused in you, then open them again.

“What’s a handsome fella like you doing in a place like this?” you say in a flat tone, but it doesn’t have the desired effect of making him laugh.

“Not funny,” he says through clenched teeth, then his eyes reluctantly leave your face, wander up to the chains holding you, then back to your face. “He hurt you?”

You shake your head carefully, wary of adding nausea to the dizziness.

“No, he was a real gentleman,” you reply. Dean breathes out of his nose, then in again, and you know what’s coming.

“I told you to stay with Sam,” he says, nostrils flaring.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” you reply immediately, a little snappier than you mean to, but it’s just what that tone he has does to you. He’s allowed to rush into the fray and quip when he’s shackled up. Why aren’t you?

“And see where that got you!” he says, voice loud and determined, and you suppress an eyeroll, knowing it’s only gonna piss him off further. 

“Well,” you reply, unable to help the slight tinge of smartassery your voice carries, “there was a good chance you were being tortured to death down here, and I wasn’t gonna let that happen. So deal with it.” Dean makes a sarcastic face.

“And now we both get to be tortured to death,” he snaps back. “Good times!”

Okay, you didn’t want to fight, seeing as there’s that whole imminent death thing going on, but he’s too good at getting under your skin.

“Oh, you know what, Dean?” you reply, tone mean. “You can kiss my ass!”

There’s a loud bang and both of you look towards where the sound came from.

It’s him. The vengeful spirit, dirty, greasy, ugly looking motherfucker who ritually sacrificed all his farm animals before moving on to his family. He’s mean enough to be able to take corporal form, which you had the pleasure of finding out when he pushed you down the stairs at the top of the basement, knocking you out.

“Uh, sorry, we’re kinda busy,” you say to him, raising your eyebrows. “Could you come back in 15?”

“Stop it,” Dean hisses through his teeth but you ignore him.

The spirit turns towards you. At least you’re pretty sure he does - he’s in a dirty, dusty beekeeping suit, because apparently his bees were the only thing he liked in life.

Just then, he takes a slow, halting step towards you, then another. You can’t see his face because of the mask, but the way your skin ripples lets you know he’s staring at you.

“Hey,” you hear Dean say, but you can’t take your eyes off the creature as he takes another step towards you, raises his arm.

“Hey, you freak asshole!” Dean calls out, his voice now carrying an edge of desperation. “Leave her alone!”

It’s not like the guy’s gonna listen, but you appreciate the attempt. Except of course that Dean would rip your head off if you tried to do the same thing. He’s the only one allowed to sacrifice himself, to put himself in danger for the ones he loves. No one else gets to do it.

You start tugging at the chains, but it’s useless. They’re made of thick, old iron, so they would work to repel the spirit, but they’re up so high and, as you notice as you continue pulling on them, attached way too well. You pull again for good measure, but his hand is coming closer, is nearly touching your face…

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Dean shouts, voice cracking on the curse. “I will fucking rip you apart!”

For a second you think it’s actually Dean’s threats that stop him. His hand freezes in midair, and then he begins shaking, and a second later, flames start licking along his body. It takes only moments until he’s fully consumed and although it’s not real fire, at least not here in the room with you, you’re almost certain you can feel the heat of it on your face.

You let out a shaking breath when he’s been fully consumed, and before you have time to say fuck you and your bees, the door at the top of the basement stairs opens with a creak. You tense, but then you hear quick footsteps, and a second later, a worried-looking Sam appears.

You let your head drop back, let out a long sigh and you’re pretty sure Dean does something similar. Sam rushes over to his brother first, hand going to the inside of his jacket and coming back out with his lockpick.

“Man, am I happy to see you,” Dean says, looking up to where his brother is undoing the shackles. They open and Dean lowers his arms with a loud groan. He takes the lockpick from Sam’s hands without a moment’s hesitation and walks over to you while Sam looks around the room.

“Jesus, this must have been where he took his victims,” Sam says, studying the dark spots all over the walls and floor, the ones you assume are blood. Dean stands closely in front of you, not looking at your face, but beginning to work on your shackles.

“Yeah, but not today,” you say with a slightly self-satisfied tone. “Cause you kicked its ass. Hey, where’d you find the bones?”

You see Sam open his mouth to tell you, but Dean speaks first. He’s pissed, you notice in the next second.

“That was luck,” he says, still looking up at where his fingers are working. “Pure and dumb luck and you were reckless for no reason at all.” You pull your eyebrows together.

“Give Sam a little credit,” you reply. “And don’t pretend you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing if it was him or me in your position.”

“That’s… that’s different,” Dean shoots back, making a face when the shackles won’t budge to his will.

“Riiight,” you reply, drawing out the word with sarcasm, “rules for thee, but not for me?”

“Goddamn it!” Dean grunts, letting his hands drop, the shackles still closed while he looks at your face, eyes narrowed and jaw set. “I should just leave you tied up here for running your mouth at a friggin’ spirit.”

You see it then - the slight tremor in his voice, in his hands. It’s not much that scares Dean Winchester and that spirit didn’t even come close, but he’s freaked out. Which is why you soften your tone when you speak again.

“I told you,” you say, just as Dean raises his hands again to use the lockpick. “No kinky talk in front of your brother.”

But Dean doesn’t react. He’s not meeting you halfway and when the shackles finally click open and you let your hands drop with a groan, he’s not meeting your gaze either. You look at Sam, who is pointedly looking away from you two, as if he can somehow teleport himself somewhere else.

“Let’s go,” Dean says, turns, and then he’s walking out of the basement. Sam throws you a sympathetic glance, and then the two of you follow him outside, but you absolutely know that this isn’t over.

The drive back is awkward. Dean’s bad mood makes the air in the car thick. He’s able to do that - almost make the air vibrate around him. Usually you call him out on it, but you have no interest to give him, first of all, the satisfaction to do it immediately, and secondly, to drag Sam into this. 

But you don’t have to wait for long. Dean and you say goodnight to Sam in the parking lot and he goes to his room and the two of you to yours. 

The door falls shut behind you, and you are stretching to get your jacket off, your eyes falling on Dean who is stalking into the room, face tensed, looking around, like he expects another spirit to show up.

“Dean,” you say, anticipating whatever he’s gonna say, “can we just drop it? I’m tired and I need a shower. I don’t wanna fight.”

Dean turns around to you, and he’s got that challenging expression he gets. The one that tells you he is very much not gonna drop it.

“You were safe,” he says, finger pointing at the ground to underline his point, “and you purposefully put yourself in danger. That’s not just bad for you, that’s bad for everyone involved.”

“I wasn’t in danger,” you reply, although you know it’s technically not true, seeing as you would probably be short an esophagus if Sam had found the remains only a few minutes later. Dean scoffs, shakes his head, and you raise your hands.

“Look, you were gone all of a sudden,” you point out, “because you decided you were gonna take the other side of the house on your own. What did you expect me to do?”

Dean opens his mouth, then closes it, because there really isn’t anything to say. But rather than be reasonable and agree with you, he doubles down.

“You don’t get to play hero in this business,” he replies, eyes glaring at you. You pull your head back, drop your arms.

“Seriously?” you say. It’s a ridiculous thing to say - you haven’t been hunting for as long as Sam and Dean have, but you’re no spring chicken. And it’s a lot coming from the man who has more than once died for others.

“Yeah, seriously,” Dean repeats, not sensing that he’s hit a nerve. “And it’s a dumb idea to try.”

You don’t reply. Instead, you stare him down, lips pressed together. It’s what usually works - Dean gets himself worked up, but if you give him a moment to realize how brash he’s being, he gets embarrassed, pulls back. You can see the beginning of it now, the slight softening of his features when he understands that in his worry, he’s gone too far. But you’re not ready to hear his apology. You’re not there yet.

“I’m taking a shower,” you mumble, turn on the spot and walk towards the bathroom without looking back at Dean. You only slam the door a little.

This is not what you wanted for this evening, you think, as water washes over you. You wanted to finish the case, maybe get some food and beer, flirt with Dean across the table the same way he had been doing with you all day before the unfortunate spirit incident. He’d been on something, the way he sometimes gets, well, often, actually, and you’re sure not complaining. 

His hand always finds you, on days like this. You were leaning over the blueprint of the farmhouse when he looked over your shoulder, snuck his hand up your back, under your shirt, his mouth close to your ear while he pretended he wasn’t doing anything. You turned to him, gave him a knowing smile, and he returned your gaze, so long that you had to shift your legs, stop yourself from pressing them together to alleviate some of the pressure building in you. Dean notices and grinned, that grin that let you know he was gonna tire you out tonight.

And now, instead, you’re under the shower alone, while he’s stewing in his frustration in the next room. It’s not where you want him at all - you’d much prefer it if he was here with you, under the warm spray of water, getting you open and ready and worked up for him. Then you’d climb into bed, skin still wet in places, and then…

You sigh. You shouldn’t torture yourself like this. Unless you can make up tonight. Which would be a good thing, just in general, but also because of the whole fucking thing.

You walk out of the bathroom with renewed vigor and the urge to talk about this like adults, healthy adults, not traumatized, terrified adults. But Dean’s already lying in bed, back turned to you.

“Dean?” you say, voice gentle to show him that you come in peace. But he doesn’t react, not even when you say his name again. So he must be asleep, even though he has the lightest sleep of anyone you know, but he has to be, because the alternative - the alternative is that he’s ignoring you.

You take a deep breath, let it out slowly, try to get your frustration under control, because you’re not gonna be having a discussion with the man’s back. So instead, you step forward, get into the other side of the bed, back turned to Dean. You wait for another second, wondering if he’s gonna turn around, but when he doesn’t, you reach your hand out, turn off the bedside lamp. 

You stare into the darkness, listen to his breathing, but soon sleep comes for you.

You wake up to the sound of water running in the bathroom. Soft daylight is falling in and the electric alarm clock on the bedside table says 9:17. You press yourself back into your pillow, wiggle your body, and close your eyes again.

You’re not fully back to sleep when you feel the mattress dip next to you. The next thing is the blanket lifting, and then something soft brushes over the back of your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine. 

When you turn your head a little, you see Dean’s freckled cheek, jaw moving as he’s landing gentle kisses up your hairline to your jaw. He reaches that spot under your ear and it makes you shiver and your lips part, and you feel him grin at that.

“Let’s make up, mmh?” he mumbles and then his hand begins snaking up your thigh. His soft but deep breathing is loud in your ear and you feel your nipples harden in response. Dean’s hand reaches your hip, and then it moves inwards as he gently squeezes the inside of your thigh.

“Come on, darlin’,” he whispers and you feel an unmistakable hardness press into your lower back. You push back against him almost involuntarily, searching him out and Dean uses the purchase on your thigh to pull you against him, grind against you. You roll your hips and he groans.

“That’s it,” he sighs, squeezing your flesh again. “Isn’t this much nicer than being all feisty?”

Your eyes fly open and you stop your movement. Dean doesn’t notice immediately, keeps pressing against you, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, and it would absolutely undo you if it wasn’t for the renewed fire of annoyance blazing inside of you.

So your hand shoots down, briefly fighting the blanket before finding Dean’s hand. You hear him make just the beginning of a chuckling sound, maybe thinking you’re gonna push his hand right between your legs, but then you grab it and pull it away from you. Once you’re done, your hand goes back up, under your cheek as you stare at the wall opposite you.

Dean has stopped moving behind you, so it seems to have at least gotten into his thick head that he just messed up.

“Babe?” he says, and there’s a carefulness in his voice that makes you almost grin.

“I’m not gonna forget what a scene you made yesterday,” you say, still not looking at him, “just cause you woke up with a boner.”

“I didn’t wake up with a boner,” Dean replies, voice slightly petulant, like that’s what this argument is really about. “I mean, I did, but this boner specifically is a you-boner.”

You scoff, shake your head against the pillow. Like you’re gonna melt and forgive everything just because Dean popped a tent because of you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that… just specifically in this moment, it’s not gonna melt you.

“You have a very high opinion of your own dick if you think that’s enough to distract from all the shit you said yesterday,” you reply, voice clear.

And just like that, Dean moves in behind you again, hand landing on your waist as he scoots closer again. Maybe he thinks you’re just playing a little hard to get, which… yeah, you’ve definitely done that before.

“I think I remember you having a pretty high opinion of my dick, too,” he says, voice low and raunchy, as the tips of his fingers come close to your breast. “Seem to remember an occasion or two where you were practically begging for it, salivating.”

This motherfucker.

He’s not wrong. Of course, he’s not wrong. Dean has a magnificent dick, and he knows how to use it. But the way he’s saying it, like just because you want him most of the time you can’t not want him when he’s being a prick is so… well, he’s projecting, that’s for sure. Never mind the warmth that has already built in your core. Never mind that right now you’re really happy that your horniness doesn’t show up the way Dean’s does. 

With a groan, you push yourself away from him and swing your legs over the side of the bed, sit up. You hear Dean move behind you, but you keep looking away from him. Not least of all because you tend to be a lot more forgiving when you see his face. But not today. For once, he’s not getting away with this macho, protector bullshit.

“Don’t be like this,” Dean complains, just as you’re brushing some hair out of your face, and your plan not to look at him goes right out the window, because you whip your upper body around, shoot him a glare that makes him actually recoil a little. You ignore how good he looks, his hair still slightly wet and dark from the shower, just a sheen of stubble on his face, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers, all things that would be very easy to pull off quickly to get to all the good stuff underneath.

“You can’t treat me like an idiot in the evening,” you snap at him, “and then dry-hump me in the morning. Not how it works, Dean.”

To his credit, Dean has the decency to look ashamed. You know what he’s doing isn’t just about him getting his dick wet - well, it’s not only about that. This is his way of apologizing, of getting close to you again. Dean’s shit at apologizing, worse than any adult you’ve ever met, but you understand where it comes from. Admitting fault and saying you’re sorry isn’t something he ever saw or learned growing up. So rather than just say the words, he is a man of gestures: flowers, a day trip to somewhere he couldn’t give two shits about but you love, long sessions of make up sex where he does everything you like, eats you out until his jaw cramps and you have the capacity to be angry literally fucked out of you.

And it’s fine, most of the time. You knew what you were signing up for when you decided to start dating Captain Handsome-Dysfunctional-Man. You meet him where he’s at, and he does the same with you. Your moods, your anxieties - it’s not like you’re perfect. But this time, it’s just rubbing you the wrong way. 

Because even now, Dean doesn’t say anything. He could just say he’s sorry, say he gets it, admit that it’s a double standard because he would have done the exact same thing. But instead, he opts to stare at the mattress, brow slightly furrowed, looking so damn good that it’s almost painful. 

You stand, smoothing down your shirt and Dean’s eyes shoot up, studying you. He’s leaned on one elbow, accentuating his strong arms. But you’re not letting that affect you today. Nuh uh, no way.

“So what am I supposed to do?” he asks, and there’s something distantly funny about the fact that he might be talking about his behavior in your relationship, or his hard dick. You shrug.

“Guess you should have cleaned the pipes while you were in the shower,” you say, and with that, you turn and walk towards the bathroom.

You pull the door closed behind you, stand over the sink and turn on the water, wait for it to get warm. You don’t want to be mad, and you don’t want to argue, not really, but not backing down now feels like a matter of principle. You want something very specific from Dean, and now your fight has become about that specific thing, rather than the larger issue. It’s annoying. It’s frustrating. It’s not how you want things to be.

The warm splash of water feels good on your face, and then you’re blindly reaching for a towel to dab away the wetness. When you’re done, you look at yourself in the mirror.

What you should do, and what any healthy, well-adjusted adult would be doing, is walk out there, and tell Dean exactly what you want: an apology, for him to acknowledge what he did wrong and in some way promise that he will try to not do it again. Unlearn that behavior, you once read somewhere. Sure, that. And then Dean would say it and then maybe you could still fuck. Ten minutes, only missionary, maybe a sheet in between. That’s what well-adjusted people do, right?

But you’re not that person. Because even if Dean did say those things then, it would just feel like he’s parroting what you just told him you wanted. You want him to understand what you want him to say without you having to fucking masticate it for him first. So, basically, you want him to read your mind. 

Is that really too much to ask?

You sigh, your eyes wandering, and then you freeze when you see it. The thought forms in you so quickly it’d probably be worrying to one of those mythical well-adjusted adults. The grin that forms on your face is likely equally worrying. Whatever. 

When you and Dean checked in two days ago, you did some quick laundry in the bathtub, just some small stuff that wasn’t worth running to the laundromat for. Two t-shirts, a pair of socks and some underwear. 

Among your garments is a lacy, lavender thong that Dean loves. Could be because it looks so damn good on you, could be because, once, on a long drive, Sam asleep and gently snoring in the backseat, Dean begged you silently to blow him or jerk him off and you refused, preferred teasing him, so instead you took off said thong, pulled it off your naked legs under the dress you were wearing, then scooted close to him and shoved it in his face. Dean huffed that thing like it was glue and when you finally made it to the motel a couple hours later, he went to town on you in a way that had you walking sideways the next day - but not before wrapping the thin lace around his hard as steel cock and letting you blow him for a bit, all while fingering your asshole.

Yeah, talking is one option. Telling him what you want, what you need, to move on from this. But what your mischievous brain is coming up with in that second is way more fun.

When you walk back into the bedroom a few minutes later, Dean is pointedly reading what you think is the room service menu. The man must be starving at this point - no real dinner and he usually gets as grumpy as a child if he hasn’t had any grease or sugar by eleven in the morning. But you’re pretty sure he’s just doing it to look busy. 

Luckily for you, he must still see that something is different in his periphery. Or he’s secretly watching you as you move around the room. Because when you look back at him, his eyes are glued to your ass cheeks. The ones that are very visible with only the little lacy scrap of nothing you’re wearing. 

You see his eyes wander up, over the slightly cropped, vintage t-shirt you put on, the one that is, as evident by your hardened nipples which you pinched just before walking out, not accompanied by a bra, before finally slowing at your neck, bare because of your lazily pinned up hair - blowjob hair, as you and Dean affectionately call it - and then stopping on your face. You wear a mask of slight challenge, with a pinch of cluelessness. What could possibly be the cause of Dean studying you like you’re a piece of red meat, gasp, pearl clutch? 

“What?” you ask, voice not too mean, but just soft enough to not break him out of his staring, especially not because just then his tongue darts out of his mouth, licking a long stripe over his bottom lip before the tongue disappears and he sucks the lip into his mouth, top row of teeth biting down on it. He blinks.

“N-nothing,” he says, and his eyes quickly go back to the riveting reading material that is the menu. You gotta love this side of Dean, and joy at his reaction is thick in your chest. You only just walked out. And he’s already stuttering. 

You give a small, content sigh, then turn back to your duffle, which is what you stopped in front of. You open the zipper, peek in, move a shirt or two around just for show.

“Where is it?” you mutter to yourself. It’s a stage whisper, almost. Loud enough for Dean to hear, but low enough that you can pretend you’re talking to yourself. You lean over a little, dig your hands deeper into the duffle. Cock your hip to get one arm really in there.

You hear the slight shuffle from the bed but you don’t turn around to look at what's happening. It sounds like Dean shifting, maybe to alleviate some discomfort, but you’re absolutely not gonna acknowledge that.

“Did you see my jeans? The dark blue ones?” you ask, not turning around, digging deeper into the bag, your ass sticking out like a personal invitation.

“Uh–” is all you can hear Dean say, and it’s a good thing you’re facing away from him, because you don’t think you’d be able to hide the grin spreading over your face.

You let out a slow, high sigh and then turn your upper body, ass still on display and finally look at him. For good measure, you catch the edge of your bottom lip between your teeth and let it slip out slowly, like you were just thinking.

Dean’s a sight to behold. His mouth is open, his chest is rising and falling. The menu has found its way to his crotch, stretched over there, one tensed fist on each side holding it down. It doesn’t hide what’s underneath, his bulge proudly saluting you even through his boxers and the menu.

“What was that?” you say, but Dean’s eyes have wandered back to your ass, and he’s staring at it like someone would stare at a magician’s pocket watch. 

“Over, uhm,” he stutters, and you keep holding his gaze, and he blinks his way up back to your face. “Over the, the, uhm, fucking over the back of the chair.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, then turn and look. Right next to where you're standing, your dark blue jeans are slung over the back of a chair.

“Thanks,” you say, then drag your hands out of the duffel and walk over to the couch, very much not having put on the jeans.

You grab the remote, then plop down on the couch, on your back, swing your legs over the backrest, putting them on full display for Dean.

“Hey, why don't you order us some breakfast?” you say as you turn on the TV, wiggle into place. “I'm starving.”

Dean goes all out, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s Dean or because he’s trying to overcompensate for satisfying some other hunger. He’s already sitting at the table, concentrated on chewing a forkful of eggs when you turn the TV off and slowly walk over to him.

“Yum,” you say as you sit down, eyeing the spread before you. It looks like he didn’t leave out a single food group. 

You reach for a decorative strawberry that’s resting on top of a picture perfect stack of pancakes, take it between your teeth and bite off a small piece. It’s fresh and surprisingly juicy. Preservatives, you think, then wrap your lips around the rest of it, suck on it a little before fluttering your eyelids up at Dean again.

He’s looking at you, still chewing, fork in one hand, knife in the other, like some kind of hungry man caricature. Just then, a drop of the syrup that the strawberries and pancakes are smothered in drops off your lip, runs halfway down your chin before you catch it with your finger and then lick it off the digit. Not planned, just fate being your girl.

Dean tosses the cutlery onto the table with a clang, looks to the side, finishes chewing, and then swallows.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, turning back to you, narrowing his eyes at you. You cock your head to the side a little.

“What am I doing?” you ask, voice all innocence. Dean scoffs.

“Walking around half naked, getting me all horned up,” he replies, raising his hand to point at you, “suckin’ off that strawberry. You’re punishing me for being an ass last night.” You raise your eyebrows.

“ Were you an ass last night?” you ask and Dean lets out a low sigh.

“I get it, okay?” he says, voice frustrated. “You’re the boss and I need to watch what I’m saying. Now can you… I don’t know, put something on or maybe, you know?” He sort of nods down at his crotch.

“It’s starting to hurt,” he adds with a pained expression. “Don’t be cruel.”

You’ve been listening, studying Dean intently, running your finger along your lip.

“So let me just make sure I get this straight,” you say slowly. “You’re not apologizing, but you do think I should blow you cause you’re getting a little too excited?” 

Dean shifts around, his expression slightly changing.

“Well,” he says, blinking a lot, “I wasn’t saying, you know, that, I was just making suggestions. Anything you wanna do.” And then he corrects his expression, almost makes it back to that perfect charmingness, but he’s just a little too off kilter to fully manage.

“We could do that thing you wanted to try,” he says, voice an attractive drawl and he raises his eyebrows in a clear attempt to flirt. “The thing with the thing?”

But you just keep looking at Dean.

“I’m not cruel, Dean,” you finally say, voice clear. “If I were cruel, I’d do something like this.”

With that, you lean back in your chair, bring one foot up and set it on the seat. You take a slow breath, your chest rising and falling, Dean’s eyes shooting to your breasts. 

Then you move one hand, bring it to between your thighs, where the lacy thong is just barely covering you. You run your fingers along that part of yourself, fingertips gently glazing the fabric and your skin underneath. 

You’re sitting about 90 degrees around the table from Dean, and his eyes widen when he sees what you’re doing. Some words form on his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. You run your other hand up your thigh, beginning to get yourself in the mood.

“Babe,” Dean half whispers, half breathes, his eyes pinned to your fingers moving between your legs, but he doesn’t continue. You elect to ignore him.

The hand running up your thigh goes to your torso, further up, squeezing your breast through your shirt as you let your head drop back, focus on the feeling your other hand is igniting in you. You hum a little, begin slightly rolling your hips.

You close your eyes. It’s Dean you imagine, of course, Dean’s hands you wish were touching you, finding your nipple, gently circling your clit.

Dean moves, you hear, his chair being pushed back, and your eyes fly open. He’s standing, and you look up at him through your lashes. As he slowly takes a few steps to cross the distance to you, you let your eyes roam over him, from his chest rising and falling to the bulge in his boxers. He’s slightly shaking his head at the sight of you, and then he gets to his knees in front of you.

His eyes are on your lace covered pussy and he leans in. For a second, you almost let him. But the lesson hasn’t been learned yet. So you move the foot you raised on the seat of the chair and push it against his shoulder as he comes close, stopping him from moving in.

“Sweetheart, come on,” he says, voice sounding desperate. “ Anything. ” But you shake your head.

“No,” you say, continuing your touching. “This pussy is only for boyfriends who don’t act like this is the 50’s, and who don’t make me feel bad for wanting to look after them.” Dean clenches his jaw.

“Don’t do this to me,” he replies, voice barely under control.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” you reply, pausing for a small, only half-theatrical moan. “Sucks when someone tells you what to do. Or what you can’t do.”

Dean’s hands go out and he grabs two of the legs of the chair you’re on, drags it and you forwards a few inches. You gasp, your hand movements stopping, Dean’s face suddenly much closer to you, between your legs but still looking up at you.

“I don’t give a shit, okay?” he says, but strangely, he doesn’t sound angry. He’s imploring you. His face is tense but his eyes are soft. You look at him intently.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean continues, when he sees you’re listening to him. “I get it’s fucked up. I get it’s unfair. I still don’t give a shit.” 

“Dean–” you say, voice placating, but Dean is faster.

“I can’t lose you,” he says, and there’s a sudden rush of emotion in his voice, a slight mistiness in his eyes at his own words. “And I don’t care if I’m not reasonable, and I don’t care if that means I’m sometimes not nice. Nice doesn’t protect you. Nice gets you killed.”

He swallows heavily, not dropping his gaze and you feel a painful twinge in your heart.

“And that’s not an option,” he finishes. You feel your brows pulling together.

“Baby,” you say, feeling your resolve soften, “nothing bad’s gonna happen just cause I go after some asshole ghost.” But Dean’s already shaking his head. 

“You don’t understand,” he continues, voice urgent, and you can hardly believe that’s true, but you let him continue.

“If I let my guard down, bad things will happen,” he says, now slightly raising his chin, maybe in an attempt to starve off his own emotions. “You think a guy like me finds a girl like you and bad shit isn’t just waiting around the next corner? You think I don’t get tha–”

“Stop it,” you say, voice soft but clear. You reach the hand that was between your legs out, cup Dean’s cheek in the hope you can ground him in the moment. 

Dean’s eyes fall shut immediately. Now that you’ve allowed him to breach the distance, he leans in, presses his face against your still raised leg while a shuddering exhale leaves him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter. “I’m sorry.”

“Come here,” you mumble, pull him in a little. Dean follows your movement like you have the strength of a truck. He moves closer, lets his lips graze along the inside of your leg, then leans further in and presses his head against the space under your breasts, deep, heavy breaths leaving him.

“It’s okay,” you say, running both hands through his hair now, soothing him. “It’s okay.”

Dean starts kissing you the next moment. He blindly starts pressing his lips against you there, your skin still separated from him by your t-shirt, but then he wanders lower. His lips find their way closer to your core, with him landing kisses everywhere he can reach.

He can’t reach your pussy with the way you and him are positioned, not comfortably at least, but he gets his face as close as possible, kisses the lace and skin all over, groaning when he must pick up the smell of your arousal.

“Fucking love you so much,” he mutters, his hands going to your legs, fingers pressing into the skin of your thighs.

“Dean, look at me,” you say, still stroking his head, and he looks up at you, lids low, face soft. You look at him for a moment, love so violent it’s gonna crash and burn you flaring up in your heart. “Let’s go to bed.”

You stand, drag Dean up by the arm. He follows you, half stumbles, and even though the bed is right there, he’s unable to keep his hands off you even in that short interval. He grabs your hips, pulls you back against him, kisses your shoulder, hands pawing at you.

You reach the bed and Dean urges you onto it. You crawl on top of it and Dean follows, but then he grabs your hips again, makes you stop. You look over your shoulder just in time to see him settle low on his knees and the next moment, his mouth goes to your ass cheek.

He kisses the skin there, open-mouthed, needily and you stop moving, let your eyes fall shut, let Dean do his thing like only he can do his thing. He tongues and laps and then bites at your ass, making a pornographic gasp come out of you and your entire body respond to him. Dean shifts, and then one hand pulls down your thong, pulls it down to where it rests suspended between your knees, before one of his arms slings around you. His thick fingers find your pussy and he starts rubbing your clit.

For a moment, there’s no air in your lungs, nothing there to carry any of the sounds you want to make out of you. Dean’s touch is precise and just a tad too much for a second, but your lower body bucks once and then you settle into it. 

He has three fingers rubbing away at you, finding the nerves that seem to be directly connected to the ones in your brain, while he kisses the skin of your ass again. A long moan leaves you a second later, air finally flooding back into you.

“Oh, fuck, Dean,” you moan, rocking back against him, Dean going along with your movement like a rodeo cowboy trying not to be thrown off, except you’re not trying to throw him off, you’re just trying to feel more of him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dean pants, “tell me how it feels.” 

You’re trying to come up with the appropriate adjectives through the headrush the intense, perfect stimulation is giving you when Dean kisses you again, and then again, and you realize, with a thrill of deep, erotic anticipation, that he is working his way closer to your asshole.

“Yes, keep going, baby,” you sigh and Dean swirls his tongue closer to his goal. “That’s perfect.”

Another gasp leaves you as Dean’s tongue finds your tightest hole, followed by a deep, uncontrolled groan as he starts stimulating you from both ends.

Within seconds, you’re moaning so loudly you’re pretty sure it could wake the dead. You reach one hand behind you to find the back of Dean’s head, push it closer against you. His tongue prods at you, setting deep, intense pleasure free.

“That’s so good, baby,” you pant and Dean starts pressing his tongue deeper, starts circling his fingers quicker, the two fists of pleasure building from these points becoming bigger and bigger until it feels like they’re meeting in the middle.

You’re pretty sure your eyes roll up when your orgasm hits you, and you’re also pretty sure, or would be, if your brain was still capable of any higher functions, that someone walking past the room would probably think you’re in the process of being murdered. Your entire body shakes, but you are so perfectly caught between Dean’s arm wrapped around you and his face. It’s intense and it feels like it’s lighting up every part of your body and like it goes on for much longer than should be physically possible.

When your body finally slumps down in exhaustion, Dean gently drops you and you just barely manage to roll onto your back. Your chest is heaving and it feels like you’re vibrating. Your eyes are closed, and you’re pretty sure you have the biggest fucked-out grin in the world on your face.

Dean moves and you blink your eyes open. He’s running his mouth over the shoulder of his t-shirt, and then looks down at you.

“Darlin’--” he starts, but you shake your head.

“Shut up,” you say, still a little breathless. “Take off your clothes and fuck me.”

To be fair, the taking off his clothes part, to you, is completely optional. Dean could go and put on a bunny suit right now and you wouldn’t care as long as you can feel his cock inside you as soon as possible. But clever guy that he is, he gets the gist.

Dean’s hands fly to the back of his head and half a second later, he’s pulling his t-shirt off. He’s already climbing over you while he’s pushing down his boxers.

“Don’t know how long I’m gonna last with how worked up you got me,” he says, using one hand to pull the thong the rest of the way off you, but you shake your head, move your hands to pull your own shirt off yourself. Then you angle one of your legs up high against your body.

“Don’t care,” you say, hands reaching out to him. “I just need to feel you.”

Dean’s body is covering yours a blink of an eye later. He kisses you deeply immediately, and his closeness makes you buzz. He’s so warm and soft everywhere he’s touching you. That surprised you, when you first got to touch him - how soft Dean is. His skin, his hair, the way he looks into your eyes when he’s balls deep inside of you. Who’d have thought. 

Dean needs to break the kiss a second later to look down between your bodies. You angle your leg up, higher, so that it’s held up by his shoulder, while the other you sling around him. His arm moves while he finds himself, and you land a kiss on his cheek.

“Fucking put it in me, baby,” you breathe in his ear and Dean groans before he shifts once more, and then you can feel his hard thickness press against your entrance. 

He starts pressing into you with a deep groan and you can feel him twitch in response to your wet heat. He gives you the first couple of inches, then pulls out a little, pushes further in.

“That’s fucking it,” he groans, eyes squeezed shut. He leans down again, presses his forehead to yours and you hold him close. “Needed that.”

Dean ruts himself into you until he’s fully seated, then sighs deeply. When he’s as deep in you as he can be, he opens his eyes, looks into yours. You bite your lip, look up at him, and Dean starts moving, slowly, diligently.

He pulls out only a little, pushes in again, rolling his hips but his movement almost stutters from how much he’s holding himself back. You get that - scratching an itch is only really satisfying if you can fully go at it, rake your fingernails over the offending spot. If someone softly blows on it that only makes it worse. So you let your hand wander to the back of his neck, make him focus on you. 

“Fuck me, baby, really fuck me,” you breathe. “Like you wanted to in that basement yesterday. When you wanted to put me in my place for being such a meddling bitch. Show me how you take care of me.”

Dean blinks, slows. Looks into your eyes, like he wants to make sure you’re being totally serious. He must see that you are.

He pushes himself up. One hand goes to the back of your thigh, pressing you open, the slight burn of the position titillating, making you feel like you can’t escape him, not that you’d want to. His other hand goes to your waist, palm flat against you so his weight pushes you down into the mattress. He pulls out slowly, lets you feel every inch of perfect drag and then slams right back home.

“That’s what you want?” he pants, but you barely hear him over the loud moan that leaves you at that first captivating thrust. “Want me to fucking show you who’s boss?”

Dean pistons his hips, pumping into you hard and deep, and your hands go flying out, looking for purchase as half horny chuckle, half whine leaves you. One grabs the bedding below you, the other finds his lower arm, fingernails digging in.

“Yes!” you gasp, the stimulation nearly making you go dumb. “Yes, yes, Dean, like that!”

By leaning mostly on you, Dean can drive into you fast and hard. Your head drops back as you flip between moaning and whimpering, unable to say anything else. You’re held perfectly in place by his weight, can only lie there and take what he’s giving.

“Fucking mouthing off to me,” Dean pants, upper lip pulled up in a snarl as his eyes go from where his cock is opening you up to your bouncing tits to your face, screwed up in brutal pleasure. “Being smart. I’ll show you.”

Dean’s balls are slapping against your ass, loud in your ears and your mouth is ripped open as he ignites you. He groans on each exhale, a purely animalistic sound, as his length and girth drive you higher with a precision that is deadly.

He moves the hand that is holding up your leg, which is now only held up by his torso, and brings it to your pussy, presses his thumb against your clit, rubs the pad of his finger over your nub of nerves until you're twitching and moaning.

“Come on, I know you wanna come again,” he pants, not letting up. “Want to come on my cock, don't you? That's what you wanted the whole time?”

You squeal and pull your legs in as you come again, nearly keening as your body is rocked back and forth my Dean's rough fucking. Your eyes squeeze shut, warmth and overwhelming pressure and pleasure exploding outward from where Dean is taking such thorough care of you. You nearly go cross-eyed.

Dean moans loudly at you gripping him, and then, his dead giveaway that he's about to come, he leans in again, kisses you, his soft lips desperately latching onto yours.

“Love you, fucking love you,” he almost whispers, and then his thrusts become uncoordinated and a long whimpering sounds leaves him as he presses his face against your neck and spills inside of you.

Dean grinds into you a few more times, still moaning, and you bring your hands up to run them over his back, fingertips pressed into his skin, up to his neck which makes him shudder. Then, you just hold him, listen to the small noises he still makes. He gets so vocal. It's one of your favorite things about him.

He moves much too early, shifts, and you make a complaining noise.

“Just gotta pull out, darlin’,” he drawls, the way he always drawls when he just came hard. You consider that a sign of a job well done. You made me nut so hard I lost all my g’s, he once said to you early in your relationship. You dropped your head back and laughed.

Dean pushes himself up, just enough that he can slip out of you, then immediately lies back down on you again. You grunt at his weight, but it's all worth it for how close he presses himself to you, arms wrapped around you, soft lips pressed against the spot behind your ear, warm breath fanning down your neck.

“You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?” he mutters, and you grin to yourself, run your hand over the back of his head.

Dean's come has mostly dripped out of you and adding your own juices to that, you start getting shifty.

“Let me clean up,” you say and Dean reluctantly untangles himself from you.

To your surprise, he follows you to the bathroom. As you sit to pee, he grabs a towel, cleans himself, then tosses it over the side of the tub. You don't even bother raising your eyebrows at him - you're all love hormones right now.

Dean grabs his boxers and you take his t-shirt, and then the two of you congregate in bed again, but not before Dean grabs a selection of some of the breakfast food you still have out on the table. Most of it is cold, but the two of you pick at it out of sheer hunger, talking about what tastes best, what you like, feeding each other little morsels and sucking any leftovers off the other one's fingers. It's light and easy. But there's one more thing you have to say.

“You know,” you say after a while, looking at Dean, “I don’t crash headfirst into hepatitis infected basements cause I think it’s fun.” 

Dean gives a careful chuckle, but lets you talk. 

“I do it,” you continue, “because I feel the exact same way you do. So don’t you dare pretend for even a second that I don’t understand what you go through.”

Dean is still chewing on something, but he studies you while he does. He reaches for a napkin, runs it over his mouth.

“I know,” he finally says. “I get that, I do. And I know I can't expect you to act differently than I do.” You nod, wait for him to continue, thinking there's a but coming.

But there's not. He simply reaches his hand out, takes yours. Then he looks up, into your eyes, holds your gaze.

“I love you,” he says, like he hasn't said it a thousand times, like he really wants you to hear him. 

“I love you too, baby,” you say and he nods, still looking at you. Then he leans in, kisses you on the lips and a second later, his arm is around you and he's dragging you down onto the bed.

You giggle, then shuffle around until you're comfortable, both of Dean's arms wrapped around you, his lips pressed to the top of your head. With a sigh, you close your eyes.

Maybe this is the price. Maybe the payment for loving someone is to be worried shitless for them. 

And maybe that's a lesson even Dean Winchester has to learn someday.

[mccquack]

Hii! If you read any, do you have any bucktommy fic recs?

hi anon! here are some of my fave bucktommy fics to date, these are also some of my favourite authors in this fandom so make sure to check out all their other bucktommy fics too!

there's a bunch of amazing fics and authors i haven't included so you can also check out my bookmarks on ao3

Under 10k

Archimedes' Principle by @rcmclachlan [3.2k, E]

well, that's the reason why i'm here by @firehose118 [6k, T]

Misperception by @emphasisonthehomo [7.3k, M]

lover to burn by @alchemistc [10k, E]

10k - 30k

fever's high with the lights down low by @kirkaut [11.7k, E]

Inside, You've Got Heaven and Earth by @cecilyv, @liminalmemories21 [11.9k, E]

the long way home by @leashybebes [13.1k, E]

The 36 Questions That Lead to Love by @robinminustherichard [13.3k, T]

close to home, but far away by @callofthecurlew [13.4k, G]

I sabotage and break my own heart, just in case by @harmonic-intervention [16k, T]

red-eyes & blue eyes by @politenotice [series; 17.9k, E]

one way trip to the sun by @newtkelly [21.5k, E]

Bop it, Twist it, Pull it by @al-the-remix [21.6k, E]

A tunnel to crawl through by @geddyqueer [25.4k, E]

leave that vision of hell to the dying by @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat [28.6k, T]

jpl!buck by @middyblue [series; 29k, E]

30k - 50k

love seems to stick in his veins by @athenaeumsfic [30.5k, M]

a wolf without a foot by @screamlet [34k, M]

pinch-hit hero by @ashesandhalefire [35.2k, E]

Like good sex, painfully softly (Bucktommy D/s series) by @mi1kc0ffee [series; 39.4k, E]

the shaky things we've seen by @fyrehose [42k, M]

Won't You Come By and See Me (I'm a Love Letter Away) by @dharmaavocado [42.1k, T]

Where It Wasn't Supposed to Be by @princessfbi [45.7k, E]

Over 50k

Want by @ohjafeeljadefinitelyfeel [series; 60.5k, E]

you may find yourself (in another part of the world) by indigostohelit [66.3k, E]

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 4 of the Danny is Tim's 99th attempt at cloning Kon. A 3 year old Danny finally meets his not dead anymore template.

[Pt 3: here] [Pt 5:Here]

Danny is so nervous he feels like he's going to throw up. His Template, who was dead and now isn't, is coming over to meet him. He knows his dad wouldn't let the guy near if he thought he'd react poorly to Danny, and Danny is excited about maybe having an adult (barely, technically, since he's 18) to help him figure out his new alien heritage, but he's still scared shitless. He wants this to go well so badly.

"Danny," Tim sighs in fond exasperation, "Come here, sweetheart."

Danny floats himself into dad's lap, tucking himself to his chest.

"Kon has been just as nervous to meet you." Tim kisses the top of Danny's head, just before Danny turns a wide-eyed look towards him. "He's the sweetest himbo and has been gushing about meeting you, but he's terrified you won't like him."

"Rweally?"

"Yeah, one of his deepest desires and deepest traumas is his want of family. But he doesn't want to pressure you into accepting any sort of relationship with him." Tim explains before cracking a sardonic smile. "Which is a big mood. I'm pretty sure most of the younger heroes have imposter syndrome."

"Why?"

"For many reasons. Kon was, and sometimes still is, discriminated against and frankly abused for being a clone. I forced my way into the Wayne family and was repeatedly told I didn't belong. Jason never had a stable life. Damian was a rape baby and raised in the LoA til he was 10. Dick was kicked out by Bruce once he aged out of fostering age. Jason's "not" boyfriend, Roy, was shunned for developing a drug habit after gaining significant trauma." Tim lists off. "A lot of the younger heroes couldn't lean on the adults in their lives, and it leaves scars. We've all found our footing, and deserve everything good we have in our lives, but the feeling of unworthiness is hard to escape."

Danny hugs his dad around the neck. He knew some of this dad and co lore, but it makes him sad each time. No one in his new family family has had easy lives, but are still so nice.

Tim suddenly looks mischievous, "All that to say, Kon has been texting me all morning about what he should wear, do I actually think you'll like him, if he should bring a gift or would you think he's bribing you to like him-"

"Tim!" A guy whines as he enters. He's wearing a leather jacket over a band t-shirt and black jeans. He clothes don't hide how he's shredded and probably 6 inches, at least, taller than Tim. He's holding a puzzle box and looks flustered and embarrassed.

"It's true!" Tim grins at the newcomer, before adjusting his angle to give Danny a slightly better view. "Danny, this is Kon, your DNA donor. Kon, this is my- our son, Danny."

Danny shyly waves as a blushing Kon sputters and protests Tim's choice of introductions.

"What? I did all the work, you just provided the DNA. Maybe if there's a next time, I'll let you help." Tim teases, and is hilariously oblivious to the gutter Danny can see Kon's mind drop into.

Danny has found his dad to be absolutely oblivious to anytime someone is into him, outside of Ra's. Danny watched so many people try to shoot their shot, and Tim cluelessly rebuff them. Danny thought he was doing it on purpose at first, but soon realized, no, his dad just has low self-esteem and truly doesn't think anyone finds him desirable. It's as funny as it is sad.

"So mean." Kon pouts before holding up the puzzle box for Danny to see the design. It's a thousand piece nebula puzzle. "I ended up getting you this puzzle. Tim- Your dad told me you love space and are super smart, so I thought you'd enjoy this puzzle."

Danny blinks, looking between the barely adults, before deciding to be funny. He says in his gravest voice. "So you chose bribery."

Danny gets the glorious view of Kon's face dropping in shock. Tim is literally shaking as he tries not to laugh, knowing Danny is pulling the guy's leg. The Drakes let him flounder for a moment, trying to find a response to that, before Danny can't help giggling, which pushes Tim over the edge and start cackling, startling Kon into silence.

"You should have seen your face!" Tim wheezes.

Kon gets a dopey look on his face. "You're just messing with me."

Danny nods with a grin. He wiggles to be put down, which Tim complies with, still giggling. Danny trots up to his template.

"You're silly." Danny informs him before holding his arms up and demanding. "Up!"

Kon quickly sets the puzzle on an end table near him before picking Danny up. He looks a little nervous when Danny stares hard at his face. "Um?"

Danny takes in all the shared features between them, some harder to see with the 16 year age difference, but it's sort of soothing to see. He gets distracted when he notices Kon's piercings, gasping and taking a closer look.

"How!?" He excitedly, but gently grabs Kon's ear piercings. Danny had gotten similar ear piercings when he was a ghost, and he misses them, but figured he wasn't going to be able to get them done in this body. It being nearly indestructible and all.

"Oh, my piercings?" Danny nods, leaning forward to take a closer look. "I'm sure you noticed it's hard to hurt us, but there's a rock called kryptonite, and depending on the colour, different things can happen."

"I thought kryptonite just hurt?" Danny asks, pulling back to look at Kon's face.

"It can. Green kryptonite is the most common, and it will hurt you. It turns off your powers and slowly poisons you, and if not taken away quickly, can kill us. Gold kryptonite is the rarest type and will permanently remove kryptonian abilities and usually leaves permanent injuries. So please do your best to avoid those types." Kon explains, "Red kryptonite should probably also be avoided, it makes kryptonians angry and turns off your inhibitions, but it won't technically hurt you to be exposed to it. The last colour I know of is blue. Blue kryptonite doesn't harm you or mess with your mental abilities. It just turns off all of your kryptonian abilities for however long it touches your skin. I have a blue kryptonite necklace I wear whenever I want tattoos or piercings."

Danny turns pleading eyes to his dad. "Can I get ear piercings??"

Danny can't help, but notice an infatuated smile on Tim's face before the man huffs a laugh and walks over. He runs a hand through Danny's hair.

"If you still want them when you're 5, I'll let you." Tim hums, "I don't want it to be an impulsive decision, and people will be less weird about a five year old getting their ears pierced. You might still get weird looks since you're a boy, but that's their problem, not yours."

"Okay!" Danny cheers. He hasn't told his dad about his past life/afterlife, so he can understand the hesitance over letting 3 year old get a body mod, even if it's just a single set of ear piercings, on what seems like a whim. He's honestly surprised he only has to wait til he's 5. Tim can be a bit of a helicopter parent, but then again, Tim really wants Danny to be his own person, never once shaming him for not fitting into a mold.

His aunts and uncles and grandpa have all made comments when they think he can't hear about how different or similar he is to Kon. Or when he shows gender non-conforming interests. Tim gets mad at them anytime he realizes Danny heard them. He doesn't want Danny to feel bad about any of it. Siting that "no shit" there's going to be similarities and differences, that's how children work, clone or not, and how gender is a social construct. He usually starts picking apart all of his siblings' behaviors at that point, pointing out what they inherented from Bruce, what is trauma born, and what's uniquely their's so he assumes they're from their respective parents, as well as all the things they do that don't fall under what society thinks their gender should do. It's funny, but also very nice. Danny loves his dad.

The true question right now, though, is: will he love, or even just like, his template? Danny doesn't hate what he's heard and seen so far, but actual fondness or affection needs time.

"How about we head to the gym?" Tim says, "Kon can show you some of his powers."

"Can I fly higher?" Danny isn't allowed to fly more than 4 feet in the air. Which is annoying, but fair. Again, he's 3.

"Only if you stay in arm's reach of Kon when you do."

"Okay!!" Danny cheers, purposely flailing around. Kon's hold on him tightens slightly to make sure he doesn't fall, but it's not painful. Another point to the DNA donor. That's about five in his favour during this interaction alone.

"Already flying, little man?" Kon grins.

"Yeah!"

"He figured out how to fly before how to run." Tim chuckles, "Now he does both any chance he gets. It keeps things lively."

"I imagine." Kon's grin turns a little gooey, before letting himself float and zip to the gym. "Let's have so fun!"

Danny can't help his chuckles. Kon flies there faster than Danny's allowed currently. It's fun!

Danny also can't help but notice Tim isn't in a rush to catch up. Meaning Tim fully trusts Kon with Danny's life. That's a trust that took the rest of the family months to gain, even though Tim knew they wouldn't hurt him. Danny isn't sure what to make of that knowledge, but it definitely makes him more inclined to like his template.

And by dinner time, Danny does genuinely like the guy. He respects everything Tim and Danny have to say, shows Danny a bunch of fun tricks with their powers, and let's Danny lead their games. He's fun, nice, and most importantly, not creepy. He clearly likes his dad in a more than friends way, but is hesitant to act on it, clearly not wanting to fuck up with either Tim or Danny.

Unfortunately for Danny, he can see Tim likes Kon back, but his dad is an idiot and doesn't realize it. So now he has to figure out how to get his dad to realize he's into his template without it being weird.

But really, what was Danny expecting? Trying to clone your "best friend" a hundred times isn't exactly hetero behavior. He decides he's going to enlist Uncle Damian and Uncle Jason. It's for his dad's own good at this point.

He also debates on if he's going to try to parent trap them. He likes Kon, but he doesn't know him well enough to commit to the bit just yet. He'll decide later, once he knows more.