#frog baby blanket

[tj-crochets]

Another project finished from my giant stack of partially finished objects! It’s a froggy flannel baby blanket

[angelmush]

i want to cast on a new sweater soooooooooo baddddddddd but i have to finish knitting at least ONE thing ive started first bc of gifting deadlines and also i want to be disciplined and i am a completionist and i hate abandoning projects 🥺

[dove-da-birb]

Finally, I can make that fish bastard themed blanket

[politedemon]

very very smart of me to start a pattern without checking how much yarn i'll need to complete it and to do it in a limited edition yarn that will never be sold again

[featherystims]

Beanky, my baby blanket from real life stimboard !!

0 0 0 || 0 0 0 || 0 0 0

(that's actually them in the photo !! ^^)

[butterflies-and-bumble-bees]

Absolutely

i hope i never ever ever see this image while im high or it will also straight up kill me. it would make me so scared my skeleton would run away And id be a boneless scared heap on the ground

[kittlyns]

Started attempting a small frog stuffy for the baby as well (using leftover yarn from the blanket omg it was gonna be so cute) BUT the pattern got so complicated and there's supplies I need that I don't have so I'm gonna have to scrap it for now 🥲🫡🐸

[xyaehir]

“hold still!” —

SYP — self care night w ur sweet bf!

GEN. — fluff, crack

WARN. — gn!reader, male characters

REQ. — “Hi! Can I mayb request a skincare or spa day for any blue lock characters? If you don’t except this req, that’s totally fine! Thanks anyway!!!”

NOTES. — omg xyae!!! you finally posted!! no need for the applause guys 🙄🙄 also, i know some characters like reo, childe, kaeya etc would already know about skincare but we’re gna ignore that kay 😛

“stop moving!”

“i can’t help it, you’re smothering my face with this — this cleanser stuff!”

you sigh in mock annoyance, reaching your clean fingers to adjust the frog headband sitting on his hairline.

“do you do this everyday?” he tilts his head, squinting his eyes when you continue rubbing the product on his cheeks.

you hum in agreement, “its a way of taking care of your skin. you know, getting it to clear up.”

“my skin’s just fine. i just wash it with soap and not this — ‘hydrating cleanser’ stuff,” he rolls his eyes, using his fingers to air quote.

“how the hell do you have such nice skin when you wash it with hand soap?” you deadpan.

“genetics? i don’t really know,” he shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning into your gentle touch.

you hum. “ok, go wash this off,” you trail off, turning your back and grabbing the masks and serums. “so we can start with these!” you beam.

his eyebrow twitches.

“what’s that for?” he cocks a brow, pointing at the small package on your lap. “you’ll see in a sec,” you smile, tearing it open.

walking over, you adjust his cute sanrio headband again before gently placing the face mask on his face. he shivers but before he could open his mouth to complain or make some sassy quip, you slap a lip mask on his face.

that was 30 minutes ago.

now you’re stuck on the floor with a sleepy man twice your size, quite literally squeezing the life out of you.

“babe, we were supposed to take the masks off like 10 minutes ago,” you sighed, patting his head. you hear him grumble, mumbling incoherently.

“i’ll do it then, stay still,” you smiled softly, reaching for your mask and then his masks. “tilt your head back a bit.” he complies and you reach for the serum bottles.

applying a small drop of serum on his forehead and cheeks, you take notice of how his eyebrows furrow slightly at the cold liquid.

“it’s a lil cold,” you chuckle, kissing his forehead before spreading the serum all over his face.

he hums sleepily, voice breaking softly as his eyes flutter close.

it’s quiet for a while, before..

SLAP!

“oww!” he yelps, eyes flying open as he sits up hastily. “why are you slapping me?” he manages to get out in between slaps. you hum, “it helps your skin to absorb the product better.”

he side eyes you.

you hear him groan. ignoring it, you continue with your skincare routine. “ugh!” he groans, way louder and more exaggerated. you feel your eyebrow twitch.

by the time you chose to stop ignoring his whining, he’d already kicked the blankets off the bed.

“what do you want? i already finished your skincare so just go to bed,” you sigh, reaching for your eye cream.

“yea but when are you gonna finish?” he asks softly. ‘i can’t sleep without you.’

you smile at him through the vanity mirror.

“baby, just one more thing alright?” the sleeping mask you reach for clatters on the table softly. “five more minutes. can you wait for me, hon?”

he hums tiredly, standing up and making his way behind you.

he kneels down, wrapping his arms gently but securely around your waist and rests his head on your back. “hurry up, w’na hold you so bad.”

your heart flutters and your movements stutter. you gulp, patting the product into your pink cheeks.

you both slept horribly that night since he fell asleep holding you and you couldn’t drag his heavy ass to bed.

— (bllk) NAGI, sae, REO, rin (genshin) KAEYA, CHILDE, xiao, venti, ITTO (star rail) sampo, JING YUAN (haikyuu) SUNA, tsuki, OIKAWA, KUROO (KNY) TANJIRO, giyu, sanemi (assclass) KARMA, ISOGAI () YOUR FAVES

@xyaehir 2024. This is my content, inspired or not. Do not translate, copy or plagiarise my works in any way. Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated. <3

[lacedinweb22]

Miguel babies you when you’re sick ⁺‧₊˚ boyfriend headcanons Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader  

nsfw 18+ towards end

⊹ At the first sign of a cold, he’s on it, forcing you to stay on the couch, drink water, and take zinc supplements every three hours. You tell him to stay away, but he insists that his immune system will fight it off, which always proves true. He wraps you up in blankets and cuddles you. 

⊹ You’ll dig your face in his neck, groaning and complaining about the aches you feel all over, while he massages your neck dipping his fingertips up into your hair, massaging your neck, then tracing down to your back. His hands are so strong, he effortlessly gives you the best massages of your life. He whispers into your hair, “Sana sana colita de rana. Dame un besito para hoy y mañana” (Heal heal little frog's tail. Give me a little kiss for today and tomorrow).

⊹ He’ll make you soup, bringing it to you in a mug so you can sip on it as he wraps you up in his arms while you watch your favorite comedy together. He’ll give you endless kisses on your head as he holds you. 

⊹ As you’re curled up against his chest, kissing his neck gently, he’ll massage your thighs, which eventually progresses to his face in between your thighs as he wants so desperately to make you feel good when you feel so shitty. 

⊹ He’ll drink you up. He’ll place gentle kisses around your heat, before going straight to town, lapping at your core as you arch your back against the blankets under you, moaning and whining from the pleasure, the much-needed release of tension from your body. As he sucks gently on your sensitive bud, his hands explore your thighs then go up under your t-shirt and onto your belly, as he squeezes, and massages your warm flesh. His fingers massage your lower belly, making you more sensitive, bringing you your orgasm, the first of many. 

⊹ He runs you a hot shower and joins you, carefully lathering soap all over you, his big hands massaging your aching body. He sits down on the ledge, rubbing soap onto your thighs, hips, and stomach, then tracing his big hands up to your breasts, gently massaging as he looks up at you lovingly. He gets back up and urges you to turn around so he can rinse the soap from your hair. He gently combs his lengthy fingers through your locks then moves your hair, giving himself access to your neck, kissing and sucking gently on wet skin. “I’m sorry you’re sick, cariño,” he mutters into your neck. “Make me feel better,” you whisper back, pressing your ass against him. He does just that, turning you back around so he can kiss you, and press you up against the tile wall. He holds your thigh against his hip, opening you up, and thrusting up into you slowly, gently, providing endless kisses, endless words of encouragement, “Like that, baby. Does that feel good, princesa? Am I making you feel better?” he’ll whisper, brushing your wet hair from out of your face. Your nails dig into the back of his biceps, as you look up at him, head thrown back against the tile, moans and heavy breathing echoing through the steamy bathroom. His tip massages up into your g-spot, his slow strokes bringing the blissful ache in your stomach down to your thighs, as you begin to c*m around him, throbbing as he bottoms out into you, muttering cuss words as his lips brush against your forehead. 

⊹ After your shower, he'll massage vaporub onto your neck and chest, then help you put on your pajamas (one of his t-shirts and sweats), then he’ll give you some hardcore cold medicine, the kind that is quick to knock you out. He insists you get in bed, but you want to watch more of your show. So he’ll oblige and spoon you sideways on his big couch as you both watch TV, his hands running all over you, under your t-shirt, massaging you, feeling you, actively trying to find ways to make you feel better. He’s propped up on one elbow as you lay in front of him. He eventually sees you’ve succumbed to the medicine and so easily carries you to bed.

[tj-crochets]

Frogs!!!!!!

[charliemwrites]

Woo woo woo snarf

Content: Privacy Invasion, Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior, Non-Con Touching, Dirty Talk

Things have been… wrong around the house. It’s been a slow escalation, a proverbial boiling of the frog. Glasses in the dish washer when you thought you left them in the sink. Blankets you left in a heap neatly folded. Food missing from the fridge and misplaced laundry.

Things you could write off as forgetfulness, as thoughtless habits borne of living alone for so long.

That is… until the t-shirt. It’s very clearly a man’s. Just… a white undershirt. But it’s not your size and smells unfamiliar even after a wash with your own clothes - like cologne or aftershave. Masculine.

Until the boot prints in the snow outside your house, still just visible even after Johnny unknowingly bounds through it.

Your mind scrambles to excuse it.

The t-shirt could be your ex’s. You did just pull out the winter gear; it could be left over from last year, something you didn’t manage to weed out. (Even if it smells nothing like your ex. Smells…. better.)

And you’re not far from some pretty popular hiking trails. Hikers sometimes pass through your yard. (Thought they never come that close to the house…. especially not since you got Johnny)

Johnny’s the only reason you haven’t gone full paranoid. He’s so protective, you can’t imagine anyone getting close to, never mind in, the house without him making a huge, bloody fuss.

Probably just cabin fever, you tell yourself. You need to go out more. Reach out to the friends you don’t see enough.

Johnny seems restless the first time you start dressing for a night out. You soothe him with a big hug.

“I’m just going to see Sarah and Mel. You like them, baby.” His ears perk, head tilting at the familiar names. You smile and press a kiss to the very top of his nose. “Next time I’ll have them come see you.”

When you come home, he’s torn up your favorite “date night” dress. You groan and scold him, but still allow him to plaster himself to your side when you climb into bed.

The next time you go out with them, you see a semi-familiar face in the little low-key bar. Soap. Can’t believe you remember his name months later, but then again he’s difficult to forget. Seared into your mind like a warning and a temptation. End up staring at him a little too hard, shocked to see him in the bar you and your friends have picked.

When he catches you looking, he grins like you’re an old friend, tips his head and his beer with a wink. Your friends notice, encourage you to say hi. But you wave them off, blushing, and they understand your introversion enough not to push.

He still manages to corner you when you go to the restroom. (Alone, for fucks sake. You should know better). All you see is a shadow in the hall, backlit by the bar. When you shift closer to the wall to let them pass, they turn and nearly pin you.

“Fancy seein’ you again,” a deep Scottish brogue rumbles. Too close to your ear; the bar music isn’t nearly loud enough to excuse it. “Out with your sister again?”

It takes you a second to recover, a bit shocked that he really does remember you. And far, far too aware of how close he’s standing, the heat of his body seeping into you.

“A couple friends, actually.”

“Still no boyfriend, eh? That pup o’ yours still a maneater like his owner?”

Your mouth drops open, offended and befuddled in equal measures.

“Wha— well, yes, he is. Not that it’s any of your business.”

He chuckles, eyes twinkling in the shadows. Amused and just a touch condescending. Your face floods with heat as he braces his arm on the wall above your head. He smells good, too good. Familiar?

“Prefer pussy m’self,” he says, “but most animals love me. Bet I could win you both over.”

You make an audible “agh!” noise, embarrassed by the crassness.

“Who says that?!” you protest.

He keeps talking, like you’ve said nothing at all.

“Promise I’d get your kitty purrin’ nice and loud if I pet ‘er,” he says, voice low and rough. “Play with ‘er all sweet like. Might even give ‘er a little kiss…”

The alcohol and having your friends nearby makes you brave.

“Not on your life.”

Again, he chuckles, fingers of his other hand skimming your side.

“Never say never, hen.”

You bite back a telling gasp. God it’s been way too long if you’re getting keyed up by this creep barely touching you.

It’s only because he’s sinfully hot and your pussy is a shallow bitch, you tell yourself.

“My friends are missing me,” you say, trying to extricate yourself.

He hums, steps closer before you can wriggle away, nearly pancaking you to the wall.

“I’m missing you.”

“You don’t know me enough to miss me,” you snort and push against his chest. He’s thick. Firm with conditioned muscle, broader than you realized in the dim - nearly dark - hall by the bathroom. If he didn’t want to move, you couldn’t make him.

But he finally relents, sidling a step back.

“Give me a chance to? Here.”

You don’t know where he gets a pen from, and he moves far too fast for you to stop before he’s tugging your shirt aside. You don’t know where he got a marker from but you feel the rough drag of it across your collarbone, the sting of it in your nose.

“Call me sometime and I’ll make good on my offer.”

He caps the pen, drops a kiss on your cheek like it’s his right, and swagger off - presumably to the restroom.

You scurry back your table, careful to hide whatever he wrote on your skin. It feels like it burns for the rest of the night until you get home.

Johnny greets you at the door with a huge canine smile. Again, focusing on all the spots where soap touched you. Unlike his usual reaction to the scent of unfamiliar men lingering on you, Johnny’s tail wags. You huff.

“Don’t you dare prove him right,” you huff, sidestepping your overgrown teddy bear to go to the bathroom. Your tug your shirt aside and stare at the phone number scrawled across your skin. There’s even a cheeky little heart at the end.

Johnny’s followed you, per usual, and you meet his eyes seriously.

“I know I told you that you’re only allowed to bite my ex….. but I might make an exception for a little nip.”

Johnny tilts his head as you begin stripping down, grumbling under your breath.

“Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to know how attractive they are. It’s fucking criminal.”

You start up the shower, about to step in, only for Johnny to start whining and crying. So loud and raucous that you almost think he’s been injured somehow. But no, he just staring up at you mournfully, ears back and tail down.

“Big baby,” you mock-scold, “what’s the matter, huh? You need me to keep you company while you potty?”

Johnny just keeps whining and crying so you roll your eyes and climb in, ignoring how he goes up in pitch. You scrub at the phone number aggressively, but even then the permanent marker has soaked into your skin and left a stain.

“Mother fucker…” you can barely hear yourself over Johnny. You finish up and whip the curtain open, hands on your hips. It must startle him because he pauses to stare.

“It’s a lot, bud. A lot,” you scold. “Too much, even.”

He subsides with one last grumble and seems to sulk for the rest of the night. Won’t even let himself be bribed with a treat. When you climb into bed with him, he faces away from you (even though he’s still plastered to your side).

“So dramatic,” you sigh affectionately, burying your face in his coat. He smells like pine. “It’s okay, though, big guy. You’re still the only one for me.”

In the morning, you find Soap’s number scrawled on a sticky note. Huh, you must have been a little tipsier than you thought.

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Masterlist

[bunnis-monsters]

I saw you wanted fluff so maybe naga husband and his chubby wife going on a picnic with their young hatchlings and he teaches them how to sit in the sun to digest food but mamas still a little sore from labor so she joins them!

You watch, walking slowly as your husband and chubby little hatchlings slither ahead of you. You’re just exhausted, wanting to rest, but staying cooped up in your husband’s den has got you going a bit stir-crazy.

He suggested a picnic, and usually he would carry you, but today he was a bit preoccupied with the children, making sure they stayed in line and didn’t start too far from the path.

You continued to waddle, wiping the sweat from your brow. It was hot and humid, but the picnic was right by a lake, meaning you’d be able to cool off!

As your husband laid out the blanket and fed the hatchlings, you dipped into the water for a quick swim, sighing in relief once you had cooled down a bit.

Unfortunately, the water seemed to chill you too much.

Your husband was purring, watching them swallow small mice and frogs, gently nuzzling their heads. He was a really affectionate father, not like the myths you had heard about nagas. He didn’t eat your young now send them off after birth, no, he nurtured and tough them his way.

“Come along, little ones. There’s a nice rock in the sun.”

As they slithered away, your teeth chattered, and you wanted to whine and complain to your husband so he’d coddle and kiss you.

But you knew he was just trying to take the responsibility of taking care of so many hatchling right after birth off of your shoulders, so you couldn’t be upset.

Instead, you watched, a bit intrigued as they sunbathed on a large rock, the little ones letting out satisfied coos. They weren’t like human babies, they came out slithering and able to eat entire animals whole… but there were still your babies, and watching them babble and stretch out in the sun gave you cuteness aggression.

You waddled to the rock. Your husband looked up for a moment, ready to do whatever you needed, but he settled back down when you curled up at his side.

“You’re cold…” he said softly, his forked tongue darting out to catch your scent.

“Yeah, that water was nice, but it felt like I was freezing when I stepped out.”

He nodded, nuzzling his face into your neck. The little ones whined and slithered to you, resting their heads on your soft belly and legs, wanting to be close to their mama.

The little family took a nap out in the sun together, all happy and warm.

———————

SFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @peachesdabunny @misswonderfrojustice @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @zyettemoon1800 @kassandra-hawthorne @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @readeryn68 @danielle143 @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @hammerhead96-blog @bubblez-blop @snugglyshoji @wanderlustingcastaway @amberexe2 @swasti8854 @an-ever-angry-bi

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Fourteen

“Steve,” Robin lets herself in the front door, “Steve!”

“Yeah, I’m through here,” Robin appears in the doorway just as Eddie blinks awake, “I’m sorry baby, we woke you up.”

Eddie looks a little bleary eyed, his usually deep chocolate brown eyes looking a little cloudy.

“Steve, what’s wrong, I was there when Keith answered the phone.”

“I’m fine Robs, it’s Eddie who’s a little under the weather,” and Steve couldn’t exactly explain to Keith that the fish-guy who’s living with Steve is coming down with something, so he had to put on his best flu ridden performance.

“Oh...is he okay? It’s not catching is it, like Upside Down rabies or something?” Steve sighs as Eddie shifts, making no effort to get up.

“Eddie does not have Upside Down rabies,” Steve can feel Robin eyeing them up, how snuggled they are on the couch under Eddie’s blanket. Steve watches as she takes in the movie on low, the only other light coming from the tree, the blinds half drawn, “come on baby,” and yeah, there goes Robins eyebrows, her mouth dropping open, “I’m going to go and make Robin a coffee,” Eddie clings tighter for a moment, but then allows Steve to slide out from under him, burrowing right into the corner of the couch the moment Steve’s gone.

“What’s up with him?” Robin asks, “is he okay?”

“He’s a little off his food,” Steve starts, fiddling with the coffee machine.

“And?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Steve...come on, no. You think I can’t tell when something's wrong? Tell me what’s up.”

Steve gives her her coffee, cradling one for himself as he leans on the kitchen counter. It’s getting dark outside already, the evenings coming in fast. Steve can just about see where the pool is covered over in the yard.

He can’t look at her as he speaks, he knows he’ll start to cry if he does.

“Eddie is...he’s like a tadpole. But the frog is a Demogorgon.”

“Holy shit!” Robin whisper hisses at him, “what are you going to do? Is it soon? Have you told anyone else? Steve, he could really hurt you, is it even safe for him to be here, you’re alone, if it just like, happens-”

“I haven’t told anyone else, and neither will you,” Steve glares at her, and Robin actually cowers a little.

“Steve...we really should tell someone else, Hopper might-”

“Hopper might shoot first and ask questions after. No.”

“But Steve-”

“Robs, stop, please. Please don’t do this, okay. Please.”

“But Steve-”

“I said no Robin. Eddie stays with me, that’s it. Whatever happens I’ll...deal with it.”

“Steve you...but you could get really hurt.”

I’m already really hurt, Steve doesn’t say. He just sips his coffee and breathes deep so he doesn’t loose it in front of Robin.

“Steve are you- you and Eddie I mean...I mean I know he’s your...friend and everything,” the careful way she says friend speaks fucking volumes, “and it’s upsetting but...you guys are pretty close? Already? You seemed real cosy when I walked in and you’re being pretty defensive over a creature from The Upside Down you’ve known for all of maybe three months is what I’m-”

“Robs.”

“Right, yeah but I mean...Steve, he’s a guy. And a fish. I mean…”

“I don’t think I’m going to spend any time worrying about either of those things Rob, considering he probably doesn’t have long.”

Eddies breathing is shallow, Steve’s sure it is. He’s certain Eddie is...fading, somehow. Steve only moves when he absolutely has to. He has gotten up to get a drink, but only because he felt a headache forming, and then to piss, but only out of desperation. Steve took one of these opportunities to check Eddie’s tail; the splits are longer, the tips starting to spread out into a loose star shape. And it’s dry, inflexible; like Eddie’s dying from the tip of his tail upwards.

Steve’s going to hold him through this, no matter what. The moment Steve slips back onto the couch, Eddie uses his last dregs of energy to, feebly, burrow into Steve.

He won’t eat; Steve’s tried everything, even offering a beer. Eddie refuses, but he can’t seem to let himself give up; he has to try, so frightened that Eddie might be in any kind of discomfort.

“Eddie, baby, will you have some food.”

Eddie sighs out a grumble, Steve lifting Eddie’s head carefully, trying to get Eddie to look at him; when Eddie does finally blink his eyes open, he’s sure they’re even less clear than before. They seem to be clouding over, turning milky.

“Food? Baby please, you haven’t eaten all day.”

Eddie sighs, voice dry and raspy, the first time Steve’s heard him speak for hours, “food bad.”

“Why, baby, why is food bad?” Eddie just shakes his head, trying to snuggle back against Steve’s chest. “Eddie, baby?” Steve’s voice breaks, but he tries not to cry, “baby, how long do you think?” Eddie looks at him, lifting his head slowly, “Eddie.” It hurts Steve on a visceral level, kills him inside to do it, but he brings his hands up to his face, pressing his palms to his cheeks and lacing his fingers over his face, he makes their sign for Demogorgon, “what time Demogorgon?”

“No, Eddidie no Demo-gor-gon,” he stumbles over the word.

“But you said you would change. Eddie grow into Demogorgon.”

Eddie shakes his head, “no food. No...Demo-gorgan. Dead later.”

“What? So if you don’t have food, you- Eddie. Eat food.” Sure, Eddie might turn into a Demogorgon, but there’s a chance he might retain some of himself, right? He might still be Eddie, and Steve is willing to take that chance.

“No. Demogorgon Eddidie food.”

“Yeah buddy, you said before, Demogorgon eat Eddie-”

Eddie sighs, clearly exhausted, but he leans over for his coloring book, just able to snag it off the coffee table; he turns to the purple dog. Steve doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before; it’s not just purple, it’s blue and black and all the colors of a Demodog. It’s fucking obvious actually, that that’s what it supposed to be.

“Eddidie eat Demo-gorgon. Eddidie Demogorgon. Eddidie eat,” and he points to the dog, “then Eddidie.”

“How, how though do you eat Demogorgon?”

“Safe dead later.”

Steve thinks, he’s heard Eddie say that before...the bee. Eddie said dead later when he knew the bee was sick, and, heartrendingly enough, he’s just said it about himself. Steve could be pulled under by the grief, he knows it, but he takes a breath and does his best to push it down. “You find one that’s going to die. It’s hurt or weak or...wait, so you need to eat some of the thing you’re going to turn into? Eddie eat this,” Steve points to the page, “then Eddie is this.”

Eddie nods.

“What if...what if you eat something else? What if...Eddie, how much of the Demogorgon do you need to eat? Many?”

Eddie shakes his head, makes their symbol for pea, finger and thumb, close together.

“Small, okay so what if...Steve Eddie food.”

“No. No Stee ow, no-” he protests weakly.

“Eddie,” Steve holds him, holds his face, “it’s only a small ow, please, please Eddie,” Steve starts to cry, he can’t help it. He cries as he begs, “please Eddie, I love you. Don’t go. Stay. Please, I love you. We have to try.”

“I love you too,” and Eddie’s crying. Steve’s never seen Eddie cry, his tears aren’t clear, they stain his cheeks a little, like weak coffee’s been spilled, the palest tear tracks on Eddie’s too white skin. Eddie’s tears smell like mown hay, like fresh cut grass. “Okay.”

“Okay, what else? Just food?”

Eddie shakes his head, pointing outside, “pool.”

That’s going to take hours to fill, most of the night, probably, “baby, would the tub be okay?”

“No. Pool.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve slips out from under Eddie, not bothering to waste time with a jacket, just shoves his bare feet into his sneakers and heads out, bracing for the cold.

It’s the middle of the night. Steve’s wrapped up now, but it’s still really cold. Hard drifts of still frozen snow rest up against the trees and pool furniture; gathered shiny white in all the nooks and crannies of the yard.

The sky is clear now, the stars defined and bright in that way they only ever are when it’s fucking freezing.

The pool is just over half full, but Eddie’s fading, and Steve won’t wait any more.

He carries Eddie out, draped in a blanket, “Eddie, this water’s going to be cold. Many many cold.”

“Cold good,” is all Eddie will say.

Steve’s terrified the water will freeze; that Eddie will get locked under the ice and drown. That this won’t work at all, that Eddie will turn into a monster that doesn’t recognize Steve- he tries desperately to push it all down. “Okay, now what?”

Steve’s standing right on the edge, Eddie suddenly struggles, and Steve, not expecting it, looses his grip on Eddie, and he’s slipping from the blanket and hitting the water with a loud splash. It’s so cold, just the sight of Eddie doing that makes Steve’s breath stutter in his chest in sympathy.

Eddie reappears quickly, and climbs back out half way, clinging to the pool steps as Steve takes his place sitting at the top of them, slipping off his sneaker, and then his sock.

“Small ow,” Eddie says, his voice quavering, he’s soaking wet, hair plastered down, skin shivering.

“Two,” Steve insists, “we need to make sure.”

By the time Eddie’s teeth pierce Steve’s flesh, he realizes he should have brought something to bite down on. It’s strange, he doesn’t feel it at first, not until after Eddie drops back into the water, immediately darting away to huddle at the deepest corner, furthest away.

It’s not until his blood drips into the water; swirling darkly in Eddie’s dissipating wake – that the pain really hits Steve. It’s the burning, stabbing kind. The energetic kind of pain that tells him there’s something really fucking wrong. Then he has to bite back a scream; it bubbles out as an anguished groan instead.

He regrets this instantly – not giving two of his toes to Eddie, not that, they have to try – but not being prepared. Steve is usually the one that plans, the one that thinks of things like this. Contingencies. He has nothing with him. He tries to staunch the bleeding with his sock, his fear for Eddie, temporarily at least, eclipsed with the blinding pain in his foot. Steve takes great shuddering breaths, the frigid air stinging his lungs, unable to control his breathing, and it suddenly occurs to him that this is going to need stitches.

Eddie didn’t fuck about; once he was in, he went all in, Steve’s two smallest toes on his left foot are gone right to the root.

Part Sixteen

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey hey, was wondering if you could do a headcannon for jason and dick when their s/o is sick cause im sick as hell rn and need some comfort <3

I hope you get better anon and I also hope that this gives you something to chuckle at in the meantime.

Jason:

He’s like a mother hen when your sick and it wouldn’t been funny…had you not been sick and forcibly bed bound by him.

‘Jason.’ You groaned. ‘I’m dying.’

Jason looks at you blankly. ‘Hi dying I’m Jason, now take your god damn medicine.’

He takes your recovery more seriously and makes sure that you take your medicine on time when they were needed. And if you were to make things difficult for yourself, he will straddle you if needs be just for you to take medicine that you were upset wasn’t grape flavoured…

Will tuck the blankets right under your chin if you’re feeling cold and if you were still feeling cold, he’ll offer you one of his warmer hoodies to wear in hopes that they’d stop.

He honestly can’t either you sometimes but has to remember that he loves you and that he’d stick by you no matter what, even if you do act like an outraged child when sick.

God sake do not ask him to get you ice cream when you’re sick, he will forbade you from eating that crap. You’re meant to be getting better, not worse.

He even makes you a nice warm soup amongst other foods to help you during your recovery process also.

Jason may seem strict in his methods in taking care of you but he means well and will apologise if he thinks he’s been a bit too much of a dick by sitting bedside and holding your hand, kissing it every so often.

‘I’m sorry if it seems like I’m being harsh chipmunk, I’m only trying to help.’ He’d say.

‘If you’re being sorry for being a dick, then it’s only fair that I say sorry for acting so childish when you’re only trying to help. And I really appreciate you for everything you’ve done for me.’ You’d reply as you both let out a chuckle before you allowed Jason to take care of you without any complaints to be made.

You get better by the end of the week and Jason spoils you by letting you have all the ice cream you could dream of, but please for his sake don’t eat it too fast and get brain freeze.

Dick:

Will let you eat ice cream because how can he say no to your sad, sick face.

Even when sick Dick spoils the hell out of you.

Does not make the situation any better in all honesty.

He’ll probably take more offence that you were sick than yourself as he takes your temperature and tutting.

‘38°?’ Dick says as he looks down at the thermometer and muttering under his breath, ‘Not good.’

You only look at him blankly before sniffling as you cling to your plush frog, unamused. ‘I hate you.’

He’d might even get Hayley to help ‘heal’ you by just letter her be her cutest self and not currently crushing your legs, seeing as how she’s not a little blue pup anymore. she’s yours and Dick’s baby however and you didn’t care because seeing her try to nurse you back to health with her licking never failed to put a smile on your face.

‘Thank you sweetheart Im beginning to feel much better.’ You say as Hayley continued aggressively licking your arms, hands and face.

If you were to tell dick you were cold/still cold, his immediate response was the cuddle you but when you stop him to remind him that your sick, he only shrugs and probably boasts that he’s got great immunity before cuddling you. (Lies utter lies)

Let’s be honest he probably ends up getting sick after you start to recover and demands for you to repay him for taking care of you.

dick is okay at making food but might mutter ‘this isn’t the way it looked when Alfred made it’ under his breath while making you some simple soup before consulting Hayley, who only whimpers and shies away from it.

‘Take out it is then.’ He’d say and tries to take credit for it once it comes, but you see through the bullshit but we’re too sick to say anything about it.

[whimsyfinny]

He's a Winchester

Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, mention of toxic parenting/custody battle, angst, alcohol,

Chapter Word Count: 3471

MDNI 18+

A/N: here it is! I’m not gonna lie, this is going to be very slow burn at first, but don’t worry, you know me and you know how much juicy content I write so it’s definitely coming hahaha. I’m also trying to figure out a schedule for posting this, so hopefully I can upload two chapters a week.

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out. 

Photos from Pinterest

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I reached for the bottle of wine for the third time in the last hour and a half. I was sitting with Kat, pyjamas adorned, in the living room of mine and Levi's modest two bedroom house. For financial (and personal) reasons, our little house didn't follow current trends and looked more like something out of a popular 90s sitcom. The couch was comfy, the blankets were fuzzy, and a fresh pot of coffee was always brewing. Pictures embellished the walls of every milestone Levi had achieved; every birthday party, every new dirt bike, every new hairstyle. There were a few of Kat and I from over the years, going way back to when we first met back in ‘99 and both decided to rock platform heels on at the turn of the millennium - having tiny babies at the time didn't seem to stop us. Every single moment on these walls was a happy memory - something that I would treasure forever, yet there was something missing. There were no photos - or perhaps a scarce few - of my own parents, or of them with Levi, or of any extended family for that matter. The price I paid when I decided to have my son out of wedlock, at barely twenty years old, with a man who my family saw as a total stranger, is a price I'd pay every time in a heartbeat. Kat and Toby were our family now, and that was more than I could ever ask for. That was why the sheer possibility of Levi getting to meet his dad for the first time in, well, ever… it had my mind spinning. It was a scenario I'd dreamt of, late at night when I couldn't sleep and the burdens of life weighed me down. I conjured false memories in my minds eye of the pair of them fixing his bike on the drive or driving to school in the impala. I pictured us having breakfast together as a family and taking trips to the movies. Being together. Because no matter how many dates I went on, or how many frogs I’d kissed over the years, none of them were Levi's father.

None of them were Dean Winchester.

“Girl you have to reach out to him,” Kat walked in from the adjacent kitchen before slumping on the couch next to me, wine glass elevated to reduce spillage.

“Kat I could barely look at him today without feeling like I was going to have a heart attack - how the fuck am I supposed to talk to him?” I glanced at her with wide eyes, every nerve in my body on edge despite the wine and scented candles. Kat sighed. 

“You might never get this opportunity again, and we both know that if you don’t give Levi the opportunity to meet his father then you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.” I held my breath, urging the raging storm in my mind to quiet down before letting the air gush from my lungs.

“Yeah I know. I just…I just never thought that this would actually happen, you know? I never thought that Dean would show up here. I figured Levi would eventually track him down when he was old enough to make that decision on his own. I have no idea how to even approach this.”

“Sure you do!” Kat beamed, a wicked glint in her eye, “you sit him down and say, ‘Hey Dean! Remember when we had sex in the back of that amazing car of yours nine years ago? Well, actions have consequences, and yours in eight years old and sitting in his science class right now.’”

I couldn't stop the grin from spreading across my face and I cackled when the bit of popcorn I threw landed in her wine glass.

“Bitch.”

I blew her a kiss in response to her insult. It didn’t take long though for the distraction to run its course and for my mind to return to its state of panic.

“But seriously, what am I going to say to him? What if I tell him, and he rejects us too, like my family did?”

Her smile softened.

“From everything that you’ve told me about that man, I highly doubt he’s going to reject you. Sure, he might not stick around permanently, but he sounds like the kind of guy that would stay in touch,” her softened smile turned to a stern stare, “but he’s only going to do that if he knows. He deserves to know he has a son.”

I took a long gulp of my wine. 

“Yeah, I’m going to tell him…” I paused, gnawing my bottom lip as I drew my knees to my chest, “it’s Saturday tomorrow so I’m not at work and Levi has two hours at the track. I can try to do it tomorrow, but I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to track Dean down in that time - I have no idea where he could be.”

“Hey, I’ll pick up Levi from Motocross - it’s been a few days since him and Toby have spent any proper time together anyway, just them two. Tobes’ has been dying to show him those brand new boots of his.”

We shared a smile. That’s the thing about Kat; she always had my back, no matter the situation.

“Thanks babes, I owe you one.”

She shook her head.

“No way - this is me returning the favour from when Toby’s dad decided to show an interest in his own child. I’m pretty sure my kid thought you were adopting him at one point from how much he stayed here,” I laughed, remembering the camp bed I bought especially for Toby, along with all the extra duvet sets and boxes of cereal I’d had to purchase for the best part of half a year.

“He’s a good kid, and honestly he and Levi entertained themselves for most of it.”

There was another pause in the conversation as I recounted how difficult it had been for Kat when David had shown up, insisting on being a part of Tobys life despite zero contact since his son was born. They’d argued over custody, over which school he went to, the clubs he attended. Even his hobbies were on the line, with David wanting him to play football despite Toby already being involved down at the track with the bikes. The stress caused Kat to lose weight and sleep, and she nearly lost her job over it all when she kept falling asleep at her desk. I’d lost count of how many times she’d cried in my arms. Cried over a man who thought that practically owning his son was his God given right despite being an absent father, and I think that is what scared me the most. That I would feel the same wretched things that she felt, and the waves of disappointment that crashed over her time and time again when false promises were made. It took her months to settle on an agreement due to David's behaviour, and Toby finally sees his father, albeit only for one weekend a month. It's better than nothing, but certainly not worth the fight that was fought with blood, sweat and tears. 

I hope from the bottom of my heart that Dean takes the news well, and doesn't leave us in the dust like he does in my worst nightmares.

It had taken me around thirty minutes to track down Dean. Well, to at least find the impala. It's common knowledge that if you find that car, Dean isn't far away. I’d parked my truck two spaces down, and luckily we were within walking distance of my favourite café, Jolenes’. It was my safe space. The place that I would finally tell him about Levi.

I pulled the sleeves of my soft cardigan down over my hands to stop myself from chewing nervously on my nails. Leaving the safety of my truck, I paced over to the black Chevy and stood by it, determined to speak to Dean as soon as possible. I knew that if I had stayed sitting behind my own wheel, there was a huge chance that I'd chicken out and just drive away. As I waited I checked over the car in front of me, admiring how he still kept it spotless after all these years. Unable to stop myself, I let my gaze drift over to the backseat, the events that unfurled on the soft leather racing to mind. I pulled my lip between my teeth, unable to resist the replay of memories.

“You have good taste in cars.”

I practically launched out my skin as the voice came from behind me. I could hear the amusement in his voice from a few feet away. I spun on my heel and our eyes locked, the charming grin slipping slightly from Deans’ lips when he realised it was me. The playfulness in his features quickly softened, a true, genuine smile now gracing his lips.

“Dean…” I suddenly felt breathless, but despite my nerves I returned his smile in kind.

“It's good to see you (Y/n),” he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms, enveloping me in his entirety. I closed my eyes as I hugged him back, wrapping my arms around his neck and taking a deep breath, my brain tingling at his familiar scent.

“You too, Dean. It's been too long.”

After a moment we released each other and Dean stood up straight, smiling at me again with a soft twinkle in his eye. We both flinched slightly when someone cleared their throat and he took a step back. 

“Oh, uh, (Y/n), this is Sam, my younger brother,” he patted the shoulder of the young man standing beside him, and I instantly recognised him from the dessert parlour. He was tall, taller than Dean even, which was one hell of an accomplishment, and his face held a similar boyish charm to Deans. Yet he looked softer around the edges, like he hadn't been hardened by life too much yet.

“It's a pleasure, I'm (Y/n). I've known you're brother for a while,” I smiled as I shook his hand, taking note of the rough calluses beginning to form on his palms. “He used to talk about you all the time, apparently you're the smart one of the family,” with a grin and a quick glance at Dean, I tested the waters with humour. If he laughed or took the blow like a champ, now was a good time to talk to him. Sam chuckled, squeezing my hand slightly in his before letting it go. 

“Ouch… (Y/n), sweetheart, aren't you supposed to be on my side here? Y’know, with our history and all…?” he feigned hurt with a hand on his chest before his lips twitched up and he shot me a wink.

“I mean… she's not wrong,” Sam laughed, dropping his hands lazily into his pockets.

“Hey, I'm just going on what you told me, Dean. Don't hold that against me,” I grinned at them both, unsure of what to do with my hands so I crossed them across my chest.

A small breath of silence passed between us, Deans’ gaze holding mine with an intensity that made me want to look away. I didn't. Sam cleared his throat again, clapping his hand to Deans’ shoulder before taking a step back.

“I'll, uh, give you guys a few minutes,” and with an appreciative nod from Dean, Sam gave us some space. With his younger brother gone, my heart began to flutter in my chest. The time to break the news was getting closer, and my nerves were on edge. On fire.

“So,” he started, taking a step closer with a deep breath, “how's it going? How long has it been?”

“Nine years,” I was almost too hot on the mark, my words coming out faster than I'd intended and Dean blinked slightly. I sighed, looking down. “There's been a lot going on, and honestly, I've really needed you at times. You're a hard man to find Dean Winchester.” 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” his brows pinched apologetically and he reached for my hand, tracing my knuckles with his thumb. I took a deep breath and met his gaze again.

“Do you… do you have some time? I need to talk to you. It's important, and if I don't do it now, I don't know if I'll get another chance.” 

He nodded slowly, giving my hand a squeeze, releasing it hesitantly with a slight wince to his features.

“Uh oh,” he said, “am I in trouble?”

I laughed, the sound light off my chest.

“Oh Dean,” I reached up to touch his face, and his instinctive reaction was to lean into my palm, “you don't know the half of it.” 

The walk to the café had been pleasant. We chatted about what we'd been up to since we last met - Dean revealing he was still in the same line of work and had travelled around a lot, never really settling down. There was something about that nugget of information that made my stomach twist in knots. He learnt I was still a receptionist, this time at the local garage  instead of the large dealership I had scored before. He asked why I'd changed, to go to something smaller, lesser, and my silence urged him to wait until we were at our destination. He knew I was anxious, and he did his best to keep conversation light and breezy until the time was right. To an untrained eye he was unphased, yet I could tell from the lip nibbling and flitting gaze that he was nervous too.

Do you think he's already guessed it?

The bell jingled as we walked in, the two baristas looking up and instantly greeting me with a wave and a smile.

“Hey (Y/n)! Your couch is free,” the first barista, a young man around my age with soft blond curls waved to me across the counter, his brilliant grin making me smile with a comforting familiarity. “Your usual?”

“Yes please! Thanks, Jake,” I returned the friendliness, stepping around the tables until we arrived at my favourite spot.

“And for your… date?” He gestured to Dean, who was now shrugging off his leather jacket, “what can I get for you pal?” 

Dean hesitated, before just holding his hands up.

“Uhhh, I don't know, I guess I'll have what she's having.”

With our hot beverages on their way, I sat down in my usual nook in the corner whilst Dean sat down opposite, in that same plush armchair that Kat had sat in yesterday. Where Kat had been swallowed by the chair and its all-consuming cushions, Dean had the opposite effect. He made the chair look small under his broad form, like it was made for a child. There were a few moments of silence, neither of us really knowing where to start. So I bit the bullet.

“Dean… before I tell you anything, just know that I've been trying to get hold of you on and off for years. Your number always seemed to go to voicemail and I never got a call back. So please just… know I tried.” 

I looked up and he was totally engaged, already hanging off every word I said as he leant forward, his elbows on his knees. Our attention pulled away from each other briefly as our coffees arrived, hand delivered by the second barista - a woman a few years older than myself with a jet black pixie cut.

“Thanks Emily, you're an angel,” I grasped the mug before she even had a chance to put it on the table and clutched it in my lap, letting the warmth seep through my palms to help soothe my nerves. 

“No worries babes, you two have fun,” she looked between Dean and me with a playful smirk, throwing me a wink before she turned around. 

Great, the gossip starts now.

I turned back to Dean who was now sitting on the edge of his seat. I took a deep breath.

Do it now.

“Dean, I have a son.”

I watched his face twitch slightly, almost like it dropped in disappointment, however it was so fleeting across his features that it was hard to tell. He pulled a strained smile onto his lips.

“(Y/n) that's great, I'm happy for you,” he looked down at his boots briefly, choosing his next words, “I guess this is you telling me to stay away, huh? Now that you have a family and all. It's ok, I get it.”

I shook my head, placing my cup on the table so I could pull myself to sit on the edge of the couch, almost mirroring Dean.

“No, no Dean, that's not- look, what I'm saying is…” another deep breath, “you, have a son.”

I watched his eyes go wide, unsure if he heard me correctly.

“What?” His voice was breathy.

I looked down into my mug for a second, choosing my words. 

“I have a little boy; he's eight, his name is Levi…and he's yours, Dean. He's your son.”

I dared to look up at him, watching his eyes go wider and his mind empty of thoughts. Either that, or his mind is racing so fast that it's left his body on standby. I gave him a few minutes to process the news. Or at least process it the best he could as it would likely be days or weeks before this fully sunk in. Nervousness prickled at my own skin, my worst fears of rejection bubbling to the surface again at his silence. I sighed.

“It’s ok, Dean, I’m not expecting you to-”

He stood abruptly, stepped over the coffee table and pulled me to my feet, wrapping his strong arms around me in a crushing grip. His arms were so tight that it almost winded me, yet I returned his embrace. The feeling of his lips on the top of my head surprised me as he kissed my hair, the sensation warm and comforting. He placed one, two more kisses before he cupped my face in his large hands, his rough palms gentle against my cheeks as I locked eyes with him. The sight was beautiful. The annoyance and exasperation that I expected to be met with was nowhere to be seen, and I saw no shadow of negativity within those evergreen eyes. All I saw was love. Pride. Joy. Excitement. The relief washing over me felt the same as climbing into your nice, warm comfy bed when on the brink of exhaustion. 

“I’m a dad?” his voice cracked slightly whilst his eyes shimmered.

I nodded as a grin erupted across his face, followed by an airy, almost unbelieving chuckle.

“Holy fuck, (Y/n)-”

“You’re not mad?” my voice was quiet.

“What?” Dean looked at me as though I’d grown a second head, “of course not. Why would I be mad?”

“Because it’s been nine years since we last saw each other, and suddenly this woman who you’ve not spoken to in nearly a decade drops the biggest truth bomb on you. A truth bomb  that I know you definitely weren’t expecting,” I try to step back but he pulls me in for another hug, squeezing the air out of me a second time.

“(Y/n), sweetheart, this is the best bit of news I’ve had in a long, long time.”

I smiled into his chest, freeing my arms to wrap them around his neck and pull him down into a hug of my own. We stood for a moment in our embrace as the coffee shop busied around us. I knew this shop and I knew this town and people would soon start to talk, start to try and figure out Dean: like who is he? How does he know (Y/n)? Why are they acting so familiar? Is he trouble? But that was all unimportant rubbish that I would deal with later. Right now, Levis father was here, and he knew. For the first time in my adult life I felt like I wasn’t keeping some devastating secret from an incredible man, and it was like I could breathe again. 

Pulling away from Deans’ bear hug, I tucked the wisps of hair away that had come loose from my claw grip and grinned up at him, reaching for his hand. I held it in mine as I swayed slightly on the spot, like an excited schoolgirl who’d just been asked on her first date. Dean smiled down at me, the sort of smile that shone on top of the world.

“So…” I started, biting my lip slightly.

“Do you want to meet your son?”

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

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[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: Remus Lupin x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, praising, remmy being a bit of a meanie but also absolutely lovely, public sex and exhibitionism but not really?,

Synopsis: Remmy fingering you in his bed with curtains drawn while all the boys are in the dorm as well, so you better be quiet, don’t you?

A/n: it’s my birthday today!!!🥳🎂 happy bday to me and have this lil treat<3 I really hope you like this lil thing

You and Remus were huddled up on his soft bed, numerous blankets and duvets are scattered everywhere, keeping two of you warm and comfy. Thick heavy curtains were drawn all around the bed, painting everything inside their confines deep scarlet, securely concealing both of you from the noise and havoc that usually reigned in boys’ dormitories.

You were laying on your sides facing each other, your leg thrown over Remus’ hips, head laying comfortably on his shoulder. His arm, that you were laying on, was curled protectively around your shoulders, big warm hand rubbing your back up and down soothingly.

You couldn’t help a small whimper that escaped your lips, but, thankfully, James was wailing so loudly about a new rare card that he got in chocolate frog that his booming voice successfully concealed all of your small sounds. Remus’ fingers kept sliding in and out of your drenched with slick pussy, thumb nudging swollen needy clit persistently, making you shake and writhe around in his arms.

- Now, pretty girl, I told you to be quiet. This time we got lucky, but we don’t want boys to hear what a little slutty thing you are, do we? - Remus murmured softly, his voice low so that only you can hear him. He pressed his lips against the heated skin of your forehead, leaving a chaste kiss there.

You only buried your face into the cozy crook of Remus’ shoulder, his comforting scent hit your nose - he smelled of fresh laundry, fluffy blankets and something sweet that you couldn’t quite decipher - he smelled like home. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, bringing yourself even closer to his hot body.

- Spread your legs a bit wider for me… yeah, just like that. Such a smart little thing, aren’t you? - Remus cooed against your ear as you readjusted your position a bit, sliding your leg higher up boy’s torso, increasing by that the gap between your thighs.

You smiled at his praise, leaving a few wet kisses on the side of his neck, nibbling gently on soft skin there but not enough to leave a mark, knowing how much boy disliked that. You could barely contain a moan as Remus increased the speed of his fingers fucking into you, new angle allowed him to reach even deeper inside. Your moth fell open in a silent moan, eyes shutting tightly and you heard Sirius’ roaring laughter and some repetitive hollow thudding, assuming that James and Peter must have started a vicious pillow fight.

Remus’ fingers curled a bit, massaging your frontal wall oh so deliciously, making you jolt harshly at pleasurable feeling.

- Easy, doll. I’ve got you, - Remus tutted into your hair, you could practically hear that well-known shit-eating grin in his voice.

The new positioning of his fingers allowed Remus to strokes you in all the right spots, you felt your orgasm nearing rapidly, heavy pleasure spilling in the bottom of your stomach. You leaned closer into your boyfriend, your hips moving ever so slightly in tandem with his fingers, trying to intensify the feeling.

- Remmy, ‘m really close, - you mewled weakly, words muffled because of your face squished against boy’s warm chest.

- I know, baby, just let it go. C’mon, cum on my fingers, make me proud, - Remus encouraged, his voice was dripping honey, which, doubled with his constant praise and nimble fingers fucking into you so good, sent you right over the edge.

Your eyes rolled back at the intense feeling of raw pleasure spreading through your body in crashing waves, white stars filled your vision. Your hands were grabbing desperately onto Remus’ soft sweater, teeth sank into your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress all of sweet moans and cries.

Remus rode out your orgasm, never stopping to fuck his long fingers into your sweet pussy, his other hand rubbing your back and shoulders, whispering sweet nothing into your flushed ear. He only stopped when you started wriggling your hips, trying to get away from his now painful caressing against your overstimulated sex.

He carefully pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to his face and burying his sticky with your slick digits in his warm mouth, sucking and lapping at your juices with immense pleasure. You flushed deeply, smacking Remus’ chest playfully and muttering quiet ‘pervert’ under your breath, causing boy to chuckle airily. He put his now clean fingers away from his mouth, leaning forward to slant his wet lips over yours, kissing you long and lazily, completely taking your breath away.

You broke off first, silver string of saliva was connecting your mouths, Remus eyes shining prettily in a dim light. Your shaky hand came to tuck a string of his soft sandy hair behind his pierced ear, thumb caressing chiseled cheekbone affectionately. Remus leaned in to place yet another kiss on your pretty lips but was stopped half-way by loud cracking sound and heavy cussing:

- Holy fucking shit, Prongs! McGonagall’s gonna fucking skin us alive for this! - Sirius’ panicked, but still more excited voice shrieked, you rushed to put your underwear and pajama pants back on before peeking your head out of crimson curtains, curious to see what had happened.

In the center of a room James, Sirius and Peter were all standing looking extremely disheveled and panting heavily, pillows clutched tightly in their hands. They all were staring at the floor where you spotted a huge hole a size of a quaffle, loud ‘what the fuck’ coming from the inhabitants of a room below. You heard Remus groan behind you, string of heavy expletives rolling off his tongue as he scrambled out of bed, racking his brain for possible ways to fix the breakage without teachers being involved.

James caught your eyes, shrugging silently, keeping unnaturally quiet, not wanting to get on Remus’ nerves when he was so angry. Sirius standing beside him could barely suppress his laughter, clutching his pillow to his chest in attempt to ground himself in any way possible. Peter’s face was completely blank, eyes wandering all around the dorm as if nothing ever happened, swaying from side to side lightly.

At the end of a day, they managed to fix the hole in the floor and all three of them got a smack on the back of the head from extremely querulous Remus.

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