#he’ll give himself to you and take you for himself

[monstersholygrail]

Yandere!Work Colleague

Male Yandere x Fem!Reader ||

Your colleague forms a new crush on you once you tell him you like his special coffee and now he won’t stop giving you more. He’ll give you everything

Yandere!Work Colleague tries to act normal but is way too shy to ask out his office crush. He’s seen them around the office, always looking so confident. But he can never get up the nerve to talk to them, ask them out. Even when working on a project with them, the most he’ll say is, “Here’s y-your tea— your coffee, I mean!” And hand it to them before scurrying off. Of course making sure to put his ‘special cream’ into the drink beforehand.

But only now as he heads back to the tray of drinks, his brows furrow, not seeing your drink in the tray. He swore he had just moved it a second ago. His face drops as he realizes there must’ve been a mix-up. He whirls around only to watch in horror as you drink the coffee with his personal ingredient in it.

He swears he’s not breathing as you take a few long gulps. He hopes to every God there is that you won’t notice anything off about it. Sweat dots at his brow as you place the coffee down and lick your lips in a way that curiously has his cock twitching.

“Hmm. This is better than usual, thanks,” you comment, so casually, as if you hadn’t just turned his entire world upside down.

Everything was different now, he saw everything in a new and shiny bright light. And all those lights always came back to you. His whole world now revolving around you. The way you talked to him so effortlessly, smiled at him, acknowledged him. He’d never experienced anything like it before. Not from his old office crush or anyone. You were… special.

Since that day he’s been chasing after you like a dog with a bone. Always offering to carry your stacks of paperwork from meetings to your desk. He makes sure to linger so that everyone in the office will gossip and wonder if you two are together. If he’s asked he’ll say yes, if only to live in the possibility that one day you will be.

He does everything he can for you during group assignments. Getting done work you might’ve not gotten too. You were tired and you needed your sleep. And he just so happened to glance at your computer as you were signing in one day. So signing in himself to get some work done for you was simply just a kind thing to do from one colleague to another. Of course he’d never do it for anyone else besides you. No matter how much his coworkers complained about all he does for you around the office.

Most of all though, he still always makes sure to bring you your morning coffee every day. The way your face lights up at the sight of him with the cup, your smiles and happiness just for him. No one else would dare, they know by now you’re basically his. Besides… no one else can make it like him. You’ve said so yourself.

He makes sure every morning to prepare his special ingredient with extra care. Images of you flashing across his mind as he slowly pumps his cock. Imagining how you’d look all pretty and split open on his length. How you’d call out his name and ask why he didn’t do this sooner. Squeezing his cock and pretending it’s you milking him for all your worth.

When he finally cums straight into your coffee he fantasizes it’s his thick ropes of cum shooting straight into your womb. A low raspy groan rips from his throat, his hips jerking as he just keeps coming to the thought of you. The coffee is nearly overflowing by the time he’s done.

He knows you’ll be grateful for the extra bit of drink, your lips pulled into a bright smile. He wonders how bright it would look wrapped around his length and he shudders as he hands it to you.

If he didn’t have to get to his desk, he’d watch you drink every last drop of it. Relishing in the fact that for now, at least, he’s inside of you in one way. Knowing soon he’ll be inside you in every way humanly possible.

But for now he’s content to simply bring you your coffee every morning and anything else you need handled. He’ll gladly take care of you in any way possible. Someday he’ll take care of you in every way. And nobody will be able to stop him.

[fireinmoonshot]

kiss it better | joaquin torres x reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader Summary: While attempting to hide a present from Joaquin, you give yourself a minor injury. Joaquin has a habit of overreacting whenever you injure yourself – no matter how small. Warnings: Mentions of a paper cut and hurting your hand. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: This is completely self indulgent because I did slam my finger in a door at work today and I immediately thought about how Joaquin would make such a big deal about tiny injuries, so I suffered through the sore finger while typing to write this tonight 😂💗

“Angel, I’m home!” Joaquin calls, closing the door to your apartment behind him and dumping his gym bag on the table by the front door. He kicks off his shoes and looks into the apartment, confused at the lack of response from you. “Angel?”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks for new messages from you but sees none, confusing him even more. If you’d left the house, you would have texted him to tell him, knowing he was due home from the gym soon. There was nowhere else you could be and he was certain of it.

Frowning, Joaquin wanders further into your apartment, figuring he’ll just go room to room and find you that way. You have to be here somewhere. He won’t let himself worry about where you could be if you’re not here. 

“You in here?” Joaquin attempts, calling out again as he pushes open the door to your bedroom. The light is on and the curtains are open, letting the evening light into the room. If you’d gone out, you would’ve shut the curtains and turned off the light…

He’s about to call out again when he hears a muffled swear word from the walk-in closet, just off to the side of your bedroom. He heads towards it, pulling open the door to see you hurriedly pulling a blanket over something in the corner of the room and then clutching your hand to your chest with a wince.

You’re hurt.

“Angel, what happened?” Joaquin is in front of you in seconds, his hands reaching out to take yours in his and inspect it. He’s confused when he can’t see any visible damage. There’s no cuts and there’s no blood. It doesn’t dull his worry, though.

“It’s fine, baby,” you attempt to pull your hand out of his grasp to no avail. “I just accidentally slammed the drawer and caught my finger in it. It’ll hurt for a bit but it’s okay.”

Worry fills Joaquin’s eyes. Even though it’s only a small injury, he takes it very seriously. He steps beside you, wrapping his arm around you and holding your injured hand with his other hand before leading you out of the closet and into the kitchen.

“Sit here,” he says, pulling a stool out for you and making sure you sit on it before he grabs a tea towel and heads to the freezer. He fills the towel with ice before coming back over to you, gently placing your hand on the counter and holding the ice to your sore finger. “Hold this on there for a while, okay? It’ll help with the pain. Do you want some painkillers?”

You shake your head. “It’s really okay, Joaquin. I’ve done this before. I think everyone has slammed their finger in a door at some point in their life. It’s like an unwritten right of passage.” You listen to him, though, continuing to hold the ice to your finger. It’s throbbing, shooting pain through your hand, but you try to ignore it as best you can.

Joaquin’s immediate response to the injury does make you smile, though. No matter how small the injury was, you could always guarantee that Joaquin would make a big deal out of it and treat it like it was life or death. You vividly remember the time you got a paper cut while wrapping Christmas presents and he’d been two seconds away from driving you straight to the Emergency Room. 

Joaquin sighs and pulls out the stool beside you to sit down on it. “What were you doing in there anyway, angel? I called out when I got home and you never replied. Made me worried as hell.” He reaches out a hand and rests it on your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

That… was not something easy to explain. Joaquin’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks and the present you’d ordered for him had arrived a week and a half early from the estimated delivery date. You’d been figuring out a way to hide it so that he wouldn’t see it, deciding that the corner of the closet he very rarely even used since most of the things in it were yours, was the best place… until he got home from the gym earlier than you’d expected and you’d slammed your finger in the drawer you’d gotten the blanket from.

“This is going to sound so sketchy,” you sigh, resting your good hand on top of his. “But I can’t tell you yet. Can you just believe that I had a good reason to be in there and not replying to you when you called out to me? I promise you’ll find out in due time.” 

Joaquin is not the type to fight you on it but you can see the confusion in his eyes. Thankfully, he agrees to let it go – for now. “All right, but only if you promise I’ll find out the reason eventually. I’ll hold you to that and you know I will.”

“I promise,” you smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “How long do I have to have this ice on my hand?” You look over at it. “This ice is freezing and I think I’m starting to lose feeling in my fingers. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Your words are, unsurprisingly, taken much too seriously by your boyfriend. Joaquin stands up from the stool, grabbing the ice and removing it from your hand. He peers down at your hand, which looks exactly the same as it did before, just much colder. 

“You know, I think maybe you should have your finger looked at,” he starts. “What if you broke a bone and it’s not just bruised? I’ll just go and get changed out of my gym gear and then I’ll go pull the car around the front so you don’t have to go all the way down–”

“Joaquin.”

You cut him off, placing a hand on his arm. There he goes again, being overly cautious with your small injuries. It’s hard not to smile at him. The look on his face makes you fall in love with him even more. 

“I haven’t broken a bone, baby. It’s just bruised and still sore cause I only did it like five minutes ago. It’s going to take a while to feel better again,” you explain. “I don’t think we need to rush off to the hospital for something like a smashed finger.”

Joaquin’s eyes widen. “A smashed finger sounds pretty bad…”

You can’t help but smile at him now. The poor boy is unaware of how completely adorable he is. With everything he does for a job, you’re constantly surprised at how innocent he can be regarding certain topics. 

“Let’s make a deal,” you offer. “If my finger is still hurting really badly tomorrow, if it’s really swollen and I can’t bend it, for example, then I’ll let you drive me to the hospital to get it looked at. But if it’s fine, but still sore, then we don’t have to go to the Emergency Room.”

Joaquin sighs and looks between your face and your hand before slowly nodding his head. “Okay, deal. But you promise you’ll tell me if it’s hurting really badly or you can’t bend it?”

“I promise,” you nod, a thought suddenly occurring to you – a sure fire way to make Joaquin feel better about the whole situation. “But one more thing…” 

“Anything.”

You raise your hand a little off the table. “Will you kiss it better for me?”

A smile makes its way onto Joaquin’s lips, a sudden playfulness replacing his worry – not entirely, but enough to make a difference in his attitude. “Of course I will, angel. We both know that my kisses have healing powers.”

You gasp jokingly. “Does that mean you’re going around kissing people when you’re off saving the world? And all this time I thought you were being a badass Falcon…”

Joaquin smirks, clearly amused. “Pretty sure we’ve established this many times before, that you are the only person on earth who gets my kisses these days, and for the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it,” he says. 

Gently, he reaches his hand to take yours, making sure not to put too much pressure on your sore finger, and bends down to press his lips to your hand. He’s careful with his kiss, really only brushing his lips lightly over the injury, but it makes you smile nonetheless.

“I think I’m all better now,” you grin up at him as he stands up straight again. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Despite my healing powers, will you still let me look after you tonight?” 

“It’d be my honour to be taken care of by you, Joaquin Torres,” you reply. “We could even play a video game if you wanted? I know there’s that new one you were talking about playing with me a few weeks ago.”

Joaquin sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “Okay, first things first – you gotta know how attractive you are telling me you wanna play a video game with me. But second – playing video games involve using controllers, which means having full use of all your fingers, and considering one of your hands is injured, at least until my healing powers really kick in, I’m gonna have to veto that option.”

“You make a fair point,” you hum. “Rain check on the video game, then?”

“You bet I’m gonna take you up on that offer, angel,” he smiles. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. It instantly warms you up from the inside out, even managing to somehow warm your still ice chilled hand. “Now, should we order takeout? I’m thinking Pizza or Mexican. Thoughts?”

[angelfic]

yandere!DAMIAN WAYNE x reader

warnings — yandere themes, jealousy, mentions of violence and murder. unedited! a/n; idek what to say. i felt crazy things writing this

Damian Wayne doesn’t consider himself a jealous person.

Protective? Yes. Possessive…? Fine. But not jealous. He considers jealousy as something only lesser men succumb to — men who allow emotions to cloud their judgement and who lack control. Damian has spent his entire life mastering control and discipline over his mind and body, so no. He doesn’t get jealous.

And yet, here he is, mentally cataloguing every single flaw of the guy working at the concession stand at the movie theatre who was clearly trying to flirt with you. While you were very clearly here with Damian. He’s holding your handbag with the sparkly charms on it, for crying out loud. And he paid for everything (naturally) in front of the guy, so why did this idiot think he had a chance with you?

It wasn’t right. It was bordering offensive. Practically a crime, punishable by….

Well. Damian could get creative.

He doesn’t like what he’s feeling. It’s sharp and hot, like a knife being slowly dragged along the inside of his ribs every time you laugh like this guy is the next great comedic mind of your generation.

And where the hell are the rest of the customers, he’s thinking with a scowl on his face. There’s no line behind the two of you right now, probably why the theatre worker is taking such liberties. Damian makes a mental note to research peak movie theatre times to avoid this in the future.

The movie is what he’s discussing with you — a franchise that you’re a fan of and that Damian has no interest seeing, but he rarely says no to you. He’s such a good friend, a fact you constantly remind him of.

When the guy hands you the popcorn, his fingers brush against yours for a split second.

Damian’s eye twitches.

You don’t react or seem to notice the action, but Damian finds it hard not to stare at his hand, resting on the counter, now inches away from yours. It would take minimal effort to break a few fingers, he thinks. Just as little physical exertion to snap his wrist. Damian could even make it look like an accident — some unfortunate mishap with the popcorn machine.

He takes a deep breath to quell the molten, irrational feeling burning under his skin. He has rules and moral codes to live by, but they're being threatened by something animalistic clawing at the edges of his carefully maintained composure.

“Hey, you okay?”

Your voice pulls him out of his little spiral. He internally reprimands himself for not being less obvious when he notes that you’re looking at him, head tilted, concern evident in your eyes.

He schools his face into a perfectly neutral expression. “Fine. Should we go?”

Understanding dawns on your face and you give him a sheepish smile, mistaking the glassy, faraway look in his eyes for boredom. Better that, he thinks, than you suspecting the mental blueprint he had been drafting on how to stage a minor but effective felony on this moron.

Speaking of, you turn and thank the worker for your drinks and snacks before gesturing for Damian to leave for the movie. You don’t give him a second glance (despite the disappointed look in his eyes) and Damian finds himself relaxing slightly. Fine. It’s fine, just a friendly conversation.

What was he so worked up about again?

“We need to work on your resting face, because I’m pretty sure that guy thought you wanted to kill him,” you say, laughing happily at the thought.

Somewhere beneath the fluttering in his stomach at the way you’re gleefully talking about murder (even if you’re only kidding), he registers a hint of panic. Maybe he was being obvious.

No matter. He’ll be more careful in the future.

Or maybe he won’t. He considers the way you loop your arm through his as you walk and wonders if you sometimes do this on purpose, allowing people to flirt and talk so openly with you.

Were you doing this on purpose? He can’t tell if you’re the most blissfully oblivious or sadistic person he’s ever met.

“He was undeserving of your attention.” The words slip out before Damian realises what he’s saying and when you glance over at him, brows raised, his pulse starts racing, considering his next moves.

He could deflect. He could lie. He could manipulate, he’s definitely good enough at it.

And then you laugh.

“You’re so protective, Damian,” you giggle, nudging his shoulder. “It’s cute. And relax, you’re the only one currently holding the position as my best friend.”

He smiles blandly.

You don’t notice how he clenches his jaw, his breathing coming out a little shallower at the mention of such an offensive word. Friend. You don’t know just how wrong you are about that, but he allows you to continue thinking it for now.

Completely unaware, you sip your drink before offering him the straw and his brain stutters. You’re not even looking at him, too busy balancing the popcorn in your hand, but Damian is staring hard at the mark of your lip gloss painting the straw.

Indirect kiss.

The words slam into his skull like a battering ram. No, it’s fine. He can be normal about this.

Damian swallows. Forces himself to actually move and slowly, deliberately, he reaches for your cup.

His fingers brush yours and a spark shoots through his veins and he berates himself. He can’t freak you out, what if you’re never this casual about these things again? He adores that quality about you.

He lifts the drink, bringing the straw to his lips and finally taking a sip, looking at you as he does it.

The drink is… fine. He barely even tastes it, choosing to look at you as his lips are wrapped around the straw that you were just drinking out of and—

Calm down, he wills his beating heart to not go into cardiac arrest when you finally glance over, your eyes settling on his as he looks up through his lashes before darting to his mouth.

Damian feels his breath leave him immediately.

Your gaze lingers, fingers tightening around the popcorn bag for a moment. It’s barely any time at all, but Damian is observant — more so when it comes to you, of course.

So the way your breath hitches slightly and how you’re refusing to meet his gaze causes his earlier irritation to melt into something completely different.

Interesting. The realisation settles in his chest, slow and warm.

After a long, agonising pause, he pulls the drink away, licking a stray drop of soda from his lip.

Your eyes follow the motion.

Ohhh, this is fun.

He’s practically giddy when he speaks next. “Ready to go in?”

“Hm,” you say, blinking out of your distracted state and taking the drink back to sip at it again.

Damian follows you into the theatre, fingers twitching at his sides. Heat crawls up his spine, spreading to his ears, his neck — everywhere, all at once.

He was barely going to be able to concentrate on the movie before, but it would be an impossible feat with you next to him now.

He simply has too much to think about.

[tinyd3ath]

🎀🩰 Bulking Weight 🎀🩰

“Come on mama, fuck! Just be a good girl and take it so I can give you all my cum. That’s what you want right.”

Or

Bakugou gets a little insecure about the extra weight he gained while bulking, and you fuck the insecurity out of him.

Originally posted on A03

🎀🩰

“This was so much fun.” You practically bouncing with joy. It’s been forever since y’all have been on patrol together.

“Whatever dumbass, don’t slow me down.” You throw a glare his way.

“Don’t forget I’m still your wife, your ass will be on the couch if you keep talking to me like that.”

He scuffs in response knowing not to test you, but still wanting to have the last “word”. You giggle at him. You find it cute how unbothered he tries to seem.

Today seemed to be a pretty calm day for patrol. So far you’ve only broken up two fights, saved a cat, and taken pictures with a few fans.

You guys got a call that you can end the day early since it’s been pretty slow all over the city. You two are walking back to the agency now. Bakugou can feel the excitement rolling off you. He can’t help, but crack a little smirk. Seeing his pretty wife practically glow with excitement lights something inside him. He thought he’d be over all the puppy love by now, but watching you walk down the street smiling while the sun hits your skin making your cheeks look like those caramel/chocolate commercials makes him just wanna sink his teeth in you. In a good way of course.

“What are you so excited about anyways?”

“I was planning on watching the new game of thrones series when we got back, and now I get to watch it earlier than planned” You squeal.

Gosh you’re such a nerd. He never understood why you like those British shows. They all look like their bodies, and breath smell like ass. Yeah, the fight scenes are cool, but other than that what do you watch it for?

He was too busy thinking about how weird your taste in television was to notice a group of teenagers boys walking down the sidewalk towards y’all. He’s shaken out of his thoughts by the force of the tallest in the group shoulder checking him.

“Watch old man.” The tall box dyed blonde says to Bakugou. The kid’s friends all snicker. Bakugou stops , and turns to the group.

“Didn’t your parents teach you to respect your superiors? Especially the ones out here keeping your ass safe.”

The blonde teen just rolled his eyes.

“You should be less worried about my parents, and more worried about your beer belly. Fat ass.” Before he can stop, and think about it Bakugou goes to grab the kid by the collar. But you are quicker, and grab his arm before he can do so.

“Come on I wanna go home.” You plead with your eyes for him to let it go. He really wants to teach these fuckers a lesson, but his need to please you outweighs his need to rub some random brat’s face in the dirt. He grunts in agreement, and lets you drag him away. He can hear the boys laughing as y’all walk away. But all he cares about is getting his pretty wife on the couch surrounded by your favorite snacks.

You use your quirk to knock the kid on his ass before you guys get too far. Teenagers fucking suck.

—

While sitting on the couch with you later he couldn’t help replay what that brat said earlier. He noticed he’d gained a little fat, but it’s because he’s bulking. Was it really that noticeable? Why haven’t you said anything? He started to feel as if he led you on.

When you first meet back in school he wasn’t all jacked, but he was far from fat. The body you feel in love with. The one you loved so much your panties would get wet just from looking at isn’t the same anymore.

Did you still even find him attractive?

Bakugou can’t bring himself to ask you about it. He says that he’ll just watch you carefully to see any signs of discomfort . The problem was you look so unfazed. He can’t tell if it’s because you haven’t noticed, don’t care, or if you’re trying to look unbothered to not hurt his feelings.

His feelings weren’t hurt, maybe his ego was a little bruised. But the fact you’re the type to go around problems that aren’t problems to protect other’s feelings only adds to the uncertainty.

What Bakugou didn’t notice was that you picked up on his discomfort. You noticed the long looks in the mirror after every shower. The not wanting to cuddle every night like he usually does. Most of all the lack of intimacy.

You guys haven’t had sex in almost a week. Every time y’all start to get hot, and heavy he just eats you out the rolls over and says goodnight.

Head is great. But fuck, you wanna feel the weight of your husband on top of you as he makes love to you.

You decid you’ve had enough. Whatever is worrying him so much you’re going find out and fix. At dinner you decide to finally speak about it.

“Katsuki.” Almost immediately Bakugou looks up at you.

“Yes?” Worry lines your face. Bakugou starts to panic thinking something happened to make you upset. Just as he was about to ask if you were okay you cut him off.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting different. You haven’t been as affectionate or intimate. Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

Now he really starts to panic. How could you, his beautiful perfect wife ever think you were the problem? How could he not be attracted to you? You were hand crafted by God himself. You are the only woman he could ever love. Never once had he ever questioned your beauty. Even in school when he thought you were annoying, he still found you breathtaking.

“Are you crazy there’s no way I couldn’t be attracted to you.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He pauses, and shaky breath in. Should he lie, or let you know that some punk made him a little insecure?

No, he can’t lie to you. For this whole ‘death do us part’ thing to work he’s gonna have to be honest with you. Even if it makes him uncomfortable.

“…I’m afraid that you don’t find me attractive now that I’ve put on some pounds.” He’s too embarrassed to even look up from his plate. There’s silence for a minute. He starts to worry that he’s actually right. But when he looks up to see your face it’s filled with nothing, but love. You get up from your seat, and walk over to him. You reach out to stroke his cheek.

“There’s nothing that would make me stop loving, or finding you unattractive. And I have noticed the extra pounds, but honestly it’s kinda doing it for me.” You giggle at his stunned face. You pull him in for a kiss. It starts off tinder. Full of the love you two share. But with new found confidence Bakugou starts to get impatient. He missed this. Your body against his. The kiss becomes more intense as he pulls you closer to him.

He lifts you by the back of your knees, and carries you to your shared bedroom. You let out a squeal as you’re dropped on the bed. Bakugou chuckles at you, but you aren’t given enough time to say anything about before he reconnects your lips. He starts moving his kisses lower, and nips at your jaw.

Between nibbles, and kisses Baukgou breathes out “God I’ve missed this”.

You let out a startled moan when he goes lower, and sucks your nipple through your thin shirt. You feel his lips curve into a smirk at your reaction.

You start to get impatient from all the nipping,and kissing. You’ve been deprived of him for too long. You whine as you tug on his shirt letting him know you want it off. Bakugou can’t help,

but coo at you, and give a kiss to your pouty lips.

“I know pretty girl, I know. Just let me taste you first baby.” He peels your clothes off before laying between your legs. His mouth waters every time he see your beautiful cunt. He watches as more slick leaks from you. He uses his thumb to spread it across your lips, before giving your clit the tiniest rub. It’s a ghost of a touch, and it drives you crazy. You start whining down at your husband begging with your pretty eyes for more, and who is he to tell you no? He replaces his hand with his mouth.

He loves the smell, and taste of you. He never thought there’d be a day he would be obsessed with a vagina, but after y’all’s first time he’s been hooked. He licks you like it give him just as much pleasure. The room is filled with your moans, and the sloppy sound of your dripping hole and his mouth . You grab at his hair, and start rolling your hips up into his face. Bakugou’s eyes rolling back at the feeling of you rubbing your juices all over his lower face and nose.

Bakugou sucks your clit between his lips while flicking the tip of his tongue against it. The clinching in your stomach gets tighter, and you know you’re close. But when he slightly nibbles on your clit you know it’s over. You cry out as you ride your orgasm out on his face. After you calm down Bakugou sits up on his knees to see your fucked out expression, and heaving chest.

As good as him eating you out was, it wasn’t what you wanted. You tug at his pants with pleading eyes, expressing what you really want.

“What pretty girl you can’t use your words?” He says in that mockingly sweet voice. He likes seeing his pretty wife like this. All desperate, and sparkling eyed. It’s impossible not to get hard while watching you squirm, and beg for his cock. It’s when you pout up to him all big eyed, and desperate that he gives you what you want. No matter how hard he tries he can’t say no to you. His beautiful sweet wife. If he could he’d give you the universe. He pulls his shirt off, and tosses it across the room. He then removes his belt, and pants leaving him in just his underwear. He starts to feel a little uneasy showing all this extra skin to you, but seeing the hungry look on your face burns it all away.

You feel yourself getting wetter as you stare at your husband’s changed body. You felt the extra weight, but seeing it makes you so much more hornier than you expected. All his bulging muscles. Instead of being lean like before he’s fuller. His stomach has become slightly rounder, and his shoulders, chest, and biceps meatier.

“Fuck I need you.” A evil smirk breaks out across Bakugou’s face.

“Come get it baby.” You tug his underwear down causing his cock to flop out. The swollen pink tip leaks with precum. You give him a few strokes before leaning down, and giving the tip a sweet kiss. You suck the tip into your mouth while wiggling your hips in the air knowing how much he loves seeing your ass move. Bakugou groans at the display. But you only get two head bobs in before he’s pulling you off, and pushing you on your back.

“That can wait for later. Weren’t you just begging me to fuck you. I gotta give my baby what she want.” He smugly says to you.

Bakugou pushes your knees apart and, taps his fat dick on your pussy. He enjoys watching the slight jiggle of your fat lips. He sit his dick between your lips, and lets his dick sit snug between the two. He thrust slowly. His tip catching your clit with every upward thrust. He loves watching the contrast of his dick sliding between your brown lips.

After an impatient “Katsuki” he lines his tip up with your hole, and slowly pushes into you. You both can’t stop the low whines from leaving your lips as he stretches your tight spongy walls around him. He looks to make sure he wasn’t hurting you, and almost blows his load right there.

Seeing your mouth agape, and face scrunched up in pressure causes his dick to twitch inside you.

He can’t stop himself from breathing out a “Fuck baby” at the sight of you laid out so pretty. He starts moving at a steady pace. He leaves kisses all over your face, and shoulders. He can’t stop himself from telling you how good you are between kisses. Something about your gummy walls makes his mind go foggy, and his tongue loose.

“You’re doing so good baby.”

“Taking all of me so well.”

“Come on pretty girl give it to me.”

“Can’t believe this pretty pussy is all mine.” The steady pace was amazing while you were getting use to his size again,but now you were getting impatient and wanting more.

Bakugou is caught off guard when you suddenly pulled him down by his neck, and cross your ankles around his waist. You can’t stand the no skin to skin. All you want is to feel the weight of your husband on top of you while he beats your walls in.

You look up at him with glossy eyes, and beg “please Katsuki, i need more”.

And who the hell was he to tell you no. He gives you one last peck before getting up on his elbows, and thrusting into you like it was his only purpose in life. Your squeals plus the sloppy sound your cunt starts making, makes his mind go hazy. All he can think about is getting you to cum on his cock then stuffing you full of his cum.

You reach between your bodies to give your clit the attention she’s throbbing for. The added sensation makes you squeeze even tighter around him. It’s too much for you both. Bakugou can’t even hold himself up anymore causing him to lay his full body on you,and starts humping into wet soft heat. He subconsciously starts sucking and licking on your neck like a fucking virgin that’s having their first kiss.

You can’t stop your sobs. It’s all too much, and not enough at the same time. You feel so full, yet you want to suck him in deeper. His tip rubbing against your cervix isn’t enough. You want him inside it, smearing his cum against each area of it.

“Katsuki, fuck!” you wail.

“Daddy please!”

“It’s okay baby you can take.” He coos at you.

“No I can’t, it’s too much!”

“Come on baby take it for me.” He pulls you into a sloppy kiss. When you pull apart he says

“Come on mama, fuck! Just be a good girl and take it so I can give you all my cum. That’s what you want right.”

You get out a little ‘mhm’ between sobs.

You feel your climax on the tip of your tongue. He can tell you need a little something more. Bakugou reaches his hand up, and rolls your nipple between his fingers before giving it a pinch.

Your climax hits you like a wave, and drags Bakugou down with you. He continues thrusting making sure he covers all your walls with his cum.

You two lay there holding each other after coming down from your highs. You run your nails through his hair while waiting for your heartbeats to go back to normal. After a few minutes you decide to break the silence.

“You know, nothing could make me stop loving you.” Bakugou feels an intense swell of emotion in his chest. He tries to hide his red cheeks, and teary eyes by burying his face between your breast.

“Fuck how’d I get so lucky?”

[bopero]

loose lips & victories

there is an unnamed & blossoming urge you bring out of hamzah. (SMUT MDNI!)

Dating Hamzah has consisted of nothing but sweet dreams and candy roads. He brings you whatever you may ask for, whatever you desire. His adamant need to fulfill all of your wishes is adorable, proving his loyalty to you time and time again in his own subtle ways. He’s attuned to your thoughts. Scarily so. You don’t know if he’s good at being in relationships, or just reading you.

Superficially, he’s doing anything he can to be a good boyfriend. And he is a good boyfriend.

There’s just a small part of himself he hides. You know from the lingering stares that burn through your nerves and the touches that are ingrained into your skin. The grooves of his fingers reveal something that his mouth can never really articulate.

The house is loud and brimming with people. Martin had invited the two of you over for a ‘small’ get-together, but you fear losing Hamzah in the crowd as he pulls you through towards a lesser crowded space. You’re grateful for his touch, as small as it is, because it lessens the nerves just enough to where you won’t lose your mind. He seems to do that a lot for you.

When you reach the kitchen, Hamzah’s face is pinched in a familiar way. It tells you all you need to know without words: he’s ready to leave. He nods towards the door, signaling to you instead of trying to speak over the barrage of noise. Before either of you can step towards the door, although, a hand on your shoulder stops you. You assume it’s someone you know who’d have the audacity to touch you, but as you turn your smile drops.

Some man you’d never seen before stands there with a goofy smile that only annoys you. Something about him screams cocky and arrogant.

“Yo, where you off to, mama?” He sips from the plastic cup in his hand, drunk off his ass and you have to shake your head in disbelief.

Hamzah’s hand tightens around yours, “Uh…leaving. With my boyfriend.”

The man only laughs, spilling some of his drink as he bumps into whoever’s around him, “Yooo, my bad man, I didn’t even realize she was taken, for real.”

Hamzah’s very obviously (to you, at least) reaching his tipping point, his eyebrows furrowing deeper with every moment that passes with this man standing in front of him, “It’s…chill.”

He tries to let it go peacefully, once again leading you towards the exit. This time, he makes sure to wrap an arm around your shoulders. He tells himself it’s to keep you safe, but really it’s to ward off any other potential drunken ‘suitors.’

The man doesn’t seem to take the obvious hint when you both turn your backs, “Yo, but why don’t you let her stay a whi-“

“We’re leaving. Bye.”

Hamzah’s voice is clipped, and with his shouting over the music the man seems to understand-through his drunken state of mind-that maybe he shouldn’t flirt with people who have boyfriends. Mandy seems too busy handling Martin across the room, so you wave to her as you leave.

Hamzah groans when you arrive outside, finally able to breathe and let his arms stretch, “You…okay?”

This is the first time he’s ever shown any sort of possessiveness over you. The strange concoction of feelings flowing inside you is new, but you don’t fear it. You lean into the high that Hamzah gives you.

“‘M okay. I’m sure he’ll be embarrassed in the morning.”

Something is bothering him. He scoffs as he walks down the steps. His feet move quickly and with fervor as he shoves his hands in his pockets, “Yeah, he should be. Fuckin’ weirdo.”

His breath puffs out into the cold night air. The venom in his words sends some kind of adrenaline through you, “Are you okay?”

“Pfft, I’m fine. I’m perfect. Love it when sleezeballs flirt with my girlfriend in front of me.”

“Hamzah.”

You stop as you both reach the sidewalk beside his parked car. He turns to you, “I’m not mad at you, sorry. ‘S not your fault at all. Just-don’t like to see that. Sorry.”

“You’re jealous.”

He scratches the back of his neck embarrassedly, “What? Noooo, I just care about women a lot. ‘M a feminist.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ok, yes, I’m jealous.”

You step towards him. He stands frozen. You think in fear, but really he’s only trying to hold back the overwhelming urge to pull you in and kiss you all over. Do more than kiss you. Claim you.

He’s kind of afraid to admit those urges.

You pull him in by the collar of his jacket, forcing his nervous eyes to look at you, “You know I’m yours, right? Like, you asked me out and everything?”

He rolls his eyes, his tongue poking his cheek as the annoyance from before seeps through, “I know that. That douchebag didn’t.”

A thrill runs through your body. Seeing his jaw clenched, his balled up fists, and his sweet demeanor replaced by something completely opposite causes a chain reaction inside of you.

You grab the courage inside of you before it can leave and you mumble out, “Maybe you should make it so that he knows…”

He stares dumbfounded, “What? You want me to fight him? ‘Cause girl, I will.”

He looks back at your confused, frustrated face. It takes him a moment to really understand what you mean. For all he brags about knowing and understanding you, he’s slow on the uptake.

“Oh.”

Hamzah doesn’t know what to do. Before he can gather any sort of courage, you kiss him. It’s the kind of kiss that makes him float on cloud 9, and he’s not really sure where he is in time and space. He just knows your lips are on his and that’s all his mind can focus on. His hands find their way to your hips, hesitant on their way down but firm in their grip. He lets out a whine when your hands pull him downwards towards you and you laugh into the kiss.

You separate to catch your breath, Hamzah’s lips chasing yours, “Do you get what I mean now?”

He’s breathless and his red cheeks are only made worse with the cold, “Yeah, I think so.”

“We should go to your car.”

“Yeah.”

“In the backseat.”

Hamzah rushes to rip open his door handle, and he sheepishly laughs at the look you give him. You climb in quickly, because truthfully, you’re just as eager as he is. As soon as he climbs in and shuts the door, you maneuver your way between his legs. It’s hard to so in the small space of the car, but the tent that seems to grow in his pants is all you’re focused on.

He stops you as your hands reach to unbuckle his belt, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “W-wait, you’re sure, right? Just- don’t do this cause you feel like you gotta.”

You rub circles onto one of the hands on your face, “Hamzah, I’ve been wanting to suck your dick since the first day we met.”

“Oh.”

When you make that clear, Hamzah lets you shimmy him out of his jeans. You palm him through his boxers, watching as he wriggles and tries to be patient for you. He clearly struggles as the whines build in his throat and his hands itch to touch you, feel you.

He leans back when you finally touch him unclothed for the first time, grabbing the headpiece of the seat as he tries to bring his mind back to Earth for you. Your hands seem to know just how to touch him to get him crumbling, tracing the most sensitive parts of him that leave him breathless and shaking.

“F-fuck…jus’-just don’t stop, please.”

You’ve barely begun and he’s broken to his bare core: begging and pleading for you. He shakes in your hands, sweating heavily. When you take him in your mouth, his entire body jolts and his mouth lets out the prettiest sounds. He’s putty in your hands.

Your tongue runs over him, hand taking the rest of his length so no part of his is neglected. You have to hold his hips still as he moans aloud, letting nonsense praises spill while he loses control.

“Baby, baby… I ca-you gotta slow down, ‘m gonna-“

Whatever restraint he seems to hold finally snaps as he grabs your hair and stops you in your tracks, “I’m sorry-fuck-I jus’ can’t stop,”

He sounds so apologetic, teary, and pathetic as he fucks your mouth. With every harsh thrust he gives, the more he breaks. You’re sure whoever’s passing by right now can hear him moaning at the top of his lungs. But neither of you seem to care.

You gag on him as he hits the back of your throat, and that only seems to bring him closer to the edge, “So good to me, fuck, can’t believe you’re mine,” you moan at his words, the vibration of your hums sending a shiver throughout his entire body, “Yeah? You’re mine, huh? Gotta let everybody know.”

Your watery eyes meet his, and that seems to light something in him. The little spark of a flame that’s been building up at the bottom of his spine is suddenly bursting as he pulls your head until your nose touches his pelvis.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry…!”

His high-pitched moans betray his words, hips twitching with every drop of his come that pours into your mouth. You take it all greedily and hungrily, watching the way his pretty face contorts when he’s in the throes of pleasure.

Hamzah seems to become self aware all at once, post-nut clarity hitting him as he lets go of your head quickly and spouts apologies just as fast. You don’t let him wallow in embarrassment for too long, reaching up to press a light kiss to his animated lips.

“Don’t be sorry.”

He smiles shyly, “Ok.”

[bloodrelationsofheavenandearth]

but i want it (sweet as cherry wine)

˗ˋˏ ✰ ˎˊ˗ desc; how does it feel to hold a hand, one that fits as if it were meant to do so with your own?

˗ˋˏ ✰ ˎˊ˗ pairing; himeko : firefly : gepard : jing yuan : feixiao : argenti : aventurine : sunday : mydei : aglaea ➜ x gn!reader

˗ˋˏ ✰ ˎˊ˗ mlist; !!!!!

himeko is the needle on your compass, the northern star in the sky and holds you steady- your anchor to warmth, your hearth and your home. the times that you manage to hold them, her hands are warm to the touch, usually second-hand from the coffee she always seems to have on hand; she always smells like coffee, too, rich and a little bit fruity. it lingers on her skin like ichor, soft and warm like the feeling of home- she is home, always. when she holds your hand she is caking you home, cradling one or both between her own, keeping your warmth entwined with hers because that’s just how it is. how it will stay.

firefly’s hands are familiar- not because they’re the same hands that cradle you often, but familiar in the way that makes your soul settle, stretched out lazily like a house cat under your skin. to hold her hand is to return to yourself, it is to envy the way the sky wraps itself around the sun and the moon and envy for that same closeness. it is the familiarity of matter, of what you are and will be coalescing, a bone deep ache that is soothed.

now, if you’d like to hold his hand- you’ve got to get gepard out of his gloves, first. whilst they keep his hands- big, strong, calloused hands- warm and safe during the day, they’re unfortunately not made with the idea of far sweeter things in mind. time and duty permitting, he’ll shuck them off like they burn him as soon as you, so dear to him, come into his view. holding his hand is to be encompassed, to feel the graze of his thumb over your knuckles and hand it brought up to his mouth; his cheeks are red, from the cold and you, always you. he needs, desperately, to be gentle enough, to covey all that he can’t when he is off doing his duty. you, the balm to the frigid cold.

jing yuan is a man of many people’s fascinations- yet, how amusing to you, that he seems so fascinated by simply holding your hands. ever the charmer, kissing your wrists and knuckles and palms and whispering into your skin- he is quiet afterwards, plays with your fingers and traces manicured nails over your skin. his hand, holding yours, is an endless stretch of time condensed into seconds; fleeting and effervescent, timeless and unshakeable. the press of the pads of his fingers mimic his devotion that sweetens on your tongue like honey, the weight of his palms against yours like the thudding weight of another heartbeat, intertwined together with yours. thumpthump. thump. thumpthump. thump.

perhaps, feixiao has a tendency to be a little rough around the edges- only sometimes. her hands reflect her well, especially so when you can snag them within your own; her anxiety, her anger, her mirth, her exhaustion. you alone cradle her in your hands, the cyclonic emotion that pours out of her like waves lapping at the shore. you stand, with her, cradling each other, in the eye of the storm. she is a cyclone, a constant ebb and flow that gives and takes and shelters you within herself. often, this is the case when she squeezes your hands- strength and love and loyalty and shelter.

perhaps one thing to note, is that argenti is usually never not holding your hand. or linking pinkies. or offering you his arm to hold. or somehow, in someway, near enough to feel him pressing some piece of himself to some part of you. he’s sweet, bottled sunshine that spills out of his body and burns itself into your being with its light- holding his hand is like holding the sun. holding it, cupped between your hands, reflecting its brilliance into your skin and shining its light through your body; it bounces off of your ribs and bursts out of your eyes, buries itself into your lungs and lodges so deeply it will never return completely to the sky. holding his hand is mundane, domestic, and an everyday occurrence; yet his brilliance will always be a live wire, buried in your chest and tethering you close.

holding hands with aventurine is always going to be just a little bit different each time- not because he pulls some kind of trick or because he’s unpredictable or anything of the sort. he, quite simply, just hasn’t yet found a completely sound way to honour the feeling of your hand in his. he draws from within himself to count his own luck, tracing over a freckle on the inside of your wrist. the stars bursting behind his eyelids grow ever in number when he finds a new pattern to trace over your fingers, a new way to touch the skin over your knuckles and configure a mind map every time. this, this feeling is something not even he will gamble

ever one for order, sunday is as expected, meticulous in the care he ensures in such a simple act. it is an act that is cyclical, a routine cultivated between the two of you out of careful consideration for the other; a tentative melody when your fingers brush, quickly meeting a crescendo when palms greedily press together to seek assurance. it is harmonious, yet there is a quiet strength- comforting in its presence, always known to be and never, ever taken for granted.

mydei who is ever the warrior, ever the one to weather the storm has hands like one would expect; there lay thin scars from youth, split knuckles and well worn callouses over his hands that speak of his character. these are hands that know violence. these are hands that are hard and strong and unwavering. and yet.. to hold his hand is to cradle his hardness, it is to bolster his strength like kindling to a fire or gasoline and a match. it is to let him pull you into his ribcage and make a home for you of his own skeleton, it is to be his blood and muscle and his heart. because what is a warrior without a worthy cause, a worthy reason to be strong?

to be graced by aglaea, to merely gaze upon her visage is already a beauty to be consumed of- to get closer, to feel the softness of her hands and the croon of her voice is an implosion. often, holding her hands leads to conversations that leave you levitating- knowledge shared between two lovers, whispers on the wind and sweet as morning dew. sometimes the knowledge is monotonous, or spellbinding or even a tad ridiculous; yet it always sears itself into your skin, embeds like hooks and has you strung up like a puppet on strings. to hold her hand is to languish in her beauty, in her passion and her drive you simply be who she is.

notes; sigh.. i got back into hsr again (i want mydei & anaxa & thank GOD i have a guaranteed character) and i wanted to post something! idk if half of these are coherent or for any of the characters fully, but like, it’s something :’) i took inspo from this i did for ff16 a while ago^ i can do more characters if they’re wanted in terms of hsr, just let me know!

© bloodrelationsofheavenandearth 2025 ☁︎

[grapejuice32]

Sex Through The Seasons

masterlist here Rafe x reader

Season 1 Rafe who is honestly kind of inexperienced, he fucks you in missionary, your legs spread to accommodate him, your arms wound around his back, your palms resting on his upper back. His arms lay either side of your head, his face buried in your neck as he ruts into you desperately, probably cumming too soon, finishing before you and whining into your skin as he does. 

Season 1 Rafe who loves it when you give him head but doesn’t eat you out, never having eaten anyone out before, only using his fingers to get you off after he’s already finished so that he can go to sleep.

Season 2 Rafe who’s more experienced now, he will rest his forehead on yours, one of his hands slid under your back to lift your hips as he fucks you, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms over his shoulders, fingers tangled into the hairs on the nape of his neck. He moans softly against your lips as his cums in time with you, his free hand rubbing circles timed with his thrusts to get you to finish at the same time as him.

Season 2 Rafe who still loves the way you take him in your mouth, fisting your hair in his hand as his head tips back, his lips parted as he sighs and whines when he grows close to cumming. He fingers you before sex, not specifically to get you off but because he doesn’t rush to get himself off anymore. He’s eaten you out a few times but it’s still a rather rare occurrence. 

Season 3 Rafe who likes to either have you in missionary, your legs hooked over his shoulders as he practically folds you in half or has you bent over the edge of the bed, one hand in your hair, pulling your head up every now and then when he bends down to kiss you, the other hand gripping your hip tightly, his ring cold against your skin. He has you cumming much before him, sometimes managing to have you on your second orgasm as he finishes.

Season 3 Rafe who chooses to eat you out over fingering you and will sometimes slip two of his fingers into you while he sucks on your clit. He still loves when you suck him off, but it doesn’t happen as often and if it does, he prefers to wait to cum with you, rather than in your mouth. 

Season 4 Rafe who doesn’t have a preference, everything is filled with passion no matter where or when you’re doing it, you best believe that the two of you have fucked everywhere possible. When you’re in missionary, he has a hand slid under your waist, holding you close to him, when you’re on top he has a hand on your hip and another on your back, holding you close so your chests are flush. He has you cumming at least twice before he’s finishing, talking you through it and telling you that you can give him another as he slides a hand between the two of you to rub circles on your swollen clit. Even quickies in the bathroom are tender and passion filled, if you’re sat on the counter, he’ll have a hand cupping the back of your head so you don’t get hurt, another holding onto your thigh, his forehead pressed against yours, pressing messy kisses to your parted lips. 

Season 4 Rafe who eats you out like you’re his last meal, often he’ll come home and eat you out until you’re shaking before cleaning you up, getting you water and calling it a night. He savours the times you give him head, something that doesn’t happen as often as it used to because he gets too impatient to get you off, to touch you so he can hear the sounds you make.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[lemonlover1110]

For a request could you do like a "What if?" situation, what could've happened if Toji won against Gojo and Geto, coming back to Megumi and a girl he met and wanting to be better for them and be happy, with fluff? I hope I explained myself 🥹

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader Warnings: Fluff

Toji would have never imagined that he’d find himself in this spot. Falling in love again was not in his cards. He lost his damn mind, and for a moment all was bleak.

Life was the same. Job after job. Another life taken, a stupid amount of money wasted in a matter of days, leeching off women until another job was available— But after a damn near death experience with the stupid Gojo brat, Toji decided to change something… Yeah, that’s what he tells you.

Toji had no plans on changing anything until he met you.

He doesn’t know what it was. He saw you and couldn’t tear his eyes off you, until he got his ass off his chair and walked over to you. He took you out, laughed for the first time in what felt like eons, paid the bill and got your number. All to be repeated once again. And again. And again.

A moment of clarity hit, and his life took a turning point. He picked up his act, along with his kid. Though he might regret it now.

“Seriously? This stupid movie again?” Toji complains, watching as Megumi picks the same movie. A film that the poor man has had to watch five times over the past week. Five-year-old Megumi just fixates on something and won’t let it go for months.

“It’s a good movie! You can’t blame Megumi for choosing it.” You quickly defend the child, not wanting Megumi to listen to the criticism from his father. Toji’s a big whiner— He’s just bored because nobody is getting shot in the film.

“Yeah, whatever.” Toji rolls his eyes as he plops down on the couch, right beside you. The bucket of popcorn that he holds is quickly taken, seized by you. Toji throws his arm over your shoulder, bringing you closer to him before placing a chaste kiss on your temple.

You smile at him, a look that somehow conquered the man’s heart. He doesn’t know what it was… What it is. But you’ve managed to make him fall head over heels for you.

The purest thoughts run through his head, but your dirty dirty mind decides to speak. Your lips go to his ear, whispering, “Let’s save the X-Rated movie for later.”

He smirks, loving the idea. He’ll just have to find a way to knock Megumi out, but he can do that, no doubt.

“Okay, it’s ready!” Megumi exclaims as he runs to the couch to take a seat between the two of you. It’s what makes Toji regret ever picking up the brat. Megumi can’t give you two an ounce of space, he’s always plopped right in between.

“You managed to set up the movie all on your own? Good job, Megumi.” Toji ends up praising the boy, ruffling the child’s hair. He ends up smiling at his blessing, the slight annoyance quickly fading away.

“He’s smart, Toji. He can set it up faster than you.” You joke, your finger reaching over to poke the man’s cheek. Toji ends up scoffing.

“Yeah, yeah.” The man responds. He’s falling asleep at the opening music, already finding himself bored. He can’t believe it. He got himself a shit job that pays little to no money to support you two. All to not be able to pick the movie he wants to watch, for the popcorn to be taken from him, and for a stinky child to be in the middle of him and his girlfriend.

Toji shakes his head disappointedly, reaching over and taking the bowl of popcorn from your lap. All for you to whine, which makes him give it back.

It might not be ideal, but Toji wouldn’t have it any other way. His life has color once again, and he has no one else to thank but you.

[bunni-v1]

smilk winning the pettiest jealous bitch award every year until beast yeast 8 cuz the man dead ass is just "yeah doll it's just a test :)" but the second you start getting close to truthless recluse he's just ">:( no I don't like this anymore"

we're just befriending your other half bro!! u wanted this and you're mad about it!! little bitch (affectionately)!!

i love my petty husband-

(also, your honor, was the "remembering who you belong to" thing a hit to jealous intercourse?? 🙏 cuz i love that 👀 love to hear more about that if ur in the mood, if not, ignore this lmfao)

MDNI!!!

Ohhhh, Shadow Milk is a jealous petty little bitch, and he knows it too! He really wants you two to get along, it’s great! Until it isn’t…

Oooo seeing you being so sweet on Truthless Recluse really makes him feverish. You were his little dolly, so why were you so sweet to some other cookie? You should be giving him all that attention! It’s not right! You know who you belong to, don’t you?

You’ve got that bite on the back of your neck, is that not enough? The tug and burn of his annoyance should’ve reminded you, but… Well. If you need the reminder, he’s more than happy to give it to you! Just be a good little cookie and he’ll take care of you <3

But seriously, he doesn’t really cause a fuss, mostly pouting and grumbling, UNTIL you touch Truthless Recluse. Just a brush of the hand was all it was, nothing with any meaning, but oh did it set him off. He was patient! Kind! Benevolent even! But you crossed a line with that one, and he won’t tolerate your actions any longer.

You are swooped up off your feet and transported to your shared bedroom within a fraction of a second. Having been with him for so long, you already know where this is going, so you don’t bother fighting him. But jealous sex with Shadow Milk Cookie is something entirely different than the norm.

What you think will be a regular session turns into something else entirely. Not only does he intend to remind you just who’s you are, he means to show Truthless Recluse that as well.

He’ll tie you up and blindfold you, which isn’t strange by any means. He likes forcing you to use your sense of touch, heightens the experience and really makes you squeal like he wants. All the while he’s playing it nice and cool, jealousy not quite bubbling over for the sake of the performance.

He runs his hands all across your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His mouth following to leave marks all across your pretty dough, nipping a few bites where he can. He pointedly avoids touching you where you need him most, though. Knowing better than to give you what you want right away, lest he ruin the fun for himself.

He gets you positively squirming beneath him, then, he stops. Not only does he stop, leaving you whiny and flustered, but he leaves. He leaves you tied up and dripping and alone. It’s a cruel punishment you’d never experienced from him before, and it nearly makes you cry until you hear his pleasant little giggle.

“Ohhh, did you think I left you all alone? Poor thing… you know better than that, dolly~” He’ll coo, returning right back to where he was before.

He’s a bit more aggressive about his ministrations now, leaving bites that leak jam and are sure to scar. Licking up the wounds with a kindness that gives you whiplash, until finally that sinful mouth of his reaches right where you need it.

With practiced precision, he swallows you whole, forked tongue working over you like a dream. It knows all the right spots, moving across your most needy areas and leaving you weak and breathless. He goes and goes until you reach the edge, and then he pulls away like he always does.

He lingers a moment longer, though, and you feel his eyes burn into you from his place. You wonder if this time he’ll just give you what you like, but instead you feel a sharp pain shoot up from where he just left. A shout of surprise forces it’s what out of your lungs, and before you can process what he’s done, he’s already licking away to soothe the bite on your most sensitive areas.

“Did you just bite me?” You accused.

He snickers like a delighted kid, “What? Not into it?”

Aching and huffy, you grumble out a ‘no.’ Though it was certainly more pleasant than you’d like to admit, you’d prefer to be told before he tries something like that.

“Well…” He purrs, and you feel him crawl onto the bed, positioning himself nicely between your legs. His eager member is already free, and like it has a mind of its own, is rubbing against your inner thigh in a sort of apology. “Lemme make it up to you then, hmm?”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he is pushing into you. It tears a moan out of your lips, never quite used to how odd he feels the first time he enters. You swear he can expand the damn thing on command with how it fills you, rubbing all the right places at all the right times.

He’s kind enough to let you adjust, though you know he doesn’t have to be. The damn thing squirms excitedly inside you anyway, negating the whole point of his waiting. Maybe he just liked watching it press up against your stomach, or maybe… something else was going on. Before you can mull on it too much, he moves his hips in a brutal thrust.

It nearly knocks the wind out of you, pushing yet another surprised noise from your mouth. He giggles to himself at the sound, making his next thrust even harder to draw it out again, and again, and again, and again, until you can’t think straight. Each harsh thrust is another reminder that he’ll be carrying you around all of tomorrow, and your raspy throat tells you speaking won’t be much easier either.

He leans over you at some point, though you’re not exactly sure when. His body covering you from the cool air of the spire. He uses the closeness as an excuse to leave more marks across your neck and shoulders, happy to scar you up for everyone to see.

His dick twists in a way that has you seeing stars, throwing your head back into the sheets to cry to the heavens. He has every intent to fuck you until you couldn’t think straight tonight, and just as you think he’ll let you cum, he pauses his rough pace. You nearly whine, but stop when the blindfold stars to be undone.

He’d turned off the lights, so your vision adjusts much faster, and you are met with his sharp toothy grin. He seems satisfied with himself, so you smile weakly at him.

“Awwwwh, you’re so cute! Aren’t they cute?” He coos.

It takes you a second to realize he is talking to someone else, blinking in confusion a few times before you follow his gaze across the room. You meet dull ones, seemingly uninterested in the affair unfolding before them. Your jam freezes, jerking in your restraints in surprise. Why was Truthless Recluse here? How long had he been watching? Why was Shadow Milk okay with it?

“Oh, nonono, you’re not going anywhere!” He purrs, rubbing his cheek into yours like your attempt at escape was cute, “Don’t you like the surprise I made for you? It seemed like such a good idea, don’t tell me you’re upset!”

It’s hard to keep up with him, so all you manage is a very stupid, “What?”

He giggles with good nature, “Well, you seemed to like Vanilly’s attention sosososo much, that I thought it would be fun to have him watch us! And I was right, you’re never this vocal… it’s a little annoying honestly. Y’know, I’m getting the impression you like him more than me!”

You shake your head adamantly at him, and you mean it too, even though you’re fucked out and stupid you still manage to understand what he’s saying. You can’t come up with a good argument against him in your state though, petrified eyes unable to focus on staring at him or hiding from Truthless Recluse. It seems to make him happy, but he doesn’t stop his teasing despite the satisfaction.

“You do know who you belong to, don’t you dolly?” His words are accompanied with a thrust, a gasp forcing its way out as you nod, “Use your words pretty~”

Another thrust and you manage, “Y-you.”

“Mhm~ What’s my name, c’mon. You’ve still got some brain left up there, dontcha?” He teases, tapping on your forehead. If you weren’t so horrified you might’ve laughed.

“Sha~adow Milk— shit.” You manage between the steady smacks of his hips against yours, the tip of his dick rubbing your g-spot each time making things all the more difficult for you.

He smiles proudly at you, as if you were a pet he’d broken in. You certainly felt that way right now, not that you’d complain too much. His hand grabs your face tightly, jerking your head to the side with a smug smile.

“Tell him who you belong to.” He commands, and there is not room for debate.

“I belong to Shadow Milk Cookie,” You cry out to the silent cookie. He seems… unsure of the sight in front of him, whether he enjoys it or not, but Shadow Milk pulls your face back to his before you can make it out.

“Good job! I’m so proud of you! Now,” He squeezes your face tight in his grip, smiling cruelly at your struggle, “Keep your eyes on me. Don’t make me have to remind you again, alright?”

You nod dumbly, only verbally responded when he raises an eyebrow, “Of course, I’ll be good.”

He giggles, pressing the kindest kiss he could muster to your lips, “That’s my dolly~”

[g0r3wh0rre]

facefucking w jay and after he makes you gag on his dick and swallow all of his cum he’s swiping up the rest that spilled from the corners of your mouth up and making you gag on his fingers next

@prkhaven : “ jay showing off his new rings and matching bracelet that came in the mail… “

📌 NSFW, MDNI! park jongseong x fem!reader • oral (m. rec), dom!jay, dirty talk, praise kink, lots of pet names, face fucking, finger sucking, hand and finger kink, spit kink, cum eating, cumplay

jay just wanted to show you the new jewelry he ordered. he loves to show off his new purchases, and he loves even more to hear how much you like them— all of the sterling silver he has wrapped around his wrists and fingers are all for you, anyway. he knows how much you like his hands.

but that was just the issue, when he reached out to you with expensive chunky rings adorning those long, veiny fingers; you liked his hands a little too much.

just the sight of them are enough to get you wet some days, the motions of his fingers plucking at his guitar reminding you of something else entirely. jay could work magic with his fingers, able to make you come undone before you can even register it, get you trembling and whimpering from your pink puffy pussy squirting over and over and over again. he’ll overstimulate you until you’re begging for him to stop, and only then will he even consider putting his cock inside of you.

you’re addicted to the pleasure his hands bring you. whining for his fingers in your cunt even when you’re out in public with the other members, keening into his ear about how badly you need him. and seeing those pretty hands adorned in jewelry… you weren’t any better than a rabid animal.

“fuck, yeah, princess, just like that~” he purrs, his rings cold against your skin as he guides your head up and down on his hard leaking cock, “taking this dick like such a good girl…~"

you moan is muffled around the hot swollen flesh that you swallow deeper down your throat, the fat bulbous tip of jay’s cock making you gag and splutter. filthy wet noises echo off the walls, a frothy mix of drool and precum dripping down your chin and onto your lap. jay’s hand caresses your cheek before moving to cup the back of your head, tugging you roughly down onto his cock until you choke loudly.

“that pussy’s dripping, isn’t it, princess?” he coos honey-sweet, his thumb swiping across your jaw comfortingly as you struggle to take his entire length in your mouth. “i know you want my fingers deep in that cunt, don’t you? answer me.”

you nod dumbly around his dick, raising your hand to wrap it around what you can’t fit— he swats it away effortlessly, wrapping a fist around himself instead to continue feeding his shaft down your tight throat. his girth makes a visible bulge in your throat, you can feel it, and the hand jay has on the back of your head slides down to press down on it with a sick smile. “make me cum and i’ll give you what you want, baby, okay? no hands, be a good girl.”

you relax completely, allowing him to fuck your throat with reckless abandon— he coos at the tears that begin to slide down your hollowed cheeks, the sight making his cock throb between your spit-slick lips. it doesn’t take him long to empty himself down your throat, throwing his head back with a beautiful groan buzzing deep in his chest; there’s so much you choke on it, hot and thick filling up your cheeks and spilling down your throat, nasty globs and bubbles of it dripping out from between the pulled back corners of your lips. he leaves you ruined and filthy, pulling his softening cock out to rub his fingers across your face, smearing his cum and your spit all over your chin and cheeks.

“nasty girl.” he chuckles breathlessly, sliding two long, thin fingers between your lips and curling them against the inside of your cheek. you suck them in just as you did his cock, gazing up at him with big wet eyes as he shoves them deeper and deeper until you gag. “i love it when you make a mess.”

[evillama666]

“Taking it slow”

“Taking it slow”

Daryl Dixon x reader

When I think about Daryl being in a relationship, I think about how slow he’ll need to take things. I, for one, like taking things slow. Daryl is new to this, of course you're going to have to teach him things and be patient. As much as I love confident and cocky Daryl, it’s going to take him a minute to actually get there. There’s going to be lots of baby steps! 

Summary: Must I explain much? Slowly entering a relationship with Daryl and getting comfortable 

Tags: Fluff, baby steps, inexperienced, headcannons, cuddles!!! No specific era or season

Word count: 4765

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

You’ve known Daryl since Atlanta. Of course, you two have been through a lot together, so he’s grown to care about you. Like the way he cares about Carol but, maybe more. You’ve seen him grow as a person, and all he’s gone through. You’ve always been there for him for everything, even if he tried to push you away at times. You two have a very close relationship, but lately, it seems to have been getting closer. Daryl needs a deep emotional connection with someone before anything happens. He’s probably on the ace spectrum. It makes sense. He’ll fall for anyone, doesn’t matter who, as long as they appreciate him. He just needs to feel loved. He’s bi just doesn’t know it or acknowledged it. 

You had to reassure him you can go slow, like really slow. You’d happily teach him everything since he’s never done this before. Eventually, he reluctantly gave in. First step was touches. He wasn’t used to affectionate touches. Whenever you touched him, he flinched. There was clearly some trauma bubbling up, so you never pushed. Eventually he trusted your touch and stopped flinching, even began to crave it. However, he doesn’t enjoy being affectionate in front of the group. That’s something you can put up with. If you want this to work, you have to respect his boundaries or he’ll push you away. Sometimes he’ll casually put his hand on your shoulder, or graze your arm around the group to show his appreciation. 

It took a while for your first kiss, and another week for your second. Sex would take even longer, but that’s not on your mind right now. The first kiss, he was hesitant, unsure, but when your lips brushed against his, he melted and kissed you back. Of course, you had to make the first move. His touches were slow, shy, and a bit clumsy, and he didn’t know where to put his hands. He was a mess after that kiss. That’s why it took so long for the second. However, the second one felt much more natural. He put one hand on your cheek, the other on your hip to pull you in close. He even used some tongue. His touches were much more confident. He’s a fast learner, after all. You're not sure where he picked that up from, but you liked it. He doesn’t kiss you often though, he’s still getting used to it.

He needs lots of reassurance from you. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong or it’s not good enough. If you teach him something new or if he picks something up from you, like something you do to him, he’s very tentative and hesitant. He’ll gradually feel more comfortable after you reassure him he’s fine. This man cannot make the first move. Not yet anyway. He needs you to give him a sign that it’s fine. There’s a lot of little affectionate gestures he wants to show you, but he’s just too shy. He’ll get more comfortable as time goes on and touch you whenever without hesitation. (:  For now anyway, he’s fighting with himself a lot. 

He has a lot of thoughts about how he’s not good enough, not handsome enough, doesn’t deserve you, you can do better. Thoughts along those lines. Why do you think he needs so much reassurance? When you two first started getting closer, he had a lot of those thoughts, so he pushed you away, avoided you. Little did he know is you melt those thoughts when you're around. He feels most at ease around you. It’s like you clear his mind. Of course, you gave him his space at first, but eventually you had to be near him. That little push made him realize how nice it feels to be around you. However, if you push too hard, he’ll push you away. He’s like a scared puppy. He has to make his way to you. 

We all know Daryl is a man of action, not words. He won't say ‘I love you’ too often, not early on anyway, but he’ll show you. He’ll pick up little trinkets for you on runs, let you have the first serving of food, or pick up rocks that match the colour of your eyes. When he’s more comfortable with touches, he’ll always show you small acts of affection to make up for his lack of words. Lots of little kisses everywhere and soft touches. He’s only gentle with you.

(Present)

He’s sitting on a log by the fire eating alone while the rest of the group is either still asleep, or grabbing food. You come up behind him slowly so you don’t startle him, and kiss his shoulder as you step over the log and sit. He grunts in surprise before smiling just slightly. He’s been getting more comfortable with your touches. He didn’t even mind that the group was near for that one, not like anyone of that actually saw. “Mornin’.” He says in a gruff voice, swallowing his food. You’re sitting closer than usual. He shudders when your shoulder brushes his. “Morning!” You reply cheerfully. 

His face scrunches when you kiss the corner of his lips, thinking he won’t want a proper one just yet. You were mistaken. He glances at the group behind him before cupping your cheek and pressing a quick peck to your lips. He looks back down at his bowl like nothing happened. He’s sure the group has picked up what’s been going on between you two. You two have been sharing a tent, after all. Your eyes widen after that quick kiss. “You’ve been getting bold lately.” He must be feeling comfortable. He just shrugs, quietly eating. You notice how he keeps looking over his shoulder at the group. “Worried about what the group will think?”

He looks back at you. His eyes say everything. You’ve gotten better at reading them since he’s so quiet. “How about we try something simple?” He thinks for a second, then nods. He’s been trying to work with you, push past his boundaries. Anything for you. He sighs contently when you lay your head on his shoulder. That’s something he can handle. He looks back and gets a small smile from Carol. Yea, she knows. She’s glad he found someone…. Or more like someone found him. 

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you eat. He’s always watching you, observing, trying to figure out how you work. Also… admiring you. He doesn’t get how such a pretty thang could fall for him. Why you're willing to go through so much to be with him. He usually has to push those thoughts away. When he finishes his food, he lays his head on top of yours. You both aren’t getting any looks from the group, so he’s willing to be affectionate right now. You set your food down, wanting to soak up this moment. You don’t get to many of these. “Are you going hunting again?”

“ ‘Course.” He closes his eyes, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability. You sigh softly, knowing this moment won’t last too long. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He holds you for a moment before he pulls away, standing up to go grab his crossbow. You look down at your food with a slight pout. You know he’s just trying to fend for the group, but he always spends the whole day hunting. He ruffles your hair before heading off to the woods, and you give him one last look.

Nighttime is your favourite with Daryl. He’ll come back, feeling exhausted from hunting, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle with you. He’ll be more affectionate since you two have the privacy of your tent. You tiredly lift your head when you hear the tent zipper. “Daaryl.” You say his name softly with affection. He hates the way his heart reacts each time you say his name like that. “Hey sw-” He cuts himself off before he lets ‘sweetheart’ slip. You wish he would just say it, but you’ll take what you’ll get. “How’d it go?” Daryl groans as he takes off his vest. He’s sore after a long day and can’t wait to cuddle with you. “Mmmh… Didn’t get shit, but set up some traps.” He huffs as he collapses on the pile of blankets on the tent floor. His eyes close as you run your fingers through your hair. This is when he lets you touch him. Let’s you push past his borders and boundaries. This is the time for you to test new things. Push him just a little. His eyes open when he hears you giggle after you boop his nose. There’s a small smile on his lips. “Enjoying yaself?” You scooch closer and nod. “Uh-huh.” He leans into your hand as you rub his hair. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but he’s clingy. You might get a few shy kisses from him, but you're usually doing all the work. Not that you mind, this man needs all the affection in the world. He sinks into the blankets as he unwinds from the day. “Ready for bed, Daryl?”

“More first.” He mumbles, enjoying the way you play with his hair. He’s never loud, but you can hear a few pleased sighs and content hums from him. He groans as your hand moves from his hair down to his shoulder, rubbing his taut muscles. “Damn…” He groans out. He didn’t think this would be so nice. His mind has always been focused on survival. He never stopped to consider the perks of a relationship. If he knew you’d do this for him every night, he would have probably been with you a lot sooner. “You like that?” 

“Hell yea.” His voice is barely audible. This man is in pure bliss right now. You need nothing more to be perfectly happy with him. It brings you such satisfaction to get him like this. He doesn’t even realize how vulnerable he is. That thought didn’t cross his mind. All he knows is how warm and safe you make him feel. Feeling a bit bold, you move your hand down to his chest.

His eyes open and he grabs your wrist, before seeing your look of surprise. He holds it for a second before letting go. Sometimes you’ll get something like that when you cross a boundary he’s not ready for. So, doing something you know he’s comfortable with, you bring your hand to his cheek, stroking your thumb over his goatee. His eyes close once he relaxes again. His head sinks against his pillow as he sighs.

You love the soft little sounds you're able to pull out of him. It’s a sign that you're doing something good. These are the times he’s most relaxed. When you're showing him affection. It’s easiest to read him when he’s vulnerable. Figure out what he likes, what he doesn't. Which isn’t much since he loves all the affection you give him. That’s what he needed in his life.

He grabs your wrist again, making you feel you did something wrong. Your brows furrow when he pushes himself up, then leans over you. “How do I…?” Oh, he wants to reciprocate. He hasn’t really done that. This must be growth. “Just do what feels natural.” He just looks at you, waiting for you to give him some more direct directions. “Uh… start with kisses. Kiss me wherever you’d like.” His eyes roam over your face and neck as he nods. He lowers his head, his lips just above yours, then he hesitates. You don’t close the gap, not wanting to push him. You want him to be able to make his way to you. He swallows thickly before tentatively pressing his lips to yours. You don’t kiss back until he does. For such a rough man, he has the softens lips you've ever kissed. 

He’s using this kiss to memorise your lips. All his other kisses were usually quick and shy. He never really felt your lips. After a good minute he sighs heavily against your lips as he pulls away. Then he moves his face down to your neck. He keeps his head buried there, enjoying your soft warm skin before he finds your pulse point and kisses it, since it's most vulnerable. It’s his way of showing you’re safe with him. One of your hands makes it to his hair. It’s gotten so long, it’s easy to tangle your fingers in it.

His hair is one of his favourite places to be touched. Why do you think he grew it out? You ruffled it once, back when it was short and he was hooked. He trails a couple of kisses down your throat before lifting his head for reassurance. He’s always asking for reassurance from you. He wants to be doing all of this right. You brush his hair out of his face. “That’s good, that’s good. Feels nice.” Your voice is breathless. He must be doing a damn good job if he was able to get you to sound like that. 

That’s all the confirmation he needs. He’s treating your skin so delicately. He hits a few sensitive spots that make you pull his hair. So those are the sweet spots? Duly noted. Now Daryl knows where to focus. You don’t know what this is leading to, if anything. Either way, you're happy. This is the most expressive Daryl has been since the two of you have gotten closer. His kisses are slow and soft, trying to make up for all the affection he hasn’t shown you yet.

Then he slowly lowers his weight on your chest, making sure not to crush you, and just lays there. There’s a lot going through his mind, there always is. You’re happily playing with his hair. His weight on your chest is soothing. It seems like he needs a minute, so you’re giving him all the time he needs. You don’t press, just leave him be. It must be a lot for him, but you're proud he pushed himself. You press a little kiss to his hair as a way to tell him he did good. You two have a way of communicating in silence. 

His brows furrow as he struggles with his thoughts. Is he doing this right? Why is it so difficult for him? He cares about you. Cares about you deeply, but it’s just so hard for him to get himself to show you. His thoughts get interrupted as you ruffle his hair. It’s like you’re directly scratching those thoughts away. He must be doing ok since you’ve never complained. 

He nuzzles his face into your chest. It’s the warmest part of you, so he loves it. That and your thighs. He loves laying his head in your lap, having his hair played with as you talk about your day. “Sleepy?” You ask quietly. He just grunts in response. Yea, he’s tired, but if he goes to bed, that means no more kisses. He tugs on your shirt like a child, silently asking for more. You happily give them to him, placing kisses all over the top of his head. He’s trying hard not to doze off. He craves more, but the warmth is getting to him. 

You lightly nudge his shoulder to see if he fell asleep. Apparently not, as he lifts his head with a small grunt. “Sorry. Thought you were asleep.” He huffs at that idea as he lowers his head. “Don’ wanna.” Wow, he sounded like a whiny child. You brush his hair back, trying to get him to look at you again. “Why not?” You're always trying to get Daryl to communicate. Even if it’s not vocal. Sometimes if he wants a kiss, he’ll nudge you or lay his head on your shoulder until you do something. Those moments are so cute.

He’s reluctant to speak. He’s not good and not used to voicing what he wants. “Wan- need more.” You laugh softly. Just a few words are good enough. You cup his cheek in your hand as you kiss all over his face. His face scrunches and he sucks in a breath before relaxing. And look at that, his cheeks are pink. Daryl loves and hates all the tingles your kisses leave behind. He never thought they could do that. He thought a kiss was a kiss, but you’ve taught him they're so much more than that. He lays his head back on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. It’s one of his favourite sounds. Your heartbeat, laughs and giggles, your breaths when you sleep, and the way your voice gets when you're excited or talking about something you're passionate about. 

Once he heard your voice get like that when you were talking about him to Carol. That’s when he figured you must truly have feelings for him. You’ve never once faked that voice. Thinking back, there were a lot of signs he missed. Maybe you didn't realize, or maybe you needed to take your time before you told him. Either way, he knows you’ve cared for him for a damn long time. 

He slowly untangles himself from you. Your hand lingers in his hair as you watch him pull away. Then his hands drop to his belt. Assuming he’s just taking it off for bed, you close your eyes and cuddle up with a blanket. He’s never taken his jeans off to sleep, even though you’ve told him to because, let’s be real, sleeping in jeans is uncomfortable. Maybe he’s not comfortable yet to let you see him like that. Your eyes snap open when you hear his fly. Damn, maybe tonight’s different. You catch a glimpse of the bulge in his boxers before forcing yourself to look away to give him some privacy. This is the first time he’s done this. Don’t ruin it by ogling him like a perv.

He slips under the blanket with you, cuddling your back, wrapping an arm around your waist. He presses a small kiss on your shoulder before closing his eyes. “Night.” You glance at him as he settles against his pillow. “G’night handsome.” A small breath of amusement passes his nose. You’ve been slowly easing into calling him pet names. He buries his face into the crook of your neck as he falls asleep.

The longer you slept with Daryl, the fewer nightmares he had. Of course, one will pop up once in a while, but mostly, his nights are peaceful with you. He loves using you as a pillow or holding you to his chest, using your weight for deep pressure therapy. It helps with nightmares. The warmth from your body is his favourite. Sleeping in a tent, the nights get cold, so he likes to snuggle close. He likes to think he’s doing this to keep you warm, but he’s doing it for his own comfort.

The first couple times he slept with you, he’d get up with the sun and leave, going on about his normal routine. One morning he slept in later than he wanted but didn't mind after he watched you wake up. You were so cute, all groggy, clinging to him, still pretty out of it, and so natural. But what he really liked? Your morning voice. It was so soft, softer than usual. Now he’s heard you use a soft voice with him before but this felt different. He ended up starting his day a lot later because he enjoyed watching you be all disoriented as you woke. He found it so interesting. He thought you were so beautiful at that moment. Like you were unreal. 

The first night you invited him to sleep over at your tent, he didn't cuddle. Sure, he let you touch him a little, but he kept to himself as he fell asleep. You tried to get him closer but he kept his distance. All your little touches were still new for him so cuddles would’ve been too overwhelming. However he slowly made his way to you. That’s how it works. You need to let him make his way to you. Let him take his time. 

He always wakes up before you. He’s just used to waking up early. Waking up before you, he’s always greeted with your sleeping form. He gets to see you at peak vulnerability. When you wake up, he’s sitting beside you, quietly watching with a soft gaze. He’s already got his jeans and vest back on. He watches as you blink rapidly to clear the blurriness. Now he’s waiting for you to see him and cuddle close. He’s memorised the way you work each morning. And there it is, you're grabbing him, trying to pull him down, so he’s laying with you. He happily complies. 

He brushes your hair out of your face, then glances at your lips. Is this the right time to kiss you? Should he wait until you’re fully awake? He doesn’t know. He wants you to engage first. That way, he knows you actually want it. He’s always afraid of crossing a boundary. Fuck it. He’s going to go for it. You’ll tell him if you didn’t like it right? You're so much better at communicating than him.  He pushes his lips against yours, lingering for a moment, before pulling away. The happy hum he got from you makes him feel better. He’s considering a way to push himself a little further, but not entirely, so he’s not out of his comfort zone. Soooo... “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

Your eyes light up when he finally calls you that. He’s been wanting to for a while, he was just too shy. “Good morning, handsome!” Your excited demeanour makes him chuckle. Ok, so you like that. He’ll call you that more just to see you react like that. He runs his hand through your hair, trying to smooth it out. “Ya lookin’ a lil’ messy.” A small pout forms on your lips then you get an idea. “Would you like to brush it?”

His hand falters. That’s a very intimate act for him… but it seems easy enough. That’s something that can ease him into something more. He nods once with a grunt. You sit up, grabbing your brush, then sit in front of him. He hesitates as he looks at your hair. It’s messy, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s rough with his hair on the rare occasion when he brushes it, but he knows he can’t be like that with you. You look over your shoulder when he doesn’t start brushing. “I’ll let you know if you pull.” He sighs as he brushes the ends of your hair. He’s brushing slowly, being extra mindful not to hurt you. “How’s tha’?” 

You close your eyes. You can feel how careful he’s being. “You’re doing good.” While brushing your hair, he only snags a couple times, but it’s not enough to really hurt you. Still, he feels like shit. “You’ll get better the more you do it.” He pauses. You’ll let him brush your hair more? He… really likes that idea. He runs his fingers through your hair, making sure he didn’t miss any knots. Then he tries something you always do to him. He lightly scritches your head, drawing giggles from him. “Haha, Daryl!” You laugh, leaning back against his chest and he wraps an arm around you. He’s learned the way you play with his hair, so he has some idea about how he’s supposed to do it. He presses his head against your shoulder, leaving little kisses. He’s observing your reactions, seeing what makes you react how. See, he’s learning. “I’m not goin’ huntin’ today.”

“Why-” You get cut off as he pulls you down with him. “Oh.” You laugh, cuddling up with him. Today, he wants to focus on getting closer with you, learning about you, and feeling more comfortable with you. He’s never going to get any better at affection if he doesn't try it. He compares it to hunting. There’s a lot to learn, a lot of patience, but if he practices then it’ll become second nature. He’s only really affectionate with you at night, and that doesn't last too long because you both end up falling asleep. When you wrap a leg around his waist, he tenses. He wasn't expecting the gush of warmth that would come with that. A second later, he relaxes, holding you close. “C- can I kiss ya?” 

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.” You’ve told him that a couple times before, but he still asks. Though if you keep telling him, he’ll slowly learn. Just reassure the baby. It’s all he needs. He presses kisses to your shoulder, making his way up to your neck. Soft little grumbles and sighs can be heard from him. He’s never let his hands wander, he’s just been too much of a sweetheart for that, but today he’s feeling bold. His hand moves down to your waist, gliding over your curves, then rests on your hip. He likes the way your body feels. It’s perfect. It’s so soft to touch. He’s not used to feeling something like that. His fingers squeeze just slightly, not wanting to be rough. 

Never feeling him touch you like that before, makes you feel those nice tingles. So, you snuggle closer, trying to encourage him to keep going. It takes him a second to realize what you want before running his hand up and down your side. The baby boy is learning! His movements are stiff at first before becoming more natural. He’s giving into the feelings you make him feel. You're soaking up every touch. It's the first he’s really ever done this. “Am I… doin’ ok?” He asks nervously. You sigh happily. As much as you love showing him affection, it’s nice to have some in return. “You’re doing more than ok.” Daryl's eyes gaze over your face and body language, trying to get a read on you. You’re really not that hard to read. You’re basically melting under him. He has to bite back a smile. He can’t believe he’s actually making you react like this. Do you know how good that makes him feel? Knowing he has an effect on you? He’ll be using that against you when he’s more comfortable. 

You mess with his hair as his hands roam from your sides to your tummy. He’s trying to memorise how you feel. He closes his eyes and buries his face in your neck, so he’s solely focused on the way you feel. He’s very bold this morning. He’s never this brave when he touches you. Once he feels like he let his hands roam for long enough, he takes a peek at your face. You look peaceful. He got you like that, huh? That makes him feel a sense of accomplishment. 

He flinches back when you suddenly bring your hand up to stroke his cheek. His facial muscles relax when he realizes you didn’t mean any harm. He’s gazing at you tenderly. His eyes always give him away. And when he closes them, that means he’s feeling comfortable. It’s his way of lowering his guard. He lets out a low groan as you ruffle his hair. That always makes him melt. He turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm while he makes eye contact. 

The fucking BUTTERFLIES, this man just made you feel. He knew what he was doing. When he’s confident with his touches it’s going to be fucking over for you. He chuckles slowly as your cheeks flush and you try to hide your face with your hands. He grabs both of your wrists, holding them firmly to his chest. “Ah, ah, girl.” You meet his eyes. He loves the pink flush to your cheeks. Sure, he’s gotten you to blush a few times, but never like that. He hides his smile by resting his head on top of yours. He sighs contently as he wraps his arms around you. His thumbs are tracing little patterns on your back. 

You close your eyes as you relax, giving into his embrace. His big strong arms are perfect for wrapping around you and holding you close. Have you seen his arms? They’re perfect for this. His grip is tight and secure, shielding you from the world. It’s his way of showing he’s protective of you. He likes to keep you close to his chest. That’s where his heart is after all. 

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

Soooooo, this turned out to be a lot more fluff than I was originally going to write but who’s complaining?

[dreamsteddie]

Can't Take My Eyes Off You

Written for the @stmarchmm day one prompt “courting rituals” | Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Courting Rituals, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington - Also on Ao3

Bat divider -@popmilky | Diamond divider - @inklore

Eddie knows he doesn’t have much going for him in terms of mating material.

Despite presenting as an Alpha early at age twelve, something that should have given him some kind of status in a town like Hawkins, there’s always been something about him that makes people turn their noses up at him, close doors in his face. He’s kind of wishy-washy when it comes to the things he’s not passionate about, he smells like wet pavement and cigarette smoke, and can’t for the life of him seem to graduate high school.

He also can’t grow a beard, can’t remember to separate the darks from the lights, can’t tie his shoes without using the bunny ears method, can’t hop in place and rub his tummy, can’t- 

Well the point is, there are a lot of “can’t”s in his life and never a whole lot of “can”s

The one thing Eddie can do without a shadow of a doubt is pursue delusions of grandeur with a single-minded determination. No matter how hard this shit-hole town and all its designation-obsessed inhabitants have tried to beat him into the dirt over the years, he’s never let go of his dreams. Some day, he’s going to play songs for the entire goddamn planet, making millions of dollars off lyrics inspired by all the games and books that have gotten his head shoved in the Hawkin’s High toilets over the years, and Mayor Kline will have to give him a key to the city while Eddie Munson, town freak, gives him the middle finger.

And, if all the stars align and the Big Guy upstairs he doesn’t believe in does him several solids, he’ll be doing it with Steve Harrington standing by his side.

The guys think he’s crazy—Eddie thinks he’s crazy—but Eddie is determined to give his all into courting Steve Harrington before their shared senior year ends. He’s, by and large, the most eligible Omega in all of Hawkins, even with his recent breakup with Nancy Wheeler under his belt. No amount of ditching the popular crowd, adopting a bunch of children, and becoming best friends with band geek Robin Buckley has been enough to deter the Alphas of Hawkins High, even if some of them won’t admit it.

Eddie takes great pleasure in watching every failed courting offer. Steve has always been picky about who he lets take him out, but he hasn’t taken up a single Alpha’s offer since Nancy and the rejections are getting more brutal by the day. Eddie suspects it’s Robin’s influence and if that is the case he needs to thank her profusely because Eddie goes a little weak in the knees every time he sees Steve literally turn up his perfect nose at an offer.

So, the odds aren’t looking good. Steve is picky and Eddie is famously a poor, nobody freak, not the kind of guy with the resources to properly woo a guy like Steve, but what Eddie does have is a lot of passion and a strong desire to prove himself. 

So Eddie has a capital P Plan.

“Hey Buckley,” Eddie says sliding up to the girl where she’s packing up at the bleachers after practice. She gives him a scrutinizing look and clearly finds him lacking, squinting her eyes at him like he’s a little bug landed on her shoulder. Irritating and suspicious. Which, rude. “I was wondering if a fine lady like yourself would happen to know what one Steve Harrington might be hoping for in a courting” Robin clearly wasn’t expecting him to come right out and ask, her blue eyes going wide.

“What the fuck, Munson!” She crows, clearly embarrassed by his lack of tact.

“What!?” He fires back, not understanding what the big deal is. He wants to court Steve and Robin is the best source of information on how to go about it.

“You can’t just ask that, you doofus,” she hisses, lavender scent going smokey like brush fire.

“Why not? I want to court him, like, publicly. Everyone’s gonna know in a couple weeks anyway. Shouldn’t you be glad you’re the first to know?” He huffs. He knows it’s not exactly the done thing to go around telling people you’re going to court someone. You’re supposed to be delicate. Hint at it and build up little courting gifts and don’t look anyone in the eye. It’s dumb as hell and Eddie wants no part of it. Besides, so far as Eddie has seen, that method hasn’t worked on Steve anyway. Eddie may as well go about this in his own way, which includes getting insider information.

Still clearly not impressed, Robin says “You? You want to court Steve? Resident anti-conformist, jock-hating, Eddie Munson wants to court Steve Harrington. Why?” Her tone is clearly disbelieving, which, again, rude.

“Uh, I mean, have you seen him with those kids? He’s wicked hot with that whole mom thing he’s got going on.” At that, Robin gags. “And, I mean, I know he’s a jock but he’s also an Omega and he pretty much said fuck it to Hawkin’s High when he presented and refused to give up his position as captain. That was super fucking metal,” he says all earnest.

“And I like the way he smells, like a fresh cinnamon roll. And we shared an English class once and he asked me about the doodle of a Beholder I worked on instead of taking notes. And I know I’m not exactly a prime Alpha but I don’t think that really matters. At least not to me. I want to kiss him and make sweet love to him and have babies with him and -” Robin cuts him off with a hand over his mouth.

“Ok, I get it. You like him.” She says that, but she’s still looking at him like she can’t figure him out. “Alright…I don’t know if I like you Eddie but I’ll throw you a bone. Just one, got it? And if you fuck it up, I’m not helping you again.” She says, waiting for him to nod before removing her hand from his mouth.

Eddie takes a deep, overdramatic breath in like he’s just breached water. “Got it.”

Robin takes a deep breath of her own. “Steve’s been propositioned for courting 19 times since he presented and he’s only said yes to one. One-off dates not included.” She hasn’t stopped looking him straight in the eye, making sure he pays attention. “Nancy gave him a set of handwritten notes for history because she noticed he was struggling. All the other Alphas got him fancy jewelry, useless house stuff, and generic valentine's day crap.” With that, she gives him one last, long look before grabbing her trumpet and leaving, the sound of metal clanging under her feet following in her wake.

“Thanks, Buckey!” He calls out, waving his hand wildly at her retreating back. She ignores him.

Well, no matter. He’s got a courting to plan.

The thing about courting when you have $3.45 to your name after rent and gas is that you have to get creative. Which isn’t a problem, Eddie breathes creativity. If he wasn't already “The Freak” he’s sure he would be Eddie “The Creative” Munson. Really, it has a nice ring to it.

The problem comes with making something with $3.45 that is also a worthy courting gift for Steve Harrington. Which, given Robin’s tip, might not be as big a concern as he would have thought. But even if Steve would be happy with a heartfelt love letter and those peanut butter brownies Eddie knows he likes, there’s a part of him that wants to blow every other Alpha and Beta that came before him completely out of the water. Maybe especially Nancy Wheeler.

Sue him, he wants to be the best.

Which leaves him with the option of a gesture. Eddie loves a gesture, but this one is going to require some help. Luckily, Eddie knows where every gang of geeks in Hawkin’s makes their dens, even if they’re not his gang of geeks. It comes with being Head Freak. It’s his responsibility, really.

Which is how he finds himself in the Hawkins Middle AV club room being stared down by a bunch of beady-eyed thirteen year olds on the verge of presenting. Jesus, these kids are intense.

“So yeah, that’s what I’m planning,” he finishes explaining. Would it kill them to look a little impressed? He’s pretty proud of it himself. Instead of sharing looks of awe, the six of them share looks of judgement between them, obviously having a silent conversation between them like some kind of hive mind. Eddie will never admit it makes him sweat a little bit.

“You want to ask to court Steve. Steve Harrington?” the tall, skinny one asks like he can’t believe it. Eddie doesn’t know if the disgust is for him or for the Omega. Either way, ouch.

“Yes,” he replies, sweating a little more. They all share more looks, the redhead in particular is looking at him like he’s gum stuck on the bottom of her shoes. 

“Why?” The curly one asks, firm and more seriously than any kid that dorky looking should have any right to speak. Seriously, he looks like a poodle in a Star Wars shirt and a trucker hat. But, Eddie knows enough about Steve to know that these are his kids, his pups, and despite how much it chafes him to have people continually asking why he wants to court Steve, like it isn’t obvious, he knows these pups are just looking out for their pack Omega.

With a deep sigh, Eddie explains for the second time in less than a week, everything he loves about Steve Harrington. At the end of his speech, the pups stare at him for a long moment before simultaneously turning their back on him to form an honest to God huddle. Seriously, the hive mind thing is looking more and more likely. Maybe he should use this for a campaign. Very Children of the Corn.

While Eddie is lost in his musing, they seem to come to some kind of conclusion, breaking up and returning to one solid, unbreakable line. It’s the other girl, hair short and at that awkward growing out length that Eddie knows all too well that steps forward. All these kids are intense, but there’s something especially severe about her, something Eddie only half recognizes.

“We will help you,” she says, quiet and solemn. 

This is going to fucking fantastic, Eddie thinks, wild grin splitting across his face.

It’s embarrassingly easy to sneak a band of six middle schoolers and one elementary schooler into the school after hours. The kids met him outside the building just at exactly 4:00 PM the Friday after their meeting in the AV room just as they planned. The addition of the feisty ten year old was unexpected, but she proved herself invaluable in charming the one teacher that stopped them on their way to the radio room, spinning some tale about being so excited for higher learning that they wanted to explore the high school. Eddie thinks Erica Sinclair should run the world.

The kids are a well oiled, if slightly annoying, machine. As soon as Eddie pops the door open they’re getting to work figuring out how the PA system works and how long the range is. Dustin and Lucas insist that they move the entire unit closer to the field, and Max and Will are quick to source a cart for the whole thing. In record time they’re all piling into the coaches office, the one with a clear view of the basketball court where the team is running their Friday drills. Honestly, it feels a little like they’re highjacking Eddie’s plan, but the smiles on their face and their puppy sweet excitement softens the blow a little.

“You ready?” The curly haired one, Dustin, asks while offering him the mic.

“I was born for this, Dusty,” he says, snatching the mic out of his hand and taking his place outside the main gym doors.

Despite what he said, Eddie is nervous. He shakes his hands and bounces in place, trying to shake it off. Before he’s ready, he hears the slightly crackly jazzy intro pouring through the speakers. He counts his beats, waiting for his que. He spent hours planning this, recording the background music with the band, turning the lyrics over and over in his head, even practicing his grand entrance. He’s as ready as he can be.

God, he hopes this works.

And there’s his que, that little pause in the music just enough time for him to push open the doors to the main gym with all his strength, relishing in the dramatic banging sound.

All eyes are on him. Steve’s eyes are on him.

You're just too good to be true,

Can't take my eyes off of you,

He sings as he walks. All the activity in the gym has come to a halt, everyone too confused and curious to stop it. He’s looking right at Steve, who turns his head like he’s expecting to see someone else behind him. He’s so cute, Eddie wants to eat him alive.

At long last love has arrived,

And I thank God I'm alive,

You're just too good to be true

Eddie knows he doesn’t have a lot of time, any moment now principle Higgins and his one security lackey are going to bust through the doors to find out who stole the announcement equipment. This is the moment, the one that needs to count. Eddie saunters right up to Steve like his heart isn’t trying to beat out of his chest and kneels down like a knight to their king. He takes his hand, and Steve lets him as he sings the next line looking right up into those beautiful hazel eyes.

Can't take my eyes off of you.

He turns the hand in his own over to expose the Omega’s wrist just as the music pauses and presses a soft, lingering kiss to the gland there. A courting kiss.

Almost like he planned it, the doors burst open a second time revealing the fuming face of Principle Higgins and his goon. He turns a manic grin Steve’s way just as the music picks back up, cutting straight to the chorus. He presses one last kiss to Steve’s wrist and takes in the way his pretty, pink lips are parted in disbelief, eyes wide and then he’s running.

I love you baby,

And if it's quite alright,

I need you baby,

To warm the lonely nights

Let it never be said that Eddie Munson, for all the ways he fails to be the ideal Alpha, doesn’t have a hell of a lot of stamina. He’s been a proud runner all his life, and he’s using it to his advantage today to put on a show. He’s singing and he’s running as Higgins and Officer Jerry chase his tail like they have any hope of catching him when he doesn’t want to be caught, when he can see the most beautiful boy in the world laughing at him in disbelief as he ducks and dodges around the court.

But even Eddie has his limits and, like he said, he planned this to a T. He can feel himself running out of breath but he refuses to call it before the climax. He’s stomping his way up the bleachers, making a show of going between the rows dancing like he’s in an old hollywood musical. Higgin’s is closing in, but there’s now way he’s getting caught. Not today. He puts in a burst of speed, leaving them in the dust and putting himself right at the top of the wooden stands, singing directly to Steve who is absolutely glowing on the court.

And let me love you,

Baby let me love you…

The music gives one last swell, the Corroded Coffin of two days ago pouring their heart out for the Eddie of today. The music comes to an abrupt halt, the gym very quickly filling with laughter and applause. The kids are screaming their heads off in the office, loud enough to draw Steve’s attention to where they can be seen through the large window. The joy and disbelief on Steve’s face makes all of this worth it, no matter what happens next.

Eddie wishes he could relish in it longer, but the goon squad is gaining ground fast and he has one last message to give before he hauls ass into the next phase of his plan. He starts inching his way toward the exit, not taking his eyes off Steve as he goes. He needs him to hear this.

“Steve Harrington, it would be the honor of my life to court you with the intention of mating. Meet me at the lake at seven if you’ll hear me out.” And with that, he’s gone. He wishes he could stay to see his reaction, but he’s out of time.

He pushes through the emergency exit to the sound of hollering and clapping, all he can do now is commence with phase two.

Phase two mainly consists of picking everything up from the trailer, changing into his nice clothes, and heading toward Lover’s Lake to set everything up.

Eddie thinks this is the most nerve wracking part of the whole plan. In many ways, the whole big performance was the easy part. Eddie loves to perform, eats up the attention like a cat laps up milk. This, the full bearing of his heart to the Omega he wants to spend his life with, is far scarier than anything else. Here in the back of his van, the paper hearts and pillar candles, hand-picked daisies and hand-made peanut butter brownies, leave him completely exposed.

He wonders if Steve will show up.

He wishes he didn’t set up so god damn early. The waiting is excruciating.

The Alpha paces around, adjusts the blankets on the bottom of the van and then decides they were better before, and checks his watch every half minute like it will make time move faster. He sits and watches the hands turn from 6:59 to 7:00. Maybe Steve won’t come. Maybe this was all for nothing and he’ll have to go back to school on Monday and pretend like he isn’t heartbroken.

His watch continues to tick. 7:03, 7:07, 7:10. He’s getting ready to pick it all back up when he hears the muffled sound of tires on soft dirt. Suddenly, his heart is in his throat as he watches the distinct headlights of his favorite Beamer turn into the clearing.

Eddie scrambles to his feet, he has a plan to carry out.

He watches, heart in his throat as Steve parks. Watches as the door opens and Steve emerges, a sweet, sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry I’m late.” Steve looks like a dream. He clearly went home and had a shower and a change of clothes. He’s wearing light wash jeans that hug his thighs and a soft looking, deep red sweater, the collar of a white dress shirt peeking out from underneath. He’s dressed up for Eddie.

There’s a long pause where Eddie forgets how to speak and Steve just stands there, clearly waiting for Eddie to make a move. Eddie comes back to himself all at one, shaking his head hard like a dog, making Steve let out a startled laugh. “What the hell?” He asks, not mean, but bemused. 

“My deepest apologies my liege, I was simply stunned by your beauty,” he says with a half bow, extending his arm for Steve to take. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to Cafe Munson, the finest pop up restaurant this side of Indiana.” It’s goofy and a little ridiculous but Steve takes the offered arm with a little smile, sending a pleasant jolt through his body. 

Eddie leads Steve toward the open back of the van, watching him intently as he takes it in. He gets to see as the Omega’s eyes go wide, mouth parting in a little gasp. When he turns to look at Eddie, he’s already looking back. “You did this for me?” He asks, wonder coloring his voice. All of a sudden Eddie feels a little shy, a little sheepish.

“I know it’s not much, I’m not exactly liquid at the moment, but I wanted to do something nice for you,” he says, unoccupied arm reaching up to tug a piece of hair over his mouth. Steve looks at him for a long moment before turning back to the van. There are blankets everywhere, pretty much every one from the house plus a couple he nicked from Gareth’s house after practice. The emergency pillar lights from the pantry give the space a soft glow, paper hearts hang from string from the metal roof, and a repurposed laundry basket full of tupperwares and miller lites sits in the center.

“It’s perfect” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help but believe him. Not when his scent is blooming, cinnamon roll sweet, right under Eddie’s nose.

Eddie leads him to the van, gives him his hand to help him into the back. He takes a moment to take it all in, Steve Harrington settling into a date with Eddie Munson. It’s his biggest dream come true. 

He climbs in after the other boy and starts pulling out tupperwares. Steve has settled in to lean on the wall of pillows Eddie constructed for just this reason, pulling a blanket over the both of them when Eddie settles in next to him. Steve laughs with every overly dramatic introduction he makes for the food, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been this warm. Neither of them brings up why they’re here, the underlying meaning behind it all. They dance around it, laughing about the kids, Steve’s sports and Eddie’s games, the look on Principle Higgin’s face when he burst into the gym earlier that day. The whole place smells like cinnamon and smoke, Eddie doesn’t think there’s a better smell in the whole world.

They don’t say a thing about courting or mating or scents until they polish off their cold pasta, courtesy of Wayne, and Eddie pulls out the last tupperware from the bottom of the laundry basket. “And for dessert, may I have a drumroll please….” Steve rolls his eyes but smiles as he complies, drumming a little beat with fingers on the side of the van. Eddie pulls out the container with a flourish, “The finest peanut butter brownies $3.15 worth of ingredients from Melvald’s can get you.” He expects laughter, maybe some light teasing as Steve has been shown to enjoy throughout the night, but all he gets is silence. 

He worries, for a moment, that he got it wrong. Maybe Steve doesn’t like peanut butter brownies. Jesus H Christ, maybe he’s allergic to peanuts and Eddie has just massively fucked this up. He’s getting ready to spiral and try to fix it when Steve speaks, voice soft in a way Eddie can’t place.

“Those are my favorites,” he says. When Eddie is brave enough to look at his face again, he’s met with wet, adoring eyes. Eddie doesn't know if anyone has ever looked at him like that before. Like he was something magical. Something special just for them.

Eddie clears his throat when Steve doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps staring at him like he’s waiting for something big. “Yeah, yeah I know,” he says, bracing himself for what comes next. “I uh, I saw you buy some at the club fair last year. You bought three of them and then came back for one more before they closed the booth.” It shouldn’t be such a big admission, but it feels like he’s just handed Steve his heart on a silver platter.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, turning toward him fully.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, sitting up so they’re eye to eye.

“What you said, on the basketball court, will you ask me again?” He’s looking at him with so much hope in his eyes, Eddie almost feels like he could choke on it. Instead, he focuses in on the perfect scent of the man next to him, breathes steadily in and out.

“It would be the honor of my life to court you with the intention of mating, Steve Harrington.” As he says it, he reaches into his pocket for his last offering, his hail mary pass, his death saving throw. It’s a silly thing, cost his last 30 cents at the stationary store, but he was listening to Robin on those bleachers that day. Knows that the gesture and the picnic are all well and good, but what Steve has been missing with all those other Alphas is someone who notices the small details and holds them close. Someone who cares about his C+ in History, someone who knows his favorite brownies are swirled with peanut butter.

Someone who notices that he lost his eraser last week and has been meaning to pick up a new one.

Eddie holds out his heart one last time, it’s shaped like a 30 cent eraser. White and covered with a paper band. The best one on the market.

Steve stares at the little eraser like it contains the answers to the universe, and then he’s plucking it, oh so gently, out of his hands and cradling it in his own. Eddie waits, the ball is completely in Steve’s court now, Eddie has played all his cards.

Suddenly, Steve scent starts to bloom, even more than it did when he first saw the van. The smell of sugar, cinnamon, and yeast so strong it makes Eddie feel light headed. Eddie gets a glimpse of the most beautiful smile in the world just before Steve is throwing his arm around his neck, nudging his way into his lap to notch his head right at Eddie’s scent gland. Eddie’s arms instinctually wrap around his back, keeping him close.

“Yes,” Steve says, the sound of it muffled by the soft skin of Eddie’s neck. Eddie squeezes him tight, knows he needs to ask, just to make sure but worried he’s hallucinating. Scared to believe he’s getting everything he’s ever wanted.

“Yes?” He asks, lips trembling where they’ve found their own place at Steve’s neck, wanting to be as close as possible, just in case.

“Yes.” And Steve is pulling back, which Eddie hates, and cupping his face in is hands. “It would be the honor of my life to accept your courting offer, Eddie Munson,” he says, sure and steady and full to the brim of hope.

“Holy shit.” Eddie can’t believe this is happening. Despite all the planing and the performing and the putting his heart on the line he never actually let himself think that this would happen. Never let himself think about how it would end.

Without much though Eddie barrels forward to bury his head back into the Omega’s neck, his Omega’s neck, peppering him with fervent little kisses until Steve is giggling so hard he tips them over into the pile of pillows behind him. Eddie is full to the brim with joy, happier than he’s ever been and all of a sudden he needs to move. Needs to let the whole world know what he’s got in the palm of his hands.

He jolts up with one last kiss to Steve’s cheek, managing a quick “be right back!” before he launching himself out of the van. He hears Steve calling out in confusion, but it quickly turns into more joyous laughter as Eddie steps out of the van and starts jumping in place, punching the air and whooping into the night sky.

“Fuck you Hawkins! I’m courting Steve Harrington! I’m on top of the God Damn world!” He gets in one last double bird in the general direction of Main Street before Steve is calling him back in.

“Ok, you’ve had your moment. Now get your ass back in here and kiss me for real, you dumb Alpha,” he says, laughter still caught in his throat. And really? Who is Eddie do deny a request like that?

So excited for MMM, guys! I won't be doing every day, but I will be doing at lest a couple of full one shots and some of my normal ramblings. (Also, this is the longest thing I've ever written that wasn't an academic paper and I am low key very proud of myself)

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

Nanami & Gojo (separately) with a reader who experiences a panic attack?

.°⋆🖇₊˚ෆ teddy’s notes: enjoy!!

• nanami kento;

nanami notices the shift in your breathing before anything else. his sharp eyes catch the way your chest rises and falls too quickly, the way your fingers tremble as they clutch at your clothes. his entire demeanor shifts—gone is the firm, composed sorcerer, replaced by someone much softer, much more patient.

he doesn’t overwhelm you with questions or touch you without permission. instead, he kneels before you, grounding himself so you have something steady to hold onto, even if just visually.

“you’re safe,” he murmurs, voice a low, comforting anchor in the storm. “i’m here.”

he moves deliberately, slow and predictable, offering his hand but never forcing it. if you take it, his grip is solid, reassuring, a silent promise that he won’t let you go.

“breathe with me,” he instructs gently, inhaling deeply to demonstrate. he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t scold you for struggling. he stays as long as you need, shielding you from curious stares, from anything that might make it worse.

when your breathing evens out and the weight on your chest begins to lift, he lets out a breath of his own—one he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“you’re doing well,” he praises, quiet but firm. “let’s sit for a while. no need to rush anything.”

and if you let him, he’ll stay close, making sure you know you’re not alone.

• gojo satoru;

gojo is carefree, yes, but he’s not clueless. the moment he sees your distress—whether it’s in the way your hands shake, your breathing stutters, or your eyes dart around in panic—his usual playful demeanor disappears in an instant.

he doesn’t push or tease. he just focuses on getting you through it.

“hey, hey,” he soothes, crouching to your level. “you’re okay. i’ve got you.”

he keeps his tone light but firm, something solid to hold onto. if you need space, he’ll give it. if you need him closer, he’ll stay within reach, ready to catch you if your knees give out.

“want me to count for you?” he offers. if you nod, he starts—steady, rhythmic, something to guide you back. “one… two… three…” his voice is steady, unwavering.

if you focus on him, he’ll make sure he’s the only thing in your world for a moment. he’ll crack a small joke when he senses you’re starting to come back, something light and easy.

“so, do i get a gold star for being the best panic attack buddy?”

but underneath the humor, there’s genuine relief, genuine care. he won’t leave until you’re okay. and when you are, he’ll lean back, grinning—but softer than usual.

“next time, you can just tell me if you need a break,” he says. “i’m pretty good at making up excuses to ditch responsibilities.”

and just like that, he makes sure you know—you never have to go through this alone.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

real life. l Joel Miller

Summary: maybe this was the life you were both waiting for

Warnings: some sad, but a lot of fluff, some smut at the end (+18), worries; Ellie and Tommy mention, mention of pregnancy

A/N: I'm very glad that you received the previous chapter so well. I think many of us are waiting for a happy ending. This chapter is something different, I hope you'll be gentle with me. I've seen lately that many new people are reading this series. I'd love to know what you think.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

He saw her again, she was just as he remembered her. For the first time in a long time, he dreamed of her differently. More alive, happier.

He was home again, and everything was as it should be, and she was there too. Damn, he could feel her so well as if she was really standing right next to him. A smile lit up her face, she gazed at him with feistiness but also love.

"She's waiting for you in the garden." Sarah said.

He looked out the window and saw a familiar silhouette. You were standing in the middle of the lawn, your face turned to the sun, so beautiful. He smiled and looked back at his daughter.

"She'll understand. She understands everything." he replied, stroking the girl's cheek. "I miss you so much, baby girl."

"I know." she snuggled into his hand, narrowing her eyes. "I'll always be here for you."

Sometimes he dreamed of Sarah as a little child, sometimes you were with them and everything seemed so natural, so normal, like it was a life he had experienced. Joel couldn't remember when he had started dreaming like that, but he didn't want to think about it. A soothing feeling filled him and he felt lighter.

"So I can count on you? Joel?"

"What?" he looked at her a little confused.

"You seem a little distracted." Hazel smiled. "I asked if you'd come over and take a look at the sink."

He didn't quite remember what they were talking about. It was a nice day, warm and sunny. Joel had just left the Tipsy Bison where he'd met Tommy and was about to join you across the street where you were shopping, when Hazel stopped him. And even though the woman was talking to him, his eyes and thoughts kept wandering to you.

He noticed you talking to the woman behind the counter. There was something about your movements, something that caught his attention. Joel couldn't help himself lately and often, when he watched you, he realized one thing - you were carrying his child. That thought consumed him completely.

“I’ll send Barry over to you, he’ll handle it,” he said finally, giving Hazel a quick look.

The woman had a disappointed look on her face. “I’d rather you handle this. I trust you.”

His gaze wandered back to you, you were putting bread and some fruit in the basket. "And I trust Barry. He'll show up today."

And before Hazel could answer, he headed across the street.

He entered the store before you could even realize it, nodded to the woman behind the cash register and quickly reached for the basket, almost ripping it out of your hand.

"Jesus! Joel." You sighed, rolling your eyes. "You scared me."

"You shouldn't be lifting." He muttered quietly so the saleswoman wouldn't hear.

"It's not that heavy. Come on."

"No." He grabbed it tighter and placed his other hand on the small of your back, leading you out of the building. "I hope your stubbornness isn't genetic, because I'm going to go completely gray because of you."

He did it again. Completely unconsciously. You didn't talk much about the baby or the pregnancy. Joel was relieved that you didn't insist on taking part in the patrols, but you still didn't talk much about it. Less than two weeks had passed, everything was still fresh.

"Let her get used to it. She's been through a lot, and now this." Tommy said when Joel confided in him about the situation between you "She must be scared."

“I know.” Joel nodded. “But I can’t stop thinking it’s my fault. I want her to know I’m there for her.”

It was a quiet evening. Rain was lightly pattering against the windowsill, and you were curled up on the couch, reading a book you found in the Jackson library. Ellie managed to get out of the house before the rain started, and the place fell silent. Until.

You didn't recognize it at first, but soon your keen ear caught the first notes. The old record player you had in the hallway was playing music. You turned around and saw Joel.

"I found this a while ago. It's old, but maybe you'll like it." he said, and then he walked up to you, extending his hand to you "Will you dance with me, babe?"

It's been raining since you left me Now I'm drowning in the flood You see, I've always been a fighter But without you, I give up

You wordlessly grabbed his hand, letting him pull you into his solid body. Warm lips brushed your temple as you slid your fingers through the hair that fell to the back of his neck. You swayed gently to the rhythm of the next words.

I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme And I know when I die, you'll be on my mind And I'll love you, always

"I know you're scared. I am too." His quiet voice echoed in your ear. "But we're in this together."

"What if I can't handle it? What if I'm not cut out to be a mother?" you asked quietly.

These questions must have been worrying you for a long time, because Joel felt your voice tremble. He hugged you tighter so that you could feel his heartbeat.

"You're already doing everything to keep him safe. I know what you're like. You'll be the best mother to him. Or her."

What I'd give to run my fingers through your hair To touch your lips, to hold you near When you say your prayers, try to understand I've made mistakes, I'm just a man

He heard your quiet sobbing and his heart skipped a beat. You'd buried all your fears and worries so deeply that only now did Joel realize what you had to deal with. If he was afraid of whether you'd be safe, then you had to create this child and give birth to it. 

He remembered when Sarah was little, he remembered the sleepless nights and colic when he spent hours massaging her belly and she cried. He remembered when her teeth were coming out, or when she first got sick. But the world was different then.

"I'm with you on this, baby. I give myself completely to you. Remember that. You’re not alone."

If you told me to cry for you, I could If you told me to die for you, I would Take a look at my face There's no price I won't pay To say these words to you

You woke up feeling his hand on your belly, under your shirt tenderly lying where new life should be hidden. The quiet snoring was evidence that Joel was doing it unconsciously.

Ever since you found out about the pregnancy, you felt fear above all. You knew that Joel was on your side, that Ellie was delighted. Recently, even Tommy quietly mentioned that if you needed anything, he and Maria were ready to lend a helping hand. The people closest to you were with you, but fear settled in your heart and wouldn't leave you.

You never saw yourself as a mother. Or maybe you never had the opportunity to consider such a situation? God only knew. And then Joel and Ellie appeared on your path, your life took on new colors. You were no longer lonely, you had them. And although it wasn't always nice, although there were also difficult moments, you were together. So maybe now it all made sense too?

You turned gently and looked at Joel's sleeping face. The wrinkle between his eyebrows seemed softer to you, you saw all the small wrinkles on his face too, the gray hair intertwined with the darker ones, the lips that you adored so much.

You loved him. You were as sure of it as the fact that the sun rose every morning. This guy was your everything and most importantly - he wanted everything with you.

You gently touched his cheek, Joel quivered. Old habits are hard to break. You smiled, stroking his stubbled cheek and feeling his hand now resting on your lower back move slightly.

A quiet groan escaped his chest. "Go to sleep."

"I can't." you replied quietly. "You snore terribly."

He lifted his eyelid slightly, looking at you indignantly. "I don't snore."

"Yes, you do."

Joel sighed and turned onto his back, rubbing his face with his hand. He sighed when he felt you snuggle up to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. He liked mornings like this, although he deliberately pretended to be grumpy.

Your warm body lying so close to his, your soft skin. Damn, he loved it all.

"Joel?" your voice was still hoarse from sleep, but he heard it clearly.

"Mhmm." he mumbled without even opening his eyes.

"I was thinking..." you started and suddenly moved, before Joel could react you were already lying on him with your arms resting on either side of his head. He opened his eyes slightly and waited. "I was thinking that since I can't be more pregnant, then..."

"Stop right there." he mumbled, placing his hands on your hips "You'll be more pregnant. You'll be much bigger, darling."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. "Okay, but what I mean is... I meant that if you wanted to, maybe we could... You know." you made a small circle with your hips and felt his manhood twitch. You smiled mischievously.

"Christ!" Joel moaned "You're serious."

You nodded, your messy hair falling over your face. "You know, now you can finish inside me without worry. You can't knock me up any more..."

He frowned and looked at you seriously. "You're not kidding?"

You shook your head. "It's been a while. After all this happened... I miss you. Your closeness..."

"Fuck, I miss you too." He replied and lifted his head, capturing your lips in his.

It was one of those kisses when you were happy and horny at the same time. You kissed him back in an instant and soon your tongues were tangled and his strong hands were gripping your buttocks tighter. 

Damn, he wanted you like never before. Not only because you haven't had sex since you saw the two lines on the test, let's be honest - sex wasn't on your mind then, but now a lot of things between you have become clear and even more bonds have been created that have connected you to each other.

You wanted to feel him with your whole being, you wanted to make love to Joel and show how much he meant to you, but also to feel the same love from him. 

His warm skin beneath your fingertips, the soft groans that filled the bedroom in the early morning… Yes, this was real life. And while you might as well have been stranded in the middle of nowhere with him, you were tangled in the sheets with Joel, moaning softly as he moved inside you. Gently at first, like he was afraid he might hurt you.

"You won't break me, Joel. I'm all yours."

That was enough for him. His movements were strong and decisive. He thrust in and out of you, taking your breath away. Your body submitted to him, and he took and gave at the same time.

And then, as you collapsed next to each other, trying to calm your breathing and your racing hearts, Joel thought he had never felt so alive around anyone before.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

[darkpetal16]

(General / Unspecified) Dancetale Wingding Gaster (Waltz) commissioned by @queen-misogi

This man is harder to catch than a fish going up stream with your bare hands! If he’s not at home, he’s at the lab, and if he’s not at the lab. . . He’s at home! He’s become such a rare sighting in the kingdom that some monsters joke that he’s a myth.

Even Alphys has trouble seeing him. She communicates (near) exclusively through computer messages, or second hand messages through his brothers when they visit.

This, of course, makes it pretty hard to meet, let alone befriend this man.

He’s not opposed to socializing, so much as has no interest in it. He loves his work, and sees little reason to force himself to do things he doesn’t enjoy.

If you do manage to catch this man during one of his wow-he’s-actually-outside! moments, and strike up a conversation with him, you’ll find him to be polite and pleasant. He’s entirely mute, and signs to communicate (although he can conjure literal words, he chooses not to 99% of the time as an excuse not to talk to people). If you can sign back, great! If not? He’s smiling and nodding politely as he walks away from you. He’s now waving goodbye—still smiling politely—as he’s getting into the lab and shutting the door in your face.

This changes, of course, if you ask him to dance.

Like all Dancetale monsters (ignoring Sans), this man can’t refuse a dance. Due to his reclusive lifestyle it is exceedingly rare to find a partner—and to have someone actually ask him? Take initiative? He’s beaming. He’s smiling as wide as can be as he’s eagerly gently taking your hand.

He prefers to take the lead when dancing, but he’s willing to be lead if the dance flows better that way. He’s graceful, elegant, and so sweetly gentle with his partner. You don’t even have to be a good dancer—you can have two left feet for all he cares—he’s just so genuinely happy to dance with someone, and he’s got enough talent to guide you through every move.

Asking to dance with him once is enough to earn you plain affection from him—platonic or romantic.

But seeking him out and doing it again? Repeatedly?

He’s swooning.

You’ve got yourself a lifetime dance partner, congratulations.

If you want that partner to stay platonic, fine by him. He’ll be kind of friend who, no matter how long it’s been since the last conversation, your relationship won’t change. While he may not be there for the small things, he’ll always come cheer you on for the important moments.

If you want that partner to turn romantic. . . He’s certainly not opposed, although you’ll have to make the first moves. Romance isn’t on the forefront of this scientist’s mind. He’ll either need you to be direct with him, or have one of his brothers point it out to him.

As soon as he understands, he’s taking extra steps in his day to meet with you. He’s opening doors for you. He’s ordering lunch for both of you. He’s pulling you into his arms for spontaneous dances.

He won’t say it. He won’t sign it. But he’ll show his reciprocation through acts of service, and intentional time away from his work to be with you.

He is not the jealous type. Far, far away from it. He trusts you implicitly unless you give him a clear reason not to—and if that happens, the relationship is over regardless.

He is, however, unintentionally distant.

There will be times where you have to remind him that sunlight is a thing and maybe he shouldn’t sleep at his desk again. He’ll make an earnest effort for you, but breaking years of work habits will take time.

Even his brothers struggle reminding him.

If you ever feel he’s becoming too distant—just tell him. He will never take offense to that as he fully acknowledges it as something he needs to work on.

Like a plant shoved in a corner, this monster just needs someone to shed a little light and love on his life to let him flourish.

One dance could change it all for him.

So. . . Won’t you ask him to dance?

[serenityluvz]

𝗘𝗻𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗔𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Heeseung – "If they can’t respect you, they don’t respect me."

Heeseung doesn’t take drama lightly. If another member is being cold toward you, he notices immediately. He won’t cause a scene, but he will absolutely have a private conversation about it. You try to brush it off, pretending you don’t notice the way one of the members keeps giving you the cold shoulder. But Heeseung notices. He watches quietly, jaw clenching every time they dismiss you or make side comments. That night, after everyone leaves, he leans in, brushing his fingers against your cheek. "Tell me the truth," he murmurs. "Are they making you uncomfortable?" If you admit that it bothers you, he won’t let it slide. Heeseung will pull the member aside and make it clear—they don’t have to like you, but they will respect you.

Jay – "I don’t care what they think—I care about you."

Jay is mature about it. If another member doesn’t like you, he’s not going to fight over it—but that doesn’t mean he’ll tolerate any disrespect. "Jay, it’s fine," you mumble, avoiding his gaze. "Not everyone has to like me." His hand tightens around yours. "No, but they do have to respect you." Jay doesn’t let it fester. He pulls the member aside and talks it out, making it clear that he won’t stand for anyone making you feel unwelcome. And if the problem continues? He distances himself from them—because you come first.

Jake – "I just want everyone to get along…"

Jake hates conflict. He doesn’t understand why another member wouldn’t like you, and he spends way too much time trying to fix things. "Maybe if you guys just spent more time together, you’d get along!" he says optimistically. You sigh, shaking your head. "Jake, not everything can be fixed that easily." His smile falters, and for once, he looks serious. "Okay," he says softly. "Then if they can’t respect you, I’ll just keep my distance from them." Jake wants peace, but if he has to choose between them and you? You win, every time.

Sunghoon – "That’s their problem, not yours."

Sunghoon acts like he doesn’t care, but deep down? He’s fuming. He won’t start a fight, but he will start being colder toward the member who disrespects you. "Sunghoon, I don’t want to cause problems between you guys," you whisper. He scoffs, pulling you onto his lap. "They’re the ones causing problems, not you," he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple. "If they don’t like you, that’s their loss." From that moment on, Sunghoon makes it very clear whose side he’s on. If that member is around, he keeps his arm around you, always making subtle digs to remind them exactly who you belong to.

Sunoo – "Do they think I care?"

Sunoo is petty. If a member doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like them either. He won’t even hide it—he’ll throw shade, make sarcastic comments, and be extra affectionate with you just to piss them off. You hesitate before telling Sunoo about the tension, not wanting to start drama. But the moment you do? He laughs. "Oh, they don’t like you?" he says, smirking. "Guess what? I don’t like them." From then on, Sunoo is extra clingy in front of them, making sure they know exactly where he stands. And if they dare make a rude comment? Oh, he’s firing back, no hesitation.

Jungwon – "I’ll handle it."

Jungwon is mature about it, but intimidating when necessary. He won’t let it turn into drama, but if a member is making you uncomfortable? He will deal with it. He listens carefully as you explain the situation, his expression unreadable. "I’ll talk to them," he says simply. And he does. The next time they see each other, Jungwon takes them aside and speaks in a low, firm voice. You don’t know what he says, but after that? The member suddenly starts treating you with a lot more respect.

Ni-ki – "Tch. Like I care."

Ni-ki is young, but he’s also incredibly loyal. If another member doesn’t like you, he immediately dislikes them. "They don’t like you?" he scoffs, pulling you closer. "Whatever. I don’t need their approval." Ni-ki won’t go out of his way to start problems, but he will go out of his way to ignore them completely. If they try to talk to him, he just stares. If they joke around, he doesn’t laugh. And if they ever try to disrespect you again? Oh, they’re done.